The chronicles of Dalrus Plaguefang

Prologue - The shadow is born.

The city of Gilneas, surrounded as it was by the construction material of the soon to be started 'Greymane Wall', looked almost like a newly formed ruin amidts the raging storm. The tidy streets and alleys looked as if they were alive as the flowing water poured down the roads, only to vanish within the sewer entrances.

The Plaguefang estate was rather close to said wall - the result of king Greymane's reluctance in remaining part of the Alliance after the end of the Second War - and, as a result, each time the lightning crackled outside, the pipes and foundations cast long shadows like tendrils in the night. The rain fell upon the glass windows like bullets, and all covers had been closed, therefore, the only sound that could be heard was the howling of the wind, the help dashing from one room to another and the pained screams of a woman in labour.

"Breathe deeply, Dallys. Come now, this is not our first time." Said the master of the manor, Lord Kalthuz Plaguefang the Second. He was a very tall and broad man, with his moderately long hair stuck in a braid behind his head and a thick, yet short beard covering most of his jaw. His upper lip was completely covered by a very thick mustache, and despite the cold wind chilling the entire manor, the man was clearly sweating behind his gentle smile. His brows were high arched on his forehead, and every now and then he would launch worried glances at the priest on the other side of the bed. The man was old and wrinkly, his brows and mustache already a deep gray. One hand was gripping with surprising vigor at a long white staff, the other was upon Lady Dally's Plaguefang's exposed engorged belly, a soft light emmanating from underneath and providing most of the room's illumination.

"Father?" Came the low, frightened voice of a child from the doorway. Kalthuz didn't need to turn to know his son had been watching them the whole time. He could have given the order to take young Felruz to his room, but Dallys had decided against it. "Let him stay... He has the right to watch his little brother enter this world." Had been her words, soon before the struggle began.

And now, there she was, her face twisted in agony and her eyes snapped shut. The bed she and her husband had laid upon together so many nights was now an absolute mess, soaked from the many wet towels that had been applied to her as well as from her own sweat. Lord Kalthuz remembered how Felrus' own birth hadn't been a much prettier sight, but by now even he was growing worried. The fact the priest looked so deep in concentration without showing any hint of easing up only made him worry further. Still, he refused to give in to his emotions. Taking a deep breath, he looked over his shoulder and nodded at his son. "Felrus, it's getting late. You don't need to stay until the end if you don't want to. This is a sight no man should bear witness to, I grant you that much!" He tried to launch a reassuring smile towards the boy, but it ended up coming out as a worried scowl instead.

Shaking his head vigorously, the boy stepped inside the room with a determined look. "No! I want to stay... Mother said I could. Can I... Can I help? Is there anything I can do?"

Kalthuz hesitated for a moment, then he exhaled a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding. This time he managed to muster a genuine smile, taking warmth in how well his heir was taking this whole situation in, and said: "It's fine, son. Simply be by her side. Your presence alone will give her strength... Isn't that right, my love?" He said, once more turning to face his wife. Dallys half opened on eye, and meekly nodded at her son before her back arched and she let out a sharp shriek of pain. This made Kalthuz forget for a moment there was a child in the room as he turned his gaze towards the priest. "Blast it, man! Can you do nothing for her pain!? I've seen maimed orcs agonizing less on their death beds!"

It took longer than Kalthuz liked for the priest to reply, but when he did, his expression remained the exact same. "The child is in danger. I am doing what I can to save him. I can't focus on that and your wife's pain at the same time." And with that, he resumed his stoic stare into the woman's womb as his palm shone on over her.

Kalthuz felt as if the floor had given way under him. "Speak to me, damn you! What is wrong? Will he survive? Will she!?" He shot a desperate glance towards Dallys, who in turn half opened one eye to look up at her husband.

"Kalthuz... My love..." She whispered amongst pained moans. "If you must choose between me and our child... Save him. I beg you..." Her words were cut off by another howl of pain, and the priest's expression grew more stern. His eyes then moved to Felrus, then towards Lord Kalthuz who continued to hold his wife's hand as if it were his life line on a boat. "You should remove the boy. This will be painfull to see." His words were practically a grunt, and sweat could be seen darting through his wrinkly brows. To that, Kalthuz shook his head vigorously. "No, he stays. He has the right... And my son is not weak. Neither of them." Upon those last words, his eyes shifted to her belly, where the warm glow of the healing Light almost made the baby underneath visible through her thick skin. Then, suddenly, Lady Dallys let out a sharper shriek than any before and pushed her back against the pillow pile behind her, her legs spreading as far as she could push them behind the blanket that offered her some modesty. Kalthuz didn't even need the priest to say 'He comes' to know what was happening.

The Light shone on even brighter than before, so much it cast deep shadows at everyone present in the room. The storm picked up outside, and at times it was difficult to make out whose noise it was; the howling wind, the striking thunder, or Lady Dallys' pained labour screams.

"Come on... You are a Plaguefang. FIght, young one..." Kalthuz found himself whispering, his son standing next to him with wide eyes and a hand over his mother's as his father almost possessively held her with both of his own. After what felt like an eternity, the Light from under the priest's palm suddenly gave out, and the only light in the room came from the dim candles around them. Absolute silence... Even Lady Dallys herself had stopped screaming. Until...

The sharp, high pitched shriek of a newborn baby echoed through the halls of the Plaguefang manor.

With an exhausted sigh, the priest enveloped his robes around the bloody newborn and hoisted him up in his arm, his staff now serving the purpose of a walking stick as he stood up. "It is a healthy boy." He proudly announced. "I managed to purge his weakness... But I'm afraid the burden on the mother was heavy." Finally, he seemed to show some emotion as his gaze shifted towards Lady Dally's exhausted face, her long red hair disheveled and spread in all directions on the pillows around her head. Meekly, the woman lifted a hand as if reaching out for the boy. "Let me see him... My... Son..." Her voice was barely a whisper, and thick, dark bags could be seen under her eyes.

Lord Kalthuz and his son both stood motionless as the priest handed the baby to his mother, the woman immediately pulling him towards her chest and nuzzling his cheek tenderly with her nose. "My baby... I am so glad... Thank the Light for this miracle..." She whispers, her voice weak and fragile, yet so full of joy it brought tears to Kalthuz' eyes. "Yes..." He says, slowly leaning up besides her on the bed and gently wrapping his arm over and around her shoulder, his other hand reaching out for his newborn son's face and tenderly rubbing his soft cheek with his fingertip. "A healthy boy... Look, Felrus. This is your brother..." A bright smile was stretching his tired features, and tears really did stream from the corners of his eyes now.

"He is... So small." Was all the boy could think of saying as he tried to peek over his father's arm to get a glimpse of his baby brother. He then turned to look at his mother, his tiny brows furrowing highly in deep worry. "Mother... Are you alright? You should rest!"

Barely listening to her own child, Dallys simply continued to hug her son as his cries slowly died down and became moans and soft yelps as the confused child blinked at his family. "He is so handsome... I bet he will grow up to be just like you... Again." Dallys let out a soft chuckle, then turned her face to her husband, who was biting on his lower lip to stop it from trembling. "Yes, my love. But now the question... What shall we name him?" Before that question, Dallys once more lowered her gaze towards her baby and smiled warmly at him as she watched him stretch his tiny arms outwards, his minuscle hands curled into fists and rubbing at rubbing at his head. "As Felrus was named for your grandfather... So shall this boy be named after mine. "She planted a loving kiss upon his forehead. "He is... Dalrus of the House Plaguefang."

With a curt nod of his head, Kalthus reached out with his finger once more, and felt his heart skip a beat as Dalrus grabbed it, squeezing with all his baby strength. "Yes... A fine name. Look, Felrus. Do you know what this means?" He then wrapped his other hand around his older son's waist and hoisted him up onto his thight, allowing him to take a closer look at his brother. "You are the elder son, Felrus. That means you are the heir. But Dalrus here... He is to be your shadow. Your blade in the dark. Whatever you need in this world, you may count on this boy to help you. You two shall become inseparable, with a bond stronger than blood itself, as I had with my brother before you. Be proud, son. Today... We continue the legacy of our house!" Kalthuz would have continued with his little speech, but he was interrupted by a loud cough from the priest. "This is the limit. The mother needs her rest."

Kalthuz hesitated, as did Dallys, but ultimately he nodded. "Yes, you are right. Worry not, my love... Our child shall be safe and healthy as you rest. Now recover your strength... For your sake, mine, and our son's."

It looked as if the woman was ready to argue about the matter, but suddenly her eyes fluttered close and she collapsed against the bed, her son falling against Kalthuz' arm. "Dallys? Dallys!? My love!?" The man almost screamed, his eyes going wide with shock. Then he felt the priest's soft hand patting him on the arm. "She is exhausted. Only her motherly instict had her awake this long. Leave her now, she needs her rest. As does the boy." Kalthuz opened his mouth to protest, but then he felt Felrus tugging on his shirt. "Father, I think we should listen to him. Mother looks tired." His gaze darting between his son, the priest, and his unconscious wife, Kalthuz finally sighed heavily and nodded. "Very well. Felrus, go give word that Dalrus is coming. I will bring him to his room in a moment. " With a quick nod, the boy rushed out of the room. Wrapping some cloth around the baby, Kalthuz stood up and craddled the boy against his chest as he faced the priest. "And... My wife?" He finally said, his voice almost giving out for a moment.

The priest stood silent for a long moment, his face looking even older and more sinister under the flickering candle light. "I did what was within my reach." He said once more. "I had to focus most of my efforts on the baby. I believe she will live... But the price she paid was great. On any other case, it would have to be a choice between the baby and the mother. But, as for her..." He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I'm afraid she will spend the rest of her days on this bed, or a chair. Her body may never fully recover. By her own will, much of her life force was transferred to the child. There is a limit to what even the Light can do."

Kalthuz' shoulders slumped over, his eyes wide with despair. "Curse you, priest! I've seen this damned Light stop boulders the size of this house, reattach limbs and even raise the dead! Don't give me this nonsense! There must be some way she can walk and carry her own son again!"

Despite the harsh words, the man did not look in the least offended or preoccupied. "The Light is not a tool to be used at will. It has a will of It's own. It was only because of her own ardent desire to save her child that It aided me as much as it did. You should be glad the Light chose to save her as it did, rather than cursing it for better results." And with that, the priest turned away and slowly began to make his way towards the door. On the doorway, he stopped and turned his head over his shoulder to look at Dally's unconscious face. "Do not underestimate her effort today. The sacrifice she made as a mother would make any proud of her love." And with that, the priest left the room, and not much later, the manor, his cowl doing it's best to protect him from the rain and the howling winds.

Kalthuz himself did not linger too long in the room - he only spared a moment to kiss his wife on the lips, and whisper: "You will make it, Dallys. I know it." Then, he brought his son to his new room, where a milk maid and two butlers were already waiting to help care for him until his mother woke up. Felrus was allowed to watch his brother for a few more minutes before his father sent him to bed, and soon Lord Kalthuz himself was laying wide awake on one of their guest rooms - the maids had told him it was best for Lady Dallys to be on her own for the time being, as any other presence could disturb her rest.

His eyes were very open, staring at the dark ceiling above. The curtains did very little to hide the powerful lightning bolts falling down around the house, their light illuminating the entire room. 'Blast'. He thought bitterly. 'To have survived two wars, only to succumb to something such as this... Be strong, my love. Do not give in.'

Hours later, exhaustion took over, and Lord Kalthuz Plaguefang fell asleep. One floor below, his newborn son, Dalrus Plaguefang, had also fallen into a deep slumber, his face laying on it's side over his pillow, not in the least troubled by the raging storm outside. The boy who would grow to become the shadow, the blade in the dark of House Plaguefang.

Chapter 1 - The Shadow on the horizon

"Concentrate, Dalrus. It's not about vanishing from sight. It's about making them think they see what they want to see!"

"Aham."

It was a warm summer day in Gilneas. Dalrus was under the plain sunlight, clad in a simple black shirt and loose green trousers, with sandals completing his attire. The backyard of the Plaguefang estate was directly facing the Wall of Graymane, so it made for the perfect spot for secret rogue stealth training. Dalrus was now ten years old, his short, thick black hair already going past and covering his ears. His eyes were a deep, striking blue that elicited many compliments from polite ladies and the occasional gentleman. His nose was clearly growing to be as big and thick as his father's, and his young body already displayed a well defined tone of growing muscle. He scratched his chin distractedly, his eyes shifting up to the barely visible patch of blue sky in between his manor's ceiling and the imposing wall behind him. His instructor was a somewhat short and lanky man by the name of Silvius Moonbite, and he had a long crooked nose Dalrus just could not help but stare every single time they met for ther training sessions. He also could not understand how the man could be wearing that dark leather armor over his clothes, and on top of that, a cloak with a long black cowl, from under which his sharp eyes could be seen glaring at him. "Are you listening to me, boy!?"

With a bored sigh, Dalrus shifted his gaze back at the man who wasn't that much taller than him. "Loud and clear, lord sir mister professor Silvius, sir! We must play the enemy for fools, I see!"

The rogue scowled at Dalrus, then within a moment, he had vanished from sight and Dalrus was seeing the world upside down. Before he knew it, the boy was laying on his back on the floor, and Silvius was squatting down besides him, a scornful smile stretching his thin lips. "The only sharp thing a rogue needs is his blade, boy. A tongue like that will most likely get you killed."

Dalrus huffed, then jumped up on his feet. "Yeah, whatever. It's not like they will ever see me coming, right?" He wiped the grass off his shirt and shook his arms. This was pretty much routine for them by now. Dalrus was always provoking the man on purpose, coaxing him to do exactly what he had just done. The 'shadowstep' - as Silvius had called it the first time Dalrus had attempted to skip on his training - was but one of the weapons in a rogue's arsenal. Dalrus had been told that, in time, he would be able to bend the shadows around him like a cloak, allowing him to run at great speeds, jump amazing lengths, even protect himself from harm and vanishing from sight. Furthermore, he would learn how to do the same for his weapons, turning already deadly tools into unstoppable deathbringers.

He could even remember 'the talk' his father had had with him the day he turned five years old. Felrus, his four years older brother had been there as well. Both boys were sitting on the couch, facing their father who paced back and forth in his study.

"Dalrus, today you turn five. It is a very important date in our family. Today marks the day you begin your studies, and most importantly, your training, as your brother did before you." Before those words, Felrus only nodded solemnly. He and Dalrus looked a lot alike, the difference being his hair was red as their mother's, and his facial features were more angular, more... Beautiful, whereas it seemed Dalrus would grow to develop his father's rugged looks.

"Oh... Yeah?" Was all the boy could think of saying as he tried not to fall back to sleep on his seat - his father had woken him and his brother very early in the morning, before most of the staff did, even. "It's my birthday? Where's my present?"

Ignoring his son's words, Kalthuz continued to pace restlessly. "You must understand, Dalrus. Our house has only one heir. The elder son is the one to inherit the duties of our legacy. Felrus." And with that, he stopped before the red haired boy, who had already perked up in attention. "Where does our name come from?"

Without missing a beat, he begins to speak: "In ancient times, the Fang was known as the head of the house, and the 'Plague' was an unwanted second son who could never inherit the title of the main branch. One day, during a great peril, the Fang had his life saved by the lesser 'Plague', and since then it was decided that no longer the second son would be a pariah, but rather he would become the shadow of the heir, his blade in the dark and his protector. The house's name was then changed to show that they stood in equal importance within their lineage."

With a nod, Kalthuz says: "Very good. You have been dilligent with your studies. That was very well summerized. Do you understand, Dalrus? Your brother is the Fang, and you are the Plague... The Shadow. The blade in the dark. You two must work together to bring our house and our land prosperity. Do you understand?"

Dalrus, who had by then fallen asleep, suddenly lifted his head and stared at his father with wide eyes. "Yes! Yes! So, where are my presents?"

Once again ignoring his son, Kalthuz nods and waves towards the wall behind him. Where once stood just a plain old rug and a beautifully carved pillar, now suddenly stood the lanky, dark figure of Silvius Moonbite. "Dalrus, meet your teacher. In the past, SIlvius served in the SI:7, the Stormwind's intelligence and espionage division. He is very skilled and wise, and you will learn the subtle arts of roguery with him."

The boy could only blink in confusion. "So... Is this old guy my present?"

And here they were, five years later. Ah, how time flew...

"... wrist! You need to angle your wrist right, boy! Pay attention!" The man hissed, smacking Dalrus out of his daydreaming on the back of his head. "Like it or not, this is what you're doing! So you might as well learn to enjoy it or tolerate in a way that doesn't make me waste my time here!"

Dalrus, who had absent-mindedly began to practice throwing knives, rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah, I got it already. Look, we've done this hundreds of times. You've seen me hit the center. Why do we need to do it again?" He says, casually tossing the dagger up in the air and grabbing the blade between two of his fingers on it's way down.

"Because." The old rogue hissed, one hand on his hip as with the other he jabbed a finger at the boy's chest. "This needs to become something you can do without thinking. You hit the center while focusing and calculating many trajectories, but that's not good enough. You think you'll have time to stop and think in a battlefiled with axes swinging left and right over your empty head? You need to practice this a million times more, until you can do it without the need to focus every brain cell you have. And Light knows you already put them to plenty of work."

With a tired sigh, the rogue-in-training turned to face the targets - dummies placed against the wall, about twenty feet away from the two. "Whatever, this isn't fun. It's just boring and repetitive." He says, hurling the knife. It crossed the distance in a flash and hit two rings away from the center of the target's chest.

"It's not supposed to be fun, boy. It's supposed to help keep you and your brother alive. Or would you rather see him dead because of your incompetence?"

This actually caused Dalrus to perk up, and his next dagger buried itself hilt-deep between the dummy's button eyes. "Don't be stupid, old man. As if anything could ever kill Felrus. Even dad says in a few years, he'll be the one to come out on top on sparring."

While Dalrus had been training on how to sneak around unseen, lodge daggers between ribcages ten paces away and concoct poisons, Felrus had been training just as hard on swordplay. Every day he would wake up even earlier than his younger brother, wash himself, break his fast and get ready for morning training. It began with one hour of horse riding, followed by intense exercises for his arms and legs, and only after that would he actually grab the practice sword and fence against his trainer. He would only stop briefly to have lunch, then go right back to his practice before going to his room to study with his tutor. That part was supposed to be shared by the two boys, but very often Dalrus simply skipped his lessons to go loiter in the city, or, like most recently, climb up to the edge of the wall and watch the horizon.

Silvious snickered at those words. "Aye, maybe one day he'll be a warrior to be feared. But let me tell you something, boy, and pay very attention to me when I say this." And with that, Dalrus felt that small - yet incredibly firm and strong - hand pressed against the back of his head and pulling his face so close to Silvius' their noses were almost touching. "Doesn't matter how mighty a warrior, how powerful a mage, how skilled a hunter you are..." And then he felt a cold, sharp sting poking at his side. He didn't need to look down to know what it was. "Slipping a knife between your ribs while you sleep ends even the mightiest of legends. And you will find that three grains the size of a pinhead of my poisons mixed in your salt jar could kill you and your entire family in one big happy dinner occasion." And suddenly he was released again, Dalrus taking a few steps back and watching the man warily. "Surely enough, in 'honorable' combat, some people are nigh unbeatable. But there are plenty people in this world who don't face the enemy from the front. People just waiting for you to show your back so we can sink a dagger into it. That, boy-" And here he pointed the curved, silver tip of his dagger at Dalrus. "- is the kind of enemy you will have to face. People who took this training much more seriously than you did. People who are natural born killers and assassins. People who take lives as easily as you take bites off your food. People whom your brother would never see coming in a sunny empty field in the middle of summer. Do I make myself clear, or did I just waste my time trying to make a point again?"

Dalrus went silent, his gaze shifting to the ground as one of his hands curled into a fist, the other one going to rub his side... And he was surprised to feel somthing wet there. Looking down, there was a big stain on his shirt, and looking up, he saw that SIlvius' other dagger had been drawn as well, blood - his blood - dripping from it. "What... You-" Suddenly his world began to go dark. His legs gave out, and he collapsed on his side, his arms and legs going numb. "You... Stabbed... Me..." Were the groggy words to come out of his mouth as his sight became hazy. He could only see Silvius' boots as the rogue approached the fallen boy, his head hoisted up and craddled against his arm. His lips were forced open, and he felt something very bitter flowing down his throat. He coughed violently and shook his head, trying to wake himself. "BLEGH! THIS TASTES AWFUL!"

Silvius had a very amused expression on his face. "See, it wasn't even a deep cut. All I did was slide the tip in. And the poison was already enough to paralyze your entire body. But I see you're already strong enough to complain." And with that, Dalrus' head fell against the grass, his body slowly tingling back to life. Grunting, the boy sat up on the floor, trying to focus his thoughts. "Did you really need to stab and poison me to make a point, old man?"

To that, Silvius' smile only spread even farther. "No. But you had it coming, brat. Now get up. You're going to practice throwing those daggers while half-poisoned now. And if I hear you complain, or see you slacking off again... I have some good stuff here. This one paralyzed you. The other one can swell your tongue so much you wont even have time to beg me to stop before you choke to death."

Hours later, Dalrus still felt sore and groggy from the poison. Silvius had told him the antidote was enough to completely shake off it's effects after a few hours, but he bet the old man had lied about that too. 'Deception is also one of our tools. And learning how to see through it is one thing no one can teach you. Figure it on your own, boy.'

The Plaguefang estate was right against the corner of Gilneas. Not too far from it were more noble houses, but theirs was by far the most 'out-of-the-way'. There was one road leading to the town center, and it was that that Dalrus now followed, his practice dagger spinning around his fingers casually as he walked. He pondered what he should do help him relax some. Normally he would try and climb the wall, but given how his feet still tingled, he didn't want to risk them giving out halfway up. So maybe walk around the town center, try and look for something new for once? Not that many things ever got through the Wall of Greymane, save for the birds. His father had told him the wall was a necessary thing, a protection against the many evils outside. Dalrus had been told that soon before he was born, there had been a terrible war against demons and green-skinned creatures called 'orcs'. The war had been very taxing, so much the kingdom of Stormwind fell, the king was murdered and many people died. Old man Greymane had decided Gilneas would have none of it, so he built a huge wall to seal them off from the rest of the world. Not everyone was happy with the decision, however. Darius Crowley, one of the noble men living just outside the range of the wall when it had been decided, was the loudest voice against it. The man made some good arguments, but frankly, Dalrus saw no point to fighting a battle that wasn't his own. Better to lock themselves out of all that conflict and leave a peaceful life here than letting the war ravage his home.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the high pitched and screams of children fighting. Curious, he got closer to it's source, and found a girl surrounded by three boys who were all busy tossing her doll around and over her head. They were all teasing her, some going so far as to call her 'traitor' every now and then.

"Look here, you want this back?" One of the boys said, shaking the doll right in front of her face. "Why don't you go call yer' dad? Maybe hurting the child o' one of the nobles will be enough to see the basterd behind bars, at last!" Before the girl could grab it back, the doll was tossed to another one. "Oy, look here! She's just mad she was locked out o' the wall! Is it true you people live on tree tops like apes?" The doll was tossed once more. "Aye, and that traitor dad o' yours is the ape king! Hahahah!" This time, however, the boy had no time to act as the girl suddenly tackled him down and began throwing punches at his face. "DON'T YOU TALK ABOUT MY FATHER YOU DAMN BUGGERS!" She screamed, her tiny fists raining down on the bully. "OY! GET THIS CRAZY BIRD OFFA ME!" He shouted back, and before long the two boys were holding her by her arms. Wiping his bloody nose on the back of his sleeve, the boy turned at her, his face red with anger. "Ye damn crazy wench! Me pa' told me not to hit a girl, but he never said anythin' about hittin' the daughter of a traitor!" Even as the boy stepped forward, his hand already curled into a fist, the girl would still scream: "My father is no traitor! Greymane is crazy to lock us out like this! He just wants us all to be free!"

Deciding that he had seen enough, Dalrus decided to act, with a swift, deft motion, he flicked the dagger towards one of the boys. It spinned exactly three times before the hilt hit him right on the temple, causing his to lose his grip and letting the girl duck out of the angry boy's punch, which in turn hit his friend right on the face. Taking the opportunity, the girl stepped down on her captor's foot, before stepping forward and kicking the confused boy with all her might right between his legs. The boy didn't even have the strength to scream as he fell down, cluthing his trousers and whimpering sadly. Her eyes shot even more daggers that Dalrus as she glared at the other two boys, who, crying and muttering profanities at the girl, grabbed their friend and ran away. Once they were gone, Dalrus let out a loud whistle of appreciation and stepped into her view. "Nice work, love. Though I think that finisher was a bit of an overkill, eh? The boy won't be walking straight for a week."

The girl looked at him, her expression changing immediately. "Well. It's his own fault. There are no rules in a street fight. And I'm no girl to simply lay down and take it, that's for sure. But... Thanks for the help." She wiped the dust of her dress, and stood up straight. Her hair was long and black, with elegant curly ends. She had strong eyes, unlike most girls Dalrus had met before, and showed a fierce determination behind them. "Name's Lorna. Lorna Crowley. And... Yes. My father is Darius Crowley."

To that, Dalrus offered as gallant a smile as a ten year old could muster. "I'm Dalrus, of house Plaguefang. So your father is the guy stirring up all that ruckys at old Greymane's doorstep, eh? I should thank you for that, things are always more interesting with a riot or two going on. So what are you doing here, all alone, Lorna?" With a deft motion of his foot, he kicked her doll up in the air, then, with a quick wave of his hand, he grabbed it and held it before her.

The girl hesitated, then picked her doll up and slapped the dust off it with the back of her hand. "Well... My father is having a reunion with king Greymane. He said I should come with him to see what it's like... In here. I was supposed to meet with his son, Lyam, but... W-well, that is, ah..."

"You're lost." He said, his lips parting in a wide, mischievous smile.

"Well... Yes." She conceded, managing to still look a little grumpy despite her clear embarrassment.

"If that's the case, I could show you around. Little Greymane is always darting around his dad's place, but every now and then he graces us mortals with his royal presence down by the town market. If our good king is busy with your father, I'd bet that's where he is right now. And lucky you, that's exactly where I'm headed!" Shooting the girl a playful wink, he pocketed his practice dagger and made an overly exxagerated motion towards the road he had been following. "Care for an escort, milady?"

With a roll of her eyes, she elbowed him on the ribs and began to walk down the road. "You coming?" She said, looking back over her shoulder.

As the duo strolled down the road, Dalrus once again pulled out his dagger and began to toss it up and down, sometimes catching it by the blade, others by the pommel, but almost never by the handle. Noticing that, Lorna said: "So what are you, some kind of assassin? You almost gouged that boy's eye off. Not that I'm complaining, an eyepatch would probably improve his looks."

Holding back a chuckle, he responded: "Well, I've been training to be a rogue for a while now. It comes in with handy tricks. But that aside... What's the deal with your father? Is the wall really worth all this ruckus? I would think Crowley would be glad to be rid of Gilneas' ugly mug."

Lorna's expression grew somber for a moment. "The wall... It cut right through some of our lands. Communication between Pyrewood Village and Ambermill are all but cut out. People are afraid. And on top of that... My father is against us leaving the alliance. He said Gilneas should have taken a bigger role on the war. Not to mention this talk about a plague spreading through the north of Lordaeron."

He looked at her with curious interest at that last remark. "Well then, aren't we lucky we got nothing more to do with Lordaeron anymore. I'd think if nothing more, this big wall should keep us safe from disease. If you ask me, you should find a way to stay around here while your dad fights the fight outside. Much safer when you're surrounded by thick stone bricks on all sides."

"Well, yes... But what of the rest of the Eastern Kingdoms? What if the orcs come back? What if a new threat comes? Should we just sit idle and do nothing while innocents suffer and... Die?" Her eyebrows were highly arched on her forehead, as if she were asking that to herself as well as him.

Dalrus took a long moment before he gave his reply. "People die every day, love. We all gotta go sometime. In here, at least, I know I'll be at the bottom of that list for a long time. People have their limits, too. We did our part, but now, I'd say it's about bloody time they left us alone. We already bled as much as anyone else for this 'kingdom'. If you ask me, those people over at Stormwind are just looking for an excuse to come up with a monarch to give orders to everyone else. Greymane just decided he wouldn't lower his head like a hound."

Lorna went silent before those words. "My father says I couldn't imagine what war is like. So I don't know what the pain of true loss is like. There are a lot of people like you who cheer for the wall and would rather spend the rest of their days behind it... And people like my father, who think this is a mistake and it will only lead to disaster. I just don't know what to think... But I do know that if things don't calm down between them, it's gonna get bloody..."

The boy went silent, thinking about those words. "Hopefully it won't come to that. But if it does... Well. We all make our choices. But enough of the grim talk, we're here."

They had arrived at the town center. Gilneas' buildings were enormous, many of them several stories tall with many people living inside. The city square sported many kiosks with people showing their wares, with adults passing back and forth as children dashed and played by the side walks. Armored guards could be seen on every corner, keeping a watchful gaze for any kind of 'misbehaving', and every now and then cavalry would trottle down the street as they performed their patrols. There was a small crowd gathering around one of the back alleys, and they could hear someone screaming at the top of their lungs. "What do you suppose is going on over there?" Dalrus said, his head leaning towards that direction. "I don't know, let's go take a closer look!" Lorna replied, then immediately darted off towards the commotion. Letting out a sigh, Dalrus soon followed, although he too was curious about it.

"...from his grave! With my very own eyes, I saw it! His skin was rotting, carrion was still darting under his flesh, and he was missing one eye! Despite that, with the Light as my witness I swear it, he looked straight at me and dashed forward! If I didn't have me shovel with me, why I'd be joining the dead along with him, that's for sure!" The man speaking was standing on top of a box so the people could hear him. His eyes were very wide, his clothes, ragged, his teeth were yellow, his nails covered in dirt and his long beard was clearly untrimmed for days. "My cousin who had died years past in the war, whom I thought I'd never see again, he tried to bring me to the afterlife with him!"

Poking one large man in front of him on the side, Dalrus inquired: "Excuse me, sir. What's this about?" He nodded towards the man, who continued to describe how his cousin was desperate for companionship in the grave.

"Crazy old bloke talkin' about dead people risin' and attackin' the livin'." He says, taking a moment to look down at the boy. "'Parently he was off to Andorhal while the Wall was being built, working to afford a new house in here. Then yesterday he comes back, lookin' like a drunk bum who's been out on the street too long, spewin' this nonsense. I hope the guards come do something about him soon..." Almost as if on cue, they hear loud hooves stomping on the pavement behind them. Turning around, Dalrus saw no one less than his majesty King Genn Greymane himself. Besides him was a man who could only be Darius Crowley, and Dalrus instantly understood how someone who was clearly opposing their king could have so many people on their side. An eyepatch covered his right eye, and his long hair was a beautiful shade of auburn. His fate had a hardened, determined expression, the look of someone who had been through hard times and knew what had to be done. A very clearly dissatisfied man who could be no one other than Lord Godfrey - one of the nobles who accompanied Greymane like a hound waiting for scraps - was leading a trio of knights behind them.

Accompanying the king was also a small entourage of nobles, amongst which, Dalrus was surprised to see, his own father, with Felrus riding his own steed just besides him. Apparently, they hadn't noticed him yet.

Stopping slightly ahead of the group, Greymane's horse shook his head a little before his rider said: "That's enough. I won't be having any more of this mad talk in my city. Guards, take this man somewhere to calm him down." Godfrey then waved to the knights. "You heard the man. Go on, take this scoundrel to the slammer so he can cool his head for a bit!"

Upon hearing that, the shouting man suddenly widened his eyes and threw himself at the crowd, which quickly parted and made way for him to approach the king's horse. "Youre majesty, my king Greymane! You must listen to me! The dead, they are rising from their graves! They will come for us, I tell you! We must make ready! We must do something! We must...!" But before another word could be utterted, Godfrey had pulled his sword out of his sheath and slammed the flat side against the man's head. He fell unconscious to the floor, and was soon picked up by the soldiers and carried off as the crowd muttered and gossiped about the events as they happened. "Bloody lunatic. That's what we get for letting outsiders in. Who let this intruder inside our city!?" Lord Godfrey looked around at the present guards, who were busy looking around at each other as if looking for someone to put the blame on. Suddenly, a youth stepped forward, saying: "I did! The man was Gilnean. He was only outside for a few years doing work!"

"Lyam!" Came the angry voice of king Greymane. "I told you not to meddle in these affairs. Look at what's happened because of it!"

"But father..." The boy began to speak, but was quickly silenced by his father's glare. "Yes, father... I am sorry."

"So you would deny a Gilnean the warm embrace of his own home just because he was at the wrong place when you began building this cage, Genn?" Darius Crowley's voice was not elevated, nor was it angry, not even demanding, but there was something behind that stern calmness that had everyone in the crowd immediately go silent so as to let him speak. "Lyam did nothing wrong. The man is clearly exhausted from his journey. Or are you saying not even Gilneans should be allowed passage over this wall of yours?"

"You dare speak against your king like this!? Such impertinence! We could arrest you for treason right now, Crowley!" Lord Godfrey almost shouted those words, his still drawn sword raising and aiming it's tip at the man's chest as he spoke.

"Be quiet, Godfrey! And you, Crowley..." Genn Greymane turned his horse to face the man, who, unblinking, returned the gaze with his one good eye. "I will not have you challenge me within my own walls like this. We have already finished our discussions. I offered to acompany you to the exit, but not for this. Now where's your daughter? You said she'd be with Lyam, but there he is... And no sign of her."

An amused smile stretched the corners of Darius Crowley's mouth as his eye suddenly stared straight at Dalrus, then at Lorna by his side. "Well, so she told me. But it appears while your son was busy, she's already found other company. Lorna, come. We are leaving."

Dalrus saw the girl hesitate for a moment, then she turned her head to face him and whispered. "Farewell... And thank you." And with that, she picked up her dress and quickly dashed to where her father was, where she was picked up and placed onto the saddle behind him. "We are leaving, Genn... But don't forget what we have discussed. This matter is not over yet. My people grow restless, as do I. I pray you will come to your senses soon, old friend." And with that, he tugged on his horse's reins, and it began to trot down the street. "I already know the way out from here. Farewell."

"Give the word, Genn." Vincent Godfrey whispered, his eyes stuck to the back of Crowley's head. "Within moments we can bring him down, have him in chains and make an example of this traitor!" Greymane, however, simply shook his head, then let out a loud sigh. "No, let him leave. At least for now, we shall use nothing but words. But I worry it may come to worse... Ready the men. Fortify the gates. And I want to know who let my son unsupervised as he decided who could and could not enter my city!"

Having finally taken notice of his own son, Lord Kalthuz took advantage of his king cursing the soldiers to get off his horse - an act Felrus mimicked - and make his way towards Dalrus, who now had his hands on his pockets. "Dalrus, what are you doing here, boy? Shouldn't you be at your studies?"

"Yeah. But I was bored, so I decided to go for a walk first. On my way, I found little lady Lorna. Nice girl. She was having a disagreement with a few apes, so I went and offered some convincing arguments of my own. After which she voiced her vital need to come to the city center and meet with our noble prince. Being the virtuous lad I am, I immediately forsook all my wordly needs and desires to offer her my aid. The rest you already know."

His father launched him a rather unimpressed look. "How noble of you. To forsake your duties so you could loiter around the city with a girl. Well, I have good news. Your brother and I are done, so you're coming home with us. Go wait with your brother as I excuse myself from the king." And with that, the brothers were left alone as their father approached the king and waited for an opportunity to speak up as Godfrey circled them like a jackal.

"So, what do you think? Dead rising of their graves?" Dalrus said as soon as the noise of the King's angry shouts were louder than their whispers. "That's a tall tale, if I ever heard one. How would that even work? I mean, how do you move without muscle strength or brain functions?"

Felrus simply lifted a brow at that. The boy was fourteen already, and was right in the middle of his growth spurt. HIs muscles were starting to bulge out of his shirt, and a few stray wires were visibly poking out of his chin. "Father said he's seen some pretty odd things in the war. Magic can do some very scary things. I even heard about an orcish warlock raising Death Knights. But I doubt someone would go so far as to try that on a farmer in Andorhall. Man must be a maddened veteran. Some people have a hard time dealing with the losses of war."

"Yeah, well." Dalrus then let out a loud yawn and scratched behind his ear. "Why would anyone meddle with that anyway? I mean, what's to gain from it? I don't see much profit in raising the dead to do your bidding. I bet the stench would be the deadliest thing. So anyway, what were you talking about? I doubt Crowley came just for tea and biscuits."

Hesitating for a moment, Felrus launched a side glance at the king and his father, who were now both glaring at Godfrey as he ranted on about how traitors should be publicly executed. "The thing is... Two cities got completely cut off ever since the wall was finished. A lot of people were unhappy about this... Especially because we are basically no longer a part of the Alliance. Father supports Crowley, saying it's our duty to help the kingdoms fight for our survival as a whole. And a lot of people agrees with him as well. Then there's Godfrey, saying Gilneas shouldn't partake in a war that's got nothing to do with us, and continue to isolate ourselves. Then something about rotten grains coming in from Lordaeron, which caused us to no longer trade with them, thus cutting ourselves off completely. People are getting anxious, but the king wants to solve things peacefully. Still, it looks like if another conflict were to rise... Gilneas is staying out of it."

"Well, good riddance, if you ask me. I don't know about you, but I'd rather not die an early death for my nation. I'd much rather support the economy by staying alive and buying the bread of every day." Before Felrus could answer, their father came back and let out a loud sigh of exhasperation. "Hungry hounds, the whole lot of them. They want nothing more than to be on the king's good graces and live an easy life... And they would throw us to the wolves to get that. Pah! Come, we are leaving." And with that, the trio began riding back together, with Dalrus sharing a horse with his brother. On their way back, Dalrus suddenly said: "Hey, father? What's your relationship with Crowley?"

Looking surprised over his back, Lord Kalthuz raised a brow at his son. "Where's this coming from?" He inquired, launching a suspicious look at Felrus.

"I'm just curious. His daughter seems nice, so I figured the apple wouldn't fall too far off the tree." Was his reply, the boy trying to sound casual as if he were asking out of idle curiosity. "But I heard a certain individual of prestige launching not so nice words at him somewhere today. Can't quite remember who or where."

A soft snicker escaped Dalrus' father, then he slowed down his horse until they were riding side by side. "I suppose there's no harm in telling you. See, back during the second war, things were growing... Hectic. King Greymane didn't want to take part in it, while Crowley was avid for action. Greymane was against the idea of an Alliance as a whole, while Crowley said we should unite as one against the invaders. I was part of the... Ahem... 'Troops' our good king sent to help defend Lordaeron from the orcs. And even though we were nothing more than a token act, thanks to Crowley's heroic efforts, we managed to help make a difference in that conflict. I for one say we should never grow complacent. The orcs lost, and are now trapped in camps all over the kingdom... But I hear rumours about someone helping free them. Some new warchief who wants to reunite the horde. Maybe they would wage war with us again. I'm ready to defend my land and my people... But our king seems to thing that only encompasses whoever is behind these walls of his."

Dalrus and Felrus listened to the tale intently, untill Dalrus said: "Yeah, but... Isn't he right? I mean... So long as we stay here, nothing will be hitting us anytime soon."

To that, Kalthuz lifted a brow and ever so slightly narrowed his eyes towards his son, as if Dalrus' innocence was a joke to him. "Maybe you're right, boy. But eventually, something will. And then we will see that just like how these walls help keeping things outside from entering... It also does a fine job at keeping us from leaving."