The soft Highlands breeze stirred his hair, as he gazed upon the vast and now war-torn lands of Arathi from the heights of Thoradin's Wall. During his childhood, he had always enjoyed climbing the Wall with his friends, trying to avoid the crumbling and weakened stones. From up there, they could see both Arathi and Hillsbrad, and far in the distance, Alterac Mountains. There, they felt like kings, and Stromgarde was theirs.
Now, he was alone, a humble servant of the Holy Light, with no childhood friends to accompany him. Argheros Irondawn carried five golden tokens attached to his holy armor, one for each of his fallen comrades. Erick, Alfonse, Maya, Elyna and Rose followed him everywhere when they were kids and the kingdom of Stromgarde was vast and powerful.
They were born during the first war against the orcs, and they grew up during the cruelties of the second war. When the merciless Horde assaulted the northern kingdoms, the Alliance rose up to defend their lands, including Stromgarde. Orcs, trolls, ogres, even goblins and dragons, all rallied together to bring human civilization to the ground. An army of monsters and a war from the most horrible nightmares.
Eventually, the Alliance prevailed over the Horde, but Elyna and Rose didn't survive the orcish savagery. Even though the war was over, a group of pillagers raided their village before they could realize what was happening, and there were no survivors left. Argheros tried not to think that the orcs may have eaten them; but that thought still haunted his dreams, after so many years.
In spite of the Internment Camps, peace was far from being achieved. He and his remaining friends grew up in the middle of a political conflict with Stromgarde's neighboring kingdoms for the control over Alterac, until this city eventually fell and the infamous Syndicate arose from the ranks of their people. Erick lost his life to their assassins, during one of his first patrols as a young soldier trainee.
Years later, the coming of the Scourge hit the northern kingdoms. They weren't ready for such enemy, and they lost Maya to the Undead just before Arthas departed to the cold wastes of Northrend. They were wise enough to burn her body, and wise enough to follow Jaina to the west instead of Arthas to the north.
Alfonse and Argheros helped in founding the first human settlements in Kalimdor. They were young footmen, but they fought side by side with the most hardened veterans against the new Horde. It was during that expedition that they met Syla, a bold Kul Tiras sailor with a talent for stealth and subtlety. She was incredibly resourceful, and reminded them of brave Maya.
As they followed Jaina to the north of Kalimdor, a night elven arrow reached Alfonse's heart before humans and night elves became allies. Syla and Argheros buried him in the forests of Ashenvale, under an ancient tree that now, after all those years, engulfed the grave with its roots.
Argheros had no family either. His parents, two proud knights from Stromgarde, had fallen fighting the orcs. His mother survived long enough to accompany the Sons of Lothar to Outland, where she perished heroically. He had found new brothers and sisters within the Church of the Holy Light, a faction he joined after the Battle at Mount Hyjal. He invited Syla to do the same, but she refused energetically.
He had fought countless battles, countless enemies, and sometimes all he had by his side was the Holy Light and the memory of his dearest friends. He gave a long, weary sigh. He took out his backpack, and from it he pulled out a tablecloth and six small cups. He settled them on the floor and then took out a bottle of holy water and a candle. He poured the sacred liquid into the mugs and uttered a prayer as he lit the wick. He grabbed one of the cups and lifted it into the air.
"To you, my comrades", he toasted. "May the Light hold your spirits."
He was about to drink, but instead he remained staring at the horizon. Just as he raised the mug, he saw far in the distance a group of dark clouds amassing together to the west, near the shores of Hillsbrad Foothills. Argheros narrowed his eyes, since it was unlikely that a common storm gathered so quickly. He drank to the honor of his fallen friends, and packed his things up with haste. The Paladin had to investigate what was going on, as thunders started to boom across the Highlands.
He descended from the wall with feline grace in spite of his heavy armor. As a warrior of the Light, he was used to moving around with a full plate, filled with sigils and commendations. At the feet of the ruined and ancient fortification, his escort was awaiting him. He sighed deeply; he needed no escort, but the protocol insisted he had to move around with three knights. Their captain, a bright young woman with remarkable martial skills, approached him hastily. But Argheros mounted his horse with haste and rushed to the west.
"Commander! Commander! Wait for us!", she yelled desperately, with the wind stirring both her short blonde hair and her golden Arathor tabard.
"There's no time, Gwenthrith! This may be an attack from our enemy and we must make sure we neutralize it! I'll go ahead and get there first!"
"But, Commander, we are tasked to escort you!", she tried to reply, but Argheros could barely listen to her.
He had seen storms forming out of nowhere before, just like this one, and they never boded good news. Even his trusty charger neighed nervously, a bad omen in most scenarios. What was even worst, the tempest seemed to be growing in size, getting darker and darker as bolts of lightning flashed violently in the sky.
He forced his horse to run faster, for it was clear that this was no normal tempest. The Alliance had so many enemies, and the recent years had proven that Azeroth was not to be at peace. Every foe they vanquished made room for another threat; there was never time to rest, to rebuild, to heal. So he had to be vigilant at all times. It was his duty as a Paladin, as a member of the Silver Hand, as a member of the Alliance and as an Arathorian.
This renewed war with the Horde was no surprise to him, after all these years, but it was truly a shock he hadn't expected. They had just defeated the Burning Legion, stopping what could have been the most dire and formidable invasion to Azeroth ever. And yet, there they were, killing each other at the very doorstep of his most beloved city. Argheros had always dreamed of returning Stromgarde to its former glory, but he had to admit he wasn't enjoying the importance that the arathorian capital had acquired.
There were many threats between Thoradin's Wall and his destination, but his righteous and mighty aura was intimidating enough to keep him safe from all harm as he raced through the Foothills. The sky was so dark it seemed that night had fallen upon them instantly. It reminded him of the methods used by the Twilight's Hammer, but it was impossible that this weakened faction was behind such powerful spell. Unless they had spent all these years to return to their former might...
When he reached the coastline, it started to rain, heavily and intensely. In no time, his copper hair and his black and white armor were soaked, and the terrain became muddy and unstable for his mount. He dismounted and sent his loyal horse back home, as he journeyed to the eye of the storm alone.
He wasn't far from the center of the maelstrom, but he would still have to walk a long stretch. It did not matter: no sacrifice was too big if it meant the safety of his beloved home. He asked for the Light's protection and guidance, and a Holy strength filled his body. The most roaring thunders he had ever heard echoed through the Foothills, but his resolve was unwavering.
Eventually, he reached a spot in the shore where he could gaze, not so far in the distance, a small piece of land with a shadowy figure at its center. He grabbed his greatsword instantly and proceeded to walk towards the small island. He had expected an encampment or a party of spellcasters, but there was only a bulky hooded figure before him, sitting down calmly in the ground.
"Identify yourself!", the Paladin demanded before reaching his foe; there was a chance that the stranger would electrocute the water with powerful lightnings, but Argheros was ready to shield himself with the Light if any of that happened. "Cease the storm, or I'll be forced to put you down!"
"I'd rather you didn't do that", the figure answered with a clear, deep orcish voice, standing up slowly. Argheros lowered his guard when the orc removed his hood, as he would recognize that scarred face everywhere. "We need to talk, old friend."
* * * * *
"Quickly! Quickly, please! He went alone, and it may be more dangerous than what he expects", captain Gwenthrith yelled at the center of the camp they had mounted south of Durnholde Ruins. "I need any effective knights to follow me with haste!"
"Gwen, where's Commander Irondawn?", a sweet male voice asked at her back. That gilnean accent, that spectral voice tone; it could only be...
"Commander Donovan", she saluted, swallowing nervously; even at his human form he gave her the chills.
"It's Razorhowl, dear, don't be afraid of calling me that way", he politely corrected her. "As I already told you, Evarist Donovan died long time ago. I ask you again, child, where's Argheros?"
"He rushed towards the strange storm, Commander. I couldn't stop him... I wanted to follow him, but it seemed so reckless, considering our current situation with the Horde..."
"Oh, you fool! You are part of his escort, how could you let him depart alone!", he complained.
"I... I'm sorry, sir... I... I panicked", Gwenthrith replied with honesty.
"Well, if I wouldn't know Argheross the way I do, you would be in serious trouble. But I guess you aren't entirely wrong... He shouldn't have gone alone", he looked up as the rain started to fall. "Summon that warband already, and try to follow me!"
Instead of reaching for a horse, the man turned into an impressive worgen and started running. Even the most experienced knights had trouble keeping pace with him. The water made it all more difficult for the animals, but he kept on running faster and faster. His cold soul froze the droplets and the small pools around him, making it easier to advance with his sharp and long claws. Yes, maybe Irondawn could hold his ground alone, but Razorhowl still had to intervene.
As he advanced, the storm seemed to be slowly subsiding. It still rained down heavily, but there were no more lightnings crossing the skies. It didn't matter, no tempest formed out of nowhere and meant nothing. He was sure there was peril ahead, so he decided to warn his enemies about what awaited in line for them: he howled. A howl so horrible, so threatening, it could pierce the armor of the bravest warrior and shred his courage and determination. He wasn't called Razorhowl for nothing, a name the very same Scourge had given him; he hated it, but it was helpful to keep annoying people away.
There was a familiar scent in the air, but he couldn't recognize it. Nevertheless, it was a good sign: it meant he wasn't going to face an unknown enemy. Whatever awaited them at the eye of the storm, they would know how to deal with it. Well, he would. He couldn't really speak for the knights that couldn't keep his pace.
Soon, he could also sense Irondawn, so he sprinted with haste to shorten the distance to his friend. He was close, he could feel it. The worgen narrowed his sight and saw a thin pillar of smoke, and a faint sparkling light. He howled again just as he ran over the water, freezing the surface before his path, and then jumped over a hooded figure sitting next to a small campfire that the heavy rainfall somehow couldn't extinguish. In no time, the stranger was lying on the ground, immobilized by the Death Knight's strength.
"Dunris Wolfeye, I had a feeling it was you... you effectively concealed your scent", Razorhowl said while sniffing the air around the orc.
"I would appreciate that you moved away", the intruder asked coldly. "I can already turn into a wolf on my own, I need no worgen biting me."
Razorhowl growled showing all his fangs and teeth. Then, out of nowhere, they both started laughing. The gilnean returned to his human form and helped the orc stand up. They shook hands and gave each other a short, friendly hug.
"Ah, Wolfeye, my friend, long time no see!", the man greeted. "I was worried something bad would happen. What is it with the storm? Are you trying to scare us? Oh, don't tell me you were sent to the frontlines!"
"I asked the same questions" Argheros added, approaching them.
"Fortunately, I'm not here to fight. I just needed to call your attention" the Shaman explained, feeding the bonfire with a spark of lightning.
"With a storm? Are you serious?" Razorhowl asked with disbelief.
"Did you expect me to walk into Refuge Pointe and Stromgarde and start asking for you?" Dunris replied in a burst of laughter.
"I didn't expect you to be this foolish either" the Death Knight commented, pointing at the sky. "If you are not here for the War, why did you came? Are you insane or you just want to get yourself killed? These lands aren't safe for you anymore! Besides, there were other ways of summoning us without such a display... There are riders coming our way, and they won't be as welcoming as we are, I assure you."
"Is Gwenthrith coming?", Irondawn asked with a hint of concern in his voice.
"Oh, she's coming. I presume she and the other knights won't get here for awhile", Razorhowl answered. "We have a lot of work to do with these recruits... even with the captains and some officers. They won't survive any confrontation with the Horde unless the build some courage... happy to hear that, Wolfeye?"
"Not at all... But I guess you two must be thrilled with all the attention Stromgarde is receiving."
"Well, you are wrong", Irondawn admitted. "For years we have tried to push the Syndicate and the ogres away from the city, but we were never able to finish the job. There was always something more important, something more urgent... Oh, but now that the Horde is suddenly interested in Stromgarde, the Alliance High Command has finally decided that taking the city is our highest priority", Argheros was indeed disgusted with this.
In fact, he was disgusted with the High Command in general, since it wasn't the first time they acted in such a despicable way. They had ignored the poor conditions of the people from Westfall for several years, they had never cared for Stromgarde and they never moved a finger to help the Lordaeron survivors. That's why the Scarlet Crusade was so bitter towards the Alliance, and Razorhowl was well aware of this.
"Anyway, why are you here, Wolfeye? You weren't clear when I asked you earlier", the Paladin added.
"I came because I need your help", the orc started, as the rain stopped all of a sudden. "What I'm going to ask you won't be a simple request. I beg you to hear me out, please don't interrupt me and let me finish."
"A massive storm... a suicidal trip... a strange request..." Razorhowl counted. "You are beginning to scare me, Wolfeye."
"Before you start, let me dismiss the soldiers", Argheros asked; when he reached the shore of the small island, he stopped for a second. "I don't want to waste time explaining the recruits how humans and orcs and be get along. Some of them are young and stupid and will try to harm you, even against my orders, and I don't want them to die at such early age."
"Sure, sure. I forgot I was a mindless, bloodthirsty, baby-eating orc", Dunris joked. "It would teach them a valuable lesson to see their Commanders in the pleasant company of an orcish Shaman."
"Bah, they are not ready", the worgen said, as Argheros climbed down the mountain to meet the knights. "They have no temper yet... most of them won't look me in the eye. I overheard them the other day, talking about how cold it gets around me. With soldiers like that, how will we stand our ground should our enemies attack us? I should give them a taste of how they trained us back in Acherus, not to mention Tyr's Hand... I should test them, press them", as he spoke, his voice became more beastlike and spectral, filled with increasing rage and anger, "break them, torture them, rend them!"
"Evarist", Dunris called, putting a calming hand on his shoulder.
The eyes of the Death Knight were injected with blood, but they regained their usual grayish color when Wolfeye spoke his name. The gilnean cleared his throat.
"Sorry, I'm sorry", he apologized. Even though he insisted in being called as the Scourge had named him, his real identity always reminded him who he truly was, where he really belonged to. "Thanks... I... you know, the curses... Undeath, I can deal with... But the worgen curse is blurring my head, and I don't know why."
"I know, do not worry", the orc answered, waving away the thought. "Just calm down and breathe."
"'m not wrong, though", the man insisted as his voice sounded afable and charming once again. "Neither is Argheros. The soldiers aren't ready for a conflict like the ones we have lived."
"No one ever is", Dunris expressed, with a hint of weariness in his voice.
"Well... I suppose you are right", Razorhowl agreed. "After all, who am I to judge them? I died!"
"There comes Argheros", the Shaman uttered to change the subject, and Evarist thanked him for that; he didn't enjoy talking about his previous life. "Sit by the campfire, we have much to talk about."
"What is it? Is there a new enemy threatening Azeroth?", the Paladin asked, leaning over the fire. "Do you come bringing a warning?"
"Ah, yes, there is a major threat, constantly harassing our beloved world", the orc started. "And I want you to help me put an end to it."
"What is it? The Old Gods? The Legion's return? Speak!", Razorhowl demanded with some impatience.
"No. Horde and Alliance, the War among those two factions", Dunris finally explained, as the two men widened their eyes. "It won't be easy, but should we succeed, we'll be setting the foundations to achieve a lasting peace. As I said earlier, I beg you to hear me out."
"Speak then", Irondawn said, genuinely interested in Wolfeye's words.
The Shaman spoke out his plan. He asked for help. He made an offer. All he wanted was collaboration. All he wanted was peace. As Argheros and Razorhowl listened, they realized that, what the orc was asking for, what he truly wanted, was to put an end to the storm.