Questions and Answers

[Talaen]

OOC Disclaimers

Stories may contain violence, adult situations and sexual themes.

Some of the information contained herein might be known to other characters. Please feel free to contact me (here or in game) regarding role play story lines.

I have taken a few liberties regarding the Dawnsinger family (since there's only one NPC and no real details about her). I apologize if I'm stepping on anyone's toes. I thought of the name before The Burning Crusade was officially released so I didn't know there were any NPCs with that name until after I'd created Talaen and his history. I left it as is because it has made for some interesting role play moments.

The character named Tirion is in no way related to Tirion Fordring. I just happen to like the name and wonder if Blizzard chose it specifically because it means "watchtower" in Elvish (based on the Tolkien language studies).

As always, World of Warcraft, Blood Elves, etc. and so forth belong to Blizzard Entertainment and I am in no way making any profit from this.

Thank you for reading and enjoy! :)

-----


Comforting hands. Soothing voices. I floated in a warm haze, barely aware of my surroundings. When the pain came, a draught of wine laced with bitter herbs soon followed. I was helpless as a baby but given an equal measure of care. It's a pity we never truly remember such luxurious coddling.

My first clear memory is of a fire. The smell of woodsmoke was so different from the stench of the burning city. The stench of my own seared flesh. Next were the quiet voices of Quel'Dorei seated around the fire. There was no laughter, only a grim undertone to mark the bleak terseness with which they held converse. I do not recall if I made a noise or some motion to attract their attention, but suddenly one of them was at my side, a cool hand upon my brow and the horn spout of a wineskin pressed to my lips. I drank and soon knew nothing more.

Rangers. Would it have been better if they had never found me? Or, what was left of me. How I survived the collapse of Dawnsinger Spire is a miracle for which I have no explanation. My body was broken, burned and bleeding. Perhaps it would have been more merciful if one of them had simply slit my throat and had done with it all.

Now I try to find the new thread of my life. I no longer have the manual dexterity for the complex mystic passes of my former training. I thought of joining the Rangers but it was more out of gratitude than any true desire to learn woodcraft.

Then came Lady Liadrin and the Blood Knights. Here at least was one answer, but in its wake I find only more questions.

[Talaen]

Sanis. He gave me a name to fit the half-remembered face. Was he one of the Rangers who found me? Or simply one of those who helped care for me after the attack? It doesn't really matter.

We work well together in silence. I prefer it that way. For whatever reason, he's no longer associated with the Farstriders. I don't question him. The fewer questions I ask, the fewer I have to answer in return.

What a strange turn my life has taken. Tirion used to tease me about my insatiable curiosity. Would he even recognise me as I am now? But for my bloodless skin, white hair and red eyes, I feel as though nothing of who I was remains. Would he see beyond the scars of my body and soul to the man I used to be? I'm not sure that man exists any more.

[Talaen]

I train but to what end? Why do I follow this new path? The only answer I can find is cold and empty; vengeance.

Arthas and the Scourge destroyed everything I held dear. Even if I die trying, I will exact my toll in his blood or whatever it is that flows through his icy veins.

The Initiates are not so arrogant any more. Now that Kael'thas has revealed the depths of his own corruption, their doubts begin to surface. Perhaps the Blood Knights are not the saviors so many of our people hoped we would be, but for myself I see no other alternative. I cannot return to my former life and I won't embrace the foulness that twisted our Prince. So, I throw myself into my tasks and try not to think too much despite the many questions gnawing like hungry rats at the corners of my mind.

[Talaen]

Am I nothing more than a butcher? How many families have I destoryed? How many men, women and children will receive solemn visitors this night to tell them their loved ones were slaughtered by a Blood Elf? How much more blood will stain my hands?

Why do I care?

The Forsaken seem to think they have something in common with us. Disgusting walking corpses. They're little better than Scourge. What cure do they seek? What do they expect? Do they think they'll return to their former lives? I refuse to believe that they serve anything other than their own twisted desires. Yet, I still perform some tasks they ask of me. Is it for the satisfaction of revenge against the Humans who abandoned us to Arthas or do I use the Forsaken as much as they use me?

I grow tired of their stink. I believe a return to The Barrens is in order. I need fresh air and more honourable pursuits. At least the Orcs and Tauren hold some things sacred.

[Talaen]

I wander the streets of Silvermoon City without purpose as a multitude of thoughts churn through my mind. The betrayal of Kael'thas is foremost in my thoughts. With M'uru gone, I wonder if our people were never truly bereft of the Light. How can the remnants of energy left to those few Magisters grant such power to so many?

Lord Draco Visca spoke with me. I don't recall him or his family but then I never was one to involve myself in society. He made several attempts at casual conversation; a skill at which I fail miserably. Why did he stop me? What did he want? I sense there was a deeper purpose to his talk but a nosy Forsaken and Tauren interrupted us. I took my leave of them and haven't seen Lord Visca since.

I travel far and wide in performance of a variety of tasks. The clean air of Thousand Needles and the Shimmering Flats was a relief. Reluctantly, I must return to Tarren Mill to complete some work there.

[Talaen]

Fighting a Yeti within the caves of Darrow Hill, I was set upon by a Human Warrior. The coward jumped me when I was already wounded and engaged in battle with one of the beasts. He got the better of me but several hours later I chanced across him near Dalaran. I ran him down and gave him a well deserved thrashing.

After running hither and yon about the Hillsbrad Foothills and Alterac Mountains, I returned to Silvermoon City and reported to Champion Bachi. He is pleased with my progress. After some further instruction, he left me to my own devices. Running errands around town, I met a woman named Vyndette Embercrest. She asked if I was a follower of the Light. I simply shrugged. That is a question which I cannot even answer for myself. She proclaimed herself a Shadow Priestess and waxed poetic about how she embraced that calling. It was an interesting conversation. She talked a lot and I listened. She seemed to find that fascinating. Is the city populated with blithering idiots? Sometimes it seems that way. Blithering idiots and whores.

Armour and weapons are polished. Gear is packed. Off to the jungles of Stranglethorn Vale.

[Talaen]

Cutie? Who does she think she's kidding? I know what I look like. As if the albinism wasn't already enough to brand me a freak, the scars draw looks ranging from pity to outright revulsion. This is the second woman to stop me in the streets and make some inane attempt at conversation. Why do they seek my company? Both claimed they thought I looked nice. Is that their idea of a cruel joke? My laconic demeanor quickly disabused them of such notions.

[Talaen]

Am I a racist?

I've never been a social butterfly. I always avoided publicity and I still do. Sometimes I sit in the taproom of an inn and read. Part of me craves companionship. A small part. I see many people passing through. It's strange to see so many foreigners within the city. For so long we kept ourselves aloof and isolated.

Orcs and Tauren I can respect. They have deep roots of faith and honour. Forsaken still disgust me. I don't know what to think about Trolls. Cannibalism is a rather nasty habit. But, they seem to have their good points. At least they're still alive.

Would I bed an Orc, Tauren or Troll? I don't know. I'm not like most of my people. I never fell into a habit of shameless self indulgence. Undoubtedly this is a product of my "unusual" appearance. Growing up an object of ridicule doesn't exactly make for a large social circle. Even though Tirion tried to get me to join him in his various amusements, I always found one reason or another not to go. I preferred to listen to his stories of the balls, hunts, garden parties and other diversions. I think we both knew that his social status would never survive appearing with me in public.

So, I never managed to develop the carefree attitude most Sin'Dorei have toward sex. I fell in love with Tirion and he was my only lover. Now I see elves partnered with Trolls and Orcs. I don't know what to think of it. Who am I to judge who has been judged all my life? Aren't they entitled to their happiness?

I still struggle to understand Orcish. The harsh gutterals of Orcish are almost impossible for me to pronounce. Taurahe and Zandali are completely beyond my grasp. Even the Forsaken have developed their own dialect which is incomprehensible to me. Will I find friends among our new allies? Do I even want to try?

[Talaen]

I ran into Sanis again after all this time. I was chasing a wounded Human through the jungle. He'd attacked a Troll along the beach and I nearly had him before he stunned me with a lucky blow and ran for the trees. I'd just lost him in the thick foliage when I heard the heavy thud footsteps approaching. Thinking it was another raptor, I prepared to defend myself. The woodsman rode into sight mounted upon a sleek Hawkstrider. He didn't seem to surprised to see me and made a few sly remarks which I ignored. We easily fell into that old rhythm of working together which characterised our first few outings together.

After having worked alone for so long, it was strange to have company. Strange but enjoyable. I find I've missed Sanis, even with all his barbed commentary. How long until we travel together again?

[Talaen]

Why not?

Two simple, little words and yet I had no answer.

At first I thought he was mocking me. But, his thoughts still reached out to mine even after my sharp rebuke. Pretty? Beautiful? What does he see that I don't?

I accused him of being an agent of Ambassador Dawnsinger but he denied it. Knowing the reputation of my people, I could only assume he thought I'd be easy to get into bed for a bit of sport. I saw him flirting and fawning over some others in the tavern. He claims to love Elves. I just bet he does and as often as he can. I made my thoughts on that plain to him.

He told me his first lover had died. I wasn't entirely surprised but that revelation did unbalance me. I'm sure many people have lost loved ones. I'm not alone in that. Do I remind him of his fist lover?

Why don't I give him a chance?

Bluish skin. White hair. Piercings. Tattoos. Tusks. He's more than a foot taller than me when he stands to his full height. He's different. Exotic. His lilting Zandali accent is sometimes hard for me to understand but also strangely compelling.

He wants to know me. He wants to be my friend. I don't even know his name.

Why?

What would he think of my wholesale slaughter of his kind? Although, given the internecine wars of Trolls, he might thank me. My travels led me to Zul'Farrak. Once more I hired the services of a mercenary; a Forsaken Warrior by the name of Grev. We barely speak to each other but I hire him for his sword not his conversational skills. I try not to watch as he devours bloody gobbets of flesh from the still-warm corpses of his victims.

With each Troll that fell my thoughts were drawn back to that one I met in the World's End Tavern. I was tempted to try contacting him again. I still sensed his waking mind through my Hearthstone. But, what would I say?

Will I see him again?

[Talaen]

Alive.

I feel alive.

It's a strange feeling. Have I only been existing until now? When he looks at me, my heart beats faster. My ears thunder with the sound of my racing pulse. His eyes are two different colours. I didn't notice before. One bluish-white and the other reddish-brown. Last night I couldn't help but notice as he gazed intently at me. He smiles a lot. When did I last smile?

I find myself studying Trolls now. At Raventusk Village, I was surrounded by them. However, they look nothing like him. Their skin ranges through various shades of green while his is the palest of blues, almost white. Aren't we a match?

They want me to kill Elves. I can't. The Quel'Danil might have turned their backs on us, but I just can't bring myself to slaughter them simply to send a message to the Wildhammer Dwarves. Do they still suffer the pangs of magic addiction?

Fishing gives me time to think. The murmur of water is soothing. His face looms in my mind's eye. I still hear his voice. My albinism and scars don't seem to bother him. His hand felt hot, almost too hot, covering my overly sensitive maimed hand. I couldn't help blushing when he kissed it. I felt as if everyone was watching us. What were they thinking?

Do I want to see him again? I'm afraid. If I get to know him, I might care about him. If I care about him, I might love him. If I love him, I might lose him. I don't know if I can face that pain again. But, I don't want to live in the past. The life I had is gone. I must move forward.

[Pearlle]

((easily one of my favourite stories to follow *dreamy sigh* thank you for sharing this))

[Talaen]

((easily one of my favourite stories to follow *dreamy sigh* thank you for sharing this))

(( Thank you and my pleasure! ))

** A single, dark red rose petal is pressed between the pages at the spine of the book. **

I sent him a flower. A Crimson Lotus. I found it on the course of my travels. I don't know why I kept it until I returned to Shattrath City and felt the urge to give him some gesture of returned interest. I carefully packaged, addressed and left it at the World's End Tavern. The barkeep assured me he knows the Troll.

That was more than a day ago. I wondered if he got it. What did he think? Was it too bold? I never played the games of courtship. My stomach was tied in knots. I spent the day fishing or doing other mindless tasks which left me free to think.

It was late and I had just returned to Shattrath City. I was sorting my gear when his voice insinuated itself into my thoughts. He wanted me to come to Silvermoon. He claimed to have smelled my scent on the gift. Rust? Metal polish? Weapon oil? He liked it. No, he loved it. He wanted to see me again. I'm glad I was wearing my helmet and no one could see me blush.

I don't like crowds. I didn't feel comfortable with his flirtations in the tavern. Was it only my imagination or was everyone watching us? What did they think? I wanted to see him but I didn't want the distractions of a busy tavern.

I simply told him Stonard. I think he was confused and maybe a bit disappointed but when I arrived at the village he was there. I waved at him to follow me and rode out into the swamp. He noted that I was wearing armour. Did he expect me to charge out there naked?

I led him through the swamp and up a narrow trail into the Redridge Mountains. I stopped at the edge of a cliff overlooking a beautiful valley. It was cool and barren above the tree line, but the view was spectacular. Best of all, there was nobody around to peer and gossip.

We talked. It felt more like we were in the sparring ring. Both of us trying to learn more about each other, to make a vital strike, but with a minimal amount of damage. He was exiled from his tribe for having a relationship with one of my people. That's very unusual. We were at war with Trolls for so long. Do I see him as barbaric? Yes, I'm ashamed to admit that I do.

I endured his casual touches. Toying with my hair. Stroking my ears. Light! Does he know how sensitive my ears are? He asked to kiss me. I didn't want to risk losing an eye and my look said as much without a word. He assured me he could kiss me without goring me with a tusk. I didn't know what to say. I felt my cheeks burning. What sort of question is that?

I couldn't meet his gaze. I think that upset him. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look into his blazing eyes as he demanded to know if I'd been with anyone else.

Tirion.

I never felt quite like this with Tirion. I was frightened. In the blink of an eye this charming, urbane Troll had become something savage. Primal. My heart pounded and my breath caught in my throat. I managed to croak out an answer, albeit in Thalassian. Had I been a fool to trust him? Was he going to force me? Could I get away? He's bigger and stronger than me.

I didn't realise I'd spoke my native tongue. Suddenly, his grip softened and he nuzzled my cheek, purring a reminder to speak Orcish. His tusks bracketed my neck, tickling along the sensitive skin there. I'm glad I was already sitting. I might have fallen over if I'd been standing. I couldn't feel my legs. I couldn't have told anyone if it was day or night if they'd asked right then. All I could see were his eyes, fire and ice, boring into mine until I finally managed to answer, "One."

His lips were soft and warm. It wasn't a deep or forceful kiss. I was drowning in sensations I hadn't felt in years. I didn't want to feel. Feeling meant pain. His tenderness opened an old wound I'd thought long since healed over. Truth is, it never healed. I'd ignored it and let it fester. Now, here he was lancing open that abscess of heartache and loneliness.

I couldn't take it and turned my cheek to him. I wasn't ready to face that yawning chasm of agony. I told him it was too soon and he said that he understood. I think I believe him. He's old as his people count their years. He has lived, loved and lost. It's strange that our lives could be so similar. Where did he find the strength to move on? Will I ever be able to do the same?

He suggested I rest. It was rather late. I appreciated his chivalry.

We're going to meet again tonight. There was a letter and a rose waiting for me at the tavern this morning.

[Talaen]

I spent the day and much of the evening in the Hinterlands. I finally addressed several tasks the Trolls of Revantusk Village needed done. I still won't kill the Quel'Danil. If the Trolls were disappointed by my reluctance to kill my kin, they didn't show it. They're a bloodthirsty people and seemed content to accept my help thinning the ranks of their enemies, the Witherbark and Vilebranch Troll tribes.

Are we so different from Trolls? The Kaldorei might try to pretend we were never one race, but the Sin'Dorei still remember. We have been a divided people for generations. How long have the Trolls been at war with each other? Are we so arrogant as to deny our war against our blood?

We didn't meet. Why? Is he all right? Did he expect an easy conquest? Has he sought the bed of another? I barely know him. Why do I care?

[Pearlle]

We didn't meet. Why? Is he all right? Did he expect an easy conquest? Has he sought the bed of another? I barely know him. Why do I care?

((oh no! eep!))

[Talaen]

He's alright. I didn't ask where he was last night. It's not my business. He was worried about me.

He killed Trolls. It makes him sad. Maybe it's simply cultural that he can accept it more easily. He's the first Troll I've ever spoken with for more than a few moments. Why do I feel this strange attraction to him? The more I get to know him, the more I learn. He contradicts many of the things I was taught about Trolls.

What do I believe in? The Light? I was raised to worship the Sunwell and the power it gave us. Then we were cut off from it. I remember that despair. It grew into a burning thirst that could not be quenched. Then Kael'thas gave us new power, new hope and new damnation. But, I readily partook of those Fel energies. Anything to quell the searing pangs of magic addiction. It is a shameful truth that we all must learn to cope with in our own ways.

But, what power do I now wield? Is this only a by-product of M'uru's enslavement? A remnant of the vast energy possessed by a single Naaru? Or, do I unwittingly serve a higher purpose?

He still thinks I'm beautiful and exotic. He wants to be my friend and more. He understands my loss. He doesn't pity me. He is strong in spirit. Will I ever have such strength?

[Talaen]

Yesterday was entirely unproductive. I couldn't order my thoughts. I mumbled directions to flight masters only to find myself in places I didn't intend. Why does he affect me so?

He wanted to know about my parents. There's not much to tell. Father a Ranger and mother an Arcanist. Both distant and ashamed at having produced a monster. Pale, bloodless child. Cursed. Untouched by the sun. I heard all the remarks, intentional and otherwise. He still doesn't understand. Apparently Trolls consider albinism to be a blessing from the gods. The Blood God? I'm not sure I'd want that particular honour.

His father was Amani. His mother died in childbirth and he was raised by his half brother.

I'm amazed he managed to get to Silvermoon City at such a young age. Most Trolls were killed on sight or imprisoned. How did he prove himself harmless?

I realise now how much of a sheltered life I'd had until the fall. I know Humans and Goblins sometimes visited. We were part of the Alliance until they abandoned us. I fought and killed Amani. But, I never met any foreigners. Never conversed with them. Never knew them.

Why do I want to know him? Do I turn from my people because they always turned from me?

[Talaen]

It's raining.

The trees tower over me here in the jungles of Feralas. Remnants of the great Elven civilisation are little more than scattered, weed-choked ruins; lairs for any number of hostile creatures. I'm sheltering under some brush at the base of one of the Twin Colossals while the storm plays out. I smell like rust and worse.

He has a husband. And, a lover. Both are Sin'Dorei. I shouldn't be surprised. Undoubtedly my father had his lovers among the Rangers. I know my mother entertained a veritable parade of males and females through her bed.

Tirion was my first and only. Is that why I find it so hard to accept the idea? I've only known one lover and never desired anyone else. Is that what I feel for him? Desire? If I sate the needs of my body, will he no longer trouble my thoughts?

I know Tirion had lovers before me. I suspect he indulged himself at the various balls, soirées and other social functions he attended without me. The first time I felt desire was when I walked in on him with another male. He never suggested I join him with anyone else, but it's not unthinkable that he participated in such hedonistic pursuits. Was this a disappointment to him?

He wants to bed me. At least he's honest about it.

[Talaen]

Why? Why do I follow this new path? Is it because I question my faith or the lack thereof?

Back. Back to Sunstrider Isle. Back to learning the most basic of lessons. I feel naked without my armour. The new mace has an odd balance.

"The Light gives us the strength and magic to triumph."

I wish I had Ponaris' faith. I want to question him, but I'm ashamed to admit my doubts. Dare I believe? I wasn't much of a believer before the fall. I felt the power of the Sunwell. I felt the emptiness of its loss. Since entering into training as a Blood Knight, I've felt a new power stirring within me. Knight-Lord Bloodvalor and Champion Bachi seem convinced that our newfound strength springs from M'uru. I don't think the Magisters siphoned enough power for all of us. Was the Sunwell only a conduit for the Holy Light? A crutch? Is it time we outgrow it?

I ask. What answers?

[Talaen]

"Your faith guides me to victory."

How can she be so trusting? I'm glad I don't wear my heart on my sleeve. I didn't want any of them to see my uncertainty. These Rangers are defending the city. I didn't want to undermine their morale.

"Already the rangers speak of your blessings with awe and respect. Now you can see how the Light serves us, allowing us to help others, but only after we have helped ourselves."

Is this the root of his faith? Ponaris has tremendous confidence in his words. Am I an obvious skeptic? How many others have come here with these same fears in their hearts? Somehow, I don't think I'm the first nor do I think I'll be the last.

I asked him what he believes in. His friends and those who heal him. Blood Elves. Priests. Do they have faith?

He takes my long silences in stride. Within the privacy of our shared thoughts, I am not quite as reluctant to communicate. He told his mate of his interest in me. I want to meet both his husband and his lover. Perhaps the Bloodthistle makes me bold. It's been a while since I used it.

What will they think of me? What will I think of them? Do I really want to get involved in something like this? He still haunts the corridors of my mind. Why?

[Talaen]

I saw him briefly yesterday. He seemed distracted. He was riding one of those skeletal horses the Forsaken favour. Unwholesome things.

We haven't talked much over the past few days. I need the distance. The jungle is hot and steamy beneath the soaring canopy. Spears of sunlight stab down through breaks in the cover. It's a welcome change from the desert. Hunting dangerous animals and collecting samples of soil and plants help distract me.

There are heroes and villains among all races. Sometimes I am unmolested by Alliance forces as I go about my business. Somtimes they even help me. Other times I am beset by those who seem bent solely upon murder. In a last act of defiance, I spit upon a Draenei who attacked me while I was engaged with a pair of gorillas. His skill far outweighed mine. What's the point? What does he prove? He might as well stay home and kick puppies or murder babies in their cribs.

I asked him what he wants from me. But, what do I want from him? Love? Friendship? Sex? His desire seems simple and genuine. Neither my albinism nor scars disgust him. What do I want? Would it be so bad to indulge myself?

[Pearlle]

He might as well stay home and kick puppies or murder babies in their cribs.

((hahaha!! ))

[Talaen]

I saw him again last night. I'd just returned to Silvermoon City for some further studies and he raced past on that cursed pile of bones. Exercise? The only thing it needs is a quick and clean death!

He looked tired. After facing Lady Vashj, who wouldn't? I wanted to talk to him. To say something. Anything! But, I found myself completely tongue-tied as we stood there in the street. Finally, he suggested we go to the nearby inn. I followed him with butterflies dancing in my stomach. Why can I face any number of enemies determined to see my blood and not flinch but when I see him my knees turn to water?

I doubt I'll ever get used to public demonstrations of affection. I could barely talk to him sitting there with the staff looming and strangers passing through. Some Undead wanted to sit at the table with us then suggested he was interrupting something with a leer. I wish a hole had opened up under my chair right then.

So, we sat there. He ate fruit and tried to get me to join him but I can't even remember what it was nor what it tasted like. I wanted to talk to him. Why couldn't I just open my mouth and let the words come out?

When he got up to leave, he hugged me and kissed the top of my head. In front of everyone! If I thought I'd wanted to disappear before, I know I did then. I blushed and didn't say a word. I know that Forsaken saw the whole thing.

I realise now I've been avoiding Farstrider Square. I never looked down on the Rangers. But, I still have the stigma of being a Blood Knight. Undoubtedly they recognise me. I haven't seen Sanis for a while but that's to be expected. I'm also avoiding the Blood Knight headquarters. What would Knight-Lord Bloodvalor and Champion Bachi think of my new studies? I haven't abandoned my training as a Blood Knight but somehow I doubt that would satisfy them. I'll have to face them soon.

[Talaen]

I'm weary after days of traveling and hard work under the direction of my new taskmasters. I must be doing something right. My skills improve and my powers grow. But, I still can't face my superiors in the Blood Knight headquarters.

I met one of his friends tonight, another Sin'Dorei. He's a Blood Knight. I was in my robes and the Troll introduced me as a Priest. I didn't clarify the issue. Words came so easily to him. I wish I could hold a conversation so well. I also wish I was half as elegant. While I'm at it, I suppose I should wish for Arthas' head delivered to me gift-wrapped with breakfast. The Troll wants to bed him, too. I doubt there's an Elf he doesn't want to bed. But, the Blood Knight also refuses him.

He called me "Tal." I haven't been called that in a long time. He also called me "love." Why? I don't love him. I told him he doesn't love me and he wanted to know who said he didn't. He cheapens the word. Lust and love are not the same to me no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

I wanted to ask the Blood Knight so many questions. He seemed so comfortable and sure of himself and his destiny. How could I ask him his reasons for not bedding the Troll but I couldn't ask him about faith?

[Pearlle]

He cheapens the word. Lust and love are not the same to me no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

((i hear ya on that one! your char's got it right on!))

[Talaen]

"Change is the only constant..."

So wise. There have been so many changes in our lives. The Ranger spoke the truth with such casual acceptance. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he was chatting with others at the mailbox. The words struck me to the core.

I finally reported to the Blood Knight headquarters. Knight-Lord Bloodvalor only shook his head at me. Champion Bachi's face was set in harsh lines of disapproval but he gave me my lessons without any other censure.

I haven't seen him nor heard from him for several days. I sent him a rock. A rock?! What was I thinking? When I found it, I thought of him. Blue and white with a stripe of red-orange through the middle. I carried it with me for almost a week before I sent it. I think I'm losing my mind.

I'm worried about him.

[Talaen]

Apparently I'm not the only one troubled with questions of interracial romance. I overheard a Forsaken and Sin'Dorei talking about such matters. I find the thought of anyone wanting more than a platonic relationship with one of those walking corpses repugnant. But, who am I to judge? The whole world has been turned upside-down. I suppose we all have to find whatever happiness we can.

I admitted that I think about him a lot and that he confuses me. We're so much alike but also so different. I find myself seeing the world in new ways since I met him. I want to see him again. We've both been very busy lately.

Takishi.

There. I've committed his name to paper. He's no longer some anonymous Troll. I'm not sure what he is to me, but he's more than a stranger.

[Pearlle]

Takishi.

((eeee! i knew it! and i totally guessed, but that was the guess! yay!))

[Talaen]

Do I hide behind the ghosts of my past?

I don't understand how some people have so quickly forgotten The Fall and moved on as if nothing happened. Are the lives lost meaningless?

I know Tirion would want me to be happy. I know he would want to see me smile. I learned to hide my feelings young and I doubt I'll ever change. If it wasn't for my damnable pale skin giving me away most of the time, I might be able to do a credible act as a statue. He always teased me about that. At first I wasn't sure how to take it. He was my Master and a noble! I'll never forget the warmth in his eyes when I finally realised he was joking and I smiled at him. Will I ever smile again?

Sareyne Dawnwing has proven to be a capable student. She hardly needs my instruction. I don't see why our superiors wanted me to find and mentor her. Truthfully, I leave her to her own devices and give what minimal assistance she needs. I think we each have to find our own way in this world. She's very cheerful and talks enough for both of us.

Lord Ardaion Sunleaf is also very talkative. We know of each other. He seems to have taken an interest in me. He claims it's neither pity nor thrill-seeking which motivates him. I find it hard to believe that any spoilt son of that licentious family could have any reason other than his own pleasure. He's as bad as Takishi with putting his hands on me and kissing me! But, he also has surprising depth. For all that he puts on the airs of a pampered noble, he has steel in his spine and a painfully sharp sense of perception.

He wanted to know why I'm studying as a Priest. That's a very good question. I'm still trying to figure it out myself.

[Talaen]

I haven't heard from Takishi in a while. I guess he lost interest since I wasn't an easy conquest.

I wonder how long it'll take Lord Sunleaf to get bored and find a willing bedmate to occupy his time. He's not nearly as shallow as he would have people believe. What does it matter to him if I shut out the world? After I tossed him in the water, I thought he'd know better than to put his hands on me.

He held me.

It was surprisingly innocent. Innocent and comforting. When was the last time anyone held me? Oh, Takishi tried but his intentions were clear. Somehow it was different with Ardaion. It was more like Tirion.

How long will the memories torment me?

I try to throw myself into my training but nothing seems to distract my thoughts for long. Seeing the ruins of Andorhal, I can't help but think of Silvermoon City. The crumbling buildings. The charnel stench of Scourge. Diseased animals and blighted land. Is this what our entire world is coming to? How can I even consider getting attached to someone who might be dead tomorrow?

[Pearlle]

How can I even consider getting attached to someone who might be dead tomorrow?

((very glad you're writing again!))

[Talaen]

My poor, neglected journal. How many weeks has it been stuffed in the bottom of my pack and forgotten?

Lord Bloodwrath has offered me sponsorship to rank of Master Knight. Of course, along with this honour comes several expensive and difficult tasks. I strive to serve but to what end? Sadly, I've neglected my priestly duties.

Hellfire Peninsula is a desolate place. At least some foliage manages to survive in the Plaguelands. Hellfire is all parched, barren rock stained an unhealthy shade of reddish-orange as if the whole place were rusting away. Perhaps it is. The Twisting Nether seems to gnaw at the land like a hungry beast; strewing bloody gobbets of its meal about in reckless abandon.

I've kept to myself other than the few times I traveled with strangers to accomplish various deeds. I let none close, keeping people at a distance with my silence or harsh words. Of Lord Sunleaf and Takishi I've heard nothing.

[Talaen]

Orders from my superiors. I feel like a marionette dancing upon strings held by unknown hands. Ostensibly my orders come from Lord Bloodvalor or Champion Baci. Sometimes I wonder if they know the true masterminds behind all these directives.

Upon arriving at the Zoram Strand, I was surprised to find Sareyne and Ardaion there waiting for me. Lord Sunleaf has been quite the celebrity figure about Silvermoon City. Of course, I don't believe half of what is said or written about him. A Succubus and Leper Gnomes? The things people imagine!

The three of us made a brief sortie into Blackfathom Deeps. Twilight Cultists have been causing trouble and our mission was to investigate. We did battle with Naga and Murlocs but found no sign of Twilight Cultists. In one cave we discovered a dying Night Elf. I think we were all surprised when he gasped out a few words in Orcish! It seems he was a member of the Argent Dawn who was also sent here to investigate the cult activities within these ruins.

Although we did not meet our goal, we have pulled together as an effective fighting force. With Sareyne impatiently leading the way, I had a chance to call upon my neglected abilities to heal and dispel the magics of Naga. Ardaion still hasn't named his cat, but they are a formidable team. I'm sure we will return soon and finish what we started.

Ardaion continues to surprise me. Despite his public appearance, he loathes the Court. I think he hates it more than Tirion did. Lord Sunleaf has found much of his freedom curtailed now that he has been named heir. What will he do when his father dies? Will he continue with the facade of a carefree noble son or will he assume the responsibilities which accompany the title?

I realise that I missed his boyish charm and barbed humour. What a pair we must have made standing in that chilly, subterranean cave, soaked to the skin and stinking of dead fish. But, we both managed to speak a few words from the heart. I think he is just as terrified to reveal himself as I am.

[Talaen]

He kissed me.

Well, to be more honest, I kissed him.

We kissed each other. It was a mutual passion. Although he has a very colourful repuation as a heartless rake, Ardaion has shown quite a bit of restraint. I was the one who broke, desperate to taste him and feel his arms around me.

It was wonderful. It was torture. Every nerve seemed on fire with memories of past. But, this time I'm not some callow youth troubled by the first stirrings of desire. I might have surprised him by taking the initiative. This was something far different from the kiss that Troll forced on me. I can't explain it. I know our kiss was more than an expression of mindless lust.

He is the scion of Sunleaf, destined to inherit not only the rights but also the responsibilities of the title. He must marry and sire an heir of his own.

What hope can there be for us of a future together?

[Talaen]

Sareyne has attained the rank of Blood Adept. I'm proud of her. She trains dilligently. I only wish she and Ardaion wouldn't squabble constantly. It's annoying and wastes time.

We spent some time together working for the Tauren in Thousand Needles. It is a stark, unforgiving land. In some ways it reminds me of Hellfire Peninsula. I was there fighting demons and Fel Orcs in the morning then off to fighting Tauren, Centaurs and starving wildlife back in Kalimdor this afternoon. Evening found me in flight to Thunderbluff before invoking my Hearthstone to return to Shattrath City and run some errands. The sunset was beautiful.

I decided to buy a hawkstrider. He's a fine beast with dusky purple plumage tipped with indigo. His stride and behaviour is quite different from my charger and I needed additional lessons for his care and riding. I suppose I'll have to think of a name for him.

Ardaion seemed a bit reserved. Of our shared kiss he said nothing, although he did suggest occupying ourselves without Sareyne. Since his brother's death, he seems somehow older and wiser. He's cleaned up a bit but hasn't entirely abandoned the carefree playboy style that he's so carefully cultivated over the years.

Should I let my hair grow long? Tirion always delighted in it. Ardaion would like to see it long, too. He threatened to hurt me if I dye it though. Sareyne has taken to changing her hair colour and style almost daily.

[Pearlle]

It was wonderful. It was torture.

((keep writing!))

[Talaen]

((keep writing!))

(( I'm doing my best! ))

The Valley of Spirits. Are there truly spirits there? I've passed through many times but never paused to consider why it was thus named. If there are, I cannot sense them. Perhaps I am unworthy of their notice.

I've joined the ranks of Sanctuary. They embrace the treaty Thrall sought to forge and do battle only in defense against Alliance attacks. I'm not as war minded as most and content to let others live in peace as long as they are willing to do the same. Will our world ever see true and lasting armistice? I hope. Unity is too much to hope for with so many divergent cultures. But, if we continue fighting each other, we'll all be consumed by demons, Scourge or worse.

Broxigan is a forthright and well-spoken Orc. He reminds me of a mountain lake; calm, cool and opaque but of unknown depth. Of the Tauren who accompanied him I can form no opinion. The Orc did all the talking and the Tauren sat in silent observation until another Tauren came. The two of them withdrew for a private discussion, leaving Broxigan and I to continue our own talk.

Why did I feel this compulsion to seek the brotherhood they offered? Many different guilds, fellowships and orders have sought to enlist me but I've maintained my solitude until now. Something about these people feels right. Why? Perhaps here I will indeed find a refuge for my troubled soul.

[Broxigan]

[[ Wee! /cheer! I need to write in my journals again. XD]]

[Talaen]

I find the healing arts hold more appeal for me. Perhaps because the feeling is somewhat akin to that of channeling magic. But that is a pale, insipid comparison. I fear to explore what might give such sensations to me again.

The boats to Northrend have launched. I continue to explore Outlands. Since my recent change to a stronger focus on healing, I've had no trouble finding others who need my aid.

Ardaion is still a conundrum. He's made it plain he wants me but he's also willing to wait until I'm ready. Why do I hesitate? Why is he so infatuated with me? He knows of me. Being such a socialite, he couldn't avoid the rumors. But he's also trying to get to know me as more than a curiosity. He sees me as a person.

Death Knights. I loathe them. They're no better than the Forsaken. Both were tools of the Lich King. May the whole lot of them fall into a stinking abyss! Of necessity I've found myself in the company of Death Knights lately. Thrall orders that all members of the Horde should welcome them but I wonder how he truly feels. Perhaps it's not a ruse. The Orcs were once possessed by demons. Perhaps Thrall feels a sort of kinship for these things that have broken free from their bonds of servitude. But how can he expect others to so readily embrace them?

[Talaen]

Again I have neglected my journal. But what is there to tell? I have spent my time alone or in the brief company of strangers while wandering the Outlands. There is a harsh beauty to these broken lands which appeals to me. The sky is like an endless river of mysteries, alluring and inviolable.

Do others see me in the same light? What has happened to Sareyne? Ardaion? Takishi? I barely know the members of my own guild. Am I like a strange, pale ghost seen through a looking glass? There but silent and untouchable.

My hair is getting longer. Gone is the crisp, clean militant cut. Now it is a shaggy, uneven mess. Should I let it grow out again or keep it clipped? How shallow am I? With all the turmoil of battling the Burning Legion, Arthas and more, shouldn't I worry about something more important than my hair?

[Vilmah]

My hair is getting longer. Gone is the crisp, clean militant cut. Now it is a shaggy, uneven mess.

((Hot.))

[Talaen]

I wore the guise of a man. Tanned skin. Bright golden hair. Blue eyes. The illusion even hid the ravages of fire in my flesh. I think I might trade my soul for such a reality. But it was gone the moment I stepped out of the warped time of the past.

Nagrand is beautiful. It reminds me of Mulgore with its lush rolling plains. The sky is blue and dotted with clouds. It looks almost natural but for the lurid purple rivers of energy arcing overhead and the alien moon looming over the land. Wildlife is plentiful. I can see why Orcs long to return to such an idyllic existence - a time before they fell prey to the taint of demons.

Finally I took a zeppelin to Northrend. Berthing at Vengeance Landing, I was dismayed at how quickly the Forsaken had destroyed the small patch of land they claimed. Does everything they touch rot? Their research may yield promising results in the battle against the Scourge, but is the price worth it?

My superiors were surprised to see me when I came for training. I think Champion Bachi was secretly hoping I'd died in The Outlands. When I presented myself for instruction, he was indifferent at best.

I still mull over questions of faith. I tried to explore Utgarde Keep with the help of some others, but the power flowed sluggishly and we fared badly. Is it the Holy Light I call upon? The nameless power worshipped by so many? Or is it simply a vestige of power left from the capture of M'uru? How much power could possibly be left? Is it endless? Or is the well running dry?

[Talaen]

Civil war. There is only one explanation for it - we are doomed to relive our past. I tried to approach the elves at Eclipse Point but they had no welcome for me but naked steel hungry for my blood. Although I bested a trio of them, their cavalry quickly overpowered me and left me well chastened in body for daring to tresspass. Is it the fate of the our kind to breed naught but traitors?

That encounter left a sour taste in my mouth so I return to Northrend. Even though Vengeance Landing is a rotting cesspit, a few furlongs and I am at the beach with its fresh ocean breezes to clean the stink of Forsaken from my nose. The water is terribly cold but the fishing is good.

Again I am working for the Forsaken. Distasteful but necessary. Their brains really are mush. I ran across a prisoner, an apothecary named Hanes who begged me to free him and help him escape from the Alliance camp. I should have known it wouldn't be that simple. After defeating his captors and cutting him free of his bonds, he was determined to extract revenge instead of simply running for safety. Thus I found myself embattled with Alliance forces as he ran about the camp burning their supplies. When he was finally satisfied with the damages, we made for Vengeance Landing but came under friendly fire on the way. Trying to dodge friend and foe alike with my shield coated in burning pitch, I raced after Hanes as he wailed, "Don't shoot! Apothecary coming through!" For my troubles I was given a small bauble of beads and clam shells. Mush. Absolute mush.

[Talaen]

Are Draenei and Naaru color blind? I often wonder about the garishly bright arms and equipment found in the Outlands. However, even my people are sometimes given to tragedies of fashion best left unseen. The new gear I've acquired in Northrend is uniformly dark and understated. I like it.

The Scarlet Crusade has taken an interest in Northrend. Not surprising. Their forward troops now style themselves as the Scarlet Onslaught. New Hearthglen is quite grand and I'm sure their plans are equally so. I pity them. If they were not so insular, they might help fight the Lich King instead of dividing their strength fighting everyone who fails to follow their narrow set of beliefs. How can they be so collectively blind?

I met another of my order this evening - Cabriel Lockvictor. I wonder if he is any relation to the Lockvictor's of Silvermoon City? He's the chatty sort but didn't seem to mind my silence. We exchanged names and quickly determined our goals were similar. It's better to work as a team than alone. During the course of our endeavors, he turned into a demon. I don't think anything surprises me any more. He appeared embarassed by the incident.

Tomorrow night I must attend a meeting between Sanctuary and the Order of Eversong. I hate social functions. I'm simply a member of the rank and file. Why must I attend? What should I wear?

[Talaen]

Dalaran is beautiful. Incredible. Mystifying. I never visited before. Tirion traveled there a few times and hosted visitors from the Kirin Tor. I still find it strange to look upon most Humans as enemies when the few I had met in years past were colleagues. Why must we be at such odds now?

The meeting wasn't as bad as I'd feared. I even recognized a few names and faces. Having arrived fresh from battle, I felt woefully underdressed. At first I was reassured to see Warboss Vilmah armed for battle but then she changed to a simple black dress over which she wore the Santuary tabard. I was very much aware of each dent, scratch and stain on my gear. Should I have dressed more formally or casually?

I don't know what to think of the Order of Eversong. Honestly, I don't know what to think of Sanctuary. This was the first time I'd met more than two at once. I don't think Moknim likes elves. However, given the insults thrown about by Anth-somebody of the Order of Eversong, it's not surprising. Lord Visca was very apologetic over the matter. Will our two orders form an alliance?

We have exchanged ambassadors; two for two. After the formalities, it was drinks at The Filthy Animal. I was not particularly looking forward to that but I went to make a good showing for the guild. I sat a the trestle table in the back and watched the others mingle. One lady detached herself from the crowd and approached me. Her name is Sin'lanna Arath'dorei. She is an herbalist and apothecary. She is also a skilled illustrator when it comes to plants. We shared a drink and a few words. It was rather incongruous seeing so many Blood Elves that crude setting.

I have taken a room in the Legerdemain Lounge for when I am in town. The Filthy Animal is as coarse as its name. I imagine Orcs, Trolls and Tauren are quite comfortable there given the nature of their societies. Maybe even some of my people enjoy it. I prefer privacy and clean sheets to a mat or hammock in the common room. I've spent too much time roughing it lately and I can afford at least this much luxury.

[Talaen]

The past few days have been busy. First was a casual gathering with the Order of Eversong to go fishing near Duskwither Spire. In my rush to get cleaned up, I forgot my fishing pole. I sat by the fire watching and listening.

I think Antharion is insane. Was he like that before or after using so much Bloodthistle? He babbled on about judgement and that I should know since I was a Paladin. What a noble vision he paints of our people stealing power from that captive Naaru. Does he truly believe he is like the Humans and Dwarves? Blessed by the Holy Light?

Our joint patrol through Stranglethorn Vale was largely uneventful. We saw a few Humans, Night Elves and Dwarves. Mostly they kept to their own business. Although we strive to keep the peace Thrall envisions for our peoples, there are those of the Horde who would rather wage war. We watched in helpless fury and frustration as they slaughtered the few Alliance they found. Why? There was no contest. Of the Forsaken I expected no better. But the Tauren? Where is the honor Thrall teaches?

[Talaen]

I spent last night camped on the plains of Mulgore. It was a beautiful night. Pity it was filled with blood and pain.

Alliance forces struck Orgrimmar, Undercity, Silvermoon City and Thunder Bluff. I was in Dalaran when I heard the call to arms to defend Orgrimmar. I did my best to serve as a battlefield healer, but my skills are still lacking. There was no organized defense in Orgrimmar and after striking at Thrall the Alliance quickly regrouped and moved on to their next objective. Fearing an attack on Silvermoon City, I went there as fast as I could.

A crowd of adventurers milled around the Court of the Sun. Forward scouts reported the Alliance approach. The battle was joined and we repelled the invaders. But many of our force left to celebrate and the Alliance rallied for a second attack. This time they managed to strike the Regent Lord a terrible blow.

Left with the aftermath of such carnage, I did my best to tend the wounds of those who remained. I found myself in the company of the Order of Eversong. A few of the Raven Cross and The Grim were also present. A debate ensued. It is a subject that has been chewed over countless times; retaliate with an attack on Alliance cities or seek more peaceful options?

This endless argument frustrates me.

There was talk of how to plan a better defense then word came of the attack on Thunder Bluff. I placed myself under the command of Lord Visca as there were none of my order present. We rode hard through the night, desperate to reach Mulgore in time. But we were too late and so we met in Bloodhoof Village with some who had tried to defend the Tauren. Again I offered healing to those in need.

Lord Visca was gravely wounded and in pain. He tried to hide it and the others, still flush with the excitement of battle, did not notice. He hid it well and I worried that his pride might be his death. Finally he decided to leave and I followed. One of his soldiers remarked on the beautiful night and suggested camping out under the stars. Lord Visca refused. He was desperate to return home. I realized he wanted to be healed in private - to not show weakness before the others. I kept my silence in front of them but quietly warned him that he was in danger if he left his injuries untreated for much longer.

He was suddenly overcome by his pain and after admitting to his wounds he almost fell off his steed. Thankfully the others were there to catch and carry him. After some stupid debate about fetching a healer from Bloodhoof Village, they finally followed my advice to move him to a nearby stand of trees.

I have never seen wound fever come so quickly. In truth, I think he was poisoned in addition to suffering from blood loss. I gave him some tea to drink and he tried to give me some pebbles while muttering whatever thoughts took his fancy. He was delirious but cooperative as Naheal and I worked together to tend him. Naheal claims to have been able to call upon the Light once. Did he choose to serve the Lich King in search of greater power? Or is he another victim?

I did not sleep. How could I with three Death Knights at my back? Did they sleep? Lord Visca was blissfully unaware, probably exhausted after his ordeal and helped along by the liquor Eurphadion shared. How can Lord Visca so readily trust Death Knights? I could feel their eyes on me like brands when I worked to save their Lord. I am amazed he was able to ride so far with such an injury. Lord Visca is either very brave or very foolish.

I snuck away in the night and went to Camp Taurajo. The village was quiet and the sleepy inn keeper gave me a hammock for a few hours with no questions. After a few hours of rest I returned to Dalaran. The Lich King musters his forces. I must do all that I can to see him utterly destroyed and his dark power irreparably broken. Will I live to bear witness to such a day?

[Talaen]

Perhaps the Forsaken are the lucky ones. Bereft of the memories of their previous lives, they seem unburdened by regrets. But what of Death Knights? Are they living or undead? What echoes of the past haunt them? I shared a few moments with Eurphadion and a Huntress. He seemed almost desperate to drown himself with alcohol. Why?

I sent a Frost Lotus to Mistress Areth'Dorei. I hope it survived the shipping intact so she can add it to her collection.

[Talaen]

I wandered the streets of Silvermoon City. I was restless. I can still feel the power of The Nexus. It sings in my blood sweet and pure. But it drains away like water in sand, leaving only the painful thirst behind. Will that emptiness ever be filled?

More and more my thoughts turn to the Order of Eversong. I have no complaint of Sanctuary. Warboss Vilmah is a competent and honorable leader. Although there are Sin'Dorei within the ranks, several holding high positions, Sanctuary does not serve my people with the same purpose as the Order of Eversong. I think I have spent more time among those of the Order of Eversong than my own guild. Lord Visca is kind with a warm humor and genuine care toward his followers. When we stood together in defense of Silvermoon City, he accepted my service and treated me no differently than his own people. I will request an audience with him so that I may learn more.

Paladin. I have been called that a few times. Is it true? Do I now serve the Holy Light? I have heard the words of A'dal. Paradox is a deadly and frustrating thing. I am angry that the Naaru left my people to suffer after they prophesied such a terrible future. Without these trials, would our fate have been worse?

[Talaen]

I woke with a taste in my mouth that does not bear remembrance. I think the sewers in Undercity might have been cleaner. A long bath did wonders for me but the stink of Bloodthistle still clings to my clothing. At least I can gather my own and spare myself a humiliating crawl through the stews of the city searching for drugs.

If anyone noticed my absence, they have said nothing of it. Visca Manor seems very empty at times. Perhaps I was not missed. I had come so far only to fall into the black velvet arms things past and best forgotten. The power of M'uru was only an illusion. We are truly hollow inside. Gutted.

I threw myself back into training and tried not to dwell on the hazy memories of the past week. I almost forgot how cold Northrend can be. I spent most of my time in Icecrown but at one point I needed to take a portal Moonglade. Once there Remulos put me into a deep sleep which allowed me to enter the Emerald Dream to seek a cure for a fallen Argent Crusader. Remulos warned me that I might face nightmares within the Emerald Dream. What could be worse than the nightmares I already faced?

I'm not sure when sleep claimed me or if it ever did. I opened my eyes and the forest was filled with shadows much as it always was. But there was something more sinister in the air and -things- lurked at the edge of my vision, always just out of sight no matter how quickly I turned. I could hear them. Large. Menacing. I searched the forest floor, squinting in the gloom and trying to pick out the blessed acorns from the rotting vegetation. The forest seemed to hold its breath. Waiting. Waiting.

I spied an acorn and just as I stooped to pick it up a phantom coalesced from the darkness! Cold, twisted hate poured off it like foul water from a stream. The back of my neck itched and I hoped feverently that my unseen watchers would remain unseen as I did battle with this shade. The inky blackness swirled then settled into an all too familiar face; my own! My stomach lurched and for a moment I faltered, taking a hard blow which left me winded.

Remulos warned me that I might face nightmares within the Emerald Dream. Am I my own nightmare? It was as black as I am white. Perfect and whole of form and figure where I am maimed and twisted. But I could feel the evil within it while I know my soul is not that tainted.

Paladin. I fight with myself. Is it true? Thrice I fought those twisted fiends. Paladin. Dare I believe it? I am alive but does that mean victory or defeat?

Remulos was glad to see I was safe. He didn't ask what I had faced. I get the feeling he knows.

Champion Bachi finally seems satisfied with my work and even Rhonin took notice and sent a congratulatory note. How does such a busy man find time to take notice of me? He must have a full brigade of secretaries to look after his affairs. At least the potions are useful.

"... the true battle lies ahead." How apropos.

[Talaen]

Again I have fallen prey to my base needs and again I have managed to pick myself up and return from that stygian abyss.

Why? Why do I come back? What drives me onward through this life of pain and uncertainty?

Mistress Areth'dorei seems to have found the balance of peace I am so desperately seeking. Why did I join her in her hunt for the elusive Black Lotus? Not only because I gave my word, but because I do indeed crave the company of my fellow Elves.

She is a charming companion and seems to accept my silences without complaint. We covered quite a bit of ground both physically and metaphorically. Although we did not find a sample for her to carry back to her garden, I do not count the evening a failure. I believe a friendship has found fertile soil and taken root.

[Talaen]

I am the Godfather of a worg pup. I must be insane.

Mistress Arth'dorei's words were painfully true. I am also tired of being alone. She finds the chinks in my armor, striking swiftly and without mercy.

What should I feed him? Is he house broken? Will he chew all the lacing and straps from my armor?

How long will he live?

[Talaen]

I am still unsure of what to think of Ambassador Stormhoof. That I do not trust her is a given. She is Forsaken. Ultimately, they have their own goals which leave no room for the living. I find her attempts at friendship offensive, especially after she revealed her true feelings by ranting at me over the communicator's public frequency. She apologized for her behavior, but I remain wary. She is not Sin'dorei.

The Ambassador is eager to learn Thalassian. My poor command of Orcish does not facilitate this. Luckily, Dame Soulwhisper seems to be a far more suitable instructor. I made her acquaintance last eve; first as only a voice upon the communicator and then at an impromptu meeting in the Court of the Sun where Master Rayfeather introduced us formally. She seems insightful and disciplined.

Mistress Areth'dorei wrote to me of Lerin's antics. How am I to respond? Was it a plea for relief from the rambunctious animal? I replied that she might send him or not as she wishes. I can only hope that I have fool proofed my quarters against his teeth or any other mischief he might find.

[Talaen]

"Are you uncomfortable?"

What manner of question is that? What proper sort of answer can I give? The truth was dreadfully impolite but, it was painfully obvious that I was indeed uncomfortable with her attempts at small talk. At least now I have another face to match a name on the roster. I do not know if she is of noble blood. She gave only the name Vynessel. However, I suspect she is also a commoner. My formal greeting appeared to overwhelm her. Is my title of Master Blood Knight so impressive? I never dreamt I might come so far.

What has Lady Eressea Dawnsinger to say of this "pale freak" now I wonder? I was very surprised to see her and I think she was equally surprised to see me as well. I still have no idea how many of his family members survived nor have I any right to seek them out. Despite her past opinion of me, she has kept a civil tongue while I have been about my business at the Argent Tournament grounds. Perhaps it is better described as an icy silence. That suits me well enough.

I met a Human with his name. He is a hero and Highlord of the Argent Crusade; Tirion Fordring. I can feel the power he commands. He wields it effortlessly. He encourages everyone around him to find their own strength from within and not lose faith. But what if I never had any faith?

Thankfully, he is a graying old Man who looks nothing at all like Lord Dawnsinger. That this Human bears a Thalassian name should come as no surprise to me. Apparently he hails from Lordaeron. Perhaps his parents met another named Tirion and decided they liked the sound of it? Did they bother to learn its meaning? It suits him.

Of the bombing at Crusader's Pinnacle I have heard naught more. The wanted posters are fading. Lord Visca seemed distracted when I reported the matter to him. If Master Rayfeather has investigated, he has not seen fit to include me in any of his discoveries. While I have spent time accompanying Lord Visca about a variety of mundane tasks and battles recently, he has not seen fit to broach the subject and I am loathe vex him about it.

I have had the care of Lerin for two days now. The tally of destruction thus far is one down pillow, one pair of gauntlets (as he gnawed the leather from one thus destroying the matched set), one throw rug, one antique Lordaeron vase, two chairs, one table, one down coverlet, two leather belts, three books, half a dozen writing quills, one bottle of cologne, two lamps and one canopy bed cover. Mistress Areth'dorei seemed overly satisfied when I agreed to watch him. I wonder if she has any furnishings left to her name.

[Talaen]

Lord Visca and I shared a surprisingly candid discussion. Somehow I am pleased to discover he is not perfect. He also has moments of weakness and doubt. Despite his youth and patrician blood, he has struggled with and been overwhelmed by the torment of loss and regret. He did not appear too reluctant to admit these things to me. I am glad he can recognize and acknowledge his own faults. They make him more approachable.

I must return Lerin to Mistress Arath'dorei and quickly! I fear I am running out of places to hide my belongings. I never imagined a puppy would chew on such a wide variety of objects nor accomplish so much vandalism in so little time! I may soon be paying more in fines to the innkeeper than I do to the smith for the upkeep of my gear!

Sadly, I did not think to ask Lord Visca of the bombing. Our conversation regarding faith and other matters distracted me. I shall send him a missive and hope for a reply.

[Talaen]

Would I become a monster to destroy one? Most assuredly so. Then I would fall on my sword, content that my duty was done.

Lord Visca and I spoke at length again regarding faith. I fear we parted on uncertain terms. His belief in the Light is strong. Did he help the Kirin Tor interrogate their prisoners? Or did his honor forbid him to use such tactics? I continue to study the book he gave to me but the Aldor teachings are quite strict; black and white. Life has such an infinite variety of color. How can anyone be expected to live by such a code? Although he began as a Blood Knight the same as I, Lord Visca now considers himself a Paladin, a blessed warrior who serves the Holy Light. Could I ever be such a thing?

He never knew Lord Dawnsinger and I am glad for it. For a moment I thought he purposely threw Tirion's name in my face to shock me. Then I realized he was speaking of Highlord Fordring. Have I outlived the scandal? With so many dead, it is not impossible.

He would never want me to become a monster.

[Talaen]

I am worried for Mistress Areth'Dorei. I have neither heard nor seen her for weeks. I have no word of her either. Lerin seems content though and is growing like a weed. What will I do with a worg?

Ambassador Redemptio left the Order some weeks past and I feel we are better for it. Her constant wheedling and needs for attention and conversation were wearing on me. Compounded with her false accusations then obsequious manner toward me when disproved, I was close to either challenging her outright or begging a leave of absence from Lord Visca that I might no longer have to bear her presence.

Lord Visca and I seem to be on better terms now. We fought together in the defense of Silvermoon City. Alliance forces struck at the heart of our people; Sunfury Spire. The Horde rallied to our aid and the assault was broken. As the battle swirled around us, there was no time for recriminations nor politics. The Alliance has again betrayed our trust and the Horde has come to our aid, even the Forsaken. Will Lord Visca abandon his peaceful stance now that Fabled Order has severed the truce and so clearly played a key role in these actions?

[Talaen]

I should not be so surprised to discover this journal once again. In fact, I am pleased it survived my ordeal.

The first lucid moments I can recall were filled with pain. But it wasn't the pain of my hand and arm that I remembered from The Fall. No, this was a deeper ache in my left hip and leg. I knew something was broken. Then Highlord Fordring was at my bedside. They thought I had been calling his name. How embarassing to admit that it was not him I longed for but instead my lover who had perished when Arthas cut a path of destruction through the heart of Silvermoon City. Highlord Fordring was kind and understanding. He prayed over me and wished me a speedy recovery.

I was long in healing. My hip had been crushed and my leg broken. When I was finally well enough to be moved, it was no further than Dalaran. Bedridden, I longed to feel the wind on my face and see the moon and stars. The narrow window in my shared room was too far to allow a proper view of the sky.

My addiction to Bloodthistle had also been found out. For days while I was still unconcious I had writhed in an agony of need for the drug. I still crave it but not to the degree that I had before. I think I can live without it now.

Weeks and months passed and I grew stronger. The healers visited every day to ensure that my bones set properly so I might walk and ride again. I sometimes have a limp and a small ache to remind me of my folly, but I can once more serve my duties as a Master Blood Knight.

While recuperating I took up my Priestly studies more seriously. Perhaps it truly is the Holy Light which answers my call. My superiors are pleased with my progress and if they know of my doubts, they have said nothing to me.

My Lord Visca has been embroiled with politics. I have seen some of the plans for the future of our people. I can only hope such things come to pass. I believe change is needful. I was pleased to see him again. He asked me to share a drink with him and I believe I was companionable enough to suit his tastes. Perhaps nearly dying in Icecrown Citadel has mellowed me.

Then again, perhaps not. I have met someone who reminds me of Tirion. He is a Death Knight and has that same long, fiery mane at odds with a quiet manner. He seems to enjoy reading and I often see him about the Wayfarers' Inn with a book. At first I was able to speak to him easily but then I became as tongue tied as always.

[Talaen]

I have completed my training as a Priest yet I still have questions of faith. I hide them well and perform my duties as instructed. The power to heal or to harm comes when I call for it using the prescribed words and actions. Is this the Holy Light worshiped by so many? Dare I trust in this greater power for good or ill?

Another Sin'dorei questioned me as to how many Blood Knights yet hold to their vows and style themselves as such. Am I an anachronism? Should I think of myself as a Paladin now? My Lord Visca considers himself as such. Perhaps it is time I should too. I met another former Blood Knight who did not quite call himself a Paladin but knew he was no longer a Blood Knight. Is this the path I am following?

My Lord Visca is still overly concerned for my health despite my constant assurances that I am well. I am afraid to tell him that I have been back inside the Lich King's fortress and escaped without undue injury. There is still a host of undead within those cursed halls that must be dealt with despite the fall of the Lich King. Will the tide of walking dead ever cease?

[Talaen]

I returned from Northrend to find the world much changed. While Silvermoon City and the Eversong Woods were not unduly affected, the Plaguelands have become different from what they once were. Orgrimmar is now geared for war as it never was before. Thrall has left the Horde in the care of Garrosh Hellscream, a choice I do not agree with. The new Warchief is too full of hate and given to rash decisions. In him I see a greater threat than even Deathwing.

Lord Visca has been absent of late, undoubtedly still embroiled in political maneuverings. I do not envy him. However, I miss both his company and his counsel. He is wise for one so young.

Another friend has passed. Though I have not yet spoken with his sister, I did hear the news.

Death continues to stalk all that is dear to me.

[Talaen]

Has time dulled the pain of my loss?

I ran into a She-Elf while I was on an errand to Sen'jin Village. She approached me in a friendly manner, extremely friendly. She apparently found my reticence to talk somewhat attractive and put her arm around my shoulders. After I extricated myself from her casual embrace, we exchanged names and she chided me for being too formal. How can I be expected to shed the habits of a lifetime? I asked her as much and she began a short speech about how arrogant the Sin'Dorei were. I found it rather interesting that one Blood Elf would be criticizing our race as a whole. But, I do see her point. There is an arrogance to our people and perhaps others interpret my silences as hubris.

We were joined by her dear friend who is an Orc. She warned me against offending him. Did she think me so ill mannered? I was scrupulous in my behavior and even tried to speak to him in his own tongue. Granted, I only managed a few words and I was unable to answer his questions without resorting to Thalassian with her translating, but I believe I acquitted myself with grace.

Strangely enough, I didn't shy away from his questions about whether or not I had been on the front lines in the campaigns against Illidan and Arthas. I did not elaborate, but I was able to answer truthfully and directly about my injuries in The Fall and subsequent slow recovery which held me back from taking part in the assault on Illidan. The gnawing pain of those memories is no longer as sharp as it once was. The Orc was suitably impressed that I had served on the front lines against the Lich King and when it came time for him and the She-Elf to depart, he saluted me with respect.

Earlier today I ran into Merriana. Something is very wrong with her. She didn't remember me, how she came to be huddled up on the floor in the Wyvern's Tail, her brother or even her own name! She appears to be well enough physically so I can only guess at some sort of magical influence. I went to Sen'Jin Village to consult with a Witch Doctor recommended by a Troll in Orgrimmar. It could be a powerful hex but I have no way of telling. I'm worried about her.

[Talaen]

I have completed the latest course of training assigned to me. If my superiors are pleased with this, they have made no indication to that effect. However, I suspect only my death would please Knight-Lord Bloodvalor. I shall have to resume my priestly training as well. At least they have left me in peace to pursue learning at my own pace and attend to other matters.

It has fallen to me to attend to matters of correspondence for the Order of Eversong while Lord Visca busies himself with other duties. As we have opened our doors to new recruits, I have responded to some applications and been trying to arrange interviews.