Author's Note: This is my first work of fan-fiction, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do! Fair Warning: This story is Rated M for a reason!
The grass sighed happily into her soft cheeks. The wind danced impishly through her loose hair. The sunlight grazed its soft fingertips across her eyelids, stirring her to rise. Somewhere far to her left (she assumed it was her left, for her senses were too blissfully pacified to be accurate) a brook softly sang as it fell over the loose rocks of a ravine. She was in utter bliss here, in her own hidden world, her grove of jade and lavender, surrounded by everything sacred to her: the earth.
Her body knew this place well, muscles shifting softly into the familiar soil, face nestled perfectly into a lush pillow of emerald moss. Her fingers braided gracefully through the millions of tiny blades that surrounded her, still garbed in beads of dew. The delicate wildflowers worshipped her presence, each reaching their Iris-kissed faces to her. A symphony streamed through the air, expertly composed by a nearby family of bluebirds. She was on the very essence of paradise.
But something was wrong. This couldn't have been her grove; she was days, weeks, even months away from home. In fact, the Great Sea itself stood between her and the clearing. So where was she? And why couldn't she remember why she was here? This isn't home. So where am I?
Her eyes snapped open, instantly blinded by the golden breath of the sun. After a brief moment, the veil of light withdrew to the right of her peripheral vision, and she soon regretted ever having eyes in the first place.
Not three feet before her lay a Gnome, her face still reading the signs of adolescence. Just between the pink-haired girl's eyes, a cruel, primitive arrow seemingly slithered its way out of a freshly welled stream of crimson that trickled long the statuesque countenance. The equally pink lips were parted just slightly, having tried to form one last word before their bearer fell into eternal rest.
"Anastaisya!" a nearby voice cried. Anastaisya? Oh! That's my name! At least, I think it is… A wizened, old Night Elf, with hair and beard whiter than snow, dropped to her side, shaking her violently. "Anastaisya! Are you up?" the man pleaded. Anastaisya merely nodded, still transfixed in horror by the sight before her. The elf scooped her up, but swiftly realized that she was in no condition to move. A large gash was dripping violet from Anastaisya's neck, and she needed to be healed.
"Stay still," the elf warned. She complied, and stared endlessly in disbelief at the lost gnome before her. Disregarding the corpse, the elf placed his hands in the earth near Anastaisya's head and a soft, citrine glow resonated into the grass that it reached. Instantly, the small leaves grew and extended to the wound on her neck, laying gently along it and emitting a dim hum of energy. The vines, under the command of the nearby druid, softly brushed the open skin, sealing the edges together with the aura trailing through them. After a few moments, they retreated, and the skin below bore no presence of having ever been cleaved in two.
"A very successful procedure if I do say so," the elderly elf smiled. "Your wound was deep, and barely missed any vital arteries or channels."
Anastaisya merely nodded again, continuing to gawk at the poor Gnomish girl. The elf, noticing the gaze of his patient, reached over and closed her target's eyes. The loss of contact seemed to tear Anastaisya from her stupor, and she finally acknowledged her savior. "Dank you," she breathed, still weak. Her head was pounding like the hammers of Ironforge (a simile that she didn't understand at the time).
"Don't worry about it," the elf chuckled. "After all, we need you alive and well, don't we?"
Anastaisya looked into his eyes for the answer to his question. Noticing her confusion, the elf laughed lightly and said something about it being rhetorical. She smiled softly and attempted to raise herself. The beating in her head worsened and she closed her eyes harshly.
"Ana?" the elf inquired, resting his fingertips against her temple. He could feel the light thump of blood and reached into the bag at his waist for a small leaf, which he ground lightly in his hands and placed against her lips. "Swallow it," he gently ordered.
After a moment of disorientation, Anastaisya flicked her tongue across her lips and inhaled the grains of the leaf quickly. Almost as soon as she did, the drums in her skull subsided, allowing her to bring herself to a sitting position without any further pain. Her neck still tingled slightly, but she barely noticed.
"Better?" a new voice chimed, the end of the word sounding almost like an echo. Anastaisya jolted slightly, not having realized the druid wasn't alone, and looked to her right to see a slender Human woman kneeling behind another body, her hands hovering along the body about an inch or so from the skin. There was a soft, pearly shine in the space between the woman and the person below her, a thick-bearded Dwarf who seemed to have an injury somewhere on his chest.
"Um...yes. Very much, dank you," Anastaisya replied, bringing herself to her knees. She rubbed her forehead, trying to alleviate some more of the grogginess clouding her mind. She still couldn't recall where she was, or why, and wasn't yet sure if what the elf had called her by her true name. She did, however, notice that this Dwarf, his long, reddish-brown beard pushed away from his body, was in great trouble.
"Oh dear!" she cried, seeing the large amount of blooding seeping through his shirt. A small pile of plate armor lay off to the side, and she figured it must be his. The breastplate bore a large gash in the middle. She looked back to the woman, who shook her head lightly.
"No response," she stated blankly. Her hands lost that strange light as she drifted away from the man before her, sighing defeatedly. "We've been losing too many, Ariden," she worried, addressing the Night Elf. "I'm afraid the battle will be lost soon."
At this the druid stood. "We can't give up yet! Their souls could still return to their bodies!"
The female, most likely a priest, shook her head again. "Spirit Guides can't send a soul back to an unsalvageable body, and the enemy has been far too vicious today for us to save any of them."
A strong wave of sadness seemed to wash over Ariden, and he sighed loudly. Turning back to Anastaisya, he offered out his hand. She took it and rose slowly to her feet. Feet? No...these aren't feet... Looking down, she lifted her robes slightly, then screamed. "Hooves?"
"What are you yelling about? The enemy will here you!" the woman scolded. Upon seeing Anastaisya's panic, she crossed her arms and tried her hardest to hold back a grin. "Yes, hooves. Draenei tend to have those, you know."
Draenei?
Seeing the still puzzled fervor on the girl before her, the Human scoffed. "Did you really hit your head that hard?"
Hit my head?
"When that troll attacked you," Ariden spoke up this time, "you barely made it away from the sword, merely earning that cut on your neck. However, you also managed to trip over this Dwarf and fall right on your face." He laughed heartily and pointed to the corpse of the troll (what she assumed to be a troll) near a small shed. He had a large series of claw marks along his back that were still leaking blood.
"I...hit...my head? And so...I forget?" Anastaisya asked, her accent making her unsure of her words. The Human nodded and placed a hand on the Draenei's head. Anastaisya noticed that the warm light returned and seeped into her, then felt the fog lift from her thoughts. Instantly, a wave of blood and steel rushed back into her head, and she seemed to stand taller, more sure of her body.
I am Anastaisya, a Draenei shaman and a hero of the Exodar, my home, a ship that crashed into this planet. I am a healer, and I'm in a battle for Arathi Basin, currently defending the stables, and trying to claim valuable resources for the Alliance, a force of good, made up of six different races: Humans, Night Elves, Gnomes, Dwarves, Worgen, who, as I recall, used to be Humans, and, of course, Draenei. This Gnome...I tried to heal her and was attacked. I have a job to do...
She nodded to the Human. "Dank you much." She grasped the woman's hands and shook them gently, failing to notice that she didn't resist. She then turned to Ariden and did the same, and finally turned back and gasped loudly as the priest fell to the ground and was replaced by a wickedly grinning Orc.
"Get back, Ana!" Ariden yelled, pushing her gently to the side. As she stumbled frantically, the druid became surrounded by a golden mist. Through it, Anastaisya could see his body becoming more and more elongated and swollen. Next, he began sprouting thin, silver hair along his entire body. It grew thick and long, and she noticed that it was actually closer to fur than just hair. Finally, his mouth and nose elongated and squared, and his teeth grew sharp and jagged. He was frighteningly animalistic, and Anastaisya couldn't help but be scared by the sight. At last, the mist dissolved into the surrounding air and the large bear before her growled and stamped his paws on the earth before him.
A few moments went by in which nothing else happened, then, in the blink of an eye, the Orc charged. In his hands, two vilely crooked daggers cut the very wind itself as he lunged forward at a speed nothing his size should seemingly be capable of. However, Ariden was skilled himself and dodged the rogue's initial swing, turning quick enough to drag his claws along the back of his enemy. The armor was far too thin, and the steel-like claws gouged deep into the Orc's back. He was, unfortunately, very large and his stamina surpassed Anastaisya's expectations. A look of pure rage radiated from the monster's eyes as he turned to face Ariden, ignoring the cascade of blood from his wounds. He quickly lashed his daggers at the druid's face, first with the right, then the left. There was a smirk on Ariden's muzzle as he dodged the first, but the grin soon fell from his face and was revived on the other's as a gut-wrenching sound tore through the area.
A fountain of blood breached from Ariden's right eye, and a roar blasted from his wide jaws. Despite the dagger still in his retina, though, he turned his head and clamped his teeth down harshly on his attacker's arm. With alarming force, and jerked his neck sharply and, following a horrendous snapping sound, the large green rogue was tossed through the air, smashing into a wooden post with such force that the bones in his skull shattered and his entire cranium seemed to deflate like a zeppelin. The scene brought vomit to Anastaisya's throat, but she suppressed it successfully.
With a loud grunt, Ariden collapsed and was surrounded by the golden mist again. His body shifted easily back to its more familiar elven form, and Anastaisya, roused from her sickly terror, rushed to his side. Upon immediate inspection, she could easily tell that the eye was lost forever. She did need to heal the wound, however, and thus called upon her shamanistic powers to pull a stream of water from the nearby brook. As it drifted through the air, an invisible force bound it into a certain path to its goal. Once her restorative totems were erected from the earth and the healing liquid was before her, Anastaisya pressed her hands into the floating, blue orb before her. Upon doing so, the water coated itself around her fingers as she pressed for Ariden's crimson-stained face. "I promise dis von't hurt," she assured, then reached for him.
As she had sworn, there was no pain, and Ariden sighed in relief as Anastaisya cycled the water gently through his wound, flushing out any impurities and keeping the exposed flesh cooled. Finally, when she was sure that the injury was cleansed, she placed a soft hand on Ariden's cheek. "Dis next stage vill burn, but only for a second. I need to seal de vound," she warned. When he nodded in understanding, she continued, bringing the majority of the water to the surface of the laceration with one hand, and sparking a small, azure fire to her fingertips with the other. Her hands moved quickly, drawing the water from Ariden's face, boiling it instantly with the flame, and replacing it to the open flesh, cleanly searing it shut, and lastly cooling the water into ice to reduce the pain and finish the scarring.
Ariden, not having made a noise once, raised his hand to his empty eye socket as Anastaisya removed hers. He felt gently at the small bit of scar tissue at the center of the half-sphere of skin. "I'm so sorry dat I had to seal it dat vay," she pleaded. "De vound vas in a very delicate area and I couldn't risk using a less accurate healing procedure and I-" He pressed a finger to her lips, effectively silencing her.
"You saved me. That's all that matters." He smiled and stood, pulling her up with him. Near them, the human's body stirred. Ariden swooped down and lifted the priest's head. "Elyzabythe?" he shouted lightly. There was a soft murmur from the woman's lips, and both Ariden and Anastaisya swiftly were working there separate forms of healing magic to keep their friend alive, one with her totems and water, the other with a swarm of foliage.
After a few agonizing minutes, Elyzabythe was able to pull herself weakly to her knees, and then, with the assistance of the healers, she was brought to her feet. Ariden picked her up in his arms and turned to Anastaisya. "I'm sorry but I have to return her to Trollbane Hall for recovery. Will you be alright here by yourself until I return?" He shifted uncomfortably as he thought of what could happen in his absence.
"It is only just up dat hill, no?" Anastaisya responded, smiling. She patted Elyzabythe gently on the shoulder, aiming her next words to the priest. "Please make a hasty recovery, friend. May de Light of de Naaru shine upon you." At her words, the woman smiled weakly and muttered something about incompetence, then ordered Ariden onward. He chuckled and proceeded, looking back at Anastaisya every few steps or so. Finally, he and his passenger crested over the grassy hillside and were out of sight.
Now alone and vulnerable, Anastaisya moved to the flag that bore the Lion's Head crest of the Alliance. She called her defensive totems from the soil, then took shelter at the entrance to the small stable, remaining partially concealed from attackers. After a few more minutes, she grew restless from the alarming amount of inactivity near her. In the distance, she could make out the shapes of people fighting above the cliff at the lumber mill, and at the blacksmith there were several guards of the Horde stationed around the flag. Strangely, though, there were no warriors of either faction on any of the surrounding roads, and the loneliness drove the small Draenei to the brink of madness.
It wasn't the loneliness, however, that did. Instead, it was the wicked growl that was aimed at her from behind. It was the pulse of hot breath on her neck from the lips of an unheard intruder. It was the feeling of being pinned to the hard, cold earth and held down by an immense weight from her attacker. It was the sound of her robe being torn from her pale, amethyst body. It was the face of a massive troll, his eyes as red as his fiery hair. What tossed her spiraling into madness was terror.
"Well, 'ello dere, Girlie…"