Shellath

It was yet another cold and moody day in Deadwind pass.

Shellath, was sitting in what seemed to be a cave. Many people have desribed it as a "Goddamned shithole" and called him an idiot for staying there.
At least, thats what he thinks he recalls. Shellath agreed, but it was large enough to store large amounts of booze and various other important artifacts. Shellath looked rather defeated today. Wich is unusual. Often he just laughs, chuckles, has a drink and walks away. But today was different. He realised that something was missing. He didnt quite know what. But it was missing.

He felt that he needed to go over his life yet again. Or...well...life...

"Hmmm, who..eh..wh..eh..." Shellath muttered.
Somehow, he was unable to utter any sane words.
Shellath sighed slowly and grabbed a feather. He reached for his notebook and started writing.

Who am I? I wonder. It has been so long since i have asked myself this question, very long indeed. Maybe it doesnt matter..maybe it does. Maybe..eh..i dont know.
I feel it is time to straighten things out. Yes.
I am...Shellath. Yes. Thats what im called. But something came..after that.

"S...Sow....Sorrowstone. That was it."

Shellath Sorrowstone, i am called. Yes. Any titles?
No, no titles.

"Were did i come from..."

Shellath sighed. He couldn't remember. Anything.

"I remember...The Old Lordaeron. Timrashal....Miss Cybele Mordan...so...vague..."

Thoughts started to fade from his mind.
He felt alone. He felt..

Like someone was missing.

He picked up his feather, and wrote:

Who am i? It has been so long since i asked myself this question...