Portrait of a Champion

The Black Knight Slain by The Champion of Stormwind

The last few days have been hectic ones in my battle against the forces of the Lich King, and have left little time for recording my exploits. Suffice it so say that I have achieved great glory on behalf of my Kingdom, and in doing so, I have neutralized one of Arthas's most fiendish lieutenants.

Due to my great skill and dedication, I achieved the rank of Argent Valiant in record time. Upon doing so, it was only a matter of applying the proper degree of effort to reach the rank of Champion. I have now earned the title "of Stormwind," and wear it with pride in display to all whom I encounter.

So as to do honor to my friends the Dwarves of Ironforge, I have undertaken the path of a Valiant of Ironforge, which I expect shall soon see me reach the august rank of Champion with that worthy contingents. No alliance is as tried and true as ours with the Dwarves. Compared to the cancerous entanglement that is the Horde, we are as titanium against wood. Victory shall come, so long as we continue to remain true to ourselves and our allies!

But enough praise of our brothers-in-arms! To be sure, all the bards of the human lands could sing the worthiness of this proud and mighty people for all the days of Azeroth, and still not come close to capturing their quality. However, now is not the time for such idylls.

As I was saying, I continue to make my presence known among the Argent Tournament, on the very footsteps of the Prince of Darkness's seat of power. One of my first actions upon being named Champion of Stormwind was to call out the vile Black Knight, the imposter to the Argent cause, whose actions in our ranks were despicable even by the standards of our great foe. I emerged victorious, strengthened by the memories of the fallen warriors done in by Arthas's treachery.

In between my training with the tournament, I have continued to scout Icecrown and surrounding environs, and have won many victories for the Alliance. It is my hope that the actions of myself and others like me may soon see our enemy pinned down in his icy tomb of a citadel Then we shall strike the final blow!

But first, we must continue to act, and we must solve the riddle of Ulduar. Next time, an account of my initial foray into that stronghold of Titan power.

The Argent Tournament

On the orders of King Wrynn, I have reported to the encampment of the Argent Tournament in the northeast corner of Icecrown Glacier. My mission here is threefold: First, I am to receive additional training in certain forms of armed combat that will no doubt prove useful in the ongoing battle against Arthas and his undead legions. Second, I will root out spies and traitors among the ranks of the Argent Crusade. Third, I will win glory for Stormwind and the rest of the Alliance.

Upon arrival, I reported to the Silver Covenant Pavillion to commence my participation in the tournament. I must admit that my considerable weapon skills aided me greatly in achieving the rank of Valiant, and the other tasks put upon me by the Allied leaders in the tourney enabled me to go about my ongoing scouting and reconnaissance missions with double efficiency.

At present, I continue to train towards the rank of Champion, which I feel certain I will reach in the next few days. As I continue along this path, I must take care to bide my time so as to ensure maximum intelligence gathering with regards to the other participants. In particular, I must maintain my vigil towards the contestant known as The Black Knight. This mighty warrior pretends to be an orphan from Westfall, now seeking the downfall of the Lich King. However, I have learned through investigation that he is an agent of the very fiend he purports to oppose! Scoundrel! Soon, he will feel the wrath of Lordaeron, and the Light shall rain down upon him and wash his malevolent designs away!

I know what evil lurks in the hearts of Orcs . . .

Coming soon, a look at why we must continue to oppose these bloodthirsty, green-skinned savages.

Frenzyheart v. Oracles

Coming soon, an account of my adventures in the Sholazar Basin among these warring tribes.

In the Service of The Argent Vanguard

Coming soon, a tale of triumph, tragedy, and salvation reclaimed: the story of my role in the latest push into Icecrown, and the redemption of Crusader Bridenbrad.

Into the Waygate

Coming soon, an account of the completion of my tasks on behalf of the Avatar of Freya, including my journey through the Waygate and my epic battle with Scourge in the drifts of the Icecrown Avalanche.

Return To The Sholazar Basin

I have returned to the Sholozar Basin to finish some long overdue tasks in that lush and florid region.

Upon completing my business in Stormwind, I traveled to Dalaran via my trusty Hearthstone. After a quick jaunt across the city to the flight deck, I undertook a relatively short flight west by southwest, at the conclusion of which I found myself once more in the camp of my old teacher and friend, Hemet Nesingwary. Upon completion of some hunting tests for the old boy and his men, as well as a spot of distillery, the legendary dwarf huntsman dispatched me to the northern part of the zone to check in with a detachment from his expedition. For sake of reference, here is a map of the entire area, prepared during my initial foray into the zone some months ago, just a few weeks prior to the Feast of Winter's Veil:



No sooner had I landed in the northern camp via my faithful gryphon, Greygroemer, but I found myself trekking out again in search of drakes and their progeny on behalf of the camp's leader, the somewhat-aptly-named Dorian Drakestalker. Upon completion of that task, there remained work to be done in furtherance of whatever seemingly-mad scheme these drakehunters have in mind. That will have to wait until this evening. In the meantime, rest, refreshment, and perhaps a dip in the nearby lake. Which reminds me: at the Nesingwary offshoot, an envoy from Dalaran tasked me with the job of obtaining some spell components from the hydras that dwell within the aforementioned waters. I haven't fought such creatures in ages. I look forward to the coming battles.

One final thing before I sign off for now. As I flew upon gryphon wings to the northern camp, I spotted in the distance the familiar sight of an extraordinary being with whom I had joined in battle in the not-too-distant past: the Avatar of Freya. Continuing her battle against the overspilling hordes of the Lich King and their allies, she tasked me with a number of quests in furtherance of our mutual goals. Given my particular talents for covering great distances in relatively small periods of time, as well as my hard-won familiarity with the area, I completed her tasks with what would appear to the untrained eye as ease.

First, I engaged an encampment of explosives-wielding death cultists, dispatching them and their strange devices celeritously. I almost referred to the aforementioned bombs as "strange," and then it occurred to me: I've seen similar devices before, in the hands of the cursed tribe know as the Dark Iron Dwarves. As all Dwarven kind and friendly kin know, I am an ally to the sons of the stone, but not those foul creatures. It is my sincere hope that an allegiance between the Lich King's followers and that troublesome nation is not in the works. That is not something Alliance headquarters is prepared to face at this time. But I digress . . .

Returning to my tasks on behalf of Freya's Aspect, I reported to the Lifewarden and informing her of my success, and she again enlisted me as the hand of her wrath. Destination: the Glimmering Pillar. Objective: neutralize the cultist's attempt to destroy that powerful font of both magic and The Light. Result: upon blowing Freya's Horn atop the shining pinnacle while beset by the foul death sect's members, the Titanic might of the ancient powers contained within said Horn neutralized the cultist presence, restoring the natural balance of things. I then reported my success to my taskgiver, whence she tasked me anew.

My current mission on her behalf involves the activation of something called the Waygate. This portal leads to an area that will grant me access to the powerful weapon I need to halt the charge of the Lich King's undead forces into Sholazar. Where it will take me, I know not. However, I feel as if my tasks on behalf of Nesingwary and his men is somehow related to my charge from the Titanic aspect. This is not certain, but what is sure is that I have many masters in my current undertakings, and the many trails upon which I tread are, and will always be, fraught with peril! For the LIGHT!

The Siren Call of the Front Lines

Once more unto the breach dear friends!

Too long has Christmuklaus tarried in the sparkling Alliance capital of Stormwind!

Too long has my mace rested upon my belt as I aided the cause of our war effort in special tactical service to The King, the Most Noble Varian Wrynn!

Too long have I spent my days pouring over maps and dispatches from the front, while the sublime power of The Light slumbered in my veins!

Too long.

And now, at last, the time has come for me to depart the silken sheets of my hard-earned and hard-won home in gleaming Stormwind City, to resume the active life-at-arms in the service of our effort. Destination: Northrend. Objective: thwart the Lich King, and his campaign against the living (especially the human race and our allied folk). The price of failure: Armageddon.

Before departure, I intend to put my affairs in order. First, a short trip to the Cathedral District to bid thanks to the light for the many blessings bestowed upon me and my people, and to engage in a brief skill session with my old teacher, Grayson Shadowbreaker. Next, a meeting with my "man in Stormwind," my "cousin" from the orphanage, Cristbank, to set my business affairs in order. Finally, one last briefing with my King at Stormwind Castle. And then, onward, to a path that I believe from the intelligence gathered thusfar will lead me into the heart of Ulduar, silent for centuries . . . until now.

But before I may reach my ultimate challenge in the North, I have unfinished business within the Sholazar Basin. Business which dovetails with my assignment to learn of what is brewing within the halls of the ancient stronghold of the Titans. What's more, there is reliable information that the Lich King's most- dreaded flying-fortress of Naxxramas stirs once more. All of this is to say nothing of the neverending treachery of Thrall and those green-skinned devils, the Orcs, and their ghastly union of freaky bull-men, flesh-eating undead, bottom-feeding trolls, and . . . blood elves. Ah, the beguiling promise of battle to come . . . Soon my Hammer will slake its thirst upon the blood of all who oppose our righteous cause! Assuming they have blood . . .

A part of me will miss the day-to-day comforts and splendors of this greatest city of men! This is to say nothing of my home among my Dwarven "kin" in Ironforge, just a short trip away via Deeprun Tram, and to ignore mention of my villa in the seat of Elvish power and culture in Darnassus. However, in returning to the Alliance Vanguard, and resuming a post with my old unit (the fearsome Raiding Guild known as Radical Dreamers), I find myself once again crossing the threshold of the surest home I have ever known: the sturdy structure of the practice of, and the world of, Warcraft. For the LIGHT!