Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 10
Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.
Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License. Summary: A draenei paladin travelling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge. Author's note: This has got to be the hardest thing I've ever written. I won't give it away, but just a warning, it's not pretty. And if you must know, no, this is not the last part of the story. I wouldn't dream of ending it here. You are just going to need to wait until the next part is written to find out what happens. --
Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 10
-- The wind howled. A pale glow illuminated the land, the energies in the sky provided light in the dark of night. Two figures carefully made their way up a narrow path in the sheer cliffs. Hooves crushed stray rocks into dust, their heavy bodies and strong legs very capable of the task. Both were adorned in the armour of paladins, a two-handed sword strapped securely on each of their backs. The shorter of the pair was in the lead, a blue glow shone from his eyes. The draenei had insisted that he go first, for he had more experience in the Light, and knew how to deal with the evil they slowly made their way towards. The tauren behind him had only just begun to learn the ways of the Light, and on his own would be no match for the power they soon faced. The wind was a constant reminder of what lay ahead, its chill more than once produced a shiver up their spines. It wasn't so much the temperature of the wind that produced this sensation, but rather the sound it made as it travelled through the cracks and crevices of the cliffs. They both had the feeling that this was going to be the toughest battle they had ever faced, for both knew that there was no way that the evil being that had kidnapped their friend would give up their prize without a fight. Eventually, they found themselves at the end of the path, a clearing of long grass and rocks awaited them. On the side of the cliff, a narrow crack just large enough for the tauren to walk through led to a dark cave. They stepped inside slowly, at any moment they expected an ambush. None came. The draenei used his eyes to see in the dark, as his race had the ability thanks to certain biological properties. He used this ability to guide them through the warren of tunnels and caverns. After a few minutes of nothing but darkness, they came upon a strange violet glow. Upon closer inspection, the source of the light came from a crystal, which hovered above the floor of the cave. The light illuminated a large part of the cave, which revealed pillars of rock that had formed over centuries from water that had dripped in through the cracks in the ceiling. Next to the crystal lay a gagged and bound elf, his pale skin tinted purple by the crystal's magical glow. With no desire to waste time at the opportunity presented to them, the draenei stepped forward and kneeled at the elf's side, and proceeded to ungag him. "The crystal suppresses my magic," Jorus explained, the elf glanced at the crystal. "I tried to teleport away, but nothing happened." Anarchei nodded as he began to untie his friend. A deep voice issued forth from the dark. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." In the shadows, beyond the reach of the light, two eyes shone in the darkness, their blue colour an indication of an evil presence within. It was the death knight. "I thank you for coming alone," the unholy being spoke again, his voice echoed against
the walls of the cave. "It will make our transaction much easier." "What do you mean?" Anarchei asked as he stood from his position beside Jorus, Stronghoof at his side now. "Why, I thought it was obvious," the death knight explained in a humorous tone. "In exchange for the elf, Stronghoof must give himself to me." "Who do you think you are?" the angry tauren yelled at the shadows, his body shook with rage at the death knight's audacity, and stepped around Jorus. "I demand that you show yourself!" The familiar sound of hooves greeted the three as the death knight stepped forward slowly. Eventually, the evil being was illuminated totally by the violet light in the cave. The undead tauren wore black armour adorned with embossed silver skulls and bones, the hilt of a weapon in the same style visible above his left shoulder. The armour matched his black fur and horns, as well as the silver ring through his nose. Stronghoof gasped and pointed a shaking finger at the death knight. "You...you're Stonebreaker," he said softly with a stutter, his muzzle a mixture of confusion and fear. "But...you're dead." Anarchei turned his head to face his mate, then directed his gaze at Stronghoof's former mate, and then back again. "Confused?" the undead tauren chuckled. "I'll explain then. Might as well, it may make things easier for you. You see, after the Forsaken killed most of the soldiers in front of the Wrath Gate, and the dragons had returned to Wyrmrest Temple, the Lich King came back to resurrect those that had died. Most were brought back as mindless undead, their minds and bodies too far gone to be of any real use, however a select few were made into death knights, myself included. I turned out to be one of the most powerful death knights the Lich King had ever created. Because of this, the Lich King promised me that I would get my mate back, so long as I pledged upon my unlife fealty to the Lich King. I think he feared the power I had, because that pledge bonded me to continued existence, and to break it by turning traitor would mean I would cease to be. So, out of love for you Stronghoof, I followed you around, disguised as a death knight of the Horde. No one ever suspected me, so long as I wore the right colours. While you slept I influenced your unconscious to think of suicide. The only way you could be my mate again was if you became a death knight like me, and you needed to die for that to happen. The undead legion that almost killed you? I arranged that, with the help of another death knight that had also come back from the Wrath Gate. However, thanks to the intervention of the paladin, those plans were ruined. So, here we are. My plans have changed a bit, but the result will still be the same. Now, I'll ask again. Hand yourself over Stronghoof, and I promise, no one will get hurt." For a moment the three were stunned to silence by the undead tauren's words. The cruelty of what he had done was
such a shock to them. Never before had they seen a love so twisted that it hardly could be called love at all. It seemed that despite this, the tauren paladin was in thought on whether to give himself up or not. Stronghoof had no desire to see Jorus harmed, but he didn't want to get injured either. In either case, his mate would be hurt the most if either of them were wounded or even killed. He knew that Anarchei cared for them both very much. "Don't do it!" Jorus yelled from his place on the ground as he struggled slightly against the ropes that held him bound tight. Anarchei was torn. He did not know what to say, or what to do. On the one hand he had his friend Jorus, his netherdrake companion for many years, and on the other he had his new mate Stronghoof, whom he could not contemplate a life without. He did not want either of them harmed, but if he knew anything about the evil in front of him, someone was bound to get hurt. However, his inner struggle was dashed when the tauren paladin spoke again. "I will never give myself to you," Stronghoof growled menacingly at Stonebreaker, his voice laced with spite. "Our love ended the day you died. The fact that you are responsible for my attempted suicide only makes this easier to say: I don't love you, and I don't want anything to do with you!" "It doesn't matter whether you come willingly or not," the death knight crossed his thick arms, a smirk plastered on his dark muzzle. "The Lich King will bend you to his will and make you love me again." "This will never happen," Anarchei declared, his mind decided on the matter. No one was going to submit to this undead tauren's will any longer. At this announcement, Stonebreaker laughed. Not a laugh of joy or happiness, but rather a laugh laced with evil. "You are no match for me," the death knight said with dark amusement. "A mere paladin and a paladin-in-training? You are nothing!" Suddenly, Stonebreaker lashed out with dark energy. The pair doubled over in pain, Stronghoof fell to his knees while Anarchei managed to stay up. After a moment, the energy dissipated and the pain faded away. "You are weak." He lashed out again, the black and purple energy like lightning as it streaked through the air toward the paladins. This time, however, they were ready and they shielded themselves. The attack was reflected back at the death knight, who in turn blocked it with his own energy shield. "So," Stonebreaker mused. "Magic alone won't win this fight. So be it." The death knight drew his sword, the blade larger than anything the paladins had seen before. It was black as night, lined with silver skulls and bones, and engraved with unholy runes right up to the tip of the weapon. The undead tauren lunged forward and swung his sword at Stronghoof. Anarchei stepped in front of his mate and took the hit with his own blade. Stonebreaker's eyes widened at the sight of the draenei's weapon,
and backed away. "Quel'delar," he said plainly in astonishment. "But how? That blade was destroyed." For a moment no one said anything. Anarchei glared angrily at the death knight, his sword raised and ready to fight. Stronghoof had also drawn his blade, and held a similar stance. Jorus still lay on the ground tied up, now behind them and with no choice but to watch the battle in silence. "It is no matter," Stonebreaker concluded with a chuckle. "The previous wielder of that blade fell to the Scourge, and it will be the same again with you!" The death knight quickly re-engaged the paladins in battle. He took them both on at the same time with little difficulty. Despite their best moves, the pair could not land a single hit on the undead tauren. He was simply too fast for them. Every swing was parried, every hit blocked by the burly weapon. Stonebreaker focused most of his energy on Stronghoof, his attacks inter-spaced with defensive moves against the paladins. They fought for a long time, occasionally calling upon magic to attack or defend. The intensity of the fight made it impossible to use their more powerful attacks. To do so would leave them open to a fatal blow. This, however, made no difference in the end. Stronghoof was worn out by the constant fighting. He didn't know enough about the Light to call upon it to give him more strength, and his long years of being a shaman had left him with diminished physical strength than what he had as a warrior. His arms were tired, and the sword he held aloft in his defence was heavier than ever before. His moves grew sloppier with each moment that flew past. All of a sudden, the death knight landed a hit on the tauren paladin. The runed blade sank deep into Stronghoof's flesh, his chest armour easily breached by the powerful undead tauren. With a powerful shove, the sword pressed on and came out the other side. The paladin's muzzle opened in shock, his eyes wide in pain. Dark red blood trickled down from the wound, and gushed forth as the sword was removed from his body. He fell to the ground, the pain unbearable. Anarchei had stopped in mid-swing when he saw what had occurred, unable to process what he witnessed. Stonebreaker stood back, blade lowered as he admired his accomplishment. The death knight watched as the draenei paladin knelt beside Stronghoof's side and placed a hand over the wound. As hard as he tried, the Light simply could not heal the damage done. The evil power of the death knight's blade made healing impossible. He did the only thing he could do, with knowledge that his mate was about to die, the blood now pooled on the cave floor a clear indication. He grasped the bull's hand in his own and looked down at his mate as he slipped away from life. The draenei had faced death before, been by the deathbed of friends, but this was so different. This was his mate, and all he could do was hold his mate's hand. It was just so sudden. His mind was a
blank, the shock had stunned him beyond any thought except the one that he couldn't rid himself of: His mate was going to die and there was nothing he could do to stop it. With his last bit of strength, the tauren reached up to brush his free hand against the draenei's left cheek. "I love you," were his last words, his arm dropped to his side, his eyes locked on his mate's even after he uttered his last breath.