Journal of Sariella Sunblossom

Navigation: < | >
Dear Diary,
I write this, though I am no word-smith. If anyone should ever find this, whether I lose it, to death, theft, or forgetfulness, forgive me for what you are about to read.
I am Sariella Sunblossom. A Blood Elf, a soldier serving the Horde. A Blood Elf, whom holds no real kinship with her people, but whom would fight to her dying breath to save only a few of them. A soldier whom fights with broken Light.
I write this diary, because, it is the start of a new life. And this diary will mark it. The sins of the past shan't be forgotten, but I shall redeem myself, and I shall fight to save lives tenfold to the amount of death I could have prevented, had my will, and strength not betrayed me, in Icecrown. Determination is something I had thought I had known before, but I am reborn, with renewed vigor, with strength, and honour. The sensation is unlike nothing I have never experienced before. It is as if I am fighting to avenge the old Sariella, and it swells my heart, encouraging it to fight on. She died in Icecrown. She was arrogant. Foolish. Ignorant, stupid, and childish. Her heart was in the right place, her mind, was not.
I am currently within Orgrimmar, through my own will, and power. I am aimless, with no Blood Knight Order to devote myself to, no Argent Tournament to succeed in, no Lich King to anger me and fill me with bloodlust. This will change. By the end of today, I will find something. Anything. Today, I will trawl through Orgrimmar, for something. A purpose. Whether to the 'grandness' of their memorial in the Valley of Honor, or the depths of depravity of their Cleft, this entire city will serve me in rebuilding my life. One step at a time.
I have befriended an Orc, in recent times. His name is Gremkarc. He has aided me in my rebirth, filling me with his wisdom, even caring for me, though sternly and with a strict tongue. I had almost fallen for him before the extent of his true Orcish nature came to vision, still reckless and even violent. But all Orcs are like this, and I cannot anger myself toward him. The Orcs are, after all, why I came to this place. They value honor above all else, and if I was to find it, I would find it there. Or so I believed.
And I did.
The Ring of Valor, I believe they call it, is a large arena in Orgrimmar where they hold Gladiatorial battles. One versus One, Two versus Two, One versus Two, One versus Three, and of course, larger numbers. The matches are varied.
Crucially, however, it is impossible to escape. Once you're locked in, you either come out alive, or... less than alive. Death is common, but not a requirement to lose. I chose this place as I needed to numb myself to pain. Pain, one of the reasons I fled that day. One of the reasons I needed to do this.
I got out alive, obviously, picking up several serious injuries along the way. Pain, I learned, was my best friend. It told me I was still alive. That I could feel. Each time I was injured, my strength grew, the next fight, my sword slicing through the air with more and more truth, my Light more brilliant, vicious, and powerful.
Since then, however, life has been dull. I've seen Soraya, once or twice. She's as beautiful as the day we first met, but we seem to grow further and further apart as the days count on. Ever since she was demoted, and sent to the Vanguard, my Soraya has transformed. I barely recognise her anymore. I loved her, and I think I always will, though.
Other than that, my Diary, things have been quiet. My work with tailoring and enchanting keeps me sane, and keeps me busy, but it isn't what I'm born for. It isn't what I breathe.
My first entry.
PS: It's night time. I spoke to Gremkarc. He's offered me a place within his clan. I accepted. My trials begin in a week or so. I am confident of my success.