Once upon a time

(( I can't believe I forgot this! Thankfully, I found it on our old forums...
Yes, I've redone it a bit, but not massively! ))

South of Pyrewood, before the shattering.
A human scavenger, possibly one of the refugees, scurries through the sorry ruins of what used to be a modest estate.
He stumble across a worn book, engraved with large, bold characters: "My Diary - Property of F. B."
His interest for what values the grey timber may hold has vanished, and he begin to read the intact pages.

Page one.
October fifth.

Dear Diary.
Today Suzané bought me a diary.
Strange. I wonder why she did this. She hates me. Everyone hates me.

Perhaps she was tired of my endless hunger for something to do.

It is nice talking to someone who won't bite you in return, for a change.
I can hear father downstairs.
I think he's got company, probably someone important.
He never lets me out of my room when he's got important company.

Have I done wrong?

Felucia Lillie Vraenesha Black


Page two.
June sixth

Dear Diary.
Today was weird.
Nathan misunderstood me asking for food... I don't know why he did, but he hit me in my stomach, and it still hurts.

I also like Suzané for being such a great sister. She actually took care of me afterwards, and made father tell Nathan off.

Nathan deserves it. I hate him, hate him, so much.

Suzané really made my day. I think I will surprise her with a flower tommorow.

Though, I honestly don't know why she is suddenly this kind to me.

Felucia Lillie Vraenesha Black


The following many pages are all gone, most likely ripped out.


Page thirty-four.
January Twenty-first.

Dear diary.
I hate my father.

It is my seventeenth birthday today, and he thinks I should be wedded.

Why would he does this to me? I am too young for a wedding...
And I don't even know the groom!
This is so unfair.

Suzané is thirteen years older than me, and she isn't married! Why me?!

Father told me that the wedding was in exactly one year, on my eighteenth birthday.
I hate him so much. I hope he dies painfully. I hope they all die painfully!

Felucia Lillie Vraenesha Black


The next many pages are either torn to shreds, or the ink has faded due to rain. Either way, they cannot be red.


Page fifty-eight.
December sixteenth.

Dear Diary.
Suzané was burried today.

I was the only one at the funeral. I soaked the burial wraps in the green water from the undertaker's office.
They say it helps preserving the skin.
I also planted a mageroyal sprout at the grave. I do hope it will bloom and thrive.

Now what?

Felucia Storm


The next page appears to have skipped forward in time.
Also, the writing seem much more mature, and the handwriting far more elegant.

Page fifty-nine.
March fourteenth.

Dear diary.
My father, Jeremy Black, is dead, along with Nathan Marwon Black and Luciph Storm.

I realise that you won't ask me how and why, but I will tell you.

I fled from my home when I reached the age of twenty-one (I am now thirty), because I could stand living in an asylum no longer,
and ever since, I have lived by myself in the Capital City, where I earn a living in the inn called 'The Strong Boot'.
However, since I've also been wanting practise in alchemy, I've 'taken care' of the male customers for additional funds.
You will be surprised how much men will pay for such a low-life service.

Ever since I first grasped understanding of the most basic drugs and diseases, I have begun mixing and matching things myself.
Alchemy is my life, now.
When I get enough money and enough expertise, I will apply to the Royal Apothecarium.

Right now, I am sitting in the smouldering ruins of my childhood estate.
Yes, I did it.
My father's cries for mercy... I ignored him with a stab and a slit. I burned his corpse, too.
Nathan too, I ended with a stab. But the stare he sent me when I cornered him, the grin he flashed when I ended his life with a knife to his stomach,
a death so painful, I have heard... I will never forget. That moment, I admit, I was terrified.

My husband was somewhat spared. Despite the countless times he struck me with a belt, or a spoon, or a fork, I decided to end his life in his sleep.
Suffocation can bring such a smile to your face when revenge is as sweet as it was.

I shall now return to the City, and make use of my father's money.

Felucia Lillie Vraenesha Black.


Again, the writer appears to have skipped ahead in time.


Page sixty.
Jamuary twentyfirst.

Dear diary.
Today is my thirty-ninth birthday. ((*
The weather was decent, for a change. All of the Lorderon is gathered at the harbour, where Prince Arthas will arrive any minute now,
from his excursion to Northrend.

I care little for my 'friends', who didn't even wish me luck on my graduation examination in advanced anatomy and higher studies of alchemy.
Nor did they congratulate me on my birthday.

I'm afraid I will not be talking to you anymore, this is the last entry before I will bury you in the rubble of my former estate, south of Pyrewood.

Good bye, diary. You've been my only friend since Suzané.

~Felucia L.V. Black.


The diary ends here.
The scavenger sees little value in the book. But nontheless, it's a piece of writing which can be sold.
He brings it back to Southshore, and sells it to a goblin merchant, and the book can now be found circulating the goblin market. ((**

(( *The year Felucia Black died and raised as a Forsaken.
** For anyone interested in finding it in-game.
I hope you liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have any questions, ask me! ))

Vraenesha wrote:

(( I can't believe I forgot this! Thankfully, I found it on our old forums...
Yes, I've redone it a bit, but not massively! ))

South of Pyrewood, before the shattering.
A human scavenger, possibly one of the refugees, scurries through the sorry ruins of what used to be a modest estate.
He stumble across a worn book, engraved with large, bold characters: "My Diary - Property of F. B."
His interest for what values the grey timber may hold has vanished, and he begin to read the intact pages.

Page one.
October fifth.

Dear Diary.
Today Suzané bought me a diary.
Strange. I wonder why she did this. She hates me. Everyone hates me.

Perhaps she was tired of my endless hunger for something to do.

It is nice talking to someone who won't bite you in return, for a change.
I can hear father downstairs.
I think he's got company, probably someone important.
He never lets me out of my room when he's got important company.

Have I done wrong?

Felucia Lillie Vraenesha Black


Page two.
June sixth

Dear Diary.
Today was weird.
Nathan misunderstood me asking for food... I don't know why he did, but he hit me in my stomach, and it still hurts.

I also like Suzané for being such a great sister. She actually took care of me afterwards, and made father tell Nathan off.

Nathan deserves it. I hate him, hate him, so much.

Suzané really made my day. I think I will surprise her with a flower tommorow.

Though, I honestly don't know why she is suddenly this kind to me.

Felucia Lillie Vraenesha Black


The following many pages are all gone, most likely ripped out.


Page thirty-four.
January Twenty-first.

Dear diary.
I hate my father.

It is my seventeenth birthday today, and he thinks I should be wedded.

Why would he does this to me? I am too young for a wedding...
And I don't even know the groom!
This is so unfair.

Suzané is thirteen years older than me, and she isn't married! Why me?!

Father told me that the wedding was in exactly one year, on my eighteenth birthday.
I hate him so much. I hope he dies painfully. I hope they all die painfully!

Felucia Lillie Vraenesha Black


The next many pages are either torn to shreds, or the ink has faded due to rain. Either way, they cannot be red.


Page fifty-eight.
December sixteenth.

Dear Diary.
Suzané was burried today.

I was the only one at the funeral. I soaked the burial wraps in the green water from the undertaker's office.
They say it helps preserving the skin.
I also planted a mageroyal sprout at the grave. I do hope it will bloom and thrive.

Now what?

Felucia Storm


The next page appears to have skipped forward in time.
Also, the writing seem much more mature, and the handwriting far more elegant.

Page fifty-nine.
March fourteenth.

Dear diary.
My father, Jeremy Black, is dead, along with Nathan Marwon Black and Luciph Storm.

I realise that you won't ask me how and why, but I will tell you.

I fled from my home when I reached the age of twenty-one (I am now thirty), because I could stand living in an asylum no longer,
and ever since, I have lived by myself in the Capital City, where I earn a living in the inn called 'The Strong Boot'.
However, since I've also been wanting practise in alchemy, I've 'taken care' of the male customers for additional funds.
You will be surprised how much men will pay for such a low-life service.

Ever since I first grasped understanding of the most basic drugs and diseases, I have begun mixing and matching things myself.
Alchemy is my life, now.
When I get enough money and enough expertise, I will apply to the Royal Apothecarium.

Right now, I am sitting in the smouldering ruins of my childhood estate.
Yes, I did it.
My father's cries for mercy... I ignored him with a stab and a slit. I burned his corpse, too.
Nathan too, I ended with a stab. But the stare he sent me when I cornered him, the grin he flashed when I ended his life with a knife to his stomach,
a death so painful, I have heard... I will never forget. That moment, I admit, I was terrified.

My husband was somewhat spared. Despite the countless times he struck me with a belt, or a spoon, or a fork, I decided to end his life in his sleep.
Suffocation can bring such a smile to your face when revenge is as sweet as it was.

I shall now return to the City, and make use of my father's money.

Felucia Lillie Vraenesha Black.


Again, the writer appears to have skipped ahead in time.


Page sixty.
Jamuary twentyfirst.

Dear diary.
Today is my thirty-ninth birthday. ((*
The weather was decent, for a change. All of the Lorderon is gathered at the harbour, where Prince Arthas will arrive any minute now,
from his excursion to Northrend.

I care little for my 'friends', who didn't even wish me luck on my graduation examination in advanced anatomy and higher studies of alchemy.
Nor did they congratulate me on my birthday.

I'm afraid I will not be talking to you anymore, this is the last entry before I will bury you in the rubble of my former estate, south of Pyrewood.

Good bye, diary. You've been my only friend since Suzané.

~Felucia L.V. Black.


The diary ends here.
The scavenger sees little value in the book. But nontheless, it's a piece of writing which can be sold.
He brings it back to Southshore, and sells it to a goblin merchant, and the book can now be found circulating the goblin market. ((**

(( *The year Felucia Black died and raised as a Forsaken.
** For anyone interested in finding it in-game.
I hope you liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have any questions, ask me! ))

Oh! Oh! Can I? Can I? (^^,)

(( A sort of mini-project I've started with Geri. It's not something solid, but I'll update it regularly. Basically, it consists of pages that have appeared at random spots, from the diary.

Page forty-four.
November twenty-ninth.

Dear diary.

I am struck with a severe headache, and my cheek is stinging badly.
I am not sure what happened, but I remember seeing Nathan. I think he decided to drop by for another "beat-up" session. I must have angered him, somehow...
But that is not the worst of it.
He thought it hilarious that I was working as a bar wench, and decided to bring by some meager peasant.
I hate him to the extreme.

Felucia Lillie Vraenesha Black.