Some days have passed as I continued my journey to the Glades of Lordaeron. Beautiful landscapes from trekking through the Wetlands, to Arathi; my old home. It had been some time since I had set foot in the Highlands, from arid mountains to it's flat plains. Raptors, elementals, the odd coyote. I let out an audible breath of fresh air the moment I took a step over the Thandol Span that divided the seas and connected Arathor and Lordaeron to Azeroth.
In that moment, I thought a good moment while walking the trail across my homeland. I knelt down a ways from the path and took in a handful of dirt, letting it sift into the leather folds of my gloves. This is the earth we inhabit yet destruction for hundreds, thousands, even a millions of lives that had been lost both inhuman: the Elves, Tauren, Orcs, and the Human: our kind, the Dwarves, and the Gnomes is still widespread. I alone cannot prevent lives being lost as the land I've walked across is barren of life, as citizens hide and adventurers do in their own time what they can to help.
I carried on until I hit the bridge to Stromgarde. The castle-city I had frequently traveled to in my childhood that was some leagues away from my manor house was grey, and dull. As if the paint off of roofs of buildings and the colour of it's stone walls and cobblestone paths had been taken in a vacuum by a malefic being. A sight to behold in my seniority, as I have not set eyes on this castle-city since my youth. Every bone in my body felt magnetised toward the condensed mass of marble and stone, seduced by nostalgia. I had to look away, as tears filled my ducts and filmed over my eyes. I had to walk away, and continue on to my quest.
So we meet to present day in Southshore, where I write this passage and the one before it. I will admit, the scars of penance that Brother Crowley had bestowed upon me on my back are still sore, and my feet ache crossing multiple terrains. On the bright side, it had been six weeks since my last alcoholic beverage, seeing as how water is in surplus whether it be from lakes or waterfalls. If I had a mind, I'd say this is a sign of improvement. I wish to keep this trend going for the coming days of meeting my contact in the Glades to speak terms of my redemption for desertion.
The briefing of my task was simple. Report to a Crusader who was resting at Soliden Farm, one of the many settlements that have not fallen to the Forsaken Scourge as of yet and he will give me the details of my redemption. I am to give him a letter of commendation and absolution of sin which Brother Crowley had written prior to us meeting.
Slowly turtling my way up.