Denouncing the Sin'dorei

[immortalmoon]

It had always been there, in his mind, the seed, the idea. All it took was some nurturing, some motivation, to make it bloom, grow, spread, insidious, like a parasite, but beautiful all the same.
Events were proceeding. Things were coming into motion. A part of him was loathe to enter self-exile, to leave behind, forever, the only home he had ever known. But what of Elethanen? Knowing now that this fragment of his past still remained, that it had not yet been washed away by the tides of time, how could he face it as he was now?
He was a monster, he told himself. Nobody could love a monster.
So he would change, for the better. He would denounce his people, who had been walking down all the wrong paths, and journey into the wilderness. He would become an exile with no home, no land to call his own.

Wanderer.


- - - - -


The following is a notice pinned up around Silvermoon:

"For a long time, I have called Quel'thalas my home. I am Thalassian by birth, and I will always consider Silvermoon the height - nay, the pinnacle - of beauty.
But, fellow Sin'dorei, I can remain amongst you no longer.
My doubts first began following the times after the loss of our beloved Sunwell. Choices were made. Paths were taken, when other options were available. I cannot turn a blind eye to what we are becoming, should we continue down this misbeggoten road.
Does it not strike you, the hypocrisy of what we're doing?
The Scourge is the greatest blight upon our lands. They took almost everything from us. Yes, we had the strength to recover, but would you really call this a true recovery? The Scourge are a product of the Burning Legion, for the most part. And yet, all of us were willing to turn to Fel Energies to sate our magical addictions. Fel, the energy of demons, the demons of the Burning Legion. You may consider it irony that we take the power of our enemies, but it is not. It is a mistake, without question. What are we truly doing to our bodies? Magic in itself corrupts, but Fel Magic is something much, much worse. The Felblood Elves are proof of this. They are monsters, without doubt.

And that leads me to the matter of Kael'thas, our misled Prince. Or, former Prince, rather. He was the one that supplied us with the ability to feed on demonic energies, as you are no doubt aware. Yet he betrayed us with his loyal Felblood Elves in tow. Yes, betrayed his own people, those who looked to him for salvation. He would have seen us completely obliterated. I am not ashamed to admit my hatred for this man. Do you not think, therefore, that fel magic was a poor substitute for the Sunwell? How can you trust the solution of a madman?
Yes, you may move on to claim our Sunwell has returned. But has this really changed anything? Look in the mirror. Look at your eyes. Many still choose to feed on demonic magic, despite the proof of what it does to a person, body and mind. You have the Sunwell to turn back to, yet you are unwilling? Do you not think this is the height of arrogance, of foolishness? Fel Magic and Light Magic - they do not go together, not in the one body, not at all.
I, for one, only turned to Fel magic to sate my thirst. I am not proud of this. What reason should I have to be proud of being brought so low? Now that the Sunwell has returned, I do not plan to continue feeding off of Fel magic. In time, such vile power will be rid from my body entirely. The Alliance and our former brethren, the Quel'dorei, will, no doubt, be unwilling to accept me back amongst their ranks. I will become the black sheep, unwanted by all. This does not bother me, however.
Even so, if you really cared for the glory of our people, you would be willing to be reunited with the Quel'dorei. Our numbers are few, and to refuse to breach the gap that has been formed between these two factions of the same race is not only incredibly unwise, but naive.
Reconciliation is necessary. I have travelled beyond Quel'thalas for quite some time - I know this to be true.

I do not wish to remain as I am. The Sin'dorei continue to disappoint me with every move, every decision. If there are any willing to see sense, then do as I do. It has been postulated by some that rejoining our former brethren is not impossible. I would hope to see the number of people wishing for this to increase.
When next you look into the mirror and see the crude green of your eyes, ask yourself whether it's worth it to continue acting as you are now.

My name is Aenarin Sunseer, formally a High Elf of Quel'thalas, then a Blood Elf, but now no longer. I will venture forth into the world until such a time as I am accepted back amongst you, should my beliefs prove to be true, my opinions correct. If that day should come...I will rejoin you gladly."


- - - - -

NOTE:
Although I don't think this should need mentioning, I will do so anyway just to make sure.
This is not saying that Aenarin is going to be a High Elf, as that is forbidden, and I am aware of this. It is simply saying he no longer considers himself a Blood Elf, politically, and is going into self-exile.
That is all.

[c0rzilla]

((...how well known is it that The Scourge is a product of the Legion?))

[immortalmoon]

The Dreadlords raise undead, don't they...? If it's not well known I'll remove that part.

[Jeff]

I think the events of the Legion's summoning or Hyjal made it pretty clear when undead and Demons marched side-by-side.

[McKnighter]

(( Well, I don't think it is common knowledge, but then again there's a book explaining the creation of the Lich King somewhere in the world. I do not know if that is IC or just lore explanation OOCly.))


A young red haired woman was wandering among the great streets of Silvermoon, when a slip of paper catches her eye. Curious, she strolled over to the announcement and read the text which was written upon it. Her expression slowly grew more dark and grim, her shoulders sagging as half of the words bashed and tore down her new life-style. By the time she had reached the last paragraph, she was barely holding herself together from the lashes towards Fel by the author.

"Aenarin Sunseer," she whispered quietly to herself. Melissa shook her head faintly at the paper, briefly running a finger across her eyes to make sure that none of the threatening treats had fallen down her cheeks. She turns slowly and marches off to a private location to where she could meditate and calm herself of the upset this writer caused her.

[DaveM]

He walked past the notice. He stopped. He walked backwards. He looked over the note. He exhaled the cigarette's smoke. He smirked with a mutter.

"Cute. Dramatic. But cute."

Then Sigerius Narmolanya walked on.

________________________________________________________________________________________

On patrol, the young Rhydial Higstride, clad in full Blood Knight attire, though with an Argent Crusade pin upon his breast, took to inspection of the notice board. His breath quickened as he looked over the new note of this "Sunseer". His first reflex, strongly, his hand actually raised to do so, was to snatch the note away. True as its points may be, it could and would add to the difficulty of maintaining public order, protest by protest. He hesitated. A drop of sweat rolled down his temple. He looked left and right, and saw, checking several times, that none walked up or down the street. A minute later, he strode away, worry turning to pride.

Added in black charcoal writing at the bottom of the note hung the anonymous additon.

"May you one day return to a Silvermoon with eyes purged of fel, brother."

[Arrillion]

Zarian Baneblade patrolled through the street. It was a quited day, and he was allowed to enjoy the perfect beauty of Silvermoon. Silvermoon was perfect, in every aspect, he smiled. The smile dissapeared as he saw a letter pinned on a white marble wall. It was so, out of place. His first intention would be to remove the letter, but curiousity took the better of him. He frowned deeply as he read the contents of the letter, once he was done. "How dare he speak of reconciliation....misled fool."
He snatched the letter from the wall and burned it with holy fire. As a Blood Knight, it was also his job to prevent dissent afterall. "This traitorous propaganda will defile my city no longer." He smiled as he continued his walk, but his day was ruined.

[Gaiaboy10]

Faeron Windsayer walked along the streets of Silvermoon, staring up at the sky as his plate mail boots made a steady stream of thuds against the stone and his pole arm tapped the back of his leg. He walked directly into a wall and blinked a couple of times as he rubbed his head and took a step back "Damn, I really need to pay more attention to where I'm going..." He looked at the wall for a moment before he noticed a small piece of paper, pinned to the wall on his left. He walked over to it and while still rubbing his head with a plated palm, read it. His expression changed from a mildly happy one, to a rather satisfied look. He smiled lightly as he took a step back and nodded to the paper as if thanking it. As Faeron walked away, still rubbing his head, he slowly turned his gaze back to the sky and smiled "Aenarin Sunseer...good luck where ever you may be.

[muhaha8]

Keyalis was walking down one of the many side-streets of Silvermoon, clad in her leather suit, a rose from an admirer tucked behind her ear. The only thing currently symbolizing her status as a Blood Knight was the sword on her waist: the symbol of the Blood Knights engraved at the base of the blade. She happens across one of the posters. She reads it, through and through, several times. She shakes her head, furrows her brow. She turns to walk away, but merely turns right back. She stares at the paper again, then mumbles to herself. "Fool is going to get himself killed. But whatever works for him." She scribbled across the bottom, "Good luck, brother. May you find what it is you seek." and walks away, frowning deeply.

[Aphetoros]

Astus Duskwither slipped cautiously throughout the streets, a hood over his face as rain poured down around him. He closed his eyes, then looked up at the poster, his eyes burning with cold fel-fury as he clutched the small poster in his hand. Aenarin...

Maybe I can use you...

If I can't then...

[left]You're worthless.[/left]

He looked up, again, entering a small alleyway with a tall blood elven forsaken. The mage nodded, his movements controlled by Astus as he conjured a portal. A head poked through and growled, Stop leaving.

_________________

Hyacinth stared up at the poster with his soft emerald eyes. He shook his head, frowning. "I'm going to need to see if the Blood Knights have information on this whore." He folded his arms, looking at it for a moment before he pulled out a match. He lit it, the flame wavering slightly in the drizzle of rain around him, but he held the storm-match to the paepr long enough for it to burn. He methodically went along, burning the posters...

[Xigo]

Said burning would be met by a death-glare from Arianna Dawnbreaker, Archmage. She would interrupt after the second or third one.

"What do you think you're doing?"

[Aphetoros]

"Fixing it, miss. Such treasonous statements are disallowed, are they not?" He would tilt his head at her, shaking the last match he used as he would clench the dust in his left hand.

[Binkleheimer]

Del Delamore looks at it and sighs heavily. He moves on.