World of Warcraft®

"Lyrilia? Ah I thought I'd find you here! Calithara's gone to sleep so I figured..."

"What? That we could talk? I'm tolerating you, for now, but I have no wish to speak with you unless absolutely necessary." She turned to face the dark haired woman behind her, a sly smile playing on the other woman's lips. "Now, I'm going up to my room, I think I'll go to bed early." Her voice was cool and clipped as she rose from the table, sweeping the bag containing her journal from the table.

"Good Night, Lyrilia."

"Night, Vora." She closed the door loudly behind her, leaving the dark haired woman alone with her wine. Turning down the dim hallway she rummaged in her bag, searching for her journal. Finding the smooth leather book, she smiled slightly, patting the bag as she ran up the stairs, turning into the room and shutting the door silently.

Salethorian is coming back...He's coming back from the dead, back to me. But do I want him too? Did I do what I wanted? Or did I do what they wanted me to.

Did I do it to see them back together again? All of us?

Or maybe, I wanted to do it. But then why was it so hard? Why did I do that....It feels wrong...but then again....it doesn't.

I wish they hadn't told me! I wish they hadn't written him back, hadn't shown me those letters, I wish they had told me. I wish they had told me when they first got them. I don't know what I've done. Why did they do this? Is it a plot?

Or is it real? Is he really coming back? Do I really still love him? Or am I pretending to, no, convincing myself that I do just to see it all fixed, to have it so that I fixed it?

Am I doing that just because I feel I can't do anything right?

If I do, its because of them! The things they say, the way they bicker and blame it on me, the way the blame always seems to fall on me, I'm always the center of the problem. Because they see me as something wrong, something broken and needing to be fixed, to be molded and shaped into something more 'acceptable' something they want me to be.

I need to speak to someone not in my family about this...

This whole mess is all their fault!

From the pages of my journal:

Several things that have given me hope in an otherwise hopeless world (not that I actually think that way) -

I feel like I'm finally making some head way in that precious little garden of mine in Halfhill. Still ridding it of vermin, and weeds, but I don't know, I feel like I'm actually making a reputation amonst the other farmers here. Aye, I am one of those newlanders, but I have been persistant, and I keep coming back nearly daily, caring for my crops and such. I see them looking at me differently, and honestly, I like it. They are simple people, and me, I'm a simple man. I hope to fit in here...someday.

And praise the light after much searching, and I mean searching, I have been given license to fly in this beautiful land of Pandarens, Hozen, and Mogur. And to mark the occasion, I purchased a special mount to be seen on. I haven't seen it yet, but it looks impressive in its calling vessel. Perhaps in the morning.

My journeys are taking me further and further from Honeydew Village, and I bid Kiki a fond farewell. We cried, we held each other close, and I thanked her for all of her tender loving care. I also told her I valued our dear, and close friendship, and that I wouldn't be a stranger. She kept looking at me with those pretty green eyes of hers, and I promised to return with fresh produce, and fish for her.

It was with a heavy heart that I made my new home in Halfhill. It was close to so much of what I am doing in my life right now - cooking, farming, and fishing. I set up a rough bed in the shed on the farm, and slept there the night.

I may take up residence at the inn...the floor is hard, and it smells of chemicals, and old vegetables in the shed. I must be getting soft as I get used to the creature comforts of Pandaria.

I haven't seen Kel for a day or two. I'm missing her, and there is an ache in my heart to see her again. But I have plenty to keep me busy for the moment. Except the night seems so empty and cold.

A brown leather journal, bound by a rubber band
Solorin writes,

Well training was fine I suppose...but it is all over now..and it seems I return home to an empty house...it was upsetting that I did not get to see my wife today, but I must digress..she is a very busy woman...but nonetheless I still love to see her..I was glad she came to visit me it made me very happy, I missed her dearly.

So today was a bit slow..I went to the city to pick up a few items from the market...my brother gave me a pet Pheonix I named it Soren.. I think the name suits the creature.

I hope to hear from my wife soon...I missed her dearly...and I wanted to actually start on our family...it's important to me..as I am sure it is to her... I will speak with her about this another time I suppose, when she is home that is!

*the elf lets out a few chuckles before closing his journal and resting it on the bed side table, he blows out the candle and says a small prayer for his wife, and then lays his head down for some well deserved rest*

The warrior shivered slightly in her thin dress, mostly ignoring the cold as she wrote, sitting in the snow just outside Everlook, leaning against the wall surrounding the town. Her face was blank, her mouth set into a grim line and her eyes cold. A broken quill sat next to her into the snow, marring the frozen white with blotches of blood and deep blue ink.

This entry was written on a wrinkled piece of spare parchment, bits of blood and ink spattering her page from the quill she had broken.

What. Have. I. Done?

Is it really all my fault?

Of course not! He had no right to run about, blaming the WHOLE thing on -ME-! If he really wanted something done, he wouldn't be having that damned little party of his, he'd be on his way to Pandaria, convincing Alen to come back, and if that fails, dragging him back! I'm beginning to think he doesn't care about this whole thing!

But why, if what I've convinced myself of is true, do -I- care as much as I do....

Is he right on that one thing?

But he's not in the past anymore, he's not dead...he's alive and he's coming here...I think.

Are my thoughts really so twisted? Of course not! He does not know how I think, why I've done what I've done...that I really mean well, I've just made a mistake and...maybe it is all my fault....but that doesn't give him -any- right to run around saying the things he said to me! Not directly in front of all those people, but I know they heard....although it's not like I really care what they think. Or maybe I do care when it comes to Alen...

But why do I? Salethorian is coming back, I read the letters myself, and I had them read to me, I saw the ring, and I know what I felt. But then again I don't...

I feel terrible for what I said...and what he said has made me think about....and about what Alen's doing because of it. Its happening again! I've tried to d something good...to make it so everything works out...but now, it's happening all over again...I'm causing someone's death because of a small mistake I ma

He's not dead yet. I can still stop him! I just need to get there in time....

but when is in time? I need to grab armor, my weapons...maybe help...

Azurick. I need to speak with him again.....and then stock up in Orgrimmar and set out...

With or without his help and or understanding. Although, I can't help but thinking his understanding will be easier to come by then his help..

Who throws a damned party when their brother is marching off to his death?!

From the pages of my journal:

I sit here quietly, lightly scratching my quill upon the page and trying to come up with the appropriate words for what I am feeling at this moment. I know, my silver tongue has gotten me out of and into more trouble than I can count and usually my mind is already four steps a head of me on what to do next, but not today.

Let me go back to yesterday, specifically, last night before a party being put on by Azurick. I met her in Orgrimmar. I was dressed in a tuxedo, and feeling like a diamond in a sack of coal, when she came up behind me, and gently coughed.

I spun around and I think I forgot to breath. For before me was a vision of lovliness, and her name was Kel'tira. The dress she wore was perfection on her, and her eyes had a certain sparkle to them, and she told me I was looking handsome in my tux. I kept my cool, (because I remember that she didn't think of herself as beautiful, though why she thinks it is beyond me) and told her she looked good, very nice.

And the next thing I knew she was there in front of me, with her arms around me telling me that she had missed me. I was surprised at first, and stuttered a reply, which made her suspicious, and I had to admit to her that she had got the jump on her rogue, and surprised me. I wrapped my arms around her and held her close to me. She felt wonderful, and I smelled something sweet and pretty (was she wearing some perfume?).

As we prepared to fly to the party, I asked her for a kiss. And again she was once more in my arms, and the kiss left me wanting more, for it held a promise of more. And I called forth my new mount and we flew off with her leading. She looks awesome riding her dragon, and I wanted her more just riding beside her.

I don't think we were there but a few minutes, when she leaned heavily on my shoulder to right herself. I whispered if she was alright, and for the first time she told me no, she was not alright. She made me promise to stay and enjoy the party, as she was leaving, and going to rest at home. She tried to make light of it, but I knew something wasn't right, and when she lightly staggered out the door, I wish I had not promised her.

I was far from being in a partying mood now. But I tried. Twice actually, and I think my mood was evident. I sat and had a cup of tea and begged off to Azurick, and made off to where I thought "home" was.

So now, I sit here, watching over her, and her fitful sleep. Perhaps the nightmares assail her tonight, I can not tell. But I stay close. Fretful and full of worry.

The mood was upon the artist as he stood before the easel, the pencils and charcoal made their various marks and scratches as his hands danced over the large sheet of paper. The idea that moved through his mind was now becoming a reality slowly as the forms began to take shape on the page.

He had pictured a setting of many of the founders or members of the Rising Sun Fellowship seated together here within the Hall of Respite. And his mind began to shift them so each was visible and clear within the confines of the page. Some stood head and shoulders over some of them, while others sat on the divan and yet a select few crouched beside them.

It was a difficult assignment, but one he found a good challenge for his skills and he savored it, making sure all was perfect in his mind before he put a single mark on the page. And now he knew what he wanted, and so the process began...

Neryth was careful to make those subtle changes that turned a cartoon into the real image of who he was trying to portray. A flip and twist of the hair, the glint of light (or was it something else?) in one's eye, and of course the smile, or lack thereof. What had began as brief sketches and shapes was taking on a life of its own, as the personalities and faces became more evident on the easel. And as he finished up the shading and a touch here and there, Neryth smiled.

(Looking from left to right:)
Back row: The handsome warrior Nicias Sunblaze standing beside his wife Kel'tira. Next was the rogue Cyaer Sunblaze with his wife Karamia. And beside them the paladin Solorin and his wife Auxilia.

Center: Kneeling in front of Nicias, and leaning on the divan is the paladin Kreindis, and holding his arm, seated on the divan is the pretty mage Tislina. Followed by the artist himself with the monk Raviella leaning against his arm, holding his hand. Kneeling at the end of the divan is the priest Azmos, looking grim.

Front row: In front of Tislina, the mage Aseria, looking amused. Beside her a young priest Azjorilyon, smiling pleasantly, and beside him the Pandaren Yinhon.

Kel'tira Sunblaze

I have no idea what happened...

I remember vaguely leaving Winterspring, and just making it to Silvermoon and home before I passed out and then... nothing, nothing for a very long while. On one hand, it was terrifying, on the other hand, if there were nightmares, I do not remember them.

What is wrong with me?

I am going to see Knowles, a mental doctor with Da Doctas... Mayhaps he can shed some light on this.

The blood poured from the wound, pooling in the grass and mixing with her blonde hair. It streaked the exposed skin, and lined the ragged tears on her tabard, staining the white of her shirt.

How stupid she was.

Her eyes flickered to the shadows around her, the sickening stench of blood strong around, and she half expected one of the tigers she had seen before to jump out and make a meal of her. She would be easy prey in this state.

How utterly stupid she was.

Before, she had been so angry....At his words, at herself, at the scene she had caused and the people at that party. She had written out her thoughts and promptly took her hearthstone to Silvermoon, drowning her problems in as much alcohol as she could. And when she woke, she did the same again, despite the splitting headache she had woke with.

How stupid could she be?

She had packed her things in a drunken haze, brushing a whole shelf of healing potions into her bag, her journal but not her writing supplies, putting her tabard and shirt on, but no plate chestpiece.

Sadly, that seemed the least stupid of all the things she had done.

She had worked her way to Orgrimmar, dawn just breaking, and in her drunken haze, stumbled through the portal to Honeydew.....and into the forest in search of Alliance. She would cut them all down, her alcohol clouded brain telling her that if there wasn't any Alliance left, they couldn't hurt Alen.

How stupid. She isn't doing much good now.

She had stumbled across the Hozen town she had been in a few times, sloshing noisily across the river and crashing loudly through the brush. She became thirsty, because she was too stupid to bring a full flask of water, so she returned to the river. And that's when she started to speak with Kel.

How stupid Kel must think she is now.

She stumbled about, walking straight into trees and tripping over mere pebbles. Or her own feet. But she had been followed, an Alliance scout stalking her until she was alone. Until they struck.

The dagger clanged against her metal gloves, the strike enough to shock her out of whatever stupor she had been in, and she brought her swords up to fight, the blade slashing into the unsuspecting human's arm. She had obviously not been expecting much of fight from a drunken blood elf yelling at trees.

The rogue was smarter now, her right arm leaking blood and put out of commission, a surprisingly well aimed blow having landed a deep gash in the humans shoulder, ending a few inches from her elbow. But she also got one of her own.

She had cut the warrior with her blade as it slid from the glove, tearing the fabric of her shirt and cutting the flesh. Luckily, no poison had been applied to the weapon, the pain snapping the warrior fully to her senses. Almost.

Forgetting she wore no breastplate, she darted in for an attack, leaving her front much to exposed for one not wearing armor. And that was her mistake.

Stupid.

The short-sword darted closer to her stomach, the blade tearing into the flesh as it plunged, ripping upward slightly before the rogue fell to Lyrilia's own blade, aimed precisely at her neck. The human fell, crumpling to the ground in a limp heap.

And she felt, that at any moment she could do the same, and that it might even be better that way as it took everything she had not to rip the small blade from where it was lodged into her flesh.

Stupid stupid, stupid.

How stupid of Alen to come here, how stupid of her to follow in her blind anger. Such thoughts filled her mind as she attempted to cloud out the pain of her wounds, lying under this tree with a sword lodged into her, a pool of her own blood slowly surrounding her.

She had even been stupid, no, proud enough to move away.

She had stumbled a few steps from the human, not wanting to be near the alliance sum as her filthy blood flowed from her neck where her sword rested. And then it came.
She feel to her knees, the blood coming up as she coughed, fighting to keep it from flowing into her lungs, fighting for a death not caused by drowning in her own blood. So she lowered her self to the ground, laying on her back.

She wished she had been stupid enough to let the blood drown her.

What good was she doing, writhing in pain under this tree in Pandaria, her blood-streaked hand stretching for the sword laying just out of her reach, the blade that could end this torment. She wanted to end it, for she knew she couldn't lay here much longer before her organs would react, bringing the most excruciating pain of all.

But for now, she would wait, her other hand clutching the bloodied guildstone, willing kel or someone else to come.

She was completely and utterly incredibly stupid.

Alenthis Bloodreaver stood on the deck of the frigate, "Goresong." The wind had whipped into a flurry and the frigate was traveling at top speed, straight for domination point. Alenthis and the other grunts were called to the middle of thr deck to be addressed by the commander. He stated plainly and solemnly that most of them would not survive. He explained the plan of action and took his place at the helm. The convoy was nearing Pandaria.

Azurick Bloodreaver entered his office and sat down with a huff. "What a party." He was exhausted. Azurick spoke to his new phoenix, "Lovely party, all considered. Although, I feel a tad guilty for the way I treated Lyrilia." The phoenix squawked indignantly to which Azurick gave it a glare. "Yes, of course I'll be apologizing to her. I was just in a mood last night." The firebird tittered quietly and zipped over to its roost in Azurick's window. The Bloodmage sat in his chair for a moment, frowning. "Who does throw a party when they're brothers on his way to war...hmph. I suppose that's a fair point."

The convoy bucked in the waves of the krasarang wilds. The signal had come from domination point. "Convoy to eastern beach. Move to capture Lion's Landing." And so they were.

"TAKE COVER!" Dwarven mortar rounds pocketed the sea throughout the convoy. Clouds of smoke filled the air and the clang of steal and booms of gunpowder echoed for miles away. The ship directly to their right ignited in a blaze of fire and wood splinters; a direct hit from an enemy mortar. The beach was in sight. "Open fire!" The cannons on the "Gorehowl" belched flame and steel, answering the dwarves. After another moment, the boat was in range of musket fire. "DOWN!" Alenthis ducked as a volley of bullets ricoche'ed through the hull practically shredding an orc not fast enough to his knee's. A whistling sound began above them. "MORTARS!" The steel-cased round filled with explosives was made in Ironforge and built to blast. It missed their boat by several inches landing in the water directly behind them. An audible sigh of relief echoed through the ship, seconds before the submerged warhead detonated, shattering the "Gorehowl's rudder. The captain pulled himself off the ground and threw the wheel to the right. No response. Lieutenant-Captain Ortho Gromthar looked to the sails and then at the beach. His vessel was traveling much to fast to stow the sails before impact. He threw a gaze to his crew and did the only thing he could.

"BRACE YOURSELVES!" 2.7 seconds later a iron cased bullet fired from a dwarf 137 yards away ended Lieutenant Captain Ortho Gromthar. And another 3 seconds after that. The "Gorehowl" ran aground...

It would seem as though my time in pandaria is not over yet...I have been charged with taking a platoon of blood knights under my wing to help fight off the mogu and mantid population in the town long steppes it's rather upsetting seeing as I want to spend time with my wife...and they promised me that I could start my family...but orcs and their moral code...bah they can shove goblin rockets in their.. *the rest of that section trails off in to a string of horrible things to be said about orcs...and trolls...*

I happend to talk to kel over the guild stone...and yet nothing still from my beloved... I hope she is alright, when she returns I hope to take her on a romantic date..just me and her...hopefully it can work out that way, and we shan't be interrupted as often as we are.

The population of mantid seems to have increased since I last came here...as well as the youngol strange creatures...hopefully with time this will all be over and I can return home to my loving wife.

(New entry in a light green leather journal etched with a tree)

I had to get away from the house for a while. I have cleaned it from top to bottom, washed the sheets, cleared the fireplace place and everything else I could think of doing and have sat idle for the past few days. I decided to return to Pandaria to wait out the rest of Sol’s training. I did send word to the Crusade as to my whereabouts so they can let Sol know or if there is another day where I am allowed to visit.

I am missing him terribly and I think a change of scenery is just what I need to soothe the loneliness. I have been spending my time in Binan Village by the lake. Sol and I didn’t spend a lot of time here, so I am not melancholy with memories. I find the lake soothing and while there are people coming through the area, the inn is mostly quiet.

The woman with the brown hair stopped writing as a courier stepped up beside her. The orc looked a little nervous as he handed over a letter. He turned and left without waiting for her to read the missive.

Concerned, she tore the letter open and read through the contents. A sense of relief washed over her, Sol was not dead… she was worried there for a moment, but he had been deployed again.

With a disgusted sigh, she crumpled the letter with one hand and dropped it in her pack. She leaned her head back against a post and looked out over the lake. After a moment, she dug into her pack and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She didn’t know if the Crusade had told Sol she was here, but she certainly could.

The grass snaked up around her, curling around her wrists and ankles, binding her to the ground. She struggled against the bonds, fear flickering across her face as the shadows around her creeped in closer, a grayish mist concealing their forms.

Except for their eyes.

Each shadow bore a pair of glowing orbs, their color a frightfully bright red. Deep rumbles sounded from their throats as they stalked around her, the grass weaving itself tighter around her, and beginning to snake around her middle.

She twisted in her bonds, fighting back screams as the grass moved over the torn flesh of her wound. Her eyes grew wide as a shadow broke from the pack, closing in on her, a limp body hanging from its mouth.....the Alliance tabard swinging around the tiger-shadow's neck.

The body thudded to the ground, the edges of her vision blurry from the pain of the grass snaking across her wound. Turning her head, the tiger let out an almost mocking growl as it bounded away with a flash of gold and blue...

The limp body...was Alen.

The grass tightened around her middle, digging into the already torn flesh and widening the wound as it held her there...and she screamed as it cut, tears spilling from her eyes...

She jolted upright in her bed, beads of sweat collecting on her forehead and soaking the sheets, her breathing hurried and shallow. She was met with an almost instant pain and dizziness at her sudden actions, falling back onto her pillow with a soft thud.

"Just another nightmare, just a nightmare..." Her voice was hoarse, her throat raw from coughing.

Her face was white with the pain at her stomach, her head swimming with the images from her nightmare. But she was in Silvermoon, Kel had saved her as much as Lyrilia had let her, and the healers seemed intent on finishing the job. She was safe, but Alen was not.

And now, she was sitting here, immobile and unfit for battle once again, while he went off to die...

Again.

The pain intensified as she shifted in the bed, the taste of blood still strong in her mouth, a soft whimper escaping her lips. She had let the healers begin to finish what Kel had started....but not by much. At least she could sort of sit up, but not without intense pain.

Her whimpers turned into violent coughs, a fresh spattering of her blood covering her shirt. She had been twisting in her dreams, and must be internally bleeding again.

Great. If only Kel had given her that sword......then she wouldn't have to deal with all this....She was sick of it. And although she had wanted to speak with Azurick before, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stand seeing him without attempting to strangle him.

She wasn't entirely sure why, though. But then again she was.

Lying as perfectly still as she could manage, the pain began to slowly subside into the constant ache she had become accustomed to feeling, her eyes flickering to the still bloodied guildstone at her side.

She had left it on since she had departed for Pandaria, in hopes of catching a tidbit of information on Alen. Great, anyone could have her her strangled screams, her whimpers of pain...or the multiple times she must have cried. She never cried.

Perhaps she should let the healers finish, but she was too proud for that.

A small, onyx journal lies in a dark blue mithril lockbox. It carries the scent of undeath from its owner, and is cold as its owner, about thirty-seven degrees fahrenheit. The newest entry, the first, reads:

I am searching for the woman that was on my mind since my raising. Tislina Dawnrunner... I met someone who told me who she was to me in life. A mage, my lover, who I was going to propose to...

Thats why I search for her. She would be miserable thinking I am dead, and even though misery is something I like causing in undeath, I dont want to be responsible for another one of my kind to lose their lover. Also known as me.

And, plus... maybe this Tislina and I will get back together. From the image of her that has haunted me, she looks beautiful...

Maybe I'd like a lover, especially one that was already mine in life...

Kreindis would have written more in the entry, but he had trailed off into thougt before he could.

An exploding cannonshell awoke Alen. Blood and gore spattered the ground next to him and he forced himself to his feet. Their ship had run aground on the beach outside Lion's Landing. As the survivor's slowly began to come to, reinforcements arrived from sparksprocket outpost. The orcs charged headlong into the Alliance's line, giving the new horde troops time to ready.

Alen scooped up his two handed axe and fell into formation. An Undead Hunter stood at the front of the line. "Chaaarge!" And so they did. Alenthis gave into his lust to murder. He let the pain of death flow through him. The alliance and horde were so packed togethor that one weapon stroke felled two or three of the opposite side at once. Mortar shells and sniper rounds whizzed past the horde troops and while some found their mark, the Horde pushed on. Alenthis pushed on.

My final entry:

It has been a long and hard road. I have lost one love, only to find another. I left my home, only to find one of beauty and richness that makes my eyes tear. I have lost friends too many to count, and made new ones. This has been my life and my chronicles of it.

I sat and spoke with the one I love, and found happiness in her words, and in her actions. I see a nice future ahead for us, if we only let it be and be what it is. And I am good with that. Already I miss her, and desire to have her arms around me, and her lips upon my own. I am content and peaceful. My heart overflows.

I have promise in this new land of Pandaria, and I have a new higher purpose. I can only hope I walk in the light, and allow it to guide me as I make my way through Pandaria's many lands. Light guide me in my future.

I will spend one more day here in Honeydew Village, I owe my dear friend that much. I saved her from the assassin, and she was thankful, but I do not wish to endanger her any further. The snake pit has been cleared and cleaned out, I made certain of that. And I shall miss my dear friend more than she will ever know, and I can ever tell her. Farewell, Kiki, I love you dearly.

I have my raft, I have my pole, and a nice lunch to keep me fed. I shall live a good life here, I am almost sure of it.

Kel'tira Sunblaze: The last pages of the ragged, black leather journal.

The journal is filled now, to the brimming point, with papers and ribbons and other odds and ends. A piece of soap dangles from the pages, a scalloped shell on a bit of twine. A single earring, gold and glittering red gems pierces a page. The dried seaweed used in place of pages seems to shimmer slightly, and the pages rustle as they are turned, releasing the scent of peppermint and lavender. The rusted blood stains on a few pages crinkle, lending a coppery smell in places, and the worn leather binding is pliant and supple.

It is here, at the ends of this one journal, only a chapter in a life marked by hardships and pain, tears and grief, hope and love, light and darkness, that a small envelope contains finished sketches, but they are more than sketches, they have been shaded in colors that are almost gem-like, inks that hold personality and light and throw it back brilliantly. Familiar faces peer from the white papers, the images seemingly captured in a moment of stillness, the smiles, the laughter, the tears, the grimaces. All of them frozen in time by some artist's hand. Each image has a dedication, written in Kel's handwriting, but the letters are ornate, curled, and it is unclear whether she intends to give these images to their living counterparts, or to keep them for herself, as a reminder.

Alaria Sunblaze is at the top of the stack, her eyes bright, smile prominent, and one long ear is quirked over at an odd angle. Her emerald eyes flash in the jade inks, and her features are delicate, captured in time. Red hair is almost fiery, a shade or three darker than Kel's strawberry locks, and it is down, coiling in ringlets around Alaria's shoulders.

"For the Light that shined in you, shines on in us all."

Cyaer Sunblaze is the next image captured in the glittering colors on the creamy pages, his almost cocky smile and his gently teasing eyes are shining, his smile flashes a sliver of white teeth, and he looks competent, carefree, and happy, his features relaxed, his skin bronzed by days in the sun. He looks older, too, though, worn to some extent, and not as young as he once was.

"No longer do we walk alone, hmm?"

Karamia Dawnstrike-Sunblaze smiles up from the paper, her eyes full of warmth, and a fierce protective determination. Her smile is there, but a small smile, her face sharper and less rounded. Her green eyes show her compassion, just as the set of her mouth shows her slight annoyance, in an amused way. She is, however, as she was always in life, breathtakingly beautiful.

"May that Light that you loved, guard you even now."

Kara Vaelia is smiling, the tones used in this piece more muted, less life-like, but the details captured in her eyes are clearly those of love and warmth, a desire for peace spoken in the gentle curl of her lips. There is a lily, all reds and purples, tucked behind her ear, and it seems as if the bright tones of the lily bleed into the woman's features.

"Honor. Loyalty. Love. Piety."

Tyrael Firehawk is not laughing. His eyes are serious, his face determined. The glimmer of annoyance shows vaguely in his jade eyes, and his features are chiseled and set, strength showing in the lines on his face. His hair seems to reflect some un-seen light, and his jaw-line shows the start of some unshaved stubble.

"We must stand strong individually so that together we are invincible."

Nicias Sunblaze's golden hair falls around his shoulders, looking entirely real, his mouth is open, his eyes are half-closed, and he is clearly laughing. His strong features have been lovingly sketched and shaded, seeming to pop off of the page. Green eyes peer out at you, and his happiness is clear, his merriment infectious even in paper.

"I will never forget you... Always remember you... I love you, Nic."

Kel'tira Sunblaze looks quiet. Her strawberry hair pulled up in a bun, her earrings shimmering in the light cast from behind and above her. Her eyes are kind, sympathetic, and gently, and she smiles slightly, looking intent and ready to listen, but equally ready to jump to someone's defense. Her fine features are depicted in careful detail, but there is a smear of red ink on one side of her neck, which has not been blotted off. The scar across her chin and down her neck is clear, as is her careful happiness, and the protective, motherly emotion in her eyes.

"There is always another dawn."

((1/3))

Alenthis is dark, his smile small, his blue eyes cool and unemotional. Every part of his image speaks of imposing strength, and barely controlled violence, in a way that seems unnatural. His figure seems to radiate a coolness that is depicted as a fading into darkness, his features illuminated from within.

"Forgiven."

Tislina Dawnrunner is smiling, her eyes laughing, her face open and carefree. Her hair is falling around her face gently, and she wears a small clip in her bangs, one hand balancing a book on her shoulder as she grins. Her finger is adorned with a single ring, one that Kel has never seen in reality, nor, she thinks, has Tis, but she knew Krei was thinking about it.

"Stay strong and true to yourself."

Solorin Sunsorrow is almost moody. He is smiling, but the smile does not reach his green eyes. Those eyes are darker, deeper, and still protective, but also dangerous. His smile is, upon closer inspection, almost a grimace of resignation. His features and dark hair are picked out with careful highlights, his pale skin a contrast with the auburn hair.

"Listen to your wife, thickheaded paladin. You're still one of my best friends."

Auxilia Sunsorrow is laughing happily, her eyes warm and considerate, her hair loose. She is not in her rogue's leathers, but in a simple civilian dress. Her mouse-brown hair is pulled up, though, and her hand is raised to brush a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I don't blame you, don't blame yourself. There's nothing you could have done."

Lyrilia is looking stubborn, the smile small, as if amused at something that no one else would notice, and her eyes are gently mocking. She looks competent, and set in her ways. Her jaw is set stubbornly, and her head is cocked slightly sideways.

"Have some faith."

Kreindis is dark, although if you asked Kel, she couldn't tell you why, but his green eyes are shaded towards dark blue. His brown hair has fallen over his eyes, and he is smiling, but the eyes are almost sinister. It is a delicate balance she has achieved, between sinister and kind, angry and blissfully happy, but it works. Touching on him as he was, and him as the death knight she has seen him as once.

"Never give up."

Aseria Sunblade is depicted with a sapphire bird made of fire and embers. The mage's raven hair is shimmering with what appears, upon closer inspection, to be the reflection of flames. Her green eyes are mischievous, her smile almost daring. Her features are etched with laugh lines, and there is a small scar on her neck, almost covered by her hair.

The dedication is clearly a joke, "What the hell am I supposed to think?"

Theronar is smiling, his face open, his amusement clear. His bright eyes are gleaming with wit and determination. A hint of pride shows in the lines on his face, as well. He is young, happy, and his eyes are almost distant, but in a good way.

Another joke in the line of writing below his image, "Get your damned guard up!"

The last entry in the book is crammed in to fit all that the owner has to say, and in places tears have blurred the ink, making it barely legible.

It has been a long, long year. Trials and triumphs, glories and griefs, horrors and hopes, love and loss, pain and pride, but we have grown. We have all grown. For the Fellowship has endured, and we see now that we have come through the darkness and into the light of a new year.

My people... do you know how proud I am of you? Do you know how much I love you all, each and every one of you? For your own actions shape our Fellowship, our group, our guild, whatever you want to call it.

I cannot believe how far I have come in a year, how much my life has changed, for good and for ill, nor how much this entire journal contains, of my life. My memories.

I go into this new year with a new outlook on life, a new perspective, to make new memories, rather than dwell in the past. It is a new dawn, a new start, a new beginning.

I realize that I will never move on from Nic, or from any of the dead, and I realize that I will always have to face death of family and friends, nothing changes that. But seeing Theronar, and hearing from Sere, that kind of thing gives me hope for the future. It gives me hope for our people, Sin'dorei and Fellowship, Sunblaze or not.

Light grace this coming year, let it be peaceful as best as possible, let it be productive, let it be happier than the past year has been.

((2/3))

The last few pages have been torn out, and they are pinned to the board in the Hall of Respite, Kel's handwriting spiders across the papers, her words elegant and graceful.

My people, my children, my ducklings, my chicks, my friends, my family, my brothers and my sisters... You know some of what you mean to me, blood does not flow between us, but our bonds are closer than that. Trust, strength, love.

We are stronger together than we are apart. We are braver together than individually. I am proud of you all, and all you have accomplished. I am honored to be your leader, and I am honored that you choose to follow and stand with me, instead of casting me aside.

I realize I am not perfect, and I realize I can never hope to be perfect. I make mistakes, I fall, I fail, but I stand back up and try again. All I, or anyone, can ask of ourselves or others is that we give our best effort.

So for this year, I thank you all, Light guard you and guide you, and for the new year, I offer a prayer.

Light, guide us in our endeavours, that we may stay strong through this year, show us the right path for our feet to tread. Show us the hope that we cannot see, show us the strength that we need in the darkest nights, that we may keep faith to the morning's Light.

Light, guard us in our battles, physical, mental, and emotional, that we may protect our families through this new year. Guide our weapons to the hearts of our enemies that we may come through the chaos unscathed. Show us the times for peace and the times for war, when we cannot distinguish the two for ourselves.

Light, touch our minds, hearts, and souls that we may make the right decisions, that we may honor ourselves and our compatriots as they and we deserve. Touch us so that we might see the glimmer of Light when we are hopeless.

For the sake of my people, the Fellowship, and for the sake of all of those who would have it, I pray for peace and happiness, success and love in the new year.

Kel'tira Sunblaze

((3/3))

The journal is new, its binding never having been broken yet. The cover has an engraved symbol of the Rising Sun Fellowship in full colors, and in the lower right hand corner of the cover is the gold embossed name of Cyaer Sunblaze.

The hands touch the leather cover, and move across the symbol of everything he has lived and fought for...and he smiles as his fingers trace the lines and the colors presented here. He sighs as he thinks of the other three journals; worn, torn and battle scarred lying in his bank box, memories of a life lived to the fullest.

He gently opens the journal, as the binding cracks and pops. The Sin'dorei rogue looks upon the first page of many, and pulls out the quill and ink he carries with him. His hands tremble, as he opens the ink, and the quill wavers over the page, the writer's heart in turmoil...

(the writing is shaky, and it is clear the writer was highly upset)
I nearly killed her...I nearly killed the woman I love so much. I don't deserve her love...though she says I do. I am distraught, and my heart is hurting over almost losing her.

I overheard some of the quarrel between Solorin and Kel'tira. I could almost feel the hurt in her voice as she yelled at him, and he stood there looking at her so cool, so calm. I remember her moving toward the cliff face, as he ripped off his tabard, and threw his guildstone on top of it.

I raced to her side, and her face was etched in pain and grief. She looked out over the cliff. Her voice was full of pain, and it hurt me just to hear her voice like that. She was thinking about it, I could see it in her face. And I moved in front of her, to stop her, to try to make her think. I pleaded with her, but she seemed so dispondent, and did not want to listen.

I backed away from her, and the rocks let my feet slip towards the edge. I was frightened, and reached for her. She reached out for me, and I stopped skidding. I told her...light, I told her that if she was going to jump from here, I was going to beat her to it. And I stood at the edge of the cliff. And whispered to her I loved her. And walked of the cliff.

My hands gripped and slipped as I slid down off the cliff, my toes and feet catching small edges and slowing my descent. Then I heard her scream...she screamed "No!" as I continued to slip and slide down the edge, taking nary a cut or a bruise, my training aiding me in the fall.

But she had followed me over the edge, casting a spell of some sort to protect me from damage, saving me...at her expense. When I stopped at the base of the cliff, I saw her crumpled body laying there. Her arm was in the wrong position, and I could see a small trickle of blood from her lips...those lips I longed to kiss so often...now bruised and bloody.

I fished around in my pouch, seeking the potent healing draughts I carried, and took one out. And then, praise the light, she moved, albeit slowly, and with a moan. And looking at my Kel, bruised and broke, hurting, and nearly half dead, I lost it...I lost my mind for a moment.

I ranted and raved into the guildstone - they weren't worthy...of her love, her caring, of her being there for them. They didn't deserve her...they didn't deserve...and they spoke back, and I shut it off, I couldn't speak to them, I couldn't...I had to help her.

A priestess was nearby and offered help, and I reached out for it. Kel became conscious, and asked for a healer - Theronar, or Solorin, to aid her. And I turned on the guildstone seeking one of them to aid her. I practically pleaded for their aid. And Solorin answered. As he cast his spell or did what he did, he said it was for the love he had felt for her, as a sister. And then he was gone.

We got her to the infirmary in Thunder Bluff, for that was where we were, and we sought help for her. We got some healing, bandages, and some pills to cut the pain. And I told them I would keep her here at an inn for a few days, until she could be moved to Silvermoon. And so I carried her to the inn, she was so still, so quiet.

(1/2)

From the pages of my journal:

She sleeps now. So deeply, and so still. My eyes are red and hot from my tears, and I pick up my guildstone. I apologized to them all, for the words I spoke, for the feelings that may have been hurt. And I told them briefly what happened, and what Kel's current condition was.

And I was overcome by the enormity of how close I had nearly killed my beloved Kel'tira. It was the reassuring voice of Theronar, and his sound words that helped me to calm myself, and to be strong for her...to be strong for her...I will not leave her side, I shall stay here, and help in whatever I can.

The bruises are rising already upon her cheek and forehead where her head struck the ground. And I looked beneath her blouse to see the dark deep bruises that showed where her ribs were assaulted by the rocks and ground as she fell.

And my eyes flowed with tears as I examined her, and I wept at all the hurt and damage her frail body had taken in the fall. I lay beside her, and softly and ever so gently stroked her copper colored hair. I sing low and softly the children's lullabye I have always sang to her, and try not to let my voice crack as I sing that I will be there to protect you, to care for you...and I kiss her lightly on the head.

I lie awake, watching, and listening. Ever ready to care for her, to be there to console her, and most of all just being there.

We need to talk the two of us. Long and hard. I need to tell her so many things, and I need to let her know how I truly feel about her, and what happened. We need to talk more...will she listen?

(2/2)