Blood and Fire: The Chronicles of the 27th Regiment

Prologue
In a temporary barracks in Elwynn Forest, two men in uniforms are sitting by a tea table playing cards. Near the window, and obviously in a lead sits Jeff Jefferson, an agile, stealthy fighter who doesn't play by anybody's rules and tends to get the women swooning by the enormous power of his handsome ponytail. Across the table, sits the rough-looking, scarred Hank Hamfist, a former bar brawler turned soldier, who's retained his matter-over-mind combat techniques and often hangs around in bars standing by walls in heavy armor, not saying to much, and swearing often when he does.

As he plays his Queen of Spades, Jefferson looks up at his buddy. “Did you hear that the 27th regiment is back in town?” Hank, playing a clover four, grunts shaking his head. «Didn't know that. My cousin's in the 27th though. Should buy him a beer.» Jeff leans in closer, while playing an Ace from his sleeve. “Wouldn't go planning too much mate. The 27th isn't what it used to be.” The muscled ex-brawler arches his brows, voicing a low “oh?” while handing over some of his colorful chips as the round ends. “Yeah. When they left the city three years ago they were a full regiment, lead by a fancy general and all. Now? They all came back on the same ship. Not even a big one.” “How do you even know all this?” Hamfist replies in a rough tone. “I speak with people. You should try it some time.”

Night is slowly falling outside, so the two light up a few candles before continuing their game. The rogue, having a hard time keeping his mouth shut, blabbers on as they play the next hand. “So anyway, according to the guys I met down by the Docks, the 27th returned with empty ranks, but full coffers. Iceclaw bear hides, Drakkari totems, strange weapons, you mention it... And gold. Did I mention gold?” Sighing, the warrior replies sourly. “Jeff, why does that even matter. I'm not a thief, and my cousin ain't an iceclaw bear.” “Makes for a much better story, my friend.” says the rogue, immediately proceeding. “So anyway, they appearantly just rode ashore in silence, few of them speaking to anyone on their way. Mostly just conversing in whispers among themselves. If you wanna find out about your cousin, I'd say the Mage District is the place to look. That's where their leader was last seen, at any rate.” The rogue looks down on the table for a moment, pausing. “Also, I think you'd better go get more silver. You're out of chips in three turns.”

Chapter 1: Requiem
My name is Theodore Reinhard, and I used to be a blacksmith. It's been a while since the last time I saw a man or woman without uniform, so chances we've met, dear reader, are slim. For the last eight months however, I've led the once strong and proud 27th Regiment. Not by choice you must know, I'm not an ambitious man, but we've been hit hard over the last years and someone had to step up. We're all burning the midnight oil these days, but even so, with the 27th on watch the Alliance presence in Northrend is secure as ever. We're doing good work here, and despite all that's happened morale is high. With recent events it's become clear to me though, the 27th may not return from this mission, and if we do, we may not be the same unit that went out in field. The butcher's bills are getting higher, and it's a matter of time before it gets to the men.

The following pages are assembled journal notes, battle reports and letters, some written by me, others by my predecessors. Together I hope they'll paint the entire picture, dear reader. Pieced together, I hope they will let you understand what we've been through, why the brothers of the 27th have laid down their lives and what for. Perhaps they'll even change your perspective on what going to war really means, but I'll leave that you, in the end these pages will speak for themselves. One request I do have, though: Remember us. Remember the men and women who laid down their lives for the freedom you are living. Remember the 27th, for we might all be gone tomorrow.