World of Warcraft®

From the pages of my journal:

Sometimes it is not about the desire, or the passion, it is merely about the sweet embrace of your lover, as you lie beside her, holding her close, feeling her breath on your neck, and yes, even the sweet gentle snoring of her asleep in your arms.

We went home, to rest, to sleep, and just to be with each other. What can I say, I love Kel'tira awake or asleep, as long as she is close by me, I am happy. To hold her, to stroke her hair, and know she is secure here within my arms. I never feel more of a man than when Kel holds me in her sleep; her little sounds of contentment on her lips as she snuggles close to me, and puts her arm across my chest.

It is in these quiet moments, while Kel'tira sleeps that I find myself loving her more. More because she sleeps, and does not toss and turn in her inner turmoil or nightmares, but instead rests within my embrace. She finds solace in being with me, and I find a great deal of joy in that. Am I wrong? Am I being selfish?

I don't care. I love Kel, and she loves me. And that's what matters most to me.

From the pages of my journal:

As I perused my journal, I was remiss in one thing, that makes my life just as wonderful as any other.

I have told how I love having Kel'tira snuggle close to me with her arm over my chest, and how it make me feel while she sleeps.

However, there are times, probably just as frequent, that I cuddle next to Kel, and her arm is around me. There is a comfort in having her hold me close, and I rest my head on her shoulder. Even in those moments when I find myself snugglling close to Kel'tira, I have heard her whispering to me, sometimes humming or singing so low, that I cannot discern what she is saying, but I like that she does that to me too.

I have slept with my arm across her chest, or around her waist. I only know that we hold each other, and console each other in the night as we sleep. I find comfort in that. A great deal of comfort.

from the pages of my journal:

I was taken to an enchanting place that I found was one my dear Kel'tira's favorite places. And I came to understand why. And the wonder I felt being there was magical, made all the moreso for she was there by my side. Kissing her there made kissing a whole new experience, and I long to be there again with Kel.

A part of me wants to share a few of my favorite places with her, to create a moment that hopefully neither of us will ever forget and hold close to our hearts. And yet a part of me, is reluctant, as a few of those places I shared with Karamia, and I hold those moments dear too.

I know Kel'tira has let go of Nicias in away, and there are still memories she must contend with concerning him. Just as I must with those sweet precious memories I have of Mia. When I removed the wedding band that Mia had made for me, and replaced it with the ring Kel had created and given to me, I had no doubts in doing so, as Kel holds my heart in her hands.

I stand here now, wondering if I should hold onto this momento of a different life and a different love. Or dispose of it. And I find I will not. It rests in a special place. Only I know where, and that is enough. As I walked away, I let the fears and pain go, for in loving my Kel'tira, I have truly found the woman of my dreams.

I want to make new memories with Kel'tira, not to replace, but to savor and share with her. For she brings a smile to my soul merely thinking of her, and I am the happiest when I am resting in her arms.

A Leather Bound Diary

Today saw the beginning of my new life as a mercenary. After much thought, I’ve decided to leave the rangers again. There are many reasons for this decision; for one, it doesn’t pay much to be a defender of Quel’Thalas anymore. Once, Silvermoon’s coffers were bursting with gold, enough gold for its guardians to live in comfort, enjoying the many frivolities of my people. Now, I receive barely enough money to get by, so much that I must sacrifice meals sometimes in order to make ends meet. While work as a mercenary is dangerous and brutal, the pay is good if you know how to get it. But if it were only that, then I would see it as a selfish act to abandon my duties.

But it isn’t only that. Even now, I can feel the change in our beautiful lands. Everything is permeated by the taint of foul energies. First it was because of the Scourge; they befouled our home and tainted our Sunwell, forcing us to seal it off. But then it was because of us. Because of our crazed prince, who thought of channeling demonic energies to sate our thirst for magic. Our lands and people were once again changed, but now the change was much darker. I am not exempt of this; there were many occasions when I resorted to fel energies, thinking nothing of what it would cause in the long term. Even though the Sunwell is restored, now a fount of magic and holy power, I know that it will be long before my eyes will return to their serene blue from this foul green.

And then there’s my thirst for adventure. I never thought I’d be one of those who wish to explore the world. In my youth I was content to stay in Quel’Thalas for the rest of my days, but now I can think only of the lands beyond. I always go back to my time in the Wilderness with nothing but myself and strangers to protect me from the looming specter of death that held Quel’Thalas and Lordaeron in a stranglehold. But they weren’t strangers. They were and forever will be my friends. And him… I never told him, never even told myself, but now that my new life is begun I think it’s time to confess the secrets of my old one. I truly loved him with every part of me, and I still love him. But he chose another, and I owe it to him to let him live his own life.

So now I sit at the inn of Falconwing Square at the end of the day. The first day of my new life. It was rather eventful; I began with thinning the mana wyrm population of Sunstrider Isle, relearning many of the skills I’ve forgotten over time. I continued killing wildlife a bit later, slaying some of the local lynx population. Later I visited the Falthrien Academy to slay the Wretched man that dwelt there, using the help of a stranger to bring him down.

I was sent to a woman named Outrunner Elarion and was tasked to find one of her messengers. She had been slain by some of the nearby wretched, her body mangled and lying in the middle of the road. I saw the wretched that did it, patrolling some ruins a little ways from the road that looked like a gathering place for wretched. Tomorrow I will find him and kill him to avenge the slain woman.

But now the day is over. After a night’s rest I’ll go back out there and find that wretched man.

~Eleanor Dawnstrider

A Leather Bound Diary

So much has happened in the days since I last wrote. I did find the wretched man, he had been wanted by the authorities of Silvermoon, and so after I killed him I brought them his head. They didn’t seem to mind that I didn’t bring him alive. Next, I was sent out to find and kill a Darnassian intruder. The kaldorei man wasn’t difficult to dispatch, but on my way to kill him I met a woman named Ley-Keeper Velania, who had me take care of some arcane creatures that had infested her sanctum thanks to the night elf’s meddling.

Speaking of the man, on his body I found some documents written in dwarven and brought them to the captain of the guard, Aeldon Sunbrand who translated them. After connecting the dots, he sent me to the North Sanctum to kill the Alliance envoy, Prospector Anvilward. My pet dragonhawk, Itharus, has proven to be quite useful in combat, taunting my enemies into attacking him, and so we brought down the dwarf and reported back to Aeldon. The captain sent me to Fairbreeze village to help its denizens with a few of the problems they’d been having.

I encountered more of the Wretched at Sunsail Anchorage; they had taken the place over and I had to help thin their numbers and reclaim stolen supplies. While fighting with a wretched I fell over the edge from a high point of the tower there, and my left ankle was sprained from the landing. However, I managed to hobble back to Fairbreeze village afterwards, and a passing priest healed my wound, in exchange for some bandages I had made.

Finally I was tasked with dispatching the Scourge who had made the Dead Scar their home. It brought me great sorrow to look upon the deathly furrow, and I was despaired to see the unending masses of the Scourge that wandered it. Despite that, I took care of the ones that had wandered too close to the village, and then made my way to the East sanctum in search of a magistrix’s apprentice. I met with the apprentice, Mirveda, who was researching the Dead Scar to see if it could be fixed. I brought her some dirt samples, and was dismayed as she was when she discovered that the Dead Scar was irreversible.

I brought back her notes to the Magistrix and then left for Silvermoon city by dragonhawk. I should note that I am progressing by leaps and bounds, relearning old techniques and even discovering new ones. I’ve purchased an exponential amount of poison to tip my arrows with, and have so far found it greatly useful. I also learned a magical technique to create explosive arrowheads. I am hopeful that this is only the beginning of my progression as a capable ranger.

Tomorrow I leave for Undercity via the Orb of Translocation in Sunfury Spire. I didn’t make this decision lightly, but I can’t bear to look at the Ghostlands after everything they’ve been through. I fear it will drive me away from the allure of mercenary work. In addition, Lordaeron is where I spent much of my time with the group of survivors so long ago, and I want to return and see it again. I can’t pretend to be overjoyed at the prospect of visiting the plagued lands and interacting with the Forsaken, but it does give me a bit of excitement to be exploring new lands- I’ve been to the Plaguelands and Tirisfal Glades, but not to Silverpine. Tomorrow will bring new dangers, yes, but also new opportunites.

~Eleanor Dawnstrider

The orc sat slumped in a chair, a frown marring his face making him look rather fierce. In his right hand was a sheaf of papers, reports coming in from the field. His left hand was propped under his chin as he read over the dialog. It was clear that they needed to take action and the whole thing had been dumped into his lap—something about delicate measures and how good his team was at handling that. Except that his team was short a person.

That person would be perfect for this. Someone quite to slip in and out, no one would be the wiser that she was there. But she was technically retired—technically, not officially. He tapped a finger on his jaw, thinking through his various options.

Her original persona had been compromised some months ago, after she had left his group. Disgruntled agents had been the cause and they had been summarily dealt with. Loyalty was key to intelligence operations and anyone willing to break trust and expose identities was swiftly and harshly dealt with. An agent’s alter ego was the most valuable thing they had. It what was going to keep them alive after it was all said and done.

He set the papers down and rubbed a hand over his face. That had been a whole mess and no one really knew how close she had been to ending up in Stormwind’s hands as a political prisoner. They were most eager to get their hands on the rogue that had infiltrated their city and killed off a cultist. While she technically committed no crime there, her infiltration had concerned SI:7 enough that once her identity had been leaked, they were eager to get their hands on her. He had negotiated a compromise: they would leave her alone in exchange for all the information that Orgrimmar had on the cultists’ activities. Even still, he knew that if given the chance to get their hands on her, they would.

She would need a new alias. He scratched his chin for a moment before coming up with one that he thought she would actually like. It would hurt to ask her, he decided, picking up a pen and a piece of paper. The worst she was say was, ‘No.’

An elf sat with his back to a wall, the black leather of his armor giving him a foreboding look but the tall staff next to him signified his nature as a monk. In his lap sat a red leather-bound book with sheets of parchment bound into the book, yet it did not look full, on the contrary it looked rather empty like the elf was still filling its pages. As he sat against the walls of the Old Capitol City he began to write.

I have decided it might be a good idea to record my adventures in this small book, I have already begun doing so with the many notes and pictures I have drawn along the road I travel. It is strange, the world around me is full of strife yet I cannot find a cause worthy of my attentions. So far nothing has yet met me that could give me the sort of thrill of adrenalin I seek. I wonder if that is why this great nation fell. Lordaeron, once the pinnacle of Humanity, now a shattered ruin; hollow and void of the life it once held.

Though it is filled with the unliving, the Forsaken; I can barely say it without shuddering yet I must put aside my own prejudices in order to maintain my peace of mind. As my masters have long told me lest my emotions dominate me and make me susceptible to defeat. All emotion has its place and time, but at my needs for them, not at their own.

It is a hard lesson to learn but one I will master well; I think however that it is time to move again, there must be some adventure to the south. I hear war is all about, maybe I will find a worthy opponent among the Alliance.

The elf shuts the book after binding the latest entry into it, shoving the remaining parchment into a satchel at his side and jumping to his feet. Hoisting the satchel on his shoulder and picking up his staff the young Sin'dorei whistled over to his wolf, rubbing the brown coat affectionately before mounting up and riding out of the ruins, heading towards the south.

The young Sin'dorei placed the padding over his shoulders, and tightened the straps that held his armor close to his body. This armor had been the only thing that had saved him from death, far too many times than he cared to count. He noted a few new scratches and markings that the master leatherworker would be able to remove without too much difficulty.

The rogue tightened the other bits and pieces of armor around his body, those that protected his shoulders and upper torso, his arms, and legs. He made sure each was tight, but not too tight to cut off circulation. He was thankful for the remarkable workmanship of the armor, and amazed at its fit. As he finished, tightening the straps and tucking them in close, he stood still briefly.

He heard nothing, then he crouched and rolled across the floor, quickly coming to his feet with his weapons drawn, in another crouch. And again, he heard nothing the whole time, and he smiled. The armor was a part of him, and and it provided protection, yes. But it also moved with him without a sound, allowing him those moments when he could slip into the shadows, to watch, or to prepare for...anything.

Cyaer spent hours oiling and keeping his armor supple and ready. He always noted where a strap might be needing replacement from an attack, or strain. And he made mental notes to tell the master leathermaker when next he met with him. The cost was high, however the cost of not having it done was higher. And Kel'tira would never forgive him if he died from simple neglect of his armor and weapons.

He smiled as he thought of his lady love, and gently removed his armor. Placing each piece carefully in his backpack, he wondered if Kel might be open to a night of wining, dining, perhaps a little dancing...and just sharing an evening together, talking. He missed talking with her on that intimate level they shared on a few occassions.

Cyaer grinned as he dressed in his casuals, and stepped away from his pack. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair, and looked into the mirror. He didn't see it, but he was glad Kel thought he was handsome. He smiled back at himself, and thought, "Maybe she's right"

from the pages of my journal:

I spent an evening sitting on an old rickety staircase, looking out at the "farm" I care for each and every day. Garden is more like it, but I call it my home now. I'm glad I have Yoon here to keep me appraised of what needs to be done and his daily offerings of what to plant. And having Ellie Mudclaw out here and watching us make something of this little piece of heaven called the Ranch.

I work hard, I have established myself with the Tillers, and even brought my cooking skills to the point of being a Pandaren chef. I'm making a life here, slowly but surely.

It's not an exciting life, like the one I had before. And I still seek out that bit of adventure now and then here in Pandaria, because this is my home, and I wish to learn more about it, to protect it, and to defend it if necessary. But it's also a fulfilling life. I enjoy the simple pleasures of growing my own crops, of going to the market and selling my wares.

I don't have bad dreams any more. I don't look down at my hands and see them covered in the blood of those I have killed or murdered. I sleep good now. And all I see are blisters and the dirt from my own garden that I work on these hands. Simple, yes. Gratifying, you bet.

Kel'tira Sunblaze

The tall Elven woman sighs, staring at the sunset from a small balcony in Silvermoon, her eyes distant, her hands working restlessly with a small, metal communicator. And she wonders. Oh, yes, she wonders, and that is clear in her gaze, she wonders where she would be now if it weren't for the people in her life, where she would be now if it weren't for those who cared about her.

The answer repeatedly came back to dead.

I may have let too much slip last night, I admitted it to Cy, indirectly, that what I was doing for Gear was indeed bounty hunting. And while we may have a new member of our Fellowship, I am not entirely sure I agree with Tyrael's cousin.

I need to sit and seriously talk to Cy, and I need to just be with him with nothing pressing to do.

Laurissa Dawnstrider took a few steps back to admire her handiwork. She breathed in gasps, her usually stylized white-blonde hair a clumped and sweaty mess. Of the three dummies she’d been training on, one had fallen off its wooden stand while the other two were severely charred. The blood elf smiled, glad to see how far her training had progressed. Her brow furrowed when she heard running behind her; she was the only one here in the training grounds, why would anyone be so rushed to see her? Laurissa turned to see an elven runner carrying a satchel. So he was likely a postman, then. Why not just send whatever he was bringing in the mail? Her question was soon answered.

“Are you-” The postman gasped for breath, “-Laurissa Dawnstrider?” He was clearly far more exhausted than she was, so Laurissa offered him a skin of water which he immediately gulped down after a nod of thanks.

“Yes I am. Is something wrong?” A thought came to her- Eleanor, her wayward cousin. Had she sent her news of the outside world, then? But then why would the postman be in such a rush?

“I- you’d better read it yourself,” The man replied. From his satchel he pulled out a letter and a small parcel. “I’m sorry,” He said, his eyes downcast. “I’m sure you loved her very much.” With that he left, leaving a now severely worried Laurissa to look down at the two items she’d just received. After a moment of hesitation, she tore the letter open and unfolded its contents. The letter was written in elegant script.

To whom it may Concern,
We regretfully inform you of Eleanor Dawnstrider’s passing. The huntress was slain fighting against a general of the Alliance alongside forsaken soldiers. She had proven to be one of the most useful soldiers of the Gilneas campaign, and it is thanks to her efforts that the Forsaken have pushed back the Alliance to Greymane Wall, where we continue to fight them. She lived and died with honor, and will be forever remembered as a loyal member of the Horde, and of the Sin’dorei.

Laurissa’s heart clenched and she let out a strangled sob. Her cousin, one of her last living family members, was dead. Who did she have left now? A brother, consumed in his political duties who didn’t give the slightest care for his little sister, and an uncle- on her mother’s side, not Eleanor’s father- who was too busy studying magic in Dalaran to see her. With tear-blurred vision she continued reading.

Along with this letter, we send you Eleanor Dawnstrider’s diary, as well as all of her possessions on hand. Within the diary are the entries entailing her endeavors in Quel’Thalas, Silverpine and Gilneas. We send to the reader of this letter our condolences, and our hopes that you will see this as yet more reason to help bring about the end of the Alliance.

Signed,
Regent Lord Lor’Themar Theron and Ranger General Halduron Brightwing.

Tears trickled down Laurissa’s face as she finished. She looked at the parcel in her hands and tore it open. She disregarded the gold and few items, instead opening the leather bound journal and reading it. Without any hesitation she started reading. The first pages explained how she’d come to the decision of being a mercenary, and things she’d done in Quel’Thalas to help out her fellow elves. She read on.

Undercity is far worse than I could have imagined; the smell makes me want to gag and its denizens are… unnerving to say the least. After so much time in the wild, fighting for my life against these creatures, it isn’t easy to work with them. But they are my allies, and I’ll have to learn to accept them.

Speaking of strange allies, only a few days ago I helped an orc admiral get her fleet back together. Most of the crew had been drunk, making them easy pickings for the Bloodfang worgen, and so I fought them off and salvaged supplies with the help of an orc who was clearly exerting himself beyond his limit. I feel honored to have been included in such an important task.

A few days later I had a more offensive mission; to help kill humans that resided in Fenris Keep. I’m not a pacifist, but it made me uncomfortable to see them raised as new Forsaken after we finished them off. What’s worse is that some of the more elite residents of the keep allied themselves with the worgen, drinking the creatures’ blood and becoming worgen themselves. I barely escaped with my life.

((1/3))

Upon my return to the Forsaken High Command, I was informed by the Dark Lady Sylvanas herself that I was to take my things and ride with her and a small group of Forsaken with even a few other blood elves to the Sepulcher, another Forsaken base further south. From there I traveled with a few others and discovered that there were said to be several worgen in the Deep Elem Mine. We met up with some Forsaken forces positioned outside the mine and charged in. I hung back for a better attack position and… I was forced to watch as explosives that had been rigged in the mine exploded, killing all of my allies.

I don’t know why the worgen male who was there, Lord Crowley so I’ve been told, allowed me to live. I won’t fool myself into thinking he didn’t sense me- the worgen have an enhanced sense of smell, and hearing that is probably better than an elf’s- so I’ve come to the conclusion that he didn’t feel the need wasting his time with me. It was as if he saw one small blood elf as inconsequential, like I was powerless.

I don’t know why, but the thought of that really made me feel… weak. So now I go back to training, but not in the safety of Silvermoon or Quel’Thalas. I’m going to work at my hunter skills while fighting for the Horde at the same time, until people like Crowley can see me as a threat, and learn to fear what I can do. And I hear that better mercenaries get better pay too.

~Elleanor Dawnstrider

The next pages were spattered with wetness, as if they’d been rained on.

I am in Gilneas now. I went to Forsaken Forward command and helped fight off some of the encroaching worgen. I could tell things weren’t getting better there, though, but they sent me away with a Forsaken Communication Device on hand to seek out other Forsaken bases. The two that I came across were both destroyed, and the Cathedral Square in Gilneas City- a place that had been under our control for a long time- was overrun. Reinforcements from the Alliance had arrived and we were outnumbered.

Now I’ve been sent to the Gilnean village of Emberstone so I can help a small group with an important mission. I’m spending the night in an abandoned house while I write this, and am eagerly anticipating what tomorrow will bring.

~Elleanor Dawnstrider

_*_*_

Everything went well; we found the corpse of a man named Godfrey who would supposedly be of great importance for the Forsaken’s plans once reanimated. We escaped Gilneas with a Val’kyr and arrived at the Forsaken Front without receiving any harassment from the worgen. The fight isn’t going very well though- the worgen keep breaking through our defenses, and we‘re barely hanging on.

On a more positive note, however, the Forsaken finally broke through the wards surrounding the human town of Ambermill, marking the destruction of one of the last Alliance holdouts in Silverpine. Now I’m waiting to depart on a mission that should help in fighting the worgen off; I and a few others, along with the now reanimated Godfrey, are to fight off some Alliance soldiers in the town of Pyrewood. I’m apprehensive to be working with Godfrey, a man who betrayed his own kingdom, but I suppose if the Dark Lady trusts them then so should I.

~Elleanor Dawnstrider

That was the last entry. As Laurissa finished, her eyes blurred with tears again. She wiped them away and sniffed, then picked up the other items that had been sent with the letter as well as her own things and began her journey home at a brisk pace, wanting privacy more than anything. She arrived at her small house along the Walk of Elders and carelessly broke through the minor wards protecting her lock with a sound that resembled breaking glass, causing the loud blaring sound of her magical alarms to activate. She pulled out her key and turned it, opening the door and then slamming it loudly behind her. She could barely hear her own thoughts over the ear-piercing sounds going through the house.

Laurissa rushed to a small closet and opened it, using her magical senses to find the nexus where all of her alarm systems met. With the same callous disregard from earlier she shattered it, ending the incessant caterwauling but also destroying her painstakingly-made security system. She didn’t care. After slamming the door closed she walked to her bedroom, falling into her bed without bothering to take her clothes off. Tearing back the covers, she put her face into her pillow and sobbed into it until her eyes were red and her throat was sore. It didn’t matter; she was all alone now. This house she’d once shared with Elleanor now only held her. There was no one else to see her tears. And it was all because of the Alliance.

((2/3))

_*_*_

Back at training the next day, Laurissa casted more fire spells, burning another dummy. Several of the other trainees had stopped in their training to gape at her work. In moments it was all a pile of cinders. Her chest rose in fell with rapid breaths, but she hadn’t yet broken a sweat. Her trainer, Inethven, approached her with a surprised look on his face.

“Laurissa… that was spectacular! You burned that thing to a crisp and yet you’re barely tired!” He exclaimed.

Laurissa shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind an ear. “I’m probably just more focused on the casting today.”

Inethven came closer. “I heard what happened to Elleanor and… I’m sorry. I was surprised that you felt up to coming in today; I know you two were close. Are you sure you’re ok?” He asked her.

Laurissa stepped away, moving to another dummy. “I’m fine. But her death reminded me of my duties beyond living as a civilian and training as a mage: as a Horde member, it’s my task to destroy our enemies… especially the Alliance.”

Her teacher nodded. “Of course. I’m glad you’ve found something to do.”

She let out a harsh laugh. “Something to do? I’m not fighting the Alliance because I’m looking to fill my day planner; I’m going to fight them to protect our people, and avenge the fallen,” Laurissa took a breath and turned from the dummy. “I think I’d better leave. I have some… things to take care of.”

Inethven stared after her as she left, surprised to see the change that had come over his student.

When she got home Laurissa looked over the other items sent to her in the parcel; a few bags, a bit of gold and some bandages and pieces of cloth. She smirked; if it had only taken a few weeks for Elleanor to amass this much gold, she could only imagine how much she could earn in a more extended period of time. She put all the objects and gold in one bag, then looped the bags over her shoulder, taking a few items from her house before locking the door and leaving.

Elleanor had failed in her aims to become a hero, but Laurissa wouldn’t suffer the same fate. She would avenge her cousin’s death. And thusly she set off on a journey of her own.

((3/3))

A young elf in black leather armor sat perched on a small rock. His feet drawn up under him and a black leather-bound journal upon his thighs. He seemed to be drawing the scene around him, the Swamps of Sorrows as he had learned it was called. A place of innate natural beauty that was tinged with the sadness of ages past.

I have found a group that I could call "home" for a short time, though it seems they are both afraid and angered by my presence. I cannot tell if it is from just knowing my cousin, which seems partially to blame with the one named Kel'tira but I not entirely sure. I have, however, found a friend among them.

A half-orc, fighting with himself against the suffering and the baggage of years of abuse. I explained to him the need for inner peace, the need to release all extreme emotions so that he could again be at peace. He seemed to understand the wisdom in my words and I hope through my help he will surpass the trauma that he has suffered.

I cannot say the same for many among the Fellowship though, they seem like a cynical and hard lot. As if pain has been their only companion for a very long time. I wonder about that, wonder if it is indeed the reason why they love so strongly and fight so bitterly to hold on to that which is dear.

It is strange, they seek Pandaria as if it is a talisman to protect them against evil. I wish it were, for even on Pandaria one must fight for true inner peace...

The elf binds the entry and the drawings into the journal, closing the book and then sliding back into his pack. He sighed to himself as he looked out across the swamp, surveying the land as he hopped down from his perch and mounted his wolf, Raven. He then turned southwest and headed off towards the Blasted Lands, he had to find more adventure.

A Haphazard Bundle of Parchment

This is a waste of time. Why write down everything I do? I’m not some spy making a field report. But, because the all-powerful Master Swart says it, I must do it. I guess I have to explain, or risk getting another damn lecture from that crazy old bat. From the day of my birth, I have known in my heart that I was destined to be a warrior, killing Alliance scum in the name of the Horde. As a child, one of the few useful things my father taught me was that you have to work for what you want, and so I trained and sparred for most of my younger years and became one of the biggest, baddest orcs you’ve ever seen.

So it was a few weeks ago, when I was about to start the real warrior training that my father discovered my little ‘secret’. In my teenaged years, I had heard the voice of one of those elementals that you hear shamans talking about. I was just sitting out under the stars a little ways from Razor Hill when out of nowhere something whispered to me. After I looked around and saw no one nearby, I’d thought I had gone crazy, but then it explained that it was speaking into my mind and that it was an elemental of fire. It was talking about how I seemed to be a powerful and brave orc, and that it would like to help me out. I didn’t see the harm in it, so I agreed and it taught me how to make my weapons burn with fire. I was a little disappointed at first, because you couldn’t actually see the fire burning, but when I put my hand on one of my twin axes I sure felt it burn.

So I’d been using that as an advantage for several years- even though father says it was dishonorable, I argue that I was honorable enough to let my sparring partners know about it before we fought, and that all shamans use it so they can’t all be dishonorable- when word of it reached my father. He was in an uproar, demanding why I hadn’t told him. I explained that I was meant to be a warrior, but he wouldn’t hear any of it, because if an elemental had contacted me then that meant I was ‘destined’ to be a shaman.

Well we’ve had a lot of fights recently- most of them more physical than verbal, and I’ll put it on record that I won about half of them- but he kept insisting that I become a shaman. Now I’m a pretty big orc, but my dad is about the same size, and he’s seen a lot of battles. Lucky for me he’s getting older or he would’ve just dragged me straight to Swart, which pretty much happened anyway. Father must’ve sent a letter to Swart- who, by the way, is the shaman trainer of Razor Hill and one of the harshest orcs I’ve ever seen- because the old bastard came over to our house in Orgrimmar while I was sleeping and used a fire elemental to grab me and drag me back to Razor Hill. I’ve already said that I’m a big, heavy, strong orc, right? Well be that as it may, you still can’t fight a huge fire creature no matter how strong you are. It was almost as strong as I was and flared up whenever I tried to escape, and let me tell how hard it is to focus on escaping when something has you in a burning bear-hug of fiery death.

So Master Swart got to teaching me shamanism with his burning watch-dog not far away. And I’ve learned some stuff, sure, but enchanting my weapons with fire was and still is fine enough. Still… maybe I could learn one or two useful things as a shaman, as if I have any choice. This whole thing is still stupid though.

from the pages of my journal:

I waited. I had done my chores about Sunsong Ranch, and even did a few for some of my fellow tillers. I felt good, and I dressed out casual and went to one of my favorite spots here in Pandaria. Serenity Falls.

The swirling mists of the thundering falls, and the beauty of the whole place of so many falls in one place takes my breath away. I remember coming here with Karamia as she slowly had her memories returning, and I come here to think and contemplate my navel lint. It is my place of solace and solitude. It doesn't hurt that there's good fishing here too.

I took a chance, and sought out Kel over the guild stone. And she chirpped back! I could hear her happiness over the stone, and I asked to spend a few moments with me in my favorite place. She was there soon after.

Kel'tira has taken to wearing her hair down, and she looks stunning like that. But as we talked, the mists began to dampen her hair, and it hung low and close to her head. Her face was damp too, and as I talked to her, I found myself mesmerized in the change. Her clothes too had begun to cling to her and I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Don't get me wrong, the physical change made her look so...so inviting, however the words she was speaking to me were drawing my heart closer and close to her own. Needless to say, I have a very fond memory of Kel and I there, and I will remember it as long as I live. I found another Kel'tira at the foot of those falls, one that leaves me wanting more of her.

From the pages of my journal:

For one brief moment, Azeroth stopped as I held my baby daughter in my arms. She was beautiful, her feaures so soft, and dainty. And I was shocked and surprised when she awoke and I saw her pale blue eyes. The pale blue of a summer sky...

But something was wrong, and Kel'tira took her. She looked up at Kel, and I will forever have that precious moment in my memory of my baby looking up into Kel's face, and her sweet sweet smile...she smiled at my lady love.

Fate...destiny...are a harsh harsh reality that brings you some of the the most joyous moments in your life, just like the one I experienced only moments before, and then there is the pain...the searing pain of losing her before I had a chance to know her.

Kel tried, Light, she tried so hard...she put so much of herself in trying to save our daughter. But it was not to be. Kel was left drained and exhausted. I was torn in two. I felt as though I may lose my heart, my love, Kel'tira. When she fell unconscious I panicked and reached out to Azmos.

I was not myself. I was someplace that I should not have gone...and despair was becoming my closest friend. As Az healed and worked on Kel'tira I got lost somewhere...lost, and perhaps never to be found. Until I heard her voice reaching out to me...and I landed back into a world of pain and hurt. Kel'tira may never know how close I was, but I do, and her love saved me.

And I wept, and sobbed as I lay in her arms. And found myself again.

from the pages of my journal:

The world is a wonderful place when you have friends that care about you and work to help you. So it was with me, when a few friends went to rescue our daughter from the clutches of the warlock Viragona.

I feared for Auxilia as she was the one who was slipping in to take her. The others set up distractions to allow Auxi to do what she does best. And I am so thankful to them all for taking the risk to rescue her.

I sat on the porch of the Dark Portal, waiting for their return. And I was startled when only Kel'tira came through the gateway from Outland. In her arms was a small bundle. She handed it to me, and thus was my introduction to our lovely pale blue eyed daughter.

Kel and I took her little form to Brill, and buried her in a small corner of the Sunblaze plot. And Kel, LIght bless her, had brought a dozen white roses...I love her so much, to think of that, in our moment of grief...it was a precious thought to me, and I remember placing a single rose on the box, just before I covered our baby girl with the soil.

I hurt, and I grieve, but I also take my love into my arms and slowly nurse her back to health also. She...Kel...had tried so hard, she...exhausted herself in doing so...and she grieves also. We were going to raise my...our...daughter together. Something that still amazes me, that before she pledged her love to me, Kel was willing to be there as a mother of our daughter.

Is it fair of me to think the world seems a little colder, a little greyer than it did before? My light in this world is still the beautiful woman who wants me as her husband. I hold on to her, realizing just how close I was to losing her, and I find myself loving her all the more for what Kel sacrificed to try saving our little baby.

Light watch over us, protect us, and guide us.

I feel so small right now.

I was saddened this weekend by what had happened to the couple Kel'tira and Cyaer Sunblaze. First off, their daughter had to be rescued from the clutches of that vile woman, Viragona. Then they both had to watch as she died only moments after being rescued. A most traumatic event for anyone.

From what I could gather Kel'tira had put everything plus more in attempting to save the child. It had not only left her weakened and exhausted, she had come so very close to dying herself. I pulled her back by the blessing of the light. And she was disoriented when she reclaimed consciousness.

Cyaer...well, I could only diagnose that he was in a severely fragile state of mind. I could barely talk with him, he seemed to be in a world of his own. And I told Kel that he was fragile.

I watched as she carried herself over to sit beside Cy. I was amazed she had that much strength. I listened briefly, to hear her talk the man off of his self imposed ledge, so to speak. I have hope for the both of them, and pray the light will bless them and keep them strong.

I know not know what Vira did to the child. But I detected a fel presence in her little body. I purified and cleansed the child's body of that fel influence. And gave her to Cyaer.

In my opinion, this vile warlock must be destroyed. This is not the first, and probably not the last time she has played with the members of this fellowship. I suspect she had something to do with the death of Cy's wife, Karamia. And I have heard rumors she has placed a bounty on all of us. Let us be done with this witch, and move on with our lives.

Kel'tira Sunblaze

The tall paladin examined herself in the floor length mirror, dressed in nothing but a sleeveless shirt and thigh-length shorts, she could see the hard muscle her chosen lifestyle had left her with. Carrying pounds of metal armor day in and day out had left her with toned muscle and a strong body.

She was an active woman, rarely sick and more prone to running or training instead of doing paperwork. She had scars to show from her life as a fighter, but that was alright, they were part of her.

Part of her she could do without, but a part of her indeed.

From her general appraisal of her figure, she lifted her shirt to just below her breast bone and focused on the smaller, paler, but still visible scar from an encounter with a yeti. She ran her fingers over the skin, and bowed her head, lost in the past for a moment. Remembering.

Twisting, Kel peered at her side, the set of what looked like claw marks showing pale against her skin, from her uncle, making her shiver. Not forgetting.

Tugging her shirt back down, Kel stepped closer to the mirror, staring at her face. She didn't look terribly old, not as old as she felt, certainly, but the roots of her hair were starting to grey, and there were crow's feet around her eyes.

She tried a smile.

The dimples Nic loved so much were still there, and the laugh lines were still there, and her skin was still taut, not wrinkled, the fire was still in her eyes.

She was, she decided, still capable, and would be for a long while. With a thin smile, she stepped back from the mirror and turned to face her wardrobe, producing a simple outfit of black pants and green shirt and donning the clothes before walking down the hall to her study, and settling into the large, ornate chair behind the large, ornate desk.

She ran a finger fondly over the smooth, worn arm of the chair, tracing the carvings layered there, and then turned her gaze to the dragon that comprised the carved door's handle, eyeing it with a critical eye.

With a shake of her head, dragging herself out of the past and into the present, she stared at the blank pages in the purple journal in front of her, the new book having only been written in lightly as of yet, and then she glanced at the thick, leather-bound black book, latched with a simple clasp, between two bookends on the corner of the desk closest to her.

With a sigh, she reached into a drawer and produced the communicator cuff laying therein, and threaded it onto the clasp on the purple journal, watching its small red light flash for a moment before focusing on the pages, lifting her quill and setting it slowly to the page.

I do not know just what to think. I worry. Mostly about Cy, less about myself, although I think, for a vain moment I will admit here in my journal and nowhere else, that the consequences of my actions this weekend may be leading to my hair going white.

I wouldn't change what I tried. I would change the end result, which was the girl's death, but I can't do that. Not now...

I have to find some bit of strength for Cy when all I want to do is cry. I have to be there for him, when I can't be there for myself.

We also, I suppose, need to have a guild meeting again.

I feel empty. I've cried too much these past days. I feel fragile. Frail. I feel hopeless and helpless. I feel like I am breaking.

I need to find Cy. And tell him what I cannot even put down here, in my journal. Because however friendly these pages are, they cannot hold me and tell me they love me like he can.