Latarian Cotillard

WIP

History
I was born just after the Fall of Stormwind, before The Second War. My mother was a cook at the inn near their home in Moonbrook and my father was a member of the Stonemason's Guild in Stormwind. What I know of that time is only through stories from my adoptive parents, Gloria and Sherman Femmel.

My father, according to Gloria, became very incensed and reclusive after the nobility in Stormwind refused to pay the artisans for their work reconstructing the kingdom after The Fall. He began disappearing for long stretches of time, until one day he just didn't return at all. My mother had been writing letters to the Femmel's expressing worry and fear to what he might become accomplice. When my mother came to Lakeshire, she came with me and me alone. I would later put together that my father had no doubt become a charter member of the Defias Brotherhood.

My mother, being a cook, was called to provide services for the Alliance Expedition in The Second War. Her camp was at Morgan's Vigil in the Burning Steppes, so she left me with her friends (Gloria and Sherman) just a short ride South at the inn in Lakeshire. She was killed in an ambush on a supply run to Lakeshire in the first year. I don't remember her much, but Gloria tells me she was kind and concerned for my safety. When I was young I harbored a lot of anger towards her for what I felt was abandonment. I was a bit of a 'problem child' until I turned 13.

That year was the beginning of The Third War. Lakeshire was well South of the fighting in Lordaeron, but a man came into the Inn one day, badly beaten, unarmed and armor askew. Brianna, the innkeeper in Lakeshire, brought him in and nursed him back to health over the course of what seemed like months. This man impressed me from the first. He was clad in fine armor (though dented, scratched and tarnished some), an impressive tabard and a battle-scarred face. At every opportunity I offered my assistance to Brianna to help this man recover, hoping to learn of his tales of bravery or at the very least what brought him to our inn.

One day, I walked in to bring the man his breakfast and I found him awake and standing at the window for the first time since he'd arrived. He turned to me and thanked me for the food, asked where he was and how long he'd been. When I told him he'd been here for nearly a month, he looked disappointed in himself. He told me he'd been in the Steppes holding off the Blackrock Orcs from uniting with their brethren in the North and forcing us into a two-front war. He'd retaken Morgan's Vigil for the Alliance, but the Orcs had begun to get a foothold here in Redridge. In the time that had passed, they'd managed to take our local garrison of Stonewatch.

While the stranger regained his strength, I'd never leave his side. I became his unwitting squire. Roger was his name. Brother Roger of the Argent Dawn. I followed him everywhere I could. He'd sometimes venture North, back to an watchpost overlooking the Steppes, where I could not follow. On those days he would tell me to find a Foreman and do some work on the Everstill Bridge. "They've been building that since *I* was thirteen!" he'd say. I inherited my father's skill for artisan building, apparently. I didn't take too well to masonry (4 crushed fingers could attest to that, thankfully I was young and healed quickly), but smithing is where I really shined. I smithed all manor of bolts and binders for the planking supporting the bridge. It became my focus for years, even after Brother Roger was gone.

The impression Roger left on me was immediate and lasting. I often asked him how I could become a paladin one day, just like him. He'd smile and say "The Light will find you, young one." I was a little disappointed when he'd say that. It felt like he was avoiding the issue. I began to sense that Gloria had warned him not to fill my head with adventurous fantasy, but I was young - there was no stopping it.

The time came when Roger had to leave us. His Order had called him to Northrend with then-Prince Arthas. Had I known at the time what lay ahead of him I may have plead with him to stay, but the Light tells me he would have gone anyway. I was 15 when Roger left. He would fall later that year to the corrupted Lich King.

Not long after, when I turned 18, King Varian was kidnapped and Anduin was temporarily crowned. There was talk of a powerful mage who had raised a citadel in the skies above the Eastern Plaguelands. Roger had told me of the glorious church there, Light's Hope Chapel. Fearing for it's safety, I left Gloria and Sherman for Stormwind's Cathedral of Light to pledge my life to the Light as a Paladin.

That was almost 6 years ago. The things my eyes have seen since then...Old Gods, Titans, the most powerful beings on Azeroth (and elsewhere) have all assaulted our home constantly in that time. I stand firm with the Light as my ally, between the danger and the helpless.