TayoyaFeross Eu-Naari - her story. (What's yours?)

In the four hundred and thirty two thousandth Argus elliptical cycle, the attack on our world commenced. Our friends, our neighbors, suddenly became monstrous, genocidal, annihilating anyone who would not bend their will to serve them. My parents, among the dead. I was a yeoungling, later to find myself alone without my parents, hiding inside the ‘Fecutiagau-moul’. You name them blacksmiths workshops.

We narrowly escaped in the Xenedar when the Naaru Xera arrived, but once again, I speak too… fast?

Or… do not give the order of events correctly.

Forgive me, the human tongue is difficult for an Ered- sigh. I suppose we are Draenei now. The human tongue is difficult for the Draenei as equally as the Draenei tongue is difficult for humans. In Draenei, my name is pronounced, Tayoyafeross Eu-Naari. Tayoyafeross means roughly in human 'little fierce’, a reference to my nature my surrogate father Doross Delnoch, gave me upon the moment he found me.

I remember the lights outside blazed brightly through the soot covered windows as we hid in the small dark room. The smell of burned metals, chemicals, and the slightest hint of floral astral glory filling the air amongst the acrid scent of our own fear. The smoke from the forge burned my eyes and though I was deeply afraid I stood clinging to this tall Draenei, Doross-Delnoch… a Fecutiagau… blacksmith, who saved me when three Eredar came upon me and killed my parents.

The memory still haunts me…

My father, Go’thras picked me up, his young daughter and grimly stared back at his love, my mother. Her beautiful horns and face sheened with sweat and soil, mirroring his own, from both fear and exertion from running from our home in the early hours of the evening. We hid in the underbrush outside the Conservatory of the Arcane. Uncertain if it would be safe from the demons who now sought their friends and neighbors as the darkness rapidly fell on Argus.

The… Others… those possessed by Sargeras’ magic searched our homes, murdering, no… Butchering those who would not bend to their will. Somewhere ahead near the Conservatory, we heard voices, Vindicators voices and screams, the clashing of metal, and saw the effects of arcane and fel magic wielded with great intensity as green, blue and white light flashed brilliantly in the evening. Then… silence.

My father turned to my mother, Miriasha, “Stay with Astra, I will go see…” It was too late. My father’s voice carried too far, and the demons came. They were tall Eredar, their skin no longer the hue of shimmering silk, but the rough dark pockmarked of red demons. They stood, with hammers, and swords once ornately fashioned by a master Fecutiagau now twisted and grotesque by fel magic, but no less lethal. One even wielded a stave, but it was not an ordinary stave like those wielded by the priests of the light. It’s bulbous head shimmered with dark green light of the fel.

“You will serve, or you will die.” One of them spoke to my father as he stood staring up at them. The fear on his face, blatantly clear, but he cleared his throat and stood to his full height. I remember him being so strong, so wise, a teacher’s voice, he spoke softly, firmly, resolutely.

“We. Will. Not. Serve.”

The tallest of the three Eredar. The one with a mischievous dark grin plastered across his pockmarked face and dark eyes shimmering with power, waited until my father spoke these words, then he lifted his sword and struck my father down, turned to my mother, repeated his command, “You will serve.” My mother, beautiful, delicate, but strong stood tall, spoke softly, and even now I hear the regret in her words as she spoke them like my father, “We. Will. Not.”

The Eredar struck down my mother. The blow so powerful, and the blade forged with the magic of the fel, ripped her apart in front my eyes. I stared up at these, I would not call them Eredar, but demons. The one who spoke to my father and mother, spoke to me the same command, “You will serve.”

I stood as tall as I could, baring my teeth, and spoke so resolutely and fiercely it made the demon step back, “I. Will. Not.” Perhaps it was the unbridled rage of a five and a half hoof tall child fiercely pushing back against the darkness, or as Doross revealed in a heavily drunken carousing evening many cycles later, had said,

“It was you girl!” he exclaimed, his eyes filled with awe. "For a moment, the Light manifested and flashed in your eyes so fervently, so brightly, so " he flourished his hands staring at the ceiling as I had laughed, “that it blinded him. You frightened him. That was when I knew the demons had no chance. If a young girl could fiercely stand against them. BY THE LIGHT, so could I, but the light in you blinded him.”

He exaggeratedly fell back into the chairs and tables and stood up with his eyes closed stumbling around the room, his arms outstretched until he found me and gently held my shoulders. I had laughed so hard in those days, and then he said, “If you had been holding a Doross forged hammer,” He flexed his arms, “I would only imagine what the Light could have done with it in your hands. Maybe tore him apart.” He stopped, and smiled a sad smile, “but you had no weapon, and it was that moment when I came upon you that the Light urged me to action. I am sorry I could not save your father or mother, Tayoyafeross.” Then he wept and fell asleep, and my laughter turned to tears too quickly. That was the night he gave me my name.

Aye, he spoke that night as if the Light itself had chosen me. Doross stepped from the shadows too late to save my parents, his hammer glowing a brilliant fuchsia in the night from the Lights ever-burning source. He swung it, once, twice, thrice, and again, killing two, but only knocking the pockmarked Eredar, Mor’goresh, from his feet. He turned to me and scooped me up and brought me to his shop. Where others were hiding from the Ered-… The demons. We made our way in the hours of the morning to the north side of Eredath where the Xenedar was waiting.

We lived on board for many years, I trained under the tutelage of his… blacksmithing techniques, but to call a Fecutiagau a blacksmith is an affront to Draenei craftsmanship. Still, I studied, and I became a Fecutiagau as well molding light, magic and metal into weapons and armor for the Army of the light.

That I might get a chance to drive back the demons who invaded my world in their burning crusade. I promised I would drive them back from where they had come and we did.

TayoyaFeross Eu-Naari
Paladin
The Army of the Light

What’s your story?

1 Like