So, first lengthy WoW fic :D. I most certainly do not own WoW, or I'd be a very happy boy. I do own Arthamir, Aetherius, and, as you'll meet later, Syllanna, Alandial, Sathacin, Westaniar, Narsul, and various other original characters.
February 6th, in the first year after the Cataclysm.
The most overwhelming part about battle is the noise. Men and women yelling, screaming, shouting ragged war-cries and the occasional beg for help, or Light-forbid, mercy. None was given, by either side. To ask it was a disgrace to honor, to the Horde. Hah. I sound like an orc…Aeth must be getting to me. Not that he's an orc, no, no. He's Sin'dorei (Blood Elven), as surely as I am. But, his story is not necessary right now. I apologize, I ramble. There's likely truth to the assumption that I am thickheaded…regardless, you likely wish to know what I'm on about. It was unusually warm for early February, and the men were sweating in their armor, though this may not have been from the heat.
I'm a Blood Knight, you see—a Master, to be exact…an officer, to those not knowledgeable about the Order. That is, the Order of Blood Knights, the elite Order of paladins that serves Silvermoon. Anyway, the battle…but first a little explanation. Infuriating, I know, but it must be done for understanding to be reached. The Dawnfury Battalion is an elite corps of the Thalassian military comprised of the standard Rangers and Spellbreakers, as well as a contingent of Knights and a lodge of Farstriders: the Wolfrunner Lodge, colloquially known as Aeth's Elites, after its commander, Aetherius Sunwolf, who also happens to be my uncle.
My name is Arthamir Dawnstrider, by the way. Or, to use my full title, Master Arthamir Dawnstrider of Quel'Thalas, Lord of House Dawnstrider. A mouthful, to be sure, but it is what it is. Anyway, this elite battalion had been dispatched to track a force of Twilight's Hammer…but things changed when we caught wind of the Alliance.
The tenuous peace between our nations had almost reached the point when our non-aggression pact could reach the point of a proper peace treaty, or possibly even an alliance against the Illidari, Legion, Scourge, or possible all of the above. However, when Garrosh Hellsceam, Overlord of the Warsong Offensive (which was the major branch of the Horde offensive against the Lich King) had an army to do his bidding, much of this was lost, and more and more battles were fought between us.
Whatever was left, however, evaporated at the Battle of Angrathar the Wrathgate. I was unfortunate to witness it…treasonous members of the Royal Apothecary Society under Grand Apothecary Putress unleashed a massive amount of the Forsaken Blight, a terrible new Plague that killed the living and the undead alike. The great combined army of the Alliance Vanguard and the Warsong Offensive fell victim to the vile treachery, the noxious fumes.
When both powers marched on the Undercity, formerly Lordaeron, each under the command of their respective leader (Varian Wrynn of Stormwind for the Alliance and Warchief Thrall of the Horde), to destroy the rebel Forsaken…it reached a breaking point. Wrynn was under the impression that he would retake Lordaeron for the Alliance, but he assumed that the Forsaken had all joined Putress…Sylvanas fought alongside Thrall to retake Undercity, and put a bloody end to the uprising of Putress and his dark master, Varimathras. When the two leaders met in the Royal Chambers, Wrynn expressed his disgust at the atrocities committed by the Apothecaries in the name of science, and vowed that there will never be peace while the Horde plagues the world…a sorrowful thing, to feel so much blind rage…but I digress.
Returning to the battle, we had given up pursuit of the Twilight's Hammer in favor of battle with the Alliance, as that seems to be the current policy. The enemy seemed to be a detachment of the Ninth Legion, the bitter rival of our own parent army, the Horde's Ironfury Legion, led by Gorkun Ironfury, of the Warsong Clan.
There was no diplomacy. We had lost contact with Aeth's Elites, our forward scouts, days before, and when the ragged troop returned short several valuable men, we heard the tale of small-scale but ferocious guerrilla warfare against Darnassians (Night Elves in the common vernacular) who appeared in thin air and melted back into the woods with ease that astounded even this masters of fieldcraft, and vicious packs of worgen that could scent them a mile off, and attack as easily with tooth and claw as with a sword.
After the medics patched their wounds, we moved into position to attack. It was glorious…the column of the red and gold of the Spellbreakers streaked with black and crimson of the Blood Knights slamming into the flank of the unsuspecting Alliance footsoldiers, the rain of arrows cutting down the attempted cavalry charge…it was perfect, save for one minor issue. We were outnumbered almost two to one. Our advantages allowed us victory, but it was bloody. The adjutant estimated a twenty percent loss in manpower. It was a hard blow. When we arrived in Dragonmaw Port, we were greeted by a messenger with orders to return to Silvermoon for guard duty. A couple weeks later, we buried the dead in full ceremony on their home soil. Another day in the life of Dawnfury Battalion.