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Nathaniel

A Soldier's Testimony

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When I gazed at the portal within the Tomb, and Archmage Khadgar, I was thrown back decades ago. Back to the Black Morass - or what was left of it. This time though, not orcs tainted by demonic frenzy, but the ones that induced them to do the atrocities they did to us. 

 

Ironic. 

 

I wondered wheter it was destiny giving me a chance to bring retribution to the right perpetrators of my homeland's destruction all those years ago, but at the same time, I would have a hand in avenging the corruptors of the orcs - the mongrels we despised for so long and took so much joy in destroying as payment for our undoing. I felt conflicted, but all that old man talk that the Privates heard of duty and determination? By the Light, it worked. I had no second thoughts of going after the Archmage yet again, marching into the unknown. 

 

These last weeks have been so much of a fuss. I befriended a lot of people - different races, men and women that I'd never think of getting anywhere close if not to drive my sword through their bodies. The same lesson I learned when I saw the Mag'har in the shattered world and was taught their history by the draenei in the Temple of Telhamat, I felt once again fighting by the side of such exotic faces and types. 

 

When all of us were face to face with the so infamously known demon lord Kil'jaeden, I felt that this was going to be my last battle. That feeling of an end stroke me like an avalanche when everything that was in front of me was the Twisting Nether. The High Mage, Miss Lamiaceae, postponed my trip to the Shadowlands.

 

The fall of the demon lord at our hands was unbelievable. I think all of us in there had that strike of awe and overwhelming glory. We defeated the perpetrator of so much suffering and destruction. My heart froze once I gazed at Argus standing right there in the sky of our world. And yet again, there we go, to a shattered world. The second time in a lifetime -- one considered so short for our elven and draenei allies, but one that's getting to me slowly and surely. Five decades may be child's play for those fellas, but to me it's already getting tiresome. 

 

The image of Krokuun once more had me wondering how much ugly could my fate be, or the fates of all these people coming with us. Will I be trapped in this husk of a world for another twenty years like last time? Am I gonna be forced to see my closest friends and comrades die? Their faces still burden me in my sleep. Faces of despair. Men begging for a merciful killing blow. Friends giving up and putting and end to their own suffering themselves. My mind was rushing, and I used all of that to fuel my arms and strike my enemies down.

 

When I saw Turalyon the first time in this desolate place, the man we saw taking the fight to the Horde in the Steppes, the man who restlessly led us through those dark days, my confidence in our struggle grew amazingly. I would bleed for the General again a thousand times. 

 

After the horrors of Krokuun, I expected nothing else but chaotic landscapes without the barest forms of life that a soldier can use for subsistence. When I saw Mac'aree, the awe of the draenei civilization I saw in the Draenor of the past came to mind. It is surprising how well this testament of the draenei's civilization was left almost untouched. Horrors awaited us, obviously. But the view made it much less worse to endure, that is for sure. 

 

I have faced the horrors of this world, accompanied by the heroic men and women, of Azeroth and of this majestic Army of the Light, with only one condition: see my world survive, thrive, so that the future generations don't have to suffer by the certainty that some otherwordly army of chaos and destruction will knock again to cause more pain and loss.

 

If only our world, our home, our peoples, would not turn on each other.

 

I saw so much destruction and evil, yet my experience is but a fraction of the true picture of the universe - something I truly wished to be the water that would snuff out the fires burning in the hearts of our peoples, the fires of old hatreds. 

 

As the march on Antorus begins, I stand in the Lightforged's company, healing from my wounds after the last dance with their interplanetary bounty hunter. I gave my all to get my comrades here, together or alone in the argussian plains and wastelands. Not in charge of a squad, a platoon, a company, or battalion, sending lads to their brutal ends in a frontline, but myself and my sword, against the demons and their vile machines and pets. 

 

My story continues. I am proud of my deeds. I am proud of my comrades. I grief for our losses, but I cheer for our victories. 

 

May our sacrifices and our determination be the stepping stone to a brighter future. 

 

Commander Alderic Bradley. 

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