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The Tale of Baron Hector Krestan
or: Life and Death in the BurningSteppes. A true story as told by an anonymous son of Stromgarde. Manuscriptedited by C. Mishunadare.
Chapter 1: Assembly in Stormwind
I remember that it was a rather dreary, rainy day when I arrived once more inthe rebuilt kingdom. I had come to the southern human city of Stormwind on a self-imposed break of sorts from fighting the Scourge in the Plaguelands when I saw thenote tacked to the doorway of the Gilded Rose Inn.“
Excitement! Adventure! Glory!
“Baron Hector Krestan is seeking three to five companions for an expeditioninto the charred lands north of Lakeshire. Applicants are expected to be well versedin combat and able to subsist on meager provisions for days or weeks. Apply at theStormwind Keep.” That was all the advertisement said. Miss Allison, the innkeeper, smiled hersweet smile and told me she’d just received the note a couple hours earlier. I knewthe fight in the north was an important one, but the Argent Dawn couldn’t possiblymiss me too much while I was away. I’m not much of a bootlicker, but I knew thevalue of serving the nobility of Stormwind, and thought I could do some good.Applications for the Baron’s companion party began the next day, so I went to thevault, where I kept my dress armor, and began to prepare to impress.Smithing had always been my strong suit, so I had crafted my own suit of dress plate. I’d traded a goblin’s fortune in thorium to a dwarf in Tanaris for theplans, but setting out my plate in front of me on my bed in the inn, I knew that ithad been worth it. Silvery shining breastplate and leggings; blue boots, pauldrons,
 
Page| 2and helm. I set to work carefully polishing them, and, admittedly, admiring myhandiwork a bit. By the time morning came around, I’d gotten a good night’s sleep,donned my armor, and was ready to go. I strapped my sheath and shield across myback and carefully made my way down the stairs of the inn. Miss Allison smiled andblushed at me as I passed, which put me in an even better mood for the upcomingday. I thought that I just might have a chance as I walked through the canals. The day was much brighter and clearer than the one before. I marveled at thestructure of Stormwind Keep that shone in the sunlight as I approached. I am a loyalson of Stromgarde, whose lands have seen grander days, but I am brother to all thehuman nations, save the traitors of Alterac, and appreciate the strength and honorof the southernmost kingdom of humanity. The Keep impresses me whenever I seeits spires stretching out above the Old Town, loyal guards nearly motionless at theentrance that overlooked the city’s canals. The grandeur continued within as archessupported the distant ceilings above my head, polished stone making up the floorand walls of the hallways. I was walking up the main corridor, admiring thisconstruction, when a man in robes strode out of another hallway and right into mypath, and even though he was rather thin, with no heavy armor, the look he shotme stopped me in my tracks. He was average height, with long gray hair, a shortgray beard, and a stern face. His robes were purple, and every article of clothing hewore was adorned with skulls. A demon, some red thing with no eyes and thickantennae, followed him, as did a female gnome. The gnome was clad in leather andwore ornately engineered goggles. A small mechanical squirrel, in turn, followed ather heels.As I said, he stared at me, looking like he expected
me
to apologize, thoughhe was the one that cut me off. After a moment, he continued walking, talking to
 
Page| 3the gnome, who did not appear to be listening. “With human nobles like this Krestanguy, it usually pays to show him that you’re not afraid of him, because sadlyenough, usually they haven’t seen it before.” The gnome nodded obliviously andcontinued tinkering with something too small for me to see. The demon sniffedsomething, then continued trailing like a happy puppy. The squirrel skittered alongin a distinctly mechanical fashion.Upon hearing the Baron’s name, I followed the little party out of the maincorridor of the keep into a side hallway. We emerged into a cavernous room full of adventurers like ourselves. The warlock and his entourage disappeared into thecrowd, and I was left standing, nearly blinded by the light reflecting off countlesssurfaces of finely polished armor. It seemed like every staff was glowing, everyblade ablaze with some enchantment. My heart sank as I looked down at my ownsuddenly pitiful equipment and sighed. I had cared for my shield, but variousservants of the Lich King had dented it over time. My sword had been enchanted bya dwarven female with, looking back, more skill selling enchantments than actuallyenchanting.Pulling myself out of my malaise, I re-sheathed my blade across my back andbegan to make my way through the crowd. I had to try to force my way betweentwo men in spiky plate, then around an elven priestess who looked as if she’dscream if my armor brushed her robes. My travel continued like this for a while, untilI broke through the crowd and saw a line of people leading to a table. At the tablesat a tall man with dark skin and medium length black hair. He was dressed in redAlliance military garb with spiky constructions on his mantle and a staff on his backthat appeared to be aflame. The warlock and gnome I had entered with wereleaving. Every applicant before me greeted the man, bowing, professing respect,
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