Allow me first, before explaining myself, to apologise for the state of this missive. For some time now I have been under self imposed exile in a location most remote, without basic amenities or infrastructure. I have been forced to scrawl this message on the suntanned hide of Centaur (The only beast with a hide long enough for this tract) with a sharbened piece of charcoal. I can only hope that the passing master of the kodo train I intercepted has made good on his promise to deliver this message to you.
My name is Therean. Were it not for you organisation I would still be a beast of the lowest order- a grovelling wretched elf no further beyond debasing himself than preying upon the defenceless in the perverted compulsion to feel the embrace of the arcane. It was in this state that I was happened upon by one Lady Ryanica and a dark unnamed mistress, both of the Grim. I was laying in the dirt by the bustling orgrimmar auction-house, begging for magical essences. This encounter changed my life.
I was once an elf of high standing indeed, a Magister, and censor of the Silvermoon High Court. Such was my immesion in the arcane that after the destruction of the sunwell I descended rapidly into wretchedness without sustenance. Of this time I thankfully remember little, but estimate that I stowed my way to Orgrimmar in search of powerful horde magicks. Such was my state that I was too far devoured by my affliction to even realise the rebirth of the sunwell in Quel'Thalas. It took the blade of a dark mistress of The Grim against my throat, and the offer to start anew a weapon of indiscrimate deadliness in the hands of Lady Ryanica of The Grim. The purposefulness that these two most esteemed mistresses carried in their stride, words, and eyes for but a moment broke my cursed state of mind.
Immediately I vowed to break my affliction, no matter what it took. Initially counting on willpower alone, I was forced to leave the plentiful temptations of Orgrimmar. Westward I struck, into the barren heart of Kalimdor, in seach of a suitibly isolated hovel in which to sequester myself until I was dead or recovered. Eventually, I found such a place, in the far west of the Northern Barrens. Immediately I cleared the surrounding area of the magic using centaurs, and took what useful things I could, from them.
What followed was a period time that in my mind stretched on as deep and malevolent as the twisting nether istelf. Cravings lashed my mind and wracked my body- madness and shame were my closest friends.
Shame is an interesting thing- for in small doses it wards one off the left path, but in larger provision it proves overwhelming, and perpetuates hopelessness. For a time, shame held me from wanting ever to return to 'clean' society and reform. Madness on the other hand is an alluring path, for it allows you to deny shame at the simple price of your civility. I murdered them both.
The Grim has provided me with an opportunity to cease my wretchedness and leave my past behind me. I ask only to repay you with the humble sum of my life. For resuscitating me from wretchedness, I stand before you to use as you will, to become a weapon of inestible destruction for your foes. The sole qualifier I ask of you is that you do not request of me to follow my former path of the arcane. Though a capable and esteemed mage at one point in my life, I have renounced and banished arcana from my life completely. Never again shall I embrace it- even though the sunwell is indeed reborn, the horrors of wretchedness are too much to endure should it even fade again. Further, I'm not sure I can ever return to magic in moderation- the immensity of my triumph over my cravings was not a simple feat to be left behind me, but rather an ongoing struggle. I fear I will crave the arcane for the rest of my life- I vow I shan't succumb to it. What usefulness I have left for you is to be found in blades. During my exile I often had to hunt to survive, but with lack of any better equipment, I was forced to struggle to do so armed only with my knife. My the end of that time, I had become quite adept in it's use.
I approach you now, in humble thanks, offering you my life as a knifeman.
Regards,
Therean the reborn