Honor-Bound
Stratholme was burning. The acrid smell of smoke and burning flesh drifted through the town as it's citizens cried out in anguish. Prince Arthas Menethil, protector of Lordaeron had ordered the towns destruction in a fit of madness. It was the smell that woke young Cormac in the hot summer night. He had never smelt anything quite like it before or since. It was then that he heard the screaming, "Run! It's Arthas, he's killing everyone!" As Cormac gazed out the window at the panicked crowd below, his mother dashed into the room with his three year old brother Jaxon in tow. "Cormac, take your brother, you need to leave the city, now! Use the sewers if you have to, then head South for Dwarf country." Before the eight year old could protest, his mother shoved the wriggling child and her silver locket into his arms. "GO NOW!" she shouted. That was the last time he ever saw his mother.
Cormac woke from the dream sweating, as usual. It was the same nightmare, night after night. His teachers had told him it would pass in time, but as time went on, he became less and less sure. It had been ten years since he joined the Order Of The Silver Hand, and nearly twenty since that fateful night in Stratholme. The dream weighed heavily on the young paladin's mind as he slipped on the familiar plate-mail of his profession. He had joined the order to end the Undead threat and put Lordaeron right again. He had secretly hoped that this would end the nightmares, to no avail. He knew now what he had to do. Cormac let out a long, slow sigh, and reluctantly headed down the stairs of the inn, towards the mailbox outside.
He should have known better! "Stupid, stupid fool!" Cormac thought to himself, "Why would he reply, after all this time? After all that's happened?" It had been three weeks since he had written his brother Jaxon, and told him of his plan. Jaxon had not replied. The last eight years had been hard for the brothers, they had not talked since Jaxon ran away for Kalimdor to go live among the Night Elves. Cormac was twenty then, and he had already been in the Order two years. They had been living in a small home outside of Stormwind. It had been five years since Cormac had left the Stormwind Orphanage at the tender age of fifteen, taking his ten year-old brother with him. It was hard for the boys, but they stuck together. That was until Cormac joined the Order. Cormac took his vows seriously, and had spent little time at home. The boys rowed endlessly. It was little surprise when Cormac came home to an empty house. Jaxon had left no note, said no goodbyes. Cormac sold the house and all his possessions, save the locket, and devoted himself to the temple of light. As he strode the streets of Stormwind, he would catch snippets of gossip about the, "Fey, Human Child who dwelt with the Night Elves across the sea." He knew instantly who the rumors were about, only Jaxon would put half the world between him and his problems...
As Cormac sat in the park in front of the Cathedral, he noticed a lithe, lanky man lope into the square with a nightsaber in tow! He stood up to confront the newcomer, to chide him on his bad manners and lack of common sense. A nightsaber in a city? REALLY? The man was tan, his skin mottled with countless little scars, with long black hair in a messy queue. He had a wary look on his face as he approached Cormac, but it slowly slid into a sly smile. Jaxon had returned. Cormac boiled beneath the surface. It had been three weeks, and his brother could not be bothered to write back. All the old anger came rushing back. "How dare he!" Cormac thought. Jaxon stopped three yards away, and stood motionless across from his brother, the nightsaber growled impatiently.
"So you want to go back to Stratholme?" Jaxon said, without preamble. "Why?" the younger man questioned. Cormac had thought on that often since he wrote the letter. After all, why did he want to return to that ruin of a city? Cormac could never quite put his finger on it, but he knew he had unfinished business in Stratholme, but it was dangerous to go alone. That's why he sent for Jaxon.
"We need to see it. We need to end their suffering." Cormac replied. The younger man simply shrugged.
The brothers spent weeks retracing the steps of their youth through the Hinterlands, and North into the Plaguelands. In the years since their flight from Stratholme, the land of Lordaeron had sickened with a mysterious blight. Now, fel creatures roamed the roads, and nightmares inhabited the less traveled locales of the land. In the North-Western corner of what was now called the Eastern Plaguelands stood the ruins of Stratholme. Inside the walls of the ruined city, Cormac would find peace, and a way to end his nightmares. They snuck into a side entrance of the city. Thankfully, Eligor Dawnbringer was leading a band of heroes into the city. Cormac could hear the sounds of distant battle. Their destination was off the beaten path, hopefully far from the main body of the Scourge who inhabited the city. Cormac glowed faintly as he strode the streets, his war-maul gripped firmly in both hands. His brother Jaxon walked stealthily behind him, with his faithful nightsaber Liam keeping to the shadows. The resistance had been light, but Cormac did not want to be caught off-guard. As they rounded a corner in what used to be their old neighborhood, they were attacked by a troupe of ghouls! As the nearest ghoul leapt for him, Cormac arced his great-hammer above his head and sent it crashing down on the ghoul's right shoulder, crushing it to bits. Behind him Jaxon had felled two more with his bow, and was now circling a third as he gripped his two daggers in a knife-fighter's crouch, several feet away Liam chewed noisily on a hapless ghoul's head. As they dispatched the rest of the group, Cormac signaled to his brother to move on to the house. They approached the house with trepidation, fearing what they might find inside. What if their parents had turned? Could they kill them? Would they kill them? They quietly enter the rundown abode of their youth.
Inside they found the bones of their parents, undisturbed in the long years since Stratholme's purging. Their father was just inside the doorway to the small home, his small iron pocket watch ticking away near his remains. Further in, near the hearth, was their mother, still gripping their favorite toys. They had remained on the spots where they were struck down all those years ago. Tears filled Cormac's eyes as he gazed at them, behind him Jaxon stood emotionless. Jaxon watched in the doorway as Cormac gathered their bones and put them to rest in the lot behind the house. On top of their graves he left their toys. He kept both the watch and the locket his mother gave him years ago.
As the boys left the house, Cormac could contain his fury no longer. "I'm tired of your childish behaviour Jaxon! You don't care about this family! You never did!"
Jaxon, normally cool, instantly showed his anger. "What do you know of me Cormac? You never listened to me, you never cared! It was always your plans, your training! You swept me aside, like I was a child, like a burden! You never treated me like I could become anything more than your little brother!" Jaxon fired back.
Cormac fumed. "I have always placed our family's needs first. I've always kept the family in my heart! But you! You wouldn't even bury your own parents! If your family can't rely on you, who can?"
Jaxon glowed crimson and shouted. "You muck-brained fool! You're the only family I've ever had!" With that Jaxon turned on his heel and walked silently into the gloom. Liam growled with disapproval as he passed by.
Cormac fumed for some time in the old house. He thought about Jaxon, the order, his training, and his whole life. He grew tired of the dead city, and he began to make his way back out the way he had come in. If he saw Jaxon, he would give him a piece of his mind, Cormac hated not having the last word in an argument. As he neared the gate, Cormac eyed a lone Abomination. It was huge and towering, it's body a mass of grotesque and foul limbs, and at the monster's feet lay the motionless form of Jaxon. Liam was nowhere in sight.
Fear choked at Cormac, and threatened to swallow him whole. As he gazed at the horrific sight, Cormac felt his rage build. Wreathed in holy fire, Cormac charged the abomination, howling with rage, war-maul raised to the heavens. The massive creature swatted the charging man like a fly, and Cormac slammed hard into an adjacent wall. He felt blood bubble in his lungs. "How ironic," he thought. "To die here after escaping it once before." He glanced back at Jaxon only to find the man gone. Jaxon was now on a nearby rooftop, his arms a flurry of motion as he plinked arrow after arrow in the the monster. The abomination roared and charged Jaxon, only to be met by Liam, growling in anger. Cormac fought back the pain, raised his great-hammer as high as he could, and ran in for a second charge. Using teamwork, the two men fought the creature to a standstill, and finally won the upper hand, ending the abomination menace for good.
Battle-scarred and exhausted the two men appraised each other carefully, and after a long pause, hugged. They strode out of the city together as equals, towards the dawn, and whatever adventures it might hold.