Bal'a dash, malanore, readers. Even as I write this, the contigent of sin'dorei rangers that I have accompanied back to Azeroth press us onward. Our hawkstriders - their feathers breathtaking shades of purple, red, pink and azure creating a multi-coloured rainbow of rippling colours - panting heavily, weary from the trip across Outlands.
Merely days ago the Betrayer, Illidan Stormrage, fell beneath the combined might of the Horde and Alliance; many adventurers and mercenaries banded together to slay the Lord of the Burning Leigon. I have no doubt that before the Blue Lady and the White Child - the twin moons who have been given names by the orcs which brighten the night skies of Azeroth - have set, and the sun has risen, old hostilities will be remembered as swiftly as they were swept aside to stop the demonic Leigon.
Nevertheless, I will fight alongside my people, but for survival reasons only. I have sworn to myself - and my faithful companion, the dragonhawk Emberfire - that I will no longer fight the Alliance merely out of spite and old hatreds. When you stop to think about it, the Horde is just another faction of combined races, seeking to survive in a harsh, relentless world.
Our Ranger Captain, a fierce, hard veteran named Thellion, has refused us the luxury of rest, until we reach the Dark Portal. The reason he gave our brothers and sisters? I recall his words very clearly, just before we began our march: "We must push to the Dark Portal; any time spent resting both ourselves and our mounts raises the odds that we will be ambushed," he'd growled, pacing back and forth in front of us as we all stood to attention, backs straight despite being soar from the countless hours spent fighting and recovering from wounds. "Though we've slain the Betrayer, pockets of his demons still roam about, as do Alliance scouts and marching ranks. Though we fought side-by-side against the Burning Leigon, I do not think they will hesitate to attack a lone contigent of blood elf rangers! And so, anar'alah belore; we will march!"
And so we have, and still are, to home - I roll that word around in my mouth, the very sound of it tasting awkward, the thought of it alien to me. I have been in Outland for so many months, fighting my hardest, enduring much hardship and grief, the the prospect of a true home is something very unfamiliar to me.
can sense the hard feelings coming from Emberfire, as well: Since I'd found her, nothing more than a dragonhawk hatchling, grievously wounded by a wandering lynx, we'd formed a deep, almost conscious connection to one another. We think as one; act as one. She has continued to grow in size, and is now almost as large as a kodo, and I doubt her growing will abate.
Well my friends, controlling a hawkstrider while writing in a journal is a more daunting task than I'd originally thought, and I will have to end this entry for now. However, I will certainly do another one, to both desribe the situation more clearly as well as describe myself to some of you who are . . . unfamiliar with me.
Until next time - al diel shala, malanore.
-Velirra Dawnstrider
