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Seraphathir Bloodrose

Informally known as Ser, a bastardization of the more effeminate nickname 'Sera'. I have not been feminine since I was a child. I have been a woman of the military since my youth. I have known the Light since as long as I've known conflict. One came with the territory of my family, the other was a personal route. My family name was altered with the course of history, however. Though I am not estranged from my kin, there's greater need to appeal to the formalities of a Blood Knight.

That was the route I chose when the Sin'dorei fell from the Light's grace, so many years ago. I would not give up on it. I would do anything to embrace it again. And now I do. With or without the blessing of the Naaru, I relish in my power, a strength I imbue into my armor, my body, my mind, and my soul.

I, like most of my surviving kin, was born plain and common. Though, the more I think about it - and I have been for the past few days - it should not matter. Tradition will be the path of my people's destruction.

Breeding among the noble Houses will grow thinner and thinner. Their heirs weaker and less capable. It would take time, but the very notion of such a thing disgusts and disturbs me. Hopefully, some of decent sense remain within their world.

Aserius Firehawk is not one of those people. I would not know who he sleeps with or what his business is, apart from the fact that he has disturbed my Order. Many of my Blood Knights have gone missing. Those I have trained with, and some I have even trained have all but vanished, taken in by his power. I do not know where they have gone. But I do know that I have been given order to not move against this man.

Rumors swirl and chaos rises at every turn when it comes to this noble. We have felt the effects of his allure. Men and women have taken leave from our already strained numbers to fight for his private army. Something amassed from various groups to crush any opposition.

Apparently one such small group known as the Rising Sun Fellowship happens to be the heart of this conflict. I hope that they surrender swiftly.

We do not need to lose anymore elves of pure blood. Though if Aserius' head were to roll, we would lose even fewer. I would not grieve his passing after stirring such turmoil.

I hold no ill against his House. Or at least his brothers. Against all odds, I've met one of them. Rather. Over the past months, I've personally assigned myself to his bedside. He had been severely injured and on his death bed and it has taken him a long time to come around. But I've found nothing harmful within his personality or mindset. No. This Firehawk shall soon be ready to return to the world. Though I know not how he will be received, in light of the current situation surrounding his kin.

May glory find the Sin'dorei once again. Soon.

I do not like the idea of having to take things into my own hands.

In the late night darkness, the form rose from the bedsheets, slowly and carefully so as not to disturb the other occupant. It moved to another room as quiet as a cat, and looked out the window, his reflection in the window pane. The eyes were not of the man of the day, but those that looked out were full of anger, and malice.

He crouched before the window in the moonlight, as it concentrated and focused...and strained. There would pain, but leave it for the other to live through, as it watched its fingers and a familiar flicker began to appear. He focused and concentrated harder, and the blue flickers of the Light began to move over the finger tips. And he began to giggle lightly.

The Light played along both hands, and a pale blue light illuminated his face as it giggled crazily. The reflection in the window was not of the soft spoken rogue, but rather of someone older and the face contorted in joy and hate.

"Cy?", the man's wife asked sleepily from the other room.

His shoulders slumped forward, and the Light stopped flickering at his hands. The crouching man's image in the window reflected a sleeping Cyaer Sunblaze. As she placed her hands on his shoulders to turn him, she saw blood dripping from his nostrils, and his eyes closed in slumber.

"CY!"

My journal:

I hunt, I pick, and I convert. Slowly my herbalist skills grow, and my alchemy talent has grown alongside it. I am finding several joys in doing this. I see several regions to their fullness, and explore lands I wonder if any Tauren has been here.

I find my skills as a healer are required most everwhere I go, however I am finding some satisfation as a druid of balance also. I keep learning new ideas, and skills, I am never bored.

I am finding the herds of wild horses of Hillsbrad to be a beautiful thing to watch and record. I have found several colors and they seem to be of good stock. I wonder how they would be to carry a heavy Tauren such as myself.

from the pages of my journal:

I cannot go on this, asking for Kel'tira's reassurances concerning Nicias. I either trust her fully (which I do) and leave it at that, or shoot myself (that shark looks like he would like that too much). I choose to trust my wife. We have talked, she has talked to Shadow, and she tells me that she's not leaving me, and she needs me, not Nic. So I shall trust in her, and believe in what she says. Why have I had any doubts?

Because it is Nicias...the man in her dreams, whom she cries for in the night, and still screams his name from the nightmares. That's why. I understand, she still has feelings for him, but she is married to me...she must be tormented as well. Light, why did he have to come back? Why?

There it is, the root of the problem, as I see it. Nic has returned, and everything is going to hell in a handbasket. Just as Kel was finding her footing. Just as I was seeing her smile, and be happy on a daily basis. Just when...sh*t, why did you have to come back, you b*st*rd? Why?

Light, it is hard to think with these god awful headaches! I feel like I am being torn in half, and I cannot prevent it. I need to talk to Azmos...maybe he can make something to ease the pain...

I see those familiar lines forming on Kel's face again, the tension, the worries, the stress. And I need, I must be strong for her, be there...I will not let my doubts and fears tear us a part. I trust her. Light, I trust her with anything and everything...

...except Nicias

from the pages of my journal:
The writing is not the strong strokes that fills the earlier pages of the journal, it is shaky and faint, as though the writer is either very old, or weakened a great deal...

Tired...so very tired...she saved me...I know it...I heard her scream my name...and she pulled me back...

I can see her...she is that ashen gray I remember when our daughter died...she put her everything into saving me...but at what cost to herself...

...but at what cost to herself? Kel'tira? Love?

From my journal:

Note to self: Pick up several items of casual wear for times with Pfaedra. I would prefer to wine and dine her in slacks and a shirt, instead of armor, and my sword and shield. And I think she would prefer it too.

I enjoyed our time amongst the trolls of the Hinterlands. While there aiding them, I grew much more closer to Fae. She truly is something to see while she casts her spells. And I like the way her eyes light up when she sees me. We have spent several evenings watching the sunset, speaking quietly of family and the Fellowship. And sipping tea with her.

One of the reasons I want casual clothes, the better to feel her close to me when we embrace each other. Amor does not allow one to feel the warmth and the subtle nuances of a body as it is clasped. And I want that, to feel her body close to mine, just as she runs to me to hug me when she sees me.

Fae gives me a rush when I see her, hold her, and we kiss. The tenderness of her lips upon mine is the single most favorite thing I love about us. And the way her eyes look when she is with me...as I said before, I am smitten by her, and find myself in love with her. I hesitated, but as she told me, we must not fear what our hearts tells us is right. Or something like that.

I have found she has similar feelings for me. And we are trying to go slow, however, when you want that person to be with you, and we fight side by side, life seems too short to hesitate. Perhaps living life to the fullest and the moment has merit.

From my journal:

She sleeps soundly on our combined bedrolls, a small smile upon her face. Pfaedra, pretty little mage, in full bloom of her youth, and she loves me. I hold her close, and feel her body next to mine, and I resist those carnal urges. I have told her I respect her, and want to woo her as of the old ways, traditions are strong in my life. Her lips seek mine, and she teases me, and I am falling deeper and deeper under her spell. I love her like no other.

I spent some time sketching and drawing her face in my book. Fae captures my imagination, and I find that those wonderful teal eyes and full lips fill my mind. I have sketched her several times, and I only wish I had brought my colors with me to highlight those enchanting eyes, and soft yielding lips of hers. Fae is getting under my skin and in my dreams, and I find I like that.

Holding her in my arms, and feeling her pressed against me, I can only imagine what this young woman would be like full of passion and desire. And I do not yield to that desire I feel for her, as I find her kisses and touch are sufficient for now. Oh that I could make her mine and have her for myself...however, I fool myself thinking thus. For she is a high spirited and intelligent young woman, she will one day find my hesitation boring and search for another.

Yet, while she is mine, I will love her and show her how a true gentleman cares and attends to his beloved. And maybe, just maybe, she will stay by my side, and accept the love I am willing to give her to show my care and respect I have for her.

I want her, Light, I want her so much. Not for the obvious but for the intangibles that draw me to her like a moth to the flame. I can only hope I will not crash and burn at her feet. But instead, persuade her to love me for who I am, and what she means to me. I can but hope and pray she will find me a good suitor for her charms and delights. I love this woman.

Life has a way of making things strange. It never ceases to amaze me, no matter how long I've been alive, I can still learn something new.

Growing up as I did, I knew what I would become. I aspired for my rank. My status. I trained long and hard, mastering the discipline of many a weapon type. I can play many roles as required of my time, but I find myself most at peace with a shield and sword. I long for my weapons, for my armor, but now is not the time to take it up again.

For now, I am just a traveler. I will wear common garb and I will not announce my rank to the world.

But the present and its events make me nostalgic for the first time I set foot into this wide world. Back then, I saw the glories of our people. Our strength, our dignity. I was in awe as I learned from those who had come before me and have long since passed.

A warrior cherishes her armor before herself. For if it breaks, you shall fall.

I learned of the Light, I studied religiously and I devoted myself to it. Its teachings shaped my mind and added a level of humility that not many of my people can claim. That is not to say that I stopped being Quel'dorei. I could never pull myself from my roots, my family, my people. Pride remained strong, and I was often at conflict because of it, with the world and within myself.

A Paladin knows how to show mercy and kindness even in the face of despair.

Time flew. I became recognized for my accomplishments. I had attracted attention. And I found love. Or, what I thought was love. I soon realized the first problem with being a shining example of might: You attract the worst kind of attention. I gave everything to that man. I was left a mockery of my people for it. Something to brag about. I had been far too eager to share my life with someone, and it hurt. I closed myself in because I realized that every attempt I had at a relationship was doomed to repeat itself. Until I became colder to the world.

A woman is not meant to wear success like a badge of honor without being judged.

When the Light finally failed my people… Oh, when it did… There was a revolt. Cries of outrage and despair. I felt like a hollow shell, walking a world where everything was in black and white and every shade of grey in between. I gained a stigma for myself around then, both closed off to my peers and stoic in the face of this tragedy, they knew me as someone with the strength to not cry and to keep moving. I never knew if I was supposed to take this as praise or an insult. By then, I didn't care. I was still a member of the Royal Guard and I had duties to uphold.

A guard is supposed to put duty above life and personal feeling.

M'uru was a Light-sent blessing from our accursed leader, Kael'thas. When the Blood Knights formed, they pulled many a member from the Royal Guard and fed the Light's energy into them. Those of us with history were held aloft in the ranks. Desperate, I took this offer, and when they sought to expand the Blood Knights to allow initiates in, they needed those experienced people to train them. I was one of those who began to teach the new students of the Light.

A Blood Knight needs not abide by the teachings of the Light.

This life has been ruining me slowly. I never even realized it. I'm only now beginning to understand as I listen to good music and explore the world like a child again that I have overlooked a lot in life to attain my goals, my status, my beautiful armor… The question now is who is beneath the armor, the Light, and the stigma of the Sin'dorei? I'm not certain if I know.

My Journal:

I wear the tabard of the Tauren people, for I cannot wear that of our Fellowship without fear of repercussions from the Firehawks. A part of me is reluctant to do so, for I take a certain pride in my Fellowship, and what it stands for. I have seen flyers to the effect that all are accepted within our ranks. It is my hope this will bolster our ranks if a showdown with these Firehawks comes to pass.

I have spoken with some of my elders and they will not interfere, and I understand their stance. But they have helped me in preparing for those times coming. I feel a stronger connection to the Earth Mother, and have a conviction within myself that what I have chosen to do and follow is the proper path for me. The Fellowship will need me and the healing that the Earth Mother provides through me.

I must test myself further, and grow that I may be the best when the time comes.

Hail Rising Sun Fellowship, we shall prevail!

From my journal:

The page is full of sketches of a lovely young Sin'dorei maiden. There are skillfull studies of her eyes, and lips. The facial studies have her smiling, frowning, even laughing. There are several half drawn sketches of the mage's hair, and her head tilting on her neck. The studies are very good, almost lifelike, particularly of her eyes. You almost expect them to blink at you.

She drives me crazy. She sees or senses an herb and she recklessly moves towards it without concern for her safety. My shield has become a vital part of protecting her from the patrols and creatures of the woods and hills. Light, I love that woman, and I shall stand beside her for as long as she will have me, guarding her.

She is far more served by residing in my arms, where I will let nothing assail her. And I will let her soft full lips kiss mine tenderly, and allow her to rest assured in my embrace. And I will lose myself in those beautiful teal colored eyes, never seeking rescue, but only to gaze into those orbs of lovliness and enchantment.

Strolling through Orgrimmar, Jana finds the city stifling in the heat. Her pale green eyes search the alley's until she finds a bored looking peon. "Hey there! How would you like to earn some gold and go on an adventure?" her voice bright and cheerful.

The peon looks at her with saucer eyes and shrugs, "Me go adventure? Get gold? Sure!! Me work hard, no whips or clubs, ok?" he appears eager and she smiles at him.

"Go to Undercity and meet me in the courtyard tomorrow at lunch time. When I get enough together we will travel to the Plagued Lands with a group, ok?" she hands him enough silver to book passage on the zeppelin and a small pouch of food and water. "My name is Jana Nightblade, I will be gathering more for the caravan."

"Zug zug, me go Undercity wait in courtyard lunch time tomorrow!" he scurries off.

Jana smiles and gathers four more orcs before she is stopped by a tiny goblin female. "Hey! watcha doin'? I see ya gatherin' orc peons. Ya got a thing goin' on?" her beady eyes study Jana with interest.

The Sindorei smiles at the goblin and leans down to whisper. "I am helping a friend set up a new community in the old Scarlet Enclave. Don't tell anyone, all right? We just want to have a quiet place to gather and live our lives in peace." her conspiratorial wink sets the goblin to thinking.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. Da place is kinda run down. But it's a good place to hide in plain sight! Uh, ya might need some...goblin tech there...for security maybe or just for building things quickly?" her eager smile and wide open eyes make Jana grin.

"I suppose that would be all right, say if a goblin were to settle there, and maybe open up a shop to sell some trade goods...might be a very lucrative venture." she nods in encouragement.

"I can do that!! Let me join ya ok? I am Kazzy Jumpbot, I will be there in Undercity to help you with your caravan!!" and she dashes off to make plans and to pack some trade goods.

Jana smiles as the goblin runs off and goes on her way, buying the stuff that Vivieka had instructed her to get and sending them to Undercity. The workers she hired will care for the goods until she arrives. The plans are coming along nicely and Jana whistles a merry tune as she makes her way back to the Zeppelin tower.

A Frozen tomb with an elegant rune printed on the front...the journal of a new comer. Once who will bring the chill of death to wash over those who she'd call her enemies...and to embrace and protect the one she calls friends.

I, am Ameria Frozensun, the Frostborn.

Years have past since I had seen the woman I called a friend, Aseria Sunblade, that day we stood in the same sanctum training under the same master. I had remained isolated in the frozen north, where I had continued my...'research'...into becoming one with the powerful arcane energies, and the icy winds that tear at my skin.

I've succeeded.

However....the spirit of my old friend has appeared to me, her face desperate and full of worry. It was obvious that she wasn't here for a simple or regular chat.

She spoke of a name, Kel'tira Sunblaze, and entrusted me to protect her. She knew I was seeking purpose, and suggested that I become this woman's guardian, for her sake. I listened to her tail, I listened what had happened to our old master, and the dark energies that had corrupted her, including the way she died.

I had met with an orc known as Crom, where he told me that there was an elf that could tell me where this woman is. I went to the described location, but have not found this man yet, nor have I found this Kel'tira. But no matter, I will find her soon enough...in the mean time, I might continue to hone my skills.

*The journal stops there. As if she had no real intention to describe how she would exactly 'hone' her skills*

From the pages of my journal:

Time is relative, they tell me. One day passes much like the first, except today the minutes flow like water and the day passes quickly. Yesterday every second seemed to take an hour to pass, and the slow moment is excruciating. I swear I could see each sweep of a fly's wings.

I am anxious. I am wound up much like one of those springs in a goblin mechanical thing-a-ma-bob. I have chopped wood til I have enough for the entire winte. I have cleaned til everything sparkles. And I have wrung my hands until they are both chapped. Just let the other shoe drop so I can move on...please.

I have thought about it carefully. I have talked with my wife several times over this, and I have come to a decision. And my life is about to become...interesting. I need to find my wife and tell what I have decided.

Everything was just about ready. If the orc peons she had hired did their job correctly, the caravan would be ready to roll today. As Jana passed out of the hallways of Undercity on her way to start the caravan, she saw a female elf standing in the throne room. It seemed odd to her.

Stopping to chat a little she looked over the mage and noticed the air of cold that surrounded her. "This is quite a haunting place, isn't it? The place where Arthas killed his father, and became closer to becoming the Lich King."

The mage talked to Jana about her goals. She seemed interested in the caravan and the Fellowship. Jana hesitated to say anything, she had no idea who this woman was. As Jana was about to go on her way, the orcs came through and the little goblin that had decided to travel with them.

Jana turned to the mage and excused herself. "I need to get this caravan going...excuse me a moment." she then turned to the goblin and instructed her to lead the caravan to the Scarlet Enclave in the Plagued Lands. "I will follow and guard the back of the caravan. You can do this Kazzy. When we get to the meeting place I will introduce you and you might be able to join the Fellowship."

The goblin was a little suspicious of the ice cold air coming from the other elf, but nodded simply and led the orcs out to the courtyard, where she efficiently gathered them together and set out for the Journey. She had a map and a Forsaken guide who would help her to find the Scarlet Enclave. She worried about Jana. Something did not seem right.

Holy Light, when did I stop writing? I don't remember.

So. At first. I was like WAAAH!

But now it's okay. I'm less waaah. I'm not sure anymore. There's a lot going on. There's always a lot going on! But I'm starting to realize that I like it this way.

First! Today marks the day that Ratheron took over the Rising Sun Fellowship. Kel'tira passed it on to him. I think this will be a good change for everyone. The things that we spoke about at the Enclave… Well. Okay. Let's go in order here.

Not that long ago, while Ratheron and I were unpacking at the Enclave, Tyrael and Eve came around. This was after I had brought Dalen and Seraphathir along too. It was the largest gathering of people I'd ever seen at the Enclave, and it made things… well. Lively. Dalen sang, Tyrael and Ratheron played drum beats on some of the empty crates. But most important of all, I heard some things that scared me.

Eve, I know what she is. Who she is. Not a lot of people do. I'm probably the reason that she won't use her power to effectively show people what her life is like. She thrives in loneliness because of it. Tyrael seems to help. Somehow. She loves him. I can see it. They're slowly getting comfortable with each other.

But because I know and respect her power, I knew many of the things she was talking about that night. Spoke about with me. The fact that Dalen still has missing memories, he either doesn't want to know the horrible things that made him suffer enough to run headlong into death's arms, or Eve's chilling view of reality scared him out of it. Or maybe he's just happy to live among his family.

I would not wish that fate on Kel'tira. To see through Eve's eyes. Or to be seen through them. Tyrael backed down, I think, as well. I know the man means well. I can see it. Eve wouldn't trust a horrible person, I believe this. Nor would Ratheron. Nor would Dalen. Finally, people saw some sense. Finally, Kel can have a happier life without worrying about every little thing. That will be the best for her. She can start her life with a new breath and she won't be alone.

I now count three Firehawks among the Fellowship. Even though their family, lead by Aserius who happens to be Tyrael's father and Dalen and Ratheron's brother, is trying to hurt us. I remember Fae worrying over Ratheron's loyalty alone. And I can't help at wonder. And yet, I do not see these men as being hated. Not by each other, not by anyone here. Each man has his own past and his own future, but I do not doubt their loyalties. I believe each of them only wants the same thing, if in a different manner.

Ratheron, I see as wanting to do what is right for the sake of what is right. To do right by the code set by Tyrael and the Fellowship, to do what is right by Kel'tira and our people. For the Sin'dorei, for the Horde, for our friends, for our family.

Hah, family.

Tyrael, I see wanting to do what will lead us to strength and glory.

Dalen, I see wanting to… I don't even know with Dalen, to be honest. He's a hard man to read. Very simple, very happy. Very, very happy.

Ah, I don't even know, anymore. I want for Ratheron to propose already. Patience is not always easy for me. Faking being oblivious is impossible. And yet, I don't know what I'll do when he does. Of course I'll say yes. But what kind of wedding would it be? How soon would he want to join in the 'race' I've started between Eve and Tyrael and us?

I can't wait until Eve finishes her spell. I want to see Tyrael blush when I ask him about his babies. It's so fun to make men squirm.

<One soul image has been submitted for this collaboration called a 'journal'. Though many have been drawn, this one holds a fondness in the creator's heart, despite the sheer pain and grief written on her face in this image. Tyrael holds her close, his arms wrapped around her, supporting her. With one hand on her lower back, pressing her into his frame, and the other buried in her hair, setting her head against his chest. A chain is wrapped about his neck, each link carefully detailed, shadows cast so that it seems to be casting its own radiant light. The artist isn't afraid to detail the sheer ugliness when it comes to her tears, her lips drawn back and hear ears wilted as the tears flow and stain his custom tailored dark silk shirt. Her hands are set against his chest, also glowing, though it is far more pronounced compared to the chain on his neck, shining against his chest, and the man's expression seems torn with a mixture of pain and concern as he supports her silently.>

Valdrin Ashefel
Journal Page 1: Wednesday

Funny, how quickly our worlds can be twisted, turned upside down. How quickly everything that you love can be torn from your hands and you be given only a husk of what was.

I was almost certain it was a nightmare. Soon I would be waking up in the infirmary after being injured in battle against Forsaken forces. Soon my comrades would arrive to check up on me, and the leadership of the Stormwind military would praise the bravery of my men and I.

I would be alive. Very much alive.

But instead, I found myself far from home. No friends and comrades by my side. The warm embrace of Teslarra's arms only a faint memory, drowned out by the cold grasp of the val'kyr pulling me from my shallow grave. I could no longer hear the voice of Krytan, my lieutenant, calling out to me. It was overshadowed by the foul gurgling noises that they refer to are their "language".

I could not move, mainly on account of my joints not having done so for days, weeks. Or has it been months? A year? Time passes so quickly when you're dead. All I could do was sit and watch as these creatures, the Forsaken and their Scourge allies, ogled at me. One, a wretch who I would come to know as Undertaker Mordo, kept commenting on my "pristine condition". Minimal rot, I believe he mentioned.

I wanted so dearly for it to be a nightmare. A devout paladin, a Marshall of the Stormwind Army, a soldier of the Alliance, did not belong here. I could not have been there. But how quickly fate was to prove me wrong.

The Forsaken were quick to put me to work. Newly-raised Forsaken who were not as "pristine" as myself needed motivating, and those that would not cooperate needed to be put down. Why did I go along with it? Perhaps I was too in shock to protest. Too used to following orders. Perhaps both, mixed with the chance to kill some Forsaken. That was a plus. The moment they put the greatsword in my hands I felt a small shred of my strength return, and the more corpses that I left behind, the stronger I felt. I'm still stiff, of course, but it's a good start.

It was fascinating, admittedly, to see how the Forsaken reacted when discovering their...Condition. I felt as though I should have been troubled by Lillian's distress, as well as that of Marshall Redpath's. But I felt a certain detachment, I could not fully empathize with the girl. I would have made a better connection with Redpath, perhaps, had his mind been intact. But undeath is not so kind of everyone. He too had to fall.

They sent me from Deathknell to the town of Brill, where I did work for an apothecary, as well as a man named Zygand, an Executor. The more I did on the orders of their Executors, the more I felt at home. It held a similarity to my time with the Stormwind Army.

I was sent from Brill to Silverpine Forest shortly thereafter, making a stop in Capital City now called Undercity. A fitting name, the glorious capital of Lordaeron is now a cesspool of sewage and rotting flesh. I made my time there brief, and moved on to Silverpine in the south.

Valdrin Ashefel
Journal Page 2: Wednesday

There I saw her. The Banshee Queen, the one who I am sure slew me in battle. The only one I have heard of with such marksmanship to fell a warrior from such a distance. I could not help but admire the way her troops followed her orders, much like my own had done in life. A Forsaken and an enemy she may be, but even two commanding officers at war with each other harbor a certain respect for one another.

Warchief Hellscream arrived with his entourage, and that loathsome cretin Cromush. I saw her raise the fallen of Hillsbrad, those I failed to save, as Forsaken with the help of her val'kyr. I saw the Warchief's disgust. The way he spoke to Sylvanas was rife with disrespect. No leader, whether they be a captain of a night guard or the Warchief of the Horde, can speak so to their subordinates. Had I not been so weak and had the orc not had scores of guards with him...

Grand Executor Mortuus sent me up and down the forest, fighting the worgen. I don't know why I was so ready to follow his orders. I knew full well that he was Forsaken. But I did. I have to have slain a hundred worgen by now. By sunrise we had gone to Gilneas and back, with the remains of Lord Godfrey in tow. I have never been fond of Gilneans. An uppity, entitled bunch. They spout their ideals of "self-reliance", denounce the Alliance and seal themselves off behind that massive wall, only to be all too quick to call for the Alliance to aid them again when they fail to defend themselves.

I took an unnatural pleasure in ending their lives. Especially after that cowardly display at the Deep Elem Mine. I harbor no respect for those that would fight with lies and deceit, and sacrifice their own to further their goals. When the time comes that I may end Ivar's life, I will gladly do it.

I stand now with the Queen on the Forsaken Front, watching as the worgen and their allies from Stormwind send wave after wave of men at our forces. The plague sweeps them all away, Godfrey and his lackeys, Ashbury and Walden, making short work of those that pass the catapults.

How did this happen? How did it come to pass that I, Marshall Valdrin Ashefel, came to fight for the Forsaken?

We should have driven them back. We were retreating and regrouping with the dwarves. But when the time came to charge, I found myself alone. Krytan, Teslarra, the whole regiment, gone.

I had to have fallen behind. I had to have. These men had followed me through fire and fury, through death and darkness. From the fields of Westfall through the snows of Khaz Modan to the forests of Lordaeron. They would never abandon their Marshall.

We move in the morning. Godfrey has been discussing a plan of action with the Banshee Queen. I will need my rest for what the morning brings.

A bright purple cover adorned the Journal of Kazzilda, she took great care writing carefully so she would not smudge the ink.

This should be my happy day, but for some reason I cannot get it out of my head. I know that Jana is in trouble. I did my best to keep the orc peons from wandering off, finally giving them something to make them sleep. I did not tell that nice paladin I drugged them with some rum spiked with peon sleep potion.

That Neryth is such a nice guy!! And so handsome, well for a blood elf he is, all that bright red hair makes him stand out like a cherry on a bowl of ice cream. But he is taken, he seems to be very fond of that sweetheart of his. Fae is a sweet girl too, but very young to have so much magic power in her. I think she has a great potential.

I met the Lady Sunblaze, she seemed to be very nice, but I could tell there was an air of sadness around her. I hope she will be all right. I don't know what is going on with this Fellowship, but it seems they are all sticking together, and I like that! Lady Sunblaze said they would help to find Jana. I hope she is all right. It worries me she went off with that icy witch.

The caravan is holding up well, we got to the Mender's Stead and the orcs are asleep again. Maybe I gave them too much? Naw...one dose don't keep them sleeping all day and all night! I guess that is why they are peons...

From the pages of my journal:

The fire of her cool full lips drives me beyond my limits. And the softness of her body close to mine own merely stirs the flames of my passion and desire for her. Light, I want Pfaedra.

The hunger builds within me, and I almost yielded to it last night. If not for her own resolve, I shudder at what I might have done. A dip in an ice cold lake may not quench this burning in my heart for the delicate young mage. And she tells me her aunt wants to meet me and to see if I am of a gentleman's nature.

I was no gentle man last evening, and I know better. I am a man of the Light, a man of principle, and most of all a man of traditions. I must maintain myself when I am around her, and treat her with the respect and care she deserves.

Oh, but by the Light, she makes me feel like a man again. And I want her!