I was born in a war torn world, but my home was spared this harsh reality for the most part. My mentor, Fairblood was like my father; he was harsh but fair. He was the reason I could defend myself when my home was invaded by the undead.
I ran from my post to deliver a message. I was told to give the invasion signal to the capital. As I neared the city, the ranger-general started to sing the Lament of the Highborne, the enemy was inside Eversong; we were losing. This is impossible, no one could get into our land, without the permission of the elves. We'd been betrayed!
Once the message was deliverer, I was told to report to the front lines and aid the general, in anyway I could. The run was tiring, and my heart was pounding by the time I made it to the front lines. Fairblood was there; I could see his long golden hair flowing in the slightly stale breeze. Congealed blood covered much of his brown leather armor.
Fairblood looked over in my direction and spotted me running ever closer to the fray. I could see his worry even from the distance. Once in near enough to see more clearly I could see him shouting out to me, but I couldn't decipher the words over the rage of battle. Fairblood's eyes grew more panicked the closer I came to his position.
Just as I was about to reach my mentor, I realized that all I could do was watch as he cried out in agony. A necromancers' spell had washed over him. My mentor life was stolen from him before I could even react. I ran to the fallen body of the closest thing I had to a father and pulled him into my arms. Sinister laughter seemed to close in all around me. My head turned of it's own accord, looking for the murder of my father through the war-hazed forest of my once tranquil homeland.
Up a hill I saw the monster responsible for my father's death. The crazed necromancer stood there with glee written over his face; his eyes focused on me as I clutched his latest kill to my chest and he sneered. All I could do was scream as I felt a searing pain flow over my left eye and surrounding face. I collapsed no longer able to support myself through the anguish. The vision in my left eye seems to fade out of existence.
The necromancer cackled thinking his work completed turned towards my beloved city of Silvermoon. He walked on chanting curses as he went. All I could do was watch him leave from my position next to my now dead father on the blood stained grass of Eversong.
I opened my right eye to see undead closing in around my position. Leaping to my feet I picked up my fathers bow and drew an arrow from my quiver and fired rapidly at the undead that surrounded me; felling one with each shot. I moved in the same direction I saw the necromancer go towards. I started to run, hoping to get revenge for my father.
All I could see were mindless undead around me. Fairblood's teachings kept my alive when the undead were breaking our Farstrider ranks like a wave on the shore. Many of the faces I'd come to respect as friends, and comrades; those I'd have given up my life for laid dead on the vibrant green grass of my beloved Eversong.
As I neared the capital I saw the leader of this masquerader Arthas; the Lordaeronian prince who razed his own home to the ground. Around him I saw faces that I'd known during their lives. Mostly newer recruits like me, but even some of the more experienced elves follow the once human prince now.
Undead started to move closer to me as I stood there gaping at the leader of this slaughter. When I felt my arm being yanked by a strong grip I was brought back to myself. The undead face much to close to mine. So I used my bow as a weapon and struck the undead across the face; dislodging him from my arm, as he stumbled from the strength of my blow.
I started to run again; shooting any undead that got in my way. I needed to find that necromancer, before he got away. I pushed myself to my limit, but I couldn't find him. There was an echoing crash that rang through the forest. My head snapped up to see what had caused it only to witness the walls of my city as they fell into ruins. Such power the undead lord showed that day. He tore through the ancient walls of Silvermoon in a matter of minutes.
I pushed myself harder to reach the city, the necromancer all but forgotten at the moment. I needed to help save my city. Yet no matter how many undead I killed more seemed to sprout out of the very ground, trampling the damaged or dead that came before them.
The city has been lost, all we could do now was keep as many of our people alive as possible. Hours passed, feeling like only minutes. The undead had pulled out of my homeland. Leaving blacked dead earth where the traitor-prince road through my homeland. The only thing left to do now was to look for survivors and bury those that fell.
I went to where Fairblood fell hoping to grant him rest in the form of a proper burial only to find his body missing but so many bodies were brought back to Silvermoon for identification. The mages seemed to only have time to identify and label the bodies before moving onto the next fallen. I prayed his was among them. A final list of fallen wouldn't be available for days to come. I held Fairblood's bow closer to myself as I silently prayed for him.
During the wait I sought treatment from the healers for my eye. Since my injury didn't seem too serious I was told to wait. All around me I heard the screams or whimpers of the dying. When a healer finally came to look at my eye. I was told that the curse over my it was incurable. The healer showed me my face in a mirror. The irritated red scar started just above my left eyebrow and covered the entire left side of my face in an intricate criss cross of lines and runes. I was told that the mark worked something like a magical brand, forever labeling me as a victim of the necromancer that left the brand. The healer told me to visit a warlock or mage to get the brand translated.
Since I knew that the mages were to busy to aid me, I went to Falconwing Square to inquire for help. One warlock that went by the name of Daestra was willing to assist me. She told me that the brand simply translated to "Second part of a two part set ~Nathonis." Those words made me see red. That bastard killed tried to kill me to complete a "set"! Like this was only a sick and twisted game to him! Brooding over the message Nathonis left on my cheek made waiting for the identification list seem almost bearable.
The day arrived when the final list was shown to the survivors. The most ubiquitous sound following the release of the lists was the wails of those that lost the ones they loved. I waited my turn to get a list. The lines were long, but the wait would be worth it if Fairblood's name was on the list. The line moved quickly, proving the whispers of mages abilities for speed to be true. Gaining a list I looked for Fairblood's name. It wasn't there. He was among the undead now then.
After the lists were cross referenced with the names of the confirmed dead, one thing became very clear. Arthas kept those he raised in Eversong among his undead ranks. Fairblood and the ranger-general being only a few of those that were stolen from their homeland.
Our new ruler Kael'Thas renamed us Sin'dorei meaning 'Blood elves' in the human tongue. Our new mission being to seek revenge against the traitor-prince that lead the razing of Silvermoon: Arthas. Yet my goal differed from the rest of my peoples. I simply wish to hunt down and kill not only my former father but also the necromancer Nathonis that stole Fairblood from me. Revenge kept me going. I kept Fairblood's old bow as my own. I swore on that bow that I'd get my revenge, I would avenge the one that saved my life and took me in as a child.