The notion that a man can defend what he treasures with sword and shield has become untrue to me. I have waged many battles, the first against the trolls of Strangethorn Vale, in my first years from the Cathedral. I became know as more of a renegade, which suited me at the time. Having a rebellious reputation proved useful for gathering thieves and cutthroats, they lined up like sheep.
Not long after finishing to collect and deliver the Cape of Strangelthorn to Hemet Nesigwary's camp I returned to Goldshire, and stayed the night at the Lion's Pride inn.
It seemed like bitter months had passed since I last laid in a bed, though I should praise it, it's a marvelous improvement to the leaves and dirt I sat on with one eye open, worrying about sneaky trolls in the night. The slumber was pleasant, careless would be the best word to describe it, but even though I was out of the forest, I still slept with a candle lit, just as I did in those cold nights, the Light was the only thing keeping me strong, keeping the dread away. The following morning however, was not so different from the Vale.
The sun barely rose from its shelter and the familiar sound of steel clashing bashed against my ears. I grabbed my axe and shield and hurled outside my bedroom window, stomping the ground as I landed only to find an enemy that can be avoided nowhere, the Horde.
Questioning and heralding mortal doom were restrained, now was simply time for judgment. So with a roar and swift bash I entered the battle, slashing and cleaving all that I saw, the holy fire consuming each who raised his weapon against me.
But I was not alone in this conflict. Defending the frontal path towards towering Stormwind city was a band of adventurers. Barely a dozen, but they held the line. Men, elves and a few dwarfs, their leader commanding them as the battle waged on. He was not one to tackle with either, the Barovian sword in his hand stained with fresh blood serving proof enough of his skill and expertise.
As the battle waged on, many became injured, many Horde became dead, but there was one last bovine refusing to acknowledge defeat. Only myself and the leader of the band of defenders were left able to clutch weapon in hand. We stared at one another and agreed the choice was to fight together before this remaining threat.
- Go take his flank! he said, pointing toward the shaman's right arm.
I nodded and began advancing.
He was a large one though, did not realize it until I got close, his lash of lava stroke at me with full strength. I barely blocked it. His beating was brutal, not even laying his totems to assist him, but I was not one to back of from a fight, so I took blow after blow until having an opportunity and clashed my axe against his, locking them in place.
For the moment I held, feeling as my force was leaving me. The beast's shoving was hard to withstand for much longer, but I was not about to remain under his fist for long. As he prepared to bash my head into the ground with his mace held high a shout to reach the edges of Elwyn Forest came towards us from the trees.
It was the man that sent me here, I caught the moment he charged and jumped atop the beast, his sword gleaming into the sun. And with a swift blow he sliced the tauren's arm off, just before the dire shot was taken.
He screamed in agony, but would not do so for long. With my arm now free of constraints I placed my axe against his throat and rendered him voiceless for ever more.
The battle ... was won.
- Is it done? –Are they dead? –Hurah!
Those and many other cries of joy and cheering were all around us as the townsfolk gazed over the defeated bodies of the Horde's former soldiers.
That all of them? asked my comrade in arms.
Seems so. What? You're in the mood for more fighting? I said as I sheathed my weapon.
Cautious rather. I never let my guard down 'till the fighting's good and done. We're at our most vulnerable when we believe the battle's won.
Yet it never stops, does it?
No, he responds waving the blood off his blade. This was a minor skirmish, and a poor one at that.
T'was fortunate you were here, saved more than a few Alliance lives.
We're always here when we're not on some mission for the crown.
We?
This lot with myself included, are The Vanguard and we've come to grow a liking for the Lion's Pride inn. Haven't seen you before though.
Sideslash, just booked a room for the night. I had hoped the morning would be as quiet, yet I still wake up to animals, much like in Strangelthorn.
Strangethorn ey? Nesigwary still there?
Does he ever leave?
Hehe, only if the beast he's hunting swallows him whole and takes off with him.
We both laughed as we found that being a very likely possibility.
Hah, come then, let's have a drink. The guards will take care of the bodies.
We sat down at the tavern sampling some of Elwyn's finest Morning Glory Dew, well I did.
You don't partake in a fine ale?
No, I like to see my enemies clearly as I chop their heads off.
Well put. I for one prefer to carve my name on them, so they know who they're dying to.
And what name might that be?
Stilicho, as fate would have it.
Stilicho? Like the blade?
He raised his cup, closing his eyes and showing a shrewd smile just before placing it on the table.
- Too early in the morning to tell the tale of how I got it, my friend.