Captain Olathia Windgrave

A Chilling Recount

They counted on me. Every last one of them, and the only thing I could give was to ensure I was the last to fall.

No one told us that the march on the Citidel would end in far more bloodshed than even the rain could wash away.

The clash of metal against metal still rings in my ears as though it were a windchime on a blustery day, the sounds of war are not easily forgotten. The grunt of a nearby soldier as an enemy’s club strikes a blow to the temple and they crumple to a heap on the ground, armor and all. The guttural cry of a scourge as a sword splices through it with ease. The ringing in your ears as you hear your own voice screaming into the dark, until suddenly you are silenced, clinging to life and unable to cry any longer.

The “Beacon” is not supposed to be so easily snuffed out as though it is merely a candlestick. The Captain, their Valkyrie, should not have been stripped of her wings with such ease, nor with such force that she too lay in a broken shamble upon the ground.

Her lover’s heart should not have felt the panic and anguish it did when he found her laying on the cold stone instead of beside him where he had assumed she would be.

I failed every last soul on that battlefield, and now I live to replay my transgressions continually in my mind.

Thirty souls were assigned to me, twenty one of those lives are blood upon my own soul. Nine remain.

I failed every last one of them.

No man left behind, one heart, one squad.

These words meant everything to us until the battle of Ice Crown Citadel.

I watched as four of my family fell before we even broke through the gates.

No man left behind.

I left them. Assuming the worst the rest of us pressed on allowing the medics to take action as we rushed over our fallen toward the front gate. I still can feel the way my heart sank as I left them behind.

One heart, one squad, four left behind.

We kept on the tail of my lover and his troops, making what progress we could toward the Lich King’s thrown when we were ambushed. Separated from my beloved Tanthren, we fought hard to afford a moment to breathe. Upon taking that chance we rolled the dice of fate and lost.

The faint sound of a loosed arrow phased none of us until we saw the wide golden eyes of our comrade and heard the catch in Lorthas’ breath as he fell to the ground. The firmly planted arrow and indication of the second wave of scourge bearing down upon us.

Blow after blow I blocked what I could to no avil, my soldiers, no my family fell left and right. The sounds of clanging armor and yells for help echoing in my memories for centuries. I watched almost helplessly as the onslaught left us battered, broken and dead, I remember swinging my hammer above my head in a blind rage and then the distinct sound of my war cry becoming something far worse.

I remember the rain on my face, cold and unforgiving. The inability to move to avoid its incessant pounding against my skin.

I remember the brilliant blue light and the sound of my love….my Tanthren as he rushed to my side.