Those That Did Not Return

[Zenethen]

Dalikan Godford, masked as Aldis Tannen, stands at the forges of Hearthglen, pounding onto metal with his glowing hammer. Strike after strike, thoughts crossed through his mind. These thoughts were many, and they spread across all of his life. From the days of his childhood, calm and peaceful, to the glorious, happy days he held with his wife in his arms, to even the days that brought forward memories of darkness, despair, and the heat of overcoming battle. Suddenly, he found himself stopping his work, and staring at the metals he hammered on. Thoughts crossed from the heat of battle to the most horrifying crime he had ever to commit - the tales of those that did not return.

He put his hammer away with his gear, and cast aside the metals that were worked on. He walked outside and took in a moment of Hearthglen's subtle breeze, and then huffed it out slowly, his single uncovered eye scanning over the nearby inhabitants of the city. He walked forward and moved to a tree, sitting down with his back against it, and laying his head back. His eyes closed, and he fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke to find himself under the covers of a large two-person bed. A hand slowly rose to feel his face, and he felt his beard once more, and reached to his shoulder, where he felt his braided hair. Dalikan sighed softly, looking down at the seams of his night clothing, simple, loose, and white. He then smiled as he realized his left hand was off to the side... And his left elbow rested under something warm. His smile grew as his head turned to look at the figure who's head rested over his arm. Upon his arm rested the smiling face of she who was dear to him.

"Selena..." Dalikan said silently to himself, and leaned forward to rest a kiss upon her tan-skinned brow. Selena barely stirred at the kiss, and her velvet green eyes were revealed when her eyelids slowly blinked open, a smile spreading across the woman's face as she looked into Dalikan's eyes, and her black bangs falling into her face.

"How did you sleep?" He asked silently, looking above her head, and to the opening of the balcony for their room, the sun's light shining through even their heavy curtains, the breeze slowly whipping away at the sheets of cloth.

Selena spoke with a soft voice, peering into his eyes. "I slept well... And you?"

Dalikan looked up to the ceiling, where a simple glass chandelier hung from the wooden supports. "I've missed you..."

Selena blinked a moment, then smiled. "I've never been away from you, Dalikan... I never will be." Her hand reached for Dalikan's torso, and the soft touch of her skin felt real to the man.

Dalikan swallowed lightly, and reached up with his right hand, gripping Selena's hand silently. "Why does this feel so weird... It's just so... So real... Did I pass on after a night of smithing?"

Selena giggled lightly. "No, silly... You aren't dead... You're just... Not occupied with anything but your memories..."

Dalikan chuckled heartily, looking over at his love once more. "I feel so alone without you, Selena..." He said with a small frown encroaching on his lips.

Selena pushed the covers away, and reached up to play with the man's beard, and then his braids. "Well, I'll tell you what I told you the last time...."

"I'll always be with you." Dalikan finished for her, his mouth forming into a smirk.

Selena moved forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. "You're learning." She giggled softly, moving to stand off from the bed. Dalikan soon followed, and they both undressed and got into their daily sets of clothes. For Dalikan, a simple suit of under-armor for his guard-work later in the day, and for Selena, a finely woven white gown that fell to the floor just barely. Dalikan then moved towards the balcony, and slid the curtains aside. He looked out onto the streets of the daytime Lordaeron City.

He turned at the cries of two little girls, as his two daughters ran into the room. One stood taller and older than the other, but neither of them could be over five years old. Dalikan's daughters ran forward into their father's arms, and he held the two giggling little girls high above the floor, spinning around the room with them. Selena stood near the balcony entrance, leaning on the stone and smirking softly at the display. Dalikan lowered himself and laid his daughters back onto the floor. "I love you, my daughters." He said, bringing them close for a soft embrace.

They both smiled and returned the embrace, and their sweet voices answered in almost perfect unison; "I love you too, papa..."

Dalikan stood with a smile on his face and stepped out onto the balcony. While his daughters ran out of the room and began to play, giggling throughout the home, Selena still leaned against the edge of the doorway. "Have you ever forgotten me, Dalikan? Have you ever forgotten those that did not return?"

Dalikan looked back at his wife, and frowned lightly. "I wish I could say no..." He said, looking down at the ground.

"Then remember them... Every one of them..." Selena's soft voice whispered to him.

Dalikan snapped from his dream, and looked around, back in Hearthglen, back against a tree with rain drizzling onto his face. He took a deep breath, peering around the town for but a moment before pushing himself to a stand. He walked towards the forge, re-armored himself, and mounted his horse. He took one last look around the city before riding off through the city gates.

[Zenethen]

Dalikan Godford sat at his desk in his office in the Monastery that housed the Order of the Lion Hearted. Slowly the man raised and lowered pieces of paperwork, signing off signatures, and overlooking reports. One caught his eye, and he moved the paper towards his vision. He began to read it.

Dear Mr. Godford,

It was a pleasure spending the evening with you, especially when you embarrassed me in front of all of my friends in that circle. I hadn't realized you never played truth or dare before, but it was entertaining watching you try to come up with questions when my friends called truth. I admit, I never expected a guardsman of the city to be so humorous... But that's beside the point. I'm sending you this letter because I wanted to express how much I enjoyed meeting you. It was a pleasure, and... I'll have to take you up on that offer to dine with you and your father. I'm sorry, but I don't have much more to write on this, so I suppose I'll see you then.

Sincerely,
Selena Galrein.

It took Dalikan a while to notice that there was a small smudged spot near the bottom of the page, wet with a tear. He then realized that he had shed tears while reading the letter, and brought his sleeves up to wipe at his eyes. He then felt a warm touch on his shoulders, and sighed softly. "I'm dreaming once more, aren't I?" He asked with a calm tone.

Selena's visage leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder. "You fell asleep reading through these papers, my love..."

Dalikan lowered his head in shame. "I... I was unable to protect you... I could've protected you... I could've sacrificed myself for you to escape, but I was unable to..."

"You still dwell on something you cannot fix, my love..." Selena spoke softly. "The door is open for you to enter." She motioned towards the wooden door that led outside of the room.

"Will I wake from this dream if I go?" Dalikan asked, looking into her eyes silently for some message or warning as he pushed out from behind his desk and stood tall.

Selena shook her head slowly. "You shall see, my love... Go." She said before falling back to stand against the wall, her hair falling into her face.

Dalikan sighed, and hung his head silently. He stepped towards the door, and opened it, stunned by a bright light on the other side. He stepped forward and through it, nonetheless, and found himself in the heat of a battlefield. The sky hung dark above his head, and the clash of orcish axe upon human sword rang across the darkened forest. Dalikan immediately found himself jumping to the side, an orcish spear flying by and striking a nearby tree. He looked down at himself, dressed in his old armor, and wielding his old sword and shield from when he fought in the Second War. An orc rushed at him with an axe upraised, and roared with beastly vigor. Dalikan prepared to strike the orc down when a large claymore stuck through its chest, and a broadsword then met its neck. The orc fell without another word.

Revealed behind the orc, however, were two soldiers not unlike Dalikan in uniform, but much in appearance. The first, wielding a large claymore, stood as a giant among his fellow men, and an eyepatch covered his right eye, while his other gleamed with a dark brown color. Dalikan recognized this man as Aldis Tannen, the man that his disguise was based on. The Stromsman stood tall and proud beside the other soldier, who wielded a sword and shield, and had short black hair, and dark blue eyes. Dalikan then recognized this man also as Drako Black, the first Commander of Black's Drakes.

"Dalikan! Now would be a good time for you to stop lazying around and get your ass back to the front lines! We're not fairing too good in this battle!" Drako cried out as he turned, hearing an orcish cry, and engaging with his new foe. Aldis looked at the engagement and laughed, turning to Dalikan.

"Let's get ya to the front lines then, boyo. Your father can't fight the Horde all by his lonesome, now can he?" Aldis said, his face stretching into a wide smirk. Before Dalikan could speak, the giant man's hand grabbed his shoulder, and tugged him away through the forest. Dalikan did nothing but huff at being dragged away by Aldis, muttering to himself; "Just like old times..."

"Drako! The line is faltering! We need to fall back, damnit!" Came the cry of a nearby man, whom Dalikan recognized as Mirran West. He stood alongside many of those that Dalikan recognized as Black's Drakes, and they held against an assault by orcish axes. Drako turned from his new kill, and growled at the fury of the line.

"I can't leave you Drakes alone for one -freaking- moment without you going off and killing a large amount of orcs -without me-, now can I?" Drako shouted as he joined into the chaos of the engagement. Aldis continued to drag Dalikan away, and then put him on his feet.

"Try not to die, ya? I'd hate to have to scoop up your remains." Aldis's grin grew larger, and he chuckled deeply, turning to swiftly bring his claymore across a troll's neck, a battle cry issuing behind it.

"You make it sound like you'll be living any longer than me, Aldis!" Dalikan cried out as he marched forward and joined in the defense at the front lines, where there stood a tall man in knight's armor, a wounded horse fallen nearby. The knight, who Dalikan recognized as his father, Arthur, in but moments, stood against three different orcs. In a swift engagement, the orcs lay dead, with Arthur standing barely scratched.

A troll rushed at the paladin's back, causing Dalikan to cry out. "Father, behind you!" His cry echoed through the forest, and it would seem that his father was too late, but instead, a short figure leaped up from behind the troll, and brought a heavy blow on the troll's skull.

"Now -that- was a fine shot, Dalin!" Came the voice of an old dwarf Dalikan recognized as Grenalin Coldwind. Grenalin stepped forward out of the deep brush of the forest, and nodded to his brother, Dalin, who stood victorious on the troll's corpse.

"I try me best, brother. I try me best." Dalin said with a hearty chuckle as he began to slightly dance atop the troll's corpse.

"Ye find too much enjoyment in this, ah think." Grenalin said to his brother, pulling the younger dwarf off the troll's corpse.

"A little too much enjoyment... Remember, we're fighting for a cause." Arthur's voice bellowed from under his helmet.

"I know, I know! Jes tryin' teh find some fun in it all, a'ight?" Dalin nodded to the paladin, his brother, and the approaching few.

Drako and Mirran quickly joined the party, rushing behind Dalikan and Aldis. "The Captain wants us on the retreat! The Horde aren't taking us out very easily, but they're pushing the main forces back, and we're following." Drako said as he approached the group.

"You heard him. Let's move out." Arthur spoke, pointing his glowing claymore towards the direction they were to go. "Drako, Aldis. Cover our rear. Coldwinds, cover our flanks... Son... You lead with me. As for Mirran... Make sure that Raven girl of yours is still alive." He then turned and began running towards their position, leaving Mirran alone among the many.

Dalikan rushed beside his father, and looked to see another knight come to the group. "Need some assistance, father?" The Knight said, looking to Arthur. Dalikan recognized the knight as Neveen, his older brother. Arthur did not respond with words, but simply nodded to the older son of his, and the seven companions continued in their rush through the trees. They eventually reached a clearing in which a large amount of Alliance soldiers fought through a skirmish force of orcs and trolls. Among the alliance soldiers, Dalikan recognized Gerald Jacobson, one of his senior officers.

Gerald spotted the group out of the corner of his eye, and cried out; "Took you long enough, Godford! We could use some help over here!". The battle that then ensued was rather short with the newly arrived eight companions, and the group once again stood in relatively friendly ground. "The Silverpine Brigade is pulling back. We can't hold them much longer." Gerald said as he eyed Arthur and the seven on his tail.

Arthur nodded slowly. "Aye then... Pull everybody back! The Brigade makes its retreat here!" He began to raise his booming voice. "Fall back, Brigade! Fall back!"

Dalikan took a moment to observe his surroundings. Through the bushes and trees he could see many large and small skirmishes between alliance and horde forces. Off in the distance, he saw two high elves, one male, and one female, fighting back to back with an armored dwarf nearby. He recognized all three of them, but their names escaped him as he was caught in his memories. Spears, arrows, and axes flew all around the battlefield, and dwarven rifles and mortars joined in the noise, engulfing this Lordaeronian forest in a full-out war. He watched all around as many of the Brigade's soldiers fell, along with their allies. He then shook his head and joined in the retreat, allied forced slowly joining in as time passed.

Dalikan ran forward with the group, and a boulder was launched near the crowd, producing a large cloud of dust that Dalikan easily got lost in. When he finally cleared out of the cloud, he could see none that he recognized, and sighed with contempt. He pulled himself together, and continued to retreat, looking to any nearby wounded and helping them with what healing he knew. After helping several of these onto their feet, he began to scale a tall hill, reaching the top...

Dalikan snapped awake so suddenly that he fell back and landed with a loud grunt and groan of pain on his side, the chair under him swerving out from under him. He sighed softly, putting his hands down to the ground. "Light... I need to find a better place to have that happen in..." He pushed himself up, and opened the door to his apprentice, Michael.

"Everything alright in there, sir?" Michael asked, the man's body bulky and muscular, but his face concerned.

Dalikan nodded slowly. "Yah... Just... Some memories from the Second..." He sighed softly.

"Alright then, sir. I hope you have a good night..." Michael nodded to his grand marshal, and then turned and walked away. Dalikan buried his face in his hands, and took a very deep breath, turning and falling onto his bed, which laid on the other side of the room than his desk. He cared not for the currently sideways chair on the floor, but wanted to sleep. Dalikan fell into a dreamless sleep.

[Zenethen]

Dalikan Godford sat in a large cell in an underground prison, darkly armored thugs standing near the doorway on the outside. His body was racked with scars, and the signs of malnutrition for near a month. His hair had fully grayed by now, and he sat as an old and feeble tactician, no longer a youthful soldier that he once was. Dalikan looked around the cell silently, awaking from his dreams once again. Light shined through a grate above the center of the room, and Dalikan stared eerily at the opening. A burly man in armor that was more decorative than the others stood at the portcullis separating Dalikan from freedom.

"You remember the old days, Dalikan? Back when we actually fought beside each other. The good ol' days, those were." The man spoke.

"What was it that made you betray Lordaeron, Galen? Money? Fame? Power?" Dalikan asked, looking to his old friend.

Galen chuckled loudly. "The Second War was a massive ball of shit, Dalikan. It was either join the Horde as a traitor or die a loyalist, as far as the days of despair came." His face turned to a grim frown. "As far as I'm concerned, a lot of unnecessary bloodshed could've been prevented that day if you hadn't struck me down, and simply listened. You're too stuck up with pride, Dalikan. We both know that."

"That was too long ago, Galen. Some things can never be forgiven." Dalikan said, lowering his head and closing his eyes. Galen grunted once, and turned, leaving the underground cell. Dalikan soon found himself in his dreams again, staring around the underground cell. The environment changed, and the prison cell morphed into the ruins of a tower, the upper reaches caved in, the ramp fallen to the side, and the doors broken through. Dalikan looked down at himself, and grunted, once again in his Lordaeron gear. But this time, his gear was torn, and he had a broken spear shaft lodged into his lower gut, luckily away from any organs. Dalikan reached up and growled in pain as he tore the spear shaft out from his gut, tossing it aside. He looked around the interior of the tower, and saw nothing but slain Alliance soldiers. He remembered very little from the battle, but pushed himself to a stand, a hand covering his wound.

Dalikan stepped forward slowly, shield still attached to his left arm, and sword laying nearby. He leaned down and grabbed his sword, holding it weakly with his right hand. Slowly he continued towards the door of the tower, and listened carefully for sounds of battle, whether near or distant. After hearing nothing but silence for a moment, Dalikan continued to limp weakly out of the tower. The tower stood on a hill strategically overlooking a mountain pass into Lordaeronian territory, one of the many exploited by Alteracian traitors. Surrounding the base and rise of the hill were the bodies of many; Alliance and Horde soldiers alike. Dalikan squinted his eyes, looking for recognition of any of the slain, but he saw none that he recognized.

Dalikan's attention snapped at the sound of twigs being crunched under heavy footsteps. He looked around, and held his sword warily in a defensive stance, and backed into the doorway of the tower, his back to the wall. A small patrol of Horde soldiers, barely six of them, slowly walked by through the debris of the earlier siege of this tower. They did not take notice to Dalikan, who stood safely behind the destroyed door. Dalikan looked out from his cover as the six orcs passed by, nearing to one of the few catapults that stood relatively intact. The group's attention then snapped to something nearby that Dalikan could not see, but he heard the loud sounds of horse hooves beating into the ground.

A small contingent of armor-clad riders charged through the brush, and easily overtook the group of orcs, those that were not trampled were easily dispatched by the long weapons that the riders held. It took Dalikan a moment before he stepped out from the cover and recognized the contingent of riders as his friends from the retreat in Hillsbrad. It came through Dalikan's mind now that the events would come in an order of random time from his memories. Arthur rode up the hill and dismounted, a frown growing under his helmet, but it was banished from his face when Dalikan stepped out from behind the ruined door, wounded, but alive.

"My son... Thank the Light, you are alive. We heard of the tower's fall, and we feared the worst." Arthur said, reaching out and embracing his wounded son. When Dalikan lightly groaned at the pressure on his wound, he blinked, and chuckled. "Neveen! Come mend your brothers wound."

Neveen stepped off of his mount, and walked forward, resting a hand over Dalikan's wound and speaking softly with prayers. The flesh silently mended with a minor glow as the two brothers then embraced. "Come, little brother. We have a horse for you... We had a party of Worg Riders on our tails a while ago, they're likely to catch up soon."

Dalikan was led to his steed, the young pony, Brego, who stood tall and proud for his age, and even within the armor. Dalikan put his foot into the stirrups and pushed himself up and onto the saddle. A single moment passed before the group of cavalry made their way around and through the brush of the nearby forest. "Worg Riders on the left, careful there!" Aldis shouted from his spot in the group, sheathing his great claymore and grabbing for a throwing javelin from a quiver on his back. Out of the darkness of the forest came seven orcs on large and powerful worgs, their armor light, and their swords long, curved, and menacing.

"Split up through the forest, deal with them separately." Arthur shouted over the noise of the worg's howling, and the shouting of nearly the same orders, but in Orcish, by the leader of the pack. Dalikan was left alone as the group split up throughout the forest. The pack separated behind them, and Dalikan was stuck with two rather than just one. Luckily, however, Brego was a fast steed, and galloped through the forest at a swift pace, with its master looking for distractions to use. The reins were twisted several times as the horse took several sharp turns through the forest, narrowly escaping the bite of the worgs each time. An orcish cry of pain echoed through the forest, followed by a worg's howl of pain, cut off in an instant by its assailant. After another sharp turn, Drako, atop his steed, came alongside Dalikan.

"Having trouble?" Drako asked, grabbing a rifle from his horse's side, and firing behind himself with no real accuracy. "Play it close. Cut the tree." Drako said, splitting off from Dalikan, drawing the chase away by one worg rider, the second continuing in its chase of Dalikan. He followed the advice of his friend, and charged towards a tree, then took a very sharp turn away from it, the heavier worg unable to catch its feet fast enough and ramming into the tree.

Dalikan jumped off of his steed, sword and shield in hand, and rushed forward at the worg rider, ready to take the orc down before he could remount. The engagement was swift, although the orc gave much challenge with its large sword, it ended with Dalikan as the victor, and the wounded worg laying on the ground, out of energy. Dalikan's gaze fell on the wounded creature, and pity crossed his face, causing him to lightly frown. He looked at the worg, and considered helping it, but its death was swift when a bullet came whizzing by and into the worg's head. Dalikan looked to the source of the shot, and saw Mirran atop his horse. "No mercy for the wicked." He said with a grim expression before continuing off to rejoin the rest of the group.

Dalikan looked at the slain worg, and frowned once more, then rushed off to his horse, mounted the proud steed, and then nicked the reins, sending Brego galloping off towards the other end of the forest. He spotted the rest of his group, and rode in to join at the side. All five of them were alive, and their horses slowed down as they neared the end of their engagement. "That was eventful." Aldis spoke, looking around the forest with a grim expression.

"Where is the Silverpine Brigade?" Dalikan asked, a concerned look on his face as he looked around the forest silently, and then eyed his father.

"They've made camp at the northwestern shores of Lordamere Lake." Arthur answered, and nicked his horse's reins. "That's where we're headed." He said before his steed sped away into the forest, closely followed by the rest of the group. The journey was fairly long as they sped north from their previous southern location, the scenery of Silverpine Forest rolling continuously by them as their steeds sped through the trees. They eventually slowed as they saw the smoke of fires on the horizon, and rode into a clearing in the forest, near to the shores of the shining lake of Lordamere. Among the camp there were banners of both Lordaeron, and the Silverpine Brigade's designated banner. The camp was made up of many simple tents, with one large command pavilion in the center. Soldiers from several nations and races sat at the fires of the camp, and looked grimly at the new arrivals.

The six dismounted from their horses, and Arthur led the group forward towards the pavilion. Within the pavilion stood a tall and strong man whom Dalikan recognized as Jerick Jacobson, father of Gerald Jacobson, and Commander of the Silverpine Brigade. His gaze turned to the new arrivals, and he nodded to Arthur. "Arthur... It took you a while... I see your son is still alive, at least." Jerick's gaze fell down on Dalikan. "Feel free to make yourselves at home for now... I've heard that the Horde hasn't been advancing lately, so we may possibly be in a stalemate for a good amount of time. Spend it how you wish."

Arthur nodded, and the six gave a salute to the Commander before exiting the pavilion. "Back on friendly ground. Feels good, sort of." Mirran said, looking around at the camp.

"Only a moments respite..." Drako then answered, looking to the south. "The Horde will move north, and hell, Lordaeron is likely to fall."

Aldis looked at Drako. "Sadly, I've got to agree with the boy. If they got past my home of Stromgarde, they'll easily wipe out Lordaeron."

Arthur looked at the two and sighed. "Lordaeron will not fall."

Dalikan snapped awake from the dream, and looked around the dusty prison once more, the sounds of battle echoing through the corridor, and the guards gone from their normal positions. The old soldier pushed himself up, and looked to the portcullis as a familiar face ran forward with spear in hand, beside another of his Order. Dalikan recognized Garonir as the one with the spear, and the young corporal pulled the rusty lever holding Dalikan in. "Thank the Light..." He thought.