Journal of Sariella Sunblossom Entry 4

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The Sunfire Vanguard.
These are to be my new friends, my new siblings in Blood. Most of them are Blood Elves, which is a refreshing change from my time in Kalimdor. I began to lose focus; I began to lose my sense of identity. I felt like I wasn't so much a Child of the Blood, as a distant Cousin.
It started when I was recalled to Silvermoon to discuss my re-initiation into the Blood Knights. I was lead into a small, dark room, and what took place seemed more like an interrogation, than an interview, or negotiation - they questioned me relentlessly. He was a tall Blood Knight Master, his eyes piercing green hazes in the poorly illuminated cubical, a swirling mass of hatred, and power. I felt intimidated, it has to be said. I kept my cool though, deep breaths entering my lungs, steeling my resolve. I knew this was a test. What followed were questions about my sanity, about my personal life… about my time with the Argent Crusade, and the acts that followed, such as my shameful withdrawal from combat in the Citadel.
He offered me a place back in the Order, refusing to grant me my rank of Master back despite my pleading. Instead, I was to be a Knight. Even worse, he forced me to join the Sunfire Vanguard. If I hadn’t friends already there, I might’ve been infuriated, appalled, but the sting of his demand was lessened with the knowledge that I had ties there. It would be easy, I had thought, to fit in. How wrong I was.
He stinks. He is a filthy abomination of the Forsaken, infinitely worse than any I have met so far. He is like some dirty mongrel, insisting on licking the faces of others in some twisted greeting, in some horrible ritual of ownership. I didn’t allow it. I warned him. I told him not to do it. And he refused – I was going to kill him. I was going to run him into the dirt, sanctify his bones so that he may never rise again, and spit on his grave. I fear he is to be the bane of my time spent here. He is what they call Alsuras.
The others are not so bad. There is Kerelan, an attractive, humorous, rogue-ish Farstrider, whom I have shared relations with, and there is Lineya.
Lineya is interesting. Normally, I would be angered that an Adept of our order would believe so little in their selves, I’d be insulted in the notion that they thought it was not prestigious enough for them, or that they were just “making do”. But Lineya is different. I am not sure why, but I feel an empathy for her, a sorrow. She has told me her pain, her anguish, and I can do nothing but feel sympathy. Her life and mine share many parallels, yet hers is much worse in many regards.
As a child, I received lessons via my fathers horrendous beatings, I learned what pain was. I learned the intolerable excesses of violence tendencies in men, even toward their own blood. I learned to be strong in the face of tyranny. These lessons served to fortify my resolve in the years afterward, to my rise as a Master. I hate that bastard – but I thank him every day, regardless.
Lineya has had no such fortune. The daughter of a Magister couple, they gave up on her after it was apparent she wasn’t cut out for it. She hasn’t had these lessons. She’s still a child, in a woman’s body, a cruel fate for any Sin’dorei.
I look upon the coming months with both anticipation and trepidation. May the Sun guide us as we chase a corrupted Seer across this Outland, may we make it back to Azeroth with minimal casualties.