End of an Exile, The

'''The End of an Exile ((Part 2))
 * - by Jaero

4/18/06
July 12th  Two weeks. And then I will be home or closer to it than I have been in many a moon. Riding the South Seas with a buccaneer crew out of Lost Rigger Cove ain't something this soldier would have seen coming ere ten years back. Its painfully clear the influence theyve had upon my vocal wiles. Course, were it something I didnt take well to, they mayve left me floating in the Maelstrom.  There are clouds on the horizon. I fear that my messenger may have been intercepted before his arrival in Northshire. I digress that there is but one way to find out, and I shall one way or another, when I come out of the Vale by the northerly road.  I am weary of the endless sundering sea. I long for solid ground with which to plant my feet. I am worried. If Shirebourne has resorted to asking my aid, it means there is no one left to trust. Or none that are able to act without being espied by agents of our enemies. If Ive been called out of refuge, what does that mean for our kingdom?  Ever yours, Azeroth.  - The Orcslayer 

4/19/06
The silver moon shone faintly through the rain clouds. The jungle was alive with the calls and cries of both beast and bird, which grew louder as the force of the gale lessened. A tall figure looked up at the darkening sky for a moment through a clearing in the thick forest. He took a deep breath, and began to strike his camp which consisted of little more than a bed of leaves and a very small fire pit.  The lone warrior walked north at a quick and careful pace as the twin moons rose above the endless road of Stranglethorn Vale. He was mindful not to disturb the wildlife, least of all any ogre or troll although most of the nights predators were bedded to keep dry from the rain. To stray far from the path would mean certain death, even if he had a light to help find his way again. It had been long since any sizable force had endeavored to keep the jungle tame.  He came at last to a bridge, wrought from sturdy wood rather than rope and loose planks. He stood at the threshold, clad in his lackluster, weatherworn armor. Upon the other side stood a cloaked figure, in the shadows and alone. The warriors hand barely found its way to his notched sword before the cloaked figure put his hand up and said, Peace, brother. Sighing with relief, the warrior started across the bridge. He was met half-way by the other man who embraced him warmly. <BR> <BR>It's been too long, Drayven said the warrior. <BR> <BR>I wish you'd not left us, lad replied the other, taking his cloak and adorning the warriors shoulders with it. He was on the verge of tears, knowing that this was the closest he would ever come to being welcomed home. <BR> <BR>The warrior sighed and forced a smile, clasping his companion on the shoulder as they turned north. Crossing into the kingdom of Azeroth, their coming was heralded only by the still silence of the dark forest ahead.