Under the star-pocked night sky, Ogden Farrow sat alone in the burnt-out husk of his family’s old farmhouse. He had set a fire in the hearth—one of the only parts of the structure besides bits of the walls that was still standing—and was staring at a picture in the flickering orange light. It depicted his parents, Jon and Dana, standing in front of that very same house back in happier days, before death and ruin came to Westfall. The bottom of the picture was frayed, the tops of two heads above the jagged edges betraying the fact that there had been two other figures present prior to being torn in half.
The sallow-faced man didn’t need to see the missing piece to remember exactly what had been there. On the left was a young Ogden, barely seven years old at the time, his hair a lighter shade of brown than it was at present. He ran his long, gnarled fingers through the greasy dark locks that fell nearly to his shoulders, briefly calculating how long it had been since he’d gotten a chance to bathe. On the right was his older brother, Jace, someone who had once been Ogden’s idol. Now, whenever he thought about his brother, only a deep sense of sorrow filled his heart.
Jace was three years Ogden’s elder, and he could still recall the day the letter arrived half a decade after the family had posed for the picture that invited Jace to Stormwind. It had been from the Stonemasons Guild, written to Jace personally by the guild’s leader, Edwin VanCleef, accepting the boy’s application to become an apprentice to the master artisans and stoneworkers. The guild had recently been contracted by the city’s House of Nobles to begin reconstruction efforts following its decimation by the Horde during the First War.
Their parents had been so proud, they’d immediately gone out to gather all their neighbors together for a huge celebration. Ogden could still almost taste the beer basted boar ribs, blood sausages, and Westfall stew served at the party. It made him painfully aware of just how empty his stomach was at the moment, and he closed his eyes as he tried to remember what it felt like to have a full belly. It was something he hadn’t gotten to experience in a long time. A few days after the party, Theodore Furlbrow gave Jace a ride to Stormwind when he hitched his faithful mare, Old Blanchy, to his wagon and transported the recent harvest from his farm to sell in the city.
It was a few years later when the regular letters Jace would send his family began containing some concerning bits of news. Work on rebuilding the city had suddenly returned in the middle of the night, awakening his family in a panic. He revealed to them that the House of Nobles reneged on the promised payment to the guild for finishing the restoration in such a short amount of time. VanCleef was furious, and many of the craftsmen and laborers were beginning to lash out. Most had come from other parts of the kingdom, leaving their families behind in order to help expedite the project, and after their years of hard work, they had nothing to show for it. The Stormwind Guard arrested several guild members for vandalization of property and disturbing the peace, which only fanned the flames further.
Jace suddenly returned to the Farrow family’s farmhouse in the middle of the night three weeks after his previous letter. He awakened his parents in a panic, telling them that something terrible had happened. VanCleef had gone to meet with King Varian Wrynn about the situation with the House of Nobles, hoping the king would intervene on the guild’s behalf. While Varian was sympathetic to their plight, he told VanCleef that his hands were tied. He didn’t have the authority to release the funds from the treasury directly, as only the House of Nobles could do that. VanCleef tried appealing to them one final time, but not only was he rebuffed, they ordered the Stonemasons Guild to disband.
That was the last straw for the guild. A riot broke out all over Stormwind. The members felt that if they weren’t going to be paid for their work, the city shouldn’t get to benefit from their labors. The city guard was dispatched to try to quell the mob, but the outrage of the Stonemasons couldn’t be stamped out. In a bid to calm the rioters, Varian and his wife Tiffin appeared amongst them as a show of solidarity. Unfortunately, amidst all the chaos, Tiffin was struck by one of the rocks being thrown at the guards and was killed. When this happened, many of the Stonemasons fled the city, fearing a brutal reprisal against them in response to the queen’s death.
Holding his dead wife in his arms, Varian seemed to forget about everything happening around him. Several guards were forced to practically drag him and Tiffin’s body back to the safety of Stormwind Keep. The death of their beloved queen sent the remaining guards into a frenzy, unleashing their fury upon the mob. Many were beaten within inches of their life, and a large swathe were arrested, locked away in the Stockades beneath the city. Varian was nearly inconsolable, and whatever sympathy had been held for the guild dissipated immediately with Tiffin’s death.
Tears were streaming down Jace’s cheeks, when he admitted to his parents that it was he who threw the rock. He hadn’t meant to hit her—he was simply caught up in the frenzy and hurled it without regard for where it went. It was simply terrible luck that it ended up striking Tiffin in the head. There wasn’t any way for him to know if anyone else knew he was the one who actually killed the king’s wife. If they did, they might attempt to bargain with the city officials, offering information in exchange for their freedom. There was no chance he would be given a fair trial, and would likely be executed for what he’d done.
Ogden could still very clearly recall what occurred two nights later. It started when the Farrows began hearing screams way off in the distance. When they went outside to see what was going on, they saw a column of thick smoke billowing towards the star-filled sky, and the distinctive orange glow from a roaring fire. The thunderous clattering of hooves could be heard, and soon enough, a stampede of Stormwind soldiers astride their galloping steeds made their approach. Jace seemed to be familiar with the man riding at the head of the company. His name was Captain Thomas, and he bore the intimidating air of authority when he confronted the family.
“Jace Farrow,” Thomas said, “I’m here on behalf of the king. I have orders to arrest you for the murder of Queen Tiffin Wrynn.”
“I…I didn’t mean…” Jace stammered, but his father placed a hand on his shoulder to silence him.
“My son’s done nothing to warrant being arrested,” Jon argued. “What evidence do you have to accuse my boy of murder?”
“A witness said he saw Jace throw the rock that killed the queen,” Thomas declared.
“What witness? One of the people you tossed in the dungeon?”
“This witness was one of those rounded up during the riot, yes,” the captain confirmed.
Jon shook his head angrily. “So you march up here on the word of someone desperate to escape punishment themselves? This isn’t justice—it’s a witch hunt.”
The other soldiers shifted restlessly in their saddles, eyeing the Farrow family with suspicion. Thomas climbed off his horse and strode up to Jon, his steel plate armor jangling with each step. The blue plume atop his helm caught the wind and flapped to and fro behind him. He gripped the collar of his blue tabard emblazoned with Stormwind’s sigil: the proud lion. Looking from father to son, he stared hard at the boy before turning his attention back to Jon.
“If you insist on trying to interfere with our duty, we’ll have no choice but to consider you and your family accomplices to his crimes. Stand down and hand him over. Now.”
Ogden couldn’t help but notice how Thomas’ hand moved to the hilt of his sheathed sword. Jon, too, seemed poised for an attack, but the only thing within reach was the pitchfork he used to bale the hay on their farm. The captain drew his weapon first, sending Jon lunging for the pitchfork. Ogden’s father just barely managed to bring it around in time to block the soldier’s blade. Jon fended off several more strikes, and Ogden briefly held out hope that he might emerge from the exchange victorious. But that was when the other soldiers joined the fray.
Beset by five armored men wielding swords of their own, Jon was impossibly outnumbered. Both Ogden and Jace charged at the soldiers with nothing but a need to protect their father. They were quickly scooped up and restrained as two other soldiers stabbed at Jon from behind, piercing through his spine and into his lungs. He toppled to the ground, wheezing and struggling to cling to life, but it rapidly slipped away. Falling eerily still, it was clear that he was dead.
“What should we do with them?” one of the soldiers asked, motioning with his head at the boys.
Thomas considered the question for a moment before replying, “Let the younger one go. Jace is coming with us.”
“You can’t do that!” Dana cried, trying to rush to her son’s side. One of the soldiers stepped in her path and pinned her arms behind her back. “Please! I’ll do anything—just let my boy go!”
“We have no interest in anything you could offer,” Thomas told her bluntly. Gesturing at several soldiers, he said, “Burn it down. These people need to see what happens to anyone who defies the king.”
One of the soldiers holding a torch tossed it at the roof of the Farrows’ farmhouse. A second one stepped up and did the same. Two more moved around to opposite sides of the structure and lit the wooden wall aflame. Jace was manacled and attached to a long chain. The soldier holding it got back on his horse and led the boy away while Dana and Ogden were powerless to stop it. As Ogden looked over at his mother, he could see the brash plan formulating in her head. He wanted to reach out and grab her, but she was too far, and he was still being held back by a soldier.
“You will not take my son!” Dana exclaimed. Moving much faster than anyone expected, she threw off the grip of the soldier who had been restraining her and pulled the sword from his belt. She charged at Thomas, but her assault was batted away with ease. Ogden could only look on as the captain skewered her like one of the boars his father would butcher for her to cook. Thomas called out a command for the soldiers to depart, and they rode on to the next farm while their comrade took Jace towards Stormwind. Ogden was left all alone with nothing but the corpses of his parents and the only home he’d ever known burning to ash right before his eyes.
After the soldiers had finished hunting down the Stonemasons hiding throughout Westfall, the region was left in shambles. Ogden was far from the only one left homeless and bereft of family. He refused to go to Stormwind, where the orphanage was already overcrowded with those left parentless after the Second War. Those left behind in Westfall did whatever they needed to survive. The kindly Farmer Saldean and his wife Salma often made stew for the orphans and other unfortunate souls dwelling in the area, but there was never enough to go around. Many turned to crime as a means of scraping by, and Ogden was no different.
As he forced himself to breach the surface of these painful memories, breathing in the present moment, Ogden found that he was once again in the ruins of his childhood home. With a final sorrowful glance at his picture, he tossed it into the fire. The king, the nobles, the soldiers…they had taken everything from him. Now he had a chance to pay them back in kind. He pulled a red bandana out of his pocket and tied it around his face. His blades were sharp and his hatred fueled the inferno raging within him. Edwin VanCleef had forged a new path for all those who had suffered under the heel of Stormwind. They were now the Defias Brotherhood. VanCleef promised they would take what they were owed, whether it was paid in gold or in blood. Ogden didn’t care about the gold—the only thing he wanted now was vengeance.