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Arthur Langley

The Fallen Knight

Arthur during the events of Shadowlands.


Forsaken male icon Undead Human
Stormwindbanner Stormwindian Gilneas Flag Gilnean


23rd May L.C. (37) TOD
Achievement dungeon mawofsouls Northwestern Elwynn Waters, Stormwind Territory


(The/Old) Wolf
The Butcher of Tarren Mill


Forgotten Knight of the Realm


Langley Shield House of Langley
GilneasSecondWarIcon Thornton Clan
Lordaeron Icon Kingdom of Lordaeron



Althalos Langley (Grandfather)
Matilda Longford (Grandmother)
Arcturus Langley (Father)
Rose Thornton Langley (Mother)
Katherine A. Langley (Sister) Undead


Corvinus Thornton (Grandfather)
Bathilda Bale (Grandmother)
Rose Thornton Langley (Mother)
Loric Thornton (Half-Brother)

Torgue Slagbeard (Adoptive-Father)
Pamela Stoneford (Wife)
Aedan Langley (Son)

Coat of Arms

House Langley Heraldry





Military Service


Grand Alliance Icon Grand Alliance (Former)


Grand Alliance Army Icon Grand Alliance Army (Former)

Years of Service

23 L.C. - 31 L.C. Argent Dawn
31 L.C. - 36 L.C. Argent Crusade
36 L.C. - 39 L.C. Grand Alliance

Commands Held

Knight-Lieutenant of the Argent Dawn
Knight-Lieutenant of the Argent Crusade
Commander of the Grand Alliance
Marshal of the Grand Alliance


"It is our duty and our honor to keep them alive in memory. For those who come after us. And those who come after them."

Arthur Langley (Born Arthur Arcturus Thornton Langley); First Hand of the Knights of Azure Flame, famed Butcher of Tarren Mill and Survivor of the Legion's imprisonment. An impeccably gifted combatant that fought for the betterment of the Alliance and Azeroth for years. With his undying heroism in the face of danger, he was awarded the Alliance Legion of Valor medal. It was only recently, after the culminating events of the Fourth War, did Arthur resign his rank as Marshal and take leave of the Alliance.

A fruit borne from the seeds of Stormwind and Gilneas, and nurtured in the lands of Lordaeron; he is a man of three kingdoms. Having leaped between factions, initially in the hands in the Argent Dawn, he soon transferred to the Alliance after the fall of the Crusade. However, with the threat of the Legion having returned thrice more, he found himself a prisoner of war at their hands. If not for the aid of the famed Army of the Light, his life would have been forfeit. With these continued acts of defiance of death, Arthur pledged himself in safeguarding life.

Shadowing the Fourth War's culmination, Arthur operated as leader of the newly formed Brotherhood of Azure Flame. Knights operating from the two fortified strongholds of Greywatch Pinnacle, situated in the mountain Hinterlands, and the southern Greyguard Keep, seated in the peaks of Dun Morogh. The time he had to spare was offered only to his son. The boy being all the father had left remaining.

Following the defeat of the Old God, N'zoth, and the actions of the Banshee Sylvanas Windrunner, the Scourge once again ran rampant through the lands of Azeroth. In defense of the realm, the knight gave his life to guarantee the survival of numerous men and women and support in pushing the undead back considerably. His legacy having been left in his son, while the latter unbeknownst to the truth.

Only when champions of the Alliance and Horde did ultimately venture into the Shadowlands, was the former Marshal's corpse recovered and necromantically revived by undisclosed sources. His present whereabouts and thoughts remain an enigma.

Physical Description

Standing at a height of six foot three inches, Arthur is fairly above average in height for his species and fulfills in strength just as well. With his younger years, he fell under the tutelage of his father. The same once being a Marshal in his own right. When not being trained by said parent, the Langley heir worked upon their home as a farmhand. To this day, as he holds his own home in high regard, Arthur continues to challenge himself to maintain his physique.

Until the peak Legion War, Arthur sported a full head of golden locks with a lackluster beard in development. Hardly worth calling it such. His mother titled him by the name of 'Lion Cub' as his father would earn the more appropriate name of 'Lion'.

However, destiny would prove to be unkind and following his apprehension by the Legion. With his eventual escape at the hands of the Army of the Light, the aurum strands underwent a permanent alteration.

The once radiant aureate hair was stained a decaying bleak coloration, while a significant age came to his face. Looking much older than he truly was, it would be commonly mistaken by a passerby. Beneath the heaving plated armor, he bears the marks of his imprisonment. A usual sight when in more casual attire. Having shed the long mess of tangled hair, Arthur typically slicks the fine fur back and refuses to have it any color besides the stark white.

As time has passed since his imprisonment by the Legion's hands, Arthur's physique has gone through a drastic change. While holding the muscle he had developed for years on end, his form is much less robust. Pairing with his bleak hair color, the Marshal appears more deathly than usual. A common sight being the man coughing into a curled fist. The same ready to shy away from aid from others on his own ailment.


Iron-Scale Armor

Following Arthur's return to Azeroth after the campaign on the Eredar homeworld of Argus, he began to feel the weight of his typical plate armor. Soon, he would begin his journey to wearing chain and mail that was tight-fitting, but also provided just enough protection against enemy blows. Further reinforced with plate to offer better durability to the armor, it's blackened surface has seen Arthur through many plights against the Horde. With his most recent visit to the same vrykul smiths that had reforged his shattered blade, their magics were sewn into the chain of his armor. Runes of magic and strength were settled within each link.

(The armor was set aside with the conclusion of the Legion War.)

War-Plate of the Runic Marauder

With the upcoming war between the Alliance and Horde over dominion of the world of Azeroth, Arthur chose to don a much more durable set of armor. Having forged the armaments from titanium found in the northern reaches of Azeroth. Pieces of plate cover his upper abdomen and lower body, yet leaving room to breathe along his bare forearms and biceps. The openness, yet protective armor allows for a more free-form way of battle against his enemies. While the same magics that littered his previous armor, dot the current piece, their magics remain the same. A whole wolf's head sits atop his right shoulder as a staple for his debt to the lupine companions.

(The armor was retired at the peak of the Fourth War.)

Greyguard Plate

Following the funeral of his late brother and the culmination of the assault upon the Zandalari capital, Arthur's promotion into the status of Marshal was rocky at best. The once glorious plate that held a symbolic meaning to his bond with the wolves of Elwynn vanished from his person. Believed to be hung alongside his set of chainmail in his personal armory.

The blackened ordinary-appearing armor was designed in liking to the position marshaling over Greyguard Keep. The bland coloration and simple design was fit for more an individual of his occupation. Sleek, with pauldrons being unlike many Alliance soldiers that have a liking for over-sized plating. To finish, a darkened cloth is strung against his chest with golden blades crossing over each other. With recent events, the armor was adorned with a furred collar for his ventures into the north. Sometimes even wrapping about the man's figure.

Lupus & Mordere; Fangs of the Wolf


The twin blades of the wolf.

Lupus; Paired together as twins, the first blade being the weapon passed down by each male within the Langley lineage. The Family Blade. The only object taken from the wreckage of his original home; the family blade was wielded by his father in the First War. And by his father in the settlement of their kingdom. Having drank in the blood of the Horde, the differing threats of Azeroth's native races, and other humans alive, it's skin is worn yet hardy. The blade is etched with an emboldened amount of runes that emit a curious hymn when in battle.

Modere; The second having been forged coming the Legion's invasion. A glance back to the alternate world of Draenor to accommodate the materials necessary for the blade. Made of hardy truesteel ores found about Azeroth, its weight is light, but can hold a significant amount of force behind them. The blade can ignite with a destructive magical core, but also hums with enchantments and runes granted to it. While they are mostly used one at a time, there are circumstances where both are used simultaneously. As the tale goes, the blades together were in the inspiration of the teeth of his companions. The two fangs of the wolf.

Vengeance, Runic Tooth

Arthur sword

Vengeance, the Lunar Carver

Fairly recently, however, the pair have been shattered in the Legion War. With the introduction into the Blood War over the mineral of Azerite, the twin blades have been reforged in the image of his new found armor plating. With each ingot of the father blades molded into the curvature of the newest addition, the weapon scorches with newfound power. Both eager to serve their master once again. The metal burns with runes that hum with a smoldering light. The very same illustrated by vrykul smiths rather than any of the Alliance forgers in the area of Stormwind. The unique shape of the weapon is akin to that of a carving blade more than a long sword. Thus, the secondary title was given to it; Lunar Carver. A name the Horde will begin to fear with the long Blood War beginning to commence. The single blade blazing with vengeance and hate against the monstrous enemy they are to face.

(The weapon was set aside at the peak of the Blood War.)



The War had wrought terrible decisions on his part. His had committed acts that blackened his soul and perhaps ruined his future in the afterlife. Horrors of the past would forever haunt him, while his new future held hope. The true meaning of his fight to preserve life would come in the form of a Brotherhood. Knights of the cause. His leave of the Alliance had welcomed a weapon he would care for.

Reclamation. In resemblance to the Knightly order he oversaw, the blade was simple. A truesteel base, forged and quenched with a renewed vigor. Leather straps bound to the grip, while pronged circlets hugged the guard. A simple circle, enveloped in another was to be its pommel.

The true strength of the weapon was, in fact, not the blade itself. But, his own faith. His faith in the Titans. The Makers. It would grant him the strength to protect his allies and strike down his enemies. Many a times, the casting of blessings would be shone upon the metal's surface. And in those times, blue flames were sung upon its face. The sword would be his anchor. His guiding key.

The Black Fang


A more recent addition to the Langley heir's arsenal, this over-sized recreation of the actual model of a 22 mm revolver. The barrel holds a rather impressive four inches in height and width with bullets able to crack stone with such an impact. The weapon itself holds an almost paranormal resistance to most forms of attacks. A grip carved from the fragmented pieces of a wooden symbol of the Church of the Light. The metal of the gun itself is forged from a combination of dense iron and blessed true silver ingots; both supplied by the church.

Holding in itself only six outrageously large rounds, the weapon could quite easily break any normal man's grip if held incorrectly. Having been gifted the materials, Arthur's hardened skin and unbending physique allow him the capacity to wield such a weapon. Even with these qualities, a common sight is the weapon recoiling farther than normal firearms when in action. Typical bullets held ground bark of the Great Ancients, truesilver shavings and a vial of holy water.

Vrykul Rune Magic


The Runic Augmentations seen rather frequently beneath the Marshal's clothing.

With his abandonment of the Light, Arthur found himself a different calling. During the time of the Legion War's climax, Arthur journeyed to the ancient land of Stormheim and its native people; the vrykul. It was there, he was looked upon with mercy after being held by the Legion's clutches and offered aid. The talent of their runic magics. The very same etched into many of the lodgings, trees, weapons and other vrykul people.

Arcanic in nature, two sets were drawn onto him. One to instill boons of strength, fortitude and stoicism upon him. The man's strength rivaling that of ten men and the endurance of that of stone. The second, was to mend the damage and secure any further ailments of the Legion's corruption. His lifeline.

Symbolic in nature, as to directing towards the titan patron Aggramar, the inky markings glow a soft blue in use. Both utilized as a crutch and a weapon in their regard. Now more than ever, the Marshal understands the necessity of these runic armaments and what may come for him in the future.


Growing upon a farm, Arthur was taught the only way to survive in this world was to toughen oneself with every passing day. Developing as such, he was always a kind soul. Always welcoming those that visited and offering any thanks and gratitude that was given to him. His childhood had nothing, yet it did not matter. Being humble was something he knew from birth. Even to this day, the ideas of being better than another do not truly exist. Having left his roots as a paladin and found his own path has left him vulnerable. The realization dawning upon him that he was simply a mortal man without the magics. Still, he did not flaunt these newfound abilities when he did find them.

Arthur truly never did understand the importance of having noble blood of the lands of Stormwind from his father, having of course lived upon a farm as a child. He saw only the futility in seeking a seat amongst vapid nobles uncaring of the common man. He is not above demeaning himself to protect those below him, often humiliating himself to offer some form of refuge for those not of noble status. 'The weak can be just as strong', is a common phrase he has uttered.

Over time, however, Arthur has grown from the clever soul of a young paladin trained in the Argent path of the Light. Almost as if reality had finally dawned upon him, his personality and attitude had begun to adapt to the newfound path he was upon. The climbing in rank has also offered the young Langley a view into the real world and finally seeing the duty and responsibility of leading. He is still confident in his ideals, but not to an extent that it will blind him. True to a cause, Arthur will do what it takes to achieve his goals. Even if many do not agree with the steps taken to do so.

With the comeuppance of the Blood War upon the shores of Azeroth, Arthur's change in persona is noticeable to any who have interacted with him in the past. No longer the kind soul his mother had praised him for, but now someone cruel, war-like and merciless. The boy's commanding heart desires nothing more than to win this war and remove the Horde by any means necessary.


From Lion unto Wolf



Both Arthur and his sister arrived into the world upon the ship sailing north from Stormwind. The two had not yet reached the lands when their cries had filled the cabin. Their father, a soldier of the Alliance that served in the First War. Their mother, one of the few Gilneans that had left their home in hopes of far greater adventure. The two had fallen for one another and as love took its course, chose to forget the hardships of war as peace began to simmer forth.

Taking his hand in marriage, she would join in settling down in Lordaeron. Both of them believing the lush forests an ideal place to raise a family.

Arthur was still a boy when the Second War had come to the shores of Lordaeron; the villages were raised as the orcs attempted an invasion upon Capital City. The Langley Farmstead was one of them. His father and mother defended the he and his sister and managed to retreat back to the city walls. There, the barriers would hold and they would be safe. All that remained in Arthur's hands was the blade his father handed to him. Their home, now dust.

In Aid of Humanity

Arthur would go about to live within Capital City with his family. While it was a different lifestyle than his life on a farm, it was hardly a drastic change. His father's reputation had earned them suitable living arrangements, but it also meant seeing the streets for what they were. Bordered with the poor and the sick. The homeless that were shuffled from their homes to the city. With war just along the border of the kingdom; Arthur began setting his sights on attempting to train himself to a more suitable level.

Growing into a skilled warrior under his father; Arthur learned a lesson in hand-to-hand combat, thievery and even a bit of swordplay. His skills were sharper than what a simple farmhand could offer, and he continued to live out his younger years alongside his family. As he aged, his hatred for the same orcs that had invaded did not settle. He was more confused upon their arrival as many surrounding labeled them as monsters. His father disagreed with any notion of sympathy, but Arthur knew all too better.

Arthur during his time prior the Second War.

In time. Tales would come of the Second War coming to a close outside the city walls. The great Anduin Lothar giving his life for the victory of humanity and winning the battle for Blackrock Mountain. Even of heroes venturing into the great portal the orcs had arrived from. Insanity. While others stayed behind to recover and rebuild their fallen homes, Arthur, would keep to Capital City and situate himself alone to his thoughts. His father, having retired from the war effort, continued to train him until he was skilled enough to become an anointed knight.

As summers would pass, peace would not be attainable for the young Langley. Growing into adolescence, had earned him a spot into the outside world. Yet, stories of grain being tampered with filled his ears. A plague brimming within the lands of Lordaeron. Operating under the leadership of the great Uther the Lightbringer, Arthur set alongside other paladins to combat and contain this threat. Yet, even with their faith in the Light, nothing had seemed to work against this newfound plague. It was then, Arthur journeyed into Eastweald and fought alongside the Order of the Silver Hand. Haunted by the horrors of his past, he set out through the land in an effort to combat this harrowing plague. He worked against the undead as they rose to fight, joining the Knights and studying under the renowned warrior of Maxwell Tyrosus. It was here, he found his home. A place to make his name known. Even after waves of undead, that begun to appear, crashed against the walls of Light's Hope and other outposts, they persevered. Their strength in the Light would never falter.

Every so often, Arthur would manage to return to Capital City in visit his parents and sister. The latter had grown to be a city guard in the time he had spent away, but their reunions were always heartfelt. It would have been his last, as the young Prince Arthas had returned home and doom would be upon them. The undead came came upon them like a tidal wave, leaving nothing to chance. His mother and father ripped apart before his eyes. And affront the same; they were raised. His sister had disappeared. He could only assume her fate as he retreated back to the Eastweald.

The Scourge had run rampant across the land. The once blessed forests now a barren wasteland. The trees decayed and rotted while enormous mushrooms sprouted from the fields. The dead marched across them in an endless tide against them. Campaigns into the deadwood of the plaguelands became daily for him, as Arthur pledged his loyalty to the newly formed Argent Dawn. Each time they would venture into the plague-infested forests, a welling sense of dread surfaced in him. He even thought back to his Prince, and how one person could do this to their own people. To their kingdom. Many of these thoughts plagued his mind in those trying times.

Years passed as Arthur continued his training under Tyrosus, becoming a skilled wielder of the Light during the time. The Dawn provided him a home as he worked with Kaldorei, Human, Dwarf and even races of the Horde that had broken past their faction’s bickering with the Alliance. It was not long before Arthur offered them the trust the deserved, but he soon that would begin to change.
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Crusader Langley in his time with the Argent Dawn and Crusade.

News would reach them by gryphon that adventurers had found the Dark Portal reopened, traveling within to combat the demonic threat once again. Arthur chose to remain in the plaguelands after being asked by Tyrosus about his decision. Stating that Eastweald was his home. And that he would see this venture through to the very end alongside the Dawn.

The battle of Light's Hope Chapel offered Arthur a vision into what would forth come for the young paladin in his time of the Dawn. The Argent Crusade was formed under the might and leadership of Tirion Fordring against the will of the Lich King. And Arthur was one to accompany them into their venture to Northrend. Having never been outside of Lordaeron's borders, the trek was challenging for the young man. But in the end, they made landfall upon the frozen beaches of the Howling Fjord.

From the fjord forwards, Arthur found the harsh environment of the frozen wastes to he none less than inhospitable. The grueling snowstorms and bloodthirsty undead roaming the grounds only proved the above statement. Alongside the Argent Crusade, he followed Tirion and the Ashbringer to outpost after outpost. Even if their forces were outnumbered and hope diminished, he shined a beacon of virtue that could not be snuffed out.

Victories scored across the frozen wastes; each waged by Alliance, Horde and Argent hands. It was at these moments that Arthur witnessed the brutality of the attack upon the Wrathgate. The utter betrayal of the apothecary known as Putress. The unity that he saw against the Lich King was ruined. The leaders of the Alliance, mainly King Varian Wrynn, calling the Horde traitorous mongrels. While the Horde did no better to rebut with the bullheaded Warsong Offensive leader, Garrosh Hellscream. The tenuous pact against their much greater foe, was shattered.

It was from then on, that Arthur understood the true importance of remaining neutral in the coming battle. Their perseverance against the Lich King's forces further proved their ability look beyond it. Arthur, demonstrating his skills within the tournament, was also enlisted to strike the forgotten pinnacle of Icecrown Citadel.

A valiant champion of the lance and steed, while striving to become an embodiment of hope among squires within the Crusade. From their station of order of the Argent Tournament Grounds, Arthur joined in campaign after campaign against the Lich King. From the cursed lands of Zul'drak, to the once-forgotten plains of frost in Dragonblight, Arthur rose within the ranks as a beacon. Even with his timid nature and lack in surety in himself, he almost seemed to forget that within heir holy crusade.
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Knight Champion Langley

Months would pass that seemed like an eternity while other adventurers of Alliance and Horde faced horrors together once again. Their efforts after assaulting the halls of Ulduar would be tested in the arena of champions. Arthur witnessed wondrous duels between champions of the two factions, and savagery they instilled a bit of worry after hearing the Warsong Offensive leader.

Again, led by the great Tirion Fordring, Argents, Knights of Ebon and even members of the Alliance and Horde breached the walls of the citadel. Arthur was one of the tenacious defenders that held the line of the Scourge while an elite group removed the foul king from power. The world was safe; for the moment.

With the defeat of the Lich King, Arthur and the other Argents set out to the Eastweald, now known as the Western Plaguelands. Hearthglen was their first target; vanquishing the remains of the Scarlet Crusade from its walls and rebuilding once victorious. The cynical crusaders were little to no match for the combined forces of the Argent Crusade. Even after their relentless war against the Scourge, the Argent's persevered. It was only a matter of days until the Scarlet's were driven out. Their bloodied banners of Lordaeron were burned and replaced with the brilliant Argent white. While the Scarlet Crusade would be yet another thorn in their side, they never became more of a nuisance after their defeat in Hearthglen.

Their return only welling of bottled histories from the past. But those were cast aside; the plaguelands not being entirely safe yet. It was with that notion, that Arthur set out with squadrons of peacekeepers to different areas of the plaguelands to cleanse and heal the land of the ancient sickening undeath that plagued it. Steel met the marrow and sinew of ghouls, while it tore past rotten bones of skeletons. The Argents brought valiant victories across the score of the Western side of Throndril River. The land all but returning to the healthy green it once housed. Druids of the Cenarion Circle soon joined their cause, bringing their magics and knowledge of the lands to their side.

It was not long, however, until the sight of Andorhal appeared in his vision; the long lost human town was one of the most violent of losses in the Scourge's assault. Yet, it was not only Scourge, but the forces of Alliance and Horde fighting one another. It was a sad sight indeed seeing the teamwork of the once noble factions fighting against one another. But, was most intriguing, was it was not their hot-headed Warchief, but the Banshee Queen. He had never trusted Sylvanas, seeing her more as a potential threat than ally. Her forces were regrettably successful in taking the town, even going so far as to use the Lich King's valkyr for her advantage. Arthur's view of the undead elf had only worsened after this.
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Arthur after the Crusade disbanded and joining the Alliance.

It was now that their attention set upon the most contested of the area. The east side of the river where a pungent rust-colored smog hung above the land. The undead were much more numerous and at times more fearsome. Yet, Arthur and the ever-diminishing squadron of crusaders continued on; tower by tower until they finally reached the haven of Light's Hope Chapel. The remnants of the Argent Dawn had still survived in the harsh climate. When found, he embraced his long lost mentor with pride, seeing that they had survived here for some time without the rest of the Crusade. That would be no more.

And it was not long till the lining of the aged chapel were rebuilt. Protective walls were erected about the holy ground and a sense of lasting peace was established in the grounds. Many would flock to the keep as its protective walls ensured a safer holdout against the forces of the Scourge. Towers were erected and fortified in the lands about the Eastern side, ensuring their path to cleansing the land was progressing. Tirion would stay within Hearthglen to lead from his seat of power, while Tyrosus would lead the expeditionary force within the East. Arthur had found homage in the town of Hearthglen, establishing himself as a renowned Crusader after the efforts within the plaguelands. Having participated in the war against the Lich King and originally been in the Dawn, he was seen as a figurehead to many. He was even gifted the chance to train and oversee the mission each Argent would take upon themselves. Their work to cleansing the lands of Lordaeron was hard-fought and would possibly last a lifetime at the very least.

A Scorched Sky of Fel

The Legion; all would know of the day that the burning shadow would return unto Azeroth a third time. The looming threat emerging across the great sea to blanket the sky in a perpetual fel green darkness. The Alliance and Horde rose to act against the Legion and its monstrous forces. Forces were even dispatched to the still-healing lands of Eastweald; Tirion Fordring and the Argent Crusade rising to remove the vile thorn that had lodged itself into Azeroth once again. And they were victorious in the north, having been bolstering their forces since the fall of the Lich King. Until finally, it was time to move unto the Broken Shore. The Legion's home front upon Azeroth.

The Crusade was decimated with their landfall onto the shore; the Legion having been waiting and scheming to eliminate the Light's chosen from the fray. Arthur, having joined the onslaught onto the shore, managed to escape after rescuing many Argents that had been captured. Their only hope finally arriving in the form of the Alliance and Horde. Both working alongside one another. Arthur could not believe what he was to be seeing. The combined forces of the forces of Azeroth were driving the Legion back to their portals. All seemed to be in the clear, until they had finally come across Tirion. The Ashbringer. Locked within Gul'dan's grip before ultimately struck down by a colossal Doom Lord.

It all happened so fast. The death of the man he had so passionately served. So tirelessly praised. Gone. Rage filled the young Langley's eyes as he saw the once-great paladin plummet into the burning pool of fel, utilizing that anger to strike down the doom lord and move forward with the Alliance. Yet, the forces of Azeroth were fighting a losing battle. With the endless forces of the Legion threatening to overrun them, Sylvanas Windrunner ordered the Horde to retreat. Leaving the Alliance to fend for themselves. Many were lost. Many were able to fight their way to the gunship for rescue. One, however, stayed behind. King Varian Wrynn. The man whom Arthur had thought so long ago to strive only on anger and passion, had developed into a wise and loyal king. That same king, sacrificing himself so that they could escape the Legion.

Arthur upon the Broken Shore; having joined the Legionfall Campaign.

It was only after the conflict had settled, that the Argent Crusade were able to find the Highlord and see him in his last waking moments. Arthur was one of the few able to be present in the funeral of the great paladin. A death he would not soon forget.

Not long after the battle at the Broken Shore, Arthur was one of the many paladins of the Argent Crusade, Alliance and Horde to merge into the newly formed Order of the Silver Hand. He stayed to himself, often sitting in silence beside the memorial of the great Highlord that had fallen. Champions had taken up the Ashbringer and many other powerful weapons to fight the Legion, yet the spark that had ignited in Arthur had all but extinguished. Reserved and quiet in most of his work, Arthur would remain secluded for many months from society.

But all was not lost in that fact, for Arthur had caught sight of many soldiers dashing through the halls beneath Light's Hope. Curious as to their affiliation, Arthur learned of a curious Alliance order. He could not tell if joining such a group would be a well-earned idea, but he believed it had to be worth a shot. Before long, Arthur had been within the order for weeks.

While the Light had always been strong in the young Langley, gifting him with the courage and confidence in his time of need within the Argent Dawn, Arthur's grip upon it began to slacken. Finding himself more and more instilled in the ways of simple battle, Arthur continued to be surprised at how much he had come from the stumbling and gentle soul that had lived before. It would ultimately leave him after a fateful encounter during his time on the Broken Shore. Upon the battlefield, Arthur was a commanding soul and always instilling the courage to those around him rather than the other way around.

It was at this time, in association with the Armies of Legionfall, Arthur would be entrusted to lead a platoon with his past experience in the frozen wastes of Northrend. What had appeared to be a successful venture could only prove to be a colossal failure. Ambushed and finding no way out, Arthur's men were butchered before his very eyes. Each cut down as he could only defend from the onslaught. He had called upon the Light countless times, but it was silent. It was until Arthur was the last remaining, that the Light finally answered. Rays of holy light burst forth and piercing through each demon to render them all to piles of ash. Even with the demonic pursuers vanquished, Arthur was forced to watch his soldiers die within his arms. A mark of what was to come.

After the events of the Shore, Arthur would continue his efforts to assist the Alliance in whatever shape or form he could and in wherever fold it would take him. Interestingly enough, the forces he had worked with asked for the man and his order's assistance upon the Broken Shore once again. The Cathedral of Eternal Night was their point of attack. To finally rid the holy place of demon filth and offer the forces venturing to Argus a safe route. Upon forming a temporary base of operations upon the eastern ridge of the landmass, they took to the skies in an effort to take the terrace leading into the Cathedral. With an extensive battle within the sky, and a benevolent ceremony to consecrate the area, Arthur and four others proceeded into the unholy depths.
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Arthur surrounded by volatile magics.

Removing the Legion threat from the halls seemed simple enough; they alongside the Armies of Legionfall tore through the ranks of demons before they came across a dying Eredar. His words brought fear into the hearts of their men as the Legion was not their only enemy. The Void. Beings of darkness, flesh golems and amalgamations hounded them through the temple. An all-out slaughter erupting upon the upper wings between them, the remaining Armies of Legionfall, the Legion and the Void.

With the armies evacuated, their forces traversed the accursed temple to its pinnacle. It was not long till they came across a void horror of a thousand mouths and they were forced into a losing battle. In a final last-ditch effort to save the others, Sir Langley plunged his holy blade into the beast alongside a Dalaran Magi who activated a portal stone. The chaotic energies of the void beast and the magics of the relic collided and the two were gone; a sacrifice only the remaining trio would truly come to understand. The only item the Armies of Legionfall ever recovered from the scene was the broken helm the fallen lion had worn in his apparent final moments.

With his arrival upon Argus being 'rough' as one would put it, Arthur found himself surviving on the ancient Eredar capital city of Mac'Aree. Thought, fate would be unkind in the form of his capture at the hands of the Legion. Tortured beyond measure, he believed surviving the events on the Broken Shore was a mistake if this was what he would be sentenced to. When all hope seemed lost, he would be saved by the fabled Army of the Light and joined their forces.

It was during his time returned to Stormwind that he met the beautiful woman in all her glory. Pamela Stoneford. Hailing from Stormwind, much like himself, over the months of their meet they enjoyed one another's company. A priestess of Church of Holy Light, but much more in his eyes.

Arthur was dedicated. Countless times he visited the Cathedral to see her, and every time he left he had craved for more time. Another chance. From there, through subtle flirts and even more frequent visits, the two agreed to continue seeing one another. While not of course instantaneous, through multiple dinners and working alongside one another, their relationship bloomed and the need for one another growing with every day separated. Ever since that life-changing encounter, the duo have been connected by the hip, never seen without the other. Even as the drums of war sound, Pamela demanded she be made a part of the old wolf's work in the Alliance. With their marriage having been settled privately rather than in front of a full crowd, Arthur proposed the she live with him in Queens. An offer that she happily obliged. Recently, the pair had borne a son named Aedan. A bright and beautiful boy to handle with care. He was happy.
107539 14

Arthur, Pamela and Aedan within Queensridge.

Having returned to Stormwind after the war effort on Argus, Arthur has fully invested in protecting the home front of the Alliance from any other threats, after the Legion's defeat at the hands of other famed warriors. His mind only upon the benefit of those within the Alliance and his family.

While upon his journeys, Arthur felt as if a piece of him had been missing. Ever since the Light had abandoned him, the Commander had been searching for something to fill the gap where it had left. As he brought his mind to the pages of countless tomes within the Stormwind Library, he found himself upon the Titan known as, Aggramar. Folktales of the being's great courage and strength inspired him and led him to a spiritual journey into the lands of Stormheim.

With his time alongside the Blades of Greymane, reunions were in order. Coming upon the child his mother had bore before her meet with his own father, Arthur found himself in the presence of his half brother; Loric. The man was much more wild and gruff, wearing more furs and metals unknown to Arthur; as well as sporting a monstrous bone-clad bow. While adorned with scarring just as Arthur was, the two strangely grew to enjoy one another. Being, of course, half-brothers in family.

Arthur, having joined alongside his brother Loric, came together as one to form the Eastwatch. A handful of the King's elite of different nations. The group knew an Alliance and Horde War would erupt soon and they would be the ones to offer their skills to the advantage to the blue and gold. The Eastwatch would serve as a beacon for all other orders to serve the Alliance at their best for the coming bloodshed. Loric would be the one to arrive to his brother with a piece of the planet's crystalized blood to his commanding officer, Arthur having inspected it in the company of the other two. It was a power beyond what they had realized, and the Horde had their eyes upon it as a prize.

With rumors of Horde forces suddenly moving further east into western Eastweald, their targets had not been just Alliance, but Argents. Alliance camps overrun. Outposts destroyed. The forces, from what one could see being the Horde, were to make take the lands of the Western Plaguelands for themselves. Arthur, under personal orders after bringing news to Alliance officials, tasked himself to banding together regiments under those he was most familiar with. His mission statement was to gather what he needed and set forth into the plaguelands and stop this incursion from this newfound threat.

Arthur residing in the Western Plaguelands.

Alliance forces made landfall upon the coast of the Hillsbrad Foothills into the town of Tarren Mill. A home for many forsaken was brought to a smoldering heap as the town was burned to the ground. The sheer brutality in how innocent forsaken civilians were slaughtered, earned Arthur the nickname 'Butcher of Tarren Mill'.

Enjoying this conquest, the forces proceeded to march north into the bivouac known as Chillwind Camp. A hard-fought victory was earned by the Alliance forces as they came into contact with the Horde, but at the loss of their commanding officer. Even as the Alliance were quick to recover his tortured form, they rushed to combat the Horde on yet another front of the Plaguelands. Steel and iron clashed in desperate struggles for dominion over the landmass.

Finally, after carnage had engulfed the land and blood had saturated into the soil, a massive scale of Azerite burst from within the war-torn town of Andorhal. Both the Alliance and the Horde rushed to claim the newly risen substance; the result of their battle changing the fate of the plaguelands for days to come. With the Western Plaguelands, including Andorhal, and Chillwind Camp under Alliance protection now, it was a time to return home with the Azerite that had burst forth mid-campaign. With their actions, the Horde presence in the lands of Hillsbrad and the Western Plaguelands were crippled. It was time to come home.

With recent events, Arthur has been assisting any other lords and leaders of the Alliance in their endeavors. As well as searching for more willing to serve the secretive Eastwatch. He has offered his support to Argent leaders, such as Lantos Swiftsong and Rease Stoneheart, what with the recent upbringings of Lordaeron reformation groups. Such including sending foodstuffs and supplies through mage portals to Hearthglen. Having grown into a man within the Dawn and even further into the Crusade, Arthur felt himself torn between it and the Alliance he has pledged his allegiance to.

Understanding the dire threat Azerite was, the Alliance's High King Anduin Wrynn devised a meeting between forsaken and human families of both Alliance and Horde as a sort of peaceful approach. The idea was unliked by many, but did not seem too farfetched. Within the fields of Arathi did they meet, allowing the many the chance to speak with loved ones long since passed. And that many of them did. While a great deal retreated in disgust, an equal amount enjoyed their time. Arthur, was not one of them, choosing to watch the ordeal from afar as if to guarantee the Banshee Queen did not act on a preemptive strike.

Arthur plagued by the nightmares of his failures.

What Arthur did not expect, was the unveiling of the proper queen of his long-forgotten homeland; Calia Menethil. He had heard stories of her existence and the possibility of her survival. But, this? For her to be in the fields in Sylvanas's vision was dangerous and foolish. Still, he dared not question his king on the matter.

As if time had answered the wolf, some of the forsaken appeared to be rushing to the Alliance's aid. While ideal for them was doom for the Alliance and their cause. Arthur drew an arrow from his quiver, ready to strike true through a forsaken skull, but was unable to at the sight to beheld. Calia. Perhaps it was the wind, but the hood that masked her figure was gone. She was free to the world and all hell broke loose. Rangers took the air, blanketing the ground with volleys of arrows. But they did not strike Alliance members, but only their own. All of the Forsaken wiped out. Arthur could not believe the sight he was beholding.

And finally, the Queen took the stage. Sylvanas astride a monstrous bat charged towards Calia with murderous intent. The Alliance did what they could to prevent the damage, but they were sadly too late. One. Two. Five arrows pierced the girl's heart. They could do nothing but watch. And when the forsaken forces had retreated, and the civilians buried their dead, only one answer was given to the Banshee Queen. Her horrifying choices would bring the world down upon her. Arthur took to his own, leaving the lands of Strom to retreat back to Queensridge in quiet solace.

War of Blood


A destructive nature is what hailed the Alliance following the attack upon Darkshore with such sudden ferocity. The Banshee Queen spearheading the assault onto the Kaldorei lands without any rhyme or reason to the Alliance.

It would not be far from the conflicts beginning that Stormwind could finally muster the strength to send their troops west. But, by this time... it would be too late. Arthur and the forces of the Eastwatch were tasked with the daring mission of working their way into Darkshore and eliminate the threat that remained. Gathering those enlisted into the initiative, they planned their will of attack onto the forests of Ashenvale to defend the Kaldorei people. While differing perspectives were shared, they all shared a unified thought to protect the innocent from this unreasonable bloodshed. Huntress Savagetusk was made to meet the forces of the initiative in the lands of Ashenvale come the following days. The end result of their mission, many of the Kaldorei people would be rescued. A hope preserved, but there was still a job to do.

The fury. The blind white-hot rage fueled him as he leaped into the fray. Mercy was not an ideal he held that day, as one by one they fell. Some, disemboweled by the sharp steel of a blade, while some were not so lucky. Some believed a lasting peace could be established. That they could forget the hatreds that burned as fervent as the World Tree's embers.

The time had come to dawn onto the Siege of Tirisfal; following the burning of the World Tree. The invasion had quickly spiraled into a catastrophe as arguments and disagreements boiled between the Alliance ranks. Having so many individuals not fond of one another and unable to separate their personal beliefs from wartime began to crumble the morale of the troops. While they did manage to succeed and earn themselves a great many victories, it was at the cost of lives that would forever be lost in this ordeal.

During the middle of the week, after regrettably finding out his beloved had managed her way onto a ship leading into the battle, he and Pamela took it upon themselves to begin scouting the eastern side of Tirisfal. Now, the wolf made a decision. He would guarantee Pamela's safety if it meant his life. Their son would not be robbed of both parents.


Arthur amidst the chaos of Tirisfal.

At the front gates of Capital City, Arthur fought countless foes toe to toe with his beloved behind him. She was his shield in these trying times as much as he was hers. They were winning. Their focus would break at the sound of his lover's screech in agony. A blade that had felled her, ran through by a forsaken deathstalker, cut through with terrifying accuracy. Through the commotion, Arthur tore his way to her; batting away the undead as if he was a fly. Her poisoned wound was too great. He had lost her. Her dying breaths urged him to survive. For their son.

The wolf was shattered. Blind rage fueling his continued assault upon the Horde. It would be his own allies of the Alliance that would be the ones to tear him away. A Stormwind footman grappling him and urging with his commander to retreat. Tears stinging his eyes as the blood of the enemy stained his armor. It wasn't enough. He would kill them all. It would end with their blood on his hands.

With the return to Stormwind and a time of recovery, Arthur's hatred for the Horde grew as he passed more and more soldiers that would not return home to their lovers or children. How much the Horde had taken from them. It was time to set sail. The time of war was upon them all.

Soon, with the aid of the recently returned Jaina Proudmoore, he and other Alliance forces traveled to the forgotten island of Kul Tiras in an effort to convince the governing bodies into rejoining the Alliance. His expertise in extracting information proving useful to the populace of guards. Alongside him was his brother Loric, who was specifically tasked to stalking the jungles of Zuldazar in hopes of a breakaway point to attack the city. Within that time, he lead strikes into the ancient isle of Zandalar, nearest where the Horde were beginning to set up shop.

Following the first meeting of Alliance High Command since the arrival of the Fourth War, Arthur began his preparations of the Eastwatch into the lands of Drustvar. Until such expedition, he continues his work in bettering the relations between the nations of Kul Tiras and Stormwind.

Upon the first day the Eastwatch stormed the lands of Drustvar, they met along with the small hamlet of Fallhaven. The townsfolk just recovering from the recent Witches' covens, gave them little assistance in the matter. Regardless, as Commander Langley did his best to speak about their interests with the mayor, his follows worked on finding any clues related to the Horde. While no signs of their presence was there, ghostly apparitions, plagued harvest and a longing feeling of dread loomed over the group.

Soon, they were forced to trek further west as they took to the slopes of the mountain range splitting the sub-region. Signs of deforestation, and with the tracks that followed, pointed to goblin tech. Arthur drew no sign to falter now and pushed the group to go on.

Their next blockade came in the form of severe weather patterns as the first boot crunched the powdered snowy hills. The blistering temperatures and harsh winds forced the group to seek safe haven in a cottage abandoned. Its battered and broken wood shingles would provide them the necessary sanctuary for a time. And for now, they would rest until the blizzard's finale.


Arthur during his travels into Kul Tiras as a Military Ambassador.

As the blizzard quelled and their path to leave the broken cottage was made, the collective marched west onto the snowy mountain range of that bisected the two parts of Drustvar. The second stop had been onto the famed Azerite, as they had stumbled upon a massive uprising of the titan blood. The sheer amount would have supplied the Alliance for months. Casylia, desperate to harvest said product, placed a small beacon that would signal troops and the rest of the Alliance armada for collecting the war resource.

With their knowledge on area settled, the collective met their first blockade of orc and goblin guards alike. Likes were lost and steel clashed against metal until the Horde soldiers had been slain. They had to act fast, pushing further into Horde territory and slaying any other forces along the way. The onslaught of a wave of peon soldiers amassing towards them ceased with a carefully placed explosive arrow to cause a spontaneous avalanche and the goblin Overseer's mech-suit was brought down to explode in a blue and gold mist.

While all seemed to be well and their position in Corlain was a success, there was one event that would change that. With a series of cannon fire and a ball of lead spearing the tower in the center through, the Eastwatch were met with another challenge. The arrival of five Horde cruisers preparing to make landfall on the western shore. Whilst a pair remained behind to utilize the cannons offered by the Waycrest Guard, the remaining collective marched to the beachhead to oppose the Horde ships on the front lines.

Bodies lay strewn about the beach, Horde carcasses feeding the local seagulls for days. The Eastwatch had begun to appear victorious. Even in the face of the Azerite War machine deployed from one of the ships that had crashed into the beach met its untimely end.

Drustvar had been saved for the moment and a path had been paved for the following Alliance soldiers to march through. For now, Arthur returned home to his son. He would take advantage of the time away from the field to enjoy the period with his family. 

Soon, it would come for Arthur's mission into Kul Tiras to continue. His efforts in bettering the relations between it and Stormwind increasing as time went on. But, he had no need for politics in the matter; no. He chose to work with the people and the militia of the nation. Bettering his standing with them while the noble houses spoke amongst one another.  

Taking this time, Arthur chose to reunite with his remaining family in Queensridge. Aedan had grown ever more and his father did not have the liberty of witnessing it. Furthermore, Arthur had the chance meet of reuniting with old allies and a rather particular individual. While, at first, words were cumbersome, to say the least. Their familiarity with one another blossomed. Feelings had been spurned and the two embraced time and time again until his home became their home. Her daughter and Aedan grew to be fond of one another just as their parents had.
The Eastwatch Officers

The Initiative gathered atop the Stormwind Cathedral steps.

The time had come for the invasion upon the capital of Zuldazar and Arthur wished for nothing more than to be prepared. Meetings with the party of the Eastwatch were made day in and day out. In this time, advisors would be sought out and chosen. Alton Schonkopf, a survivor of the lands of Lordaeron, much like Arthur, and a dutiful and skillful warrior in his own right. Jacquelyn McGryer, while rather green in her wartime, she had exhibited skill in these regards under the tutelage of the third Advisor, Garion Magnus. With his council, Arthur admitted the two to join.

Speaking also to a kaldorei Lieutenant in one of the Alliance Squadrons, named Vaelrathor Rellwind, Arthur was convinced attention was also needed in the Southern Barrens. A zone already ripe with conflict between the factions. Following their assaults on already decided locations, Arthur agreed to assist the kaldorei in his request.

Following the completion of the events within Zuldazar by his brother's actions, Arthur called for a gathering of those that had ventured forth and participated. However, as he listened in on the news of what had occurred, he did not carry the casual upward curve of his lips that he had before. His brother, despite their constant bickering, had been the only family Arthur had remaining. His throat ran dry, chest almost erupting as his heartbeat at such a velocity. Yet, he reaffirmed himself that his brother would not wish for him to cry or fret on his death. And for that, Arthur chose to carry the memory within him. That, and one of the hatchets his brother had favored, now swings at the High Commander's belt.

Many days later, Commander Langley, Stormwind, Ironforge and Gnomeregan officials traveled to the southern mountains of Dun Morogh, known as Argent Peak. There, with the remnants of the aged fortress, they constructed the new garrison of Greyguard Keep. With this, the new base of operations for the Initiative was formed and a new mission statement was made towards the familiar lands of Darkshore.

It was time for Arthur to return to the field, joining alongside Duke Grayblade on matters within the Ghostlands. Properly labeled Ghosts of the Past, the Commander fought alongside a multitude of orders of the Alliance within the decaying forests. Specifically, the Baron Jarltor Volkein and his forces to raid the northern villages of Eversong whilst their main force struck against the Horde's. Blood was shed and lives were taken while each faction vied for dominance of the land. Coming across even the famed Rekfar Axefury and holding his own against the death knight's unyielding assault. While the two met at a standstill, Arthur was forced into a retreat with unending unholy magics.

Honor would not come to him upon the day he rode into Eversong once more. His eyes were upon the village of Fairbreeze. Soldiers, defenders and even innocents were slaughtered in the name of the Alliance. When at last the populace had been culled, Arthur ignited a small wooden plank against the lamplights and flung the item into the buildings. Fires engulfed the once-proud village as the Commander stood with glee.

Arthur would come to blows against Horde forces nearest Deatholme. With victory in their reach, the Alliance surrounded the Horde's commanding officer; Erilihn Autumnsong. However, even as they closed in upon the Sin'dorei, fate would choose another path. Blight soon rained from the sky towards them. Retreat being their only option, Inas'thas Sunbrook conjured a portal for the Alliance forces to flee. He would not make it alongside them. The Rendorei's death came at a surprise, but was none less influential. The Horde would pay.
Loric Funeral

Arthur kneeling beside the empty casket of his fallen brother.

In an effort in better Stormwind, Arthur better cementing himself in the city's betterment His work doing its part in defending and improving Stormwind, as a kingdom's, borders. With his departure into Zuldazar, he prepared the Alliance for the siege upon Dazar Alor alongside other Alliance officials. His insatiable thirst for vengeance fueling his every move against the Horde and its allies. His brother had been slain and he would not rest until he had the ancient races' heads on pikes. All of the Horde would be dead if he had anything to say about it.

A Knight's Return

With reasons unknown, the famed Eastwatch Initiative was set on ice. Arthur now a High Commander of the Alliance through rank, as the secretive organization remains inactive. With the introduction to the siege upon Dazar'alor, Arthur gathered with other Alliance officials to Stormwind Harbor for a meeting before the actual attack. Familiar and unfamiliar faces showed. Even finding himself speaking with the renowned Lion of Lordaeron, Kerdic Lothinil. He would journey back to Darkshore as the ships left the port, wishing them safety.

With movement in Darkshore coming to a standstill, Arthur's squadron was dismissed from the forgotten shores and allowed refuge back in Stormwind. But, it was not the end for the Commander. Procuring a ship ride from Boralus to the sandy beaches of Vol'dun, Arthur reunited with the united Alliance forces. Their quest was just; attacking the Zandalari capital and crippling the Horde offensive. Arthur did not fully work with the forces in the desert wasteland, but work out of the jungles of Zuldazar. Accompanied by a small regiment and even his wife as Chief Medic, they stormed the eastern side of the continent.

Lives were lost on both sides, but the Alliance was the victor and set up base along the disheveled beachhead. However, during the conflict, in an effort to shield his beloved from attackers, a blow was struck against his right eye. While no true harm came to the two, it would be a lasting scar against his already disfigured expression. His lover mended the wound closed, but the damage had been done. The blue iris now a pale color. As of late, a black leather eye patch can be seen clung about his head.


Arthur clad in his most recent armor.

With the siege upon Dazar Alor having been completed, Alliance High Command chose the High Commander and a handful of soldiers of impeccable talent to carry out tasks across Azeroth. Awarding him the rank of Marshal, he was entrusted once more with a warband-like group. Resources were scarce and the body count was in the thousands. The option of using a small team would reduce the casualties and ensure the mission would be accomplished in little time. Most if not all the missions are classified, side High Command and few order leaders. It would be at this time, that he would forfeit the noble status he had held for so long. Remaining a soldier rather than a pompous higher up to his home city. The military's might being his only salvation.

Of this time, Arthur was to choose an Adviser of sorts. One of much more experience in warfare ready to assist the Marshal in conquest and domination for the Alliance name. He elected an aged veteran, known as Jorgus Dafford. An old knight having survived all three great wars. A man of clear focus and determination and living the remainder of his days for the Alliance. Once a General, Dafford serves the Marshal in the special forces and offers clarity to the Langley heir.

It would not be long for his tasks to reassemble as the crown ordered his team onto the most strenuous and hazardous locations of Azeroth. Ranging not only from the home-front of the Eastern Kingdoms, but to Kalimdor's frozen Winterspring tundras and forested Azshara cliffs. Even as they journeyed into the open plains of Mulgore, his team did what was necessary. Even ask they returned to the fertile and verdant lands of Stormsong, their task had not been completed. Their hands were bloodied, sleep plagued with nightmares of their tasks, yet they continued on. The Special Operations would continue and carry out their missions with perfection in mind.

Reports of the Marshal's success within Mulgore have arisen in High Command. What with the Tauren High Chieftain's actions towards the Lord Admiral and the returning of her recently revived brethren, the higher ups deemed it necessary to issue a directive to Langley and his team. What they faced, was not what was expected. Horde soldiers infighting as they watched in awe as history repeated itself. Orcs and Tauren up in arms as Forsaken were beaten out of their city. It was worse than they had believed to be.

With the war at its peak, the Horde has entered a tipping point. Allying with the Banshee Queen puts them at arms with the Alliance. Allying with the distraught and disbelieving Horde Leaders puts them at even greater risk from their own Warchief.

With recent events, signs of Zandalari have been sighted in the jungles of Stranglethorn south of Stormwind. A prime target now that they have allied themselves with the Horde, Arthur secured the Special Forces to investigate and rid any threats located in the area. His dedication to the home-front of Stormwind county concluded he put this task ahead of any other. The Zandalari are a fearsome adversary and even more challenging when not alone.


A family to call his own once more.

It was at this time, the Marshal permitted himself in assisting the up-and-coming Commander known as Garen Aldenhart. A young and valiant boy ready to stir his people into a new horizon. Their target would be Durnholde to the west of his capital of Stromgarde. Offering assistance and guidance to the green Commander in the form of militaristic strategies the Marshal would prefer, they two worked alongside faces of the Alteraci and other Stormwind orders pledging themselves. Successful in their venture, the Marshal would promise the Lionblood Commander that if he ever needs further aid, that he call upon the leader of the Special Forces at any point in time.

However, with the tribal races quelled in the south. Horrors arose in the north and west of the Stormwind Kingdom. A gang, having been sprouted by Defias remnants, began to fester in the misshapen ruins of Moonbrook. Special Forces were tasked in eliminating all sources of the troublesome gang before they were even ready to marshal their forces against the kingdom. With that being said, the division was taken north to the Steppes, where companies of orcs spewed from readily made portals of Orgrimmar. The spontaneous eruption was soon rid of the scarred landscape, offering a temporary peace along the scorched fields.

Once again, the Langley heir was called upon to defend his home against the northern offensive. Blackrock Mountain. A scene of many skirmishes and of great and terrible history. Already a man to pledge to the cause, the place of humanity's stand against the orcish Horde urged him further. Facing off against familiar faces such as Vaknosh Blackwolf and Algrubel Suntotem. The Marshal would find himself a prisoner yet again at the hands of the Blackrock Orcs of the area. Forced to compete in a coliseum of sorts. Hindered by magical bonds that shackled him, he fought handicapped against the Death Knight; Rekfar Axefury. While fighting honorably till the end, he was struck down by the necromantic energies of his oppressors. Remarkably, his enduring soul had survived. Thus permitting him to continue on. It was there, the Marshal was forced to entertain those of the Shattered Hand Clan and compete in a gladiatorial arena. While successful in this quest, the man lost sight of the matter he truly was in and relented in the fury that claimed his soul. Cutting down those innocent. Cutting down those deserving. The man offered his assistance one last time on the final day to the Dark Irons. Having returned to Stormwind, Arthur has much to debate on the nature of his link to the material world. And the fury instilled in him by the Titans.

Alongside his kin of Stormwind, Arthur aligned the special forces as a detachment of the famed division of the Fighting Fifth. There, the two work in near perfect sync with one another to meet out justice in the name of the Alliance.

Once again, the waters of the world had parted for the bloodied hands of war. Nazjatar was unveiled and the Alliance and Horde fleets crumpled beneath her grasp. The Marshal was one of these few to be upon the ships in pursuit of the red-banners. Their collision came at the sudden unveiling of the hidden city. They had wrought upon the wrath of Azshara. Arthur hastily took to marshaling troops to scour the landscape for the Naga and Horde alike. Both falling under his blade as he took no liability in permitting them to breathe any further. His work would never be finished. Special Forces worked to establish a base of operations beneath the towering gaze of Azshara, bent on pushing forth when the time was right. Still, as the war began to rise upon all continents, the Special Forces did not quiet. Their expeditions led to the ancient gnomish city of Mechagon with full force. Ousting the maniacal king from his throne to establish a possible ally in the shame of mechagnomes.

With his sudden return to Stormwind, the Lord High Marshal of the state named him Deputy in that regard to the Kingdom itself. A grant the Marshal had not expected to return to. Accepting such terms, he worked to better the kingdom on the home front and outward.

The Wolf Borne Marshal

Parting from the Fifth Legion, the Marshal instructed the now Commandant Alexander Grayson to form the recently created The Eastern Pinnacle. Acting as a stationary mentor and guidance to the young lord. A homage for all the races of the Eastern Kingdoms to call home and bring their strength down upon the enemies that dare threaten them. Acting as Marshal of the united forces, the two continue to battle onward across the Fourth War. Their war council to dominate the eastern seaboard growing rather steadily. His journey taking him to all corners of the known races of the Eastern Kingdoms, vouching for their renewed glory in the coming darkness. Meeting with those like minded few in the betterment of the Alliance and the Eastern Kingdoms.

Skirmishes fell in Stranglethorn to the south with the invading trolls beginning to show forth their true natures in the jungle clearings. Their attacks upon Fort Livingston and the northern camps a clear indication the lack of security Stormwind held in the dense thickets. The Pinnacle moved to circumvent their efforts, finally able to put an end to the catalytic destruction the Darkspear mongrels had performed. The next meeting with other nobles of Stormwind was a place the Marshal explained said happenings and urged the upper tier to pool its resources in further defending the home front.

Soon other forces of the Horde would make landfall upon the westernmost coast of Dun Morogh and scale the rocky cliffs towards its central hearth.

He would be called forth to one of his soldier's trials. A Mandel Foster. For his attacks aboard a once Argent vessel against the Horde. Obviously, the Marshal held his opinions of the soldier high, but permitted such a trial to appease the neutral order. Located at Menethil Harbor, the clash of steel and iron commenced with the Horde's sudden assault on its harbor. Civilians were evacuated, while the Alliance and Horde clashed on land and sea. Arthur, in particular, struck out against the notable Zandalari of Jahira. The two exchanging words of doubt in the Horde's power, but her fate met the waters below nonetheless.

Following the great clash, and the Alliance vessels sending the Horde's to the bottom of the sea, Mandel was nowhere to be found. The Argents had taken him after dropping off civilians nearest Stromgarde. The fate of the soldier remained unknown. Until at a later date, he was found within Argent custody. The Alliance were too late, as to hearing they had sent Mandel off to the Horde. Furious, Marshal Langley along with Garion Magnus and Alexander Grayson stormed the walls for an answer. Their answer came at a tenuous agreement between the Argents and Horde. One the Marshal was not well set in. If the agreement failed or something did go wrong, their traitor Commander's head would be his.

As until now, Arthur holds the Argents in an even lower standard than he had before. Looking to them as a nuisance now more than anything. The Horde would perish. And if the bleeding neutrals were to intervene, they would fall as well. This he swore.
Commission arthur battlefield

Marshal Langley perched atop the battlefield; victorious.

His path would bring him to meet with Garion Magnus of all people. The same whom he granted the mantle of leadership to his Special Forces. A blessing as much a curse. The weight of a title he was to gift as this path Arthur had set himself on could not include such agendas. At last, he requested Magnus and his wife to care for Aedan while he was away. The last gift the Langley heir would receive from his father in some time. The Marshal could not bear the thought of dragging the last remaining vestige of hope in his life down the dark path he was to go down. Perhaps he would understand once he came of age. The truth of it all.


The Fourth War has been the most catalytic to the planet's core since the War of the Ancients. The very same has been the pinnacle of the Marshal's military career. Battlefield across battlefield, he and his forces have earned a victory in the face of uncertain odds. Wielding a unyielding conviction to serve the Alliance till his death. The Langley heir's task shall never be finished unless the Horde threat is all but eliminated. This or he himself shall fall. Now in the face of death, Arthur assumes command to defend Stormwind and its lands from any threat that dare tread along this hallowed ground. The likes of which are close at hand.

Upon the eve of the twenty-third, Alliance men and women gathered in Darkshire on troubling news. The threat of undead having made landfall on the shores of Stranglethorn. Surely, a paramount issue for the Kingdom. Dwarven allies were the majority, while other minor appearances of notable faces. Talk was made and the issue of the Stormwind Guard on its whereabouts was questioned. In the end, the decision to evacuate the townspeople was decided and the forces of the Alliance would use Darkshire as a staging point. Their next step being the pass into Stranglethorn to the south.

It was time to strike. Their charge came down upon the southern slopes of Duskwood to meet whatever threat lurked in the northern jungles of Stranglethorn. Reports had arrived of the ever-increasing numbers of the undead. A swarm of insects devouring all in their path. Yet, when they arrived at their destination, there was nothing to be found. No ghouls or skeletons. Nothing. That was until the Marshal shone a torch through the thick darkness on the still armies. And without warning, they were upon them. A tide of flesh and steel. Waves of unrelenting vigor in necromantic strength. The small forces fought bravely through the unending threats until there was but barely half left. Victory seemed assured.

And then she came. A Valkyr; torn from the shadows to aid the undead in their plight. Her hands raised and before long, the numbers of undead began to rise. Shambling to life once again to fight in the name of their 'Queen'. They soon found they held no match against such a force. For whenever they attempted a blow at the valkyr, more undead would swallow them whole. And whenever they cleaved through enough undead, the valkyr would raise them again. A perpetual cycle.

A decision had to be made. The canyon separating Stranglethorn and Duskwood was brought down. Boulders rivaling the size of ogres crashing down upon the undead and stopping their advance. For the moment. Their peace would be made and aid requested from the capital and other various sources.

Amidst the underbrush, preparing to assault.

It was when a scout returned to Duskwood informing of the undead horde's advance, did the Alliance troops begin to mobilize. Talk of a growing force began in the room as the undead hit both the Rotting Orchard and took relative ease in dispatching the Kaldorei soldiers meant to slow them. A barrier was constructed around the town of Darkshire's southern guard, while troops of the Alliance marched to Brightwood Grove. There, they were met by the undead that had stalked them in the trees. A collective spellwork by the Lord Magnus and few other warlocks caught the forest in a blaze. While the fires raged and cooked, the charred corpses clattered to the earth with the undead roasted to a crisp. But, that was not all.

The army of undead was not yet vanquished, as its Valkyr leader paraded along with them. They two were fought and brought to the knee, leading to the spectral being to resurrect them as she did the previous nights. While the first time was completed well enough, her second incantation was stuttered. Inevitably, the magic was halted altogether by Lord Magnus's handiwork and the valkyr was left without troops to her aid. Through questioning at the sight, Sylvanas is lead to believe the ringleader to the entire cause. Her enjoyment in seeing the races of the living scamper about her doing.

Still, as the Alliance began their questioning, the undead had not had their fill. Hundreds more came pouring from the mountainside leading into the Twilight Grove. A tide of flesh and steel clattering down and overwhelming the Alliance forces. Forced to flee, the valkyr was quickly dealt with in a relatively simple manner before the chase was given. Even at the riverside to Elwynn forest, the Alliance found themselves trapped. Was it not for the sudden engagement by the Gold Coast cavalry, they would have not made it to Eastvale alive.

Everything was in order. Forces were beginning to mobilize upon Eastvale in opposition to the undead threat. Time was of the essence and the Alliance were running out of both. As most of their numbers were collecting reinforcements, the sound of battle had begun anew. The undead had been sighted already crossing the narrow riverbed south of them towards the heart of Elwynn. It was a heavy task, but one Arthur, Odron and Grayson decided upon themselves. The trio fought against the overwhelming odds for some time until much of their forces began to arrive. The Dwarven Vanguard, the Valorborne, the Eastern Pinnacle. Their numbers were added to the mix, yet none seemed to bend the tide in their favor.

The events were bleak. The Alliance having been swamped by undead as they had been the previous nights. Many began to fall from their harrowing injuries, as the Marshal himself defended many troops with his own body. Speaks and blades sticking from his body, yet he pressed on. It was finally when all hoped seemed lost, did the cavalry arrive. Knights of Gold Coast, Soldiers of Duskwood and Stormwind Guardsmen. All marched through the undead masses.

The wounded Marshal among the Undead masses.

The battle was won as quickly as it seemed to be overwhelming the Alliance. Elwynn had been guaranteed a future, with Duskwood seeing repairs very soon. The injured would be brought to Stormwind. The dead would be burnt the following days in memory. A pyre for all of Elwynn to see and be reminded for those who gave their lives... so that others might live.

The weeks that followed such a horrendous ordeal were less than kind. The undying pressure of how much he had sacrificed for those uncaring of Stormwind's protection. The unbearable focus upon such useless noblemen instead of the brave soldiers that had given their lives. It seemed he had finally had enough. While a ceasefire was made by the High King, that would not halt Arthur's abilities. The next meeting of High Command and other Order Leaders, Arthur spoke his peace. He strode the Grand Marshal Montclair and announced his resignation of the Alliance.

He was finished. The chains of a faction would not bind him ever again.

Bound by no faction, no code or no nobility, Arthur set out with a small group of Knights into the Eastweald. Their first task to clear; eliminate the darkened threat that still lingered upon the land. The trek would earn them to the mushroom-spotted east, where sunlight did not breath the cloudline. While this was in fact to better the north, the tasks beset onto the Brotherhood were for another reason entirely. Unbeknownst to the remainder of the knighthood, these perilous journeys would be his atonement.

His atonement for the atrocities he had committed in the war prior.

The actions of the Old God, N'zoth, were not the Knight's concern. The lands of Lordaeron, Quel'thalas and even the Barrens had been stained by the color of undeath for too long. Far too many ventures into the north by paladin and holy orders were met with little to no success. The time had come for answers and results. With his band of Knights, the order of Azure Flame cast themselves against the undying masses of death in the lands of Lordaeron firstly. Stratholme, Scholomance, Andorhal; it mattered little in the end. Cleaving their paths through the Eastweald to each location. All manner of undead were culled. No trace was left behind. When their journey became them upon the elven lands of Quel'thalas, they acted in kind. Deatholme was cleansed thoroughly thereafter with little resistance.

Razorfen. The name would strike any living in the harsh landscape of Kalimdor with dread. The resident Quilboar were suffering from the stain of undeath even to the present day. Action had to be made in their salvation, as no other orders would answer the call. Their righteous path seared its mark through the tunnels and barrow dens, twisting about mindlessly. Even when the same creatures struck out against them in retaliation, the knights did not falter. They pressed on undeterred from any threat. Thus, for a time, the lands of the southern Barrens would be free of the plague of Death.

News would come at the behest of the Old God's demise to the champions of the Alliance and Horde. Pleased at their handiwork, the Langley Knight pushed towards the northern glacier. There would be no rest for their cause. The Scourge had once again come to slaughter all in their path. Freshly wounded from their battles with one another and the forces of shadow, the Knights of Azure Flame took to the north before the warring factions. First upon the land. First to meet their foe. First to defend the life they treasured.

A bound corpse newly given life.

Yet, even in those courageous moments, no true victory would last. The numbers and ferocity of the undead masses proved far too great. Surrounded and outnumbered without any modicum of survival, Arthur did what he believed to be right. Casting the other knights to higher ground and safety, he held the line against the relentless tide. His silver hair and burning cerulean blade were the last images the Brotherhood saw of the knight.

The wild manner of the undead was only matched by his own burning resolve. In a show of undying faith, the land was rent asunder in flames blended with the color of his blade. Hundreds upon hundreds of Scourge were decimated. Sacrificing himself for their own salvation, the Knights would continue their efforts even into the Shadowlands. Only when the world was left to defend against the Scourge's remnants, did a band of nameless sorcerers and warlocks find the scorched corpse of the man. Escorted to a nearby hovel, the body was resuscitated through dark magics, and his life became anew. Having been claimed as a manner of property by the undead she-witch fought so long ago; Sanari Shadowtear. An amalgamation of a lover. He would serve her in this new life, as the one thing, he dreaded most.

An Undead.




Virtue upon Undeath. (Art by psdeluxe.)

Days of in the frozen north had subjected Arthur to separate from most of his comrades. Drifting from their warmth as the frigidness seeped into all of them. It was at this time, buried in cloth nearest the stables, was he neared by a small mare. As if the equine could sense his unrest, she proceeded to settle herself beside him. As days would pass during the tournament, these events would continue. And it was only once the invasion of Icecrown commenced did the two begin to work as one body. One mind.

Titled 'Virtue', he and his companion would drive through the masses of undead like a hot knife through butter. The two would remain together even upon their return to the Plaguelands.

She continued to assist Arthur wherever he may tread, as he calls upon her assistance wherever he may go. Furthermore, Virtue has been spotted more and more lacking the battle armor she once had. Now, he and the mighty equine patrol the city streets; a flag of Stormwind positioned just behind the saddle.

Upon his raising, Virtue followed the path he was to walk. Being raised into that of a skeletal steed in his name. She would shield the Langley knight even in undeath.

Queensridge Wolf Pack

With the recent redesign of Queensridge, Arthur found himself upon many hobbies within the mountainous canyon. While settling himself as a lumberjack for some time, Arthur came upon an unlikely ally. The dire wolves of Elwynn Forest; much known for their ferocity and the history of antagonizing stragglers on the forest roads. With ever-increasing tasks by the guards sent out to kill the beasts, they saw Arthur's home as an opportunity. He treated them with respect and, strangely, they did as well. As his govern over the land continues, the wolves of Elwynn have begun to migrate to Queensridge, as the land now serves as a safe haven for them. With Queensridge's destruction in the Blood War, most the population sides the following duo did perish in the calamity.

  • The two specific worgs are as follows.




    Titled Kara and Lorath by the young lord, Arthur calls upon their aid wherever he may need it. Originally the pair were runts of the pack, but that did not hinder their will. Arthur chose the smaller worgs as a companion to move across the land for that same will of iron. The pair and Arthur have been spotted together the most in the Fourth War, the wolves assisting him in his endeavors in Kul Tiras. The two have been seen sporting battle armor specifically made for them. While their old enemy specializes in these beasts, Arthur rather enjoys that they follow his lead rather than theirs.
  • As with the venerable equine companion, Kara and Lorath both joined their master in undeath. Kara a zombified version of her former self, whilst Lorath a skeletal construct.


General Torgue Slagbeard

  • The dwarf and human encountered each other from the time of the War against the Lich King, the two developing quite the kinship for one another. As Torgue would often become the 'father figure' of the two and support Arthur's decisions. As he worked within the Alliance Expedition, Torgue would come to see Arthur in his prime. Continuing to work alongside the young Langley in his time of need, Torgue is a venerable and experienced combatant that offers aid in whatever area he can.

Lord Garion Magnus

  • A fellow brother of Lordaeron from birth, Garion and Arthur shared a certain brotherly kinship. A humble fellow, skilled in the arcanic arts as well as Stormwind politics. Garion and Arthur encountered one another during wartime, at the Legion Invasion and two of them had similar viewpoints on the Alliance/Horde War, often conversing about the future together. The wizard has also been known to convince Arthur into approaching in a different manner to the Horde conflict; the boy wise beyond his years.

Duke Berenal Grayblade

  • Upon searching for more history about his mother's heritage, Arthur found himself upon the order known as the Blades of Greymane. An honorable order lead by the esteemed Duke Grayblade. While at first, the greatest each other as typical soldier and higher rank. But, over time, Arthur's respect for the man grew and a friendlier air surrounded them. Often joking at one another, but always ready to switch to a more serious tone if the time needed. Even Berenal's wife; Aleyina, Arthur was able to form a respectable bond with.

Sir Garen Aldenhart

  • Rather green in the face of the Alliance Military, Arthur observed the Commander rise in ranks with his growing successes in the north. Establishing an almost parental figurehead for the boy, Arthur pledged to assist in guiding Garen in his ventures of the Alliance. Their most recent expedition towards Durnholde proved the two would be able to work amongst each other's ranks with little to no issue. A sign for future inclinations of teamwork.

Commander Alexander Grayson

  • Somewhat familiar with his relation to the Aldenhart son, Arthur and Alexander bonded amongst the countless wars the Alliance waged. More of a father figure than anything, Arthur commanded both as Marshal to the Alliance. Thus, with his recency of his admittance to the Fifth Regiment, their connection strengthened with the numerous campaigns brought down by the higher-ups.


~The lands and locations the Langley Heir has fought within and for~

Titles and Offices


Director of The Eastwatch Initiative
Preceded by
Position Created
Arthur Langley Succeeded by
Position Abolished
Baron of Queensridge
Preceded by
Arcturus Langley
Arthur Langley Succeeded by
Position Abolished
Proprietor of Greyguard Keep
Preceded by
Position Created
Arthur Langley Succeeded by
Commanding Officer of the Alliance Special Forces
Preceded by
Position Created
Arthur Langley Succeeded by
Garion Magnus
Lord of Greywatch Pinnacle
Preceded by
Position Created
Arthur Langley Succeeded by


Shadowlands Art: Legion-BfA Art:Pre-Argus Art:


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