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From an old dusty book of tattered pages and loose binding:
Physically I feel fine, a few aches and pains, but nothing serious. I put on my repaired armor, I cannot help shiver at the areas that have been joined together. There are too many, I am surrounded...I have failed.... What? I...I...smell undead, I can almost feel their claws rending and...[shudder].
A few hours later:
It was too real, to soon, and too close...I wear some light armor, and go to the training area. I take a deep breath, and get into my stance before the fighting dummy. I take a few tentative strikes at the straw and wood figure before me, and hold my shield up. Soon, I am working up a good sweat, and enjoying the exercise.
When, I feel strange, I am in a house, a house nearly destroyed, only two walls standing...she's laughing as she slices at several skeletal warriors, and I throw my shield at the two huge abominations that are trying to make their way in. She's laughing, and her hair is flying, and her sword cuts through another skeletal mage. My spells are causing grief and injury to them as they close and I begin to laugh myself [fade to black] ...and I crumble at the base of the fighting dummy.
I find myself on my cot, surrounded by several of the others who brought me here.
From the Journal of Cyaer Sunblaze:
I have never slept as deeply as I do here. It's not from exhaustion or such, I just find my spirit more and more at peace. I am finding myself more in tune with my heart, my mind and body. I cannot explain it...but I find it a good thing.
I spent a few hours by the training area, practicing some subtle moves and actions that I commonly use. The movement seems almost fluid, and graceful. I have been watching the Pandaren practice with their weapons and I have begun to see a wisdom in tying all my focus into doing the same thing.
I closed my eyes before the two fighting dummies, and stretched out my right hand for a moment. Then, I focused on all those things around me, from the buzzing of the bee to my left, to the soft breeze of the wind. Then, I removed my weapons quickly and attacked the two before me. The mace and dagger were like brothers, each doing a critical attack, and moving on to the next dummy. I spun around, and let go again, this time doing multiple attacks to the body and head of both targets. My muscles were in coordination with my agility, and I felt the blows strike them hard and directly.
As I opened my eyes, I saw I had destroyed one of the dummies, and the other would not be far behind. I returned my weapons to their positions on my belt, and inspected my targets.
I smiled as I stood, and began to walk towards the inn. A cup of barley tea sounded good at the moment, maybe a cup of noodles too.
The study in the modest Townhome of Sydric Silverhawk was well lit with glass globed lamps. Sydric sat at his desk with parchment and pen in hand. His work was important, but also very delicate in nature. One misstep and he could end up in the dungeons in Orgrimmar. But to do nothing was to betray his people.
He had taken steps to set up an observation of Viragona and her current operations. It had come to his attention from Jahana. She told him that Vira was actually working with the Horde to create something so monstrous it boggled his mind. The Forsaken were involved and so was the top secret society of Orcs working behind the scenes in Orgrimmar.
When she had first come to him it seemed incredulous that such a thing was being considered. On one hand, it was an important military intelligence ploy. Useful no doubt in the current war against the Alliance. But the methods being used to develop this operation were of questionable morality.
The last time he had spoken to Jahana she was insisting that she had to tell someone in the Fellowship. She told him if anything happened to her someone had to be aware of what was going on. He was reluctant to do this, but it seemed the only recourse was to do as she asked.
The simple surgery entailed to embed a small sphere under her skin behind her ear was the easy part. It had healed well and he was able to key it to his mind without trouble. Her thoughts were as clear to him as if she were standing in front of him and speaking. She was able with his help to learn to control the amount of feedback so he would not be intruding on her privacy.
She reported to him daily at a certain time. He wrote down what she reported and kept accurate records of what she saw and heard. These records were now stored in his safe. Magically sealed to his touch and his mind lock. It would be very difficult for an ordinary thief to break into his safe, even if they knew where it was.
His current report was finally finished and he turned to open his safe and deposit the document. He heard noises from the downstairs and stopped to listen. His mind control was acute and he was certain there was someone in his home. With a smile he reached out with his Shadow magic and found the intruder. Using his most intrusive and painful mind spike he attacked and heard the most horrid scream from downstairs.
He had paid for bodyguards long ago and they came immediately to the scene and rapidly cornered and subdued someone. Sydric went to his door and called down to inquire. "Who is it and do you have him or her in custody?"
The voice of Sydric's servant Kaelman floated up the stairs. "We have him sir, just an apparant petty thief. Trying to steal gems from your downstairs safe. He will be taken to the Magisters immediately."
Sydric was pleased his staff was on the ball. He paid them enough, they were the best he could hire. Going back inside his study, he opened the safe and put the last report inside. It had been a particularly disturbing session and he knew that Jahana was going to send a letter to Cyaer as well. Though it would be a general missive only to let him know she was still on the job and safe.
He snickered as she had told him she had coded her report and hoped that Cyaer would be sharp enough to decrypt it. She had also asked him to check on Neryth. It had been some time and she was concerned he would be wondering where she was. He would tell Neryth only that Jahana was safe and unable to come home at the moment.
The darkness hid her form as Jahana sidled onto the ledge of the ancient Fortress. The crawlspace in the attic was cluttered with debris from mice and insects. She had even found the skeleton of what appeared to be an orc, but it was so ancient it crumbled when she touched it. The spark of life was long gone from this area and she found it intriguing that Vira had found it and kept it so secure.
Not only were there orcs and trolls patrolling the grounds in groups of two or three, there were also traps. But worse were the geists that sensed the slightest bit of abnormality within a ten foot radius. There were ten that she had counted and their patterns of patrol were eratic.
In order for her to infiltrate this place and see what was going on, she had to literally seduce and convince a blood elf guard that she wanted to be with him. He was able to get her in as a kitchen maid, so he could have her whenever he wanted her. He was ranked enough to have a private room. It was easy enough to keep him happy and she left him asleep, heavily drugged with some wine while she investigated the whole operation.
It was an appaling discovery she made while bringing food to some prisoners in the lower dungeons. It was part of her duty and she played dumb as a rock to avoid suspicion. Bringing a pot of watered down soup that was as nutricious as they would allow her to make, and some rock hard bread that was left over from the dining of the many soldiers and guards on the grounds.
The prisoners were mostly human, with a few dwarves and some gnomes. All of them had been sedated and some had been tortured for information. Scarred and in some cases comatose, they had been locked in here for months as Vira did her experiments. Only a few were priviledged enough to get fed. Those who still had their minds intact were locked up securely in cells with little light and only a single rotting blanket against the cold.
It was the newest ones that caught her pity. They cried and screamed or sat and plotted. But there was no escape. They were given little food and water and were subjected to chemical and magical experiments that left them drooling zombies.
If it was a plan to make them into a newer and more volatile branch of the Scourge, then Jahana was duty bound as a Sindorei to report it to someone. But who? Her mind recoiled at the thought of Karamia or Kel'Tira finding out about this. Would they do anything? Could they do anything? Was this kind of thing even condoned by the Warchief?
Jahana had no answers as yet. All she could do was insure that the reports were filed with someone. Sydric had promised to keep her secret. She could contact him mentally at any time. Her latest report was filed as she lay next to Guieran. He was handsome in a way that all Sindorei were, but his heart was black and he cared little for the things that went on in the dungeon. It was not his place to question, and he simply did his job, keeping the guards working hard and doing his turn at the sentry towers.
It was part of her extensive training that kept her in the right frame of mind to tend to this elf and make him happy so he gave her freedom to roam the Halls. She did enough work in the kitchens to keep the cook happy. Her main concern was Viragona. What was she up to?
A deep breath exhaled slowly as an arrow flew through the air.
Blood sprayed upon two Alliance soldiers behind the man whom was hit between the eyes.
The sound of blades being readied and shields raised, clanking loudly against plate armor as the soldiers formed a protective perimiter around their "cargo". A tall Night Elf clad in light chain mail. The soldiers turning their heads, their eyes scanning hillsides, bushes and behind trees. Another deep breath... Gear slowly and silently knocked another arrow and aimed carefully for the break in one of the soldiers armor, exhaling slowly he released the arrow which flew silently and quickly, piercing under a poorly designed breastplate and into the soldiers heart. The Human male crumbled quickly to the ground, and without hesitation the soldiers stepped over him to close the gap in their "defense". Their shields now raised high and their faceplates lowered.
Activating his camo-field Gear slowly crept to a better vantage point, further up on the hillside now in plain sight only hidden by the camo-field. Raising his bow he knocked another arrow and aimed just above one of the soldiers shoulders. Releasing the arrow as his camo faded away the arrow flew over the Humans shoulder and into the lower back of the soldier behind him. With a brief scream the man fell to the floor, his spine severed by the arrow. Quickly activating the rocket fuel on his boots Gear sped down the hillside, his small shape a momentary blur as his specs focused, he knocked arrow after arrow. Aiming only for a moment before releasing each, the arrows flying through the air rapidly. Two of them bouncing off of shields, two piercing the backsides of one soldiers knees, causing him to fall to the ground with a shriek. Another landing brilliantly between one of the gaps on another soldiers faceplate, the man immediately falling to the ground lifeless as the arrow pierced through his eye and into his brain. The fuel on his boots emptying as he slammed into another soldier full force, their armor crashing loudly as the soldier flew backward slamming into the Night Elf, shouts in Darnassian and the Alliance Common tongue filled the air.
Gear quickly dropping his bow and retrieving two daggers from his hips, jumped upward and latched onto yet another soldier. His weight and force causing the soldier to fall to the ground his shield held tight against his chest, quickly sliding a dagger up under the mans helm. Blood sprayed upon his gauntlet as he tore the dagger from the mans flesh. Another soldier quickly approaching Gear, his sword held high ready to swing. A howl echoed momentarily and the sound of another Human screaming would be heard. Gear's large Spirit Beast wolf Haze leapt from nearby brush and clamped tightly upon the soldier's arm, thrashing violently for a moment before severing it and tossing it aside. Leaping onto the man and biting violently at his throat to finish the job. Haze moved to his next target, and Gear did the same.
Standing quickly and rolling under a sword swing Gear brought a dagger upward and into one of the few remaining soldiers groins. The man screamed like a Draenei woman and fell to his knees as the blood began to flow upon the earth. Quickly spinning Gear released both daggers, flying through the air for a moment they both pierced the soldier that had been sent flying into the Night Elf, one into his arm pit and the other just under his helm and into the side of his neck. Yet again crimson sprayed briefly, splashing down upon the Night Elf which still cowered upon the ground.
Two soldiers remained, one facing Haze with his shield raised about ready to soil himself. The other facing Gear, looking slightly less intimidated. Grinning a sharp toothy grin Gear quickly rolled back toward his bow, picking it up and spinning upward, knocking an arrow he fell to his knees and released. The soldier had began to charge him, Gear managed to get an arrow under his helmet. The sound of the metal arrow head clashing against the topside of the mans helm rung as the screams of the other soldier echoed for a moment as Haze tore at his limbs.
Turning his attention to the Night Elf which cowered and pleaded something in Darnassian. Gear ignoring his pleas simply slowly approached the man, pulling a barbed arrow from his quiver he stopped only a few feet from the man. "You should have known this was coming..."
Gear muttered softly as he slammed the barbed arrow into the mans thigh and quickly tore it from his flesh, the blood spattering upon his own armor and the ground beside them. The Elf shouted in pain which only caused Gear's grin to widen. "You're the first, and the others will pay as well." Gear slammed the barbed arrow into the mans other thigh, ripping it out yet again. More blood splattered across Gear's boots.
The Elf continued to speak in Darnassian, Gear could only imagine he was pleading for his life as tears were brought to his eyes. "Pathetic..." Gear spat as he dropped the barbed arrow and retrieved a large machete like blade from a sheath attatched to the back of his belt. Holding the blade up for a moment, allowing a few rays of sun to bounce from the blade onto his own face. "First... I'll torture you, but you won't give me anything... And so I'll simply..." Pausing for a moment Gear looked toward his beast which awaited eagerly. "Feed you to the wolves."
The Goblin's tongue slipped between his sharp teeth, tracing them for a moment before slamming the blade into the mans knee, the sound of flesh tearing and bone snapping brought joy to Gear. Tearing the blade from flesh he lashed outward, a large gash upon the mans chest, clear through the weak chain mail. Blood sprayed violently from the large wound as the man continued to scream and cry, but Gear didn't let up. He lashed out again, another gash across the mans chest, the blood spattering across his chestplate and face, covering entirely the left lense of his specs. "Hurts doesn't it Elf?.." Stepping forward quickly Gear now stood upon the mans bleeding chest, the Elf squirming below him as he slammed the blade down upon the back of the mans hand, pinning it to the earth below them.
"Perhaps... I won't feed you to the wolves." Pausing for a moment Gear grinned yet again. "I think I'll leave a message for your friends..." Gear looked toward the wolf and nodded at the beast. Haze then proceeded to step forward and clamp tightly down upon the mans shoulder, pausing for a moment as Gear reached toward pressing his thumbs into the mans eyes and tearing violently. The man screamed in immense pain as Gear tossed the Elvish bulbs onto the road beside them. Nodding yet again to the wolf. Haze then bit down tighter, causing another scream to escape his lips as he was dragged across the green grassy fields of Kun-Lai Summit. The blade placed firmly through his hand tearing through his flesh as he was pulled away.
The beast stopped near a large stumped tree and looked toward Gear. "This will do." Gear spat and nodded as he looked back toward the large wolf. Haze proceeding to drag the man upward, stood upon his hind legs. Holding the man upward against the large tree.
Gear pulled up his bow and retrieved another barbed arrow, glaring toward the man. He removed his specs and carefully tossed them aside, a pair of synthetic green eyes were revealed to be glaring toward the man. "You took my eyes, so I simply got new ones." Gear said in a hushed tone as he raised his bow and knocked the arrow, quickly releasing it. Pinning the mans left thigh to the tree, and without a moments hesitation he knocked yet another arrow and pinned the mans other thigh to the tree. Then another, and another. Both his arms, and yet another straight through the mans gut. The cries began to slow, as blood poured from his mouth and empty sockets.
Knocking the last arrow Gear glared intently.
"You'll see your -friends- in whatever afterlife you're headed to."
And with such the final arrow was released, straight through the mans throat and into the tree behind him, a cadaver riddled with arrows pinned to a tree covered in his own piss and blood. A look of great satisfaction upon Gear's face as Haze stepped away from the tree and approached his side. "Next time Haze, next time you'll get lunch." The wolf growled low for a moment before following Gear as he slowly walked away from the scene, taking only a second to glance toward the massacre upon the road.
Edited by Géar on 11/1/2012 6:54 AM PDT
From an old dusty book of tattered pages and loose binding:
The doctors had told me to write a journal to keep my thoughts in order. What surprises me is I can remember doing this before. A different journal, but the sitting down and writiing reverberates through my mind, I have done this before. So I continue the tradition...
It has been a couple of weeks, and I have not had any "problems" or re-occurances of severe de-javu as before. I am making my way to Silvermoon City to prepare my new life, and to rebuild myself.
I have several good memories as I enter the city. I "feel" almost at home here. And I wander the streets for several hours, before I return to the barracks area of the Blood Knights. I settled in and found I may have pushed myself too much. My stamina does not seem strong, perhaps I need to train more and bring my skills and talents back up to snuff.
I vaguely sense my home was here for many years...I wonder.
From an old dusty book of tattered pages and loose binding:
As I strolled through the Farstrider Square I was greeted by a surprised and happy mentor, Bemarrin, the blacksmith trainer. I had to tell him I didn't remember him, and he was saddened by my current situation. But he did surprise me. He had an old sketch of a small statuette that he and I had made some time ago. He gave it to me in the hopes it would stir my memories. I thanked him, and told him I would return for further training.
The sketch was of the same dark haired beauty I had sketched in my journal, though he said we had cast her in bronze. It was beautiful, the sketch I mean, and I gazed at it for a while in the park. She must mean something to me...but what?
I returned to Falconwing Square to continue growing in my skills and to build up my strength. And I met a most wonderful new friend, Raviella, a priestess. She felt vulnerable with her cloth robes, and I offered my shield and arm to protect her in her questing. It was the best decision I or we could have made. We took on some of the quests offered for the celebration of Halloween, and I have come to enjoy the sound of her laughter, and her smile.
We adventured to Silverpine, but found the area...vague and quiet, so we returned to the Ghostlands. And I had my first occurance I have had in weeks. It was the Scourge we came to see in the Scar.
And it brought me to my knees. I think I caused Raviella deep concerns, but some Scourge attacked us emass, and my training kicked in, and we began to fight them. It distressed me to hear Raviella's cries as she was touched or hit by them. It only gave me the burst of strength and energy I needed to defeat them, and inquire as to her being okay. I can only hope this doesn't happen again.
The depressing Ghostlands seemed vaguely familiar to me, and as we traveled through the area, it became apparent to me I had been here before. We made our way through the various jobs and contracts available to us.
I find myself attracted to Raviella. She is a valiant priestess, and I enjoy her company very much. I found myself holding her close and kissing those sweet delicious lips before I retired last night.
I need to slow down, and realize this isn't fair to her, or to myself. I have to find out what has become of Jahana (yes, I remembered her name while I talked with Raviella!!). And find out what she is or was to me...her eyes haunt my dreams, and I find myself sketching her face constantly...why? Why does she hold my mind and heart so close to her memory, why?
Raviella...you are the here and now, and I find my feelings are strong for you. Jahana...you are the past and long ago, yet you hold me with your memory. I feel confused, and excited at the same time.
Journal of Raviella Dawnfire
This has been a most interesting day. I joined this group of Sindorei who were asking for more valiant citizens to join in their mission to bring Glory to the Sindorei. I was impressed with their attitude and the friendly people.
I met with a wonderful priest named Sydric Silverhawk. He gave me a tour and a rundown of what the Fellowship was all about. He seemed to be overly cheerful, as if trying hard to hide something. I am not priviledged enough to know everything, this I surmised very quickly. But there is an underlying note of tension, I cannot help but notice it.
He sent me to find this one paladin, who had been severely injured and was suffering some kind of memory loss. Sydric felt I had the gift of empathy, which allows me to feel others emotions and help them deal with it. I was not prepared for what happened.
Neryth is strong and handsome, his eyes are magnificent. I feel drawn to him like a moth to a flame. He struggles so hard to overcome his problem. The various triggers we find while working in the Ghostlands make him vulnerable. He staggers to his knees and almost blacks out. Not only is this dangerous, but devastating to his mind.
What is it he is blocking out? What traumatic event nearly killed him and left his mind a mass of confusion? I can feel into his thoughts as if they were my own. He feels guilty and lacking in skill. And yet I have seen him fight, he cuts through the Scourge like nothing. The Light is strong in him, it shines bright and clear. He has tremendous potential. But he must get over this thing he experienced.
The one thing I feared the most has happened, he remembers a name. Someone he held dear at one time. Jahana is gone, and I do not know where this elf is, but she holds his heart captive with her mesmerizing image. He has sketched her face and form as if he knew it intimately. Perhaps she is dead, and her spirit claims him from beyond? Whatever it is, I must find a way to break his bond to her.
Am I being selfish? What is it I want from him? I reached out a hand to comfort him in his anguish. To my surprise he held my hand to his chest. I could feel his heartbeat and the warmth of his flesh. I was caught like a moth to a flame...looking up into his eyes as he softly said my name over and over. As he leaned over me and got closer with each whisper, my heart hammered in my chest. I could feel him getting closer. Part of me wanted to run away, I could not get involved with this elf, he belonged to another! But I could not move, I was trapped in his arms as they wrapped around me tightly. His lips burned mine with a gentle touch.
If it had not been for a stranger who walked up to us in Tranquillion, I do not know what would have happened. I blushed and stammered, caught like a youngster stealing cookies. What was I thinking, letting him get that close to me right out in the open? I tried to compose myself and backed away from Neryth. As soon as I could I fled up to my rented room. But I hardly slept all night.
Writing my thoughts in this Journal helps. I must be more aware of my surroundings. I need better control. I sit in the room in front of the window and let the dawn's light calm me as I meditate. I need to have time to settle things in my mind. What do I want? What makes me the one who will succeed in making Neryth whole again? If he remembers her fully and she is the one who holds his heart, where does that leave me? Dark thoughts flit through my mind.
(New entry in a light green leather journal etched with a tree)
I am feeling restless.
It used to be loneliness that filled my time. I would sooth it by exploration. Sweeping vistas, tucked away places… places to discover and the thoughts that one day I would not be alone.
One day eventually came; it came in such a way that I was unaware that it was happening.
And now… now I am happy, but restless.
Fickle, thy name is Auxilia.
So long I had been on my own, making my way through the world without having anyone to rely on. Slowly, I made friends… not the Fellowship, that came much, much later—long after I joined their ranks. The friends I made were similar to me. Not the amnesia, but the lost, forgotten and shadows.
People I could rely on… even now. People I kept hidden… probably because I was hidden for so long.
Now I sit idly. My days are filled with reading, strolling through grassy meadows, and whatever other leisure that suits my fancy at the moment. My nights are spent with my husband, talking, laughing, sharing our days… and my nights are spent laying awake thinking of just how useless I have become.
I walked away from something that I was very good at. It was something that defined me. There are people who are alive because of me and I know that there are people who have died because I was not sent out to find them. I walked away because my husband worried. He could not handle the idea that I would out in harm’s way, risking my life so that others could live.
Now I am torn between the two. Feeling restless, useless and keeping my husband happy or having him fraught with worry as I return to the ranks of search and rescue.
I suppose that I should speak with him about it, but I know that he will not take the conversation well. It will probably end in an argument… and I hate arguments more than feeling useless.
The sound of cracking bone was carried off in the fierce northern winds, her weapon singing through the air, a metallic sound following it soon after.
The skeleton crumbled before her, its icy bones quickly being covered by a dusting of snow. Sheathing her sword, she inspected her newly acquired shield, dusting bits of snow and frozen blood from its surface with a gloved hand. Small flakes of snow clung to the fur on her armor, her hair whipping madly in the snow. Her hair would be the death of her, but she was too stubborn to tie it up.
Brushing the frosty strands from her face, she trudged onward towards the tower, its warm beds calling her. She was exhausted. The snowstorm had taken her by surprise, bits of scourge rambling through it stopped her advance to the tower, and she didn’t dare try to fly through it.
Footsteps sounded behind her. Or was it just the wind?
Low grumbling, the footsteps came faster. Scourge definitely scourge, must be another skeleton.
The footsteps sounded again, from her left this time? No her right. The wind whipped faster, howling madly, mocking her almost. She needed to get to the tower. Breaking into a run she held her shield up to the wind, blocking some of the bits of ice and snow from her face, as she had lost her helm in the snow just as the storm began to set in.
The grumbling stopped. It had gone. Relaxing, she pushed herself faster through the snow, head low, shield up, and her hair frozen to her armor.
The mad grumbling of a Geist sounded behind her, something clamping around her ankle, pulling her down, face-first into the snow. Her sword, her sword….where was it? Twisting and kicking out of its grip, she rolled over and it pounced on her, its ugly face inches from her own, her shield the only thing between her and the Geist, her other hand grabbing wildly for her sword.
Bringing her other hand up under her shield, she pushed with what little strength she had left, the Geist falling over to her left, its slurred words lost in the wind. Scrambling up, she turned to the dazed Geist; stepping back she felt something metal. Her sword. Bending down, with her shield up, it pounced again, its aim off this time. The Geist flew into the side of her shield, falling to the side again ash pushed, nearly falling back with the impact. Grabbing her sword she stood, falling into the practiced stance, her shield in front, sword at the ready.
Grumbling sounded behind her, the Geist in front of her answered in its own mad mumbling. Two, just fantastic. The Geist jumped at her again, and she held it off with the shield, plunging her sword into its side. The monster screamed with the wind, falling down into the snow. Taking the opportunity she stepped towards it, her sword out again, a sudden change of wind blowing her hair into her face. The Geist jumped, and she screamed.
Three bloody scratches burned in the wind, crossing the left side of her face, stretching from her temple to her chin. The damned monster had scratched her! Angered, she ran up to it, throwing it aside with her shield, running her sword through its side. The monster fell to the ground, shrieking at her madly. Taking a step forward, it grabbed at her shield, pulling it down, her arm burning with the effort of pulling it back. Swinging her sword around, she plunged it into the eye of the geist, pulling back and bashing it to the ground with her shield.
Its crumpled form twitched, pulling itself up slowly. Pulling the sword around again she swung at its neck, bone cracking as it fell clean off, the body crumpling fully to the ground once more. Taking no chances, she plunged the sword into its body randomly, stepping back catch her breath. Gore and a strange fluid covered the white snow, the storm quickly covering up the gore...
Edited by Lyrilia on 11/1/2012 9:02 PM PDT
The warrior trudged up the snowy slope and into the tower. Walking up into her room, she dumped her bags onto the bed, removing her frozen gloves. Droplets of water fell down her face, tinted slightly by the blood from her scratch as it ran down her cheek. Reaching up for her journal on the shelf next to a small knife, she jumped at the sound of someone calling her name.
"What? What is it?" She scowled at the crusader for startling her.
"Oh, just wanted to see who all made it here miss." He bowed out of the room, turning to walk down the hall to the next room. Watching him leave, she wrapped her hand blindly around something on the shelf.
She screamed. Pain ran through her hand, a warmth building up dripped down her arm. Blood. The crusader ran into her room, his eyes widening at the sight of her bloody hand, the knife lodged into the palm. Grunting, she ripped the knife free, shooing the human away. Pulling a salve from the table, she rubbed it into her other hand, sitting down with a pile of bandages.
Struggling to put the bandage on, she winced, finally tying it into place. shouldering her bag one-handed, she pulled her hearthstone from the table. Dropping it, she reached for her journal, balancing it on her arm as she activated the hearthstone.
"I hate Northrend."
Edited by Lyrilia on 11/1/2012 9:02 PM PDT
A small woman stood upon a large towering...'hill'...in the Vally of the Four Winds. She was calm, relaxed, and taking in the sights, the sounds, the smells, it was all beautiful. She sighed, opening her jade green eyes to look upon the Vally once more before she dug into her bag and pulled out her journal, along with conjuring a long blue quill
A red journal, bound by a single gold rope, a name printed in gold is on the front...Aseria Sunblade
Pandaria is a beautiful place, full of wonders and un-exploited riches that are waiting to be discovered. However, doing such thing might be dangerous.
It has been a little over a few weeks, perhaps a month, since I rid of Krystala's presence with in me...I feel...stronger, for some reason. I haven't been communicating with the Fellowship much, mostly because I needed time to rest, to think, to regain what morality I can. I met Kel and Auxi a few times, however Kel seems to always be in some poor condition....
Aseria sighs, shaking her head before continueing to write
Kel, silly Kel, she needs help...a lot of the Fellowship do I think. Slowly I've seen them go down dark, strange paths that they shouldn't be taking. I don't want to jump to anything to soon, but I am worried...
Anyway, that's all I got for now, time to get back to work. What ever that might be...
From an old dusty book of tattered pages and loose binding:
I talked with Raviella. She has agreed to help me find balance and to aid me in retrieving my memories. One condition, I cannot look at her as a love interest, but as a trainer. So I will repress my feelings for her, and think of her as a trainer only. This is truly the first time someone has taken the time to actually help me get my life back together again. I am giving myself over to Raviella.
On another note, I received two items from Cyaer Sunblaze this morning. One is a dossier of my life before. My family name is Silverblade. I am the son of a paladin who was a son of a paladin. And sadly, both my parents are gone. I am the last of our line. No wait, I have a brother, but not much is known of him. The son of a very minor noble.
The other missive was a message from Jahana. She is well and in deep cover. But she wanted me to know she was alright. I was stunned. What kind of relationship do I have with this raven-haired beauty that she cares to let me know how she is? Are we a couple? Who is this woman that haunts my dreams, and inspires me to sketch her face, her figure...all from memories I do not have?
How do I tell Raviella? That Jahana is alive and cares a great deal for me. I am torn, my heart is torn, my thoughts are torn...what do I do? Light help me, please!!
Edited by Neryth on 11/2/2012 9:49 AM PDT
Paw'don village sprawled in front of the woman on the tree where she sat, watching the road carefully. She looked expectant. The waiting tension showed in her stance, relaxed but prepared to jump up at any moment. She had gotten a sword, a useful thing for the work she was doing, much more so than the mace she still used other days.
A small, bitten off laugh escaped her, and then she fell somberly silent again as she returned
her gaze to the road. Watching. Waiting.
The time passed slowly in a laze of warmth and sunshine. The morning fading slowly into afternoon before commotion on the road brought Kel'tira Sunblaze to a crouch in the tree she perched in, her eyes darting behind her faceplate as she tracked the lone woman down the road away from Paw'don. The stranger stopped in front of the bounty hunter's hiding place, staring up the slope. Her eyes, Kel could see how piercingly green they were, peered straight at the Blood Elf.
In perfect Orcish, the human spoke, “Come down, huntress. Come down and talk and face me on level ground.”
Feeling slightly self-conscious, Kel swung down from her perch to stand in plain sight at the edge of the road. When she opened her mouth to speak, the mark cut her off.
“Now, tell me, what do you and your Horde want of me?”
“You assume I work for the Horde.”
“My employer matters not. You, however, will be coming with me.”
The paladin had been edging closer to the woman, and with her final words lashed out quickly, her plated fist sending the human crumpling to the ground, unconscious. Bending with a grunt to check for a pulse, she seemed satisfied because she hefted the limp form over her shoulder and trudged off into the woods.
In the space of 20 minutes, Kel had reached a secluded grove with a stream babbling merrily through the center. Setting the human down by a convenient tree and binding her hands above her head, Kel smiled grimly behind her helmet, bending to tie the woman's feet together as well. Leaving the bound woman like that, the paladin doffed her armor, turning to her pack to don simple black clothes, her face uncovered and blank, her identity no longer mattered, as the mark would be dead shortly.
Drawing the daggers from her boots, Kel gritted her teeth, her eyes looking singularly disgusted with herself as she approached the bound woman with the knives held tightly in her hands. Torture was specifically NOT her style. With a grim look on her face, she approached the woman, and then sighed, staring at the unconscious form and kneeling to undo the leather armor.
A prayer and a curse later, Kel slid the knife between the woman's third and fourth ribs, the curved blade slipping into her heart, a relatively painless death. Blood ran down the paladin's armor as she withdrew the knife to remove the head and place it mechanically in a bag, burying the body in the pre-dug hole and starting to wash the blood from her form when her guildstone emanated voices, someone looking for her. Master Kel'tira.
Another name. Another life.
Alenthis moved silently through the inn, slipping amongst the shadows to avoid sight. The innkeeper sat, asleep in his chair. Alenthis snapped his neck and promtly moved up the stairs. He tried to scream but couldn't. Why had he just killed a man? His body moved, without him willing it. Alenthis closed his eyes and could see the silhouette of a man, his face remained hidden. The man spoke. "Kill them, Alenthis. Kill them." The voice sounded familiar. But he couldn't place it.
"NO! I won't!" Even as he spoke, he opened the door to the the room. Corpses littered the floor. His friends. His family. Lyrilia, Kel'tira, Solorin, all lay maimed on the floor. He looked down at his hands, covered in blood, their blood. He forced himself free of the puppet master and fell to his knee's. "WHHHHYYYYYYYYYYY!"
Alenthis awoke with a start. He grabbed his axe from beside him and leapt from the bed. He crossed his room and checked outside the door. Nothing. He checked the windows, beneath the bed, inside the wardrobe. All empty. He sat back down in the bed and sighed. He hadn't had a dream that real and terrifying since when he was alive. He sat quietly for a moment and closed his eyes. It was only a dream.
The same voice from his dream echoed through his head. "I am all to real to be a dream." A dark laugh echoed through his head. As quickly as it had come, the voice quieted. Alenthis glanced steadily around the room. Nothing. Alenthis scrambled to his feet and dressed quietly. He exited the Silvermoon Inn and payed the keeper on the way out. He headed for the translocation orb in the Throne room.
He thought as he moved. That was a man's voice...so it can't be Viragona. And it wasn't the voice of a Dreadlord. But, then. Who? It sounded so, so familiar. I don't know of any magic users I've angered...I'll have to speak with Azurick about this. And then perhaps I'll see the Docters on Tuesday.
Alenthis reached the translocation orb and appeared in the undercity. He headed for the Zeppelin towers at a quick pace. His mind flashed to Lyrilia's maimed corpse laying on the floor. Alenthis shook his head angrily. "That's not going to happen." He would mail a letter to Lyrilia and make sure she was alright. He stepped onto the Zeppelin headed for Orgrimmar and headed downstairs to the cabin. He sat quietly, watching the dead forests of Lordaeron vanish into the distance. He shook with rage. "Not again...please..."
From an old dusty book of tattered pages and loose binding:
I have left myself open to Raviella, and she has helped open my memories. The dark thing, the terror that gripped me, has been exposed to the light. I was killed by Scourge, and resurrected by the ones who found me. Kistrel was not so lucky, ah, lucky if that is what it is. Tied up in my death was my own self as I felt I had failed everyone who had trusted in me...that cared about me. Raviella consoled me, and I find that she has truly aided me in finding my memories...
We talked of balance. I can understand some of what she is telling me, but she will never convince me that Shadow priests are using a form of the light...I cannot believe that line of reasoning.
We began working in Azshara...and found ourselves weary. We spent the night in the Wyvern Tail Inn in Orgimmar. Seperate beds, thank you very much. Though truth be told, I would have liked to have shared one...trainer or no, she is a beautiful woman who has touched my heart with her presence.
I have spoken with Sydric, the Sin'dorei who sent Raviella to me to aid me. We spoke for several minutes, and he left me with a warning of getting burned by the candle that burns at both ends. If he only knew how my heart is broken by the words we spoke of about Jahana.
It was as though the my memories melted away, and I was actually knowing and feeling what I have and now feel for Jahana. She is my muse, my world, my lover...and I love and care for her greatly. It came back to me even more as I sat in the studio that Sydric had provided for me. I wept tears of relief and joy, as I began to feel those memories returning...her smile, her mischievious eyes, our times together...I even broke a man's jaw defending her honor...it all came back to me...and now I worry that she may or may not be coming back to me.
I tried to tell Raviella, but she said my mind and thoughts were swirling and confused. Yes, I suppose they might be, I wanted to be her friend, and companion, but "I cannot have my cake and eat it too". Her words stung me, and I lashed out. I told her I was healed, and I no longer needed her...that she could go back to Sydric and tell him her job was done.
It wasn't what I wanted to say. It wasn't anything near how I felt about her. And now she is gone. Emotions swirling, thoughts and heart confused...yes. She knows me better than I know myself.
I returned to the studio, and I tried to sleep. But I cannot. I reach for my pad, and begin to sketch...it is her that I draw, not my beloved Jahana, but Raviella. And I weep again for my stupidity and my stupid heart. My stupid, stupid heart.
In the drawing room in the Townhouse of Sydric Silverhawk, a dark haired Sindorei female sits giving her report. She sits with her head bowed and her eyes are flickering with emotion. She cannot hide from Sydric, he can see into her heart. Her voice is dull and low, several times she reaches for the glass of wine he has provided her. "He is fine now, his memories are back and he has remembered he is an artist. I did what I could to aid him. It is all up to him now how he lives his life."
The soft voice of Sydric comes to her as if from a dream, she is lost in her emotions as she tries to control her trembling hands on the wine glass. He reaches for the bottle and fills her glass again. "You did well, Raviella. I spoke with him and told him that Jahana is unable to come home right now. He seemed to be feeling a bit guilty. Was there anything between you? He told me he respects you and admires your skills at healing, that he has learned from you."
She perks up at the mention of Neryth's guilty feelings. "Yes, I picked up on that as well, though I do not know why...he would feel guilty. We did not do anything out of the ordinary..." she stopped and glanced up at him, blushing at the smirk on his face.
Sydric stroked his chin and chuckled. "He referred to himself as the 'kissing bandit', I am thinking he stole a kiss from you? If that is all then I think you are dealing with a normal Sindorei male. He will be honorable I think. He is a well respected paladin. You should know better than to get attached to a client. Perhaps I can find another who can use your help. Do not feel bad, Ravi. He is going to be missing Jahana I am sure. Though I am not sure what she is thinking."
The deep sigh from the young monk made Sydric shake his head, "Get your mind off of him Ravi, he will need some time. I worry more about Jahana. She is in a bad situation, and it looks to be only getting worse. You know all the information I gave you about Viragona? She is now trying to do something that has only been hinted at previously. Mind control is one thing, but she is doing things now with the demonic help. If she succeeds it may very well change the way this war is going. I fear for Jahana's life. If Vira catches her...I do not know how she will escape this time...she is in too deep."
Ravielle contemplated Sydrics words, "What is it that Vira is doing Sydric? She is a warlock and they can steal souls, what could she do to affect the war?" she had a dreaded feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Syd sipped at his brandy and looked out at the darkness through the window. His words were softly spoken and Ravi turned white when he uttered them. "She is attempting to switch souls from one person to another. Jahana thinks she is trying to slip a Sindorei soul into the body of a human and send him into Stormwind as a spy."
Edited by Raviella on 11/4/2012 2:55 AM PST
The border of Kun-Lai and Townlong was a singularly miserable place. Sandwiched between the fire camps and the sha, Kel found herself inclined to agree. The set of her shoulders portrayed everything on her mind: the uncertainty, the confusion, the hesitancy, the anger, the fear.
Strange relationships made for strange encounters, not the least of which had been the last meeting she had had with Ash. Her tongue had slipped, and she had ended up on her back in the mud, Ash's foot on her chest, a position entirely too reminiscent of another, far less pleasant and far more painful, occasion. Something had broken and she could not hold the words back, for she was strangely terrified of what the mage could do, and had done before.
Shaking herself back to the present, Kel stared down at the caravan below her. By her judgment, they would reach their camping location by dusk, just as she had been told. For a moment, doubts crowded her thoughts before she shook them off, letting the Light dance along her fingers as a reassurance. Thus, there were few doubts in her mind as she slipped down the slope towards the back end of the caravan. She had faith in Gear, in that he was trustworthy, and would give her no false information. She believed whole-heartedly that she was doing the “right” thing.
Maybe that was the issue.
Fire burned in the green eyes concealed by the pale plate mask. The piercing gaze tracked the rear scouts, it would take timing, and not be simple, but picking off a full fifth of the force she was up against would be worth while. The trick, she decided as she jogged around a bend in the road, crouching behind a hill, would be to catch both of them at once.
As the caravan road past her, Kel readied herself. A whispered word and the Blood Elf's holy magic caught the two scouts as they came around the bend together. With a smirk, Kel darted out, slipping a knife into to sets of ribs before ducking back off the road. Taking a deep breath, she broke into a loping jog, pacing herself with the slow-moving caravan. Half an hour gone, she caught sight of the relief scouts riding down the center of the road.
Stepping into the road, she caught the human with a lucky sword slash to the neck, the Dwarf ducked under her shield, slipping by her guard. Closing too rapidly for anything but a plated foot, Kel did just that, wincing inwardly at the sound of bone crunching between metal wooden spear haft.
Wincing at the Dwarf's howl of rage, Kel silenced him quickly with her sword, she was dropping the body when the rough, heavily accented Orcish at her back took her entirely by surprise.
“I don't think zo.”
Speaking in Common slowly as she pivoted to face this newest threat, Kel said, “Whoever you are, Draenei, I advise you back away.”
“I vill not.”
“Who are you?”
“Zhe leader of zhe men you haff been killink.”
“Terribly sorry,” Kel smiled under helmet, then yelped as a spear flashed past her, the haft gripped by the tall Draenei, “Oh.”
Dropping back into a fighter's stance, Kel lunged forward and then fell into a pattern of strikes and parries with her opponent. Knowing the muscled man was stronger than her, the woman closed with him, her eyes on him, catching strikes before slipping up inside the spear's reach and driving her sword into the Draenei's stomach. A splash of blood rewarded her efforts.
Noting the broken strap on her left side, the paladin turned away, only to feel the sharp fire of pain as the spear stabbed through the edge of her abdomen. Dimly, she kept the sense of mind not to pull the spear out of her body, lest she bleed to death, and instead sliced the head off of the body and rolled it into a bag before staggering off.
She made it little more than 200 yards before she collapsed into a ravine.
When she opened her eyes, it was abundantly clear she would be going nowhere. The fact that even the slightest motions made her dizzy, and the muddy pool of blood underneath her made sense even to her pain-muddled mind. Vaguely, she also knew it could have been worse. The fact that she opened her eyes at all was testimony to that fact.
The hands on either side of the spear prodded briefly at the weapon, the head was flared and serrated, the butt of the haft had a flared grip. It would need to be cut to get it out of her body. Unable to even cry through the pain, Kel managed little more than a whimper.
Struggling to raise her right wrist to her chest, she breathed heavily, painfully, for a moment. Pain washed over her as she twisted slightly. Breathing shallowly, she gasped out a name into the communicator on her wrist;
“Gear... I need... you.”
Barely clinging to consciousness, Kel gritted her teeth, cursing the circumstances mentally. If Gear was not listening, and with Nic gone, who would be looking for her?
Edited by Allaynna on 11/4/2012 12:27 PM PST
Crickets chirped outside the window as Jahana lay beside a Sindorei as he snored lightly. She looked over at the wine bottle beside the bed. It was still half full. Not enough of the sleeping draught into Gueir to keep him from waking up if she moved. There was also a chance he would wake later and want her again. As she lay there thinking she heard voices in the hallway as the relief guard marched off to take their posts.
"The last thing we need is someone to interrupt the Master while she is doing this last transfer. She ordered the guard doubled, we should wake more to take up the slack." an orcish voice grumbled.
"Leave dat Gueir to sleep, he got a woman..she be dumb as a rock...but he be happy...better he be happy dan ta be harpin' on us all da time..." the heavy troll accent followed.
Jahana could hardly breathe, the last transfer? Who or what? She had to know...if she had to...she would slip out of this place tonight and leave...but the sleeping elf beside her would give off alarms if he awoke and she was gone. Turning slowly she snuggled closer to him and whispered in his ear. He grumbled in his sleep and rolled over, falling even deeper into the dream he was having. Jahana grinned and reached up with a slender finger and touched a tiny device hidden under her fingernail. With the lightest of delicacy she touched the deep trench of his ear and injected him with a deep blackout drug.
He had no choice but to slip into total unconciousness. He would awaken as normal, though he would be a bit groggier than he usually was. Jahana smiled and slipped out of the bed. Her armor was black silk, specially treated to give her the camo she needed to slip unseen through the Keep. She added a few daggers and shuriken in case she was caught. Then covered the whole thing with a dark cape and hood to shield her face.
The Keep was never totally quiet, there were always sentries on the roof and workers in the kitchen. It was a twenty four hour staff. Jahana often wondered who was sleeping with Vira these days. She seemed so happy doing what she was doing. The fact she had upper Command Support made Jahana nervous. The dark haired spy could only think of what else Vira was planning. The warlock was not one to forget and forgive. Somewhere along the line she would be causing trouble for the Fellowship. Jahana believed that Cyaer, Mia and Kel would be Vira's main targets. As heads of the Fellowship, they had thwarted Vira at every opportunity.
Even now Jahana wondered what had happened to the book of Runes? Or had Vira found enough of them to give her some kind of edge? She was working for the Horde and getting paid well for this venture. But Jahana knew that the thoughts of bringing the Fellowship down were never far from the warlocks mind.
Slipping into the hall after the guards had passed, Jahana made her way through the shadows to the basement. There was something going on there, she could hear chanting and feel the charged atmosphere. The few sentries guarding the inner cells were alert and watchful. There was one on either side of the door. Scanning the area frequently and on edge from the goings on in the inner cells.
It was difficult but Jahana decided to distract them and get by them somehow. Using a corner of the twisting hallways, she tossed a pebble into the far corner of the storage vaults. As soon as she had tossed it she heard the guards whispered response.
"What was that?" the orc was fast, he was down the hall and into the storage area in a blink of an eye. The troll remained behind and stood by the door, nervously fingering his dagger. Jahana moved just as fast and slipped in behind the troll as he turned to see what was going on in the storage room. The door was locked as she tried the handle to slip in. Without a seconds hesitation she sapped the troll and left him groggy as she hurriedly picked the lock.
With no time to be certain, as the orc was bound to be back quickly, she slipped into the room and relocked the door. Hopefully the troll would not give an alarm as she flitted through the shadows deeper into the dungeons.
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