Post by Argonas Selonas on Feb 15, 2006 13:13:24 GMT -5
My name is Argonas Selonas. I am a Dwarf, who serves in the Alliance forces in the role of a Paladin of the Order of Light. I grew up in and around Ironforge, but have traveled far and wide across our world. My parents used to run a very successful trading and mercantile business in IronForge and had outposts throughout our lands. My father now serves on the Elder Council of Advisors to our king, and my mother is involved with the Church and the local charity groups.
My youth was pretty idyllic compared to many of my peers. My brother Maegar and I went to the best schools, met all the right people, and led a life of utter privilege and idle pastimes.
When the Burning Legion made their presence known, my family’s business was contracted to provide arms to the Alliance forces rallying to defend our lands. I guess this was when I started thinking about becoming part of my Order. My family was making money hand-over-fist from what amounted to arms dealing, and my brother and I were shielded from active service under the banner of “essential to the running of the Kingdom’s affairs” through working for my parents.
Around the middle of that war, the gravity of the situation was starting to hit home for me. Many of our friends had signed up to fight, and daily we were hearing news of their deaths or worse yet, severe injuries. Many of the injured could not be cured through conventional means, the wounds they sustained being tainted by the Dark.
One day, after spending most of the afternoon watching the wounded pour back into the city on gurneys and in wagons, I made a rather impetuous decision. I knew I wasn’t a great fighter, having never been trained as a youth in even the most basic of Dwarven combat techniques. But I was smart. So I headed off to the Physician’s Hospice and began training, unbeknownst to my parents, to become a Physician myself. I was a Dwarf possessed, and would spend many evenings practicing proper medical techniques while my parents assumed I was out carousing with the other noble youth who remained behind in the city.
My progress was fast, and emboldened by the practical experience I gained in the Hospice, I decided I had learned enough and snuck off on a transport back to the front lines to be a bigger help than I could be in Ironforge.
Needless to say, my house was in an uproar when they finally figured out what I had done. My brother was mad but understood, and where I spent my time training to be a Physician, he spent his time learning how to fight, unbeknownst to me! I would meet my brother later on in the war, but I will speak of that later.
I volunteered as a Field Medic with the 8th Stormwind Lancers, which led me all over Azeroth on the back of a Griffin following them around and trying my best to fix them up when the priests could not heal the wounds. Or when there weren’t any priests around, which happened more often than not.
When we had been fighting only against Orcs, there were certain conventions that were followed with regards to treatment of the wounded and dying, and the Church in those days had plenty of priests to go around. When Darkness fell, there was no quarter. No respite from the fighting. Priests were dying of exhaustion, or worse, being put into active combat roles to help stem the tide of Daemonkind threatening to overrun us all.
Despite the fact that we were allying ourselves with Orcs to help win this new war, the old racial tensions were still very prevalent. After one pretty intense battle, one of our front lines of Orc Irregulars (skirmish shock troops specializing in the bloodiest of hand-to-hand combat) had taken very heavy casualties. Not many dead, miraculously, but several horrifically wounded. The Shamen that the Orcs had in their unit were very hard pressed to deal with all of the casualties. When I asked my commanding officer if I could help, he replied “Let them bleed, it will mean less Orcs to kill after this war is over!”
I was stunned. Everything I had devoted myself to learning taught me that your first responsibility as a Physician was to heal anyone who needed it, regardless of race. So I broke ranks and snuck off to help. The Shamen at first were very hesitant to let me help, but when I finally convinced them that I wasn’t going to do more harm than good, I worked alongside their numbers for the rest of that day and late into the evening. When I finally got back to my unit, I was thoroughly exhausted. I didn’t make myself handy for conversation that evening, electing to pitch a tent away from the main camp.
My absence hadn’t gone unnoticed.
When I awoke, my unit had left without me, and the only evidence I could find as to why was a hastily scrawled note with the word “Traitor” written on it. I was alone, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. The Orcs I had helped out the previous day were able to escort me to a shared front line outpost near Lordaeron and I stayed there for a few weeks, trying to figure out what I was going to do. Technically, I had been discharged from my unit, but for reasons that were completely without honour. It wouldn’t be the last time I had a bad experience with the Human military.
As luck would have it, during my stay I managed to run into my brother. I am never one to sit idle, and even though I was effectively not in the military anymore, I plied my trade as a Physician during my stay at this front. One day when I was treating some minor wounds and cuts from a patrol that had been attacked but managed to escape, I looked down to see the next patient and it was my brother, Maegar! I was so overjoyed at seeing a familiar face, I grabbed him up into my arms not realizing that he was still wounded and hadn’t been treated by me yet.
When I realized my error, I quickly went to work and bandaged him all up. We spoke at dinner that evening, but something was wrong. I had never seen my brother like this before. I assumed it was because he had been fighting in this war and it had started to affect his mind like so many other soldiers I had treated over the months I was serving. But this was different.
“Argonas”, Maegar said, slowly and with a blank stare in his eyes, “I think our dad is selling arms to the fallen Paladin Prince Arthas and his armies”.
I was shocked. “How could this be?”, I asked.
“The group that ambushed us all bore weapons made in our forges, Argo. The family crest of the House of Selonas was plainly visible on the pommels of their swords and the bottoms of their shields. How could it be that he’s doing this?”
“Maybe the Dead ambushed a shipment of our arms to an Alliance outpost?”, I blurted out. “There could be a million different ways they could have gotten ahold of those arms! They loot our dead whenever they aren’t making our dead join their ranks, they could have gotten the weapons that way…”
But Maegar wasn’t hearing anything of what I had to say. I knew I had to get back home and talk to my parents about this turn of events. We spoke little after that exchange, and the next morning Maegar’s unit departed for a different outpost.
Getting home proved to be more problematic than I had hoped. I won’t get into all of the details right now, but it involved being slung to the underbelly of a Thunder Lizard while hiding from a Tauren Shaman’s irate father. I always got along famously with the Tauren peoples during our combined effort against the Scourge, so it was no mistake that my first real relationship was with a Tauren woman. They respected the fact that I was interested in helping anyone who asked, and I respected the bond they had with the world around them. They have a very quiet sense of humour that I found very enduring. But I digress.
When I finally did get home, I was embraced immediately by both of my parents, and a large celebration was held. Word of my discharge had reached their ears, but it was felt that I did the right thing and despite the fact that I had been discharged, I would always have a home in the Dwarvish Army if I so chose.
The family business had exploded in my absence, and we were now so big that we employed our own postal and messenger service, which other people in the Kingdom used in the event that normal postal routes were down or lost because of the war. For a time, I couldn’t bring myself to ask about my brother’s suspicions, so happy I was.
It was around that time that I was approached by the Order of Light, the Dwarven splinter group of the Human’s Silver Hand movement. Word of my exploits had reached their ears, and they were very interested to see what I could do with the “proper” training to help me become a Healer, and possibly more. It felt like the right time in my life to devote myself to a bigger profession, so I accepted their offer and enrolled in their parish as a Novice.
I was nervous at first, as I had never been a good fighter, and no matter what path I chose to follow within the Church, fighting would more than likely be involved. Even Minor Healers got combat training in those days to help stem the high mortality rate the Priests and Paladins were experiencing because of the war and the huge demands on their services. I had managed to “dodge the buckshot” during my time in the military by keeping busy in my role as a Physician and claiming to be too busy to go on actual fight training. But I couldn’t hide behind that at the Parish!
For a solid year, I devoted myself to learning all that the Order had to teach. It was one of the happiest years of my life. I didn’t get to do very much with the family business, but my parents seemed really pleased to have a Paladin in the family.
Certain things began to stick out a bit when it came to the business though. Our production was very high, for one, and despite the fact that there was a war going on, it seemed like we were producing more armaments than could possibly be used. I didn’t have time to think about it too much, such was the grueling schedule I was under most of the time with the Order.
Near the end of that year (and also my Novice training), the war against the Burning Legion ended, and Maegar, who had survived his time away, had returned home. Again I was very glad to see him, but again, there was a darkness in him that hadn’t been there when we were young.
The first night he was back, he wasted no time. The instant he saw our father, he was accusing him of selling weapons to the enemy and being nothing more than a corrupt war profiteer. My mother was very upset, but my father was livid with rage! He and Maegar came to blows over the allegations, and Maegar left. I have not seen my brother in over 4 years. He raised enough doubts however that a year later an inquest was called to look into our family’s business transactions.
The King hired an Accountant named Nedward from the Gnomish lands to come and audit our business, top to bottom. Once word spread that Dad was under investigation, our business began to wane. Financially, our family was still richer than many, but the business was pretty much over. During the investigation, Gnomeregan began to fall, and the kingdom was thrown into chaos. The investigation got put on hold, and we began a third time to gear up for war.
By this time, my father had completely folded down the business and sold off all of it’s assets. He had been chosen as an Advisor to the King, a role he continues to play to this day, despite the controversy caused by the botched investigation. The last that I heard, and I pray this isn’t true, is that my brother had joined the Dark Iron insurgency and is actively attempting to overthrow the King, given his support for my father.
I’m no closer to knowing the truth behind what went on, and now we are at war again. This time around I am fighting for my Order, but I have requested not to fight the nations under the Horde banner if at all possible. I don’t believe the reasons given for war with them are just, and there are far more dangerous threats that need to be dealt with.
So far, my Order has helped me by having me out in the far-flung reaches of the world fighting the Dark humanoid races that have emerged after years of dormancy. The time may come where I will have to fight against the peoples I consider my friends, and I honestly don’t know what I will do if that happens. This may not make me very popular in certain circles, but I believe I am acting honourably.
Which brings me to the present day. I believe I may have found a most excellent organization that strives to be honourable in the Defenders of Valor. Many members of other Orders are already members, and all of the beliefs they espouse are ones I can live with. I hope that by sharing my history with you that I may be considered for membership.
My youth was pretty idyllic compared to many of my peers. My brother Maegar and I went to the best schools, met all the right people, and led a life of utter privilege and idle pastimes.
When the Burning Legion made their presence known, my family’s business was contracted to provide arms to the Alliance forces rallying to defend our lands. I guess this was when I started thinking about becoming part of my Order. My family was making money hand-over-fist from what amounted to arms dealing, and my brother and I were shielded from active service under the banner of “essential to the running of the Kingdom’s affairs” through working for my parents.
Around the middle of that war, the gravity of the situation was starting to hit home for me. Many of our friends had signed up to fight, and daily we were hearing news of their deaths or worse yet, severe injuries. Many of the injured could not be cured through conventional means, the wounds they sustained being tainted by the Dark.
One day, after spending most of the afternoon watching the wounded pour back into the city on gurneys and in wagons, I made a rather impetuous decision. I knew I wasn’t a great fighter, having never been trained as a youth in even the most basic of Dwarven combat techniques. But I was smart. So I headed off to the Physician’s Hospice and began training, unbeknownst to my parents, to become a Physician myself. I was a Dwarf possessed, and would spend many evenings practicing proper medical techniques while my parents assumed I was out carousing with the other noble youth who remained behind in the city.
My progress was fast, and emboldened by the practical experience I gained in the Hospice, I decided I had learned enough and snuck off on a transport back to the front lines to be a bigger help than I could be in Ironforge.
Needless to say, my house was in an uproar when they finally figured out what I had done. My brother was mad but understood, and where I spent my time training to be a Physician, he spent his time learning how to fight, unbeknownst to me! I would meet my brother later on in the war, but I will speak of that later.
I volunteered as a Field Medic with the 8th Stormwind Lancers, which led me all over Azeroth on the back of a Griffin following them around and trying my best to fix them up when the priests could not heal the wounds. Or when there weren’t any priests around, which happened more often than not.
When we had been fighting only against Orcs, there were certain conventions that were followed with regards to treatment of the wounded and dying, and the Church in those days had plenty of priests to go around. When Darkness fell, there was no quarter. No respite from the fighting. Priests were dying of exhaustion, or worse, being put into active combat roles to help stem the tide of Daemonkind threatening to overrun us all.
Despite the fact that we were allying ourselves with Orcs to help win this new war, the old racial tensions were still very prevalent. After one pretty intense battle, one of our front lines of Orc Irregulars (skirmish shock troops specializing in the bloodiest of hand-to-hand combat) had taken very heavy casualties. Not many dead, miraculously, but several horrifically wounded. The Shamen that the Orcs had in their unit were very hard pressed to deal with all of the casualties. When I asked my commanding officer if I could help, he replied “Let them bleed, it will mean less Orcs to kill after this war is over!”
I was stunned. Everything I had devoted myself to learning taught me that your first responsibility as a Physician was to heal anyone who needed it, regardless of race. So I broke ranks and snuck off to help. The Shamen at first were very hesitant to let me help, but when I finally convinced them that I wasn’t going to do more harm than good, I worked alongside their numbers for the rest of that day and late into the evening. When I finally got back to my unit, I was thoroughly exhausted. I didn’t make myself handy for conversation that evening, electing to pitch a tent away from the main camp.
My absence hadn’t gone unnoticed.
When I awoke, my unit had left without me, and the only evidence I could find as to why was a hastily scrawled note with the word “Traitor” written on it. I was alone, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. The Orcs I had helped out the previous day were able to escort me to a shared front line outpost near Lordaeron and I stayed there for a few weeks, trying to figure out what I was going to do. Technically, I had been discharged from my unit, but for reasons that were completely without honour. It wouldn’t be the last time I had a bad experience with the Human military.
As luck would have it, during my stay I managed to run into my brother. I am never one to sit idle, and even though I was effectively not in the military anymore, I plied my trade as a Physician during my stay at this front. One day when I was treating some minor wounds and cuts from a patrol that had been attacked but managed to escape, I looked down to see the next patient and it was my brother, Maegar! I was so overjoyed at seeing a familiar face, I grabbed him up into my arms not realizing that he was still wounded and hadn’t been treated by me yet.
When I realized my error, I quickly went to work and bandaged him all up. We spoke at dinner that evening, but something was wrong. I had never seen my brother like this before. I assumed it was because he had been fighting in this war and it had started to affect his mind like so many other soldiers I had treated over the months I was serving. But this was different.
“Argonas”, Maegar said, slowly and with a blank stare in his eyes, “I think our dad is selling arms to the fallen Paladin Prince Arthas and his armies”.
I was shocked. “How could this be?”, I asked.
“The group that ambushed us all bore weapons made in our forges, Argo. The family crest of the House of Selonas was plainly visible on the pommels of their swords and the bottoms of their shields. How could it be that he’s doing this?”
“Maybe the Dead ambushed a shipment of our arms to an Alliance outpost?”, I blurted out. “There could be a million different ways they could have gotten ahold of those arms! They loot our dead whenever they aren’t making our dead join their ranks, they could have gotten the weapons that way…”
But Maegar wasn’t hearing anything of what I had to say. I knew I had to get back home and talk to my parents about this turn of events. We spoke little after that exchange, and the next morning Maegar’s unit departed for a different outpost.
Getting home proved to be more problematic than I had hoped. I won’t get into all of the details right now, but it involved being slung to the underbelly of a Thunder Lizard while hiding from a Tauren Shaman’s irate father. I always got along famously with the Tauren peoples during our combined effort against the Scourge, so it was no mistake that my first real relationship was with a Tauren woman. They respected the fact that I was interested in helping anyone who asked, and I respected the bond they had with the world around them. They have a very quiet sense of humour that I found very enduring. But I digress.
When I finally did get home, I was embraced immediately by both of my parents, and a large celebration was held. Word of my discharge had reached their ears, but it was felt that I did the right thing and despite the fact that I had been discharged, I would always have a home in the Dwarvish Army if I so chose.
The family business had exploded in my absence, and we were now so big that we employed our own postal and messenger service, which other people in the Kingdom used in the event that normal postal routes were down or lost because of the war. For a time, I couldn’t bring myself to ask about my brother’s suspicions, so happy I was.
It was around that time that I was approached by the Order of Light, the Dwarven splinter group of the Human’s Silver Hand movement. Word of my exploits had reached their ears, and they were very interested to see what I could do with the “proper” training to help me become a Healer, and possibly more. It felt like the right time in my life to devote myself to a bigger profession, so I accepted their offer and enrolled in their parish as a Novice.
I was nervous at first, as I had never been a good fighter, and no matter what path I chose to follow within the Church, fighting would more than likely be involved. Even Minor Healers got combat training in those days to help stem the high mortality rate the Priests and Paladins were experiencing because of the war and the huge demands on their services. I had managed to “dodge the buckshot” during my time in the military by keeping busy in my role as a Physician and claiming to be too busy to go on actual fight training. But I couldn’t hide behind that at the Parish!
For a solid year, I devoted myself to learning all that the Order had to teach. It was one of the happiest years of my life. I didn’t get to do very much with the family business, but my parents seemed really pleased to have a Paladin in the family.
Certain things began to stick out a bit when it came to the business though. Our production was very high, for one, and despite the fact that there was a war going on, it seemed like we were producing more armaments than could possibly be used. I didn’t have time to think about it too much, such was the grueling schedule I was under most of the time with the Order.
Near the end of that year (and also my Novice training), the war against the Burning Legion ended, and Maegar, who had survived his time away, had returned home. Again I was very glad to see him, but again, there was a darkness in him that hadn’t been there when we were young.
The first night he was back, he wasted no time. The instant he saw our father, he was accusing him of selling weapons to the enemy and being nothing more than a corrupt war profiteer. My mother was very upset, but my father was livid with rage! He and Maegar came to blows over the allegations, and Maegar left. I have not seen my brother in over 4 years. He raised enough doubts however that a year later an inquest was called to look into our family’s business transactions.
The King hired an Accountant named Nedward from the Gnomish lands to come and audit our business, top to bottom. Once word spread that Dad was under investigation, our business began to wane. Financially, our family was still richer than many, but the business was pretty much over. During the investigation, Gnomeregan began to fall, and the kingdom was thrown into chaos. The investigation got put on hold, and we began a third time to gear up for war.
By this time, my father had completely folded down the business and sold off all of it’s assets. He had been chosen as an Advisor to the King, a role he continues to play to this day, despite the controversy caused by the botched investigation. The last that I heard, and I pray this isn’t true, is that my brother had joined the Dark Iron insurgency and is actively attempting to overthrow the King, given his support for my father.
I’m no closer to knowing the truth behind what went on, and now we are at war again. This time around I am fighting for my Order, but I have requested not to fight the nations under the Horde banner if at all possible. I don’t believe the reasons given for war with them are just, and there are far more dangerous threats that need to be dealt with.
So far, my Order has helped me by having me out in the far-flung reaches of the world fighting the Dark humanoid races that have emerged after years of dormancy. The time may come where I will have to fight against the peoples I consider my friends, and I honestly don’t know what I will do if that happens. This may not make me very popular in certain circles, but I believe I am acting honourably.
Which brings me to the present day. I believe I may have found a most excellent organization that strives to be honourable in the Defenders of Valor. Many members of other Orders are already members, and all of the beliefs they espouse are ones I can live with. I hope that by sharing my history with you that I may be considered for membership.
