Dear Diary

The Shieldsongs of Arin Revachol

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Libram

A heavy leather bound book, well worn with age. A series of runes run vertically down the center of the cover, glowing with the Light when handled. Whether or not this enchantment is to ward off ne'er-do-wells or just to act as the paladin's libram, one is not sure. Regardless of the why, it is filled with spells and incantations of the Light, as well as the personal journal of one Arin Revachol.

 

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Since the day we met, I have been trying to live up to your example.
I am still trying.


Another uneasy night had descended on the Vanguard. Members of the Argent Crusade wandered about the camp, near identical plate-clad figures gleaming in the roaring campfires. Anywhere else, a quiet night like this would be welcome company to the fires that dotted the Vanguard's fortifications, but in the frozen wastes of Icecrown the bitter, biting cold was a constant reminder that cut to the bone. Some huddle around the fires, others in their tents, but all of them equally felt the preternatural frost that sat at the edge of every light.

In contrast, she sat atop a small tower attached to the palisades with naught but torchlight to warm her. Her helm came off to reveal the raven curly locks of hair that hung messily about her face, framing her worried expression as the wind caused the torch to sputter and throw shadows across her form. To see her there in silent vigil one might assume she was on watch, staring out into the snow for anything that may approach. In truth her watch was well over, and the sights she reflected on out in the snow were a far cry from Northrend.

Her brow furrowed with worry, a hard cut scowl causing her expression to become clear with concern in the dim light. So consumed by her thoughts she did not hear the approaching footfalls crunching in the snow until a familiar voice broke the din of the wind.

"You should be with your shield-siblings. Today is a joyous day." The voice said, old and gruff with the weight of years atop them.

Her eyes closed tight before her expression falls neutral, a blank stare out over the walls taking the place of the irrefutable turmoil that was clearly there before.

"I do not fit in with them." She replied, her own voice low and difficult to hear. The steps moved closer before the plate clad figure of her mentor finished climbing the wooden stairs to stand in the light with her. His hand came to rest on her helm, his thumb brushing the snow off the scuffed metal.

"Nonsense. In the Light, we are all brothers and sisters." A deep chuckle sounds, the cheery smiling face creased and weathered but beaming all the same. "You are no longer a squire, you don't need to carry anyone's shield but your own now. Be merry, take what joy you can in this moment." He continues, though his tone shifts ever so slightly from cheery to chastising.

"To you, maybe. They know where I came from before you found me. I don't need fake smiles and forced conversation." She says as the frown creeps back onto her face. "I don't need anyone else."

"You will hold your head high, you will hold your shield firm. You will live by action, and not words. The present, and not the past. We have been over this." He continues, speaking over her as if she had never spoken at all. He extends a hand down to his former student and she turns to face him. "Besides, the expression you're making would scare everyone off anyway."

She smiles, and accepts his hand.

With a start Arin jerks awake sitting upright in her bed, suddenly alone in an inn room within the heart of Stormwind. The wind had blown her window open, and the chill of the night air felt like ghosts crawling up her back. Quietly, she closes the window and stares out for a brief moment before turning back to bury herself beneath the furs. She shrugs as if shaking the memories off, thinking of the brighter things that await her in the coming days with her new unit.

I'm still trying.

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