Category Archives: Histories

Letter to Mother

Dear Mother,

It has been some time since I last wrote.  I believe the last time I wrote, I was preparing to go to the Eastern Kingdoms with Shan’do Maerran Rainwalker and one of his more advanced students, Dinadrian Boughtender.  I remember being nervous about the trip.

A lot has happened since then.

The trip did not go as planned.  We were captured and tortured by cultists.  Mother, I was so scared.  I thought I would never see home again.  They asked me if I wanted to be immortal again.  I said yes.  I’m so sorry.  They killed us.  I don’t remember dying but I am technically dead.  The other student and I were brought back as death knights.  I had no freewill.  I was told to duel Dinadrian to the death, and I did.  I was told to use Shan’do Maerran’s remains to make a ghoul, and I did.  I was told to go into the town and slaughter everything that moved, and I did.

I spent about 6 months like that.  I silently wished for it to all end, but I was unable to stop it.  Then we were told to attack Light’s Hope Chapel.

A large number of death knights regained their free will there.  I was one of them.  I had a very difficult time accepting what I had become and what I had done.  They let me stay there for a bit, along with some of the others.  They kept a close watch on us, both because they thought us still dangerous—Which I cannot blame them much for, as some death knights completely lack feelings, don’t remember who they are, or sometimes I think even enjoy being what they’ve become.  But, they also didn’t want us to destroy ourselves.  I’m not quite sure why they worked to keep us from committing suicide.  No, I do know.  For their purposes, we were defectors of the scourge.  We knew their enemy better than they did.  They needed us.

They tolerate us now that the Lich King is dead.

After about a week, I felt okay enough to leave.  I tried to go home.  In retrospect, that wasn’t a good idea.  Elves have serious problems with undead people, even if they’re not bad undead people.  I’m not bad.  I never meant to kill.  I wasn’t in control then.  But people didn’t accept me.  No matter what I do, I’ll never be fully accepted anywhere because I am undead.

Kelanori and Terivanis had moved to Darnassus.  Do you remember I wrote to you and told you about the tree the druids grew off the coast of Darkshore?  Darnassus is the city there now.   I went there.  People disagreed with me being there.  I wound up in a fight.  I didn’t start it.  I found Kelanori and Terivanis.  Neither of them would even talk to me.

Jaeyn did accept me, without hesitation.  I decided that I would join the Ebon Blade and fight in Northrend.  Jaeyn went with me, and although he couldn’t join the Ebon Blade, we still wound up working with each other fairly often.

Mother, I was never meant to be a soldier.  I hated it.  But during those two years in Northrend, I hated myself as well.  I kept hoping something would end it all for me.  Somehow I managed to survive.

Kelanori began writing to me during that time.  After the Lich King fell, she encouraged Jaeyn and I to return to Darnassus.  I did so, but much more carefully than before.  I wore cowls and robes.  I began making frequent trips to Stormwind where I found some gnomes that sell engineering schematics.  I’ve since made colored goggles to cover my eyes.  Being a death knight and being preserved at the moment I was raised, combined with the fact that I wasn’t dead that long, gives me the advantage of being able to pass for a living person.  I haven’t rotted.  I don’t stink.  I just need to cover my eyes, remember to breathe and not touch anyone so they won’t notice I don’t produce my own body heat.  Some people knew, quite enough knew actually, mostly those that lived near Kelanori.  But enough didn’t know that I was able to go mostly unnoticed.

Earthquakes started, and a few weeks later, Deathwing emerged.  Auberdine has been completely destroyed.  There are changes in other places too.  Some of the changes have been good.  The Plaguelands are beginning to truly recover.  It’s such a wonderful thing to see.

I’ve met the most wonderful female.  Her name is Tathariel.  Her father is a druid and her mother is a sentinel.   Tath is also a druid.  She’s truly amazing.  I wish you could meet her.  She loves me for who I am, and doesn’t care about what I am.  I asked her to be my mate, and she said yes.  We live together in Desolace now.

I have not taken arms in the fight against the twilight cultists and Deathwing.  I’m not a good soldier.  I’ve decided it’s best for me to try to learn druidism again.  It’s not easy like it was before, but I truly feel I will be of more use helping Azeroth heal than trying to fight.  Tathariel’s father, Ornasse Evershade, has agreed to be my shan’do.  Terivanis, whom has only recently begun to speak to me again, has agreed to assist where he can.

I’m writing this while catching some fresh fish to attract the bear spirit.  I learned it before.  I hope I can again.

The biggest news is that you’re a grandmother.  Tathariel and I have adopted a baby boy named Relanos.  He’s about six months old, well probably about seven now.  He’s adorable.  Sometimes he’s a bit cranky but he’s still getting teeth.  I’m sure you would love him.

I’ve been wondering about some things.  I know I will minimize any absences from home.  I don’t want to be away from him for too long.  He needs me.

You were gone a lot.

Terivanis once said you were embarrassed about us, but he’s really good at saying mean things.  I guess you’re the only one that really knows.

I still love you even if you were.

I think I have enough fish.  Wish me luck!

Love from your son,


(( He folds the paper into the shape of a boat, and places it in the water before wrapping up the fish and making his way in-land. ))


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The hardest part to write down.

This part is the worst part to have to write down, my feelings during the time that I had no free will.  If you consider for a moment the fact that I did have feelings along with my own thoughts during that time, one may begin to be able to fathom why I have some difficulty with it.

There were also the thoughts that weren’t mine.   These were dark whispers I had no control over, but could not stop myself from hearing them, and obeying them.

I remember opening my eyes to those dark whispers for the first time.  Something I had never felt before took over me.  I didn’t understand it until they brought forth a human girl, she looked to be in her late teens or early twenties.  Then I was taken with the uncontrollable urge to take her life.  I remember lunging at her eager to do so, but inside I wanted to scream in terror.  I felt like I was watching someone else, but it was through my own eyes I saw her futile attempt to cover her head with her arms, with my own ears I heard her scream, with my own hands I felt her flesh as I ripped at it…  I briefly reached a state of satisfaction upon tasting her blood in my mouth and was at the same time sickened.  I immediately looked around for more to kill, suddenly becoming very scared inside.  What was this?  Why couldn’t I stop?  It must be a bad dream, but it all felt so real.

One of the two that had brought in the girl spoke to the other, “His thirst is strong.  Quite brutal.  The master will be pleased.  You could, however, teach him the joys of taking his time with a kill.”  He looked at the mangled body of the girl. He added, in a disappointed tone, “She barely screamed once.”

I looked at the two, suddenly realizing what they were, and then suddenly knowing what I had become.  I think at this point I was too shocked to have my own thoughts, I remember having none.  I was given armor and a sword.  The first thing they taught me was rune forging, then they had me practice with the sword.

We were not given breaks, day and night we trained.  I did not tire, but I did long for another live body to kill.  The first had been so invigorating.  I longed for it again. Every time I thought of it, I wished to cry out but I couldn’t.  Even if I could, I wouldn’t have dared.  During that first week of training, I had observed them raising new death knights.  What they did to those that had feelings and memories of their previous life frightened me.  While I wished for my suffering to end, becoming fully dead terrified me.

After a week, they moved me outside, to the grounds below.  There I was asked to duel other new death knights, to the death.  I guess it was an attempt to weed out the weaker ones.  I recognized one of them.  My shan’do’s other student had also been risen.  I killed him and a few others easily.

They began sending me to kill living humans.  They sent us upon a town filled with innocent civilians.  Men, women and children whom had done nothing to deserve what they got.  I wiped out entire families.  Each one I killed left me wanting more.  The whole time inside I wanted to stop.  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to cry.  I could do none of the three.

They brought some of us back for more training.  We learned to raise our own ghouls.  They brought corpses for us to practice with.  I recognized one.  He had decayed some.  He must have been dead for some time, but I recognized him.  I was asked to bring him back as a ghoul.  My shan’do.

They sent us into another village beyond the one we had razed previously.  I killed everything that moved.  I brought some back as ghouls and killed more.

Every kill was as satisfying as the first one.

Every kill was as horrifying as the first one.

I felt guilt, despair, anger at what I was,  sadness that I had died, upset over the inability to mourn my own death, sickened with what I had become, horrified at everything I did.

I wished for an end.

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Three Parts

Where to start… My sister suggested I continue to write my dreams that I have when I rest my mind.  Tathariel suggested that I write what I feel about what’s happened to me.  I feel like drawing.

Part I: My dream.

The dream first since that is freshest in my mind this morning.  It was another bad one, but much better than some.  I know Tathariel will ask if it was a good one.  I feel like I disappoint her often.

I was in Darnassus.  There was another death knight there.  She began attacking the priestesses in the temple.  I wanted to do something, but only watched as blood ran into the moonwell.  I watched.  Some sentinels rushed in to stop her but she was gone.  I wanted to find Tathariel to make sure she was safe, but the sentinels thought that I had killed the priestesses and stopped me from leaving.  I thought they can’t know what I am, how can they think I did this.  They took me out of the city, outside the gates and put me in a cage that was hidden among some bushes.

Then they weren’t sentinels anymore.  They were cult of the damned members.  I panicked and started shaking the cage door, kicking it, pushing it, anything to get it open and get away.  One of them spoke, telling me that I would come back to where I belonged, that I had neglected the master’s gift.  She started towards the cage, her outreached hands turning into dreadful claws.

I opened my eyes, and found myself in the safety of my sister’s home, my mate sleeping beside me.  I rolled towards her, wrapped my arm around her and kissed her forehead.  It is comforting to come back to her after having such a dream.

Part II: Quick sketch of a building on Mount Hyjal.

Part III: What I think about what happened to me.

My first thought, why me?  But then other things would have had little chance of happening if this had not happened to me.  Anyway, it has been difficult to deal with even if some good things have come of it.  I would feel more at ease with everything if I had stayed home.

I had never been very adventurous.  Jaeyn had already been gone for a few years when I finally started my training in druidism.  I learned quickly.  My shan’do had three students.  I was supposed to be left behind to tend to our dwelling in Auberdine while he and the other two went to the Eastern Plaguelands.  All the same, he asked me to attend classes to learn to speak common.  A month before they were supposed to go, he came to me and told me I was ready.  He wished for me to go.

I remember passing through Stormwind, barely understanding the language of humans.  I stayed close to my shan’do.  I was not frightened, but very cautious.  I was curious a little but not enough to stray far.

We arrived at Light’s Hope Chapel.  Our intentions there were to help the land heal of the plague that had not only affected the animals of the region but also the plants.  I was excited to put my skills to use.  There were paladins at the chapel.  They piqued my curiosity, but I hardly understood all that they said, nor was there time to waste with such past times as observing humans.  We needed to determine what if anything we could do for the plant life.  We went out to inspect and take samples.

It was that first trip, my first practical experience as a druid, that we were captured by the cult of the damned.  They wanted information on the paladins.  We didn’t know.  They thought we did.  I didn’t  understand much of what they said, but I understood that.  They wanted us to give them information that we did not have, and they were not asking nicely.  They beat us, kept us locked in cages.  We took turns healing each other between beatings.  As I was the newest student, my healing could not match the others.  I did what I could, as did they, healing cuts, bruises and burns.  We weakened as the days went on, only being given a small amount of water and food, enough to keep us alive.  At one point towards the end, they took me out of the cage and cut me with a sword.  They drew it slowly across my chest while demanding to know about the paladins.  My shan’do cried out for them to stop, but as he was unable to give them the information that they wanted, they did not.  It was then that they stabbed me more deeply and threw me back in the cage.  My shan’do was very weak by then.  He did what he could to heal me.  The other student was too weakened at that point to help.  My hope of rescue diminished.  Where were these brave paladins?  Had they not noticed we were missing?

During those days, I felt fear.  I felt anger at our captors.  I felt hope that gave way to despair as time passed.  I felt pain.  I worried that I would never see my brothers and sister again.  I feared death.  I was confused as to why the cultists thought we knew anything.  I felt useless as a healer, not being able to do as much as the others.  I felt fear every time I heard one of the cultists come near.  Fear every time they opened the cage.  I felt intense fear when they grabbed me out.  I felt guilt when they left me in and took one of the others.  I was scared, so scared.  The memories of that time haunt me almost as much as the ones after.  Almost.

The last memory I have of being alive is that of being exhausted and in pain, but having just drank some water after another interrogation by the cultists.  I think I fell asleep.

I don’t know how I died.  Perhaps the water was poisoned.  Perhaps they killed me another way while I slept.  Maybe I blocked it out.  It disturbs me that I don’t remember.  It could be worse if I did remember.  I should be thankful I don’t.

I will continue this tomorrow.  The next part will be more difficult to write.

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The Negative Effects of Death

Many death knights were raised from the dead to serve the Lich King.  I died.  I don’t remember it, but I know I did.  It is one of the few things that I don’t remember.  I remember my life before.  I remember the events leading up to my death.  I remember the things I saw and did while I had no free-will.  I remember wanting to fight it, the horrible compulsion to obey their orders.  I was too scared.  I had my memories and full range of emotions, making me different from other death knights.  Not all of them, but most of them.

I was raised too soon.  I think.  It is difficult to say how long I was dead.

My theory stems from my experience while I was under control.  In Ebon Hold, they were bringing in more bodies and creating more death knights.  I remember while waiting to speak to one of the instructors, I observed a female whom had just been reanimated.  She began calling the others monsters and screaming.  They set the ghouls on her, one of the instructors telling another that she was raised too early.  She still had her memories and feelings from her life.  As the ghouls ripped her apart, I realized how frightened I had been, how frightened I still was.  How much I wished for it to end, but how I held on to hope.

Had I been brought back too early?  I believe I was.  I remember my first memories as a death knight.  I was too scared to say anything, but they seemed to not pick up on that.  All the same I felt the same compulsion as the others.  I had to obey the instructors.  I had to.  I wished for it to end, but I held onto hope.

It would have perhaps been easier if I had not retained my memories, or if my emotions had less of a range.  If I had lost compassion, love, fear, regret…  Hope.  I held onto hope.

I know I’m not the only one.  Others slipped by with their emotions and memories intact.  I believe Aerandir is another.  He seems to have a wider range of emotions at least.  I have not asked him of his memories as I do not wish to discuss my own with him.

I deal with fear, anxiety, and apprehension on a daily basis.  Much more it seems, than when I was alive.

Kaldorei are born with a natural link to the world around them.  I remember being able to feel plants in my mind as much as being able to see or touch them.  I had less of link with animals, but others are stronger in that area.  My twin is an example of one that has a strong link with sabers.  My link was with plants, especially smaller ones.  Many Kaldorei have no specific link, and some even have multiple specific links, but they all have a link.

Death severs that link.

Nature will not listen to the unnatural.

Tathariel somehow believes I can learn to be a druid.  She has brought it up a few times.  I tell her it’s impossible, but she doesn’t seem to understand.  I do wish she were right, but I know she is not.  Death brings changes that are not always easy to explain or maybe it’s just hard to say it aloud.  My link to nature has been severed.

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