[b]Paul[/b]

The sun was high in the sky when the Stromgarde Troll Hunters rallied for the attack. Human men and women (He even counted a few dwarves among them) in red tabards with the Stromgarde eagle eagerly awaited the signal as they spied on the troll village of Witherbark down below. As Paul watched the hatred in his kinsmen eyes, he knew he was among a very motivated crew.

The night of the green stars was two weeks and all over the Northern Kingdoms more demons appeared, attacking villages and causing damage. Thankfully to the combined efforts of Queen Calia Menethil, Duke Edward Grimshore and King Danath Trollbane most of the demons in the Northern Kingdoms were rounded up and destroyed. However some citizens of Azeroth, such as the Witherbark trolls, took to the Burning Legion in a kinder way and were performing ghastly rituals to earn their favour.
Bones, runes painted on the ground with blood and green smoke came from cauldrons as the village chanting up a frenzy as several lesser demons already roamed along with the trolls. When the news came that the Witherbark had thrown their lot in with the Legion, the king did not even wait for permission from Hammerfall and mobilized his forces.

"They are not part of the Horde and they rejected Vol'jin's amnesty." The king proclaimed." Asking the Horde for permission is a senseless formality. We're doing them a favour really." Although Paul secretly believed the king just wanted to fight some trolls again like in the old days.

The hatred between Stromgarde and the trolls went back centuries, ever since the ancient city of Strom was build thousands of years ago which gave rise to mankind's status from hunter/gatherers to the builders of empires. For many years the people of Stromgarde remained in the Arathi Highlands and fought the trolls for almost as long as the high elves did before the Undead Scourge destroyed most of them two decades ago.

Paul felt pride to be called Stromic, it was a honourable bloodline. Although with his features, most would see the prince of Stromgarde and New Lordearon more as a citizen of the latter. Prince Paul Trollbane Menethil took more after his mother than his father. He had blonde hair, a Menethil trait despite the fact his mother did not have it, and her green eyes. He was rather handsome looking and quite muscular due to his father's Stromic training. Not as muscular as the other Stromic though but definitely not a weakling. He knew how to use a sword, at least enough to protect himself he hoped, but he knew he was not someone who would get to the thick of it.
Besides while the Stromgarde warriors preferred to run in, axes and torches ablaze, Paul preferred to stay in back with a weapon he was most skilled at.

He tied the string around his bow tightly as he counted the amount of arrows he had before he decided to make some more. Even from a young age it was clear Paul was a skilled bowmen. From stationary to moving target, he could hit mostly anything with an arrow. He was no Sylvanas Windrunner or Shandris Feathermoon sure, but he was a pretty good shot.
He won quite the few wagers this way, not that he needed them but it helped cover his expenses when he snuck out of Stromgarde to visit the nearby taverns and mingle with the locals.

His bodyguard, Ser Nial, frowned as she saw Paul fletching his arrows." Don't you have enough of those?"
Paul smiled." It's always best to have a few arrows to many than to few." He dipped each arrowhead into a poison vial. The poison, which was a mix of herbs and toxins Paul never really managed to remember, was the best way to stop the troll from regenerating from their wounds. While the Stromic warriors coated their blades with it, Paul coated his arrows with it.
"Your father would prefer if you used a sword." Nial pressed.
"My father and mother would prefer if I stayed alive." Paul replied and placed the arrows in his quiver." Besides there is a artistry in bowmen ship that swordsmanship lacks."
The auburn haired woman raised her brow and folded her arms." Oh this will be good…go on then sire, enlighten my peasant ways with your words of wisdom."
The prince of Stromgarde feigned a wound as he clasped his heart." Your sarcasm is deadly, Ser Nial…the betrayal…even more!"

Nial rolled her eyes." Go on then, stop playing games."
He chuckled before he explained." Actually the reason why I use arrows is because I like to play games."
His bodyguard looked confused." I don't follow, war is no game. You should know this."
Paul sighed." That's not what I…" he took a moment." I'm really good at playing games of chance. Dice, darts, roulette…any game that has an element of chance in it, I'm really good at winning."
"So like Hearthstone, betting on horses…?"
He shook his head." No, I need to have a small hand into it myself."
Nial nodded." Hence the arrows?"
"Hence the arrows." he concurred.
A host of mutterings went up as did a small red flare in the sky. "The signal, your father and Lord Alexander Grimshore are in position….about time." She added with a grunt. It wasn't unknown that Nial disliked the Alteraci people, as did most Stromic. Old hatreds die hard.
Paul glanced down below to the village to see if the trolls noticed to. If they did, they did not show it since they were so immersed in their spellcraft. The nerves he managed to hide so well began to rear their ugly head but he crushed them down. No, he would not die. Not today. He took out a copper coin and flipped it quickly. Heads, he would life today. Tails…not so lucky. He caught the coin with one hand and slammed it onto the back of his other one. He pulled the hand back…heads. Lady luck had not forsaken him. Yet.

The Troll Hunters were giving hushed orders as they prepared to attack. Nial took Paul close while he put his coin away." Stay close to me, sire. This isn't like hunting gnolls or murlocs."
He nodded, no smart ass reply. He put his war face on, or a mask at least, as well as his green hood. In the distance they heard the charging royal cavalry head towards the valley. Most of the troll warriors and their warlocks and demons cried out in alarm and charged towards the north, towards the Stromgarde cavalry, which left their backdoor wide open.
Ser Nial drew her sword as did the other Troll Hunters. Their commander held out his hand in the air….and threw it down.
As one the group silently moved down the hill and rushed to the camp. The smell of death and…wrongness assaulted Paul's nostrils but he kept focused. He spotted a troll that stood sentry. He nocked a arrow to his bow and loosened it. The sentry looked up and cried an alarm but was quickly silenced by the arrow that slammed into his throat, the creature falling down with a wet gurgle. His first troll kill. He felt slightly sick…and slightly thrilled.

More Troll Hunters silenced the sentries easily and made their way from hut to hut. Paul peeked inside these, seeing the dead inhabitants within. He frowned when he began to notice something.
Ser Nial pulled her sword out of a troll." No elderly..." she whispered.
"Or children…" Paul nodded. Their commander whistled and motioned to the huts. Paul nodded and grabbed a piece of wood from a campfire and tossed it on one of the huts, a gesture imitated by the other Troll Hunters. Nothing was allowed to be left standing. The group moved northward toward the center of the village, trying to pincer the trolls with the armoured royal cavalry.
Paul fired his arrows a few times, every time getting a good hit in. It took quite a while before the trolls noticed their camp burning and began to attack the hunters in earnest. Among them several demons.

Paul stayed behind Nial and fired arrow after arrow, mostly hitting his target, as his bodyguard kept the enemy away from him. He was starting to enjoy this, he thought with a smile. Trolls, demon…every arrow that found its mark either killed or slowly killed its target. This was even better than hunting murlocs!
"Forward!" Their commander shouted as he sliced a voidlike creature in half." For Stromgarde!"
So he did, he charged and fought for Stromgarde. Soon enough the whole village was lain to waste.
During the fighting Paul discovered what happened to the young and elderly. He peeked inside one of the cauldrons and saw the body parts floating in green sickness, the arsenic smell of wrong making the young prince gag. He quickly turned and threw up near a dead tree, no doubt dead from the fel magic.
"Savages…sacrificed their own past and future for some feeble power in the present." Nial grunted and patted Paul's back." Stay with us, sire. We still have a battle to win."
Paul wiped his mouth and nodded, his purpose renewed. By the blood of Strom that coursed within him, he would kill every single troll for this!

The group met up with the royal cavalry, the troll blood being hard to spot on the already red armour. The remaining trolls that fled towards the east climbed up the hill but didn't get far. On that hill the Alterac black dragon waited as the young Lord Alexander Grimshore, son of the Duke Grimshore, nonchalantly waved his hand as his riflemen (who looked more like pirates and thugs rather than soldiers) gunned the fleeing trolls down. Paul smirked as he saw Alexander seated in his chair as servants poured him in some wine as he looked over the battlefield…and yawned. No wonder why his father and Nial hated them. The Alteraci had the easiest part of the operation and their commander barely made the effort to look invested. Thing was, Alexander was quite a intelligent man. Paul grew up with Alexander and his twin sister Alexandra, a attempt to foster friendship between the next generation of the Northern Kingdom's monarchs. Paul got along with them fair enough but only saw failed potential. Alexander was a smart man but was constantly bored by the lack of 'suitable' challenges while Alexandria was a born leader but she was to much like her pirate mother and constantly got into trouble.
Paul wished Alexandra was here instead though, at least she paid attention-

"Paul, look out!"
A force knocked Paul to the ground, which made him lose his bow, as a sharp pain crunched down on his arm. He cried out in pain but remembered his training. He pulled out a dagger and stabbed whatever was biting him. Whatever bite him howled in pain and the pain lifted. Paul quickly got up and held his dagger as he saw a troll with a knife in his right eye socket howl in pain.
Paul quickly scanned for Nial but found her being occupied with several demons. He was on his own.
The troll, a chieftain by the looks of it, glared with his remaining eye at Paul. The wounded prince took out the other dagger and was weighing the chances. His right arm was wounded but he could throw decently enough with his left. If he missed however, nothing would stand between him and a troll feasting on his corpse. Stalling was his best chance, until Nial could save him.

"So, how does it taste like?" he asked the troll." Trollbane blood? I heard it's a delicacy among your cannibal kind."
The troll frowned." Whatcha talkin' bout boy? I tasted Trollbane blood and ya blood be nothin' like it."
Paul wondered what the troll meant but the creature already charged forward. His choice made for him Paul threw the knife…and hit it in his other eye.
The creature fall down, crying out in fresh horror and pain as knives-for-eyes bawled like a child. Paul couldn't help but laugh a little." Betcha should've seen that one coming!"
He turned to see a bloodied Nial next to him. She looked at the young prince, unimpressed, before she slit the creature's throat.
"Good thing I softened him up for you." Paul jested, trembling a lot. It took all his effort to keep standing.
"….You should've seen that one coming?" she took out some bandages from her belt and placed it around the bite wound on Paul's arm.
"Yeah…I couldn't come up with anything. Sorry."
Nial merely shook her head." We best get this looked after soon, don't want you to lose that arm of yours."
The prince concurred. "Without it I would just have my good looks and sense of humour."
"At least you look pretty." Nial picked up his bow before she took his good arm under her shoulder." Come on, let's go before the Purifiers arrive…"

They walked for a while until they were a decent way away from the burning village when they arrived. As Paul's arm was treated by a gnomish priest, he saw the fabled group arrive. They were a group of hooded men and women, coloured in black and whites. Their banner was a flaming white rose, in honour to their queen and Paul's mother, Calia Menethil the Dragon Queen. Most were very pale and had sunken in eyes, as if they were dead. Which they were. The forsaken who had chosen his mother over Sylvanas were accepted members of the Northern Kingdoms, although most still seemed to fear them. Including their fellow Lordearonians. But still a few seemed to have joined the Purifiers as they purified the village. With a magic fireball or torch or calling upon the holy light, the Purifiers cleansed the village from the face of Azeroth in a hale of righteous fire. Ever since the night of the green stars they appeared all over and did their best to stomp out any possible entrance for the legion to enter Azeroth. There were rumours that in New Lordearon they had grown quite powerful and even one of the Queensguard, Lord Trevor, had joined them and were locking up all those who opposed them under the pretense that they served the Legion. Paul decided he would talk with his mother about this after her return from Aerie Peak.
But what that troll said kept popping up in his mind. I tasted Trollbane blood and ya blood be nothin' like it. He shook his head and thought no more of it that day.

The old king smiled and hugged his son after the battle." Well done, my boy!"
Back in Stromgarde, the city cheered as the victorious Stromic returned carrying troll and demon heads on pikes and banners. Stromic red was seen on every banner, tapestry, hat or tabard. Everyone was wearing red. There was even some cheering for the Alteraci, but it was very few. Lord Alexander didn't seem to care as his litter was carried inside the city. His eyes were only on his wine servant, a shy smile on that young man's lips as Alexander spoke to him. Turns out the rumours were true, Paul noted.
Danath, despite his age, looked even more than alive when he saw his son return with his first war scar.
"Ser Nial, I thought my wife tasked you to keep her son safe." Danath raised his brow at Nial.
"Can't make a omelette without breaking some eggs, sire." She replied.
The king laughed and held his son for a moment." I am very proud of you son."
"I aim to please, father." Paul replied with a smile.
"Good, I was hoping you'd say that." Danath held his son by the shoulder and walked with him, Nial followed behind them." For I have a job for you."
"Oh…I nearly died today though."
"No you didn't. A little bit of death never stopped a Trollbane." His father said.
"Like Uncle Galen?" Paul replied. He smacked himself mentally when he saw his father's hurt face." Sorry…"
"Your tongue will get you into trouble young man…" Danath's good mood soured but returned soon enough." I received word from your mother, a messenger had arrived at Aerie Peak. King Anduin is calling for a meeting. Every Alliance leader is coming to Stormwind to discuss the Burning Legion invasion."

Paul frowned." I thought we were handling it well enough."
Danath shook his head." I've spend years in Outland, I saw this happen before. What we're facing is merely a scouting force, my son. Fingers probing Azeroth for weak spots. What horrors you saw at that troll village are nothing compared to what is to come."
His mind went briefly to the trolls that were sacrificed to the Legion. Nobody deserved that fate, not even the trolls. "Holy light…" Paul cursed. "What do you need me to do, father?"
"I want you to go to Stormwind in three days and speak for our behalf."

Paul stopped as he went pale." S-speak?"
Danath nodded." You are a smooth talker son and Lord Alexander, despite his arrogance, is a gifted diplomat. That is why he is here."
That would explain why he didn't bother about the battle, Paul thought. "I…what about mother? Does she know?"
"She's the one who came up with this idea. Son, you are nearly a man and you are the heir of two kingdoms. It's time you take up the burdens of a prince."
"I shot trolls in the face today!" Paul exclaimed.
"That is a good start." Danath laughed. The old king placed his hands on the boy' shoulders." Paul, you are the face of the Northern Kingdoms. We need to show the Alliance we are important enough to be part of this meeting. That whatever happened fifteen years ago doesn't matter anything now."

Paul tried to come up with a thousand excuses to not go to a important meeting, but nothing came to mind. Before long he got another hug from his old man and was pushed into a celebration with complimentary ale. Nothing seemed more enticing than alcohol to forget future woes. He lost himself in drink and games of chance as he regaled his tale of the battle, each tale more magnificent than the last. At one point in the evening a slightly older red-haired servant girl was in his lap and soon enough he was dragged off to her room.

It was early in the morning when he left the servant girl's room, he didn't even remember her name, and tried to make his way to his room. The streets were empty, except for the odd drunk who slept on the pavement. That can't be to comfortable, Paul thought.
He walked into an alley and went to relief himself. After what seemed like a eternity he put his belt back on, turned…and found himself staring at a old woman. Paul jumped back at the sight of her. She was old and had the appearance of a Gilnean Harvest Witch. Boils, pimples and she smelled something fierce. The only thing that didn't look old was a purple rock necklace that hung around her thin left wrist. She looked the boy up and down with her beady black eyes and scoffed.

"Urghm…good morning?" Paul tried to make himself look presentable. And failed horribly." Terrific party, isn't it?"
The old woman scoffed some more." What kind of prince are you going setting out to be? You haven't even won a major battle and already you celebrate."
"Well…" he tucked his shirt back in his trousers." It's better than crying and waiting for the end, I suppose." He winced when a pain hit his arm. A bit of blood was coming from the bandage the gnomish priest applied to it the day before, seems the servant girl was to rough. The old woman looked upon the blood. Despite her age she was really fast and extended her finger, scooped up some of the blood before she brought it to her mouth and licked it.
"Urghm….that was mine." Paul stated.
The old woman ignored him." Just as a thought…." She frowned." Not a drop of royal blood in you."

The prince of Stromgarde lost his good mood now. The cobwebs of a drunken stupor gone." Listen here, woman. I don't know who you are but if you know what's best for you, you better stop."
"Why?" she asked curiously." Will someone cut my tongue off if I don't?"
"Well…maybe. Then again if someone did cut your tongue off they would think you were saying the truth…which you aren't."
The old woman chuckled." You have noble blood in you, prince Paul, but none of it stems from royalty." She unwrapped the bandage before she took out a new one from her purse and wrapped it around his arm." A golden haired child will be born in a time of peril. Three warrior women will give their lives for him, he will lose a hand to rescue a world that is not his own, a warrior of the light itself…" she strapped the bandage tight." There, all done. Try to get some rest, young man. We have a lot of work to do…" With that she turned to leave.

Paul scratched his head." Wait, who are you? The hell are you talking about?"
The old woman turned and smiled." You can call me… Lindsay Ravensun."