Once there was Day, a time of endless wonder and ceaseless beauty.
During the time of Day, many kingdoms arose peopled by just persons, but none quite as beautiful as the Light’s Own.
It was a kingdom in which honest men married beautiful maidens and born wonderful children.
It was a kingdom in which glorious kings reigned to the admiration and prosperity of their subjects.
It was a kingdom in which legends arose, standing taller than Blackrock, and villains were slain.
It was a kingdom in which the Light favored it above all others, and whose radiance was insurmountable.
Day was kind to that kingdom.
In the Light of Day, Lordaeron outshone all others.
But then there came Night.
In Night, there were no longer beautiful maidens and handsome knights.
In Night, there were no longer bold champions, or just kings.
In Night, there was no longer the grace of the Light to protect Lady Lordaeron’s children.
There was only shadow.
There was only death.
Where one horror ended a new nightmare began.
Brother slew brother. Father ate son.
Mothers killed their babes to prevent them from embracing shadows.
The people turned their eyes to the sky and cried for mercy.
They wept tears of blood and begged for salvation.
And so the Light granted them that salvation.
The Light granted them the Flame.
Against the shadows, the Flame stood tall. Wherever the profane was, its divinity negated it. Wherever there was villainy, it would be heroic. Wherever there was injustice, it would be retribution. The Flame shone in a way that could not be denied – it burned the very sins away from the wicked and warmed the just as they crowded about it.
But a lone flame, no matter how glorious, cannot survive alone. In time the enemy changed and grew wiser. Then came the Silver Star, whose false light promised salvation but ushered forth doom. Men and women who had fought long and hard against the shadows were drawn and quartered. They were slaughtered as though animals, before Dark Lady and False Crusader alike.
The Flame shone brightly.
The Flame shone valiantly.
The Flame shone ardently.
But the Flame was silenced.
Then did the Silver Star raise its flags, but not of Lordaeron – no, for her cause was divorced from its own. That Silver Star would see Lordaeron replaced with the banner of the False Crusader. Elsewhere, the Dark Lady devoured all the more of our sweet mother, and went without challenge.
Weep now for Lady Lordaeron, for she was without champion.
Weep now for she who bore us, who made simple men into gallant lords.
And then dry your eyes.
Though the Darkness may have believe it prevailed over the Flame, the truth is a matter much different. Castles may have fallen. Crusaders may have perished. The righteous may have been slain and the wicked promoted to great acclaim. But though silenced, the Flame did not die.
Alone, that single flame could not stand against the shadows. Alone, it could not fight against the darkness.
But it need not be alone any longer. Just as Lady Lordaeron is within the heart of every child she bore, so too does the Flame linger still. No longer shall we fear the darkness, no longer shall we despair before the wicked.
Where there was once darkness, there shall be Light.
Where there was once Night, there shall be Day.
Our Brotherhood shall not be silenced, nor corrupted by the mistakes of the past. By our divine calling shall we see traitors removed from our Lady’s bosom, and the dead back to their graves.
Order will be restored within Lady Lordaeron and we shall be her executor in that act.
Suffer not through injustice any longer, brothers and sisters.
One fire may have waned, but many more have risen in its place.
Now we are become the Flame, the Light of Lordaeron.
Woe unto those that would stand in our way.
No News Is Currently Available