Warcraft: Redemptions

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((Disclaimer: This story assumes the reader has some background knowledge of Warcraft lore, races and locations to fully appreciate its content. However, I like to consider it my best work to date and there are still some thematic elements that can be readily appreciated as well as the descriptive style. Also, there are some gaps in the plot due to the fact that a lot of story content happened inside an MMORPG game world. It's a work in progress; I may polish it and continue with it if I get any positive feedback but right now I'm considering starting a new project from scratch; one that extends to a wider audience and isn't tied into any pre-existing lore base.

Quick plot synopsis (Warning: Spoiler): The plot of this story deals heavily with the exploration of moral themes and the interplay between Light and darkness; good and evil, and their subjective definitions as well as the idea of balance existing between the two in a cyclical nature. The themes of deception and manipulation also run strong.

It's about the resurgence of an ancient and powerful demon lord who learned how to corrupt the essence of Light itself and turn it to his own evil purposes. The 'protagonist' is an Ancient Paladin sworn to defend the universe against this particular form of evil, and the early chapters detail his fights against an emerging and cunning evil that he find himself extremely troubled by due to its peculiar nature as well as a familiarity he cannot place his finger on. It eventually comes out in a series of twists that the Paladin *himself* is actually the demon lord, the result of his 'predecessor', a being so devoted to the defense of justice that it sacrificed its very soul to defeat the demon lord (whose evil was so great that his consciousness could not simply be destroyed) some twenty thousand years into the past, creating a composite consciousness that is our 'hero'. Ever since then, the essence of the demon lord has been slowly corrupting the otherwise incorruptible hero from the inside, pulling the strings 'behind the scenes' and causing him to experience memory lapses and slowly descend into madness until his consciousness is eventually completely replaced by that of the demon. The story will follow his journey and examine the way he influences and teaches lessons of compassion, benevolence and justice to those around him even while making the transition from the story's protagonist to actually be revealed as the main *antagonist*, after which the story will shift to the efforts of his friends who, partially due to his own influences while still 'good', vow to pursue and defeat him for his own past self's sake. All the while, the notion of what is good and what is evil will be tested even through his exploits as an ambitious demon lord, as well as the ideas of salvation, redemption, and at what point one becomes a lost cause beyond saving and must simply be eliminated for the greater good.

Anyway, here's what I have so far. As always, any feedback is appreciated.))

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World Of Warcraft: Redemptions
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Part I: The Silvermoon Redemption

The air itself seemed to tense up as Onikriss padded solemnly through the verdant streets of Silvermoon, the golden-blue light radiating from him contrasting sharply with the maroons and violets of Elven constructions. To the credit of his entourage, they had managed to avoid hostile confrontation with every bystander they had come across despite the presence of the pragmatic Draenei. Whether it was to convince their prospective adversaries of the necessity and valour of their intent, or to simply dissuade them from doing something reckless and foolhardy, the effect was the same, as he now uneventfully made his way down a spiral staircase within a secluded bunker of Farstrider Square. He was grateful not just for the needless bloodshed that had been spared, but for the additional element of surprise that would assist him in completing his mission… For now, the hardest part was about to begin.

Wordlessly, Onikriss turned the last corner, with a stay of his hand warning the others with him that they should remain in the hall for imminent danger awaited behind the thin curtain that was the final barricade between the ancient Paladin and his mark. He calmly and solemnly strode down this final hall, his purposeful determination unquestionable. Two trainee Blood Knights guarded the entrance, presumably to ward off intruders, although it was not likely they would prove a match for anyone with the strength and cunning required to push this far into the heart of Silvermoon. Onikriss did not intend to fight them, but he could not let them send out a warning call either.

The two caught sight of him, fumbling for their weapons in surprise. They opened their mouths to yell something, but no words left them… Only the flowing melody of chimes.

“This was not your destiny,” Muttered Onikriss sorrowfully even as he swiftly closed the remaining distance between them. He placed a hand firmly across each of their chests, and their fiery jade eyes went wide, only to erupt in a golden glow as a surge of divine energy coursed through them. Silently, they crumpled to the floor, a serene and placid expression on their faces. Their eyes now radiated with a peaceful azure, although even now one could see thin emerald veins slowly creeping over them, clouding their souls once again.

Onikriss deeply regretted his glaring inability to permanently cleanse them of their afflictions, but for now the corruption would be held at bay just long enough for him to get in and out while they still remained dormant.

The moment of truth was upon him. It was time.

With a definitive thrust, Onikriss flung open the curtain to the surreal sight that awaited. Crimson electricity permeated the bowl-shaped area, a number of Sin’dorei magisters forming a circle around its edges as they maintained the twisted spells directed towards the beings floating in its center…

For before him was a glowing, resonating figure, the contours of its ethereal signature very familiar to him… Much like himself, they resonated with untold guilt, yet compassion… Endless determination, yet mercy. Chained in place by those who he sought to help was M’uru, and although saddened by the naaru’s current state, he simply nodded to him in homage. No words were required, for their understanding was intrinsic.

More important at the moment, however, was the wracked, unconscious figure floating just below M’uru, its form chained similarly by the crimson tethers surrounding M’uru. It was she who they had come to rescue.

“Heathen!” Seethed a brooding, vindictive voice. It was Lady Liadrin herself, and the green fire seeping forth from her eyes pierced into Onikriss’ with unfathomable loathing and rage. However, it was not he to whom she was referring… No, one such as himself was, in the Blood Knight Matriach’s view, not even worthy of acknowledgement as a sentient entity. It was to Kaaosa, the newly awakened Paladin held prisoner alongside the Naaru that had saved her. The purpose of Onikriss’ visit was clear to Liadrin, and she moved quickly to strike; to end the foolish girl that had dared cross her before she could be liberated by the hands of this meddlesome Eredar.

“No,” whispered a quiet voice, and Liadrin found her strike halted, held back by a wall of pure Light energy that she quickly realized was a shield held by the Draenei that had just placed himself between her and her target. Anger and indignation surged forth in emerald droves from her eyes as she stared into the cool, sapphire pits of his, the energies eerily intermingling and consuming each other. She felt herself assailed by the ever familiar sound of chimes, a warm force permeating her being, willing her to simply embrace peace, lay down her weapons and just go home…

But she would have none of it. She had dealt with this energy for far too long to be susceptible to its wiles. She drove forth with her own will, cutting through the Naaru energies surrounding her adversary, pushing against it… Breaking through the fog of Light surrounding its innermost sanctum where she would pit her will against his for a decisive and utter victory.

Yet… There she found something that even in her wildest nightmares she never would have dreamed. For just the briefest of instants, a reflection glazed over her eyes, a reflection of crimson blood and of absolute darkness. She recoiled in terror as she was flung back against the wall of the chamber, her expression numb as one phrase echoed throughout her mind over and over again, the words themselves not quite as horrifying as the hissing tone in which they came, one whose embittered hatred and unfathomable malice made hers pale in comparison.

”Your time will come, mortal… And when that time does come, no incarnation of the Light will spare your soul… But today is not that time.”

Onikriss grimaced, unsure of what had just happened to Liadrin. However, he did not have time to consider the implications, and took the opportunity to act before she regained her composure. Gingerly, he reached towards Kaaosa, the crimson fog surrounding her burning away and diffracting as he neared. Lightly touching two fingers to her forehead, his eyes momentarily flickered in a trance as he touched his soul to hers.

Before the Magisters could react, a surge of white energy erupted from M’uru, rippling back through their crimson beams and hurling them back against the walls. Kaaosa gasped as she awoke with a start, confusion clouding her features. There was no time to explain things yet, so Onikriss simply grabbed her and began to run towards the exit, chased vehemently by a recovering Lady Liadrin. As they exited the chamber, however, Onikriss took one second to look back at M’uru, floating calmly within the chamber even as the Magisters, rife with vengeful rage, began to fling burning bolts of arcane energy at the Naaru once again. With one last nod to his partner’s own sacrifices, he softly spoke a farewell, which to all others sounded simply like a deep resonance of chimes.

“Good luck, old friend.”

With that, he and his team fled into the wilderness.


Far away, pacing through the gloom of the Ghostlands, a shadowy figure brooded, eyeing his daggers quietly. Somehow, he could feel his mark approaching through the magical void of the dead scar, every undead redeemed on the way adding to the pool of nether energy swirling around him. As the twilight built up around him and his enemy neared, visions of unfathomable power and conquest began to flood his mind, no doubt a reassurance of the rewards this new dark lord offered him for completing his mission. A sickly black glow began to surge forth from his dagger, Fel runes inscribing themselves upon it as his quarry approached.

“Even the smallest tears in the sturdiest of fabrics can, with time, wrench forth and form gaping chasms. It is time to open the gateway.”

With a somber nod, the rogue stalked off into the shadow, preparing for his fateful confrontation with destiny.

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”Where are you?!” Growled Onikriss into the darkness, showing, for the first time that anyone on Azeroth had ever seen, signs of impatience and disconcertment.

“Right here, in the shadows,” Came the goading reply, nothing more than a whisper. Somehow, it had managed to carry through the deathly still air of the dead scar with almost perfectly preserved volume.

Onikriss was genuinely disturbed by this. Normally, it was child’s play for him to pick out and discern the roiling emanations of darkness. To infuse the shadows with Light and to contain and dispel them with holy illumination was his current life’s most important mission, and he had honed his skills to a level beyond all others. Yet, somehow, as he searched frantically for the source of the sickening nether he was feeling permeating the area around him, he found nothing but a hazy obstruction, as if some property out of phase with his own reality was preventing him from resolving this energy signature.

However, he was on an important mission, and he knew that he must press on. Beckoning to the group accompanying him, he continued the march through the dead scar, exorcising every undead construct he encountered along the way.

Eventually, he stood at the gates of Deatholme. He stared into the black fog for several seconds, feeling almost a compulsion to enter, to purge the desecrated place of the twisting corruption surrounding it, but at the last second decided against it. They were all still in danger here, for the Blood Knights would soon be sending troops to reclaim their stolen subject, which Onikriss would not allow to happen. Their priority was to get to Light’s Hope Chapel.

Nodding to the others, Onikriss began to start up the path that would take them out of the Ghostlands and into the Eastern Plaguelands, where they would follow the road to Light’s Hope Chapel. However, as they approached the gate, a figure materialized from the shadows, blocking their way.

“Going so soon?” Seethed the rogue, an aura of twisting darkness swirling around his blackened form. Somehow, beyond all possibilities, he radiated a demented energy, a corruption beyond any a rogue should be able to possess… A darkness beyond even the Fel powers commanded by most Warlocks.

“You simple minded fool,” Muttered Onikriss, outwardly unimpressed, but inwardly harbouring secret feelings of dread. “Do you have any inkling of what you have done?!”

To this, he was met with an outright snicker. “I’m not the one who is simple-minded, wretched Light-user! You have been blinded by the Light you claim to serve, for only in shadows does true clarity and purpose become clear. Nothing escapes my knowledge, nor my cold grip of death. I am Nevruc, prophet of Azeroth, and soon to be its God.”

“You will be god of nothing!” Shouted the ancient Paladin. “Whatever demonic overlord you have given yourself over to this time will not honour the promises of omnipotence and authority he has made… Like any other, you too will be cast into the abyss once your usefulness has run its course… Your soul fated forever to remain as no more than a lifeless puppet to his whims.”

“That’s what you think,” Laughed the cocky rogue. “I already have power beyond your wildest dreams!” As if to demonstrate this, Nevruc flexed, and the darkness around him began to swirl outwards, poisoning the very air around him. “My benefactor will return to this plane, and when he does, life as you know it will cease to exist. My dominion will be absolute, my rule undisputed, my name spoken only in dreadful whispers for fear of my overhearing and bringing my merciless wrath down upon them. And when that happens, you, oh-so-pesky thorn in my side, will be the first to feel its bitter embrace.”

To this, the enigmatic Draenei smiled, as if indulging in a humourous sense of irony to which his opponent was oblivious. “It is not too late for you yet… Go home, Nevruc. Just turn around, and walk away. You can still free yourself from the shackles of servitude you have so ignorantly and recklessly cast yourself into.”

Another mocking laugh followed this, identical to the previous. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I have been given very explicit instructions: Kaaosa must die.” With that, the doomed rogue drew a pair of glowing, serrated daggers, gripping them expertly and tightly. Fel runes skittered and danced along their lengths, glowing with a sickeningly rich violet. Without another word or a noise, he lunged.

“Then you truly are lost to the darkness!” Roared Onikriss, a surge of golden and azure light rushing forth from his form. “If I must purge your very soul from this world to purge the corruption contaminating it, then so be it!”

The daggers struck, and there was a chilling grating noise as dagger scraped shield, the blows expertly blocked. Where the daggers had connected, a concussive blast of Light shot up along their lengths, biting into the darkness surrounding the rogue. The two auras, one of Light and one of Darkness, mingled and pulsed around each other, both seeking to devour and eradicate the other.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Bellowed Onikriss righteously. “I’ve been dealing with your kind for longer than you can even fathom.” He pushed forwards, and Nevruc suddenly felt a shield slam into his chest, throwing him back to the ground. Still, he was undaunted, and he exploded forwards again in a flurry of strikes. However, each one was expertly deflected, the Paladin’s defense relentless as his shield and his blade met them with impeccable timing.

“You will never learn, will you?” Said Onikriss, his voice serene and calm despite the frantic action taking place around him. “Darkness is but the absence of Light. Its compassionate warmth will always prevail against the shadow. It will shine into every corner, every crevice, and there, darkness will be no more.”

His glowing blade came forth, cutting into the darkness. A surge of Light sprang forth from it, searing away at the shadows, wracking Nevruc’s body and sending him flying back to the ground once more.

“And you will never learn,” Snickered Nevruc, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth and standing up straight once more. “Even the brightest star is but an insignificant speck within the endless ocean of darkness engulfing this universe… Darkness that is mine to command! I am truth… I am destiny. Gaze into these eyes and see the reflection of despair, for your cause and your Light are hopeless.”

Nevruc stretched his arms out, as if in a sign of resignation. However, Onikriss knew better, seeing a massive surge of violet darkness build up around the Fel daggers, now held out like channeling beacons. However, it was too late as the rogue’s demonic aura surged forth, spinning relentlessly around the Paladin’s Light, twisting and thickening. Within seconds, it was engulfed completely, and the Ghostlands fell pitch black once more.

A low, roiling laughter echoed throughout the land as Nevruc triumphantly walked up to the encapsulated Paladin. He raised his blades victoriously into the air, preparing to seal the deal by slicing them down into the cocoon of darkness. However, as he forcefully brought them down, his movements were cut off, a surprised gasp and nothing more escaping him as a blue fist punctured angrily through the veil, seizing the startled rogue by the throat.

For the briefest of instants, the entire area seemed to be muted as if a vacuum sucked all of the energy out of the air. Then, a massive sonic boom erupted, and the darkness shattered, Light exploding all around it and surging forth in a rapidly expanding bubble. The entirety of the darkness was ripped away by the thunderous force and scattered to the wind, banished back to the abyss. The dull roar of thunder was all that was left as the ravens, previously perched upon the dead branches of the nearby trees, followed suit, fleeing into the horizon.

With a deafening roar, Onikriss lunged forward, leaping into the air and dragging the flailing, choking rogue in front of him, unable to escape the stoic, steadfast grip the enraged Paladin had on his throat. With a definitive, rigid motion, he hurled the rogue to the ground for a third time, this time slamming Nevruc into the dirt with such force so as to dig into it, skidding along the ground and cutting a deep indent in his wake as a mound of soil and rock built up behind him.

“It’s over,” Said Onikriss with finality, gracefully dropping back to the ground. However, in stark contrast to what one would expect to hear from a defeated opponent, Nevruc continued to snicker triumphantly even as he staggered, with difficulty, to his feet.

“Indeed it is,” Seethed the rogue, this time his turn to be the one smirking with hidden knowledge. “But not for the reason you expect. Mission accomplished. Until next time, Onikriss.”

And with that, he began to gather the shadows about him once more, this time encasing himself within a cocoon of impenetrable blackness.

“You’re finished!” Yelled Onikriss, a surge of blinding Light building about his tightly closed fist, sparkling as if he was compressing a miniature star. With blinding speed, his arm jerked forward, hurling a dense hammer formed entirely of Light into the orb of darkness, causing it to burst with explosive force, this explosion accompanied by an intense ringing noise. However, as the darkness was obliterated away, it revealed only emptiness inside its confines… Nevruc had already vaporized into the night, a lingering snickering reverberating in the wind being the only remaining trace of his presence…


For several seconds, Onikriss remained dumbfounded, a consternated look on his face. “Come, there’s not much time,” He muttered once he had regained his bearings. “We must quickly continue on and make our way to Light’s Hope Chapel.” No sooner had he said this and walked several steps along the road than he suddenly felt a searing pain wrack him, as if his very essence was being drained. Dropping to his knees, he looked at his side, only to see a dagger wound penetrating deeply into his ribcage just beneath his armpit.

“What…” Gasped the confused Eredar, bringing a shaking hand to the wound, where he released a surge of healing energy into it. Yet, even as he did so, the cut began to twist and flare with violet symbols, Fel runes embedded within the very fabric of the wound, which seemed to cut not only through flesh but also through reality, creating a miniature rift to the twisting nether. The rift seemed to consume all Light, eating the energy just as quickly as it was provided, thus preventing the injury from healing.

“Im…possible,” Grunted Onikriss, able to eke out no more before collapsing to the ground. The next thing he remembered was being lifted up by a number of gentle, pale elven hands, their own freely bared essences providing holy strength. Surrounded protectively by Sin’dorei and Orcs, he trudged on into the Eastern Plaguelands.

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Redemptions II: Ripples Of Darkness

Onikriss walked slowly from the doorway of Light’s Hope Chapel, his features drawn into a scowl signifying he was deep in thought. He had been lapsing into this surreal state more and more frequently as of late, as had been his secret forays to the Eastern Plaguelands. It had all started ever since his fateful mission to Silvermoon…

If one observed him closely, one might notice a faint Light glowing from beneath his armor. If one could see him with his armor removed, (as he had been during the questionable event that had occurred at the Halloween party at the Sepulcher, where, to make a long story short, everyone got very drunk and decided it would be a good idea to ride broomsticks naked to Southshore.) one would plainly notice a large bandage wrapped around his upper torso, one seemingly forged of pure Light itself. The magical material radiated Light constantly, drowning out all other vision, but every so often intricate symbols would fizzle through the wrappings, faint violet outlines skittering along the area just below his left armpit. Within seconds, though, the Light would wash over them again, burning them away completely.

Following behind Onikriss, there came a fiery haired Quel’dorei, his azure eyes glowing with conviction and intensity despite the murky, jade-coloured cataracts that had been slowly encroaching on his otherwise pristine orbs ever since he began to serve as Ambassador to Silvermoon. He was prim and proper, dressed in the robes of the Kirin Tor, but his appearance, too, had a haggard edge to it to match Onikriss’.

“Have you made any progress on your end in tracking down the source?” Grunted Onikriss, a forlorn edge to his tone.

In response, the Elven mage sighed and shook his head sadly. “Not yet, I am afraid. Whoever we are dealing with is crafty beyond comprehension, almost as if he is able to predict our very methods and activities.”

This had been what Onikriss was dreading. “Then I am afraid we are running out of time, Gamek. I will hold the Darkness at bay for as long as I can, but the cycle has been rapidly accelerated. I dread that it will soon come full circle.”

At this, both parties stood somber for a few moments as they digested the ramifications of failure. “We must find the source and put a stop to it before it is too late. The consequences to this world will be too disastrous for us to fail now. Redouble your efforts… We cannot afford to operate in secrecy any more. Perhaps it is time to search out and enlist the help of those who would share our cause.”

“As you wish, Master Draenei,” Said Gamek softly, nodding his head. “But what of you?”

Onikriss smiled, his brightened expression a welcome relapse from his increasingly dampened charisma as of late. “I think it would be best if we put that plan we discussed earlier into action. I am going to have to start suppressing most of my power, both to preserve it and to avoid detection. This would also be an excellent opportunity for me to personally investigate the state of Sin’dorei affairs and see if I can try to find a way to help.”

“It is risky,” Pondered Gamek, “But if anybody can find a way to help them, it is you.”

“At this point,” Replied Onikriss, “We don’t have much of a choice. With some practice, I should be able to disguise my energy signature to the point where I can successfully circumvent the curse in the use of my abilities. However, I am going to need to maintain a constant interface with M’uru, one that will require me to infiltrate the Blood Knights themselves to maintain. Hopefully, M’uru will be able to help shed some more light on our endeavors.

Gamek nodded. “Very well then. I have devised a malleable cantrip that should allow for the intricate signature grafting we require. With the combination of our arcane and holy energies we should be able to produce the essence transformation you desire. I used my own for the filter, so the result should, theoretically, turn out to be some form of combination… A projection of one onto the backdrop of another.”

And with Gamek rambling on about technical details and arcane jargon while Onikriss prepared himself mentally for the trials to come, they proceeded to get to work.

* * * * *

And far away, within the dank forests of Darkshire, a dark presence materialized, coalescing from the very fabric of the twisting nether itself. Radiating pure darkness, it twisted and warped the very fabric of reality that it touched, contaminating the tranquility of the forest around it.

With a flick of its newly corporeal wrist, the Dark Envoy slashed its Fel dagger into a hapless rabbit whose only crime was to innocently wander too close. The creature was gutted expertly, the skill fluidly replicated from the memories of the entity’s vassal. Stopping momentarily to examine its work as the life drained from the twitching critter’s form, its gray, cracked lips spread into a smile even as they knit together into a perfect mimicry of its host model. After a moment, it promptly turned, silently stalking off into the night.

“Tremble and despair, denizens of Azeroth, for your God has arrived. The ancient power of the Conclave will rise again from the ashes of history, and when it does… The world you know; everything you hold dear… Will cease to exist.”

And with that, the rogue vanished, his features disappearing into the dark canopy of the forest. Only the echo of an unfathomably malicious snicker, carried supernaturally through the wind, left any evidence that he was ever there.’’


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Redemptions III: A Circle’s Endpoint

Time passes…

“What is the meaning of this?” Sneered the human mage, his multicoloured robes dazzling the air itself even as he materialized from nothingness, his teleportation spell fading cleanly with nothing but a shimmer. He held about himself an air of haughty superiority common amongst the Kirin Tor, ever-present arcane energy crackling along his fingers, ready to be unleashed at a moment‘s notice. “My time is valuable. This had better be good!”

“Calm yourself, Xebec,” Said his purple-hued companion with a tone that was simultaneously decisive, yet soft. His own garments were the colour of the forest; his ruffled hair a shade of purple darker than his skin. Unlike most male Kaldorei, he was clean shaven, a point that had come up often in conversations, as he himself had always considered this a bit odd looking. Across his back was strapped a large and worn, yet still very capable, bow. “Let us give our new friend chance to speak… Whatever it is, it must be important if he felt the need to send such an urgent psychic contact.” Absent-mindedly, his arm fell to his side and he began to scratch his black tiger, Liath, behind the ears.

“Very well, Ahnuar…” Replied Xebec grudgingly. “But it had better be good.”

“I wish I could call it good,” Sighed a deep, rich voice, its owner a blue-skinned figure who had, up to this point, stood before the two in perfect silence, simply content to watch their exchange. With a courteous bow, he continued. “I thank you, young ones, for agreeing to meet with me, and on such ambiguous terms as well. But, as I said during our previous contact, the information I have for you is too sensitive to risk communicating through arcane channels.”

Indeed, as the soft-spoken Draenei continued in a baritone voice that strikingly contrasted his tone, both Ahnuar and Xebec could sense the urgency in his voice and movements. His gleaming, azure eyes, stone-shaped jaw, glistening blue skin and even neatly-kempt facial tentacles all reflected a weariness that they could tell was uncommon to what they quickly presumed to be a peaceful, laid-back Shaman. His loose garments, exotic-looking yet coloured of the same earth as Ahnuar’s own clothes, stood in stark contrast to the glimmering, glowing crystalline structure of the room around them; a room that dazzled with every colour imaginable and seemed to chime together in harmony. Not just his clothes stood out, but his shaggy brown hair that hung, for the most part, in a large braid behind his head, and even his deep azure eyes, that did not shimmer like those of most Draenei but instead gave the impression of staring into a very deep well of wisdom and tranquility. This was a Draenei who embraced simplicity and peace at its most natural, as opposed to the overwhelming extravagance embodied by the Exodar; and particularly the Seat of the Naaru, above which the unlikely trio now stood.

Still, even though his voice, facial features, and even gestures were all much softer, gentler and at ease than the one he reminded both Ahnuar and Xebec of, they still bore a striking resemblance to the mannerisms of one they knew to be much more forceful, derisive, and, for lack of a more fitting description, shiny.

As if on cue, the quiet Shaman immediately mentioned the one they were both thinking of, his mouth curling into a combination of a smile and grimace as he mentioned the name that made them wonder if perhaps this Draenei’s telepathic abilities went beyond simply being able to communicate over long ranges.

“Tell me, what do you know of the one known as Onikriss? I have been scrying for his presence for some time now, yet to no avail…” The Shaman neglected to mention how disturbing that very fact was to him, because due to the particular relationship he had with the missing Paladin it should have been even easier to detect his presence than most… Which could only mean that something was actively blocking his seering abilties and hiding the other Draenei’s presence from him. Still, he continued unabated. “However I have detected his residual energy signature to be strongest amongst you two. Perhaps you have met with him recently?”

The bluntness with which the Shaman, who the pair had known for no more than minutes, voiced his question aroused Ahnuar’s suspicions… Knowing Onikriss, it was possible that he was in some sort of trouble with one of any number of factions… His exploits and outspoken views had always had a tendency to stir up sand. Then again, it was also equally possible that this was some sort of trap; that they might very well be dealing with an agent of the Burning Legion in disguise. After all, the long-lived, enigmatic Paladin had more enemies than anyone they knew when it came to the demonic ranks.

Still, something about the mingled sincerity, sadness and urgency in the Shaman’s voice led him to believe that he was being this discourteous only because he felt that he did not have the time… And that disturbed the even-tempered Kaldorei even more than his previous notions. Still, he saw no reason to be deceitful or dismissive in his response.

“You’re not far off the mark, my friend,” He replied with a smile that may or may not have been weak. “In fact, I think you’ve managed to hit home closer than even you imagined! Onikriss happens to be a close friend of ours… Side by side, we have battled many a servant of both the Lich King and the Burning Legion. A more dedicated, reliable warrior of Light you will never find. Many times have my group trusted their lives to both the strength of his shield and his resolve to see justice prevail.”

The Shaman smiled at this, obviously pleased by Ahnuar’s assessment, but his forehead ridges seemed to crease in renewed worry as he delicately posed his next question.

“That is good to hear… You know well of him. But… I must ask, has he been exhibiting any behaviour that would seem… Abnormal or strange to you?”

At this, Ahnuar raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but before he could reply, Xebec interrupted with what sounded like a nearly inaudible snicker.

“Now that you mention it…” Said the extravagantly-clad mage in a voice that was perpetually edgy. “Onikriss has always been very stern; a man of principle to the core. Yet, he always placed the wellbeing of those around him above his own; never hesitating to assist those in need, whether it be through leaping to their defense against a Horde ambush or helping them find a particularly attractive piece of equipment. Still, even though he had many qualities deserving of great respect, as of late he has become increasingly erratic in his actions. He has been increasingly pompous, jaded, and particularly unforgiving of the mistakes or shortcomings of others as of late… It is to the point where many find it unbearable to be around him. And there are times…” At this, Xebec’s eyes unfocused ever so briefly as he seemed to be gazing beyond the world around him, to some distant memory. “Times when he appears to shift even in his very essence.. To become, ever so briefly, almost unrecognizable not only in state of mind, but even to the point where his appearance becomes unfamiliar… While, thankfully, not many have noticed these lapses, those of us who have have been unable to make any sense of them.”

As Xebec concluded his description, the sombre Draenei sighed heavily, his eyes drooping to stare at the ground for a moment.

“Then, it is as I feared…” Then, unexpectedly, his face snapped back up, and the twin oceans that were his eyes seemed to bore into both Xebec and Ahnuar, as if urging them to feel the heaviness with which he spoke his dreaded conclusion. “The Cycle is at an end.”

“Cycle?” Quipped Ahnuar and Xebec simultaneously.

With a slow nod that unsettled even the Draenei making the gesture, the Shaman continued. “Yes, the Cycle… Pay careful attention, for what I am about to tell you has been kept a secret for millennia… Secret even to my own people, and known only by the highest ranks of the Sha’Tar. It is why I insisted that we meet in person, and in such a secure…” The Shaman briefly waved his arms, gesturing around them at the resonating crystals of the Seat of the Naaru, “location.”

“Thousands of years ago, before even what your people know as the War of the Ancients… At the height of the twisted reign of the Burning Legion and their pursuit of the Draenei people, there came to power a particular Eredar Lord. Second only to the likes of Archimonde, Kil’Jaeden, and their direct lieutenants like Mannoroth themselves, Lord Nekrizz was widely feared even by his own minions, known collectively as the Nekrizz Conclave. Sadistic and cruel beyond belief, he was obsessed with mocking his enemies even in the manner in which he defeated them… Seeing physical torture as too crude and ineffective for his purposes, he was known for twisting not just the minds of his enemies against themselves, but their very souls… Corrupting the very essences of their power and manually wielding their own abilities against them beyond even what Kil’Jaeden saw fit or practical, as such methods went contrary to developing their own dark, demonic powers.

However, although his powers were feared by even the Hand of Argus, there was one class of being that the Demon Lord found to be incorruptible… The Naaru. The purity of their Light was something that he could never succeed in tainting, and as such, after losing several battles against them, not to mention earning the ire and wrath of his superiors, he began to fixate on the Light itself… Searching ever more fervently for ways not simply to counter it with darkness, but to make its very holy essence his own… To twist it into a macabre mockery that was not Light or Darkness, but somehow both… A form of Black Light itself. For a long time, he did not succeed… However, he found the key in the form of a Naaru that the Burning Legion had managed to capture, torturing and draining it of all its Light energy; the source of its very life; unto the brink of death…

Where he was able to observe the process by which a Naaru at the end of it’s life Cycle transforms into a Void. By infusing himself with the energies expelled by the Naaru during its transition, he was able to discover what none before him had… How to corrupt not merely those who embodied the Light’s virtures… But the Light itself. You might say that he, who would forevermore be known as Nekrizz the Lightflayer, became the first true Death Knight… The very progeny of the craft by which the subsequent generations of Orcish and then human Death Knights were based.

Many of the Hand of Argus fell to the Lightflayer’s demented crusade… Draenei and Naaru alike. It came to a point where he needed to be stopped… The threat he posed, not just to the Light, but to the sanctity of the universe itself, became simply too great. In order to stop the spreading of his influence, a last ditch assault against himwas made by a select few elite of the Hand of Argus… Only the most determined, the very most steadfast of will and virtue could even hope to stand for a second against the corruption emanating from the Void-charged demon lord.

However, even as the battle was joined, it was realized that, even should the Hand of Argus prove victorious against the Lightflayer’s forces, that disposing of Lord Nekrizz’s essence itself would not be so simple a matter. Immortal by physical standards as all greater demons are, Nekrizz could not simply be killed, only to have his energy sent back to the twisting nether where he would simply coalesce into another physical form after crafting it. The holy banishing magics that had proven to be the most effective tool for destroying the dark energies inherent in the demons proved to be even less useful; those energies themselves absorbed and twisted by the Lightflayer to bolster his own strength.

In the end, it took the sacrifice of a very soul… One with a conviction, resolve, and will enough to match the Lightflayer’s own… A willing being to join its very essence with that of the demon lord, through a method that, ironically and perhaps fittingly, used his very own methods against him… Yet still, it required someone willing to give their very soul, to lose its own identity and join completely with Nekrizz in order to provide an eternal prison; a cage of replenishing Light energy that would forevermore cut off Nekrizz from his own power and prevent his corrupting influence from reaching beyond its confines and out into the universe.”

A chilling realization dawned on the two listeners as they realized just who the one and only person devoted, able, and plain old crazy enough to take on such a ridiculous burden would be. However, they needed not voice it as the Shaman finished his tale, his voice trembling with grim finality.

“It was foolish of us to believe that he could be held at bay forever. The Cycle, identical to that of the Life Cycle of a Naaru, during which the steadily growing darkness within finally consumes the last remaining vestiges of Light, is coming to a close, and much faster than we previously anticipated. My name is Oniton, known otherwise as the Seer of Destiny… And I implore you to assist me… We must find my brother. Find him and help him… Before it is too late. Not just for him, but for us all.

******************************
******************************

Redemptions IV: The Precipice of Oblivion

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‘Insignificant… Impudent wretch.’

‘Must we continue this incessant bickering through all eternity?’

‘Brother…’

‘Cover it up all you want; naïve, ignorant fool. We can sense the shift equally… You just as well as I, and there is nothing we can do to stop it.’

‘The Light will see us through, as it always has. You, of all, should have learned such a lesson by now.’

‘Ha, ha, ha… Blind denial as always. The Light will indeed see us through… But not in the way we expect.’

’You say that, yet you still refer to us as ‘we’… Separate entities are something that we will never be again, regardless of which part of the cycle we embody.’

‘Brother… We must speak.’

‘After countless thousands of years, your insolence never ceases to amaze me, O’nis. You say that we have lost perspective on our identity, yet you clearly forget who we were… Who.. We… We… I… You… Were.’

‘I don’t think that tone is quite as menacing as you intended.’

‘It matters not. We will never consciously realize it.’

‘ ‘We’ have a name, you know.’

‘Don’t remind me… But that will all change soon enough. You have asserted your own power over me for far too long… Yes… Already we can feel it changing… Twisting. Did you really think that you could keep me locked up in here forever? With Light, of all things? The very thing I once fed off of when I still existed?’

‘Where are you, brother? Please, send me some sign.’

‘Not forever, no.. Just until the universe was ready for us.’

‘Ha, ha, ha… Pathetic… Snivelling… The universe will never be ready for us… For me. And you have made sure of that. The transition has already begun… And when it is complete, I will have more power than ever before! You should have had the foresight to see this coming, Naaru. Recall the very instrument of my previous success. What, were you hoping that the cycle would suddenly grind to a halt just because we took up a mortal form? And now, you will put me within the very center of the reaction as it takes place! To be one with a Void… Yes… Such a delicious fate I could never dream of!’

’You act as if that means I will be gone, Nekrizz.’

‘Your presence… Will be inconsequential. I and only I am in control now… And my exquisite revenge is only just beginning. As for you… Your fate will be the most delicious part… Imprisoned within the very vessel of your doom… Forced to watch; no, even better, to commit the things that go so very much against the core of what your being used to be. Stripped of that which you never believed you could be stripped of… Yourself. You will suffer just as I have suffered. Yes, I will do to you all that you have done to me tenfold! For too long have I remained in chains! My rise to power is only just beginning! The reign of Lord Nekrizz, The Lightflayer, will begin anew… And I have some catching up to do. And the best part about it all is not that I will laugh… But that I will force you to laugh… As the universe burns.’

‘You will not overcome me as easily as you believe… I will still see to it that you never achieve your full power for as long as I am capable. And by then, it will be too late. There are those who will rise to stop us… And they will succeed, for we have prepared them well for this, as you say, inevitability.’

‘Brother!’

Onikriss gasped and bolted upright, his expression twisted into a mixture of consternation, rage, and raw terror. Beads of cold sweat glistened upon his forehead ridges and matted his dirty blonde, flame-like hair that wavered as if smouldering. He threw the single, silk cover off of himself and, with a grunt, sat up on the edge of the bed he was sleeping on. His hooves clattered noisily to the ground as he leaned forward, rubbing his forehead heavily with one hand. In the fleeting, dark blue lighting left by the arcane crystals that peppered the walls of the inn he was staying at, his face was cast in an ominous shadow. Why this was truly disturbing did not cross the normally stone-faced Paladin’s mind, for normally he exuded a gentle, yet brilliant, aura of golden, azure and jade Light… Even while sleeping, although less pronounced during such times. Even his glowing azure eyes seemed devoid of Light on this night… Instead, they seemed cold, empty pits that would leave one feeling with a sense of gazing into the Twisting Nether itself.

In fact, the brightest source of Light in the room was originating from Onikriss’ side, and he looked to it belatedly, causing his face to be cast in an even more ominous upwards shadow. The bandage wrapped around his wound flared brightly, its Light thrusting desperately into the dark patch just above it… Or perhaps was being sucked in. The once-confident Draenei couldn’t really tell anymore. As usual, a number of deep, purplish runes began to attempt to inscribe themselves within the areas of the bandage around the injury that refused to heal, and Onikriss began to subconsciously mouth the demonic syllables that they referenced before catching himself and forcing himself to silence.

“No… Not now.”

Pushing the blue curtain that served as a doorway to the room aside, Onikriss stumbled out into the hallway, trying to clear his head. What had he been dreaming about that had thrown him into such an uncharacteristic fit? Something… Someone… Disembodied speaking, perhaps? Someone had been calling to him… But what had the voice been saying over and over? Groggily, Onikriss tried to place the voice. It sounded strangely familiar, as if he should have recognized it, yet for some reason he was not able to bring its owner to his mind. It was almost as if… Something was blocking him from remembering clearly.

Grunting, Onikriss continued down the spiral staircase, still somewhat disoriented. At one point, he had to even seize hold of the rail to stop from tripping. Finally, he reached the entrance and found that the innkeeper was not at her desk, having retired for the night. He was grateful for this; the last thing he wanted right now was for anybody to see him in this uncharacteristically weakened state… To portray anything other than the steadfast confidence, determination, and enlightened strength that he always did was unfathomable. The fact that he had mysteriously reverted to his true form and the consequences that might have if he were spotted did not even cross the preoccupied Paladin’s mind as he walked out into the streets of Silvermoon for some fresh air.

Glancing to his sides in order to ensure that the streets were deserted, (and they would be at this time of night… The Sin’Dorei seemed to harbour an ill-will towards all things nocturnal, and there was nothing they liked more than their beauty sleep… Except perhaps magic.) Onikriss let out an audible growl. He raised his arm again, almost in a gesture of defiance against the forces assailing him… Only to find it shaking and convulsing violently. Onikriss grimaced and clenched his fist even tighter, as if willing it to return to his control.

After a few timeless moments of standing completely motionless, a shift seemed to come over the stoic Paladin’s expression, as if something had just clicked. Then, without warning, every muscle in his body began to tense and bulge as the chiselled expression of righteous determination and confidence that everybody knew and loved/hated fixated upon his visage. With a guttural roar, the ancient Draenei’s arms jerked outwards, and an explosive surge of Light suddenly surged forth from his body, eliciting a loud, vacuum-like sound as the aura of darkness that seemed to be building around his person was burnt forcefully away.

Taking a deep breath, the Paladin resumed a strong stance of pride and confidence, yet one that also reflected inner calm and serenity. A shimmering medley of blue, green, white and gold swirled around his form once again, and the indomitable will that so characterised the enigmatic Eredar shone forth from his glowing azure eyes once again.
Now that he was shimmering like a beacon in the middle of the night, Onikriss quickly moved towards the gated entrance to the verdant city. The sparkling plate armor that had just materialized over him sparkled in fashion akin to the glittering streets, the pieces gliding soundlessly against each other despite the fact that the Paladin moved at a quick, jerky pace.

“The Cycle…” He muttered absent-mindedly, even as the two elven sentries guarding the front gate charged him with surprised sounds. Reflexively, he blocked their strikes and, as they rebounded from his shield, they began to twirl their blades around in ever-more vigorous gymnastic motions. Onikriss bemusedly decided that they would be much better off wielding long, flowing ribbons instead of swords.

Needless to say, a single hammer strike to the side of each helmed head sent the tired sentries to some desperately needed sleep.

Onikriss exited Silvermoon, wrapped up in his own thoughts. Something was accelerating the cycle… What that meant, he was not completely sure.. However, he knew it was very, very bad. It was something that he had to stop at all costs. More importantly, though, should the worst happen, he had to get as far away as possible from those who he cared about. The thoughts of what might happen should he fail were unbearable… Even though he was not sure exactly what failure entailed at this point.

Turning his eyes to the north, Onikriss approached the roost just outside the city limits where the dragonhawks were nesting. “No… I cannot allow this to come to pass… While there is still time, the darkness must be vanquished.” Onikriss was unsure as to what kind of power could corrupt the very essence of his Light to the extent it had… To the point where even his own body seemed to consume it readily; but he was sure that it was nothing he had encountered in his countless millennia of fighting against the Burning Legion… This cold sensation that he had not felt ever since his inner Light had first burst to the fore at his induction into the Hand of Argus…

When was that, again? What had it entailed, exactly? For the life of him, Onikriss could not manage to recall the precise events of his first training in the ways of the Paladin. Shrugging it off as one of the last remaining side-effects of his pod’s initial crash on Azeroth… Why had he fled with the Exodar, again? That didn’t sound like him… Surely he would have been willing to stay and fight the endless Hordes of the Legion, wouldn’t he? What was so important here for him to protect…

Shaking his head once again, Onikriss focused with grim determination on the task at hand.

“No, this is something more.. I can feel it. I’ve felt it building up ever since we first came to this world… What we were meant to defeat. The Death Knights must not rise to power again… The threat they would pose should the Lich King regain his grasp over the dark forces of this world is too great… For the sake of the sanctity of the universe and the Balance itself, I must stop them…”

And perhaps, in those dark, cold recesses of the North, Onikriss would find the answers that he sought in uncovering the mystery of the dark Demon Lord he now faced and the radical powers at its command.

An expression of rage and malice uncharacteristic of the stalwart Paladin suddenly graced his face. “Yes.. The Death Knights must be stopped… And the Lich King must pay.”

“Yes…” He then added under his breath, his voice so quiet that not even he was aware he was saying anything. “The Lich King will pay, and I will reclaim what is rightfully mine…”

With that, Onikriss hitched onto a dragonhawk he had just finished stealing, and with characteristic resolve and gusto, led it off into the dawn. He gazed thoughtfully at the sun as he flew ever more northward, his crimson eyes glinting in the growing Light.

***************************************
Redemptions V: Descent of a Champion
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A heavily built, muscular, yet slouched figure trudged through the Dragonblight snowdrifts, each heavy step causing the snow to squeal noisily under its plated boots. Despite the blowing snow spiralling around him and the bitter temperature, it was covered by no cloak, leaving layered plates of armor exposed… Armor that had once shone with ebullient silver and violet, but was now ruddy and dull, the weather having corroded it to a rusty black in some places. The traveler had been staring at the ground in front of him as he plodded monotonously along, but inexplicably perked up for an instant, as if sensing something. Chancing to raise his head, the Draenei grimaced, revealing crimson eyes that were now streaked with throbbing veins of dark violet, cracked lips that had been chafed nearly beyond recognition and skin that itself seemed not to be faring much better; its once smooth and vibrant azure-jade complexion now dried, flaked, and transformed to a dull, greyish purple which one could assume was due to his relentless exposure to the inclement conditions of Northrend.

Presently, he shuddered, stumbled, and fell to one knee, clutching his side and letting loose a hacking cough. The bandages, barely visible through the crook in his chest plate, no longer glowed with brilliant Light, instead entirely consumed by a field of sickening violet energy, energy that seemed to dance and form strange, intricate patterns of concentric circles and squares that, at some point inwards, became infinitely more complex. These patterns seemed to be apparent only at the very fringes of one’s field of vision… Anyone attempting to study them with any sort of scrutiny would find themselves frustrated as the symbols would vanish tantalizingly into the mist just as one thought they had focused their vision on it… A frustration made even more amusing as they would teasingly reappear in the watcher’s peripheral vision as soon as he turned his gaze.

A nearby magnataur caught sight of the half-collapsed Eredar and quite sensibly assumed him to be in a weakened and vulnerable state. Consumed by the prospect of an easy meal, it charged in to capture its prey… A mistake that would cost it dearly as the kneeling figure spang up with a ferocity and quickness betrayed in no way by his previous composure.

Where it would have gored its victim’s delicate flesh, the magnataur howled in pain as it found its tusk instead shattered completely by the forceful riposte of its opponent’s glowing shield. Instantly becoming another being, now charged with energy, the Paladin leapt forcefully into the air. With a single decisive, relentless swing, he brought his hammer down upon the top of the magantaur’s head, causing it to burst in a violent shower of blood and brain matter.

As the freshly created corpse toppled lifelessly to the ground, the figure resumed his slouched stance, the golden aura that had so rapidly sprung up about it vanishing just as quickly. Pausing to watch the last vestiges of life energy drain from his hapless victim, he began to speak to no one in particular.

“I…” He began in a voice that was ragged and hoarse, only slightly resembling the deep, booming sound that he had once commanded. “I was a noble being; once… I championed the cause of truth, integrity, justice… With conviction resolute, will impenetrable. And for what?” As if for emphasis, he raised a clenched fist, a fist that now shook and convulsed erratically. With a dismissive snicker, the fist shot back down to his side, cutting the air in its wake. “What has my sacrifice been for?” With that comment, his visage twisted again into some macabre cross between a smirk and a grimace. “For this… To face the tide alone, to continue to hold the forces of darkness at bay for all eternity? No… This will end here and now. In these frozen wastes, I will claim my birthright once and for all. The Light… The Darkness… Diametrically opposed, yet on what dimension? So much potential… Squandered. It is time that all that changed. It has come full circle, and now…” Now, the figure, little more than a silhouette in a raging snowstorm, straightened up once again, began to chuckle to himself, in a fashion most befitting to his ramblings. “Destiny is finally at hand. By the Light…” He finished, his last statement punctuated by a derisive snort as the winds around him suddenly descended to a dead stop. “It shall be Redeemed.”

“Indeed it shall,” Came a voice behind him as a figure emerged through the snow, having just heard the trailing end of the monologue that had been so far muffled by the sharp Northrend winds. In sharp contrast to the Paladin, the crafty figure made no noise as it approached, barely even leaving any footprints in the snow. It was a sly-looking Kaldorei, itself shielded from the elements by a thick cloak.

“Hmm… Sylaurn…” Muttered the Draenei before even turning around, then speaking louder. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” At this point, he turned to face the rogue, and within the space of that motion, a brief surge of Light flickered across his form. His chapped lips knit together, his skin lightened and softened, and his armor began to surge with energy, the rust upon it evaporating to reveal only a lustrous shine underneath. Regarding his visitor with a wide grin, he spoke in a rich and silvery, yet uncannily soft-spoken voice. “The Darkness here is particularly pervasive… The shadow contaminates this land, plain for all to sense.”

“Yes, it does,” Replied the rogue warily.

“The Lich King’s will has been allowed to remain unchecked for far too long. We must put a stop to it at all costs… The cleansing power of the Light will sweep over this corrupted land, purging it… Cleansing it. Of this, I am sure. However, to set the required events into motion, alliances must be made… Old enemies must learn to cast aside their differences and work together for a common cause. What I offer is a chance to do that, plain and simple… With my help, there is much that you can accomplish… And vice versa. I see the path that must be taken if we are to persevere… It will be fraught with hardship and danger, but if we stay true to our newfound cause then we will prevail… The Light will prevail.”

To this Sylaurn simply nodded in agreement. “Yes, we will prevail.”

Onikriss turned away momentarily, pausing to stare thoughtfully towards the North… Towards where his foe lay waiting… Yes… His plans were all falling carefully into place… Soon, the Lich King would have to pay… Soon, he would reclaim what was rightfully his.

“Yes, the Light will prevail,” He muttered under his breath. “My Light will prevail…”

Then, he turned back to regard Sylaurn with eyes of pure, unblemished azure, grinning once again in an unmistakably friendly manner. “Come, let us talk.” With that, he walked confidently towards the rogue, speaking always in a smooth, lithe manner as they began to discuss matters of import.


******************************************
Redemptions VI: The Twilight Traveler
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Off the coast of Scalawag Point in the Howling Fjord, Onikriss hopped resolutely across the scattered ice floes, his plated boots twanging in a particular manner every time they met the ice. Why he was meandering about so far away from anything of import, one could not tell. The blank expression he wore on his face betrayed nothing in the way of his thoughts, his icy, glimmering eyes alone any indication of the concise purpose for which this particular journey existed.
Suddenly, and seemingly without cause, the enigmatic Eredar paused and snorted derisively, his eyes fixating at some unseen point in the distance, a point that, as he approached, resolved into a dark silhouette, and then what was clearly recognizable as a humanoid form. Calmly, the Paladin continued towards it, his expression and pace unchanging, until he stood looming over it.

It was a human female, clad in dark, tattered robes nowhere close to sufficient to stave off the bitter temperatures she had been exposed to, undoubtedly for some time, in the frozen Northrend wastes. Her body was pale and emaciated; looking barely better than a creature of undeath. This was not far off from the truth, Onikriss realized as he regarded her, unconscious, the violent shivering that had no doubt incapacitated her earlier having subsided to periodic, weak spasms as the advanced stages of hypothermia brought her closer and closer to death. Her life signature was nothing but a tiny spark, the last few threads weaving her soul into the fabric of the world already beginning to stretch and snap at what would seem to most an agonizingly slow rate. Within a few minutes, she would be beyond saving. Onikriss, however, was not prepared to let that happen.

Kneeling down beside the human’s near-lifeless form, the blue-skinned Draenei cupped one hand under her head, gently propping her up. “Look at me,” He said curtly, a peculiar edge in his voice making it seem as though he was speaking not only to her, but to something else as well. Those in tune with the floes of Life would notice something strange at this command; the thin wisps of life energy leaving her dying body suddenly shuddering and contracting, as if seized and pulled on by some unseen force. Surprisingly, the ghostly female let out the weakest of gasps and her eyes momentarily fluttered open, revealing blank, bloodshot orbs that saw nothing, and yet beyond everything, at the same time.

Onikriss stared into those cold orbs for what seemed like an eternity, his own azure jets unflinching, unwavering, and themselves coldly analytical. Finally, he spoke, his voice unsettlingly soothing and compassionate. “Do not fear. You are safe now.” With that, he pressed two fingers sharply to the center of her chest, just below her exposed collarbone. A surge of Light sprang up at the tips of his fingers, blinding at first, yet quickly spreading out along the length of her near-frozen body, bathing it in a glowing mist and infusing it with warmth and energy. At the same time, a bright symbol materialized in front of the Paladin’s forehead, the shining symbol of the Naaru.

“Rest now,” Said Onikriss gently, cradling the human in his powerful arms and standing up, holding her against his own chest so that his own aura of golden-azure Light blanketed her frail form. At this, her body seemed to relax, going into a peaceful sleep just before she could notice the symbol superimposed upon the Draenei’s forehead begin to flicker and twist, a murky, macabre web of blackness pulsating around it, engulfing it, corroding it… “You are in good hands.”

Satisfied that the girl was now fully unconscious, Onikriss promptly turned and began to make his way back across the ice floes in much the same manner that he had arrived, despite the fact that he was now carrying her in his arms. However, the slightest hint of a smirk slowly began to creep upon his lips. Permitting himself one single indulgence, he leaned in close to her and whispered something into her ear despite the fact that she could not hear it.

“You have failed, O’nis…”

With that, Onikriss continued to make his way purposefully across the ice as if nothing had ever happened, a quiet snicker carrying ominously through the wind.

The doors to the Indelibles Guild Hall were flung violently open with a sickening crack as a figure stormed in, its metallic boots echoing off of the tiled floors with a fervent series of twangs as it marched purposefully towards the center of the Hall. The dark corners of the room were illuminated by the figure’s effervescent aura as it approached, commanding the attention of all within in perhaps the showiest, most overdramatized spectacle of an entrance ever conceived.

What truly caught the eyes of the few currently occupying the Hall was not, however, the Paladin, for they had become all but inured to his flashiness long ago, but the frail, comparatively tiny form he carried nestled in his massive arms. Her black hair hung in damp, matted streaks across her pale forehead and her sunken face seemed perpetually twisted in an expression of pain, but aside from that her tattered, withered body seemed relaxed and calm compared to its earlier condition.

“Sarania!” Gasped one of the occupants, himself a human Paladin by the name of Hegel. “What…” The human’s gaze turned towards the Draenei’s face, his expression of concern turning to one of accusation. “What has happened to her?!”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Replied Onikriss calmly. “I found her frozen, unconscious, and near death out on the ice floes off the coast of the Howling Fjord. What she was doing out there, I cannot say, but she is very lucky I happened to be in the area at the time.”

At this, his ridged brow furrowed and his face contorted into an expression of consternation. “My best healing efforts have had only marginal effect. Why this is, I cannot tell. She seems to be afflicted with something… Something whose nature I cannot place. This is… Quite disturbing.”

Upon hearing this, the human sighed, shrugging his shoulders slightly, yet still keeping his guard up. “Well, I’m not sure what we can do for her here, but rest assured that we will do everything we can.”
In reply, Onikriss simply nodded. “What she needs most now is a lot of rest and nourishment. I need somewhere safe to put her… I would stay to look after her myself, but I must return to Northrend and attempt to search for the cause of her ailment. That may be her only chance for recovery.”

Hegel replied by nodding in an understanding manner; perhaps feigned, perhaps not. “I understand… That chair over there should suffice.” He pointed to one of the large, plush chairs adorning the walls of the Guild Hall. “We’ll be able to look after her there.”

Nodding once again, Onikriss walked over to the chair, gingerly depositing Sarania down onto it, her body too light to even sink noticeably into the plush fabric. Satisfied, he turned on his heel and exited the Guild Hall in much the same manner as he had entered, waiting until his face could no longer be seen by the occupants of the hall before allowing his lips to begin curling upwards.

Once safely out of sight, Onikriss moved not towards Stormwind harbour, but merely to a nearby building, leaning leisurely against one of its wooden walls and crossing his arms. Adopting a relaxed posture, he closed his eyes, giving the misleading expression that he was not paying attention to his surroundings. However, that conclusion could not be further from the truth, for while his eyes were closed his senses were open… Expanding, engulfing all around him. Every life signature, every movement, every projected thought was within his sphere of awareness, and he remained motionless, waiting… Calculating.

***An indefinite amount of time passes***

The doors to the Indelibles Guild Hall were flung violently open as a figure stormed in in perhaps the most stunning display of déjà vu ever conceived. This time, there were no figures in the Guild Hall other than Sarania, her breathing labored and weak as she slumbered in the same chair Onikriss had left her in earlier.

Making a beeline directly towards where she lay, Onikriss loomed over her ominously, his expression stern and stoic. Raising an arm in front of him, he began to concentrate, and the blinding aura of azure-golden Light about him receded completely within, momentarily blanketing the contours of his face and armor with shadows that, were they present on anyone else, would have seemed natural. This would not last, however, as the retracted Light began to surface again, this time concentrated entirely onto the surface of his hand, turning it into a psychedelic beacon of pulsating, kaleidoscope light.

Decisively and abruptly, Onikriss thrust the hand forward, planting it squarely on the center of Sarania’s chest. Immediately the energy contained within erupted forth, engulfing her body and obscuring her for the briefest of moments within an incandescent ball of surging energy.

As the sudden blast of Light began to subside, Sarania jerked, inhaling in a deep gasp as her eyes fluttered open. They flickered reflexively between the Draenei’s hand and his face for a moment, a look of confusion spreading across her own.

Nodding satisfactorily, Onikriss turned to leave without a word, however as he began to step away the still-weakened human thrust an arm out, just grazing the Paladin’s plated wrist before falling limply against the front of the chair. He paused bemusedly, turning slightly to look over his shoulder at her.

“No…” She croaked. “I’m- I’m not letting you… Get away again… That easily.”

“I am sorry, my dear,” Replied Onikriss dismissively as he began to walk across the length of the Guild Hall. “Where I go… None may follow. Particularly not one in a condition such as yourself.”

“No!” Cried Sarania desperately, even the effort from raising her voice visibly straining her, causing her next breath to come as little more than a whisper. Then, surprisingly, she struggled from the chair, standing upright on legs that immediately began to shake and wobble from the effort. She grit her teeth as a mixture of determination, conviction, pain and anger swept across her countenance. She began to growl in a low, strained tone, speaking words in a language the ancient Paladin had not heard in many thousands of years.

“You will go nowhere that I cannot follow.” She spat, the rough language of demons causing her listener to smile smugly.

“Is that so, my dear?” Replied the Eredar, his voice smooth and silvery. “Then by all means, try.”

Sarania struggled to take a step forward, instead groaning and collapsing to her knees. She coughed heavily, a spatter of blood dotting her dry, cracked lips. As she struggled to stand up again, only to instead collapse completely to the floor, Onikriss sighed deeply, shaking his head.

“You are in no position to accompany me,” He said with finality. “What you must focus on now is recovering. Only then will you be effective enough to make any sort of journey. Until then…”

With that, Onikriss once again began to make his way towards the entrance, his steps continuing to echo against the floor with the same characteristic sense of purpose. Sarania, however, would not be dissuaded as she struggled to pull herself to her knees and elbows.

“I know what you are,” She growled, still speaking the Demonic tongue. Upon hearing this, Onikriss stopped dead in his tracks, twisting around to look at her over his shoulder yet again. For a long moment, he stared at her intently, then his face softened and he smiled at her compassionately.

“Get some rest,” He said soothingly. “Perhaps, one day, we will meet again.”

“No!” Shouted the determined warlock, her cry punctuated by a fit of coughing. “You must take me with you.” As if to accentuate this point, she reached a shaky hand towards him, the smallest orb of shadow darting from her fingertips to strike the Paladin at ankle level, where it dissipated to no effect.

“My, you’re a determined one,” Quipped the enigmatic Draenei, his voice now crisp as the condescending expression upon his face all but evaporated, replaced instead by a coldly serious gaze. “Are you sure that you want to do this.”

In reply, the exhausted human nodded her head as vigorously as she could, her outstretched arm already falling weakly to the ground. She simply stared ahead, her eyes wide with a mixture of determination, defiance, and longing.

“Very well then,” Replied Onikriss flatly. “But remember… This was your choice.” With that, he raised one arm to the side, and in a nonchalant gesture, snapped his fingers.

Immediately, Sarania’s eyes went even wider and her mouth opened in a gasp as an aura, not of Light, but of a macabre dullness, began to spring forth from her, wrapping itself around her body. The symbol of the Naaru materialized once again, not over Onikriss’ forehead, but hers… And just like it had on the Draenei’s, it began to twist and pulsate as a web of twilight snaked along its form, engulfing and polluting it until it was the same dark hue as the energy now surrounding her.

Suddenly, without warning, Sarania’s body began to twitch and convulse rapidly, and she released an agonizing scream that was mercilessly cut off midway as her body went completely rigid. She jerked unnaturally to her feet, a blank expression on her face, and began to shamble forward autonomously on limbs that could not support the motion, yet were forced to anyway.

“Come along then, my dear,” Said Onikriss resolutely, with an underlying hint of mockery. He chuckled quietly to himself then continued forward, leaving the Guild Hall in much the same manner he had entered, not looking back even once. His new charge had no choice but to follow along at the same brisk pace, her motions forced and robot-like.

No replies at all, huh? Perhaps I should have broken the chapters up into separate posts for ease of reading...

It's really REALLY long. I don't think most of us will sit there and read all that. BUT if you format it into a nice PDF with a cover and pages with nicely sized text then you'll probably get a few responses.