08-13-2010, 05:07 AM
Part I: A Gathering Storm
Fala'thorei's ears pricked up. The howling wind and battering rain made it hard to discern any other noises from outside this battered homestead in Raven Hill. The door had been locked, but a swift kick had granted him some shelter on this stormy night. The house had been abandoned some time ago, he observed. Dust covered the furniture, and cobwebs stretched from wall to wall. Propping his warglaives into the corner, he sat by a small, weathered desk next to the window. The shutters rattled noisily against the beating wind outside.
He did not mind the wind or the rain. Since the Second Binding, one of the rituals he had undertaken, he now felt uncomfortably warm most of the time, and the rain only helped to cool his bare skin. But he needed the shelter for what he was about to do. He pulled a small book from a satchel at his belt, and took out a worn pencil. Pursing his cracked lips, he bent low over the human-sized desk and stared at the page for a moment. To his spectral sight, the page would look almost the same before and after it had been written on. Sighing, he brought the pencil to the paper and began to write.
I sit now in silent contemplation of what I have started.
It is not a convenience for me, as it is for most, to be able to vent my thoughts to others. So, it is to myself I must turn, in the form of this diary.
I've spent the last week in Outland with my kinsman, Nardor Leafrunner. He is eager, if a little too much so. I can tell he looks up to me, and I fear that he will ask me to train him as a Demon Hunter.
Fala'thorei looked up and out the window, his blindfold creased by a frowning brow. A roll of thunder drowned out the sound of the wind and rain for a moment. He looked back down at the page.
I was contacted by one Sylvandre Cloudtear. She had been recommended to me by one of her companions, and she warned of a Sin'Dorei who was heading for the Netherstorm for some research on its power.
Although Nardor and I found evidence of his presence, we could do no more without more information. It was then that I came to the conclusion that my efforts in Outland are in vain, if there are those in Azeroth who continue to welcome in the Demons with open arms.
I dispatched Nardor to his companions, and arranged for them to meet me in Duskwood, the southern half of Elwynn Forest. I also sent an invitation to this gathering to the few people who I've found to be trustworthy in these parts.
He turned the page with a clawed thumb and forefinger.
They all heeded the call, and the council of war was soon underway. We exchanged information and introduced one another. There were many there who I did not know, but I could see no taint of the Fel within them, and so I trusted them by association.
Among those who heeded my call were Lady Annabelle, one of Nardor's companions; Lady Anabeth, who seems honorable, if a little shady in nature; Mr. Garland Zenith, a Witchhunter who operates within the eastern kingdoms, and an interesting chap called Mr. Grimwood. He had much information to give, and seemed to know the inner workings of the Heretic Circus.
He seemed distressed by most of the information he provided, so I did not wish to question its source.
Also present was Lady Sylvandre Cloudtear, who had been helpful to me; Shiv, who supplied me with invaluable information on the Catacombs where the Heretics convene; and several others, including the owner of the house, also an acquaintance of Nardor's.
Halfway through the meeting, the owner of the house received word that a girl rescued from the catacombs was in trouble. We set off for Goldshire.
Fala'thorei pinched the bridge of his nose through his blindfold to sate an itch that had grown there. He turned the page once more.
Although we did not rescue the girl, I did identify several members of the circus, their form well tainted by the Fel.
We tailed one of them up to Stormwind. I had to be very discreet while in the city, but I think I was sufficiently covered so as not to arouse suspicion. Anabeth dragged the Heretic into an alley, unconscious, and we set about getting her out of the city undetected.
Deep in the forest, we extracted some information from her, but she did not have much information that we could use, or did not know already. To my disgust we left her alive, upon Anabeth's request. She reasoned that the girl would be killed by the other Heretics for her betrayal of information.
It still frustrated me to be forced to leave her alive, one who had willingly summoned demons into this world. The thought angers me still.
He looked up, breathing heavily. He needed to work more on controlling his anger. It was becoming harder and harder to keep his cool. His master's words flashed to his mind.
Rage. You have much anger in your veins already. This particular tattoo will enhance that, although for most it would make them more likely to submit to the darkness. In your case, I think you are stubborn enough to handle it.
He stood and opened the shutters of the window. A cold breeze blew in instantly, and a spatter of raindrops fell onto his book. Gradually, his anger subsided as he concentrated on controlling his breathing. He sat back down, and began to write once more.
The union of these forces has given me hope, however. Though there are many differences between us all, we share a common goal- the eradication of demonologists from this land.
I am glad to have them with me.
He turned the page, licking his lips in silent concentration.
I will remain in Duskwood for some time. I want to formalize this unity.
The question is how to go about it?
I will need to meditate on this.
He shut the book and tucked it quickly into his satchel. Walking over to the bed, he lay down on the straw mattress, which sank heavily under his weight.
This may take some time, he thought.
Fala'thorei's ears pricked up. The howling wind and battering rain made it hard to discern any other noises from outside this battered homestead in Raven Hill. The door had been locked, but a swift kick had granted him some shelter on this stormy night. The house had been abandoned some time ago, he observed. Dust covered the furniture, and cobwebs stretched from wall to wall. Propping his warglaives into the corner, he sat by a small, weathered desk next to the window. The shutters rattled noisily against the beating wind outside.
He did not mind the wind or the rain. Since the Second Binding, one of the rituals he had undertaken, he now felt uncomfortably warm most of the time, and the rain only helped to cool his bare skin. But he needed the shelter for what he was about to do. He pulled a small book from a satchel at his belt, and took out a worn pencil. Pursing his cracked lips, he bent low over the human-sized desk and stared at the page for a moment. To his spectral sight, the page would look almost the same before and after it had been written on. Sighing, he brought the pencil to the paper and began to write.
I sit now in silent contemplation of what I have started.
It is not a convenience for me, as it is for most, to be able to vent my thoughts to others. So, it is to myself I must turn, in the form of this diary.
I've spent the last week in Outland with my kinsman, Nardor Leafrunner. He is eager, if a little too much so. I can tell he looks up to me, and I fear that he will ask me to train him as a Demon Hunter.
Fala'thorei looked up and out the window, his blindfold creased by a frowning brow. A roll of thunder drowned out the sound of the wind and rain for a moment. He looked back down at the page.
I was contacted by one Sylvandre Cloudtear. She had been recommended to me by one of her companions, and she warned of a Sin'Dorei who was heading for the Netherstorm for some research on its power.
Although Nardor and I found evidence of his presence, we could do no more without more information. It was then that I came to the conclusion that my efforts in Outland are in vain, if there are those in Azeroth who continue to welcome in the Demons with open arms.
I dispatched Nardor to his companions, and arranged for them to meet me in Duskwood, the southern half of Elwynn Forest. I also sent an invitation to this gathering to the few people who I've found to be trustworthy in these parts.
He turned the page with a clawed thumb and forefinger.
They all heeded the call, and the council of war was soon underway. We exchanged information and introduced one another. There were many there who I did not know, but I could see no taint of the Fel within them, and so I trusted them by association.
Among those who heeded my call were Lady Annabelle, one of Nardor's companions; Lady Anabeth, who seems honorable, if a little shady in nature; Mr. Garland Zenith, a Witchhunter who operates within the eastern kingdoms, and an interesting chap called Mr. Grimwood. He had much information to give, and seemed to know the inner workings of the Heretic Circus.
He seemed distressed by most of the information he provided, so I did not wish to question its source.
Also present was Lady Sylvandre Cloudtear, who had been helpful to me; Shiv, who supplied me with invaluable information on the Catacombs where the Heretics convene; and several others, including the owner of the house, also an acquaintance of Nardor's.
Halfway through the meeting, the owner of the house received word that a girl rescued from the catacombs was in trouble. We set off for Goldshire.
Fala'thorei pinched the bridge of his nose through his blindfold to sate an itch that had grown there. He turned the page once more.
Although we did not rescue the girl, I did identify several members of the circus, their form well tainted by the Fel.
We tailed one of them up to Stormwind. I had to be very discreet while in the city, but I think I was sufficiently covered so as not to arouse suspicion. Anabeth dragged the Heretic into an alley, unconscious, and we set about getting her out of the city undetected.
Deep in the forest, we extracted some information from her, but she did not have much information that we could use, or did not know already. To my disgust we left her alive, upon Anabeth's request. She reasoned that the girl would be killed by the other Heretics for her betrayal of information.
It still frustrated me to be forced to leave her alive, one who had willingly summoned demons into this world. The thought angers me still.
He looked up, breathing heavily. He needed to work more on controlling his anger. It was becoming harder and harder to keep his cool. His master's words flashed to his mind.
Rage. You have much anger in your veins already. This particular tattoo will enhance that, although for most it would make them more likely to submit to the darkness. In your case, I think you are stubborn enough to handle it.
He stood and opened the shutters of the window. A cold breeze blew in instantly, and a spatter of raindrops fell onto his book. Gradually, his anger subsided as he concentrated on controlling his breathing. He sat back down, and began to write once more.
The union of these forces has given me hope, however. Though there are many differences between us all, we share a common goal- the eradication of demonologists from this land.
I am glad to have them with me.
He turned the page, licking his lips in silent concentration.
I will remain in Duskwood for some time. I want to formalize this unity.
The question is how to go about it?
I will need to meditate on this.
He shut the book and tucked it quickly into his satchel. Walking over to the bed, he lay down on the straw mattress, which sank heavily under his weight.
This may take some time, he thought.
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