The dismal morning drizzled outside her windows, gently rocking the runed framework of her Rustberg manse on reckless, seafaring winds. Rain-spattered portals to the grey beyond, they afforded a blurry look into another dreary attempt at dockside daybreak- fitting for how Ghislaine’s world swayed around her even before she lifted her head.

Silk bed sheets pooled at her feet as she rolled bitterly from their warmth, spilling onto the marbled flooring as though its smooth, cool surface might ground the disquiet in her belly. She had never been prone to sickness- had rarely suffered much more than a rueful morning, with an herbal draught and a splash of arcwine in her orange juice to get her through. But a a few days had passed with...

The Azarite War Machine swept across the field, destroying the siege towers as Anduin Wrynn, boy-king of the Alliance, in his glistening armor lead the march from atop his grand warhorse with that wolf ever at his side.

“Prepare the blight! Let it rain down upon their armies!” Sylvanas Windrunner ordered from her place on the wall.

“There must be another way, Warchief,” Saurfang objected.

The Dark Lady turned away. “This is no time for sentiment, High Overlord. War demands that we take a more direct approach.”

Bess could not believe her ears. Their own forces were down there! This was madness! She looked to Saurfang with questioning eyes, and the old orc turned to the druid. “I don't care what you have to do, get as...

Niviene peered down from her office window, watching as the young woman who’d just left her office stepped out onto the back lawn of the academy.

She was a beautiful creature, quite exotic in appearance. Her hair seemed to glow with the iridescence of a raven’s wing, dark and ever changing, from deep forest green to dark, ocean blue. She was an elf, void elf is what they were called. And though she was taller than Niviene the priestess couldn’t help but attribute the word petite to the woman.

She watched the woman approach Banny and Korissa as they played in the garden, waiting to see how the children would respond to the strange woman. The boy seemed a bit hesitant but the little girl turned a bright smile on the woman and...

“You can kill us... but you cannot kill hope.”

“Can't I?” Sylvanas turned back to the other leaders of the invasion force. “Burn it... Burn it!”

Bess immediately knew something was wrong. Up to this point, they had been going out of their way to not harm innocents - Saurfang's orders - but now the Dark Lady was ordering them to destroy the very city they were trying to capture. Had she gone mad? “Warchief...?”

The Forsaken loaded the catapults and lit the firebrands. Bess' eyes darted from Sylvanas to the High Warlord, who was definitely displeased but dared not speak against his Warchief while she was in a mood. Bess growled and ran toward the shore as the first catapult launched, leaping into the air and...

Tapping his foot on the decimated ground beneath him, the Ren'dorei shifted his grip on the dagger at his side as he stood just to the left of the opening to his charge's tent. The middle aged man, named Garrett, rustling around inside caused Dizarak's ears to flick as he gauged the human's whereabouts within.

Finally the dark haired human emerged from the canvas flaps of the tent and scowled openly at his “babysitter” his gloves clutched in his hand.

“You don't have to stay so close to me, I can take any of these savage Horde with ease!” Garrett spewed , slipping his glove onto the wrong hand and immediately ripping it back off to correct his mistake. He finished the process and unsheathed his sword, swinging it around and...

Normally, I don't pay attention to the affairs of mortals.

This war, however, is disturbing. The fate of this world once again lies in the balance, and that balance is again tipping toward annihilation driven by madness. A madness of which I cannot ascertain the source. Respected leaders are driven by revenge and cannot set aside their differences for the good of their people, while their subordinates are on the edge of rebellion. I pray the dissidents among us can put a stop to this madness before it overtakes us all.

We just brought an end to a threat, only to have a new one rise up from within. The first strikes have been thrown, the first blows have landed. The first of many wounds suffered by all creatures of Azeroth. I tried to...

Too much was going on in the world.

Shut everything else down. Focus. Get up. Get out. Running over and through ruins. Lightning crackled continuously. Ozone and static teased his senses and he lived. Puddles splashed like laughter and he grinned with the chase. Adrenaline, mystery, exploration, treasure… Good company that knew. It felt good

It was late afternoon in Duskwood and the setting sun barely made it through the trees. Braghaman was on his way back from Raven Hill Cemetery as the sounds of the evening were starting to come alive. From time to time, Valiant would look into the woods as they traveled. At one point, a wolf pushed its way through the brush and bared its fangs. The winged lion stopped and looked directly at the wolf and let out a brief growl. The wolf, thinking better, turned its head and ducked back into the brush.

“You showed them,” Bragh said with a chuckle, patting Valiant on the back of the neck.

The paladin and his lion made their way to the crossroad, saying hello to the guards stationed there, and then continued on. They were more than...

Braghaman stood on the overlook, gazing down at the Stormwind docks below. Ships were steadily coming in and settling in as sailors and dockhands busied themselves with tying off the boats to the moorings on the docks. No sooner had a boat been secured than people started to disembark. There was a steady stream of people, mostly Kaldorei, walking on the docks and heading towards the ramp that led to the main parts of Stormwind.

The paladin hooked his thumbs on his belt and quietly started to count the people who were getting off the latest boat. Ultimately deciding that the number was too high, he shook his head and gave up. Reaching out, he rested his hand on the butt of the haft of his war hammer, which was sitting on the ground...

The silver haired gentleman ushers them through the hallway with swift abandon, one arm clutching the slender wrist of the Quel’dorei halfling as she clings neatly to his side.  With one hand curled around his shoulder, and sweet nothings whispered into his ear, the latch to the lavish suite is quickly unlocked, revealing the glorious splendor within.  Wide, blue eyes search the room as an excited smile spreads across her plush lips, one hand dropping to demurely raise the hem of her skirt as she stepped over the threshold and into the room.  “Oh, this is exquisite!” she exclaims brightly, raising a hand to cover her gasp as her eyes lite upon the four poster bed in the center of the room.  Collapsing back onto it with a...

“You ever think you drink too much?”

Caleigh sat at the edge of her bedroll, scratching her ear. It had been a habit she’d picked up since she’d started at the tavern. The scratching. It was never intentional, always a subconscious response to a stimulus. Typically a conversation that made her uncomfortable, or a statement that was off-putting. Or thinking about someone she liked...

His voice echoed in her mind as she looked around the room, “You just seem like you could have more fun, ya know?” 

How could she explain that she had fun with him. That it wasn’t that she was unhappy, or that she didn’t want to spend more time sober… it was that she’d felt herself falling for someone she was distinctly told not...

A late night flurry began to lay a fresh blanket of new snow along the tournament grounds as most of the camp still lay still.  As a heavy gust of wind blew spats of it through the canvas flap to their tent, the knight stirred in his sleep, waking slowly to focus lichborne eyes in the darkness of the night.  Carefully untwining himself from his still-slumbering partner, Orli slipped out from under the layer of thick furs to pad silently across the rug-lined floor. Aided by the dim blue light of the arcane heater that stood guard in the corner of the enclosure, he reached for the ties to the door to secure them once more, looking over his shoulder to ensure that his companion did not wake.  He stood for a moment, fondly looking over...

A cool breeze drifted across the clearing, tents and campfires littering the land as the Alliance prepared for the siege.

Dizarak leaned against the base of a long since fallen tree, eyes darting to and from various faces  his gaze lingering on the reason he found himself within the ranks of the Alliance once more. The middle aged human male sat among a few others  boisterous drunken cheers detailing how he would do this  that and the other thing to his enemies. Displaying his Broken Isle sized ego that frankly the Ren'dorei couldnt even fathom how it fit in his small frame. 

Silently the hired guard prayed his charge would run screaming from the fight in the morning or perhaps be entirely too trashed to merely figure out how...

The final page before you is neatly written in large childlike characters. The text itself is bordered with messy doodles of various animals.

Elf friend was really upset today.  Tree forget why but we go bird watching to cheer her up. We see funny honking birds and pretty red ones too. We also see deers! Many deer with their funny fake branches. Silly deer trying to be tree. Elf friend laughed at this. Good job Tree!

Fun day!!!

Goodbye!

Did he have a sign on his back? ‘Yank me around, I like it’? Wasn’t worth it. Ren smoothed the scowl off his face. No questions and no answers. No one to care. His own fault. The life he’d cultivated. Careful.

How many knew his name?… Sunsworn most likely. Their relationship was like that.

____________________________________________________________________

His back pressed into the trunk, the bark bit through cotton to scrape his back. The label was teased off the bottle intact, then stacked with the others. He'd be sure to clean up; kids shouldn't see this. Refuge from memories and sulky aching. Wasn’t like him.

No one should see this. No one...

Fear.

Cold.

Darkness.

His eyes opened with a start, a gasping inhale that caught hard against the stiff leather strap which held his chest bound.  In the dim, near blackness of a damp, stone-walled room, there were no sounds.  Or nearly none….

The soft padding of silk-slippered feet echoed from one side to the other.  Bright blue eyes welted shut again, warding against the unknown that didn’t want to be seen.  

Acknowledged. 

Felt.

Believed.

Slowly the sensation began to return to his upper limbs, a tingling pain that started in cramped fingers and rose to trapped shoulders.  His wrists were bound, strapped in place against the cold steel surgical table.  Paralysis held what physical restraints did not.  Had his back...

This is a bit of backstory on Orlando that took place shortly before his previous marriage to Levyn Ari.  Prior to this point in his undeath, Orli had never managed to appropriately manage his affliction in regards to the blood lust that all death knights must succumb to.  Since it was rumored but never proven that he had murdered previous partners in a state of black out rage induced by the dark bidding, it was decided that he would be forced to come to terms with it through the aid of his brother and close friend.  The following is a recounting of his ordeal. 

The knight sat curled against the wall, his head leaned back against the worn wood, knees curled to his chest as his hands hung idly over them.  Turning his gaze towards...

Surprising silence drifted across landscape, broken only by Zaravala's gear shifting as she padded towards the water edge around the outer wall of of the crumbling city. Easing her way down the bank, the woman paused a moment to remove the gloves from her hands, slipping them through her belt to hold them against her. Lowering herself to the stony damp ground, glancing around the clearing and sure she was alone she slipped the mask off and rested it on her knee.

Zaravala reached forward and stuck her hands in the cool water bringing her damp palms to pat her warm cheeks, careful to avoid her own reflection. 

The Demon Hunter slipped a hand into her pouch and pulled another envelope from its depths, still sealed, her brother's scrawling...

Day 4 745 693 since my planting.

For this long have I been ignorant. Blind to the suffering and victimization of my kin. The page before me, smooth and unrecognizable though it may seem, bears a history of atrocities clearly written in its grain.  This one's roots ran deep- its bark worn smooth by the passage of time. A simple tree but venerable. It bore witness to eons of history- sheltering mortals from the elements with its grand canopy as beneath it they huddled about their fires and squabbled. Such is the pettiness of man; they see not what is given to them but only the blood which has not yet been spilled. What has still to be taken.

And so kingdoms rise and fall under the gentle gaze of my brethren who only give and are...

Unlike past entries the lines in this one are reasonably parallel, and the sizing of characters surprisingly consistent.

HELLO! It is TREE!

Today Elf Friend Teach Me About RULES!!!

She Tell Tree Writing Have Rules.  Different Shape Letters Go Different Places. These Called Capital Letter. Only Use To Start Things.

Elf Friend Also Show Tree About PUNCTUATION!!! New Letters That Only Use To End Things!!!

Tree Likes !!!!!!

Elf Friend Say ! Makes Thing EXCITING!!!!

Tree Like Exciting Things!!!!!!

GoodBye!!!!!!

The young woman squinted down at the book she’d been reading, straining to see the words that seem to swim before her eyes. She raised her head, only then realizing that the sun had begun to set over Stormwind. She glanced around the room,  her gaze settling briefly on the makeshift pallets that covered nearly every inch of open space between the simple wooden beds, and gave a soft sigh of relief to see that the children had quieted, some of them even asleep.

Regynn rose to her feet, her fists pressed to the small of her back as she stretched, her vertebrae crackling with the movement. Carefully she moved between the pallets of sleeping children as she made her way to the headmistress’ office.

The older woman looked up from...

A world away, Teldrassil was burning. The Horde - his people - had sparked the flame.

Luminash paced the perimeter of his study, steps sweeping by piles of scrolls and books on their shelves, one foot in front of the other, following the gilded circle a few feet from the circular outer wall. He passed by his desk again, eyes drifting over the letter he had received earlier that day as he continued his circling.

Dawnwing,

The Alliance gathers in Lordaeron.

-Telivathus

A warning from an old friend to flee, or a call to action? That question had rolled around his mind now for hours. Hiding in the safety of Dalaran, or fighting to ensure safety in Quel’Thalas?

As the magister circled the room, he clutched the golden-blue crystal held...

It was late at night and for the most part, the Cathedral was quiet. There were few people moving about the great hall, most were priests and priestesses with a paladin moving around on guard duty. The lights mounted around the hall gave off a soft light in the hall. And its emptiness only helped to accentuate the sounds of footsteps.

From the private quarters, a priestess came stumbling out of the hallway and into the great hall. She stumbled slightly and her hand went to the wall to steady herself. A moment later, she pushed off of the wall and started walking down the hall again. She had just made it to another doorway when a priest walked out and stopped.

“Good evening, Sister Tessa. How are you doing?”

The priestess started...

Though the clarity of the writing has markedly improved since last entry, the bar for such improvement is still apparently very low. What can be made out reads as follows:

to DaY tree learn wOrds for LEAF and RooT and bRanCH

tRee haVE rOOT    RoOt s rooTS    that maNy ROOT

treE also haVe    BRANCHs   ElF frIEND saY that wRong    it BRANCHes 

why theRE a E

TreE not KnOW

Here the entry is interrupted by several crossed out lines of writing and simplistic doodles of a bird flying upside-down.

TREE ALSO HavE LEAFS        wroNG again ELF frieNd tell trEE it SPellEd LEAVES

TreE not undeRStanD why a F become V for ManY leaFs LEAVES but TreE do have Many MANy maaY maNy leaVES leAves LeaveS

ELf frienD say TreE...

Kynnaria,

I have done as asked and searched for your loved ones, I am afraid that this letter comes with news I wish I did not have to deliver. I managed to locate the remains of both your beloved Saber and your dear friend. 

As much as it pains me to inform you of this I also wish you to know I gave them a proper burial and in time they may help the forests of Darkshore regrow.

I am sorry and pray that Elune be with you in this trying time.

In humble Service,

Xanthia Lieu

The feeling of the Sabers patchy and mangled fur left the druid in tears, "I'm sure you were good and loyal to your beloved Kynnaria," she whispered to the freshly covered mound as she placed a seed in the small hole she left, her hand cupped around...

The page before you is crumpled and covered in ink spills. What little writing is legible is clumsy and primitive. It reads as follows:

a Bb c def g hij k     lm noP qRsS t uvw x yY Y Y Y forest     z     A L P H A B E T

HeLLo AM tree. name na    m e TRee TREE TReE

FrienD            elf    ELF FRiend teach me wriTE ing name

elf Name    friEnd naM e XanThiA

eLf frieND show me LETTERS

LetTER Y lookS like TRee YYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY is a ForESt

TreE Like lettER Y

gOodBYe

CW for mentions of domestic abuse, blood, some extremely vague adult themes

Crickets sing a riotous chorus outside, the music swelling and then quieting over and over in waves through my open windows. It accompanies the lullaby roar of the sea, sounding like home. The air itself is stiflingly still - an unusually hot night for Tol Barad. I’d returned from an evening in Silvermoon, prepared for the usual ritual of devouring chocolates and catching up on the daily paper, but I’m far too restless for either. Snorian shifts on his round cushion bed, a deep sigh and whuffle in response to the heat. Oh, to be a dog for just a moment, my only worries the temperature of the room and what I’ll have for breakfast tomorrow.

The scars on my...