World of Warcraft®

Tychus leaned back in his chair, he was in his son's home in Stormwind, reclining with a glass of wine while they discussed business. He had been set back by the destruction of his base in Pandaria but it was merely a setback. It wasn't something he was concerned over at the present.

"So my dear boy how are things here?" Tychus asked, sipping on the wine experimentally, it was a new stock and he always found that Darius tended to experiment too much with flavorful wines. Much to his appreciation this was a simple stock, not outlandish or exotic in its tastes and Tychus smiled at his son. Darius didn't let it effect him, it would give his father too much credit for the younger man to fall for such a simple ploy.

"All goes well, I'm watching the paladin, yet he is just as untouchable as always. He is a beacon of the Light. Quite a staunch supporter of the Alliance despite his ties elsewhere, he travels with an Aldor at the moment so it appears he is off the playing field for now. The rogue, Jazsmin I believe, has left Stormwind by magic. I have yet to track her down but I am confident my agents will find her. The others are at sea, traveling to Kalimdor and the Barrens to join up with Tai and his lover most likely." Darius seemed to not really care, their main objective was to see all out war brought to the Alliance and Horde and while it was fun playing games with their old enemies it seemed a waste of energy at the present, they were adding wood to the fire, not removing it.

Tychus smiled, he knew his son's mind all too well. He was narrow in his focus and not broad enough. Something the sorcerer had spent years trying to fix and only recently having found that he would learn it or he would not.

"Indeed I think she is hunting for her Sin'dorei lover, the Fellowship still proves to be a thorn to our plans, as do others thus we must eliminate them. Our Legion friends are almost neigh unbreakable and thus we should focus on those we can destroy. I want you to work on eliminating the Fellowship. Break those within it apart." Tychus grinned as he finished his glass of wine and leaned forward.

"Their ties are built around three things," The sorcerer lifted his first three fingers and ticked them off one by one, "Love. Family. Blood. We must work to break each in this order. Break their loves, then their families will begin to crumble. Once they crumble we can break their bonds of blood. While attacking the minds of Kel'tira and Cyaer Sunblaze I found weakness within each. Use it to your advantage, find something that could drive wedges between them all and slowly, with light caresses, break them apart."

Tychus laughed quietly at his own genius of a plan, it would work he knew if done properly, with the right applications at the right time. Darius smiled as well, it was up his alley. Subtle, suggestion, seduction. All things he was well versed in. "Very well, I will see it done as you wish father." Darius said with a bow of his head, Tychus nodded and swept out of his chair, heading for the stairs that would take him to their private portal room.

"Should you need me contact Targus, I will be... otherwise engaged for the foreseeable future. There is much planning and hunting to be done." Tychus said mysteriously and Darius was left to wonder just what his father did on these "trips" of his. But he filed it away for later investigation, there was other work to be done, such as hunting down a SI:7 operative and finding out what exactly could be done to drive a wedge between the Sunblazes and the Fellowship.

Jazzy woke from what she could only describe as a nightmare. Images of Dalen falling in some battle and her unable to help him. Her search through endless miles of forests and mountains with no sign of his passing or where he might be.

The moon was just cresting over the horizon when she finally left the barrow. Night was the best time for her to travel. She saw better in the gloom of starlight and even better with Elune’s guidance. She made her way carefully past orc and troll sentries, finding no sign of Dalen or his companions. Gazing up at the light of her goddess she prayed. “Elune, grant me your grace. Help me find my love, ease my fear and doubt. Let me find him whole and well. I have been remiss in my devotion. No more will I take things for granted. Give me strength.” her head bowed as she felt the moonlight shining down.

Her silent tread in the woods of Stonetalon led her to the Barrens. It was dawn and she needed to stop to rest. All around her she saw the chaos that was the rebellion in full swing. She gritted her teeth as she thought of the orcs. Her long standing enemies. Every other race she could tolerate to some degree, but orcs decimated the trees and the forests of her home. They conquered in the name of the most vile of Warchiefs. But she saw the way some of the Horde were being treated. The Tauren, the trolls, the goblins and even the Sindorei were forced to do manual labor and dirty work that the orcs themselves seemed to think themselves above.

Kor’Kron, everywhere she looked she saw them. With not a single bit of hesitation she eliminated all she could catch unaware. She grinned as taskmasters looked behind them to find dead orcs who made little sound as her deadly blades found their marks. The poisons she used numbed the mind and paralysed the bodies. She left a trail in her wake and they soon had scouts and rogues hunting for her as well.

She left them after a short time, chasing shadows and unnerved by the lack of a target. That was seven Kor’Kron that would not beat another peon. Soon the harsh light of day made the heat of the Barrens too much for her and she found a cave in the hills of Mulgore to hide in.

Sleep was not easy. Setting a few traps to warn her she rolled into a sleeping bag and slept until the sun went down. Night was her element, and her ears and eyes far better than any orc or troll. She awakened when the sun was painting the desert like hills a golden pink. Munching on trail biscuits because she did not want to risk a fire. Her eyes swept the horizon as she thought of where to do next.

The desert like landscape reminded her of the sand dunes of Uldum. The games she and Dalen had played. Hide and seek, both of them equally proficient at hiding in shadows. The trees and brush here were scattered, though she noted the druids had been busy and there was an odd sense of hidden mystery beneath the waters of the ponds. The wild growth was thick and somewhat dangerous, even the plants seemed to be walking menaces.

(1/2)

Searching for the source of the overwhelming growth, the druids of the Barrens begged for her help. Bogwalkers roamed the marshes in the middle of the soupy swamps. Where had they come from? By the time midnight had brought the moon up, Jazzy had cut down many of the odd creatures.

She sought out an Alliance camp to see if anyone had seen her friend. Sitting in front of the campfire she listened to them tell stories of the rebellion. Of all the odd things she heard was the fact Vol’Jin was asking Alliance members for help. And they were doing just that! Jazzy contemplated the wisdom of helping the trolls. They were never trustable in her mind. It had been a troll witchdoctor that had forced her to kill her mate, Anton.

But that was over a hundred years ago, and Jazzy had learned to accept the loss and move on. The agent that Jazzy sought was not here. Cautiously she sought out any member of SI:7 who happened to be in the camp. There were new faces here she had not met. Spending so much time in the Ocheliad had made old contacts wary of her.

She contemplated her options, sipping tea next to the campfire. One of the passing soldiers did a double take as he stared at her. "Aren't you Jaszmin Shadowstar? I saw you singing in the Salty Sailor in Booty Bay! I have always wanted to be a bard, I have a lute...if I play it will you sing for us? Please?" his boyish face pleading with her.

Jazzy chuckled and nodded. The young man went to his tent and came back with his lute. He was a very good player and Jazzy nodded in encouragement. "You are very good! Play something cheerful for these soldier maybe?"

"I am Jerry, I can play anything you want to sing, I have even found a way to memorize your ballads you used to sing in the Salty Sailor. But I am not the world's best singer." he blushed at being close to what he considered a celebrity. He strummed the lute and Jazzy recognized one of the songs she had sung long ago.

Her clear voice began softly as she sang to the gathered troops. Her song one of sailing the high seas and loving a girl in every port. The camp was soon getting a bit rowdy and the Commander stalked into the light of the bonfire and told them to tone it down.

Chagrined at his orders, Jazzy asked Jerry to play something softer. He complied and the song she sang was sweet and sad.

( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3fHDt4xQFw )

“Package Sent!” Fynnariel loudly proclaimed and collapsed on the ground, just underneath her favourite tree. Her newest companion, a spirit owl named Calen, perched on a tree branch above her. He chirped and tilted his head to one side questioningly.

“It was for New Dawn.” Fyn lay back on the forest floor of Karnum’s Glade. The glade was like an oasis, breathing life into the surrounding desert. “Construction is ongoing. That is the reason I’ve been dragging you all over Desolace.”

Calen made a cooing noise in response. Yawning, the hunter closed her eyes and organised her thoughts. She reflected on her most recent adventures.

Travelling had brought Fyn to Desolace, there she came in contact with the Cenarion Circle. The Circle had use for her skills, so she began running a few odd jobs for them. Fynnariel spent most of her time honing her Farstrider abilities and communing with nature. Not once forgetting about the dangers facing the Fellowship and the Horde. Determined to do her part and become stronger.

While training in the desert Fyn discovered several iron veins and worked tirelessly to gather as much iron as possible. It was exactly what the Fellowship needed to rebuild New Dawn. Along the way she also managed to gather some silk. Putting it all in one massive package, Fyn sent it to Ratheron. She hoped it would make it New Dawn safely.

Fyn stretched out in the soil as a breeze danced across her body. “Two hours of sleep Calen, then back to mining.” She murmured, curled into a ball and drifted off to sleep.

It's been a strange week. After I met Ratheron he asked me to work with Zarina in improving my powers. I got the sense that he knew I was a warlock, but didn't care. The only people who knew that my calling were Zarina and her partner Varus. It's possible that Ratheron found out on his own, but it's more likely that he was told.

I suspect it was Zarina that told him. I'm not sure whether to be angry or not. On my own, I probably wouldn't have told anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. However, it is a relief to not have to hide who I am and just be accepted for myself. Time will tell if Zarina did me a favour or not.

A few days ago I was in the Echo Isles looking for a friend of mine who said he could get me some herbs for my alchemy and ran into Tyrael, Ratheron's nephew. Well, he's not just the nephew of the fellowship's leader, he's also Lord of the Firehawks.

I have to admit, when I first learnt about exactly who he was, I felt like running. After all the problems that Meghann Firehawk caused, I swore never to have anything to do with the Firehawks. Tyrael surprised me however, when he offered to help me get back at Meghann.

Meghann turned out to be Tyrael's sister. My own brother Leon, is one of the few people who has stood by me no matter what and he is probably my closest friend. It was hard for me to understand that not everyone has the same sort of relationship with their own brothers or sisters. But he told me about how they had never gotten along, even as children, and although it was still a little hard to understand, it was easier for me to accept.

So now I divide my time between the Enclave in Eastern Plaguelands and the Firehawk Estate in Silvermoon. It was really strange to return to Silvermoon after the way I left it, but it wasn't as bed as I thought it would be. The best thing was the look on Meghann's face when she saw me. It was absolutely priceless! I honestly wouldn't have been surprised to see smoke coming out of her ears

She was about to throw a major tantrum and demand I be thrown out of the estate when one of the staff informed her that I was there at the invitation of Tyrael, Lord Firehawk. For once in her life the spoiled b**ch was speechless. I must thank Tyrael next time I see him. Although I fear that Meghann will make things difficult for him for a while, I am certain that Tyrael, and Eve can handle whatever she tries to dish out.

However, seeing their happiness did drive a knife in. It's been four months since that night I walked in on Meghann and Micah. These last few months have been a real eye opener. I've learnt so much about myself, but I still feel like a part of my life is missing. Perhaps it is just because for the first time in my life, I’m not part of a pair. Even when I was a child, it was always me and my brother. Now, I'm on my own and it is a lot harder than I ever imagined. In some ways it's great. I don't have to worry about being late and letting someone else down. But it can be so hard to come home to no one but a cat.

Leon tells me that it will get easier. That one day I'll wake up and realise that I don't need a man in my life to be whole. That's easy for him to say. He's not the one surrounded by couples on a daily basis. He's not the one that finds it hard to make friends and he definitely doesn't have a calling that most people run from. He's a Blood Knight, someone to look up to for our whole society. I'm just a warlock.

People with my calling hide in the shadows or call ourselves something other than warlock. To most people, I'm a shadow mage. Even Zarina called herself a Fire Mage when I first met her. Her experiments with using crystals to store or amplify her magic seem to be progressing well. Mine however, aren't doing so well. Perhaps it is that I use a different style of magic to her and that it is incompatible with the crystals. I can't say for sure. I just know that I am not as comfortable with the use of the crystals as I could be. Still, I have noticed small improvements and it's not as hard to work with the crystals as it was a day or two ago. Maybe it will just take time.

The meeting had not been very fruitful. Jana was grumpy mainly because her arm was slightly infected. Kel'Tira had insisted on healing it and it did feel better after the paladin had done her efficient healing and rebandaged the wound.

The news she brought to the camp of the elusive rogue destroying Kor'Kron camps was accepted and she was told Dalen would take care of it. Jana was glad she did not have to deal with an agent that was as elusive as a transparent fish in a rushing stream. Only this fish had deadly weapons...and set traps to catch the unwary. This she had learned from the scouts who were sent after the rogue.

They said she had killed seven Kor'Kron elite troops. Catching them on patrol and leaving their bodies to rot in the sun. The worst part was the deeds were done in near perfect silence. Most had been caught at sundown or early morning, when the light was fading or not quite bright enough to see well.

Jana shuddered. She wished she had that level of expertise. She did not envy Dalen the job. Feeling a bit as though Tyrael was brushing it off without realizing all the facts, Jana sat down and penned another note to Dalen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

To Dalen Firehawk

I felt a need to warn you of the agent that is creating havoc in the Barrens. Killing seven elite Kor'Kron guards is no easy feat. That alone would give anyone cause for alarm. But upon questioning the remaining members of the camp, I found it very disturbing to note. The silence of the attacker left many with a feeling of sheer terror. Hearing the bellowing of an orc under attack is unnerving enough, but to turn around to speak to the one in charge and finding him facedown in the dirt without a sound is cause for some concern.

They have started calling the rogue Spook. Some even think it is a haunting of some kind. I had no idea the orcs could be so superstitious. As if that were not bad enough, a large munitions cache was also blown up. Bombs were set inside the camp, the traps to catch infiltrators were not only tripped without incident, but some were reset in a way to make them deadly to the original agent. Most of the goblins I spoke to say whoever it was had inside information. As if they knew everything that could be found inside the camp and exactly where to set the charges.

The orcs are beginning to suspect the goblins and have been unmerciful in their discipline. This is causing even more dissension. Only the most foolhardy or desperate of goblins will even dare to work in the camps now.

I wish I could help you find this agent, but Tyrael has assigned me to look for Ratheron. And someone called Elysium. I am headed to Uldum. Something about that area being so mysterious and the relics of the Titans makes it exciting to me. If you have any ideas where I could begin to look for Ratheron or Elysium, please be kind enough to send me a note.

Thanks,
Jana

The chill wind blew briskly around the paladin as she walked through the collection of buildings atop the Peak of Serenity. This was the first stop in what Kel'tira Sunblaze privately believed would be something of a wild goose chase. She was looking for Ratheron Firehawk and his lover and fiancé, Shadow. With the two missing, off on some hunt for a man by the name of “Elysium,” Tyrael had deemed it best, and the rest of the Fellowship present at the meeting had agreed, that the two elves be found.

And so, Kel found herself back in Pandaria. In fact, at the very same place she had completed her time with the monks. Serenity Peak.

The perpetually snowy mountains funneled the icy winds in playful dances that tugged and teased the strands of red hair Kel had bound into a ponytail. The cold she didn't mind as much, as she had donned fur-lined leathers for the occasion, leaving her plate gear and shield strapped to her cloud serpent, who waited patiently for her. The paladin's sword was strapped to her hip, however, more for show than an expectation of it seeing any use.

A small shiver escaped the warrior of the Light as she made her way into the largest of the structures, the warmth inside the building was a welcome relief for Kel. She had neither the fur nor the body fat of a Pandaren to keep her warm. The monks, mostly the natives, were talking and drinking as they tended to be, and one of those the paladin had worked with during her stay rose, bidding the Blood Elf to join them.

Kel's declination of the profferred alcohol, and her cited reason, her pregnancy, brought murmurs of congratulation from those in the room. Once the Elf had settled down, one monk inevitably asked, “Why have you come back here?”

Kel sighed, sipping on the tea she had been given, “I'm looking for someone. Two someones, rather.”

The assembled monks looked at her curiously, and she continued, “Ratheron Firehawk and his betrothed, Shadow.”

The replies came quickly, all in the negative.

“Who?”

“I haven't seen them in months.”

“Shadow? Spitfire hasn't been here in months.”

With each response, Kel braced herself mentally for another. Thus, she was taken by surprise when someone said, “I know him.”

“You do?”

“Yes, why do you search for him?”

Kel sized the speaker up. The man was Pandaren, and had been the one passing out drinks. He was well-muscled beneath his fur, and his eyes gleamed with laughter. He seemed to pick up on her hesitation, and continued, “Kel'tira, wasn't it? Walk with me.”

The two rose, Kel still holding her rapidly-cooling tea, and meandered back into the windswept outdoors. They cut an odd figure; Rotund and furry, and lithe and slim. The two paid that notion no heed, however, they were deep in conversation.

“So,” the monk was saying, “He's out looking for someone, hm?”

Kel nodded, “When was the last time you saw him?”

“I can tell you for a fact he hasn't been here since before you people's 'rebellion' started.”

Kel stopped walking, “He never showed up a week and a half ago?”

“No, why?”

“He was supposed to meet me.”

“Most unlike him.”

“Worryingly so.”

Kel sped up to walk next to the monk, thinking. It wasn't like Rath to not carry through on a promise. It was unsettling, to say the least. The question, then, that arose, was what -did- happen? Either something came up that demanded his attention, or something went wrong.

Breaking out of her contemplation, the paladin queried, “Did he say anything about where he might be going?”

“Well... He mentioned something about a contact in Booty Bay once....”

Tyrael,

Your uncle has yet to get back to me, has New Dawn received my last shipment of iron? I’m sure Ratheron is busy with many other things… it’s just that I don’t send things to people often, and I’m hoping it went to the right place.

This shipment will be silk cloth and iron; though now that I think on it ore is probably lighter to send then the bars. Too late it’s smelted.

How much more iron is needed? I can return to New Dawn and help build iron beams and such for buildings at anytime. I have some knowledge of metal work as I am a jewelcrafter by trade.

If the Fellowship needs anything just ask, I can still be found at Karnum’s Glade in Desolace.

I hope all is well with everyone!
Fynnariel

“Huh. The way I wrote this feels…awkward.” Fynnariel rolled up the letter, putting it and her quill away. “I wonder if he even remembers who I am…”

Her voice rose dramatically and her hands gestured in like fashion. “The anxious yet quiet hunter; with the dragonhawk that likes shiny objects.” Fyn sighed and grimaced. First impressions weren’t her strong suit and it was long since she was last at New Dawn. Wings probably had a mountain of shiny objects gathered by now…other people’s objects.

The green spirit owl circled around her, curious as to what pet Fyn meant. “Wings was my very first pet. He’s quite old and very smart. Kind of like you. I think you two will get along very well.” Calen let out a loud squawk and Fyn chuckled.

“Time to return to the Glade and smelt this last bit of iron for that package we’ve made!” Fyn jumped to her feet and winced slightly. The burn on her foot still hadn’t healed fully and it hurt to move.

Midsummer celebrations were underway and the Druids at the Glade convinced her to go and enjoy the festivities. Apparently throwing burning torches into the air and catching them is no easy task. Fyn’s eyes watered at the memory. “Those were my favourite boots too!” With that last thought the Farstrider and her pet ran off into the Desert.

It was dark, too dark to see yet he moved quietly and confidently to the lantern that hung on the wall of the one room shack. As the wick took flame it illuminated the handsome features of the Sin'dorei rogue that held the lantern.

He sat on the floor, the book opened in his hands, reading the entries written therein. His fingers slowly went over the last page that held nothing but a clean slate. A clean slate, how often had he wished he had one of those, to start a new.

However, now he was happy, happier than he ever thought possible. He had a wife he adored, and loved him back. And she was pregnant with his child; children, for she carried twins. And he didn't know how, but somehow he loved her even more as the mother of their children.

He looked at the pen and ink he had set on the floor beside him, then glanced at the blank page before him. He briefly closed his eyes, as he thought about what he would put on the page, if anything. Then he slowly dipped the point into the ink and scratched three words in the middle of the page. He softly blew on the ink to aid it in drying, and closed the book.

He lightly touched the cover of the journal, before placing it in his pack, and sealed the ink, and put it away also. Next, he hung the lantern back after blowing it out. He stepped into the night, and breathed a heavy sigh. And as silently as he came, he left.

Kel'tira, forgive me.

The flight to the desert of Uldum was uneventful and Jana settled into the relative peace of the oasis. The inn was a refurbished one, someone had bought the building and painted over the sign. Vaguely she could almost make out the old lettering. 'Sam's...' the rest of the letters were obscured with new paint and simply read "Bart's Hotel"

Dusty air swirled by an occasional breeze did nothing but cause her to use her mask constantly to keep from choking. Wandering the markets she asked for anyone matching the description of Ratheron or Shadow. She had not heard from Dalen, not even knowing if he received her letter. The other one she had no idea what he looked like, but the name did not evoke any leads anyway.

Despondent for the lack of leads she sat in the bar and sipped an icy drink. Apparantly a mage worked the bars and was making excellent tips when he provided cold drinks. She could tell this idea might catch on in the desert.

The past was going to catch him sooner or later. Rian was certain of it. Maybe that was why he could never stay in one place very long. His memories were bad enough. He could never run away from them. But moving from one place to another seemed to help, for a time.

He settled into the empty house at the Enclave. They called it New Dawn. He had no idea who came up with that name. He looked out the window and shook his head. Although there were a few places showing green, most of it was still a dreary brown.

There was a lot of work to be done. He set his bags in the closet and started cleaning, sweeping cobwebs out of corners and off the floor. He opened windows and let fresh air in. One of the windows had broken panes in it that would need replacing.

New doors that he could lock, a bed and some furniture. It might be all right to stay for awhile. He contemplated the people he had met in the Fellowship. A rather spirited paladin named Jentira. She seemed to think he was looking for a romance. Nothing could be further from the truth.

He enjoyed the company of women, he just did not need attachments. He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and took out his Journal. That other paladin, Kel'Tira. She was a very pretty woman. He had to remind himself to be a gentleman. She was married and he did not need her husband to send a dagger into his back.

He decided he did not need a tough warrior woman, both of them looked like they could send him to the infirmary without much effort. Perhaps he would just play the field. Spend time with each of them and just make friends.

He closed the Journal as he felt his eyes burning from lack of sleep. Tomorrow is another day...he turned on his side and rolled into the sleeping bag.

Darkness....

A young sin'dorei girl, probably no older than a young teen in elven years, stood upon a black ocean. Alone, the sky above purple that twinkled with white stars.

This was the mind of Krystala Dawnshadow, the Elven Witch...she needed no journal. Her mind was her journal.

The water around her began to bubble and boil, things emerging from the black depths below. With a sudden burst, large leafless tress surged out of the inky black waters, all made of strange black stone and covered in purple runes. Each tree resembled memories of every year. From since she was born to now...

One tree stood out amongst the rest, instead of black stone, it glowed a very light purple. This was her current year, her current recording of her life.

Slowly, she approached it, her words echoing around her, but she never moved her lips

The Rising Sun Fellowship.....oh how times change...

She arrived at the tree, turning around and sitting upon one of it's roots, her head slowly leaning against it.

From a distance, I've watched other members...new faces that I never seen before since Aseria..including faces that I am familiar with, such as Lineron and his sister.

My efforts in trying to contact their leader still go with out any results. Perhaps I'm not trying hard enough...being to lazy to come up with anything 'formal'...regardless, the new faces is a good sign. It means no many will know me for what I did, specially when it comes to Aseria's death....only Kel'tira and her Husband, the man Aseria called 'Nutter', know about that.

In any case, I should really see how Lin is doing, been a long time...it's nice to see my old Brother of Insanity. Yes.....that should be fun. I wonder what his current take is on this whole 'rebellion' situation, it would be nice to find out.

The Witch stood, smiling.

Oh Fellowship...if you only knew what was coming you way, I'd say you'd be terrified..then again, who is or isn't these days?

Rhannah tossed her hat onto its hook and placed her gloves and tools back in their normal places. She stretched her arms over her head and leant backwards, easing some of the pain in her back. Her herbs were growing well in the newly enriched soil of the enclave , but so were the weeds and she had spent the better part of all morning weeding her fields.

She filled the kettle and put it on to boil for her evening cup of tea. That evening it was going to be chamomile to help her relax. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony but it felt so good to be able to tend her fields in peace again. There were no people who needed her help and her her potions. No people to laugh at her and remind her of painful times best forgotten and best of all, no finger pointing busybodies blaming her for everything that went wrong.

She took her journal out of the drawer and read the entries from earlier in the year. It still amazed her how she had managed to come out of that period unscathed. She frowned into her cup. Not totally unscathed. Her faith in people had been rocked to the core and it was only in the last few days that things had started to get easier.

Leon would be proud. His last letter was full of praise and encouragement for her new life. He seemed to be glad that she was finally starting to put everything behind her. At least he was finally starting to show some interest in other women. Rhannah had worried about her brother ever being able to put the memories of Narella behind him.

She sighed. Surely one of her ancestors had ticked off the wrong person. The Sunblades seemed cursed to having problems in their love lives. Even their parents, who had been together all their adult lives, had been known to have some blazing rows on occasion. It was probably just a case of neither of them having met the right person yet.

One day Big brother, you and I will find our special person. One day.

Rhannah placed her cup on the table, picked up a pen, turned to a blank page in her journal and started to write.

A new journal, a new phase in my life. ~ From the Diary of Jen'tira Whitemane, paladin.

I have passed the preliminaries of being a blood knight, and I had no problems doing so. The Whitemanes have a way about getting what they want, when they want it. I did not brook any thoughts of grandeur, only knowing in my heart that I would succeed in whatever I wish to attain.

I'm on my own at the moment, doing odd jobs and helping out some of the locals. I particularly like running the Scar, destroying undead gives me a thrill. But then most of everything I have been doing has given me a thrill.

I should have known better with him. He doesn't want to be tied down. So much like the others, a wanderer. So be it. I have far better things than guarding his *ss while I'm working anyway.

When will I learn? Focus, Jen, keep you eyes on the prize. And simply move on. Sometimes I feel like I am my own worse enemy. Sometimes, like when it comes to affairs of the heart, I just need to focus.

I met with an officer of this Fellowship uncle told me about, a Kel'tira Sunblaze. She was nice, asked us a few questions, and gave us some communication devices. I don't know that I will use it, but it may come in handy in an emergency.

The sun was warm over the Scar this afternoon, lighting up the usual dismal place of the Scourge. I remember hearing the distinctive song of a thush in the brush to my right side, as I stared up at the large behemoth wanderering down the Scar towards me. The very earth here had an undead scent about it, it was appropriately named, for it was a deep wound upon the landscape.

I got into a fighting crouch, my shield at the ready, and my sword ready to strike. As the huge anomaly neared I sent out a greeting courtesy of the Light that drew is attention. Then I sent another calling card as my shield flew to its target and struck him. I saw neither fear or pain register in it's one bloated eye, merely a grin growing on it ugly puss as it raised up a heavy chain and struck at me.

Now I am not nimble or agile by any means but I danced away from that attack easily enough. And slashed out at the stitching and open wounds that comprised much of its torso. That got me a grunt and a fetid breath of air in my face. I felt sick to my stomach, but held in the breakfast of flapjacks and sausages. If it bled I didn't notice.

Its big ham hock of a fist came down to bury me beneath it, however my sturdy shield deflected the blow. Though I could feel the shudder of the near fatal blow go through my frame. "You wanna dance, well, then let's dance, Ugly!"

I stood before this behemoth tossing Light at it, trying to deflect blows, and even allowed a moment to seek healing from the Light as I fought this monstrosity. My sword slashed and struck deep within the putrid torso of the undead beast.

Finally it staggered and swayed before me, and I blew a hard breath and watched it fall back away from me, dead, for real this time. I hacked at the thick decomposed neck and put the ugly head into a sack. Then threw up my breakfast all over it rotted corpse. Dammit, it left a bad taste in my mouth afterwards too.

Now I need to seek out the bastard's twin. Good times in the Scar. At least now I wouldn't have anything to throw up afterwards.

The Ghostlands were filled with overgrowth of weeds and the wrong kind of green things were growing everywhere. Rian sighed in frustration. Somewhere in the ruins of the vineyard he hoped to find a growing shoot of the grapes he needed. Windrunner Village was a short distance away, but it was over run with gargoyles and spirits of the past. It nearly broke his heart to travel past it.

The thump of a large beast moving quickly shook the ground, he spun about in confusion and nearly tripped over some vines. Coming towards him at a frightening rate was a monstrosity of rotting flesh, it was one that the Magister at Tranquillion had offered a reward for!

He barely had time to ready himself for the monsters huge hand slamming down on the ground. Nimbly he rolled to the side, coming up to stroke the rotting flesh as it hit the ground where he had been standing a moment ago. Knucklerot was a fitting name for the creature as it howled in agony and frustration. Again and again it turned and twisted trying to catch Rian. The monk was panting in exertion as he dodged each strike, trying to land a blow here and there.

Vaguely he wondered where that spirited paladin was? Jentira would have probably one shot the monster. He grinned as he landed a few crucial blows that slowed the monster down. He was not prepared for the twin who came up behind him however. Suddenly he was fighting two of them! Their chains grabbed hold of him and slammed him from one to the other until he was dizzy and weak.

The past flashed before his eyes in painful memories. His brother and father yelling at him to work harder at his training. His mother crying when he was hurt from it. All the years of sibling rivalry between him and his half brother Halorin.

The woman who tormented them both with promises she never intended on keeping. Damm her, Kaela was a witch and he knew it. She deliberately used her beauty to keep Halorin and Rian fighting. Dating both of them and leading them on constantly. The horrid night when he fought Halorin and stabbed him with a near fatal wound.

He remembered it all so clearly, his step- father shoving him out the door and calling him a no good freeloader while his mother wailed. He ran away then, leaving his mother behind and the Vineyard. The only thing he could do under the circumstances. His temper was too much. He had to find a way to curb it.

The sudden silence and the dull pain of a weight on him making it hard for him to breathe finally brought him back to what he was doing. The two gruesome stitched horrors lay heaped together, ichor seeping into his wounds and the ache of a broken collarbone made it imperative he get back to Tranquillion. He had to stop and hack off the heads, not easy with a broken collarbone. He was sure it only made things worse.

The wolf he had bought from a fellow traveler packed him and the two smelly heads back to the village. He collapsed in front of the Magister. He vaguely remembered being carried upstairs before he passed out.

Well, diary, I have made a decision. I will not move on to the Hillsbrad area, too many Forsaken there. Instead I am making my slow journey by zepplin to Grom'gol. It is somewhere in the Stranglethorn Region, a jungle. A jungle I can lose myself in, become a part of the landscape and try to fit in.

I think I may be able to flourish there. My sword and shield available to the highest bidders, and damn those who think otherwise. I heard that there are many orcs there. Big brutes, but fine warriors. I wonder what they will think of the newest warrior in their midst.

I look forward to the challenges this will present.

Days were hot and dusty, scorpions and jackals were not the only things that plagued Jahana. Those infernal pygmies!! Sneaking around the Oasis and looking for any sign of a cave. The natives were clueless. They did not see hermits, or knew of no underground towers.

She even talked to Harrison Jones. Nice looking man who wore a fedora and carried a whip and a pistol. He was intrigued by the idea of an underground fortress, but when she told him it was a Sindorei who was known for his secluded ways, he scoffed at her. "The real gold is in the artifacts, girl. If you find any in your searching, bring them to me, I will make it worth your while."

Jahana knew a line when she heard one and thanked him briefly and went on. She took to flying her wyvern around the mountainous areas, searching for any sign of a cave entrance. It was on the fourth day she was on the edge of the border between Silithis and Uldum. Nearing dusk she thought she saw a flicker of light near the beach. It was in a very rocky area far from any of the settlements.

She had to take a look, it was the only positive thing she had spotted in days. Circling over the area she watched closely where she had seen the light. It could have been a pool of water reflecting the dying sun's rays as the orb sank beneath the waves. Or a signal from one of the pirates that plagued the coastal regions. Some of them had hiding places far from known ports.

Finally the curiousity got the better of her and she landed on the beach. Sending the wyvern off to hunt for his dinner, she decided to make camp on the beach. It was very secluded. The stars were just coming out as the sun faded. Gathering twigs and driftwood she made a fire on the beach. She was lucky enough to find some crabs and a few clams in the sand. A small kettle was set on a rock near the fire to heat and she fixed her seafood and relaxed. A mug of tea in her hands as she gazed up at the stars.

If the clues she had been given by Dalen were correct, this was a possibility for a hidden cave structure. A mountain range far from most of the civilized cities, water and food nearby. She would have to search the rocks for a cave, she looked over at the cliffs behind her and searched for any light source. From this angle it would be easy to spot a torch set in the offset of a cave. As her eyes roved the cliffs she saw it again. A flickering near some trees.

She got to her feet and grabbed her water canteen and her pack. Putting the beach fire out she moved towards the trees. A goblin tech flashlight in her hands gave off a faint glow. Quietly she made her way over rocks and actually found a path. Faint, but a path, perhaps made by a single person as they traveled back and forth from beach to hideaway?

Pain…indescribable pain…unable to move…screams and cries…the smell of blood, decay and rotting things…the heat of flame and ash…

Fynnariel awoke with a start, gasping and shaking from head to toe. It had been several years since she had nightmares of the Third War. Focusing on her breathing Fyn fought to relax. Throbbing hunger beat inside her like a drum but with each deep breath became duller. “I will not give in.”

Many tactical groups of Farstriders were overwhelmed by the Scourge during the Third War. Fyn had been apart of a unit made up of mostly rookies, her included. Fyn’s wounds had been severe. She was left hospitalized and semi-conscious for most of the war. When she was lucid enough to understand what was going on they had told her what had become of her comrades. Dead or missing, probably rose again to fight for Arthas and his Scourge. Fyn was the lone survivor of her group.

Scarred emotionally and physically she spent her days in a bottle. Lamenting the loss of those she loved, forgetting the values she fought so hard to protect until she was no longer considered a Farstrider. Blood on her hands, madness…Fyn had eventually hit rock bottom.

“I’ve been sober for two years now.” Fyn whispered into the darkness. The Eastern Plaguelands tested her inner strength. “I.Will.Not.Give.In.”

Fyn had salvaged herself at a high price, and was not going to give in to her lower urges. Now she was back in New Dawn. Helping craft iron and taking odd jobs battling left over Scourge for the Argent Dawn. Moments like this made her long the oasis she left behind Desolace. “Light give me strength.”

The shaking passed, her breathing slowed. This second chance at regaining her honour would not be wasted.

Fynnariel shot out of bed, stretched, scooped up her bow and headed out into the Plaguelands. Hunting would make her feel better…especially if the prey is undead.

Grom'gol. I do believe it's orchish for hell hole, however I am not entirely sure. As I wandered the small fortress in the middle of nowhere I could feel the eyes of the orcish warriors looking me over, wondering where I fit in and how someone like me could be of any use here.

That's when one of them broke off from a pack, and sauntered over in my direction. I stopped and waited for him to come to me. He was big, a proud warrior of Garrosh's army, covered in scars, tattoos, and a chip on his shoulder.

"Why you here, elfie? You too puny, not even good for breeding.' He laugh was coarse and he looked around at the other orcs, as they began to chuckle and laugh along with him.

I sighed heavily, and rested my hands on my hips, looking him over carefully. I did a quick assessment of his capabilities, and decided I didn't care.

My voice was light and cheery, "Why am I here? Why to protect your sorry *ss. Word has it in Orgrimmar that you're fat and lazy. And you fit that description, honey, right down to that big mouth on you. As for breeding? In your wildest dreams you could never have a piece of this, not with that little bump I see in your trousers. You must be what they call a peon. You a peon, Tiny?" I smiled sweetly.

Two things. One it got deathly quiet all around me. And two, Tiny took offense in what I had said. Imagine that, his little brain had actually comprehended what I had said, good thing I used small words.

He charged me with a bloodcurdling cry, and I step to the side and stuck a foot out for him to trip over. I never did liked the taste of dirt and evidently neither did he. He spit out what he could, then tried to charge me again.

Now I've heard that stupidity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting a different results. Tiny was tasting the dirt again, and didn't seem to be liking it one bit. Hmm, imagine that.

This time he eyed me warily then picked up a big old mace leaning against a building. "That's not going to help you, and it will only piss me off , Tiny. Step away now, and I'll let you keep your life, and that little dinky you seem so proud of."

Men. So full of themselves, and so hung up on this masculinity thing. I'll give you three guesses what Tiny did next? And the first two don't count. Yep, charging like a wild boar, and tasting dirt and spitting it out.

"Third times the charm, loverboy. We done here, or do I need to give you a real lesson?"
Well, I got to admit, that rat bastard got a good hit on me, even brought me to my knees. Of course that was my plan, though he didn't know it.

All his cronies were cheering and slapping each other, that smart mouthed elf b*tch got what was coming to her. And I suppose that might be considered true. But he made the mistake of thinking he could do it again.

When he raised that mace, I had my sword out, and a quick slash across that fat belly of his and all his guts came spilling out all over the dirt. I stood up, as he fell to his knees, then pitched forward face first. I don't think he was going to be spitting this mouthful out.

I stood there a moment, and asked if there was anyone else interested. Suddenly they all had other places to be and work to be done elsewhere. I wiped my sword off, and continued my brief scouting off the fort.