I was born two years before the Horde first came to Azeroth. My father, Altus, was a priest serving at the Northshire Abbey, and my mother Naya stayed at home with me. She used to be a sorceress in training at Dalaran, until she met and married my father.
I don't remember the start of the First War, when the Horde came through the Dark Portal and invaded the kingdom. I was only two then, when Father went away to war. But I do remember when he came back and told us we'd have to leave out home. It was four years later, and my mother had given birth to my little sister, Katia, while Father was gone. Mother gathered me and Katia while Father packed what he could into a small handcart, and we left Northshire and headed to the keep at Stormwind. But the Horde couldn't be stopped, and it wasn't long before we had to leave the keep for the sea, cramming into boats that would take us away from the invading Orcs. We sailed north as the Horde burned all that we loved and knew. I was only six, but I remember the sadness and how cold it was on the seas.
We arrived on the southern shores of Lordaeron, where we sought refuge. I remember seeing Lord Lothar, our leader, leaving for the capital city to inform the Lordaeron king of the Orc threat. As for us, Father took us north to Alterac, to seek shelter and provision from my maternal grandfather. He was a noble of that small kingdom, and would have plenty of room for us until we could find something more permanent. But I remember that our welcome was colder than even the sea itself. I learned later that he was angry at my mother for marrying my father. He held the idea of nobility in high esteem, and felt Mother was betraying her noble heritage by marrying someone who wasn't even from Alterac and was a humble priest.
Two things stand out about that day. The first was the way my grandfather beat my mother in front of us for turning her back on her heritage. He hit her face three times, called her an ingrate, accused her of betraying her family, stared burning hatred at her. The second thing was the pure fury I saw in Father's eyes as he stood watching, restrained by grandfather's guards, powerless to do anything.
At least, I thought him powerless at the time. The guards were big, what could he do? As I got older, I started to think that maybe he could have done something. After all, he was a priest who wielded the holy power of the Light. Could he not have called on that power to intervene and protect Mother? I felt anger at him for standing by. I began to see him as a coward, as weak, and began to distance myself from him. It was mainly for that reason that I chose to spend much of my time in the Hinterlands hunting with and learning from the elves. Well, that's getting ahead of myself.
It took a number of years for me to realize that Father might have been trying to teach me something that day. I think he was showing by example that rage is only proper if it's restrained, that one should be careful how he acts, especially when he's angry. I feel now that if Father had lashed out, he might have done something that would haunt him forever. Further, if he had acted, the rest of us might have been further harmed by harsh retribution. And so I began to respect his inaction that day.
Angry, wounded and saddened, we returned to Southshore, where we found shelter with a kind old sheep farmer and his wife. Their children had grown and moved to Brill, so they had ample room for us. Father was called to war a second time, for after destroying Stormwind, the Horde had turned its attention northward. This time, though, Father joined a new order of holy warriors called paladins. They had the same ability to wield the power of the Light, while possessing the martial skills of mighty warriors. Their order came to be known as the Knights of the Silver Hand. Mother, Katia and I stayed behind in Southshore. While I helped the old man with the farm, Mother and Katia aided the war effort by sewing the sheep's wool into bandages to send to the soldiers.
The war was relatively short- Father came home about a year later. He announced we would be moving north where his dwarf friend, Dobrin Hammerstone, lived with his clansmen. Father met Dobrin while he performed diplomatic duties for Northshire before he was married. The two crossed paths several times, and Father tells me they became fast friends. By chance they had ended up in the same company during the Second War. Dobrin invited Father to take us to the Hinterlands, home of the Wildhammer dwarves, to which Dobrin's clan belonged. Father agreed, thinking it to be a quiet way to raise his family.
Father was right. We felt truly at peace in the Hinterlands. Father and Dobrin built a home for us in a valley several miles from Aerie Peak, the mighty Wildhammer city built into the side of a huge mountain. To suit our new home, the leader of the Paladins, Uther Lightbringer, assigned father to be the Silver Hand's diplomat to Aerie Peak. Whenever he as home with us, he took the opportunity to teach Katia and myself about the Light. Mother stayed at home with Katia and I, teaching us how to read and write, how to conduct ourselves, and about the magic she had learned during her training at Dalaran. I was more interested in Mother's magic (in part because of the anger I felt toward my father, as I mentioned before); Katia was always more inclined to Father's teachings about the Light and its power. Those inclinations would in part define our futures.
At least, I thought him powerless at the time. The guards were big, what could he do? As I got older, I started to think that maybe he could have done something. After all, he was a priest who wielded the holy power of the Light. Could he not have called on that power to intervene and protect Mother? I felt anger at him for standing by. I began to see him as a coward, as weak, and began to distance myself from him. It was mainly for that reason that I chose to spend much of my time in the Hinterlands hunting with and learning from the elves. Well, that's getting ahead of myself.
It took a number of years for me to realize that Father might have been trying to teach me something that day. I think he was showing by example that rage is only proper if it's restrained, that one should be careful how he acts, especially when he's angry. I feel now that if Father had lashed out, he might have done something that would haunt him forever. Further, if he had acted, the rest of us might have been further harmed by harsh retribution. And so I began to respect his inaction that day.
Angry, wounded and saddened, we returned to Southshore, where we found shelter with a kind old sheep farmer and his wife. Their children had grown and moved to Brill, so they had ample room for us. Father was called to war a second time, for after destroying Stormwind, the Horde had turned its attention northward. This time, though, Father joined a new order of holy warriors called paladins. They had the same ability to wield the power of the Light, while possessing the martial skills of mighty warriors. Their order came to be known as the Knights of the Silver Hand. Mother, Katia and I stayed behind in Southshore. While I helped the old man with the farm, Mother and Katia aided the war effort by sewing the sheep's wool into bandages to send to the soldiers.
The war was relatively short- Father came home about a year later. He announced we would be moving north where his dwarf friend, Dobrin Hammerstone, lived with his clansmen. Father met Dobrin while he performed diplomatic duties for Northshire before he was married. The two crossed paths several times, and Father tells me they became fast friends. By chance they had ended up in the same company during the Second War. Dobrin invited Father to take us to the Hinterlands, home of the Wildhammer dwarves, to which Dobrin's clan belonged. Father agreed, thinking it to be a quiet way to raise his family.
Father was right. We felt truly at peace in the Hinterlands. Father and Dobrin built a home for us in a valley several miles from Aerie Peak, the mighty Wildhammer city built into the side of a huge mountain. To suit our new home, the leader of the Paladins, Uther Lightbringer, assigned father to be the Silver Hand's diplomat to Aerie Peak. Whenever he as home with us, he took the opportunity to teach Katia and myself about the Light. Mother stayed at home with Katia and I, teaching us how to read and write, how to conduct ourselves, and about the magic she had learned during her training at Dalaran. I was more interested in Mother's magic (in part because of the anger I felt toward my father, as I mentioned before); Katia was always more inclined to Father's teachings about the Light and its power. Those inclinations would in part define our futures.
I happened upon the direction my life would take, not knowing that's what it would be. To the east of Aerie Peak, the powerful high elves of Quel'Thalas had established a hunting lodge. Enmity going back thousands of years existed between the elves and the forest trolls that inhabited the forests of Azeroth. Several troll tribes had settled in the Hinterlands, and the elves helped the dwarves keep them at bay. Neither side strove to great efforts to wipe out the others; to do so would have come at far too great a cost for both the ultimate winner and loser. So, they kept their territory and fought daily to keep the other side off of it.
In my eleventh year, we attended Brewfest, a traditional dwarven festival, at Aerie Peak. I entered an archery competition for the younger dwarves (who were still some 30-40 years my senior), and despite my youth, won somewhat handily. A high elf visiting from the hunting lodge came up to us and told us he was impressed with my skill. When my father introduced himself, the elf surprised us by saying he knew of my father. He explained that a number of the elves at the hunting lodge had fought in the same company as Father during the Second War. The elf, named Anu'Serr Stormshade, said his kinsmen spoke highly of Altus, and took us to meet a few of them who had also come to the festival. I remember how happy Father was to see them, and how glad they were in return. The only person outside of our family in whose presence Father seemed to be most happy was Dobrin. Father stayed and talked with his friends, while Mother, Katia and I enjoyed other parts of the festival. When Father joined us again, he told us we had been invited by the elves to visit the hunting lodge. Katia and I were so excited- we'd always been intrigued by the somewhat mysterious high elves, and now we would have the chance to see where and how they lived.
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