World of Warcraft®

Teraei Duskrider sat in the small dank cave she had discovered in the Alterac Mountains. Her belongings were few. There was the rune blade that leaned menacingly against the wall and the black saronite helm laid neatly beside it. Teraei herself was sitting in the very back of the cave, staring out the opening to the snow outside expressionlessly. Next to her was her bag, containing only a very few things. On her other side was a strange, small chest. It wasn't anything impressive. More just a black box with a very intricate looking silver lock. Teraei absently reached out to stroke the top of it, since the contents of the box were her most prized possession and one of the few things she still held close.

Frowning slightly, she looked down at the plain black journal in her lap. Sighing, she flipped it open to the first page and then dug around in her bag for the quill and ink she had 'borrowed' from a small farm family. With no enthusiasm whatsoever, she began to write.

I think this is stupid. Writing in a silly journal, why would anyone want to do that? It seems utterly pointless to me. Still though. I can remember when I was alive I kept a journal to document my thoughts and experiences. Unfortunately, that old book is lost to me. Most likely it burned with the rest of my home, and even if not it does me little good as I don't know where to look. All the same, I thought perhaps keeping a journal would be good for me. A companion of sorts as I view it.

So, I figure if this book is telling of my unlife, I should begin with who I am. My name is Teraei Duskrider. I'm two hundred and sixty three years old. I'm a death knight. I live in a cave in Alterac Valley. I hate the living. I hate the dead. I'll be honest, I'm not a joyful person. Generally, im a very angry one. I've got a temper on me. My unlife up to this point isn't very exciting. I have a bloody history. I've killed lots of people, whole families even.

I am a monster.

My purpose in these past few years has been unclear and changed a lot. In other words, I didn't have a purpose other than to inflict as much pain as possible onto others. And I enjoyed it. Although now the scene seems to be changing a little.

I met someone. Another death knight. A very powerful death knight. And apparently, he wanted my help with his schemes. He told me I could join him or die, and frankly, I don't care for either of those choices. But he promised me something: Power. And lots of it too going off of the little I've seen of his abilities. He actually accepted me as his apprentice. How do I feel about it? Indifferent. Only after the fact did I realize that I hadn't asked his name even though he knew mine. He was in my head, an odd and infuriating sensation to myself. I didn't bother to ask what he had planned. I'll follow him and do as he pleases as long as it suits my own needs. Which, it could do so for awhile. He just better not expect me to call him master.

The whole encounter got me thinking; it could be nice to have a purpose, a goal to work too. And what better one then that of unimaginable power? People would say there are other options, but really there are not. Do something productive for the Horde? I hardly think so, as the whole faction is nothing but a rag-tag band of misfit fools. The same goes for the Alliance. Why not work as a mercenary? If I haven't made this perfectly clear yet, I don't take orders well. Go find your family! I don't think that's likely, as they aren't worth finding from what I can remember. Try to fall in love. No! Never that! If there's one thing I hate more than anything, it's love. Love gets you nothing but sorrow and pain. Besides, I can't love. And even if I could, who could ever learn to love a monster like me?

Which is why power is obviously the best course for me.

from the pages of my journal:

It is done. We shall see if Ratheron is all talk, or brings us results. A part of me respects the man, the other part has no desire to around him. A lonely path if you ask me.

Something different - I am sponsoring one of my nieces to become a hunter, and no doubt some sort of spy for the House. When I saw her my first thought was the family resemblance to Kel'tira, a very young Kel'tira. Speaking with her I find her a bit on the rough side, though I'm sure that will change as she experiences the world around her.

My great aunt was very pleased to hear I was taking her under my wing as it were. I'm sure there are ulterior motives, there are always House intrigues, but I will do for her as best I can.

Her name is Aris (Arees). I'll keep my eye on her, and she how she developes.

So, auntie wants to find where Cyaer's true loyalties lie. She's a recluse, so she doesn't see him much, well, anyone for that matter. I can already tell her where his ties lie, it is with my great aunt Kel'tira. All he talked about was her. Boring!

I begin training tomorrow, and I am eager to get to it. With Cyaer's support, I feel as though I could go much further in the House, than without it. Auntie thinks I work for her, but I only look out for me. And while that may be a selfish motive, it's realistic. I have studied the wild, and it is a dog eat dog world out there. I merely prepare to be the bigger dog, not the meal.

I have met my great aunt Kel'tira on several occassions, and I dislike her. She's a blood knight, and that right there is one mark against her. And she holds reign over the House of Sunblaze and this Rising Sun Fellowship, how much more power hungry can you get? And listening to Cyaer, who's kind of cute in an distinguishing way, I can tell she rules him too. Well, I shall not be one of her puppets, I am my own person, I need no one to rule me.

It has been a while since I last wrote here, but thats probably because nothing has happened till now. I've just been searching for Tislina, even hired someone to help me do so. Well, he found her, and sent her in my direction. I was hoping for us to become lovers once more, as we were in life, but... thats not what happened.

She said she loves another, now. She will not tell me who, but I only asked once, and if she doesnt want me to know, I shall respect that, and not press her on the matter. She gave me some advice, and told me that there will be someone else out there for me, and that I deserve better... So I've been searching a little bit for a new lover here and there, but no women have really appealed to me.

We spoke again yesterday as well. I asked her about the place a remembered, which she revealed as what we referred to as 'our spot'. I also asked her about a silver crescent-moon necklace, which she told me is what I gave her when I first told her that I loved her...

I attempted to lighten the topic of the conversation after she said that I was making her feel very guilty, and I suppose it worked. She asked me if I had any goals, which I suppose would be to become stronger in my skills as a Death Knight. She suggested that I possibly could get a one-on-one mentor, and make a life long friend with them. It sounded like a very good idea, so after I took my leave, I summoned a Death Gate, and went through to the stronghold of the Death Knights.

And here I am now, searching for a mentor, and having written down the recent happenings of my undeath, I think I will resume my searches.

Oh, Flit, you marvelous creature, I am falling in love with you. The trainers have said our pets are merely tools, creatures for us to attain out goals, but Flit, you are not like any other pet. You are my friend, and my protector. I love you, Flit.

I have found I have a knack for being a ranger, and I am excelling at the simple chores they have given me. With Flit by my side, I am quickly enjoying this new life.

Thank you, Cyaer. Thank you for your support, and for getting Flit for my training. Yes, my trainer told me it was you who selected and prepared Flit for me. Cyaer, I wonder what your reasoning is behind this. What do you want from me? I have nothing to offer you, but my thanks.

from the pages of my journal:

I sit at the foot of our bed in the Sunblaze House, and watch milady sleeping. Really really sleeping with a trace of a smile on her lips. She is all wrapped up in the sheets and blankets, and she rests. This is one of my favorite perks of being her husband, so see her finally relaxing and getting some much needed sleep. She will deny it, she has denied it, but she looks so beautiful when she sleeps.

Kel'tira has said a great many things about her love for me, and I hold them dear, however last evening in the forests of Eversong, she told me something I had never thought I would hear. And I was so touched by her honesty and sincerity. I am finding my love growing stronger and larger day by day as I spend time with her. I will always love this beautiful woman, until I am old and grey, my body may age, and grow feeble, but my love will always be vibrant, young, and strong. Nothing will ever change that, nothing.

Excuse me, my love seeks my presence...

Ratheron Firehawk

The elf pulled the hood of his cloak over his head further, trying to shield himself from the intense heat of the sun as it beat down upon him. He had not gone to visit the bounty hunter as Kel'tira had suggested, he had not needed to for her directions and description were almost perfectly accurate to only one area within the Barrens. He stopped for a moment, his raptor Razor muttering to itself in hiss and clicks as Rath took a drink from his water skin.

He did not drink a lot even though he was thirsty, simply letting a few drops trickle into his mouth to water his throat before he re-capped it and dropped it to his waist as he pushed Razor on again. This was weather the raptor enjoyed and so he sped off at high speeds not needing to be held back at all. Rath was making good time as he reached the oasis with the cave system and he smiled as he dismounted and moved to inspect each of the caves. It was a daunting task but eventually he found the cave he was looking for and when he did he left Razor at the entrance with his pack and equipment.

The only thing he carried was his weapon which he left upon his back as he walked the exterior of the cave, letting a bare hand run up against the jagged walls. He murmured to himself as he felt the stone speaking through the scratches, burn marks, mossy growths around it. This was something his mentors had spent time teaching, understanding the world around him and letting it speak to him. It was almost druidic in a sense yet it was not, for the land could not speak to him Ratheron was simply watching and listening to all the signs.

A lack of sound suggested that the cave had been dormant of life only recently, for the mossy growths and the green that hung on the walls showed it was still thriving. Yet what would have caused this? Scorch marks where a fire had been made, scratches against the stone indicating weapons being drawn across it. Ratheron then found what he needed, the decaying moss with the impression of a plate boot within it. Ratheron bent to inspect it and as he did a wave of nausea and disgust welled up within him. He quickly battered it away, he had not spent most of his life controlling his emotions to simply let them rise up at a whim.

Ratheron smiled as he inspected the moss finding bits and pieces of other material that was foreign to this area. It was not much, he thought, but it was a start and it was all he needed.

-Later-

Ratheron sat at a small table in the Library of the Sun with books of environments and the different zones of Azeroth and Outland writing a quick letter to Kel'tira.

"Dear Kel'tira,

I have found a trail that is promising, the footprint of the Death Knight was still fresh enough and bore foreign material that has led me to search other areas of the world. You might say it is a wild goose chase but that would be your emotions controlling you. This is the logical and reasonable next step to follow when you have no information. Beyond that I will begin traveling to some of the more... shall we say less welcoming areas of the world and seeking information on the face you have given me.

Should any of this prove fruitful I will again write you. Send no one else, they will only get in my way and bring me issues that I cannot deal with if you want this Death Knight hunted and destroyed. Do not let your fear, doubt or emotions take control of you for if they do you will be inviting the Sha to take up residence within your soul.

Sincerely,

Ratheron"

He sealed and marked the letter, setting it aside to send it later as he continued his research.

It had taken a long three weeks for Jahana to recover. She had been very lucky, Viragona's demise had actually freed all of her servants from their mind prisons. Dragging out of the Keep she had spent a long time recuperating in the forest around Tirisfall. Finding a cabin where she could recover her old skills and try to make some sense out of what had happened.

She had lost everything to the demons that Vira commanded. Her pack, her armor, her weapons and her pride. Her body recovered, but her mind was a shambles. Finally making her way to Undercity she found things in her bank she had forgotten she had. Armor and weapons, tools of her trade and...a journal. She pulled it out slowly and stared at it. The faded black tome was worn and full of old memories.

Finding a quiet corner she sat down and read through the entries. Kel'Tira, Karamia, Cyaer, Neryth...so many more mentioned. Once friends, now likely they thought she was dead. Perhaps it was for the best, she had never been good at making friends. The would not want her around, she had been mind controlled by Viragona, but they likely would not believe her. A tear rolled down her cheek and she angrily brushed it aside.

She would make her way to Orgrimmar and find work. She was a fully trained assassin and good at what she did. Time now to put those skills to work. As she started packing things away she found the old guildstone. After all she had done and said, she doubted it still worked for her. If they had been smart they would have changed the frequency to make it impossible for Vira to hear or speak on it. With a sad sigh she wrapped it up in a plain box and addressed it to Cyaer. A very short note enclosed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Whom it may Concern:

The operative known as Jahana Nightblade is presumed lost and unable to claim this. We return it in hopes you have use for it.

The Undercity Bank Staff
------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dropping it in the mail she ran to catch the zeppelin to Orgrimmar.

The young rogue stretched after his cup of morning tea, and carefully walked down the steps of Sunsong Ranch towards his own personal mailbox. He smiled at how handy it was to have it so close to home. As he neared the mailbox he noticed the flag was up, meaning he had mail. He knew he had some produce and fish for sale in Ogrimmar, and he assumed the payments were in the mail. Again he smiles, perhaps he could take his lady love out for dinner.

When he opened the door, he saw only a plain box within. He reached in and pulled it out, and shook it slightly. He looked at the box, as he walked slowly back towards the steps where his cup of tea was cooling. As he sat down, he opened up the box, and a simple note fell down between his feet.

The note simply said: To whom it may concern: The operative known as Jahana Nightblade is presumed lost and unable to claim this. We return it in hopes you have use for it. - The Undercity Bank Staff.

Cyaer looked over the note again, then set the note down, as he picked up his tea. His mind drifted to the few times he had met with the young rogue. She seemed sharp, and very dedicated in doing her job. Especially those jobs the Fellowship required of her. He also remember what had happened to her, and what Sydric had told them. He bowed his head and said a silent prayer for a good member of the Fellowship, and a fellow rogue.

He set his tea down, as a tear slid down his cheek. Another member of his "family" lost in the field, due to another past member taking some sort of vengeance against the Fellowship. He looked in the box and saw the guildstone. This time the tears flowed. She didn't deserve what had happened to her. She was only doing her job, and she wouldn't have had it any other way.

And Cyaer realized that she had been a family member that had slipped through the cracks, he had not met very much. He resolved to end that, and to meet more of the Fellowship, and get to know them better. In Jahana's memory, he would know the family better.

The Sin'dorei rogue picked up the box lid, and went to put the simple note back into the box, when he stopped and re-read the note. And re-read it again.

Why would the Undercity Bank Staff call Jahana an operative? What did they know of her to call her such. The man's heart began beating faster as he picked up the whole thing of box, lid, and note, and scampered up the steps into the shed, his tea forgotten on the steps.

Cyaer was hoping against all hope that he might be right, "Please, Light, let me be right." he prayed as he put on his armor, and put the note into the box, and the box into one of his many pouches. He stopped and picked up one of the new guildstones, and quickly tossed it into the air, and caught it. He then placed the new stone into the same pouch he had put the box into.

His step was quick and sure as he made his way to the flightmaster in Halfhill. The trip was quick, as he made his way to the Silvermoon City portal, and stepped in. Once the disoreintation left him, he rushed to Undercity.

He wasn't going to give up so easily. He wanted answers, and he would seek them if it took a lifetime.

Flit is magnificent! He risked his very own life to protect mine. We truly are becoming a team, and I love working with him.

Cyaer sent me a few supplies, and bags. All of which will come in handy indeed. It's as though he knew what things I would need, and sent them. Though I do not see the need for a fishing pole, what is that all about? His note only hoped that my training was going well, and that the wide world of Azeroth was waiting for me.

He confuses me. This is not the man I was told about. My family tells me he is evil, and seeks only to rise within the House to rule it with an iron fist. They said that he killed his own father to gain power in the House of Sunblaze, and that it wasn't enough, so he wooed and won the hand of Lady Kel'tira.

I am beginning to wonder just what is true and what is not from all these bits and pieces I have heard of Cyaer and Kel'tira. I am my own person, I can learn more and make my own decisions as to the two of them. House Sunblaze isn't going anywhere, I will continue out in the field and gain more skills to aid me in my life, and in my House.

I received a letter from my dear aunt telling me to be cautious with Lord Sunblaze. He is not to be trusted, and may have ulterior motives. So typical...I wonder if I might have a moment or two with Cyaer, just to thank him for the items and his interest in my training. Yes, that may be just the ticket.

I return to find that my sister has died at the hands of the warlock Viragona. The news reached me too late. And seeking answers, I sought the paladin that had brought us together - Neryth.

He spoke of demons, and soul transfers, and of a death that was wrong in its coming. He then told me that the Fellowship had finally had enough of the warlock, and sought her out. She is dead. He gave me several sketches that he had drawn of her. I remember her eyes mostly, but I shall hold onto these. In some small way, she will live as long as I live.

While I feel no sorrow, I should have spent more time with her than I did. She was my final link to my past, and to my family. I shall vanish once more into the wilds and war torn areas of this spinning ball of mud and rock, and live out my so called life...just how long does an undead knight such as myself "live"?

I do not merely want to exist. I want to do something with myself while I am here, for as long as I am here. What goals will I have? Who shall I follow and hold as important through this unlife? Is it wrong of me to wonder what my sister held dear, and seek to uphold her goals, in some sort of unliving memory?

From the journal of Neryth Silverblade:

I have not forgetten the dark-haired muse who held my heart for a time. And today the shadow of her brother Jon covered my own. I neither fear him, or pity him, he is what he is and he tries to live as best as he can as he is. A Death Knight.

He came seeking answers, and I gave him what information I could. I withheld nothing, as he is or was her brother, and he deserved to know the truth. He was silent as I conveyed the information to him, and when I finished, he merely nodded, and thanked me, and left. Just like that.

I closed my eyes in remembering her. Those eyes, the sweet lips, and the mischievious twinkle in her eyes. She was so warm, and so loving...she cared about me, I know she did. And yet she followed her heart in whatever she could do for the Fellowship...Jahana, my dear sweet Jahana, I will never forget you.

Never.

I left home.

It was always nice, there. But what they crave, I do not. Perhaps I am… strange. As they say. My attention cannot be focused long enough for me to sit and read and study. My affinity for magic is not lacking, thankfully. But trouble has been in my blood since my youth. I wonder why this is. But then I realize that there is no need to wonder.

I am me!

I'm good enough. It's not an ego or overconfidence talking, as Ratheron might think. I have to believe in myself and that the path I am taking is right. Otherwise…

No. I won't even consider it. This is better than the path of becoming a groomed and proper magus. It has to be!

So, here I am! Who am I? I am… ah… Let's say Shadow. I don't want for them to follow me. I don't want to be known, really. I just pass my name to the monks because they wouldn't accept me unless I was being honest. But it's hard to be honest when you're 'throwing your life away'. Even though I'm an adult, I'm still considered irresponsible and 'young' by my family. And the last thing I need is for them to come and make a scene.

I'm not really a run away. You can't run away from where I came from. But that's not talking about me.

I am a monk. I've been watching them come and go. Mistweavers, Windwalkers, Brewmasters. Monks! The oddest thing is that I've seen them of nearly every shape and size! It's almost like the time that the Death Knights began to march around. How and why? There is no solid information in the great library. And when I say great, I mean our library is amazing. The best! But I digress. I wanted to know more about monks. So I talked to them secretly. They directed me towards this new goal of mine.

The downside is that, despite all of the running around and play fighting I'd done, I've hardly the stamina and strength to keep up. I do my best, but it is a progress in the making. I catch naps in the shadows and force myself up again. Luckily, I had brought along a backup plan.

It is called the Elixir of Ancient Knowledge. It allows for me to tap into the deep roots of each and every technique I pick up, relaxes my mind and lets me build experience in the arts far faster. It is said to be a dangerous brew, and I have only managed to get my hands on so much. But I believe the benefits will outweigh the risks. If I were to ever be caught, I would have to prove that I am fully capable of living this lifestyle to gain any form of acceptable.

That is my story thus far. I have also been given a private tutor of sorts. A mentor. His name is Ratheron. He's basically a big rock that someone carved to look like an elf. And when I mean big, I mean tall. I almost wonder if he doesn't have Kaldorei blood in him. He's tense and doesn't think much on emotions. We had a discussion about that, today. Well, rather, I ranted at him for saying that love brings only pain and jealousy and hatred. Of course, my argument was brilliant. Only weak people give in and let such things control their actions.

I am not weak.

I do not think that he is, either. But I also think that he's… maybe scared? Or maybe absolutely delusional. Probably delusional. He seems absolutely convinced that everything he says is fact and cannot be changed.

Or maybe he just wants me to think that.

Either way, he also seems convinced that he will make me unstoppable and unbeatable.

Hah!

I'd be happy just being able to be me.

Maybe I'll teach Ratheron how to be himself as well. He doesn't seem to understand what the difference is between a rock and a living being. As much as his training hurts and leaves my head spinning, he's not mean. In fact, he often seems pleased. Not that it's easy to tell behind his mask. I'm assuming he's pleased because he doesn't leave me with more welts than what I get trying to lay a punch on him. Or maybe he's just indifferent. Being pleased would be too hard for someone like him to do on a whim.

He gave me a stone and told me he would use it to contact me. He said to ignore the other voices speaking through it, they are part of a Fellowship that he is affiliated with. I wonder if it's a Fellowship of rocks. I'm tempted to talk into it, but it is silent. Maybe it's broken. Maybe he can't tell the difference between rocks, people, and forms of communication.

Oh dear Light, the poor thing…

Flit. Poor, poor Flit. I almost lost him today, while returning from slapping some insolent boy mages. As I crossed the Scar we were assaulted by five of the Scourge that wander around there. I was totally taken by surprise, and almost lost my bow, but not Flit. He assailed them as I got my bearings, and began retreating, and firing at them. I saw two of them pull Flit down, and I began firing on them, and that's when two others began grabbing at me, and pulling me down.

I screamed, I know I screamed, and then Flit was there. He charged them, he held them at bay as I began to fire at them shakily. And we won, Flit and I won. I carried him over to the side of the Scar, and fed him some of those damn bananas I keep finding. He perked up, and he ate two of them. The sweet little pig...he saved me again. Oh, Flit, thank you, thank you, thank you.

My next stop was Fairbreeze Village, and I found several interesting jobs to occupy my time. And I found a friend for Flit, I call her Little Bit, for she is smaller that Flit, but they seem quite taken with each other. They look cute flying side by side as we travel the hills around Fairbreeze.

Only one dark spot in an otherwise sunny day, Lord Saltheril. I was made to go see him for silly party favors and such, but I felt like a piece of meat, the way his eyes roamed all over me. Disgusting pig. The bastard even had the gall to give me an invitation to his stupid party. As if! I threw it into one of the braziers in Fairbreeze.

One last bit of news, I met with Cyaer today. He made it a public place, the Royal Exchange, and as we sat on one of the park benches we talked about my training, Flit, and how I was doing. I like him. His voice is soft and low, but it is his eyes that I find attractive. He looks young, almost my age even, but there is wisdom, warmth, and experience in those eyes. And I didn't feel like a piece of meat on display either. He was a gentleman. Where can I get one of him for myself I wonder?

From the pages of my journal:

Question. Can a husband ever tell his bride how much he loves her, too much?

I found myself relaxing beneath the boughs of a beautiful Pandaren tree, as the sounds of the falls from the Pools of Purity fell behind me. My feet were stretched out in the cool grass, and my eyes were closed, when I heard her dragon land not far from me.

I watched her as she walked over and sat beside me, and took my hand. In my mind, I thought of how beautiful she is to me. And how important she is to me. And I told her the same. I withhold none of my love when it comes to Kel'tira, and she lay beside me, her head on my shoulder and her hand on my chest. And I found myself the happiest man on Azeroth at that moment. And I told her that too.

And we kissed, slow lingering kisses that were warm and loving, and we talked away the afternoon. Eventually, we had to part, but I held her close to me, and kissed her gently one more time before we seperated. I love the smile I see on her lips, as well as in her eyes. And I long to be with her this evening, just a few short hours way...and I find my love for her growing more each day. Isn't that the way it is suppose to be?

Answer. You can never tell your wife you love her too many times. Ever.

The pain. The simple anguish of not killing...of not letting something suffer at my hands. I hate it. I loathe it. And yet I must feed it, or the pain becomes too excrutiating. Yes, I tried. Three full days. I will never again put myself through that. There are deserving cretins and filth on this ball of mud to allow me to find my "fix" as it were.

I have have killed bandits, mauraders, and evil men to satisfy my need. And I feel no remorse in killing them, in letting them suffer, and easing my pain. It is a necessary part of my life, and I have come to accept it. You can run, and you can hide, but I will find you, and use you for my own entertainment.

I am a monster. But I have come to grips with that monster. And what I do aids those I used to protect in another life. I am still a hero, just not the way you would suspect a hero to be. You sleep in your nice warm beds and homes, while I, I stay out in the cold and dark, protecting you from them. I ask for nothing. I do it for you, and I do it for myself. Fear me, I prefer it that way.

Ratheron

The tall elf sat on a crate on the Azerothian side of the Dark Portal and sighed with some amusement. She was late, again, he thought dryly as he took out his journal and began to sketch the Portal and write down his thoughts of late.

It seems the Fates have conspired to throw at me a young and energetic apprentice. One with the life and fire and emotional climate to disrupt the calm I have spent years mastering and cultivating. It is a rather humorous endeavor that she seeks to "rectify" this lack of emotion in me. How wrong she is to believe that I do not -feel- anything. I simply have the ability to hold myself in check and the necessary fortitude to not let my emotions control me.

It is something I seek to impart upon her but alas experience shall be her only guide in this regard. I have decided to change how I train her since her nature is that of the rebellious youth. I rather found the "Live or Die," training regimen to be a waste of talent and life but it seems to have its uses for those who think they are stronger than those who train them. She asked me why I sought to be a legend and yet it was a question with so many answers it was impossible to answer.

It would be like asking why the Horde and Alliance fight each other. It is my nature to seek the exalted status of legend. I shall follow the path laid before me and I shall prevail to lay a path before Shadow that will lead her to success.

Ratheron closes the journal after finishing his black and white sketch of the Dark Portal, the picture having taken on its own imagery as the swirling nexus of energy within seemed to pulsate and call out to the adventurous soul. Like the seductive nature of a woman, coyly pulling a man to the darker side of life.

The dawn rose hours ago on the third day.

My entire body aches. My head aches worse than if I had drank an entire keg of Dwarven ale.

On Light, what did I just put myself through?

From the time I parted ways with Ratheron, I had been dragging out the effects of the Elixir. My mind grows fast, my limiting perception of myself and the world has all but evaporated as the haze of the drink forces me to mechanically fall into place within a monk's mindset. It was terrifying, almost as if being possessed! I couldn't understand how I so quickly grasped the base concepts, but my control over my mana and Chi has evolved rapidly.

Maybe too rapidly.

I've already been practicing, preparing for techniques I didn't 'know' about before they were demonstrated to me by the Masters.

They didn't understand. They questioned what I had done. I now question what I've done to myself. It isn't right. It isn't proper. It's a sick, twisted thing, this elixir.

But it was the only way. I am certain of it.

Even Ratheron didn't bat an eyelash (not that I thought he would… rock…) when I told him I intend to be in Outlands tomorrow.

No. In fact, he invited me to come along with him.

Either he wants to keep an eye on me, or he has another motive. He has spoken of using me, that I would be there when he needed me. But I feel that he's also willing to let the reins loose and watch me plow myself into the ground.

Day one: I was in Eversong punching Dragonhawks and smacking skeletons of fallen brethren with a stick.

Day two: I was lost in the fog of my training. I think I remember Devilsaurs… and naked humans… a crazy troll… and a lot of Scourge.

Day three: I'm going. To Outlands.

No one should ever progress this quickly. I've been knocked down and severely beaten. I can hardly move my left hand right now. But it should be alright in a few more days. It's hard to speak and smile, my face hurts so much. I don't think I will confront my family. Not yet. They wait for me beyond the Portal. But I will not see them. I have to rediscover the foundation of my training, first. I feel as if I had done a great ill by pushing myself. Despite the necessity. No one understands…

I sort of don't care if they don't, either.

Oh !@#$, I'm late!

P.S. Ratheron wasn't completely crazy. The stone did work! Though I still haven't heard any other voices on it…

Another band of bandits, five of them against one. I'm sure they thought they had an easy mark. Little did they know. They saw a soldier, worn out and tired, riding an old nag of a horse. After two of them lay on the road, their life's blood flowing into the dirt, the other three decided to be more practical.

As the one went to lock the bolt onto his crossbow, he found himself being brought before me through the air, and quick slash of my runesword silenced him forever. I heard the passing of one bolt and watched it bury its point into the road ten feet in front of me. The last one found its mark, deep within my chest. I crumbled to the ground and lay there waiting.

"I got him! I got the big bastard!" as a man in leathers came bounding from cover. The second one came more cautiously, with his crossbow drawn and ready. I waited, like a spider drawing its prey closer to the web, and when he stood over me gloating, I reached up and grabbed him by the nards and twisted. I smiled grimly as his voice reached a pitch and tone that only woman who has trained in the opera could have found.

When I released him, he fell to the ground whimpering like a pathetic dog. I soon put him out of his misery. As for the last one, I did not see him again. A pity, I had something special waiting for him.

My hunger had been sated, and the road here was safe for awhile. I removed the disguise, and placed it in the saddlebags of the old horse. It was a good horse, and I left it at the farm where I had spent an evening chopping wood. They could use its strength to plow and such. I had no further need for it.

I stepped back into the brush and waited. Just on the off chance the fool might return. As the dawn rose, I moved out of the brush and call forth my charger. Silvermoon City was only a day or two's ride way. I set off at a brisk clip, knowing full well it would not tire my mount, and also knew I would arrive just about dusk.