#draeneiduesday

[thunderfell]

Outcast

Darazar knelt by his mother’s bed, holding her hand, carefully wiping her forehead with a damp rag. Daraala gave a small whimper of pain and her eyelids fluttered open. “Darazar…” she whispered. The young draenei put his finger to his lips. “Shhh, mother. Just rest.” She shook her head softly. “No… I will not be here much longer.” Her voice was low and ragged. “You must listen carefully.” Darazar’s lower lip quivered a bit. “Don’t say that sort of thing, mother! You will get better.” Daraala grasped her son’s hand firmly. “When I am gone, the townsfolk will come. I will not be able to protect you anymore. You must leave!” Darazar’s head sank to her shoulder. “But… where will I go?” His mother pulled him close. “East, to Gorgorond. Look for the mountain where steam rises from the ground. Once there, you must do exactly what I tell you. Find the twin spires of rock, and speak the name of Longclaw…” She broke into a fit of coughing, blood flecking on her lips. Darazar sponged her head once more, wiping up the blood. “Who is Longclaw?” he asked. Daraala raised her head to speak, but suddenly her breath rattled in her throat and she sank back onto the bed, her eyes still. “Mother? Mother!” Darazar’s head dropped to Daraala’s side, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Don’t go… I don’t know what to do…” There was a sudden knocking on the rickety door of their tiny home. Darazar looked up, wiping the tears from his cheeks roughly. “Come… in,” he said, waveringly, standing slowly. The door opened to reveal the High Elder, a deep frown on his face. “Daraala, I…” He stopped, his frown fading a bit as he saw the woman lying still on the bed. “Is she…” Darazar nodded slowly, pulling back his shoulders, his young face trying to remain impassive unsuccessfully. “High Elder. What may I assist you with?” The High Elder’s brow darkened once more. “I had important business with Daraala. I was not aware she had fallen ill.” Darazar’s lip curled. “Maybe if the High Elder were to pay more attention to those under his care, he wouldn’t be so clueless.” The High Elder inhaled sharply. “Do not forget you and your mother were supposed to have been exiled, child! It is only through the good will of the Council that you have been allowed to live here, on the edge town. Your mother made very sure we did not regret our decision. I would be very careful with your tongue, if I were you.” Darazar drew himself up proudly. “But I am not you, High Elder, and I never will be. Do not fool me into thinking I will ever be a part of your society, the half-breed I am!” He pointed accusatively at the High Elder, stepping forward. “Your good will means nothing to me!” The older draenei drew back, pulling his robes about him as if afraid of contamination. “Ungrateful child! No more shall we suffer your presence! You are banished, Darazar Half-Saber. Never return to draenei lands, you are unworthy of our lands!” Darazar turned to look at his dead mother, holding back a sob. “If I cannot be a draenei, then I will have a draenei name. No more will I be Darazar. If a Saber I am, then that is what I will call myself.” The High Elder curled his lip as he turned on his heel and left. “If that is what you wish. You have until tomorrow at first light to be gone. Then we will burn this wretched place.”

[thunderfell]

Homestead

Daraala looked on as her child played in the dust outside their small shack. His dirty blonde hair was tied up in a braid behind his crest. He grinned back at her over his shoulder, his distinctive features lit by the setting sun. There were muzzle lines on his cheeks, and his eyes were a far cry from the glow of the draenei. They were cat eyes, telling the tale of his parentage as clear as the sun to any who saw him. A group of children dashed past, laughing and skipping, their bare hooves kicking up dust as they passed little Darazar. “Ha ha, mutt-child!” they called, scampering away with frightened shrieks as Daraala stepped forward menacingly, her hands raised as she muttered nonsense. They all thought she was a witch, an evil sorceress who consorted with saberon and botani. Her small, rundown shack, full of herbs and strange roots helped her image. She sat back down, gingerly, hugging her ragged shawl to her chest. She could never get warm these days, even at high noon. Her garden, filled with the most exotic of herbs and remedies, moved gently in the evening breeze as the cool winds swept down from the mountains to the east. It couldn’t save her, though. Nothing could, anymore. “Darazar, come on in, it’s getting dark.” “Aw, Ma, a few mo’ minutes?” She smiled, “All right. But only a few, we have to make supper.” He hopped up suddenly from his playing. “Oh, can I help? I wanna make stewballs again!” Daraala smiled again. Darazar might never be accepted into draenei society, but that didn’t mean she was going to let him grow up uncultured. And while teaching him to read and write had proven difficult with his cat-like attention span, he had quickly taken to the culinary arts. “Yes, you certainly can! Here, help you Ma inside and we’ll put some stewballs on.” Darazar bounced up, carefully helping his mother up and leading her inside.

Not too far away, hidden behind a clump of boulders, a pair of cat eyes peered at the two as they disappeared inside. “Your son begins to grow, Longclaw.” The muscled saberon grunted. “He is not my son. Nor will he ever be.”

[thunderfell]

Birthright

Some stories begin in light and turn to gloom. Others start in the dark, but eventually reach the light. But this story starts at dusk and only grows darker. Yet even the darkest night has a far-off dawn. Only time will tell if it is ever reached. Years ago, in the small village of Telaar on Draenor, a draenei woman dressed in tattered rags stood before the Council, clutching her newborn child to her chest fearfully. “Daraala, you can hide from the truth no longer! The Council demands you show us the child, or we will be forced to banish you. You have nothing to fear, my child. Simply let us see to the truth of the matter.” Daraala only clutched her child closer to her chest. “No! You will not take him from me! He is mine!” The elders of the Council looked at one another perplexedly. “You cannot hide his face forever,” the High Elder spoke, finally. “The Council has a right to see the child you have brought into the world.” “You have no right at all!” the draenei woman spat. “Darazar is mine!” The High Elder sighed. “If that is the way of it, then you leave us no choice. Guards, restrain her and bring us the child.” The two guards standing sentry at the doors stepped froward, broad shoulders looming over the young female. She began to kick and scream as one held her firmly whole the other pried the small bundle of a child from her arms. He presented the swaddled baby to the High Elder, who took him carefully before pushing back the bit of blanket that hid the child’s face. His lined features paled at what he saw looking back up at him. “Light’s breath…” he muttered, aghast. “It is…. an abomination!” He held up the babe for the rest of the Council to see, causing gasps of consternation to rise from around the room. “Light preserve us! It is true!” The High Elder looked once more at the young mother who still vainly struggled against her captor’s grip. “Daraala, you have committed a foul act of sin against the Light, and against our people. By bringing this… creature into the world, you have proven true the accusations leveled against you, and are shown to be an adulterer, a creature of debauchery, and a sodomite of the lowest degree!” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Your crime is deserving of death, but since your sin has brought life into the world, according to the customs of us Draenei, you are to be forever exiled from Draenei lands, you and your abomination of a child! “Guards, remove her. And take this… Saberon spawn with you.”

[thunderfell]

Draenei Duesday

Because there isn’t actually a day of the week that starts with D. 

Anyways, having posted the start of a new series of character sketches and backstories two weeks, I proceeded to immediately dash off to Italy without a laptop, making large amounts of typing virtually impossible. Note-to-self: Don’t start new projects on the eve of Spring Break. 

But the goal is to post a series of backstory snippets for my main on Tuesdays, and for my most used alt on Saturdays. 

Darazar, a draenei death knight, is my main, and will be written about on “DraeneiDuesday,”, while Sajael, a human construct warrior, will be written about on “SajSaturday”

That’s the plan, anyway!