Memoirs - My Story, to Whom it May Concern ((Graphic))

[Daala]

((Originally posted 12/29/2005 7:19 PM at The Grim))

A worn journal of dragonhide, a human tongue nailed to the cover. Daala’s journal; the first page is a preface.

I have recently come into possession of this notebook, and suppose it is appropriate for the dictation of my story. While I cannot find much that is remarkable in it, I understand that, to glean more of the histories of my compatriots, manners dictate that I should offer some information in return. And so, here it is.

((This is still a very rough draft; I’m writing it now because I feel a bit inspired, and I’ve some time on my hands. It'll be done in segments, and parts might be revised, added, deleted, or just about anything; I’ll make a note when I consider a portion to be finalized. Anyhoo, hopefully this won’t be too boring; please do not acknowledge or mention any of this stuff in character unless Daala brings it up first. Thoughts, comments, considerations, more than welcome! I appreciate it!))

[Daala]

((Originally posted 12/29/2005 7:20 PM at The Grim))

Suppose I ought to start from the start. In most beginnings, this would be my birth, a brief touching upon the backgrounds of my parents, and such pleasant matters. I am denied that option, but I’ll do my best.

My name is Daala. I lack any semblance of a surname because I lack any semblance of parental figures. Most orphans lack their parents because they passed away, or abandoned their fledgling child. Such is not my case. I did not have parents because I was born to a caste that, it was felt, was undeserving of that privilege.

It is a little-known fact that every once in awhile, a child is born to the Sin’dorei that bears physical characteristics identical to the Kaldorei, a sort of genetic throwback imprinting the vividly dark colorations of the Night Elves. Though most of the common populace amongst the High Elves has forgotten their old brothers and sisters, a dark-skinned elf would be viewed as tainted or unholy, in some fashion. The noble class, however, possesses a long memory; amongst their recollections lie both their remembrance and contempt for the druidic Kaldorei.

Children like me were taken away at birth, typically to the joy of their mothers, and transferred to the perimeter forests of Quel’thalas, where our kind lacked many significant settlements. The Sin’dorei lacked the mettle to snuff out our lives at the infantile stages, but could not bear to even tacitly acknowledge us. Like the convicts of human detainment centers, civic sentiment held that while we, tauntingly deemed the "Low Elves," were preferably ignored, we might as well do something while we were there.

We lived in a rather large farmstead, the "Tranquil Way of Life" Settlement, publicly declared as a meditative garden for the Sunstrider dynasty, and thus off-limits. We Low Elves were divided into various areas depending upon our age. There was no semblance of law and order barring the prevention of the flinging of feces, for we younglings. The stages of blossoming childhood were very hard; we were effectively granted self-government, and the more ruthless amongst us took control. There were deaths, though I was not amongst them. As a babe, I managed to twist the child-kings about with a gilded tongue, largely distancing myself from the carnage. That is not to say that I was in any way squeamish. I merely recognized the fact that my talents did not lean towards smashing skulls with rocks. I’ll speak more of that later; I merely intend to marginally introduce the Tranquil Way of Life; elaborations will come in due time.

What of the Sin’dorei overseers, assigned over our portion of the shadowy farmstead? Those bitter men and women, as was true throughout the entire Tranquil Way of Life, were only present to ensure that our kind did not escape containment and thus create a scandal or an uproar. Whatever went on within containment was quite out of their concern. It was not designed to be a savage garden, breeding ruthless predators (though that is precisely what it evolved into), but rather an empty void, out of sync with the rest of the world.

[Daala]

((VERY Graphic))

((Originally posted 12/29/2005 7:21 PM at The Grim))

I was a juvenile, rapidly approaching the conclusion of my sojourn amongst the children’s division, when two simultaneous occurrences made ripples. First, the ghosts of the advent of pubescence; I did not yet have breasts, persay, but rather the slightest of swells, barely larger than a few combined mosquito bites. Second, I attracted the attentions of Kari, one of the overseers.

It was quite common knowledge that amongst our watchers were sexual deviants ranging from all manner of bizarre fetishes. Nobody would volunteer for such a job but those with a sadistic inclination, I suspect. We were brought up in an environment extremely conducive, to that, and the concepts of ravishing a child that could not yet walk, throttling a partner during lovemaking, painting our bodies ivory and having us lay in ice for a time, to simulate the look and feel of a corpse...none disturbed me in the slightest. They were acknowledged as perfectly natural, and I was no different than any of the other Low Elves, in this regard.

But Kari...I knew that what Kari did was not right, not natural. The closer he came to extinguishing my life, the more aroused he became. My tiny womanhood ruptured and bled many a time; the same with miscellaneous orifices. Usually, he used his "sword," but on those special occasions, he would use a true blade. A pregnancy was terribly feared; when a warden impregnates a Low Elf woman, her baby is eviscerated, and she is left to live, if she can; they do not desire another of us, especially not from their own seed. Fortunately, I avoided this fate. I shall not delve deeper into Kari’s tortures, for they are uncomfortable to recollect and traverse into the realm of poor taste. One last event deserves mention, however, for it was the one and only time that our Sin’dorei wardens ever came to my aid.

I was nearing the ripening of womanhood at the time of this debacle, and for the first time, I attempted to ward off Kari’s advances. He grew more angry than usual, and accused me of laying with another man. He told me that I was his property, and that to avoid confusion, I must be properly branded. He cut my left breast clean off, carved a small indention into the bloody mass of my chest, and used the hole for his entry. After his seed was inside of me, he then gouged out one of my kidneys; a trophy, he told me.

To this day I am amazed that I did not immediately die of shock, let alone pass out. The noises attracted the attention of other supervisors; that in itself is remarkable, for screams weren’t out of place. Immediately, they threw Kari away, and rushed me to their personal medical ward.

My breast was successfully re-attached, though nothing could be done for my kidney. To this moment, I can feel a small, hollow cavity in my chest where he ravished me. I was not supposed to move for several days; the very first moment when I was without supervision, a scant few days later, I stumbled from the sick ward’s cot to the Sin’dorei’s tiny brig, used upon those ever so rare actions when disciplinary action was taken against one of their agents. Kari was within; I had a scalpel from the infirmary with me, and used the linens from his tiny bed to bind his limbs and gag his mouth. Before silencing his screams, I cut his tongue out. Then, his eyes, his ears, and his stalk. I killed him by shoving the blade up his anus until I could no longer see the handle.

When I returned to the makeshift hospital, I made no effort to conceal my tiny slip of a blood-drenched body. I was warned that the leader of the Tranquil Way of Life, Lieutenant Kirtar, was on his way to see me. Soon, he arrived. I shall not go into much detail of him at this moment, but I should mention his eyes. So terribly quiet, magnanimous and bearing an intense sadness. Were he a cat, he could charm a baby bird from its nest. He asked me why I had killed Kari. I told him that while he deserved it, "deserved" had nothing to do with it. I wanted to send a message to all the men like him, that I was out of their reach. He stared at me for what seemed like a long time with those haunting pools of radiance, and I nonchalantly matched his gaze. I felt terribly hollow, and not particularly concerned with the very real possibility of death. Finally, he said nothing, nodded slightly, and left.

Since Kari’s attentions, I have been unable to lay with a man. I am no stranger to fornication; quite the contrary. But every time I’ve tried, with any male, I feel that hole in my chest. Small loss; it takes a woman to know a woman’s body.

[Daala]

((Originally posted 12/29/2005 7:25 PM at The Grim))

Enough of Kari. I return to a previous concept, that of our lives amongst the child's division. When I arrived at the Tranquil Way of Life, three factions scrabbled for dominance of our rag-tag group; though they enjoyed the pretense of monarchy and the royal courts, they were little more than rabbles and press-gangs, led by the most vicious little shrew that cared to take the reins. More of them later.

Fresh into the division, I was approached by a shyster named Sieg. He'd been there for a month, and the experience had puffed up his chest considerably. He wasted no time. If I remember correctly, his first words were something on the lines of "Hey. Want to be a concubine? Good status, lots of friends. I can set it up for you. My fee is twenty acorns. What's a concubine? Nothing to get worked up over, don't wrinkle that little brow of yours about it, or you'll blow your chance. Mordin controls the strawberry fields. Good pickings, in season. But he's not doing so well. Better go with Owein or Tychus. Just tell them Sieg sent you. Don't forget the twenty acorns. Just pay me within the week."

I should elabourate. First, of the acorns; part of the system the Low Elf younglings had cooked up, piece by piece, over the years involved the use of acorns as currency. Not that there was much to buy. Only territory, and protection, really. The latter could be purchased away by a rival at a heartbeat, and the first...well, money's a thin shield against a spear. Second, Sieg. The dreadful little sycophant made his niche by ingratiating himself amongst all three of the Child Kings, and trying to scam every little fool that trapeized about the settlement. Those same fools typically died at the hands of our peers, due to some confusion or mis-handling of a bloody affair. As for Sieg, he was more skilled than I give him credit for. Slippery as an eel; he prospered at the settlement.

Little did I know at the time that the Child Kings, each enjoying the onset of manhood, collected naive girls to test their newfound abilities upon. I would have become such a concubine, if I did not meet one, first. Her name was Quori; a wispy, petite lass of my age. To all appearances, a breeze would knock her over. It would only be later that I learned of her surprising tenacity. She belonged to Tychus; he was rough, and her first experience with a man was marred by this. One of Tychus' boys had her pinned behind a clump of bushes, claiming that his boss had given him permission to take her. She resisted as best as she could, but the brat was bigger, older, stronger, and had a positional advantage. I broke a willow branch, as thick as my little tiny, infantile thumb, over his head. Then another. It was terribly strange; I've never been particularly strong, but I killed that little bastard with those two blows. The sight of her laying there...something unspoken reached to an unseen part of me, I suppose. She threw her arms about my waist; tears streamed down her dusty face, but she made not a sound, not even a cringe. She just stared at his crumpled body, for awhile, before burying her head in my stomach.

At that very moment, I fell in love with her. I know that it was love, not lust, because I was still a ways away from womanhood. It could have been nothing but love. I whored myself away to the older boys, not as a concubine, but a free-lance, painstakingly acquring as many acorns as I could get my little hands on. It an agonizingly long time, but I finally had enough. Would've come sooner, but Tychus was vexed that I killed one of his boys. I had to pay him a quite considerable sum, to keep him from blacklisting me. After I'd managed that, I was beginning to unbearably ache from lack of her when I had enough money to buy Quori away from him.

This might seem selfless; I assure you, it was not. Certainly, a portion of me yearned for her to be free from the cruel bondage of sexual slavehood. But that life isn't that bad, truly. Much worse at the Tranquil Way of Life. No, I wanted her free, not only so that I could taste her again, like when we made love that first night behind the bushes, not three feet from the broken bodied rapist, but because by that time, Kari had clutched me. I knew that she would be the dreamcatcher to ward away the nightmarish after-effects of his attentions. She was.

Wars between the Child Kings ebbed and flowed; there were peaceful, and unpeaceful times. Careful diplomacy kept Quori and I out of the mess; we had our own little world together. To say that nothing could touch us would be a lie; Kari...and also, she had her own predator amongst the wardens, though not as bad as mine. Hers was more esoteric and bizzare, rather than sadistic and brutal.

It was a terrible existance, in hindsight. But at the time, it was all that either of us knew. For all we knew, every child in the world lived in such a way. For all we knew, many lived worse. But we were happy, those moments when it was just me and her. Truly, does anything else matter?

I should note that Alys reminds me unmistakably of Quori. She remembers little of her life; a hopeful part of me prays that Alys and Quori are one and the same, and she just forgot. Wishful thinking, but there isn't anything wrong with that.

As time passed, I found that Quori was borne to nobility, but her mother couldn't stand the sight of her. I cannot remember her house, but it's trivial, anyways. She would grow to protect me as much as I'd protected her, that first night. On the rare instances when trouble came our way, a snapped wrist or two was all that it took to resolve the situation. Something in her managed to keep the settlement's horrors at bay. I didn't know what that essence was, but I suspect that it was what I craved, the same aura that had first drawn me to her; as we lay together, entwined in the embrace of lovers, I felt that I drew upon that essence.

[Daala]

((Originally posted 12/29/2005 7:25 PM at The Grim))

I have previously made mention of the fact that we were organized into different age groups; reaching one's teenage years was not a universal milestone, and it was a proud day that I'd proven myself in this regard. After the childhood stage, we were deemed exploitable by our venerated government, and sub-divided into two teams. Those leaning towards the subtle arts of investigation and infiltration were sent out of the compound, scouring through strange or inhospitable places to acquire artifacts of some enigmatic lore. These individuals, nicknamed "ferrets" by my kind, were trained to recognize whether or not any given item might have any worth, regardless of the fact that they couldn't possibly conceive why the objects were special in the slightest way. The second faction, nicknamed "crows," were the scholars, set to analyze, research, compare, and archive all sorts of data, based on the tangible artifacts and the verbal testimony of their assigned partner.

Naturally, the autonomous nature of ferrets held that they could escape at their convenience, by simply not returning. This consideration was held seriously amongst our wardens. That was why each ferret was forcibly exposed to a viciously addictive drug named luhix, until an appetite for the stuff raged in their hearts. Should a ferret disappear, he would cut off his supply of the drug.

Our overseers took great pleasure in reminding the ferrets that none had ever managed to stave off the addiction for long.

Naturally, I was a crow, and my assigned ferret was that shifty little dodger, Sieg. Quori was also a ferret; it took little convincing, given my penchant for "persuasion," to get Sieg off of my hands and replace him with Quori. The wardens didn't give a damn, but nobody expected that they would.

We were allowed to pick our own target locales, provided they were safely away from Quel'thalas. I should make a note that at this time, though a few aged Sin'dorei could remember Kalimdor, the continent was all but unknown; more importantly, Kalimdor was completely unknown to any soul with a boat. So, Quori's exploits were restricted to the east. I suggested that we should focus our energies on the nature of our immortality, and what might happen if we should lose it. My half of that was to pore over every Sunwell text I might find; her half was to seek out an alternative source.

Two years passed. A footnote; I should remind the reader that during all this time, that bastard Kari was still having a merry old time with me. Quori continued to be my only shelter, as I've previously spoken.

I finally stumbled upon a few brown, dirt-encrusted, water-sundered scraps of scraps of parchment. Something about the Highborne abandoning the blood-traitors. But when they left, they took with them some of the waters of the Well of Eternity, a source of immortal magicks. It took some doing, but I traced the passage of the enigmatic Highborne until I realized that they were the first Sin'dorei, and that their waters became the Sunwell. At the time, I had no inkling as to the identity of the blood-traitors; even if they had been spelled out, "K-A-L-D-O-R-E-I," it wouldn't have meant a thing to me. As far as I knew, I was there because I was polluted, and intrinsically inferior, not because I had the flesh of a Night Elf.

Quori did much more than pleasure me over those years; she was just as tireless, sifting through the sands of places where men feared to walk. She found one alternative method to immortality, one technique to sate a potential withdrawal, and many fascinating, though still a bit insubstantial, prospective leads to both. I shall not make mention of those leads, at this time, for they remain too speculative. Many of my journies since my liberation from Ner'zhul have concerned following up on these trails. The alternative was found in the Orcish Death Knights. Through meticulous, terribly cautious observation, Quori deduced that these spectres would never pass on by natural means, and that their minds remained quite intact. So, Necromancy, the first route. At the time, it wasn't widely believed that one might raise a corpse with an intact mind, memory, personality. As for a way to abate the addiction, throughout her journies I theorized that, to compensate for the lack of a constantly flowing source like the Sunwell, one must acquire a more potent means. The increased intensity should endure long enough to make a static source un-necessary. Quori had brought me some toys, previously held by Orcish warlocks; I found that the attunement of these artifacts would prove suitable for our purposes. Quori focused her efforts, then, upon all manner of fel relics, and it was at that time that I acquired much of my personal insight upon that art I now so cherish.

Many other teams found a competitive fuel, but few shared our parameters or our goals; amongst our few rivals were the brothers Philar and Pholar. Worthy adversaries; they seemed to possess a sort of telepathy, often communication with one another without speaking a word. Perhaps it was merely the stress of sharing such a harrowing life that pressured them into shining like diamonds. Unlike Quori and I, they had begun their sorties focusing on diabolical nuances, so we were at a distinct disadvantage. Nevertheless, Quori and I shared a collective passion, a zeal that would drive us to bridging much of that gap before our time at the Tranquil Way of Life came to a halt. We never did overtake them, but nothing else was expected, with a two-year delay.

[Daala]

((Originally posted 12/29/2005 7:27 PM at The Grim))

The time: Quori and I still zealously toil to surpass Philar and Pholar, a colder pair I've never seen. One night, Kari goes too far, and I nearly die. This is all old news. However, it is now appropriate to delve into further detail upon Lieutenant Kirtar.

The leader of the Tranquil Way of Life didn't seem like his subordinates. I suspect that something singed his soul, his thirst for survival, and he became little more than a featureless marionette, jerking his own strings about to no plan in particular. Personally, I doubt that "Lieutenant" was an actual title, but rather a nick-name. No, he had a military presence, but also that hollowed, burnt-out presence that no soldier would have without immediately pursuing retirement. I think he did not maintain order because he could care less. No, that's not right...I think that he permitted anarchy because he was consumed in matters more important to him. But for some reason, he took notice of my lowly self.

After I killed Kari, he kept his eye on me. That was nothing unusual; I had thought he was trying to decide whether or not he should execute me, or if he was trying to keep me on my toes. A month passed, in this fashion. I do not know what he saw that inspired him, but one day, I found a chess board on my bed, and a note in a scratchy scrawl I'd later discover to be Kirtar's. The note held no more than instructions; no messages, no sentiments, no clues as to the sender. But I knew it was him. I could still feel the slant of his eyes, upon me. The board smelled like him. But I lacked any semblance of a reason to resent him past his authoritative position.

I began to play. Sometimes, when our ferrets are gone, we crows finish with our workload and had nothing more to do. It was in those times, and even some times when I should've been working, that I played. I did not bother trying to play in privacy; Kirtar had given me the board for a reason, and it wouldn't be to imagine me playing it. Though I must sound immodest, I was good; very good. A month and a few weeks passed, and Kirtar called upon me yet again.

If we met in his office...well, I cannot think the words to finish that thought. The walls were bare. There was a desk, but I suspect it was empty. Completely devoid of any personal, or impersonal, touches. Not even a Sunstrider crest. He said nothing as I entered, did not look up to acknowledge me. Just scribbled on some report.

...scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch...

The quill was incessant. Terribly irritating, but I gave no sign of it. Just presented a cool exterior. Several minutes passed, and he pushed the report aside, reaching for a folder wrought from some sort of leather. Within the dossier was a quintessentially thorough briefing upon some officer that, naturally, I did not recognize. She must have been important; each and every one of her battles was archived, painstaking analysis of her tactical maneuvers, even a psychological profile. In short, everything necessary for to know the slightest modicrum of a human being from the military aspect.

I closed the folder, and looked up expectantly. His words were something like..."Lieutenant-Marshall Sylvanas Windrunner. One of our rising stars. You're to breathe that dossier, lass. If you return to me unable to recite it word for word, including the words that are unwritten, you'll be judged for Kari."

That was that. I breathed the dossier. Soon, I was able to recite it, word for word. Including the words that were unwritten. Though I couldn't glean any purpose behind it, I found the tactical studies to be magnificently interesting. I felt that, with the conclusion of my studies, I'd become privy to an insight into the psyche of this woman, an insight accessible to none but a very select few. It was a thrilling prospect.

I returned to Kirtar, but he requested no recitation. Instead, he briefed me upon a game. I do not remember the rules, unfortunately, but I do remember that it was a tactical simulation. I was given the command of thirty Low Elves of Kirtar's choosing for the game; they were already trained, apparently. I asked him why I could not allow me to pick my men, to train them in my own fashion. He curtly replied that generals do not choose their armies, for the first. For the second, the purpose of the game was not to benefit me in any way; that was coincidental. His aim was not to create an officer out of me, why should he waste his time, letting me train men?

I was to play against him, and his own army. At first, I objected to this, citing that he was more experienced than I, that he had created the game, and thus had an advantage. He rebuked me; fair isn't in a tactician's vocabulary. Besides, he was going to be directing troops while playing the role of Sylvanas; I wasn't the only one that dreamt of the dossier.

Our armies met weekly. I divided my men into five platoons of four. The first few games were massacres. Well...the first several. But then, neither Kirtar nor I expected any more. I predicted so many of Kirtar's maneuvers, terribly frustrated when I could not follow up with a counter-measure simply because my men could not yet see what I saw, or I couldn't think of a way to get my vision across. But soon, the learning curve was overcome. Quori came every time to watch, but she had to hold back, out of my sight, for fear of distracting me. Eventually, the tides turned as my troops and I became more and more intimately acquainted. Kirtar, rather, "Sylvanas", was good, very good. But she was still prone to errors of routine and habits of psychology, and I exploited both. When I saw the slightest chink, I scrabbled at it, tore away until it was wide enough to sunder the enemy. Interestingly, Kirtar did not attempt to adapt his strategy; he wouldn't use the same tactic twice in a row, but it rather, he seemed to scroll through options as though following a checklist.

I forgot when it was that he divulged the point in it all. He had deemed me naturally adept at making tactical decisions, initially. When I met his expectations, the games were approved. As he told me, he was playing to simulate Sylvanas to the best of his abilities. He did not change his strategies because that choice would be her's to make, and he wanted to see how many different ways the weaknesses might be exploited. Observers recruited tactical data in strenuous detail, naturally. It would all be compiled and sent to Sylvanas for her review. Stoic Kirtar let it slip that while this wasn't the first time such a practice has been set into motion, it was the first time in some time. I felt honored that I should be deemed worthy enough to help craft and shape the techniques of an emerging military genius; that pleasure would go a long way in paving the purging of my conception of inherent inferiority.

[Daala]

((Originally posted 12/29/2005 7:28 PM at The Grim))

It was inevitable, I suppose. Reports came that the outer perimeter of our verdant Quel'thalas was under assault from a redoubtable force of the living dead. On all accounts, they were too formidable to be halted, but the young Ranger General Windrunner was doing her damndest to stem the flow as much as possible. Rumors held that the human prince of Lordaeron, Arthas, had slain King Terenas, continuing his swathe of bloodletting at the helm of the undying flood. The name didn't mean all that much to us; most Crows knew what "Lordaeron" was, but Arthas? Terenas? meant nothing whatsoever.

The marginal level of supervision vanished completely; the Sin'dorei simply had more pertinent things on their minds. Eventually, Kirtar made an official decision, despite the lack of any prompting from Silvermoon. The Tranquil Way of Life was to be abandoned as the territory was grudgingly surrendered. All of the Sin'dorei were to return to Silvermoon. The Low Elves were free to do as we pleased.

They left in a convoy, the overseers; I was one of the few of my bretheren more interested in seeing them off then squabbling over the scraps of the settlement's remnants. An interesting observation; to all appearances, Lieutenant Kirtar was not amongst the exodus. Was something holding him back from Silvermoon? That is not to imply that he remained at the Tranquil Way of Life; he was unheard from within an hour of his decision to cut all authoritative ties to the place. It was more support for my theory that he was somehow disgraced from the capitol's esteem.

Surprisingly, many of the more savage of our number stayed behind. Small-minded fools that couldn't conceive every meaning of the word "tsunami." Perhaps they thought that the Scourge would pass them by like the eye of the storm. Maybe they even believed that they could hold the territory. I did not wait to find out. As soon as Kirtar made his announcement, Quori and I had packed our bags; few personal effects, but many research materials. Before the sun set, we were in the thick of the vivacious forests, truly free for the first time in both of our lives. But before this idyllic reality was accomplished, there was a final hurdle to face.

Without a healthy supply of luhix, my beloved would've suffered agonizing remissions; potentially fatal in such dangerous circumstances. It didn't take long at all for the Sin'dorei to abandon their posts to pack. A few of our more intelligent bretheren, including Quori and I, took advantage of our one and only chance to break into the luhix stores. It was a true fire sale; we even managed to grab a handful of seeds. Poor Raniel had to be incapacitated, though. He was the first to the room, and took the instructions for the planting and cultivation of the drug. That simply wouldn't do. I'm not sure whether or not Quori hit him hard enough to slay the poor knave, but if he got back up, it was long after our departure.

WIth the drug, Quori's fiendish shackles to the settlement were finally severed. As we set foot outside the Tranquil Way of Life, I picked up a long lathe from the ground, tossing it into the air. When it landed, we walked in the direction it indicated. There were many signs of devastation; mostly strip-milling of the forests, likely to fuel the Scourge's demand for lumber. As the signs of danger continuously escalated, we agreed that our possessions would not be safe on our persons. Every memento that Quori and I had of one another, barring a matching tattoo upon our right hips, as well as our prolific and exhaustingly detailed findings were buried in the forests of Quel'thalas, at a location I shall not divulge in this text, where they remain to this day.

As we wandered through our ruined country, unsure if we might stumble upon the Ranger Corps or the teeming masses of walking corpses at any moment, it was not an uncommon event to pass by massive mounds of rotting Elven flesh, bodies piled up by their grim executioners. I think that it was from one such pile that Quori became very ill. We tried to keep on, but soon it was apparent that she could not responsibly walk.

Two days after settling down in a smouldering farmstead, I was in the woods, searching for medicinal herbs when a ghoulish reconnaisance party, likely deployed to find new nodes of untapped lumber, and their necromantic overseer were upon me. I'm not sure what inspired the knobbly old man to merely snuff out my life, rather than stand by as the ghouls ripped my arms from my sockets, but I was raised relatively intact. I haven't any inkling, what happened to Quori.

When I tried to run away from her position was that horrifying moment when I realized that my limbs were no longer my own, when the thought occurred to me that that strange sense of a head many sizes too large for my brain might actually mean something. It did not take long to realize that I was dead, and a fresh body for the Scourge's masses.

[Daala]

((Originally posted 12/29/2005 7:29 PM at The Grim))

They blackened the verdant forests. Well enough, I suppose...it was war, and such is its nature...but we were not like the humans...strange that he should decide to make an example of we Elves of Quel'thalas, rather than his old comrades and siblings. Perhaps the vivacious vitality permeating the foliage stirred some contentious feelings in his tainted flesh...reasoning is irrelevant. Quel'thalas is dead, now.

But even that is forgivable...I am told that some of my former brothers and sisters live yet, tapping a darker source to quench the thirst that the Butcher brought upon them, the undying thirst of arcane addiction, unsated when the Sunwell was corrupted.

I remember very little of this time as a faceless infantrywoman...it was not that I was not aware, quite the painful opposite...I was desperately, vilely aware of my actions, even more aware of my utter lack of authority over them. No, I remember little because I did my best to shut out my consciousness; I recall being surprised, the first time, at how easy it was. Ner'zhul made me dance like some marionette, my will was totally irrelevant, so I simply cut out the middlewoman.

I do remember my first battle, though, when we were slaughtering an outlying Elvish farm. I do not remember it because it was the first battle of my life...I use the term loosely, of course...I do not remember it because I was butchering "countrymen", I do not remember it because I tasted raw flesh for the first time. No, I remember it because, during the initial charge, a most curious orb of obsidian energy emanated from my fingertips. They were slain quickly...I mention it now because, in hindsight, it is my scholarly opinion that that energy represents a polar opposite to...I would say the energies of life, yet that is not so accurate, because it is equally effective against we rotting...let us call them energies that constitute our physical integrity. When the two energies come into contact, they simply nullify one another...thus, the black energy is destroyed, and flesh and bone and muscle and sinew are destroyed....

I now know this to be a more base element of demonic magicks. I do not know what triggered my ability to channel them, a talent I lacked in life. Apparently, it is a very rare ability, for the pillaging had not even reached its climax when I was whisked away for observation. It would seem that I was one of a new breed spontaneously erupting amongst the ranks of the Scourge...It is my opinion that when the Sunwell was flooded with unholy energies, there was a resulting feedback that spread amongst the Scourge itself, randomly and rarely manifesting in we undying soldiers in the form of the black arts...nevertheless, our painfully meager group never received any training or refinement for our abilities...the mental discipline required my will to be my own. That would never, ever, be the case under the Lich King.

When the invasion of the Burning Legion was turned back at Mount Hyjal, I was deployed to what appeared to be the ruins of Dalaran. One of the only moments of emotional sentiment in my new existance...the sight of so much knowledge destroyed so carelessly drew my consciousness into a rage. That passed...I suppose that I was there for some time; on my occaisional sojourns into awareness, I observed the same surroundings, again and again. Then, there was action. I did not even know it until we were on the retreat, because that was the moment that I gained free will. The field commanders were all dead, and it would seem that our forces were being run down by a joint task force of elves and some strange serpent-people...I discovered later on, from other Forsaken that gained their liberty at the same moment, that we were there to slay my old Prince, Kael'thas. I learned later that Kael and his people were sentenced to death for consorting with the Naga, condemned by the very people that had abandoned the Sin'dorei to their sure demise. I learned to hate humans, then.

We were amongst the first. For some strange reason, the Lich King's influence was shattered, and the only field commanders that might reassert control were slain by the Blood Elves, the Naga. Our tattered group lived as refugees for some time, I suppose. My greater personality resumed autonomy, and I was driven to self-imposed isolation, to collect the bits and pieces of what had happened in our world. One day, I felt that it was time to rejoin the fold. And so, I came to Deathknell, to begin the cultivation of those strange abilities that had surfaced in the war.

[Daala]

((Well, there it is! It feels fairly rushed and under-detailed in certain areas, I think, but as it will be some time before I've the opportune moment to work over the whole thing again, there it is! If at least one person enjoyed reading it, then I consider it to be a success.))

[Malebrignon]

((Absolutely amazing! Enthralling, even! Really one of the best things I've read in quite some time!))

[Daala]

((Absolutely amazing! Enthralling, even! Really one of the best things I've read in quite some time!))((Thank you so much! It's very encouraging to hear a comment on this story, I've barely gotten any in the various places it has been published. I'm smiling much wider now, thank you!))

[Lovely]

((Beautiful, Daala....I'm inspired! Can I play with you? hehe))

[Caelyn]

((first let me echo the others, Wonderful job, I love it. Second: more? please?))

[Daala]

((*smiles* I'll do what I can about bringing more to the table. New material with this story will likely be told from Quori's perspective. Thank you so much!

Lovely - :wink: ))

[Daly]

((Great, now Lao has even MORE of a reason to be scared of the dark, [really, really cloudy {inside joke}] thanks a heap. Kudos for the feel of general mania, without being psychotic, but also with purpose. Well done.))

[Daala]

((Great, now Lao has even MORE of a reason to be scared of the dark, [really, really cloudy {inside joke}] thanks a heap. Kudos for the feel of general mania, without being psychotic, but also with purpose. Well done.))((*smiles* Thank you very much, the line that you depicted is a fine one indeed, and it's nice to hear that I have not crossed it. I'm afraid that, for some reason, I failed to comment upon your story of meeting Clys and Danlily; I loved that little yarn, and wished that I could've been there.))

[Rhowen-Prea]

(( Absolutely loved it. Nice work! ))

[Daala]

(( Absolutely loved it. Nice work! ))((Thank you! Nice seeing you at Warsong Gulch, yesterday^^))

[Rhowen-Prea]

(( Absolutely loved it. Nice work! ))((Thank you! Nice seeing you at Warsong Gulch, yesterday^^))

(( Ah, yes, the sight of you was the only thing keeping my head from exploding. >.< Yay, I got recognized! All is right in the world. ))