Troubled Times Friend.
Chapter 1.
Tirisfal Glades.
A gentle sun rested on the horizon, painting the land in a deep orange colour.
Although there was a thick drizzle of rain, the sky remained blue, and mostly cloudless. The thick, envigorating aroma of the Highland meadows fills my nostrils.
I sat in the thick grass with my face to the sky, letting the rain patter down on it, sometimes looking down at my hand, which was softly pulsating golden light. I'm not a priest, I lack the devotion and I don't consider myself to be very religious, It's quite unlikely I'd be a paladin, I lack the strength and integrity. I want to study in the great magic libraries of Dalaran; but gifts such as mine, cannot be overlooked so easily.
"Come on now, are you missing the place already?" said a voice that I had heard for so many years of my childhood, it could only be Jarendell.
"Will I come back, old friend?"
"Stop being so sentimental Séverin. The undead have been pushed back to the walls of Lordearon. Soon the Alliance will once again have it's great city." Jarendell said sitting beside me, studying the treeline. After an awkward amount of silence Jarendell stood and said, helping me to my feet.
"Your going to catch a cold."
The Inn was thick with smoke from the kitchen, I could smell the massive boar spinning on the spit, before I could see it. Laughter broke out and mead was passed along the merry villagers.
"Looks like someones better at hunting then you Jarren." I say smiling, indicating his lack of prowess with a bow.
He smiled slightly, but then his face went cold – determined. It's taken me along time to realize it but, Jarren looks strong, chiseled. He's grown into a man of the Alliance, while I still have the physique of a thought was reinforced in my mind when he says, running up the stairs.
"Just be careful, were not kids anymore... I'm not going to be their to help you." I looked after him for a moment, then followed him, and replied – almost pleadingly.
"I'll try my hardest." he just nodded, understanding.
He shifted through his pack and took out a thick bundle wrapped in violet silk.
"Your father left this in my care, when he went to the Maelstrom. Until such a day you were fit to wield it..." he says, noticing the look of surprise on my face.
I carefully lifted the dusty silk, and saw the hilt of a large sword, light enough to fit in one hand, and be swung easily. The crossguard was silver and a extravagantly carved doe seemed to leap off the metal. The leather strapping of the hilt was a dark brown, made from wolf hides. A blue and gold scabbard laid to the side of it. I had no doubt it was made especially for me. Next was a fitting tabard etched with the golden hammer of light - which was our family seal. A dusty scroll of parchment fell from the silk. Opening it I read.
"Séverin, I know I will be long gone before you receive this parcel, but id like to tell you it's alright.
I commissioned the blade and tabard for you, as a symbol.
You are to be head of the Golden Hammer, I know you would strongly protest against this, but it is in your blood.
You are my son, and you are a paladin, no matter how unlikely it might seem.
I leave you in trust of our position within Stormwind, and our treasury.
Strength and Honor son, Tyrus will teach you, what I can not.
Your loving father -
Pyrus Stormlight."
I was so engrossed with the letter, that I did not notice Jarren leave, and Tyrus enter.
"Can you believe this Jarr-." I was cut off by the towering figure of Tyrus, my fathers Lieutenant, and my uncle.
"He's gone son, I guess the good bye was too hard for him."
"good bye?" I ask astounded.
"He's gone to fight in the Northgate advance." he said offhandedly.
Another good bye, my eyes burned, but I refused to let tears show.
It was time to be a man.
Hey guys, I decided Hunger Games could take a break, and I've been engrossed in the lore of Warcraft for about three years, REVIEWS are muchly appreciated, also check out my other story. CHAIO!