Ebon Blade

A warm wind blew over the grassy hills of the Hinterlands, carrying with it the sweet scent of flowers and nectar, along with the scents of the bonfires celebrating the Fire Festival. The rustling of the trees and grass drowned out the sounds of far away work and celebrations carried out at Aerie Peak, seat of power for the Wildhammer clan. Among these trees, only two figures could be seen for miles.

 The darkly-clad figure found his footing upon the scourged mountain top overlooking the Valleys of Zul'drak. A jet-black cloak lined the dark Saronite armor, given away by violet glowing threads. A veil coupled with a leather hood shadowed the large Death Knight’s face from sight leaving only chaotic violet eyes to peer beyond the layered garment. Silver locks spilled outside of the hood in scarcity, flowing to the warm breeze to dance above his pauldrons. Crimson skies above threatened to pour down the blood of the innocent. The cries of Crypt-fiends and ghouls laboring below and hustling across to and from the Ziggurat’s to the crypt and the slaughterhouse were haunting and brought back memories.

I dreamed of Nagrand. I dreamed of the water resting and flowing through the Telaari basin, and the smell of her sun-warmed skin. We laid out on the bank sunbathing, the breeze bending the reeds carrying just enough coolness to keep us from becoming too warm. Draenei do not burn in the sun like the pink-skinned humans; we absorb sunlight, revel in it, glow. We were both glowing, in my dream, basking and glowing and there was nothing between us but light.

"Madam Ambassador?"

"Yes?"

"The letter you were expecting has arrived."

"Yes, thank you.. Please put it on the desk."

"Yes, madam."

Raenne sat at a small table, tucked away in a tent in the Argent Vanguard. A few small candles provided light and warmth, and a white kitten was curled up around a lantern, but there was room for little else in the tent. The outpost of Argent Crusade power in Icecrown was more about function than style, and she stayed here only when she had important business between the Ebon Blade and the Crusade. Dalaran was far more comfortable as a permanent residence.

System Status—functional. 

New Programming Directive: [Source: Rivendare] [Order: “Ice Briar”] [#35452]

Immediate cessation of armed hostility against:

Political designation: “Horde, The” [inc. non-hostile “Horde, The” correspondents]