#eldre'thalas

[jaquitor]

Sad little starmage. He experiences The Horrors on the daily but it is a small price to pay for tremendous cosmic explosion powers!

[starweaving-fairsuns]

In honor of Mother's Day, here's an older art of Saedre Starweaver wither her daughter Ithyae, and her late husband, Draethidan Crestbranch. ♥

[wowlorecraft]

On the evolution of High Elves

"High Elf" as a category no longer applies to the elves of Azeroth. Those who retain the monicker are actively raciating, becoming what we would call Highvale and Light Elves, respectively. These Bel'dorei and Al'dorei practise different arts, eat different foods, adorn their bodies and houses differently, and are beginning to physiologically look different, too. As such, I posit that the term "High Elf" has finally and officially been eclipsed by distinct elven identities and the high elven category has gone entirely dormant as of this writing.

~ Lorekeeper Kalith

No more are the High Elves: In their place stand the Sin'dorei, Blood Elves of the Horde; banished from their ranks are the Ren'dorei, Alliance Void Elves. The Highborn have since become the Night Elves: Alliance Kaldorei, including the Eldorei or Shen'dralar, those who hid in Eldre'Thalas; in Suramar, they have become Nightborne, Shal'dorei, allies with the Horde and cousins of the Nightfallen and Fal'dorei.

Those Kaldorei who were exiled took to the sun and Sunwell instead. The story is well-worn; it is the small, yet fruitful, remnants who maintain their ties with the Alliance that we discuss here:

Quel'dorei, "Children of Noble (lit. high) Birth," made their home in Quel'Thalas at Silvermoon, with their spiritual centre at Quel'Danas, the Sunwell. After the destruction and splintering of their nation, three major splits happened: One sought refuge in their Lodges, the other stayed amongst the Humans and other magi, particularly at Dalaran, and the last went to Draenor.

(Those who made their home in Quel'Lithien have succumbed and become Wretched. Discussion and analysis of the various Wretched and Withered is to come.)

Dalaran, Quel'Danil, and the Allerian Stronghold became centres of High Elven activity within the Alliance. Those of the Kirin Tor and Silver Covenant both distanced themselves from their Blood Elven kin and warmly welcomed back those of the Alliance Expedition. Danassian Elves practise light and arcane magic and are led by Vareesa Windrunner

These Elves have come together and, holding true to their roots when first exiled from the Druidic, moon-worshipping Kaldorei, forged a new name for themselves, one in direct opposition to the Sin'dorei Sunreavers . They have found community in the Human, Gnomish, and other magi of Dalaran and other Alliance cities. Within their ranks are numerous Half-Elven communities, whom they publicly call Shan’are "honoured ones" but privately label Vor'dorei "Children of the Broken."

Danillian Elves, on the other hand, have found community with the Wildhammer Dwarves most especially. In addition, some Draenei have made Quel'Danil their home, and these Highvale Draenei follow the shamanic path first laid by Nobundo, learning to become druids. With Seradane so close, the Wildhammers, Danai,* and Highvale Elves commune with the Kaldorei and Worgen. Thus the Highvale Elves begin to consider themselves a distinct elven nation. In their concordance with the Wildhammers, their bodies (adorned with tattoos) become thicker and more stout, becoming the shortest and widest of elves. Similarly, these Highvale Draenei, or (*) Danai, come to intermix with their neighbours resulting in browner and greener, tattoo'd, and more nature-y space goats

Thus:

Kaldorei - Children of the Stars - Night Elves

Eldorei - Children of Eldre'Thalas - Shan'dralar

Shal'dorei - Children of the Night - Nightborne

Fal'dorei - Children of Falanaar / followers of Aranasi

Sin'dorei - Children of Blood / of the Bloodline - Blood Elves

Quel'dorei - Children of Noble (lit. High) Birth

Some useful Thalassian words:

Quel - High, Noble

Belore - Sun

Alah - Light

Thas - Forest

Danil - ? Peak

(*)For the goats:

-nai = "with / person of a place" e.g., Kurenai, Auchenai)

-dor = settlement (e.g., Talador, Telredor)

Quel'Danil > Danidor (in Draenic, a borrowing) > Danai

(There is no word for mountain in-game in the language, so I did my best with "Danai")

For the Elves...

Highvale Elves: Either keep Quel'dorei for its literal use of "high"/"quel," or transition to Thas'dorei (ew), or Bel'dorei, a shortening of Belore'dorei "Children of the Sun" as both a way to stay true to Sun-worshipping heritage, keep in allied complementary opposition to Kaldorei's Elune worship, and a nod to the new Night Elven home of Bel'Ameth. I convinced myself writing this: Bel'dorei for Highvale Elves

Danassian Elves: These are the elves that still 'shun' nature worship, maintain an arcane practice, and follow the Light. They are spread around, but their capital is Dalaran now. They oppose the Blood Elves but still need to sate their needs and thus still utilize the Sunwell as the font of power it is. They are Children of the Light, or Light Elves, and Alah'dorei or, for short, Al'dorei in Thalassian (now Danassian)

Danai - Those from Danidor (Quel'Danil) - Highvale Draenei

Bel'dorei - Children of the Sun - Highvale Elves

Al'dorei - Children of the Light - Dalarani (&c.) High Elves

[nixalegos]

One of Nixalegos' imps would provide him with a small, rolled scroll, secured with a piece of twine. The little demon would be more than a little shaken, muttering something about its contract and how direct interaction with an Illidari was not supposed to be part of the occupational hazards. By the first letter, it was clear who the sender was.

"NETHERMANCER-- NEW TARGET LOCATED. CLEARED OUT A MODERATE INFESTATION IN THE RUINS OF ISILIDEN, SOUTH OF ELDRE'THALAS. WRATHGUARD LEADER SEEMED TO UNDERSTAND THE TIDE HAD TURNED AND WAS ALREADY DISARMED/READY TO TALK BY THE TIME I REACHED HIM. INFORMED HIM I AM NOT OPEN FOR DISCUSSION, BUT THAT HE WOULD HEAR FROM YOU IF HE REMAINED IN THE LOCATION; ELSEWISE I WOULD SEE TO HIS DESTRUCTION IN THE IMMEDIATE. APPEARS TO BE MORE TACTICALLY-MINDED THAN MOST OF HIS ILK. PLACED SEVERAL SHACKLING RUNES AROUND OBVIOUS EXITS IN CASE YOU NEED USE OF THEM, THEY WILL ONLY BE TRIGGERED BY DEMONS (WARN YOURS).

I MUST STRESS HOW EXCEEDINGLY DIFFICULT IT WAS TO LEAVE THIS STONE IN AN UNTURNED STATE.

BEST OF LUCK WITH THE NEGOTIATIONS, MAY THEY BEAR FRUIT.

--CAEDUN"

Somewhere in Feralas

"Thank you for your complacency in this matter." The hooded man said as he stepped over the threshold of the ruins inner chamber. As the Illidari had said, this one had been of keener insight into their future prospects, they hadn't tried anything stupid, like an ambush. "I am Lord Felscythe, Nethermancer of Silvermoon, Loyal to Dreadscar." He announced plainly and with little fanfare.

What shackling runes had been set around the temple grounds were still occupied by the Wrathguards once loyal forces, caught mid act of attempting to flee, imps mostly, perhaps figuring their chances on their own were better then to be subjected. They'd be press ganged into the Au-Bound regardless. Or sundered into materials. Waste not. Want not.

"The half spawn didn't offer many options." Zal'gon of the Thirty-Six Strikes replied. The blue-gray bulk of the brute lingered with his back turned towards the entering warlock, its glaze instead focused on the banner of the Legion that hung mockingly against the center wall of what might have once been the heart of a temple to Elunian worship. The stitched together ogre flesh still leaked blood upon the wall.

"Would you have preferred oblivion?" The hooded man asked in reply as he unslung his weapon, an act that drew the demons attention away from the flag and towards the mortal subjugator. Nixalegos brought the heavy warstaffs spiked bottom onto the floor, dragging it, and letting the metal scrap and bite into the stone, carving the rock.

"I am just as capable of seeing the red glow of Argus in your night sky as anyone else." Zal'gon retorted bitterly. "Years without support in this hellhole of a jungle. Without materials. Reinforcements. My only entertainment beasts, and two headed dolts who's greatest attribute is how wet they left my blades." Clawed feet brought them away from the wall and towards the center of the room.

"Not even a month ago. My own kin, in blue and gold trimmed armor, alongside a rag tag group of mortals stole a keystone we held faithfully in this position for years. Betrayed. So they could coddle their supposed guilt, and assuage their thousands of years of fiery purpose could be rectified." The demon snarled. "You're free to take their skull alongside my belongings as a gift for my recruitment summoner." The demons contempt dripping off every word as the warlock finished the first circle around the floor, the pride of a defeated, but unbowed leader of demons radiating off them.

"That's surprisingly tactful, but I can't accept it yet." The hooded man said as he looked up from the runic circle he'd been carving. "I haven't decided if you're worth binding yet."

A beat passed between mortal and demon.

"What." The eredar blade master said in befuddlement. "Do you know to whom you address? I am Zal'gon of the Thirty-Six Strikes! I am-"

"I know who you are." The mortal cut them off and brought his staff back down onto the stone, the sound cutting Zal'gon off before they grew even more incensed at the mortals gall. The last of the three runes completed the binding circle. "I did my research the moment the Illidari informed me of your decision to be reasonable." He said, tapping the warstaff to the circle itself, empowering it with a gesture, and a sacrifice of mana.

Wrathguards could shrug off the chains of trickery with sheer will alone. Their circles needed to be plain. A declaration of sheer might, as opposed to duplicity. The glyphs minimal and true, with no deviancy. As precise as the demons own cunning was.

"What you can do is tell me a little about yourself." The warlock said as he took his staff and reslung the heaving weapon to his back. Coming to stand at the edge of the circle, a mere, and exacting inch, from crossing the line.

"Is this a joke?" Zal'gon snarled as his clawed hands came to rest upon the pommels of his two swords; Xulfahar, Blood of the Thousand Worlds, and Thulfgul-gon, The Hungering Steel. "Tell you about myself?!" It repeated with indignity.

"Yes, a little about your history, your skills. What exactly you bring to the table I can't find in another? Do you have any collaborators who can verify?" The warlock said as another Eredar entered the ruin, it's armor the same style and material, even its skin color the same shade of bruise grey, only it boasted a two handed sword on its back as opposed to Zal'gon's choice of weaponry. "Azatik." The warlock said by way of acknowledgement. " The others outside?" The mortal man inquired outloud, despite not needing to.

"Handled my Lord." The other eredar said as it looked to its erstwhile kin, Zal'gons jaw setting in frustration. "So you've made a contract with another of my kind. Is that supposed to intimidate me?" Zal'gon barked.

"You'd be the fourth in my employ." Nixalegos answered flatly, not phased by the circle bound demons growing anger. "Again, I ask, what exactly do you bring that I can use?" The emphasized on the word use not lost on either of the demons.

"I- I am a warrior without pe-" Azatik cleared its throat in rebuttal loudly enough to cut them mid sentance.

"A warrior without peer." Zal'gon repeated, suddenly realizing why the other eredar wrathguard had been brought in, to undercut the very notion of their uniqueness. "I have fought bravely, and with decoration and praise since before the birth of the Legion itself."

"Can you do anything asides fight?" The warlock continued his dry questions.

"I've led troops, and handled the logistics of occupying territory since before your mortal cities had mortar and bricks." Was the demons reply.

"So only activities regarding the art of war." Was the warlocks cutting question in return. The warlock sounded bored if anything.

"I..err. Yes." Zal'gon answered, who suddenly felt much smaller then before the circle had been dragged closed.

"Do you have nothing to declare asides your use as a tool?" The smaller mortal man said in judgement, the hooded gaze seemingly able to cut into the heart of the demon, and found it wanting.

It was, for the first time in over thirteen thousand years, Zal'gon of the Thirty-Six Strikes, The Last Scion of the Dark Crescent, Desecrator of Countless Worlds. He, who'd dueled the Slave Kings of Thuthea to the last, wondered what he'd wasted all his time doing.

"…I, no. I am in need of renewed purpose." The demon admitted.

"Very well. Submit your truename to me. You will either be summoned personally by me, or recruited to Dreadscar for processing and posted as guard until something better suited for someone of your skillset can be found." He answered.

There, a pause. The edge of the precipice. Clawed hands lingering still over the hilt of his swords.

A word that was more then any other word was passed between summon and summoner before his swords could be drawn. A nymic that cut deeper then any blade, spoken faster then he'd ever be able to swing.

"We'll reach out to you very soon." The warlock said with a too wide smile. Zal'gon could not BE summoned, without first being dismissed.

The other man'ari eredar unslung its sword.

[caedun]

"Lord Felscythe, I'm here on behalf of the Black Harvest." The hooded man said as he approached. "I'm be honest, when I was told it was to come aid an illidari investigation I thought they were joking. You lot normally play everything close to the chest. What am I looking at?"

Dalaran was, as ever, abuzz. Though the Legion's defeat had bled out the throngs of adventurers long ago, they had been replaced by the returned students of the arcane, their instructors, and all manner of magical researchers now focused on the threat represented by the Primals--and Shadowflame.

With the threat of the Broken Isles so significantly reduced, the Fel Hammer's traversal gate was only occasionally opened, and so Illidari had become a rarer sight in the city of magic. As a result, Caedun had drawn himself a small crowd of onlookers, both students and proprietors, that feigned busywork and conversation while watching him with a curiousity that was only redoubled by the arrival of Nixalegos.

Next to the forges in the Magus Commerce Exchange he sat upon a simple sackcloth sheet, arms folded and legs similarly knotted. The Illidari focused an intent glower on the neatly-organized components of some mechanical instrument in front of him, as though attempting to threaten answers out of the assorted pieces. His quiet menacing of inanimate objects was broken, however, by the approach and inquiry from the Warlock. He looked up, his tightened posture easing slightly, a short nod offered in greeting.

"Normally. But this is a special case, worthy of collaboration," he rasped in response, unlinking his arms and gesturing to the pieces with two clawed fingers on his right hand.

"I brought it to our own technical specialists, but we needed someone with more expert knowledge as it didn't match anything in our archives. I found a Legion splinter group attempting to activate it near Eldre'thalas; I decided disabling it would be prudent before I dispatched them."

Judging by the shattered but organized state of some of the finer component pieces, Caedun clearly did not have time to--or perhaps at all attempt to--find an "off" switch. Those two fingers crept forward, twice-tapping a single object on the sheet. A fist-sized, chipped crystal; matte grey with the faintest traces of fel green in its depths.

"This is the only part I am familiar with. It is reminiscent of Legion portal power crystals I've previously... interacted with."

He withdrew his hand and rest both in his lap, elbows outward at stringent angles, and returned his gaze to the Warlock.

"What do you think?"

--

((Sorry I took so long!))

[missiekatjie]

Meet Briarden Hawthorn (Moon Guard)

This is Briarden Hawthorn (Briarden on Moon Guard), my newest idjit.

He's modeled off Jason Isaacs in The Great.

In part because the idea of saying things like "Daddy's here to help" while healing a dungeon amuses the fuck out of me.

Briar is, or was, Highborne. He survived the Horde raids of Eldre'thalas and fled into Feralas after 10,000 years of relatively cushy lifestyle studying magic and doing mage things. When the Shen'dralar re-joined Kaldorei society around Cataclysm time, he was among them and found all that druidry business exceptionally quaint and interesting.

So he started studying that, too.

By the time Teldrassil burned, old Briarden had been starting to get nosy about druidic healing magic, and wound up making use of some of the things he learned while fleeing for his life a second time. He was wounded—suffering burns to half his face and shoulder—but the whole ordeal gave him new purpose.

This new-old druid travels about "doing [his] part" for the Alliance, expanding his knowledge of his latest venture, and just doing something with whatever time he has left.

None of this means he's grown less spoiled, of course. Can't wait to find some appropriately fancy clothes to put him in.

That last line? That's going in Briar's resurrection macro.

Last two images from Jason Isaacs News on Twitter.

[the-nerd-beast]

I just realized Suramar had a lot in common with Eldre’Thalas.

Both cities were occupied by Night Elf Highborne that during the Sundering put up a magical barrier to protect themselves from the outside world. The Shen’dralar and the Nightborne both sustained this barrier and themselves with a magical power source in the city. As time went on however, people in the cities began to be sacrificed for the “greater good” of  the city’s survival by corrupt leaders.

[madnessforesees]

Burnt

The sun disappeared under Feralas's horizon, leaving the land in complete twilight. The monsoons long-since moved on to other areas along the coast; the area suffocated by the heavy humidity in its wake.

Adrenaline pumped throughout Eritha's body—the ache of unused muscles not a bother to the researcher. Her throat burned from screaming, parched without water, and threatened to close given just how stifling the air felt. She ran, feet bloodied, until Eldre'thalas' ruins were no longer in her view. No stars guided her, no moon above to offer her respite.

Just blind terror.

They came there under the guise of requiring more information regarding some tomes, or that was the memory, when swords were quickly brandished. 'They' being the Horde, she later learned.

Her robes were stained with violet. Not of her own blood, but those who were quick to protect the other Shen'dralar from the onslaught. Those barbarians cut down her own people without any regard for life, and for what? The sake of conquest? A blow to the kaldorei people? Anguish bit harder than any serpent’s fangs—it filled her soul-deep and tore out a part of her.

As they fled, the orcs and forsaken set a light to the library. The Highborne's secrets, their thousands upon thousands of years of collection, gone like nothing.

Eritha's foot caught under the root of a tree, previously hidden by the overgrowth of moss, and she fell face-first into the mud. Her hands struggled and twisted impotently over the tree’s roots until they bruised. Tears poured down her dirtied face and for a moment, she swore the hammering beat of her heart would be her demise.

Even as she looked over her shoulder, she saw the billowing smoke and the low burning embers take hold of old banners, old books, and even older earth.

Even at the distance, she heard the uproarious and raucous laughter of victory.

[eepoxdraws]

"We once were the nobility of an illustrious Empire. Now but an echo of the past they say: lords and ladies of rubble."

Itched to do something related to the Highborne again

[kathrana]

Iartaria. Eldre'Thalas.

[tanefrun-blog]

Tanefrun and her mother, Elliistra, went to tour around Feralas, and received another history lesson of Kalimdor before the sundering, and the fate of the Shen’dralar. 

i love found family bonding let me live

[shylmenra]

RETURN TO ELDRE’THALAS (10)

Biting her lip, the demure arcanist takes a long pause, subtly attempting the quell the rising tide of magic that threatened to overtake her. Snaking through her veins like a covetous, hungry thing, the infused Arcwine burned her from the inside like purest frostfire. It wasn’t entirely unpleasurable; however--unexpected and inopportune--it derailed her train of thought, rendering her mute as the vast majority of her concentration was expended upon the task of keeping herself contained.

Even still, entangled in its grip, with it offered so nonchalantly there was the urge for...-more-. She could no more fight against this desire than she could turn day to night. And so, she merely nodded in agreeance with both his assertion and his question, holding out her glass with limp fingers to fill both empty cup and empty space for her receding voice.

It was of course, as the Archmage desired. One never dealt with a Whitespire without an ace in the pocket. The family was inordinately powerful; and even this graceful swan, Cyan’thiel Whitespire’s youngest daughter, possessed his fiery soul within her frosty exterior. He suspected she had no idea what really happened to her parents; else, he couldn’t imagine that she would have willingly returned to Eldre’Thalas. It was not the time nor was it his place to inform her, however. The Archmage had other goals in mind this day, and his ambition allowed for naught to get in the way of his aims.

With a flick of his wrist, the decanter hovered up from its resting place and levitated over to her trembling glass, filling it well and full again before returning to top off his own and return to its place on the table. Taking a long sip, he set his glass down with a soft thud. Time to get to the point, and quickly, while she was subdued.

“My dear Miss Whitespire. Your beauty and grace are indeed as it has been said, and your skill in magic is formidable.” When her answer was merely a quizzical arched brow, he nodded, continuing quickly. “More so perhaps than even you realize.” The Archmage pushed himself up from his desk, gave one firm tug at his robes to situate them, and padded languidly forward toward the scrying pool which exuded its light in the corner of the office, shimmering and quiet. With a wave of his hand over its placid surface, the illumination increased, slowly coalescing into colors and shapes to help make his point.

“You, my dear, are not just an arcanist; you are a -sorceress-. You are the scion of an ancient magical bloodline. More than that: you likely could out-do them all, should you wish.” Peering aside toward her, with a wave of his arm he invited her forward. The shapes in the pool took on the form of a delicate spire, spiraling in concentric circles toward the ceiling; the colors turned blue and ice-white. “I am aware of your feat at the Nexus with your ‘Collective’. Is it lost upon you that most who would dare such a task would have perished? I assure you, it certainly wasn’t the -human- mage who ensured that feat was successful.” Light gushed through the structure, pouring out of the top of the model tower; pulsing to the ceiling where it crawled toward the edges of the room, vanishing in seeking fingers of smoke.

[queen-ishura]

Character Idea

After Prince Tortheldrin’s culling of most of Eldre’thalas’ population, he places an embargo on children to prevent the pylon system from overloading again. A Highborne lady ends up pregnant, has the child, but sequesters it outside of the city and leaves it there (probably to die). A random Kaldorei wanders close enough to Eldre’thalas to hear the baby crying and takes it home, raising it as their own child. 

Behold: a Highborne “orphan” who maybe has a penchant for the arcane, but never learns it and is raised like any ‘ol Kaldorei. Extra drama points for the fact that the Shen’dralar have just rejoined Kaldorei society, meaning this child could reunite with their actual birth parents.

(feel free to use this in any capacity!)

[gale-heart]

Sneak

April the Twenty-First

I am now keeping a four-inch blade hidden inside my boot at all times. I’m still dreading having to use it, but I cannot afford to end up mana-less again without some last resort for protecting myself. 

I’m nervous. I’m actually shaking. I keep expecting that they’re going to know somehow that I was in Stormwind for a few minutes yesterday. If this stuff will satiate the addiction better than crystals would, then I suppose it will have been worth it; but if I’m caught...

I need to find something else to do. Preferably something that’ll keep me well out of Overlord Birds’ path until I know for sure.

——

April the Twenty-Second

This is ridiculous. What am I even doing?

Has Birds made good on his idea to keep me drained and powerless? No. Is there a magic dampener over the city keeping me from casting spells? No. Am I under watch nearly every minute of every day like Mythandos? No. 

Then why am I still here? Fel’s sake, I’ve just proven that I can easily open a portal and walk away from here any time I please! If I stopped quailing around that insufferable old goat and thought like a bloody mage for a minute, then maybe I’d have gotten myself out of this mess literal months ago! I could be across the globe and safely back at the Keep before anyone realized I was gone! And even if Birds did try to stop me--assuming he doesn’t just drop dead of old age in a year or two, after all--what’s he got that’s any good against me lobbing a fireball at his horrible face and getting the hell out?!

You know what? This whole thing is stupid, and I’m stupid for letting myself be frightened of someone who forgot his place in life centuries ago. Let him throw a fit, and let Findreth scramble around trying to find my trail. I’m done.

((The tail end of the paragraph smears out in a smudge of ink, the book being slammed shut before it fully finished drying. Writing resumes further down the page, more subdued than the earlier exasperated scribblings.))

——

I never left. I had the portal open and stopped just shy of stepping through.

If I’m gone, I’ll have no way of knowing if that man just lets Mythandos wither away. Or, worse, Birds might see fit to take out the consequences of my escape on him. 

I probably owe him better than that. Even if he wasn’t teaching me how to save my own life from Birds, between Birds and Findreth and all these Shen’dralar who are still happy to look the other way even after all this time, this is probably the closest I’m going to get to having something remotely like a friend for a while.

Fel, I actually wrote that sentence. Let’s just go ahead and put that away in things I’ll never say aloud.

The Silvermoon wine I got at the Night Market is no arcwine, but it’s hopefully got enough arcane in it to last more than a month. If he doesn’t make it count I swear on Elune I will teleport him over a lake.

——

((character mentions: @thorrson @yung-rage @isei-silva ))

[requiemofthefallen]

ROTF at the games of AQ opening.  I remember it getting very laggy that night, and then I got kicked off, and couldn’t be bothered to try and get back on.

[entropete]

Lorian’s Journal, 04/07/2021

"Ignorance is bliss.

That's what everybody says. I guess it's true. But I, in my neverending quest to bum myself out, am never content with bliss. I always gotta know. So I went looking.

Started with the Registry and couldn't find anything under the family name "Astor". I mean sure, I was in there - used to be a Magister, after all - but not even a birth certificate for me. I did find something, though. One note, in the Magistry's files, for an "Arcina and Sareth Astra." My parents names. Last name was wrong though. Still, the note mentioned they left a kid in Quel’thalas, so what are the odds? I kept digging. Stupid. Shoulda left it alone, Lorian.

The note said they left to continue their research with "the Highborne in the west." To me, that meant only one place: Eldre'Thalas, now known as Dire Maul. Sarnith and her sister Rosie came with me to look for a clue in those old ruins, and I found what I was looking for.

The library kept a record of visitors, and did confirm the presence of Arcina and Sareth Astra. It also confirmed they'd just come from Quel'thalas after dropping off their son, Lorian. So that settles that - my last name is Astra. Dunno how to feel about it. Will probably keep the old name.

Turns out my folks were mages that was extremely skilled in Divination. While I don't know what they were doing in those ruins, I did manage to track our lineage back to the Astralux family who lived in Zin-Azshari. They were also skilled in Divination. They were named for their vocation: "Astra" + "Lux". "StarLight".

  The Astralux noble family could peer into the Great Dark. And they did, like so many other nobles loyal to the queen. They heard the call, and called back. Those fuckers, those idiots, MY ancestors, helped bring the Legion to our world. That's the heritage I worked so hard to track down.

I stole the record book from Eldre'Thalas and snuck into the Registry. Stole those records too. I'm eliminating all traces of my family line. Even though what my family did happened ten thousand years ago, it's still best left forgotten.

  It all makes sense now. Why the Magisters never let me study Divination. Why I can pluck meteors so easily from the sky. Why that void entity was able to find me while I was scrying.

  I used to dream of stars."