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The Light of Ironforge was an organization of priests and charitable individuals who sought to bring peace and the teachings of the Holy Light to the Kingdom of Ironforge. It disbanded sometime in the year following the Cataclysm.



Ciarrah Brightstone moved about the Hall of Mysteries with the quietest of tiptoeing. Though the forge burned brightly at all hours, the calm, stillness of the night had settled in the Mystic Ward. The young priestess watched as her elders began to retreat to their own quarters within the hall. These days, those private rooms were the only places where one wasn’t stepping over a sleeping or sick refugee. The Shattering was a fitting name for such an event that had only occurred months before. Lives had been shattered, children had been made clanless, and families had lost their homes. Most days, Ciarrah watched as a clan patriarch would sc***% together what savings were left from his clan’s coffers in order to support those who had survived.

It hurt her heart to see such suffering. Menethil Harbor was flooded. Loch Modan was without its famous loch. Land had been torn apart. There were still many that were unaccounted for, likely buried within the rubble that was once a clan home. Khaz Modan was wounded. The mountains and hills cried out in sorrow and for justice, and those tears were those who called Khaz Modan home. The weary dwarves, gnomes, and other people who now suffered so greatly. If Ciarrah could collect them all in her skirt and hold them close, like the children in the nurseries, she would. Her arms, however, were not big enough to embrace each broken being that walked through the Hall of Mysteries.

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of coughing. Growing curious, she followed the sound to a gnome. His green hair was matted and his goatee was unkempt. He laid beside a toolbox. Perhaps that was all he had left. The young dwarf turned away and scurried off, only to return with a mug of water. She knelt beside the gnome and patted his hand.

“Ah… ‘Ere. Wat’r fer ye. Drink deeply.”

The gnome nodded in thanks. He took the mug and pressed it against his lips while carefully sipping at the water. Once he had drank his fill, he laid back down. Ciarrah set the mug beside him, in case he awoke with another coughing spell. She cracked her fingers and began walking between the refugees, quietly speaking to those still awake.

“D’ya need anything’? I’ll be ‘appy ta get it.”

Requests were most often for medicines, blankets, and water. Stubborn illnesses always settled quickly on those under strain. Ciarrah dutifully delivered each requested item, yet she still wondered if there was more she could do. For the second time that night, Ciarrah was shaken by her thoughts. This time was a bit more physical than the other. Someone was actually shaking her shoulder. Ciarrah looked to her right with curiosity in her green eyes. Matron Magara smiled at the young priestess and patted her back. A long-time acquaintance of the priestess, Matron Magara could still recall the days when Ciarrah was a child and only just becoming curious about the Light. Magara was wrinkled. Her grey eyes did not see as well as they used to. Her once gorgeous golden braid had turned white with age. She still remembered the old days fondly. Those days were long gone. Switching to her native tongue, she whispered in Ciarrah’s ear.

“I know it is late, Brightstone, but you are needed. Follow me.”

Ciarrah’s eyes widened. She whispered back, “For what reason?”

“You must trust me as you once did when you were only a braidling.” She cackled and coughed. “Come now.”

The two descended down a long, winding stair case. They passed libraries of books and the sleeping quarters of the elder, higher ranking dwarves within the Hall. She wasn’t completely sure why she had been called upon at this late of an hour, or who in their right mind was awake to do this. Magara led Ciarrah along with a kind smile. They came to a stop before a large doorway. Tapping in a pattern on the stone door, it was opened. There was a large table set up in the room. Behind this table sat four priests. Ciarrah recognized them instantly. She bowed her head respectfully as Matron Magara joined them at the left end of the table. The gazes of the elders seemed to make Ciarrah want to hide. She felt like a frightened child in trouble for something she did not quite understand.

"Calm yourself, priestess." Magara soothed the worried Ciarrah. Though she smiled, the four others did not. The purple eyes of Stonefather Hragli quickly began to give looks of disapproval. He seemed unhappy. Ciarrah did not blame him, after all, she had made him fairly cross with her very recently. Well, she assumed he was cross. She hadn’t spoken to him since the event. The three other Stonefathers watched Ciarrah carefully, gauging her reactions to her summons.

Matron Magara cleared her throat and nudged the dwarf to her left. Stonefather Grendrig’s glasses slid to the end of his nose.

“We have called you here for a reason, Ciarrah. Your actions during the Shattering have been noted.”

Ciarrah swallowed a lump in her throat and kept eye contact with Stonefather Grendrig as he spoke. His voice dragged on, staying in one dull tone.

“You aided in the evacuations. You brought water and food to the refugees. You have made them comfortable.”

“If I may interject?”

“You may not.” Hragli snapped. Ciarrah gave a polite nod at the refusal of her request. Grendig droned on.

“You have nurtured the newly clanless children of Ironforge. You have become an advocate for them as well as the other refugees. You bring comfort to all who dwell here. Are you aware of your accomplishments?”

Ciarrah stuttered. Her eyes widened. She thought she saw the group of five smile, including Hragli.

“Yes, we’ll allow those sounds to speak for you. Priestess, you must know that while your accomplishments are expected with your training under Stonefather Hragli, you have surprised us.”

“Cutting to it quickly,” Magara interrupted, “We have come to discuss your position. It is our intention to bestow the position of Hearthmother to you. You have earned this, Ciarrah.”

Ciarrah smiled and reached for her braid, tugging nervously on it. “May I speak now?”

“Keep it brief.” Hragli snorted. Something in his eyes looked a bit warmer at that moment while he watched Ciarrah.

“I did my duties, nothing more.”

The group of five exchanged glances between each other. Magara burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“And you are humble, Ciarrah. You are the right choice in our eyes. You have more years to achieve, but I hope that one day, you will someday be known as Matron Ciarrah, the voice of compassion. For now, Hearthmother shall do.”

It was a position of honor that many priestesses hoped to achieve. A Hearthmother’s duties were to nurture and teach the young, care for the weary, and give comfort to those who needed it most.

The wheels within Ciarrah’s head began to turn. Her duties could not be contained to Ironforge. With all of the pain and suffering within Khaz Modan, she could not rightly stand by while people suffered needlessly. The young priestess bowed her head. The old matron smiled and chuckled. She coughed, then spoke to the humbled Hearthmother.

“You will continue what you were doing, will you not, Hearthmother?”

“I will do more.” Ciarrah beamed, speaking in a happy, melodious voice. She had realized her purpose at last. She would be the hand of comfort and compassion.

Q & A

Q: So who are you guys?
A: We’re The Light of Ironforge! We’re an aid guild based in Khaz Modan while holding the three virtues close to our hearts. We’re an rp guild.

Q: What races/classes do you take?
A: We’re primarily dwarves. However, if you have a story that checks out and you believe in what we do, you will be considered. We do not take warlocks and death knights. Your character must be a resident of Khaz Modan.

Q: So what do you do?
A: We plan on having rescue missions, supply runs, and lots of rp in the Khaz Modan region. We do not pvp or raid at this time.

Q: If I join, do I have to stop raiding or hitting up BGs?
A: Not at all. We’re not monks here. If you run things normally with your buddies, but would like an rp guild to call home, we’d be happy to take you.

Q: What would be expected of me as a member?
A: Show up at events. Rp with others. Be as friendly as your character’s personality allows. Just don’t be that guy. You know. That guy. The one we all roll our eyes at. Don’t be him and that will be just peachy.

Q: Do I miss out on rp by not joining?
A: We’re happy to rp with almost everyone. If you want to help us dig people out of Dun Morogh during an avalanche, I’m not going to tell you to go away. We’re more than happy to bring the rp community into our good deeds.

Q: So what’s the application process like?
A: Whisper me in game. Have your character’s background ready and prepare for questions! Don’t be nervous!

References

Adapted from Ciarrah's post on the Moon Guard Forums.

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