The following document is an exert from Janessa’s personal records. She has given these journal entries to be archived.
The First Night
I arrived in these Light-forsaken lands just this morning. My target is a Sin’dorei Blood Knight by the name of Aldus. Another member of the Silversun family. My Lord has had me systematically removing them from power. Information suggests Aldus is of pivotal importance to his organization and his death could destabilize the heretical holy order these so-called Blood Elves have formed. Agents last placed his location near the damned city of Stratholme where the undead run rampant. Perhaps he aims to cut the head from the beast and quell the restless dead at the source. Regardless, I am to kill him here in the Plaguelands and make it look as though he died fighting the undead. I approached the Argent Dawn of Light’s Hope, seeking shelter for the night. They obliged. I will head north toward Stratholme in the morning to begin tracking my target.
The Second Night
Nothing. Not a thing. When tracing the movements of a paladin, one would expect to find the hoofprints of a holy steed, but no. The only horses I’ve been able to find are from the patrols of the Argent Dawn. How does this Blood Knight not leave a trail? Does he suspect someone is following him, hunting him? Perhaps an illusion, something that would hide his movements from a mundane person’s sight. If so, I’m a fool for not checking sooner. Night falls and I have taken to the branches of a large tree for shelter. I’ve coated my armor in the puss oozing from the tree’s diseased sores. Hopefully, that will mask my scent for the night.
The Third Night
It was just as I had suspected. The slightest hint of magic dispelled the illusion he had left behind and I was able to cover much more ground today. I am close, I know it. There’s something odd about all this though. I’ve uncovered corpses Aldus has left behind. They’ve been burned by some sort of flame, except it wasn’t the usual holy consecration. Each charred corpse laid on a patch of fertile soil. Could this be the reason for this man’s importance? Can he cleanse the corruption of the Plaguelands? Unfortunately, interrogation isn’t on the docket for this one. His secrets die with him.
The Fourth Night (The handwriting for this entry is notably much more poor than previous entries. The text is hardly presentable and difficult to read as the letters overlap in several places.)
A dragon. He was a dragon and I killed him. It wasn’t easy to cover up. I carved off chunks of flesh and laid them out to lure the undead to his corpse. There will be nothing but bones in just a few days. I found his camp late in the day. The timing was perfect. I had planned to kill him as he slept, mutilate his corpse like a ghoul would, and then wreck his campsite to make it appear as if undead had destroyed it. I didn’t know I was sneaking right into a trap. When I went for the throat, he awoke. He stopped my blade and we struggled against each other until he managed to grab the dagger off of my belt and embed the weapon in my eye. I doubled over in agony as the tent lit up in flames around me. Smoke filled my lungs as I pulled the blade free and escaped the tent.
There he stood, a red drake, arched back with embers escaping his maw as he spoke, “I’ve been waiting, assassin. I am Aldustrasz and I will have you burn for the misery you have caused!”
I remember rushing straight into the beast, but everything is a blur after that. The only thing I remember after the fact is standing over the dragon’s limp body, the camp around me burning to cinders.
The sun dawns as I write this.
I will not sleep until I return to Alterac.
Did you know?
I know you read these reports.