Lament of a Noble Born

 

I never saw the car that hit me.

I certainly felt it, just like I felt being sent skidding across the pavement. The icy street only kept me sliding longer. Skin blistering off and bones cracking into pieces. I could barely think straight with all the pain. My arms and legs felt like they were on fire, my breathing was labored, and the pain in my head was excruciating. More than that there was a loud ringing sound. I barely even heard the shrill cry of the driver, racing from her vehicle to my side.

I tried to tell her that I was having trouble breathing, but all that came out was a wet coughing sound.

She kept panicking, hyperventilating, eventually running back to her car. Presumable to call for help. Doubt they get here in time. My eyes felt so heavy. I tried to get her attention, but everything was getting too heavy. My voice was little more than bloody coughs echoed the quiet road.

As I laid there, in a slowly growing pool of my own blood I knew it was over.

I didn’t get the whole ‘life flashing before my eyes’ moment, but I was filled with equal amounts of fear and regret. Regret that I didn’t get a longer life, and fear about not knowing what would happen next.

I closed my eyes, only for a moment of course.

But that is when something strange happened. After I shut my eyes, all the pain in my body vanished. I felt my breathing also improve, blood no longer filling my lungs. The fog in my mind cleared. Without the pain I could think again.

And I Immediately knew something was wrong.

I was not on the ground anymore, but neither was I in a hospital bed, or car seat, or anything at all. Just floating. I tried to open my eyes, only to realize they had been open since the pain stopped. All around me was darkness. Impenetrable darkness. I couldn't even see the hand I knew I was pressing against my face.

Where was I?

Purgatory?

Hell?

I was not what one might call a religious person, or a believer at all, I was certain I was going to die, that I did die, on that pavement. Given my surroundings it’s possible that whole religion thing was real after all. I was confident this was not Hell; I was not in pain or anything. Neither was this Heaven; no clouds, angles, or pearly gates to be seen. Just, emptiness.

Naturally, this could be a hallucination from the pain, or from painkillers administered when someone scrapped by sorry ass off the street. But something felt off.

I don’t know how long I floated there. It felt like hours but could have been only a few minutes. Then I saw it. A tiny light, just at the edge of my vision. The more I focused on it, the brighter it seemed to get.

From the size of a grain of sand, to a seed. From seed to a grape. And on and on until I was being blinded by it. I couldn’t shut my eyes or turn away. A slight humming sound began to echo all around me. As the light engulfed me, a shrill sound deafened me.

Then, without warning, my senses returned to me all at once.

I was cold! Freezing! Like being dumped into a pool of ice water. Oily shadows slithered across my vision. A pressure began to build against my ears. A rhythmic beating like drums! Then the sounds began: inhuman cackling, monstrous howls, and gurgling laughter.

Then the pain started.

Beginning on my back, but slowly spreading across my body. Sharp pain danced across my skin like knives. Cutting, slicing, flaying down to the bone. The oily shadows enveloped me, bit by bit.

Then, all at once, it was over.

The pain was gone. As were the sounds, the pressure, and the shadows. All that remained was the cold. Rather than a nebulous cold, this felt like I actually was surrounded by ice! The sensation slowly morphed into a burning one as time passed.

All I could was scream.

I don't know how long I laid, screaming my throat raw.

After a time I heard voices. Footsteps. People.

I never saw them before I blacked out. While I was on my last legs, and probably delirious, I do remember the strangest thing. Before closing my eyes, I saw a large thing, with glowing blue eyes staring down at me.

–

I don't know how long it took for me to regain my senses. But after I did, I quickly realized something was amiss.

At first, I took the whole “can’t move or talk thing” as just the result of surviving a car slamming into me. Not understanding a word of what was being spoken around me could be explained by a hint of brain damage. Just like my uncontrollable bowl moments. The fact that everyone I saw seemed to be glowing eyed giants could be merely me tripping on painkillers.

But these strange sights never went away. Quite the opposite occurred. My senses became clearer, I noticed even more oddities. My bed was less of a 'bed' and more akin to a massive wooden crib; or was I small? My sheets were not a sterile color found in hospitals, like white or blue, but a vibrant yellow-red wool textured blanket.

And the giants I kept seeing? I could count about five or six different ones who seemed to tend to me. The one I saw the most of was a silvery blonde. Whenever a made a ruckus, such as a failed attempt of slurred speech, it was she who came over to me often. Others helped as well from time to time. They were all some shade of blonde. In addition to the glowing blue eyes, each had a pair of pointy ears.

Now, I am a rational man, but there is only so much stuff that can be shoved in my face before even the absurd turns reasonable.

Such as today.

After waking up from my all too frequent sleep, I was taken from my bed by the silvery blonde giantess. She wrapped me up in a bundle, cooing at me in the same language all these giants seemed to speak. I tried to observe my surroundings as she carried me, but my eyes grew heavy. I was asleep before I realized it.

Later I was roused by the sounds of children.

Without realizing it, I had been plopped down into a large, enclosed, area by a different giant then the one who had carried me.

I was surrounded by adult sized babies! A short, wooden wall encircled the immediate area. Large toys and plushy animal like things were strewn across the mishmash floor of quilts and fabrics. Another giantess, this one with bleached white hair, watched from a massive wooden throne. She read slowly from a large, colorful book in that language I did not comprehend.

All around me, the giant and enormous babies alike had pointed ears and glowing blue eyes.

I felt a sense of déjà vu. Like I had done this before. Sitting here that is. Listening to the giantess softly read from her large tome. Perhaps I had been taken here before? It all seemed vaguely familiar.

Minutes passed, and the giant softly told her story. Page after page was turned. Light crept in from a low window. It was quite relaxing.

I felt a tug on the oversize gown like clothes I had been garbed in. To my left was a giant baby. He/She, hard to tell with the doughy childlike face, started intently at me with bright blue eyes. A pudgy hand wrapping the fabric of my clothes. They had the tiniest hint of crimson red hair upon their head.

Never though hair could go that shade of red.

It just sat there, staring at me. Refusing to let go.

I turned away.

Then it happened. It struck me!

They slapped me across my arm. Sharp, pudgy, nails dug into my skin drawing blood. I let out a startled cry, shoving the body away from me with all the atrophied might my own, equally pudgy limbs, could muster.

My attacker landed on their side, with no obvious injury, and began to wail.

This caused a chain reaction. More babies began to cry. Some, thankfully just sat there, dumbfounded by what was happening.

The giantess seemed to tsk at the interruption. She closed her tome and raised out her hand. A bright light illuminated from her palm, bathing us in its brilliance. One by one, the overgrown infants stopped their crying and became passive once more. Even my attacker now just laid on the ground looking at the light. I also felt calmer now.

Moments later, the light show stopped. Thankfully the babies remained calm.

The giantess knelt to me and examined my wounded arm. She said something to herself, I didn't understand the language, before placing her palm just above the wound and bathed it in light. The stinging from the wound went away in mere seconds. Once finished, the woman took a white cloth provided by another giant who had entered the wooden enclosure, probably when the light show was going on, and wiped away the blood.

No wound remained. Not even a scar.

I obviously had a dumbfounded look on my face given the giantess reaction, that of soft laughter and a gentle rub on the head. I could now feel that I did not have as much hair as normal, given that I felt her fingers slide across my scalp.

Just as quickly as she stopped the wailing and healed me with, what I presume to be magic lacking any other explanation, she was back to sitting in her chair. Tome in hand. Continuing from where she left off.

The woman finished her story with no further interruptions. I was then taken from the pen by a giantess sometime later and handed back to my original, silvery blonde, giant. The red head had also been exchanged to their own giantess. Despite that, it kept staring at me as our respective giants walked us out of the room.

I was again asleep before I left the building.

Waking up in my wooden crib like bed, I finally realized I did not have a penis anymore.

Something was very wrong.
--
--

Miracle child.

A babe found in the depths of winter. Half burred in the snow. Completely bereft of even the decency of a blanket. I was left in the woods to die. Not even a day old. At least that's how Mom described it. She found me and brought me home. She put a roof over my head and took me in as her own.

After gaining an elementary grasp of this bizarre new language, I had asked her about myself. Or more accurately, my predicament. Like if she knew why I was in the woods? Where in the woods exactly? Does she know who's baby I was to begin with?

She would smile, give me a hug, and say I 'was her little girl no matter what anyone said'.

The correct motherly answer, but utterly useless for my line of questioning on figuring out what the hell was going on.

Four years on, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. The elf and magic things I could, kind of wrap my head around by now. But the World of Warcraft thing, the FANTAY setting, that was quite another thing entirely.

How did I reach such an outlandish conclusion. Simple, by listening. Sure my command over this damn elven language was difficult at best, but I still caught on to words here and there:

Silvermoon.

Lordaeron.

Dalaran.

Sunstrider.

Farstriders.

The Sunwell.

One of those phrases, I could maybe write it off. All of them, and oh boy am I in for some shitty times. Not only because I was a High Elf, the fantasy equivalent of a meth addict, but because I was living in Silvermoon. I was basically at ground zero for Arthas's genocide fun times to revive Kel'Thuzad.

Now if that was just the only thing I was dealing with-

“Silly! Wake up! Story time!” a pair of pint sized fists beat my shoulder.

My eyes shot open. I wormed my way out of my blanket cocoon. The light from outside stung my eyes for a moment. Blinking and adjusting my eyes, I saw the other kids waking up and moving about. I could hear Miss Elma in next room.

Looks like nap time was over. Meaning now was story time at this cheerful daycare.

To my side, unsurprisingly was Noly. The girl was the only kid here who would put up with little old me.

Apparently, most of the kids though I was lazy, or just plain boring. I didn't want to play outside all the time. I didn't scream at the top of my lungs when running around. Nor did I rough house with the other kids when prompted.

It's not that I am lazy or anything, as a spry four-year-old I feel that I am quite energetic. The problem was I didn't know how to deal with other children as a child myself. I might physically be a child, but my mind was fully developed. Outside of not understanding the language being spoken by the adults, I was far more advanced than my entire age range.

In short, I felt out of place around them.

Coming back to Noly. The redhead concluded, in the way only a young child can, that the reason I didn't hang out with the other kids was because I was 'shy'. Not only that, but she knows that I'm 'cool' and 'way more fun' than the others. So, she, being the 'smartest' and 'nicest' girl here, took it upon herself to break me out of my shell.

In truth, she's a hyperactive tomboy whose antics are too much for the other kids. Mealtime talks with her mouth full. Nap time, snores like a dying motor. Play time, never shuts up and doesn't seem to know what personal space is. Finally, of course, story time: where she constantly makes noises, 'oohing’ and 'ahhs' mostly, while she whispers to other people; distracting others from said story.

And I hated that damn nickname she gave me. My name was Syllia! Not Silly!

A handful, absolutely. But I find her quirks kind of cute in that puppy kind of way. Add in that doughy like face, rounded by baby fat, and the sheer positivity radiating from her, and I just couldn't find it in myself to tell her off.

Add in the fact that our moms are friends at work, it almost seem preordained that we would be 'friends'.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes and moving a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. Looking at her I blinked, “what?”

“Silly its story time!” she repeated, pulling at my pile of blankets. Her bare feet incessantly tapping the floor, “Come on!”

I groaned to myself. Honestly, for a kids book, the four to seven range, it wasn't that bad. But for someone of my 'age' it is boring: Princess is kidnapped by evil trolls. Prince charming goes to saver her with his fellow knights. Drama. Character growth. Heroes overcome challenges. Beats the trolls. Happily ever after. The end.

I yawned, turning to get out of my pile of blankets, stretching my arms. “Okay, just-” Before I even finished her hands clasped mine, and I was being pulled across the wooden floor. The smooth surface allowed me to be effortlessly dragged out of the room, hitting every stray plushy and wooden toy in the way, by the energetic four-year-old.

“Come on!” Noly didn't even wait for me to stand, she just pulled harder. I decided to just go limp and wait it out.

Thankfully, I only hit the wall twice, and clipped the edge of a door, on the way to the next room.

–

While I had known where I was, Silvermoon City, the question of when had always eluded. When I would ask what year it was, all I would get is a string of numbers from the elven calendar that I had no reference point for. All I had was, before Arthas arrives and after Lordaeron was founded. Quite the massive length of time. Anywhere from one year to hundreds of years before the main story.

Recent news coming from the south shattered any ignorance as to When I am.

Stormwind has fallen. The Orcish Horde from beyond the Dark Portal has thoroughly sacked the city, Stormwind's king is dead, refugees were flooding into the northern human kingdoms, any who remained, or were left behind, were enslaved enmass by the green skinned invaders. A Grand Alliance had been formed to combat the threat of the Horde.

The horrors of war that had been kept from me and other children, and ignored by the common masses, was now the focal talking points all across Silvermoon. On every street, in every alleyway, every tavern, every nook and cranny. It was all people talked about now. Some people flat out stood on crates to scream at people!

We must join the Alliance of Lordaeron!

No, defend the Kingdom, let the humans deal with the Horde themselves!

Better fight the Horde in the human lands than risk bringing the war to Quel'Thalas!

We can't send our armies south, the trolls will move across the Eversong unchecked!

The trolls could never challenge us, the Horde is the greater threat!

And on and on it went. Guards had their hands full beating down all the sporadic protests and panic such public speakers made. But like whack-a-mole, for every riot crushed or armchair general thrown from their pulpit, another panic happened, or another five speakers took to their own stands.

This fever lasted only a short time, thankfully. When no Orcish Horde magically materialized outside the gates of Silvermoon, people began to calm down. Sure, people still spoke their mind to anyone willing, or more often unwilling, to hear them. But to most people, the Horde was now a distant threat. Still dangerous, but not directly to Quel'Thalas.

By my fifth year in this world, the Horde's advance seems to have stalled around Khaz Modan; the home of the dwarfs and gnomes. The Orcs trying to siege them out from their mountain homes. A fool’s errand if there ever was. Still, better to be standing around than marching up the continent.

–

“Syllia are you ready, we really have to- oh there you are honey,” Mom was halfway out the door. Wrapped up in a bright coat, A small bag slung over her shoulder.

Cold air rushed in. My cheeks and nose reddened by the sudden blast. Soon I felt the tips of my ears follow suite. I secured my scarf and coat snugly around me. Retaining all the warmth I could before venturing out into the cold morning.

I hated the cold.

She waved me over with a mitten clad hand, “Sorry for rushing you, but mommy needs to be out early today.”

“It’s okay,” I rushed to the door, narrowly avoiding the table's edge clipping my head. I put on a happy face, but underneath I was anything but.

Frustration was all I felt. No less than twenty minutes ago, she had woken me from my deep sleep and said to be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. Dawn had only just broken, it was freezing this time of year, and she was rushing me out the door! I didn't even have time to eat anything! Of course, I was not 'Okay'!

But I'd be damned if she knew how I really felt. She's got far more than enough on her plate juggling work and me without my whining to add to it. And judging by the dull circles under her eyes and the frazzled nature of her hair silvery hair, I bet she's not all too thrilled to be rushing out at this hour either.

So I put on a smile, the brightest my half asleep mind could provide. We were on the main street moments later.

People were up and about on the street. Night workers coming home and day workers going out. The occasional pair of guards walking the street to keep order. But no real activity though. No merchant stalls were up. No store was open. The city seemed to still be half asleep.

There were a few people by the gates, rangers mostly, getting wagons and horses ready. Marching south to the front most likely, a normal Troll Hunt mission wouldn't need that much preparation. While Quel'Thalas was not technically at war with the Horde, yet, the King had decided to drip feed reinforcements south to aid the Human cause.

But to march in this weather? Ugghh.

Piles of snow had formed over the cold night. Puddles of water froze as well. Little icicles, like icy fingers, reached down from the windowsills. Winter this far north, while not harsh, was very cold. I shivered. Even with all the bundles of clothes, I felt the chill seep in.

Most races say Quel’Thalas is the Land of Eternal Spring because elven magic controls the seasons and keeps the realm in a state of perpetual spring. A lie. We do have seasons; they just tend to be far milder than the rest of the Eastern Kingdoms. So instead of four seasons a year, we get something akin to ten months of spring, followed by two months of winter. A nitpick I know.

“I'm sorry honey,” Mom apologized again. She kept her hand tightly clasped with mine as we walked. “I need you to stay with Auntie Kaden this morning. She'll take you and Noly to Miss Elma's after breakfast. Okay?”

“Okay,” I quipped back. What else was there to say? 'No Mom don't leave me at the whorehouse with my friend and her Mom'? I had assumed Auntie Kaden would be taking me with Noly when you dragged me out so early.

“She'll also take you home later,” Mom continued, “I'll be back home after your asleep.”

Oh. It was one of those days.

“Okay.”

We came to a stop. Mom went down to my level, a strained smile on her face. Her nose, ears, and cheeks as red as mine. The dark around her eyes seemed even more intense up close. “I'm so sorry sweetie. I know you don't like it when I come home late, but I-” she searched for the words. “If I work all today, I'll be able to spend your whole birthday with you tomorrow. Just you, me, and anyone you want. I promise.”

“Really?”

She stroked my head, pushing a stray strand of blonde out of my face, “Really. I promise.”

I broke out a bright smile and wrapped my arms around her neck. She returned the hug with equal fervor.

I knew that there was, in reality, a fifty-fifty chance of her keeping that promise.

She said the same thing for my fifth birthday. Granted she did spend the whole day with me, but she left for work around nightfall. From what I gathered from her drunk ramblings the following morning, some blue blood magister had an 'eyes wide shut' party for his son's appointment to the rank of magister. Lots of alcohol, lots of drugs. And, of course, lots of whores.

Such as Mom.

I knew we really needed the money. I saw the looks she had when paid for things. I knew we were walking a fine line between poverty and low income. Hell, we lived in one of the poorest areas of Silvermoon, right beside the walls at the city's edge. While poor, it wasn’t the most crime filled part, that was the districted next door.

She also didn't have family to call on, she didn't apprentice with a trade when she was younger so she had no credentials for any high paying job, and she didn't have any magical talent beyond the instinctual stuff found in all high elves. To top it all off, she was a forty something year old caring for a kid alone; the elven equivalent of a teen mom. And not ever her own child, but a random babe she found!

Her options for work were limited. So she took what she could. For a lady with a pretty face and a nice pair of breasts, that meant the world's oldest profession: prostitution.

She never outright told me what she does, nor have I ever actually asked or caught her in the act. I only heard about it from her drunken ramblings during the mornings after long night at 'work'. Add in that her wardrobe seem dominated by either casual clothes or skimpy, see-through silks that barely covered anything, what else was I to think?

Also, occasionally a guard, random merchant, or even the odd neighbor would ask me to tell her how much 'fun' they had the previous day and to pass along that they want to see her again. That's not creepy at all....

That being said, it was still very much a ‘red light’ district. Scantily clad elven women roam the alleys and backstreets looking for customers. Their clothes were nearly see-through or designed to reveal as much skin a possible while still technically not being nude. They enticed passing men, and women, with sexual innuendos and promise in exchange for coin. Some took their clients back to some brothel or a nearby room they have whereas others would simply pull aside some of their clothes and be taken right then and there.

Now I expected some degree of debauchery from living in a red-light district, but this was on a whole different level. It wasn’t just the sex, but also the stuff surrounding it. Lots of corny dialogue like ‘oh I’m going to explode’ or ‘yes, impale me with your thick cock’ and so on. Some people getting WAY to handsy for their own good.

Hell, one time I even saw a woman locked into a stockade thing, you know the thing where you stick your arms and head into and you get locked in place with your ass sticking out, where she was blindfolded, gagged, and stripped of all her clothing. A guard stood by as men lined up to take turns brutalizing her pussy and ass. She was still stuck in that thing when I walked by it hours later, her orifices leaking a steady stream of cum into sizable puddles by her feet.

If I didn’t know any better, I would say I was stuck in some porn parody of Azeroth than the genuine article

It was all so surreal.

I felt her release the embrace and tug me along. Her smile seemed a little brighter, “now lets get you to Auntie Kaden for some breakfast.”

True to her word, she was there for my sixth birthday. Day and Night. Presents, cake, and some time with Mom. It was pretty fun.

On a more somber note, the war seemed to draw ever closer to home as the year dragged on.
--
Quel'Thalas was at war.

Truthfully, we had been at war since we sent rangers south, but now it had come to the kingdom's borders.

Word on the street was that the troll Zul'jin had allied the Amani Trolls with Orgim Doomhammer's Horde. The Orcs were now bypassing Loredaeron entirely to strike at Quel'Thalas. The obvious target being Silvermoon. Skirmishes had already broken out across the Eversong Forests. Rangers, even some venerable Troll Hunters, clashing with Amani berserkers across the woods. Dragons setting fire to vast swaths of the Eversong. Mages and warlocks engaged in titanic battles that leave swaths of land utterly dead.

There were refugees fleeing the countryside, flooding into the city. No matter the time of day, scores of refugees rushed for the safety the high walls of Silvermoon provided. The lucky ones were evacuated before the Horde even reached their settlements. For the rest, they were lucky if they only saw their homes burned down. Better that then seeing loved ones incinerated by dragon fire or be cut down by some berserker. Worst yet, some villages simply vanishing overnight as the orcs and trolls launch brazen attacks deep into high elf territory.

The horror stories of those able to escape in time made it look like a frenzy of murder, rape, and enslavement was going on just beyond the walls.

Even worse, Ranger General Windrunner was killed. Amani berserkers ambushed her group while evacuating a town they say. Now her daughter, Sylvanas Windrunner, has succeeded her. Charged with leading the defense of the kingdom. Of course, that caused a bit of grumbling among some people. By some, I mean the puritans: those who valued elven purity, racially and culturally, above all else.

They whispered that Sylvanas a whore. That she was prepared to surrender all the Farstriders secrets for the chance to spread her legs for a human. A boy toy that she taught to be a ranger. They spun extravagant tales of hedonism and debauchery, human orgies, of being fucked like an animal on her hands and knees, of being fuck by animals, and all manner of inflammatory accusations as part of some character assassination.

Ironically, at least with my future knowledge, those same purists though her older sister, Allaria, should have been picked as Ranger General. Not only was she more experienced and older, she led the charge against the orcish Horde before the Kingdom even formally joined the Alliance. She was the favored of her mother to succeed her, so they claimed.

They also claimed, she would never fall for a human, or put human concerns above those of Quel'Thalas.

Heheheh...

Thankfully, those people were in the minority; a very vocal minority. Most, welcomed their new Ranger General. All we had to do now, was wait for the Alliance's main army to arrive and relive the pressure on the kingdom.

As for how I, a lowly commoner from, the poorest area of Silvermoon, become privy to such information? Simple, the guards talk to damn much. Some may call that eavesdropping. But, can it really be called eavesdropping when they gossip in front of your house without even trying to lower their voices?

–

People tried to go about their days as if nothing was wrong.

Keyword being 'tried'. Everyone knew better.

There was a tension in the air. Everyone could feel it. From the youngest to the venerable elders. Even the sky seemed to reflect the menacing mood, gray overcasts for days on end. Saying people are 'jumpy' is an understatement. Everyone walked around as if at any moment the Horde would be battering down the main gates.

It was ridiculous, Mom told me. Silvermoon has never fallen. That the Ban'dinoriel would protect the city in the worst-case scenario, mother assured me.

Ah yes, the Gatekeeper. A magic shield that protected Silvermoon. Powered directly by the Sunwell itself, and overseen by the highest authorities in the kingdom, it has never failed. Not once. Army after army of trolls has smashed itself against the barrier. And time and time again have armies been turned back.

Despite that, the city was very much on edge.

Soldiers were marching day and night up and down the cobbled roads. It seemed like every few hours, day or night, they would march through the gates just beside our house. Off to reinforce doomed positions or bolster flagging areas. The guard seemed to have swelled their numbers a dozen times over, not counting the ever-growing militia. The sound of their marches has woken me far too many times in the dead of night. Maybe it was just the guard's way of showing the citizens that they are ready at any time to repel any and all attacks. But damn was it loud.

At least when the magisters scooped up people out after curfew, they weren't clanking around in plate armor!

Food, medicine, bandages, and other supplies were being stockpiled in unprecedented amounts. Hoarding, in this time of war, was forbidden. I've seen plenty my 'upstanding' neighbors be dragged out of their homes by guards for holding some item or another. The whippings they got were brutal enough that it made people more scared of being caught with food than starving. I know we're probably not going to starve, hard to starve a population that can literally conjure food and water from nothing. Maybe this was just to keep war profiteering down?

Maybe the magisters were afraid that the orcish warlocks would find a way to breach the shield? Take the fight to the streets? Magic spent on conjuring food and water was magic better spent fighting. I assume teleporting in food is probably not possible. Would be kind of a waste of magic if all it took to get past the shield was to simply teleport oneself into the city.

Despite all the fear in the air, all the paranoia, all the mumbling, I know Silvermoon wouldn't fall.

At least until Warcraft 3 when Arthas brings it down. Until then however, it was utterly impregnable.

But feeling safe, and being safe, are two different things.

Mom tried to keep my mind of the war, telling me stories of her childhood to pass the time, but it was kind of hard when our home was just a stone throw away from one of the main entrances to the city.

One day, Mom shut the blinds to stop me from seeing a caravan of injured refugees pass our home. Didn't help much. Sure, I didn't see them, but the screams of burn victims, ugly sobbing of people who lost everything, and military orders being barked out left little to the imagination. It was a little awkward. Her trying to keep me from seeing the horrors of war, while simultaneously hearing clear as day.

She still tried. I doubt she wanted me to be scared for life from the visuals. Every little way to keep me from being frightened.

Many sleepless nights later, hearing voices in my dreams, I think she was on to something.

–

The Horde eventually reached the gates of Silvermoon. Sounds of battle and war had been steadily getting louder day by day as the battle lines were forced back. We were winning every battle, but simple math was against us. The Horde could replace their losses, we could not. Sooner or later, we'd be bled dry.

There was no warning when they reached the walls.

In the dead of night, the gates flung open with enough force to shake the foundations of all the houses (hovels) around it. My own included. The sounds of battle were louder than ever before. Where I could only just make out the orcish and elven voices, I heard them now in all their horrific choir.

Whereas once the walls were manned by orderly and calm defenders, now it was a chaos. Archers raining arrows from above, calling for more ammunition or screaming as they were injured by return volleys. One unfortunate archer took a javelin to the shoulder and hit ground below face first. Mages casting massive spells to obliterate any foe near the gates. Tightly packed groups of spear and swordsmen were standing ready, waiting to repel any attackers that tried to rush the open gates. Everyday more and more had been joining the ever growing columns in preparation for some big rush into the city that never materialized.

Some mage even lifted a ballista up onto the walls with magic! I even heard it fire a few times.

Damn my window's angle, it was hard to see anything that high angled!

It’s kind of funny. Despite being one of the poorest areas of Silvermoon, and being so close to the walls, I'm pretty sure I now lived in one of the safest areas. No other area, outside the royal palace, the other gate houses, or the Sunwell itself had this concentration of forces. Granted, they weren't necessarily protecting 'me' but it was still a lot better than most in the city had.

As the final caravan of refugees, soldiers, and wounded, rushed on in new orders were barked out. They sent the golems out. Arcane golems had been gathering by the gates for a few days now. Their numbers swelling into the dozens. Now, one by one, row by row, they charged out, uncaring of their own survival. Sacrificial pawns to buy the defenders time to seal the gates.

The gates shut. Sounds outside were now of rock crushing flesh and metal bouncing off stone. Orcish and troll cries intensified under the crunching and rending of flesh.

Wasting no time, one of the mages threw a spell into the sky. It detonated like firework in the night sky. Magical signal flare?

A minute passed.

Suddenly, a great pale light erupted from the ground just beyond the walls. I shot my head out the window for a better look. I was a dome. Stretching up into the night sky, meeting other walls of pale light covering at a point above the city itself.

So that was the Gatekeeper? A magic city shield.

Sound from beyond the barrier ceased. Where once I heard battle, now only ragged breathing, and cries of the wounded outside my home remained.

The siege of Silvermoon had begun.

--

Several days into the siege nothing of note happened.

The initial shock of the invaders just beyond our walls has died down a bit. People were scared, of course, but it was manageable. There was quite the panic when the first orc riding dragons were seen breathing fire against the shield, but that amounted to nothing more than a light show for the city dwellers. I even saw a few boulders smash against the shield; rocky chucks rolling down the slopes of the dome.

I can only imagine what the Horde was doing to try and lower the shield. Smashing spell after spell against it? Using a battering ram to break it down? Trying to stop the flow of energy from the Sunwell from beyond the city limits? It was hard to tell.

What forces remained in the city kept the peace as best they could while the main royal army was linking up with the Alliance forces. They were meeting up to smash the Horde from behind while our rangers continued their skirmishing in the Eversong.

The only news of the outside world now came from a royal envoy who brought word to the people three times a day to update us on the siege and the way in general.

“Come on!” Noly rushed on ahead. Stopping occasionally to yell back at me “I don't want to miss it!”

And every day, since the siege started, Noly would drag me to the Bazaar to hear the envoy after we left Miss Elma's. Yes, old Miss Elma still held her lessons, despite the ongoing war. Probably trying to just keep the kids preoccupied with something other than the violence occurring just a short distance from the walls.

It’s kind of ironic, how excited Noly is to hear about the war.

Since word of the Horde reaching the Eversong Forest, Miss Elma has been supplementing our regular lessons of writing, reading, and mathematics with an hour each day of 'historical stories'. Of how our people fought off invasions of Trolls across the ages. How, in the darkest hour, we also snatch victory from the jaws of defeat time and time again. That it was not our naturally gifted magics or superior weapons that won the day, but our ingenuity, bravery, and the righteousness of our cause that are our greatest weapons against the barbaric hordes.

In other words, propaganda.

That might be a little harsh. She could just be trying to show the kids how all hope is not yet lost. But it sure sounded like propaganda to my twenty first century mind.

Noly, of course, was too busy drawing doodles on her scrap paper to listen.

But this? Perhaps it was because it wasn't Miss Elma who was talking but a collection of Magisters and Farstriders. Specifically, Farstriders. The girl had an unhealthy obsession with the rangers in general. Being told news by your heroes is far more interesting than listening to the, in her words, 'old lady'.

“I cant... run as..... fast as you!” I cried back, heaving, and huffing with every step.

She looked back, “hurry up, we lost time! Need to move!”

Lost time? Was that what she called picking a fight with several boys? I don't even know why she was fighting them. Or if she even started it! Maybe they pulled her hair or something? I'll never get what sets her off.

Before she could say anything, we hit the Bazaar. Or more accurately, we hit the edge of the crowd gathered at the Bazaar. And we were still three blocks away. The crowd was massive. In a time without internet, or even radio, this might be the closest thing people had to getting important news.

Noly groaned in annoyance as the crowd refused to part for her, no matter how much she tried to force it. The unstoppable force has met an immovable object. She jumped up and down, looking along the road. Looking for an alternate route.

I caught up to her, coughing for breath. “Just give me a moment. have to- have to catch my-”. I didn't finish. My hands found my knees for support.

Was I out of shape or was she just that much faster than me?

Growling at the obstacle, Noly looked around finding a less crowded alleyway to our side. Smiling, she locked elbows with me, “Just hold on Silly, I've found us a shortcut.”

“You-”

She charged headfirst without warning. I almost fell before catching my feet. Our combined mass allowing us to force our way thought this less dense area.

We exited into the Bazaar proper moments later. The crowds packed the area. Where there was once merchant stalls and vendors, now stood an ocean of people.

“Aggh here too!” she bemoaned. At least she released me from her hold.

Before she could vent her frustration further to me, a collection of blue crystals appeared overhead. They sat there, lazily floating above the crowds.

She ignored it, taking sight of a tall pole. Grinning, she rushed over, and began shimmying up like some kind of monkey.

Moments later, a voice. A man, clearing his throat. It was coming from the crystals. Magic speakers I guess.

“Citizens of Silvermoon! I come bearing news of the War,” the man's voice, most likely a mage, echoed across the streets. Looks like we arrived just in time. I looked up to find Noly, sitting at the top of the pole. Smiling and waving. Her lips moved, but I couldn't hear her voice over the crowds and the speaker. She was pointing frantically towards the center of the crowds.

Must be able to see a ranger.

“I bring word at this hour, that his majesty, King Anasterian, gives his personal assurances to not only the people of Silvermoon, but to all people of Quel'Thalas, that this conflict will soon be over. Our noble rangers and proud soldiers have inflicted terrible losses against these barbaric invaders. Soon, the Alliance of Lordaeron's army, with aid from the royal army, will smash these brutes from our lands.”

That got a cheer from the crowds. Some clapping here and there. Any bit of good news I guess.

“With our combined might imminent, the main bulk of the Horde scatters even now! When they do battle, these barbarians will be laid low! Never to threaten civilized society every again!”

The mage waited for renewed revelry to die down before continuing. “That being said, his majesty, with the assurance of an imminent victory against the vile Horde, now looks to the future. Specifically, the future of the vile Amani, who have inflicted unimaginable suffering to the Quel'dorei and even now seek the death of our very race. With the future of our very people at stake, His Majesty has taken council with the wisest magisters of the Convocation and with our new Ranger General to seek a solution to the Amani threat!”

A ’Solution’ to the Amani threat? Oh, that sounds really sketchy.

“After tireless hours of council, his majesty has made his decision: let us end this threat once and for all!”

The applause started. A thunderous choir of jubilation and excitement.

“Let us not allow these beasts time to recover, to rebuild, and to nurture future wars!” the speaker continued to hype up the crowds, cutting through the riotous voices. “His majesty has ordered there to be a great scouring of the Forests! Let no village be spared, no hamlet untouched. Let not even a single brick remain upright! Let us strike the trolls with such righteous vengeance, such overwhelming power, that even their blackened gods will leave these savages to their fate! Let the fires burn unending until all is ash!”

The crowd went wild! Thunderous cheering that made my head hurt. My hands slammed against my pointed ears. I felt my teeth shake.

“We do this, not only for our own peace of mind, but for all our people. Past, Present, and Future. Each martyr who has fallen for the Kingdom. Every life snuffed out by their barbaric alliance with the orcs. And for every child who will ever be born. We shall achieve a brighter, more secure future for our people. Let none question our resolve or the rightness of our cause!”

The cheers went on and on. My ears felt like they were bleeding from the roaring.

He went on about other things, but nothing else said that day could be that performance.

Later on, all Noly would talk about was the rangers she saw from her vantage point. She would go on and on about their bows, arrows, swords. How they looked in their armor. How cool they were. How she wanted to be one someday. How she was going to be a troll hunter one day and protect the kingdom.

I don't think she even comprehend what the envoy had said. Or the implications it held. Would kind of ruin her chances of being a Troll hunter.

She saw how I was a little quiet after that whole thing, and chalked it up to the noise and crowds. The shyness she believes I have. I cant remember how many times she apologized for forcing me into such a crowd. Of how she was such an idiot to drag me into something like that. How she would be more considerate in the future.

She kept me company until Mom got back that night.

–

True to the envoy's word, the siege was broken the next day and the shield was lowered.

The Horde had been broken by the advance of Lord Anduin Lothar and Ranger Captain Alleria Windrunner. Celebrations lasted the whole week for the heroes of Silvermoon. The Alliance forces had a brief parade along the streets of the city. Looked like something right out of a roman triumph. Humans and elves marching side by side. Victory through cooperation. Bonds forged by war. Peace in our time. Etcetera, etcetera.

My personal highlight was seeing Alleria in person! I mean I saw her from among the crowds as the Alliance procession made its way through the city. But it still counts!

On Mom's end, it was quite the good day for business if the heavy coin pouch she laid on the kitchen table was any indication.

After a brief respite, the army was once more on the march again. The battle for the city may have been over, but the war still rage on. Doomhammer had escaped capture. He pulled his forces back to escape encirclement when he realized what the trolls either could not understand or did not want to, that Silvermoon was impregnable by conventional means. He was now marching towards Lordaeron, with the Alliance forces in pursuit.

Yes, the war was still on going; but not for Quel'Thalas.

Allria would remain attached to the Alliance forces, chasing the Horde out of the Kingdom. A contingent of mages, priests, rangers, and dragon hawk riders would follow the Alliance army in pursuit of the fleeing Warchief.

The royal army busied itself with clearing out the Amani holdouts in the Eversong. They were stubbornly holding onto their gains even as orcs pulled back. Without the Warchief's tactical genius, and the muscle his Horde provided, the Amani were now on the retreat. Lost towns were reclaimed, slaves liberated, and Zul'jin himself had been captured. Soon, the Amani host had been driven all the way from our boarders.

But true to his word, the King did not stop there. He ordered his forces to keep pushing east, into the Amani heartland.

As far as the people of Quel'Thalas were concerned the war was over.

Because you don't wage war on 'animals'. You just get rid of them.