A/N: This is my first Warcraft story and I'm a bit nervous. I know there's a ton of lore that goes along with the game and I've done so much research my brain is about to explode. However, this story is set within the Warlords of Draenor expansion and doesn't necessarily follow any set storyline within the game. So, I hope you enjoy the story. Feedback is welcome (constructive, please. No flames; they're never appreciated).
Disclaimer: I don't own Warcraft or any of the expansions. Neither do I own the characters Sairexanaris, Traylon, Zorrion or Yazzoo. They are toons my friend in RL play and has been so wonderful to let me borrow. I also don't own the guild Velvet Nightmare. I am only a member of the guild and my friend (who let me borrow their characters) is the guild master and has been kind enough to let me use the guild for the story. I only own Nyxidora, Chayl, Silvarin, Ravandraya, Trisen and Aexhal. They are my in-game toons and some of them will appear later on in the story.
Heat washed over his skin like a hot breeze. Flames danced through closed eyelids. The sound of the blazing fire roared in his ears as the young blood elf lay deathly still on the hard ground. Pain tore through his right eye, bringing him to tears; however he never whimpered, never made a sound. Through the roar of the flames, he could still hear the low growls of the attacker. He cracked his left eye open just enough to see the sight before him. His mother and father lay a few feet away; their bodies tattered and bloody.
Two figures stood over them. One, the looming figure of a Voidlord, the other a haunting image of a female Worgen. The boy closed his eye again as the warlock threw her head back and howled into the night; sending a chill of fear shooting down the boy's spine. Clawed feet scuffed across the gravel. The young blood elf held his breath as he felt a wet nose prod his neck; his stomach lurching at the smell of rotten meat on the Worgen's hot breath. She pulled back, satisfied that she had completed her task.
"Death to the blood elf scum," the warlock growled.
It was the barking of his fel wolf that brought Sairexanaris back to reality. The hunter looked up to see Felfang sniffing the ground, his ears low against his head. Sairexanaris glanced back down at the body of a young orcish boy, his body ravaged. He had seen countless bodies with similar wounds during his years training with the trolls as a hunter. And every time he asked himself the same question: Was it her? The one who robbed him of his sight in his right eye and took his parents, brother and sister from him all those years ago in Fairbreeze? A simple eye patch was nothing compared to the scars he bore deep within. He vowed to get revenge for his family's murders. He would not rest until the Worgen warlock lay lifeless at his feet.
It was the main reason why he became a hunter. To learn the skills necessary for tracking down prey. He had hunted the warlock across Azeroth, momentarily losing the trail at the Dark Portal. He had battled his way through hordes of Iron Orcs that swarmed through the Dark Portal to reach the other side into the land of Draenor, where his search began anew. Of course there was always the threat of attacks by Iron Orcs, and a base of operations needed to be made. With the help of the Frostwolf clan, it was no time before a garrison was constructed.
Sairexanaris spent several months building up his garrison's defenses, recruiting new followers and aids to help with the day to day skirmishes that popped up around Draenor. It also gave him time to explore the land, getting a feel for the wilds of a new world. And it was here, in a small village in Nagrand that he finally picked up the warlock's trail again. Felfang confirmed it when he threw his head back and howled. Like his master, Felfang never forgot the stench of the accursed Worgen.
The hunter knelt down and brushed a hand over the boy's opened eyes, closing them. The village had been part of the Frostwolf clan. Durotan would be demanding answers. Felfang paced around anxiously, his nose to the ground. Sairexanaris stood up again and went over to his companion. Felfang was his best friend; they had seen many things together, both good and bad.
"Let's go get her, boy," Sairexanaris said.
Felfang gave his master a quick look before taking off in the direction he had picked up the scent. Sairexanaris ran after him, his bow clenched tightly in his hand. Finally, all of his years of searching were coming to an end. The mongrel who murdered his family would finally face justice. Felfang led him through the grassy plains, stopping every now and then to find the scent before taking off again.
However, when they came to a large river, Felfang stopped and sniffed around, only going as far as the water's edge; where he sat down and whimpered, his ears drooping. Sairexanaris cursed under his breath, knowing that Felfang had lost the trail. They had been so close. Sairexanaris patted Felfang's head, rubbing behind the fel wolf's ears.
"Good boy, Felfang," he said. "You did good."
Felfang looked out across the water, a small whimper escaping him. Sairexanaris patted the fel wolf's head again.
"Let's head home," he said.
With Felfang by his side, Sairexanaris began the long trek back to Frostfire Ridge; feeling the sting of losing the trail. However, as he gathered his horse at the ravaged Frostwolf village, his determination burned ever stronger to track down and kill the Worgen who killed his family.
Reviews are welcome, flames are not