The Ironsong Tribe

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Raindrops wash the ground with the ferocity of spring promise. It's a good sign for the Plaguelands, a better sign for Darrowshire in Saezhur's opinion, but darkness still held its grip to the surrounding countryside. The night air still cool and crisp, winds from the north relentlessly reminding the cursed land that war was brewing.

Saezhur clenches mud between his boney fingers, surveying the prospects. "Still a long way off from seeding, but maybe within my unlifetime." A smile could be heard in the words even though the skeletal remains of his face showed little more than teeth.

A murky muddy mess molding the mind more morosely moved to meander on mindless meaning?

"Not so this time my coy keeper of cajoling chorus. There's hope in these hills and time to pass before tilling." Saezhur pauses as he looks back towards Darrowshire's graveyard. "The land will forgive fools for their folly and turn fallow to feast for the fellow who furrows the fields."

Morgan's giggle fills Saezhur's mind, and yet her words come back serious. And yet, sage Saezhur shall be not be behooved to prove in a soiled groove and instead be moved to be removed from this ... land. Damn the dead dear, we don't deal well with dialog done in another dither.

A small shrug and Saezhur walks away from the town headed towards the mountains. "No harm, no foul Morgan. Least ways, you'll keep me from being a bored stiff."

The rain had dissipated but later Saezhur would still claim that he did not hear Morgan's sigh in his mind, blaming the 'clamourous downpour', yet she spoke earnestly. Will you not say goodbye to her?

Saezhur stopped briefly for a moment, his head swaying to the side but not looking back, "No, there is no need. She wanted me free and I am."

And her? Morgan's voice was insistent and pushed itself to the forefront of Saezhur's thoughts.

The north wind whistles through the trees as Saezhur begins walking again. He scratches at his head as he responds, "Would that I could, but I can't dear Morgan. 'She' will be with me in my mind and my heart. To say the words would give finality that I will not believe in. There is still time in this world and with luck our paths will cross again. I could not bear to have the last look on her face to be anything other than a smile."

Into the dark twilight, Saezhur walks north.

(( Salutations Ironsong! The summer is nearly upon us and the real life me will be away. I'll be canceling my account and likely not back until September, but I will keep my nose poked into the forums.

Thanks to all of you that I have interacted with in-game and to those who have enjoyed some of the stories I've written there and here. With luck, there will be more to write despite my lack of WoW.

I will be on a few more times before the account expires, but I can't pin down a schedule. Perhaps I will see you online before the end, but if not, it has been a pleasure!

~Saezhur))
Once upon a midnight dreary, while Dispaya pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While she nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at her chamber door.

"hmmm...Tis some visitor," she muttered, "tapping at my chamber door.
Only this, and nothing more."
Just then in there came a messenger, whom the Forsaken called "Lenore."
This it was and no one more.

Silently she handed to Dispaya,
a note all tied up with a ribbon,
which the mage dropped on the floor.
Opening she read the letter,
every last word of the letter,
the one given by the girl Lenore.

"Dearest Di," the letter started,
but soon the words were much departed
from what she thought might lay before.
This it said and nothing more:

Do not despair my dear Dispaya,
but down the dour trail I must detour.
Do not doubt that maybe some day,
and I hope it will be someday,
I shall find thee as before.

For now I go to see the Northlands,
off I go to scout and make ready,
for all the things we know are coming,
because of all that came before.

And so for there I am departing,
as of now I am departing
to the places where the Scourge are hiding.
Understand this, I implore.

This he wrote and then he signed it,
but only signed the name: "-Saezhur"

Dispaya wept and nothing more.


((Be well my friend and have a wonderful summer. I hope to see you again soon. All my love and power - D))