Disclaimer:I dont own Warcraft,and if i wanted to,i could put some witty thing in this disclaimer
A/N: hey every1,i just wrote this to get me out of ever cursed writers block. If you wanna know,Jornis looks like Marcus Jonathan,but with his skin slightly more tan
The winds howled over the peaks of Dun Morogh. A snow storm was setting in,same as always. Jornis lay prone atop on of the hills his own blood coloring the snow bright red. His armor was rent across the chest,and he was bleeding from the wound. His helmet had rolled off when he fell,and his sword had dropped from his grasp,falling onto the snow beside him. He was dying,he knew it. He had gone the same way his brother had gone,their father,and his father before him. Trapped in some remote place,just one more loss,one more casualty. Jornis had seen the tallies,of course. Everyone had. They were posted on the Stormwind bulletin every day,and had for years. Line upon line of dead men and women,fallen in the line of duty. Jornis attempted to shift his position,but was wracked with pain and the attempt was in vain. He moved his head a little,and found himself staring into the blank eyes of his best friend,Ulrich. Ulrich's axe was next to his dead body,a furious snarl on his face,surrounded by the enemies he had slain. Jornis felt a coldness in his throat. It hurt.
Ulrich had always been Jornis' best friend,since they were kids. They had enlisted together,lived together,fought together. Now,they would die together. It was Ulrich that saved him from a team of ogres in Arathi,and Jornis had saved Urich's own life in Warsong Gulch. They were practically brothers. And now Ulrich was dead,his rib cage opened by a sword stroke.
Jornis thought back to his own enlistment in the Stormwind Army. It was five years ago,a rainy day in Elwynn forest. Ulrich and Jornis joined a long line of young men,signing in rough handwriting on a piece of parchment. The next day,Jornis packed a pack and left for training. His mother had cried,of course,but she had foreseen it years prior. Jornis' brother had gone,their father,and their grandfather. Only one person had really begged him to stay. Her name was Krysten.
Krysten had begged with him,pleaded with him to stay in Elwynn. They were to be married the next year,but the eruption of war had put an end to that. Krysten implored him to remain,to join the Elwynn guard so he could stay. Though he had wanted to,he had a duty to his ancestors.
Krysten and Jornis had been courting for a little over a year when he left. She saw him off,tears sparkling in her eyes as his boat pulled away. He hadn't seen her since. And he would never see her again. The next day,she would see his name on the bulletin. He felt himself getting more tired and more cold.
With that,Jornis' body went slack,and he died in the morning sun that broke through the snow clouds for just a moment before being covered up again. With his last thought,he begged the light to forgive him for not heeding the advice of his friends and families. And he died.
His war was over. He was now just a fallen spirit,lifting away from the snowy peak.
Just one more casualty.