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User:Joshmaul/Vindicator of Death

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This article is fan fiction

The contents herein are entirely player made and in no way represent official World of Warcraft lore or history. The characters and events listed are of an independent nature and are applied for roleplaying purposes only.

The Tale of the Rise and Fall of Velenkayn, Penned by Saavedro of Stratholme

Contents

Dramatis Personae

The Draenei

The Alliance

The Horde

The Burning Legion

Part 1

Many, many years ago, before a prideful shaman became the most evil being in existence, before a demon-crazed Guardian pierced the dimensional veil, before humans knew anything about races not native to their world, there was a great war.

Well, not so much a war as a slaughter. Countless thousands butchered to satiate the bloodlust of thousands more. The events that would unfold would come to torment one proud draenei for the remainder of his life, and drive him to insanity...and eventually to the embrace of the Lich King.

His name is Velenkayn - named for the Prophet who led his people - and this is his story. To put it in the right setting, we start with a traumatic event in his life, set in the easy stages of the conflict between orcs and draenei...


Telmor, Terokkar Forest
Four days before the orcish attack

Staring out into Terokkar from his vantage at the magister's house, Restalaan's hands gripped tightly on the railing, turning his knuckles a lighter shade of blue.

"Coin for your thoughts, Captain." An artificer named Jaeden'laek smiled as he approached the captain of the guard of Telmor, trying to cheer up his dour commander. Then again, the artificer-turned-warrior thought, now wasn't exactly a time for cheer. The orcs had suddenly begun slaughtering draenei where they could find them...something that did not bode well for the safety of their race.

Jaeden'laek held out a steaming cup of herbal tea, which Restalaan gratefully took. "Where would I be without you, my friend?" the guard captain said, his face finally breaking into a smile.

"Without a good cup of tea, for starters." Jaeden'laek chuckled, then glanced down into the courtyard and seeing the lone vindicator standing guard. "I see our Little Velen is still devoted to his duties as usual," he commented thoughtfully. "He doesn't look like he's moved from that spot in two weeks."

"He's a statue, that one," Restalaan agreed. "Velenkayn!" he shouted out, causing the vindicator's head to turn. The guard captain gestured for him to come up to speak with him. "He's worried," he said when the vindicator began marching towards the magister's house. "Taelina is with child."

Jaeden'laek glanced up in surprise. "No wonder. He's worried the orcs may come and kill her before the child is born." His eyes met the elder draenei's directly. "We need to get him out of Telmor, Restalaan. Both of them. To Shattrath, or to the Temple..."

Restalaan shook his head. "You should know him better than that, Jaeden'laek. His duty is to Telmor, and he will not run from the enemy. Even if I ordered him to, he would likely refuse. His honor would be at stake."

"True." At that, the door opened, and Velenkayn stepped forward, saluting. "You asked to see me, Captain?"

"Yes, Little Velen, I did." Restalaan could see plainly the dark, dark circles around the lad's eyes. "You have not had any sleep in nearly two weeks. You can't be at fighting trim when you can barely stand."

"I can stand just fine." Velenkayn's tone was icy.

Restalaan's eyes bored into his. "Do not debate me, boy," he said, his voice not brooking any argument. "I am in charge here and I am giving you an order." His voice softened. "You need to rest, Little Velen. Go home. She needs you more than I do, at least for right now." Before Velenkayn could ask, the guard captain raised a hand. "When we find out about approaching orcs, you will be the first to know. You have my word. Now go home, and do not return to duty for at least two days. Do you understand me?"

Velenkayn bowed his head. His captain was as concerned for Taelina as he was. "Yes, Captain."

"Good." He placed a hand affectionately on the lad's shoulder, a slight grin on his face. "We thought if you stood there any longer, you'd probably root in place. I think we have plenty of statues here, my friend."


Velenkayn removed his armor with a sigh and sat down tiredly in a nearby chair. At the sound of light steps, he looked up and smiled. Taelina smiled back, hand on her belly. "Not much longer now," she said. "Light willing, we can have a moment of peace when our child comes into the world."

The vindicator's smile faded. "In these times, the only peace can be found in the grave." He looked up at his beloved. "They come soon. I can sense it."

"Are you a seer now, blessed by visions from the naaru?"

Velenkayn smiled grimly and shook his head. "I may be named for the Prophet, but I am not like the Prophet." Part of him wondered at the arrogance of his father for naming his child after the Prophet Velen. But, as Velenkayn had learned over the three decades of his life, the Prophet didn't seem to mind; even he referred to the young vindicator as "Little Velen". "Call it a warrior's intuition..." He noticed the look on her face and sighed. "Forgive me...it seems my duty weighs more heavily on me than I thought. But with the times..."

"I know." Taelina sighed. "I have the same thoughts..."

"You do?"

"Who doesn't? All draenei are now walking targets. Just being blue skinned and having hooves is enough to see you butchered like a talbuk..." Taelina wiped a tear from her eye. "I want our child to be born safe. In Shattrath, maybe."

"You do realize it would only be a matter of time before the orcs converge on Shattrath," Velenkayn pointed out. "Right now, they're focusing primarily on raiding small war parties, but I believe - and I think Restalaan agrees - that the orcs may be headed in this direction. The question is when."

"Do you think it would be the ones who came all those years ago?"

"Very possibly. Especially Durotan - we faced him and his clan some weeks ago. Restalaan spared him because he spared the Prophet. I could tell that he was anguished - that he did not agree with what his people were doing to ours. But Durotan has been here before...it would not surprise me if Ner'zhul sent him here."

"How? He would have to know how to get in. Only Restalaan and the Prophet know the incantation."

"Let's hope that advantage lasts."


Four days later

Velenkayn awoke to hear the sound of...war cries. Orcs!

Leaping from his bed, he quickly strapped on his armor and ran outside to where Restalaan and his warriors were assembled. He looked out at the sea of brown-skinned warriors approaching like a relentless tide. "They somehow found out the incantation," Restalaan said, his face grim. "We will make our stand here." He turned to Jaeden'laek. "You must go to Karabor, to the Prophet. He must be informed of this."

"What about you, Restalaan?"

The guard captain smiled grimly. "I think you know the answer to that, my friend." He put a hand on Jaeden'laek's shoulder. "Go quickly, and you might be able to get out before you're spotted." Jaeden'laek nodded and ran as fast as he could. Now Restalaan regarded Velenkayn. "This is my last order to you. Take your family out of Telmor, Little Velen. Get them to Shattrath..." He paused, as if uncertain what to say, then said bluntly, "Some of our people must be allowed to survive this holocaust."

Velenkayn was adamant. "I won't leave you, Captain. My place is here."

"You must go! I cannot assure your safety for much longer...or hers." Restalaan gazed solemnly at Velenkayn. "You have the makings of greatness. Don't die senselessly before you can achieve your destiny." He embraced the young vindicator, tears running down his face. "Now GO!"

Velenkayn nodded almost dumbly as he ran to his home. Taelina was already seated on the elekk. "Try not to make a sound," he whispered loud enough for her to hear, and she nodded.

As they made their way quickly out of the city, Velenkayn saw his captain battling an orc. As he expected, it was Durotan, the Frostwolf chieftain. Honor had been satisfied; this battle would be to the death. As he watched, his eyes never leaving Restalaan, Durotan struck down the guard captain of Telmor. He bit his tongue, trying not to scream in rage and grief at the loss of his captain. Seeing that no orcs had spotted them, Velenkayn and Taelina made their way out of the city...the vindicator only taking a single glance back at the carnage.


Shattrath City
The night of the fall of Telmor

Standing on the Terrace of Light gazing out into Terokkar Forest, Velenkayn could see the glowing embers of fires from the direction of Telmor. Restalaan was dead, as was every draenei in the city that could not escape. He prayed that Jaeden'laek made it through Shadowmoon country to the Prophet. He had to know what had happened here.

Tears ran freely down his face, dripping from the odd tentacle-like appendages on his chin. At least here, he hoped, his child would be born in peace...


The Temple of Karabor, Shadowmoon Valley
Three days after the fall of Telmor

"You are certain of this?" The Prophet Velen was listening to the report from Telmor.

"Beyond any doubt, my Prophet. One of the orcs memorized the incantation. Probably Durotan, as he led the attack." Jaeden'laek sighed. "Beyond those who escaped before the attack, I do not believe there are any survivors in Telmor. The Horde is no doubt encamped in what remains of the city."

Velen nodded sadly. "I feared as much. And we have no way to escape now...K'ure is dying, and the ship out of our reach as long as the orcs make war on us."

Jaeden'laek bowed his head in respect to the naaru who had sacrificed himself for them time and time again...and was now beyond the reach of the people he had protected. "I do not believe Durotan is doing this willingly, my Prophet. Velenkayn told me that he saw what looked like...regret in the Frostwolf chieftain's eyes. His heart is not in this."

"And yet, he led the attack on Telmor and betrayed our trust," Velen pointed out.

"He probably had no choice."

"There is always a choice, Jaeden'laek! Especially when that choice is between acting honorably and committing genocide!"

Jaeden'laek was surprised; this was the closest thing to anger he had ever seen in the Prophet. But he calmly said, "Honorable souls cannot serve their people when they are dead, my Prophet. You, out of all of us, should know that best."

Velen's alabaster face flushed, and Jaeden'laek thought that was probably the wrong thing to say. Then the Prophet smiled and said, "You're right, of course." His smile faded. "How has young Velenkayn fared? And his Taelina, she was with child..."

"They have fled to Shattrath, my Prophet. Restalaan's last order to him." Jaeden'laek bowed his head once more. "Light embrace him." He wiped a tear from his eye. "They will be safe; the orcs, as bold as they have become, know they will probably not be able to take Shattrath as easily as they did Telmor." He met Velen's eyes evenly. "I think we may be next, my Prophet. The orcs are three days march from here, and this place is not as well-defended as Shattrath. We may have a fight coming."

"I believe you may be right." Velen sat down heavily. "I pray some of us will be spared from this slaughter."

Part 2

Joshmaul's Note: Portions of this part of the story are taken from Micky Neilson's Unbroken. I do not take credit for that work, merely for...sort of inserting myself into the crowd at the time Nobundo began speaking.


When I met the Prophet Velen, I was a senior member of the Order of the Silver Hand, and had become a respected member of the Aldor, the draenei priesthood that he had once led. Velen was an unassuming, but easily recognizable figure, as he was the only draenei I had ever seen with a long flowing beard.

When Arrhae - my representative in the Cenarion Circle - told me about the fiery descent of the Exodar in northern Kalimdor, I had gone immediately to investigate. Until then, I had only minor interactions with the draenei - a seer in Honor Hold, and a group of priests and other holy men at a place called the Temple of Telhamat, west of Hellfire Citadel. So, admittedly, I was a little confused when I battled a powerful warlock named Arazzius the Cruel, a being that looked just like a draenei, in the Pools of Aggonar...

When I arrived at the Exodar, Velenkayn met me at the gates. Despite his age - he is nearly thirty years my senior - he appeared to only utilize the powers of the Light that I had begun using when I became a paladin, back when I was apprenticed to Duthorian Rall in Stormwind. The young vindicator - as draenei call their paladins - volunteered to escort me to Velen. I agreed.

He led me into an area of the Exodar known as the Hall of Lights, where - on some sort of projector - I saw the image that resembled Arazzius. I asked him about the obvious resemblance between the being on the projector and the draenei, but he was hushed up about it. Said the Prophet would explain everything. And so he did - he told me about the eredar, about how Kil'jaeden and Archimonde (the latter name I knew well, having heard tales from survivors of the Battle of Mount Hyjal) had been corrupted by the Dark Titan, Sargeras, and their entire race brought into his Burning Legion...all but a few who fled their world of Argus, aided by the beings known as the Naaru.

The Prophet explained the draenei holocaust on Draenor, now called Outland. When I was in Hellfire, the draenei seer - Warp-Scryer Kryv, I believe his name was - told me that the Path of Glory, the road from the Dark Portal to Hellfire Citadel, was paved with the bones of draenei massacred by the Horde. When I asked him how there appeared to be three different kinds of draenei, Velen told me that they had been cut off from the Light. This was especially apparent in survivors of the siege of Shattrath. Some remained healthy. Others became Broken...or worse, Lost Ones.

Velen then told me about Taelina...


Velen's Encampment, Zangarmarsh
Shortly after the destruction of Draenor

Velen heard footsteps enter his small hut. He looked up from his meditations to see the familiar face of Jaeden'laek, his brow etched in concern. "What is it, my young friend?"

"Word of a sickness breaking out in the encampments, my Prophet. It's causing...degenerations. They become short and wrinkled, their hooves mutate into clawed feet...no one has any idea what is causing it. Some are beginning to call them Krokul."

Velen winced at the term. Krokul - "Broken", in the draenei tongue. On the one hand, it was fitting - those who became Krokul were indeed broken, broken minded, broken spirited...many had committed suicide as a result. On the other, it was harsh, cruel, and demeaning. He glanced into Jaeden'laek's eyes. "What is being done to aid them?"

"At the moment, my Prophet...there is nothing that can be done, and we have attempted everything. Many encampments are banishing those who are affected, so that the others remain healthy." Jaeden'laek was disgusted. "These are our people, my Prophet, 'Broken' or not! What right do we have to exile them?"

"Their points seem to be valid," Velen reluctantly admitted. "If it is a communicable sickness, we do not want it to spread...but I do agree that banishment is a harsh decision. However...many of the decisions we have had to make are harsh, Jaeden'laek. We once lived in peace with our surroundings. Now we are reduced to being hermits...and our people believing the Light has abandoned them." The Prophet sighed.

"Has it, my Prophet? I am no vindicator or any other Light-wielder, but I feel somewhat...lost myself. I am perfectly healthy, but it seems my soul...cries out in anguish."

"All of ours do, my friend." Velen met Jaeden'laek's gaze. "You had something else to add?"

"Yes, my Prophet...I just came back from Velenkayn and his family." He sighed, a tear running down his cheek. "Taelina has been affected."

Velen nodded sadly. "Bring them to me."


Velen's hand rested on Taelina's forehead, and his eyes closed. Sitting next to him was Velenkayn, looking worried; at his side was his daughter Ammenkayn, born shortly after the fall of Shattrath, several years before. The young woman's eyes were focused on her mother. The Prophet opened his eyes and stood, sighing. "I'm sorry, little one, there is nothing that can be done."

Tears streamed down Velenkayn's face. Then, suddenly, his face hardened, and he stood and turned away. Ammenkayn saw her father's expression, and turned to Velen. "Will she be banished?"

"Yes," Velenkayn said before the Prophet could answer. "She is Krokul, and shall be treated as such." Even Velen was surprised at the coldness. The vindicator glanced at his daughter. "Come, Ammenkayn. Leave her to her kind."

Ammenkayn was anguished. "But Father --"

"Now." Velenkayn walked away. She is dead to me now...let her rot with her own.


Several days later, Taelina stood on the precipices above the ruins of Shattrath. Corpses still rotted in the streets, even after all these years. The stench was overpowering.

My path is set.

Travelling to the south of Shattrath, near Auchindoun, Taelina could see that the world seemed to end at that spot. She stood near the edge, and looked down into the bottomless abyss before her. She smiled to herself. She would fall without stopping; who knew where she would land?

For a moment, she hesitated. Would there be a chance that those who were Broken could be cured? That she could enjoy the warmth and love of her Velenkayn, see her daughter grow into a defender of the draenei?

There is no turning back.

Her mind made up at last, Taelina stepped off the edge of the world and spread her wings to fly...


Telredor, Zangarmarsh
Around the time of Nobundo's arrival

Velenkayn stood among the crowd in the small plaza of Telredor, a town built on top of one of Zangarmarsh's huge mushrooms. His face was contorted into a scowl of contempt at the figure he saw on the platform above him. "Krokul," he said to an artisan standing next to him. "We don't need that scum." His comrade nodded in agreement.

The beast began speaking. "I have come to... to talk to you about -"

"We are wasting our time. What can a Krokul have to say to us?" the artisan demanded. Others began shouting similar things...some quite vile. The Broken made momentary eye contact with Velenkayn, who sneered at him in response. Shaking, the Broken turned away.

Standing further in the back, away from her father, Ammenkayn stood next to Jaeden'laek. Both could see the unmistakable figure of the Prophet Velen standing nearby, speaking to the Broken. "What could he have to say to us that would warrant his dealing with such lunacy?" she asked the former Telmor guard.

"Difficult to say, but it must be important enough to warrant the Prophet's attentions," Jaeden'laek replied. He was as curious as Ammenkayn was. Both draenei had been hearing...strange things lately, odd whispers no one could explain. But neither of them were vindicators or anchorites; Jaeden'laek was an engineer who had joined Telmor's guard during the battle with the orcs, and Ammenkayn a child born during the bloodiest of the fighting. Moments later, the Broken stepped forward once more. No one seemed to notice, but then he raised his staff, and a cloud cast a shadow over the plaza. All activity stopped, all eyes focused on the Broken.

"Watch and listen," he said in a clear, commanding tone. A rain began to fall over the town, and a bolt of lightning jumped through the lamps. Standing near one herself, Ammenkayn jumped as the glass shattered. "You have come here to learn," the Broken said. "To one day wield these powers: the powers of the shaman."

"But shamanism is an orcish practice!" the artisan near the front shouted, and others concurred.

"Yes. A practice they abandoned in favor of communing with demons. Now we will journey the shaman's path, a path that will lead us to a future where no one will kill our women..." The Broken paused, as if momentarily lost for words. "Or our children. Where Krokul and unaffected will work together to realize a dream that has long been forgotten by our people: true freedom."

Ammenkayn and Jaeden'laek stared in amazement. Up front, Velenkayn looked around him in shock. Even the artisan next to him, who Velenkayn thought to be a kindred spirit in his disdain for the frail being on the landing above, was staring in awe. This Krokul was advocating that the draenei people abandon the Light in favor of orcish practices? The very idea was absurd.

The Broken smiled, and the storm continued around them. "Your journey begins with these simple words....Everything that is, is alive."


The Broken - whose name, Ammenkayn found out, was Nobundo - listened to her description of the odd voices she and Jaeden'laek had been hearing, the odd things they had been feeling. He nodded. "You have been touched by the elements, young one. And your companion as well."

Jaeden'laek was pleased at this...Velen had seen the makings of a seer in the artificer, but Jaeden'laek had also been a fighter, seeking to defend the draenei people and the Light they served, which is why he joined Restalaan in Telmor rather than remain at Karabor.

"This will be a difficult path to tread, and there are...those among our people that will not accept this," the Broken Farseer warned. "But if you trust in the elements and the spirits of our people, and show the utmost respect for them, they will guide your hand. Always."

Jaeden'laek's mind suddenly turned to the siege of the Temple of Karabor. His wife and three daughters had been slaughtered by the orcs, wounded so badly that not even the priests had been able to save them. But if it was true and their spirits lived on in harmony, then by the Light, he would do honor to them. He turned to Ammenkayn, who nodded. "We are ready and willing, Master," she said. "Teach us what you know, so that we may better serve our people."


"You did WHAT?!"

Ammenkayn flinched slightly at her father's outburst, but beyond that she stayed firm. "I have asked Farseer Nobundo to train me to wield the elements, Father. This, he says, is the reason for my strange visions and whispers."

"Nobundo..." Velenkayn sneered. "So it has a name. I'm surprised these monsters can still clothe themselves, let alone remember their own names."

"He is NOT a monster, Father!"

Velenkayn glanced at her in surprise and disgust. "I wonder if the sickness has affected you as well. How can you show sympathy for these...things?" He turned to walk away.

Ammenkayn sighed and began shaking her head. "How can you be so stupid, Father?" she whispered.

Velenkayn stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, his eyes narrowing with fury. "What did you say?"

"I asked you how you can be so stupid. You cast out my mother, you send away those of our people you call Krokul, just because you think yourself better than them? We spoke to him, Father, Jaeden'laek and I. He listened to me, and I to him. He showed me the truth of things." She met his gaze evenly. "Nobundo is a far better man than you are, Broken or not."

"HOW DARE YOU!" Velenkayn grabbed his daughter by the collar of her robe and slammed her against the wall. "You ungrateful little demon-spawn! I've defended you with my life since the day you were born, and this is how you thank me? By consorting with Krokul? Light damn you, girl!"

"Enough, Little One...enough." Velen stood in the doorway. Velenkayn's eyes widened. "Release her at once," the Prophet said calmly.

The vindicator, trying to calm himself, released his grasp on Ammenkayn's robe. Velen turned to her and smiled lightly. "Leave us for a moment, child. I must speak with your father."

"Yes, my Prophet." Ammenkayn bowed slightly and walked away. Velen regarded the warrior who had been named for him, and sighed. "It is not an easy path that she has chosen to walk, Little One. But for her, for Jaeden'laek, for others like her, it is the right path."

"I will not allow my child to consort with such beasts, or to abandon the Light for the practices of the eternally-damned orcs!" Velenkayn met his namesake's eyes, and asked pleadingly, "Can you not dissuade her, my Prophet?"

"You misunderstand, Little One. She is not abandoning the Light, nor is the practice of shamanism evil merely because the orcs once used it, before they became demon-slaves...man'ari." Velen placed a hand on the younger draenei's shoulders. "She is touched by the Light, but she is inspired by the elements. Her choice is not for you, or even I, to debate. Will you abandon her as you did Taelina, merely because she is different?"

Velenkayn bowed his head. He didn't know what to say.

Part 3

This portion of the narrative officially introduces me into the life of this proud warrior, within about six months of the Exodar crash-landing. Though his contributions to the battle against the Burning Legion infilitrators were well documented (he wore a tabard of the Hand of Argus), his daughter Ammenkayn and her mentor Jaeden'laek were more directly involved in the battle against the eredar Sironas, a tale which Ammenkayn - when I took her into my confidence - related to me months later.

Velenkayn was clearly bitter - anyone who's been around people as much as I have could tell. It seemed he thought he deserved more accolades than he had received. This was nothing like any draenei I had ever met before or since, that's for damned certain. Had the degeneration of his wife, and his daughter's apparent "betrayal", sown the seeds that would eventually make him an agent of evil?

The Tempest Rift, Netherstorm
The raid on the Exodar

Standing near the "edge of the world", in an area once known as the Plains of Farahlon, thousands of silent draenei waited for the command from their Prophet. Before them was a huge fortress, its architecture not unlike that used in the vessel now called Oshu'gun, the vessel that had brought them to this world nearly three centuries before. Now they were going to escape once more, and once more on a vessel of naaru make.

"Tempest Keep", this fortress was called. Around it, four interconnected but independent satellite structures floated serenely - the Botanica, the Mechanar, the Arcatraz, and the Exodar. The Exodar was just the right size for the draenei people's needs, Velen had decided, and was also the closest to the world's edge - and thus, required less effort to reach.

But what of the legions of Kael'thas that undoubtedly inhabited its halls?

Velen turned to Larohir, who had succeeded Restalaan as the Prophet's chief general. "Are your men assembled, my friend?"

"Yes, my Prophet," Larohir said, nodding. Behind him, Velenkayn stood ready, hammer in hand, looking nervous.

Velen turned next to the diminutive figure of Nobundo. At the shaman's sides were those who had decided to listen to him, including Jaeden'laek and Ammenkayn. "Are you prepared?"

"We are, my Prophet," the Broken Farseer replied. "The elements are deeply affected by the devastation to this world, but I believe they will aid us."

"Can you provide our ground forces a way to reach the satellite? Our magisters will not be able to mass-teleport them all."

Nobundo nodded and gestured to his apprentices. Kneeling on the dusty purple ground, the draenei shaman closed their eyes and sought the Spirit of Earth, asking it to aid their people in their escape. As the troops watched in awe, the floating boulders began to come together and bridge the slight gap between the edge of the ground and the "lip" of the Exodar.

"It is done, but I am not certain how long it will hold," Nobundo said, opening his eyes. "As I said, the spirits are deeply affected here...Earth most of all. If you intend to make your move, it must be now."

Velen nodded and turned to Larohir and his troops. "Follow me." Raising his olemba-wood staff into the air, the Prophet led the first wave across the earthen bridge to the Exodar.


The Eye, Tempest Keep

Standing on the promenade of the inner palace of Tempest Keep, the blood elf sentries seemed...almost bored. One, however, had his eyes on the unusual movement near the Exodar. Upon closer inspection, he saw...

"Draenei," he breathed. Realizing what this meant, he began running deep inside the palace, headed for the inner sanctum of his master, the Sun King. "Your Majesty!"

Kael'thas Sunstrider turned from his discussion with his advisors, irritated at this interruption. "What is the meaning of this? Speak quickly, or I will send you to Ultris and let the damned void creatures tear you to shreds."

"Majesty, the Exodar...the draenei are attempting to take the Exodar!"

That got Kael'thas' attention. The Sun King stormed through the halls and looked out at the satellite in question. Sure enough, it was swarming with draenei. "What would they want with -" Kael'thas suddenly shut himself up as he realized that even though they were considered part of the central keep, the satellites had independent dimensional engines.

The draenei were attempting to escape from Outland.

"Damn you, stinking draenei!" he shouted across the Tempest Rift, hoping the draenei Prophet heard him. To the guard, he snapped, "Double the guard on the other satellites, and send any available troops to the Exodar at once! Under no circumstances are the blue-skinned vermin to escape with my vessel!"

"At once, Majesty!"

Before the guard left to do his bidding, Kael'thas grabbed him by the collar. "And if you fail," he said through gritted teeth, "I will make you scream for a thousand years before I let you die!"


The Exodar

Velen looked up at the central keep, hearing Kael'thas scream curses at him.

"My Prophet, the blood elves are onto us!" Velenkayn pointed at the approaching figures from the main keep. Dragonhawk riders. The Prophet nodded. The dragonhawk riders were shooting arrows at the guards around Velen. The draenei responded with arrows of their own, as well as the energy nets used in their hunting parties. But more draenei fell than blood elves; seeking an opportunity, the leader of the dragonhawks came closer. "You cannot win, draenei!" the dragonhawk commander said gloatingly. "Surely you can see the futility of further conflict. If you surrender, my master Kael'thas will grant you a quick and merciful death."

Honorable souls cannot serve their people when they are dead, my Prophet, Jaeden'laek's voice echoed in Velen's head. K'ure had said similar things over the millennia. Velen closed his eyes and bowed his head, channeling the power granted to him by the naaru. His hands glowed with holy energy. He raised his hands, and opened his eyes to meet the blood elf's gaze evenly. "I think not."

The dragonhawk commander didn't even have a chance to blink as he suddenly fell, screaming, into the Tempest Rift.


Deep inside the Exodar, the blood elves were panicking.

"The draenei are approaching our position, mistress!" one of them - a Sunhawk - whispered urgently to his master, Sironas.

"Sabotage the Vector Coil," Sironas said calmly. "They will not get far on a damaged engine."


Back at the central palace, Kael'thas Sunstrider was furious as he saw the Exodar break out of orbit around the Keep.

Then suddenly, a shockwave of light and displaced air emitted from the Exodar's location, and Kael'thas lifted a hand to shield his eyes. When the blinding light dimmed, the lord of the blood elves was nearly foaming at the mouth in rage, his hands shaking violently. The Exodar was gone!

"DAMN YOU, VELEN!!!"


Rut'theran Village, Teldrassil
Around the time of the Exodar crash

Arrhae Leafrunner stood silently on the dock, looking out across the Veiled Sea to mainland Kalimdor. The sun had set, and the stars were bright and numerous. It was a pleasant time of night; with the Feast of Winter Veil in full swing, everyone had gathered in the capitals and larger towns to celebrate it.

Glancing up into the sky, Arrhae could see what appeared to be...a slow-moving shooting star. She frowned. Shooting stars didn't move that slowly...nor did they appear to be so close. A fireball from space...was it the Legion's largest infernal, or perhaps a rock that would wipe out all life on Azeroth? She couldn't be sure.

As it moved closer to and eventually over the island of Teldrassil, she could see it was not an infernal stone, or any kind of rock...it was a strange, crystalline structure of some sort. A citadel of some kind? But what kind of citadel moved like this? The work of sorcerers, she thought. Or perhaps some power greater than ourselves...

As the structure began approaching the sea to the southwest of Teldrassil, Arrhae briefly remembered that there was a small island chain in that direction. There, it appeared, was where this vessel would land...

"I must get word to the Circle...we must investigate," she said to herself.


Theramore, Dustwallow Marsh
Around the same time

Arrhae was not the only watching the skies above Kalimdor. From the town of Theramore - on the other side of Kalimdor from Teldrassil, and further to the south - Jaina Proudmoore could also see the falling vessel. Her curiosity had always gotten the best of her; before the Scourge, she had been an special agent and investigator for the Kirin Tor. The collection of knowledge was her favorite hobby.

To her elven aide, she said, "You're in charge here. I'm going to investigate."

"Is that wise? It could be the precursor of a second invasion by the Legion."

"Our friends in Darnassus will react swiftly if that's what it is. But I'm not so sure it is..."


The Exodar Crashsite, Azuremyst Isle
Two days later

Joined by Arrhae and a small contingent from the Cenarion Circle, Jaina arrived on the island where the vessel came to rest. Crystals were spread out throughout the island, all pieces of the main vessel. She could see clearly where the largest intact portion had come to rest. It jutted over the landscape like a mountain, its crystalline and metallic structure - clearly not of Legion make - slanted slightly as a result of its angled impact. But both the human sorceress and the night elf druid looked both surprised to see the beings that inhabited it. As they watched, a party approached them.

"Eredar!" one of the humans shouted, his hand reaching for his weapon.

The one in the lead raised his hands, indicating he meant no harm. Unlike his blue-skinned compatriots, his skin was pale; he stood a head above his followers, a flowing beard over his ornate robes. His face looked somewhat sad as he said, "There was a time, long ago, when we were known by that name. Until Kil'jaeden and Archimonde betrayed us, and sold our people into the slavery of Sargeras. We are now called exiled ones. We are the draenei."

Jaina's eyes widened. Draenei? At the Lady of Theramore's side, Arrhae looked baffled. "Forgive us, elder, but are draenei not the short, deformed ones that wander around the sealed Portal between this world and that of the orcs?"

The elder nodded. "They were...once. Now they are simply called lost ones, for their minds are no longer their own. Their condition is a result of the fel magics that destroyed our race, and our world." He gazed at Jaina, a curious expression on his face. "You are...human, are you not? We saw people that looked much like you, many years ago, when they came to our world. To combat the orcs. You are part of the Alliance that stood against the Legion and their puppets." Jaina nodded, and the elder's gaze turned to Arrhae. "And you...you look much like the blood elves, but it is obvious you are different from them...in many ways."

"We are night elves," Arrhae replied hotly. "The blood elves are abominations and should be destroyed --"

Jaina raised a hand to quiet the night elf. "Now is not the time," she admonished. Arrhae bowed her head. "Yes, we are of the Alliance," she told the elder. "My name is Jaina Proudmoore, and I lead the humans of Theramore."

The elder smiled and nodded. "Ever since we heard of a great Alliance that stood against the might of the Legion, we knew that they would prove to be powerful allies in our own struggle against them. Archimonde and Kil'jaeden were once my closest friends, fellow leaders of the eredar. But when I saw the truth behind Sargeras' offer, I received...divine guidance that we would be part of a grand Army of the Light that would bring down the Legion. You have taken a strong first step in that effort...for I sense that you were involved in a great battle against them. Even the orcs who were once their slaves...who once preyed upon our people." The jaw of the warrior behind him clenched. "And now Archimonde is dead..."

"Pardon me, elder one, but do you have a name by which we may call you?" Arrhae asked respectfully.

"Yes, of course, forgive me." The elder smiled once more. "I am Velen. Among my people, I am known as the Prophet. I have led my people away from Kil'jaeden's wrath for eons." Velen's smile faded, and a look of determination crossed his ancient features. "But now that we have found your Alliance, you who have stood before the Legion and survived, we hope that we may end our millennia of running...and fight the Legion on our own terms."


Shattrath, Terokkar Forest
One week later

"Lord Saavedro, a word please!"

Saavedro of Stratholme spun around to see a breathless night elf druid approaching him. He wore the sash marking him as a runner from the Cenarion Circle. "What is it?"

"A message for you, sir, from Arrhae Leafrunner. She says it's urgent." The druid was holding an envelope. Saavedro held out a mailed hand, and the night elf handed him Arrhae's missive. He opened it and began to read. As he approached the end, his expression was one of astonishment.

Master Saavedro -

I am still struggling to believe it myself, but what I am about to tell you is true. Several days ago, a fireball was sighted in the skies over northern Kalimdor. At first we believed it to be some kind of fiery rock or - worse - an infernal raining down on our world, but as it came closer, we could tell it was some kind of vessel. And even more astounding was what we found when we investigated the crash site.

The draenei have come to Azeroth...

Part 4

Arrhae's missive had told me of the crash of the Exodar, and where it had landed. By the time I returned to Kalimdor - shortly after defeating the ogre-mage Mogor - a boat line was established between Auberdine and the island where the Exodar crashed. Unlike the other boats at the time, this vessel was night elven - the Elune's Blessing, a swift and well-maintained vessel. They began using this ship type for the ferry between Teldrassil and the mainland as well, quite some time later.

This night elf ship had ferried Arrhae and Jaina Proudmoore, as well as their entourage, to the island to meet with Velen. A dock was built there not long afterwards, officially connecting the new draenei capital city (for city it now was) to the rest of the world...and it was here I made my way.

The Exodar, Azuremyst Isle
Two months after the crash

Velenkayn stood at the "gateway arch" to the Exodar, watching a rider approaching from the dock. He was human, attired in gold armor and wearing a black tabard with a silver-and-gold sun on it. But what amazed him was the immense power of the Light that he could feel from this man. This must be a human vindicator - what they call a Knight of the Silver Hand, he thought.

He looked over the man's face thoughtfully; though his eyes were hooded, the gaze that met his own was sharp. His face was lined but not old, and his brown hair slightly going to gray, worn in braids on his shoulders. He wore a holy warhammer at his belt, and a large shield on his back. He seemed to be surprised at his observer as well. "You are a paladin, a wielder of the Light," he said.

Paladin. So that is what they call themselves... "I am a vindicator of the Hand of Argus, yes," Velenkayn replied. "We draenei have a...unique relationship with the Light."

"The naaru," the human said. Velenkayn glanced at him in surprise, and he smiled. "Do not look all that surprised. I spent much time in Outland....these naaru have taken control of Shattrath City, where it is used as a sanctuary against the Legion, and the forces of Illidan. I have been proud to fight many of those foes myself." His smile faded somewhat. "I have come a long way to see for myself...and I am curious to meet your leader. There are many questions I have about your people...and no one in Outland seemed willing to answer."

"What is your name, human vindicator?"

"I am Saavedro of Stratholme...Regent Lord of the Kingdom of Lordaeron."

Velenkayn seemed to gaze at him forever, gauging him. Finally, he nodded. "Come with me. I will take you to Velen - and maybe he will have the answers you seek."


Saavedro was amazed at the technology that the draenei - and the naaru - appeared to wield. His guide led him into a place he called the Hall of Lights. Inside were unusual things...some kind of projections, like those the ethereals used. He had a question rattling around in his brain: Why did the warlock he faced in Hellfire, and the wrathguards he had killed throughout Outland, seem to have more than a passing resemblance to draenei? He had not been there at the Battle of Mount Hyjal and thus did not know what Archimonde looked like...but he had an itching feeling that he, too, looked like a draenei.

As his guide led him through, he saw on one of the projectors an image that looked like the warlock he had slain. Finally, he asked his guide. "This being seems to resemble your people. Is there an explanation for this?"

The draenei looked uncomfortable. "There is, but it is not my place to say. The Prophet can answer your questions better than I." Perhaps these beings are renegade draenei, Saavedro thought. Or perhaps the draenei themselves are the renegades? Perhaps this Velen can explain.

Finally, they walked among the guards that - to the Lordaeron Regent's eyes - appeared to be equivalent to the royal guards in the other capitals of the Alliance. Standing at the center was a tall, regal-looking figure that he thought could be none other than the Prophet. The aura that exhudes from him is...intoxicating, he thought. This is a being blessed by the Light, and no mistake.

Saavedro felt overwhelmed by the immense holy power of this being. Inexplicably, he felt himself going on one knee before the Prophet, who smiled at him and said, "There is no need to bow before me, Saavedro of Stratholme. We are all equals in the eyes of the Light." He glanced at the figure standing behind Saavedro. "You brought him here from the dock, young Velenkayn?"

"He rode from the dock to the main gate, and asked to speak to you, my Prophet."

"I see...I can sense he has many questions." Velen smiled benevolently. "I will do my best to answer them."


After his meeting with the Prophet, Velenkayn escorted Saavedro to the dock. "So you are named for the Prophet, then?" the paladin asked.

"I am indeed," the draenei replied, with a small degree of pride. "The Kayn name is one that has long been honored, but few people name their children after the Prophet. 'Jaeden' is also a rare part of someone's name, as generally it is attributed to the Deceiver...though there are some who use that as part of their name."

Saavedro nodded; Velen had told him much of eredar history, about the late Archimonde, and of course about Kil'jaeden, the last surviving lord of the Legion. So his second guess, that the draenei themselves were renegades, was correct. As they walked, Saavedro studied the pattern of the tabard worn by the draenei vindicator - who, though relatively young by draenei standards, was still nearly thirty years older than he. "That is the symbol of your order, your Hand of Argus?"

Velenkayn nodded. "The Hand of Argus is...what you could call our army. We maintain order among our people, and ensure their security from our enemies, including the Legion. For the most part, it is made up of vindicators like myself - our leaders are the Triumvirate of the Hand, on the northern island we call Bloodmyst. But any who prove themselves worthy - warriors, sorcerers, healers - may wear the colors of the Hand."

A combined military and police force. Intriguing. "I also understand that your people also practice the ways of the elements. I have fought many of the Horde's shaman fighting for the Alliance, but I never expected to see shaman in the Alliance."

Velenkayn's face contorted with disgust. "It is an orcish practice that contaminates our people, and turns them away from the Light. The orcs used such magics against us, before they became warlocks. I was there, Lord Saavedro - I watched the orcs butcher my people, kill my captain, burn my city. Anything that is associated with them has no place among us."

"But what of your daughter? The Prophet told me of her."

"She is young and foolish. The Broken should be used as laborers, not allowed to coexist among us. Their infection spreads to our young people, it corrupts them. I will not have anything to do with...them." The boat that would take Saavedro back to the mainland arrived. "I am honored to meet you, and thankful for your aid in my training; I will remain here until your return." He bowed slightly and turned back to the Exodar.

As Velenkayn walked away, Saavedro felt somewhat disgusted. Such prejudice, and from a draenei no less - he began to wonder if the purity of the Prophet extended to his own people. But Velenkayn had asked for his aid, to train him further in the ways of the paladin. And by the Light, he would.

These two shaman, Ammenkayn and Jaeden'laek...they will prove to be worthy lieutenants, he thought. But Velenkayn, despite the fact that he too is a paladin...he gives me pause. There is something dark in that man's mind. I pray he does not fall as other paladins have fallen.


Silvermoon City
Six months later

Master Ordevaas Portalseeker tapped a slender finger on his chin. "You are certain of this?"

"Without a doubt, lord," the Blood Knight adept before him reported. "The one called Velenkayn is in Lordaeron. Undoubtedly exploring his master's homeland." The younger blood elf grinned. "Stinking blueskin has another thing coming when the Corruptor catches up with him. No mistake of that."

"Send a messager to Lord Joshmaul at once. And then go yourself to Chillwind Point in Alterac, and fetch General Settra. I have an idea for the young draenei."

"Yes, Master." The adept bowed and rushed to do his Master's bidding. Ordevaas sat back and smiled. Even though he was nearly three hundred years old, he still fought with the savagery and skill he had wielded as a youth growing up in Tranquillien, doing battle with the occasional war party out of Zul'Aman. When his brother disappeared in the Amani catacombs east of town, he had laid down his sword and - with his father's blessing - decided to travel to Lordaeron, to the city of Stratholme. There he met the High Priest Sekhesmet, a kindly, bronze-skinned man who had risen in the ranks of the Church as an apprentice of Alonsus Faol. Sekhesmet took Ordevaas as his apprentice along with a young human named Saavedro. Saavedro seemed to favor the ways of the healer, his kindly nature an echo of Sekhesmet's; Ordevaas, on the other hand, preferred to practice the mental disciplines of the priesthood.

Sekhesmet had also taught them how to fight while wielding the powers of the Light, lessons that both men took to heart. The High Priest knew that the Horde was coming, and that even the priests may have to defend themselves. When Sekhesmet and Saavedro accompanied Archbishop Faol to Nethergarde to bless the troops of Turalyon and Khadgar's expedition, Ordevaas had remained in Lordaeron and sparred with the troops. He also accompanied his master and the Magistrate of Tirisfal, Artimus Devaneaux, to attend tournaments at Durnholde Keep, under the watchful eyes of its commander, General Aedelas Blackmoore. Ordevaas himself had met Artimus in the fighting pit, and defeated him - costing Blackmoore a great deal of money. He smiled at that thought.

How things had changed since the invasion of the Scourge. Arthas had slaughtered his own people and despoiled his homeland, then turned to Quel'Thalas to resurrect that vile bastard Kel'Thuzad. Arthas burned and massacred his way through to the Sunwell, defiling it by placing the rotted corpse of the necromancer in its holy waters. Ordevaas remembered well what he had seen, upon travelling to Quel'Thalas from his temporary home in Stormwind. A path that had come to be called the Dead Scar had been burned into the land from the fortress called Deatholme to the gates of Silvermoon itself.

Saavedro, too, had lost his homeland, due to the imcompetence of its leaders. Even Sekhesmet had not been safe from the plague, choking out his last breath on the floor of Terenas' throne room, and buried with his daughter Euphrati in the family mausoleum outside of Brill. But most painful to Ordevaas was the loss of the Sunwell itself. He had gone into seizures, then blacked out for several months. When he awoke, he was in Stormwind's Cathedral; the Archbishop Benedictus, Faol's successor as head of the Church of Light, had ministered to him in his long sleep, as had Saavedro. His fellow apprentice had told him what had happened.

Travelling back to Lordaeron to find the pass to his homeland blocked, Ordevaas remained at the nearby Quel'Lithien Lodge with other survivors of Quel'Thalas, where he languished for years after the fall of Lordaeron. Then the pass was unblocked, and word came to the outside world of the rebirth of Quel'Thalas, and Prince Kael'thas' promise of a future for their people in the world of Outland. The majority of Ordevaas' kin had become blood elves, including his father, Lord Kel'theris, and his daughter Areinnye. So Ordevaas himself decided to become one too - he returned to Silvermoon, where instead of continuing in his wielding of the Light, he decided to dominate it. And the Blood Knights offered him that opportunity.

Now, nearly a year later, he was a Master, and chief lieutenant of the orc warlock called Joshmaul the Corruptor. The Corruptor was Saavedro's sworn enemy, and while at first he regretted facing his old friend in combat, Ordevaas set such emotion beside as being beneath him. He had inherited the cruel, arrogant streak that permeated the entire Blood Knight Order. They didn't think they were superior to other paladins - they knew it, and they proved it.


Shattrath City
The next day

Joshmaul the Corruptor smiled as he took the powerful shoulderpads from the Scryers' keeper of Sha'tari artifacts. He had just returned from the Blade's Edge Mountains, from a place called Gruul's Lair. He had confronted the puppet King of the ogres, Maulgar, and defeated him - taking a trinket from his broken corpse that he exchanged for the shoulderpads he now wore. Even Maulgar's master, the gronn overlord Gruul the Dragonkiller, had fallen to his power. The war party's leader, an orc hunter named Dumaur, was now preparing to take them to Zangarmarsh, to confront the minions of Lady Vashj in her stronghold of Serpentshrine Cavern.

As he left the Seer's Library and prepared to mount his waiting talbuk, a blood elf messenger arrived - his sash marking him as a messenger of the House of Whitehair. So his lieutenant had a word for him. Joshmaul fixed him with his gaze. His left eye was normal (though red-tinged), but his right eye, lost to the death knight Artimus Devaneaux, had been replaced by an implant taken from the eye of a beholder. "What do you want?"

"A message from Master Ordevaas." He held out the Portalseeker's missive, and Joshmaul read it.

My lord -

I have just received word from one of the Order's adepts that the draenei vindicator Velenkayn, apprentice to Saavedro of Stratholme, has been located in the Plaguelands. I have sent the aforementioned adept to Alterac to find General Settra, who will aid me in a plan I have involving the young draenei.

We have been attempting to find a weapon to use against Saavedro for years. Artimus Devaneaux, as you are quite well aware, is far too enthralled by the Lich King to be of sufficient use to us. Velenkayn, however, is much closer to both Saavedro and to the Prophet Velen than anyone we have yet encountered...and his mind is confused. What better weapon could we use against our mutual enemy than that thing that both Saavedro and his mongrel apprentice despise the most? If he could be turned, he could be a potentially powerful ally - and the ultimate symbol of irony.

I await your command.

- Master Ordevaas Portalseeker

Joshmaul smiled to himself. Vashj and her ilk could wait; this, he had to see for himself.

Part 5

The Corruptor...

I first met the orc I call my greatest enemy over a year before, on his way to the Scarlet Monastery; I was on my way there myself, having found out that what remained of the Crusade's leadership (after the deaths of High Inquisitor Whitemane and her lieutenants, as well as Grand Crusader Dathrohan and Grand Inquisitor Isillien) was reinforcing the old church in an attempt to maintain their foothold in northern Tirisfal. This position was rendered almost uncontrollable because of the efforts of the Forsaken, who had discovered the Crusade's regional command structure and destroyed it.

Joshmaul was evil incarnate, I remember then; I doubt he's changed since. He took great pleasure in making people suffer; in that way, he reminded me to some degree of the Crusade itself - demented, self-serving, and ultimately corrupted by demons. He also took great pleasure in preying on people's emotions, and twisting them into his service. Probably how he was able to ensnare Ordevaas as easily as he did. The Corruptor offered him a chance to fight the enemies of the blood elves in exchange for obedience; out of greed, he accepted. From what I've heard, the blood elves venerate their Prince, Kael'thas Sunstrider...I wonder if they know that Kael'thas is a demon-slave himself?

I digress, however....back to Joshmaul for a minute. His prevailing ambition is to achieve domination over all, living and dead, Alliance and Horde. At one point, he was so deluded that he said he would reclaim Atiesh, Greatstaff of the Guardian, and use it to achieve his aims. Having been to Naxxramas myself - where the majority of the shards of Atiesh are held - I know this to be sheer folly. Even if he obtained the staff, its evil is such that it would kill the one who attempted to wield it. But over time, the Corruptor realized that this dream was beyond his reach, and decided instead to remove his major roadblock to his rise to power...me. And in order to do so, he would have to find someone close to me, and turn them.

Nyssha - a young former Defias I adopted as my own - would not dare betray me, nor would Arrhae. The draenei found warlock magic despicable, a feeling I shared - and my two new draenei lieutenants, Ammenkayn and Jaeden'laek, remained devoted and loyal to the cause of their people and the Alliance, despite what personal grief they had...Ammenkayn and her mother's degeneration (ultimately leading to suicide), and Jaeden'laek losing his wife and three daughters to the orcish slaughter decades ago. But Velenkayn...he was so embittered against the decision to allow Broken among them as anything other than slaves, and especially to allow shamanism among his people, that - even if he resisted the temptation - he would not last for long.

Ruins of the Magistrate's House
Corin's Crossing, Eastern Plaguelands

Velenkayn picked up a dusty journal on the floor of the abandoned magistrate's home in Corin's Crossing. It seemed this magistrate, Ezekyle, had served for several decades, and wrote often of his son's service to the priesthood. He and his wife Verity were pious, Light-fearing people, but nowhere near as much as Saavedro was. Mindful of the mindless undead that crawled all over this town, Velenkayn read the last entry aloud. "We have decided to fight our fate," Ezekyle had written. "Verity and I have armed ourselves with whatever we could use, and the town militia - survivors of Arthas' purge of Stratholme - is ready to fight our enemy until their dying breath. But I fear that their dying breath will not be the end for them, that they will be arisen again, and they will put us to the sword. Nevertheless, the Scourge comes for us, and they will not take Corin's Crossing without a fight. I pray that my son remains safe from this horror, serving the Light in Stormwind..."

Footsteps from outside. Velenkayn, keeping low, glanced out the grimy windows to see what the commotion was...he couldn't see it, but he heard a screech as a banshee was dispelled into nothing. He saw one of the beasts called abominations, its back turned to him, as its head was separated from its shoulders and its legs cut out from under it...before a bolt of shadow ripped right through it. Velenkayn fell flat to the floor as the bolt passed through the monstrosity and shattered the window he had just been looking out of. Out of the corner of his eye, looking out the rotting door frame, he could see ghouls marking forward...and battling other ghouls? What madness was this?

"Search the buildings!" a rough voice, which Velenkayn recognized as that of an orc, shouted out. The vindicator looked out and saw the powerful-looking figure of an orc, dressed in ornately-patterned robes and wearing a familiar-looking device over his right eye.

Joshmaul!

"It's a small town," a contemptuous voice, with an easily recognizable Thalassian accent, replied. "We have him cornered like a rat. Blueskin can't get far."

They're looking for me! he thought. But why? Other than their sick pleasures, what possible purpose could I serve... Realization hit him like a hammer to the gut. Holy mother of O'ros...they want to use me to get to Saavedro...the warlock's blood feud with him...

"Wreckage in the town hall's been disturbed recently," a slightly phlegm-laced voice called out, as the voice's owner stepped out of the building in question. A Forsaken, the Horde's legion of undead...and he was attired in black plate armor, holding a blade glowing with dark runes. Velenkayn felt bile rise in his throat. A death knight.

Suddenly, he felt a shadow cross over him. He glanced up at the familiar symbol on the tabard of his captor...the red phoenix of the Blood Knight Order. "Vindicator Velenkayn," came the voice of the Blood Knight's lord, the orc warlock reviled by Velenkayn's mentor. Joshmaul stepped into his view, and smiled wickedly at him. His skull-headed staff glowed faintly in his hand. "I see you are learning more about your new homeworld. Let us make you...further acquainted."

The warlock's staff swung down once, and Velenkayn's vision went to black.


The Throne Room of Lordaeron
Above the Undercity

Velenkayn awoke with a throbbing pain in his head. As he came up to his knees, he realized his armor and weapons had been taken from him. Only his tabard, tunic and trousers remained. He came unsteadily to his feet, stumbling somewhat. Where am I? he wondered. He shivered. And why is it so cold in here?

He glanced down on the floor, and gasped. He was staring at an elaborate mosaic, cracked and worn with years of neglect, but still recognizable. He saw the symbol on the floor; he had seen it on a signet ring worn by Saavedro...the symbol of the Kingdom of Lordaeron. He was in the ruined capital city...above the royal catacombs, a place known as the Undercity. The capital of the Forsaken.

The capital of Joshmaul.

"Awake at last. Good." Ordevaas Portalseeker stood in the shadows of one of the balconies, arms folded across his chest. He stepped into the light coming from the ceiling, so that the draenei could see him clearly. "I see you recognize your surroundings. Saavedro has taught you much, I think." He smiled. "Don't be surprised I know who he is...though I'm guessing he has told you who I am."

"He says you are an abomination, a disgrace to all who call themselves paladins," Velenkayn spat.

Ordevaas' mailed fist shot out, smashing across the draenei's jaw, knocking him off his feet. "I am a true master of the Light. I do not serve it; it serves ME!" he shouted. At those words, Velenkayn shivered; his pronouncement sounded similar to one spoken by a Blood Knight named Matis back on Bloodmyst Isle, many months before - right before Vindicator Kuros lashed out and killed him. Velenkayn, Jaeden'laek and Ammenkayn had temporarily set aside their differences to capture Matis, and defeat his master, Sironas. Matis was cruel and arrogant, and boasted openly of his desire to torture and kill draenei, his people's intent to enslave their protector O'ros, and his now-dead master's ability to corrupt noble draenei into man'ari.

Ordevaas was every bit as cruel and arrogant as the dead Sunhawk lieutenant, but far more powerful - and therefore, far more dangerous.

Velenkayn spat blue blood onto the floor of the throne room. "I will kill you someday, heathen," he snarled.

The Master laughed. "Get in line, draenei. I have many enemies, inside and outside Quel'Thalas. Of course quite a few of those enemies are dead. Scourge, Legion, Alliance, even some among the Horde have faced me in my capacity as a Blood Knight...none have lived. I butcher your de-evolved kin, and even those who are supposedly uncorrupted. I coat my blade and my face in the blood of my enemies, but it's the blood of your...people that is most satisfying." Ordevaas grinned insanely at him. "Of course, I wonder what coating my face in human blood will feel like. And once Saavedro is dead, I will find out."

Velenkayn sneered at the Blood Knight in response. "Is talking your foe to death the extent of your powers, Portalseeker? Either kill me or be silent. Your lectures bore me." He laughed. "And to think my people were afraid of yours because of the powers they wielded. You're nothing more than a coward and a bully who grovels at the foot of a warlock so he can feel brave enough to kill defenseless targets. One day, you will be put in your place, and you had better pray to whatever you believe in that it is not me that puts you there."

Ordevaas' eyes were wide, his hands shaking in fury as he reached for the sword at his belt. As he rushed forward, a commanding voice echoed through the throne room, "Stay your blade, Ordevaas." Stepping out from the passages behind the throne room, Thalassian staff in hand, was a hunched, hooded figure in robes of blue and dark grey. His elbow joints were exposed, as were his shoulders and ribs. His face seemed to be frozen in a disgusted grimace, but his voice was clear and cultured, his vocal cords relatively unaffected by his undeath.

Ordevaas, still shaking in rage, bowed slightly at the new arrival. The Forsaken's face curled in an unpleasant smile. "I am called Sekhesmet, Master Joshmaul's spiritual advisor."

Velenkayn glanced up, glowing blue eyes meeting the yellowed orbs of the hooded figure. "You were his mentor. The High Priest who trained him, as well as that heathen." He glared at the Blood Knight Master.

A hairless eyebrow rose curiously. "You know Saavedro?" He glanced at Ordevaas, who nodded slightly. "Ah yes, you are the draenei he took as a student...we have heard much of you." His smile widened. "We understand your mind is unsettled. Your perceptions have been called into question."

"I am a loyal servant of the draenei people and of the Alliance they serve," Velenkayn said automatically.

Sekhesmet grinned malevolently. "Ah, but your voice lacks conviction as you say so. Other draenei prisoners that Ordevaas has captured believed what they were saying, and you do not seem to. I even lost a hand during one...session of questioning." He raised the limb in question, showing the fresh stitches. "But the wonders of being dead are that things can be sewn back on, and they can be good as new."

Velenkayn's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I tire of these games," he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "Come out from where you're hiding, Corruptor! Or are you too afraid to show your face, content to let your lackeys do your dirty work for you?"

"I will soon put you in your place." Joshmaul stepped out of the door opposite from Sekhesmet, followed by the dark-armored Forsaken Velenkayn had seen in Corin's Crossing. His face was frozen in its youth, and long, dark hair ran down to his back. A clawed hand rested on the runeblade at his belt. "You seem to have fire, that's good. And your mind seems to be on the line between serving your people and serving yourself...that is where I found my lieutenants. They serve themselves, and in doing so they serve me. I offer my services to the Dark Lady, which is why Sekhesmet and General Settra here have allied themselves with me. And I have also given my service to the Blood Knight Order, training their new Masters, such as Ordevaas here...which is why he is my right hand. The combination of paladin and warlock has worked in the past, and will work in the future as well."

"Get to the point, Corruptor," Velenkayn said, a slight grin on his face. "If I wanted to be put to sleep, I would listen to human politicians debating over useless and trivial matters."

The Forsaken death knight laughed. "Much more fire to this one. This will be quite a challenge."

"Indeed so, General," Sekhesmet agreed. He turned to Joshmaul. "It seems Master Ordevaas' plan has merit, master warlock. Let us hope that the fiery spirit remains in what he will become."

Velenkayn didn't like the sound of that. He knew it was nothing pleasant, but still he asked, "What are you talking about? What will I become?"

Settra grinned at him, showing perfect white teeth. "Me."


Telaar, Nagrand
Home city of the Kurenai

"What do you mean, you can't find him?" Saavedro of Stratholme was incredulous as he spoke to Jaeden'laek via a holoprojector link between Telaar and the Exodar.

"Vindicator Velenkayn's last known location was somewhere in the area you call the Plaguelands, east of the river that bisects it," Jaeden'laek replied tersely. "We received word from Anchorite Truuen at the encampment in the Western Plaguelands that he spoke briefly with Velenkayn, who told him that he was here to explore your homeland. Truuen said that he offered to show him the tomb of your first vindicator, the one you call the Lightbringer."

Saavedro would have smiled if the situation were not so serious. Truuen's enthusiasm for Uther had apparently not changed. Aloud, he said, "So Velenkayn has crossed the Thondroril into the Eastern Plaguelands, and no one has seen him since?"

The draenei shaman nodded. "He was spotted approaching the town of...I believe he called it Corin's Crossing. Velenkayn apparently believed it had some sort of significance."

The human paladin sighed. "It does - to me. I was born there...my father was the town magistrate from the time I was born until the time he was killed by the Scourge."

Jaeden'laek's expression became one of sympathy. "My apologies, Master Saavedro, I didn't mean to bring up such a painful subject."

Saavedro smiled and shrugged a bit. "Just feeling the weight of my past, I guess. But as you and I both know well, we honor those we lost by service." Jaeden'laek nodded. "Any suspicions on who is responsible?"

"Not at present, but we think it may have been something to do with the blood elves. We spotted a messenger bearing this sash." The shaman held up the garment in question. "He was attacked by the Scourge and died at the church used by the Argent Dawn as a base. Another messenger was spotted in Shattrath. He was similarly attired - a black sash with metallic red trim, and wore a white shield with a red eagle with its talons embracing the rays of the sun. Some kind of blood elf family crest."

Saavedro nodded. "The insignia of the House of Whitehair...the family of Ordevaas Portalseeker."

"The right hand of the Corruptor." Jaeden'laek's expression was one of disgust and concern. "If he has captured Velenkayn, I fear the worst. The Corruptor is worse than the rest of the Horde when it comes to our people. So is the Portalseeker."

"Please inform Prophet Velen that I am on my way. I must seek his wisdom before I go to find Velenkayn...I'm not a seer like you or the Prophet, but I sense something is not right here. The Corruptor has more in mind for Velenkayn than simply his own sadistic pleasures."

Part 6

Upon going to investigate, Jaeden'laek told me that while he was exploring Corin's Crossing, he swore he could hear Velenkayn's screams echoing all the way from Lordaeron City. And having experienced the Plaguelands' horrors firsthand - including a "jaunt" through the halls of Naxxramas - I could well believe it. I met him in Shattrath, where I told him to go to Ironforge to meet with a friend of mine - an explorer and warrior named Korogh Madeyes, so named because of his wide-eyed, almost insane stare. Like Jaeden'laek, Korogh was pushing three figures - he was probably about fifteen years older than the draenei shaman. They quickly became friends, and often explored the world together after this awful ordeal.

But what worried us all most - me especially - was what Velenkayn was enduring. "What manner of monster would resort to such tactics to achieve his aims?" Ammenkayn once asked me. "Monsters like the Corruptor and his lackeys," I told her...


Ironforge, Dun Morogh

"Saavedro says that the news is most dire, Majesty," Korogh Madeyes, kneeling at the center of the room, said to his King. With tanned skin, white hair and beard, and wide, wild eyes, his chosen nom de guerre suited him well. "The vile Corruptor has been doing his vile work up in Lordaeron - if we can't put a muzzle on this wild beast, he may decide to stop oppressing the humans and come after us." The warrior snorted at that. "He won't be able to get into Ironforge. A whole Horde tried and failed; how can one orc and his handful of lieutenants?"

"Ironforge's safety is secure, General, that is true," King Magni Bronzebeard pointed out. "But what of the outlying towns? Menethil? Thelsamar? Kharanos? It's bad enough that Gnomeregan is in the hands of power-mad lunatics and the damned Dark Irons are turning into suicidal pyromaniacs - one bridge of the Span is out, and we've found sappers trying to destroy the Stonewrought Dam too! And now the Corruptor is again on the loose, torturing our friends and raising all kinds of hell." The Lord of Ironforge shook his head, and slammed a fist on his throne. "Something must be done."

"Something will be done, King of Ironforge," came a heavily accented voice that neither dwarf recognized. Korogh spun around to face the new arrival, who appeared to be a ghostly wolf of some sort. Before their eyes, the wolf transformed into a tall, blueskinned figure with cloven hooves and a bony plate on his forehead. His hair stood up like a blue flame on his head. "I am Jaeden'laek of the draenei. I have been sent by Master Saavedro to locate one Korogh Madeyes. Are you he?"

"I am he, draenei," the explorer confirmed. To Magni, he explained, "Saavedro asked me to guide one of his shaman into Lordaeron to locate one of his brethren, a paladin, captured by the Corruptor. The journey is perilous, especially to one who has never been there before. But not to worry, Jaeden'laek of the draenei - you're in good hands with me."

"What possible purpose could Joshmaul have with your kin, shaman?" the dwarven King wanted to know.

"Impossible to say," Jaeden'laek replied, "but knowing his works as we do, it is not likely to be pleasant."


The Hall of the Dark Lady
The Undercity

"How goes your progress with the captured draenei, General?"

"He is strong, my Queen. Much stronger than we anticipated." General Settra grinned wickedly. "I love a challenge, though - and Joshmaul has provided it in spades."

"He is ruthless, that one," Varimathras, the majordomo of the Dark Lady, commented, in a tone of voice that Settra recognized as grudging admiration for a mortal. The General agreed with that sentiment - especially the grudging part. Joshmaul may think himself master, but he will soon be put in his place, he thought. All of them will.

"Indeed so." Sylvanas Windrunner fixed Settra with her gaze. "The warlock's plan has its merits...though there is the possibility that his control over the draenei may crumble." She smiled. "Much like the Scourge's hold on us."

"Very possibly," Settra conceded. Settra had been a part of the Scourge army, raised in undeath by the late Baron Rivendare (killed, ironically, by Joshmaul's nemesis, Saavedro of Stratholme) and trained in the halls of Naxxramas. He still had the runeblade he had wielded in Arthas' service; before the Lich King's hold was broken, he had aided the Black Prince in his purge of surviving humans in Lordaeron - a task that Settra still had fond memories of, even though he was little more than mindless Scourge. Few things gave him pleasure these days; slaughtering humans was definately one of those things, second only to fighting the Scourge in the Lady's name.

"If the warlock's hold should fail, what then?" Varimathras wanted to know. "We could potentially have a powerful enemy at our doorstep while our attentions are set on battling Arthas in Northrend."

"Leave that to me, dreadlord," Settra said firmly. "If he turns away from us, I will kill him myself."

"And if you are unable to do so?" the Nathrezim asked with a sneer.

"Then you had best hope he decides not to stay here, Varimathras - as you said, he could be a very powerful enemy." Though I doubt Lady Sylvanas will mind having your head cut from your shoulders, you arrogant bastard, he thought. I certainly wouldn't. He returned his attention to Sylvanas, and bowed respectfully. "Please excuse me, my Queen. There is much work to be done."


The Apothecarium
The Undercity

Velenkayn awoke with a numbness running down his entire body. He realized he couldn't move, for two reasons - one, he was strapped to the table, and two, it seemed like his body was paralyzed. He heard the bubbling of cauldrons and laboratory equipment and realized he must be in the main alchemy lab in the Undercity - the Apothecarium, they called it.

"Awake at last. Good." Sekhesmet of Stratholme, attired in the reddish robes of a Tranquillien apothecary, smiled. "I was beginning to wonder if you had died. Which wouldn't be all that bad...an undead draenei would still serve our needs, I think."

Velenkayn's nose wrinkled in disgust. "What have you done to me, you vile abomination?"

"A mild paralytic agent. You'll be able to feel your limbs again in about six hours, though you may wish you couldn't." Sekhesmet's grin widened. "As for being an abomination...maybe I am, but I'm nothing compared to what you will be. Imagine: the ultimate irony. One who served the Light, now raising ghouls and skeletons to do his bidding. Wielding blades with unholy symbols etched into them. Your every step corrupting the earth beneath your feet. What I would give to have that kind of power!" The Forsaken shadow priest seemed giddy with excitement. "You should be proud, Velenkayn - you will be one of the first of your kind. A draenei death knight!"

The vindicator's eyes widened in horror as he remembered what Settra had told him, when he was captured almost two weeks earlier - had it only been that long? It felt like an eternity. "What will I become?" he had asked, when the Corruptor and his lackies had been discussing their plans. Settra had grinned, with surprisingly perfect teeth, and said only one word: "Me."

"I would rather die," Velenkayn said with a quivering voice. "You will not make me into a monster like you."

"Oh, I beg to differ." Settra smiled, bony, rotted arms folded across his armored chest. "Nothing all that monstrous about it, actually," the General said. "I find it rather liberating. Once I was one of the mindless dead. Now I control the mindless dead. There are ghouls that look to me for their direction, and obligingly I give them that direction - to serve my purpose, and that of my Queen." Settra set a clawed hand on Velenkayn's shoulder. Paralyzed from the neck down by Sekhesmet's potions, he could not recoil. "Soon you will have that power. Power which you have never experienced or dreamed of before...until now. Imagine, Velenkayn! You could be even more powerful than Saavedro, than even the Prophet Velen himself. Saavedro abandoned you here to seek glory in Outland - what sort of mentor is that? And you have Velen's name, but what has he done for you? He refuses to give you the accolades you richly deserve." Settra's tone became one of sympathy. "I offer you a chance to take revenge on these traitors. You know you want it."

Velenkayn could feel the truth, the sincerity in Settra's voice. He could feel his will breaking. "No, no..." He shook his head, trying to deny the devil who stood before him. "I am a servant of the naaru, a champion of the draenei people..."

"Servant? Why do you want to be a servant?" Settra feigned exasperation. He was breaking through the barriers of Velenkayn's psyche. "I'm offering you the chance to be a master for once, Velenkayn. Blood Knights like Master Ordevaas take their power from a naaru - they do not serve such beings, they dominate them! I can train you to wield the powers that I wield, and in doing so you could become as a god among your people - forcing them all to do your bidding, and unleashing the hungry dead on those who refuse to submit!"

The vindicator could see in his mind's eye what Settra offered him. He, not the Prophet, would stand in the place of honor in the Exodar, and rule the draenei people. Ghouls raised from the fallen draenei of Azuremyst Isle patrolled the "city's" halls. In another vision, Velen lay dead at Velenkayn's feet, as did that Broken scum Nobundo, executed for crimes against the draenei people. His treacherous daughter Ammenkayn wept over the corpse of her bastard mentor Jaeden'laek...before the ghouls tore her to shreds.

Velenkayn's iron will finally broke. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes..."

In the shadows of the Apothecarium, Ordevaas Portalseeker grinned in triumph.


In the halls of the Exodar, Velen bowed his head in mourning, and went to his knees. At his sides, Saavedro of Stratholme and Ammenkayn, shaman of the Hand of Argus, did likewise - and together, Prophet, paladin and shaman began to pray.


In the Plaguelands near Corin's Crossing, Jaeden'laek could hear an echo that sounded like a cry of agony. He stiffened at the sound, causing his dwarven guide and companion to look at him in concern. "Velenkayn," he whispered.


And deep within the Vindicator of Death, held in the Apothecarium of the Undercity, a noble soul screamed in anguish...

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