Return To Stratholme
Previous - this entry written on April 19, 2006 at 3:30 am - Next

I've walked across the world I know
From misty peak to brine-drenched shore
My footprints sank into the snow
I kept at hand my blades and bow
Though danger lurked wher'ere I go
My boots will tread this path once more

Though elven feet were never meant
To cross the paths that I have found
This elf at least will not relent
Will follow roads crooked and bent
To guide me glimmering wisps are sent
Illuminating death-cursed ground

Each step is echoed faint but strong
As paw meets brick or windblown sand
My Baraq sings his hunting song
Though he too knows we don't belong
On shadowed roads where life went wrong
Where once-dead souls now walk the land

His fangs and paws, my bow and blade
Perhaps together can withstand
Those who haunt this ruined glade
Who trail us like some grim parade
And in cruel lines they are arrayed
Our lives the price that they demand

We fight, my cunning pet and I
Outnumbered but resisting fear
Determined that if here we die
And dead, we stare up at the sky
If we are found, around us lie
Proof that our death was purchased dear

Now back to back we fierce two wait
Expecting soon the end to see
But Elves, like cats, are friends with Fate
And though nine lives aren't on my plate
This time I'd not pass through Death's gate
Instead night's favored led me free

His daggers gleamed with magics bright
Poison-slicked, intent to kill
From shadowed vantage, cloaked in night
He leapt to stand firm at my right,
And now did elves and feline fight
With fierce-swung blows and deadly skill

Dawn's rays illuminated ground
Soaked in ichor, bathed in gore
My knees were weak, I tumbled down
To lay in stupor 'till the sound
Of gentle words brought me around
Awake, alive, though bruised and sore

We left triumphant and I vowed
That when my strength and skill had grown
I'd once more leave Alliance crowd
And walk with head held high and proud
Where battlecries had once rang loud
I'd make that deadly field my own

Come, my brave Baraq, we ride
To fight again beneath the moon
Though we two lived, others have died
I swear today we'll turn that tide
In Stratholme loss will turn to pride
And victory songs will be our tune!

...I know you won't give it up completely. Not just because you're as hooked on the game as most folk, but because even if you weren't, I'd still insist on dragging you back to go careening about the continents, wandering into instances, getting into trouble, and laughing my ears off every time you grumbled about elf-herding. *smile* Breaks are good, aye. No rush to return to it. But do remember that there's fun we've had as well as frustration, hmm?

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