| rdfs:comment | - Golden. Silvermoon City had always been golden and red. Magnificient and beautiful, peaceful, magical. In the distance, a lyre was played, a sad longing tune which awakened the yearnings of one’s heart and soul. Except, he had no heart. Akeion smiled bitterly as he turned from the tune and occupied his mind with something else. There were no hordes of followers, no servants, no slaves. Only Akeion Greythorn, a cranky priest swallowed in shadow, wandering aimlessly in the city. Oh, and an orc that trotted behind him, grumbling from time to time. Although he snapped and teased the elf whenever given a chance, Nehjo seemed a little restless. The priest had been unusually quiet and introverted lately, barely giving any responses to serious inquiries and normally just dismissing the teasing wit
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| abstract | - Golden. Silvermoon City had always been golden and red. Magnificient and beautiful, peaceful, magical. In the distance, a lyre was played, a sad longing tune which awakened the yearnings of one’s heart and soul. Except, he had no heart. Akeion smiled bitterly as he turned from the tune and occupied his mind with something else. There were no hordes of followers, no servants, no slaves. Only Akeion Greythorn, a cranky priest swallowed in shadow, wandering aimlessly in the city. Oh, and an orc that trotted behind him, grumbling from time to time. Although he snapped and teased the elf whenever given a chance, Nehjo seemed a little restless. The priest had been unusually quiet and introverted lately, barely giving any responses to serious inquiries and normally just dismissing the teasing with a blank face. Noone understood what was happening with him, perhaps these visions he was having were finally getting to him and in his mind, Akeion was slipping into the darkness of his paranoia and madness. “At least tell me where we goin’, huh?” the orc finally gave in, after passing by the Royal Exchange auctionhouse for the fourth time. “I could then just give ye a push when we are at the right turn. Saves us from goin around in circles like a pair of lunatics.” Akeion stopped and looked at the orc with some confusion. What was he doing here, again? A moment or two later, he remembered. Ah yes, the orc… His bodyguard and strangely enough, a friend. He sighed and gave a shrug. “You can go have a rest for the night,” he spoke, voice hollow and dismissive. “Surely I am safe enough within the walls of the city?” At that, he sounded amused. It was among the people, in crowded places, that the most gruesome of all crimes happened. But Nehjo did not need to know that. Ake was fully capable of defending himself until help arrived, anyway. “Meh. Might as well walk around like an idiot,” the orc insisted and muttered as he stuffed his heavy shield away, lighter now and maybe just maybe a little more cheerful. Not that his company was a sunshine or anything. The dreams had changed lately. Sunwell now varied with Moonwells, dark and damp, shiny and blue. Markings on the faces, claws, snarls and fangs… Everything was confusing. Like always. He knew he had to dip into the moonwells to empower their own strength, maybe to restore the Sunwell which had been many a times stronger and enlightening than a mere moonwell. His agents had snuck into Kal’dorei villages and cities and taken the samples. It hadn’t been a violation of their people, he had not told his spies to attack any of them. And yet now they haunted his dreams. And when something slipped into a vision, it usually had a meaning. Akeion had to go on. HAD to see it through. The Prophecy would come true and he would be there when it happened. Only then could he rest his relentless drive. He could could rest. If eternally or simply retreating into a quiet life, remained to be seen. Suddenly, his head was full of voices. Cries of anger and rage, whispers that alternated with screams. Grabbing his head, Akeion groaned, gasping in pain and fell to his knees. “"We are… guardians….. Hyjal!" It rushed through his mind like a searing torture, ripping at nerves with cruel pleasure. He rocked on his knees, weeping quietly. He had had visions during waking hours before but none so strong it would cut his flesh. Hatred so raw it reached out of the spirit world and pained him in broad daylight, in his own city. “What the hell’s wrong with ye now?” Nehjo stood closer and leaned down to pull the shaking elf to his feet only to have him fall over again. The warrior was confused, glancing around at random passers wondering just how idiotic this all looked. Faces, angry faces, hate and pain flew through Akeion as he was caught off guard in such a indignant manner. It was maddening and not really possible. And probably just a silly leftover part of a vision he had yet to have. When asleep, he would be safe and wouldn’t hurt so much. In his awake state, it was horrible. Grasping Nehjo’s armoured hand, he whispered. “Help me get in.” And the orc did. Hauled the elf over his shoulder like a twig and brought him inside. The damned pinky was becoming crazier by the day, he swore. Somewhere, a lyre was played, a sad and lonely tune full of agony and bad memories. /Akeion
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