A Sentinel's Journal

They told me I should write down my thoughts and feelings, that doing so would help me to sort out the doubts that can build inside. It's supposed to be therapeutic, and since it's unlikely anyone else will read this unless they find it in the wilderness, why not?

My name is Alleriel Starleaf. Born in Ashenvale, I have lived there my entire (relatively) short life, making a home in Astranaar for myself. My love for the forest would fill up many more pages than I have available or the time to write, so I will just keep it simple and state that I love my home very much. So much in fact that I joined the Sentinels as soon as I was old enough to begin training.

It is because of that choice that I sit here now writing this journal. That choice, as well as the actions of the Orcs, forever changed my course I suppose. I do not regret it however, I only regret that I could not do more. I am, in the end, a failure at the very thing I most desired to do; protecting my home.

I've been told countless times that there was nothing more I could have done. They tell me that I fought bravely to defend Silverwind from the Horde incursions. They say that I made great sacrifices and went beyond the call of duty in my defense of my home. Even so, I still failed. We still lost and many died because we could not stop the Horde. I will never forget seeing the Orcs as they rampaged across our lands.

I fell in the final stand against them. As one of the Sentinel scouts, it was my duty to help hold the line as we withdrew. My bow was needed to stem the endless tide of Orcs and their allies. I remember it only in pieces now unfortunately. I remember an arrow taking me in the arm. I remember losing my grip on my glaive as the limb went numb. I remember watching an Orc lash out with his sword, the keen blade cutting through my leg. After that I remember only bits and pieces.

I am told my nightsaber saved my life. I had always had a strong bond with it and with the birds I use when hunting, and the creature dragged me away with its jaws, even while it suffered from its own wounds. My companions found it dead beside me, and carried me from the field. I remember none of this, because soon after a fever took me and I spent months bedridden and unable even to recall my own name.

Eventually Elune saw fit to spare me, as unworthy as I am given my failures. Others say that I am lucky, but I don't feel lucky. I spent many weeks learning to walk again, learning to make use of my arm after the Priestesses were able to purge the disease from my body, and all of that time I could never eradicate the thought that in the end, we had failed and lost the fight.

Since my recovery, I have come to understand that perhaps Elune does still have a purpose for me. I have come to understand that sitting and moping about what happened is not Her will. She respects and supports those who put forth equal effort. We do not demand of Her, we only praise Her for what She has given us. And She has given me another chance.

And so I write now, on the eve before I set out. I am stationed in Darnassus, where all of the wounded were sent. Many of the others have departed back to their companies as they recovered, but I have no company to return to. I could be reassigned, but I know that I must first prove that I am worthy of the second chance I've been given.

Teldrassil is not very dangerous, but even here there are things that need looking after. There are Furbolgs that have become hostile, and an over-abundance of predator animals, fat from the plentiful game here. I set out in the morning to lend aid where I can, my new bow ready once more to protect the lands of my people, of my Goddess. I will earn the title of Sentinel once more, or I will disappear in the wilderness that I love so much.

I go without blessings of the priestesses, without the enchantments of our smiths. I will take just my two hands, my bow, and my faith in Elune. It is all I need now. All I ever needed.