Shadows peel away from dawn
Mem'ries of the night that's gone.
First, I lay my eyes upon the sun:
First, all things beneath its light are one.

Light seep in and keep me pure.
Strengthen that I may endure.
First, I warm my limbs for what's to come.
First, all things beneath your light are one.
( Read more... )

Silvermoon is tearing itself apart. I should care, I guess. Ostensibly those are my people right?

No, not really. Not anymore. It's more of a ghost town that the city I now call home.

Let not this madness spread tot he Queen's lands. Just so: New Lordaeron is home to the dead and the damned. No false paladin has jurisdiction here. To try to come ( Read more... )

Likes & Dislikes Questions

1. What hobbies do you have? Fishing, cooking, pharmaceutical research and development ((read: DRUGS)), getting hopped up on hallucinogenic stimulants and going into the deep woods for a week to hunt game with a giant cat or wolf companion.

2. Who is your closest mundane friend? Describe them and how you ( Read more... )

Personal Questions

1. What is your real, birth name? What name do you use? Oriseus Lastdawn. It's the only name that I actively use.

2. Do you have a nickname? What is it, and where did you get it? Most people call me Ori. It's kind of a no-brainer. Certain circles call me "that ginger bastard" but it's an affectionate sort of thing.

( MANY QUESTIONS! )

He didn't come home last night.

It is best left to the imagination how he spent the majority of the night: what or whom his quarry was, how many he killed, how long it took them to die.

Annoyance had led him to walk away as it's done so many times before. He remained unharried as always. And in the midst of venting his frustrations in manners ( Read more... )

The greenhouse in Nagrand is a veritable forest of flowering plants, herbs, weeds, from common peacebloom to rare strains of icecap. Admittedly, though, he's always had some trouble with species that require high humidity; sometimes a journey abroad to gather wild specimens is in order. For this project he's ventured out into the water-fields ( Read more... )

(( This entry is written in a looser hand than usual, suggesting fatigue. ))

Thank the Light for Quinn. Talking to Quinn always helps. Before it would have been Father Lesiarch. Now I have to brave the nightmarish cesspool of escapist debauchery and deceit that wears Silvermoon's face to make my confessions. Can't tell if it's irony or poetic ( Read more... )

As the cell gradually came to accept Tarethayel Duskwhisper as one of their own I discovered that the day-to-day life of a Cultist is  astonishingly dull. Study the undead; listen to long-winded speeches that are half lecture, half sermon, all insane; study the undead more; repair and reanimate ghouls; brew serum to enslave the will and souls ( Read more... )

It is said that there are two paths to power: direct and indirect. One may either excercise one's own force, or direct the force of another. Both and their pros and cons, I suppose. In Icecrown, however, there is little room in which to be passive.

One does not so much as speak in a manner that suggests one wishes to be acted upon.
( I point this out.... )

These are stories that I cannot hide within myself any longer. They're poisoning me from the inside out. Nearly three years now I've held in this venom; I cannot heal until it's been purged.

When the Couriers of Compassion were officially decommissioned (an act I blame both on the machinations of the RAS and the insecurities of the Kor'kron) ( Read more... )