Solwein sat quietly in the inn at Southshore, reading the cryptic letter his master had left in Loch Modan for the hundredth time. Solwein hadn't been quite the same since Arkhel had left him and his brother, although still true to his master's orders. Two months had passed by since then and Solwein had the letter memorized.
My young apprentices, the time has come for me to leave you. Take command of the 20th Legion and start in the kingdom of Stormwind. Travel north searching the land for paladins who have survived the attacks on Lordaeron and those who have only begun their trek on the light's path, serving it how they will. As you make your way north however, you may eventually meet the enemy front lines. Should this be the case before you reach Southshore, press forward until you reach Southshore. I and any others that I recruit to our cause will meet you in there. Good luck.
Solwein would have been sipping a bottle of port, but the usual routes were cut off from Lordaeron. So, instead, he sat in silence, rereading the letter over and over again.
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The sky was growing lighter and the haze clearing to an extent. Grudamere would have been quite heartened by his newfound powers, were it not for the circumstances under which he received them. Still, the woods were clearing and the ocean came into view. Finally, after the worst experience of Grudamere's life, the little ocean side town of Southshore appeared at the bottom of the hill. The guard roamed about and signs of battle lined the perimeter. They survived. They are fighting on. Thank the light for that.
He approached cautiously, showing no intent of being an enemy. Fortunately, his reputation in the north preceded him and the nearest guard recognized him, despite his filthy and war torn state.
"Grudamere Broadbeard! The legendary lieutenant of Gunhilldur approaches from the west," bellowed the armored guard. The better portion of the town's militia crowded towards him, vying for a good view of the famous dwarf. Grudamere should have been flattered, but at the time he wanted two things, solitude and a pint of ale. He said nothing as he passed by the crowd of soldiers. Some tried to follow, but the others held them back.
Grudamere walked into the inn and sat on a seat at the bar. "What'll you have, mate?" asked the bartender. "A pint of ale," Grudamere replied quietly. "What kind of ale would you…?" "A pint of ale," Grudamere repeated. The bartender shrugged and filled a mug with ale from the keg and set it in front of Grudamere. Grudamere lazily slapped one gold piece on the table and the bartender left him to his thoughts.
Aside from being wrought with the sting of failure, Grudamere had not felt well at all since Pyrewood. It subsided somewhat when he reached the edge of Silverpine and passed into Hilsbrad, but the feeling still remained. Grudamere attempted to shake it off and drink his ale.
"Excuse me sir," said a young voice behind Grudamere. "I wish to be left alone. Didn't you get the hint when I passed you and your comrades outside?" Grudamere replied, not taking his eyes off of his ale. "Not a very friendly fellow are you?" said the young man. Sad as he was, Grudamere wasn't about to snap at someone he didn't even know. "Sorry lad, but I'm just not in the mood for conversation right now." He said. "I can understand that. The nauseous feeling in your gut alone is enough to drive a weak mind mad."
Grudamere looked up. How does 'he' know what I'm feeling? Grudamere turned around and found not a member of the local militia, but a paladin with blue eyes and short blonde hair, clad in shining armor and wielding a silver claymore. "You know what I'm feeling?" Grudamere asked. "Aye, I am feeling it too. All who are sensitive to the light can feel it."
Grudamere's attention was now solely on this individual. "Who are you?" he asked. "My name is Solwein. I am a knight of the Silver Hand," answered Solwein. "How do you know what I'm feeling?" Grudamere asked. "I can sense in you the blessing of the light, though it is clouded by much despair."
There was a brief moment of silence between the two. "If you don't mind me asking, what is your purpose in speaking to me?" Grudamere asked. "As you may have heard, the northern kingdom of Lordaeron has been eradicated. The Silver Hand has scattered for the most part, and I am on a mission to reconvene them," Solwein replied. "When I saw you sit at the bar, I immediately noticed your aura." "My aura? I don't know what you are talking about," Grudamere said bluntly. "A paladin who does not know of the aura he emits?" Solwein thought on this for a moment. "Has anything strange ever happened around you? Oftentimes, one blessed by the light will perform acts that they themselves were unaware that they could do. The most common of these is the consecration of the ground and nearby objects."
Once again, Grudamere was stunned. First he knew that Grudamere wasn't feeling well and now he had guessed exactly what had happened in Pyrewood. Grudamere told Solwein of his escape from Lordaeron and the journey south to Pyrewood and of the deity he saw when he presumably died.
"Make no mistake; you are a paladin, though you cannot yet control your power. I and others like me can teach you how. If you would have it, I would like to call you a fellow knight of the Silver Hand.
Such a request was beyond Grudamere's imagination. The fire inside him was quickly reigniting as he stared the holy warrior in the face. "Your time has not yet come. Press on, mighty Grudamere, for you have been chosen by the light." That's what she said. This is it. This is why I'm here right now. Fate has spoken. "It would be an honor, sir Solwein. Tell me what to do."
"Very well, what is your name and where do you hail from?" Solwein asked. "I am Grudamere Broadbeard and I am from Dun Morough," the dwarf replied. Solwein drew his sword from his back. "Then kneel, Grudamere Broadbeard of Dun Morough." A pillar of light materialized from nowhere and shone down in front of Solwein onto Grudamere as he knelt. The other patrons in the inn were drawn to the scene. "And rise, Sir Grudamere, adept of the Silver Hand, the fabled order of paladins."
The rest of the inn applauded as Grudamere got to his feet. A single tear streamed from his left eye and a feeling came over him that put him at a loss. It suddenly seemed as though the weight of the world was lifted, and together with his newfound ally, he would bring ruin to the Scourge and peace to his broken heart.
But the cheery mood was quickly abolished. There was yelling outside, presumably from one of the town guards. "To arms, the Scourge approaches," called the distant voice of a soldier.
Both Solwein and Grudamere drew their weapons without hesitation of any sort. Together they rushed out of the inn and to the northern town perimeter where the guards were forming. Shortly after they arrived, soldiers bearing the crest of Stormwind and more paladins, who Grudamere presumed were Solwein's followers, joined him at his side. There were only two of them. One of the men was of average height, about the same height as Solwein. Like Solwein, he had blue eyes and short blonde hair and wielded a silver claymore, but his jawbone was more pronounced and he was a bit more muscular. The other was a burly man with shoulder length blonde hair, a full face beard and a chest that looked like it could break the hand of who ever punched it. His eyes were intense, almost barbaric, his sword was no less than twice the size of Grudamere's already hulking axe, and his expression depicted a man who has seen a great many battles. Grudamere found himself relating to him immediately.
"The man to my right is my brother Kaonus and the man to his right is Arhen, whom we recruited not but a day ago. Gentlemen, this is Grudamere Broadbeard, and he is now one of ours," Said Solwein. "Good to meet you both," Grudamere grunted. Arhen only nodded in acknowledgement. "And you as well dwarf. I wish there was time for small talk, but the Scourge comes," said Kaonus. "Hope you are up for a challenge, especially if you've never fought the Scourge before," said Arhen.
Grudamere flashed a reproachful look at Arhen who was facing away from him, staring at the edge of Silverpine for any sign of the Scourge. Solwein clapped Grudamere on the back and shook his head. Grudamere took the hint and dropped it.
"There they are!" Arhen growled. At the edge of the woods, the Scourge horde came into view. They were not quite as sophisticated as the abominations at Lordaeron and the Monastery. Most of them were simple walking corpses and skeletons, but no gigantic, abominable flesh golems, no ghouls or ghosts or necromancers. What's the significance of that I wonder. Perhaps the Scourge has stretched a bit too thin since its campaign against Tirisfal and Silverpine. Maybe they're just here to gather a few more recruits. Maybe it's guerrilla warfare.
The mob continued to stream out of the wood and the mob began to grow quite large. Is there no end to the Scourges might. Is there no way to stop them? He wondered. "There's about five hundred or so; far better odds than at Lordaeron but still..." Grudamere said to Solwein. "So what?" Solwein replied. "Numbers do not decide the outcome of a battle. You have obviously never fought alongside a paladin before, have you?" Kaonus said. "You served under Gunhilldur. I have absolute faith in your ability to fight with your axe, but to fight with your soul, that is something entirely different." Solwein replied.
Grudamere looked over at him, puzzled, as the Scourge began to advance and the town guard. "Consider this your first lesson Grudamere. The feeling in your gut is not the taint of the plague, but a reaction to it. Your inner light is trying unsuccessfully to expel it and it urges you to grow stronger. Let it well up inside you, coagulate and then release it all at once. Now you know how to use the most rudimentary holy magic, so give it a try in this fight."
Grudamere wanted to learn a bit more, considering Solwein's vague words, but there was no time. The Scourge was at the base of the hill. The men shifted and murmured nervously as the undead got close enough to see clearly. "Steady gents." Kaonus shouted over the uneasy militia.
"You ready for this?" Arhen asked Grudamere. "Are you?" he snorted back. The Scourge reached the top and the fighting commenced. Grudamere ducked to dodge a skeleton's meat cleaver aimed at his neck. He reacted with a quick spin for momentum and then cleaved the skeleton in half at the bottom of its spine and then firmly planting his feet for his next opponent. Next was a corpse that Grudamere almost didn't have to fight. It was brittle and decrepit and Grudamere easily knocked its head off with the handle of his axe. Afterward though, a large skeleton appeared with a long sword and a shield. It lunged for Grudamere, slicing vertically at him. Grudamere dodged to the right and prepared to counter attack, but stopped. The skeleton spun and swung its shield at Grudamere. Grudamere put up his axe to parry the big round shield and then kicked the skeletons knee hard, breaking the leg in two. Grudamere heaved his axe into the skeletons rib cage, shattering the ribs and ending the skeleton.
There was a loud crash to Grudamere's right. He looked over and saw Solwein fighting at least a dozen undead to himself. His holy magic was truly a sight to behold. He was calling golden hammers out of the heavens to strike down his foes that writhed and tossed on the ground afterwards, and then fell silent. His sword glowed blue with holy energy and with every strike he dealt out, his blade dealt a holy shock as well. The ground consecrated with every one of his footsteps, he spoke holy chants which gave him different powers and periodically, a small storm of pure holy energy would swirl around him, knocking his enemies to the ground. Grudamere had never before witnessed a paladin in battle, and it was possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Another skeleton encroached upon Grudamere and leaped at him with a dagger. Grudamere spun out of the way and struck the skeleton in the spine. Then an unarmed corpse swung a bony fist at Grudamere and connected. He recovered quickly and stomped the ground. His intent was to summon the magical lightning he knew so well, but the ground cracked instead and from those cracks came the same holy fire he saw back in Pyrewood. The holy flame licked at the feet of the undead which then cowered away from Grudamere's holy consecration.
Grudamere was half stunned himself. The lightning blast his stomp used to conjure was powerful, but not 'this' powerful. "Incredible!" was all he could think to say. "Yes it is! Use what I taught you before Grudamere." Solwein yelled out over the battle. The fire began to die down and the Scourge approached Grudamere again. He breathed deep, trying to build the feeling inside his gut into something material. The result was more than he could have hoped for. He could feel the light swelling into his chest, giving him strength. The Scourge closed in on him ready to take him down and Grudamere swung his axe hard, connecting with the nearest skeleton. The result was a shockwave that shook the ground and blasted his enemies back. Grudamere felt invincible.
"That's it! Do it again!" Kaonus yelled to Grudamere. And Grudamere did it again, and then again. Over and over holy energy exploded from Grudamere's axe. He stomped his foot again, smiling as the helpless monsters stopped dead in their tracks and cowered away from this great righteous power of his.
I wonder if there had been paladins at the monastery like Solwein, would that have ended in defeat? Grudamere thought as he soaked in the unimaginable potency of his magic as well as the exponentially greater might of the other three paladins'. At this rate, this battle can, and will, be won, even if it is only a small skirmish. Finally, we have a trump card. We can beat back the Scourge.
Grudamere stomped his foot and the Scourge retreated from the holy flames. He leapt forward, slicing of a skeletal swordsman's head. He butted a corpse in the face with the handle of his axe and then kicked it to the ground.
The Scourges numbers had diminished greatly, and to Grudamere's glee, they were retreating. The Scourge is retreating! The SCOURGE is retreating. He thought almost out loud. Small as it was, the battle was almost won, and then Grudamere looked down at what would be his final foe, pinned down and helpless under his broad foot… and almost dropped his axe.
Solwein noticed this. "What are you doing? Finish it!" But Grudamere did nothing except stare. Fate had brought her back. Fate had presented him with the hardest choice, and Grudamere didn't know how to choose. At his mercy, below his boot, was Arkerya, mindless and rotting. She wrestled with Grudamere's heavy leg trying to get at him with the same sword that she had before. Tears began to flow from Grudamere's eyes.
"It's not fair," he said weakly. He stood there for a moment to think of the right thing to say. "My dear Arkerya, I am so sorry." He bent down and wrenched the sword from Arkerya's hand.
"You fool!" Solwein yelled as he leapt toward Grudamere in preparation to end Arkerya. He raised his sword high, preparing a powerful blow, but was knocked back. All around Grudamere was a holy bubble of energy, shielding him and Arkerya completely. Grudamere's eyes glowed yellow and then his hands began to glow too. "Please… Forgive me Arkerya; please." He said in a broken voice. "I promised to help you. I promised you salvation and I failed." Solwein watched in amazement.
Such advanced magic, such raw holy power. No one at his level could do that; 'no one'! What is this dwarf? Solwein thought.
The sickly feeling that the plague induced left Solwein suddenly. The air around Grudamere became clean, almost sweet to the taste. The small contingency of retreating Scourge spontaneously combusted from over fifty meters away and the foot hills of Hilsbrad sparkled with white light and falling dust. Even Solwein, master of holy magic, was dumbfounded.
The only undead Scourge that remained now was Arkerya, who was pinned down now not by Grudamere, but an invisible effort that Solwein could not detect. Grudamere spoke, sounding as if another unseen being was speaking with him. "Arkerya, I have been granted a second chance by a messenger of the light. I have seen the brink of the afterlife, and been lent the powers of a holy warrior, powers that I intend to use on you. To redeem myself, there is only one way; it is to end your suffering and torment, to bring you back from the fate I could not save you from.
Solwein heard a ringing inside his head, a peaceful chime that soothed his soul to a point at which he could not stand anymore. As he dropped to his knees, he heard the soulful whisper of Grudamere, chanting to the paralyzed corpse beneath him. Solwein couldn't understand what Grudamere was chanting, but the cryptic speech was pacifying and tranquil. Arkerya tried to squirm but her feeble and rotten body couldn't manage much under the supreme hold that Grudamere had her in.
The air swirled around the assembled troops. The hot day had become quite cool, but not too cold and the harsh, bright sun was beautiful and calming all of a sudden. Solwein recalled the day he heard of Arthas's betrayal and compared it to what he was feeling now, concluding that this was the exact opposite. Whatever Grudamere was doing, he was not doing it alone. The light was embodying him, granting him power like nothing Solwein had ever dreamed.
Grudamere continued to chant as he kneeled next to Arkerya. The shining dwarf placed one hand over her heart and the other behind her head, never ceasing his mysterious incantation. Finally, a great column of light crashed out of the sky and into the ground on top of them. Solwein recognized this. It was very similar to what he procured onto his new recruits to inaugurate them into the order, though this was far, far beyond anything he could conjure.
The great pillar grew brighter and brighter until it became too bright to gaze upon. Solwein shielded his eyes from the blinding light and turned away. After several minutes of not being able to open his eyes, the spectacle subsided, and he opened his eyes to view the aftermath.
Grudamere lay motionless over an equally still Arkerya. The inner awareness of the plague returned to Solwein and the surroundings had become mundane again. Solwein's troops and the town guard shuffled, but were unwilling to approach. The young paladin looked to a teary eyed Kaonus and a confounded Arhen. "Come," said Solwein. "Let us see what has happened." The other two nodded and slowly approached the motionless bodies.
When they were close enough, Solwein reached down and flipped Grudamere over. He wasn't breathing. "By the light!" Solwein gasped. He threw himself down at Grudamere and summoned the greatest of a paladin's power, the power to heal one's self and others. He furiously attacked Grudamere's body, but found no injuries, wounds or anything that would indicate a dead man, but even still, Grudamere Broadbeard was dead nonetheless.
"Solwein, look," Kaonus said in a staggered tone. He was pointing to the corpse, or at least, what used to be a corpse. The other body, which Solwein had neglected since he started on Grudamere, wasn't a corpse at all. Instead of the broken husk he saw before, there was a young woman with short red hair, vibrant blue eyes, pursed pink lips and a slender, curvy figure. Solwein could also tell that her skin was exceptionally fair, though it was pink and raw after its reanimation.
The crowd was gathering around now that their leaders had gone forward first to investigate, but nobody said anything for a long time. After several minutes of quiet contemplation, it came to Solwein what had happened.
"My friends," he said; "we have just witnessed…" Solwein paused, remembering what his master had said. "We just witnessed redemption," he said conclusively.
"Unbelievable!" Kaonus exclaimed. "Who the hell was this dwarf?" Arhen added. "He was Grudamere Broadbeard of Dun Morough and his name will be written in history books for ages to come, but I think it less important who 'he' was and more important who this young lady is," Solwein said.
The three sat again in quiet contemplation for several moments, wondering what to do. Solwein spoke first. "Arhen," he said quietly. "Yes, my lord?"
"Take her south to the kingdom of Stormwind by Gryphon. Once there, take her in secret to the Northshire valley. Ask the priestess Anneta in my stead to care for her as best she can. The light does not choose to redeem one idly, and we must proceed with the utmost diligence if only for Arkerya's sake. Anneta will almost certainly agree to help, and you shall stay at her side. Should she make progress or even recover fully, you and Anneta must decide what to do from there. Regardless of that however, I shall send for you when we return to Stormwind."
Arhen's concerned expression did not change. "Yes, my lord. I shall never leave her side." He said resolutely. Arhen reached underneath Arkerya and lifted her into his arms. "Good luck on your ventures. May the light be with you," he said and then walked toward the town.
Kaonus looked at his brother woefully. "So that's it then? We are to just carry on as normal?" he asked rhetorically. "No, Kaonus." Solwein replied. "I think it is just the beginning of something else. What that something is, I cannot say just yet, but I am sure that we will soon find out." Solwein had spoken loudly enough for his troops to hear and then allowed a short period of time for his words to sink in.
"Solwein, may I have a word?" Kaonus asked to Solwein's ear. Solwein nodded and followed Kaonus back into town and to the pier on Southshore's famous southern shore.
"Solwein, our master isn't here. We have been waiting for nigh of two weeks and he still hasn't shown," said Kaonus. "I know. I have been thinking the same thing my brother and I think we both know what must be done," Solwein replied.
"We must go to Stratholme. The churning in my belly is growing stronger by the day, probably because the Scourge in the north is brewing a plan and enriching their plague. Sooner or later, they will make a move," Kaonus said.
"We don't know exactly what move they will make, but we do know they are capable. I'm sure you are thinking the same thing I am," Solwein said.
"We have to strike first," Kaonus said. "We will need to find Arkhel first. The paladin lords are few now and with his extensive knowledge and expertise, we can't afford to lose him. We must make for Stratholme immediately," he said.
Solwein took a moment to marvel at his brother's unusual wisdom. "It seems you can make rational decisions after all, if you try hard enough," Solwein mused.
"Careful Solwein; we might have to spar again. I trust you remember who won last time?" Kaonus mused back.
This time Solwein was outright stunned. Wisdom was one thing, but wits? The world 'must' be ending. My brother just outfoxed me. Unable to come up with a smart reply, Solwein turned his head with a jerk to begin mobilizing the legion.
