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Derithor

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Number of posts : 107
Age : 31
Registration date : 2007-01-29

PostSubject: Trial by Fire   Sun Feb 11, 2007 1:33 am

This one is going against Chronology on Derithor's Timeline and it will probably be expanded and tweaked over time. But here's a little bit more of an insight.
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Derithor

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Number of posts : 107
Age : 31
Registration date : 2007-01-29

PostSubject: Re: Trial by Fire   Sun Feb 11, 2007 1:33 am

‘After two days of almost continuous fighting we were back on the march. The Horde had fallen into an organised retreat but something was amiss, even with my little knowledge of battle I could feel something was coming, something that wasn’t going to bode well for my fellow soldiers or myself’

His face was set in complete exhaustion. His sword was on the verge of falling apart in his hand but something inside him was pushing him on. Perhaps it was the short green grass of the highlands beneath his feet, or the smell of a nearby waterfall. All he knew was he couldn’t give up, not against this reckless pursuit of destruction which the horde were wreaking. His chain mail was missing links in several places and he occasionally stumbled as he walked.
He’d only been a lad when he signed up in Stormwind, but the reports of Orcs running wild over Azerothian lands were becoming more and more frequent. His father had suggested a baptism of fire would turn him into a man….He hated when his father was right. He chuckled to himself as he thought back, the pain in his legs, the stiffness in his arms, the dirt on his body, none of it mattered in that fleeting moment. It all seemed like an age ago…a thousand battles ago, and perhaps it was, but after his first battle, all of them began to merge into one. As the Army of Stormwind and Azeroth marched North in defeat, with the smoking ruins of their once proud city behind him, he felt sick at the thought of those green brutes tearing the city apart.

To Derithor Stormwind was still a shrine, he only lived in Westfall but it was rare his father would take him to the market days in the city to sell grain or cattle. But when he did, he would drink deeply from the well of sights and sounds which Stormwind was, and at the end of those days he was filled with remorse that he was leaving. Derithor remembered on one such occasion the day’s takings had been meagre, he was only 10 at the time, his father had told him the story of how he had met his mother, how his father had fallen in love with the girl he would know as Maria Artilloran on the merest glance of her pale flesh and ebony hair falling around her face. Derithor knew his mother was pretty but he didn’t really know the way his father felt about his mother, he would know in time. He realised he’d been day dreaming again as he rubbed his face and found stubble between his fingers and not the smooth skin he had as a young boy falling asleep on his fathers shoulder in the cart going home. He wondered why the Journeys in the cart always seemed to take longer to get to Stormwind than the journey home, his day dream was brought into reality when he wondered why this journey was so long, why the return to Stormwind was taking so long.
Again his stomach tightened as he thought of the greenskins in his city. As his stomach tightened the pain in his legs disappeared. And his arms felt limber once again,

‘I took inspiration from that thought on numerous occasions, now I look at Stormwind in despair, its peaceful and tranquil areas overcome with the shadows of lust and greed, the taint of corruption spread thick and soaking into her walls as if it was slopped on freely with an old paintbrush’
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