"Nestramandis! What in the Nether do you think you're doing?!"

Though she was doing her best, Ravine just couldn't free herself from the grip of the high elf--who held a firm grip on the back of her cloak. He doesn't even stop to answer her question--marching through the streets of Stormwind with the warlock in tow as he navigates towards the harbor. The duo received a number of stares and finger-pointing from other adventures and citizens alike, but it's not like Nik ever cared about it.

"It's exactly what it looks like: getting you back on track," he snorted. "I've been sending you all these leads from Dalaran, and you haven't followed up on any of them! Not a single one! We're gonna get your shadow magic under control."

"... Well... I've been--"

"--and don't give me any excuses. You can't be that busy here in Stormwind. Now come on, are you gonna coopera--"

Turning around to face her for the first time, his voice stopped--eyes fixed on the thin scars running down the side of her face. "When you'd get that?" he muttered quietly as his fingers began mirroring the scar's trail on his skin. "That scar isn't exactly flattering... Though I guess it doesn't matter since you have some already," he shrugged as his fingers make a quick, diagonal motion near his neck.

Ravine never really told him about the origin of those scars, and she wasn't going to tell him about these new ones either. "It's nothing important Nik," she muttered as she shook her head.

"Eh..." he shrugged again. "If you say so."

By now, Ravine was now willing to walk alongside her research partner instead of being dragged along (since flailing about didn't seem to do her any good). For awhile, the two walked along the cobblestone streets in silence--neither of them having words for the other.

The narrow street-ways eventually gave way to the open harbor below the city. The smell of the salty sea heavy on their noses as the wind blew through their hair. Ravine figured it was a good enough time as any to start the conversation again as she turned towards her friend.

"Hey Nik... I've been doing some thinking..."

The elf couldn't help but crack a joke. "That's never a good thing," he smirked. Ravine just glared back at him.

"Hush you. Anyways, mayhaps I should let my power waste away and cease this chase to find a way to keep control..."

Nestramandis stared at her. "What?"

"I mean, if I just stop using my magic, wouldn't the connection just cease entirely? It was already weakening before all of this..." Ravine paused, recalling how difficult it was to conjure up even a simple shadowbolt. "If that happens, then I don't have to worry about keeping control of anything."

"Well Ravine, it's not entirely that simple," Nestramandis crossed his arms. "A lack of use doesn't kill the connection. It's actually more dangerous to do that. To put it simply, it just makes the user's magic more volatile, since they'll lack the control to handle it."

Ravine felt her hopes deflate. "But then..."

"Oh come on," he grinned at her. "It's never too late to start over, and we have plenty of room to work with!"

"But what about--"

"Send him a letter. He'll understand." Nestramandis waved his hand dismissively before gently pushing her forward towards the harbor. "No more "buts" and "ifs" already. Besides, aren't you far overdue back to Northrend already?"

"Well... about that..." Ravine scratched her chin lightly. "Eykrie gave us both extended leave."

Making a face at the mention of the engineer paladin, the elf shook his head. "Well... guess he's capable of nice things too once in awhile... You're going to make use of it for awhile longer."

"Phew... that should be the last of it." Ravine nodded to herself as she slumped into a nearby chair, taking a breather as she wiped the sweat forming on her brow.

Sitting before her were five boxes. Five boxes full of books, her current research, and other small trinkets that didn't look like much, but meant so much to her. That's all she was bringing with her to Auberdine. The rest would be staying, in hopes that it would look as though she had not left at all.

It had not been easy for the warlock to go about packing her bags to move. She dearly loved Nagrand, Telaar and the Kurenai neighbors that she had come to know over the past eight months. To her, they had become a family from the trader who setup shop next door to her everyday, to the town's local cook who shared all of her recipies with her. The town was warm and friendly to those who offered their help, and were not quick to judge. From the first day she arrived, she was treated as if she were one of them. Not like Telredor. Not like Stormwind. Not like Darkshire.

If only that man didn't come to her door...

If only Neyv stayed dead...

Ravine sighed as she rubbed her eyes. Her dreams had been no better even after telling both Antigone and Mardus, but at least living close to them would give both her and Savras at least some safety, rather than being in the middle of nowhere. As far as she knew, she was the only member of Ordo who chose to reside on "the other side" as people referred to it. And perhaps it was the same for her husband as well in his order.

Despite recent events and disturbed dreams, she could not help but smile as her mind drifted back to the conversation that the two of them held earlier in the day. She had wanted to keep him out of this, but knew that he could not be kept away any longer. Ravine told him of the visit, and the man that she considered so dangerous, begging him not to chase after him.

But even then, he showed her that no matter what circumstances, that he could still make her smile. Make her laugh.

"I think we need this. We're like two old folks living our days away in our Nagrand summer home!" Savras chuckled, before pausing. "... Not that you're old or anything..."

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Hello? Ravine?" A female gnomish voice called to her from the other side of the door. Ravine quickly jumped to her feet. "Ah... it's unlocked!" the warlock called back as she smoothed down her robes. The door creeked opened as the warlock bowed her head in greeting to the young gnome mage who came into the room. "Thank you so much for helping me with these Frore," Ravine said as she smiled at her friend and head researcher of her group. "I'm glad to be of help!" the mage replied, returning the smile. "Now, where was it that you needed to go with these?"

Ravine swallowed hard. "Darnassus." She wasn't exactly fond of the city, as she believed the city felt the same way about her. However, it was the closest major city to Auberdine. She'd much rather take the ferry from Teldrassil, than to take the long boat trip from Menethil.

"All right. Give me a moment...." Frore placed the boxes on the ground before her, before she closed her eyes in concentration, imagining the capital city with all of its trees and intricate architecture. From the Sentinels who patrolled the area to keep it safe, to the druids who called this place home. Her hands began to shimmer with arcane light as a portal to the kaldorei city floated before the two of them. Picking up the boxes, she motioned for the warlock to go in. "After you!"

Nodding, Ravine took a deep breath and stepped through.

((Written as a prelude to the events prior to the World PvP event on 11/24)


"WHA?! I swear I paid tha' months ago!" Amarestine slammed the bar with both of her hands, in disbelief on what was happening.

The bartender of the Pig and Whistle crossed his arms, shaking her head in disapproval. "Your little trinkets don't count as money when I'm paying for the ale! We're no pawn shop! You've built up a fifteen gold tab, miss!" He made sure to carry his voice throughout the whole tavern, making an example out of Amara. "You're cut until you pay your due. AND NO FOOL' S GOLD!"

"Tha's not fair then! I want my stuff back!"
"No can do miss."
"Yer callin' ME a thief?!"
"You just left it on the table after you've drunk your rounds! I'm not the only one pickin' things off the table."

As the two of them continued to argue, there was one man in particular who seemed to be watching the two of them with some amusement. He studied the rogue for a few moments, before standing up and moving up to the front of the bar.

"Do not worry about the young lady's tab. I will pay for it. Another round for the both of us?"

Both of them stopped and stared. Amara was the first to say anything. "No! I refuse!"

The bartender also seemed adamant, though for different reasons. "You do realize how large of a tab she--" The bartender was cut short as the man plopped down a pouch full of coins. "If you look inside," he muttered. "You can see that this is not an issue." Opening the drawstrings, the bartender gave the man a skeptic look before peeking inside. His eyes widened considerably. Amara also peeked in side, and let out a sharp gasp.

"I'll get both of your drinks right away." Before Amara could protest, the bartender ran to get both mugs filled. Amara just stared at her mysterious benefactor.

"Come with me, miss. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

=====

"What?! A bodyguard?!"

The man who introduced himself as the owner of Limited Immunity, a weapon shop in Stormwind not far from the tavern, nodded his head. "Precisely. You certainly seem more than able for the job. I had some friends in Ironforge ask they could bring in much help as possible. You see, the Horde is planning an attack on the transports..."

Amara shook her head. "Nuh uh! Not my job! If you want me lookin' for something, I can do that. If you want me for some information, I can do that too!" The rogue slammed her empty mug on the table. "But I'm not cut out for this bodyguard stuff! Hell, I know my guild hired me on that premise, but tha's too rough! I'm not tough enough!"

"Ah-hah. But it seems you have little choice. I DID pay your tab after all."

Son of a bitch. This is why she didn't want the man to pay her tab.

"Alright! ALRIGHT!" She threw her hands up in defeat. "I'll do it!"

After getting the information she need, Amara gathered her things before storming out of the Pig and Whistle Tavern for the night, grumbling to herself and slightly intoxicated. That was the last time that she arrived in a pub nearly broke.

"Gimme tha' next flight to Southshore..." she mumbled to the flight master, who seemed a little unsure on the thief's ability to stay on her griffin. He complied anyways as Amara flashed a few silver for the man's troubles.

"I guess it shudn't be much trouble. S'just a delivery... Wha's the worse that could happen?"

((Basically the characters that I've created to deal with/interact with Ravine and where some of them are/are doing))



Nestramandis (aka: Nikolos; aka: Nik):
Ravine and Nik... haven't exactly been on the best of terms. The two of them haven't spoken in some weeks, as Nestramandis suddenly took leave on his own after a month of constant-bickering-turned-arguments. Ravine believes that he's been belittling her decisions too much for too long, and that he's being extremely hard-headed and stubborn. Nestramandis has never really shown any approval of her husband, Savras, and has always been vocal about it to her annoyance.

Their relationship at the moment is tenuous at best and his current status and location remains unknown. Ravine has shown an uncharacteristically lack of concern for her Netherdrake companion, and has instead found other means of transportation. However, as the days and weeks continue to grow in numbers, so does the worry that she's hidden so well thus far.


Laztik:
Laztik still makes himself known to his Mistress when she needs him. He's become a bit more rambunctious over the years, but such is the nature of an imp, or so Ravine believes. He still perches himself on Ravine's shoulder when she requires his presence, out of comfort and sheer laziness. Ravine's gotten used to it, but knows that if he dares to so much launch a fireball, that he'll be tossed right off.


Juk'gron:
Juk'gron isn't called upon often by Ravine these days, since she's developed her talents so much that she is able to defend herself. And even if not, she seems to always be surrounded by those that can back her up. More often than not, if he does happen to be called upon, it's for moral support. Since Juk'gron has always viewed himself (itself?) as Ravine's guardian, he believes that it is his duty to help her through her battles, no matter what kind of fight it is so he doesn't really mind having the spotlight taken off of him.

However, because of this, Juk'gron has spent much of his existence these days in the Nether. It's difficult to say whether this will have an effect on her voidwalker or not.


Bronriel:
Even when Ravine finally managed to master the summoning of a succubus, it was her fear of them that did not allow her a proper binding to her own. It was a rarity that she summoned hers forth, and usually reluctantly and out of necessity. Bronriel is everything Ravine is not; flirty, playful, and a temptress who isn't afraid to play with other people's hearts and lives. Bronriel is likely the demon whose nature is closest to that of its original under the influence of the Legion.

Unfortunately for Ravine, she's been getting into situations where her services are required so she has been forced to bring her out much to her annoyance. Bronriel is gleefully taking advantage of her limited freedom ("It's -SO- much better out here, than being cooped up in the Nether, sweetie.") whenever she can. Often times, she's tease her Mistress ("What a shy little thing you are...") and her "old-maid"-like nature. If she's not doing that, then she's likely flirting with her traveling companions, usually other females.

Behind the teasing and the flirting, is the succubus's nature of domination and manipulation. Bronriel's words are but a thin veil to what she really thinks of her Mistress and what she really wants. Ravine can't help but feel worried that her fear and her inability to do a proper binding years ago was likely the cause of this, and that things may turn up bad for her in the future. She could remedy this, but she isn't going to get friendly with her succubui anytime soon.


Jhaaroon
Like her succubus, when Ravine first managed to complete her first summon, she was not strong enough to permit a proper binding to Jhaaroon. Unlike her succubus, she has little fear of the felhunters. Lately, she has bringing it as a fighting companion alongside her in the Goblin Arena Circuit (and oddly enough, her companions don't seem to mind.) Little by little, she is working to strength the bond that she has with her felhunter.

She doesn't seem to know much about its nature, but it has an odd affinity to eat flowers whole. Although it'll snack on any that it can see (Jhaaroon has been known to eat some of the flowers outside of the Park in Stormwind), it seems to enjoy the flora out of Outlands the most (especially Netherblooms and Dreaming Glories). Probably because those flowers themselves seem to be imbued with magical properties of their own.

Year: 33 Month: November Day: Tuesday
Clear

~~~

What a strange day...

I ended up oversleeping, waking up in the late afternoon. The weather has been so cold and rainy lately, that it's little wonder why I didn't wake up earlier. Although ater realizing how late it was, my mind managed to wake up pretty quickly. Yesterday, Savras invited me to come to his meeting he was having with his guild members in the early evening earlier today. At the very least, I was curious of what he was talking about earlier when he started his own group of historians. On the other hand, I wondered what sort of group they were if they could withstand his well... his goofy demenor.

The meeting took place in Stormwind as I found out, in the Mage Distract. In fact, right in front of the Slaughtered Lamb. (Cripes... it had to be around there of all places...) It looked to be a rather small gathering of mayhaps... five or six others, not including the host himself. They seemed to be having a meet and greet, with introductions and getting to know one another. Quite a collection of characters that he gathered... Still, I didn't wish to intrude so I stood off to the side, hidden from view. I believe he tried to lure me out when he began talking about warlocks, but well.. it didn't quite work so he ended fishing me out of my hiding spot by finding me, before he introduced me to the others. They all.. seem to be nice enough folks. I just hope Sav doesn't end up driving them nuts... There was this woman though; a warlock like myself. She's still quite young and inexperienced. Even went so far as to summoning her minions to scare one of the other members... Cripes. I hope she learns in time that sort of thing isn't allowed at all. We warlocks are barely tolerated as is...

(Lormail is a bit... I don't know. But, his behavior is starting to become a little frightening... I wish he would stop talking the way he is now.)


After their meeting began to dissolve, I returned home. But before I turned to my home, there was a faint sound of explosions. On the horizon to the northwest, plumes of thick, gray smoke rose from the ground. It was difficult to make out, but the red flags of the Horde were flying, meaning that there was a battle! I know Katheyrn told me that I should be fighting for a few days after a few days ago but.. but... it would feel bad of me if I -didn't- take part. I've always supported the Halaa troops in the past and I couldn't just leave the fight. Grabbing my things, I made my way to the battlefield.

It wasn't a moment too soon. There was a large Horde force here this eve. Mayhaps twelve of them? Mayhaps more? I wasn't sure, but it felt as though we were outnumbered for much of the fighting. Eykrie and Kathara both came on their own to lend their aid, but despite the fact, things looked rather bleak. They took to attacking us in large hunting packs. Often, there were too few defenders guarding the windriders when much of the group was raining down bombs, and it was a weakness they took advantage of often. Once we pushed them into the center of the city, only to be beaten back long enough for reinforcements to arrive as we were forced back to the outer fringes again. They were parituclarly persistant, even when we finally managed to capture the center after a second attempt. But, I suppose we were the same as well in their eyes.

I've been getting stronger, but still these fights do drain me.


There was one more thing today as well, but I'm afraid that this tale will have to wait until later. I can barely keep my quill upwrite as I write in here...


(The ink here looks darker, and freshed than the words above)

Ah, of course. The last thing... the Darkmoon Faire came around today.

But it wasn't in Elwynn, nor was in Mulgore. Oddly enough, it was in the Outlands, of all places! It's just south of Shattrath City in Terrokar. One can only wonder how many mages were hired to portal them all to the Outlands.

Just by chance, I happened to come across the fairgrounds while picking herbs. I didn't realize it was the faire until I came across those familiar green and purple tents they had set up. Upon arriving in Shattrath, I found out that they had set up the infamous cannon next to the Aldor Bank! Although I do not work for them, I do have pitty for those have to do their day-to-day banking business with the noise of the canon going off constantly. It leads off into the little lake just outside of the city. Very tricky to try and land in that ring they have set up since there's little room for error. I had let the others know about it. Frore, Eykrie, and Vimia came, and even shy Tabasa decided to come, since she had never been to the Faire before. While waiting for Tabasa from the landing point of the cannon (It must've taken quite a bit of convincing, for she actually did try it!), Duraedin came flying (quite literarly I may add) from above, and startled me. It's a bit strange though. When I first met him, he really didn't like the Faire... but it seems now that it's grown on him quite a bit. Ahaha...

Year: 33 Month: November Day: Monday
Overcast

~~~

It's starting to get colder and colder. I can even begin to see my breath as I write this. I wish I had a fire going now...

I ended up... being far more busy that I thought I would've today after what happened yesterday. Unfortunately, Savras had already stepped out long before I awoke, and I felt... quite a bit of the aching from yesterday. Luckily enough, Katheryn stopped by in the morning, and helped to relieve me of my aching muscles in my back and shoulders. It certainly made the ache a lot more bearable, although it all didn't melt away. Thank goodness she was taught how though. Not many priests, nor healers for that matter, know how to give a proper massage.

In return, I would help her along with Wynnri, Antigone, and a druid... (I'm afraid I didn't catch her name, but she wore the tabard of Ordo, so I'll need to speak with her later) traverse the depths of Blackrock Spire. At least the lower portion of it to collect gems to form a "key" to would allow access to the upper levels. It had been ages since I had last traversed there, and... things went rather smoothly. At least, a lot more smoothly than the matches yesterday. We found a number of items of interest that Wynnri found use out of, various potion recipes, and most importantly, the gems. I do hope that she manages to place them all together.

Also, I finally managed to gather my thoughts and put down into writing the traditional uses of the Dreaming Glory herb! It's... been rather difficult to pinpoint what it could've been used for, since I believe that this isn't the same plant that was used mayhap... twenty or thirty years ago since the destruction of Draenor. I believe that the Twisting Nether has altered the plants properties and has since enhanced it to what it is before. Thanks to the ogres and the Broken tribe raids, like those in Sunspring Post, it's been difficult to gather evidence that already hasn't been destroyed by raiders.... The best I can do is scrounge up what little evidence there is and point towards a conclusion.
The next part I'll have to write upon, is on uses of the plant today. However, I believe that'll be a bit more easier to do, having nearly constant exposure to the plant.



... (There are some squiggly lines drawn here)



Nether, I don't know where to begin next...

I stopped by the World's End Tavern in Lower City... but there were so many others that came as well...

Andreyn, an old friend from the Retribution
Azaha, one of the newer members of the Ordo Complector
Lormail, whom is a part of (currently?) Malakim. (Cripes... has he been getting more and more grumpy as of late? Not just that but...mayhaps it's best not think about it.)

Savras was also there as well. (More squiggly lines)
Kathara made an appearance as well, although it's difficult to say if she followed or arrived on her own... (Has she become more... pleasant as of late? It's difficult to say if it's all an act or not...)

I've forgotten just how... difficult Savras can be sometimes around others. That elf sober is far worse than Mardus could ever be drunk. I must extend my deepest apologies to Andreyn and Azaha. However, well... it's not for me to change who he is. I suppose it's difficult to admit, but it is a part of his charm. That craziness...

Love is crazy, and sometimes insane.




But oh...! Cole has returned from what where he was! Not only that, but Blythe! Blythe! It had been ages since I had last seen her! I'm glad... so glad to have been able to talk to her again. We began to talk of the old times... but I must've been so more tired than I thought because I blacked out. (It wasn't from the drink; it was only Moonberry Juice... At least I think it was.) Blythe and Frore had left by the time I woke up. I must've startled Cole. Cripes, how embarrassing.

At least now at home I can rest my eyes without worry.

Ah... I think he's home.

~Rav

Year: 33 Month: November Day: Sunday
Storming

~~~

Cripes. It's a good thing I managed to return here in one piece before it began to storm. It's beautiful to see the lightning dance across the sky here, but it would've made it nearly impossible to fly home.

It's been a month since I've reunited with many of my friends and have joined up with the research team, Ordo Complector. The name means "Order of the Compass" in a nearly archaic form of elven. The organization is led by Lady Sarriel Lightchaser, alongside with Antigone Varietas, Frore and Katheryn MacRae. And I believe that these four are doing a wonderful job thus far. I've yet to finish my research article on the Dreaming Glory herb that's fairly common out here in the Outlands, but I hope to be soon. It's just that finding bits of research and evidence on old practices is proving to be more difficult that I thought.

Also, since becoming a part of this group, I've joined up Mardus Torwin and Eykrie Tsurugi to form the group, Derideo Ex Mortis. Oddly enough, Eykrie has told me that the name means "Laugh at Death" in another archaic form of the Elven language and that it involved research into the Goblin Economy, specifically into the Goblin Arena Circuit. It was there that I spent much of my day fighting many teams spanning from both the Horde and Alliance from many different regions. I do not know how many we fought, but we spent much of the afternoon and the late eve in nearly constant combat. Eykrie claims that we've fought mayhaps... fifty-four matches in total tonight. If that is the case, then it's a surprise that I didn't collapse in exhaustion after the first twenty! Somehow, we managed to break even for this week's rounds of matches and our rankings still remain in the 1600's. If you ask me though, it feels as though we took quite a beating. Thank goodness that the goblins have the luxury to hire the very best priests to heal even the most dire of wounds before the next match...

After the night was finished, the two thought it would be best to drink in celebration. Mardus suggested that the tavern located where the old Crimson used to be would be a nice spot. But when we arrived, while the tavern was crowded with a few folks, (and a few familiar faces), the barkeep wasn't around so Mardus left for a bit to pick up some drinks (mostly for himself). He ended up getting Eykrie and myself some alcoholic beverage, although we told him not to...

I didn't drink much. I'm still a little paranoid of what could be in there. That and... effects of being drunk are something that's... not very desirable to me. Mardus however, drank himself drunk and was a prime example of why I don't drink in the first place. That and I would probably do something regrettable later... Cripes, I hope he managed to find his way home... His hearthstone seemed to have activated by luck after mistaking another item for his mode of transportation back to Darnassus.



I should probably ask Savras if he could give me a massage in the morning, since he's asleep now. Nether knows I'll be aching in the morning from all the fighting...

~Rav

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

A wrapping that once held a Hallow's End Pumpkin Treat fell from her hands as Ravine shrieked after looking down at herself. Her skin... no, her whole body was as translucent as the waters around Southshore as she stood there in shock and disbelief, hovering inches above the ground. The warlock should've known something was amiss when she felt colder than lighter than normal. But, it was difficult to come to terms that she could've possibly died from eating a piece of candy. Maybe it was a bad piece of candy, but it looked so harmless...

Standing besides her, with his armor and sword polished to perfection, was the warrior known better as Runes from the mercenary group, Malakim. The two of them had been fending off mischief makers sent by the Forsaken over the past few hours armed only with hand-made air fresheners. ("Keep Southshore clean! Fight the funk of the Forsaken with the power of pine!") Those foolish enough to make themselves known to the guards were taken down with a little more force, since they proved that they were there for more than just tricks and pranks. The two of them had a measure of success at keeping the town safe (as well as making sure it didn't stink TOO badly from whatever foul concoctions the undead had brewed into their vials), but Runes could not help but smirk at the irony of her current predicament.

"Try eating another piece of candy?" he shrugged, making a motion as though he was tossing one of the sweet treats into his mouth. "Wouldn't hurt considering your circumstances," the warrior chuckled.

Ravine hovered about the area for a few minutes in thought. It didn't sound like a bad idea, and Runes did have a point. After all, she already was a floating, ghost spirit. It couldn't get any worse...

"Wait," the warlock paused as a thought came to mind as she furrowed her brows. "...If I'm a ghost, wouldn't it just... fall right through?" she frowned.

"Hmm... I never really thought about that."

Ravine groaned as she slumped forward, feeling all of her hopes getting sucked out of her. So much for that plan. "You have to help me!" her voice wavered as she began to panic. "What.. what if I'm stuck like this?!"

Runes rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm... I guess you do have a bit of a problem with that, being a warlock and all."

"Erk... Runes!"

The warrior held his hands up in defense to the distressed ghost. "Sorry! I'm neither a priest nor a paladin! Maybe it'll just... wear off?" Ravine threw her hands into the air in defeat as she sat down, staring at the ground. "Oh dear..." she mumbled. " What would Savras say about this...?"

"Tell him the candy did it."

She gave Runes a quizzical look. "... Who made this anyways?"

He shrugged. "Probably gnomes."

"Erk... maybe I shouldn't tell him that then..." Having her husband hunting down every last gnome he could find was the last thing she wanted.

Looking around, Runes found no disturbances, which surprised him after the constant number of bombers only hours before. Now, there were no traces of the Horde, and no new stink bombs had made themselves apparent. "Well, at least we taught them a thing or two about playing tricks on the townsfolks, eh?" he grinned. "Looks like things have quieted down," he muttered as he hefted up his broadsword from where he stuck it in the earth. Bits of soil and grass fell from the blade's end as he wiped it clean before sheathing it away. "I really should return to Ironforge. Business and all." He quickly walked off before the warlock had a chance to say anything.

"I'm sure you'll be fine!" he called out to her as he made his way up the hill towards the flight master. "Worse comes to worse, you can always have a word with the Spirit Healer, right?" he laughed. Ravine gave him a sullen look in response, glowering as she watched him take flight.

With a sigh, she hovered back to her spot on top of the small hill a little ways north of the nearby inn. With Runes gone, there was little else she could do. The other townsfolks opted to stay away from the floating apparition after her outbursts earlier. The thought of haunting and following one of them came to mind, but it wasn't as if she had a reason to. She looked around lazily until her sight rested on Sergeant Hartman, the one who was responsible for taking charge in keeping the town clean of the funky smell and sending adventurers on reconnaissance near the Undercity, and suddenly felt something just... snap.

She wasn't really aware that everyone else around could hear her as she floated over to the ranking officer, but she didn't seem to care either. "This is... this is your fault! You and your poisoned candy treats you've been giving out!" she yelled out, pointing fingers of accusation. "I swear by the Nether that I'll haunt you for the rest of your days, you hear me?!"

The sergeant seemed hardly phased by this as he looked at the ghostly-looking woman. "I assure you it's only temporary, miss. Just a little bit of holiday magic," he said with a smirk which only served to annoy her further. "You...!" Ravine fumed at his lack of concern as she floated circles around the officer who seemed to take little heed in her threats. Instead he pulled out of his pocket, a small watch and stared down at it. "...Should be wearing off soon," he muttered to himself.

"Is this any way to reward those who helped you clean this place up?!"

"Three..."

"...really should check on the expiration dates on these things..."

"Two..."

"...shouldn't treat life like a plaything! And furthermore..."

"One..."

Before Ravine could speak another word, a bellow of smoke suddenly emitted from the warlock. Coughing, she waved her hands about to clear the air, not noticing the effects of the candy wearing off. Curious town members crept closer to the scene. Only the sergeant seemed to have an inkling of what was going on with that smirk still on his face. When the smoke finally cleared, Ravine looked down at her hands and was surprised to find that she was flesh and blood once more, not to mention grounded as well.

"Ah..." It took her only another moment before her face was suddenly flushed in embarrassment. Cripes, she wouldn't be able to live down overreacting over something like this. "So it... really was only temporary..." she managed to stammer quietly. "Oh dear..."

He looked up, and frowned as the familiar smell of rotten, putrid things filled his nostrils. Turning his head, the familiar orange smoke began to bloom out of the vials of stink bombs. "I'll ignore those threatening comments if you go out there and clear those out bombs," he muttered as he handed her a stink bomb cleaner. Ravine didn't have any room for protest as she reluctantly took the air freshener from his hand.

Ravine Lunaletha Mhenlo Timeline
DOB: July 22nd
Ver: 2

(Timeline in accordance to the timeline found in the World of Warcraft RPG Book: The Alliance Player's Guide, which was published in 2006)

Currently, I am led to believe that we are currently sitting in the year 33, at the very least. If this changes, there'll be a newer version of the timeline next time...

(Please take note that some events circling around Ravine have been retcon'd so as to make better sense with the current timeline being used. This is just reference for my sanity. :D Italics are what I feel are major events. It may or may not affect Ravine at that particular time or at all, but I felt that they should be noted anyways.)


( Big timeline is big )

"The Ordo Complector? And you say that... they are a research group?" Nestramandis, now currently in disguise as the high elf Nikolos, turned his head away from the texts he was studying, and his notes. For the first time in a long while, he sounded very intrigued with what Ravine had to say as the two of them occupied a lone corner in the Scyer's library in Shattrath City.

Ravine Lunaletha Mhenlo sighed as she leaned against the nearby bookshelf. How many months has it been since she had last come across someone she knew from the days of the Retribution? Three moons? Four? Even after she had left Nestramandis to look for Savras, reunited with her husband, and then with the netherdrake again, her sense of time had been warped by the countless days and nights that blended into each other while she was in her self-imposed exile from civilization. She was still getting used to being around other people again. Worse still, was that even after all this time, there were those that still recognized her face and knew who she was.

When a oddly dressed night-elf came up to her a night ago and addressed himself as Eykrie, one who was once part of the Retribution of Arathor (and who currently was suffering from an engineering mishap), Ravine didn't know what to say. She had heard of a few, yet unfortunate, things that had happened since her disappearance regarding the organization, as well as the fate of Rhonis Lighthand and his imprisonment in Stormwind. A bit of relief comforted her to hear that the Retribution still remained strong after the order to disband was revoked. However, the warlock felt that she could never face them ever again. And these feelings lingered for those members currently in Ordo as well.

"Yes... at least from what I've been told," Ravine replied. Her attention was elsewhere as she ran her fingers along the spines of various books that the Scyers kept, looking for nothing in particular. "They're... comprised of those who were once part of Arathor. Or at least, their leadership is." "Great!" Nikolos exclaimed. "So why haven't you joined them yet?" Ravine was quick to answer as she spun around to face the elf. "Don't you understand?!" she hollered out to the annoyance of the blood elves nearby. "They were a part of the unit that I abandoned! Do you think that if I waltz right back to them, that they'll just accept me with open arms?!" He only shrugged as he closed the book on his lap, gathered his notes and stowed it away in his pouch before standing up. Towering over the human warlock, he gave her a chilling stare.

"So what? Who cares?" Nikolos asked in a stern tone. "That's all stuff in the past, and it's obvious to me that they're over it and you're not," he snorted. "How pretentious." Ravine felt taken aback. She had forgotten how blunt he could be with his opinions. "I'm -not- being pretentious!" she exclaimed. "People hold these types of grudges! They feel hurt and betrayed when people just leave them without a word!" Nikolos shrugged again. "Didn't bother me when I came back to an empty campsite." The warlock shook her head. "You're not everyone Nik," she sighed. "You can't speak for everyone else's benefit..." However, Nikolos seemed unfazed by her words. "Doesn't mean I can't say your moping about something you did for yourself. So you ran away from everything. Decided to be a hermit. That's what YOU wanted to do," the elf explained. "It's a decision I respect, and I'm sure they can too. You can't go around doing things for everyone else's benefit. Don't you know people go crazy when they don't take a break and do things for themselves?"

A sly smirk fell across Nikolos's face. "You know why I didn't bother going after you the night you ran off to look for your crazy elf husband?" he asked. "You stood up and went on your own to do what -you- wanted." He reached out and ruffled up Ravine's hair playfully, to the warlock's dismay. "I like that 'you' more, so you should be more like that person. Stop worrying over every little thing. It's unhealthy."

Ravine grumbled under her breath. "Tch... You just want access to their research material..." Nikolos flashed a big grin in return. "Of course," he said. "But I'd -love- to have a place to have my findings here archived. Besides," the pale-skinned elf pointed to the warlock's bag. "You'll have someplace to properly record your findings in regards to your alchemy studies."

Nikolos placed his arm around Ravine in a friendly manner as he led them both out of the library. "Now, I think it's high time you reunited with your friends."

Ravine's eyes remained definitively shut, brows furrowed in concentration. Her sight was just the first of her senses that she cut off. Soon, she no longer heard the rustling of the leaves from the wind, nor did she feel the warmth of the fire. She couldn't even smell the herbs that were being burnt anymore. Her mind was quiet and still, free of internal and external distractions. Slowly, she began to shuffle a large deck of decorated cards that sat in the palm of her hands.

Beside her, Juk'gron silently watched as the warlock conducted the reading. It had been a long time, years in fact, since the voidwalker had seen her last consult the tarot for guidance. Though she was out of practice, Ravine looked determined to give herself some insight on her situation, after lacking any form of guidance for months on end. Rising up from its position, the demon would honor her wishes as it began to circle the perimeter, making sure that there would be no one to disturb her while she went through the procedure.

~~~

Please tell me... What must I do to find him? How might I find Savras?

In her mind, she spoke this line out to the infinite silence over and over again. Ravine's hands began to half the deck, before shuffling one side in a scattered and random fashion back into the other. Again, and again she would repeat this process several times, each time faster than the last. And just when she seemed to settle down upon a steady rhythm, she abruptly stopped. Opening her eyes, her senses returned to her all at once. The light of the dying fire seemed harsh on her vision for a moment, and the smell of the burnt herbs almost overwhelmed the warlock as she rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying not to cough. Slightly dazed, she looked around the encampment. Juk'gron was on the far side keeping watch from the look of things, but Nikolos still wasn't back yet.

Taking a deep breath, she began to lay the first ten cards face down upon the ground. Her anxiety was written as clear as day on her face, and it wasn't only just because of what the reading could entail. This was the first time she had ever conducted a reading using all of the tarot, and not just the twenty-one cards of the major arcana that she was used to doing. Although she did not exactly know of their meanings, she figured that she would interpret them in time. What was important, was to see what they said now, in her most desperate time of need.

"Please... don't let it be a foreboding omen..." she muttered to herself.



Ravine pressed her fingers down on the first card. Biting her lip, she turned it over slowly and found herself greeted to a group of people working on a column. On its design stood three, star-shaped pentagrams. The warlock had no idea what this meant, but knew this was the Three of Pentacles. "What sort of card is this?" she mused, lifting it up to inspect the illustration. "They seem to be... conferring with one another. And one of them is holding... mayhaps a map?" Ravine held the card up to the dim moonlight, trying to find some other hidden meaning she may have missed. "If they were working on it, then they are a team?" Mumbling to herself, she continued to draw inferences on the tarot's meaning. "And that map... No. Not a map, but a design." If she went on the interpretation of teamwork, it made an awful lot of sense. Nestramadis has been the only person that she's been working with within the past few months. And mayhaps even before then, she had been a part of the Retribution. However, she found being a part of something always shared its faults, and she began to wonder if the card was telling her that.

Grabbing her journal, she took a few moments to scribble her thoughts and concerns about the first card within its pages. She still had nine other cards to read, and thought it best to put everything together once she came to the end. Looking down at the card spread, she overturned the card underneath it, and found a far more familiar face. The eyes of the authoritative Emperor met her gaze, confident and commanding despite his age. "Authority..." was the only thing Ravine could mutter. Frowning as Nikolos's face came to mind, she jotted down a few more notes before setting the tarot aside.

Overturning the third card, the illustration feature a group of three on a boat in the middle of the sea, with six swords sticking out from the wood. Two of those figures were seated, while one held a wooden oar. But all of them had their head bowed in solemn contemplation. Ravine felt an almost immediate connection of listlessness and sadness portrayed with the Six of Swords. "Everything..." she whispered. "Somehow it all still makes sense..." Ravine felt a mixture of excitement and fear bubbling inside her, seeing how accurate the cards and interpretations were thus far.

The fourth card came as a surprise to the warlock. There was no foreboding, or forlorn feeling associated with this particular tarot. Instead, the Page of Cups depicted a relaxed, gaily-dressed man staring into a golden goblet. With a smile on the young man's face, he seemed like a young-at-heart minstrel bringing joy to those around him. Ravine found it impossible to hide the growing smile on her face as she remembered the times that she spent with the hunter and their crazy adventures in the Outlands. Whether mucking through the marshes of Zangamarsh to hunt for some odd end reagent, or spending those quiet evenings in the tranquility of Terrokar Forest just talking, she knew that it was in those moments that she was the most happy just being by his side. It was her hope, that she would be able to recapture those times once more.




((To be continued. Work in Progress!))

( OOC: The Reading in Full )

Year: 33 Month: X Day: X
Overcast

~~~

It's... been a long time, old friend. Many days have passed... mayhaps months since these pages were last opened no doubt. It's difficult to track the passage of time when you've only the the passing days and nights to go by when the climate remains stabilized season after season, though the air has been growing colder.

I'm afraid it will still take quite sometime for the Compendium to be completed. Especially... of my leaving of the Alliance. They continue to fight fruitlessly with the forces of the Horde, while the larger threats continue to loom and gather strength. What of the Scourge? What of the Legion? It appalls me that these things mean nothing to the nobles! There is... very little trust and unity within the Alliance forces. Very little... Whether you live your life as a villager, or as political figure near the top, it matters little. It's all the same. The Nobles... they wished to use myself, and those that I led as pawns for their own gains. I... didn't want that.

I must... extend my deepest apologies to the Retribution of Arathor. They whom I had helped lead for so long after the last of the original four had passed on, as well as to those I worked with in our fight. They must think of me as a coward, who only ran from her duty to protect and fight in what we believed in. Many will probably never be able to forgive me; that I know in the deepest part of my heart.

Since then, I had become a sort of nomad... a wanderer of sorts at the mercy of my companion, a Netherwing drake by the name of Nestramandis. Or Nikolos, in his humanoid, high-elf form when he feels the need to mingle in a city of mortals. He's taken the opportunity to delve deep into the heritage of the races of old Draenor. His thirst for knowledge is great... even moreso with history. He is as old as I am, mayhaps even younger; still just a child in the eyes of dragons.

~~

I had... made one attempt at contact with the outside world many moons ago since my self-imposed exile. I had hoped to establish some form of contact with two people whom I regarded as close friends, Shakta Laughingwind and Shrike of the mercenary company known as Malakim. Imagine to my surprise on the day that I returned home briefly to have a letter delivered, that I find a note from Shakta laying besides the door. In its contents, there was something that she wished to talk about urgently. In the end, our conversation topics somewhat differed from each other once the meeting had been arranged and we met.

Though she did not have the information I was looking for, she did... extend a hand to me to join them. In a way, I wish I took it then. I haven't heard a word from her since. If I took her offer, I might've been able to...


*the ink has been blurred out, the original writing lost*


...I miss him. I miss him so much...

((Not my best, but it gets the job done. I hope. Still writing part three for Lost and Found. I'll get it done!))




"Let's see here... Ah! Four of you huh?!"

Amarestine cackled quietly to herself. What a lucky day it was for her! She had finally finished a month's worth of horse-riding lessons (under a different identity of course) up in the small establishment of the Eastvale Logging Encampment, and now an unexpected present stood before her; four strong, beautiful horses and a large, empty wagon all left foolishly unattended under the lazy, afternoon sun.

As she patted one of the steeds, she began to formulate a plan to capture these uncared gifts. In the back of her mind, she knew what she would do was bold, and extremely foolish. But, Amara always believed it was even more foolish to waste opportunites thrown on people's laps. The rogue could hardly resist the challenge.

Her black eyes lit up as a playful grin graced her features.

"I've got it!"


===

With a cartload of lumber loaded onto the back of the wagon, the young, black-haired driver shook the hands of the mill owner before hopping to the front of the wagon with ease.

"Good doin' business with ye, as always!" the mill owner exclaimed, a big grin on his face. "We can expect ye same time next week for the next shipment?!" The driver merely nodded in response, making a grab for the black hat tossed carelessly to the side of the wooden carriage. With a wave, and a crack of the driving whip, the horse-drawn wagon was well on its way out onto the open road.


Fifteen minutes later, a black-haired, young man had just finished some business negotiations with the mill supervisor, and was greeted to an empty space where his horse cart and wagon should've been.


===

Tossing the hat aside, Amara could do little to contain the wide grin on her face.

"Boy those guys are dumb!" she chuckled to herself as she steered the four horses off the road and into the forest brush. "No wonder they're doing such mindless work..."

Bringing the steeds to a halt, she hopped off the wagon to examine her prizes: a cartload of freshly cut lumber that was ready-to-use, a large wagon, and four, strong horses. Clearly, this was her biggest, and most successful heist yet.

"I suppose... I could make the trip to Booty Bay. I'm sure the goblins could make good use of this. Not to mention I'll get a good bit of coin..." Her eyes trailed up to the strong, black stallion.

"This one though..." she muttered quietly. "You're coming with me."



In the following weeks, an investigation was launched into the thievery at the behest of the House of Nobles. With a description that matched closely to Amarestine's from the rogue's previous troubles with the law, they were quick to point the finger at "that damn sneak thief". However, they failed in finding the wagon, or the rogue.

Then, two weeks later, the hijacked wagon was found near the bridge that borders Westfall and Duskwood with the lumber untouched. Stormwind authorities found three shaken horses, but they could never find the lone black mare that was missing from the site, nor the rider that so easily stole them away. The Nobles had enough of her antics.

In the meanwhile, Amarestine traveled off the beaten paths, weaving her way through the forests of Duskwood and into the jungles of Stranglethorn with her newly acquired steed which she affectionately named "Nightrunner." Knowing that the only place she could find sanctuary was under the protection of the Steamwheedle Cartel, the rogue swiftly made her way into the port town of Booty Bay. Though she was safe from the Alliance city's jurisdiction, she put herself into more danger from bounty hunters as the nobles placed a five hundred gold reward on her capture and return to Stormwind. After being tricked twice (and nearly being killed once), she had enough people making attempts on her life. Taking the first boat to Kalimdor the following morning, intending lie low for a little while.

She swore to keep her thieving habits in check to avoid detection. Whether she makes good on this promise, only time will tell.

((A sort of prelude story for some upcomming RP before I leave the game for a bit))

It had been weeks since Ravine had vanished suddenly, going into her self-imposed exile, though she would've thought it had been longer as time held little meaning to the warlock now. Having run away from her duties as a leader, she could not bear to show her face to anyone who could recognize her; groups that she had gained their trust through hard work, those had become friends with her, and those close enough that she regarded as family. Traveling upon the back of netherdrake who had become her only companion during these times, she allowed Nestramandis free reign to travel where he pleased. It was a privilege the drake took great advantage of; taking the opportunity to search for ancient tomes, or anything to add to his growing collection of texts.

During the rare times where the drake had to make stops in Shattrath to browse in the Scyer's library, or to pick up any new information regarding their searches, Ravine opted to stay just outside the city walls. She had become increasingly uneasy around large gatherings as paranoia began to fester inside from the result of her solitude. Several rumors, including the near break-up of the Retribution and Rhonis's imprisonment in Stormwind for treason, did little to ease them and she soon asked him to stop relying word-of-mouth rumors to her.

"Why don't you just go back?" the dragon once asked her as they flew through the forests of Terrokar, surveying the ruins of what was once a draenai village after leaving the Outlands capital. "You still care for them." Ravine merely shook her head at this, her words quiet. "While that is true," she began, pausing mid-sentence to gather the rest of her thoughts. "Do you really think they would welcome be back after abandoning them?"

Nestramandis went quiet. She had a point.

With the last of her necessities packed away, Ravine closed her rucksack. Everything that wouldn't be required laid haphazardly around the room as tables were strewn with heavy textbooks and scraps of parchment. Amongst the chaos and mess of her home in Telaar, sat a folded piece of cloth with a neatly folded letter, and a small, gnomish communicator device sitting on one of the chairs. Lifting the letter from its spot, she found herself glancing down at the tabard of the guild she regarded as family for the last time.

"They'll find it here. They'll know what to do with it once they've found it," she mused to herself, tracing the sword and shield pattern of her once beloved tabard. She took a moment to reflect; the blur of faces passing through her mind's eye. Tears welled in the warlock's eyes at the thought of leaving these people behind her, but she had enough. Enough of the politics of the Alliance. Enough of the troubles of the world. She was no hero, but just another soul trying to forge through her life. Wiping the forming tears in her eyes, she shook her head as she gathered herself together. Her mind was set on a quiet leaving. With the letter, she had hoped that they would come to understand her decision. If the Fates allowed it, she would see them again somewhere, someday.

A large, blue hand rested on the woman's shoulders as Ravine looked into the face of her voidwalker. "Mistress," uttered Juk'gron, its deep voice booming. "Nestramandis has told me he is ready. We will leave when you wish." Ravine nodded casually to the demon. "Aye..." she muttered, sounding distracted as she picked up a lone, dried-up black rose on the table. After much contemplation, she pocketed it away carefully, as if it were a good luck charm, before hoisting her bag onto her shoulders as she headed outside.

Nestramandis unfolded his great, purple-hued wings into the chilly Nagrand evening. Many of the Kurenai citizens looked at the netherdrake with both awe and fear as they kept their distance from him. The drake looked rather amused about the whole predicament before Ravine came out with Juk'gron trailing, closing the door to her home behind her.

"So you are ready, Ravine?" the dragon rumbled.

She nodded, climbing on the dragon's back. "Yes Nic," she said, turning her attention back to Juk'gron. She gave a small smile as she waved at the Voidwalker, muttering a de-summoning incantation as the large demon faded back into the Nether.

"I'm ready."

As if it were a command, the great drake began began running at top-speed through the city. Citizen lept out of the way as the duo headed straight towards one of the many drop-off cliffs in the area. Leaping off the gorge, the dragon's wings snapped open to catch the updraft as they flew off into the night.

"One question..." mused Nestramandis.

"That is?"

The dragon raised its scaly brow. "Where are we headed?"

Ravine smiled. "I don't know. That... will be up to you."

*The following seems to have been hastily scripted onto the pages*


Stepping in the Tower was... chilling to say the least. I began to feel as though there was something always watching me, but the source of this... I cannot say. If my companions feel the same way, then they are hiding it well.

From the base of the Tower we had a number of options in terms of where we could path. A set of stairs to our right led up into what appeared to be a sort of Grand Hall, or a Ballroom mayhaps. It's hard to imagine that this... place once accommodated nobles. From my research, I gathered that Medivh was rather secluded as to not have guests over. One of the lower rooms led to what appeared to be a rather deprecated part of the tower. I could not see far for the place was swarmed by large bats and spiders, even with the Eye of Kilrogg that I deployed.

The last doorway led to an old, abandoned stable yard. It was here that we decided to investigate first as we crept inside cautiously, and came across a ghostly night man who called himself Calliard. I suppose he resided here once before, but it seems he is bound to the Tower, like many of the spirits whom once resided in this area. However, he did not seem hostile, and even warned us of a Huntsman and his Steed and of some strange magic that tied them to the spirits around the stables.

Unfortunately, the rest of the ghostly residents (horses included) did not take kindly to our presence as we had to battle our way through. Thank the Nether for Sarriel and Sarena, two of our most skilled priestesses in our guild. Not only did they help to keep our strength, but they also had to keep the spirits at bay, shackling them where they stood as we took them down one at a time. Without them, I do not wish to think what would have become of us. Not only that, but I also must give my thanks and appreciation to the hunter to accompanied us, for Alunara's traps did well to keep these creatures at bay by encasing their spirits in ice for a time.

Though we subdued them for a time, the air around us was teeming with energy. In time, the strange power of this place would likely raise them again so we moved quickly down the stables, fighting against those that would stand against us, until we came across a curious horse. Unlike the spiritual skeletal horses, this one was not ethereal. Rather, it was of flesh, bone... and felfire as green flames flickered from its hooves. Its eyes of flame stared at us intently though it did not seem initially hostile. Remembering the night man's words, mayhaps he is the steed of the Huntsman he had spoken to earlier. And if that were true... perhaps the magic enchantment placed here, this feeling of sizzling magic in the air would stop.

It was difficult to say how much time we had left until they began to raise themselves again, so we blindly charged forth. Brave Duraedin lead the charge as he agitated the horse first, before we followed suit. It didn't take long before the ruckus he created drew out the horse's owner, who seemed none too pleased to see us attacking his steed. Still, his appearance did not daunt us as we continued our attacks. Mayhaps crippling his horse would also cripple this Huntsman's Spirit...

Alas we proved to be wrong. Just when the horse seemed to give, it arose as strong as it was with unholy strength. I say this because this horse was able to support the weight of its rider while we fought. It was as if... these two shared an unseen bond. But more than that, it was clear that these two were drawing from the magics of the Tower. However, as the battle wore on, strain was beginning to show on both sides. Though Sarriel, Sarena... even myself and the mages around were beginning to feel the fatigue of battle, the Huntsman's attacks were slowing down little by little, and the light in the steed's eyes grew dim with each passing moment. It turned into a battle of endurance as to who could outlast the other.

Things seemed almost hopeless as our draenai paladin defender fell to stone floor. Angry eyes seethed at the rest of us as we charged the last of our spells, out of breath and out of time. The last arrows were shot, and the last spells flung.

As the Huntsman charged towards our group, he fell backwards with a thud as an arrow cracked into his armor, piercing his heart. His mount (Midnight as we later learned during the course of the fight) seemed confused at the events that had just happened, but had little time to think of it as the last spells slammed into him, and he soon joined his master in what afterlife lies ahead of them.

There was a moment of dead silence. It felt as if time itself had frozen. Then as quickly as it started, both priests quickly attended to the fallen, Duraedin in particular while many others simply collapsed to the ground, out of breath as exhaustion set in. But with that exhaustion came relief and excitement. The sense of urgency was gone. The magic buzzing in the air was no longer present.

We were safe. For now.


Ravine wiped the tip of the quill of excess ink, looking rather satisfied as she quickly skimmed her writing thus far. Looking upwards, she breathed a sigh. "It seems as if this place goes on up forever..." she mused to herself as she pocked the book away, rising to her feet as she followed the company out of the stables.

Though the Huntsman had been dealt with, there were still more to be done.

"AHHTTEEEEEEEN-SHUN!"

Rhonis's powerful and commanding voice quickly dispersed what idle chatter there was between the assembly of nine standing before the paladin as they shuffled into a group formation. All, save but one, stood as familiar faces of the Retribution of Arathor, save for one, though Alunara was no stranger to the group. With exceptions to the three members of the secretive Violet Eye standing in front of the looming tower of Karazhan, they were the only living beings here this eve.

"Fellow Retributioners and friends!" he hollered into the night, voice echoing for what seems to be miles. "Tonight, we will strike a blow to the evils that lurk within this hollowed, ancient Tower!" Many stood attentive to the paladin's speech, though few made last minute checks on their weapons and armor.

"You can feel it can you not?!" The paladin made a few pointed gestures towards the building. "The evil, demonic presence that now lurks within the ancient halls before us! As defenders of the Alliance and Azeroth, it is our duty to put an end to what schemes may be plotted by our adversaries!" While Rhonis continued with his speech to inspire his fellow comrades, Ravine found her thoughts elsewhere. The warlock had her own personal reasons for journeying into Karazhan this eve, many of them trailing back to several months ago when a ghost of her past crept back into her life with little warning. Though there were no longer any signs of her presence, nor those that caused her trouble, the research that the warlock conducted traced her origins back to Karazhan.

Pulling out a worn, leather bound book, she began flipping through its pages until she found a fresh sheet. As quickly as she could, she penned down the words "The Karazhan Compendium" in a fancy scripture. Blotting the ink with a spare piece of netherweave to dry it quicker, she pocketed the book away as motivated cheers rose from the crowd. It looked as though the paladin commander was through with his little speech, and they would be moving soon. Armed with only a lantern, a sword, a lazy imp who perched onto her shoulder and her shadowy magic, Ravine marched in with the rest of her company into the depths of Karazhan, preparing herself for what they may find lurking within.