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Post by Guest on Sun Feb 14, 2010 8:47 am

The room was filled with stench.


Arms, legs, eyeballs, pools of blood...

Blood of the Innocent.

In the middle of that Butcher's dream stood a man with light-brown hair and green eyes. Underneath the armor he wore a simple brown linen robe, an unofficial symbol of the Northshire clerics. Reading last rites for a hopelessly broken soldier both mentally and physically, he could not stop asking himself one thing.


Who started this war? For what reason or purpose? His faith told him there is always a bloodless solution...

His eyes saw quite the opposite.
The Soldier lying before him was found in one of the many camps with renegade orcs trying to plot against the might of Lordaeron. The last 'survivor' of an ambushed squad patroling the roads around the town. with his arms and legs broken, his face being worse than a smashed pumpkin... 'Survivor'.

He finished the prayer and closed the eyes of this poor passing victim, lying on the floor among many more good people of Lordaeron who have been unfortunate enough to get into the hands of orcs.


That was twenty years ago. Now as then, he was standing over a victim.

A victim of his own judgement. Nameless orc, grunt, defeated, lying before him, speaking or mumbling something in Orcish. The Paladin closed his eyes and bowed his head.

-May your Soul know no rest, no peace - He said before sending his halberd deep into the Grunt's throat. That was another step on this endless road of Salvation. Salvation for all those who fel under the Rage of the Horde.


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