Author's Notes:

I really didn't want to add an Author's Note at the beginning of each chapter because I feel it ruins the flow of the story, however it is against 's rules to post one as an individual chapter, so it looks like I'll have to do it this way from now on. Skip this text at the beginning of each chapter to get right into the story, and I apologize for doing it this way.

I started this chapter about 7 months ago, most of the first scene was I all got done, and it has been edited

since then.

World of Warcraft and all related trademarks are copy write Blizzard Entertainment.

All characters, however are created by me, or used with permission of the person it was inspired by.

Special Thanks to:

Retrosteph for helping me edit my random jumble of thoughts into something coherent and readable and for staying up until 2 am finishing the final draft!

Norbert for convincing me to finish this chapter and helping me organize my thoughts

Tulle, Bann, Shapy and all the other members of The Clam.

My Guild, Ravencrest Watch, you guys rock!

--

A cold wind blew over Astranaar. With its lush forests and mild climate, cold breezes never blow over Astranaar. Whether by wind or not, Gull involuntarily shivered, but thought nothing of it; all he was concerned about was the fish. He ran his hands through his golden-blond hair, while his deep-blue eyes narrowed at the calm scene in front of him. He removed the shiny bauble from the tackle box and attached it onto the end of the hook. Arching his arms over his head, he cast it into the crystal-clear body of water. Gull loved the lake for its stillness; its calmness was so serene. Even the slightest disturbance and the whole thing erupted into a mass of ripples. As the waves from his cast subsided, Gull stuck the fishing rod into the soft ground between his legs. Putting his hands behind his head, he leaned back, tipped his straw hat over his eyes, and began to slowly doze off.

Hearing soft footsteps coming towards him, he instinctively raised his head to see the interloper. He saw an old man with long white hair tied back into a short pony tail. The man's short beard was white as well, and his wide smile seemed almost yellow against it. He wore a tattered old leather vest with only three of its brass buttons still attached. His cotton pants were frayed slightly on the bottom. Despite his age, his muscular physique was visible through his clothes. He carried a woodman's axe over his left shoulder and supported several logs under his right. Gull recognized him immediately as Jerran.

Gull considered Jerran his best friend in his new home. When Gull first arrived at Astranaar, Jerran immediately took to him. He showed Gull how to fish, craft various lures, lines and poles, how to tell if a spot was good and rich with fish, and everything else he knew about fishing. These teachings alone qualified Gull as a master fisherman. That was not all Jerran had done, however. He taught Gull how to spot the best trees to use for making huts and how to create small dwellings.

Many days the two companions would sit side by side, fishing on the lake, enjoying their favourite hobby in silence. In that silence, the two men understood each other's habits and movements.

"Jerran," Gull greeted.

"Gull, how are the fish today?" Jerran replied, in more of a greeting than a question since he obviously knew.

"They don't seem to be biting today, maybe we fished all of them up? What are you up to old friend?"

"Helping Kami cut down the old trees to make room for new growth, and for fire wood, of course."

Gull smiled, "Always willing to help the community, Jerran?"

"Always, but I must be off; we need to clear about one-hundred trees today."

Gull pulled his hat back over his eyes as Jerran walked towards the bridge leading off the island. His eyelids became heavy and he did little to stop them closing over his eyes

Gull had no idea how long he was sleeping for, but the sound of his taunt line snapping sent him scrambling for it. He grabbed it and began to reel it in. What ever it was, it was huge! Gull put one leg up on a tree and pulled with all his might. Out of the water a huge mass flew into the air, knocking Gull over and soaking his clothes. When he stood up all that he saw in front of him was a heavily armoured, dripping, night elf.

"Fish jumpin' today, Gull?" asked the night elf as he shook off the water.

Gull's eyes narrowed at his Hunter friend, Ferunn.

"Not after you scared them all off with that little... stunt," was his response.

Ferunn tilted his back and laughed. Gull stood up and tried to shake himself dry, noticeably worse at it than his companion.

"So," said Gull, "What are you doing here, besides hindering my fishing, of course."

Ferunn rested his gun over his shoulder and looked at Gull, and uttered only one word:

"Hunting."

"Hunting? You mean you're shooting animals who have no chance of fighting back?"

"Ah, Gull," sighed Ferunn, "The pacifist; the fisherman, when will you live? I doubt you would even raise arms if the Scourge was attacking this very town here! What would you do, ignore them and keep fishing?"

At the sound of the word "Scourge," Gull's hands clenched into fists, his heart raced, and his eye twitched several times. Ferunn, how ever, did not notice this.

"Alright then friend, if you do not wish to participate I will do a duo, just myself and Bangalash."

With that, Ferunn put his fingers into mouth, and let forth a sharp whistle and a huge white tiger came bounding. Ferunn loved his big cat, he had had him for several months now, he tamed him while hunting with the great Hemet Nessingwary in Stranglethorn Vale. He affectionately patted the big cat's head, and ran into the dense forest, with King Bangalash on his heels.

Gull sighed heavily, and looked up at the sky... blocked out by the immense trees. He lived in Astranaar for many months now, he didn't need the sun to tell him that it was late. Gull stood up, picked up his tackle box, fishing pole and trudged slowly back to his small one room shack, on the corner of the tiny island.

Gull pushed open the simple wooden door. All that was in this tiny hut was a bed, a small table with two hand-made chairs, and a small hearth. Several wall-mounted shelves ran around the perimeter of the shack, holding fishing supplies, a carving knife, his lumberjack's axe, and the rest of his possessions. He sighed and realized his head felt bare. His hat! He must have left it by the lake. Sighing, he opened the door and walked out into the darkness. The island was very small, and he easily found his spot and put his hat firmly back on his head. He had turned around to go home when a strange sight caught his eye.

The lake, normally perfectly still... was rippling.

--

Hunched over a round wooden table littered with arcane scrolls and open books sat a young man, his auburn hair fell to the shoulders of his dark blue robes. His small circular glasses were pushed to the tip of his nose as he studied the ancient lettering and symbols. The glow of the small candle on the table illuminated the tiny hut with a warm glow. The young scholar sighed and put his glasses on top of the scroll he had been deciphering.

"The arcane works in mysterious ways," he mumbled to himself.

Pulling an equally olden leather-bound tome towards himself, he reached for a quill and parchment to copy the spell. His hand landed on an empty spot on the low bookshelf behind him. The spellcaster turned and blinked remembering where his large stack of parchment went. He sat with his body still twisted around, thinking back to earlier that day.

--

A knock at the door disturbed him from his work.

He turned to face the doorway and beckoned, "Come in."

A man in his thirties pushed the door open and beamed at him. He had neatly parted golden hair and a trimmed beard of the same colour. He could see the man's muscular physique even through his worn coveralls, which were tucked into faded leather boots. In his hands he held a wide brimmed straw hat, a fishing rod, and tackle box. The man continued to smile pleasantly at him, and unable to help himself, he smiled back.

"Morning Norbert," the visitor greeted, "how are you on this fine morning?"

Norbert brushed his hair back from his face and stood, replying "I am fine, Gull. To what do I owe the honour of the finest fisherman in Astranaar?"

"Well, Norbert," Gull started, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, "I was wondering if I could borrow some more of your writing parchment, if you don't mind"

"Very well, Gull, I will give you my last twenty sheets. But may I ask, why are you in need of so much parchment? You have borrowed no less than 200 sheets from me in the last month alone!"

Gull beamed even wider. "Secret fishing lure," he said quickly as he took the parchment from Norbert's outstretched hands. Giving his thanks, he tucked the bundle under his arm and headed for his favourite tree…

Later that day, Norbert had decided to visit Gull's shack and see what exactly he had been using all of his parchment for. Gull had previously invited him over, but Norbert was in the middle of translating a freshly discovered scroll sent from his correspondent in Redridge, so he had declined. Gull had said that his door was always open, so Norbert had walked across the island to Gull's wooden shack. It was larger than his own, and had a brick chimney poking out from the edge of the roof. Smoke puffed merrily from it, and he took it as a sign that Gull was home.

Norbert knocked on the door and heard the screech of wood rubbing against wood and some footsteps, before the door slowly swung open. Gull stood on the other side, for a brief second a look of surprise was on his face -- quickly replaced by a welcoming smile.

"Norbert!" Gull exclaimed "What a wonderful surprise. Come in, come in; I was just making some tea."

Norbert followed Gull into his home, which held only a bed, some shelves filled with things that seemed to be fishing paraphernalia, and many other things he didn't recognize. He was about to question Gull about the parchment, when out of the corner of his eye he noticed something. What caught his eye was a large leather-bound book sitting upright marked with a large blue symbol.

"Come sit down!" Gull said, sitting himself and pulling out the other chair from beneath the table.

"You have a very nice home, Gull," Norbert complimented, as he sat in the seat offered by Gull.

"Thank you very much; I built it when I first moved here."

"Gull," Norbert asked gesturing at the book behind him "Where did you get that book?"

"That book…" Gull said pausing for a few minutes as if in deep thought, "That book was given to me by a very good friend, and I'd rather not talk about it."

Unfazed, Norbert asked, "May I examine it? It could contain some useful spells I may be able to translate."

Gull looked as if he already knew the answer to it, but he agreed to let Norbert examine it. Norbert promptly took it out of its holder and carefully opened the front cover. The first page of the book was covered in runes that Norbert didn't have the faintest clue what they were or what language they were written in. He quickly flipped through the book and saw nothing at all he could decipher. He waved his hand over the book and said an incantation for a magical detection spell; sure enough the book gave off a faint blue aura for a few seconds.

--

Norbert sighed yet again. He had given his last parchment to Gull. He did have some logs he could grind into pulp outside his dwelling, but he took it as sign that he should stop with the recopying tonight and switch to the studying. Reaching for a different tome his shack was suddenly a lot brighter. Looking out the window he saw why, torches -- a lot of torches. Listening closely, he heard the sounds of mail armour and axes clacking together, and the stomps of lots of feet marching together.

"Looks like I won't get anything else done tonight," he complained, pulling the cloth bookmark into the groove and shutting the tome.

At that very moment he heard the sounds of several people just outside his door conversing in Orcish. Norbert raised his left hand, pulling back the long sleeve of his robe, and began to recite an ancient phrase.

--

Gull quickly assessed the situation: Astranaar was a tiny community; only a dozen buildings with about thirty inhabitants present on the little island. Of them, Gull estimated only eleven of them could fight. There were four Sentinels from Darnassus, but they were untested and had probably never seen any real combat.

He looked around at the raiding party that had surrounded the entire northwestern side of the lake. He quickly counted twenty, no--thirty orcish warriors and 3 siege catapults, their ammunition already ablaze. He spotted the symbols on their banners hung from the engines of war--it was easy enough to guess without his years of previous war experience. The symbol was a crudely painted sword on fire--The Burning Blade clan. They had no affiliation with the Horde. orcs under Thrall were scholars and nobles compared to this lot.

Gull looked down at his boots. He didn't want war; he was tired of the killings. He had made his way to this very place to escape it all, and now it had come to him. Glancing up, he heard a cry from a night elf Sentinel as a spear dug itself into her stomach. With blood flowing from the wound, she fell to the ground, but still managed to sit up--barely alive. Gull felt for something deep inside him: something that he hadn't used in a long time and he had hoped would never use again. In the dark recesses of his soul he found it, and it found him. His eyes opened wide as his hidden Holy energy surged through him. He became aware of his mana again after all that time he kept it buried within. Channeling it into a healing spell, he threw up his right hand--more from practice than actual practicality--and a beam of golden light struck the Sentinel. She jolted upright, as if a new strength flowed through her. The bleeding had stopped and she snapped off the spear at the head. Renewed, she hurled her glaive at the crowd of spear throwers before taking cover behind the arch that marked the bridge.

Gull watched the scene, smiling, knowing that he had saved a life. That expression quickly changed as he realized he would have to take more lives than one today. The Holy energy still flowed through him, and he sensed it. He felt calmer, stronger, and wiser all in one. Gull was a Paladin, and the Paladins swore to defend the innocent of the Alliance at all costs. Dropping his now forgotten hat, he raced back to his hut.

Gull opened the door to his hut, and sat in his bed. He was faced with a choice… a choice he knew he'd have to make one day. His mana, he thought, was lost after that fateful day, gone for good. Deep inside himself he knew it was there, but had no desire to use it, for it had failed him… no--he had failed. Now that it was back he felt stronger than before. Or was it the same? He could hardly remember, yet he could see it like it was yesterday. Gull lifted his foot from the floor. It felt so right, he had been a fool. His Holy mana was a gift and he should use that gift to heal, to spread joy… to deliver retribution to the wicked. He brought his boot down hard and smashed right through the floor boards, revealing a hidden compartment. Gull reached down and slid out a long object, covered in a dusty old cloth. The cloth was a blur as he eagerly yanked it off revealing a long sword--his Truesilver Champion.

Back in the days of the war, Gull was a master smith, one of the best in his Corps. He heavily modified the original design of the Truesilver Champion, making it lighter, thinner, and stronger. It could be wielded in one hand or two, was strong enough to pierce armour, and agile enough to be used in even the most martial of combat styles. Holy runes glowed blue down the center of the blade, infusing it with magic. On command the sword would incase the holder in a shield, absorbing some of the harmful attacks inflicted on its wielder.

Gull laid the sword next to him and removed his old armour. A huge boulder smashed through his roof, landing next to him. His home caught fire and he ignored it, rummaging through his armour. He was disappointed to note that his iron standard issue knight's armour from The Second War was rusted. As the fire spread all around him, bathing everything in a red hue, he don despite the spoiling, pulling the plated chest piece over his frame. He slid on the legguards, pauldrons, gloves and boots. The armour was a stony grey with a few rusted patches here and there, and accented with the royal blue of Lordaeron. The simple rounded plate shoulders extended past his real shoulders both to make him look more intimidating and to provide extra protection. The next item he removed from the crevice almost brought a tear to his eye. It was a rich blue with a golden ornate "L" in the centre--his old Lordaeron tabard. It was still in perfect condition despite being tied over his breastplate every battle. His old silk cape was next, and he quickly tied it around his neck before looking at the last item in his secret hold--his old helmet. It was a simple helmet, with a T-shaped slit from the eyes and horns projecting from the sides. Gull looked around for a moment before realizing his house was on fire, then he slowly slid the helmet over his head and stood up. He took a step forward as a beam fell from the roof and snagged his cape. Cursing, he pulled and stumbled forward, his cape ripped clean down the centre behind him. Ignorant of it, he took his sword in his gauntleted hand and walked over to the exit as his house collapsed around him…

Gull rose from the ashes of his new life into his old, the life of a Paladin.

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