Hey there, readers! The name's Felscribe592, and while I'm new to the world of Fanfiction, I'm definitely not new to the world of Azeroth! One thing I've noticed on-site is that the role of Demon Hunters within Warcraft society seems to be sorely lacking. Being the Illidari fanboy that I am, I've decided to add to what I hope will be an exciting—and hopefully, thanks to you—growing number of tales regarding one of the most controversial classes in the game. This particular story is in regard to my character Velscar, though hopefully you'll recognize a few other characters as the story progresses. With that, let us begin…but first, a disclaimer!
DISCLAIMER: I did not create the World of Warcraft. I merely reside within it.
A Demon's Tale
Chapter 1: Awakening
I woke to the sound of horrified screaming. Rising from the ragged, foul-smelling bed, I turned my gaze in every direction I could think of, for my sight had somehow failed me completely. Everywhere I looked, left, right (which was which?), all was black. The screams continued, and I realized that they were my own.
"Calm down. The shock will wear off faster than you think. Believe me, I went through the same thing."
"Who's there?" I demanded, groping about blindly.
A sinister cackle greeted me in response.
"I could tell you," said my visitor. "But I think you should try to see for yourself."
"See for myself?" I asked, hating how pathetic I sounded. "I can't even see my own hand in front of my face!"
To demonstrate, I waved said hand, relieved that I wasn't completely helpless, even if my muscles protested against the simplest of motions.
The unknown individual laughed again. It was an unnerving sound, almost demonic in nature.
"You know…I thought the exact same thing," he replied.
The evil cackle triggered a memory at the back of my mind. I had come here for a reason, and it had something to do with demons…
As if in response, the darkness suddenly flew outward, like a fog clearing away on a sunny day. But there was no sun to greet me, only a series of strange, multi-colored lights. They shifted and twisted and writhed before me. Trying to focus on any one of them made my head ache, and I quickly stopped trying.
"Now you can see, can't you? It takes time."
"The haze is clearing," I admitted.
"Follow the sound of my voice," my visitor instructed. "Focus on it. Let the magic do the rest."
I did as he commanded, wishing the lights would clear away, or at least take on form or substance.
Surprisingly, that's exactly what happened—the chaotic mess suddenly swam around before the world burst into life before me, all color and energy, defined in a way that far surpassed anything I had felt before. I could see the tiniest cracks in the stone walls, feel every inch of the filthy rags beneath me…and smell them, too. As my feet finally hit the floor, I knew the exact makeup of the rough stones, which would have cut into my flesh and which were safe to walk on. And yet for unknown reasons, I also knew that something as mundane as stubbing my toe on the floor was no longer a concern. Something had changed in me, and I was physically stronger for it. Whether the change would affect my mind remained to be seen, but with the world now visible before me, I lifted my gaze to greet the visitor.
Like me, he was a night elf, standing proud and tall. But this was an elf unlike any I had ever seen, for his eyes were shrouded by a scrap of dark cloth, and malevolent energies played about his form. Again that word came to mind: demonic. As I focused on his body, I could make out what looked like scales and claws…and fangs. What had happened to him?
"If you can see, you can walk," he said shortly. "Follow me."
Finally able to rise from the sorry excuse for a bed, I followed my visitor out of the cell. The long, dark corridor was full of them, and I wondered if this elf also had one. As we continued along the hallway, I realized with a start that the sickly green lanterns were useless to me—my strange new eyesight illuminated every hidden crevice of the chamber. So preoccupied was I with taking in the scenery that I nearly collided with the elf as he came to a stop by the door.
"Do you not remember anything?" he asked.
"I remember…something about magic," I said, trying to focus. "A ritual? I came here…for a reason. Something about demons."
"You came here to slay them," he told me. "You came here to be a Demon Hunter."
Demon Hunter…it was as if the words themselves carried a potent magic. A sharp pain rang through my skull, and again I heard myself cry out as it all came racing back: the journey to the Black Temple, meeting Illidan, the ritual…
"Amnesia is one of the more…desirable side effects," he told me. "But you remember now, don't you?"
"I remember that I came here to slay demons," I growled, surprising myself.
"As did we all."
"And who are you?" I demanded, still feeling cheated.
"Who are you?" he echoed. "Your memories are returning, aren't they? Name yourself."
As the pain finally shrunk to a dull numbness, I could feel my mind awakening with the rest of my body. I took several breaths, trying to restore myself to a sense of calm.
"I am Velscar of Darkshore," I proclaimed, "and I wish to become a Demon Hunter."
"We'll see if you can survive long enough for that, Velscar," said the elf, no humor in his voice. "I am Vandel, and I bid you welcome to the Illidari."