People in this chapter:
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Blackluster Meko Justicelight Diryn Cherno Teraan Ragnorak Gnurg Economist Geoalex Intervention Bluebell Wilcox Crescendo Kindzadza Peithne Stray Discarnate |
Chapter 21 – The Story of Hope
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**Teraan** Morning broke on the small rebel camp inside the Ashenvale forest. Hearing a strange bustling noise in the tent near by, Teraan went to investigate the activity. Wrapping himself in a brown blanket he emerged out of the slit in his tent to a dawning sun and made his way across the path. “Cherno, what are you doing at such an hour?” he asked, pulling back the canvas. Inside was one of Teraan's officers Cherno, packing a small satchel whilst being fully dressed himself. Looking around, the rebel leader saw everything had been sorted away, rather than the usual mess it would normally be left in, the home seemed very tidy. It was clear he had been up all night sorting and planning. “You heard it. I know you did. The horn was blown by the Justicar. We must go.” said Cherno without ceasing from his actions. Teraan stepped inside fully, now crouching under the roof of the blue tent. His arm lent up to hold it slightly higher as he approached his friend. “I did.” he replied. Finally stopping to turn and look, Cherno calmly returned “Then you know what it means. You know what we must do.” Looking to the floor, Teraan smiled a little, “It means suicide. It means travelling across two continents to get yourself killed.” putting his hands on Cherno's shoulders he whispered, “Don't go.” In response Cherno simply shrugged the hand off. Teraan then retracted it back to himself and sighed. “Don't go? Don't go you tell me? This is the first good news we have had since...well since forever. The first contact from anyone friendly since the Theramore execution” he argued. “Good news?” laughed Teraan, “You think the last bastion of free people crying out for help is good news? Tell me. When Orgrimmar burned, where was Light's Hope Chapel? When the forces of darkness drove the Horde people from the Barren lands where were the Paladins? Even when the greatest city of humanity fell and Stormwind nobles begged at the feet of their enemies they sat and did nothing. Only now, when it beckons on their door do they ask for our help!” Shaking his head slowly, Cherno now dropped all actions to be involved in the dialogue, “Really? You have lost belief? What do we fight for if not for a moment like this? What are we doing here? Ask yourself Teraan, my friend. We have been at this camp since Orgrimmar fell, and what have we accomplished? A few raids? Lost some good men? I would follow you to the ends of the world and you know that. But I would not follow you out of the heavens.” Stepping back slightly, Teraan sighed once more before telling him, “I have lost nothing. I believe we can win just as much as you do. But I know going to fight for dead men will get you nowhere but a grave.” “Maybe” said Cherno returning to his packing, “But I will lay in that grave knowing I have done my duty.” Sighing once more, the leader began to rise to his feet, “I cannot stop you?” “You cannot.” he said, now facing away fully. “Then goodbye my friend. I wish you well in battle, do us proud.” Teraan said back. Pausing once more, Cherno smiled and reached round to face him. The two then hugged each other for a few moments before parting. Teraan smiled as he moved away to leave the tent. “I believe the phrase goes, come back with your shield, or on it?” joked Teraan before departing. “Then you better lend me your shield!” mocked Cherno back. The two had one last laugh together before Teraan returned to his own quarters. There he sat, as his friend across the way, packing to travel to the Chapel. He knew he would lose many soldiers, lusting for glory or following their hearts in the coming days. The call of the Horn was hard to resist, but something told Teraan to stay, that his role was in Ashenvale, not the Plaglands. **Ragnorak** Walking along the narrow streets of Stormwind, the proud Horde warchief looked down at his new citizens with contempt. Around him marched his guard, heavily armoured warriors with one at either side of the column carrying the Horde banner. Their thunderous stomping could be heard throughout the city as steel boots battered stone pathways. “I still think we should have remained in the keep” moaned Economist as he marched alongside Ragnorak. “I want to see it first hand. I can't see it locked away up there!” refuted the leader. Surprised by his apparent kindness, Gnurg looked at him and asked, “Their suffering? I didn't know you had a heart.” Ragnorak laughed at her ignorance, “Good one little Alliance girl! I do love to see them suffer, but this rebellion I have heard about. I want to see what the Alliance scum are doing to my city.” She shook her head as they continued through the passages. Every street had its own story, as houses quickly fell into ruin, families became homeless and communities fell apart. From the upper windows villagers threw rotten tomatoes at the passing war leader. No emotion touched his face until his company were out of sight. Only then did he smile as he heard the crashing of doors when his troops stormed the attacker's home. Suddenly, the group stopped. They had come to an abandoned post, a wooden watch tower overlooking a small bridge. It had been quickly constructed when the Horde took power over the city, and many of them were dotted around key positions. This one looked to have been used recently, yet now empty. “What is the meaning of this?” demanded Ragnorak, pointing up. Economist stepped to the front carrying a parchment, “Tower 7 B Sir. It seems the guards were...let me see. Yes. Paladins, we had a number of them leave a few days ago. We're not sure why, something about a horn I believe. But that along with Gorecleave's request, and some being sent home, our numbers have dwindled, not all posts can be manned.” “Unacceptable!” he yelled, “We have rebellions on the streets and you would lower our ranks? Man every post. Patrols on every street. I want them to know that wherever they go, whatever they do, we will be there, and we will be watching!” “Sir, if we antagonise them any more, the riots may spread. Right now it is small and concentrated, caution may be the best opt-” Economist advised before being cut off. “Nonsense! Fear is our weapon, and we will use it to strike down our enemies. Caution? Bah! Don't make me laugh. Have all soldiers ready at all times. I want men on the streets.” demanded Ragnorak. Writing down his commands, Economist began to look over his notes. The company continued on without the advisor over the bridge into the lush educational sector of Stormwind. Much of it had been burnt after the sacking, the Horde troops had lost their way for literature some time ago. The grand blue spires crumbled from the attack as they fell into ruin. As Economist caught back up to them, he found the guards had come to a halt once more. Pushing through the crowd he reached the centre where Ragnorak was inspecting a tavern wall. Its yellow texture was held up by long brown wooden beams, the stench of alcohol could be heard from the basement, a sign of open barrels. Above them, a swinging sign with the name “The Blue Recluse” hung off one hinge. “Is this it?” asked Ragnorak, clutching a piece of paper attached to the wall. “Yes sir” said one of the guards, “We have found these all over the city.” Economist pushed through again next to Ragnorak, “Sir? What is it?” The Horde leader pulled the poster from the wall and scrumpled it into a ball before throwing it to the ground. As he turned to walk out of the area the guards stood to the side and raised their weapons, creating a tunnel, saluting as he walked past them. Two by two they then followed him after he stepped past before all had now formed a column behind. “Double the guards, triple them if you have to. I want those rebels destroyed” he angrily told Economist, who scribbled down on his pad before rushing after him. Unnoticed to their rear, Gnurg peered down to see the paper, she unravelled it quickly. On the paper she saw a crude drawing of castle towers with a lion symbol drawn above it. She smiled as she read the words “The Alliance will rise.” **Blackluster** Over the coming days Blackluster watched as Paladins from all around TrueWoW streamed into the camp. He recognised some, bearing the colours of the Alliance, whereas others seemed to have the red of the Horde. There were others, in simple silver, or emerald green that seemed to be of no allegiance. As he sat on a stool outside his tent, Meko came to him. “You are summoned, sir.” said the shy Paladin. “By whom? And I told you, don't call me sir.” replied Blackluster. “Justicar Justicelight, in the Chapel halls. Come with me, sir.” Meko then turned towards the main building. Blackluster rolled his eyes, got up and followed his guide, “That's a big mouthful, isn't it? Quite a convenient title?” Ignoring him, Meko led the way to the Chapel, the doors already open. They walked through the ceremonial room into the back, with the long table where Blackluster had been interrogated. It was now well lit, even the chandelier was shining bright as a number of Paladins had taken to their seats. Meko directed him to his chair before taking to his own. Suddenly, Justicelight emerged wearing a long white cape with golden trails around it. In his hand he carried a golden sceptre, infused with multiple colours of jewels. His cape trailed along the stone ground as the room watched him take his place. Stopping in front of the tapestry, he raised the sceptre above his head. Upon his command, the room went dark, all candles were blown out and only the shining light from his stick as the jewels glowed. “Paladins of the west, priests of the east! Brothers of the north and sisters of the south! Welcome!” he announced. A brief moment of clapping and discussing went around, before a Paladin named Diryn asked “Yes yes, enough with your flashing lights Justice. Now why are we here?” Bowing back, the Justicar continued, “You join us in dire times. I am sure you know of the emergence of the Demons, the corruption of the Horde and the catastrophe of the Guardians.” The room then began to grumble in response. “However there is hope.” he pointed to Blackluster with his sceptre, causing all eyes to be cast on him, “A bloodline. One we may have thought lost, fallen into legend. But I tell you now, the bloodlines live!” Gasping could be heard, a now familiar response Blackluster thought. He looked around to see them all watching him, talking about him. Meko sat up right in his chair and smiled, and the Stormwind knight felt a tap on his arm. “Watch! This is the good part!” said Meko to him, with a look of joy. “Bloodlines?” replied Cherno, dressed in black and red armour of the Horde, “They are but lies and histories of ancient times. No one even remembers their stories!” Justicelight smiled back, and then directed them towards the tapestry, “Brother Cherno, did you not hear the song of the Horn? A song of Hope, and yet you have none? I shall tell you the story, the reason we are here.” “Stories and myths? I have no time for this! I should have stayed in Ashenvale, Teraan was right!” Cherno said before standing from his chair. Pushing him back down, Geoalex told him,”You will sit. You will listen. And you will learn.” causing Cherno to sit cooperatively back into his chair. Justicelight then continued, “Long ago, there was a war waged on the plains of TrueWoW, not between the factions of men but of forces of light and dark. It nearly broke the will of humanity and the war was nearly lost. Even Ahrin Qiraj, a city for the Angels themselves fell to the power of the Demons as the two higher beings battled for power. It is said that they came from Icecrown, a lost land beyond the seas, but they made their home on our isles at Blackrock Mountain. From there their corruption spread all around, seeping into the ground itself and through the souls of men. Even now, the area reeks of dark magic, twisted by the evil that once resided there. It was only when the Arch Angel Peithne took the power of Dalaran itself, a forbidden art, that the tide turned. At the battle of Blackrock the combined forces of humanity and Angels were able to defeat the forces of evil and push them from our homes.” Justicelight stepped forward, Blackluster then realised the story was drawn along the cloth on the wall. He began to watch it unravel, now in graphical form. Looking around he saw everyone engrossed on the sceptre. Continuing, Justicelight went on, “After the battle was won it was decided by the Arch Angels that they would need to put their faith in humanity. The war had shown the limitations of their race, and had drained their power. As a sacrifice for the future, the Arch Angels gave up their strength and selected heroes of humanity, their blood infused with the power of an Angel and the will of the humans. Kindzadza blessed Discarnate as a sign of wisdom, Intervention chose Stray to be a symbol of the warrior spirit.” As he said the last one, he pointed towards Blackluster. After a brief moment, the Stormwind warrior realised the room were now looking at him, realising where they were in the story he reached for his shield and placed it on the table. As it touched the wood, the group huddled around to inspect it, rubbing their hands along the gems and surface. Shortly after the break, Justicelight continued leading everyone to hurriedly sit back down, “And finally before his death, Peithne chose the Paladin Bluebell to be the child of hope. Not known by many was the greatest sacrifice of all. Peithne's decision to use the forbidden weapon was not an easy one, and he paid for it. Despite it dealing the crushing blow in the war, he broke the sacred laws of the ancient race. Upon returning victorious to Dalaran, the Arch Angel had his powers stripped and life forfeited by Lord Arch Angel Intervention. And so began the decline of the Angels.” he then began to take a sip from his flask. “Fairy tales and times of a bygone age” murmured Cherno. “Fairy tales?” asked Justicelight, “Yes, you may see it as simple fairy tales and bed time stories. But the city of Stormwind was founded by Stray himself, his portraits still sit proudly along the halls of the citadel. He broke away after a disagreement with the leaders of the original human tribes, and those that followed came to be known as the Alliance. Although it is not known even by the greatest of scholars, it is believed that Bluebell followed him. Her nature soon took over however, and she came here, the most remote part of the continent; the Plaglands. Light's Hope Chapel is exactly that, the Chapel from the daughter of Hope. A few followed her and helped her construct the foundations for our base you see today. It didn't take long until it became a beacon for Paladins and Priests everywhere. A few generations later and our story ends.” he then reached the part of the tapestry cut off. “So what now?” asked the now fascinated Diryn, “What happened to them?” Justicelight swung his sceptre around, “It has long been thought the bloodlines survived to this day. I did not believe in it fully myself, I thought only the one of Bluebell remained, although faint. But the Angels came to me and confirmed as I had always hoped. The son of Stray sat on the council of Stormwind, hidden in plain sight, he now sits here. Just as the child of Discarnate is within the leadership of the Horde council, still living.” “Teraan...” whispered Cherno to himself, looking at the table.” “What about the line of Bluebell?” asked Diryn, leaning forward, “I know what the rumours say. I also know what happened at Theramore. Wilcox lived?” Replying back, Justicelight sat down, “No. It is true that Wilcox was of Bluebell's line. But he did not live the siege of Theramore.” The room then broke into commotion before Diryn asked again “Then where does that blood lie? If Wilcox is dead then surely hope is lost?” A grim look overcame the Justicar's face. He looked to the table as the arguing died down to silence. They all looked to him for his next words, and he slowly raised his head. “There were two.” he went on, “Wilcox had a sister.” Everyone began to lean forward, but he seemed to go quiet once more. He stared straight down to the table once more. Looking at each other the Paladins and Priests became confused. “So where is she?” asked Cherno. “Tell us?” spoke Geoalex. Justicelight shook his head. His hand held up his forehead and his fingers stroked his eyebrows. His heart began to pound as his feelings became conflicted. Merkava then patted him on the shoulder, “You must tell them.” The Justicar sighed and rose up once more, he put his hand on his eyes and rubbed them gently, “To the east, the ancient city of Lordaeron. Within its forgotten walls, those that worship the dark arts live.” “Demon worshippers!” shouted Diryn, “Damn traitors to their own people!” he slammed his fist on the table. “Not quite,” replied Justicelight, “They share links to the Demons, yes. But they do not worship them. We have run into the kind that do and they are far apart. Nevertheless, I do not trust them. But their leader, the one that bound them into a single force, is named Crescendo. The lost daughter of Bluebell.” his heart grew heavy as he looked to the ceiling, beyond the roof and into the stars. Suddenly the room began to cry in out rage. Some began to cry while others shouted in anger. “You have got to be joking!” yelled Diryn. “The warlocks? The bloodline of Bluebell is in the hands of those...those...” said Cherno. “Sir...tell me it isn't so?” pleaded Meko. “Calm down!” demanded Merkava, quieting the squabble, “Yes, this is bad news. Yes, perhaps the worst. But that is not for now. You wanted questions and now you have answers. Look to the present.” Geoalex then stood up, “Merkava is right! A great darkness is massing at our gates from every angle. It is the real reason you all came, we must ready ourselves for the coming battle.” Blackluster watched in astonishment as the room went through every emotion before cheering together. They began to slam on the table with their fists creating a tune as Justicelight sat up straight, before standing on his chair. “Brothers! It brings me great happiness to see us together in these dark times!” he declared, “I hope our spirits are high in the heat of battle. From the north come the army of Silvermoon, their raids have been persistent throughout. From the west come the soldiers of Orgrimmar and Thunderbluff, bloodied by their battles against the Alliance, and finally from the south come our most potent foe. The demons themselves launch an attack, be strong and keep your faith. For the light will prevail!” After the end of his speech, Blackluster's view was impaired by the standing ovation the Justicar received. Cheers and shouts bellowed from them as they shared enthusiasm for the coming battle. Only the Stormwind warrior seemed to dread it, he felt he had fled one battle to another and the nightmare was quickly becoming a reality. Slouching in his chair he tried to close his eyes for it all to be over. |