DoaD - The Next Chapter

[Melikar]

((This is based off an event that happened earlier today in the tribe regarding Kard. It may not make a lot of sense to some.))

He felt drained, like he'd been running for miles.

The first thing Kardwel had remembered upon waking up was seeing Dispaya's face, something about telling him to take her magic? Next thing he knew, he was standing, stumbling towards the guild hall door. He needed to get to the bank, that's where he needed to go. Eruadan had asked some questions and yelled at him, Kalenthas had resorted to harsh benefactors (again) and somewhere along the way, Kardwel found himself outside. He knew what he was missing. His magic. He needed more life and there was none for his taking.

As he had just been going out the door, a large object walked past him.

"Oh, Kard, Ah been meanin' ta catch ja."

Kardwel really didn't care. Instead he just kept walking, his breath harsh, his skin as cold as ice. He would die if he didn't get magic soon!

"Uh, ja dropped dis a few days back. Ah picked it up fo'ah ja an' forgot to return it..."

A blue-hued hand shoved itself under Kardwel's nose. A silver flask was wrapped in this hand. Feeling a sudden elation, Kardwel snatched the flask out of Melikar's hand so fast, you could've blinked and missed it. Tearing the lid off, Kardwel drank what was inside. He had never felt a desire, a need as strong as this one! Oh, but it felt good...glorious, almost.

Melikar watched the Sin'Dorei man drink down his share out of the flask, raising a peculiar eyebrow.

"What be in dere anyway?" He asked.

Kardwel slowly walked over to a wall, placing his hand upon it and breathing in deep. His whole body was shaking. Never had he realized just how bad expended all his magic really was. Not just that, but he didn't quite survive the way others did. He still felt rather unstable. In these conditions, he could end up blasting someone with magic power, not even intending to. But what if Melikar knew? What if he knew of this little...he glanced down at the flask...secret...?

Melikar took a step toward him, a slight look of worry crossing his features.

"Kard, Ah don' t'ink ja look so good..."

Kardwel's hand swung out, grabbing Melikar and pulling him towards the elf.

"Do you know what the others would do if they knew what I ha-"

He was cut off as the guild hall doors were flung open wide. Dispaya and Kalanthes stood there, the other blood elf paladin yelling something about speaking up. Probably ruining a perfectly good eavesdropping moment for the undead woman. Which Kardwel knew was exactly what she'd been doing. He had to be more careful. He really did.

Feeling somewhat better, he quickly let Melikar go. Finding his feet properly, he headed off without so much as another questioning word to or from the others.

Melikar only shook his head, wondering what kind of drama had played out in the hall this time. Turning, he gave the two at the door a friendly greeting, spotting Eruadan (looking rather miffed) within. He wasn't sure what had happened, but something told him he would find out in due time.

[Melikar]

Melikar found himself in the Murder Row Inn, downing another shot of harsh Sin'Dorei whiskey. He hardly ever touched this stuff, but tonight felt different. Tonight he wanted to pressure in his chest, the constricting of his throat to just go away. Silvermoon had the closest inn after he had found himself once more chasing Thanuist.

She had been doing a lot of weird things lately. But the fact that he'd found her at her father's cold grave, seemingly about to break had bothered the hell out of him. And she wouldn't let him help. That tortured him more than she would ever know. He found his hand gripping a piece of parchment from the said Blood Elf. She had sent him a letter at the last minute it seemed. Something about how she wasn't good enough for him.

If she wasn't then why did he fight for her this entire time? He found his body wavering slightly as he sat in one of the plush seats present in most all the inns. Three shots, and his body was asking for a fourth. He had to stay strong through this. He really, really should just let her go. He found his hand reaching for the bottle of whiskey again.

As he reached for it, he saw a quill set in an ink pot just off to his left. Grabbing the bottle in his right hand, he poured himself another shot of alcohol. His other hand reached for the quill. The Sin'Dorei who had the fortune to work the bar at this hour glanced Melikar up and down, wondering just how much Trolls could hold.

Tipping the shot glass back, Melikar swallowed, the pain of the drink mixing with what was already existent there from his emotions. His eyes squinted slightly as he got a hold of himself. It seemed that a warming was taking over his gut. The first sign that he was starting to relax. His mind didn't drift off of Thanuist, however. At this rate, he didn't know if it ever would. With the quill, he began to write a letter back to her. Whether he realized he was writing on the back of her original letter or not, was yet to be determined.

He sat there for a moment, wondering what he should say. No matter what he said or did, he wasn't sure it would be good enough. She'd still probably just sit there all stubborn as usual. Finally, his hand began to move...

I hate feeling like this

Well, that was obvious. Regardless, he didn't stop.

I'm so tired of trying to fight this.
I'm asleep and all I dream of is waking to you
Tell me that you will listen.
Your touch is what I'm missing.
And the more I hide I realize
I'm slowly loosing you...

He stopped, his head lowering onto his arm as the quill etched on the paper. He had to describe this to her in a way that would really matter. Something that would really catch her attention. That usual depressed feeling played over his heart again as he once more realized that not much seemed to work for her. How did she really make him feel? What did she do to him?

Comatose.

He nodded, thinking that sounded right, even in the midst of a drunken stupor.

I'll never wake up without an overdose of you.
I don't want to live, I don't want to breath.
'Les I feel you next to me.
You take the pain I feel.
Waking up to you never felt so real.
I don't want to sleep, I don't want to dream.
Cause my dreams don't comfort me.
The way you make me feel...waking up to you never felt so real.

Suddenly feeling rather moronic for writing this all out, he crumpled up the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. Maybe some sleep would do him good here. Standing, wavering a bit on the spot, he started to make his way to the inn upstairs. If only she knew...

...if only...she knew...

[Melikar]

Midnight dark hooves crunched into a firm structure of this dilapidated land. Chunks of this foul earth rose and rotated, its purple hue mimicking the desire for magic and arcane power.

Kardwel glanced around, his horse standing just inland of the bridge, crossing from Blade's Edge mountains to Netherstorm. Hellfire had been hot, Zangarmarsh had been wet, Blade's Edge had contained threats unlike which he'd seen before. But perhaps the biggest threat lay here. The air was tinged with a smell he couldn't identify. Something along the lines of sulfur mixed with raw power. Staring off into the distance between tendrils of blond hair, all he could see was a dark void.

Sinking his heels into his horse's sides, the creature started off. Slowly at first, the hooves moved along the ground, lifting and stomping out more of a pathway like so many before him had. The air was thick with danger and he could sense it at every turn. He urged the steed to move quicker and it obeyed. Hastening its pace, the horse was now going at a steady canter, the familiar sound of its gold-rimmed hooves tearing out through the earth. Kardwel wasn't even sure if you could call it that.

As he traveled he could hear various sounds, none of which sounded too friendly. Sometimes it sounded like a dragon's cry would echo through a valley of disrupt land. Other times, the sound of pulsating machines would greet his ears. Regardless, he kept on his path until he spotted the walls of what appeared to be a functional town appear ahead. As he grew closer, the sight of goblins became clear. He had reached the town named Area 52. He'd heard of this place from other travelers, but this was his first visit.

Stepping through the gate, he spotted a myriad of goblins working on the town or patrolling the small streets here. It had been some time since the gate had opened to Outlands. At the time it had, Kardwel had not seen himself in any shape to come here. But now, with everyone gearing up for the path to Northrend, he was beginning to wish he had. Not many others were around to take care of any existing problems in this place. Most able bodied fighters were no longer worrying thesmselves with "the smaller work".

And, personally, Kardwel wished he wasn't. But to get anywhere, he needed to prove himself to everyone. Even the goblins. But, gods, did he hate their towns!

Finding a spot to park the red and gold clothed horse by the inn, the blood elf dismounted and made his way inside. There was another Sin'Dorei he had to meet up with here. Reports from Shattrath, he believed. Walking into the inn itself, Kardwel saw a large table decorated with various food stuffs. He stopped, watching as two Draenei women passed before him. The glanced at him, giving him a look of dissatisfaction and muttering something in their native tongue. They both giggled, looking back to him briefly before being on their way.

He found his own glare intensifying, as their hooves clacked against the stone floor, their laughing still apparent.

"Idiots." His voice crawled, the orcish much harsher then his usual Thalassian. He turned to his left and made his way across the room, spotting some much better behaved blood elves who were discussing ideas amongst themselves.

One of them looked up as Kardwel approached.

"I take it you are from Shattrath?" The one looking at him asked.

Kardwel stopped, his eyes glancing back and forth.

"Yes..." he slowly responded.

"Ah, great." The other blood elf replied, his hair shorter then the others, a bit of fashionable spike thrown in. "I'm the guy you need to speak with. The commander."

Kardwel straightened up a bit.

"How did you know that I was coming from Shattrath?" he asked.

The Commander quirked an eyebrow.

"You don't really look the important part." he answered honestly.

Kardwel found his body leaning back a bit, almost looking revolted at what the commander had just said. He couldn't make a fool of himself here though. When he spoke again, his voice held quite a bite.

"Well, I was told you still needed help out here."

"Indeed, we do." The commander stated, ignoring Kardwel's threatening voice and leaning forward slightly, "Can I ask your name?"

"Gil'Light." Kardwel answered straight up, "Kardwel Gil'Light."

The commander nodded.

"We always have problems with the Mana Forges. The Sin'Dorei who aligned with Kael'thas are still harvesting fel magic under his command. You'd think with all the attacks both us and the Alliance have put on them, they would start to learn." He shrugged, "But no, they still remain as worse as ever."

He moved forward.

"We need you to go in there and do what you can. There's a set of plans we need. If you get those, I will reward you for your service and time."

He paused.

"And trust me, Mr. Gil'Light, I know we proper Sin'Dorei like to be well rewarded."

Feeling a bit of understanding now, Kardwel nodded slightly. Turning his back a bit, he glanced over at the commander.

"Consider it done."

He then turned and began walking away.

"You do this, Mr. Gil'Light," The commander spoke up to Kardwel's back, "And you may have the chance to take out the prince yourself."

He stopped as Kardwel's body jerked to a halt. Kardwel turned his head, his bright green eyes flaring.

"Do not doubt yourself." The commander said when the other blood elf remained silent. Kardwel seemed content in just giving him and his companions a deathly glare.

There was a moment in which no words were exchanged. Then, in a sudden movement Kardwel turned and stomped from the room. When he was gone, the commander breathed in, watching the doorway for a moment.

One of the seasoned trainers looked up at him.

"Do you...know him or something?" This time it was not orcish flowing from their mouths.

"Not personally," the commander replied in the same language.

"But a lot of others know that name."

[Guest]

A slender figure stumbled out of the inn and made her way to the gates of the city. The grunts observed her, but said nothing as she walked out of the city slipping and sliding around on her unsteady feet. She somehow made it to and up the zeppelin tower down the road.
The next thing she knew Tha’nuist was on a pale red dragon hawk headed for the Ghostlands. Her brethren seemed unfazed by her arrival in the dead of night. Once they had seen forsaken actually being useful they had decided nothing was too strange. One golden haired guard shrugged his shoulders to another as the red haired woman made her way south.

She had explored this place long ago in her adventures. She had heard his call then, but forced it out of her mind to focus on her training. Now his calls reached across continents and portals, and she could ignore it no more. The Sin’dorei graveyard west of Zul’Aman came into view. The breath in and out of her ruby lips shortened and increased with intensity while her feet picked up a speed she did not know they had. Collapsing as she hit the border of the cemetery, Tha’nuist grasped at the cold dirt beneath her.
You came? My Seh’nuist came!

Tha’nuist only nodded as she clawed and snuggled deeper into the dirt. The episode was so intense she failed to correct him.

Oh how you have changed. You’ve cut your beautiful hair. That really is your best feature. Grow it back out for me, darling. The cold winds have come in, and soon I will be with you again. Others have whispered that revenge will soon be upon us and I will rise. Meet me there in the cold world he has created. I will take his gift of life anew, but love shall be my only master. Break me free, my love!

“Father, I will.”

A stuffed mana wyrm flew through the air and into a large netherweave sack. It was quickly followed by silver combs and various dress robes. Tha’nuist bustled around her flat collecting what she needed, and putting everything else in its proper place. Once she finished she tied the sack shut and picked up a piece of parchment that sat underneath it.

“Parka Directions” glowed in blue ink on the top, and her green eyes studied the diagrams. She shook her now shoulder length long hair in frustration before stuffing the plans in a side pocket of the bag. Hoisting it over her shoulder, Tha’nuist looked around once more before quietly exiting her home.

She had gotten used to the jeers and catcalls that seemed to follow her. She had no idea why so many men were suddenly taking an interest. Many she had never seen before in her life, and it was beyond the elf why many were asking for round two. Ignoring the comments, the young woman made her way to the stables that housed her beloved Greeny. Dropping the bag to the floor with a thud, Tha’nuist made her way into his stall to being fussing over him.

Rubbing his beak tenderly, she looked into his yellow eyes as tears formed in her own. It was too cold up there to take him. She would have to leave him in the care of these cruel heathens! The elf hugged his neck one last time before exiting his stall and pressing a bag of gold into the stable owner’s hands.

“If anything happens to him I’ll kill you!” Red lips hissed before heading to another stall housing a shaggy ram.

[Melikar]

Feeling the soft thud of beast-like feet hit the stone floor beneath him, Kardwel glanced around at the ever changing scene of Shattrath city.

It seemed as though his coming was late to this sanctuary. By this moment in time, many Horde and Alliance fighters had become well seasoned in their time spent in this world of Outland. A much more pressing need from the North was moving in, and many of Outland's problems had been forgotten. Not that they proved to be much of a threat anymore.

Hundreds of Naga had been cleared from Zangarmarsh, attacks from Fel Orcs in Hellfire Peninsula had greatly diminished, Ogre problems in Blade's Edge had been showing up less and less, the Consortium was feeling more at ease with every death of their turned kind...even the Isle of Quel'Danas was being cleared of its evils thanks to the Shattered Sun Offensive.

It just so happened that Kardwel was staring at the portal in the center of the city that lead to the island in question. It felt as though he was being beckoned through, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why. He heard a sudden scream and commotion which interrupted him from his thoughts. Turning, he saw a small group of Shatari Vindicators quickly running out of an open door from the center to the outside. He couldn't see what was going on from here, but he heard metal sliding from sheaths and sudden cries from others. He saw something try to run past the guard's defense, but it was stopped abruptly as it fell forward, a Vindicator's blade slicing through its back. In a matter of seconds, it was lying motionless on the ground.

So the plague had spread even to this Sanctuary? Figuring he wasn't going to stick around and watch what else would happen, Kardwel turned back to the portal. Once again, he felt that incessant need to move into what lay beyond. He'd never been this close to the Island's portal before, hadn't really paid it much mind at all, actually. Dismounting off his wyvern, he stepped towards the portal and placed a hand near the center, allowing it to take him through.

He once more felt that odd, warped sense one usually felt when traveling long distances through portals. When his vision became clear, the first thing he noted were the intricate red and gold designs etched into the side of a white Sin'Dorei building. The next sense that greeted him was the sound of flying arrows and battle cries echoing about from a million different directions. And the last sense that greeted him, perhaps the strongest and most dire, was the feeling in his chest. It felt like someone had driven a knife into the center of his chest cavity and was twisting it around. He stumbled forward off the small portal platform and into the war-beaten wall.

Lifting a hand to his chest, he could feel his very shallow breathing. Placing his other hand on the building, he heaved himself into a more upright position, turning so that his back was to the wall instead. He breathed in deeply and shuddered, trying to remain in control of himself. At first he had no idea why he was getting these feelings. Physically, he suddenly felt spent. But he also had this utmost desire to keep moving. To find something...to seek out what he needed most. Then, the whole idea of what was happening to him dawned.

The Sunwell...it was here...

He couldn't see himself, pressed against this wall on the upper floor of perhaps a once beautiful Sin'Dorei building. But to someone who was looking on, they would've seen the distinct changes in his appearance. His eyes always had the distinct green glow like all his brethren. However, if he'd been among his own kind, they would've noticed how his eyes now seemed to glow ten times brighter then usual. His usually smooth, flowing blond hair was now starting to look a mess, more like a mane starting to become fire then what it was supposed to be. And his some-what pale skin had become a tad bit darker, starting to shimmer with sweat. Or maybe it wasn't sweat at all.

Pushing himself from the wall, Kardwel felt he could finally move. Slowly starting on his way. A female Draenei clad in the armor of a Shattered Sun warrior rushed past him, paying little attention to him. He hoped he wouldn't draw the mind of others on his way through the island.

There was a lot that needed doing here, but the whole thought of fighting for the Shattered Sun Offensive wasn't the desire most on his mind.

[Melikar]

It had been two days since Kardwel had started visiting the Isle of Quel'Danas. And each time he was there, he felt this searing desire to stay where he was and never leave. From the Shattered Sun camps, he'd seen the Sin'Dorei buildings to the Southwest, the ones that contained many of the Blood Elf fighters who had long since sided with Kael'thas in his reclaiming of the Sunwell Plateau.

Every waking moment Kardwel spent on this island, he'd felt great desire like he'd never felt before. It was a calling, something urging him to stay here forever...to fight for what was his. But the other side of him, perhaps the good side, was telling him to leave. To get as far from this place as he could. Kael'thas had turned his back on the entire Sin'Dorei race, surely Kardwel didn't find himself beginning to think that joining his lines was a fair idea?

No, Kael was a different elf now then he was ten years ago. In trying to gain power, he had let it take over him. And that had led to betrayal...mistrust and feelings of war. It had even played a part in Kardwel's life. Maybe at one point in time, things hadn't been so bad. But they were now, and there wasn't a hell of a lot anyone could do about it. No, if there was anyone that reclaimed the Sunwell as their own, it shouldn't be Kael'thas. He was too corrupt and his sanity had long since given up on the world.

As it were, Kardwel was not on the island at the moment. He was back in Silvermoon, sitting on a crop of wall just outside the Murder Row inn. Unless you looked right in his direction as you passed the building, you would not have been able to see him.

Personally, he couldn't see why Kael'thas couldn't return to the mage of the Kirin Tor he once was. Things had been so much different in the past, how could he have changed so much?

The Blood Elf in question looked down at his hands, as if contemplating their power, or perhaps his own humanity. Comparing himself to someone along the nature of the Ex-Prince himself. He'd done quite a bit of thinking since he'd first visited the island. Both times he'd gone, he had that strange reaction upon first entering the area, as if his knees would give out from under him. The thirst a Blood Elf felt for magic could be fed in a number of ways. The first and foremost being by arcane manipulation. The second would be energies from another source or being. But another way they could feed their addiction was by being near a great source of magic energy.

Kardwel didn't believe this to make much sense. His body was reacting in the exact opposite way it shoud've been. By being so close to the Sunwell, he should've been feeling more relaxed and calm, having less of a desire for the magic power. But the closer he got, the worse his desire for it became and the farther he went, the less controlled by it he felt. Even here in Silvermoon, he could sense that calling. But it was nowhere near as bad as when he was on the Isle. Whenever he was there, he found it hard to concentrate on what he was actually doing with this need constantly bothering him.

As he sat here, alone under the small shade of the wall, he felt a cold breeze suddenly pick up from the street and blow by. It was a sign of the coming winter...but the cold grasp on Kardwel's armor made him think of how cold he suddenly had become. The street was empty, and not a soul stirred around him. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. His face did not carry its usual scowl or its bravado that was usually seen in the heat of battle. He rested his chin upon his arms, feeling the slight tickle of his facial hair scratch along wrist.

As he stared off down the street, watching a few loose leaves kick up in the passing wind, he suddenly felt more insecure about himself now then he ever had in the past.

[Melikar]

Why did he say yes?

No...really? Why did he say it?

Kardwel found his green eyes staring off in the distance, looking at a far away white wall. His elbow was on a cafe table in Silvermoon, his chin resting in his hand. His legs were crossed, his left hand nestled in between his thighs. A cup of tea sat before him, the steam now barely visible from the once hot water. That was just an idea of how long he'd been sitting here.

Dispaya came up and asked him to be her date to the Ironsong ball this Thursday. At first, he'd had no idea how to react. He was sure all those pathetic people in the guild hall with him were just going to give him an attitude no matter what he said or did. But the fact that he had agreed to take her as an escort surprised him even more. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel a bit put on the spot when she asked. It must have been a combination of her asking him and his feeling quite flustered at the moment that made him agree.

He really didn't think he should even go. He should go to Undercity and tell the Undead woman to forget the whole thing. But something inside him told him that wasn't going to be so easy. He could always just not show up.

He pulled back a bit, gazing down into his green tea. He could see the slight reflection of his face there, its distorted lines cutting through his features. He told himself he wasn't going to do things of this nature anymore and yet, here he was acting just like he did back then. Letting people in where they didn't belong. And it was all his damn fault.

He knew exactly how this would go. At first they'd be put off by one another. Then, they'd be accepting each other. And before he knew it, he'd have a fully developed relationship that he wouldn't be able to let go. And what would happen then?

No, he couldn't risk it. He was already delving in too deep. By saying yes to Dispaya's invitation, he had gone into the next step. He couldn't afford to be too close to her or anybody for that fact. Not now, not ever. He found his leg swinging out and barely missing the pole upholding the table. He almost kicked it out of frustration, but realized he would probably owe the cafe some gold if that happened. Crossing his arms over his chest, he breathed out an angry sigh and brooded in this spot. His attention to the current problem was distracted as he heard two Sin'Dorei men speaking Thallassian by the cafe counter.

"...I mean, things could've been a lot worse."

The other Sin'Dorei, one with a slightly deeper voice, spoke up.

"Yes, it's a good thing we had our most able bodied healers on the problem. I'm glad it only spread as far as it did. No one seemed to get too hurt."

There was a slight pause. Kardwel wasn't looking at them, but still straight ahead. Their conversation picked up again as the blond elf eaves dropped. The first elf replied back.

"Yeah, things just haven't been the same around here. I've been hearing a lot about the North."

The deeper elf replied after a moment's hesitation.

"I will be headed there myself. I really don't know when I will return."

"So you've mentioned." the first elf stated, "But I didn't know you were really going to do it."

The second elf let out a bit of a smug chuckle.

"You think that Lich will keep me away from there?"

There were the sounds of sipping and contented sighs. Obviously, they were enjoying a coffee break of some sort.

"So what about you?" the second elf continued to the first, "Are you going to train up and go there some day as well?"

There was another pause. Now Kardwel turned his head slightly, seeing the two against the counter through gold strands of hair. The first elf had his back to Kardwel, his brown hair stopping just at his shoulders. The second, deeper voiced elf, stood with a mug cupped in his hands, his black hair trailing over a chest that was facing him. Kardwel saw the brown haired elf shrug.

"I was thinking of finding that lady friend of mine first."

The second elf grinned, shaking his head and looking down into his mug.

"I told you to stop hanging around with people like that." he replied.

The shorter-haired elf slightly turned to his companion.

"Hey, she was really nice to me."

The black-haired Sin'Dorei glanced over.

"Yeah, in bed maybe."

"No, it was more then that." the first elf vehemently stated, "I know...there was something there."

The elf speaking now turned a bit more so his whole body was facing the darker haired one.

"You really think you'll be safe up there?" he asked.

The black-haired elf nodded.

"Nothing I haven't seen before." he replied, "Besides, they need as many as they can get."

There was a quiet moment here as both the elves stopped talking to have drinks out of their mugs. So it took them by complete surprise when a third voice cut through the air.

"Don't go."

Both the elves turned to look at the blond elf sitting by himself at a table half-way across the room. Kardwel was looking right at the darker haired elf as he had said this. He didn't know why, but he had the sudden urgency to say this.

"What do you mean?" the black haired one asked.

Kardwel shrugged.

"I'm not sure." he said, "You just can't go...not right away. You have to wait."

The elf laughed a bit.

"Right, and who are you to say that?" he questioned, his Thallassian cutting through the rather stagnant air of the cafe.

"I just said, I don't know." Kardwel spoke again, his tone rather heated this time. "But don't go up there. You just...shouldn't."

The black-haired elf looked to his friend, grinning as if Kardwel was insane.

"Okay, what happens if I do go?" he asked, "What does the future hold for m-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Kardwel spoke again.

"Do you ever want to see your wife and kid again? Then don't go up there."

The smile instantly vanished from the darker-haired elf's face.

"How do you know I have a wife and a kid?" he then asked.

Kardwel's eyes shifted back and forth, his hesitation speaking volumes. How did he know that?

"I don't..." he began, "I don't know. You just can't go up there."

It was as if someone was speaking through him, making him say these things. That in itself began to make Kardwel feel very insecure. He then felt a sudden pain flash through his head. He brought his hand up to his forehead, this migraine coming on all too quickly. This felt just like the headaches he would get after waking from nightmares and sometimes his other dreams of the past, good or not.

He stood up, not bothering the gauge the reactions of the other two, leaving his lukewarm tea where it was on the table. He early stumbled out of the cafe and into the street. As soon as he was out of there, the headache disappeared almost instantly. Kardwel really didn't know what was going on, but there was just too much weird things happening now. He turned and walked down the street, his hand still rubbing at his forehead. There had been one image that flashed in his mind when that pain came, and that was of an elf with dark brown hair past his shoulders, green eyes looking at him as if they could see into his soul. As if every part of Kardwel's innermost thoughts and feelings were being exposed to someone.

Feeling angry, scared and overwhelmed all at the same time, Kardwel found himself headed for the Inn. He could probably use some sleep after a very strange moment like that. This could've had something to do with that great desire for the Sunwell he was getting, or it could be something different altogether.

So wrapped up was he in his thoughts, he didn't stop to notice a Blood Elf sitting on the same outcrop of wall outside the Inn that he had occupied just a few days before. The Blood Elf's brown hair trailed over his back as one leg hung off the side of the wall, swinging idly as he sat here.

Maybe Kardwel had more people caring to know about his life then he ever knew.

[Melikar]

Somewhere, off in the distance, waves crashed against a shore. The constant repetitive sound was lost on the slanted ears of the one who may or may not have been listening to them. To him, everything was just one blur now. Sounds, sights, and everything in between.

Kardwel wasn't sure how he ended up here, but he had. He had just kept running for hours. First on horse-back, then onto a Zeppelin, maybe a wyvern ride had helped him out along the way. But somehow, the looming cliffs of Azshara had greeted him, and it felt like the most comfortable place he could be. He didn't know how late it was, nor cared. It had to be somewhere around three in the morning, his body felt spent. He wasn't sure what he'd exactly said to the tribe at the moot, but it most certainly hadn't been him.

He had one of those killer headaches after his speech, the same ones he felt after waking from his dreams sometimes. It was very similar to that moment back in the cafe with those two Sin'Dorei he'd never even met. He wasn't sure what was happening, but ever since his body's urges for the Sunwell had increased, really strange things had begun happening. He still had that gut feeling that someone was seeing into his head.

Once he'd made it to Azshara, he had just mounted up on his horse and took off until he felt comfortable enough to stop. He'd found an outcropping of rock near the edge of a cliff and decided to just sit upon it, not sure what to think.

Within him, a part of him had agreed with those words he'd spoken to the tribe. The other half told him he was being nothing but a fool and that he should never have jumped up there in the first place. He had put his heart on his sleeve once more, and as much as he told himself he was never going to do that again...it was happening.

And on top of all that, it seemed there were those within the tribe who now knew of his secret. And it wouldn't be long until everyone knew and he would be sentenced to death for his crime. His flask had contained the only liquid that could maintain him.

The holy water of the Sunwell.

He'd been losing control of himself at the party. No...not losing, he had lost himself already. That energy was the only thing that had worked. He had drank the last bit out of his flask when Faerial had snatched it right out from under him. It hadn't taken effect right away, but he figured it was his seemingly increased need that was pressuring him. And all because of this stupid curse, his life had been ruined. He was born into a world he couldn't control and now he was suffering the consequences of his race's addiction. Of his own addiction.

Being controlled by Arcane power was nothing to be proud of. This thought raced through his mind with about a million others.

Really, what was left to live for? No one in the tribe liked him, his head would be wanted by the highest powers in Silvermoon, the very people he was trying to be like...there really was no hope left for him. He became a paladin so he could fight for a past that would never return, and he knew within his soul it would always be that way. He wasn't going to risk getting so hurt all over again. Or maybe, he already had.

His very dim, green eyes glanced out into the distance, the ocean a very long way below him. Protruding rocks along the cliff face would not make it an easy jump. They would most likely break his body as he fell, but it would be nothing compared to the feelings coursing through him now. The Well of Eternity once resided here, maybe that was what drew him to the place. From this vantage point, he could see the edges of buildings tens of thousands of years old. They were destroyed when the Well erupted, splitting the world into two continents, but there were also bits that remained.

His legs were crossed as he sat on the rock, his hands plopped in his lap. Hearing a noise behind him, he glanced not really caring if it were friend or a foe. His steed was walking near the edge of the outcropping stone, grazing on small tufts of grass the land offered. Anastarian had never gone far from his side. The animal was one of his only real companions in this whole ordeal. He would miss having that...and in a few minutes, he knew it wouldn't matter.

Something wet struck his hand.

Glancing down, he saw a clear, very small splash on the back of his left hand. He blinked once and felt it again. Was it beginning to rain? What a fitting weather for how he felt, especially at this time. But as he listened, he didn't hear rain falling anywhere else.

He clamped his jaw shut as his throat went so dry it hurt. His body shuddered, wishing more than anything in the world there was someone there for him. But he knew no one would come. No one cared enough about him, because he had pushed them all away, just as he intended.

He felt something slide down over his left cheek, another wet drop falling onto his right arm. And like the undertow in a tide, he felt himself being washed away. He brought his hands up to his face and pressed his palms against his eyes, trying as hard as he could to stop the oncoming flow. But it wouldn't push back, no matter how hard he tried. His hands slid down his face, slipping until his arms were crossing his chest and he was gripping his shoulders with fierce need. The desire to be held was so strong, it scared him.

He brought his knees up out of their bent position and he found his very blurry vision looking down at them.

For the first time in ten years, he felt emotions he had forced himself to do without. Emotions he wouldn't allow himself to deal with. Every time something would bother him so greatly, he would harden his heart and turn away. But not now, there was no way he could put it off anymore.

As he sat alone on this dark rock, he could only think of all his wrong-doings, of all the people he'd hurt and the fate he had been left with. His body wracked with his motions, his voice only coming in faint whimpers. All he could do was let his pent up emotion take over.

And so, he cried.

[Melikar]

His body had long since stopped moving. His knees were still drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped around them.

Looking up, his eyes were still wet. He didn't know how long his emotional tirade had gone on, but he supposed maybe another hour had passed. He had no desire or intention to know the time, however. He had made up his mind by this point.

Placing his hands on the cold stone beneath him, he pushed himself to his feet. Standing there, like a silhouette against the dying moon, he looked down the cliff face. It looked farther then when he first had taken this idea into consideration. He breathed in a shuddering breath, lifting his head and holding it high.

He always thought he would die in battle.

He always had imagined himself bravely fighting off enemy after enemy, blood pouring down his chest, his arms, his legs, pain shattering through every inch of his body. But through all the physical torment, he would feel on the inside that he had finally done something right. He'd finally made a wondrous difference in someone's life. And that in itself would've kept him going until the final blade would sink into his chest and tear his heart asunder.

But he felt none of that now. In fact, he felt the exact opposite. And he was bringing death in a way he never wanted. He was bringing it down upon himself.

His thoughts were momentarily distracted as he heard a soft whinny from behind him. The paladin's horse must have sensed that something was wrong. It had stopped eating a tufts of grass and was now staring up at the blond elf, almost in a questioning manner.

Kardwel's red-stained eyes looked the creature over. The horse would be fine. It would return to the others and let them know of his passing. He couldn't live without the Sunwell, he couldn't find the help he so desperately needed because no one would. Instead of continuing to worry...instead of causing more pain in people's lives then he already had, he would just end it all. He would end his very suffering this day and join the people he loved in whatever world lay beyond.

He tipped his head back slightly, raising his arms out on either side of him. His foot took a small step forward, the edge of the rock beginning to give way. He swallowed once, very nervous about the ending result. What if it didn't work and he was left in more pain then before? It didn't matter. If he fell to the beach below and didn't die, then he would lay there until he did.

His foot inched forward a bit more, starting to slip a little. Feeling tears once more welling up within him, he bid his final good bye to the world, and welcomed the arms of the Nether.

Kardwel, stop! Please!

His eyes snapped open, his body reeling back.

He was no longer in Azshara on a cold cliff edge. He was standing in the middle of a room, white walls adorned with red and gold markings. A four-poster bed lay before him, the white sheets neatly made amongst the gold frame. His brow furrowed.

What was this?

This room...he hadn't seen it in ten years. And that voice. He could never forget that soft, angel-like voice. He looked down, noticing his unmarred bare chest. He was in nothing but a simple pair of pants. The room was warm, sunlight shining in from an open door on his left. The he felt something soft and warm pressing against his back, small hands sliding around his waist and holding onto him. He could feel the silky caress of hair on his back as someone leaned into him. Was he...?

Please don't do this Kardwel.

The voice was right behind him, but it sounded distant at the same time.

I love you Kardwel. I always have and I always will. Even if you don't know. But you must promise me you will not hurt yourself anymore! Those who you are friends with wish for nothing more then to help you. You must find it in your heart to love and accept again. Be the man I was intending to marry, not the man I so feared.

Kardwel tried to talk, but he found he was oddly without a voice. He couldn't even turn to look at the one behind him, though his body yearned for nothing more than to hold her.

It is not your fault. I do not blame you for anything. Please, all I want is for you to be happy.

But how can I do that without you?

The question was in his mind, not spoken aloud. Regardless of if he'd said anything or not, the feminine voice replied as if he had.

Allow yourself to love another. I will not be hurt, I will be happy. You have become a strong paladin, but you cannot remain one if you have the intention of trying to get any of your past back.

And Kael'thas?

You loved him as well, I know. But he is a different Sin'Dorei now. He is not the same one you used to know. Value the Kael'thas you had the chance to meet and to admire. But destroy the one who now plague's your heart. You cannot do this alone. And even killing him will not bring back all that you have lost.

Kardwel could feel the grip on him loosening. She was leaving. No..she couldn't leave him! There was still so much left to say!

Mehri!

I am always with you. And I forgive you.

Then, like a vacuum pulling dust away from the floor, it was all over.

Kardwel looked around. He had somehow stumbled off the rock and landed on his back near a tree behind him. Was that...had that all been real? Had he died and returned?

Lifting a hand to his head, he felt a sudden pounding headache. He had no idea what it was, but he felt suddenly changed. His horse was standing but a few paces away, looking at him as if he was crazy.

Pushing himself to his knees, then climbing to his feet, Kardwel slowly started for the steed. As he mounted up, and slowly began walking away, he realized his heart had never felt so clear. He had to do what was needed. He had to seek forgiveness from the tribe...and he had to continue living.

He didn't know what for, but perhaps that would soon reveal itself as well.

[Dispaya]

*Bravo*

[Melikar]

*Bravo*

((Thank you!))

[Melikar]

The furry white hound followed just a short distance behind the blue-tinted hand of the one who carried its reigns.

Melikar glanced around him at all the faces, both young and old. The front of Orgimmar looked like it was being used for a major camp-out party. People from all over the Horde had come to this place for the same reasons he did.

Boxes and crates piled in staggering numbers around the bank, animals were being tied down with goods for the journey, there was a feeling of excitement as well as fear and tension in the air. Tonight was the night they would all leave Outland's problems behind and face the new ones that awaited them in Northrend.

Slinging his pack over his plate covered shoulder, Melikar pressed onward to the front. Orgrimmar guards were telling people to wait and that it wasn't quite time yet for the Zeppelins to depart. The troll couldn't help but notice how light his pack felt and how small he was packing compared to some others. A tauren warrior had a full set of weapons dangling precariously off ropes tied to his kodo, a blood elf woman was trying her hardest to make sure her things were not getting stolen by various Rogues, and an orc was sitting off to the side, neatly packing meat away in a crate.

Breathing inward, Melikar played with the trinket around his neck of a music note over the background of an anvil.

Sing true, Ironsong!

The warrior glanced about, hoping to catch a sight of a red-headed blood elf, but none was forthcoming. He looked to the front entrance as a sudden commotion caught his attention. People were pointing and turning to their friends and allies, whispering in excited tones. Standing to his full height, Melikar could easily see the front doors. Standing in the center, was the leader of the Horde himself, Thrall.

He was holding up a hand, signaling for everyone to be quiet. It took a few moments, but most everyone had settled down when Thrall finally began speaking.

"My brothers and sisters of the Horde..."

The large orc's eyes glanced over the crowd before him. His orcish cut through the air deeply and with precision.

"Today reminds me of a day from not so long ago. A day when we all were not sure of what was going to happen to us or our friends. That day, I bid farewell to many of the Horde as you ventured off into the world we call the Outlands. Some I saw again and again, and it made me proud to see what we accomplished."

He paused.

"But others...I never did see again. Look around at those with you now. Fill your hearts and souls with pride that we stand united. But remember that some of you may not return from that frozen hell."

The air was really quiet now. Except for the movement of animals and the occasional shifting of clothing, it was eerily silent. Thrall looked down for a moment, as if remembering the fallen in this moment. This was the end of one chapter, and the beginning of another. When Thrall returned his gaze to the crowd once more, he spoke with renewed vigor.

"Brace yourselves, brethren! The journey North will not be easy! We fight the very King of the Scourge himself! Make proud your families, your friends, the Earthmother, your kin, whoever it is you rely on!"

Determination covered the faces of many who now stood here, including the troll who looked on with wonder.

Thrall held up his fist.

"If we fight, we fight together! If we die, we die together!"

And with one final breath...

"FOR THE HORDE!"

The city erupted in cheers and shouts.

Melikar swung his leg over his Frostwolf's back and gave it a swift kick. Many others had already followed suit and we pushing to the front doors. As he left Orgirmmar behind him, making a hard ride for the zeppelin tower to the west, he couldn't feel more proud of where he was. The words Thrall said had given him confidence in all he was about to face. And he had the might of Ironsong. All that mattered now was that they would be there for one another.

The gates to the North...were open.

[Melikar]

"Now arriving in the Borrean Tundra! Please gather your things, the Horde armies await!"

Melikar's ears perked up as the goblin called out their final destination. He stood from a small table housed inside the Zeppelin and made way for the door. The entire shipped was packed to the brim, and he couldn't believe they managed to fit this many people on. He was glad he'd snagged the seat while it had been open. During his trip, he'd had a short nap but that had been about it. He was both nervous and excited for what he was about to face. He had been waiting for this day for some time, ever since he'd first caught wind of the Lich King's plans.

The Zeppelin had been quite a warm, comfortable ride. Matter of fact, he'd begun to feel rather stuffy in his plate armor. The ship came to a slow halt and the door was finally opened. Pushing out into a mass of people, Melikar found himself on a bridge that entered a stone covered building. A huge stairway led down into the building proper. The goblins were busy pulling animals and other cargo from the ship, so the troll didn't have to wait long for his frost wolf to appear. Quickly snagging the reigns, he swung his leg over the creature and urged it forward, progressing at a slow pace among all the soldiers.

He found himself in a welcoming setting upon getting below the stairs and quickly dismounting. The room he stood in was divided into three parts. The section in the middle he now took place in had many tables set up for people who needed them. The right half of the large room was occuipied mainly by forges and the sounds of engineering work. The left half was covered in anvils and heat, blacksmiths worked hard to make armor and weapons for the ever growing army. In this middle section, the inn keeper stood, taking notes of names of the people who wished to reside here.

Melikar had been in Shattrath for so long, it would feel odd to make a new continent back in Azeroth his home. Lining up, he figured it would be easier just to get it done now. As he waited, he spotted two orcs in a room behind this one. Was that...?

His eyes widened slightly. Standing only a a few yards away were the warriors Saurfang and Hellscream. Melikar found his admiration for them almost as high as his love for Vol'jin, Thrall and whoever else was more important than him. He fidgeted with his hands for a moment as he gave the inn-keeper his name. Blowing through the whole process rather quickly, he proceeded back into the room, hearing some kind of argument happen between the two.

"...impatient and careless, just like your father."

Hellscream glared over at Saurfang as these words were said to him. He noticed Melikar enter the room and looked up to him, seeming to totally forget what Saurfang was telling him.

"You here to help?" Hellscream abruptly asked.

Melikar nodded dumbly.

"We've got Nerubian problems." the orc continued, "Get out there and show us what you can do, troll."

Melikar merely nodded again, feeling a bit starstruck to be honest. Hellscream didn't have the same kind of compassion and understanding voice that Thrall had always carried. Instead of staying to argue, he turned and headed to exit the inn. Okay, so if that's what he had to do then he would. You always had to start small, right? He reached for his frost wolf's reigns as he left the room, pulling the animal out the door with him. It was time to venture out of this place and into the wild unknown.

The first thing he did upon getting outside was stop dead in his tracks. It felt like someone had just slapped him across the face with an ice block. He began to shiver shortly after finding his movement and making his way down the stairs. Suddenly, he wished for a big furry coat like the wolf beside him. Looking off into the distance, he saw many fighters at work already around the area.

Well, it was either go out, freeze and fight or stay cooped up inside. And he sure as hell wasn't going for the latter.

~~~

Kardwel's experience into Northrend couldn't have been more different. He had taken the Zeppelin to the Howling Fjord instead of venturing into the Borrean Tundra like a lot of others had. He spent his day chasing around crows for plague hound food, finding disease ridden bottles on crashed Alliance boats, and taking a fun run down the beach killing gigantic crabs.

Though he'd vowed to change his ways after his..."break down", he still felt very annoyed at these people for making him run around and do pointless tasks. How was getting a plague hound its food going to help him kill Arthas? He had to admit that after doing all these things and then some, he did feel quite spent at the end of the day.

He found himself on a bed in the Forsaken inn here. It was much warmer than outside, and that was all he really cared about at this point. He'd taken off all his plate and was down to his undergarments. He slid the thick blankets over his body and tried to nestle in for a good night of sleep.

He didn't know when it was, but his mind started to drift off. He was seeing thoughts that weren't his...was this a weird dream? It felt far too real to be that. There was a town burning before him, screams of men and women could be heard from all around him. Still, he wasn't bothered by them. He felt an odd sense of satisfaction if anything. Stepping over burning piles of wood and left over bodies, he made way for a chapel. This too was on fire, desecrated to almost nothing. He was being watched...

Next thing he knew, he was standing before a human who was speaking to them, telling them they were joining sides with...he couldn't quite catch that part. Silver hand? He felt suddenly elated, as if a huge secret had finally been revealed to him.

His image changed again and he was standing before a humanoid dressed entirely in black atop a midnight horse. The very sight of him could send chills down your back. He turned and walked away, making his way up a small set of stairs and to a large balcony. Placing his hands on the balcony's edge, he realized they were not his. They were covered in a shiny, black plate armor. His whole body seemed to emit a strange blue aura. He then spoke, though there was no one else around to hear him.

And when he did, it was a voice very unlike his own.

"I will find you...my son..."

Kardwel found his eyes snapping open. The room was eerily quiet as he lay there, staring at a pitch black ceiling. He involuntarily found himself slipping beneath the covers a bit more. No...there was no way...

It was at that moment, that the paladin was suddenly filled with dread.

[Melikar]

Sitting atop the thick white fur of a frostwolf, the troll found his orange eyes looking out over a very peaceful landscape. Snow covered the ground for miles in front of him, somewhere off in the distance he could just make out the lines of decayed dragon bones. This was the Dragonblight, aptly named for it's destruction of the creatures.

Not a sound was heard except for the slight movement of the animal below him. But when Misto stopped his fidgeting, Melikar could hear not a thing. It was both wonderful and disturbing. A slow moving, cool wind brushed against his shoulders and gently ruffled his hair. He knew the rest of the tribe was out there, working as hard as they could for the Horde. And for each other.

Somewhere there was a Tauren warrior doing all he could to learn how better to protect his people, there was a blood elf paladin harnessing the light to protect his love, there was an undead mage facing battles she never thought she would have to live again and there was a priest...her beautiful, long red hair virtually perfect in the troll's mind. Her soft, yet stern face with the ever glowing green eyes...

He had only seen Thanuist in the Ironsong guild hall a few short times before their work had led them separate ways. There had been no time for them to talk or be together much at all. He wondered if it was that way for anyone in Ironsong who had ones they loved. What of Amato and Coranda? Did they have time to be together?

Well, that was a silly question, really. They were married, they probably worked together whenever possible. The Horde didn't seem to mind how their work got done, as long as it did. If that involved keeping a druid and a shaman together, then so be it. He wondered if a warrior and a priest could stay together.

He felt a movement and saw Misto beginning to grow impatient with this standing on a snow-laden ledge. The wolf made to sit, but the troll gave him a swift nudge. Misto didn't stop however and Melikar found his arms flinging around the creatures neck in an effort to hold on. He could feel himself slipping backwards from the saddle, his thoughts totally interrupted. Deciding it was rather pointless to just keep hanging on. Letting go, he fell the short distance into the white powder.

Misto was always panting because of the amount of running he had to do, but now he glanced back at his owner with crystal-blue eyes. His jaw shut momentarily as if pondering why the warrior had let go.

"Whadda ja want?" came Melikar's deep, yet quiet, voice. The first real sound since he'd been out here.

Misto's mouth broke back open into a grinning pant before turning to look out over the tundra. Melikar sat up, scooting so he was now sitting beside the wolf instead of behind him. He drew his knees to his chest, resting on arm on top of them, the other free hand stroking his neck. It didn't take his mind long to go back to his previous thoughts before the wolf's idea of sitting.

He didn't know if he would ever have her. He was reminded of her rather harsh words about finding someone else not long before their adventures to Northrend. His features turned into a slight scowl. He didn't know why, but he felt she was a much better person than one might be led to believe upon first meeting her. He had already admitted his feelings to her and she didn't seem too accepting of them. Maybe she was right...maybe he should go look for someone else. Someone who would show they cared just as much for him.

Then again...he was a troll. It was no wonder no one ever wanted to be with him. Stupid and ugly were the first two words that then came to his mind. It may not be true, but to an outsider who didn't know him, that may as well have been all that was on their mind. The hand from his neck moved down, placing a firm press on the snow beneath him. A troll was a ruthless barbarian, someone who believed in shamanistic rituals and hexed people and voodoo crimes and-

Melikar's hand swept forward with sudden anger, snow splashing out over the edge of the cliff. Misto jumped, not expecting the movement at all and dashing a few paces away. Melikar stopped and looked at his blue-tinted hand, snow quickly became slush as it snaked its way down his fingers and over his wrist. He was becoming angry at his stereotype...kind of ironic how that was his reaction, and yet he felt he was the exact opposite. But then again, he couldn't help what was in his blood.

Closing his eyes and sighing, he tried calming himself. Just as he couldn't help what he was born into, neither could Thanuist. She was born into magic and a society that would most likely make her an outcast for trying to have a relationship with a troll. The Sin'Dorei had lost many of their people during the Scourge invasion. Since that time, they had been encouraging as many Blood Elves to get with their own kind to help repopulate the city and the forest surrounding their home. Something of that nature anyway. Kardwel had rambled on to him about it before.

Melikar realized that it was time to make a decision. Either get Thanuist to accept and love him...or find another. He was doing no good for himself by waiting on one person to make up their mind. And besides, he wasn't getting any younger. If he didn't find his mate soon, his own kind would deem him too old for such a thing and leave him as a single, wandering warrior for the rest of his life. Even trolls had standards.

Grabbing Misto's reigns, Melikar figured he'd wasted enough time here. A new chapter was beginning, and he was determined to write the end himself.