February 16, 2009

Written by Ailia Reant

Day Fourteen:

I visited Orgrimmar today. It is curious how life (or death) takes you down paths you never imagined you would walk. I spent most of my life utterly devoted to the annihilation of the Orc race. Now, I walk among them.

I paid a visit to Warchief Thrall. He did not recognize me. I am a bit … changed … since our last meeting. He remains the same. A bit older and more care worn, but I still found understanding in his eyes. He supplied me with contacts in various surrounding areas and, from there, I traveled to the Crossroads.

What a strange collection of creatures I discovered there. Taurens, Trolls, Orcs, Blood Elves and other Forsaken all gathered together finding work and fellowship. I have found plenty of work, but so far have avoided fellowship.

Day Seventeen:

I witnessed an Alliance attack today. A raiding party swept across the Barrens killing and injuring many not only in the Crossroads, but also in Camp Taurajo and Razor Hill. Memories of the destruction at Brill prompted me to take up my sword in defense of the town.

I entered the fray and saw a giant cat dart to the right of me. Blood flowed from a gash in his dark flank, hate shone in his feline eyes as he snarled at the defending guards. The druid did not see me move behind him. I raised my weapon intending to drive it into his spine.

I couldn’t do it. The guards made quick work of him and I turned away, unable to watch.

I am no longer one of them. But I cannot yet bring myself to shed the blood of those I once fought, and died, beside. For now, the memories are still too fresh.

Day Nineteen:

Last night I *dreamed of my friends. We were gathered around the campfire, laughing and sharing stories as we did on so many nights. Vlod and I eventually fell to sparring while Muldov lustily belted a Dwarven drinking song. Britta glowered at us all disapprovingly and Skelto just watched with that bemused expression the Orc always wore when observing our strange ways.

Reluctant as I am to admit it, I crave companionship. I am unaccustomed to being alone and, even in death, I miss the fellowship. I was in Ratchet today and heard the inn-keeper mention a gathering tonight at the tavern. Perhaps I will attend. If nothing else, it will give me further insight into the customs of these races of the Horde.

I have a long road ahead of me, it is time I take the first step.


*OOC Note: Oops, I forgot that Undead do not sleep. I’ll try to catch that in the future. For now, lets say she was remembering, rather than dreaming about, her past life.



  1. Hello! I came here via Arrens’ blog – I am thoroughly enjoying the story of Ailia. Even though I probably won’t be able to comment with anything constructive (not being a roleplayer myself) I wanted to let you know that I am reading and enjoying. 🙂

  2. Another great addition! As a side-note, many, many Forsaken RP themselves sleeping, myself included. Though most don’t -need- to do it, it’s sort of a trained response from their living years, so to speak. I wouldn’t worry about it too much in the future. Keep it up, you’re doing fantastic so far!

  3. Anea, thank you for visiting! Stories are meant to be shared, and it is always nice to know someone else is reading and enjoying.

    Arren, I am relieved. In the past I have regularly use dreams as a method of story development. It’s good to know I can continue to do so. As always, thank you for the encouragement.

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