James Alexssen

Son of Ashton

[sonofashton-blog]

James Alexssen, Son of Ashton

[dominonofashton-blog]

And so a Lord is born

“You’ll do helluva lot better of a job than I’d ever done…”

“Everyone loves you, you’ll do great! Trust me, James. Pa’ll be proud.”

“You’re so much like your father, but you’re just… nicer.”

“Goodbye, son. I love you. Do me, and Ashton proud.”

These words refused to leave the teenager’s mind as the day passed, and night began. Tossing and turning in his silken sheets, sleep neglected him. With eyes filled with uncertainty and red streaks due to the great lack of rest, he sits up and reaches for his leather journal filled with entries since his tenth birthday.  Grabbing a pen, he begins to log.

Today, the third of the ninth month, marks the day my father, a Great Lord of Ashton, left us… for good? I do not know. The second Great Lord was killed by his own son, Ulfmaerr, in trial by combat. I don’t know why I’m writing this. That isn’t something you’ll ever forget seeing, and that day officially marked the day of the beginning of a new generation for Ashton. Atleast that’s what my pa says. I suppose I agree with him. “You’re the first Son of Ashton within our bloodline. Ever since you were born, I’ve been training you, lecturing you, and teaching you the ways of leadership, and how to rule this land. By the side of Ulmaerr, you two will lead Ashton in a new way that us founders never thought. I will not be here to tell you what choices to make as I have been before. And you will not be alone.” Son of Ashton is something I’ve been called my entire life. I don’t know where I want to take Ashton, but Ulfmaerr seems to have an idea. I knew that this time would come sometime, but not now… why now? I still have so much to learn. I don’t know what I’m doing.

He stopped writing and fell back on his bed, staring up to the tan painted ceiling, letting the journal rest open on his bare chest. Letting out a deep sigh, he shakes his head, trying to think of a plan, though ultimately lost in what to do, overwhelmed by all the responsibility suddenly laid upon him. James eventually sits back up and begins writing on the next page.

There isn’t anything more I want in this world, than the success of Ashton and its people. Any foe we have, I will slay. Any wrinkle, I will flatten. Any internal conflict, I will settle. But will that be enough? Will Ulfmaerr and I be able to do more good for Ashton than our fathers? Ulfmaerr certainly thinks so, but my father said to “keep an eye” on him. Father doesn’t trust him, but did not tell me why. He wants me to figure it out on my own, and said that he coddled me too much, and knows mother won’t stop no matter how much he’s told her to stop. Giving up will never be a luxury I will have, and I cannot afford to let others know I have little idea on what I wish to do, especially not Ulfmaerr. If he knows, then he’ll simply see me as weak and unfit for leadership. The pathetic part is, I’m not even sure if he’d be wrong. “Confidence, unwavering stubbornness, and the ability to make life-altering choices on a whim, are keys to success.” father said.

He then ceases writing and places the journal back onto his bedstand and pushes himself up to his feet, making his way to the nearby window, overlooking the main settlement within Ashton. The nights in Ashton are rarely peaceful and quiet. Bars are full, the meadhall is bustling, and the brothel’s lights are always beaming all throughout the town. “This… is my town.” the Lord stated aloud in surprise. A smirk creeping along the corners of his mouth. “This is my town!” he repeats louder, filled with certainty and joy. “This is my fuckin’ town.” he then repeats one last time, followed by a pleased exhale.  He squints, then his eyes go wide as an exciting idea pops in his head. Swiftly, he makes his way out of his room and towards the upper terrace with two small tables and a few chairs surrounding them. Making his way to the metal railing, he shouts out into the open skies of Ashton for the surrounding buildings and citizens to hear, “I AM JAMES ALEXXSON, SON OF ASHTON! HEAR MY CALL, DENIZEN’S AND ASHITE’S ALIKE! A NEW GENERATION OF ASHTON HAS ARRIVED. WE WILL WEAR OUR COLORS WITH PRIDE WHEREVER WE GO. WE WILL NEVER ALLOW AN OUTSIDER TO DISRESPECT AN ASHITE, AND ANY WHO OPPOSE US WILL MEET A SAVAGE-LIKE FURY FILLED WITH BRUTALITY AND PRIDE, THEY WILL THINK WE ARE ENRAGED WITH FEL!”

 As he shouted, citizens of the settlement opened up their windows and exited the buildings, looking up to the young man shouting with vigor. A few children ran about the meadhalls and bars, alerting them that James was making himself known. Crowds of Ashite’s and loved ones made themselves known within the night with torches and their large presence as James continued.

 "THEIR STREETS WILL BE PAINTED WITH WHITE AND BLUE, THEIR BODIES MARKED WITH OUR SIGIL, AND NO CIVILIZATION WILL DARE CROSS US! NOT OUT OF SEEING US AS NO THREAT, BUT OUT OF FEAR FROM OUR INTRANSIGENT WAYS OF LIFE! ALL WILL KNOW OF OUR MIGHT, ALL WILL KNOW OF OUR FURY, AND ALL WILL KNOW THERE IS ANOTHER WAY TO LIVE. NO LONGER WILL THE PEOPLE OF AZEROTH BELIEVE THERE ARE ONLY TWO CHOICES. THERE IS NO LONGER MERELY ALLIANCE OR HORDE. THERE IS NO LONGER SEPERATION OF RACES. THERE IS NO LONGER CHOOSING BETWEEN THE SENSITIVE AND FALSELY WELL MANNERED ALLIANCE, OR THE PATHETIC AND LEADERSHIP FAILED HORDE. THERE. IS. ASHTON!“ 

The massive crowd surrounding the front of the villa raises up in arms, torches, and fists, all cheering, clapping and clanging their weapons against their shields in celebration. Three days of mourning, feeling lost, and little communication from the leadership that seemed to be failing and abandoning them, finally there was communication. There was morale. There was strength once more in the land of Ashton. James raises his fists up in the air and shouts, "Huzzaaah!” with his face filled with glee and purpose. As they felt morale, he felt he finally had an idea on how to lead Ashton into greatness. He then turned and made his way back into the house, then to his room, unable to block out the constant cheering and whistling and glee of the Ashite’s, which is a sound the teenager fell asleep to that night.

New leadership, new generation, a new era of war.