A story about my exit from Crimson Alliance, my primary World of Warcraft guild.


We’re all exhausted. We’ve been fleeing all night and only now allow ourselves break from the wild flight. The Paladin is a stoic guardian, keeping our camp safe while the girl sleeps in my arms.

The assassins wearing the Crimson colors keep coming, and had I been alone I might have succumbed to the onslaught. I thank you, my enemies, for opening my eyes and making me realize what I can and what I cannot do. Had this been 800 years earlier, when I was still young and haughty, I would have been dead for sure.

I am surprised nonetheless, for the danger that we face lies in numbers and not ability. No truly skilled assassins like Farha or the Ratcatcher have come to stop us, but maybe it’s because they fear us more than we fear them? No. The Old Priest is smarter than that. He foiled my attack on his life and sent us running, but I worry not, for Solomon’s demise is assured as soon as his God falls.

It’s been over a month since I shed my tabard, but as it is with all those hungry for power, He does not forgive so easily. Or is it fear I sense?

I remember a day so long ago, when I spoke to myself, laying all of my life, my entire world, bare before my eyes. The list was started and ever since, They have tried to stop me. So far it has all been in vain, but several millenniums are still ahead before my revenge is due.

As I promised the Guardian, should he not keep up his part of the bargain, our deal would be ended. And I tire of waiting, so I added yet another to my list. But maybe He knows? Was this nothing but a ruse to keep my mind busy and keep me from gaining more allies? If that’s the case I cannot wonder if He failed, for now the girl and the Paladin fight by my side. But yet again, are they as all before them destined to die in my service?

The Druid girl knows of a portal that will take us away from this realm, but no matter where I go, danger awaits.