Drunk drunk.

Drunk.

It is a time where I am caught directly between deep sorrow and jubilation. On the one side, a new danger that is poised to destroy all of Azeroth, lies in our very land, while my former people align with the enemy of all life. Yet at the same time, the few of us that remain have sided with a force of good and righteousness unparalleled in all the Twisting Nether.

News came abruptly when returning to Silvermoon. Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider had returned to Azeroth, captured the naaru Mu'uru, and had returned to Quel'Danas to resurrect the Sunwell with the aid of the Burning Legion!

I was quickly struck with panic as I felt the energy slowly fading from the loss of the Blood Knight's weapon, but luckily the demons inhabiting Quel'Danas quenched my thirst for both vengeance and mana. But it would not be a permanent solution.

While fighting the hordes of demons on our once sacred isle, we were again teleported away to Outland, to yet another Legion staging ground. This is where the terrible reality fell on me, and shook me to my core.

Blood Elves, my own brothers and sisters, had gorged themselves on demon blood. they had become mutated almost beyond recognition. They had turned as mad as the demons themselves, and I recalled what they reminded me of. They were just like the so-called fel orcs that have taken Hellfire Ramparts. And they in turn remind one of the satyrs of Ashenvale, which according to ancient myth are the corrupted, demonic forms of our kaldorei ancestors.

And that's when it occurred to me. It wasn't enough to simply extinguish all that is good. It has to be taken and enslaved as well. Eredar, Orc, Scourge, Satyr, and now us. At this moment, I broke down. I couldn't take it anymore. I was ready to give up, accept defeat, and join my former brethren in their feast. If it were not for one person by my side.

Meganna quickly picked me up and brought me back to Shattrath. This is where she showed me something. Lady Liadrin had made the journey to Shattrath, in seach of another source of power. To sum it up, on behalf of all the Blood Knights, she has finally accomplished what I had secretly hoped for so long: an end to the corruption and enslavement of M'uru an an alliance between the Blood Knights and A'dal and the Sha'tar.

I could feel the effect right away. The warmth of the Light filled my being as it hasn't since before the destruction of the Sunwell. My connection to the Light is reborn, and I am reborn from it! In addition to fighting the demons that in turn made demons from my own people, I must show what few sin'dorei who are left the true path to the Light, and to our salvation from evil!

And what starts as a partnership of desperation may turn into a blessing for both sides. If we are victorious... With the Light, and Meganna at my side, even victory may be possible.

What are the true goals I am trying to accomplish in the Netherstorm? A mean to an end to the Scourge? Destruction of the Legion? Justice to all evil and to save what good that is left? Or is it revenge? Is it a selfish lust for power and ultimate glory? Is this greed great enough to attain power by any means necessary?

Many of my people thought this, even our beloved prince. And even though we now are forced to fight off their madness daily, I still allow the majesty and wonders of the Netherstorm to envelop me like an old, worn, but warm and familiar blanket.

This is what Meg is trying to save me from. But I allow part of myself to believe that she is holding me back, just like I hold her back from that sword, so she says. She wants me to love her forever and keep things as they are. Yet what she asks is to deny my heritage as a sin'dorei, just as she denies she is Forsaken..

Despite what everything in my blood compels me to do, what my being yearns for, what she tells me to deny may be right. Our people will not survive if they follow this current path. Our world will not survive if we allow the evil within ourselves to take hold, lest the Legion will prosper.

The only question is will I survive? And will I ever look back to the point where ultimate power was within my grasp?

Netherstorm.

I heard whispers of its great power as soon as I arrived in Outland. Even the sin'dorei in Thrallmar were excited by the prospect of this new "promised land." And I wanted to believe them. From the moment I stepped through the Dark Portal, I could feel the energy all around me. I started to imagine what an even greater concentration of that energy would be like. From that I have had to fight ultimate temptation and wild fantasies.

In the Blade's Edge Mountains, with Meg, I fell to some of that temptation.

Last night we looked past the mountains to the crumbling wastes and energy storms. Being so close to it, I could already feel it. It felt almost like being in Silvermoon again, back before the Scourge destroyed the Sunwell. It felt warm on my skin, tasted sweet on my tongue, and sounded like a beautiful harmony to my ears.

It was almost like that.

There is something there that I can't quite define but can surely guess. It is replete with the things that are naturally drawn to ultimate, untapped power. Demons. Evil.  It is what causes any sane being to become maniacal and mad. It is what I do not wish to become.

But now I am being asked to go. No. I have aligned myself with the Scryers, and they have ordered me to go. I have to do this, in order to address what we have become. To find out what it truly means, I must go.

As long as I have been in Outland, I have seen this day coming. And like a coward I have been avoiding it, for I know only oblivion awaits.

Can a corpse move? Can it be warm, talk, or feel?

The most terrifying thing that made me realize the true nature of the disturbing acts I have participated in was this: When a Forsaken is unconscious, it is impossible to tell if any part of them is alive. When Meg does what Forsaken must call sleep, she is, by all definitions, dead.

And I felt disgusting and wretched. As well as that I felt used.

"Used" is perhaps a stronger term than I'd like, but I was clearly not in my right senses. I've tried to tell myself it's not the same, but they are clearly in some way dead. These are questions I will have to answer to myself once I am unable to look another sin'dorei in the face.

"Graver." Short for grave robber. I hear it whispered around the Bazaar and coming out of Murder Row. It is a derogatory term for those... like myself, who become close to any undead, elf or human. Now it's used for anyone who simply spends an unreasonable portion of their time around Forsaken, whether by choice or not. Those who still live in Tranquillien, and distance themselves from the rest of Silvermoon, are referred to in this way.

And I have no doubt it's being whispered about me as well.

But I love the woman, who just happens to possess this particular form. I thought that perhaps I could avoid it, but I will have to figure out a way to live with myself before the end. And once I do, will I still be able to make her happy?

Can a corpse love? Can a corpse feel pain?

Sweet love. Sweet pain. Sweet death.

I may have permanently shamed myself as a Blood Elf, --even if I am the only one who ever knows it-- but in this fleeting moment of time, under the crimson sunset of our age, I have provided a single, troubled soul with contentment. Considering the nature of the soul, that alone should bring me the satisfaction I need.

I went on a tour of Shattrath City recently. It is a marvelous place, for such drab, Draenei architecture. I appreciate that the Scryers have done so much to make their tier seem more like our home. From what I have learned of the battles already fought in Outland, it brings me great pleasure to serve by the side of the Scryers in taking down the Burning Legion.

But the Legion did not concern me just for tonight. Meg had asked me to meet her in the World's End tavern, located in what is known as the Lower City, in Shattrath.

It as well reminds me of my home. It reminds me of the time I first arrived in Silvermoon just after the Scourge had torn through Quel'Thalas, and destroyed everything in sight. It was too much to look upon the shattered buildings, and the poor, dirty refugees (Some of them including other sin'dorei. Children even. By the Light...). By the time Meg had arrived at the World's End, I was already halfway down a mug. Which at least made the food she brought for me to try more palletable.

The mead was strong, and so it was that in short time we wandered outside the city, to where the Darkmoon Faire had set up its various galleries. Meg seemed interested in no other thing but the special wine they make just for their attendees. The drink was sweet, thick, and incredibly potent. After trying some, I had to try more.

So I yet again found myself drunk with the Forsaken, Meg, yet I still didn't seem to mind. For so long I have only thought that being with her more would simply fuel the chaos of my own life. Yet any time we spend together that is not in combat, I am relatively at peace. She is a comforting soul, and that she desires my attention makes it all the more relaxing.

When we talk, she speaks of things she can never forgive in herself. Yet I desire to help her, because in doing so I can also come to terms with my own monsterous side. We are all tainted by the wreckless need for vengeance. Some are more than others.

That night we went back to the World's End, and I asked her to come along. I merely wanted her presence as I slept, and she obliged. For someone who doesn't need sleep, it is a great thing to do for another like myself. I can't express how it felt to simply have her comfort. I am engrossed by the passion she has. I sound selfish when I say it, but I want her to continue to need me.

I think I love her.

Just supposing, would being with a dead woman be any easier than a plain, normal elf woman? (This is just supposition. Nothing else.) Both are just as irrational and frustrating. That is one trait that hasn't been lost by the unliving state. And if the genitals a good portion of her their anatomy still functions very well, and successfully, then what, truly, is the difference? One may want to chew off my ears, eat my bowels, or worse. But is that actually worse than the soul absorbing, and literal mana draining, of a proper, sin'dorei woman?

So what are the attributes that matter in a mate? I have followed the Light for so long, I have never really learned, nor wanted, to court a woman. Since becoming a Blood Knight, the rules as we have lived by for so long are no longer the same. Perhaps it is finally time to be considering these possibilities. So what would I need to consider?

• Level of emotional connection: Not that, in this day, a relationship is actually necessary in the course of a long-term union, but I'll consider myself an immature idealist. I am surprised to say it, but in terms of the experiences of the past generation, Forsaken are all too similar to Blood Elves. In terms of actually having physical emotions, that is a different matter entirely. Meganna is an exception. And from that we have connected. However, making the unavoidable pun, Stratholme did burn some bridges (among other things) between us, that we would work to repair before things take that path. I think we already worked out a lot of
• The company one keeps: Well, Meg has a cat. Living in fact. As well as the hawkstrider. She does prefer to spend her time in Silvermoon rather than the Undercity. But of course, there is Orloc. But what I mostly see women of both races surrounding themselves with are trolls, demons, or other women, and possibly a combination of more than one of these.
  
• Ability to procreate: By all understanding, this is the most important and rudimentary point of gender interaction. While I'm not able to acknowledge every unliving person's ability, many seem quite capable of participating in the act very vigorously. Yet the ultimate goal and function of the act remains to be seen. And in this aspect, Forsaken fail. In the meantime, sin'dorei women of late seem to be reproducing at an alarming rate that I have not seen before. I can not say my interest at this point falls into either extreme.

(Note to self: Have my sister look into the aspects of increased birthrate correlating with influx of Darkspear, Frostmane, Bloodscalp, etc. troll breeds visiting Silvermoon. Though it is also worth factoring in a loss of a proportional section of the population due to the Scourge.)

So my conclusion is no clearer than it was before. There is much to be said about those I have already established my connection with. Though at this time, it is not outside possibility that I would have the opportunity to look elsewhere, assuming I accept the faults of the opposite gender, and keep my interests towards the ones of my own continent, and planet. I think this goes without saying.

I woke up in Meg's apartment today. The last thing I remember was being in Murder Row, and buying a flask. Then I woke up in her apartment.

In her bed.

Naked.

Oh, Light...

I don't know exactly what happened. All I know are the stains on the bed and the taste in my mouth.

I don't know what was said. Last I remember, Meg had stopped talking to me because of what happened. Yet hear I am. I don't know what I might have said, and I didn't press that issue much this morning. Few words were exchanged at all. When I finally woke up, she had brought me breakfast, and a few mana crystals. I had the worst hangover I could ever comprehend, so it was appreciated. I'm starting to feel better. I should make my way out of here while no one is in the streets.

She is a good person. There is more to her than what she is. I know that now. If anything is certain, I probably confessed some things to her that I shouldn't have. It will be best now if we can get past it and fight together as we have. My brothers need our help now in Outland.

Have my people truly fallen so far? Will we betray all that we once held close for the sake of vindication?

I do not believe that it will be so. Someday, when the Scourge has been eradicated, we will rebuild all that has been destroyed to is former glory. Silvermoon, Quel'Thalas, and all of Lordaeron. Even Stratholme will one day rise as a gleaming tribute to a wondrous history only briefly marred by darkness.

 Yet, that does not keep me from feeling ashamed.

I am not shameful for the actions my race, nor do I necessarily resent what I have done. My people have miraculously persevered through staggering odds. It has taken the will of a few proud elves to lead us to salvation. This is why I became a Blood Knight. And in my service, I have not questioned my morals. This final act, burning the last church in a dying city will have little consequence in the great tale told by history.

But why did it have to be Meg's church?

I have now been promoted among the ranks of the Blood Knights. I do not feel it is necessary to divulge the details by which this was accomplished. Threats from the Scourge and Scarlet Crusade are those we must face accordingly, with the highest resolve, and the swiftest of retribution.

But it is not out of pride for what I've done that I wear this banner now. It represents the sacrifices I have made for the survival of my people. It represents all our sacrifice. It is made of the blood of fallen Quel'dorei and humans alike. And like the phoenix it depicts, we will rise from the ashes and destroy the evil of this world.

Meg and I have been fighting hard battles in the Plaguelands. That's all we've been doing.

I can not lie to myself, even if it's the only way to survive what I have done.

I don't even know why I was doing it. The whole thing almost felt like a dream. I felt almost intoxicated. What was doing this, I do not know.

I found at first I was only doing it to provide her with complete satisfaction, then gradually I found myself... liking it. I desired her. I wanted her to be mine.

This is preposterous! The Plaguelands are getting to me. I may have desired her, but I know I can never be hers. It is impossible. I won't.

[This is where a sigh would go if it wasn't written.] Though it may be inevitable that I will be hers ages from now. No one else would have me after what I've done.

It's not like she's human. I can't just wait for her to die.

War has taken our world. Countless lives have been lost over the ages, to an evil that spans all the way from the Twisting Nether, to the depths of our very souls. But what happens when we become the monster we fight? What happens when we forget the true Goodness for which we fight? What happens when we lose our own souls?

Yesterday after I completed my regular formalities with the Blood Knights, I went looking for Meg. I don't even know why, and I was still in my uniform. She had not been on duty, and wasn't at her apartment. So that is when I traveled to the Undercity to find her.

The capital city of Lordaeron was once a gleaming, wondrous marvel to the human race. The crumbling buildings now slump over top a diseased and filthy hive that reeks of the Scourge almost as foul as the destroyed part of Silvermoon. I could not stand that place for very long, and I was sure Meg could not either.

I found her in one of the outer villages the Forsaken take residence in. In one of the rooms of the inn, she was huddled in a corner, rambling about things she did, or did not do, and claiming she was so terrible. I did the only thing I could, which was to comfort her. I know I could have just as well left her there if she wished, but I did not want to become that kind of monster.

I found out she had abandoned the unit she was a part of, and that I had followed her into. So without saying goodbye, I too left. I knew it would be an inevitable occurrence. I will have to make the proper arrangements to Vodral soon. She insisted that she die alone, but I will not let her. Each of us seek revenge against the Scourge for taking something very dear to us. It will change our lives, or otherwise, forever. And if this is the life that must be had to achieve vengeance, then so be it. Yet I will not forget the reason we fight.

I understand why my people sought their power in demons. I am not proud of it. What happens when we become the monsters we fight? We must look no further than our once holy princes. Arthas sold his people to the Scourge, while Prince Kael'thas sides with demons we were once sworn against.

And I am no better. If anything, I am just the monster she is, if not more.

In the inn, Meg was a scared, little creature. When I brought her back into the Plagulends, she fought with a ferocity that I had not seen since Stratholme. No one who endures so much emotion could be soulless. I know there is something left in her.

And this is why we fight.

The rest of Winter Veil went fine. I ultimately invited Meganna to dinner at home with my sister. I'm not sure if they really got along too well. It's hard to tell what Allethera does and doesn't approve of. Though I'm quite sure she liked the specially made holiday cookies Meg gave me to bring home later. I think all will be forgiven.

We even spent the New Year in Silvermoon. It all seemed to be less awkward than I expected. Some of that I blame on Meg's binge drinkin- festive spirits. The other half I can't really explain. I do worry though, that her feelings are turning her toward alcohol. And my feelings are o needn't be spoken.

But the holiday has ended, and so begins our fight to retake Lordaeron from the Scourge. The Blood Knights have ordered that I aid in the Bulwark. And Meg has asked me to help her. She seems almost afraid there. Not nearly as confident as her usual self. I can not get scared. This has been what my training has built up to. I am starting to realize what being a Blood Knight truly means, and how the naaru opens up a brand new path to the Light. One that deals swift justice to the Scourge.

All I can say is I am glad to have Meg at my side. Anar'alah belore, what would my sister think of me now?

Is she a woman, or is she dead?

Who is it that I talk to about my troubles? What is it who listens? Who laughs with me, and cries for me? What do I touch when I hold her? Who is touching me when she lays down in my arms? Who is it that is kissing me?

So I ask, is she a woman, or is she dead?

I'm afraid that eventually it's not going to be very much of an issue. I've spent all my life caring for others. I don't think I've been cared for before. Maybe I can simply let it be for now.

Until she tries to eat m

Finally, do I blame her for getting me drunk, or do I accept that I wanted to? I certainly take responsibility for this hangover.

I have taken it upon myself to stay at home for the Winter holiday. Apparently the tauren have had a similar feast custom, so the entire Horde is intent on celebrating.  Meganna obviously thinks it's more goblin profiteering, and so does my older sister. Which brings me to that unaddressed issue...

I'm also staying so as to keep a better eye on dear Allethera. She has been so secretive lately. And I fear she is having more dark dealings than is safe. So obviously I would also like to make sure she does not destroy our home during this time with more of her experiments. One of these nights I'm going to force her to sit down to dinner.

But not tonight, for Meganna has asked me to join her on a festive outing while I'm here. Apparently she is making cookies. I wasn't aware that Forsaken could cook. I might have to steal one of Allethera's potions to take away the taste. We'll see.

Oh Light, I should bring her something...

Divine retribution has been found for those who escape justice. I have just returned from a long journey that has taken me many places. Most recently I have been in the halls of the Monastery of the Scarlet Crusade. Their zealous touch will not infect our lands for some time. Human kind has gone far astray indeed.

Due to my contribution to my new Horde unit, I have also been patrolling parts of the Barrens. Unfortunately the region is true to its name, and I have had the displeasure of spending my time in the most inhospitable of areas. Specifically, Meganna Wheeler has been aiding me in the Marshes of Dustwallow. The humans of Theramore make all too easy targets, and the small, rogue tribe of tauren can not hide from justice.

Upon returning, my tasks have been noted among the Blood Knights, and I have been granted an armored steed of great swiftness. We now agree that there is much strife in this world, and many who need to be brought to justice for it. As unfortunate as it is, we must use whatever tools are before us. The sacrifices of the imprisoned Naaru will not be needless. After the Legion is destroyed, so will fall the Scourge.

Yet I feel I am letting myself be conflicted between two versions of myself. There is the Tyrelys that I once was so many years ago, now fighting against the Tyrelys I must become. There was a time when we would have treated Meg and her people the same way the Crusade does. Yet now we fight at their side. Meg even   I even want

I was never a member of the Silver Hand. Yet I have seen what a powerful force they once were. The Blood Knights, in some way, seek to achieve that former glory. Yet, like the Forsaken, we have chosen to fight our enemies with their own weapons.

My weapons are the Light and my sword. Both are becoming sharper by the day. There is no conflict about that.

We all live with regret. Some of us die with it.

What has happened to our people was monstrous as it was unforgivable. We have been forced to spend the past few years since the Scourge to learn a whole new way to live. And in trying to survive, many of us sought other alternatives than what was before us. Rather than face oblivion, many fled our ancient home to follow a demon. For what they saw as their only salvation, they journeyed to Outland.

Yet we may have damned ourselves in doing so. Once one has taken to the path of the Shadow, they can never return. I know this, and have tried as hard as I can to avoid the fate of our people. I stayed behind, along with many others, to try and rebuild our ancestral home to its former glory.

Through it all, I am humbled to say that we have maintained our pride, and our honor. It is no simple feat to face the destruction of our source of all life and power, yet survive with renewed dignity and resolve. That is what separates us from the Forsaken. They have truly accepted themselves as the beasts they have become.



Here I am on a rock in the middle of a jungle I have not been in in many long years, in a time when the world was a very different place. The events of tonight no one could quite possibly fathom even a few decades past. The consequences of which are also still completely invisible to me. I am afraid that the future unknown to me. Will our people have a tomorrow?

Will our people ever get back to glory they once had?

To quote a Forsaken: "Does it matter?"

I'm starting to regret all this.

Before I made my way back home to Silvermoon for yet another time, I made a brief stop in Orgrimmar. Such a fascinating city, so barbaric and bloodthirsty. I was surprised to see not a single gnome being roasted over a fire, but only boars and striders.

Along the way I contacted a boisterous troll on a rock (to call a troll boisterous is redundant, however this one was particularly noteworthy). After an easy-going discussion, I enlisted into his Horde war unit, the same one Meganna happens to be a part of.

I admit that the lesser part of me was slightly worried she was going to try to eat me in Feralas. Now I'm sure she'll probably want to.

I never lied about the reasons I joined her unit. The drone of my own people, and the Forsaken, seems to be getting to me. I would like an escape. I have spent nearly a century trapped in one place or another. I have never as accepted around my people as I should have been. It is finally time to discover other points of view.

I also need to explore Kalimdor without being intoxicated.

And maybe it's also true when I said that I needed a little adventure. I know that being in the Undercity is adventure in itself. But there's also being with Meg...

[Illegible.]

I think I'm going to try to stay in Silvermoon a little longer this time. Anar'alah belore. I need a break.

Being home was sweet while it lasted. Yet once again, here I am in an alien land, far from home, in a situation I never thought I'd be in.

The dense jungle of Feralas is a truly remarkable place. I now see why the tauren protect their lands with such strength and passion. I can also understand why they have chosen to help in Lordaeron. The balance of even this place is upset by a corruption lands and oceans away.

To turn an awkward situation into an unhumorous pun: the outcome from last night was most grave. I'm not really sure I understand myself any more. Is she dead? Is she alive? Does it really matter? Maybe I could just close my eyes and Why have I let myself do such a thing? What purpose does it have? Every time I come to Kalimdor, I break another one of my vows. It's pointless to have them now.

Do I care? Does it matter? Why do I feel lonely even now?

She seems so fragile to me now. I can see the terrible things that she has been put through. Yet it affects her differently than it does the rest of her people, just as it affects me different from mine. She is not bloodthirsty. She only seeks what we all once had. Like myself, she is gripping onto a time and feeling when our lands were not beset by conflict. A harmonious time when the world as we knew it was whole.

The Scourge has so very much to answer for.

Few of us fight the constant struggle to avoid falling down the path of darkness. Meg is one of those few. Despite her home being destroyed, and her very life being taken away, she does not allow revenge to become her overwhelming consumption. Despite what she may think, she still walks the path of the Light.

It has occurred to me that I should probably keep a recount of my travels now that I am so far from home. This has been my first experience out of Quel'Thalas in some time. I will keep this as a reference to all the changes I have seen on my journey so far.

I have traveled far through the dead fields of Lordaeron. The only tragedy greater than what has befallen these lands is the one that has cursed my own home. It his difficult to look upon Eversong Woods with any sort of serenity. There is only remorse, frustration, and anger. I can't let myself become that kind of monster.

I have met many along the way. One in particular, a young -though undeadth rather destroys the meaning of youth- Meganna Wheeler, former city guard turned Forsaken adventurer. The story of her tragedy rather touches me. I will go out of my way to assist her when she needs it, though her skills with a sword are greater than mine.

She recently invited me to a gathering held by her company of legionaries for the Horde. Many Sin'dorei have already enlisted, which interested me. So I decided to take my first expedition across the Great Sea, the dark expanse of ocean that marks our world's history, to the land of Kalimdor, our ancestral home.

While I was in the Barrens, I let myself be misguided, and I gave into temptation. Certainly the alcohol the Horde brews up is stronger than anything I've ever experienced. A few drinks is all it took for me to wake up in the bunk of one particular, lonely Forsaken girl, and one of the only ones of their kind who I would call friend. Needless to say I returned home upon waking to this. I have not seen her since. For this, I am sorry.

I am troubled that I would let it bother me like

I find the accommodations in Tarren Mill to be disgusting   horrible    less than desirable. Yet I am not the only one who has to make due, so I will suffer this in order to help our people and restore our lands. I only wonder if the Forsaken's offer to help is truly out of sentiment, and not to misguide our assistance for their vengeance.