The Beginning of Calamity



Part 1 of 4



The soothing embrace of night fell over the City of Stromgarde, and the bustling crowd wandering the streets of the great Alliance fortress began to disperse towards their respective dwellings almost on cue. For the most part the City was entering its sleepy phase between dusk and dawn, and the guardsmen on patrol were beginning to light the torches in anticipation of another eventless night watch. Nestled in the southeast corner of the city stood was a building that, although similar in design to the others, was quite defiant of the trend that always set in throughout the city at dusk. A plume of smoke could be seen rising from the chimney of this building at all hours, and the resonating sound of steel against steel was as constant as a drum beat.

This building belonged to a blacksmith of great repute within Stromgarde, Heodren Tharnstar. Toiling typically as he did during the night, much to the annoyance of nearby residents, the bulky man set about his business once more in preparation for events that would soon be known to history. Master Heodren, as he was known by his pupils, was a human that stood out as much as his workshop. His wildly growing beard would suggest to most that he had far more regard for his work than his appearance, a notion which was reinforced by the sheer size of his massive arms. Taking a long drink of water from his mug, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and rose from his seat to begin the night's work.

"If the difference in battle be quality of armor and sharpness of blade, then by the Light we shall prevail tommorow" he assured himself aloud as he began collecting metals that were stored in one corner of the room.

As he had done so many times before, he began to rouse the fire in the forge to its required temperature. This relatively time-consuming process had always started wheels turning in his mind, as it must have for any aging blacksmith as he contemplated the goods he was about to make. The flow of weapons and armor was as steady as the perpetual constant of war itself, he thought, as shadows in the room began to dance under the spell of the raging fire. Never in his life had a day gone by when a sword did not need sharpening, or a shield not need mending. If there was a time without war, Heodren could not recall hearing of it.
A knock at the door stirred the pensive blacksmith, but he could not bring himself to break the hold that the flame of the forge seemed to have on his eyes.

"Enter!" he shouted above the crackling sounds of the fire in his usual gruff voice, curious as to who might be disturbing his work at this hour.

The door creaked open, and Heodren finally turned to greet his visitor. His raised an eyebrow curiously as he assessed the company before him. A rather tall and thin young lady with blonde hair tied in a ponytail was standing in the doorway, and seemed to be standing at attention obediently as well. Heodren nodded his head slowly and began to stroke his frizzled beard.

"Arias... I told you and Dissante I would be busy tonight. Your lessons shall continue when I return from Alterac" he stated as he had earlier that day, yet something he could feel that Arias was not going to accept the answer she was given. The young lady, at the age of thirteen, was unusually relentless in her study of both swordplay and blacksmithing. Heodren had always respected this about her, and was prone to spoiling his favorite pupil. Still, tonight was different. Tonight, the outcome of a battle against an unthinkable enemy may rest in his hands. Tilting her head to the side slightly, Arias seemed ready and eager to protest this delay in her studies.

"Master Heodren, the armor you make this night is of the greatest importance to our soldiers... I simply must observe you at work!" Arias said, filled with the typical impatience of youth. The look in her eyes suggested that there was more to this visit than what she had told him. Gathering up one last ditch effort to politely deny her the spectatorship she was requesting, Heodren asked the only question he thought might have a chance of cornering her on the issue.

"Does your father know where you are?" he asked bluntly. Heodren knew almost before she spoke once more that he was indeed going to be teaching Arias tonight. The look on her face gave him no alternative.

"He knows I am here" she replied, remembering in the back of her mind that she had told her parents she would only be here for a few minutes.

"Please, Master Heodren... my father goes to war tommorow" Arias continued, fighting back tears. "I wish to... have a hand in making the plate that will keep him safe".

Heodren closed his eyes in contemplation, stroking his beard once more. Arias had indeed made a considerable amount of progress in forging steel, as evidenced by a rather striking blade she had crafted months earlier which found its way into the posession of a young Sergeant. The crafting of armor was much more intricate, even for an apprentice of her talent, he thought. His mind made up, he opened his eyes once more and waved his hand to the air, calling her over to where he stood.

"If you are going to learn how to forge breastplate at such a young age, then you'd best watch closely my young lass... and not a word of this to Dissante. I fear the young lad shall ne'er forge anything but a buttering knife" he said, shaking his head in lament as he finished.

The smoke continued to pour out of the chimney of the workshop, just as it always had. The relentless clashing of steel upon steel could be heard throughout the night as always, but tonight there was a slight difference. The drum beat rhythm that everyone had grown accustomed to was twice as fast on this night.

The Beginning of Calamity



Part 2 of 4



On the eve of the great battle to dispose of the treacherous Nation of Alterac, the sleepless state was felt by more than Heodren and his young apprentice. During the night, armies from neighbouring Alliance nations had formed up and set up camp outside of the city, causing quite a ruckus in the process. Anxious soldiers in the Stromgarde Militia would probably not have slept had they suddenly gone deaf to all the noise in their surroundings, as they lay awake contemplating the battle that was to be fought. It was, to say the least, a tense atmosphere before the battle. Today, men and women they had called "friend" would be their adversaries in a life-and-death struggle.

Inside the smithy, the young Arias was putting the finishing touches on a finely crafted sword, one which she had special intentions for. Heodren watched with satisfaction and a bit of curiosity as she carefully etched letters into the hilt of the sword. Rays of sunlight began to pour through the window, flooding the room with a bright gleam that seemed to cue the fateful events of the day. Heodren, satisfied with the night's work, sank into his chair in the corner, his eyes barely able to stay open.

"Arias... you have learned a great deal tonight. Furthermore, your work on the armor has helped me out a great deal. With a bit of practice, you will make a fine blacksmith." he said, the fatigue evident in his voice. Arias did not at all seem fazed by the hours of tiring work she had endured, she simply stood with her hands clasped together with a glowing smile on her face.

"Now, Arias, we have completed the last of the order placed by the army. All that is left is to..." Heodren started.

"...Deliver it!" Arias finished for him, as she picked up the fine blade she had just completed and ran out the door in search of her father without another word or thought. Heodren made his way to the door, leaning against the frame as he looked on at the young lady running down the street. He smiled as she faded out of sight, still rather amazed at the quality of her work for such a young age.

"She is the embodiment of the reason we fight today, so that young people like her will have a bright future ahead of them." Heodren said, never more convinced of the truth of his own words. He began to collect the suits of armor and weapons to make deliveries of his own.


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"Oh Nason..." a soft, sorrow-filled voice began. A tear-filled scene was unfolding at the Silverwind residence, as Arias' mother was caressing her husband's face as she prepared as best she could to see him off to war.
Nason Silverwind reached out to his wife and shared a comforting embrace with her, rubbing her back gently as his words soothed her racing heart.

"Alyse, my love... the Alliance shall triumph this day, I know it will!" he stated matter-of-factly, with all the conviction that a true warrior would posess. The effect of his words were somewhat lost on his beloved, as one might expect they would be to a lifelong non-combatant.

"Oh you foolish man! Victory will mean little to me if you do not return to your family!" she retorted, her words probing for some sort of promise or commitment for his safe return. Sensing this, Nason pulled back and held her at his arm's length, staring deeply into her eyes. It was a moment where words were simply not needed; their longing gaze had created a pact that was more powerful than any binding magic.

"I will always come back to you and the girls. Always will I be with you." he said, turning his head for a moment to smile at the little red-headed girl who was now hiding behind her mother. Nason knelt down, scooped up his youngest daughter with his left arm, and shared a family hug for what he felt could be the last time.

"I hope Arias gets back soon... I know you said she was at the forge, but..." Alyse started, and was promptly interupted by the sound of the door bursting open. It was Arias, out of breath but still carrying the large blade she had created. She had apparently carried it in one hand the entire time, which was rather remarkable for someone her age. Nason welcomed her home with a warm hug, but could not cast aside his curiosity at Arias returning home with such a monstrous sword in hand.

"Daddy, I made this for you!" Arias said, her hands outstretched in offering the blade to her father. Her smile was such that you would not have thought she properly understood that her father was about to join a battle. Nason took the blade into his hands, unsheathed the sword and inspected it as he would any sword. His eyes narrowed at times, and widened at others at his eyes scanned the surface of the sword.

"This... is a fine sword! It bears the markings of Master Heodren, but forged by my own daughter" Nason said, the emotion of the situation beginning to affect him. A small engraving on the hilt of the sword caught his eye, as inspected it closely. The word "Dad" was etched onto the sword, a gift made with love by his daughter.

Sharing their farewells before the battle, Nason's heart was calmed by an eerie sense of tranquility. Perhaps it was the secure knowledge that his family would find a way to carry on, even should he fall in battle. The future, as Heodren had thought, rested with Arias. Surely she would grow up to be a fine person, if not a fine soldier.