Sir Baron Monroe,

I have received your letter and have taken this time to investigate your claims.  I can sense that you are very angry, but I feel that your anger is founded in disbelief, at least to some degree.  Sir Enthoor has never praised the actions of the Horde, and I have not been able to find anyone that says otherwise other than you.  He does not like the Horde just as much as any other man or woman of the Alliance.  That being said, he also has not been gloating about the…

                The still chill of the night lingered on Riaanan’s cheeks as she moved through the padded snow of Dragonblight.  Enthoor followed beside her as they marched towards Wyrmrest Temple to the beat of their calming hearts.  What evils lurked in the shadows veiled by the night?  In this twilight hour little solace could be surmised making each breath a blessing.

                She never realized her thoughts had gradually made her pace slow until Enthoor grumbled, his lofty…

The dragon’s wings fluttered fervently against the wind, the sound similar to that of a flag in a storm.  Its bright purple scales were a stark contrast against the dull grey sky.  An easy target.  Riaanan readied herself, her hands in an offensive position as she began to charge her body once more with the electricity of the wind spirits.

But out of the corner of her eye the once-ready Enthoor swiftly changed his stance from offensive to what looked to be like tying a shoe…

Riaanan's breath was labored as she moved across the snowy tundra of Dragonblight.  Wyrmrest Temple was a looming silhouette in the dense and foreboding atmosphere as she neared, her steps cautious and her white robes flapping throug the occasional burst of wind.  She pulled the mask up past her nose in hopes each breath would ward away the prickling cold from her face, and she lowered her head to keep as much of her dark skin from exposure.

Trailing behind her was a roughly…