Guest
05-04-2007, 11:37 AM
((OOC: I was inspired by the stories in these threads, so I decided to do one myself. Please feel free to let me know what you think. I can take it. =) ))
I have taken to writing in this journal, that I have named The Sunâs Bitter Tears, so that I may have an accurate account of my quest to avenge the death of my sister Zaiel. However, I know that someone will, one day, read this, and when that happens, I would like them to have a clear idea of who I am, and why it is that I did what I did.
Entry 1 - Prologue
Here I sit, in my kitchen, in front this book asking myself âWhere do I start?â Well...I suppose I should give a brief background on myself first. That is how this sort of thing is done, right? It is good enough for me, so here goes...
My name is Saevel Amalith. I am a Warlock of the Sinâdorei, a member of the Amalith family, and I am roughly five years past the age of maturity (at the time of this writing) for my people.
The Amalith family is one based upon tradition, and a fierce loyalty to one another. Like many of the Sin'dorei, magical ability runs in my family. The men tend to be Mages, although there has been a Warlock or two in my family's history; and the women have been priests up until recently where some have decided to follow the path of the Blood Knight. Usually, we tend to follow in our parents' footsteps unless one shows an unusually strong aptitude for a different road. I would tell you of my family's struggle in recent days, before joining the Horde, but most already know of what my people have suffered, and my family is no different in that regard. Even though there are few of us left, we persevere and try to make life better for those of us that remain. I share in my family's belief, and will go to the ends of Azeroth to ensure the safety of those I hold dear.
The decision to become a Warlock was made for me at an early age since they began talking to me when I was just past the age of 10. Upon seeing my newly developed ability, my parents immediately apprenticed me to the only Warlock in my family...my Uncle Trellen. Uncle Trellan was not the nicest of people, but he knew his craft well, and instructed me thoroughly in it. No lesson was considered unimportant, and he made sure I learned even the tiniest of details about what he called âthe accordâ, or as most would call it, Warlock sorcerery. I was never quite sure if my Uncleâs affinity for the accord was the same as mine, but there were a lot of similarities. For some reason, we seemed to take a different approach to the accord in that the demons we consorted with did not attempt to take over our souls, and they were not subjugated to our will in any way. It is pretty much an agreement...now that I think of it; it does make a lot of sense why my Uncle called it the accord. Anyway, the accord pretty much works as I give them some of my life energy, to make sure that they can continue to exist on this plane, and they fight along side me whenever I need them. I know that is greatly over simplifying it, but it is close enough for the purpose of this journal.
Now I suppose I should get to the reason I am on this quest for revenge in the first place...the death of my older sister Zaiel. She was a Blood Knight was one of the most forceful, and domineering people I have ever met in my life. She was top of her graduating class, and many Sinâdorei men vied for her attentions. She led most of them on, and got in their faces if they tried to pick on me. It is kind of funny, because, growing up, she always teased me, and when I asked her about it she told me âOnly I am allowed to pick on you, and if anyone has a problem with that then they can take it up with my fist!â, and she would brandish it at me threateningly. Eventhough she was always rather mean to me throughout our youth, she made sure that I learned many of lifeâs hard lessons, and always had my back when I needed her, so for that I loved her dearly.
Zaielâs death came as a crushing blow to my family. My mother cried for days, and I watched my father bear the brunt of her sorrow, and his own, with the resolve of the mountain stone. It espically hurt me, because I was there to see her die, and here is that story: Recently, there were reports of Darnassian scouts being seen around the West Sanctum located outside Silvermon City. Being a Blood Knight, she was immediately dispatched there to investigate, and being rather aggressive in nature; she went eagerly. Later that evening, my family had received word that she had not reported in, so I took it upon myself to go look for her.
When I got to the West Sanctum, I had found an area that showed signs of a struggle, and a scrap of cloth that was the remnants of an armband I had made for her when I was five...I did not know she had kept it. The battle had been recent, so I immediately set to searching for her, and found some marks in the ground that resembled a body being dragged away. I followed the trail, and saw a foot sticking out of the bushes ahead of me. I moved up to find Zaiel lying there dying, and I do not think I would have been able to find her if we did not share the same blood. She was trying to tell me something, so I helped her up to hear her better, and that was when I found out that the fight was more recent than I had thought, because a gout of flame erupted from behind me.
I spun around to see my Imp attacking someone that was trying to catch me with my guard down, and it would have worked if it had not been for Garkin (my Imp), and his constant vigilance. It was one of the Darnassian scouts I had heard about, and he was not happy that he had been spotted. The Scout yelled out in pain as my Imp's fire burned him, and realizing he was outnumbered; the coward turned and ran into the woods fading away as he did, but not before I saw his face. I wanted to give chase, but Zaiel lay dying, and I was not about to leave her.
I tried everything I could to save my sister, but my first aide skills did not seem to help; so there was little I was able to accomplish. That Darnassian was an expert at what he did, and no amount of first aide was able to stop her from passing on. Right before she died, she looked at me with that same defiant expression that she generally wore; and said only two words to me âGet themâ, and as I swore that I would, she passed away.
Zaiel did not cry as she passed. She just closed her eyes, and died the way she lived; with defiance in her eyes, dignity in her bearing, and not regretting a thing. She was a credit to Sinâdorei women everywhere, and I miss her.
The Night Elves will pay for the damage they did to my family, and I will be the one to collect every bit due. I will do this for my parents, my people, and myself, but most importantly, my sister. So my quest begins...
Selama ashal'anore!
I have taken to writing in this journal, that I have named The Sunâs Bitter Tears, so that I may have an accurate account of my quest to avenge the death of my sister Zaiel. However, I know that someone will, one day, read this, and when that happens, I would like them to have a clear idea of who I am, and why it is that I did what I did.
Entry 1 - Prologue
Here I sit, in my kitchen, in front this book asking myself âWhere do I start?â Well...I suppose I should give a brief background on myself first. That is how this sort of thing is done, right? It is good enough for me, so here goes...
My name is Saevel Amalith. I am a Warlock of the Sinâdorei, a member of the Amalith family, and I am roughly five years past the age of maturity (at the time of this writing) for my people.
The Amalith family is one based upon tradition, and a fierce loyalty to one another. Like many of the Sin'dorei, magical ability runs in my family. The men tend to be Mages, although there has been a Warlock or two in my family's history; and the women have been priests up until recently where some have decided to follow the path of the Blood Knight. Usually, we tend to follow in our parents' footsteps unless one shows an unusually strong aptitude for a different road. I would tell you of my family's struggle in recent days, before joining the Horde, but most already know of what my people have suffered, and my family is no different in that regard. Even though there are few of us left, we persevere and try to make life better for those of us that remain. I share in my family's belief, and will go to the ends of Azeroth to ensure the safety of those I hold dear.
The decision to become a Warlock was made for me at an early age since they began talking to me when I was just past the age of 10. Upon seeing my newly developed ability, my parents immediately apprenticed me to the only Warlock in my family...my Uncle Trellen. Uncle Trellan was not the nicest of people, but he knew his craft well, and instructed me thoroughly in it. No lesson was considered unimportant, and he made sure I learned even the tiniest of details about what he called âthe accordâ, or as most would call it, Warlock sorcerery. I was never quite sure if my Uncleâs affinity for the accord was the same as mine, but there were a lot of similarities. For some reason, we seemed to take a different approach to the accord in that the demons we consorted with did not attempt to take over our souls, and they were not subjugated to our will in any way. It is pretty much an agreement...now that I think of it; it does make a lot of sense why my Uncle called it the accord. Anyway, the accord pretty much works as I give them some of my life energy, to make sure that they can continue to exist on this plane, and they fight along side me whenever I need them. I know that is greatly over simplifying it, but it is close enough for the purpose of this journal.
Now I suppose I should get to the reason I am on this quest for revenge in the first place...the death of my older sister Zaiel. She was a Blood Knight was one of the most forceful, and domineering people I have ever met in my life. She was top of her graduating class, and many Sinâdorei men vied for her attentions. She led most of them on, and got in their faces if they tried to pick on me. It is kind of funny, because, growing up, she always teased me, and when I asked her about it she told me âOnly I am allowed to pick on you, and if anyone has a problem with that then they can take it up with my fist!â, and she would brandish it at me threateningly. Eventhough she was always rather mean to me throughout our youth, she made sure that I learned many of lifeâs hard lessons, and always had my back when I needed her, so for that I loved her dearly.
Zaielâs death came as a crushing blow to my family. My mother cried for days, and I watched my father bear the brunt of her sorrow, and his own, with the resolve of the mountain stone. It espically hurt me, because I was there to see her die, and here is that story: Recently, there were reports of Darnassian scouts being seen around the West Sanctum located outside Silvermon City. Being a Blood Knight, she was immediately dispatched there to investigate, and being rather aggressive in nature; she went eagerly. Later that evening, my family had received word that she had not reported in, so I took it upon myself to go look for her.
When I got to the West Sanctum, I had found an area that showed signs of a struggle, and a scrap of cloth that was the remnants of an armband I had made for her when I was five...I did not know she had kept it. The battle had been recent, so I immediately set to searching for her, and found some marks in the ground that resembled a body being dragged away. I followed the trail, and saw a foot sticking out of the bushes ahead of me. I moved up to find Zaiel lying there dying, and I do not think I would have been able to find her if we did not share the same blood. She was trying to tell me something, so I helped her up to hear her better, and that was when I found out that the fight was more recent than I had thought, because a gout of flame erupted from behind me.
I spun around to see my Imp attacking someone that was trying to catch me with my guard down, and it would have worked if it had not been for Garkin (my Imp), and his constant vigilance. It was one of the Darnassian scouts I had heard about, and he was not happy that he had been spotted. The Scout yelled out in pain as my Imp's fire burned him, and realizing he was outnumbered; the coward turned and ran into the woods fading away as he did, but not before I saw his face. I wanted to give chase, but Zaiel lay dying, and I was not about to leave her.
I tried everything I could to save my sister, but my first aide skills did not seem to help; so there was little I was able to accomplish. That Darnassian was an expert at what he did, and no amount of first aide was able to stop her from passing on. Right before she died, she looked at me with that same defiant expression that she generally wore; and said only two words to me âGet themâ, and as I swore that I would, she passed away.
Zaiel did not cry as she passed. She just closed her eyes, and died the way she lived; with defiance in her eyes, dignity in her bearing, and not regretting a thing. She was a credit to Sinâdorei women everywhere, and I miss her.
The Night Elves will pay for the damage they did to my family, and I will be the one to collect every bit due. I will do this for my parents, my people, and myself, but most importantly, my sister. So my quest begins...
Selama ashal'anore!