(( This was my submission for the "Tales from Another World WarCraft Writing Contest" back in August that was fortunate enough to be selected as the first-prize winner. I realized I never posted it for public consumption, so I figured now would be a decent time to post my headcannon story about what the Dark Portal invasion was going to be like.
Hope you enjoy! ))
Into the Portal
Minarus frantically turned his head back toward the horizon, his whole body quivering with fear. The harsh red ground shook with absolute terror as the darkening skies gave no comfort. All around him, Nethergarde Keep was in a panic - troops were scurrying around this way and that, the expressions of the denizens herein showing nothing but chaos.
We aren’t ready, Minarus thought to himself. How is this…how is this even possible?!
Just as the thoughts sailed through the Draenei’s mind, vicious fel energies swarmed around the massive Dark Portal, the lone structure that turned this once verdant landscape into what is now known as the Blasted Lands. Minarus shifted his weight, his hands tightly gripped around his mace as he desperately reached out toward the elements. The Draenei shaman called to them with the best of his ability, praying for aid in what he truly believed was to be an absolutely horrible battle.
A thunderous roar shook the walls of the Keep as a bell from one of the parapets of Nethergarde began pealing loudly and quickly, piercing the thick air with its sonorous clanging.
“To arms, brothers and s-sisters! To arms! On the d-double now!” Minarus was unsure of whom the voice belonged to, but he was terribly uncomforted by the way the voice cracked as panic creeped into even this unknown commander’s mind.
Nevertheless, the shaman focused, closing his mind toward the elements once again in order to get a better grasp of the dire situation. He tightly shut his eyes, allowing the elements to show him a view of the oncoming battle in an attempt to completely understand the gravity of the situation.
Minarus gasped in shock, awe, and terror as his far sight proved fruitful.
The Dark Portal had transformed from its calm, green pulsations into a menacing and aggressive red swirl. The sky above it had morphed into darkness, fel lightening dancing between the red scorched earth and the blackness of the clouds above. An entire legion of Orcs poured through the portal, their eyes hungry for destruction, their tusked visages displaying a deep lust for conflict and battle.
Minarus looked around as Nethergarde continued to muster its forces. It had been a long time since anything serious had happened here in the southern reaches of the Blasted Lands, and it was clear that they were not prepared for anything of this sort. Still, they would fight to the best of their ability, buying time for both the Alliance and the Horde’s finest to arrive in a crazy attempt to halt this Iron Horde before it proceeded to sweep north, leaving nothing but rubble in their wake. Minarus simply held onto hope that the hastily written missives would travel fast enough in order to muster the necessary aid - he certainly knew that Nethergarde was not well enough equipped to handle this alone.
The shaman sighed heavily as he fell into formation with his comrades. He looked about at the grim expressions of those surrounding him, many of them realizing this may very well be their last day on Azeroth. Minarus felt it, too - the panic, the terror, the harsh realities setting in and clouding his mind. He shook his head as he once again focused on the task at hand, trying to throw the negative thoughts from his addled mind.
So this is the end then, Minarus solemnly thought. He furrowed his brow and squeezed his mace even tighter, dipping his head slightly in honor toward the elements. He felt their presence as the wind seemed to answer his plea for aid. He knew the mighty powers of Azeroth herself were in his full support as they had been for so many years now, which undoubtedly helped boost his thoughts toward the remote possibility of success. He managed a wry smirk as he looked out toward the swirling red portal.
Minarus hefted his cart of Adamantite onto Telredor’s lifting platform with a heavy sigh. He turned around and looked out into the great marsh of mushrooms, the fog floating through his light blue tendrils and back out into the depths of the dark landscape. The Draenei removed his hefty mining pick from atop the cart and leaned on it like an old wizard would his staff, weariness beginning to set in after a long day of gathering.
With a satisfying thud, the platform came to an easy stop. Minarus replaced the pick upon the cart and pushed the collection of ore onto the busy paths of Telredor. Friendly Draenei nodded at his presence as he passed on his way to the small forge, the pains of troubled times ever present in their illuminated blue eyes. These were a broken and battered people - recent days had taken their toll on the Draenei, and more and more survivors poured into the settlement by the day.
As he set the cart down and began to unload his ore, the flickering fires of the forge instantaneously ignited a sea of memories; thoughts so vivid and so abrasive that he could still feel the same pains he felt not too long ago. The Fall of Shattrath was something Minarus would never forget - the screams of his people, the burning of the Lower City, the ferocity in the Orcs’ eyes, destruction everywhere, death inches away.
The female Draenei backed away with a chuckle. “All the more reason to have my fun.” Aranaa was an averagely tall and slender Draenei, her blue eyes glowing brighter than most others. Her tail was always moving about playfully and her ever-present smile could lift the spirits of even the most bedraggled individual. Despite so much destruction and terror, Aranaa’s spirit was still as high as ever.
Minarus smiled at the words, gently touching her hand before returning to his work behind the forge. He idly pulled on his smelting gloves as he prepared to create a fresh batch of Adamantite bars. “So, how was the patrol this morning?” he asked Aranaa while snapping his goggles into place.
She sighed slowly, “Nothing new to report, but I suppose that’s good.” She leaned against the wall behind Minarus, looking up into the darkening sky. “We found some evidence of more Orcish raiding parties, but nothing fresh enough to worry about.” She watched Minarus drop the first of the ore into the forge with a satisfying hiss. “I think they’ve finally given up on our mushroom settlement.”
Minarus scoffed, “I doubt they’ve given up,” he stated matter-of-factly as he pulled another chunk of ore out of the cart. “Those damnable brutes will never cease as long as our blood still freely flows.”
Aranaa lightly smacked Minarus across the shoulder, “Stop that, I don’t want to hear such talk.” She gestured to the clearing sky, “Not on an evening like this.”
Minarus smiled as he stole a glimpse of her, her rich blue skin encapsulated by the shining stars. They had been good friends for a very long time, and Minarus thanked the Light every single day that she had escaped the terrors of Shattrath as well. He was the last of his family, of that he was almost certain, and the thought of losing Aranaa as well was overwhelming. When they were finally reconnected at a small camp along the border of Terrokar Forrest and Zangarmarsh, Minarus and Aranaa were both overjoyed to the point of tears. This one positive moment gave them both the strength they needed to push on through the darkness. It was almost common knowledge that the two of them would share vows in the future, something that even the two of them accepted, but the turning of the Orcs against the Draenei kept any thoughts of a future at bay for the time being.
Minarus placed the last of the ore into the forge as he looked over to Aranaa who was sitting against the wall fletching a new batch of arrows. “Almost done here, just a few more bars.” She smiled at his words, her blue eyes even more vibrant than before. He carefully removed his goggles and warmly placed his gloved hand on her shoulder as the hissing of the forge danced through the air. She idly placed her hand on top of his for just a moment, the both of them enjoying this second of solitude as the purple twilight sky glowed softly overhead.
——————————
As the thick fog of the early morning set upon Telredor, Minarus and Aranaa slowly awoke as daily life began anew. Rays of light penetrating the fungal canopy of Zangarmarsh danced upon the dew as Aranaa prepared a small breakfast for the two of them. They always enjoyed the early morning hours - the peaceful calm was perfect for relaxing in each other's company before the labors of the day.
As Minarus and Aranaa made their way to the center of Telredor to begin their daily tasks, a congregation of Draenei was forming in the midst of the city accompanied with secretive whisperings and light gasps behind hand-covered mouths. Minarus looked over to Aranaa questioningly, but she was as lost as he - what could possible have gathered so much attention? Minarus put his hand on Aranaa's shoulder as they pressed forward seeking the cause of the commotion.
A towering, radiant, robed figured loomed over the smaller inhabitants collected at Telredor's center. The flowing garments and illuminated visage pinned this as none other than the Prophet Velen, liberator and leader of the Draenei people for an unknown number of years. Minarus and Aranaa made their way into the thick of the crowd, in order to grasp a better view of the situation.
They made their way towards the front of the collection of Draenei and gasped. "A Krokul," Minarus softly whispered to Aranaa. She let out a soft drawn-out sigh - the Broken, once noble Draenei like the rest of them, were twisted by the Fel Magics of the demon-tainted Orcs. Many completely lost their minds, twisting into small fragile beings referred to as "Lost Ones." Some, such as this Krokul speaking softly with the Prophet, managed to keep their sanity, but the Draenei were still very hesitant - it was a common thought that the disease plaguing these unfortunate people was severely contagious.
Minarus and Aranaa turned their attention fully to the Prophet and his Krokul guest as the leader of the Draenei continued his inaudible conversation. Minarus whispered to his companion, "You don't think just one of them can plague this entire settlement, do you?"
Aranaa shrugged, her attention still held by the pair at the forefront, "Doubtful, but who is to say?" This was not comforting for Minarus or for any of the other present Draenei as many had covered their mouths and noses with hands or pieces of cloth. "I doubt the Prophet would put us in any sort of danger," Aranaa noted. Minarus nodded in silent agreement, the two of them returning their attention to the scene playing out before them.
The uncomforted mutterings of the gathering rose to constant bubbling of hushed whispers, but the Prophet finally stepped back from his Krokul guest who turned to the gathering after stepping up on a landing for a better view of his audience.
The Broken raised his worn staff towards the sky where a mass of clouds gathered at his command, despite the clear blue sky above. The audience around Minarus and Aranaa immediately silenced, uncomforted by this Krokul's elemental mastery.
"Watch and listen," the shaman commanded now that he had the Draenei's undivided attention. He called upon rain and lightning, the spectacle before them growing even more impressive with each display.
Minarus heard another Draenei whisper to another beside him, "What has become of Nobundu?" The name shook Minarus - he remembered the valiant paladin from back in Shattrath. "Has the Light truly forsaken us?" Minarus pondered that last remark while still watching the impressive and dangerous display - had the Light indeed finally betrayed the Draenei? Minarus found that hard to believe and tried to shake such negative thoughts from his mind - certainly the Light doesn't simply fade away.
Nobundu called out while maintaining his abilities, “You have come here to learn. To one day wield these powers: the powers of the shaman.” Minarus glanced to Aranaa who was totally encapsulated by the Krokul's display. This wasn't why Minarus was here, of that he knew, but happenstance was not something he heavily believed in. Nobundu's coming was for a specific reason, albeit unclear to Minarus.
The mention of the word shaman was not comfortable for many of the Draenei present. One of the onlookers was unafraid to speak his mind. "But shamanism is an Orcish practice!" the unhesitant Draenei called out. A collective mumble of agreement began buzzing around, but Nobundu would have none of it. Minarus continued to look on, his gaze fixated entirely on the presenter and his powerful display.
"Yes," Nobundu offered. "A practice they abandoned in favor of communing with demons. Now we will journey the shaman’s path, a path that will lead us to a future where no one will kill our women..." Nobundu paused as silence once again swept over Telredor. “...or our children. Where Krokul and unaffected will work together to realize a dream that has long been forgotten by our people: true freedom.”
It was with these words that Nobundu began to win over the hearts of these Draenei. Minarus bowed his head in agreement and was pleased to find Aranaa comforted as well. True freedom was a concept that seemed almost foreign to them. After years fleeing from the Burning Legion, many Draenei had simply come to terms with their status as inter-dimensional refugees. But Nobundo, Broken as he was, seemed to offer a solution - a possible way out of the depths of darkness. Minarus returned his eyes to the speaker as he watched the Draenei around him begin to accept the Krokul's words as truth.
“Your journey begins with these simple words," Nobundo explained, now with a smile on his macabre visage. He continued his elemental display above, but Minarus felt comforted by the forces swirling in the sky. He could not grasp it entirely, but something changed - he almost could sense that the forces at play here were not malicious, but comforting. He watched the twisting display above while Nobundu offered his final point. “Everything that is, is alive.”
Minarus and Aranaa left the plaza at the conclusion of Nobundu's presentation with more questions than answers. Telredor was certainly abuzz - these shattered Draenei hadn't had this much excitement in a lengthy amount of time, and no one had not been informed about the recent happenings.
Aranaa looked up at Minarus during the late lunch they were sharing. "Do you think he's right, though?" she inquired. Minarus looked back up at her questioningly. "That any of us, Krokul or not, can learn these arts?"
Minarus sighed slowly, "I know as little as you, Aranaa." He touched her hand briefly, "I am sure, in time, we will find out if what Nobundu preaches is true."
She smiled softly as they finished their meal together, relative peace once again returning to Telredor.
——————————
It had been a month since Nobundu had first come to Telredor. For Minarus and Anaraa, life had resumed normally - she remained dutiful to her patrols while Minarus searched for nearby minerals to craft into new supplies. There were a few Draenei who had taken up study with Nobundu's new teachings, but neither Minarus nor Aranaa paid them any mind - there was work to be done.
With a metallic clang, Minarus placed his mining pick inside his empty mineral cart. He carefully pulled on his gloves before grasping the cart and making his way to the elevator. As he waited for the lift to arrive, Minarus looked to the sky. A soft blue hue greeted him warmly as the morning fogs gave way to the clarity of noontime. He breathed it in slowly, basking in the comfort of a beautiful day.
He made his way out into the fungal marshes, following his usual path towards the rocky mountainside that bordered the great Zangarmarsh. He pushed his cart along slowly through the moist ground, ever on the lookout for signs of danger. He couldn't help but laugh softly to himself as he knew that Anaraa and her cohorts were always nearby, protecting the settlement and the surrounding areas from anything that would do the Draenei harm.
As he slowly walked along the rocky formations, Minarus scanned for any signs of vibrant minerals peeking from within stone prisons. After his first half hour of searching had passed, Minarus spotted a rich adamantite vein embedded deep into the rock wall. He smiled to himself as he gently put the cart down, ensured his gloves were on tightly, and grasped his mining pick with both hands before removing it from its resting place in the empty transport.
Minarus approached the rock and bent down, inspecting the area for the best place to knock the mineral free. When he found it, he tapped it with his mining pick, ensuring his decision was the correct one. With a powerful swing of his mighty tool, Minarus knocked into the rock forcefully, attempting to loosen the adamantite from its home in the side of the mountain. Again and again Minarus struck into the rock, the mineral loosening with every well-placed stroke.
"Everything that is, is alive."
Minarus spun around mid-swing, expecting to find the speaker of the words. With his mining pick held high above his head in both hands, Minarus discovered that there was no one nearby. He looked back and forth, incessant that someone had attempted to speak with him. Another look around rewarded Minarus with nothing - he shrugged and approached the rock once again with his mining pick.
Another few successful hits sprayed Minarus with a few tiny shards of the rocky mountainside, but the adamantite still refused to loose itself. Minarus took a step back for just a second to regain his strength before returning his pick to the stone. Minarus closed his eyes as the wind flowed through his tendrils and across his face for a brief moment.
"True freedom."
Minarus' eyes shot open as he once again tried to find the source of the words. Nothing. No speaker was anywhere to be found.
"Bah," Minarus scoffed to himself, "I must have swung too hard a couple times. No sense in rushing I suppose." He hefted his mining pick up towards the rock again and prepared another strike. With a satisfying thud, the mining pick made contact with the mountain, sending small bits of rock flying in all directions. Minarus watched as a tiny chunk splashed into a puddle a short distance away, the wind playing with the ripples caused by the pebble's disturbance. The Draenei slowly lowered his pick as he watched the tiny scene before him - the dancing water toyed with by the wind, the small pebble being pushed ever so slightly by the moving ripples.
"Everything that is," Minarus said to himself almost inaudibly, "is alive." He looked once again at the pebble in the now motionless puddle and felt the wind cross his face once again before blowing away to another location. The Draenei reached out for the loosened adamantite deposit, placing his gloved hands around the large piece of ore. With barely any effort at all, the heavy mineral was in his hands. Minarus looked back at the hole in which the mineral was just seated - he could have sworn that the ore was pushed up into his hands by some unknown force.
Minarus gently placed the large chunk of ore into his cart as he caught a glimpse of Telredor glowing in the sunlight. He looked around once more to make sure he was alone as he felt that he was not in fact by himself. Minarus looked around one last time before pushing his cart back towards the city and repeated the words again softly, "Everything that is, is alive.”
——————————
"Maybe it's a sign!" Aranaa's eyes shone brightly from across the table. Minarus turned his gaze over to the lamp as he could have sworn the flame brightened briefly at the word sign. "I must be going insane," Minarus thought to himself as he returned his eyes to Aranaa. "Certainly, Minarus - this can't all be random. The coming of Nobundu, these nature-oriented happenings. This could be some sort of calling!"
Minarus would have normally shrugged off her ramblings of grandeur, but it was hard to disagree - his recent experiences led him to believe the same thing. He nodded slowly at her last words, rubbing his blue tendrils slowly. Minarus sat back and let out a long sigh. "I find it hard to disagree," Minarus finally admitted.
Aranaa smiled wide, "You need to speak with the others - the ones Nobundu has been training!" Her exclamation seemed to brighten the room and Minarus found himself laughing as Aranaa literally lifted herself out of the chair. "All in due time," Minarus said lightheartedly before leaning upon the table before them. "Perhaps tomorrow I will speak with them."
Aranaa sat back in her chair and folded her arms, her smile still painted upon her face. Minarus watched as the flame flickered across her beautiful features, his mind split between thinking of their future together and his potential studying with these shaman.
"This could be what you need, Minarus." Aranaa placed her hand upon his from across the table. He looked into her brightly glowing eyes and smiled. "We both know you seek something more than gathering stone. This could be it!"
Minarus smiled again as they sat across from each other. He nodded at her words as they enjoyed the warmth of the small illuminated room. He glanced towards the flame again in disbelief as it seemed to crackle with approval. He chuckled softly to himself, shaking his head. "I suppose..." Minarus said playfully as he leaned in and looked at Aranaa, "...that our Krokul friend was correct. Everything that is, could most certainly be alive."
Aranaa laughed playfully, pulling herself out of her chair and over to Minarus, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind his seated form. They greatly enjoyed this moment in the cozy room, this moment with each other and nothing else. Minarus and Aranaa continued to enjoy the evening together, unbeknownst to either that things would become much different in the coming times.
——————————
The crackling lightening of unchecked foreign energies viciously struck the rocky purple earth. Large chunks of the landscape floated above, pushed into the sky after the portal magics of the Orcs pulled the planet apart. Many of the Draenei that marched upon this broken terrain wore a look of disgust as they pushed onwards through these northern reaches of Outland. Although Minarus had never found himself this far from the confines of Talador, he could only imagine that this land was once much more verdant than its current purple state.
Aranaa jumped, snapping her head to the left. Her eyes darted back and forth as she looked for the sign of the enemy that triggered her unease. Minarus sighed and placed his hand on her shoulder after having a look himself, "Easy Aranaa. I don't think anything even lives out in this desolate wasteland."
She sighed, the tense energy that suddenly built up within her escaping as her muscles relaxed once more. "You're right, of course," she finally admitted, the both of them returning to marching onwards. "I'm just a little....uneasy."
Minarus lightly squeezed her shoulder, "As are well all." He looked around at the scores of haggard Draenei, all of them just as weary, if not more, than the two of them. He furrowed his brow as he looked into the desolate horizon, "As are we all."
In truth, Minarus did not think that this plan would work. The insanity of retaking any portion of Tempest Keep seemed so far-fetched, so erratic, that any attempt seemed futile. But Velen and Nobundo both were at the helm of this expedition, a pair that both Aranaa and Minarus would willingly die to protect. A large contingent of Draenei followed as well, including some of the best and brightest. Minarus never thought he would actually miss his residence in Telredor, but looking out onto the bleak purple vastness made him instantly regret ever leaving the dense mists of Zangarmarsh.
A gasp from his left indicated that they had arrived. Aranaa's eyes were wide as the Draenei contingent finally laid eyes upon the great Naruu ship of Tempest Keep. Now solidly in Kael'thas' grip and protected by some of his best and brightest Blood Elves, it would take a very difficult and strenuous effort by the Draenei to capture their target - the satellite ship known as the Exodar.
Minarus' grip on his mace and his shield tightened as he peered toward the massive structure in the distance. It was much grander than he anticipated - the many spires and floating structures engulfed the entire horizon, filling Minarus with a feeling of anticipation. He looked to the broken landscape once again, calling upon the elemental forces at play to provide him with the power he would need to succeed. Without much delay, a light breeze nipped at his face and reminded Minarus that he was not alone - that the elements would be here to listen.
At Nobundu's command, the large force began moving at a much brisker pace. The fortress and its surrounding camps became much clearer as the Draenei contingent approached, the clangs of armor and weaponry singing into the darkened sky. Nobundu lifted his staff as the clouds seemed to answer his call, a vicious thunderstorm pushing towards the bastion of Kael'thas Sunstrider, Lord of the Blood Elves.
In what felt like a blink of an eye, the Draenei force slammed into that of the Blood Elves. Minarus roared as he hefted his mace, slamming it hard into a golden shield. An arrow pierced the neck of Minarus' quarry as he watched Aranaa's brief smile of victory fade into a menacing scowl as she found a new target.
Minarus quickly returned his mace to his side and his heavy shield to his back, using his hands to call forth a bolt of lightening. A Blood Elf charged towards him, the warrior's great sword raised above his head and a valorous battlecry escaping his mouth. Minarus threw his hands towards his quarry, the elemental force slamming into the Elf's chest. The warrior hit the ground hard, panting as his breath was forcefully knocked from his lungs. Before he even had a chance to recover, Minarus was on top of him - he hefted his mace once more and swung it towards the Elf's defenseless skull.
The desolate purple landscape was most literally alive that day. The skills of Nobundu and his Draenei shaman were seriously put to the test, and it was obvious that they were succeeding as the land itself was embroiled in battle. The vicious storm above hit the Blood Elf contingent hard with heavy rain and deadly lightening both while the ground trembled under hesitant feet.
The Draenei rallied, pushing forward with all their might into the heart of the Blood Elf camps and onward toward Tempest Keep. Primitive elemental magic spun through the air cracking against the arcane energies of the righteous Blood Elves as the charred landscape glowed in the radiance of the spellwork. Nobundu raised his great staff again as he and the Prophet spun to the right, heading for the their quarry - the Exodar.
“Push forward, brothers and sisters!” Nodundu shouted with his powerful voice. “Into the ship!” The Draenei yelled guttural cries of desperation in response, their blue eyes glowing amidst the head of battle. Bodies littered the earth as the Draenei pushed on -deadly Elven spells found their targets as blue-bodied fighters fell to the cracked purple earth while the elemental fury of the newly trained Draenei crackled through the air. Arrows were everywhere, sticking from deadly wounds and the earth alike while the clashing of swords and shields permeated the the energized air of Netherstorm.
Minarus and Aranaa fought side by side for what felt like eternity. Their bodies were not conditioned to fighting for such an extended period of time, but they had no choice - it was either die here or escape on the Exodar. No other option, Minarus grimly reminded himself.
A great grind and a rumble cracked above the ear-splitting noises of the battle. Minarus shattered the jaw of a charging Blood Elf in a spray of crimson, spinning around to witness a great burst of energy spring forth from the right side of Tempest Keep. He opened his eyes wider as he realized that time was of the essence.
“Aranaa!” he shouted to his left. “Quickly! We have to make it to the ship!”
With a firm nod, Aranaa returned her bow to her back, instead choosing a pair of short blades. Without a moment’s delay, the pair launched themselves toward the trans-dimensional ship in a desperate attempt to flee the wretched remnants of Draenor. Blood Elves continued to pour upon the Draenei as they surged forward toward the Exodar, their hearts ablaze as they could just about taste freedom from this broken world.
The sounds from the Exodar increased ten-fold as the great ship readied itself for departure. The grinding of metal was deafening, drowning out the shrieks and cries of the desperate Draenei torn apart at the hands of the vicious Sin’dorei. Minarus pushed himself forward through the chaos followed closely by Aranaa, their desperation surmounting as the Exodar continued to squeal and shudder, tearing itself away from the rest of Tempest Keep.
With a huge burst of physical energy, Minarus threw himself toward the ship as his hand caught onto a railing. He spun around, holding his free hand out for Aranaa to take hold of in an attempt to pull her into the ship before it launched itself free. Minarus felt the familiar grip of her hand cling to his as he looked into her eyes.
“I’ve got you,” he said firmly as he tugged on her arm to help her into the ship. She smiled back at him, her blue eyes ablaze as she attempted to reach for the railing. The At that moment, the Exodar lurched upward, finally freeing itself from the rest of Tempest Keep with a final metallic screech. The magical engines continued to hum in a dazzling display of energy as the ship prepared to depart the broken remnants of Netherstorm.
“Hang on!” Minarus screamed over the churning of the equipment. “Just a little…”
Aranaa’s smile was bisected by a perfectly aimed arrow, its golden fletching protruding from the back of her head. Gore showered upon Minarus as the arrow buried deep into her skull and the arrowhead broke through her face, the dark blood of the female Draenei leaking from the wound.
“Aranaa! No!” Minarus screamed in agony as he witnessed his love lifeless in his grasp. “No, no, no!”
The Exodar continued to lurch as Aranaa’s lifeless body hung in the air, still gripped tightly by the emotionally stricken shaman. “Minarus - Minarus my brother, we have to shut the door!” a familiar voice pleaded to no avail. Minarus heard nothing but his own sobbing as he continued to hold onto Aranaa’s hand.
Finally, with one firm tug, Minarus was pulled into the bowels of the Exodar as his grip on Aranaa’s hand faltered. He watched her lifeless corpse fall from the opening in the ship and back toward the broken purple earth for but a split second before the doorway slammed shut with a hiss.
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Minarus rubbed his eyes as he sat upright. His head was pounding and he had no idea what had happened or where he was - who had survived, who had died, who was left behind to die on Draenor, at the hands of the Blood Elves, where the Exodar was heading - nothing. He felt the semi-familiar coolness of the metal beneath him, allowing the shaman to assume that he was still within the Exodar.
“Minarus!” a voice cried out. “Minarus, you’re awake! Thank the Light.”
The shaman opened his eyes painfully to look upon the face. He couldn’t quite make it out, but he could hear that it belonged to a younger male Draenei. He slowly eased himself up onto his hooves with the aid of the young male as pain shot through the shaman once more, his movements taxing his body in a way he never thought these simple motions would.
He sighed heavily as he attempted to clear his mind of the pain. “Where,” he began with a croaking voice. “Where…where are we?”
The young male Draenei slowly aided Minarus to turn around. The shaman gasped at the scene before him - the metal of the ship was only a small fragment and the wall behind Minarus was missing altogether. Instead, vibrant purples and blues of the surrounding native flora shone in the sun, the unfamiliar plant life seeming to breathe a life of its own. Metal shards and pieces were scattered about, undoubtedly parts of the broken Exodar, and the shaman widened his eyes as he looked about the unfamiliar landscape.
Minarus’s aide allowed the shaman to take a few steps forward and embrace the scene in front of him before speaking. The words were soft, almost welcoming.
yousharknotpass
romaincrisis
gummygunk
origamiaround