Journal of the Rising Sun Fellowship (IC #3)

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
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The one day’s worth of preparation was up. The paladin noted with some satisfaction that the extra vigor from the healers’ magics had sped up the healing a great deal, and, while not back to perfect, she was doing much better. As she whaled away at the training dummy, she slowly relaxed, her battle instincts returning. Pitched battle. That is what she needed. But the Horde military was not to her taste.

The healers had been slightly surprised when she had suddenly asked for their aid, but had complied. Aseria, Kel decided, would be more of a challenge to placate. She knew all too well that the fiery tempered mage did not take kindly to sugared words, nor would they allay her fears, a fact that the paladin knew well.

It was, in fact, this thought that drove Kel’tira from her rest early the next morning. She met a distant relation, some second cousin twice removed, who provided her with a discreet portal to Stonard, from whence she could ride to Elwynn with relative ease. The small flaming bird on her shoulder chirruped once, and fell silent as the paladin mounted the drab brown mare she had procured, seeming to pick up on the Blood Elf’s tenseness.

She paused at the border of Duskwood to don the white armor that, if the Troll had been any indication, was starting to earn her a name for herself. This done, Kel continued her ride, the entire affair uneventfully boring, until she reached the house near Eastvale Logging Camp. The miadafternoon sunlight shone through the trees softly, and the laughter of children fell hollowly on her ears as she rode slowly, questioning her motives mentally, what would the murder of innocents accomplish?

The voice in the back of her head whispered, “Velin would be proud…”

Stoically, she rode on. The two children followed this strange rider to their home, where she dismounted, the mother walking out with a dishcloth in her hands. The middle-aged woman’s face openly confused, bordering on concern.

The snide voice perked up again, “What would Nic say?”

As she gathered the Light around her, a single questioning name floated to the forefront of her mind, “Cyaer?”

Kel let the magic go in a single, stunning flash. The two children were rooted to the spot, forced to watch unbeknownst to Kel, as she examined the mother’s body. The unnatural bruising around the human’s neck spoke volumes to the physical force of the Light when Kel required that of it. As she neatly used her sword to decapitate the woman, Kel spoke softly to herself, “I am not my uncle… I take no pleasure in this…”

As she treated the first child to the same, she spoke again, her voice flat, “Nic is not coming back, if he could have, he would have, so I must assume he is lost to me.”

The elder girl’s body crumpled to the ground as her brother’s eyes darted back and forth. Kel murmured a soft prayer, and knelt in front of the younger boy, her face and eyes gentle behind her helmet as she closed his eyes, slipping the dagger she gripped in her free hand into his neck gently.

“Cyaer need not know of this. We made a mistake, and while I value his opinions, we are not lovers, nor would we have been.”

Gathering the heads, Kel set a golden shimmer over them, preserving them from rot and what have you before she placed them in her bag. The seasoned logs of the fence burned well with the addition of the juvenile corpses and the coals from the stove, and with that task finished, Kel turned to the mother’s body. A middle aged human, not at all ugly by their standards, she was fit, evidenced by the muscle underneath the clothes Kel stripped off.
For all appearances, Kel was unconcerned by the naked corpse in front of her, but was in fact in turmoil inside. Three innocents, two of them children, dead by her hand, and she was cold. She felt nothing. No contempt, no pain, nothing. Even the grief was gone, and she found herself wishing for the dull ache of her lost lover. Finding that much, she dredged it up, that love and all of her other emotions, and let herself drown in her pain for a moment. After all, it was a part of her.

Gritting her teeth against the sensation of cutting through flesh, Kel etched a clear insignia into the dead woman’s back; that of the Horde.

She found she could lock all of her pain away, and had some faith in the idea that she could still be the woman she knew she was, shaped by grief and pain, yes, but not ruled by it. She was strangely at peace inside as she hung the corpse from the farthest pole that supported the clothesline, the symbol on clear display. She set another shimmering guard around the body, gainsaying predators and such from the body.

The green magic of her hearthstone welled up around her, enveloping her and the bag she had thrown over her shoulders, and Kel’tira Sunblaze disappeared.


((1/3))
The clamor of Summer’s Rest hit her, and for a moment, she peered through the crowd, hoping for a familiar face. Chiding herself, she asked what she would do it she found any of them. Tell her secrets? They would not recognize her, anyway. She was someone else entirely in the white armor. With a grim smile, she recalled the day in the bar, the half-thought-out name she had given, and nodded.

As she moved through the crowd, bubbly laughter welled up, and she let it slip, laughing cheerfully, “Sera’kun Blazelit it is.”

She was still chuckling when she arrived in Dawn’s Blossom later that afternoon. But, she did sober considerably by the time she reached the commander’s residence in the Southern-most parts of the Jade Forest. The afternoon sunlight that filtered through the trees was all that illuminated her efforts as she bent over the door, the latch rudimentary at most, for she had been prepared to pick the lock, if the need arose.

Fortunately, the need did not arise, and opening the door was as simple as slipping the latch up with her dagger, the door swinging open into the sparsely furnished home. Slipping inside, Kel climbed the half-flight of steps to the room she presumed was the commander’s bedchamber, and left one of the heads in his bed, the gleaming magic would keep the rot out, and preserve the heads.

The other head found its way into the commander’s armchair, the locations thought out by the paladin as two personal places that she should not have been able to reach.
Slipping out again, she latched the door behind her, slipping off into the gathering darkness, laughing softly.

It was an hour later that she found herself in her own armor, back as Kel’tira Sunblaze, and still smiling, still accepting, of herself. It was kneeling in front of the shrine in Jade Forest that she spent the night. Praying, not sleeping, strengthening her connection with herself, and with the Light.

“I am not who I was," she said softly, the words falling from her lips into the stillness of the night, "nor am I who I would be, but that is alright. I am stronger than I ever have been in some ways, and weaker in others, but again, that is alright. I have faced hell and misery, and I have felt joys and seen miracles beyond comprehension. It is now that I am who I am, and it is now that I must be at peace with that.”

“I have lost, and I have gained, and the Light knows this, and honors me with its holy magics, that I may use them as I see fit to uphold what I see as right. I see the fire of love, and the cool ice of righteous anger, and I see them as equal forces together.”

“I pray to the Light that it may respect my choices, so long as I respect myself and these choices. I ask guidance, and seek knowledge, and I wish that I would be given a sign that I tread the right paths. All I ask is for confirmation that my faith is still hold, and that I am making the right decisions.”

“I press on through pain, through fear, through sadness, and know that in the future there will come happiness, and if the winds of fate blow well, then there will be love again for me. Light, I pray let my husband return to me.”

“Light, I pray, I ask, that you show me the way to walk, and set my feet on the path that I must follow, for I fear I have fallen from grace, and I fear that I shall lose myself. Light, I give myself to you, mind, body, and spirit, as I used to, and as I should have, but have not in recent weeks. I give myself to you with no regrets, no presumptions, and no preconceptions, and I ask that you make of me what you will.”

"Let me stay who I am... but shape me to your plans..."


((2/3))
“Holy Light, guide me and mine, guard me and mine, and please, I ask of you, keep us safe from that harm which is uncalled for, and give us strength to face the pain we must suffer through on our journeys through this life.”

At this point, Kel rose to her feet, her eyes distant, but a small smile playing along her features.

When the paladin spoke again, her voice rose, her clear tones splashing through the air in a melody, the words strictly her own, the tune one she was familiar with from her childhood, and she sang. Her soprano voice soaring, the fiery blue bird on her shoulder trilling along with her.

“I can't help but wonder, sometimes, just why things go the way they do.
I can't help but dreaming sometimes, of days I spent with you.
Hopelessly hoping so helplessly, dear one, I dream of tomorrow.
Wondering how did you see me when I was drenched in your sorrow?
Flickering light of a falling nation,
Faltering heartbeat of the newest creation.
Lost, at least, I hope I'm not found,
Lost, at last, I fly above ground."

"When the night's embrace has left you alone,
When away from innocence you have been thrown.
Raindrops of sunlight are falling,
Teardrops of shadows are calling.
Carefully contrasting colors that bleed into ending,
Sharply shaded for the love of the chase that I'm tending.
How long must we wait for the dreams of the ends of the days,
When the present and the past never seem to part ways?"

"A light-graced image hovers in the dark,
A darkened face in light contrast stark.
Blooded rivers flow across,
A sea of all the loss.
When the nightmare's fear has faded,
And the morning's light has waited.
In the darkest days ahead,
Still the light shines on the dead.”


((3/3))
From the Journal of Cyaer Sunblaze:

The nightmares return, and it makes me wonder if it because of my wife's murder. In an act of revenge, and anger I went to be taught those skills that an assassin uses. To find and extract my own revenge upon the one who killed her and left her to bleed to death in the darkened corner of an alley in Ogrimmar. I would enjoy it, and watch them beg for their life before I let them bleed out in front of me like Karamia...

Then I remember my revenge on the night elf b*tches who had caused me great bodily harm, and a long, long recovery. I enticed them to me, taunting them, and then slaying them, their blood covered my armor, and I slew over a dozen of them before I came to the realization that this senseless killings did nothing to erase the pain and time lost in healing. As a matter of fact, I had learned from the night elves the need for caution, scouting the area, and knowing my foe. I felt empty inside. Revenge is not my forte, and light help me that it ever does.

The nightmares remind me of the blood on my hands, of the killings I did in the name of the Horde, and the glory of the Sin'dorei. Of the countless innocents I slew mindlessly and getting paid for it. It covers me, the blood of these, and I remember the small child, a Sin'dorei girl murdered because "there can be no witnesses". I had started becoming a monster then...oh so long ago.

I remember going to seek repentance and forgiveness from the paladins and priests. They shrugged their shoulders and left me to my sins. The guilt drove me to suicide. I say suicide for I knew there was no way I could think of taking a Fel Reaver down by myself, but in my mind I could sacrifice myself for them...to be free of those...nightmares.

I thought myself free of them, for the nightmares didn't come back. Til now. Her soft blue eyes look at me as if to ask "Why?" They all do...the brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers, the children...they all haunt me asking "Why?" And I look at my hands and their blood covers them nearly to the elbows, and my armor is covered in their blood. I am covered in their blood...there is no escaping it!!

The young rogue sat up abruptly in the bed, sweat covering his torso and forhead, and he gasps for breath. And his hands come up to cover his face as the horror of the nightmare takes him, and he weeps tears of sorrow and regret.
Alenthis sat quietly in his study glancing across the bleak room at the small mechanical metronome on the desk. It's arm swung back and forth issuing a tick at each reversal of direction. Alenthis stared at it. Karamia. Dead. Alenthis frowned slightly and leaned back in the chair, keeping his gaze on the time keeping machine. He considered Karamia's contributions and all she had done to help the Fellowship. All for not. Murdered in a dark alley. To be fair, he hadn't known her all that well, but from what he'd seen of her...she didn't deserve such a harsh murder. There had been whispers that Viragona was responsible. After all, Jahana was missing as well. But he doubted that. Probably a murder of chance. Perhaps she was in the wrong place in the wrong time.

Azurick sat quietly beside him. He wondered to himself why he had been summoned by his friend. But Alenthis was content to sit quietly, staring across the room at a mechanical noise maker. Azurick sighed slightly. Alenthis turned to him.

"The voices have been getting worse...I hear them almost all the time. They whisper for me to kill, to slaughter...I don't know how to stop them."

Azurick considered for a moment. "Alen, it could just be a side effect of the Death Knight curse. You can't off put the bloodshed forever..."

Alenthis frowned at him. "There are others that have..."

"Others with far more control and experience than you, Alen. You've never been any good at all at quieting your mind. In Undeath, you're fairing no better."

"Azurick, it's not like that! The voice is familiar, it's not an urging. It's a real voice...someone I know...I just can't put my finger on it."

Azurick nodded slowly, flipping through memorization's of curses and spells in his mind. "Alen, I just don't know what to tell you. This isn't concrete at all. I'm going to need some more facts than 'a distant voice.' I'm sorry! But I can't just cast spells on you hoping for the best. You could be fine. On the other hand someone could have cursed you who is more powerful than me. I don't want the curse to backfire..." He paused for a moment. "I need you to find me some concrete evidence. I need something to work off of. Otherwise...I don't even know where to begin."

Alenthis nodded solemnly at him. "I'll find something. You'll see."

Azurick nodded and stood from his chair. "I'll take my leave then. An excellent evening to you, brother."

"You as well." The door to the study slammed shut and Alenthis was left, once again, within his room, completely alone, with nothing to listen to but the soft ticking of the time-keeping machine. His shoulders sagged and he shook his head in disappointment. "Damnit."

Azurick smiled slightly as he headed down the steps. The idiot didn't even realize he was being controlled. He shook his head in disbelief and continued his thoughts as he headed for Deadwind Pass.

Something was brewing in the Fellowship. Something awful. And Azurick didn't want any part of it. He had enough to be dealing with on his own. Word had gotten to him that a pirate was hunting him. No doubt, the very same one he had cursed. He supposed that Frederic had revealed his name through a loophole of sorts. He was fully confident that the man could do him no harm. He sighed as the Sanctuary came into view. His Experiments with the Sha and their usefulness as a safe weapon had come to a short, very conclusive end. Three assistants dead and his personal lab destroyed.

Azurick stood in the door of the lab, surveying the torn papers, burnt documents, and over turned tables. "There's always something...isn't there."
The warrior sat asleep in her chair, leaning over onto the desk, her blonde hair covering most of her face and her arm on which her head was resting on. The candle stubs flickered and sizzled, putting themselves out with their own wax. Her armour was strewn across the clean white sheets of the bed, her weapons propped against the wall to her left. A bit of red cloth peeked out of a swiftly wrapped package, A neatly written letter lay open on top of it.


Quelisa,

Here is your dress, I am sorry I have not returned it sooner, for it had to be fixed. The irritating little panther cub you gave me ripped a hole in it before I left for that ball. I hope your studies are going well and I have also written a letter to my brother, perhaps sometime we could all meet up somewhere?

When his wife isn't there of course. I may have decided to fix things with you two, but what she has done can never be fixed, and I feel no need to for to me she is not family. She never will be no matter what Alarius says to me about that.

I suppose saying I wish you would fall off Dalaran wouldn't be very polite, so I hope things continue to be well with you.

~Lyrilia Dawnblade.

Her arm swept across the desk in her sleep, knocking the package and letter to the floor, leaving slight ink smudges on her wrinkled white shirt. Her journal lay open on the desk beside her, a few letters smudged slightly.


So much has gone on lately, yet so little. I have thrown myself back into my training, but I have also been told to rest again. I rest too much, although perhaps this time I need it. No, I do not. They say I have exhausted myself, though I see nothing wrong. My hand has stopped hurting, my scratches healed without a scar, they weren't that deep anyways. I won't be listening to my trainer, there are many things I could do, so resting shall be the last thing I will be doing.

Much has gone on within the fellowship, I have heard bits and pieces of it. Karamia has died, I believe she was Cyaer's wife....I suppose I hope he is doing alright, as I have heard she was murdered in an alley...that can't be easy on anyone. It isn't. Speaking of murder....I have written my cousin a letter..and I may have decided something else as well. I shall go looking for it...just as soon as I have decided the Fellowship does not require my aid...

I am sure they do, and perhaps this is an attempt by myself to prolong looking for the grave...? I do not wish to find it, I am afraid of what I may see...yet I wish to find it, to see that a proper burial was conducted...to say goodbye, to be sure she isn't just dumped somewhere. I am sure my cousin would be capable of such a heartless thing, just as she is capable of so many others

I can't believe I have decided to forgive her....she does not deserve it...I must be going insane.

I can think of a few people who may deserve it less, though.

Speaking of such people, I have written my brother a letter as well, I hope to fix things with him but I am sure he will not accept it. He is far too stubborn, and I only seek to fix things so I may see my niece, I have far too little family to be ignoring him. Perhaps me being there will also spite his wife, and I shall make sure to annoy her as much a possible when there.

I am sure my mere presence will annoy her enough.
I will be speaking to Kel sometime soon....I will help the Fellowship with what is needed, and hopefully it shall curb my boredom. My trainer is stupid to think me so weak, to send me off to rest every time I appear tired. How am I to get any stronger if all I do is rest? I am not tired in the slightest, my muscles ache only slightly, and my wounds have all healed, without the aid of a healer. He angers me and I shall be happy to be rid of him shortly.

Not before I humiliate him in front of his other students, of course.

The last two candles flicker out, bathing the room in darkness and a soft silver moonlight.
From the Journal of Cyaer Sunblaze:

I tried to run away from myself again. And it doesn't work very well. Your troubles and nightmares follow you no matter where you go, you have only moved your location is all. I sought relief on a cup of barley tea, and some cooked noodles. The tea helped, the noodles, eh.

I have tried the meditation methods they extoll over here. And in some ways, it has helped in finding myself, and where my problems come from. But in others, it does not resolve the nightmares, or the issues,...but then they didn't say it would.

I have brought them to the light and now I must extinguish those that cause the most clamor, and move on. I tried to reconcile myself that they are not truly murders, as they were done while in war. You can say atrocities, I can say murder...semantics maybe. The blood is real in my conscious and unconscious mind. So there are other decisive factors I need to come to grips with in order to find peace.

The little Sin'dorei girl with the sweet blue eyes that haunts me...my first victim. My first step into the dark side of my profession. It wasn't necessary. It was self preservation and training kicking in...but she couldn't have been more that three or four years old, what kind of threat was she to me? Her death influenced my career choices from then on, but I have tried to hide her away...to forget her...and she will not stay forgotten. She was so innocent...

Tears well in the rogue's eyes, and he cries into his pillow once again. He eventually falls into a deep sleep, and rests throughout the night.
The warlock was pleased with her success. The rogue who had done away with Karamia was well rewarded. "I find your skills are even better than I had hoped, Hana. I suggest you find the Leader, Kel'Tira next. My sources tell me she is suffering greatly from the loss of her husband. That Nicias is gone only relieves me more. Perhaps we shall go about this in a roundabout way. Drive her over the edge, Hana. Make her feel so confused and haunted she ends herself. That would be poetic justice." Vira walks around the room and picks up a communicator device, it is of goblin make.

"Take this and get in contact with a goblin named Gear. I believe he has been seen speaking with Kel'Tira and others of the Fellowship. Cultivate his interest...make friends and aid him in whatever he is doing...I wish to know more about him. Report back to me when you have found him. And offer him a chance to make a lot of gold. Goblins like gold...they will do anything for it. No need to tell him who you work for. Just tell him you are independent. Yes, that will do...go now." her voice trailed off.

Hana nodded and smiled at Vira, "I am pleased to serve you, Master. I will find this goblin and offer my services. Kel'tira will not know who follows her, but I will make sure she feels the pangs of regret and uncertainty. I have many ways of doing this, I will enjoy the slow deteriorisation of her mind." her voice sounding strangely hollow.

The rogue left the Keep and made her way back to Undercity. She had a lot of work to do and needed to make preparations. Her first visit was to the barber, she had enough gold for the barber to give her hair extensions, and to color it a soft golden color. Now was the time to be subtle, sneaky and deadly were only part of her arsenal of tricks.
The woman with the brown hair leaned down and kissed her husband happy to have him back in from the battlefront. He was done for now and suggested that they returned home. Pandaria was beautiful, but they both missed the quiet house tucked away in the backlands. She watched as he got up to pack his bags. She stayed at the table and waved to the barmaid to bring her a fresh cup of tea.

Pulling out a note she reread it for what had to be the hundredth time. ‘No, not Reshomi,’ she though unhappily. People like him did not go missing. It only made her think that his wife, Nakala was right in the matter that the Alliance had found him.

A shadow fell over the table and she looked up in surprise when someone spoke to her, offering his help. Vaguely, she remembered him sitting down at a nearby table, but he had kept to himself and she had not paid him much attention. Armored in plate he stood with his back straight, making her think that perhaps he was a soldier or had been one.

‘I have an interest in finding things that people have lost.’

It was a strange phrase, but then again, who was she to think anyone strange? She thought quickly. Solorin understood that she was needed to find her friend and was coming with her but this warrior sounded experienced. Perhaps he would make a good partner in this endeavor. She sketched out what details she had. It wasn’t much now, but the warrior seemed satisfied for the moment.

‘I’ll start there,’ he had said as he turned to go. ‘Try not to lose anyone else in the meantime.’

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

Solorin is back from the field and we have decided to return home. He is done, but then it is the same promise that they have been giving him for the past two months. Part of me knows that another call will come and he will have to head back out, but for now, I will take what time I have with him.

I told him about Reshomi and Nakala’s plea for me to head out and find him. It is the least that I can do for my two oldest friends. Reshomi and Nakala took me in when I left Silvermoon for Orgrimmar. They were patient and helped me muddle through things as I tried to rebuild what I could of myself without any memories to tell me who or what I was. They didn’t care that I didn’t have a past or a family. In a sense, they became my family.

The idea that Reshomi is missing and might very well be dead leaves me feeling scared. Not a good thing if I am the one searching for him. Fortunately for me, I will have help. One in the form of my husband, the other from an unexpected source: a warrior named Liore who seems to have some experience in searching for people.

I can only hope that we find my friend and bring him back alive. After three weeks, I am not certain if he is still among the living. I just pray that he is.
From the Journal of Cyaer Sunblaze:

I slept like a baby last night...and I feel a certain freedom in my thoughts and problem. I think about the little girl, and I acknowledged her worth and my mistake in taking one so young, so very innocent. And I felt the release of the pain and anguish I carried all these years, of the guilt I bore in slaying her, and relinguishing it all to the past, and to myself.

I slowly remember the ones who haunted my dreams and nightmares, and I take the time to look at the situation, and the particulars of the missions I fulfilled. Some are easy, and I merely acknowledge their existance, and the "ghost" fades away. Others are not so easy, and there are scars that will need to heal, before allowing me release from their deaths. And I am accepting of that, for in the healing I can come away from the experience with growth and maturity.

I apologized to the twelve night elf scouts and commanders I slew in anger and revenge so long ago. I felt an acceptance of that apology, and a certain relief in expelling the cruelness of the act imposed upon them. As they faded from my sight, there was a smile on their ghostly faces and I was the better for it.

The horrible burden upon my soul was lifted, I feel lighter than air, and a bit giddy. I have never done such a soul searching journey as this, and exorcising the demons that haunt your subconscious is not an easy task to do. But perhaps I need to be open to new ideas and directions in my life, like those of Pandaria.

As the young Sin'dorei rogue lay down to rest for the day, he acknowledged his faults, and his errors. He prayed for strength to build his character, and to be more aware of the errors as he makes them to aid in eliminating the unnecessary ones. He sighed deeply as his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

In his mind he knew he was dreaming, but for the moment, he enjoyed the embrace of his loving wife Karamia once again, and their eyes sparkled at each other, as their lips met...
A new well bound leather journal, embossed with the Rising Sun Fellowship symbol:

As the warrior opened the journal for the first time, he took simple pleasure in looking at the freshness and sharpness of the book opened before him. This was not his first journal, and most likely not his last either, and he knew that by the time its pages were filled with his thoughts, and drawings, it would be showing its age and the use it had. He smiled, and brought his quill to ink, and then to paper...

The first of many words to be written in the journal of Neryth Silverblade, paladin of the Blood Knights, member of the Rising Sun Fellowship, and the joyous escort of milady, Raviella.

I am finding it easier and easier to fall into my meditation without difficulty, and the benefits of tapping into the light while meditating have become precious to me. I seek to keep myself pure and unified with the light. For when I am being directed by the light, and following its ways and tenents, I am the happiest Sin'dorei in the world. The mind opening meditation and giving myself over to the light has given me an awareness of my surroundings in such sharp detail it almost seems amazing.

I have felt the heartbeat of my Raviella as she has slept, and heard her breathing from across the room, and I was in awe. I am more aware of others too. As I was sparring with another paladin, my thoughts were clear, and I could anticipate my opponent's attacks before he began them. I keep this to myself, as I learn to utilize and find more confidence in this "ability".

A small very well done sketch of himself adorns the bottom of the page: he is seated, and there are small rays of light emanating from around his body. The man is at peace, and his eyes are closed.
From the Journal of Cyaer Sunblaze:

It is with a heavy heart I bid my home good-bye. I find myself drawn more and more to the lands of Pandaria, its people, and its culture. There is a different style of living there that my soul and mind find peace, and I find I need that peace.

Last night was an emotional event, that I knew would be hard, but I wanted to give Karamia the final good-bye at one of our favorite sites. I found the beach quiet and empty, and I built two small fires close to the shore. I spoke softly and gently of our lives together, and the love we had shared. And I wept.

I scattered her ashes upon the waves, and watched them float slowly away into the setting sun. I whispered that I loved her still , and always would. And I wept some more.

And I put out the fires, and sat in the dark staring at the stars, and thinking about her. And I wept yet again.

Finally, I left for Pandaria. I stayed in the Honeydew Inn where I had found Karamia after her losing her memory. I slept in the same bed that she allowed me to share with her. And I fell asleep with tears in my eyes.

Farewell, my precious Karamia, I will miss you oh so much.
A new well bound leather journal, embossed with the Rising Sun Fellowship symbol:

I have not heard anything further concerning Jahana. In this case, I do not believe no news is good news. I hope the Fellowship is doing what it can to aid her or petition for her release. But then the whispers are that Viragona was a part of Jahana's soul-swapping. There will be no petitioning for her freedom.

I worry for her, and hope that she can be returned to us. She was/is a vital part of our fellowship in the work she did/does for it.

I wonder what Raviella is doing right now? Training, Meditating? I need to find her, and talk with her. She is intelligent, she excites my mind, as well as my heart.

I enjoy her company and we do well acting together. I am inclined to protect her, and keep her from harm's way. But I know full well that she can a be a force to be reckoned with and can well take care of herself. I just like being in her presence, we compliment each other well.
From the Journal of Cyaer Sunblaze:

I have been spending the past few days in quiet contemplation and meditation. I really need to speak with a Pandaren monk, and see how to do this properly, but I have found a peace of sorts within myself.

The other night was very emotional and heartbreaking for me. And I have found a type of peace with what happened to Karamia, and with saying good-bye to her. She will always be as close as a memory for me, but I will not allow the memories to rule the here and now. I will let my heart heal, and may be I will find love again. But for now, I will mourn my soulmate, and wife.

I am finding a certain kind of peace in picking the local flora for selling, and its aromatic usages. Perhaps there are some that are even good for cooking! I'm enjoying the smell of the soil and how rich it is for growth. Am I turning into a farmer? There could be worse professions to fall back on, right?
Alone in his room and nearly asleep, Sydric was startled by a slight buzzing in his mind. It appeared to come from Jahana. But the images were crazy and jumbled. Sydric lay back on his bed and concentrated. Sending out soothing waves of peace and contentment.

The other became aware of his intrusion and reacted almost as he expected. Shutting down defensive mental barriers and cowering in fear. For a moment, Sydric retreated and simply observed. She was scared and yet...curious...fearing an attack and acting defensive was only natural. But she was trying to figure out if this was Vira or someone else.

Syd smiled as he sent her more peaceful gentle nudges of kindness. It appeared that the small orb he had implanted in Jahana's brain allowed him to contact the entity that had taken over her body. It was obviously not native to the Sindorei culture, but had enough knowledge to blend in. The mind he could connect to was intelligent and keen, he would have to tread carefully.

The barriers came down bit by bit as he sent soothing images of peace. When she was fully opened to him he sent images of Viragona. Her power and greed, her overriding sense of entitlement. Her willingness to sacrifice minions and guards without a seconds hesitation. He wanted to plant seeds of doubt in her mind.

Her reaction was stunning...sending back waves of loyalty and devotion that made it very clear that she adored Viragona and would serve her willingly and blindly, without hesitation. The admiration and respect for the warlock's power was clear and set. She assumed it was Vira sending her mental messages and Sydric thought fast.

It only took him a few moments to instill in the mind of Jahana that she should sleep and prepare for some more instructions on the morrow. He was pleased when she immediately fell into a deep sleep. He eased out of contact and sat up in his bed. He would need to talk to Cyaer on this. If they could find a way to trap the dangerous rogue and imprison her...then they would need to locate the body that held Jahana's true spirit.

Sydric looked over at his huge bookshelf in his room. He kept only his most prized tomes in here. He often got up to look over some detail he needed to complete his work. The amount of knowledge he had collected in his travels and bought from dealers and adventurers, was enormous. Floor to ceiling bookshelves were in every room of his mansion. He was a collector of knowledge, but even he knew there were some things that he was lacking.

Climbing out of his comfortable bed he went to the bookshelf and ran his fingers over several tomes. Searching for the knowledge he would need to do the transfer that Vira had accomplished. Pulling several tomes off the shelf he sat down in his chair and turned up the lamp a bit more. He said a silent prayer to the Light, that he would find what he needed.
Kel'tira Sunblaze

I have not seen nor heard from Gear since the last job was given to me, and I cannot help but wonder if something else has happened to him. What does he aim to do with these jobs, anyways? Who gives them to him?

I am not payed to think, but I do think.

What is the reason? The children... the mother... just to get at the one man? What does that accomplish for the Horde?

What does it do for us?

Gear refuses to answer that, but I still find myself trusting him... he has changed so much from the stumbling little man he was, with his rockets and flowers in the Hall of Blood, to the cool hunter I see now... But he is still the same man somewhere.

I cling to that. And who is this... Dusk figure? Gear says I do not want him to take an interest in me... but I am not sure what is going on...
Orgrimmar bustled around her. A familiar, if dry and dusty, clatter of noise that filled the canyon walls that towered above the capital city of the Horde. The smell of baking rock mixed with cooking food, sweat, and smoke. It was here that she first finally felt at home after she had woken up in the hospital bed so many months ago. Here, where she had found acceptance. Here, where she joined the ranks of search and rescue, then infiltration. Here, in the Drag, where she met the voices behind the stone and had joined the Fellowship.

When she had first arrived, she had thought that her memories would trickle back in. Slowly, piece by piece the darkness of her past would come to light and she would remember who she was. At the time she didn’t want to remember, a sense of unease and unhappiness crept in when she thought about it. Now, after all these months nothing had come back and she suspected that it was as much as her not wanting to remember as it had to do with the vicious blow she took to her head knocking her out in the first place.

She strode forward through the crowded streets, her feet feeling very much at home on familiar ground. A warm breeze slipped through the city, gaining speed as it was compressed against the canyon walls, tugging at her clothing and the wisps of hair that framed her face. It brought with it the scent of roasting meat and her stomach growled with the thought of food. She had neglected to eat before coming here and steered herself towards a food vendor despite the urge to ignore the hunger pains and move forward. She would be useless if she passed out from hunger.

She had all the bits of information she thought that she would find about her missing friend in Orgrimmar, now she would retrace his path. Exiting the city, she stopped by a goblin who was leaning up against the outer wall with a sanguine pose that spoke of a woman who was about to come into some gold. Next to her was a motorcycle, the keys to which were on a silver ring resting on the goblin’s slender green finger.

The woman with the brown hair handed over a bag of gold in exchange for the keys, thinking ruefully about how dusty she would be when she reached her first destination.

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


Razor Hill has not changed much since last I was here. Durotar spreads out around it in all directions and on occasion, I can smell the salt of the sea to the east. Reshomi made his first stop here to gather supplies for his hunting trip. Nakala could not tell me where in the Barrens he was heading, but he may have spoken to someone here about his destination. Also, the border patrols are stationed here, and they will have information concerning skirmishes with hostiles.

Solorin would hopefully be able to meet me, keep me grounded, but his time is very much in demand and sometimes I feel that he has little time for anything outside of his professional life. I suppose that this is how Kel’Tira feels, but then, unlike Nic, Sol does come home every night. That is much more than what she has and while I have done my best to believe that Nic is coming back to her, I am starting to doubt it.

I am considering seeing if she is available to travel with me, certainly her martial skills far outweigh mine, but I do not know if she is well enough for this trip or even if she is available. I just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong with her situation... but I know that I am being overly suspicious because she has been through so much.

I am also wondering if I should send word to Cyaer for help in this endeavor, partly because he has experience and partly to give him something to occupy himself—but then, like Kel, I do not know if he is available, either. Too large a search party at this point will just slow me down, so I know I should choose any companions carefully.

I already have one person searching, but I have no guarantee that I will hear back from him. I know I should be more trusting but it is hard when it is so personal to me. Perhaps I don’t need to be the one looking at all but Nakala came to me and I can do this, I will do this for her. I just hope I can keep my head and wits together and not rush into anything foolishly.
Not much has happened since I last wrote. I've earned atleast a dozen burns, and several cuts.

I've also talked to Kel'Tira over the guildstone. She says I should take a break from war and come home, because its bad for me. I do want to come home. I should go home. I'm not good at this anymore. I'm not swift enough anymore, not agile enough to stay alive in battle. Anyways, Kel'Tira also agreed to look out for Tislina for me.

I miss Tislina... with her soft emerald eyes and long blonde hair, and her gentle touch... and anything else about her, for that matter.

I hope she and everyone else I know is alright.. I feel so, disconnected, may be the word.

I dont know what is happening or what has happened, anymore...
Kreindis swung his sword wildly, destroying the flame elementals surrounding him every few swings. Sometimes he would see a man or woman fall fighting one of them. The elementals seemed to be getting stronger as they fought back against the almost overwhelming forces. They would have to retreat soon, unless they wanted to all die. Several more elementals fell. Then a druid yelled back at the outpost:

"Retreat!" Not a single soldier argued, and fell back to the outpost, trying their best to keep the intensifying wave of flaming elementals back. After the giant steel gates sealed all the soldiers inside, all that could be heard was the arrows from the archers in the towers and the explosions of fireballs shot by elementals.

A high-ranking mage called for Kreindis, and he walked over and said, "Yes, what do you need?" The mage replied, "Were running out of soldiers to fight with. As much as we don't like it, were not strong enough to fight these things off. I need you to head to Icecrown and gather some of the Ebon Blade's Death Knights, their strength is unmatched." Kreindis nodded. "And, I assume you are teleporting me there?"

The mage nodded and opened a small, oval shaped shimmering portal to Icecrown. "Your going to have to fly a bit to get to the Ebon Blade, but they are relatively close to the portal."

Kreindis nodded, and stepped through the portal into the freezing Scourge wasteland that is Icecrown...


(( 1/2 ))

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