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Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:23 pm
by Elanderik
((Brought over from TNG))
[This journal appears to be poorly kept as if someone had tried to discard or destroy it several times over only to change their mind later. From what one can tell, the journal's craftsmanship once held an impeccable degree of detail and care, but the abuse over however long it has existed hasn't cared well for it.
The entries in these journals appear fragmented and at times, out of order. There is repetition, there is omission, all resultant to the effectively broken mind and soul of its writer at the time. There is no explanation as to whether he's finally overcome it in the years its been since the worst had all occurred.]
Journal writing has never been one of my defining points, and by the gods and Light, there are plenty of things that would prove so damning should they ever be found and read. Yet, I feel I must confess my failings and shortcomings somewhere, as I do not know who else to turn to. Maybe someone will come to understand the problems I face and sympathize for the pains that I endure; perhaps this is only wishful thinking, but I feel I have little other option left anymore.
Oh where to start...
There is a change coming over me. I can feel it clawing at the inside of my very soul, scraping and howling, biting and tearing. I am not the same man I was last Winter. It is easy, then, to look at the Winter for the transition point - some defining moment that triggered the changes and sent me on the course that I am rapidly falling from.
Last Winter... The Curse of Accalia. As I clung to Xaraphyne in her bed, literally crying on her shoulder, I believe I had come to realize how and why everything that has happened, happened the way it had. There were no other explanations, no other thoughts or ideas that I could muster. How else then, could I have failed myself and those around me so terribly after such a long, prestigious career?
I fought in the last three Wars of this century as a paladin among heroes such as Anduin Lothar, Tirion Fordring, Arch-Mage Khadgar, and even Uther the Lightbringer. I was decorated, respected, trustworthy; a Paladin as ever one could have been. How could some faintly glowing rune undo what a century of training and dedication had ever taught me?
I could not have underestimated Sinaku's hatred for the Sin'dorei and the Blood Knights in particular any worse than I did. His fel-inspired curse preyed upon our worst weaknesses and the very core of our survival. Arcane energy is growing scarce within Azeroth, and with the loss of the Sunwell's bountiful supply, we all watched those around us wither into broken, twisted husks that bared no further resemblance to the person they once were.
We were desperate.
We were dying.
We were not going to give up.
I embraced Kael'thas and Illidan's gift to the High Elves and took to studying the vampiric techniques needed to sustain the addiction that defines my people. It was not too difficult, as the body of every elf is already attuned to absorb the energies around them. It was hardly more than a conscious force of will, feeling out for a source and pulling it to one's self. Yet, as some ninety percent of us embraced our salvation, there were of course that other ten who walked away, disgusted and disgraced.
And among that ten percent... Sinaku, Jazziks, Tassha, and whomever else within the Rangers of the Dark Sun.
Of course there were occasional rumors about Quel'dorei insurgency and plots to overthrow Quel'thalas. Certainly there were always hushed whispers and hear-say; yet we all knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, that it would never happen. They were too out numbered, and had no Allies. The Alliance condemned all High Elves to death, branding us all as traitors. While I'm sure a few of them may make their way back into the fold with the dwarves and humans, it will never amount to enough to make an impact upon our walls.
It was through Sinaku's intense hatred that he had sought out an ancient evil. His passion blinded him and warped his reason, and from all accounts as best we could tell, it was not long before She had twisted him to her own will and provided him a way to serve her bidding while carrying out his personal vendetta.
Accalia needed power to cross the 'veil' from her world into ours.
The Mark of Accalia, the Hunter and the Prey. We understood it so little then, and with the defeat of Accalia, hardly a whisper is spoken about it now. Yet those friends whom I fought beside, even those who became marked themselves, have not suffered the fullest and worst of its sinister nature. This Curse was tailored specifically for a group of people whom I am a part of. They tell me they understand, yet I know they cannot fathom the war that wages within my mind and soul.
I suppose it is in order to describe and explain what the Mark does. From what I know myself, there are two Marks; the Hunter and the Prey. While they vary greatly in sight, they share many similarities in effect. The marks, from all reports and accounts, can only affect those of elven blood. Regardless of the Mark a victim bears, it magnifies the entropy within the soul and bleeds out into one's aggression. They become brash and impulsive, easy to provoke. Yet from my own observations, this can be remedied by maintaining one's saturation with magical energies. Generally, day to day life and maintenance of the Elven Addiction could be handled over an expected and calculated timeline. Since my affliction, I have found that my own tapping diminishes at least by a factor of three.
I suspect that non-Blood Knights suffer a slower rate, and Quel'dorei an even slower one than that. Dyiana, Videlle (whom has also suffered greatly), Toraneko... all Sin'dorei as myself, yet none have endured the effects as greatly or as changing as I.
While it is purely assumption, I suspect that these Marks feed Accalia directly. When I first came into contact with it, I felt as if every shred of magic within my body had been ripped out... yet, I could not pull away. Jazziks was the girl whom had affected me, though not through any doing of her own. She was unconscious, bruised... and out of curiousity (and I swear there was a calling in my head to do it), I touched the strange runes I found on her arm. The sensation was so wrong, but I wanted it. Instantly I bore the mark upon my hand and covered it before those around could see. I am still hazy of memory on what happened, but as Xaraphyne had relayed to me one night, I had immediately begun acting odd. She described dripping sweat and shaking hands, and it wasn't long at all before Accalia's grip claimed me.
And it is this that brings me to another point I wish to express. Accalia has the capacity to control those who bear her Mark. However, one's willpower must be at a low before this can fully occur. Unfortunately, this happens when and where an elf's supply of the magics within them becomes too little. The draining effect was swift, and She claimed me there and then. I lashed out against my friends, wounding many of them in a blind rage. Through Her guidance, I siphoned the mana from Jazziks, further damning myself into the hell I live in now.
My hunger for mana was intense. I -had- to feed, and of that there was no question. It felt as if my awareness of energies had been greatly enhanced and I could quite literally feel the ebb and flow of power in the land itself. I followed it to the south west, to the ruins of Dire Maul, searching...
I left a massacre behind me once I was finished there.
The infusion of power into me brought a brilliance to my eyes and a blue glow that I had lost years ago. From all appearances, I was Quel'dorei again. The point I wish to bring up is that I felt in control again. I calmed, I could think straight... everything seemed back to normal. I'd taken a bag of mana rich stones with me when I left and used them when I felt I needed to, hoping to sustain the addiction (and the blue eyes). Perhaps I damned myself again in doing so.
Xaraphyne...
She fell for those blue eyes of mine. As she put it, she saw me in a totally different light then, different than everyone else, capable of change. I still remember vividly that night in Silithus where our lips had met at the side of the moonwell. So tender, so calm... wonderful. She was in part, the reason I tried to maintain the blue color of my haze and formed the vow to never draw from a demonic source again. I used the stones daily, and once they ran out, the burdens of my addiction began to affect me as before.
...she had even offered her own mana as a way to help me get by.
A good gesture, but too little too late as it proved. I was Accalia's pawn once again.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:24 pm
by Elanderik
It is only recently that I've come to 'remember' some of the events that remain an otherwise total blank during that cursed Winter. Through dreams and nightmare, I have seen myself commit violent atrocities as a Herald of Oblivion. Those nights when Accalia's grip overtook me changed my body into that of a Worgen, a wild, hulking beast of claw and muscle... an instrument of death.
Silithus, Moonglade, Un'goro, even the jungles of Stranglethorn Vale... none were safe from the bloody rampages that I wrought. Behind me, in every place I went, was left only sorrow and despair, laments and mournful cries for the men, women... and children... whom I tore apart within those bestial claws. Worse even, was that I was not alone for most of them.
The Dreadmistress Videlle, a Sin'dorei Warlock of the Cartel, had accompanied me on most of these horrible nights. We were Accalia's puppets, performing on a set of strings to play our parts in a macabre dance of horror and despair. It was Accalia even, whom pushed us to take one another as mates. Together, we formed a pair of which no opposition could deter. Her cunning and wits complimented my strength and speed where together, we ushered our victims into the eternal embrace of death more effectively than any Worgen whom have walked the face of Azeroth.
When I admit that we took one another as mates, I mean it in the fullest of contexts. Stained and covered in the blood of our enemies, we often found ourselves in one another's arms, tending to wounds, or... well, with myself at her flanks, taking her every night were we were not too injured to do so. I am curious, even now, as to if there has been or will be any aftermath of such events. Though I am afraid I have not heard or seen Videlle since the fight with Sinaku, I cannot help but wonder if she is well. Surely as I am coming to 'remember' all of the events that occurred during those months, so is she.
A reunion with her would be... awkward... at the least.
Awkward, to be sure... but never could it compare to that of if I should ever run into Tassha again.
Tassha...
... my single, greatest mistake and the largest failure I have ever committed in my entire life. The things that I have done to her are unforgivable, irredeemable, and irrevocable. Kidnapping, detainment, humiliation, assault, rape, murder (more than once - I shall explain later)... name a crime, and I had probably done it.
The Curse of Accalia has a way of changing people. I was so fragile, so weak... that I let the sway of the Den Mother twist my desire to protect Silvermoon to aggression, and into unparalleled hatred. She was a servant of Sinaku, and single handedly brought the Curse into the walls of Quel'thalas. By her hand alone, she had slain a dozen Blood Knights in their barracks, at least twice that many of Sin'dorei killed within the carnage that erupted as the Curse took form within the residency of the city.
My friends had felt she could make up for the wrong-doing she had done. That she could become a priestess of the Light and help to mend the wounds that she had created. I on the other hand, could only feel as if these friends of mine were betraying my trust in them by denying the justice Silvermoon demanded. I know now I was not of the right mind, but under Accalia's grip, I could not overlook the simple facts that -she- was the one responsible for the Curse penetrating the city, and that -she- had killed twelve Sin'dorei Blood Knights in their sleep.
My justification, as I have commonly found myself using more and more these days, was that Silvermoon must be defended though 'any means necessary'. Sinaku needed to be stopped, and Tassha, I knew, would have known something about him. And on the premise, I overpowered her keeper, Thoreggar, and stole the girl away under the cover of night. I took her to Stratholme's Alonsus chapel, where the Silver Hand was formed and the definition of 'paladin' was defined. I knew no one would come and search for us there; and over the half a week I kept her there, I had covered her body in an array of bruises so vicious that I should have been hung or executed on the spot should any of my prior commanders had heard of it.
Yet, the most damning of all the things I had done to her, was when I took away the woman's very sanctity in a blind, zealous rage. The pain and abuse I inflicted upon her body was often ignored, subdued inwardly to hardly more than a whimper. It was the damage I did to her spirit that ultimately broke her down before me. While I got every answer from her I could think to ask, and she certainly came to admit more than I desired, I knew immediately once my fury had been placated that I had done something too terrible to simply forget.
For months, I held the secret...
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:25 pm
by Elanderik
So weak and fragile, they plague Silvermoon and destroy it from within! The Lady Liandrin has betrayed us all - she cannot be allowed to ruin this city and doom the Sin'dorei to extinction; I shall not have it! I had overheard her conversation with A'dal back when Kael'thas sieged the city, and while I had not thought of it then, I come now to find that the woman has lost her very spine.
I made a vow, to Liandrin no less, that I would honor and serve Quel'thalas and the Sin'dorei through any means necessary. And now, she wishes to undo what we have built through years of sacrifice and dedication? To the Nether with her and any who now follow in her footsteps! How can she become so blind to the needs of this city? How can she dare to turn her back on every doctrine and mandate the Order has given?
The things that have been done, cannot be undone. She cannot undo the past, nor shall she unravel the future. If she no longer possess the strength and fortitude to continue this coup herself, then I shall see to it - personally.
Rosalynd may be a lost cause; treachery and betrayal are rampant. There is no remorse, no compassion; there will be no mercy upon those who have ruined these months of effort.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:26 pm
by Elanderik
...if I could make sense of the prior page, perhaps I could offer more in explanation of it. Those words, so treasonous, so rebellious... it frightens me to the core to think that these thoughts are harbored within the darker recesses of my soul.
Yet, I know they are. And with them, darker, much more terrible thoughts and emotions exist.
None on all of Azeroth or in the Outlands know of this side of me more than Tassha. She has witnessed first hand the horrors I am capable of, without so much as a shred of humanity to calm me. On the same note, she has also seen me at my best, most pure, and most honest form. I should perhaps explain more about her while I am on the topic, at least to elaborate on her murder... or, well... multiple of which.
Accalia has divided my soul into two halves. I am two people, fighting for control, for dominance... and all the while I am a prisoner behind my own eyes. Not but a few months back, soon after the 'defeat' of Accalia here on Azeroth (it was in Moonglade, though I was not in attendance), she had subjected each person involved to a trance-like state where dreams and nightmares overtook them. These 'memories', so to say, were twisted variants of past events, hand picked by Her and altered in a way to strike the most pain and agony to one's spirit as She may.
Myself and Tassha's were linked. Together, we found ourselves held captive in the same place in Stratholme where I tormented her so despicably. Upon the sight of the girl, I had become overwhelmed with anger and quick to violence. I, without a splinter of remorse, ran my sword through her heart and watched her die at my feet. The next time I 'awoke', I found myself still there, with her whole and intact as if nothing ever happened. I killed her again, this time, with my bare hands.
...and again, the next morning, she was fine. Over and over I spilled her blood. I abused her body and explored the darkest fantasies my mind could conceive. The grim details I learned of anatomy... picky details such as how much force it takes to sever a limb... or how hard you have to strike a skull to cave it in... all of these haunt me daily even now. I learned a lifetime's worth of torture techniques that I wish I could forget; acts and doings that could get a person to scream despite any sort of tolerance to pain they believed they were able to bear.
I think worst of all of that, was when I had turned killing her into a macabre form of art. I recall the months of sick fascination with blood splatter and how I would strike and cut at her in ways to throw arcs of crimson upon the floor and walls. I would give anything to forget the knowledge of how far blood and gore can fly before crashing to the ground from the forces of gravity.
Perhaps thankfully, I eventually drew bored of the violence. The girl did not speak, did not protest... nothing short of the most extreme measures could even bring out a scream or otherwise. The entire time she remained stoic, controlled, and accepting. Eventually, I lost all interest what-so-ever in her torment; it simply wasn't gratifying anymore. I began to think, to just sit there and ponder a million thoughts in a week's worth of silence. I had killed myself a few times around then, overburdened with the thoughts of what I'd just done and the idea that I'd spend eternity within that 'prison'. I awoke, whole and intact just as she did each new morning.
It took so horribly long before we finally began to speak. Slowly at first, a few ramblings about my past and the Light, ultimately to her and the events that led her to do the things she had done and where she was going to go next. We shared every intimate detail about ourselves that we could remember in the end, all the while I taught her everything I was able to about the Light. We understood one another in a way we both knew no one else would ever be able to. Slowly, but surely... eternity in that place didn't feel so lonely, or as bad...
I'm not sure how exactly it had happened, perhaps in part of the amount of time we had seen no one else, perhaps rather that we knew everything about the other person that there was to know... either way, those first few nights we spent falling asleep in one another's arms remain even now, as some of the best memories of my entire life. For months we trained and practiced, sometimes against the undead that patrolled outside our confines. Several times we tried to escape, and several times we died at one another's side, fighting together to our last breaths.
In the end, two enemies had become a tightly bonded to one another as lovers, a Fallen Paladin had returned to the Light, and a person who had never done a selfless thing in her life, devoted herself to become a healer and mend the suffering of those around her.
We spent over two 'years' worth of time together there.
Yet, when I finally 'awoke' again, I was in my bed as I'd remembered last before it all, only a few days after when it had all begun.
I had felt so renewed and resolved, eager to serve the Light and to return to all of the doctrines and doings that I regarded in my time as a Paladin. The second siege of Silvermoon occurred shortly after, and with it, the 'kidnapping' or Muru from the city. I did indeed overhear Liandrin's conversation with A'dal and agreed that her course of action seemed to be the correct one. I felt relieved that perhaps I did not have to question myself and the conflicting methods that the Blood Knights used to wield the Light. Even Rosalynd had asked me what my plans were next.
Rosalynd... I had met her some time prior to my 'dreamworld'. While I cannot for certain figure out how I came to know the woman, I suspect (and fear), that it was done under the misdirection of this 'darker half'. The first real memory that I can -clearly- recall was my birthday, back in January. It had gotten off to such a foul foot... so much that I had actually been attacked, by Alliance infiltrators, WITHIN the walls of Silvermoon! While I had killed the dwarf who had been responsible, it set an overcast mood that lingered for most the day. Rosalynd had gone so far out of her way to provide a relaxing afternoon and evening, even to have a small sort of 'party' provided to lounge with friends and drinks. There were arguments and a few fights, and I remembered seeing the tears forming in her eyes as she retreated up the stairs away from it all.
She had tried so hard to make me happy... it pained me so much to see her upset the way she was. Rosalynd was attractive, intelligent, she possessed a good deal of strength, could hold her own in a fight... but most of all, she was honest. For a Sin'dorei, that honesty... is a valuable commodity. I was touched by her efforts and her emotion; everything she appeared to be was so new, so refreshing... I felt that finally things could be 'normal' again.
Out of the months we were 'together', I notice how terribly non-proportional our time spent with one another actually was. On many of the occasions, she was taken away and busy with the duties levied upon her by the Grim, myself with those of Citadel. While I changed my allegiance during this time, my new association with the Marauders certainly did not offer any more time and in fact, required even more of it. Yet there were plenty of other times where I know I could have been with her. As for why I wasn't, I'm not even sure.
I wonder, now, if this 'darker half' of me is to blame. Did it find my opening to Rosalynd as some sort of threat? If so, a threat to what? I read back on the prior page, "Rosalynd may be a lost cause", and come to wonder if this 'cause' is something to do with Silvermoon as mentioned there also. I just don't understand...
...perhaps I'll figure it all out before too much longer.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:27 pm
by Elanderik
It is done. Love - what a weak emotion. I give it respect in that it is powerful in its ability to influence those who believe in it. There is no place in today's world for it now. Silvermoon is dying, and it is not some pitiful little emotion like this what will save it from the ashes of oblivion.
Duty, is what we need. Duty to the necessity for survival. Our race has been crippled with the destruction of the Sunwell. These fel-stones are a benefit to be sure, but there are even those among us who refuse to touch their power. I, have risen -above- their meager assistance and shall not lower myself to the succor they offer. My mind is clear now, and I do not need them clouding my judgment.
That woman Rosalynd had mentioned awhile back, Cessily, has been stalking me for over a month. Every time I look over my shoulder, I see her wandering the shadows behind me. I have asked and demanded to know what she wants of me, yet no answer I have yet been given offers any explanation of her actions.
Was it her who has ruined my chances with Rosalynd? What lies has her tongue spread to raise doubt within Du Coudray?
The next time I see her, I will give her a night she will not soon forget, should she even walk away from it.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:27 pm
by Elanderik
She is stronger than I have given her credit for, certainly there is more fight within her than I ever would have assumed. I confronted her in Nagrand, just outside Garadar and challenged her with weapon drawn. To say the least, I was surprised that she had not turned away.
A crafty woman, tenacious, surely a deadly person to cross. I had her on her knees, picking herself up from the ground within a minute of each time we crossed arms. Yet, despite the bruises and the punishment I put upon her, she rose up and demanded more.
Each time I put her down, she grew more ferocious and attacked with less restraint. With one false move, she would probably have beaten me. It was this, that prompted my decision to see what she could do upon the sands of the Arena.
We spilled the blood of many enemies in that one night. Izlude happened upon us both and I assume he has plans to share what he had seen - nothing. Yet I know him... and his association with Du Coudray. He will twist what he saw into something that it was not. It was not Cessily that caused this problem, but perhaps him. He had, in fact... told me the other week that I had "better take good care of her (Rosalynd)" in such a manner as to make it seem a threat.
He had best not cross me again.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:27 pm
by Elanderik
The fool! May his body rot among the Murkblood village or wherever else they may have discarded his useless flesh. I answer to no one - save the needs of Silvermoon. He is not my Master, nor my Keeper - he is nothing but carrion for the scavengers. I truly hope he realized the stupidity of his attack before he hit the ground... challenge ME? Absurd!
His lips were too loose for his own good; perhaps his death will deliver a much needed silence from his mindless, incoherent babble. He had tried to lecture me in regards to Rosalynd, suggesting that I was being played by Cessily. The woman and I met with crossed weapons and flared angers, yet he meant to imply that somehow, I had been mislead into a manner in which I had betrayed Du Coudray? Cessily and I fought some of the strongest fighters of the Alliance on the sands of Nagrand. We spilled blood. Then each went home.
Yet he meant to say I was the one who had done wrong. He had wondered why I was there with her on that island in Nagrand; he would not have believed me if I told him. Cessily had asked me over the stone to help her deal with a man who was chasing her, that someone had gone mad and ran after her with a blade. She is a partner to me in the Arena - dealing with her problem was easier than finding a new person to go with. I had been there no more than perhaps twenty seconds before he arrived. Oh how many horrible things I must have done in that time! Bah! What a stupid conclusion to have made.
It would not surprise me in the slightest if it were he who had planted those lies into Rosalynd's mind. He wanted her for himself and had never made any attempt to disguise that. I would raise him from the grave a thousand times to kill him a thousand more - yet he is not worthy of the time and attention. He is fit only for the ants, and a far better service to them he is than he every was or would have been to the Sin'dorei.
Cessily had asked, after the fool's failure, how she could fight against the style I had used. While I explained in detail how her best chances were to remain at my back and control her urge to strike any time when the threat of my shield could intervene, she proved to be so far unable to restrain her anger and follow my direction. I have seen this ferocity in her before, yet I was determined to not allow her reprieve until she had come to realize that I was not misleading her for some simple measure of self-amusement.
Time and time again, she threw herself at me, reddening at the cheeks and ears (so badly torn... and bleed when she becomes frustrated), over and over as her anger blinded her further. Every time she fell to the ground, I picked her back up to her feet, mended her immediate wounds, and set her back into the fight. Over and over I repeated my instructions and only when she was ready to quit and scream, did she finally listen.
Mostly...
Another failure as total and overwhelming as the others would have been too much. She is a prideful woman, and the humiliation would have convinced, to her mind, that I was a liar whom was simply using her for his enjoyment. I did not fight as well as I am able, deliberately letting many of her attacks in and defending only those that were clearly and obviously wrong. In the end, the 'fight' appeared so close that I am certain she saw a victory in her eyes. I would not give it to her, no... for I would rather her face a little more embarrassment than to believe she had done everything right. Her approach was still badly flawed, but decidedly better than the attempts before it.
Oh there is so, so much more to write about Cessily. She is... not quite what I expected by first impressions. So hard, so cold... ruthless and emotionless on the outside. Yet... beneath that rough exterior...
Mmm. I have not slept as well as that night in months.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:28 pm
by Elanderik
My work is not easy. It is not pretty. It is not even kind. Liandrin had chosen me as a Knight-Lord because I have the capacity to meet the demands of such a title. Beyond my own selfish wants, I could focus my every effort towards Silvermoon and the Sin'dorei. The Blood Knights are the City's people, Her servants, Her guardians; we are Her most trusted, loyal citizens. Our dedication is supposed to be unwavering, unfaltering... total, and unquestioned. We are Her first and last line of defense. We are Her heart. We are Her soul.
Rosalynd...
'Love' has ruined her. Misled by her 'trusted friends', she is beyond the scope of my help anymore. I can do nothing for this broken woman, and a true pity that is. She had such potential, such promise... she could have been everything I had ever wanted in a woman and a perfect compliment in service to Quel'thalas.
Did I love her? Despite my frustrations over the past few days, a part of me still says 'yes', that I truly and deeply did. Yet even then, my emotions and desires are second to Silvermoon. She needed to understand this, and I believe she blames my sacrifice to OUR RACE AND HOME as some fault or dishonesty. Rosalynd had grown to no longer trust me as she once did, and without that trust, she can never understand who I am. Our people need to be strong... I cannot allow myself to fail those whom I have pledged -everything- to. Not even for Rosalynd. Not even for 'love'.
She had spoke to me through my stone in tears and pain recently (I believe she was fighting). Oh how I wanted to smack a level of sense into her for allowing her emotions to weaken her in combat! She knows BETTER than that! As a Sin'dorei, fel... even as a GRIM, she knows better! I do hope no one had to bear witness to her like that; such an embarrassment to our people and to their Mandate it would have been. How could everything have fallen apart so quickly and fully? What could Izlude have possibly told her to shatter her spine and her foundation? Did he work alone? Who else was involved if he did not?
It is likely that she will come to hate me. I would not doubt that everything in her mind will become so clouded and confused that it will all warp around to point every tendril of blame at myself. I did not do this to her, it is those 'friends' of hers whom are at fault.
Could I take her back? Perhaps, but I should not and do not plan to. The damage is so great that I do not even think that I could even begin to mend the wounds that have been inflicted. Even if I had tried, I do not suspect that I would be able to close her from the influence of those 'friends' before they would once again plant their seeds. My only chance would be if this were in fact, all of Izlude's doing.
I will simply have to cut my losses and move on.
I pity you, Rosalynd Du Coudray.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:29 pm
by Elanderik
[A second journal exists in strikingly similar fashion and wear as the other. Its opening page suggests its counterpart was missing, but it seems that he has come upon it again somehow. There's no explanation on why or how]
I find myself wondering, and wishing, that I knew what remained written in those earlier pages. I believe I had given the journal to... Rosalynd? While I do not know if she has perused the pages of text, I must assume that whatever secrets held within those leaves of paper will all soon be revealed to her and undoubtedly, any others she may end up sharing it with.
Yet, I do trust Rosalynd. I do not know why I had not been able to answer such a simple question before; oh how it aggrivates me to fully to be so certain and decisive about such inquiries and facts AFTER they are no longer of any matter. Why could I not have simply told her that I did? No matter now I suppose...
While I trust her to the keeping of the book, I certainly do not trust those around her to not simply take it when she sleeps. Surely the journal in the hands of The Grim does not make for a good omen.
Cessily.
I suppose I should half 'thank' her for bringing about a sense of finality and closure between myself and Rosalynd. I believe it was truly her that had been the cause of my lack and loss of sleep as of late. My thoughts have been so clouded and conflicted that I know they were keeping me awake through those long hours that I should have rested. Did I love her, did I not? Was our relationship real, or was it all fake? Did I mean the words I said to her, or was I lying to her and believing it myself? Everything had become so confusing and twisted that I could not make sense of it all anymore. Perhaps Cessily's way of ending it all is better than dragging myself and Rosalynd down a path that I did not know where would end up or how long it would take to get there. If none of it were true, then yes... Cessily's brash method of putting it all to an end is certainly the better option.
While the image of watching Izlude fall to his death invades my thoughts from time to time, I still find my sleep regardless. So odd, that whole night in Nagrand. I may have already written about it before, but without my last tome, I have no certain way of really knowing to be sure. And so, I will take the time to discuss the events here, be them the first time, or the second.
I arrived quickly to Nagrand to reply to a call I had received for help. While I knew full well it was Cessily who had placed it, she -had- still asked. She told me that someone was trying to kill her and had been following her for the better part of a quarter hour. I had not been able to respond right away, but her insistent request for help eventually brought me out there as quick as I could go. Though, when I arrived on that sky island, I had seen no one there but herself.
After a brief few moments of looking around, I had told her, partially in jest, that I suspected there was no one here at all and that all of this was some ploy to get me to meet her alone some place. Almost as if on queue, Izlude arrived, bringing a tempest of fury with him. He shouted and screamed, pointing a finger at me so full of accusation. He questioned my presence and demanded that I step aside so that he may 'deal with' Cessily. I have no doubt in my mind even to this day that he had every plan to kill her.
I refused, and told him that he would need to face me first. And with that, he attacked. Generally I would normally have carried my hammer with me, though with my prior engagements and the urgency within the girl's tone, I had rushed out there with my mallet and shield. Izlude threw himself at me so blindly that it was perhaps only 30 seconds before the holy energies from my shield overwhelmed him. I recall an anger within me at that time that pointed a thousand wrongs at him for blame. I pushed him twice towards the ledge while he was weakened... though what he had told me and done afterwards surprised me to the bone.
"You two have not seen or heard the last from me," he had said, or at least, close to it. Immediately afterwards... he jumped. I watched over the edge as his body fell, wondering what strange trick he was trying to play. I know him to be good with gadgets and suspected that he would use one of those 'parachute' things before reaching the ground. He did not.
Cessily wore a red dress that evening, though I had not noticed it or even thought anything of it until later... ironically, when she had taken it off to don her armor. I am somewhat curious if all of this was part of her doing - as if she were trying to break Rosalynd and myself away from one another. She has been insistent on the idea that Rosalynd is weak and flawed, stating that she allows her emotions to control her too greatly. And while I do find myself agreeing with her in some extent, my hopes of helping her find the strength within her varied in method so drastically.
I slept with her that night in Nagrand, if you would even call it that. Rather, she taunted and brought out a sort of beast within my soul... that 'darker half' that I have referenced several times before to be certain (I did write about that, did I not?). Cessily, as cold and as hard as anyone could ever be. So curious a quirk she holds secret... curious, and yet so similar to Rosalynd...
This 'dark half' is a part of me I feel I can never be rid of. It inspires me to do things I normally would not and to make decisions that I otherwise would never come to. I only fear now that I will live out the rest of my life tending to the aftermath of whatever the newest episode that this side of me creates.
.
.
.
.
.
I miss you, Rosalynd Du Coudray.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:35 pm
by Elanderik
I cannot make sense of Cessily's questions. She quizzes and interrogates me in regards to Rosalynd; why can she not leave it be?! Why does she take such an unbelievable interest in this woman and whatever sort of feelings and thoughts of her I may still have? Rosa was always so easy to read and honest with her sensations, emotions and desires. It was some of these very traits that had attracted me to her - for they served as a very refreshing change of pace in an otherwise confusing and convoluted world.
Cessily on the other hand... is an enigma. The moment I start to suspect one way, she acts the complete opposite. I know her to be impulsive and spontaneous, but she takes it to a level at which that simply boggles my mind. I have no idea as to the desires or motivations of this woman and every time I try, I feel like she catches on and deliberately changes it all again to keep me from guessing.
What is it that you are trying to keep secret from me, Cessily? Are you worried that I will find something you wish not to admit? What are you up to? What are you trying to hide? What is it that you are afraid of?
We have been.. struggling... in the Arena lately. She is hardly one to take advice (at least from me), and too often prone to bid her own wishes. Yet this overconfidence in her has caused our failure more times than I wish to admit or track. This is not to say that I myself have had perfect judgement, but despite how many times I attempt to stress to her... that neither her nor I are out there on the sands alone... she simply will not have any of it. Her and I are together there, and such that we need to learn to use our abilities in tandem. Perhaps it is again that issue of 'trust'. Does she not trust me enough to listen to my suggestions? Or to watch her back? Even to help her defeat our enemies?
I am no simple fool, Cessily Suntouch.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:35 pm
by Elanderik
A note is folded between the pages in a handwriting that is distinctly not his own. It held a feminine touch and carried with it the scent of a rose...
Dear Elanderik,
I pray, firstly, that this letter reaches you while you are still at peace of mind. I do not want the beast that harbors in your being to be the one to receive this.
I do have your journal, Elanderik. No one else has seen it. I save it for only my eyes. Reading it has brought me peace, but in that peace, it has also raised so many more questions.
I cared for you Elanderik... with every thread of my being. More than perhaps I should have. You said love was a weak emotion, yet if it were so weak, how can it cause so much sorrow and damage? No, it is not weak... I am weak. Along with my mark of sacrifice, the broken will it caused... the insanity... mixed with my desire for your love and approval... it destroyed me. It broke me. I am truly sorry if I ever disappointed you, Elanderik. It was never my intention. And to know now, that you did trust and perhaps even love me, brings peace to my heart and mind.
I do trust you, Elanderik Seravin Que'tinasi. What I do not trust, is what you have become. This dark side that you mentioned in your writings. I feel broken and betrayed by him, not you. It was you I trusted and loved. You who I would have given my last breath to. If by my absence your inner demon has been quelled, if even for a little bit, then I gladly accept the sacrifice. Though I am no longer yours, I do love you. I care for your well being... and I want to see you at peace. What you have become frightens me to no end. I just hope that you can conquer it one day.
In my loss, I have found release. The torment and torture I felt has been lifted. I feel... empowered. I wish to train harder, to better myself, and serve the Mandate and Silvermoon to the best of my abilities. I will not disappoint you, Knight-Lord. Your work will not go in vain, I promise you that.
I miss you.
Rosalynd du Coudray
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:37 pm
by Elanderik
This page is hardly more than a smear of ink, as if the writing, still wet, had been exposed to water and had run. The entire top half of the message is ruined beyond comprehension.
==========================
...as where and when all of these problems first began. If I had within me, the capacity to go back and change the very course of my own history, I would do so in an instant. Oh for the ability to right the wrongs and set them anew!
I would give anything.
...Even my own life.
I will stop this entry here for now until I am able to rest and calm my mind. I have already ruined most of my writing through accident and emotion - I am not fit to continue.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:37 pm
by Elanderik
Out of my curiosity, I have asked and sought information about this... 'condition' that I have. I have done my best efforts to keep myself as calm and seemingly neutral upon such inquiries, always deterring the focus and attention towards some 'student' that I do not have. I request respect to 'his privacy', only relaying to those studied practitioners the symptoms, never anything that could be used to identify this make-believe person of my imagination.
Two terms come to mind: "Bipolar Disorder" and "Dissociative identity disorder"
Not being one too familiar with the terms, I asked for them to explain what they meant, what to expect, along with the differences between them.
They spoke about bipolar patients as that they experience 'episodes of elevated mood which are normally separated by periods of normalcy.' Though in some patients, depression and mania may rapidly alternate and could cycle between the two quickly. Extreme manic episodes, they say, could sometimes lead to psychotic symptoms such as delusions and hallucinations.
I am reminded of the baying of the wolf that I hear from time to time and the voices within my head that I often find myself arguing with.
"Dissociative identity disorder" more aptly describes a condition where a person exhibits multiple distinct identities or personalities. Each 'identity' or 'personality' even goes so far as to have its own pattern of perceiving and interacting with the environment. These multiple personalities (at least two to fit the diagnosis) take control of the individual's behavior from time to time, accompanied by an associated memory loss that goes beyond normal forgetfulness.
More than once I have come to awaken in a place I am unsure how I arrived in. There are most certainly periods in which I do not know what I have done, sometimes to 'revisit' them in dreams and nightmares. I inquired more... and I recall what I was told word for word...
"The causes of dissociative identity disorder have not been identified, but are theoretically linked with the interaction of overwhelming stress, insufficient childhood nurturing, and an innate ability to dissociate memories or experiences from consciousness"
Overwhelming stress... The Eclipse... Accalia.
Insufficient Childhood nurturing... father spent more time with women I did not know than he ever did with his wife or children.
The ability to dissociate memories or experiences from consciousness... for years I have been able to let my memories and emotions fall free from my mind. Generally, I had used this as a way to calm me when I fight. By letting everything slip away, I am free to fight unhindered and unrestrained. I would do this to allow instinct to guide my blade and carry my body in a way to find my victories. Thinking often took too long, it had always proved to my advantage to simply 'know' or 'feel' what to expect, how to counter, and when to strike. For one hundred years I have fought and survived...
Why me?
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:37 pm
by Elanderik
I cannot tell for certain if it is jealousy that I sense within Cessily, or if she truly considers it so damningly demeaning to both myself and her that I had any association with Rosalynd, or in the past, members of races whom are not exactly Quel'dorei/Sin'dorei.
I am twice the girl's age by my best estimates and I know beyond doubt that she spent many years among Humans or at least within Stormwind in the past. I base this not exactly on her knowledge of Common, for nearly all elves knew it (and still do), but the 'accent' to it and the phrases she uses in particular. Dialects, to be specific. Surely in all of her years there she had met a man or two, human or half-elven... it would be almost absurd to think otherwise. Yet, she seemed deeply offended that I admitted to such myself.
This all came about at a meeting of Cristok's the other day. Xaraphyne had stopped to speak to me in private and the tone was certainly friendly, even a good deal flirtatious. We were, secretly at the time, lovers over the last winter - drawn together closer than we could have anticipated during the whole crisis with Accalia and The Eclipse. We came to need and rely upon one another so fully that those private, hidden away emotions were probably the one sole thing that helped us both maintain our sanity and come out of our ordeals alive. Yet, I knew the whole time, that her heart was still given to my brother. I had done my best to ignore this and to keep myself open and waiting... but over time, the waiting and the secrecy became too much. I had confronted her in Ratchet, and asked her to make a decision.
By the time she was finally ready to make one... I had moved on, and met Rosalynd.
The simple matter of not having to hide was such an overwhelming relief. If nothing else, that one very thing alone would have been enough to make me happy. I am still here now, picking up the pieces and wondering where, why, and how things ended the way they did.
But returning to the topic... Cessily had confronted me after Xara and I parted ways in the Shimmering Flats to question me about my history with her. She directly asked me if I slept with trolls - and not wanting to beat around the bush with flowery statements and misdirection, I told her that yes, but only with Xara, and it was now months ago. She ranted about it being 'disgusting' and 'degrading', and would there have been anyone left there at the time, I am sure it would have been quite the scene. Angry at her questioning and belittling words, I went on to describe (in some detail), my fling with a Kaldorei priestess last summer and a pair of Kaldorei twins nearly half a decade ago around Southshore.
I honestly laughed when she likened my experiences as 'doing it with animals'. I told her simply that I would just have to take her word for it.
I do not suspect she took that one well.
It seems there are only three things we do when in the company of one another. Fight amongst ourselves, test our skills upon the sands of the Arena, or... for lack of a more... friendly way to describe it... sex.
Watching her lay waste to her enemies is horribly exciting. Though, it is not this alone that seems to steer us towards the odd definition of 'lovemaking' that we end up taking part in. While my thoughts are generally a good deal hazy come the next morning, I know that her words and her actions are directly playing with this darker side I hold within me. She plays her fingers along my darkest dreams and fantasies like a master, taunting and teasing. I assume that she holds a deal of these dark desires of her own, as the lust and desire that I see in her eyes after a few exchanged words and touches makes me shiver in the thought of it.
Yet while I know she is playing these two sides of me as if I were an instrument, I cannot seem to bring myself to tell her to stop. I find myself -wanting- her to entertain these dark dreams and to pull out this side of me that I would otherwise hide away. Why I want this, I cannot say. I feel that it is wrong, but perhaps that is exactly why it seems so desirous. It is addicting, and our passion we share with one another is almost like a drug.
Xaraphyne and I had run into one another some time back and while we did end up within the sheets together, I recall that we had started to drift towards these sinful pleasures. It had truly frightened me at the time; for it was far too similar (though totally consensual), to the things I had done to Tassha back in Stratholme. It frightened me enough to make me stop, deflecting the course we were taking with a comment to her to ask that we 'take our time', that we were in no rush, and were free to love one another in a more... 'gentle' sort of manner. I am not sure what her thoughts were, but I was certainly happier to have been able to steer away from those fantasies.
But now... I seem to want nothing else.
And nothing is going to stop me from having it.
Re: Elek's tattered journals
Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 3:40 pm
by Elanderik
She has news for me, this much I can sense. So long have I waited now to hear her lips speak and to behold her voice again. Finally, to put an end to each and every charade! Finality! Completion!
Oh to hold her in my arms once more and feel her
<several words are written and crossed out into illegibility>
...fur? against... my own?
Glory to Si...
<more words are scribbled into a black smear>
Your chosen children shall be reunited.
All hail the Night.
Victory! Eternity!
We shall be Your Heralds, and usher in a new reality - in Your name.