Scourgelady (melee offence officer)
Joined: 17 Oct 2007
|Posted: Sat Oct 09, 2010 10:01 am Post subject: Letters Home
|Northrend. A cold and inhospitable land, home of icy winds, biting cold, snow and dense forest as far as the eye could see. A dangerous one too, for the forests were full of dire wolves and giant bears and all manner of dangerous beasts, while the skies were ruled by dragons. Yet for all that, there were people to be found here. Isolated fisheries and logging camps clung to the southern coastline, although many had not been heard from in some time. At the southern coast of the great snow swept plain known as the Dragonblight, however, there were signs of life. A ragged fleet of ships, many missing masts and sails, was huddled together under the coastal cliffs. The nearby beach was a hive of activity. Tents sprouted like mushrooms, trees were being felled, fires lit.
“We arrived yesterday evening, striking land as the sun set. The Prince was the first ashore, as you might have expected! The men are eager to get to grips with the enemy. They saw what was done at Stratholme and will not forget it. Nothing will stand between them and victory.”
The quill skittered to a halt for a moment as the young woman writing paused and leaned back. Her golden hair hung loose around her head, and she ran her fingers through it absent mindedly, biting at her lip. She crossed her long legs under her camp desk and fidgeted as she pondered what to write. Letters home had never come easy to her, not after the manner of her leaving, but they had to be sent all the same.
The wind howled around her tent, but she knew that outside there were serried thousands of such tents with attendant cook fires, horse lines, weapon stands and all the other accoutrements of war. It made her feel safe, gave a sense of belonging. No doubt her prince would be out there too, mingling with the men, exhorting them to do great deeds for Lordaeron, as was his wont. That was also comforting.
“This land is much colder and more barren than any I have yet seen, but we have not been opposed so far. We have fortified the landing nonetheless. Barely a few hours after our arrival, the Prince read out the officers lists. I have been promoted to full Captain already! I will send a copy of the document with this letter, so that you might frame it. We strike inland soon, so this will likely be the last you hear from me until our triumphant return.”
She did not mention that the promotions had been to replace the officers who had left with Uther and Jaina at Stratholme. That loss still rankled and would have set the tone of the letter off a little. Seja did not wish to trouble her parents with news of dissension. No doubt they would be hearing quite enough of that at home. She preferred instead to remember the ceremony the previous night. The other officers had liberated a cask of Eversong wine from the stores and they had all drunk to the success of the campaign as the men outside raised toasts in their honour. Seja had spent the rest of that evening polishing her new armour until it shone, and had then slept in it.
“By the time this letter reaches you, Deva will no doubt have left to begin her studies in Dalaran. Give her my love if you can. I’m sure she will make an excellent mage, just like Mother.”
The way Deva drank and frequented taverns, she would no doubt find herself in the family way before too long. That ought to please her parents. Paladins were not known for raising a family of their own, and Seja’s parents were in turns furious and distraught when she had announced her intentions to them. It did not matter. She was tired of being in her sister’s shadow all the time, and a commission in the Prince’s own army was a sure ticket to honour and glory both.
“Pay no mind to what you have been hearing at home. We have won great victories so far and more are surely coming. The Prince will brook no threat to Lordaeron. By his resolve and strength of will, our lands will be kept safe.”
That resolve had been put to the test at Stratholme. Only those who had fought beside him at Andorhal could understand the Prince’s order to purge the city. The others had left in disgust. The knowledge that the deserters thought them monsters for giving the infected a clean death was a hurtful thing to bear. Hopefully it would all be set to rights on their return. Hopefully.
“I hope this letter finds you safe and well. All my love,
Seja Felicia Victrix.”
Seja closed the inkwell and scattered a handful of ashes across the paper, before folding it up neatly and sealing it. Well, that’s over and done with. She stood up, stretched, and left the meagre warmth of her tent and stepped out into the chilly northern air. The bustling crowds of masons, carpenters, sailors and soldiers nearly swept her away. By the looks of things, the supplies had nearly all been taken ashore. Soon they would strike camp, and begin the march inland to face whatever the fates had in store for them. Seja looked around at the masses of armoured footmen, mounted knights, free riders and sellswords. Seemingly every able bodied fighter in the north of Lordaeron had rallied to their Prince’s call and stood ready to crush the threat to their land once and for all.
The war was as good as won.
She raised a hand and yelled into the crowds.
“Runner! Have this letter sent back home with the other dispatches.”
Chapter 2 - Whispers on the Wind