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Forsaken no more, Chp 1: Lost Souls and Breaking Hearts
((this is an Open RP thread, please feel free to post anythign and everything in reaction to here))


With this note, things have become more complicated then I could have ever thought. Some of you were there, when my brother almost became a mindless Zambi himself, but for those who do not know...I must recount it. My brother wants me dead for my past, yet I couldn't sit back and let him go to the Shadows. He will never know this, he will never accept it. For this reason, we have but only to continue on.

Zeengo the Crossed, Deathspeaker of Mue'zalah, came to us last night in very poor condition. He was suffocating on some mysterious black fluid. It seemed to be spreading through him, turning his own body into some sort of twisted, dying creature. All of our magics, our curatives, could not bring him back. He just spewed forth this dark froth, writhing in horrible agony. His own will and resilience are all that could have kept him from turning that long. What lies in his tortured mind, I will leave for him to say now, but there was only way we could have succeded in cleansing him.

I bled him to death...piercing his Soul's heart...the Legacy Heart of Mue'zalah. He..died

If not for the healers of our tribe, he may of stayed that way, but he found his way back from the edge of oblivion. For that, I am glad.

Through out all of this ruckus, we had 2 of our own tribemates fighting against us. They spat forth words of our own inadequecy. They cried out at us with cynical tones of them reclaiming us all. The Lich Kings will binds them now, and I have not the foggiest Idea of how to fix this. They are with us still, and will be here until the end, I suppose. Killing them would be the easiest way to rid us of our dark shadows, but I do not think they would follow Zeengo's fate if they were resurrected. He created them, he brought them back...only he has their lives in his hands for now. I...do not know what is going on.

What I do know is that there is an errand boy, a messanger of sorts in the Plaguelands. Morfaean. I...must lead my team to find him and bring back anything we can learn. His death would be easy, if he has the writs on him, but I am not sure of what to expect..or what opposition awaits us.

I feel, that in the meantime, it would be best if Blademaster Kosath organises a civil defense force. He should be able to bring together all of our fighters in striking out against the Scourge itself. For now, defense is all we can do. Kosath, if you read this scritching, please know that I have full confidence in whom ever you chose to defend our tribe. It is for you to gather your troops, I must gather mine. I will try my best..to get everything back to normal. For now, we have only time to tell the tales of our lamenting....Strength and Honor Ironsong, We must sing true, even when the shadows consume us all.

Gholjan the Shattered
Dark Blade of the Shattered Hand
[Image: 2738341mWkUR.png]
I may not be the most experianced of warriors among the tribe, nor the strongest or even braveist, but I wish to help i whatever way I can. If you should know where I would be of most use in stoping this, just say the word and I shale go. *Bows her head, one hand holding onto the hilt of her beloved sword tightly.*
“May God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won't.” ~General George S. Patton

[Image: Fury.jpg]
Deep within his lodge he remain for now, taking the hallucinogens he used to commune even more frequently. In his own trance induced delirium he had ripped apart his own pale skin. Blood spattered the walls in a endless whirlwind of rage. He had lost himself, if only for just a moment. He had fallen to the greatest perversion Azeroth had ever seen. This is all he could do to find an answer to how, how now even when the Lich King never touched him before that he could now.

He spun and danced and drank himself back to the oblivion he could stand. When he felt himself losing focus he would tear, when there was a distraction it was destroyed. As his ritual continued he would occasionally slit his hand on his own tusks and smear the dark blood on a skull shaped Icon over an altar. For hours until the dawning sun the ritual continued, but his dark prayers went unanswered. He exited his lodge a bloody trembling mess. If it had not been for the ministrations of Naruth the day before, this would have surely killed him. As he staggered out his mind wandered, his eyes poured tears. The sun stung as it rose over his worn out form, reaching for a dipper of water he tripped and dropped to his knees. Looking down, it was one of his own skull fetters he carried. The zulian sigils scattering the entirety of the skull marked it as a particularly hard spirit to contain. He knew all to well who's skull it was. He paused for a moment before picking up his father's skull, brushing it off and checking for any fractures. He gazed a moment into the eyes and could almost hear his own father laughing at him now. Of course, he knew he probably was beyond the veil laughing at him.

His knowledge had failed him, his prayers had not been heard. He reached again for the sipper and drank from it in frustration. The blood and drugs on his lips slowly spread out into the previously untainted water, giving the cool water a dark tinge. Leaning back he gazed up at the palm trees and pondered. Undeath, it was nothing more then the sleep giving machinations to bodies. Those that died would rise again under the will Mueh'zala if he so commanded. But not the same for the scourge, they were horrible puppets called forth by unspeakable magics. But where did the difference lie? Hadn't he been able to do the same with mysticisms many concidered as dark as the Lich Kings Necromancy? The only difference was that a loa gave him the strength and now, that strength was slowly being sapped away. He drank again, tasting something foul in the water he stopped and spit. Looking back to the dipper he saw that the mixture his had left congealing in the water. It looked as if black shadows coalesced in the mixture of red and blue. Swirling it seemed to take a tangible shape that he could not place, but it seemed familiar. The realization was like being ran over by a bull kodo, why hadn't he seen it before.

" The essence....of Undeath..."
entry from Dispaya's Journal:

...and so they spat curses at us...and I felt the pangs of fear rise in my breast for the first time in many moons. That we would be made to slay one of our own was a crime darker than any I have yet encountered...and I have encountered a great many dark things since I rose from the dead.

And what of me...I found freedom through the Dark Lady but I have never truly been one of them. I was once a dark agent of the Scourge...The White Lady they called me. I served the Lich King freely then...but I have changed and regained my human heart and memories long since. I am no longer one of them...yet I too hear the calling. He wants me back of that I am sure....though Araj himself has sworn to destroy me on sight should I ever dare to return...but I think Araj will be silenced now for the calls I hear are that I will now become his master...instead of serving him as I once did....for my magic is now stronger than his.

I am called the Lich King's "Most dear" and I know he calls...but I will not go. I will fight him with every ounce of free will I possess....for my tribe and for my adopted family the Trolls of Darkspear. I shall never let the same plague take them that claimed my life so many years past. That dark man...he made me...and I know he lives still. He took the plague from the Scourge in order to make me...or did he create it for them? One may never know...
Sing True Ironsong!
The matters of our last investigation,

The night was new when we started, but it slowly drug on for near an eternity. I believe we were successful in gaining some new insight into what they have been doing. A death knight runner named Morfaean was stalked and eventually slain by the tribe. On his body was found a scroll, but it has not been revealed yet what all it contained. The distraction we attempted seemed only to anger the scourge more. Though, many ziggurats and the Nerubian tunnel have been destroyed, I can not say for how long it will remain that way.

As for the internal part of our mission, it seemed fraught with trouble from the beginning. Sometime after myself and Zhuljeta parted ways inside of the Scholomance she was captured and revealed as a traitor. The ones capturing her seemed to be lost forsaken, the one known as Mindiall was aiding them. Many fell to the lich's powers of ice. They supposedly were completing some sort of ritual of unknown origin, though the call of the dead was mentioned. It was not known if it was successful or not. In the end, Zhuljeta was returned by Deezie, though her blood had to be spilled for a distraction. This blood seemed to be the final catalyst they needed for the ritual. The warlock Lucint was slain after Zhuljeta was saved, it is not known if he finished the ritual between then or not. Mindiall however supposedly took something from his body and road off. What it was, no one said.

So far as I can reckon, these are only a handful of what is happening. According to some information that the recovering shadowpriest spoke, they intend to admisister the second plague. None will be safe as it seems to travel this time, not through food or water, but through the air. Upon my own inspection of the scholomance, Ras Frostwhisper seemed to have his acolytes working on something of unknown origin. It could have been the plague, it could have been something else entirely. But it involved copious amounts of innocent blood and the eternal essence of undeath.

More of this is unknown, but we must keep vigilant.

Zeengo the Crossed, Death Speaker of the Tribe.
During the mission into the Plaugelands:

Sersay had kept her word to lend a helping hand wherever it would have been useful, offering her services to the mission into the Plaugelands. Gholjan had assigned her to group with Shillatae and Azoz, two members she did not know well, but all the same looked forward to working with them. But the task assigned to the group was not something Sersay would enjoy. The moment she heard about "keeping watch", all the excitement went out the door. And so the Trolless looked quite irritant the whole way to the edge of the Ghostlands. She was a warrior, trained to kill ruthlessly without mercy or remorse. To her, keeping watch seemed complete waste of her abilities. But perhaps she should have expected such boring jobs, being she was merely a grunt of the tribe.

After what seemed like forever doing noting but standing around at there post, the urge to get out possibly get a piece of whatever the scourge had on there side was to great for Sersay to resist. Breaking the long silence that had long settled between the 3 defenders, she made up the excuse of scouting ahead to see if any scourge were amassing near there post. The other two agreed and with great relief, Sersay rode off into the Ghostlands. Her true intention was not scouting, however. The Troll was looking or a fight.

There was a thickening fog, further darkening the moonless night, hard to tell just how far she was from her tribemates. The only sounds echoing trough the trees where the steady clomps of the Warhorses hooves, its eerie glow was the only faint light. The impenetrable darkness was hardly enough to intimidate her, darkness could not harm her or consume her, it simply surrounded her and made it more difficult to spot any scourge. After what seemed to be a half hour of nothing but wandering in the dark, she eased her mount to a halt, noticing by the faint glow her horse emitted that the ground she was traversing had changed. All the grass simply stopped, and only darkened dirt spread out where the grass stopped. It took her only a moment to figure that she had arrived at the dead scar. Listening carefully, and looking around her, she slowly and quietly dismounted, leaving it behind and venturing into the dead terrain.

Dead ahead of her, two yellow glowing orbs turned to look upon the Troll, and those two orbs slowly began approaching her. Her sword was unsheathed and casually held at her side as she waited for the moment to strike. Though she couldn’t make out any form, as the eyes approached the reach of her massive word, she tightened her grip and stuck quickly, the blade arching over her head and crashing down upon where the creatures head would be. Her blow cut all the way between those orbs, and she felt a cold wind release itself on her being as the Phantom dissipated. It seemed the darkness wasn’t as harmless as she thought. Dead branches snapped behind her, she quickly spun on the spot, slinging her sword around with her as she did so, sweeping it clean through the torso's of 3 ghouls who had just failed at getting the jump on her. Each of the twisted horrors let out loud howls into the night, continuing there cries even as there upper bodies hit the ground. Realizing suddenly the danger of the racket they created, she quickly finished them off, hacking off each of there heads with a hateful sneer. The sneer was quickly replaced with a frown upon hearing the sound of ghouls dragging feet, and rattling of skeletons all round. Automatically reacting, she slung her sword in another sweeping arc around her, this time connecting with 3 more ghouls that were close to her left. Swords shot out of the darkness to her right, clattering upon her armor, she quickly shifted her feet and drove her sword upward towards the opposite side and literally disarmed a couple of skeleton soldiers. She was jumped from her other side again by more ghouls, there rotting fingers clawing and digging into her exposed places, drawing blood. She let out a furious roar, letting go of the hilt of the blade with one hand to elbow in the face, but it clinged onto her and feverishly pulled at her armor and now began biteing into her. Suddenly scourge where jumping her from all sides, the weight of all the masses sent her crashing to the ground, dog piled under half a dozen of the horrors, each of them franticly trying to get a bite or claw into her. Now she finally yelled out for help. Her cries were too far for her companions to hear, and seconds before a rusty boot kicked her square in the face, the realization of her foolishness hit her jus as hard.

Just outside the gates of Deatholme, a large party of scourge approached, dragging along the unconscious Troll along the ground. As the monsters passed through the gates, necromancers approached and inspected the catch. The man smiled in seeing that the Troll as still alive, despite her heavily mauled and beaten state. He ordered the ghouls dragging her along to take her deep within Deatholme. Sersay was left inside a sort of prison, left in a cell completely unconscious and bleeding.
“May God have mercy upon my enemies, because I won't.” ~General George S. Patton

[Image: Fury.jpg]
Heari’taj nearly hugged the table in the Salty Sailor. He slouched low, his tusks resting on the tabletop, his arms hidden somewhere underneath, although he gripped the edge of the table tightly because he had been asked to keep his hands in view.

He hated Booty Bay. It hung dangerously out over the water, and the only quick way to get there was by boat. Heari had opted to ride in from Grom’gol, and now he was sore from the long travel and Bite’s repeated attempts to buck him off and eat him. And now she was seated across from him, with only a mild remark as to his lateness. Like he wanted to be here!

“Is that any sort of look to give someone who is going to buy you dinner?” The troll woman across the table asked.

Heari scowled up at her horrible mask and the glinting eyes behind them. He opened his mouth to call her a liar, to use the first title he had known her by, but a stout goblin placed a large bowl of soup in front of him. He fixed his annoyed glare on the bowl, then slurped out of it. “W’a wan’?” He asked sullenly, rubbing his mouth on his sleeve.

“Just to chat a bit. You know, I’ve been so busy that I haven’t been able to catch up on recent events with you. How is your young sister, by the way?” The woman rested her mask on a gloved hand, looking genuinely interested. Heari considered spitting the soup at her, but it was pretty good and he was hard pressed to turn down free food. He settled for growling quietly.

“No news?” The woman sat up, adjusting her mask and placing something on the table. She let her glove cover it for a moment, then revealed a wisp of flame. Heari could feel the heat and power radiate off it, and eyed the mote hungrily. “What of your brave adventures in the Plaugelands?” She asked, palming the mote again.

Heari gritted his teeth. “Jus’ bloo sum stuff up. De tunna de spidas come t’roo, an’ a foo... em, ziggy-t’ingies. Dem b’ildin’s.” He sat up a little and folded his arms stubbornly.

The woman raised her eyebrows, so that they disappeared somewhere in the upper regions of her mask. “Really? How cunning of you, I’m sure. Was there anything else you saw, practicing becoming a master scout and all?”

Heari glared at her silently.

“Very well, a tidbit for a tidbit.” The mote was revealed again, and she slid it across the wood table to Heari, who snatched it up eagerly, then returned to watching her with wary eyes.

The troll woman smoothed her robe fastidiously, then lifted a new object out of an unseen pocket and placed it on the table. It glowed and danced like the dawn of time. Heari’s jaw opened and hung slack. Qaza’jan leaned forward. “Now... how about the whole thing...?”
Deep in the Undercity sewers Efluvious is overheard talking to himself

"He calls. Old master wants I's again. I's no wants to go! I has myself again, and my friends! I noes go. I noes go. I noes go!"

Efluvious starts picking his teeth with one of his claws.

"He calls us alls. Do I goes back? No no no, he takes and not gives back. He never nice."

Involuntarily he starts for the exit to the sewers, stops and starts back to his favored spot, endlessly pacing.
"Passion and shame torment him, and rage is mingled with his grief."

[Image: playerfeed_1902018_bigsig.gif]
Lucinther sat atop one of the hills surrounding the old town of Darrowshire. He had rode to the town with Eveline and a few others, but had decided to make his own path there. He wanted to be alone. He worked better alone.

He watched as Mindiall and Morfaean conversed about something he couldn't quite hear. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn't good. He glided closer to their location, hidden by the shadows, to better hear their words. That was a mistake. Mindiall turned and stepped towards him.

"You've finally come to your senses rogue! Welcome! Join your brothers! Become more powerful than you could ever know!" Mindiall smiled as he spoke.

" Whats going on?"

"Join us! You can hear him calling... I know you can.... I can sense it."

Lucinther coughed heavily. "What is going on here?!"

Mindiall only laughed and smiled. Lucinther had enough of that smile. He extended his claws and lunged for the mage.

Mindiall was too quick for him in his weakened state, though. The fight was over before it began, and Lucinther had known that when he attacked. It felt good to finally be able to use his claws against someone, though. The fight was short lived, and soon, Lucinther was on the ground before the mage.

"It doesn't have to end like this, Rogue. You could join us. Join your brothers. End your own suffering. You know that is what you truly want. Think of how powerful you could become!"

Lucinther dragged himself up onto his feet. "No, Mindiall. I'm not like you."

" Yes you are... you hear him calling... I know you do..." Mindiall laughed again.

It would have been so easy for Lucinther to stop there and join them. Every fiber in his body told him to give in. To go with them, to help their cause, to end the plague that was eating him from the inside out. He hadn't slept in days. It took every once of will that he possessed to turn and simply walk off.

Mindiall followed him part way until he saw that Lucinther was walking to a small gathering of tribe members. Unfortunately, it hadn't stopped the mage's voice. He stood their yelling, begging the rogue to join the Lich King's servants. Lucinther just continued walking. He didn't stop when he reached the tribe. He kept walking. He'd be more trouble than help, if he fought with them.
(( and for my songs that fit this entire thing wonderfully...))

(( found another song <grins> ))
[Image: 3994085VvROm.png]
Mindiall rides though the Eastern Plaugelands and dismounts in front of a small cave. The two shadows that where following him crept toward the entrance. 2 undead with weapons at the ready, nod to each other and stealthily makes there way into the cave. Coming to an abrupt stop They realize the cave only travels a good ten feet into the hill side. They see nothing there.

*Undead 1, snarling* Damn! Where did he go?
*Undead 2* He is a mage. He can make himself invisible.

Out side they hear rocks tumble down the side of the hill. Springing to life they charge out of the cave and out of Mindialls site. Mindiall who was in a nook to there right took the opportunity to open a portal to Undercity. But instead of going though the portal he becomes invisible just as the 2 undead charge back in.

"Undercity!" The both charge for the portal going thought just before it closes.

*Mindiall smirks* " Two less fools to deal with." Mindiall rides uninterrupted to Stratholme. A Scrawny Imp waits for him at the rear entrance.

*The imp greets Mindiall with a madding laughter* "heeha ahha. I have 'a .. a message for you..."

*Mindiall looks at the Imp with disgust on his face but dose not stop walking towards the gate* "I don’t have time to run errands for your master demon.

"No no *cackles*. Not master not master. it be from *lowers his voice to a whisper* him...... just words just WORDS! * The Imp who was Just Jumping up and down suddenly stops as if in a trance. After a moment a deep booming voice bellows from the imp* We have had many problem go on with our plans, but also a few success. We have also captured a troll. She is one of your... former family. After a few interrogations I know little more that i started. Hopefuly you will have more luck than Tomock. Sersay will be waiting your interrogation. Come in six hours. Do not be late ... or early. * The imp falls over panting.

*Mindiall Freezes hearing the name.* ~~Thinking "Six hours. That means he has not finished yet… YES! There is still time. Must hurry"~~ *Mindiall notices the Imp slinking off*

"DAL'SHA! STOP!! *The imp takes off as Mindiall Blink's next to him and freezes him.*

*In a panicked voice* "No SIR no SIR! MUst see MASTER NO NO no!!!"

*Mindiall builds up energy and Blast the imp with all of his frozen will. The imp becomes encased in a block of ice.*

"I cant have you informing your master now can I?... it wont last for long but it will hold long enough." Mindiall Mounts and rides Directly to Deatholme. at a full gallope

The mighty have fallen, with them the information seeking arm of our expedition. Without Ghol'jan to point the direction of where to find the information we must dig it up for ourselves. Yes I said, without Ghol'jan. Despite my -best- efforts, contrary to what some may believe, I was unable to cure him of the ailment. He is now dead, and walking the earth in service of the Lich king. Well I shouldn't say walking so much as tied up for his own protection. I have had him moved to my operations in Zul'mashar. Will be safer to keep him there for the time being.

As for the rest of us, we have no choice but to move forward. I have dispatched Zhuljeta to aid Dispaya in her alchemical research of the black matter. I ask that any that know more of the scourge machinations present themselves. We have some clues on to how it effects the body of both living and dead, but still no way to counter it. In an attempt to garner more information, we will be sending random parties into the scholomance and Stratholme to attempt to pressure some action. Mayhaps even gain more insight, but more to cause them to make a mistake.

The situation is dire, and will only become more dire from here on out.

Zeengo the Crossed, Second Son of Zala'jin, Death Speaker of the Tribe
To the Lady Dispaya,

I am at your service to aid you in your investigations. Please let me know when and where you would like me to be available and I will come at a moment's notice. I like many do not wish to relive the horrors of the plague.

Zhuljeta Heartsorrow
The Dark One
Notes from Dispayas Journal

I have taken a plague sample from one of the infected Forsaken...Lucinther...and sealed it in an imbued vial. Once in my lab at Undercity I will begin my experiments.

When poured the ooze has a gelatinous consistency...and is similar to many of the ooze creatures found in remote areas of Azeroth. It also closely resembles the gelatin base used in the creation of certain poisons.

I have subjected the ooze to several things...the first and most logical choices are the opposites of life and death. Strangely...when the ooze is exposed to Primal life it actually GROWS!! Contrary to what I had thought...essense of undeath has little or no effect.

The black ooze eventually corrupts the essence of undeath but it does not set into it.Strangely...after the ooze mixes with the essence, it still remains seperate from the main body of the ooze...and after that no other additives seem to affect it.

After more observation I am beginning to suspect that this ooze is some type of life form in and of itself. It responds much like any other undead creature would to the extremes of the elements...and I think it may actually be a new form of undead creature...a symbiant of some sort that attaches itself to an undead host.

This does not bode well at all for the Forsaken and I now feel that I understand the Lich King's dreadful plan. The new plague does not "kill" a Forsaken host but makes them a carrier of the plague. Thus far the plague has only infected and turned a living victim. This will have the eventual effect of causing the living to break away from contact with the Forsaken for fear of infection. It would seem the Lich King's plague will break the Forsaken's alliance with the Horde...thus isolating them. He will be able to add soldiers to his army while at the same time isolating those who dared to leave him. Once isolated and alone the Forsaken will fall easily to his great army.

More dreadful news...it would seem that the elf girl Zhuljeta has become infected. I will subject her to as many tests as I can in an effort to save her from the same fate as Gholjan.

My tests have proved fruitless. I cannot seperate the plague from the girl. What I have discovered is that the plague can be destroyed by a strong antiseptic agent...such as common bleach...however the living are unable to ingest such things as they are highly toxic. I think we are looking for something with similar properties to bleach...that will not be fatal to the living.

Additional notes:
any magical cures have yielded little or no effects
Kosath was able to hold the plague at bay with a bit of Drakesblood...but the effects were only cosmetic. I have tried the blood of a few minor dragons to no avail. My only deduction would be that whatever the Lich King is using to create this plague must have stronger magic than Drake's blood.
Sing True Ironsong!
Mindiall arrives at Deatholme. Dead bodies of the Scourge are his only greeting. Watching everything, Mindiall makes his way to the to where they normally keep prisoners. The dead scourge Scattered over the grounds.

A Very big Undead man strides out of the holding cells. *Bellowing* " Where is the Troll Mindiall.

*Mindiall Stops and faces the 7-foot corpse. All of his muscle tense. " I Would ask you the same. Locknor."

" You are early did I not command you com...."

" YOU! Do not command me" *A light blue aura surrounds Mindiall* " if you have a problem with that you can very well try to assert you command.

It seemed that every muscle in the Undead body tensed as if he was ready to spring.

*Mindiall speaks after an hour long minute.* "So you lost her. no worries There will be others. As for being here early I like to questioning LIVE people, not there rotting brain"

*Mindiall feels a pull. a tugging of his soul. He knew she was trying to contact him.
"I must make our conversation brief i have other business to attend. Tell me quickly what information did she know.

*The undead clinches his fist. "We did not receive anything that we did not already know. She was only to be a watch dog." unique

"All right then on more wasting my time. Send word when you actually have something useful to tell me." *Mindiall quickly teleports to the UnderCity where she is waiting for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ##**`` 3 days later``**##~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mindiall watches Gholjan, Sersay, and Deezie leave the Tribes moots and follows in curiosity. Observes from a short distance while Ghoiljan and Sersay converse. Deezie stands a few feet away. Both Sersay and Gholjan are in terrible pain. The pain even bringing then to there knees. A faint shadow passes over Mindiall's face but quickly passes. *Mutters under his breath* "Death awaits us all..."

Mindiall joins the groups teasing them. Soon they travel back to the tribe. Mindiall Follows and is quickly attacked by Zeengo. Mindiall reacted quickly trying to catch the shaman off balance. Seeing the opening he strikes. He hit Zeengo with a bit more power than he intended and the troll fell over either dead or uncounious. Mindiall looks at zeengo a second befor truning to the tribe.

"Ha is that the best you have to offer! *cackels*

Striking from behind a reincarnated Zeengo Blast Mindial. Mindial Whips around. "What I thought i killed you troll!" Zeengo says nothing as he as he Cast earth shock to finish him off. The last thing Mindiall remembers seeing is the shaman tossing a spent Akna.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~##**`` Sometime later that evening ``**##~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mindiall Wakes up un a heap below the massive form of A'dal. The being of light seemed to be watching over him. Mindiall could not shake the feeling he did not belong is it's pressance. Suddenly remembering what had happend be for Rage boils deep in Mindiall. All thoughts of the Being of light disappeared and he races back to Tarren Mill.
The orchard was deserted, but for a few stragglers. Mindiall eyes focuses on Yorrik. Then slowly his face breaks out into a grin.

((sorry about how long this poast this is after editing it 2 times *sigh*))

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