HussamAlkarim
28-08-2009, 11:36 PM
((Alright so with the announcement of Human Hunters, I decided I should reinvent an old character that I had back when I first started Warcraft as alliance. That's what follows. It's my first attempt at fanfiction so please feel free to give any suggestions.))
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Prelude
Tyrius walked slowly away from the burning wreckage of the final house. The stench of the fallen filled his He among several others of his Order had stayed to see this through, and looking at his fellows, he could see the guilt in their hearts. It was only then that he began to think that perhaps Uther had been right about Stratholme.
"Good work men" He heard, and looked towards the sound of the voice. It was Prince Menethil walking among the troops. He looked different, different from when this had all begun. The weight of recent weeks lay as clearly on his face as the blood on his tabard. "But our work isn't over just yet, we must destroy this threat to Lordaeron, we must follow it to the very crown of Azeroth itself. In one week's time we set sail for Northrend. All of you have three days furlough. Go, see to your families. Any man who doesn't choose to return, won't be thought a coward." The prince said, slowly walking away from the gathered troops.
Tyrius had no home to go to, no family to see. The undead had taken it all from him. While he was away learning from the Order, they had struck. By the time he was able to return riding with the Prince on the way to Stratholme, his home was nothing but burnt rubble. Perhaps that is what drove him to ignore Uther when he left. Perhaps that is what drove him to stay at Prince Arthas' side. None of that mattered anymore. After the carnage he had seen that day in Stratholme, after looking down at his hands and seeing an everpresent bloodstain, he knew that this was over for him. If this slaughter was what a pillar of the Light would inflict, he would have no more part of it. He folded up his Silver Hand tabard, and went to lay it on his empty footlocker. He looked back and grabbed it then stuffed it in his bag as he saddled his horse.
As he rode back to the city of Lordaeron, he stopped back at Hearthglen and stayed the night. He met several of his fellows there, and many of them had decided the same thing as he. They had decided to not return when Arthas launched his ships for Northrend.. Himself, an older footman by the name of Richter, and another paladin whom he didn't recognize, found themselves discussing what next. After several hours, they had agreed to ride hard the next day for lordaeron, then Richter would go his seperate way. The other two went to sleep but Tyrius stayed up, nursing his drink, and listening to those around him. He heard several talk of the excitement and glory that were to come. Even some of the Order were excited to be accompanying Arthas. Getting tired of listening to it, he went to bed, and rose at dawn to set out. The other paladin had changed his mind and decided to stay and return to Arthas.
"I'll never know what made that lot stay. I don't even believe in the Light and that business turned my stomach." Richter commented looking at the clear road ahead as they stopped to let their horses rest and drink.. "What'un you suppose done it?"
"Arthas, no doubt. Even after the killing he still looked and talked exactly like the leader one would follow into battle. He is righteous, and strong. He made a tough decision. Still, I don't intend fo follow. That is not a path I can take. With the Light still favoring him, I don't believe i can follow it either. Me and the Order of the Silver Hand are through. I will be informing Uther of my decision when we arrive." Tyrius replied to him rather harshly. Richter seemed to understand that the business of Stratholme was now a forbidden topic and remained quiet for the rest of the day. That couldn't have suited Tyrius better.
As nightfall approached they could make out the arches of the entrance to Lordaeron City. They had made the ride with little of note occuring, save their horses being ran into the ground. They parted ways and Tyrius made his way towards the chruch. He had expected Uther to put up more of an arguement, however all he did was ask for Tyrius's tabard. Tyrius pulled it out of his bag and sat it down on the table before walking away.
Having seen Arthas' face at the end of the campaign of Stratholme, made it no surprise months later when he learned that the Prince had returned, killed the king, and set the very creatures he had fought to defeat unto his populace. "Righteousness is damning I suppose" Tyrius recalled saying as he fled the city as the undead approached. He would ride until he could ride no more. Ride to a place far from those humans whom he had known. He would ride for Ironforge, and that is exactly what he did.
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Prelude
Tyrius walked slowly away from the burning wreckage of the final house. The stench of the fallen filled his He among several others of his Order had stayed to see this through, and looking at his fellows, he could see the guilt in their hearts. It was only then that he began to think that perhaps Uther had been right about Stratholme.
"Good work men" He heard, and looked towards the sound of the voice. It was Prince Menethil walking among the troops. He looked different, different from when this had all begun. The weight of recent weeks lay as clearly on his face as the blood on his tabard. "But our work isn't over just yet, we must destroy this threat to Lordaeron, we must follow it to the very crown of Azeroth itself. In one week's time we set sail for Northrend. All of you have three days furlough. Go, see to your families. Any man who doesn't choose to return, won't be thought a coward." The prince said, slowly walking away from the gathered troops.
Tyrius had no home to go to, no family to see. The undead had taken it all from him. While he was away learning from the Order, they had struck. By the time he was able to return riding with the Prince on the way to Stratholme, his home was nothing but burnt rubble. Perhaps that is what drove him to ignore Uther when he left. Perhaps that is what drove him to stay at Prince Arthas' side. None of that mattered anymore. After the carnage he had seen that day in Stratholme, after looking down at his hands and seeing an everpresent bloodstain, he knew that this was over for him. If this slaughter was what a pillar of the Light would inflict, he would have no more part of it. He folded up his Silver Hand tabard, and went to lay it on his empty footlocker. He looked back and grabbed it then stuffed it in his bag as he saddled his horse.
As he rode back to the city of Lordaeron, he stopped back at Hearthglen and stayed the night. He met several of his fellows there, and many of them had decided the same thing as he. They had decided to not return when Arthas launched his ships for Northrend.. Himself, an older footman by the name of Richter, and another paladin whom he didn't recognize, found themselves discussing what next. After several hours, they had agreed to ride hard the next day for lordaeron, then Richter would go his seperate way. The other two went to sleep but Tyrius stayed up, nursing his drink, and listening to those around him. He heard several talk of the excitement and glory that were to come. Even some of the Order were excited to be accompanying Arthas. Getting tired of listening to it, he went to bed, and rose at dawn to set out. The other paladin had changed his mind and decided to stay and return to Arthas.
"I'll never know what made that lot stay. I don't even believe in the Light and that business turned my stomach." Richter commented looking at the clear road ahead as they stopped to let their horses rest and drink.. "What'un you suppose done it?"
"Arthas, no doubt. Even after the killing he still looked and talked exactly like the leader one would follow into battle. He is righteous, and strong. He made a tough decision. Still, I don't intend fo follow. That is not a path I can take. With the Light still favoring him, I don't believe i can follow it either. Me and the Order of the Silver Hand are through. I will be informing Uther of my decision when we arrive." Tyrius replied to him rather harshly. Richter seemed to understand that the business of Stratholme was now a forbidden topic and remained quiet for the rest of the day. That couldn't have suited Tyrius better.
As nightfall approached they could make out the arches of the entrance to Lordaeron City. They had made the ride with little of note occuring, save their horses being ran into the ground. They parted ways and Tyrius made his way towards the chruch. He had expected Uther to put up more of an arguement, however all he did was ask for Tyrius's tabard. Tyrius pulled it out of his bag and sat it down on the table before walking away.
Having seen Arthas' face at the end of the campaign of Stratholme, made it no surprise months later when he learned that the Prince had returned, killed the king, and set the very creatures he had fought to defeat unto his populace. "Righteousness is damning I suppose" Tyrius recalled saying as he fled the city as the undead approached. He would ride until he could ride no more. Ride to a place far from those humans whom he had known. He would ride for Ironforge, and that is exactly what he did.