World of Warcraft®

Shadow was a bit slower to pick up on the voices in her head, taking her own time to examine both the darkness in the man’s body and the spell that Eve was picking apart carefully. Though she wanted to help Eve, she realized that the enchantment itself was complicated. The more that she watched the priestess’ careful work, the more that she realized she didn’t understand the complexities of such a spell, and turned her attention to the unstable and weak unholy energy. And, slowly, she attempted to cleanse him carefully, wanting to see just how the magic reacted to her energy, as well as to if it would need to be held in check.

Varus saw Shadow take initiative on the unholy magics and instead of joining her simply guided her, pointing out the strands they should break first and those that should be left till later. He then encased in a prison of Light the strand he had found to be the one holding it all together, like the cornerstone of a building, so the Blood Knight surrounded with energy that should he choose could break it but would keep it protected from whatever magics they unleashed on the other enchantments. Ratheron for his part simply funneled the healers energy, letting his Chi turn into forms of energy they could accept as it reached them as he watched Eve work. ‘This is the work of Aserius himself, as well as a few other spellweavers, I can find you the thread that holds it all together so that you know which one to break last if you wish.’ Ratheron offered the priestess, while she probably had already found it he could feel her worry and tension and was hoping to relax her a bit.

This delicate magic required just as much focus as it did calm and so Ratheron radiated it to those that needed it. Varus seemed to have himself well in hand and so Rath fed it to Shadow and Eve, hoping the two women would remain focused and calm. Crom for his part watched the proceedings and used his totems to provide even more energy outside of the protective magics he encased himself and Tyrael with. He then motioned for the elf to approach him and as Tyrael did two paths lay before him.

‘Something I did not mention to any but Ratheron. This resurrection will only work should you chose to let it work. The paths before you lead you down two different roads and there is only two choices. You pass on into the afterlife or you continue on in life.’ Crom stated to the Death Knight, Tyrael almost flippantly responded that it wasn’t even a choice but Crom held up a hand to him. ‘This is not just a matter of a simple choice Tyrael. Choosing to be, as it were, born again is not something to be done lightly. You will experience your death again. You will experience your birth, all the pains and joys you have ever felt. It will be overwhelming.’ Crom paused as he let those details sink into the Death Knight and Tyrael realized that the shaman was simply preparing him for what would come.

‘Beyond that you will know what happens to you, you have seen the halls of Death and have been returned here. You can change your destiny in the afterlife yes, but you will once more experience the feeling of death. So again this is a choice you must make. Spirits will come to you and speak to you, I will not see them. They will offer advice and reasoning. But in the end it is your choice Warrior. Life or death.’ Crom then left Tyrael, drifting away from the warrior before he could ask a question and then Tyrael realized that it was not Crom who drifted away but himself as he was drawn into what could only be described as a vision.

Before him stood an image of his father, yet it was not his father for when he had last seen him he was sickly and old. This image of his father was one far younger, an image straight out of Tyrael’s childhood and he realized that this was how his father’s spirit looked. ‘Hello son.’ The spirit said in a perfect imitation of his father’s voice. Tyrael gaped at the image unable to form words at that moment and the spirit laughed, ‘You did not think to see me first hm? I think we both know why. I was hard on you, I see that now.’ The spirit said with a grimace as if his father really did regret how he had treated his eldest son.

‘So you died then?’ Tyrael whispered unable to speak in a louder tone but it did not matter for it echoed around them and Tyrael cringed a bit at the sound. ‘I am dead, but not by your uncle’s hand. The sorcerer killed me Tyrael but I am not here because of that. I am here to impart something I failed to learn in my life. Do not be so hard upon those around you, I know I was not the best of role models in this but show compassion and love to the people around you. Strength will only get you so far my son.’ The spirit said with a smile as the life-like being shrunk down to Tyrael’s level and placed a hand on the warrior’s shoulder.

((6/Many))

‘You have always lived by a code of honor that most would gape at, yet that code has also made you hard to reach. The one thing I would tell you is to live life again yet show love and compassion.’ Aserius smiled, it was so unlike the mage that Tyrael knew to hear these words coming out of his father’s mouth. ‘So I should live again?’ Tyrael asked, hoping for some advice on the subject. He wanted to but Crom had put doubt within Tyrael and Aserius’ spirit laughed, the sound was very pure. ‘Ah my son that choice is yours to make. I can’t make it for you, but for me if I had the choice again I would re-live my life.’ The spirit started to fade as the last words were spoken and Tyrael reached out to try to grab at the image of his father desperately a question on his lips that he had yet to ask.

But he could not catch it and he screamed in rage, as if this couldn’t get any worse he was now left with more questions than answers. But it was only for a moment before he found himself standing in what appeared to be a wooded glade. He looked around and realized that this was yet another vision and yet unlike the other he was standing in a place he now recognized. He had been here before. He then caught his breath as he recognized a person who entered the glade and to his horror he saw a younger version of himself enter. He stepped forward and yet he couldn’t as if restrained.

‘No. Watch.’ A voice called from behind him and when Tyrael turned he saw the face of a man he had never gotten to meet. His grandfather. He had been called the Talon of the Firehawk, the man who had forged their family into the mighty House it was now. ‘Grandfather?’ Tyrael whispered unsure if he could even call the man that. The giant of a elf looked down at Tyrael with a fond expression and patted him on the shoulder. ‘I show this to you for one reason my grandson. You did not have the best environment and some of that is my own fault for how I treated your father. But I wanted you to learn something that you never learned in your life.’ He paused as the two elves began to roll around in the grass and Tyrael had to look away for he knew this moment intimately. He had just started his training as a warrior and had flirted with one of the other trainees, a good looking elf but one that had grown up in Quel’thalas, the child of two low level Rangers. She had become taken with the lordling and Tyrael had enjoyed the fun.

He realized now that he had used his station, his strength and every other aspect of who he was to get what he wanted, which at the time was nothing more than a distraction. The Talon of the Firehawk read all of these emotions upon Tyrael’s face and squeezed his shoulder in encouragement. ‘Already I see you are learning this lesson. What you did in life, living from moment to moment, simply enjoying the women you found pleasing to look at or who could offer you something was the wrong way of doing things. I tried to instill this lesson in all my children but again I failed because Aserius had been the third son, I became obsessed with my first two boys and he fell to the ministrations of others.

My mistake and yet it caused you to feel its repercussions. Do you know what happened to each of the women you’ve bedded Tyrael?’ The spirit asked and Tyrael didn’t want to know, he’d seen Wynd. He realized that he had probably forced her and Varus apart, even if it was the best thing for his friend he had done it the wrong way. ‘I know you don’t want to know but we shall only look at this one, for it will be enough for you.’ Tyrael’s grandfather murmured quietly. They sped away from this moment to where Tyrael left this woman waiting for him in the same glade and then to her at her parent’s home. Pregnant. ‘Oh dear Light...’ Tyrael murmured, falling to his knees as he realized what he had done.

‘Do not hate yourself just hate grandson.’ The spirit murmured for as Tyrael watched another man came into the picture, one he recognized as an elf he had soundly beaten each time they fought. Tyrael realized this elf had fought him at every opportunity as if he were fighting for something and then he realized what it was. ‘He loved her.’ Tyrael swallowed hard, realizing in his careless swagger he had injured more than just this woman. ‘Yes. Yet he cared for the child, even if he hated the father. This is not a story that is repeated, but remember something when you give yourself physically you must also give yourself emotionally. We Firehawks have a responsibility to our people, now more than ever to right the wrongs of the past. We must change our traditions, our culture for the better. I ask this of you.’ The spirit said as Tyrael looked up at his grandfather.

((7/Many))

‘So I should choose to live?’ Tyrael asked the doubt plain on his face and his grandfather simply smiled. ‘My dear boy look within your heart and tell me what you see.’ As Tyrael complied their setting changed and again he found himself on a familiar cliff. He looked down as if he knew what was below him and he couldn’t help but smile as he saw the woman he had fallen for sitting there and yet in this scene she was alone. ‘Remember your choices have impacts that are far reaching beyond just the immediate future. You are a comet my young grandson, you have a fire and passion that dwarfs all those previous of you in our family. Tread carefully the path you walk.’

Tyrael was about to turn and respond and then he realized it was gone, just like that as if there was nothing there to begin with. He sobbed, realizing for the first time that he had failed in his first life. He hadn’t been the honorable warrior he had thought he had been. He’d broken promises, failed lovers and even worse failed his family name. He was starting to think it was time to give up, to simply walk the path towards Death and accept his punishments yet suddenly he found himself in the old Guild Hall where he had spent countless hours in with the Fellowship.

He recognized this setting and realized it had been right when he had accepted the mantle of leadership after the death of Kara Vaelia. He stared around, looking for whichever spirit was showing this to him, yet none made themselves known.

“We must grow strong individually, so that together we are unstoppable.”

Tyrael froze as he heard his own voice and he turned to look at the younger version of himself, there wasn’t any facial hair, not even a haggard look. He looked full of energy and alive. Ready to take on the world and Tyrael remembered feeling this way, as if there wasn’t anything in the world that could stop him.

“Together we can rise up and save our people. Together we can move forward into the future and be a shining beacon as to what our people should strive for! Yes we have suffered loss, yes Kara’s loss hurts us! But we must push forward, we cannot stop and weep for her and the others we’ve lost for to do so would allow the weight of all our collected darkness to fall upon us and imprison us in the past!” The past-Tyrael looked around at the faces of those around him, none of which Tyrael could see yet it was obvious he didn’t see what he wanted yet.

“We have to keep going forward as such I have selected some among us to lead, to help hold us together and guide us in specific areas because we are not all strong in each aspect of life...”

The vision faded and Tyrael remembered the words he had used, the oaths he had asked of his Masters. He even remembered the badges he had painstakingly made, he reached up to his left breast where he had kept his and remembered it had been shorn off in battle. He realized then and there what he had to do and so he stood and as he did Crom looked up at him with a grim smile, ‘I see you have decided your path young warrior.’ The shaman said and Tyrael simply nodded, set upon his path as it grew brighter.

((8/Many))

Unaware of her lover’s journey, Eve worked carefully at the threads. She silently accepted the suggestion offered by Ratheron and isolated the special thread before working on removing the rest of the enchantment. Time crept, but as it did, she wondered over the complex spell. Though they would need their focus, the priest had to wonder over the man the Fellowship had slain, Tyrael’s father. Shadow picked up on this as she complemented Varus’ careful work and dedication.

‘Ratheron, tell me about Aserius,’ Eve asked suddenly. The threads of the enchantment were loosening their hold. And soon enough, the moment of judgement would be upon them. Success or failure, it all depended on them. And yet, something was nagging at her, but she didn’t want to say it without asking first.

‘He was a very good mage, one prone to paranoia. Unwarranted at times but he was always seeking power, a way to get our father’s approval when it was never forthcoming. We wanted to help him but he scoffed at us and pushed us away. He even felt we’d return to kick him out of the position of leader of the House. Some believed he’s even rigged booby traps around his room...’ Pauses as he realized that there might be something like that here. ‘Look for any kind of trap or trigger.’ Ratheron murmured hoping that they hadn’t set anything off yet, if there was anything.

‘Aserius was a very talented mage and very good at the game of politics, he taught his son all he knew. He bred Tyrael to lead and he himself was born to the task. Why?’ he asked as he himself looked through the enchantment hoping to get Eve to explain what was going on in her mind.

‘Aserius loved his son quite a bit...’ Eve’s voice was soft, though she looked through the spell to make certain that nothing like that had been set up. ‘This thing is far larger, far more complex than I had originally thought. It was beautifully done, wonderfully crafted, a masterpiece and an artform I hope he has written down somewhere to be used by others...’ she mentally signed. It probably wouldn’t be. But she admired the crafstmanship. Just as she loved Tyrael and fought hard to bring him to life, she could tell Aserius had fought hard to keep his child, even if he could only do so in death. Sorrow struck the priestess, though she moved on, never flinching in the face of such dark emotions.

‘I had once thought that, from what Tyr had said, Aserius felt him nothing more than a tool...’ Eve smiled faintly, but that was the very reason she didn’t think she ought to voice such a thing. Not to Tyrael. He would never believe her theory. Even if he did, he wouldn’t know how to handle such a thing.

‘Almost done...’ Shadow chimed suddenly in warning.

Ratheron chuckled at Eve’s words, ‘Oh no Aserius loved his eldest son. But he made the mistake our father did. He cared deeply for his first son, in our father’s case all but the last son, and so Tyranus and Torgaddon fell to the wayside. But Aserius viewed Tyrael as his legacy, he saw Tyrael as the one to take our family to heights all but whispered and never thought possible. Dalen and I saw it within the young man, I still do. He will change many things, he could shape the world if he had a mind to do it.’ Ratheron said fondly as he helped Eve finish their section of the work.

Varus grunted his assent with Shadow and Ratheron nodded, ‘We are almost finished as well Crom how are things on that side?’ Ratheron asked, which drew a curious look and question from Varus but before he could ask it Crom spoke up. ‘He is ready, the trials have been passed. The choice made.’ The old shaman responded with approval and a quiet chuckle. Ratheron smiled and turned to the others. ‘So now is the time.’

Eve cleaned up the last of the enchantments, the one thread remaining. She held it in check, and Shadow seemed to mirror the priestess as she scanned Tyrael’s still body for any lingering signs of corruption, though the monk seemed overly worried over it. Lineron had told her some very scary things about the essence of a Death Knight, how it would drive the living into insanity, and that was why only the dead could wield it. Only once she had finished that scan did she ‘step’ back to let Varus take control of the last ‘thread’ of unholy magic, letting him have the honors.

‘On my word,’ Eve’s voice was the mental picture of clarity, of calm, and of confidence as she took hold of that thread, ready to purge it, giving a pause for the others to also ready themselves. She counted down then, but it wasn’t as much the final number that her mind uttered, but a feeling which traveled with the utterance of ‘One!’ that signalled that perfect moment, a confidence, a supreme love, and a certainty that all would be well, painted in subtle shades and hues of color as she dissolved the last bond and sent a silent prayer.

((9/Many))

Varus listened and watched and right before Eve tore the connection of the magical enchantment he severed the unholy magics. He shattered them and threw it out of Tyrael’s body. As he did he could feel the body slowly stop. The heart, the lungs. They began to slow for Eve had just severed her connection and as he held his breath he felt Crom roar long and loud and soon his roar was mingled with another, a familiar battle shout that he had heard far too many times before. He could feel it as the heart fluttered, stopped, fluttered again and suddenly a bolt of lightning arced out towards the body from Crom.

“Stop scaring them you dolt!” The old shaman roared and as the lightning arced through the warrior’s body Tyrael started screaming and sat up, his heart taking on a steady rhythm. A rhythmic beat that they all knew and Varus slouched down with a tired laugh. He then dissolved into peals of laughter and Tyrael looked over at him as he slouched too, his own body tired from the work that went into it. “Why are you laughing?” Tyrael asked, his voice without any echo in it. It was him, it well and truly was. Ratheron joined in the laughter, relieved and pleased with their work. Crom was the stoic one who was regarding his old friend with a curious look. “Why are -you- laughing?” He asked incredulously for he had never heard Ratheron laugh like that before.

“It worked,” Eve opened her eyes to look at Tyrael’s slouched back before sliding forward to lean forward into him, breathing heavily, worn from the long work involved. Shadow couldn’t help at giggle, amused heavily and looking as if she could jump up and do cartwheels at any moment, even if her limbs felt heavy from using so much energy. “Tyrael,” Eve whispered the man’s name, the gratitude heavy in her voice as she began to weep softly with joy in stark contrast to the insane people nearly surrounding them. And, from the stairs, Zarina clapped slowly.

Tyrael urged himself to move and as he did he twisted around and tackled Eve to the ground, kissing her and for the first time feeling it as a mortal would and loving every moment of it. He couldn’t stop himself and instead of going for more he simply kissed her and groaned as he rolled over onto his back, pulling her on top of himself. “Eve...” He murmured with a boyish grin on his face as he looked into the face of the woman he loved. All the images from his walk in the spirit world still fresh in his mind yet the one he compared this to is the one of his lover alone on the cliffs and he could see in her face the love she had for him.

He would never leave her. He couldn’t. Varus for his part turned his laughter into quiet chuckles before he rolled over onto his side and pushed himself up. He weakly made his way to Zari and collapsed next to her, grabbing her hand and kissing it before resting his head in her lap. “Mmm...” He murmured happily unwilling to move from that spot unless he was forced to. Ratheron and Crom were sharing a few quiet words but Rath had eyes only for Shadow, his eyes speaking volumes to the young monk as he tried to convey his gratitude, pride and love to her with just that one look.

As each couple returned to their mates, Shadow did as well. Just as weary as everyone else, she waited for Varus to retreat to the warlock’s side before sliding into Rath’s side, resting her head on his shoulder sleepily while still smiling as she watched Tyrael’s sheer childish energy with the very calm and collected Eve, who had returned each kiss and was now curling up on top of the warrior, smiling down at him with her affection and adoration for him openly written across her face, her eyes nearly aglow with light and life.

Silently, Shadow mourned that their picks had been so limited. But that was what came when people decided to leave. She herself healing from a re-broken wrist, Varus having only barely begun to recover from tending to everyone, Eve who was not a healer to begin with guiding everything alongside Ratheron’s fueling energy. They were lucky that so many talents had been willing to work with them, though she couldn’t help at wonder as she looked at Eve, “Why didn’t you invite Kel? She’s a good healer, too.”

((10/Many))

“Kel’s mind is tired and it will take some time to straighten her out...” Eve responded with a tired sigh, closing her eyes for a moment. “As much as I wished to ask, it will be draining for her just to complete a proper recovery. I am sorry that I asked for you all to push yourselves...” she opened her eyes and looked down at Tyr’s green gaze and couldn’t help at lean down to kiss him, her own smile returning to her lips as he steadily grew warm. “But thank you... Thank you, everyone...” her tears fell warm against the warrior’s cheeks as she let out a soft, weary laugh.

“Anytime...” Zarina ran her fingers through Varus’ hair. “I’ll loan you my Blood Knight to a good cause...”

Ratheron leaned on Shadow as well as he bid Crom a good bye, the shaman collecting his totems and making his exit quietly. There was more work he had to for others and so he made his way out before shapeshifting into a spirit wolf and rushing off. “Shall we go rest love?” He murmured, knowing that everyone wanted to be on their own. Ratheron slowly reached down and picked Shadow up, not giving her the chance to fight him even if she could as he started to carry her up the stairs and to their small bed in the Town Hall. “Good night all of you.” Ratheron called down with Shadow in his arms.

Varus chuckled both at Zari’s words and Ratheron’s actions. “Mmm I like how you treat me like cattle.” He teased as he shifted his position to look up at Zari as she pet his hair. He smiled at her and they all knew that without her their efforts would have been wasted. Varus showed it in his eyes, that her arts however dark had just saved a man’s life and given a family and a lover happiness beyond any measure.

Tyrael felt her tears on his cheek and he hummed as he hugged her tight. He had energy now, a burst of energy and so he quickly got up with Eve in his arms and started to move past Varus and Zari. “I’m sorry I would stay and speak to you but this one needs a bed and I’m game for joining her. I’ll speak to you later.” He murmured before starting to rush past them with Varus laughing as Tyrael left, the warrior kissing Eve the whole way.

“Typical man...” Zari rolled her eyes as the last of them left. “Gets his life back and the first thing he wants to do is bone. Not that I blame him,” she yawned herself, slightly jealous of Tyrael’s energy. “Sex is delicious... And he doesn’t look half bad alive...” she hummed softly as she looked down at Varus with a wicked glint in her eyes. But, she knew that she had no chance with the young Firehawk lord. The sheer adoration he had for the priest who had orchestrated this entire event was evident, as was the woman’s sheer commitment to him. Zarina only had to look around the room, still humming with the sheer power of the resurrection, to see that the priest had spent much of her time here.

Varus had to laugh at Zari’s words as he sat up to steal a kiss from her. “Sex is delicious, sadly it looks as if Tyrael is taken. Besides I don’t think he’d play the tag-team game with me again unless it was a true three-some...” He teased back at her, but he also knew that Tyrael probably wouldn’t. He could see that look on his face and he knew his own mirrored it. “Shall we go collapse in bed? I know you are tired as well... You’ve done a great thing here today.” He murmured as he reached a hand up to trail along her cheek, truly proud of the mother of his child.

“Bed sounds wonderful...” she sighed softly. “Eh. I’ll just seal Eve’s mind powers into a crystal, then used it to take control of Tyrael’s mind and make him -think- it’s her that he’s bedding...” she murmured, her tone thoughtful as if she truly thought she could do such a thing. The warlock then laughed as she shoved him off of her lap so she could drag herself back to their cabin, her mouth still a bit numb from the soul shard she had used to force a soulstone creation.

Varus sighed as he shook his head at her, “Only you...” He murmured dryly as he took her hand and walked with her back to the cabin, he would only carry her if she needed it and normally she’d get mad at him unless it was related to sex. So he simply squeezed her hand and pulled her along to their own bed.

((11/11))

Kreindis lay on the grass of the cliff shaded by the two trees, looking up at the morning sky, listening to the waves by him. He was at a place of... memories, on Sunstrider Isle. He hadn't talked to anybody in about two months. Not that he really had anybody that he could end up talking to anyways, the only person he knew was Tislina, and he had no idea where she was or what he would say to her if he did know where she was.
Kreindis sighed and stood up, stretching his arms. He moved to grab his blade from the tree closest to him that he had set it at when he first came to the island. He examined the curved blade of his katana. He chose the katana because he liked how it was a thin blade that could slip through armor with ease. Sure, average katanas would snap into a million pieces with Azeroth's normal battles, but the runes on his blade prevented that.
Kreindis sheathed the katana in its black sheath with red spiral trims, and he re-attached the sheath and blade to his hip, and began the walk back to Silvermoon City.

The meeting in the Echo Isles left a bad taste in her mouth. Jana knew that she treaded a fine line. Apparantly this Tychus was still going after them. Why she did not know, it seemed almost pointless as their small group was not an open threat to anyone. They were simply a bunch of different personalities trying to stick together and survive.

She got the impression Ratheron did not like her comments. But she knew not all of those who fought under Stormwind's banner were bad. They did what any honorable people were expected to do. They fought back when attacked, they sought answers in Pandaria and were not going to let Garrosh have what they considered to be a very dangerous weapon.

There were more important things to consider. The Horde was disintegrating. Once a powerful unified force under Thrall, now the very core of the leadership was causing racial tension. She had seem the trolls being executed outside of Orgrimmar. She had seen the Tauren called into question and restricted in their movements.

The Sindorei seemed to be either keeping a low profile or migrating back to Silvermoon. Those who could fight were sent to Pandaria. The rest huddled in the Eversong woods and spoke quietly among themselves. They were not foolish enough to speak of open rebellion, or if they were they were promptly silenced. Too many forgot the fact they were few in number. Some sided with Garrosh even. She wondered how they slept at night knowing he was killing innocents?

The Forsaken were so heavily guarded she was surprised Garrosh even allowed them to survive. She figured he was saving them for fodder in his war against the Alliance. She had to wonder what Sylvannus was planning. Surely the Dark Lady was no fool to be misled by Garrosh's barely contained intolerance of anything Undead.

The goblins were doing what they did best, taking advantage of every opportunity to make some gold. Even they seemed cowed by Garrosh. She had to remember there were plenty of goblins who were not aligned with the Horde. Garrosh was a fool if he thought the goblins did not represent a threat if they chose to unite.

What truly surprised her was the old shaman orc. He was rough in his speech and manner, but he seemed to be wise enough to know that Garrosh was a fool. She wondered if there were other orcs who felt as he did? Ratheron had assigned her to to gather intelligence. Though he was not specific where he wanted her to go. Meeting with Dalen seemed a logical start. The elder Sindorei was a respected member of the Farstriders in spite of his recent troubles. She wondered if he had recovered completely from the battle in the Plagued Lands?

Fynnariel threw aside a handful of blood soaked linen bandages. She wrapped a fresh one tightly around her waste, grimacing as she pulled it tight.
Nearby her journal lay open, ink drying. A short note bloodied and smudged with dirt reads:

I must make this short for I do not have time to sit still.

I have made it out of the Ghostlands. This place tests a hunters will, I am glad to be rid of it. I have received quite a few injuries during my hunt. Once the wounds heal I’m sure to have some interesting scars!

This will likely be the last I see of Quel’Thalas for a very long time…

…Onwards to a new adventure!

The sun shone down on the busy market place of Halfhill. There were Alliance farmers and personel looking through the various venders that resided there, as well as Horde folk and farmers in attendance. And Cyaer walked slowly and nonchalantly through the market. He would nod towards one vendor, and wave to another. And he stopped and spoke to several for many long minutes, purchasing various supplies for the Fellowship at below market price.

He sought out trustworthy handlers and wagons, oftentimes speaking with a good Tiller friend, seeking out those that could be found reliable. Gina Mudclaw, flirted with him, knowing full well his marital status, and she pointed him to four teamsters she used personally for her supplies. He bowed before her, and gently kissed her hand, which made her giggle.

His next stop was the silk traders. He didn't have the connections there that he had in the actual marketplace, but Ella accompanied him, and he received over a half dozen stacks of the silk cloth useable for what the Fellowship needed. He had already found several stacks of the windwool cloth and placed it in the bank.

Cyaer thought seriously of taking an afternoon off, and fishing up some of the Pandaren fish and seafood morsels so indicitive of Pandaren cuisine. He might still be able to pull that off, with Kel'tira training, and not being available.

The tiny raft skimmed across the waters of the Karasang shores, its pilot's hair flew back over his shoulders. Cy was having the time of his life down here again. The fish were biting, and he had several buckets of shrimp and octopi already.

As the raft came to a slow lazy stop, Cyaer scanned the waters around him. He had almost developed a sixth sense about finding swarms of the various seafood down here. And sure enough, he spied two small clusters of shrimp. He threw out his line and sat to fish.

He inspected the edge to his blades, the axe and dagger both exceeding his expectations, but then he took care of the tools of his trade. He has purchased some new armor, and it felt good on his shoulders and his hips.

He moved, and dropped, then sprang back up with nary a sound. Somehow he knew that stealth would be his best friend tonight, that and the darkness of the night. He pulled the black woven cowl over his head, the only thing that could be seen were his emerald green eyes.

He looked around the home that Kel'tira and he had made here. And he reached into his backpack and removed the letter he had written for Kel, if things should go awry. He didn't think anything would, and he would be back well within the week she would be gone. Cy held it in his hand for a moment, his emotions tossed as whether to go, or stay. He lay it on the bed, against her pillow, with a small figurine of a dragon, and left the room.

As he stood on the platform, he looked out over the calm sea, and he took several deep breaths, and his inner turmoil quieted, and his mind set upon the task at hand. Cy whistled two shrill notes, and large dark shadow descended over him. The nimble rogue grabbed a hold of the leather straps and swung himself atop the black dragon.

He turned one last time to look at his home, then pulled the reins to begin his long ride north.

The search was futile, all she found were rumors and lies. She had not yet contacted Dalen, he had been elusive. Jana sighed and went back to Silvermoon. Surely someone has seen him? He seemed to have his guildstone off.

The streets of Silvermoon bustled and people went about their business as usual. Not much was mentioned of the Firehawks. Either people were afraid to mention any contact with them, or they themselves had faded into non existence.

All of her contacts were sadly without a word to help her. They did not know and seemed not to care. Most able bodied fighters were in Pandaria, with the Regent. Jana sighed and thought of going there herself. Anything to relieve this boredom.

Settling into a ground eating stride she ran the beaches around the isle of Sunstrider and found nothing but memories. Panting with the good feeling of exertion she finally sat on the beach and watched the waves roll in. It seemed sad the once active and vital Fellowship that Karamia had told her about seemed to be fractured and scattered. Would they ever rise from the ashes?

The buildings were starting to look like homes and places of business now. Workers replaced windows and doors. Fireplaces burned cheerfully, and gardens were planted.

Kazzy wandered the edges of the small refurbished village and played with her pets. They hunted for animals, but found few outside of the hounds that roamed the still dry and desert like hills. Occasionally she saw bears and wolves. She wondered if they would find peace in this isolated area. More animals were needed.

Taking a flight back to the Mender's Stead, Kazzy spent some time talking to the druids. There was a long and convoluted explanation about how predators needed prey. The prey usually being grass eaters. And grass needing water, ponds and lakes needed a source of water, like rain.

Kazzy nearly fell asleep with the droning of the Tauren druid. Her explanation was sound. But goblins had no control over things like the weather, at least as far as she knew.

A Glimpse into the Past

This journal entry was written many years ago:

The Matron at the Orphanage say’s writing in this book will help me keep my thoughts in order. I’m not so sure what that means or why it’s important. Right now I feel as though I’m talking to myself and that doesn’t seem very sane!

I’m not sure where to begin so I will start with my day!

This morning I was caught sleeping in a tree again. The Matron was yelling at me. I’ve never seen a face turn so red with anger before. She looked so funny, I couldn’t stop laughing which made it worse I think.

The Matron said it’s dangerous to sleep outside. I told the Matron that she is wrong. I said. “I can feel it in my stomach. It’s much safer to be out doors where you can run at moments notice.” Then she asked me what I thought I had to run from and to that I had no answer.

All I know is that these buildings are far too enclosed and this tiny room makes me uncomfortable.

The Matron thinks I’m foolish. She doesn’t like that I can hunt, cook, and care for myself. She hates that I don’t like the fancy meals they eat or that I’m not like the other girls. Prancing about in pink ruffles, and talking about the most eligible noble men. Hoping some noble family will swoop in and take me away. Why on Azeroth would I care about any of that nonsense?

I guess one good thing is that the Matron said I could learn from the Farstriders starting tomorrow! If, I take singing lessons and continue my books studies. Small prices to pay if it means I can venture into the forest again.

Also I can’t wait to see the look on the music instructor’s face when he realizes I’m a lost cause. It will be brilliant!

I guess I should mention the nosy Priest that comes by here, he returned today. He asks too many questions. Today he asked if I remember anything from before the orphanage. I think it bothers him that I don’t have much to say about it. I don’t know why, it’s none of his business.

It’s like I told the Matron. I remember fire and being scared. Next I was playing in the forest with Dragonhawks, then being found by Farstriders and brought here.

I’d rather be living in the forest with the Dragonhawks.

Well my roommate is giving me dirty looks; I had better turn out the light and try to sleep before I get another scolding. Goodnight self!

Dearest Big Brother,

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been too long since I last saw you and even longer since we had the time to sit down and share a coffee.

Many things have happened since my last letter. The most important one is that I have left Silvermoon City and am now living in the Eastern Plaguelands. I have a small farm in the old Scarlet Enclave where I will be able to grow my herbs and make my potions in peace. I'm currently in the middle of clearing out the rubble from the fields, but I hope to be able to plant my first crop in the next week or so.

When I'm not working on my fields, I'm restoring my house to its former glory. Thankfully, the basic structure is still sound and any repairs that are needed are minor. My furniture arrives later this week and it will be good to sleep in a bed and not in sleeping furs on the floor. I made sure I had a house with a second bedroom so that you will be able to visit once everything is finished.

I'm not here on own entirely though. While I was out gathering herbs in Silverpine Forest one time, I met one of my own calling and her partner. They told me about a fellowship where I would be accepted. I didn't believe her at first, but the fact that she was accepted spoke more than her words could.

I met with the fellowship's leader, a monk named Ratheron and his partner Shadow, and was surprised to find that everything I had been told was true. They accepted me on sight. Even the shaman that is working with the group to heal the land and make it fertile once more accepted me. Although he keeps his distance, he is still respectful and polite when he speaks with me.

It is so good to finally have a place that I can call home again. After I caught … after I left Micah, it's been hard to find somewhere that didn't constantly remind me of that day. I'm sure you were able to read that in my last letter. You always seemed to know when I was upset as a child.

If you decide to come visit me, the innkeeper at Light's Hope Chapel will be able to give you directions. Stay safe Leon, and hurry home. You have been gone too long and I miss you.

Rhannah.

From the pages of my journal:

I have completed the negotiations and work I was sent to do here in Elywnn and Stormwind. It is my belief that if all parties hold up their ends of the bargain, the world could be a better place for all, Horde and Alliance.

While I do not relish the long flight back home, I can only hope Kel'tira has completed her training, and is home too. Oh, how I have missed her. I have had dreams the past few nights of holding her in my arms once more, and just being close to her, and tasting those sweet lips of hers again

(Some Kal'dorei noble tried to make a few moves on me while in Stormwind. I was flattered, but I made it known to her that I was happily married. Not that the information deterred her. Really? These poor Alliance wenches yearn for a real man to satisfy them, I guess. Well, not me.)

I bowed out of the small celebratory party they offered. Wanting only to rest for the journey tomorrow. Besides, -she- was going to be there, and I didn't want to put up with any more of her nonsense.

(( This is a two-part entry. The first half is for Eve and the second half for Zarina. Due to length and only minor importance to the story line, I'll just keep it as a document. ))

https://docs.google.com/document/d/10ZmMeUQdpjw4HQBTMbKsSs4aLwgH6uE43cvPT2yz4M0/edit

Rarely do I question myself. I do what I believe needs to be done. I say what I believe needs to be said. If others do not like it, I'll shove it in their face until they shut up. There's no room for weakness in this or any other life. No need for the sobbing, the whining, the drama, it is why I sneer at people so readily. I'm far too used to it. These people who know nothing of life and yet preach to others. And what they have to say falls upon my own deaf ears. For nothing they have ever said had any impact upon my own life.

Maybe it was cruel to out Rhannah to Ratheron. Maybe it was my own inability to adapt to the fact that he already knew without me telling him. I curse my former name, Felwhisper... I should have introduced myself as a Dawnstalker from the beginning. Or maybe someone could say I was benevolent and, upon meeting someone who could support a warlock's cause, felt that a lonely woman should feel accepted for her craft by someone who won't force her to use her powers if she isn't comfortable.

Perhaps I like Ratheron for the fact that he agreed to (on a case by case basis), burn the tongue out of anyone who tries to spread the rumor that I am a warlock. One could say that I approve of him as a leader, that he doesn't take crap. Or that he knows just how far one has to go in a war.

I will not apologize to Rhannah for what I have done. But it is a question that recurs to me often. Perhaps because I know I will need to begin watching who I make into an enemy. Already, I feel the bite of my past actions as I push forward, trying to fulfill Tyrael's expectations. Though I have begun talking to the mages of Silvermoon City as a member of the Firehawk House, many know exactly how impossible my art is. None are willing to risk their reputation to become my 'student'. The cowards are too afraid of failure in a delicate craft. But I am certain once one steps forward, more will follow. Like the lambs they are...

In less important news, I am also now engaged.

I will murder the man if he tries to make some kind of flowery affair out of this. I would refuse him had I not said it outright to him. I would take him from his wife, I would make him want to marry me instead, and I find that I have overwhelmingly succeeded.

Carinoth Duskweaver sits down with a sigh in the bed of his room in the Tavern in the Mists.He takes off his hat and scarf then sets them on the nightstand next to his bed. With a long and drawn out yawn he lays his head back on the bed and stares up into the ceiling. 'I should really get some sleep...' He moves his head towards the desk that is propped up against the wall. 'But Ratheron will want that damn report.' He groans then sits up then walks towards the desk, still groaning in indignation. He sits down at the desk and pulls out a crisp piece of paper and dabs the ink quill in some ink and starts writing, while still groaning in increasing indignation.

"Dear, Ratheron

As per your order that was given to me via your nephew, this shall be a report of my progress with my research towards the Sha. So far from what I have discovered it appears that Shadow magic can affect the Sha as any other normal being. When I applied my Shadow magic, it appeared to...overload is the best word I can describe when facing them. From what I can gather, the negative energy emitted from Shadow, Unholy, and Fel magics are not palatable to the Sha as it is not the emotions of a living being. This also brings me to another thing. I have been told by my uncle that you know of the 'item' that is currently in my possession."

He stops writing for a moment then glances at the large chest with chains, locks, and magic wards covered all across it. He shakes his head then continues writing.

"From my gatherings, this 'item' does appear to be made of Mogu creation and some how....tainted by the Sha. But I require more time to study it so as to confirm that it actually corrupts the wielder. I have my doubts as my uncle, who wielded it for a short period of time on the Isle of Thunder before handing it off to me, appears to be basicaly the same as I have know him all my life. But again my previous knowledge of the Sha overwhelms my doubts and I shall examine it further."

"Which brings to another thing which I believe you might be...hesitant to allow me to continue you with. In order to continue my research, I believe I need a specimen that has been possessed by the Sha so as to study the affects of the corruption and possession. To come to more efficient ways of banishing/killing them of course. These 'specimens' can be animals and other wildlife that have been tainted by the Sha of course, but I believe that a sentient being having been unfortunetly possessed by the Sha would yield more information that might otherwise be unknown to us. I realize this might be controversial to you, so I shall only move on when I have our permission. But if you decide to move in this direction, I suggest one of Garrosh's hounds, as they seem to oh so enjoy getting possessed by the Sha.

Until then, Carinoth Duskweaver.

P.S. Also, one more thing. From the meeting today, I believe your nephew needs to trust people more. That or Cy needs to get over whatever he has against him. Whichever comes first, I just know im not touching there little spat with a ten foot pole."

With another yawn he finishes up his report then rolls up the paper and ties up the piece of paper with a string of yarn. "Fade, come out please." A Shadowfiend comes out of the shadows in the room and stands next to his master. "Take this to Ratheron, im sure he is around somewhere. Flow through the shadow's until you find something very...calm. He might also have a person with him who is very happy and cheerful." The Shadowfiend groans and raises what Carinoth thinks is a eyebrow. "No, just give them the guy the damn letter. And yes, I am actually gaining a social life. I am creeped out just as much as you are." The Shadowfiend groans again then grabs the letter and fades back into the shadow's. Carinoth cracks his back and falls face first into the bed. He turns over to face the ceiling again and closes his eyes to sleep. 'This little Fellowship....I like it.' He thinks with a smirk then succumbs to slumber.