My Entry for [Alliance] November Story Contest (26ish hr left):
Eternal Command
Zvanya tried to keep her head low as she sucked in a gasp of iron-tasting air. The Rangari didn’t want her charges to see her exhaustion, not when they were so close. The Draenei’s dark lips curled sardonically, as she recalled, for what felt like the thousandth time that she had so long wished for more action than dealing with Sabreon, Ogres, or the odd Arrakoa incursion. With the rise of the Orc’s “Iron Horde” and now Demons, it had been a near constant state of struggle for some time now.
The draenei’s heart clenched at the thought of home, of Telmor. Her city of birth had long been protected by Leafshadow, and it had been Zvanya’s desire to leave that shield and see more of her home world, that led her to join the Rangari rather than the Peacekeepers or Auchenai.
Yet now that feeling of protection had been callously cast aside by the so-called Shadow Council, and her home reportedly ravished by the ancient enemy. Zvanya had thought she had managed to shed all her tears when the news had reached her, but even now her tear ducts began to burn with desire. No, there will be time for sorrow when we’re safe. Ignoring the voice in her head laughing at the notion of safety now, the ranger let out a silent plea to the Naaru that her parents, brother and friends had managed to escape and find somewhere to stay, before turning back to the small group of refugees she had managed to gather from across the area.
There were about ten in total, all recently displaced, and she was the only one amongst them with any real combat training, from what she had gathered. Word had come that the forves from the other world had recently established a foothold in Talador, and were welcoming all refugees that could make it, that was their goal. Closing her eyes Zvanya slowly rubbed at the gift around her neck, it’s crystalline edges solidifying her resolve as always. “ Alright everyone, we should make it to the Stranger’s fort by Nightfall if we get going.”
As though drawn by her hope, there was an unearthly howl that echoed her pronouncement, before the group could even struggle. Mental letting out a stream of expletives that what cause a Draenei mechanic to blush, The lone defender tensed. With the group in the ragged state they were, it was unlikely that running would accomplish anything, other than allowing the pursuers to pick them off one by one. There was only one option. Wincing at the pain in her ribs Zvanya slowly settled into a defensive stance, right leg gingerly placed behind her. “Get behind me, the light will guide my hand.” Mother, Father, Aarturias… everyone. Be safe.
For as she waited, hands twitching of her weapon eyes scanning the horizon, the howls drew closer. Eventually three Felhounds burst through the brush, foul ichor dripping from their mandibles. Zvanya weighed that in better times she could likely fight the three, or at least would’ve tried her chances, and get away by the time the rest of the inevitable hunting party arrive, but with her injuries, and having to guard so many, it seemed like a superior strategy to wait for the moment. Soon, sooner than she liked two Wrathguard appeared chuckling darkly darkly, then a robed Orc showed his face, gleefully rubbing at one of his tusks.
“Well, well what have he found here…” Deep green tinted eyes, furrowed deep into his face slowly flicked over the cowering survivors before lazily roaming over Zvanya’s form. “Still looking down at us I see. You haven’t learned yet that you have no place on our new world. No matter, I will teach…”
The Warlock paused his own monologue as a sudden chill settled over the land. It was unlike any cold Zvanya had felt blowing south from the Ridge or up from the Spires in her decades of life on Draenor. She could feel the group behind her shifting even more uneasily, huddling together further.
The new draenei, as was discernible from the visible horns, was covered in dark purple armoured robes similar to those of a Vindicator or Auchenai would wear. Yet they were lacking the aura of comfort such an individual often brought, instead a nauseous feeling swelled within the refugee’s defender. As soon as they had appeared an oily itchy feel had spread over the ranger’s horns. Zvanya’s teeth ached as she glanced over the stranger’s weapon, the runes on it making her eyes water. Her already elevated heart rate sounded a river to her ears. Every instinct screaming at her the impossible command to run.
Her only respite was that the opposing force seemed just as caught off guard by the atmospheric change, and sudden intrusion as the refugees were. The felhounds pawed the decaying ground around, while the Man’ari warriors wearily twirled their glaives.
This stand-off was broken by an inhuman growl, and then Zvanya was caught of guard as a grey shape bounded forward past the demonic lines, and on to the shadow council member who let out a long guttural gurgling scream as his throat was bit into.
Then the armoured newcomer strode forward into motion. It was all Zvanya could do to keep her jaw from dropping as she watched the fight,. The stranger moved methodically and with little passion, as though she was doing a kata and the demons just happened to be minor nuisances in the way as her eldritch blade carved through them shortly.
The victorious warrior was completely still, surrounded by the slowly dissolving demonic viscera. The feminine form was barely moving even after a fight. As Zvanya inched closer, she avoided the stranger figure still seemingly…eating… away at the orc’s corpse. It shared the colouring of the pale orc’s where it has skin, as it its Draenei skull was clean and flesh sloughed off of various body parts. The ranger’s halberd was held wearily to her side as she stopped short and tensed, noticing that despite the remaining cold that had not lifted, and unlike the Zvanya herself, no breath at all escaped their seeming saviour. “By the Naaru…”
Zvanya’s words caused her seeming saviour’s shoulders to rise before they slowly turned around. The rangers hooves shakily moved back as far as they could before all the strength left the draenei and she found herself on her backside staring up into the intimately familiar face from her mirror.
The doppelganger had some differences; most notably one eye socket was covered by a purple gem, though cold blue light shone out around it, echoing the light which emanated from the other eye. Dark patches of, some sort of crystal, Zvanya wasn’t sure, didn’t want to be sure, could be seen in a few places on the already dark draenic skin. A few more scars were visible at close range.
Finally Zvanya heard the words that the Draenei was sure would haunt her the rest of her long life, in the hoarse ruined echo of her own voice.
"Live"