Centuries ago.. on a war-torn world, known as Draenor..
"Go! Take the others, do what you can and remain quiet! Do you hear me? Quiet!" An elder Draenei Vindicator barked orders to a lone Rangari and his small group of survivors.
"There is no time for discussing! If you would like to die this day, then you may ponder my orders all that you will, but I would prefer us all to live, now go! I will be right behind you!" She retorted, instantly losing interest in the Rangari, and turning to an injured Vindicator as she attempted to call upon the Light's blessing.
The Rangari gritted his teeth, and turned away from his beloved. He feared they would eventually be separated in the conflict, but he had hoped that it would not be in such dire circumstances.. "Come, we have no time; remember, remain quiet!" He spoke in a low, and calm voice, even if internally conflicted.. and on edge.
They traveled through the woods, using only the pale moonlight to serve their guide as the Rangari leading them treaded softly. The howls of warcries and smoke from a nearby Draenei village proved unsettling for some, and especially for the little boy in tow who's mother had not caught up to them yet. He kept looking behind, hoping for her to burst out from the darkness, though she never came..
The woman that held the boy's hand's lip quivered as a tear ran down her cheek. A young Draenei, barely even mature enough to be on her own was indeed that - on her own. She saw the boy's mother as she spoke her last words. As the woman lay dying, she pleaded  that her son be taken to the group of refugees as the fires of her once-happy-home reflected into the pool of blue blood that she lay in.  The younger Draenei's family suffered a similar fate, and it was only by mere chance that she heard the pleas of the mother. Her son was hiding behind some fallen rubble, almost miraculous that he even survived..
Her family fell the same way, though unlike the boy, she laid witness to both of her parents' end at the hands of a green-skinned monster with vicious crimson eyes, speckled in blue.. despite the gore, the beast seemed to revel in it, even rejoice in the bloodshed and in taking the life of simple shopkeepers who's only crime was charging a little too much on herbs. Surely not an offence that was punishable by death.. yet, there in the glow of destruction, lay their mauled bodies.
Everyone lost something on Draenor. Whether it was a loved one, a home, or a piece of themselves left to burn up in the smokey night skies; everyone lost.. something.
"Trevani, you are alive!" Exclaimed an excited voice from the shadows..
"Syronaar," He sighed, "I never thought I would be happy to see you."
From the wooded shadows stepped a younger Draenei, bowing his head briefly in respect to the elder Rangari. "Where is Kyral?"
The Rangari leading the refugees pursed his lips, "She will be with us shortly, are you with refugees?"
Syronaar nodded, and waved them forward. A smaller group of only three, "They are all that is left from the south-east.." He said quietly, words that that would due the refugees no good, and so they were hushed in tone.
Trevani nodded, "Very well, throw your lot in with mine, we must make haste before daybreak; the Orcs are harried by our remaining defenses, but our time is short."
Syronaar nodded, "..Are you sure, Trevani? Are you sure that these things are Orcs?"
"Syronaar, I saw them with my own eyes. They are Orcs. Or at least they used to be.." He paid the question no more mind as he motioned the newcomers to band together in a single group. He nodded at Syronaar once more, and the younger Draenei went ahead to take point.
At his side was Dakira; a young and alert wolf given to him as a token of respect when she was just a pup. She was a fine example of a companion, and an even finer example of a wolf; long, grey and brownish red fur covered her lithe body, her ears piqued and stood vigilant to every sound of the forest. She had been trained well, through the help and assistance of the one who had given her to Syronaar. Korok was his name - a close friend and comrade of Syronaar, whom of which had just finished butchering a family of five.
Syronaar motioned for the others to follow him. Trevani's spear was clutched and at the ready as he kept a watchful eye, standing at the rear of the group. The refugees walked carefully along the treeline as they continued their journey throughout the perilous lands. The sounds of crumbling buildings in the distance, and the glow of flame and destruction haunted them between the trees.
He looked up into the treetops, scanning them for potential ambush or threat. This was a habit he had taken up after seeing a few of the Orcs descend upon the unsuspecting. As he did so, the moonlight pierced the shadow of his hood and lit up his cheeks for a brief moment, giving light to his young an largely inexperienced face. This was no place for the feint of heart, nor those whom's steel had yet to be tested in the heat of combat.
Not that Syronaar had much choice in the matter; his friends, his comrades, even his family had been thrown into the midst of a war. A war.. He had heard the other Rangari refer to it as such, but a war was fought and struggled.. no, this.. this was not war. This was slaughter.
The young Draenei stopped - an action which the group of refugees and Trevani acknowledged, and followed suit. Dakira had been alerted to something that Syronaar had not, but visibility was so low.. Clouds rumbled gently overhead, a warning that did not bode well during the search for salvation.
The refugees hunkered down, as per Trevani's instruction. Quietly, they sat.. and they waited. The young boy was so frightened by the concept of standing still that he hid behind the young, equally scared, girl that held his hand. She leaned down and hugged him, nuzzling his cheek into herself; his heart was beating so strong that she could almost hear it.
"I.. have been looking for you, Sssyronaar.." A low, guttural voice hissed, inciting a few gasps from the group as their eyes all locked on the crimson orbs that floated bodiless in the near distance.
Syronaar looked towards the direction of the voice, arrow knocked, as his grip tightened upon the wood of his bow. "Then you have found me." He replied, eyes squinting.
"Do not look sso.. mmm, intimidated.. old friend." As the last words were spoken, a mist of green flame erupted from the palm of an orc, and gave audience to his twisted visage. Syronaar could feel the twinge of fel fire from where he stood.. "I had hoped our pathss would.. cross, eventually, Syronaar."
The young Draenei's eyes widened slightly at the recognition of just who he was addressing,"Korok.." He began, "What has become of you!?"
The orc took a few steps away from the shadows and into the moonlight, his crimson eyes reflecting in the ill-green tint of fel flames. He laughed, "I have become more than you could ever underssstand, but my visit.. iss not about me, it is about.. you."
"Then here I am. Let our business be settled among ourselves, these people have nothing to do with whatever it is that you want." Syronaar spoke, and Trevani raised his spear, gripping it tightly.
"That, my friend.. is where you are mistaken.. their ssouls belong to mee. As.. does yourss.." The orc's fel flame grew, and with a shriek of laughter he thrust his hands into the dirt, and a wave of green flame washed forwards! The fel fire spread along the ground like a glass of water tipped over, and ate everything in its path, igniting a nearby tree. Syronaar stepped back, as did the refugees, avoiding the flame as the now illuminated path gave light to the green skinned beast.. "Come now, old friend.. let us see if your spinelesss people's deceptions, can save you from me.."
Syronaar gazed at what Korok had become.. Dark, runic tattoos covered his body and the smaller flames that litered the ground licked at his calves as if they were not even phasing him. In his hand was a wickedly curved blade that appeared as if it were nothing more than a piece of mangled steel with a hilt and handle. The once proud shaman that Syronaar had watched grow up into a kind and spiritual soul, had become a walking nightmare.. "Trevani, take the innocents, go a-"
"No, you must lead them to the others, I will stay." Trevani interrupted. Any other time, his noble action may have been appreciated - Trevani was a more than capable combatant, and stood a far better chance than the younger..
Syronaar never took his eyes off of Korok as he stood at the ready, "You have been a good teacher, Trevani, it saddens me that I did not learn all that there was to learn from your teachings, but this is my fight. He lies; he does not care about the refugees, just me." He looked over his shoulder, his brow furrowed, "My family is gone, Trevani, but Kyral will come back to you. Go.. for her. ..Please." He turned his eyes back to Korok, who stood as still as stone.
"Touching.." The orc grumbled, "To think, we could be alliesss.."
Syronaar retorted with a furrowed brow, as he raised his bow, and drew, "I do not ally myself with nightmares!" And so, the first arrow was loosed.
Trevani immediately called for the refugees to follow him, fighting every urge in him to aid his fellow Draenei, but at the same time knowing full-well that to stay and fight was to put the innocents in more danger than they were already in. Like many others, this orc had gone mad with fel corruption.. As he ushered the innocents away, "Light be with you, Syronaar.." the veteran Draenei murmured. Perhaps Syronaar was right, perhaps Korok didn't care about them, but he would not hesitate to go through each and every one of the innocents in tow to get to Syronaar so long as he was with them.
The first arrow had connected, but it only grazed the bulky orc. He retorted with a ball of fel flame that combusted at the ground where Syronaar was standing, only narrowly missing him. He took cover behind a tree, only long enough to knock his next arrow as he could feel the sickening heat engulf the tree and force him to take his next shot.
"They will not get far, I will make quick work of you, and then rip their hearts from their chest! Arghh!" He casted again, this time bringing his clenched fist into the air as he channeled the fel-flames onto himself and pulsed the ground with wicked gusts of flame. Syronaar was startled by the waves of heat, using his forearm to shield himself as the flame licked at him. It burned, even the slightest kiss of the flame was merciless.
The pulsing stopped shortly after it began, and when Syronaar turned his gaze back to Korok, the orc was smiling devilishly and began to run towards him! Korok's own flesh smoldered, burned in several places, but the murderous machine paid it no mind. Quickly, Syronaar loosed the arrow he had knocked previously, the shot he had intended to fire delayed, but only at half draw. The arrow's head clipped Korok's thigh, lodging itself into it, but it didn't even slow him down!
The orc slashed horizontally with that blade, knicking Syronaar's armor, but even a knick of that jagged edge chunked a large portion of protection away from his abdomen. Syronaar retorted with a bare knuckled fist to the orc's eye, which launched his head back - just long enough for Syronaar to plant a hooved kick into the orc's chest and cause him to stumble.
The orc regained his balance quickly as Syronaar knocked an arrow, and immediately he called forth another fount of flame - this time directly scorching Syronaar's chest. The flame burned and began to eat away at his armor, which now hung in shambles. Without much choice, Syronaar flung it off, dropping his bow.. The opportunity that Korok was looking for.
He lunged at the younger Draenei, both hands upon his blade as he came down with a thunderous overhead swing! the blade's jagged edge howled in the night as the wind whistled past its horrific edge. Though, it was narrowly avoided, the orc immediately retaliated with a shoulder charge from his lowered position, which took Syronaar off of his balance.
The Draenei struggled to regain his composure, but he was quickly met with a bootheel to his jaw, and then several merciless seconds of brutalizing kicks and blows. Syronaar's blue blood began to trickle as he was left on the ground. Each blow declared its impact by way of a blood curdling crack of ribs.
"I wass hoping for a more.. entertaining, fight, old friend." He chuckled, kicking Syronaar once more. "I believed our engagement would be memorable, yet.. alone, you are jusst as I expected.. nothing." He whirled his blade around, both hands on the handle as he hovered above Syronaar's chest. "You.. dissapoint me."
"I.." He coughed, his lips dotted in blue speckles of blood, "Am never.. alone." His pale blue eyes met the crimson red ones of the orc above him, and he grinned.
Dakira sprang from the darkness, snarling and viciously tearing at the orc's flesh as she made purchase on his forearm! Her fangs sank in, and the large wolf quickly began to spin and run the orc into the ground, where she then began to maul at his throat and face. Her merciless biting and tearing left her fur quickly coated in blood, while Syronaar struggled to get back up after clutching his bow once more, stumbling at every exhale and every tensed muscle in his core that compressed his ribs. He winced, but bore it, and finally managed to stand.
The orc fought with the wolf on the ground, losing his grip on the blade as Syronaar began to draw an arrow. "ENOUGH!" He bellowed, and once more, his body engulfed in wretched flame, and pulsed violently!
"Dakira!" Syronaar called, but the orc's self-destructive spell proved to be far too much.. Dakira whined and retorted, trying to escape the flame, but only barely managed to do so. She was hurt, and limped out of the fray to tend to her own wounds.
After a few pulses, from what lasted only a handful of seconds yet felt like months, the flames ended. Syronaar looked at Dakira, her body badly maimed from the spell, as the orc stood once more.. His body, too, was mutilated from both Dakira's attacks and the fel flame. He was charred, and badly burned from the more intense flames, so much so that even his dark green skin looked blackened and blistered.
"You.. underesstimate to what lengthss I will go, nave.." He spoke, smoke exhaling from his lungs and rolling between his tusks into the night air, as he began to walk towards Syronaar with intents to finish the job.
Syronaar drew his bow at less than half, and loosed an arrow into the orc's chest. He grunted, the serrated tip of the arrowhead piercing through his chest, yet still he walked. His hands glowed an sickly green flame, and began to murmur words in a harsh language that Syronaar could not understand.
A second arrow, this one in the abdomen. Syronaar could tell that he had at least some broken ribs, and to draw his bow even at half draw would deem itself excrutiatingly painful. The second arrow caused the orc to spurt crimson blood from his lips as he continued his demonic whispers, the flames in his fists grew increasingly bright and hot.
Syronaar doubled over, taking a small step back as the orc wobbled closer towards him, reaching out a hand.. "I.. " He coughed,"refuse to die.. to a nightmare.." He furrowed his brow, and with three arrows clenched in his hand he reared back up to his standing height.. He shrieked as he pulled his bow at full draw, his already broken ribs cracking beneath the tension of the muscles in his body, and gouging his lungs - but with the determination of a Draenei scorned, he loosed those arrows..
One made purchase in the orc's sternum, the second at his throat, and the third pierced into his cheek just below his eye, each penetrating through the orc's backside. Korok fell to his knees, and then limp to the ground. Blood began to pool rapidly around the orc's body; Syronaar.. had won.
He stumbled towards Dakira, who had been laying a short distance away. Using his bow as a crutch, he refused to let himself be still without tending to his faithful companion. Collapsing as gently as he could, he examined Dakira's wounds.. much to his dismay. The fires badly burned Dakira's body, to the point in which her leg was nearly seared off..
"Dakira.." He he spoke, holding her tightly within his arms as he laid beside her, looking into the wolf's eyes. He closed his own as a tear strewn down his cheek, and a curious symbol atop his forehead began to glow.. Likewise, so did hers.. "Dakira.. "he coughed, the once speckles of blue now much larger and thicker than before, "Th-thank.. you.."
The Gift of the Naaru is a blessing in which every Draenei could call upon in times of need. It was a miraculous endeavor, one that would heal wounds using the purity of the Light bestowed onto the Draenei people by the Naaru themselves.
Light flowed across Dakira's wounds, expediting the healing process as warmth filled her body. Syronaar may well have prevented Dakira's death, as the wounds from the flame began to close, and her leg began to mend. It was not a complete recovery, but it would be enough. Syronaar scratched his lupine friend's ears as she nuzzled into his hand. "I cannot lose you, too." He whispered.
The flames began to die down as he laid there and rested. He was unsure of what he would do next, but for the moment, he was unable to travel. He expended the last of his strength calling on the blessing to save his companion. Though, when he was able, perhaps he could pull himself at Dakira to the brush nearby. He looked around, noticing the stillness that he had not experienced since before this massacre began. He could almost see their faces.. something else that his addled mind would not permit him to do.
Syronaar closed his eyes, occasionally opening them to see the cloudy sky above, but only to close them again. It was about to rain. He always loved it when it rained, especially on evenings like this one, despite the other circumstances. He laid there for a few minutes, but the next time he opened his eyes.. a tall, charred figure.. loomed above him..
"You.... die..." The next thing that Syronaar felt was an inexplicable pain starting at his left breast, traveling all the way down at an angle to the top of his hip as he cried out in sheer agony! Korok's jagged edge thrust against the young Draenei's purple skin, ripping and tearing a grievous wound into him as the orc slumped over in his final breath. Korok died in the middle of his attempt, expiring himself purely to end the wounded Draenei's life, but rather than impale him Korok had instead slashed a grievous wound..
Syronaar's eyes opened wide and frightened as he held up his now blood covered hands to his face, staring in disbelief. He writhed and gritted his teeth, the pain was unbearable, and he could feel his consciousness fading. Soon, he lost the strength in his arms as his head fell to the side, and looked at Dakira who was struggling to get up.
There, in his final moments, he could hear nothing but his heartbeat and slow.. decreasing breaths. As his vision blurred, he could then see clearly those of which he lost. His mother, father, and brother.. all, perished in their home when it was raided by these newly puppets of the Legion. His sister's whereabouts, Kimalora, was unknown. He fought fearing the worst, always choosing to believe that she had found refuge somewhere with the others, but there was no way of truly knowing her fate.
Syronaar's vision was fading, and his consciousness was nearly gone. Though, he felt.. something. Touching him, was a warmth against his skin as it began to grow colder. His blurred sight was turned, though not by his own will. He saw a faintly lit face as raindrops began to fall onto him, and lightning lit up the face of who was touching his own. It was a familiar face; a kind, loving face..
