Hello there everyone, I play a character named Kaeltan, a Blood Knight of the Sin'Dorei currently on the cataclysm realm of Warsong. Kael has been a part of many guilds and stories over the past few years, and so I have decided to write one down in the form of this journal. This story comes from the aftermath of Kaeltan's run in with a character named Sadeas, a friend of Kael and a former preist turned to madness by the Old Gods and forced to serve the Twilights' Hammer Cult. Kaeltan tried to save Sadeas' by pretending to join him, and worked to thwart him from the inside. Sadly, Kael was found out and it led to an all out battle atop Black Rock Mountain. However, Sadeas and his servants managed to subdue him and imprison him. Kaeltan escapes after being freed by Sadeas, as he "owed him one" for saving his life a long time before. This journal begins shortly after the escape. I hope you all enjoy it.
It has been suggested to me that I begin keeping a record of my thoughts. I do this hesitantly, of course. I seek a way to better understand the emotions stirred in me by recent events. Perhaps in writing, I will gain another perspective.
I have never experienced hatred deeper than that which I feel now. My life has been dedicated to upholding the values of the Light. Yet I allowed myself to sit idly by while a friend became twisted and corrupted. I witnessed the atrocities he committed, and did nothing, afraid that I was not strong enough to interfere. Yet the longer I waited, the more powerful he grew. In essence, my own inaction was the reason for my downfall. Perhaps that is why I’ve always failed to protect the things I care about.
Sadeas will pay for his actions, I swear it. He may be responsible for my current freedom, but I have no doubt that it was to service some endgame strategy of his. Whatever his malicious goals are, I will put a stop to them. My silence is ended.
It has been a few days since my previous entry. I often lose track of time, and keeping track of my feelings is hardly a priority. However, I am determined to make this a habit.
Progress has been frustratingly flow. On foot, I have barely made any headway across the barren wasteland, and I am undoubtedly miles from anyone who could assist me. I have been making an effort to hide my tracks, as I am certain my freedom has not gone unnoticed. Undoubtedly Sadeas has sent his agents to track me down, as not to seem responsible for my escape. His duplicity astounds me. I’ve seen many people fall under his spell. He would make a decent politician.
I have had much time to think of my life during these long hours of travel. I have certainly been to more places than most of my fellow Sin’Dorei. I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I am allowed to see wonders of other lands and the people that inhabit them. On the other, I sometimes feel I have betrayed my people. Should I have stayed in my homeland and help my people rebuild?
What use would my people have for another guard, anyways? The Sanctum is the most heavily guarded building in Silvermoon, besides the Court of the Sun, of course. Though, perhaps there are other ways I could have helped my people. Perhaps by settling down? I think someday I would like to do that, if I live long enough, that is.
The sun has set, and for the first time in weeks I find myself breathing clean air. Though my path leads me treacherously close to Alliance territory, perhaps it will give my pursuers second thoughts about following me.
I’ve come to realize that I have been travelling this whole time with no destination. I can no longer afford to keep running. Word of the Twilight’s hammer is difficult to come by, and I no longer have contacts within the organization.
My current objective is to continue southward, towards the Swamp of Sorrows. With any luck, Sadeas will still be attempting to maintain his cover within the ranks of the Bleeding Axe Clan. I only hope it is not too late.
The last few days have not been kind to me. Not only do I now have to avoid the agents of the Twilights Hammer, I now must avoid the lawmen of the Alliance. It seems they are not too keen on having a well-armed Blood Knight within their borders. I must have been spotted by one of the local hunters, as I was soon stopped by an Alliance patrol.
I regret that the encounter was unable to be resolved without bloodshed. The group that stopped me consisted of two humans and a relatively volatile Dwarf. Unfortunately, the dwarf seemed to be in command. At first, I submitted to their demands, and I kept my weapon sheathed. I told them I was just a traveler, and that I meant no harm to them or their townsfolk, as the Redridge Mountains were neutral territory. But as I said before, the dwarf was extremely skeptical. He began screaming orders at his men, so loud that he became red in the face. He ordered them to take my head. I had to quickly spring into action.
However, I did not react as quickly as I would have liked. It seems that I have lost a step since my last battle. I was able to dispatch my first attacker by rendering him unconscious via a Hammer of Light, but I did not anticipate how much the spell would drain me. I barely had time to bring my blade up to parry the second Human’s blade. Fortunately for me, the human seemed to be rather green. I swiftly rolled to the side and took up an effective combat stance. Surprised by this, the human pursed me, and made the mistake attempting an overhead strike, at which point I ran him through with my blade.
A sickening squishing sound was made as I slid my blade out of the man’s chest, followed by a torrent of blood. It was quite clear that I had pierced his heart. The man sunk to his knees before collapsing. As I turned to face the dwarf, I heard a sharp whistle and then felt a burning pain as a bolt slammed into my shoulder. In my haste to deal with the two humans, I had neglected to notice the dwarf had a crossbow. Weakness spread down my left arm as I rounded on the remaining foe. As he struggled to reload, cursing himself for his poor aim, I dropped my now useless sword and lunged at him, knocking his weapon away. We struggled in the dirt, trading blow after blow until finally we separated ourselves.
“Okey boy, you’ve already dun enough damage ‘ere.” “How bout ye’ surrender ‘fore anyone else has to die?” He said. For a moment, I considered his words. However, I could not allow myself to be captured by the Alliance. They would certainly execute me, and then no one would be able to stop Sadeas.
A seemingly eternal silence was broken by the whoosh of a crossbow bolt. I had retrieved the weapon after we broke out of our grapple on the ground. With a thud, the dwarf fell backwards, a surprised look on his face, and an arrow between his eyes.
In the aftermath of the skirmish, I made myself scarce. I checked to make certain that the surviving human was fully unconscious before leaving. For a moment, I thought that it would be wiser to end him, leaving no one to identify me. However, I could not bring myself to kill him. He was unarmed, unconscious, and was only following orders. I am certain that my mercy will return to haunt me, but the cost of my honor was too high.
Once I fled the scene that left one last unseemly task to complete. The bolt from the crossbow was still lodged in my shoulder. I had seen such an injury treated before, and knew what must be done. I bit down on a strap of leather, and broke the shaft of the arrow in half. The pain was so intense I nearly passed out. I knew the second half of the task would be equally unpleasant. I readied myself then began to push the arrow through the back of my shoulder. My teeth gnashed the leather as I screamed in agony. It seemed to be an eternity before I managed to remove the now blood covered weapon from my body. How I remained conscious will remain a mystery to me.
The arrow now gone, I was able to bathe the wound in the warm healing magic of the Light. I’ve never been adept at the art of healing, but I am aware of the basic techniques. The Light soothed me, and soon the wound was closed. Due to my lack of finesse, a scar remained, along with some discomfort that will surely stay with me for a few days.
All patched up now, I continue onward. Every wound I suffer is in the name of my duty, and I will not stop until Justice is served.
Since my last entry, I have made my way deeper into these mountains. I sense I am nearing an Alliance settlement, and would be wise to steer clear of it, given my recent dealings with the Alliance.
Aside from a few encounters with the local Orcs, (they are very dull, nothing like the ones I’ve grown accustomed to.) there is but one other thing worth noting in this journal. Lately, I have been having some very vivid and troubling dreams.
I’ve always thought of myself as a protector, a guardian. Who or what did not matter, I followed orders. First, there was the Sanctum, then Lady Syrianna, Lord Aerrandil. I’ve always done my best to protect and serve. But in these dreams, I see only who I have failed to protect. I see my father, cut down by Scourge, I see Quel’Thalas burning. I see every comrade I’ve lost, looking at me with dead eyes, almost accusatory. I even see Sadeas…but a version of him I’ve not seen for quite some time.
I awake from these dreams, in a violent state, covered in sweat. It happens night after night, to a point where I fear rest. They have made me realize that in the end, I always fail. Those I get close to are either lost, or grow… distant.
I have had no time for journal entries as of late. The Alliance has finally caught up with me. Being on the run leaves little time for reflection, I am afraid. A group of Alliance trackers have been following my every move, and I am certain my capture is impending. I plan on allowing my capture, as I am certain a fight would lead to my demise.
Should that be the case, and this journal survives me, I wish it to be used to stop Sadeas, and that my personal reflections be given to Lady Syrianna Dawnrunner, I am certain she will understand.
I am very fortunate to be alive.
As I suspected, I was captured shortly after my last entry. I surrendered without a fight, but needless to say that after killing two of their men, they were not pleased with me. I was beaten, humiliated. My belongings were confiscated, and I was being led to Stormwind for what I expect was to be my execution.
The convoy was heavily guarded. There were six warriors, four archers, and even a battle mage. I suspect that one of the prisoners being escorted was trained in the arcane, though I had no way of telling who it was until later.
Among the prisoners were myself and several human men in wearing little more than rags. We were all shackled together, in two columns of 4 each. I was in the back, chained to a rather large and surly looking fellow whom the other prisoners called “Anvil.” They all seemed to be rather afraid of him.
We had only been in transit for a total of four hours when I detected the first hint of trouble. At first it seemed as though the gentle breeze had intensified, but then I became aware of the patter of footsteps within the rustle of the brush. It was not until I looked at Anvil’s face that I realized trouble was looming.
He was smiling.
Moments later, arrows began shooting out of the surrounding trees and bushes. Two of the warriors and one of the archers were struck down instantly. Battle cries sounded, and the path was soon flooded with men, red bandanas covering their faces.
The guards, already having enough to worry about, soon faced more woe as the prisoners began to assault them as much as their bonds would allow. I soon found myself being dragged along by Anvil, who had seemingly forgotten I was chained to him.
Anvil approached a nearby warrior, wrapped his cuffs around his neck and began to choke the guard. I took the opportunity of stillness to retrieve the warrior’s battle axe from the ground and use it to separate myself from Anvil.
My hands still bound, I made my way to the back of the wagon that was at the rear of the convoy. The screams of battle raged all around me, as the overmatched guards did their best to hold off the assault. Once I reached the wagon, I began retrieving my items. I had nearly finished, and was sliding my sword back into its sheath when suddenly the noise died down. I turned around to see the Anvil, and a scrawny prisoner with an eye patch. Anvil cracked his knuckles, and spoke in a deep, menacing tone.
“Well then, what shall we do with you?”
I stood still and slowly raised my still shackled hands. “This one sure ain’t like us, Anvil,” the man with the eye patch said. “Obviously not you halfwit,” said Anvil. “So tell me stranger, how is it you find yourself chained to a bunch of Defias captives?”
“The Alliance does not take the killing of two of their guards lightly, it would seem. I only desired to pass through their territory.”
Anvil thought for a moment. “Where were you headed?” “The Swamp of Sorrows,” I replied. “Last I heard there was a lot of battle going on down there. I take it you were with those green-skinned savages the Horde,” Anvil responded, a hint of disgust in his voice. “That makes you no better tha-“
His statement was cut short by an arrow fired by an Alliance archer. Obviously, his men must have missed him in the initial ambush. I reacted quickly, clobbering the archer in the skull with my shackles, and then driving my knee into his chest. He fell to the ground unconscious.
The man with the eye patch went into a panic, and began screaming for the other men to come to his aid. I approached the large man, his once intimidating demeanor replaced by one of dread and pain. He had been shot through the abdomen, and was bleeding profusely. Calmly, I approached him. “I can help you.”
He spoke slowly and with a great deal of difficulty. “Why should I trust you?” I responded, “Because if you do not, you will die.” After a moment of consideration, he nodded, grimacing as he did so. I signaled for the eye patch man, “What if your name?” Shakily, he replied “Higgins.” “Right then, Higgins. I need you to unshackle me, can you do that?” Quickly he retrieved a set of keys from his trousers, and unlocked my restraints. “Good. Now, I need you to roll him onto his side…”
I used the procedure I had done not a few days earlier, and soon, the Anvil was sitting up, still weary from the loss of blood. The rest of his men had gathered around, having dispatched the last of the Alliance resistance. “It seems that I was wrong about you, elf. You saved my life. I’d ask for your name, but frankly I do not care to know. You are free to go, Elf. Just know that if we meet again, I may not be so forgiving of your alignment.”
It has now been a fortnight since the encounter with the Defias. As far as I can tell, Anvil has been true to his word. Perhaps it was due in part to also patching up the cuts and bruises of the rest of his men before leaving that has assured my freedom.
After taking my leave of Anvil and his men, I made my way southward. The sooner I am able to cross out of this territory the better. Being so near an Alliance bastion does not allow for a moments peace, and the grueling nature of my situation is beginning to take its toll.
I have had encounters with several small alliance patrols. So far, I have been able to avoid their detection. I often pick up bits of their conversation. It seems word of the caravan ambush spread itself quickly the ranks of the Alliance, though it has become rather…romanticized. They speak of Anvil as though he were a barbarian who smashed the skulls of their comrades with his bare hands. I even hear tidbits about myself. Apparently, I am capable of vanishing into thin air.
If only that were true.
Under the cover of darkness, I made my way south across the river into Duskwood. I was forced to swim it, as a crossing would undoubtedly be guarded. I managed to fit most of my gear into my pack, allowing it to remain dry, but my clothing is another story. Without a fire, they will take some time to dry.
Needless to say, I am uncomfortable with the situation.
This fel wood is aptly named. There is no concept of night and day here. It is an eternal darkness, and I cannot fathom why any make this place their home. The trees themselves seem as though they wish to uproot themselves and move elsewhere.
Days have passed since I entered these woods, and I fear I am no closer the end. The measures I am taking to avoid detection are a part of that. I have avoided roads, and moved only with the short times a day where it is possible to see more than thirty feet in front of you.
The nights here are filled with howling and yelping. It seems the stories told to young rangers of Silvermoon regarding wolf men are true. I hope to avoid them picking up my scent.
Before I could leave this place, I had some unfinished business to attend to. There is a place deep within the dark overgrowth of this forest where I first learned of Sadeas’s madness. There lays a tomb, watched over by a hooded statue. It is eerily still here, a stillness that is unnerving to most. I find it quite peaceful. It is different now, though. The darkness Sadeas unleashed here to bring me under his sway has tipped the fragile balance that once existed between darkness and light. To this end, I must restore the balance as the first step towards taking my revenge. I must undo every wound he has inflicted upon this world. Only then will my vengeance be complete.
The only question is how.
When it came down to it, there was only one option.
It was a technique I had only used once before in my life, and doing so had drained me to the point of breaking. I had to summon an ancient spirit of the Light, which is no easy task.
After hours of silent meditation, I felt the embers of Light stir within me. The ground began to tremble beneath my feet. Even in the earliest stages, the strain of the summoning such a powerful spirit is immense. I felt every wound I have sustained both old and new, begin to ache.
However, the darkness that had been unleashed by Sadeas’s meddling had no intention of being banished so easily. I should have anticipated as much. Dark shadows began to swirl around me, descending upon me like starving wolves. I had just enough time to engulf myself in a shield of divine energy before the specters could harm me. Doing so weakened me further. I fell to my knees.
There was no stopping the summoning; I could feel the energy bursting within me. My eyes began to burn with intense heat, and I could see nothing but gold. I erupted, my face looking upon the heavens, calling forth a winged guardian. No sooner had I done this did I reach the end of my endurance. I slipped into unconsciousness, falling to the earth. There was only silence.
I awoke to the great sensation of stillness. So, I had succeeded. This feeling of triumph was immediately replaced by one of agony. It felt as though my every muscle had simultaneously constricted. I was trapped within my own form. I could not move. I tried to cry out, but my voice was silent. The only sense available to me was my sight, and I could see only darkness. There were no stars, no moon. For a moment, I was afraid that I had been blinded by my efforts. That was until I heard the crash of thunder and crack of lightning, followed by the torrential downpour of rain. It was one of the worst experiences of my existence.
I awoke the next morning and was pleased to be able to sit up and, with great effort, stand. After being immobilized for unknown length of time, I was sore and stiff. After looking around the tomb, and content with my success, I decided I could tarry no longer. I had won a great victory, but it would mean very little if I could not succeed in my quest. Soon, I will reach the Bleeding Axe Clan, and with any luck, I will be able to expose Sadeas as the traitor he is. With their support, there will be no question of my victory.
The shortest way to the swamp was through the desolate Deadwind Pass. Every step within that barren canyon seemed to echo for miles. The wind howled and came with a biting chill. I had experienced worse, but I was thankful for the warmth my cloak provided me. As I wandered through the passage, my thoughts turned to home. Of all the lands I have visited, none could compare with the beauty of the Eversong Woods. Every step I took in another land made me wish I was home. Alas, I knew that my pilgrimage had purpose. It is with each step I take that I come closer to putting an end to a villain, and thus protecting the home I longed to see. Soon, I hope to be there once more, to listen to the beautiful music of my kin, and maybe even reunite with some of my comrades.
Soon is never close enough.
I was too late.
As I found myself once again within the borders of the humid, dank swamp, my stride lengthened and my pace quickened. I moved with a purpose, on the verge of running back to the outpost where the Bleeding Axe resided. I neared the gates; I straightened up and walked with confidence, knowing that posture carried weight with the proud Orcs. The sentries stopped me. I did not recognize them. I tried to remain as calm as I could. Within, there were no faces I recognized. My heart sank. My revenge was going to be delayed.
It was not a total loss, however. After demanding to speak with the commander of the outpost, I was able to ascertain where the clan had been reassigned. My new destination will be across the sea, to Ratchet, a goblin town in the Barrens of Kalimdor. I have not been there in some time, not since Syrianna and I were recruiting for the Bloodied Talons.
I have determined the best course of action will be to make my way to another goblin-run strong hold, Booty Bay. It lies on the southern tip of the Eastern Kingdoms, and board a trade ship that is bound for Ratchet. That part will be quite easy, because there was indeed one familiar face left in that swamp: My battle worg.
I rode hard and fast, down through the jungles of Stranglethorn. My worg had been cooped up too long, and showed his eagerness to run once more. For this, I was thankful. With each bound, I grew nearer to my goal. Onward we went, stopping rarely. We reached Booty Bay within 3 days, a journey that would have taken me 2 weeks on foot. I boarded the ship knowing that once I reached journey’s end, I would finally be free of this burden. Holding on to anger comes naturally to my people. There are things that we will never forgive. I will always despise the Scourge, the Legion…but this is different. This is personal. I am wearied by it.
It will all be over soon.
This will be my last entry for some time. I have admitted more to this journal than I have to all but one person. If she were to read this, surely she would scold me for my many missteps in this adventure. I am sure she would also tease me for the amount I have shared, as there are undoubtedly more words in here than I have spoken over the past 2 years combined.
When I began keeping this journal, I sought to gain a perspective on the emotions that came with betrayal. I was worried they would get the better of me. Reflection forces a man to look upon himself, and render a judgment more powerful than any king could impose.
So, what is my verdict?
I think I will keep that to myself.
