The Tale of Derren Frostbane

I was born in Gilneas after the mighty gates were sealed.

Just like my father – Relnar, I became a blacksmith. My father was strong and strict, but despite his craft, he did not know war, neither did he feel the need to seek it. He always expected the best of me, but despite of all that, he was a humble man.

I studied and worked under him for most of my youth, and though I enjoyed it, I felt like there could be a lot more I could do with the time that was given to me. But I had accepted my path in life and did not complain.

However my father somehow knew all this, though I did not show it. Not intentionally anyway. But he knew that the life of a blacksmith was not for me. I needed more.

I still remember that day I joined the City Guard, with my clean home-made shirt, shiny soldier armor and helm, crafted by my father, standing and saluting my commander for the first time. My mother said I was glowing back then.

Sadly, the greatest day of my life could also be looked at as the worst day of my life. For it is there where it all started.

My mistake. My failure. My disgrace.

For the next 7 years life was good to me. I ranked up quickly, continued my work as a smith in my free time, built a home, married the love of my life – beautiful Emma Callows. Not long after my marriage, the King entrusted me with the guard of his own son, Liam.

Future seemed bright for me and my beloved wife. Soon perhaps maybe I would have received a small piece of land, maybe even a title and become a Royal myself.

Then the worgen threat came.

It started small, a villager nobody had heard about, bitten by a strange wolf. The cases soon multiplied, so did the number of the infected. Then came the attacks, every night after sunset. Everybody had to shut their doors tight, hold their children close with a sword in their hand, once the howling had started. And when everybody thought it could not get any worse – it did.

The city was quickly overrun, despite the king’s efforts as those of his men. Men like me. We were all helpless like newborn children.

Then hit the Cataclysm, an event no one expected. After that the Forsaken attacked us.

And there was my failure.

I can remember it ever so clearly, as if it was just yesterday.

I see King Genn Greymane in all his glory and power, sword slashing forward, ravaging the scourges of undead as if they were made of butter. Strong was our king, a remarkable man he is today still, but he could not see the arrow. He could NOT see it from all the attackers he had to defend himself from. To defend his people from.

But Liam saw it. He loved his father like no other son did. He was always watchful, always protective, always … just. He saw it coming, and forwards he leaped, using himself as a living shield, eager to save his father’s life from Sylvanas’ poison arrow.

The day the king lost his son, was the day I lost everything.

I was angry at first of course, asking, begging, TRYING my very best to explain … somehow … that I couldn’t save Liam’s life. That his demise .. was not my fault.

But the king would not hear any of it, he sent me away, his soul drowning in grief.

As I was settling myself in one of the many Gilnean taverns, killing the pain from wounds, both physical and mental, with alcohol, thinking of a explanation for my wife of me losing the King’s favor, anger … became sadness and depression.

For I realized then … that it was indeed my fault. The king had entrusted me with the life of his son, his only child, the true heir to the throne. My new king.

I should have been there. There … just like Liam stood in front of his father to stop the arrow, so should have I … stood in front of Liam and sacrificed my life for country and king.

But I was not. I had rather slay undead, so I could brag to my friends in the tavern later, friends who are today dead and forgotten.

I failed them all. I was careless and stupid.

Just as that same night.

Damaged and drunk, I left the tavern long after midnight, carrying my body towards home.

I was careless.

I was stupid.

I did not see it coming. I did not hear it. I was too drunk to even think.

With furious strength it almost ripped my arm, it did. And with teeth sharp as demon’s blades it sucked the life out of me, it did. But for reasons still unknown to me, the creature did not kill me. It did not.

No.

Instead it cursed me forever to live with this burden of what I’ve become, … of what I did.

For during that same night I did eventually make it home. But I was a changed man.

No, I was just changed. Derren Frostbane died that night. I was a man no more.

I woke up early the next morning by the soldiers breaking into my home and as I was trying to yell out loud why they were tighing me up I saw it.

The image that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

My dear Emma, was laying dead in our bed, sheets soaked in blood.

Her blood.

With a gaze, stunned and empty, she was staring at the nothingness, throat ripped apart.

My beautiful, beloved Emma. The love of my life. My precious heavenly lady…

Soon after I was locked in, most of the kingdom had flooded due to the Cataclysm, and the battle with the Forsaken raged on. So many died in the process, and the rest … were damned to live a cursed life. King Greymane himself was also bitten by the worgen.

All seemed lost, until the night elves from Kalimdor came. They gave us hope and light. They taught us to control the beasts inside of us, to embrace the evil and control it. I was then released.

Not long after, we all left our homeland, a once peaceful and beautiful country, filled with joy and promises of glory. Again it was the night elves of Priestess Tyrande Wisperwind who gave us shelter. And though for most the nightmare was over, mine was just beginning.

On the 8th day after our arrival in Darnassus the King called for me.

“We have been through a lot, Derren. Our paths have crossed again, we share the same curse. And though this is the time where our people need to stand together, I must tell you now to leave us.”

He turned his back on me as if he did not want me to see the anger or maybe the sadness in his eyes.

“You do not deserve death, perhaps you do not deserve this as well. As a king, I would not make this decision. But please Derren … as a father I ask you, … leave.”

A long moment of silence followed and I started for the door I heard his last words to me, his body still facing the other way.

“You are a good man, Derren Frostbane. Use this gift and the skill you have obtained for good. Defend the weak. Do not allow this curse to dishonor our people!”

That was the last I saw of him.

The very next day I left the city of elves and headed back to the Eastern Kingdoms. There I spent my last coin on a small farm in Elwynn Forest where I lived alone for quite a while. But loneliness and exile do strange things to one’s mind and soon I turned to alcohol again, and I decided to leave.

Never staying in the same town for more than a night, being human during the day, and a beast during the night. A normal man, minding his own business, enduring the pain and the reality of an unjust world filled with violence and death.

But I waited.

For once the sun went down, I could bring justice to the wrongful.

A silent predator, a phantom, going after those who brought nothing but pain to Azeroth.

I am Derrenbane, not a person, but a shadow, a sad image of what I once was, but it is enough.

All those thieves and assassins, all the evil wizards and warlocks, the reckless clans of ogres and armies of demons who walk on this earth – beware.

For as long as a live, until my very last breath, I will stand between you and those who are too weak to protect themselves.

For I will follow my path. The path of justice and redemption.