(The heading has no date, but is marked 'Darnassus')
"Even now, he haunts me. I don't know if it is some dark magick on his part or simply the terror that struck my soul. I've been having the nightmares again. Again and again, each night and then the next, I see it unfolding. And still, I am just as powerless to stop it. I haven't been keeping track of the days well, but I'd guess that it's been going on for a week or more. It's...a terrible burden. No child, even a child of the Orcs that raided our lands deserves to see their parents killed. And yet, I do. Every night, I see him, Prince Arthas Menethil, on his way home from Northrend. I assumed it was the cold that stole away the color from his skin, the joyful intelligence from his eyes. I hoped it was the smell of righteous vengenance that followed in his terrible wake.
He ventured into our camp, on the road between outside of Stratholme- the Cenarion Circle had dispatched my mother to learn what she could of the Plague, and my father was to escort her. No one had guessed that Arthas had done the deed, for word had not yet reached our ears from Stormwind...My mother was his first victim.
One loses track of time, in Moonglade, so I don't rightly know how old I was, but I saw it. That ice-encrusted runeblade brutally thrust through my mother's stomach, and the pain in her eyes as she shifted out of her druidic wolf-form. It all becomes a blur from there, but I still recall some terrible fragments- My mother (dead! I sob) rise from the ground, my hopes rising...then falling again as she killed my father. His last words were to his pet. I don't know what they were, but the beast bit me and carried me by the scruff of the neck away from there. I woke up in Moonglade to apologies and sorrowful gifts."

Saethren looked up as a breeze disturbed his tent, and the flute hanging outside it. The song it played as the wind brushed by was the song his mother had sang for him as a child. He returned to his journal.

"The flute given to me by the dryad who acted as my mother and guardian is one of the few I still carry with me. I grew up among the druids and other wildlife inthe Moonglade, but I had no such affinity for nature as they did- I walk my father's path, the hunter's path. But..."

Saethren said the next words aloud, even as he traced them with his finger:

"I swear on my mother's grave that I will kill him. I swear on my father's grave that I will see Arthas' sins accounted for. I swear on my oath to the Archdruid that I will not lose myself as I wak this hateful path. As I see to right these wrongs, so too will I right the wrongs done to all people."

He left the journal open, rereading his oath as stoked the fire. His pet, Steelfang, was long since asleep, but he was still plagued by nightmares. He read his oath aloud this time, and felt pain as if the words had burned themselves into his heart. Closing the journal, he extinguished the fire and tried to get some sleep.

((OOC- I hope to post more later...))

The next morning, Saethren awoke to the pleading eyes of Steelfang. Obediently, he cut a strip of meat from the deer carcass he was skinning the previous night and tossed it to the wolf. After breaking camp, he packed everything away on the Dawnsaber he had bought as a beast of labor and began walking through the forests of Stranglethorn Vale towards Darkshire. He had an appointment with King Wrynn that evening, and he didn't want to miss it, and longed to keep his feet in the grass and dirt roads, rather than hire a griffen to fly him to Stormwind.

It was a mostly uneventful trip- he wasn't even attacked by spiders or other wild creatures- which left his mind to wonder about the upcoming meeting with the King. This wasn't the first time the King had asked to speak with him- Saethren's parents had been extremely helpful to the Alliance and the King expected the same of their child- but it had been some time since he had last asked to meet with Saethren...he thought back to that time, in that place, and the people he had met there.

"Stormwind Castle-
The King seems to have high ambitions and hopes for me. I hope I don't disappoint him...
He has asked me to sail out to Kalimdor and meet with a group of druids from the Circle in order to work investigate the Razorfen Downs, and odd noises coming from the same. The group will be mostly druids, as this is a Cenarion quest, but I'm told that I'm not the only non-druid on the campaign. We will meet in the neutral city of Ratchet and continue from there. I'm worried, though. If even the druids themselves don't know what is going on, what can we expect?" 

"Ratchet-
Tomorrow, we quest for the Downs. It's a tense mood here in Ratchet, even though ale is flowing easily. Everyone is too worried about what will happen tomorrow. The Tauren speak amongst themselves nervously, and the Night Elves are against another wall, talking amongst themselves. A Blood Elf strode up to me, and she said to me, in a slightly broken Darnassian, "Guess you'd be the other non-druid. My name's Orichal. I am a Paladin, but, hopefully, we won't need too much of the Light's help." I looked at her, then said, "I'll drink to that. So, why is it you seem so much easier to talk to me then the Tauren?" She laughed. "The Tauren are scared at being seen talking to the Alliance. Thrall himself sent them, and they fear creating a rift between the Orcs and Tauren." I looked her in the eye- such beautiful green eyes- and asked her, "Wanna talk about this elsewhere?" She laughed again- I was starting to like the sound of it- and said, "Now now, I don't even know your name." I grinned back. "Saethren, but my friends call me Sae. The wolf lying on your feet is Steelfang." She reached under the table to pet the now-sleeping Steelfang, and I laughed when the poor thing jumped at the shock. She looked back at me. "Well, now that I know your name, Sae, I suppose we can talk elsewhere."



"Razorfen Downs-
It is an odd thing, writing in my journal so near to this...Bone Pile. Last night, Orichal and I talked into the wee hours of the morn- our lives, our backgrounds, the Alliance and Horde, many things. I think I am in love! She is asleep now, her head resting on Steelfang's side, so I think Steel likes her too. It will be...odd, the one I love serving another ruler...who hates us. We are not so different, though. She understands my pain and hatred at Arthas...she lost many of her friends and family when Arthas attacked the Sunwell to revive Kel'thuzad. She and I fight well together, too.

I should probably get to me job and report about our findings.
The Dru's tell me that it was a burial ground for the Quilboar, and I believe it, with the number of Quilboar here. We fought a great number of them who resisted our passage. Among them, we found some who were diseased,  marked by what is oddly similar to the beginnings of the Scourge Plague...they were skeletal in parts, with weeping, infected flesh showing in others. As we went further, the worse it became- even some of the druids are showing signs. I don't know what's causing this, and neither do the Dru's. Here, at the Bone Pile- such a horrendous sight! It must be at least a large village of people, not that you could tell from the bones- there was a 'living skeleton'. I don't trust my eyes as to that, but it surely did throw many fireballs...It's time for the next watch, I should get some sleep. More later."

((Sorry, it's been way too long since I posted on this. I hadn't decided where I wanted to take it, and now I do. ))

Saethren's mount, a grey-furred Saber, walked calmly through the gates of Stormwind proper, and Saethren couldn't help noticing the whisperings between the peasants as they saw him. Had something happened?

"Razorfen Downs-
Many of our number are beginning to worry- many druids are showing signs of the Scourge Plague- skin falling off, bone showing, half-mad gibbering and screaming... Orichal and I have barely slept. We felt the need to stay awake and be wary of them...not just the druids. More Quilboars seem to come out of nowhere and attack us. It's been...a very long few days. Orichal's strength is failing, much as my own. Potions help...ease the strain but...it is not enough. I teleported Steelfang home, where she can hopefully get some sleep. At least one of us is.

We have left the druids behind, in their suffering, and carried on. Nothing we could do seemed to ease their pain, and I'm not ready to... not after what happened to my parents near Stratholme, and  not after Orichal's family at the Sunwell. We have stopped, mostly due to inability to carry on tonight, on the slope of an tower that runs like a screw up the side. Each step we take not only drains our strength, but it's getting...colder, too. Not just physically colder. It is colder down in our heart. We have begun wearing blankets and walking as close to each other as we can and that seems to help, but not overly much.

I hope we are out of this soon. I fear I have the Plague, too."

Saethren left the Saber out in front of Stormwind Citadel, and turned in his weapons to guards as he neared the throne of King Varian Wrynn, but then noticed...a Blood Elf? He approached the throne and bowed to the ruler of the Alliance, and the Blood Elf said, in a clear Darnassian, "Hello, love."

"Razorfen Downs-
It is happening. I can feel it. My flesh...is hanging loosely from my body. My attacks are slower, and my bowstring fights against me as if it were a monster itself! I think Orichal has noticed. We're back to taking watches, and I've noticed her praying over me and trying to heal me...I don't want her to worry. Tomorrow we shall finally crest this hill, after all the impediments and warriors here, and we shall see what the heart of the matter is.

Razorfen Downs-
A Lich! There was a Lich at the crest of the hill! He called himself 'Amnennar the Coldbringer'. I...am humiliated. He announced that 'He is the hand of the Lich King'. As soon as he said those words, my body was filled with... a new vigor, and hatred coursed through my veins. I didn't bother with my bow. I charged right at him, with my swords in my hands. Before Orichal had any idea what had happened, I had...thrust one blade through the creature's spine, the blade stabbing into the mountain. I saw...fear...in the Lich's eyes. I still hadn't hesitated. My other blade sank deep into his skull, and before his spirit left his tortured body, I had whispered- "Tell Arthas...tell the damned Lich King...that Saethren Bladeleaf comes for him. That Saethren, the Scourgebane will have his head."

Orichal...drew away from me in fear. But, as the Lich's 'soul' passed on, I could feel the Plague leaving me. I can only hope that the Druids return to health.

Dalaran-
I ran. I ran away. Far away. I...couldn't handle what I had done. I...couldn't return to King Wrynn. I couldn't look at Orichal's face. I have made Dalaran my new home, in peace among the mages. I will keep my journal, for the deeds of the past should not be forgotten."

Feeling King Wrynn glare down at him, Saethren glanced at the Blood Elf. It was Orichal, alright. He smiled softly. "It's been...too long, Orie." Wrynn snapped, "Shut up! Do you know why you are here, Saethren Bladeleaf?"
Daring to look up at him, Saethren said, "No, my King, I don't." Wrynn smiled...unpleasantly. Coldly. "You are here because you have betrayed the Alliance. This...sin'dorei...came here. Looking for you. Imagine my surprise at one of Thrall's underlings walk up to me and speak in Darnassian! Explain yourself, Saethren Bladeleaf."
Saethren's gaze fell back to the tiled floor. "My lord. You assigned me to work with the Cenarion Circle to investigate the Scourge Plage in Razorfen Downs. Thrall sent this woman to work with them as well, and we fell in love. After...losing myself in a battle aganist a Lich, I ran away from my duty- returning to you, my task- protecting the druids, and...my love. Orichal. I have explained myself in full, King."
Varian Wrynn gazed down at him. "You have betrayed the Alliance multiple times. Leave my sight, and don't be found on Alliance lands. You are not of the Alliance anymore."
A mysterious man stepped out of the shadows. "My Lord Wrynn." Varian sighed. "Yes, Taliesen?" The man- a Night Elf- took another step toward the King's Throne. "If he is no longer of the Alliance...I would take him into my own, my guild. You know well of the Lore, King Wrynn." Varian sighed heavily. "Very well, Taliesen. Just this once. Now leave, both of you." Taliesen turned, placed a hand on Saethren's shoulder, and walked toward the exit.
Saethren didn't budge. "King Varian Wrynn." He spat at the floor. "If you are so short-sighted to hold on tightly to your hatred of the Horde, that is your fault. But I will not be made victim to your short sightedness. I will take Orichal with me, and I don't care what you say to it. I'm not 'of the Alliance' anymore, right?"
With a sharp whistle, the saber and Steelfang came bounding up to them, bearing Saethren's weapons and Orichal's as well. Holding on to the three of them, Saethren channeled his energies into his Hearthstone and faded from sight.

"Holding onto my love, never wanting to let go, I channeled a portion of my energy into my Hearthstone and faded from the Stormwind Throne room."

Saethren Bladleleaf held his journal in his hands, looking down on this last entry, written many months ago. He was seated behind a short table at his house in Dalaran- Orichal was asleep on the sofa, with Steelfang collapsed over her body like a giant, living blanket. Saethren closed his journal, and put it on the table beside his bow, which he had recently re-strung, an old nervous habit from before he had settled in here. He sighed heavily, looking over the couple hundred arrows all around the room, along with his swords. There was a slight shift of movement in the doorway, and Orichal walked in, asking him quietly in Darnassian, "You miss it...don't you?" Saethren didn't answer her, but instead pulled the bowstring and released it with a twang. Orichal settled in beside him, her head rested against Saethren's shoulder. She fingered the ring around her finger. "We're married now, Sae...You can talk to me." Saethren sighed again. "Yes...I miss it. I have been thinking, of late, of...going back. Fighting again. But...I don't know how, now that I'm not of the Alliance." Orichal wrapped one of her petite hands in one of his, seeming so large to them both. "I have been thinking about it, too, Sae. But it's been even longer since I have been out adventuring."

There came a knock on the door.

Saethren rose, and crossed the length of his home, picking up a sword on his way. "Who is it?" He asked in the Common tongue.

"I am Taliesen Anarie, Saethren. I would come in and speak with you." responded the voice, also speaking Common.

Saethren opened the door, and ushered in the kal'dorei man standing there. "Be welcome in my home, Taliesen Anarie." Saethren said, switching to Darnassian for Orichal's sake. Taliesen looked around the home, bigger than what most Night Elves were used to, and more ornate. "It is a nice home. Thank you for welcoming me."

Saethren indicated a sofa. "Would you care to sit and talk?"

Taliesen smiled wryly, and sat down with a thankful nod. Saethren listened to Taliesen's armor creak as he sat down, and remembered the sound, not heard by his ears for...too long. Taliesen looked at him. "I am here to speak with you about that which happened many months ago, at Stormwind..." He said, trailing off slowly, reading Saethren's reaction. Saethren tried to keep his voice as calm and flat as possible, but he still betrayed a small emotion. "What happened then is done, Taliesen. What would you speak of that for?" Taliesen nodded slowly. "True, what happened is done, more is the pity. I am the leader of the Forbidden Lore, whom King Varian Wrynn turned you over to. But he failed to remember one thing. He may be king of Stormwind, but that is mostly the humans. You answer to Lady Whisperwind, not King Wrynn. He has not the power to forbid you from the Alliance. That being said, I would still like you to join our ranks."

The next few hours were spent of Taliesen and Saethren speaking with each other, Orichal bringing refreshment and sitting with her husband.

"I would be...honored, Loremaster." Saethren told Taliesen, using the man's title.

Taliesen smiled again. "Good, good. There is one more thing, though. I have spoken with you, and I feel I know you, well enough at least. But I would know some more of our past, your thoughts. And the other members of my...family, for want of a better term, would want to know you, as well."

Saethren smiled softly, and rose gently to his feet. "Pardon me for one moment, Loremaster."

Orichal Riversong turned to Taliesen as Saethren left. "You will take care of him...won't you? He...we are all we have."

Taliesen nodded gravely, and if he was surprised the the Darnassian-speaking sin'dorei, he didn't show it.

Saethren returned, holding a weather-beaten, time-wearied leather-bound book in his hands. He held it out to Taliesen. "This is one of my journals, the one I think would be best for you to have. I think you should have it, for the Lore. I trust it to you, to do with what you will."

Taliesen Anarie left a few minutes later, holding the book in his hand.