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Aspect of the Undefiled Blasphemer
[Image: okoko.png]

Patience, tranquility... Returning to major cities is no simple task. Others ridicule, many commit sins beneath my very nose, others embrace false idols -- and reject the light as if it grew disdain. The horrid obliteration of a Stormwind district has rendered despair and hopelessness to the residents. Pagans, witches and the cursed gilnean worgens emerge to spread their selfish faiths and motives. Cultists, sects and unfaithful priests now can be felt, coursing through the veins of the city.

The district of old town remained unscathed, beggars and transients littered its alleys. A truly sad sight to encounter.

There I had heard the mention of a witch, a gilnean witch. Young and filled with venom, she was intimidated by my presence. She had questioned my intentions, my goal to enlighten her mind and soul. She assists the earth surrounding us, but its manipulation is a sign of selfish desires. The cycle of man should not consist with the manipulation of the elements. That woman -- is far from the human she once was. Cursed, yet embracing of her pagan ways, she rejects the light and its teachings. She suffers denial of its glory, its magnificence and purity. The witch is still very young and will soon recognize the errors in her beliefs.

Tavren Black's emergence made me reclaim my position into his battered House Whiteshore. Struggling for survival he holds great trust and responsibility in me along with few others to assure that his house prospers. The Lord himself needs to first repent his wicked ways if he wishes for his house to obtain glory and proper prestige.

Much faithlessness and despair has been plaguing this world, much of these must be fixed and delegated without hesitation... Before all good is lost...
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  • Sol, CappnRob, c0rzilla, LostStranger
[Image: okoko.png]

The warm, moist texture of the pagan forest, Ashenvale, was beneath my plated feet. My head and body perspiring through every step. I and this priest from Ratchet, had spoke of enlightenment to three unfaithful heathens... Amongst the three women there was a domineering blood elf, two humans with cunning tones and postures. No matter how much evidence we provided the women -- they would not accept the light's presence or existence. Their ignorance was great -- they spat on faith and embraced their heretical beliefs... Malignancy and despair was their watchword. Light guide them to the appropriate path, as it pains me to confess -- they are beyond my control. If it were not conversion, it would be desperation...

I traveled to Kalimdor to obtain a holy relic from my former liege, Sir Torben Bolt, in Astranaar. The old master was not present, I must remain patient and await here in Astranaar to obtain the relic. I had not seen the man in years, ever since the emergence of the Scourge. I pray the relics he will bring will aid spreading the word of the Light. I also pray for his safety, yet I fear for the worst. Ashenvale is under great disdain, burning trees and savages ravaging the resources in the region. These unfortunate events can further delay my former master from arriving at our meeting point.

Now I continuously reflect on an event that happened evenings ago. A young woman, Eleanor Hughes she called herself, had asked for me to assist her to capture a brigand. My irrationality had prevented me from further inquiring on the woman's needs, this concluded in the death of the brigand, a child killer. Eleanor desired for justice, but the man had resisted to the point where he had to be slain, for the greater good. I do not approve of such acts, criminals have the capacity to improve their further understandings of their flaws through deep meditation and spiritual awakening. Most however, are unwilling to partake in such acts or lack the desired patience to perform such sacrifices.

I must seek out Eleanor once I am finished encountering Sir Bolt here in Astranaar... Light guide her every steps...
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[Image: okoko.png]

The falling hour of dusk began, the scent of a deadly undead presence was in the air near Astranaar. No sign of Sir Bolt... I hurried along till my eyes rested upon the tall, decaying posture of a horned death knight. The diabolic hooves and the goat-like horns revealed that the abomination was once a breathing draenei. Threats and mockery were shouted out at my well being, but the monster spoke of how she had slain my mentor in profane ways. Such attitude was not tolerated. The Light's judgement had crushed the soulless husk, liberating her soul. Nothing but ashes were left from the death knight's corpse after the short quarrel, justice and redemption was achieved with little delay.

Upon the ebon knight's ashes there was a letter, one dedicated to me. The worn note was from Torben Bolt himself. Perhaps the light had warned him that his end was near. The artifact were but a collection of words; "The cudgel is the weapon of the redeemer. Justice will be delivered and crush the malefactors who stand against the light's glory." These words were as simple as they seemed, Sir Bolt left a stash of armaments in a small residence in Gadgetzan. Nothing else of note was placed disregarding his signature below his letter. A cudgel was what I required, my current armor was no longer fit for use, new equipment was needed -- and so I traveled to Tanaris where my old armor and cudgel remained...

[Image: rooks.png]

The air thickened and the humid climate now grew dry and far hotter than the former region. The burning sands of Tanaris can be felt slipping into the openings of my battered old boots. My shoulder pads were demolished, and my arms were all that was covering my face from the sandy winds. There I had finally arrived to the goblin city of Gadgetzan, the old house where he had left my stash was left abandoned. None had touched the contents within, the dark shaded, light plate armor remained along with the cudgel mentioned in the letter. The armor looked simple in structure, yet more comforting than other armors I have encountered.

The presence of the dead was nearby. I slipped upon my new wares and marched out into the exterior of the small, rumbling settlement. A dim shaded, decomposing goblin stumbled out of the town's inn. I would state that her comportment was unnaturally lively. She is a servant of a heretic, affiliated with Tavren Black. I offered the mindless husk the option to be enlightened by the light. To my surprise, she accepted. There we had marched outside the settlement and the light itself had tried to cleanse her tainted flesh. The undead fled in pain and terror into the town's tavern. Unfortunate attention was stirred...but no pointless conflict had erupted that day.


I returned to the Eastern Kingdoms, strangely enough the undead goblin spoke to me of this abandoned location, wicked in its nature and location. When I arrived I was greeted by the goblin, only to have her lead me into a room where this heavily maimed, blood elf death knight remained imprisoned. The goblin demanded me to show her the light, I showed no doubt as when I walked towards the deathly pale elf, she showed no resistance or neglect. She had the desire to be enlightened, to have her husk no longer hinder the soul that is contained within...

The prayers that slipped out of my tongue and the shimmering light that was growing out of my person, later went straight through the corpse's body, purging the taint that resided within... The battered death knight had been finally laid to rest....

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[Image: travenius.png]

The sensation of a malefic force was present near the broken Castle of Eaglehold. Death was present within its devastated edifice. Sir Camniel and the gilnean witch accompanied me to the tainted fortification. Thoughts of Lord Tavrenius Whiteshore resided deeply in my mind. Why do I serve a warlock? I inquired to myself...

I am the house's guardian and protector. I am its Knight-Commander but my duties are to prevent their dark magic from consuming them. Lord Whiteshore believes in obtaining eternal youth, like many others of his nature. The unfortunate fate of many of these beings are that of insanity or loss of humanity, their forms twisting to a repulsive aberration which seeks nothing but unbalance. The unnatural should not occur, as the price of such is often payed with your soul.

Count Adrilam, deceased ruler of Castle Eaglehold, participated in a cult dedicated in performing heretical rituals to achieve immortality. Members of nobility secretly gathering in his festive halls to eat, laugh, fornicate -- and to blaspheme what is natural. Their intents were to become immortal beings, following the rituals instructed by other profligates before them. I know nothing of such rituals, but I intend to make sure that none do know of its malefic powers. Such a frustrated spirit can be heard howling through the winds within Castle Eaglehold. Explorers I believe stumbled upon this castle plenty of times in the past month after its destruction.

A corrupted creature attacked us, the rotten husk of a wight ambushed us without warning. The wight's presence was brief as its decayed self had been purged by light's scorching judgement. We can hear the wraith's presence from above...

The endless steps of the castle ended as we three finally rested upon flat, castle ground. The air grew cooler as the wraith's form appeared, whistling with its ghastly essence. It did not desire battle, but it desired to obtain its body in exchange for information -- regarding the presence of another profligate involved in his cult. The wraith claimed to be Count Adrilam himself and dissipated to give us time to reflect. As it vanished, the presence of undeath went along with it.

"For now..."

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