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Originally written September 15, 2011.

OOC: This is part of the Letter to the Lightbringer chain of events, which began with a letter sent to Arialynn by Kormok, requesting to remove Hillsbrad refugees from a Tear fortress. This scene took place a little earlier than this journal was published. The writing is catching up with the current roleplay.

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The air of Hyjal was temperate and welcome as Arialynn emerged from the Firelands gate. Her helm was already removed and held against her belt and forearm, the skin of her face was flushed with heat, and her cheekbones weathered dry and flaking. Visible sweat was oddly absent, but its presence was noted by the dried, messy plaster of hair against her forehead and temples. The rest of its length was bound beneath the nape of her neck in a braid, and clipped tightly against the back of her head with an unseen pin. Countless places of her armor were dulled with ash and soot, and though her cloak was woven fabric, it seemed largely spared save for harsh blackening on all its edges.

 

She wasted little time with pleasantries outside the gate. Pausing to receive a waterskin from a helpful druid, Arialynn lingered long enough only for a grateful word and nod, then departed for a row of tents. The tents stood in odd contrast to the campaign they served: they were pitched beneath the dappled shade of lush trees, the only visible flame were tame campfires scattered among the rows.

 

Bending low, the lady knight entered her own tent, private save for the flimsy canvas that separated her from the din of the war camp outside. Within, the tent contained little: a low-lying cot, a stand for armor, a small desk, and a chest with an empty water basin. Atop the desk were letters neglected since her most recent campaign into the Molten Front, she approached the desk and began the task of reading them all.

 

One was from Taldrus, whom she had not seen for days. Though the both of them fought the same battle, she led one army while he fought with another. She set it aside and left a pen atop it, with the thought to pen a return letter of her own.

 

Several were from Templars, stationed outside the Molten Front and turning in reports. One wrote from Lor'danel, the port of entry for Templar Hyjal supplies, and reported renewed Twilight's Hammer activity in the south. Another Templar reported from Theramore that raw ore, lumber, herbs and other materials were drawing low and needed replenished. A third wrote from aboard a Zephr Trading Company ship, cheerily informing that new water and rations were on their way soon. Another arrived from the draenei shaman, Jamus, writing in careful detail of the Firelands and the creatures' capabilities within.

 

A sixth arrived from Harple Firehand, reporting on improvements on his own fire wards, and a new sample of fire-resistant cloaks was to arrive by portal the moment she concluded his letter. Two shining cloaks popped into existence, circled the tent once and neatly folded themselves atop the cot the moment her eyes reached the report's final letter. To add to the archmage's usual flourish, the letter slipped out of her hand, briefly took on the form of a graceful paper swan, performed an acrobatic loop, and finally neatly unfolded then folded itself, too. Arialynn made a mental note to not open any of Harple's letters when the eccentric mage was in a bad mood.

 

His letter came with a last-moment addendum: Phillipa Elisabeth Beresford is a fine spellcaster. Quiet, but not to be undermined!

 

Two more came from the Theramore smithy, penned in Koryander Emberstone and Nyres Treestalker's names. Though kept on one parchment paper, both lady blacksmiths wrote separate tales: leftover dragon was both a bane and boon for forging weapons and armor. The new armor was to arrive soon.

 

The final bore the seal of the Tears of Draenor, and immediately the slowly kindling smile on her face faded. Within was a letter writing in detail about age, gender and conditions of three dozen refugees. The lady knight read the letter twice, and immediately took up her pen to write her own.

 

To Harple Firehand and Phillipa Beresford,

There is need for your spellcasting services. Three dozen refugees take shelter in the shadow of Fenris Keep, they must be moved with no time to be spared.

We have arranged temporary shelter in Theramore while we secure a permanent relocation. There is little chance for safe passage on foot or by ship, there is need for portal or summoning.

Reply with haste, and begin preparations immediately. Your expertise is needed and deeply thanked.

Light's blessing.

Signed,
Arialynn Maewood
Templars of the Rose

 

The lady paladin duplicated the message once, by swift hand. The moment the ink fully dried, each message was sealed, secured and was sent on its way by wing to two separate corners of Azeroth.

 

As she watched the small winged couriers depart, she stood in a moment of wandering thought: War, she concluded. Is many things. We act as more than soldiers out of necessity. Now, the Templars take on the mantle of caregiver. This is not a short or simple road.

 

The couriers shrank into the horizon, and Arialynn returned to the tent, and to the other mantles still left unattended.

Author Ari
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