Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Part I

It is at twilight that I begin this story. My story, a story about how I came to be in this frozen waste land; and my pursuit of the traitor who changed my life. I'll try not to make this as rambling as my travels have been these last few years. Although I shall try to include many of the fine people of this great land of Azeroth that I have meet on my journeys, through this land and strange lands where we have fought the taint of the shadow; in its many forms and guises. Who am I ? You may wonder if you are reading these words, I'm just a simple Paladin once of the Silver Hand and now of no group, save a few dedicated friends. My name is Graimerin, I'm not a lofty hero but a simple man trying to find the answers that have eluded me for many many season.

I was born into a lesser house of nobility in fair Lordaeron, the second son of a second son. My choices were limited to entering the clergy or hopefully getting accepted into the Knight of the Silver Hand. While I follow the light I'm not a overly pious man, I do follow the tenets of the light. So I applied and was accepted into the knighthood. During my novitiate I was taught martial skills, from the wielding of mighty two handed arms; too the ability of holding a enemy at bay until others could dispatch it. My instructors often told me I was stubborn as a rock and about as bright so I gravitated to shield work. Marking my spot on the ground with the power of the light in me and allowing my comrades to dispatch our foes. My training during this time was multi faceted and develed heavily into the arts of healing and sustaining my comrades through skirmish and battle.

Then came the glorious day when I was to be knighted, no longer a novice I would be sent out defend, protect and heal the citizens of Azeroth. It was at this time that a terrible plague descended upon my homeland. The dead rose and walked again as mindless slaves to the demon Mal'ganis. Hope sprang in our hearts because our Prince Arthas was on the field of battle. A fellow knight albeit of greater standing by birth and martial prowess would save us. I was fighting in what we now call the eastern plague lands when the story of horror came to my ears. We had been disbanded and named outlaw by our Prince, whom if tales carried on the wind were true then but my beloved city to the sword wantonly killing men, women and children; in his misguided attempt to save them.

I am ashamed to say that I ran. My order disbanded, a man whom I looked up to turned monster, my life turned into chaos in moments. Southward was my direction hoping to outrun the tales of horror that ran before me. In my shock I never removed the items that identified me as a knight, and I would get looks for the citizens wondering if I was another monster coming to destroy their homes and lives.

Rumors continued about a mission to the North where Arthas was to finally confront Mal'ganis. I didn't go as I had given up my allegiance to the silver hand by then. Hindsight now shows that to be a wise decision as none of my former comrades came home from it. Arthas did kill Mal'ganis but the cost was horrible. But his is not my story to tell.

During this time of my wandering I somehow manage to find my way into the southern human lands near Stormwind. Where a call was going up for people to help defend the area against the incursion of beast and man set upon destroying what fragile safety they had won for themselves. I answered this call as more of a way of redeeming myself for the earlier cowardice act I had committed.

It was during this time that I came to meet some wonderful people whom I still call friend. The first was a memorable encounter that I barely escaped from alive. I had taken a commission in the killing of trogs in and around Dun Morogh area. I was to collect their ears as proof of kills. It was getting towards dark when the light can play tricks on the eyes. I saw a campfire and was going to approach to yelling distance when a axe comes flying out of the darkness. I raised my shield to deflect the axe and when I had a chance to focus saw this enraged dwarven warrior rushing at me trying to finish the job he started with the axe.

Now I had battled man and beast and things that were both and neither. Never a battle have I had like the one that day. The power with which he could swing that huge mace was astounding, what was worse was that he didn't leave many openings to counter attack through. Having taken a few small wounds thankfully nothing fatal I screamed that I was working for his king, helping to defend his homeland. That seemed to quell his rage and he slowly lowered his mace, and very gruffly in heavily accented common said speak human.

This is how I came to meet Falromord. A prototypical dwarf, strong as the mountain rock from which he came; and just about as likely to change. It was obvious that he didn't have a lot of trust of me but was willing to at least hear my tale. After I told him of what had gone on in my life these last few years

, he challenged me saying that if I truly deserved the right to my weapon and shield I would continue on this path and do what I could to help.

He accompanied me back to the mountain glory that is Ironforge, where he crafted me armor that replaced my old and worn set. Slowly we began to trust each other and set out on the road of adventure together. Many battles have we fought side by side theses last years. He keeping me in weapons and the finest armors that can be made. Me taking the brunt of these attacks upon my shield and sword arm as he destroys our enemies with the whiling dance of death he creates with his maces.

While there is much more to my fine dwarf friend I shall let him tell his own tale of how he came to be on the road that night.

There are others of whom I shall tell you latter but the hour grows late and this tale grows long so I shall did you goodnight for now.

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