A Rogue's Journal

[Syrra Coventry]

((The following are journal entries on loose and tattered pages found in a leather satchel at the Shrine of Mel'Thandris. The pages were not dated or marked in any chronological order. They were all faded and weather-worn, some more than others, but not to a point as to be able to tell the order they may have been written. What follows is an attempt by a Loremaster of Darnassus City at recreating the order, though there is no guarantee of its accuracy. The only page that all of the lore experts are sure of is the last page, as it portends the sense of finality of the story the pages present.))

I don't know what it is...

The work has gone well on the village, though I'm still leery of having let goblins do most of the work. I do wish Harrol's friends weren't so set against us being friends. They knew me, my sister, and my father before the wars and know that we have never sided with politics but with our friends, no matter the color of their skin or hair. Friends are friends.

I suppose they are scared... I can't say I blame them, really.

Anyway... I found a nice frame at the bazaar in Silvermoon while I was there picking up supplies for the festival. It's such a beautiful hematite. It's polished shinier than a black pearl. It will be perfect for that painting of Helyxia that was done with her in all her knightly regalia.

I miss her...

Well, I miss everyone. I'm not so sure I miss Kaynen, actually. I miss the old Kaynen. I don't know him anymore. He's so bitter since the last war. The funny thing is, he wasn't even mixed up in it like we all were, yet he seems to be the most changed, mentally, because of it. I think it's best to just...keep my distance from him. The family is all but gone now, and I don't think he'll ever take a wife. Well, really, I don't think any woman could put up with his dark, angry energy.

I really should be getting some sleep now. We'll just have to see what tomorrow brings, I suppose.

An interesting conversation...

I don't know what keeps drawing me back to the "Old Lands", but something does... I feel this odd pull to those wolf-men beasts in Silverpine more and more every day. The more I travel to those haunted woods, the more my eyes are drawn south, to the Wall.

Yesterday, I caught one of the refugees alone and, after doing my best to calm him and assure him I meant no harm, he finally relaxed a bit. We even shared a few cups of Silvermoon Mead. I looked at him a bit after he had relaxed and wondered if he'd even eaten in the past few weeks, aside from the half-diseased meat from the creatures of the area. I offered him a bit of the finer cheese from Dalaran, as well as some tasty sweetbread and a piece of my honey roasted caribou. I could tell he wanted to simply devour the food, but he seemed to be from a decent family and controlled himself while he ate. It saddened me greatly to see anyone come to that state.

After awhile, he told me that he'd been in the camp for over 5 years, begging to be let in to the kingdom south of the wall, but they said he was on some sort of "waiting list". He said that over the years, he'd never seen anyone on this supposed list ever let in. We talked of the times before the fall of Lordaeron and other things, mostly boring to some, I suppose, but he spoke of the wood before the tainting and I could see the tears well up in his eyes. I really felt for him.

During the night, we could hear strange sounds from south of the Wall. He told me, shortly before I left, that the sounds started a couple years ago. He said it was only sporadic at first, but has grown to become a nightly sound like the crickets and bears of Silverpine. He laughed nervously as he said "you get used to it...but I still need to get to my family beyond the wall!"

I left him there shortly afterward, some mead, bread, and cheese to get him through the next few days without the pangs of hunger.

I feel the draw of the place even now, this far north of the land, and will return soon, I know...

A disturbing discovery

I can't resist this strange calling...

I returned to Silverpine last night. However, I found myself wanting to simply observe instead of partake in the rituals of the night in the wood and its inhabitants. I found a straggler wolf creature that walked on two legs. I caught it away from the local farms and wandering the wood (I would guess he...or was it a she?...was foraging for some food). The locals call the beasts Moonragers. I would guess from the baleful wailing at the moon it seemed to do every so often and for no apparent reason.

The one I was following seemed quite intelligent and not like a "beast" at all, though it was as vicious and ravenous as one. It actually found where I had hidden myself away to observe and I had to kill it, unfortunately. I couldn't have it warning the others of my presence. It struck me, then, to skin the thing and cure the hide to make a cloak of sorts. I tried not to damage the scent of the creature by cleaning it first. I made sure to smear some of the blood on myself to complete the scent of the thing and began my guarded trek to the old keep on the hill above Pyrewood Village. I had heard stories about the beasts that roamed the grounds at night and wanted to see for myself.

I did my best to remain concealed as I enter the old keep that once belonged to Baron Silverlaine. Creeping through the watch quarters, I managed to pick the lock on the courtyard door rather than disturb the larger wolf creatures that seemed to be at a state of uneasy rest. They paced about quite a bit, as if they felt out of place, or on edge but showed no signs of outward aggression.

As I crept through the door and quietly closed it, I found myself on a porch-like area high above the central courtyard. A long staircase lead down the left hand wall rather sharply until it reached the central yard area. The staircase looked as if it wasn't meant for general traffic but more a quick access to the lower parapets and guardhouse where I had just been.

I still can barely bring myself to imagine the sight before me as I gazed about the massive courtyard. I could tell that this was once an elegant castle estate. A massive marble fountain long dried up and in disrepair sat at the center of the cobblestone grounds. A stable at the far end looked as though it was once adorned with fine tapestries around the entrance, but it was now in ruin. But the creatures that wandered the courtyard...

I had to stifle myself to keep from openly weeping for the lives forever altered in this place. Great mastiff wolves seemed to stand guard about the area. These were similar to the ones about the wood, only larger and far more menacing in appearance. Some were chained to the walls, so I almost wonder if they weren't meant to be merely an alarm rather than a true guardian beast.

I saw a few of the wolf-men, or Worgen as I have learned is their true name, wandering about the yard almost absently searching for who knows what. They seemed almost as if they were in pain, or tormented in some manner. Then I noticed why. I saw what I can only call...ghosts...of people whom I presume used to be residents and workers of the place, as they appeared to be in the garb workers, peasants, and some even soldiers. These nether creatures seemed to go about their daily chores, completely unaware of their state. That is, until they neared one of the Worgen. When they did this, they suddenly became angered and would torment the creatures. The Worgen would swipe at them, connecting with nothing but air. The tormenting continued until they rushed away. When they did so, the spirits returned their ghostly chores again.

This dance of torment seemed to go on for hours. I could do nothing but stare in horror at the sight. Finally, I noticed one of the mastiff wolves sniffing the air while looking in my direction. I quickly went back into the guardhouse and made my way out the side door before anyone, or anything, noticed my presence.

I know I will return later.

I must see more.

I need to understand.

I need to understand this wrenching at my soul that keeps drawing me back...

The hunt for more information

I don't know why the Forsaken feel they have to live in such bile and filth. Perhaps if they cleaned the place up a bit, it might even relieve some of their sadness and...whatever it is that makes them so bleak to be around. I had to hold my nose for the most part until I could get used to the stench, but I needed to access their libraries. There's no way I can get to the libraries of Silverlaine's Keep without disturbing the beasts and spirits of the place, and I'd rather not do that if I can help it.

So, into the worst of the worst of Lordaeron's Undercity I went; The Apothecarium. As if the upper area muck wasn't bad enough and if the fetid waters of the lower canals weren't more than enough, there were all these horrific experiments for diseases going on in there. If I never have to go back to that place, it'll be far too soon!

Anyway, I was told I needed to go to the Mage's library to find the books on those worgen creatures. About all I found was a ragged tome called The Book of Ur. After reading it, I know there's far more to the story than he let on. These aren't simple vicious beasts. There's more to them. I could see it in their eyes. I could see the torment in their faces in the keep.

I also read something about a scythe of some sort; some ancient relic. That's going to be tricky, as that means I've got to find some way to broach a peaceful conversation with someone in Darnassus. That's not going to be easy...or fun.

For now I should head back to Northlight. The goblins should be about finished with the work. They just had to do some final polish and fix up the grounds when I left there a few days ago. I'd worry about them slacking off while I've been away, but Harrol's there. He won't let them slide.

Kaynen's Disappearance

I checked on Northlight...The work is completed at last and Harrol even put his stamp of approval on it, which makes me happy. He seemed to show as much pride in the finished grounds as he would of his own work, which is amazing, though it wasn't completely unexpected. I did, after all, let him...supervise.

I released most of my stabled steeds and fliers the other day...It felt wrong keeping them almost as hostages for my riding pleasure. The stable hands did what they could to wean them off of being controlled so that they could do well on their own. I still have Shadow, of course. I also find a certain pride in Cinder, the war wolf. He's been a great companion in the snowier regions. Charon, the great argent warhorse I took possession of a few months ago, has proven himself masterful on the battlefield so I've retained him, as well. Tarsus, that magnificent white Talbuk I picked up in Nagrand is being treated quite well with a stable full of fillies to entertain himself with when I don't call on his services.

Missy, that nutty cat of mine, has started following me everywhere, like she's grown very insecure about being alone. I guess she is feeling her age, the poor thing. She's curled up on the table right now, not 6 inches from this journal as I write. I feel like I'm abandoning her every time I go into one of the contested areas, but I sure wouldn't want her to come to harm, even if she managed to keep herself hidden there. I just wont let her come with me.

Word reached me the other day as I was off on another excursion into Silverpine...Kaynen has gone now, too...I'm the only one left. Word was that he took it upon himself to delve into Zul'Aman and wreak vengeance on the trolls for being the root cause of the fall of Quel'Thalas. That if it wasn't for the troll wars before the Scourge, it would have somehow changed the politics of the land and we perhaps wouldn't have been left to defend ourselves alone.

I'm still not sure how I feel about losing him...I almost think it's for the best, when all is said and done. He wasn't even a shell of his old self after all that happened. The last time we talked, nothing but venom came from his lips... The Kaynen that I knew was just...gone. I think I'll mourn his loss on the anniversary of the invasion of Silvermoon rather than the day he entered that fortified troll city, for that's the day he truly died...

I can't write anymore right now. If I do, the feelings of now being alone might take over and it's taking all I have to keep them at bay...

A new friend?

I met with the Redpaths yesterday out at Light's Hope Chapel. They'd sent a courier to me with the news that Helyxia's body had finally returned to them, preserved well, and was being prepared for her burial at Darrowshire.

I tried so hard to convince her that what happened wasn't her fault, but being the big sister she was, she always took on all the responsibility herself. She was like that, though... She was quiet and at the same time, larger than life. She never had to say much for those around her to completely understand what she had to say...and that she meant it!

The...change...was such a burden for her. It pained me to see her hurting as she was. People told me I was crazy to think there was anything left of her after she was turned, but I could see it in her eyes and feel it when I was close to her. It was still Helyxia; the same loving, quiet, and sincere person...just burdened with such great sorrow. The day I was told she'd gone into Icecrown, I knew I would never see her again. I knew she wasn't going to make things right...she was going there to die trying.

I ran into a friend, I guess you could call her that, of Hely's today in Dalaran as I was picking up provisions. Another Death Knight, of course...but she was a Night Elf, of all things. I guess it both surprised me and didn't surprise me. Hely always was disturbed about the rift amongst the elves. She also never made it a big secret of how dead set she was against the excessive use of magics. It's part of why she volunteered to join the contingent sent to help the humans.

Oh! About this friend... I giggled like an idiot when she told me her name and almost wondered if that wasn't part of the reason why Hely was friends with her. Her name's Synna. I just can't get over that. It's kind of funny in more ways than one, really.

At any rate, I told her what happened and she said that she would notify the Redpaths that she wished to pay for the headstone, which I thought was more than gracious of her. She seems like such a nice person...almost like she was never corrupted in the first place.

Well, I suppose I should go to bed. Missy's curled up on my pillow right now, but that's going to change quickly. I'm going to head back to Silverpine tomorrow. I have to. I feel almost...empty...the further away I am lately. I don't know why, but I'll find out...

Lost Day

...I think this is the first time I actually lost time when I returned to the land of the Worgen...

I went back to Silverpine via the Sepulcher yesterday morning. The air was still and foggy, so not even my footsteps, let alone the normal sounds of the haunted wood reached my ears. Something felt...different... I didn't know what, but there was a heaviness I could sense; some kind of foreboding I should have paid attention to. I traveled the back road out of the outpost and towards Pyrewood, not knowing exactly why I didn't just travel the main road as usual.

When I neared the village, the normally aggressive citizens roaming there seemed to not even notice me. I should have known something was happening then and there, if at no other time, but still I pressed on. It's not a difficult journey, but the whole feel of the place was so drastically different while not seeming so just by looking at it.

As I approached the massive Wall at the south end of the meadow outside the village, the gathered refugees slowly spread apart, backing away from me but not in a threatening manner. They didn't appear to be afraid. They seemed...curious? This was the first time that they neither ran from me nor attacked me in all my trips to the Wall.

Thee strange baying from the other side of the wall began shortly after, piercing the veil of mists that weighed heavily all about us...

I woke up just a few minutes ago. My throat is scratchy, as if I'd been yelling all night long. My skin is crawling, too.

The worst part is I feel this rising aggressiveness within me, and I don't know where it's from. I just want to tear someone's throat out, but I don't know why...

More Clues

I've been doing my best to stay away from the Wood the last few days, but my resolve is slipping away at a maddeningly quick pace. I spoke with some of the members of the Claws, the clan of people that Helyxia had been involved with and who took me in as I tried to wean myself from the desolate life I was leading. I told them what's been happening, and they seemed to react similar to how I did to the events. They were more than a little intrigued about the situation.

I need help digging up information. I found this tattered journal page in the old Keep and they've taken it upon themselves to investigate what it relates, though there's little to go on. In the meantime, I'm going to head back to Dalaran to check the archives there. I hope I find something there. If I don't, I fear I may need to go back into the Keep and employ more...overt actions in discovering what's happening.

I hope it doesn't come to that. I've come to feel for these great man-beasts...these Worgen. More than that... I feel a strange kinship to them.

Is that wrong?

I keep asking myself that, but I'm not sure of the right answer to the question. I suppose, with all the strange happenings over the last few years, there could be worse things.

I've heard rumors of these beasts being seen in the southern city-states as well as in one of the forests of northern Kalimdor. Perhaps I can find more information on them as I search the records for the darker times of Pyrewood and Silverpine.

And what possible connection could my mother have had in all this? I must have one of the Kirin'Tor look at the hairclip taken from her body by my adopted father. I sense that there might be more to it than a simple decoration.

Again?

Another day lost...

I found myself sprawled out on a bed at the Brill Inn... The last thing I remember was riding to Light's Hope Chapel as it grew towards dusk yesterday.

I need to get to Dalaran and speak with the Kirin'Tor there. Perhaps they can help me with these strange feelings and blackouts. I don't trust myself to care for Missy. I feel myself becoming more short-tempered; easier to anger. That's just not like me. I've left Missy with Harrol. She likes him well enough, and I know he likes her, even if he does pretend to hate cats.

He keeps telling me not to worry, but how can I pass off what's going on?

I need answers...

On the Trail

I went to Duskwood yesterday, following stories of the worgen having overrun many areas there. I thought to find out if these beast-men have any connection to the ones in Silverpine.

On my journey there, I ran into Synnaria again. She wouldn't tell me why she was there, but she'd obviously been in some heavy combat from the looks of her armor and blade. She seemed...distracted, somehow. I didn't want to press her on it too much on what was going on with her, though. The affairs of the night elves, and especially of the death knights, are beyond my concerns these days.

I made my way to a place the locals call "Roland's Doom" and found it infested with worgen. I noticed, though, that these worgen seemed to be as different as night is to day from the worgen of Silverpine. These beasts are not only colored much differently in their fur, but they wear now bracers on their wrists. They also seem to be gathered in what one could almost call tribes. I'd say packs, but from what I saw as I explored the ever-dark of Duskwood, they have constructed communities of their own accord, with what I could only compare to an army's field tents, including larger command tents.

I think many underestimate the minds of these worgen. The more I watch them, the more I realize that under the savagery, they are highly intelligent and organized. I even witnessed many of the beasts in Duskwood employing shadow magics! They use great black Mastiffs as guard and patrol dogs!

These creatures are far from undeveloped monsters...I've seen, as I have watched them from concealed locations, every manner of civilized organization and interaction as any of the other people of Azeroth... I just have seen great relentless viciousness when they are engaged in combat.

In that last...I almost envy them that ability to tear their enemies down with abandon. I feel a similar rising within myself whenever I face one of those ghastly undead, especially those remnants of the Scourge.

As I made my way towards Westfall, I noticed a strange sight. A lone man, in the remains of what looked like a town or community's center, pacing nervously about. It struck me as odd because of the location... If he had been wearing local militia garb, then I could understand. He seemed so...out of place, though.

Over the next few days, I'm going to try to catch up with Synnaria once more to see if I can convince her that I am one whom she can trust. For now, though, I need to fetch Missy a saucer of cream and then get some rest. These next few days are going to test me more than ever before, I wager.

Night Elves

The days have begun to bleed together as I search for clues that have likely long-since turned to dust. I've not found any references to the traveling merchants' caravan of "freaks", nor any specific reference to a woman such as my mother.

My searching has now taken me to Kalimdor, though. I back-tracked the story of a Night Elf Sentinel who once communed with the beasts...the Worgen. I sense the great mistrust the Night Elves of Ashenvale have for me, but they have grudgingly allowed me to stay at Astranaar, albeit under guard, while I continue to do research. I think it is partly my mixed heritage and partly my interest in the study of these Worgen that has facilitated the allowances afforded me. That, and I turned over my blades during my time in the outpost town. The lead Sentinel returns them to me when I leave town on my trips into the forest.

I can sense the watchers they place on me, as well. I notice the rather large hawk owls high in the trees that shadow me as I travel deep into the forest and towards the mysterious shrine where a whole different breed of Worgen the locals call Terrowolves seem to reside. Unlike the stories of the Worgen of Duskwood and the Moonrages of Silverpine, these Terrowolves almost seem to be misnamed. I've no stories of them attacking any people other than stray members of the Horde that come too close. And even in those, they seem to be after goods rather than just blindly killing them.

Stories persist that they completely destroy and devour any who dare tread into the small shrine known as the Howling Vale, be they Night Elves, Orcs, or even stray animals. They seem to be fiercely protecting it for...from...something.

I'll need to research this more, as they seem (in behavior) far removed from all other Worgen I've studied to date.

I need to feed now...before my hunger causes another blackout...

Ambermill

Nights run into days...

Days run into nights...

It's forever the Witching Hour in my mind as I see the world in a myriad of strange shapes and colors. I can see people's moods as if it were a halo of dim and bright colors that surround them in a tangible haze. I can see the goodness in their smiles and the vileness in their hearts. All are a different shade and intensity which beguiled me at first. As I try to fight through the haze to discern right from wrong and good from bad, I must learn all the shades and intensities that lie between. I must learn to sense the dark heart under the benevolent smile. I must sense the terror under the guise of calm seas.

The breads and cheese of the great city of Dalaran no longer please my tongue. They are a bland convocation of sponge-like dust to my mouth. While the subtle wines which the city was famous for have lost all but a tinge of their former grandeur to me, the sharper bitters of the human and dwarven kingdoms still bring a smile to my lips. Smells and tastes seem almost disconnected from each other, for while I can appreciate the fantastic subtleties of the finest royal dishes of the mages, they taste of all but a dingy pillow's stuffing to me.

I think I finally found a trace of who my mother was, but I need to delve deeper into the records of Ambermill before I am sure. The mages there watch me with untrusting eyes and heft staves in my direction, ready to incant great pains upon me, should I slip. Of this, I have no doubt they'd almost relish. I noticed one among them, however, who seemed to watch me with great sadness in her eyes, as if she somehow knew me, or at least knew more of what I am fighting and searching for than she lets on. Perhaps, after I can steady the turmoil that is tearing at the back of my mind every waking and sleeping minute these days, I may be able to approach her with a calm that would allow her to impart some of what she suspects.

For now, I must tread lightly, though my heart weighs heavier with each passing day.

How things change...

I woke up this morning on a small bed in a home in Darnassus not a stone's throw from their Temple of the Moon. I wish that I could enjoy the grandeur that is this beautiful and quiet city, but too many things have happened for me to do so just yet. Tomorrow may bring better news on that, though I know not to expect anything favorable.

The priestess who I woke to find tending me was a beautiful young night elf with, oddly, no markings that I could see. Her eyes showed a genuine care and concern in them that I'd not seen since before the passing of my mother. I tried to sit up, but she forced me back down on the bed, pressing down on me with her body to hold me in place. She whispered in my ear in a low and sultry voice that I needed to stay still, stay calm, and stay in bed.

She went back to cleaning me, as I had apparently arrived in such disarray that my clothing was shredded and I was cut and scratched in several places, my own blood dried and caking on my skin and in my hair. When I whispered to her, asking what day it was, she said only that her aunt would tell me everything they knew of my arrival.

I had laid there nervously for what felt like several hours before an elegant woman in leather and fur garments came almost gliding into the room. She moved with such grace I couldn't speak. She told me that she was a druid with the Cenarion Circle and had been the one to find the small ship I had been on floating adrift. She said that the crew and passengers were all ripped to shreds, their bodies in several pieces all over the ship. Some looked as though they had been gnawed on by some creature, or creatures. I had been found hiding in a crate in the hold; unconscious and bleeding out. She had mended me as best she could, but was forced to bring me here to be taken better care of until I healed.

When I pressed her for the day, it was then that I realized I'd lost not just a few hours or a day, but almost two weeks are missing from my memories... The sentinels had sent out a ship to tow the one I had been on into port, and after going through things, found several Naga scales, bits of flesh, and even a broken weapon on the ship. They think that Naga tried to board the ship and those that had remained alive after driving them back had succumbed to their injuries, leaving he ship adrift.

I spoke to her frankly, as the young priestess continued to tend to my injuries and massaging my aching arms and legs, regarding tales of where I had come from and what happened to my family. By the time I finished relating my tales, it had already begun to get dark and the feelings of loneliness and despair began to encroach on me as they often do in the twilight hours. She smiled at me, not in a condescending manner but in a way that made me feel at ease, as if things were going to be somehow brighter tomorrow. She then told me that she would confer with the council and Lady Tyrande in the morning regarding my situation and until some decision was made, I was welcome to make her house here my home, as long as I understood I could not wander from the place as the sentinels would be "watching over me", as she worded it.

I need to sleep. I am so tired I feel I could sleep for a year and it wouldn't be enough. There is so much more happening...

Nightmares coming to pass

I did not sleep well last night, though I was so drained I should have been able to sleep for several more days. Flashes of claws and teeth flared across my vision in a dizzying sea of mists and lantern light in the unforgiving darkness. Large, snake-like creatures swept over the rails and onto the decks of a ship as it traversed the unholy Maelstrom to reach its destination. Blood, flesh, and bone were rent and strewn about in a frenzied slaughter as they continued to come in waves from the sea.

I remember the moments leading up to my blackout now. I wish I had a way to erase the visions from my mind, but it's too late for that. I can see the fingers of my hands almost as if they belonged to another; growing slowly, painfully, in length and taking on a sinewy strength. My nails stretching and darkening to form razor-like claws. I could feel my face contort into an almost barbaric snarl as my teeth slowly grew in length and came to sharpened and jagged points. I now remember biting my lips more than once as I wrestled to speak, though nothing but guttural growls issued forth from my bleeding lips.

It was at that time, a wave of urgency and anger washed over me. I knew I had to destroy this threat to the people on the ship, though through the smoky and blood-tinged haze that had become my sight, it grew hard to tell the difference.

I can still hear the gasping of one of the crew of the ship; "...hide...save your...self... seek out the daughters of Elune... they may yet save you! Go quickly!" He then laid still; motionless. I felt the sadness overtake the hatred that had grown in my heart and my breathing slowed. My hands slowly, yet almost as painfully, returned to their normal state. I could taste the briny scales and flesh of the naga in my mouth. It wasn't until that moment that I realized how deep I had been cut. My armor was completely severed from my body and a long gash stretched from my navel to my throat from one of their serrated blades. I had grabbed the poor sailor's tunic and held it tightly against my chest, trying to stem the flow of blood until I could reach the safety of a cargo container below decks.

I almost laugh, thinking about it now. I had found a crate of coffins to hide in until it was either safe to flee or I died in the waiting. At least I was able to sleep, as restless as that was, in relative comfort.

I awoke here three days ago, though the events I am now remembering were nearly two weeks ago. I grow ever more ill to think of what harm I may have caused to others in such a state as I was in at that time. I am told to continue to be patient and that Tyrande would speak with me after my wounds finished healing and the boat had been thoroughly investigated.

I had hoped that day was today so that I may seek the answers I am sure the sailor meant for me to seek here in Darnassus.

I am from the spurned offspring of the Highborne, so I must do as asked to prove that I am not of the Blood Elves whom they so despise.

Anxious Acceptance

It has been a week of relative calm and quiet in the small home of the priestess who had been tending to me when I first arrived. No one had come to gawk or chide me, and even the sentinels staged as guardians...or were they merely guards?... had softened to me after a time.

The night elves all about Darnassus have grown accustomed to my presence and no longer seem to fear or hate me, though I can sense their lingering uneasiness. I still feel more comfortable here than I have in many months in any other place, save the mist-shrouded woods of Silverpine and the eternal twilight of Duskwood. The whole of this city seems to evoke peace even in the most restless and untamed of hearts.

She at last had told me her name was Myriell Evensong and that she had come from a long line of druids, though she had felt the calling of the priestesses since before she could walk. I asked her how she ended up with the dirty task of tending to a High Elf when there must be so many more pleasant things to do in the city for her, but she said that she had insisted she be the one to tend to me. She said that she felt something different about me; something she couldn't quite put her finger on at the time.

In the last few days, as my strength has returned to me, I haven't been able to shake the powerful attraction I've begun to feel for her. I watch her in stunned silence as she almost floats about the room on a pillow of quiet and gentle winds. The wisp-light of the cottage occasionally granting me painfully short glimpses of her lithe and nubile form through the sheer house gown as she hums an hypnotic tune that reaches to the innermost depths on my soul. Reaching beyond the nightmares and the pain of the recent past, her beauty and her melodic humming bring a quiet calm to the storm raging within me.

As I reflect on my feelings over the situation, I have to consider that it's all merely coincidence. After all, why would a lovely young lady such as herself feel anything more than pity for what has become of me? She has surely felt at least a passing fancy for one of the massive men I see hovering about the temple grounds daily as they gawk at the bevvy of beautiful young women.

I need to put that in the back of my mind and write this down before I forget. I have finally been granted an audience with Tyrande in three days. Lyara, her aunt, said that she would take the time to teach me what is acceptable and what is not in the Temple when I am to see the High Priestess. She said that she was getting the feeling that perhaps Myriell would prove too much of a distraction, should she be the one to do so. Myriell had blushed a bit at the comment, and I think I may have as well, though I tried to appear indifferent.

Tomorrow morning, I expect Lyara is going to wake me up horrendously early... I have taken to sleeping much of the day and am restless at night, roaming the grounds with sentinels in tow as I feel the night seeping into my every pore; my senses coming alive and every nerve nearly screaming at the sky for some sort of release.

I need to rest now. The sun has grown high in the sky and though we are shaded well enough, my body aches for respite from the heaviness in the air. Soon enough I shall know my fate...

Fate's Folly

I tried my best to stop them... I tried my best to stop...it...

When the war party entered the portal from Rut'theran Village, the alarms sounded all about the city as people scrambled for shelter and weapons. I had never seen one of the great Ancients move much from their resting places until this morning. The sight was at once truly terrifying and magnificent.

The band of Orcs, Trolls, and Forsaken seemed to pour out of the portal, spilling onto the pristine paths of the outer city near the bear-tree. Before the Ancients and Rangers could get to them, they had already split up and begun sweeping through the city, killing all in their path. Two Ancients rooted themselves near the entrance to the great temple while three more rooted and guarded the main pavilion where many allied emissaries had set up their faire tents.

The sentinels who'd been assigned to be my watchers gave me a confused look, wondering if they could trust me, and I urged them to show me my leathers and blades. One of the sentinels nodded to Myriell and she hurried to a cache in the floor under a corner bookshelf where she had stored my gear. I had rushed to put my leathers on, Myriell staring at me the whole time. I was too preoccupied to be demure about her seeing me without my clothes as I quickly changed.

The sentinels followed me as I raced to the din near the temple. By the time we arrived, the Ancients were already pushing the intruders back in our direction and I slipped into the shadows to avoid being seen until the time was right. As the group of invaders descended upon the sentinels, I sprung into action.

What happened next is forever burned into my memories, not merely from the sight, but from the sheer agony...

As I lunged from behind to sink Venom into the spine of a particularly large Orc, Myriell had appeared from around the side of one of the cottages to call upon her goddess to grant protection for the sentinels. As she did so, one of the Trolls launched a spear that dug deep into her torso. I felt the rage inside me release and at that moment searing pain shot through every inch of my body. I felt as if I was on fire as my vision blurred and became like wavering shadows with varying shades of oranges and reds dancing all about. It was then that I saw my arms and hands covered in fur; my normally trimmed nails now gleaming black and razor sharp claws. I didn't have time for the sheer horror to sink in as the anger had reached a fever pitch, tearing at my mind.

I could make out the forms of those about me, the shades of bright color I now know was the heat given off by their bodies in the sea of a world turned to shades of blacks and grays. I was able to make out the Troll who had attacked Myriell and without even thinking, tore the flesh from his body before severing his head. I could feel as much as hear myself howling from the pent up rage I was finally able to consciously let loose.

I saw the sentinels step back, guarding Myriell from me as much as the invaders. Beneath the fires of hate that had welled within me, a deep sorrow arose at seeing their abject fear of me. I turned and felt the guttural words come from me as I faced the two Orcs that still remained standing before me.

"You have harmed these Elves for the last time, demon-spawn!" I growled at them as I launched in their direction, bringing them both down in that one movement, crushing their skulls together with the dull thud of bringing two watermelons together with great force. They dropped to the ground like sacks of flour dropped from a wagon. I turned to look towards the temple, then towards the pavilion and saw the few remaining invaders fleeing back through the portal, then turned back to the sentinels and Myriell.

The sight of the sentinels posed to attack me and the spear still lodged in Myriell's side quelled my bloodlust, replacing it with such sadness that I still feel many hours later. The fear in their eyes, the three of them, made me feel not only sad but ashamed... As the self-loathing for what had become of me set in, I felt the searing heat dissipate and the tension on each of my nerves settled. I sat down nearby, leaning against a tree, and let myself go.

I've been hard-pressed to hold back my tears since that moment...that first remembrance of what has been happening to me since that first visit to The Wall. I am again in Myriell's cottage, but the guard has tripled now. Lyara has been tending to her injuries which she says are not life-threatening, but severe nonetheless.

She has not said as much yet, but I worry that my folly today has not only stolen my chance of being redeemed in the eyes of the Night Elves, but also my chance of being allowed to exist beyond this night...

[Garots]

Love it! Keep them coming Syrra!

[Syrra Coventry]

Thank you.

I'm actually working on full-blown "episodes" for these, too. For some aspects of her "life" I wanted to get feelers to see the reactions of people before moving on and going more in-depth. I don't want to tread where people might become uncomfortable or act in an immature manner towards the story.

[Mistress Elizabeth]

Thank you.

I'm actually working on full-blown "episodes" for these, too. For some aspects of her "life" I wanted to get feelers to see the reactions of people before moving on and going more in-depth. I don't want to tread where people might become uncomfortable or act in an immature manner towards the story.

Great!

I read it yesterday night when I wasn't being harassed by math books, and from what I remember I liked it. I was also thinking... that you have been saying you've haven't found an RP in the Role Playing Forum that doesn't suit you right? Why not instead create one and host it yourself? Some thing like what your character was doing in Silverpine wood would be interesting, and perhaps you could make it:

"A group of explorers and your character have gone to Silverpine for x or y reason. Thinking they would have an easy time in the woods, they came a little not well prepared for the horrors that lurk in the misty night. The woods are dangerous at night, but it's the prime time to do the investigation (or perhaps the only time, since it could be sneaking operation that requires the night)."

But anyway, it was great, I'm hoping for the "full-blown" episodes : ]

[Mistress Elizabeth]

I wanted to give you a little advice. If I'm not mistaken I think you don't like the whole "If you post again after your own post, it will just add it to your last post.", right?

Well, apparently if you fill in the "Title: " box while going on Advanced for posting the message, it seems to post it as a new post instead of adding it to the last post.

Hope that helps you out :] Would also like to hear from you on this story!!

[Syrra Coventry]

I wanted to give you a little advice. If I'm not mistaken I think you don't like the whole "If you post again after your own post, it will just add it to your last post.", right?

Well, apparently if you fill in the "Title: " box while going on Advanced for posting the message, it seems to post it as a new post instead of adding it to the last post.

Hope that helps you out :] Would also like to hear from you on this story!!

Oh thank you! I'll have to try that out here in a few minutes. Though I have to admit that I'm enjoying, actually, doing it this way now, it would serve for nice break points in the journal...In fact, the current break point is perfect, I think. I'll be continuing the story today, though...

As to the other thoughts about the roleplay threads...I had thought about it, but I'm not so sure I want to "run a game" at this juncture. I may, though, if nothing pans out.

I'm also almost ready to post my first "episode" entry, as soon as I straighten out a couple pieces of continuity.

Edit: I went to advanced and filled in the title, but it didn't work. Ah well, that's okay

[Mistress Elizabeth]

Let me try it again... I swear it worked for me :X

---------- Post added 06-21-2010 at 09:56 AM ----------

Let's see.....

---------- Post added 06-21-2010 at 09:57 AM ----------

Aw, it worked before QQQQQQQQ

Someone must have caught up to it and changed it! :[

[Syrra Coventry]

Absolution

I had dreaded the Gathering after the events of the other day in the courtyard of the Temple. My curse had been laid bare for all to see. I had no right to expect anything less than my own destruction at the hands of the Sentinels, or the High Priestess herself.

What transpired still has me at a loss; I am at once thankful for her graciousness and filled with both hope and dread for what the future might hold.

The Sentinels, at the Gathering that will be forever etched into my memories, spoke kindly of me even through the fear I could sense they both felt. Now, though, I'm not so sure it is fear of me or fear for me... I must speak with them at length as soon as events permit.

Lyara was questioned next, as to her sense of who I am and what I represent to them. Her responses stunned everyone in the Temple, not just myself. She hinted at something deep in the past of the Night Elves that spoke of long-dead memories of our ancestors; things that the past Wars and the Sundering have caused them to lose track of with regard to the Worgen and their connection with the druids. She said that her encounters with me, as well as her studies of ancient tomes and folklore point to something significant, but she knows not what as yet. Her next words are indelibly written on my mind and will likely never be forgotten.

"Syrra showed us that the rage can be controlled and directed, allowing it to be used for good. Considering what she has gone through, and her primal display of protectiveness toward our people, she should not only be allowed to live, but that she be given an at least temporary home here, should she desire it. I feel that, with more exposure of our people to what she is, the more our people can come to trust those like her and possibly even help us to discover what connections our ancestors had with these beings. To do less would be as much of a disservice to our people as it would be to her."

Lyara had then looked at me and gave a slight smile, which surprised me as she was naturally stoic, if not a bit dour. Myriell, I noted, was not allowed to give her opinion on the matter, and that concerned me. I suppose at the same time, though, I was relieved. It kept her from having to put herself on the line, one way or another. This was a good thing.

A few others spoke up on the issue; most favorably and a few with understandable concerns. She had told us that she would speak with her priestesses and advisers. They had adjourned to the upper gallery of the Temple where we could hear them discussing the matter, but not the words uttered. My stomach was in knots and I couldn't stop shaking, I was so terrified of their decision. I had vowed, however, to abide by whatever they chose to do. I had given myself over to their judgment.

Tyrande and her entourage of priestesses and advisers came down the ramp after some time, moving with the grace of true royalty. She stopped midway down the ramp and called for all present to look to her. She then raised her hands, stretched outwards and palms up, closed her eyes, and spoke something I can only assume was a prayer in Darnassian, the altered language of the ancient High Elves. She then spoke at length to the Gathering, and then leveled her gaze at me as I stood at the edge of the moonwell at the center of the temple.

"I see that you have made no attempts to draw from our sacred Moonwell during this whole ordeal. You haven't, or so I am told, even made one gesture that would suggest that you are reliant on magical energies like much of your Elf kin. From what I have heard here today, as well as this evidence I have seen myself, I am inclined to agree with my advisers. Our people, as well as yourself, child, would best be served if you were to be granted admission to our city."

I had slumped down in relief, and Lyara rushed to my side to bolster me up, wrapping an arm around me tightly and offering words of encouragement, whispered in my ear.

"I was not finished," Tyrande spoke once more. "However, due to the nature of...well...yourself... I have further decided that you are to remain under Lyara's guardianship until such time as all have grown more accustomed to your...situation. You will be required to attend training with the Sentinels so that all may come to know you and hopefully you may learn from each other in that time. Do you accept these terms for your admittance?"

I couldn't do much other than nod at that moment. I was too stunned by her words to respond at any more length at that time. Lyara had whispered that I should bow slightly, yet graciously to her, and I did. Once she had left the lower gallery of the Temple, we walked back to Myriell's cottage, not speaking a word of what had transpired. I think she and Myriell, as well as myself, were too overcome with thoughts on the changes to our lives all this brought to the fore.

For the first time in months, I think I may be able to sleep through this night rather than roam aimlessly, looking to fill some kind of void.

Tomorrow brings more changes. We will just have to be thankful for today's absolution and strive for a hopeful future as it comes.

Connections

Lyara has been spending the last few days pouring over the tomes in the library and the temple for any further information regarding my transformation. All she has been able to uncover, so far, are references to Goldrinn and "a great tree in the Blackwald". She said that it doesn't make much sense to her right now, but she is going to take what she's learned to the Cenarian Circle to see if they can shed any light on the subject.

I grew up in the lavish city of Silvermoon and though it was beautiful in its own way, Darnassus and the surrounding area are simply breathtaking. The natural beauty of the woods, the integration of nature throughout, and even the ruins of ancient Night Elf cities in the region seem to meld together to make such a magnificent natural tapestry. How the High Elves could give up such wondrous beauty for soul-altering magicks is beyond me. Where the great hunters of the eastern lands and kingdoms use magic, bribes, and threats to tame their wild pets into doing their bidding, the Elves here bare themselves to the creatures in an attempt to bond with them, making a partnership with the beasts. You can see the harmony that exists between them.

It took some time to convince Myriell that I would never harm her. Though she wished for nothing more than to plead my case for me to Tyrande and her council, I could still see the fear in her eyes as well as sense it in her heart. That she trusts me at all in her home after the events of a few days ago, I am grateful beyond compare. We were becoming close and I'm afraid that my transformations have forever marred our relationship, as well as whatever may have come of it.

Though she still smiles at me, I can see the nervousness in her movements. She no longer moves gracefully about without a care. Instead she seems more like a cat amongst a pack of rabid dogs, eyes darting about and cringing at every sudden noise. I spoke with Lyara on this, and she advised that I do something I have been loathe to do until now...she bade me to work on transforming at will, now that it is known I have the power to do so. 'Transform at will, and show her from that state your feelings for her. This may ease her mind and spirit,' she had nearly pleaded with me.

Though I do not wish to become that creature again, perhaps she is right. She had hinted that Myriell's unease may actually be related to my self-loathing over what I now am and not a fear of the form itself.

[Syrra Coventry]

Proof

The last few weeks have been like something out of a nightmarish dream. Though I have finally been able to manage the transformation at will, every inch of my body is wracked with pain as it does so. The only relief comes when I can finally shift back to my old self.

My old self... I feel that such a thing will never exist again. With every change, I feel a bit of my soul torn away from me along with my flesh. As I shift, I think of Myriell...it's the only thing that keeps me rooted in this world. I can see her face in my mind, pleading with me to return, and it breaks my heart. I decided yesterday that tonight would be the night that I showed her, finally, that I have it under some semblance of control and that I am still me, somewhere inside, when I am that creature.

Lyara was present; I could sense her, though she stayed out of sight. I think she was there more for me than for any fear of Myriell's safety. At the enclave, I had never harmed a soul, except myself, during our work, so I had no fear as far as that was concerned. My most desperate worry was that I might eventually lose myself completely, though I have come to accept that it is a part of me.

I sat her down on the low, padded oaken settee in the parlor and asked her to trust in me as she never had before. I got down on my knees and pleaded with her to let me do this...to show her. She finally agreed, though I could see she was uncomfortable about the situation. I stepped back and drew on the energies about the room. As it did before, my skin began to burn, a white-hot searing fire tearing through every inch of my body. As I began to shift, my skin felt as if it was being flayed into nothingness. I screamed in agony, as I always do when the change comes, but the pain subsided at last. I looked at Myriell and she sat silently, staring at me, tears welling in her eyes. As I gazed upon her beauty, my breathing slowed as I felt the power course through my veins.

At last, I let it. I let the surge of strength and power course through my very being. Every muscle and nerve felt alive as they never had before as I gazed upon dear Myriell. Slowly, I approached her, holding out my hand. That massive hand with huge, jet black claws. She just stared at me for what seemed an eternity. It hurt that she, even now, couldn't trust me. I turned to leave, thinking it best that I never return, when I felt that lithe and gracious arm wrap around my waist. I stopped, afraid to turn around.

Then that soft voice that could melt the coldest, darkest places of the world came to my ears. Barely a whisper, but I heard the words as clear as the brightest midsummer day.

"Do not leave me, my love."

[Syrra Coventry]

...the last page of the journal found is partially frayed and well-worn...

Desolation

I gathered myself as best I could for today, but it was almost too painful to bear as I returned to Myriell, my old self in full control once again. We sat on the loveseat for hours, just holding each other. We spoke not a word, but looked at each other, then out the window across the quiet city of Darnassus, then back to each other again. Her smile, her touch, her scent… All these things I knew I would miss and would plague me beyond my own death.

At last, I told her, though I think she knew what I was going to say before I could find the strength to utter the words. I tried my best to let her know of the turmoil I felt. As I spoke, the smile she tried to cling to slowly slipped from her face, and that hurt even more than I could have imagined. Just that look on her face alone left me feeling like I needed to hide away from the world.

“I do not belong here with you and your people, Myriell.” I tried to be stoic as I said the words, but I could see in her eyes that she knew it was more than just that.

She would be right, if she’d spoken those words to me, but she didn’t. She nodded, forced a slight smile, and put a hand on my cheek.

“You do what you need to do, Syrra,” she said to me finally, and the sadness in her voice was crushing.

She then kissed me lightly, stood up at last, turned, and walked out of the room. When she left, the whole room grew darker, dull, and faded. I arose slowly, paced to the door, and looked back on the room. As I opened the door, I could hold back the tears no longer.

I have left the cottage now, but that’s not all I have left. In my years of loneliness, I had found a glimmer. Myriell had brought some life back into my spirit for the short time I had been in the city. Now, however, I have left that part of me behind with her. I’m left wondering where I go from here.

I sit here on top of the ridge and look out over the blighted forests of Felwood...and all I can feel is emptiness…desolation.

[Garots]

((Beautiful work Syrra, absolutely stunning ))

[Sunshine]

Indeed...

[Black Mage]

Beautiful. More, please.

[A Playful Dog]

Neat, I like all the descriptions of how Syrra feels, it makes me feel like her.

I would have liked to see more of the two elves, but I guess she had to leave :/

[Syrra Coventry]

thank you... Call of the Wolf is the full story from third person perspective... It's nowhere near caught up to the Journal, though.

I think I like the way the Journal writing worked better, though...you get to see a bit of the inner workings of her psyche.