- Kingdom of Gilneas
Our story starts in Gilneas, a Human Nation that lives a frail moment - the tensions between the ones supporting the construction of the Greymane Wall (loyalists) and the ones refusing to accept King Greymane's isolationist policy (rebels, commanded by Lord Darius Crowley and his daughter Lorna) will split in two the ancient unity of this noble people, leading to a bloody Civil War.
Furthermore, the loyalist side is also divided – on the one hand, Gwen Armstead, mayor of Duskhaven, is the leader of the Gilnean Liberal Party, a recently founded political organisation whose aims are democracy, unregulated economy, and individual rights, representing the interests of the pushful industrial bourgeoisie and small landowners. Rumors are spreading through Gilneas as this new political movement gains momentum, and the Heir Prince Liam Greymane seems to be fond of the liberals.
On the other hand, the main character of this story, Lord Montgomery Charlton, opposes the liberal faction – he is the chief of the so-called 'ultra-royalists', a hard-core conservative and monarchist party that defends law, order, tradition and the feudal privileges of the aristocracy. The high nobility in Gilneas, represented by the Eastern Lords (Lord Walden, Baron Ashbury and Lord Godfrey), have aligned themselves with this party, while other important noblemen such as Lord Hewell and Lord Marley remained neutral at these political rivalities.
The warm afternoon sunlight entered into the stance through the orange, gilded windows of the Light’s Dawn Cathedral, alighting upon the heads of the congregation like a halo. As the usual Gilnean weather was rainy and foggy, really dull, that exception was some kind of miracle, a proof of heavenly intercession.
“…By the Holy Light. Amen”, loudly resounded within the stance the voice of Father Howley, Archbishop of Gilneas.
“Amen”, the rest of assistants answered.
The King, Genn Greymane, stood up after having prayed on his knees in front of the altar, while the church service was performed. His offspring, the Heir Prince Liam and Princess Tess, and his wife, Queen Mia, escorted him that day. Some other important noblemen like Lord Godfrey, Walden, Baron Ashbury, Marley and Hewell, remained by his side, as the Royal Court.
A distinguished person, located between Hewell and Ashbury, crossed his hands into a pious gesture, elevating his praying to the highs, answering a devote “Amen”. Lord Montgomery Charlton was his name. He dressed up in an elegant way – embroidered shirt, black pants, navy blue coat and top hat under his left arm. He was like forty years old; the hair fell on both sides of his face, and dark burnsides came together above his upper lip shaping a moustache, very fashionable according to Gilnean sense of fanciness. His hair, although dark, was already hoary.
Lord Charlton took a glimpse of the whole congregation, analyzing the assistants with a sight. Neither Lord Crowley nor his daughter, Lorna, were present. It was a bad omen – would they be plotting in that moment, in a so sacred day? The King and his family, along the rest of the nobles, proceeded to kiss the Archbishop’s ring in a sign of respect, before descending again and performing a slight reverence towards the altar.
“You can go at peace”, the Archbishop said.
The congregation started to get out of the Cathedral orderly, exchanging some courtesy words and giving always way to the King’s Court. Once in the outside, Lord Charlton looked up to the sky – it was starting to rain. It seemed that, as soon as the church service was over, the miracle had dissipated.
“Gentlemen, hurry up”, the King spoke, “Get into the carriages and go immediately to the Palace with me. We have to talk about important issues.”
The nobles assented. The chariots waited in the Cathedral Square, ready to transport the Royal Family and the Court back to the palatial state that the monarch beheld at the east, in the mountains.
While the King and his kin entered one chariot, Lord Godfrey, Ashbury and Marley, talking animatedly, entered other. Charlton shared his carriage with Lord Walden and Hewell. He knew them well – they both were about his same age and they had been good friends since they were kids.
When the three nobles were accommodated inside the small yet comfortable chariot, the coachman harangued the horses, leaving behind the Capital City in the way to Duskhaven.
“…Three, two, one. Ready or not, here I come!"
Little Monty Charlton, seven years old, had finishing counting and now he was ready to seek his hidden partners.
He was within the Palace gardens. It was a cold yet surprisingly sunny autumn morning, and the young nobility offspring seized the day playing hide-and-seek, hoping the day not to start raining so they didn’t have to shelter inside the Palace. The Manor could be bigger enough to shelter seven kids playing hide-and-seek, but Mia, the prince’s fiancée, didn’t like them running through the corridors.
“You might crash something, or fall on something and hurt yourselves”, she always said.
Monty looked around and examined carefully the Palace courtyard. No one in sight. He decided to register the stables. Good decision – he found his first three victims hidden there.
“Thomas, Daniel and Charles, I found you!"
“Heck, no! I told you that sharing hiding place was not a great idea”, young Daniel complained.
“Cool down boys, he has to find the others yet; they will win!”, Thomas pointed out .
“Ha! You better don’t believe that!”, Monty said quickly before focusing again on the game.
Next step – looking inside the carriages, in the Palace driveway. It was a good idea again – Connor and Edward were hidden there, crouched under the seat of the chariots.
“I found you!”, Monty triumphantly exclaimed.
“Not at all!”, Edward answered frowning.
“Yeah, you still have to find Darius…”
“Hey, look!”, said Charles – “It’s Darius! He’s running through the courtyard!"
“If he reaches the Palace entrance, we would have won and Monty loses! Run, Darius, run!”, Edward yelled.
Effectively, young Darius run quickly towards the Palace, willing to win. And Monty Charlton, willing to not letting them to beat him, started to run after him so fast as his little child legs could.
“I have to catch him, I have to…”, Monty repeated inside his head.
But it was too late, for Darius had entered the building and he got to shelter inside, before coming out with his face shinning because of his triumph.
“Yes! We have win!”, he yelled.
The other children burst with joy, happy for having won the game. Monty had stopped running & he just walked now crestfallen.
“Nice try, Monty”, Darius said, ruffling Monty’s hair condescendingly.
“Do not touch me”, he answered, annoyed – “Aren’t you a bit old for playing hide-and-seek, by the way?"
“Old? I’m just twelve; Charles also turns twelve the next month – don’t you say anything to him?”
“I don’t care – why don’t you go back to your village of bumpkins in Silverpine and leaves us alone, Darius?”
Monty was so angry because Darius had beaten him… again.
“Come on, boy”, Connor intervened in a conciliatory tone – “Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. The important thing is that we have played...”
“Indeed”, Daniel agreed.
“Okay… But I don’t want to be ‘it’ ever again”, Monty grumbled.
In that moment, some mounted soldiers entered the courtyard, followed by Prince Genn, Lord Vincent Godfrey, Baron Ashbury and Lord Charlton the 2nd, Monty’s father.
“Well, well – what do we have here?”, the Prince asked.
The children remained in silence, performing a slight bow.
“That one is my son, Your Highness. His name is Montgomery”, Lord Charlton said – “Montgomery, introduce your friends to the Prince.”
“Yes, father”, Monty answered quickly – “They are Daniel Walden, Thomas Candren, Charles Marley, Edward Harford, Connor Hewell and Darius Crowley, Your Highness.”
“I see, my good friends’ sons! In that case, enjoy your stay within Greymane Manor, boys.”
“The Council is probably gathered already, my liege”, Lord Godfrey pointed out with a tone of impatience.
“Sure. My father’s illness worries us all, Vincent. Perhaps it’s better if we enter the Palace – the physician may have something to say…”
Then, a group of men talking to each other disorderly, exchanging words and signs of concern, came out of the Palace. They were the children’s fathers, and they seemed rowdy for some reason. Mia had also come to meet Genn.
“Genn! Genn!”, she yelled, woebegone.
“What happens?”, the prince asked, dismounting nimbly.
A man who wore a grey robe approached the Prince:
“Your Highness, I am Krennan Aranas, the King’s physician”, he said – “I have bad news, sir – your father is dying…”
The carriage traveled the narrow path that led towards Greymane Manor in a sinuous way. Lord Charlton looked through the window, observing the deep gorge at his left, a fall to a certain death. The town of Duskhaven loomed in the deep, lost in the Gilnean fog.
“We just overpassed King’s Gate”, Walden pointed out.
“Tell me”, Charlton said – “Do you remember that fateful day, the one we were playing hide-and-seek in the Palace courtyard?
“I believe we played hide-and-seek in Greymane Manor more than once, but that was long ago…”, Hewell answered.
“I mean the day we were all together – Candren, Marley, Harford, you two, me… Even Crowly.”
“The day King Archibald died, that’s the day you mean, right?”, Walden intervened.
“Fateful day, forsooth. Now I remember”, said Hewell – “Why do you mention it, Monty?”
“I remember that day every time I take this road & go through King’s Gate towards the Palace. There’s a memory that comes to my mind; I can’t avoid remembering it.”
“’Twas a bad day… Such a great king doesn’t die every day”, Hewell emphasized.
“Indeed. But I also remember an advice my father gave me that day…”
“You never mentioned it before. Are you going to tell us?”, Walden asked.
“I rather don’t. It’s personal. I’m sorry if I you’re interested; it wasn’t my point”, Charlton quickly stated.
“The King is dead, long live the King!”, the courtiers yelled.
Krennan Aranas had found the death of Archibald Greymane, King of Gilneas. The lifeless body of the old monarch was still lying on his bed, surrounded by the noblemen of the Kingdom. Prince Genn, who couldn’t resist the pain of his loss, was kneeling next to his father’s bed, holding his dead hand, and he was fighting with himself for not showing weakness in front of his subjects.
“What do you see, Monty? What’s going on?”, asked Charles Marley.
The children, strategically placed with their back to the wall, next to the door of the passed away king’s bedchamber, tried by all means possible to find out what was all that commotion for. Monty Charlton was the one nearer to the door, and he took slight glimpses of the scene inside the room.
“The King is dead!”, he told the others.
“But that cannot be!”, Thomas Candren, the youngest of the seven kids, yelled with tears down his face – “King Archibald is the world best king. He’s our greatest leader!”
“Don’t worry, Thomas”, said Darius Crowley, comforting the youngling by hugging him – “People live and die, is the way of things. The King is now in a better place, don’t you remember the stories the Archbishop of Light’s Dawn Cathedral narrates when holidays? Well then, King Archibald is now in presence of the Holy Light.
Monty nodded as a sign of agreement, although he wasn’t sure about that. Thereupon, he introduced again his head in the stance, for watching what was happening.
Prince Genn stood up, saving face. Although his voice trembled, he gave his courtiers a clear order:
“Get away from here – I must be alone now. I will call you when necessary.”
“But, milord, there are important issues that require your attention”, Lord Godfrey replied – “There’s a Nation to rule, and the archbishop needs instructions for officiating the coronation – the most convenient date. For example…”
“Get out of my sight!”, Genn ordered with an authoritarian tone.
Godfrey shut up, and the noblemen left the room immediately. The kids ran in the opposite direction because they didn’t want to be busted, but Monty didn’t have enough time for sheltering before his father detained him.
“Snooping, right?”, he asked.
“I’m sorry, father. The kids and I wanted to know what happened…
“I understand”, answered Lord Charlton, unwilling to scold his son – “Montgomery, I must talk to you seriously.”
“Whatever you want, father”, the boy said quickly, thinking that he had avoided a good scolding.
Lord Charlton kneeled in front of him so he could stare at his eyes steadily. Monty observed his father’s serene & soothing visage, although he couldn’t obviate that something worried him.
“Montgomery, this thing that happened has made me think – like King Archibald, I’ll die someday, & you, like Genn, will be forced to continue without me. I consider my father’s duty to give you an advice, a guide you can grasp when I’m here no more and you inherit the Earldom of Stormglen. I’m going to tell you something you should already know – nothing is objective. It doesn’t exist something like evil or good. Everything is grey. Thus, do not waste your life fighting for what is good or just – you would be fooling yourself. Each man must follow his own values and choose what things are good and what things are not. Do as I do and simplify your philosophy like this – everything your king does is good and just, and everything that is against his plans is perverse. Serve your king with devotion, Montgomery, without question. If you start questioning your king’s commands, then you’ll start questioning the whole world, and then you’ll find out that life is not for philosophers. Philosophers destroy themselves and society. Now, my son, go to your chamber. We’re going home soon.
The carriage stopped in the Palace courtyard. The Manor arose, towering, among the mountains, atop a rocky ledge where you could behold not only Duskhaven and Duskmist Shore to the south, but also the Headlands region and the reefs bordering the Gilnean peninsula, there in the Great Sea.
The noblemen were invited to the King’s private chamber, where an improvised audience took place between the monarch and his underlings – Lord Godfrey, Marley, Hewell, Walden, Baron Ashbury and Montgomery Charlton.
“Is someone missed, Your Majesty?”, Godfrey asked.
“Yes”, the King answered – “Liam is on this way after having taken a slight detour to Duskhaven…”
“It’s because of that woman…”, Walden whispered to Lord Charlton with a gesture of disgust.
“Gentlemen, whatever you have to say about me please say it to my face instead of keeping it as courtiers’ gossip”, a feminine voice replied, with great passion.
Gwen Armstead, mayor of Duskhaven and leader of the Gilnean Liberal Party had put in appearance, accompanied by the august Prince Liam Greymane. They both bowed in front of the King.
“Good”, the monarch said – “Now we are all here. I have gathered you here, gentlemen, to address a pressing issue on the country internal defense. You’ll understand my unrest if I speak of these recent insurgent movements that have taken place in Northgate, just in front the Wall, by a group of ‘rebels’ that seem to be on disaccord about the decision of our Monarchy to cut off all diplomatic relationship with the foreign world and, in particular, with that disastrous Alliance of Lordaeron.”
Everyone nodded and made gestures of concern. Only Armstead, Godfrey and Charlton remained impassive, thoughtful, each one meditating on what could mean that, calculating endless possibilities…
“It is evident even for my most blind subjects that the leader of this uprising is Lord Crowley. I guess you were aware of it already, right?”
“His daughter plays an important role in this rebellion, Your Majesty, or so they say in Tempest’s Reach”, pointed out Lord Walden.
“That woman has never been trustworthy. She’s Machiavellian and calculating, like her father”, Lord Marley said.
“Gentlemen, it has come to my attention that some liberals have been in contact with the rebels in the Headlands, near Keel Harbor”, Lord Charlton unexpectedly said to the King, although his eyes steadily watched Gwen Armstead.
“That’s obloquy and defamation, Your Majesty!”, she answered, incensed – “No member of my party has something to do with this sedition – we liberals are democrats, not traitors. We want a Gilnean king to rule the government of Gilneas, not foreign nations like Lordaeron. For goodness’ sake, Your Majesty knows well that we utterly supported the construction of the Wall! When Lord Charlton and his ‘ultras’ are so kind as to stop calumniating us, perhaps then we can tackle this problem by imprisoning those truly responsible of this treason. We shouldn’t use this frail situation to beat political rivals, I say.”
There was silence while the King measured Armstead’s words:
“If it’s true, Miss Armstead, that there are traitors infiltrated within your party, you’ll understand me if I demand them to be brought to justice.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything different, Your Majesty! Trust me, my liege – the Liberal Party is loyal, patriotic and we will back up your government till your son succeeds you, because then we will swear allegiance to him.”
“So be it”, Charlton said – “But you may remember my words. Not in vain, Crowley still owns an estate within the Duskhaven municipal boundary…”
“That fact is undeniable, my liege”, Lord Godfrey noticed.
“Nevertheless, that’s not a valid reason for pillorying every single inhabitant in my town. You certain wouldn’t dare while I’m mayor”, she replied to Godfrey.
“We’re all allies, please”, Prince Liam said quickly, trying to make them calm down.
“Indeed”, the King pointed out – “My friends, this is a moment for us to undertake the defense of our country. Marley, the East Lords, Armstead and, of course, Charlton – your loyalty is vital for the survival of Gilneas. If you stand strong, loyal and you don’t yield to those betrayers, then our beautiful Nation will stand equally firm.”
Everyone nodded, agreeing with the King’s wise words.
“We undertake it, Your Majesty”, Hewell said.
“You can count on us, my liege”, Armstead pointed out.
“Then, my friends, swear your loyalty by virtue of everything our people believes sacred”, the King stated – “Do you swear by Aderic’s Relics that your forces won’t abandon you when you have to defend Gilneas and her Monarchy from their eternal enemies, even if these are also Gilneans, your brothers, and share your very same blood?
“We swear by Aderic’s Relics, Your Majesty, that our forces won’t abandon us when we have to defend you and Gilneas from your enemies, whoever they may be”, they all repeated with one voice.
“So be it”, Greymane replied – “And may the Light punish you if you have committed perjury.
“So be it.”
Months passed and riots got more severe. The Northgate Rebels spread across Gilneas like a plague, performing altercations and hurting members of the Royal Guard. Finally, the Civil War broke out, pitting loyalists against the supporters of Lord Darius Crowley, who demanded the demolition of the Wall and the reissue of the alliance with Lordaeron and the other human nations. But Genn Greymane didn’t yield, and battles for the control of the peninsula took place, being especially virulent in the Northern Headlands and Nothgate Woods.
In the Earldom of Stormglen, Montgomery Charlton ruled with iron fist, and his punishments were severe. Sometimes he organized raids in the Blackwald and the near forests, trying to locate rebel hideouts – the rebels were harshly punished before they were delivered to Gilneas City for being brought to justice and incarcerated in Stoneward Prison, forever.
The earl was in his study, being portrayed by a professional painter that came from Greymane Manor for that task. His steward and childhood friend, Alfred Sterling, bounce into the chamber with a poorly concealed expression of displeasure.
“What happens, Alfred? I know you well enough to know that something troubles you.”
“Sir, as you already know, I’m not only your Steward, but also, as administrator of your House, I’m forced to keep you abreast of everything that concerns you.”
“Come to the point, Alfred. I haven’t got the whole day for wasting it.”
“My liege, I guess you already know that the ‘disruptive’ citizens –we may say–, although they’re not rebels, they ask for more democracy. They want you to delegate to a mayor, like Lady Armstead."
“I’m aware, Alfred. I know those people well – I’m tired of imprisoning them.”
“Perhaps that’s the problem, sir. The liberals demand more freedoms, and some reforms. Maybe if you supported them…”
“Alfred, this ‘liberalism’ is not the arithmetic mean between the rebels and the loyalists. The Monarchy must survive, and shall survive, this conflict without taint neither ‘reforms’. My father was very clear about it when he was still the Earl of Stormglen, and I will fulfill his desires till the end.”
“What kind of ‘desires’ are those, sir?”
“Obey the King without questioning his government, whatever this would be.”
“I bet that’s the reason why they call us ‘ultra-royalists’, milord.”
“They got my point then”
“It’ll be better for me to leave you alone”, Sterling pointed out.
The steward performed a slight bow before turning around and walking towards the exit.
“Wait a minute, Alfred”, Lord Charlton said – “You’ve talked about the liberals – what liberals do we shelter in Stormglen…?”
Sterling opened the doors of the dining room, where Lord Charlton was taking his meal alone.
“Milord, mayor Armstead requests an audience with you”.
“Tell her I’m having dinner, Alfred. I won’t receive her until tomorrow.”
“Not at all, Charlton”, Armstead said, bouncing into the chamber indignantly – “I don’t expect staying any longer than necessary.”
“Gwen, it’s a pleasure to see you here in my domains.”
“Forget the formalities, Monty. What does it mean that you have ordained the incarceration of three members of my party?”
“Alfred, leave us alone”, Lord Charlton ordered to his majordomo before going on – “Three members of your party, milady, that incurred in illegalities within my jurisdiction.”
“Freedom of speech is now illegal?”
“It is in Stormglen.”
“That’s why people come to Duskhaven fleeing from your medieval ways, Monty.”
“Ah, Duskhaven! A paradise on earth, where everybody is blissful and the government respects the people.”
“It’s not the paradise we'd like, but it is a place ready for a change, open to progress. Stormglen might be like that, don’t you understand?”
“It’s easy to say, woman, when you’re the leader of a prosperous farming town, ‘the breadbasket of Gilneas’, with plenty of state grants and subsidies. But I lead a small village that hardly lives from fishing and hunting.”
“Are you really that petty? Are you locking yourself in the past?”
“And what about you, Gwen, are you so fool that you really think your liberal experiments won’t destroy our glorious Nation?”
There was silence between them.
“I’ll demand the King to set free your prisoners, Monty.”
“Do it, Gwen. I have nothing more to say.”
“Okay. Goodbye then, milord – my carriage is waiting for my in the courtyard.”
“Really? Aren’t you sharing my meal?”, Lord Charlton said sarcastically.
“No. I must be ready for tomorrow. And you too, by the way.”
“Sorry, but – ready for what?”, Charlton asked.
“You don’t know yet?”, Armstead boasted – “The King’s troops have captured Crowley in front of the Wall and they have delivered him to Stoneward this very morning. The war is over.
Lord Charlton stood up all of a sudden, stunned:
“You just heard me, milord. The celebration of the victory is tomorrow in Gilneas City.”
“You insolent woman! Do you dare to come to my House for speaking of trivialities about those pathetic followers of yours, instead of inform me of the most important event of the century? What was your point, milady?”
“To show you, milord, how much my followers mean to me.”
“Do they mean to you more than the King’s victory? That’s treason!”
“No, Monty, you’re the traitor! Traitor to your people, and someday you’ll regret it, I assure you.
Having said that, the mayor turned around and left the chamber. Alfred Sterling entered the stance then.
“Did you heard that, Alfred? The war is over!”
“Great news indeed, my liege!”
“Get ready my carriage while I put in order my issues, good friend. I must go to Gilneas City tomorrow morning”.
The carriage had left Stormglen and it was traveling the sinuous paths surrounded in fog. It was a cold morning and Lord Charlton expected to arrive the capital in time for the celebrations and fetes, although there’ll be none of that, for a new threat loomed over Gilneas.
Believing to be safe after the end of the rebellion, Lord Charlton surprised when the chariot was hit from every angle, and the cabin turned over. He heard the screams of his escort, and the sound of ripping, tearing, chewing. He had no idea of what was happening, and the blow had stunned him. Everything was spinning around him.
Suddenly, something tore apart the door of the cabin. A lupine figure with red eyes and big fangs ran at Lord Charlton, biting and rending. The nobleman managed to extract a sharp dagger from his belt, sticking it into the beast, but it was already late, for he had been seriously injured, and in his bloodied arm he had the mark of fangs and teeth.
Before falling unconscious, Lord Charlton heard the howls, and he also heard how those creatures were heading to Stormglen.
The worgen invasion had begun.
Lord Montgomery Charlton
|Charleton||Los Errantes Europe||Warlock||1||None||None|
- "Indeed, I say"
- —Lord Charlton
Lord Montgomery Charlton, 3rd Earl of Stormglen, is a Gilnean nobleman fiercely loyal to his King, Genn Greymane.
He is in his late forties. As many Gilneans, he is burly and gruff. The Earldom of Stormglen, which includes the land of Stormglen Village and The Blackwald, was given to his grandfather Winston Charlton by the king Archibald Greymane. After this, the Charlton family became a loyal adviser to the Greymane Dinasty.
Second War and the Greymane Wall
He was like twenty years old when the orcs launched an offensive against the Alliance of Lordaeron, thus starting the Second War. By the end of the war and the defeat of the Horde, he utterly supported the decision of King Greymane about leaving the Alliance and he received those news joyfully. Being extremely isolationist, he also supported the Greymane Wall's construction.
He soon learnt to hate Lord Darius Crowley and all those pro-Alliance mongrels. For him, they were merely traitors and secessionist. He became a close friend of King Greymane, Lord Hewell and the other two eastern lords, Lord Walden and Baron Ashbury, but he was in constant fight with Lord Vincent Godfrey, who he considered a selfish faker that held no true loyalty to their king. Because of that, Lord Charlton's only intentions were to cut off any political influence that both Crowley and Godfrey could hold, although unsuccessfully.
Civil War and Worgen Curse
With the start of the Northgate rebellion and the Gilneas civil war, Lord Charlton's worst fears came true. Shortly before the official beginning of the conflict, Lord Charlton, as earl of Stormglen, met with King Genn Greymane, Prince Liam Greymane, Gwen Armstead, and Lord Godfrey to discuss about the recent news of "rebellion" among the people in Northgate Woods. There, Gwen and Charlton swore allegiance to their king and promised to rule their respective holdings —Duskhaven and Stormglen Village, the two biggest settlements in Gilneas after Greymane City— in support of the monarchy and against the northgate rebels. And so they did. Lord Charlton was far more severe in his punishments than Armstead — soon Stormglen Village got free from traitors and criminals.
When Lord Darius Crowley and his underlings where captured and confined in Stoneward Prison, Lord Charlton received the news while he was in Stormglen. He prepared a carriage to leave to Gilneas City immediately, thinking the capital would be sunk in the feast and celebration — Sadly, it was not, for the Worgen invasion had begun. Riding through the misty roads of Gilneas, believing to be safe as the rebellion had ended, the carriage was suddenly attacked by a pack of feral worgen that came out of The Blackwald. Lord Charlton's escort was murdered by the beasts and he was bitten by one of those nightmarish creatures.
With their beloved lord lost without a trace, and thus without a true leadership except for some minor military, Stormglen Village soon fell against the worgen swarm that ravaged the town and spread the curse to all of its inhabitants. Those newly-turned worgen fled to the nearby Blackwald, running wild through the forest. There, a bloody worgen early known as Lord Charlton join them as one more of the pack.
After the Forsaken invasion and tremors of the Cataclysm, the surviving residents of Duskhaven —led by King Greymane and Mayor Armstead— fled to Stormglen Village, hoping to find safety in the arms of their friendly neighbors and to enjoy Lord Charlton's hospitality. They discovered that the residents of Stormglen disappeared without a trace, however, leaving the village abandoned.
Soon after, Gilnean adventurers find out the population of Stormglen living safety in The Blackwald, under a big tree known as Tal'doren, though they had been all turned to worgen. Apparently, night elven druids helped those mindless creatures to regain their sanity. Lord Crowley was one of these new sane worgen, and so was Lord Charlton too. Although the earl, believing to be a monster and flatly refusing to consider the villanous Crowley his "brother", had given up the command of the Stormglen villagers. Charlton sunk into a deep depression believing that his king would treat him as the beast he was, until King Genn Greymane himself came to Tal'doren to parley with Lord Crowley, and revealed to be afflicted by the worgen curse too. This cheered up Lord Charlton and, after he was given an explanation to about the situation, the fracture of the Greymane Wall and the Horde invasion, he retook the command of a small worgen militia and swore to defend Gilneas and its people from any harm until death if necessary.
Not so much later, Lord Godfrey, with the help of the eastern lords, Baron Ashbury and Lord Walden, kidnapped King Greymane and Lord Hewell, who had refused to help them betraying their king. Lord Godfrey had planned to turn Genn Greymane over to the Forsaken in exchange for an end to hostilities. Lord Charlton, furious with Godfrey and feeling betrayed by his old two friends, Ashbury and Walden, made peaces with Lord Crowley and lead a worgen party to ruin the eastern lords' scheme. Lord Charlton's allies triumphed as they saw how Godfrey threw himself over a cliff in Tempest's Reach, finding a certain death as he smashed against the sharp rocks below.
Lord Crowley founded the Gilneas Liberation Front to fight the Forsaken with the aid of the Alliance. Lord Charlton initially distrusted this organization and feared that this new Alliance was not legit, such as the previous one. However, he tried to get on well with Crowley and his night elven allies, and he joined the GLF along with his Stormglen militia, everything to preserve the safety in Gilnean lands. As long as Crowley fought selflessly to defend the people of Gilneas, Lord Charlton fought next to him, avoiding thinking of Crowley as a traitor. Together they pressed up the Forsaken through Silverpine Forest and Hillsbrad Foothills, and it was okay until...
Crowley's daughter, Lorna, was kidnapped by an undead Godfrey and Sylvanas used her to her own ends — if Crowley continued battling the Forsaken, Lorna would die and become an undead such as Godfrey. But, if he stopped leading the GLF and gave up defending Gilneas, Lorna would be set free. Lord Charlton believed the safety of Gilnean people was more important than a sole life, no matters if that life was Crowley's daughter's. Charlton believed Crowley thought that way too, and that he would resist stoically the lost of Lorna if that protected Gilneas. So Charlton got shocked when Crowley immediatly gave up and surrendered to Sylvanas, and he suddenly remembered all the hatred he felt toward the traitorous and criminal Lord Crowley back to the Civil war. Lord Charlton left the scene howling in anger, and fled back to Gilneas to regroup his forces in Stormglen Village.
He stubbornly refused to leave Gilneas, and preferred to stay in Stormglen instead of reaching safety in Darnassus or Stormwind City, strange lands he hadn't ever been to. If he had to die, he would die in Gilneas, where he belongs. He currently still hates Lord Darius Crowley, and he despises him more and more each passing day, as Charlton sees the lands of the beautiful Gilneas uninhabited and unprotected, left behind like if it was something you can throw away. To see Duskhaven underwater is terribly painful for him, and he can't stand walking through the empty streets of Gilneas City since it is left as an abandoned battleground. He considers himself a fanatically loyal servitor of King Greymane, but in turn he doesn't obey his king when he asks Charlton to leave Gilneas and reach Alliance territories.
Speaking of the devil, Lord Charlton has learnt to distrust the new Alliance as much as the original one, and he shows a xenophobic attitude towards any non-Gilnean that dares to enter the now ruined land of Greymane. Pretty much as during the Second War, he seems to think that a sole Gilnean army is able to stand against the Horde offensive, no matters if this has been proven to not to work. If he has to sacrifice his troops or his own life, he’ll do it to safeguard Gilneas.
He obviously thinks that fleeing to Alliance lands was an error that has to be fixed in order to retake their own territory, but King Greymane doesn’t seem to take seriously his old councilor’s advices. Lord Charlton hates the Horde and he utterly hates the Forsaken. What he really want is to see every undead exterminated and every orc slain, he wants to retake Gilneas and even the territories of Pyrewood Village, Ambermill and, if possible, the whole of Silverpine.
Some say Lord Charlton is an old megalomaniac man, insane of vengeance, that will lead himself and his troops to a certain suicide mission. But these troops, all of them from Stormglen and the Blackwald, follow their Lord with utter devotion, as they think they’re serving King Greymane by protecting the ruined lands of Gilneas.
| Preceded by:|
Lord Charlton the 2nd
Earl of Stormglen
| Succeeded by:|
Lord Charlton the 1st
| Preceded by:|
Earl of Stormglen
| Succeeded by:|
Lord Charlton the 2nd
Surly is the steed of Lord Montgomery Charlton. She is a Gilnean Swift Mountain Horse. She has served Lord Charlton since she was born. After the attack performed on Stormglen by a pack of feral worgen, Surly ventured in The Blackwald, where eventually she was found safely by Alfred Sterling, who drove her to Lord Charlton again in Tal'doren.
Alfred Sterling, Steward of Lord Charlton
- "It is indeed a lovely afternoon for a ride in the carriage. Alfred, would you be so kind as to fetch the can of riff-raff be-gone? I'm afraid the commoners are being quite vulgar."
- "Yes, Lord Charlton"
- —Alfred Sterling
Alfred Sterling is the Gilnean steward of Lord Charlton. He's and old loyal friend of his master.
Alfred has served the House of Charlton since he was a young kid, acting as office boy to Lord Charlton the 2nd. He is now in his sixties.
He was badly injured by the worgen pack that ravaged Stormglen Village while he tried to defend Lord Charlton's household in his absence. He ventured into The Blackwald fleeing from the slaughter. Alfred almost died until a moon priestess named Belysra Starbreeze found him nearby Bradshaw Mill and healed his wounds, though she was unable to prevent him from turning into a feral worgen.
Lord Darius Crowley and some night elven druids catched him and helped him to recover his sanity, thus becoming one of the Greymane worgen. In Tal'doren, Alfred met Lord Charlton, who had been turned into a worgen too. He entered again into his master's service by recovering his household chores. When Lord Charlton decided to stay in Stormglen instead of fleeing to Darnassus, Alfred stayed with him and today he continues serving his master in the retaking of Gilneas from Forsaken claws.
Jan'thar was the leader of one of the night elven Highborne Houses — the Moonlight. His family was from Suramar, the religious capital of the kaldorei race. Jan'thar used to study in the great Highborne library of Izal-Shurah, but he grew to despise the popular ambiance of the city, full of religious superstition often related to the low castes. As many other night elves, he hopelessly fell in love with the Queen Azshara, and eventually he gave up the worshipping of Elune, and instead began to zealously worship his queen as the goddess she should be. Later on, as his love towards his queen grew to burn him from the inside, he left Suramar forever and set his residence in the glorious metropoli of Zin-Azshari.
He became an sly politician and was always willing to go to any means to elevate himself in her queen's eyes. Bit by bit, he got into Azshara's Court within the Eternal Palace, an worked with many other arcanists draining the endless power of the Well of Eternity. But he rarely had friends. He envied Lord Xavius due to his proximity to the queen, and he hated Captain Varo'then because he was enamoured of her too. The only one he seemed to tolerate was Dath'Remar Sunstrider, always kind and compassionate with his highborne fellows.
War of the AncientsWhen Lord Xavius convinced Queen Azshara to use the Well of Eternity as a portal that could grant the Burning Legion and Sargeras himself access to Azeroth, Jan'thar was initially suspicious. Xavius repeatedly claimed Sargeras' godhood, which Jan'thar refused to accept as Azshara was the only goddess he would worship. However, as Azshara herself was excited and ready to do whatever her councilor requested, Jan'thar resufed to heed his own will and bowed to his queen's selfish desires. He began to work with the other arcanists to focus the energies of the Well in a way the demons of the Burning Legion could travel through it from the Nether. And so they did. Hakkar the Houndmaster was the first demonlord to cross the portal, though many others followed him to bring destruction upon Azeroth, such as Mannoroth and, ultimately, Lord Archimonde.
At the beginning, Jan'thar feared the demons and trembled before the presence of a simple felguard, not to mention the dreaded nathrezim or the mighty annihilan. But eventually he learnt to treat and control those evil creatures, showing at least a moderate affinity to more sinister forms of magic than sorcery. He tried to follow the warlock path but he couldn't learn so much until the Kaldorei Resistance led by Kur'talos Ravencrest, was created to stop the Burning Crusade — thus, the War of the Ancients started.
The war went on for long time and Jan'thar remained apart from the continuous battles, staying in the back lines within the comfort of Zin-Azshari and enjoying the luxury and opulence of the Highborne Court. He and the other Highborne loyal to the Burning Legion, helped by the dreadlords, recklessly continued draining the energies of the Well, getting soon utterly drunk and imbued by its magic and power.
When his old home city of Suramar was destroyed by the summoned demons, and its rebel citizens were used by the nathrezim to accomplish interesting necromantic experiments, Jan'thar realised that Sargeras' intentions were to destroy the whole of Kalimdor. However, he didn't care as long as the demons promised to let Azshara and her Highborne zealots to retain their magical powers. Plus, the glorious queen couldn't be wrong as she had always been the undisputed and chosen ruler of the night elves, regardless what that tree-loving druid would say.
Finally, the Kaldorei Resistance led siege to the city of Zin-Azshari and Malfurion Stormrage, together with his beloved Tyrande Whisperwind and with the help of the dragonflights, assaulted the Eternal Palace and managed to confront Queen Azshara herself and her Highborne loyalists. In the middle of the battle, Jan'thar, escorted by demon underlings, continuously worked upon the Well of Eternity to open the portal that would grant Sargeras access to Azeroth. Fearing that the kaldorei forces were nearer and nearer, and finally aware that the queen had fled from the palace with the help of Captain Varo'then, Jan'thar found a way out of the battleground, leaving his arcanist fellows alone to stand before the ravaging night elven rebels that sought to destroy the portal they were opening.
Trying to run away from what he thought that was a slaughter between rebels and demons, he convinced part of the royal guards to scort him out of the city with the main purpose of regrouping with the queen in a new safe place. As the other sorcerers had died in the hands of the kaldorei, he plotted to become the sole skilled enough arcanist in the personal service of the queen. His schemes, however, were foiled by the cataclysmic destruction that happened in the moment the Well of Eternity exploded, resulting in the Sundering. The continent of Kalimdor fragmented in four minor land masses, and the magnificient city of Zin-Azshari flooded, sinking in the ocean.
Jan'thar had gone far enough from the metropoli core to not to perish in the middle of the destruction. He, along with a very few other Highborne survivors, reached the not-yet-ruined minor city of Eldarath. They gathered within the Temple of Zin-Malor, awaiting for news about what did exactly happen. Eventually, they learnt about the destruction of the Well, the defeat of the Burning Legion, and the demise of Queen Azshara, who they began to think had "passed away". The surviving Highborne refused to accept Malfurion and Tyrande's "New Order" and stubbornly preferred exile instead of giving up their arcane powers. Most of them fled along with Dath'Remar Sunstrider to unknown lands beyond the Great Sea, while others decided to move to the city of Eldre'Thalas under the leadership of Prince Tortheldrin.
Jan'thar disgusted the idea of fleeing to an exile forced by low castes such us druids and priestess. He was still a Highborne and he had birthrights within his people! He stayed within the Ruins of Eldarath and lived in one of the forgotten arcane towers the kaldorei erected thousands of years ago. As the Well of Eternity's energies had been vanished, Jan'thar summoned different minor demons such as voidwalkers or wrathguards to sustain his immortality and arcane abilities via draining the demons' fel energy. Those vile creatures were held captives inside the catacombs beneath the Temple of Zin-Malor.
In the aftermath of the War of the Satyr, a satyr named Jaxxar reached Azshara while fleeing from Ashenvale, trying to get away from his night elven haunters. Jan'thar felt sorry for this wretched being and let him enter to his service as his personal steward.
Jan'thar usually traveled to Dire Maul to spend time learning the new lifestyle of his previously-aristocratic Highborne brothers and sisters. Many of them had concluded that "errors were made" and that allying with the Burning Legion was an error, implying that everything had been Queen Azshara's fault. Jan'thar didn't think that way. He began to disgust his own brethren as he saw them weak and manipulated by the new kaldorei government. Nevertheless, Jan'thar acknowledged the progress that they, led by Prince Tortheldrin, had achieved with the construction of the magic pylons and the enslavement of the demon Immol'thar. As the fel energies of minor voidwalkers were not as effective as the ones of Immol'thar, Jan'thar was forced to make a periodic pilgrimage seeking to feed upon those better magics if he wanted to maintain his arcane abilities.
Millenia passed, and the thirst of magic finally madened Prince Tortheldrin and his Highborne Shen'dralar followers. While Jan'thar was away in Azshara, they tried to restrain their source of immortality only for themselves, so they slaughtered many of the other magic users within Dire Maul until they were sure the pylons and the energies of Immol'thar were safe at their hands. They grew more and more xenophobic, and when Jan'thar arrived to Eldre'thalas, they refuse to let him enter their sanctuary and drove him away from their lands.
The Third War and aftermath
When the armies of the Burning Legion and the Undead Scourge invaded Kalimdor by second time, Jan'thar decided to stay away from the conflict. He had always been suspicious by nature, and without his beloved queen's leadership, he wasn't sure to side with his former masters. Jan'thar secluded himself within his arcane tower in Eldarath and simply waited hoping the war to end soon. Unfortunately, the vile satyr Jaxxar betrayed his master, telling Tichondrius the Darkener where could find the surviving arcanist. The dreadlord led a party of satyrs that found Jan'thar in Azshara and forced him to serve the Legion draining the power of the moonwells in Felwood. When Illidan Stormrage slayed Tichondrius, Jan'thar managed to escape from the satyrs that held him captive, killing the traitorous Jaxxar in the process.
Months later, when Archimonde and the Burning Legion had been defeated, strange, watery creatures that called themselves "naga" began to colonise Azshara and other regions in Kalimdor. Jan'thar tried to protect his valuable belongings beneath the Temple of Zin-Malor, but a sole mage couldn't stand against the endless waves of naga. Warlord Krellian soon conquered the temple in the name of Nazjatar. Jan'thar faced a severe withdrawal as his main sources of fel energy were lost in the hands of the naga. He survived via summoning minor demons like imps, creatures that he could handle with during his seclusion inside the arcane tower, sometimes draining a better amount of magic if he managed to capture a naga sorcerer. Nevertheless, Jan'thar began to study this new naga race and eventually he discovered who actually were them. Recognizing the fate of his lost brethren, he signed a truce with the naga and began to trade with them, though initially there was suspicion by both parties. When the naga became aware that Jan'thar's intentions were not to harm them, but rather to survive, they let him alone with his researches.
The Horde then marched upon Azshara and claimed it as its own, giving the region to the goblin refugees of the Bilgewater Cartel. Working in Eldarath became almost impossible as Horde adventures led siege to the ruins seeking to drive out of the city the naga forces led by Lord Kassarus. Plus, the goblins had started to "reshape" the coastal land, resulting in an insufferable industrial noise. Holding no respect towards night elves, highborne or not, the Horde forced Jan'thar to left Azshara forever.
Jan'thar went on exile, trying to set his residence in Ashenvale. With no results due to the recent Horde invasion over the region, he began to hate the Horde. He tirelessly continued marching until he reached Darkshore, where he had never been to since before the Sundering, when Ameth'Aran and Bashal'Aran still were big highborne settlements under the government of Athrikus Narassin.
Jan'thar explored the region and he discovered the ruins of Auberdine, where he could feed upon the remaining energies of the abandoned moonwell. He settled there and eventually he met a party of night elven mages that went in pilgrimage from Dire Maul to Darnassus. They were going to reunite with Archmage Mordent Evenshade and were led by a Highborne mage named Daros Moonlance. Jan'thar introduced himself as Jan'thar the Gifter, and after they had explained him the events that led the Shen'dralar to rejoin their night elven brothers, Jan'thar decided to accompany them in their journey.
When they reached Teldrassil, Jan'thar firstly thought that the night elven druids had become too much arrogant and undisciplined for daring to create such a monstruosity without Nature's blessing. He veiledly smirked and got ready to show up within the night elf capital after being exiled for millenia. Finally, those kaldorei zealots realised the value of the arcana, and the importance of the Highborne caste!
While in Darnassus, he gathered with his mage fellows and some wolf-shaped allies inside a big tree called the Howling Oak. There, he met Archmage Mordent Evenshade, who, along with Daros Moonlance, had emerged as leader of the kaldorei mages of the "Alliance" — a pathetic group of multiple lower races that believe themselves to be skilled enough in the ways of arcane when they are no more than fledglings compared to the power of a Highborne. Jan'thar holds nothing more than contempt towards this Alliance. Evenshade seemed a dotard that regretted everything they —the Highborne— made in the past, blaming on Queen Azshara and the Legion for the Sundering, when it wasn't their fault, but Malfurion's brilliant idea to blow up the world all along with the Well of Eternity!
Nowadays, Jan'thar "the Gifter" is focusing his efforts to secretly recruit the surviving Highborne and the new kaldorei mages to achieve his own purposes outside the official night elven objectives. This emerging group of arcanists have began to rebuild the former Highborne Houses, beginning with the House of Moonlight, which Jan'thar is the master of. Though he always states that they only want to "recall" old, better days, night elven authorities are suspicious and paranoid about this meetings.
In Darnassus, Jan'thar usually visits the moonwell inside the Temple of the Moon. There, he stares at its fathomless silver light, daydreaming to, someday, drain its great energies and become more powerful than any other Highborne alive or dead.
Officially, he will help the Alliance to fight the Horde because he does not want to see their land occupied by these green mongrels. however, the Alliance is merely the means to an end, as he share no love towards the other mortal races in Azeroth — excepting, perhaps, the high elves.
- Flower of the Moon, my heart beats only to serve Your Glory!
- Whilst Zin-Azshari is a city blessed by the Vision of Perfection, Suramar is home to low castes, to mental depravation, to soul sickness. In other words — to religion.
- Our Queen taught us plenty of things, not only sorcery — for example, that it is much more effective to be a loved ruler than a feared one.
- I hear voices —even among these piteous, modern Shen'dralar— blaming our last legit ruler for the Sundering, when it was that tree-loving druid's idea to blow up the world all along with the Well of Eternity, not Azshara's, not my Queen's!
- Evenshade forgets I was there when he so passionately dragged himself across the floor with the intention of gaining our Queen's favor, ten thousand years ago. And now he blames her?! Perhaps he forgot I do know all his secrets...
Jaxxar, Steward of Moonlight
- "Moral — never trust a satyr again."
- —Jan'thar Moonlight after killing Jaxxar
He was a Highborne prior to the Sundering who accepted Lord Xavius' gift and was turned into a satyr. He renamed himself "Jaxxar" and served the Burning Legion until it was eventually defeated by the Kaldorei Resistance.
After the War of the Ancients, Jaxxar joined his satyr fellows against the night elves, starting the War of the Satyr. When the night elves won the war, most of the satyr race was slain. Jaxxar managed to run away and left Ashenvale, reaching Azshara and hiding within the ruins of Eldarath. He was badly injuried, but Jan'thar Moonlight, the Highborne hermit that lived there, felt sorry about this wretched creature and decided to heal Jaxxar's wounds. The grateful satyr accepted to enter into Jan'thar's service as his steward.
Jaxxar helped his master to drain the magic from fel creatures like voidwalkers and wrathguards, demons that Jan'thar summoned whithin the Temple of Zin-Malor. While Jan'thar was absent during his periodic pilgrimages to Eldre'Thalas, Jaxxar held down the fort too.
Betrayal and death
When the Burning Legion invaded Kalimdor by second time during the Third War, Jaxxar secretly contacted the demonlords. He was ashamed that his master refused to help the Legion's forces against the kaldorei, so he decided to betray Jan'thar and imform Lord Tichondrius that he was hidding inside one of he abandoned arcane towers in Eldarath. The dreadlord commanded a party led by Jaxxar himself to catch Jan'thar and take him to Felwood, where he would drain the energy of the night elven moonwells as part of Tichondrius' scheme to corrupt the neighboring lands and forests.
However, Tichondrius was slain by Illidan Stormrage and the night elves decimated the satyr population of Felwood. This enabled Jan'thar to escape from his capturers and confront the traitorous Jaxxar. With no mercy, the Highborne sorcerer slaughtered his former steward and fed upon the energies of the dying Jaxxar, making the pain unbearable until the end.