Acele Walkinson has not received any gifts yet
Here stands a man that seems to be in his early forties, red hair shot with a few streaks of grey neatly combed with two braids on either side of his head. His eyes are a deep blue that seem to take in everything around him. His mustache is neatly kept, as is the triangle-shaped goatee on his chin. Acele, or 'Ace' to his friends, carries himself with a military poise; as if he had spent many years in the service. When his gauntlets are off, there is a golden band on his ringfinger, signifying his recent marriage to Seella Zakulrakkis.
A lot of things have changed since my last writing. Seella has given birth to a new baby boy. Our house is getting quite full, with Leitha, Jayla, and now our newborn. Oh and all the small animals that Seella has rescued from captiivty and neglect by the mogu and their allies. It reminds me of my childhood on the farm my parents had, long ago. The smell of fresh hay, sounds of the animals they make as they go along their daily rituals, and the laughter of our children as they run about and…Continue
I apologize for the late response to your letters. After recieving the first letter, I was not sure whether to take it seriously or put it down as a prank. Some of your race are known for such shanagains. After reading the second such letter, I felt compelled to respond in like fashion.
I am well aware of the threat that unrestrained bears pose towards the populace of Stormwind. I also agree with your hypothesis about the day/night cycle…Continue
A light snowfall was in effect, the flakes covering the ground and adding to the deep piles already present. The calm voices of the guards making their patrols was in contrast to the near constant battling that the keep encountered against the Scourge. Overhanging like a malignant vulture, the floating necropolis called Naxxaramas hovered over the field silently.
Looking out the window at the abomination floating nearby, Acele set down the reports he was perusing on troop readiness…
Officer's Journal # 521
Time. It's a unit of measure by which all other things are measured by. Our activities are
dictated by it, when we eat, when we sleep, when we work, and when we play. A common
complaint is 'there isn't enough time,' or 'I couldn't make time.'
Looking back on the time that I have spent in my life, some I see is foolishly wasted, and
others where every moment should be counted out like a miser spending his coppers.
Sparingly, with every…
The boots he wore made a sharp sound as he strode through the hallway and into a large room. It was quiet except for the
flickering sound of torches illuminating the place, and the soft rustle of parchment against itself. Striding to the single lectern
near the entrance, the man stood there. Narrowing his eyes, he could make out murky details of the shadows across the other
side of the room. It appeared to be a long, curved table carved out of marble and seated behind it, were…