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   My name is Morgannah, or at least, that’s what I think. My last clear memory was being deep into Eversong Woods trying to secure our borders from a small, yet menacing troop of scourge soldiers. While the other rangers began their preparations for our assault I readied myself to take out the leader of the deadly group from the safety of my hideout. However, in one instant everything turned frighteningly black as I realized I had been shot with a poisonous arrow. While my world began to fade I heard at a faraway distance the screaming voices of my fellow rangers trying to frantically fight off the unforeseen invasion. In the midst of the chaos and confusion one question was in everyone’s mind, what had happed? We had been ambushed. The same tactic we had tried to use on our enemy failed in the most unspeakable way.

The city was eerily silent as she made her way back from the quarantine area. She felt numb as she thought of all she had seen. The woman she had grown to love against all odds, her sister of sorts, was trying to sit there calmly. Shadow's words echoed in her head. "Get tested, then if you're healthy, take Van and go."

She reached her home and looked around, eyes blurry with tears. It felt empty and frightening to be alone here. She quickly packed the few things she actually cared about and made her way to Van's home. She knew he wouldn't be there, but it felt warmer and safer than her own rooms had. She curled up in his bed, wrapped in one of his shirts and her fingers brushed her forehead. She definitely had a fever. For a brief moment, she thought about running as fear overwhelmed her. If she was sick, he was already exposed. The tears started to fall down her cheeks as she realized that she was most likely to blame for exposing them all.

((No real plot-like point to this; was just doing some thinking about all the various problems one might encounter when flying for the first time.))

Giulietta struggled with the reins, brow furrowed in concentration. It was no fault of the nameless black gryphon she rode, really; he'd been perfectly behaved, as far as she could tell, since she'd first mounted him. No, this was all her own doing. Most people would probably have the sense not to try and read a map while flying. At least, she'd never seen anyone else flying around like that, a map flapping madly between their hands as they steered. 

One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... nine... ten.

Her bare feet slipped soundlessly over the cold floor, long since past feeling the chill. She barely hears the soft organ music emanating from somewhere within the large structure. She moves without purpose, pacing the corridors slowly with no care of destination. Her small frame is dwarfed by the gigantic building, making her seem no more than a lost doll.

A bright smile has been replaced by the vacant expression of one shattered by pain and grief. A pretty dress discarded, once a treasured gift but now simply a representation of failure and defeat. There is so precious little left. So much joy, laughter and care sacrificed over something so pointless. No more sweet smile to warm her soul. No more playful teasing to make her laugh. No more hugs and familial acceptance. All that remains is her love.

(( About a month behind and probably not worth the wait. Fortunately, y'all didn't know you were waiting. ))

The plume of dust which momentarily issued from between the loose box flaps betrayed its contents before Syreeta could raise her hand to wave the disturbance away: more books. The last container to sort after the move, she noted, the discovery could have been worse. After all, there were still two shelves not yet overflowing. Using the dinner table leg to hold the box open, she reached inside to fish out the first item; a thin, calf-skin bound volume with the profile of a wolf's head stamped on the spine.

I am going to die here.

~These posters can be found in Silvermoon City's Royal Exchange, Bazaar, and at the entrances to Murder Row~

Blade for hire, experience in assassination, sabotage, and espionage, seeking collaboration with LEGITIMATE Horde organizations leading ventures outside Quel'Thalas.

Negotiable rates for professional service.

Inquire in the Hall of Respite during the evening, hours vary. 

its been an interesting couple of weeks. Eloyia and i are as in the olden days. we just hang about each other and we are quite content. though events of late have made me a bit more edgy. it seems that my past demons (literally) have come back to haunt me. This has left me with a rather blatant rage that i have been attempting to take out, but the Dark Lady has prevented me from doing so. however every now and again i sneak out to demon infested lands and kill a few of them. Normally i would simply banish them, but there has been a sense of immense joy from doing away with them in droves. i fear once again i am letting the hunger take over me. Perhaps this is why the Dark Lady has been wanting me to stay in The Undercity...perhaps its why she no longer allows me to get to the fronts where i have time and again shown my prowess. this is all rather confusing, on one side i want to abandon the shadows, but on the other i want to use them to bring absolute havoc to my enemies.

(( Image below the break ))

Pale ivory fingers danced sorrowfully over the strings of a rusted silver harp, garnished with black thorns and once dangerously vibrant flowers. Plucking the chords both gently and tauntingly with the knowledge they could easily snap, the haunting song continued to serenade the land of night and decay. The same tortured expression was mirrored in the swirling black mist of the young elfs eyes, reflecting what usually would cease to emerge; thoughtfulness.

As the final note struck into the deathly atmosphere, the small elven lady stood from her stump within the wrotting woods of Tirisfal. The audible crunch of lifeless leaves and branches beneath bare feet did not faze her, as she continued to lazily contemplate deep within her twisted mind.

Staring at my reflection now I don’t know how I look at myself... Why did I not try to save her? Of all the moments for my instincts to kick in, why not then? Was it something Elune wanted to happen? Was it all part of her plan? Or was it my mistake.. Did I actually kill her?

The icy wind of Northend bit fiercly at the exposed skin of her face as she stared stoically at the two lifeless bodies in front of her. The mace, her closest companion for the past month, started to feel heavy in her hand; she struggled to keep ahold of it. Letting it fall to the ground with a resounding thud, Arillei followed, sinking to her knees wondering if her actions would spark some sort of feeling. Guilt, remorse.. pleasure, anything would be fine. But the nothingness.. it was killing her.  Sadly the feeling, or lack there of, was something incredibly familiar to her. She'd worked so hard through it after her so called freedom from Arthas. It was also now the disasterous result of leaving everyone she had come to care for in attempts to shut out what she felt.

She'd always known the dangers of allowing emotion through.

It was a warm spring afternoon in the city of Stormwind. The sun hung high in the clear blue sky bathing the busy city in it's warmth as people went about their day. Shop keepers hocked their wares to anyone would listen as adventurers and would be heroes gathered and boasted their accomplishments while planning out their travels. However, one adventurer and hero strode alone through the streets of Stormwind, but most definitely followed be the gazes of womanly onlookers.

He made sure to avoid stepping on the dead branches he knew would snap and give away his position.

Rembert was angry, but there was much more than anger bubbling inside him. Tears threatened to drip from the corners of his eyes as he stalked along in the dark forest. His pride and joy! The birds he had been grooming for decades to become fine tuned hunters. Not only had they been a source of income and financial security, they had been his companions. His friends.

Damnable beast was going to breathe its last tonight if Rembert had anything to do with it. He heard the faint rustle of Graywing's approach far above him and a telltale croak. The bird had scented or seen some movement and was directing the hunter towards its location. 

Laelan knelt on the carpeted floor of the nursery room with both hands covering her eyes. She couldn't help but grin as she could almost feel the anticipation pouring from the small figure sitting in front of her.

1...2...3!

She quickly moved her hands away from her eyes to see the smiling face of Nalia sitting under a tousled mop of midnight blue hair just barely a foot away.

“Boo!”

Keelendis stroad across the blasted landscape, his eyes almost squinting shut as he cants his gaze back and forth, his armored hand shading the viscious sun of Draenor. Walking for what seemed like for miles, his voice hoarse from calling out "Threzios! Where the Fel are you!!" weakened, and hungry, he stumbles on, his tireless march seemed to stretch as he searched. Ever so slowly his hunger increases,  his eyes shifting to a deep black. bowing his head, his left hand raises to his forehead, suddenly dizzy, the power the Lich King forced apon him slowly being replaced by the energy the blood he is forced to subsist on. The chaotic war within his body taking a toll, his hunger never fully quenched. Almost desperate to asauge his blood lust, he scans the horizon for any signs of life.

The trouble with risk-reward ratios is those times when the risk part steps on your neck.

The day was disgustingly bright and cheery. Birds sang as I made my way through the streets of Stormwind to the mailbox, tugging the brim of my hat lower.  I open up the box a sing letter was inside.  As I began to read the coded message from a contact up North, I could sense that familiar presence to my right.

"Nice outfit."

"Thank you," I glance over, eyeing his plain leather clothing, as he went through someone else's mail, "I think your casual look is growing on me."

"I think you wanted the necklace," Lupine's familiar chuckle wafted through the air.

"The necklace is only good for the challenge and the ransom it would have brought me," I smile coyly at the lanky man beside me, "I'm sure you understand."

"Oh I do … I still have it," He let his eyes sidelong to me, waiting for my reaction.

Order member: Airrin

Rank: Reaper

Type: Paladin

School: Retribution

Weapon Specialty: Polearms

Favorite Weapon: Lance

Personality: Loyal, Protective

Talents: Healing

Signature Move: Consecration

"Dunnae worry lass, It'll only be fer a few days. I'll be back before yeh know it."

"I know, I just worry, love. I'd rather be with you."

"Aye, but we both know that one of us needs t' care fer Lauralei, and she's far safer here. I'll 'ave Hlin with meh, and yeh'll 'ave meh father t' watch o'er yeh. Th' attacks are startin' t' weaken, and Moira and her Dark Iron cronies are consolidatin' their power. Someone's got t' stand up to 'em."

"Be careful love."

"I will, I promise."

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

Daraman sat at the bar, peering into the jug of burboun Synnaquin had given him earlier in the evening.  He had been staring at it for a good long while, his mind racing with the events of the day. 

It had started out like a normal day, Synnaquin and her crew were discussing entertainments and club business(and something about male dancers in thongs, but he hoped that idea was quickly squashed).  Some business was being discussed in the Royal Exchange, duels were held outside Silvermoon's gates, all in all a standard day.  He'd had an interesting discussion in the Inn with some of Synnaquin's empoyees, a brash, plain-speaking accountant by the name of Kharisa, and a paladin by the name of Rylost, and watched another of Synn's mob, an overly enthusiastic young elf by the name of Garenik, run around covered in snakes and shrieking like a girl.  He chuckled at the memory, still funny after everything that had happened today.

Huh. Interesting; it is nice to see Blizz paying attention to something for a change; how they do it is different though.

http://blog.games.yahoo.com/blog/124-fact-checking-warcraft-fan-added-to-game/

"Naturally the common people don't want war; neither in Orgrimmar, nor in Stormwind, nor in Quel'Thalas, nor in Darnassus.

That is understood.

But after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship.

I was sitting in quiet and deep contemplation, searching the grass and delicate petals with my hands. Trying to make sense of what I had seen early this morning. I did not truly understand why I had this feeling pitting within my soul until I had spoken with my new acquaintances Galvarium and Lonah. Galvarium too had a remarkably similar feeling of change that was beyond measurement.  After sharing with him what I had seen in my vision it became so very clear that this vision was no mistake, nor was it to be taken lightly at all.  My plans to consult with others became more important to me as the evening passed.  As I sat there, continuing to ruffle the earth softly next to me, a dear friend came into the gardens to much my surprise.  I think his too.  It was such a relief to express to Ktar not only my vision but the conversations I had been apart of earlier today.

(( Just a quick little sketchy thing, Quet and Ko at ages 10 and 5 or so. Image under cut. ))