Troubled Times Friend (Rewrite)
Chapter 1
Tirisfal glades.
A dawn sun shone across the horizon, painting the hinterlands in an orange glow, burning away the pre-morning mist. The sky showed the dying remnants of the previous night streaked with blue and pink hues alike.
The thick invigorating aroma of Highlands's meadows empowered Severin as he crouched winding a torn piece of grass around his fingers as he regarded the insignia which glowed dimly in his palm.
He was not chosen to become a priest nor a paladin regardless of the powers of light which both graced and shamed him. His frame was too slim to hold the weight of a blade and he was not a devout man, this left Severin feeling hopelessly lost, unable to give anything back to the people whom had raised him since childhood.
He wished he could study in the great magical libraries of Dalaran but he was refused tuition as he lacked the elemental abilities of a Wizard or Mage.
As he reflected on his dimming prospects the strand of grass suddenly burst into a flurry of light, burning his finger.
"Blast it!" He cried out in pain.
"Seems you've already done that Sev" giggled Jarendell, whom had been Severin's guardian.
Jarendell scratched his salt and pepper beard, appreciating the coastline.
"Come now, you missing the place already?" he teased
"Forgive me, Jaren, I don't understand what you mean." Severin ask confused.
"It's time for you to leave, I don't know much, but you should find some answers in this."
Jarendell turned and picked up a footlocker from behind him, handing it to Severin.
"Ahh… this too," He fumbled with his pack withdrawing a letter, sealed with blue ink. "Read this after you've looked."
Within the footlocker was a bastard sword, covered in an oilskin hide. The blade was surprisingly heavy and Severin thought he'd even struggle to swing it. The hilt was silver and expertly crafted, the quillons shaped to resemble leaping stags.
Although it had a tapered, narrowly pointed blade, the edge felt as if it could slice a boar in half with ease. The blade itself was as long as a footman's sword however the tang and grip could easily accommodate two hands and the pommel was shaped in a silver enamel octagon, Severin gasped in surprise as he saw the same insignia that was burned into his palm engraved on its surface.
"The letter now." Jarendell stated with a mischievous grin pulling at the edges of his lips.
Severin noticed and unsealed the folded parchment.
'Severin, my son, If you are reading this, it means that I am dead and am unable to present these gifts to you myself. My time is short and so must be my words, the stag that is burned into you palm is the mark of your ancestors, long have we been paladin's and paragons against the unholy might of the scourge… and so must you now take up our mantel. I leave to you our estate and holdings within Stormwind. Do not fear Severin, you have the blood of warriors in your veins. In my absence Tyrus will mould you into the man you will become.
Duty and Loyalty, your proud father - Pyrus Staglight.'
Severin folded the letter and looked to Jarendell,
"My father… what happened to him?"
"He fought against the first scourge, earning himself the house name of Staglight; which is now your house name."
Severin shook his head, confused
"The letter mentions a man called Tyrus, who is that?"
Jaren chuckled and said
"Your Pa's got a way with names it seems, he means Triss and she is no man, as to who she is… well, see for yourself."
Severin followed Jaren's point and saw an armoured knight astride a great white destrier galloping towards them.
A/N: So regardless of this being short, I wanted to get the introduction out the way and give you guys some quick information. This is a rewrite of the original fic that was on my previous account. Please offer and criticism and what not. Thanks guys and I'll see you real soon.