Training began, immediately. The man never gave me his name, but I saw another young man, much like myself, try and escape. I also saw his left hand removed right there, and then he was forced to begin training again, as he bled. He ran and trained for a little while longer before collapsing, no doubt from blood loss, and they merely left him there. I had never seen such things done. I'd like to say that I endured, I'd like to record that I never gave in, but I will not lie on these pages.
Those days were bleak, and depressing. Every day was a fight for survival, but I survived. I had to, and I knew I would not give in. I killed people in those times, not because I had to, but because it improved my chances. He made it clear that only a few people would survive this training. I became cold and heartless. I forgot who I was, my life. Eventually, I was the only one left. The training had made me into who I was, but I did not fight it. I embraced it.
I began to be tutored in the ways of the Shadow. Not only in hiding, moving quietly, and thievery, but small tricks embracing Shadow magic. They taught us, drilled us, beat the knowledge into us as often as possible. I learned how to shift the shadows around me, and make myself partially incorporeal. I learned to bend light around me, making it largely impossible for magical effects to take hold and spells to land on me. The hardest thing I learned was to step through a shadow and come out of another one. The feeling is… strange. It is almost like your skin peeling away from your body, but there is no pain. Only an intense feeling of cold as the shadows absorb you. Then there is a burning sensation as you exit out of the other shadow, and the warmth of the world returns. It happens in less than an instant, and can be completely disorienting as I learned, but I had a knack for these tricks. Apparently, Shadow magic has ways of making itself known, and my power, though no manifested, was great in a passive sense.
Apparently, this was not the end of my training, but only the beginning. I soon was taken along with parties of thieves and we robbed caravans and passers-by. No one was safe, and I embraced it. I was good at it, and if I kept my head down and listened, I was never in trouble. I merely existed during this time. I killed very few people, because most people didn't resist. The only people that ever had to be dealt with were the Guards, really.
Those days would not last, thankfully. As I write this, though, I find myself testing the limits of my capabilities and, strangely enough, my powers concerning the Shadow have grown. Strangely, I never felt that I would be capable of wielding any kind of magic, and I am sure no one suspects that I have the slightest mastery of magic. I surprise myself, because, in practice, I avoid flourishing it. I rarely use it, because I… fear it, more often than not. I will have to seek help soon, because I find myself losing control a little. I should seek out help for it, soon, because if the beast within realizes how much I have to fight to control this, then the beast will consume me, I fear.
Maybe Velhari will know of someone…
I have been working on controlling the Shadow, and have had some success. The Shadow had receded for the time being, but I am not sure if that is better or not, however I cannot afford as many distractions lately.
Kilaa has begun recovering, and scared Velhari and I when she sneaked out of her room. I found her in Stormwind recently, and she had new injuries and had abandoned the colors of the Guard, I was surprised to see that, really, but had no time to comment. I merely saw Kilaa's injuries, and dragged her into the Cathedral to seek a healer. Lady Woodward had said that one of the Priestesses was still awake, however, I ran into Velhari there and was distracted by her 'condition'.
Velhari was alright, of course, but apparently had been attacked by some warlock, some practitioner of fel magics and the fight had gone on for some time before he was disabled and then, later on, he recovered and attempted an escape and Velhari, alone, stopped him. However, she was still covered in blood and gore, and I was distracted. I circled her, looking closely, letting my senses take over to make sure Velhari had not been hurt. I.. do not know why it distracted me so, but I could not forgive myself if she had been hurt while I was not around. Luckily, she was not injured.
She was tired, and I hugged her in relief, forgetting to shift into my friendlier form, and she froze. I felt her seize up st my touch, but she eventually relaxed and did not make any move to stop me or get away, which touched me. As I realized what I did, and her reactions, I smiled and shifted from the beast to my human form. During this interaction, Kilaa escaped the Cathedral.
The rest of the night was spent being tortured by creeping digits on my ribs and feet. Damn that woman, damn her and her tickling. I almost drowned. However, it felt good. She needed to relax, and so I am happy to suffer such treatment when it makes her happy and relaxed. She told me that she had finally relaxed that night, and I was glad. The first repayment I made to her for ruining our date.
After that, there was only one room at the inn in Lakeshire. However, the bed was huge. Five people could have laid on that thing and not touched, I swear. Velhari slept on one side, and I slept on the other. However, when I woke up, she was cuddled against her, and I had an arm around her. I grinned to myself and merely stared up into the ceiling for awhile, my thoughts capturing me as I waited for her to wake up.
We departed after a few kisses, and went separate ways until late in the day when we both observed a good time to pray. After prayers, Arialynn Maewood entered the Cathedral and greetings were exchanged, as well as an invitation to converse, extended to her by myself. We moved out of the Cathedral to a nearby building, owned by the Argents but open to all. We spoke of the Templars, their current efforts, and what Velhari and I could do to help them with such. Velhari's eyes were finally opened that night to what the Templars truly stood for, and I was glad to be there for that.
Velhari wanted to speak with a Templar, and Arialynn asked Alekxander to join us. I believe Alek and I have now gotten over any concerns he may have had for me. He thought me trying to take advantage of Red, but I would not do that. I merely felt that the woman needed to be complimented. Eventually, Velhari satisfied with Alek's answers to her queries, Alek suggested Velhari seeking out Koryander and speak to her, as well. The night ended again, with both of us staying in Lakeshire once more, preparing to travel north and look into some matters of concern and safety.
I also have been exposed as a romantic by Velhari. During a recent stay with Kilaa, I had begun to sketch out some… scribbles and scratches follow as Sielic cannot put the words to paper. They are illegible.
Instead, I will just attach what I wrote to these pages to explain.
Attached is a sheet of paper, reading as follows…
Throughout Azeroth, beauty will not have its fair share,
For it is all taken by the beauty, miss Demare.
Throughout Azeroth, kindness can not be found,
Due to it all being Velhari soul bound.
Throughout Azeroth, better company can not be achieved,
Everyone who tries to match her will just end up peeved.
There is only one Velhari Demare,
And of her, I am glad for my fair share.
Oh, Azeroth, you are all the more beautiful and you shine,
While I have miss Demare in these arms of mine.
It occurs to me to pen some words here, and maybe this bit of wisdom will travel throughout Azeroth and stick into some thick skulls.
Change is not bad, should not be feared. Men and women redeem themselves, in the eyes of their family, friends, and the Light. People change and should be forgiven. Men and women fight personal battles, every day, and are constantly judged for their personal beliefs, but it takes all kinds for our Alliance to survive. We need the strong of heart, and the strong of arm. The quick witted, and the quick footed. The stout, and the fragile. These things are all required, and we all have our roles to fill. When someone is not on the front lines, that is no reason to doubt their bravery. They may serve in other regards. They may craft arms and armors for the soldier, or maybe they spend their nights knitting together bandages and brewing potions. They may even donate time to the orphans, the children who have lost their parents to our wars.
Change will happen, and I believe in change and redemption. I have to, I am on my own journey for it, as are many people in these days. I want to change for the better, I want to serve the Alliance and not just serve the bloodshed needed to fuel its engines of destruction. Resources are required, and the greatest resource on Azeroth is the blood of the fallen. Martyrs and fallen enemies inspire our men to greater deeds, and yet that is someone's brother, sister, mother, father who has fallen. Enemy, or friends, it does not always matter. Loss of life only weakens the mortal races as they oppose those who would crush us.
It takes all kinds, as I wrote above, and I stand by that statement. Some may say that the Horde are the greatest enemy to the Alliance, and the Alliance to them, but I dispute this statement. We are not the greatest enemies. We give and take territory, the Horde advances, the Alliance retreats, the Alliance advances, the Horde retreats. We are locked into combat and cannot escape, but that does not mean we are enemies, to the core.
The Burning Legion, the Scourge, the Amani Trolls, OId Gods, and crazed Dragons. What leads to their downfall? Unity. It is, and always will be, unity. The Night Elves repelled the Burning Legion once, but did they do it alone? No, the Earthen assisted them. As did the Ancients, and their power was undeniable, and still losses were to be had. The Tauren, and their tribes, lent their might to the Night Elven armies, as our histories tell us, and were vital in the war. One race cannot stand to the threats to Azeroth. One faction cannot stand.
Some would argue that the glory of the Alliance could withstand all threats to it, but realistically this should be recognized as pride and nothing factual. The Alliance is grand, and I fight for it, but I will never advocate the erasing of the Horde. The Forsaken are a threat to us all, but the time will come when the Orcs, Trolls, Tauren, Goblins, Blood Elves will see who these Forsaken are. Once again, however, there is change. Redemption. Not all Forsaken pursue the same destruction to the living as some propose. While few and far between, I have met Forsaken that did not wish to kill any, let alone wipe out -races- of people. We all must begin to learn not to judge by something's race, by dead or alive. They have free will, as do we all. Our choices are our own, and while regrets may be had, we must continue on. We can regret, but we cannot take back. Apologize, but not erase. Choices must be made, and I make my own. I quest for redemption, for forgiveness of my crimes. I am on that path, and there are those who will walk besides me, those who will lend a hand so that I may step up and redeem myself in the Light and show those close to me who I truly am.
Will I stop fighting the Horde? No, I fight for the lives of those within the Alliance, but I no longer see merit in raiding Horde territories when all that are killed in those raids are civilians and noncombatants. When children become the target, I draw the line. Soldiers fight soldiers, and I will gladly face my end on the battlefield, but only for what I believe in. The glory of the Alliance is not that we are better that the Horde, but that we adapt, we are capable of change and unity. The conflicts with the Horde serve a greater purpose, and that is to hone our military to perfection. We expose weaknesses, adapt our defenses, but all the while, the Horde and Alliance grow stronger. One cannot survive without the other, because adaptation is key. Change is needed for our survival.
Redemption of those within the Horde, within the eyes of the Alliance is my goal. To prove to those around me that not all are content with the Banshee Queen's methods, or that of Garrosh and his bloodthirst. Just as not all are in agreement with Varian's aggressive tendencies. Should we roll over, and let them win? No, but neither should we slaughter the lot of them. As has been proven in the past, it takes all kinds.
The determination of the Forsaken, the cunning of t