(AN: Legion has pissed me off in a way that no WoW expansion since Mists of Pandaria has ever done! That's the bad news. The good news is that they have motivated me to write. So, after one origin story that wasn't crap [in my opinion, at least] I'm hurling my Warcraft story into the present state of the game.)
(A few canon characters are appearing, and, unlike Blizzard, they will actually act in character! Blizzard owns [and ruined] them. Prepare to meet new OCs, and be reacquainted with a few from the last story. Not sure where I'll go as far as ratings go, but I will warn you of this: Legion 7.2 will be spoiled, as well as some things from Antorus and the pre-events for the upcoming Battle for Azeroth. Also, my version of events will deviate from the official story in several ways, which you shall soon see.)
Reveling in Sewage
The floating city of Dalaran sat high above the Broken Isles, a forest of marble and violet spires reaching upwards into the sky. Long had it been the bastion of magical education and higher learning in the Eastern Kingdoms. Thousands of years of knowledge mystical and arcane, gathered by the brightest minds of elf, man, and dwarf, had been stored and taught in the Violet Citadel. Some years ago, the Burning Legion, a vast demonic army intent on destruction and chaos, and invaded the world of Azeroth and destroyed the city of Dalaran. In the years that followed, the surviving members of the Kirin Tor, the magocracy that ruled Dalaran, rebuilt the Violet City and with their magic raised it up into the sky.
Now the Burning Legion had come again to lay waste to the world of Azeroth and succeed where they had failed before. Dalaran, once an exclusive home to the mages of the Kirin Tor alone, had since opened its doors to those who had joined this second war against the Legion. As such, it had relocated to the Broken Isles, the very doorstep of the Legion's point of invasion into the world. For months on end, heroes and adventurers of both the Horde and the Alliance had been summoned by the Kirin Tor to stand together against the threat of the Legion. Now, however, doom hung in the very skies of Azeroth. A fourth object appeared in the skies, moving along a similar course as the sun and the two moons. Rumors spread that this new moon, glistening green and black in both the night and the day, was Argus, the world of the Draenei that had been corrupted by the Burning Legion.
No longer separated by the vastness of the Great Dark Beyond or the chaos of the Twisting Nether, doom now glowered like a shadow over the heads of all in Azeroth.
In the city of Dalaran, in the Legerdemain Lounge, Melissa Redmane gazed up at the distant shining object that was Argus, before returning to her wine. It was not her usual fare, being both a mother and a priest. But strange things had happened on Argus lately; strange things to which she had the privilege - or misfortune - of witnessing firsthand. It was on account of those things that she partook of the blood of grapes. Tea would not suffice, and she detested the taste of beer. As for her husband, Tharbin Redmane, in whom she always confided every secret of her journeys, by and by, she dared not even involve him in these matters. What had happened still shook her to the core, casting long shadows of doubt upon everything she had believed in since she was a little girl.
No, she thought to herself. I would never dare to cast doubts on his faith. Let his faith still be strong, for himself, for our children, and for me.
Her thoughts were disturbed by a sudden cry of agony and a crash coming from the other side of the lounge. Instinctively, she took her staff - the mortal beacon of the Naaru T'uure - left her table and made her way across the lounge as fast as she could, her doubts dissipating in the time of urgent need. Several patrons were gawking and pointing towards a table on the outer side of the lounge, which had been turned over about the same time that the cry had sounded. Some others around her were crying for the Kirin Tor security mages to come into the lounge and restore order, while yet others were knowingly calling out for a healer. Only she dared to walk forward.
Behind the table, lying face up on the lounge floor, was a human magician. He had the stench of fel magic about him, which was recognizable even without those powers the Illidari possessed to detect the demons they hunted. His clothes were dark and his staff, lying on the floor beside him, had a macabre likeness carved into its head. His eyes were burning with a fel, green light, and lines of green were appearing around his mouth and nose.
"It's okay," she assured the warlock as she knelt down beside him. "I'm a priest, I'm here to help you."
At first the man didn't speak, but cried out unintelligibly, his body convulsing as the green lines spread across his body. Melissa's hands hovered over the man's body, a soft glowing halo coalescing around them as she whispered softly prayers to the Holy Light. Suddenly she halted, for she noticed that the man's right arm was almost completely devoured by green lines. Pulling up the sleeve of his robe, she saw several particularly nasty cuts in the man's arm, some of them having already scarred over but quite a few looking to have been newly made: each one was glowing with fel energy. She did not know entirely what was going on, but guessed that these scars were the cause of his pain. But as she began to pray over them, the man's right hand seized her wrist.
"Don't...take away...my power!" he gasped through the pain.
"What are you saying?" Melissa asked, thinking that the man was delusional in his agony. "These scars are infected with fel magic. They need to be healed or you'll die!"
"I...am...my...scars!" quoth the warlock.
Melissa tried to reason with the pained warlock, but he refused any treatment. Suddenly, behind her came the sound of several loud pops as Kirin Tor mages teleported into the lounge. She had scarely turned about when a tall Night Elf unceremoniously pushed her aside, walked over to the dying warlock, and drove the blade of a war-glaive into his throat, taking off his head. The Night Elf then knelt down over the body of the warlock, grasping his wounded arm. A green light burned around the Night Elf's hands, then it disappeared and the Night Elf stood up: there were no more green lines on the warlock's body.
"You shouldn't have done this, human," the Night Elf said to Melissa. Condescension and disdain dripped from his voice, especially in the way that he said 'human.'
"I couldn't just let him die," she retorted.
"Fools like him think they can control the fel," sneered the Night Elf demon hunter. "They must pay the price for their foolish assumption."
"Isn't that what you Illidari do?" asked Melissa.
The Night Elf scowled. "You know nothing about our struggles, foolish human woman! Our suffering, our sacrifices!"
"Watch your tone!" a Draenei male in the crowd stated. "You're speaking to the High Priest of the Conclave of the Light!"
"Bah!" the Night Elf scoffed in return. "Titles mean nothing to the Illidari!" Though his eyes were blind-folded, the way he turned his face towards Melissa made her aware that he was addressing her. "What have you sacrificed, stupid little human?"
Perhaps it was anger at recent memories, doubled by the likeness of the arch agitator standing before her, mocking her, preening like a brightly-feathered cock; but the normally calm and level-headed Melissa rose up from her place, eyes blazing with holy wrath.
"I've given up years of my children's lives," she returned angrily. "To protect the people of Azeroth from harm!"
"You call that sacrifice?" scoffed the Night Elf.
"Alright, that's it!" a Kirin Tor mage shouted at Melissa. "Break it up!"
"But he killed that man!" Melissa said, pointing to the dead warlock, who was now being carried away by a levitation spell cast from one of the Kirin Tor mages. "There was still a chance that he could be saved!"
"By order of the Council of Six," the mage that addressed Melissa said. "The Illidari are allowed free reign to act in accordance to their own judgment throughout the city. We can debate these rules outside, if you wish to challenge them."
The light in Melissa's eyes dimmed, and she noticed out of the corner of her eye the demon hunter grinning smugly. It filled her with great disgust, the arrogance in that grin. But she contained herself: she was not one to start conflict, nor had she a mind to lodge a complaint with the Kirin Tor against the Illidari. Instead, she turned and returned to her seat as the demon hunter left the lounge and the mages urged everyone not to panic and to return to their beverages. But Melissa Redmane could not simply continue drinking, once she returned to her table. This incident had brought back to her mind the images of the past several months, especially what she had seen on Argus. She could not let out of her mind the image of the namesake and former leader of the Illidari.
The demon Illidan Stormrage.
It was many years ago when she first became aware of him, the one the Night Elves called the Betrayer. He had been some kind of tyrant in Outland, the ruined remains of what had been Draenor, ruling over the Illidari and their demonic servants from the Black Temple of Karabor. She had been part of the group of warriors from the Horde and Alliance that saw to the siege of the Black Temple and the slaying of Illidan Stormrage. Now, at the behest of the naaru Xe'ra, whose heart-piece had been interred at her diocese, the Netherlight Temple, she had taken part of a great quest to bring Illidan back to life.
Furthermore, Xe'ra had revealed to her mind secrets of Illidan's ancient past, how his beginning down the dark path had been in search of power for himself, and how it had come at the cost of his own allies. Nevertheless, Xe'ra had excused these dark and heinous acts, saying that they were done out of desperation, for the greater good, and for his unrequited love of the leader of the Night Elf Sentinels, Tyrande Whisperwind. However, the visions did not tell the whole story: they did not tell how Illidan went from a Night Elf to the horned and winged demon that now squatted in the Vindicaar above Argus, nor how he had come into possession of the Black Temple. It seemed that a great deal about this elf, who had been given unilateral freedom by the Council of Six - or, to be more precise, by its head Khadgar - to act as he pleased throughout the campaign against the Burning Legion, had not been revealed by the naaru Xe'ra.
Now, however, the voice of the Prime Naaru was silenced forever, by Illidan Stormrage. No more secrets could she reveal. But still Melissa Redmane had questions.
Slowly she made her way out of the Legerdemain Lounge, making an ambling line towards the Greyfang Enclave, where a portal to the Netherlight Temple awaited her. She needed to clear her head after the incident in the lounge. She had hoped the Draenei hadn't spoken up the way he had; using her place as the High Priest of the Conclave of the Light to assert power over other people was not to Melissa's liking. The glory of kings and heroes, and the power and influence that came as a result, was never her desire, even as a little child. Even the arbitration that she had to undertake, as High Priest, was more than she could handle. Three children were nothing compared to the constant bickering of the three denominations of the Conclave of the Light: the traditionalists of the Church of the Holy Light, to which she herself belonged, as did the many priests and prelates in Lordaeron before the Third War; the Cult of the Forgotten Shadows, a group of areligious malcontents who worshiped darkness and believed that the mysterious Void-lords were the most powerful beings in the universe - powerful enough to corrupt the naaru, beings of the Light, and to strike fear into the hearts of the Burning Legion; and lastly, the Order of the Balance, so-called intellectuals who viewed both the Light and the Shadow as nothing more than magic, no different to the arcane powers wielded by mages, and that each could be wielded hypostatically.
As High Priest, it was her unfortunate task to arbitrate the union of the Conclave, despite each of the three denominations considering the other to be utterly heretical and diametrically opposed. So great was the pandemonium caused by the three opposing sides that Melissa relished the times she could get away from Netherlight Temple, usually a place of peace and meditation. Such was the cause that brought her to the Ledgerdemain Lounge, her favorite establishment in Dalaran; but now, in the wake of what had happened, she decided that she could evade her responsibilities no longer and so turned her course towards the Greyfang Enclave.
Presently she approached the entrance to the Enclave, which stood next to the entrance to A Hero's Welcome, the Enclave tavern reserved for members of the Alliance in Dalaran. As she was about to turn into the Enclave entrance, out of the corner of her eye she caught a familiar face approaching her.
"Redmane!" Leshara exclaimed. "Blessings upon you!"
Melissa smiled as she saw the Draenei warrior approach her. They threw their arms around each other, though Leshara was head and shoulders taller than Melissa; who was not below the normal height for a human woman.
"Leshara!" Melissa returned, as they parted. "What brings you back to Dalaran?"
"I needed a drink," Leshara replied. "And knew of no better place than A Hero's Welcome. Would you care to join me?"
"I was just leaving the Legerdemain Lounge," Melissa stated. "Having finished my wine..."
"Wine?" Leshara chuckled. "I never knew you to be one to consume the blood of grapes. What would your children think of you?"
Melissa rolled her eyes and let out a small chuckle. "It's been a long day. Still, seeing you here makes me want to have a drink with you. We haven't spoken since the assault on the Tomb of Sargeras. We have so much catching up to do!"
"Without a doubt," Leshara returned with a nod.
The two walked into the Hero's Welcome and found themselves a seat at one of the tables. A tiny gnomish waitress approached the table and, after casting a small levitation spell to get herself above the table and at their eye-level, took their orders. Melissa ordered a warm cup of ginseng tea - a favorite of Xingwei's - and Leshara a bottle of Four Winds Soju, an alcoholic beverage native of Pandaria and one that she had grown accustomed to during her time on the island.
While they waited for their drink orders, the two of them caught up on what they had been up to since the assault on the Tomb of Sargeras. Leshara had, without hesitation, answered the call of the Light to join the army that would assault the emerald light in the sky of Azeroth; her ancestral homeworld of Argus. For the most part, she spoke of the battles she had with the demons that infested the shattered remains of her planet. In all of their talk, neither of them spoke about what had happened on the Vindicaar, though they had both been present during those events.
After a while, their drinks arrived and they began to take their fill. For a moment, any worry and doubt were lost and forgotten. But it would not be for long, as Leshara took a break to open the bottle and pour out herself another cup.
"I'm not drinking too much right now," Leshara said. "Though I will certainly be drinking a lot more later." She sighed. "It is very difficult for me, to walk among familiar highlands that are no longer familiar. You know, my family's estate was in the azure-grasslands just south of Mac'Aree. Now there's nothing left of it but ruins. Fields I used to play in as a child are gone, burned and blackened by fel-fire. It is like coming home, only to find it all wrong, all...man'ari."
"I know what you mean," Melissa somberly added. Many years ago, when the Dark Portal was opened, she had the opportunity to return to her village in the Hillsbrad Foothills after returning there by way of Southshore. The village was a ghost-town; houses of wood and stone and lyme crumbling, rotting, fallen into decay, and not a soul left alive. Only the graveyard remained, where the body of her mother and Father Preston lay in the ground. When the Cataclysm forever changed the face of Azeroth, she learned later that what was left of the village had been torn down by the Forsaken and the graves exhumed. She dared not to think about the whereabouts of the remains of her mother or the old priest, especially since the Forsaken, like the Scourge, cared not for the sanctity of the dead; cannibalizing remains for food or to replace lost limbs, or reanimating such corpses that were in better condition.
Turning away from such macabre thoughts, Melissa's mind instead rested upon what had happened on Argus that they had both witnessed.
"Do you remember what happened," she began. "When we returned Xe'ra's heart to the rest of her form?"
Leshara's blue lips curled into a frown. "Yes, I remember."
"I've been thinking a lot about it," Melissa replied. "Have you thought any about what happened?"
"Yes, I have," Leshara added.
"And? What are your thoughts?"
"I think," Leshara returned. "That Illidan is a fool thrice over. He is a fool to reject the healing of the Light that Xe'ra offered him, and again to destroy the Prime Naaru! How could the Prophet allow such a thing to happen? And how could he forbear the High Exarch from smiting Illidan down for his blasphemy?"
Melissa nodded with a sigh. "I am inclined to agree with you, Leshara. But was it not Illidan's choice whether to accept her healing or not?"
Leshara shook her head. "I forget how young you vrachei are, Redmane. I have lived many long years, as many as the kotikei. I have seen many grim defeats and many fruitless victories. In all of this I have learned this one truth: that what the Naaru say is best is best, though all the peoples of a thousand worlds say otherwise."
Melissa mused on this quietly for a moment. The whole concept of the Naaru being the embodiment of the Light was a bit over her head, but she gave them as much respect as she had given the voice she had heard that day in the glade outside her village (a Draenei anchorite, several years ago, had told her that perhaps that voice, the voice of the Light, had come from a Naaru).
"The Naaru exist beyond the mortal world," Leshara continued. "What they see as the greater good exist outside of our limited mortal understanding. In this way Illidan is limited; though he is a kotikei and blessed with long life, he is still mortal. And a fool thrice over for his mockery of the Prophet Velen! Our exodus from Argus was not cowardice, but an exile that saved us all. Better that a few should live than all of our race should be consumed by the fel."
"Some might say such thoughts are final and cruel," Melissa argued, though she did not truly believe so.
"I have seen many lives born on Draenor, in our travels through the Great Dark Beyond, and here in Azeroth," Leshara mused. "Those lives would not have come into being were it not for such 'cruelty.' That 'cruelty' is because of the intervention of the Naaru, and we would no longer exist if not for such 'cruelty.' That is what Marion the dastrei and Varlaine and their order understand."
"But Xe'ra was so certain that Illidan was the chosen one," Melissa stated. "So sure that he was the 'Child of Light and Shadow', the one to end the age of demons. And now she's dead. Was she wrong? Was the Light wrong?" To say those words felt like the hammering of the nail into the proverbial coffin.
"You should know this better than I would," Leshara replied, letting out a frustrated sigh. "You know my faith hasn't been very strong, not since the Orcs destroyed my people on Draenor."
"Then what's the answer?" Melissa asked. "The things Xe'ra showed us, she spoke very highly of Illidan, excusing every horrible thing he did in the War of the Ancients. I would ask her, but she is no more. Who then shall we ask about him?"
"Surely there must be others who knew him," Leshara stated. "His brother, the Arch-Druid Malfurion Stormrage, might provide some insight about him. That might be a good place to start our search."
"'Our search?'" Melissa asked.
"I'll be joining you, of course," Leshara replied. "I know as much of Illidan Stormrage as you do. I too wish to know who he is and why he refused the gift of the Light's healing."
"But don't you have your duties on Argus to fulfill?" asked Melissa.
Leshara sighed. "I...I would rather not discuss it now. Suffice it to say that I have spoken with High Exarch Turalyon and have permission to return to Azeroth."
"Are things going so well," Melissa asked. "That they can afford your absence?"
"Things are at a stand-still," the Draenei stated. "But I will not say more. The Legion has many spies in the city of Dalaran. I for one do not trust the Council of the Black Harvest: they are in league with the demons, no matter what Khadgar and that little goblin that leads them may say."
Melissa let out a grim chuckle. "You don't need to tell me. There are even some in the Conclave who I do not trust, though they have never openly worshiped demons the way the Black Harvest does. But come now, where shall we go to find Arch-Druid Stormrage?"
(AN: I played through a good deal of "The Hunt for Illidan" quest-line in Legion, and was appalled that Xe'ra defended Illidan's amoral actions as necessary [and surprised that Blizzard didn't turn the retcon hammer over to his deeds from Warcraft III and The Frozen Throne]. But then, because the writers demand that Xe'ra do a 180 [because making good actually evil is SO bloody original!], suddenly she has a problem with him being corrupted by the fel [which was his choice, and chosen for power, not to destroy demons or for Tyrande, no matter what Feronas Sindweller might say!] and tries to force healing upon him.)
(That was one of the reasons I started writing this story: pure frustration at what Blizzard did on Argus. Also, well, we're introducing other characters who will be part of my stories in the future. Leshara I created as my first Alliance alt back when I upgraded from classic to Burning Crusade [because, back in my day, we had to buy each game individually]. I chose Warrior instead of Paladin because I was playing at the same time Hellgate London [before it was shut down], so since I had a Paladin on there, I chose Warrior. I also chose Draenei female because, well, the Horde was full of Blood Elves and I had never seen a Draenei female before. Eventually my brother also started playing World of Warcraft and she became his main.)