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The Flickering Light

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Journal Entry #1

As I walk through the Field of Fallen Kings, I see the wake of pain war has brought. The restless spirits that lash out at the living, out of fear, confusion, and pain, begging for the release of death so that they might pass on in peace. 

I sometimes wish the same for myself. With the branch of the Runewood in hand, I set forth through the field bringing peace to these warriors. Their violence lashing out only reflects off my armor as the pure magic of the channeling wood breaks their bonds to this world. 

I find myself wondering, who were they? What were they like? Farmers, Fathers, Butchers, Rapist? Death truly holds not the prejudice we cling too in life. For all their good or bad deeds in life, here they wandered the same, aimlessly, lost. Does this mean no good deed can save our souls in the end? Or am I finally the redemption fate has brought?

I spoke a prayer for their spirits as each one passed, a hint of both relief and jealousy sparked within my being each time I did. Should I feel wrong for this? Or is this yet another trial of penance; to hand out that which I may not have, a final passing. I made my way to the shrines of the three Ancient Vrykul Kings, reciting prayer, and leaving behind an offering of purified water.

As I leave, I feel contempt knowing I brought the light to these wayward souls, and long for the day the Light will finally embrace me...

/2. Dawnblade

Edited by Rokano

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Vivid Memory of the Past #1


.:Some Time After the Cataclysm:.


“How DARE you bring one of their kind in this holy place!” the Archbishop snapped at Joffrey. Despite the robes and hood that draped over Rokano, they could not hide his ears, nor his bright lit eyes. As soon as they stepped foot into the Cathedral of Light, the guards were upon them, however his Paladin Escort Joffrey had held them back. They were taken into the Archbishop’s chambers where the two humans bickered at one another. Rokano only kneeled in palace, his hands wrapped for prayer and his head lowered in shame.


“He is Quel’Dorei, as our allies of Dalaran, not one of those fel-tainted fiends to the north!” Joffrey retorted calmly to the elder priest. Rokano winced at the mention of his people as ‘Fiends’ however given his situation kept silent. “You take me for a fool?! I could sense the essence of undeath from him as soon as he passed through the Archway! I don’t recall the Elves of the Silver Covenant making bedfellows with the Ebon Blade!”


He could tell Joffrey was losing his patience as the Human Paladin began to raise his voice. “So no Death Knight may seek guidance in the light?! After all they have suffered though at the hands of Arthas, as much as they fought, blead, and sacrificed at our side to bring down the Lich King? Or need they only be human, FATHER? When did the light begin to discern between races?”


The priest was taken aback by the young man’s outburst. “You DARE QUESTION ME!” the priest roared back, red in the face. “PLEASE, GENTELMEN!” Rokano finally blurted out, causing both men to pause in their aggressive stance towards one another and look at him. “Please…I wished not my pilgrimage to this holy place to cause any strife, if my presence offends you father, I will willingly go…” The priest backed up some, perhaps stunned at the humility of the elf before him. Joffrey crossed his arms, turning away from the priest,


“He has served with us in the Plaguelands for months, amongst humans, dwarves, goblins and elves. Aiding our cause to cleanse the land of the scourge that infests it; and praying with us at Light’s Hope Chapel. He has much the right to be here as I do…” Joffrey exclaimed, looking upon Rokano with remorse. The Archbishop was quiet for a moment, contemplating the situation before finally clearing his throat.


“The decisions I make are for the sake of the flock as a whole. Given the current state of affairs in the world one can never be too cautious, inadvertently inviting a viper within our midst. Lord Joffrey, of sound mind (I hope) attests to your integrity. And thus I shall welcome you within these halls.”  Rokano looked up at the robe clad human with a bright smile on his face.


“However, there are many within the cities that are…Less tolerant than I.” Joffrey could hardly conceal his scoff at these remarks, but with only a glare towards the paladin, the Priest continued. “I should ask your pilgrimage last no longer than a fortnight, and that you return to the plaguelands to continue the Lights work.” Rokano bowed his head low in respect, “Of course your grace, I thank you for your hospitality.”


The Archbishop held a small prayer over the Death Knight for a brief moment, “May you not stray from the path the Light has illuminated for you child…” And as the priest left to exit the room, he passed Joffrey and hissed under his breath away from the elf’s ears “…Again.”


As the door closed behind the Archbishop, Joffrey stood there simmering. “Its Bigot assholes like him who pushed the elves into the arms of the Forsaken. I’ll have you know, I dated a few of your kind in my time, found them to be quite fair and charming” He said with a sneer. Turning to face his friend, he found Rokano still kneeling on the ground, causing him to frown. “You know…spend so much time on your knees like that and people will start talking.” his friend jest to the Quel’dorei, holding out his hand to bring him to his feet.


“Standing in front of me while on my knees, and talking of how fair and charming my kind are, and they most certainly will my friend.” Rokano jabbed back, taking his friends arm and being hoisted up. The two enjoyed the brief moment of laughter before settling themselves to rejoin the convent.


Stormwind was a city to behold! After attending service in the Cathedral of Light, he was shown the many splendors the Human Capital had to offer. The Pools of Reflection, the Magi District, the quaint farmland to the north, the harbor. Rokano dared not venture into the Keep, taking solace in the view from the canals. As where many within the city did not give any mind to him, there were a few double takes, side glances and murmurs. It was clear, though not as nefarious as intended, the temple priests words rang true about acceptance of his people.


Most of the surviving Quel’Dorei resided in Dalaran with the Silver Covenant. Unaccepting of their own people for their ‘means of survival’, it would seem to reason they would not be accepting of someone of –his- condition as well. He didn’t agree with use of Fel-Magic, and wouldn’t have dreamed of using it himself, but he knew why the Sin’Dorei turned to it, and with the Sunwell now relit, the process of healing could begin anew for them.


His thoughts drifted back and forth as the pair boarded the Deeprun Tram back to Loch Modan. “Is everything all right Rokano?” Joffrey asked. “Is the world truly so divided?” the elf asked, watching as the ceiling of the tunnel turned from darkness to the sea. Joffrey chuckled at the question. “I forget you’re a common house-elf my friend…spent so much time locked up in Eversong to know the goings of the world around you. In short…yes. People like us, the Brotherhood, the Argent Crusade, Earthen Ring, Kirin-Tor, united on a small front we can co-exist. However the day will come where you will be made to choose. You can run from it all you like, but in the end, you will find yourself on one side of the line drawn in the sand, be it by choice or coincidence.”





Rokano continued to run the brush against the Hawkstrider’s back as his mind filled with memories long past. It wasn’t until the booming voice of an Orc shouted in his direction that he was snapped back to reality. “ELF! You preparing to ride that colored cock into the ring, or dressing it for a beauty pageant?!” The Ogrimmar Champion bellowed. Rokano fumbled with the brush for a moment before setting it down and reaching for his lance. “I’m coming!” he replied, as he quickly hoisted himself atop his mount. “Out of the clouds and onto the field of battle! No one won a war with their head up their ass!” the Orc grunted before taking off on his own Battle Wolf.


Rokano reflected for a moment, the Lance and Shield in his hands, bearing the Crest of the Horde and the emblems of the races that comprised it. Looking around the Tournament Grounds outside the Sunreavers Tent, the Orcs, Tauren, Trolls, the Horde Flags waving in the artic winds…He realized his old friends words rung true. He found where he stood against the line in the sand.  


Edited by Rokano

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Vivid Memory of the Past #2


From the street, the Armor Clad Warrior could see the tavern, sense the presence of life within. As he made his way down the road, a small human woman bolted from the entrance way, screaming as she attempted to flee the approaching Knight. Like that shit was going to work…


The knight ignored the woman and continued on his path. She stopped in the middle of the road, desperately screaming at him, jumping and flailing her arms to get his attention, but he would give her none. He knew why she ran out of the building, making herself such a target. A futile act of desperation. As he reached the threshold of the dwelling, the woman turned back, screaming now in protest as she charged towards the knight.


PURGE THEM’ the voice echoed in his mind, compelling him forward.


He stood in the middle of the tavern by the time she caught up to him. Armed with a measly stick she cracked it over the death knight’s back, but it simply snapped against his armor. The unrelenting Knight simply raised his hand, as the tendrils of un-holy energy wrapped around the woman’s neck, asphyxiating her and lifting her body off the ground. Even still in her state, she flailed and kicked wildly, desperate to strike the Knight where he stood.


“Only that of a mother would one face death so eagerly…” the Knight taunted, tightening his grip on her. He watched her reaction intently. Still devoid of air she struggled against his hold with an almost inhumane resolve, but the reality of her situation was slowly creeping upon her. The woman’s eyes were filled with tears, red and bloodshot, but teeming with that of sorrow not pain.


Her mental anguish betrayed her, as her eyes darted to the back of the tavern which leads to the cellar. He released his grip on the woman and threw her in a crumpled heap before him.  As she lay there gasping for air the death knight reviewed the dilapidated structure around him. Worn by time and conflict, even the floors creaked at his slightest move, which gave him the idea.


Raising his foot high above him, he brought it down upon the woman with ruthless force. He could feel the bones in her hip shatter against his armored boot as he compacted her form through the baseboards, sending her falling into the cellar below. His foot too fell through, but with the support of his other knee and arm, was able to stabilize himself on the rest of the flooring.


Hoisting himself back up, he could see through the puncture in the flooring the woman lying below amongst the debris. She was quiet, but not dead. As he made his way down, he could hear her whispering. “What are you hiding, o’ mother of mine?” the Knight asked as he loomed over her. She looked up at him, a face of pure dread as she begged him for mercy in-between sobs. The mercy wasn’t for her; he knew what she spoke of.


Planting his foot upon her back he placed his weight on her injury, sending hot streaks of pain through the already broken woman, causing her to shriek loudly. It took only moments before the trap door to the storage cask flung open, and a boy no older than 8 emerged with a steel sword in his hand. He charged towards the death knight in defense of the woman, but was thrown back with a mere backhand. Four other children huddled in fear in the back of the large container, no doubt attempting to weather out the attack before searching for refuge.


The woman was crying louder, but not because of the pain. She clung to the knight’s leg, begging, pleading for him to spare the children. “Mercy!” she cried, spewing every means of barter she could to sway the Death Knight. But there were none to be had, he simply looked down upon the woman with a vile smile, “Death is a release…not a punishment.” He made her watch…it was unclear who’s screams were louder: The Children’s, the Matrons…Or His.


During the events of M.o.P



“RO! WAKE UP!” Joffrey screamed as he hesitantly slapped the elf lying in the barn. Rokano woke with a jolt. The warm summer air was laced with the fringes of frost, so cold he could see his own breath as he heavily exhaled. Covered in sweat and eyes of pure terror he struggled to clamber back to reality around him. He was in a barn…the stables where they sheltered the horses for the night. Joffrey stood over him, looking to his friend with concern. Several other Knights stood by, some observing the spectacle, the newer members with swords in hand.


“You had another nightmare friend…you’re ok.” Joffrey said calmly, as he placed his hand on Rokano’s shoulder to offer support. The nightmare...the reminder sent the vivid images rushing through the Elf’s mind causing him to turn head and vomit. “All right, nothing to see here, back to bed with you all!” Joffrey exclaimed at the small gathering, affording his friend some privacy. By the time he had returned, Rokano was curled up in a ball, tears running down his face. Joffrey sat next to him, solemn as he contemplated the best way to console his friend.


“It was a dream, nothing more…” he started. Rokano had suppressed many of his memories under the service of Arthas. Some through willpower bust mostly through magical means from the priests in the Brotherhood. And as where it helped him cope with the rigors of his day to day activities, his memories would occasionally seep back to him like the tide. His dreams such a mix of fantasy and reality that he was unsure if it was just a dream; or if he was truly reliving moments from his past. It felt so real…the call of the Lich King once more in his head felt so real.


After several deep breaths he was able to recompose himself. He sat up and wiped his face of the perspiration before finally facing his friend, “Did I do anything?” “Aside from gift us a reprieve from the dismal summer weather, no.” Joffrey stated with a small smile. It was a question that had to be asked unfortunately, as he once attacked someone unconsciously in his sleep due to the night terrors. “Its been months since your last bad one, and almost a full year since that one violent episode. Stop worrying so much, that’s what, makes it worse in your head.” Joffrey said, moving closer to the elf and offering him a drink.


Rokano took the flask and drank from it. He needed to get the bile taste out of his mouth, thankfully it was sweetened goats milk. “I mean, you were screaming as a young girl would discover her womanhood for the first time, but I digress.” Joffrey snickered. Rokano snorted at his friends words which caused them both to chuckle. He knew his friend was making light of the situation, he was very vocal when it came to his nightmares. Sometimes he would speak the part of the victim, and others the part of the monster. He shook his head and took another swig of the sweet drink, “I fuckin hate you…” Rokano said to the human as he passed the flask back to him.



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Vivid Memory of the Past #3


During the Events of the Cataclysm



“Forgimmi father, fer I have sinned” the dwarf kneeled at the pedestal in the small church. “I be a drunken adulator, an abuser, anna piss poor father.” The dwarf finished listing over several other petty crimes, from theft to debauchery as the priest before him looked on. Rokano had been with the Church long enough to know the priest was putting on a mask of emotion, none of what the dwarf said moved him in the slightest; but for the performance of ceremony he acted with dismay at the dwarf’s tale.


Rokano had been sweeping in the chapel when the dwarf came in and had given pause to his duties as he listened. He had heard it all before himself: the confession, the chastisement, and the talk of the path of light and the steps to redemption. Mostly ones would donate gold to the church coffers before accepting their blessings and going about their way. This one however was different.


After turning over his gold to the collection plate, the priest handed him a large bundle, consisting of a tabard, chainmail, and a sword and shield. The Dwarf bowed his head and hurried out of the church as the priest retired to the back room. Rokano was completely unaware that his friend Joffrey was now standing behind him, also observing the scene. “You know, if the rest of the floor could be graced by the tender love and care you sought to bestow upon this single corner, its purity could repel the scourge!”


The sudden realization made Rokano jump a bit, causing Joffrey to burst into laughter. Rokano shook off the embarrassment as he began to sweep again, “Sorry got distracted.” He said motioning towards the exit where the dwarf disappeared too. “What was up with that?” he asked, resting on the broom handle. Joffrey collected himself from his fit of giggles and motioned for the elf to follow him outside.


“My friend, we are all born inherently evil. We come into the world covered in blood; blind, deaf and dumb. Some of us, through our nurture strive to follow on the path of light. Others stray from that path, be it their own inhibitions or by their upbringing. There comes a point of clarity in all men’s lives when they find themselves enveloped in darkness, hence they turn to the church.”


“Some find the fault on their own, and simply seek help finding the right path. Some only come, not to repent, but to ease the burden of their own guilt rather than face the issue at hand. Others will only come at the behest of others to end the ‘nagging’.” As they reached the courtyard, they could spot the Dwarf, under escort from a Stormwind City Guard; he was directed to one of the tents set up by the Argent Militia. “And worst yet are the ones who see the light as the only rescue from years in the stockade.”


Rokano thought for a few moments on the Dwarf, wondering what kind of crimes was he here to escape? His confession to the Priest held no weight of one heading for the stockade. “Where does that make me?” Joffrey sneered at the question, “You cant see what kind of good person you are, you won’t listen to what any of us have to say on the matter, and your too dense to realize it for yourself…so ill label you under the ‘blind, deaf, and dumb’ category.”


Rokano took a deep sigh, shaking his head as he began down the path to the Militia Camp. “Where are you going?!” Joffrey called out to the elf. “I’m going to go say hi…” he replied, not looking back.

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