Author's Note:
Holy crap, what have I done? Honestly, I just had to. It was too amusing to me to pass up. Please, you know…it's pretty accurate for his story. Sooo…yeeaaah…if enough people like it, I might consider continuing with this idea. Feed me compliments and I will serve more of the story. ^^'
Prologue – The Hand of A'dal:
The crowd gathered at the bottom of the steps outside of Stormwind Keep, bustling eagerly as they awaited the news. It stretched out past the drawbridge and forked in both directions on either side of the canal. As far as the eye could see, there were people gathering. Some even stood on the roofs of buildings and others scaled the walls.
There were two special guests present that day as well: Malfurion Stormrage and Tyrande Whisperwind stood with a large guard made up of Night Elf Sentinels and Druids, at the top of the steps, besides the podium that had been set up. The sun glimmered brightly upon the Humans, Dwarves, and Gnomes alike. There was a cheery attitude amidst the people, and a suspense that was almost painful to bear.
At last the waiting ended. King Varian Wrynn descended the steps from the Keep, a platoon of guards accompanying him and his son – Anduin – and stopped to the opposite side of the podium from the Night Elves. One of the guards stepped forward and took his place before the crowd. Dressed in the usual attire required for Stormwind City guards, Melris Malagan cleared his throat as he looked out over the sea of people that made up the Alliance.
"For many months we have been sending our warriors through the Dark Portal located in the Blasted Lands to face a powerful threat. For many months we have received horrific news of what has happened to our troops, our friends and family, at the hands of not only the demons, but even that of the callous Horde. For many months we have waited for good news, for something that would give us some peace of mind. At last I have that news.
"It is with great honor and pride that I, Melris Malagan: elite Captain of the Guard of the brave soldiers in Stormwind city, announce the return of a hero whose name shall forever be remembered from this day forward. For eleven grueling months he was forced to stay on the damned planet that we now know as Outland. He has gained the favor of the Sha'tar and has proven himself more than capable, despite his rather young age. And now he has returned, and with the very news that we have been hoping to hear for so many months. I give to you Ken Ichijouji, the Hand of A'dal!"
The crowd erupted into applause as the young Elf stepped forward. He was still a member of the High Elves, having fought the magic craving that had damned his species and changed them to Blood Elves. His pale ears were held as high as his head. A wind picked up, blowing his dark blue hair back from his face. Equally blue eyes scanned the crowd before him, his face showing the hardships he had to endure while away from home. Besides him stood his closest friend, decked out in gear made of green Silithid carcasses that gave himself a bug-like appearance. His red hair protruded from the green helmet with orange-red eye plates and his dual blades were strapped to his wrists, giving him the appearance of having stingers. The antennas didn't help much in that respect, either.
He silently stood beside the hero of the Alliance as they waited for the tumultuous crowd to die down. Once the noise levels reached a manageable level, Ken held up his hand, commanding silence.
Look at them. So pathetic. They are nothing to you; worms with soft flesh. You do not belong with them. You deserve…so much more…
"I stand before you, great people of the Alliance, as a victor. For too long have we been forced to fear for our lives, for the lives of our families. We cowered in our houses as we were attacked by demonic forces. With the Dark Portal open, we faced an even greater threat. Endless waves of demons came after one another, sometimes without rest, and our brave warriors were forced into action. We lost many good people in the war against the Betrayer."
They are much more useful dead than alive. In death they serve without question…
"But now here I stand, battered and bruised but full of pride, before you my friends. My family. And I bring the news that you have been hoping for since the war began. Illidan Stormrage, the Betrayer and the brother of our great ally Malfurion Stormrage, has fallen to the mighty hammer of the Alliance! His generals – Lady Vashj of the vile Naga and Kael'thas Sunstrider of the traitorous Blood Elves – have also fallen."
Such weak, fragile wastes of potential. But they have died, as all living beings must. As will everyone before you. As will you. Death is inevitable. Death is pure…
"The demonic threat has been neutralized! The Alliance stands victorious as rightfully we should! For the Alliance!" Ken pumped his fist into the air and elicited an eruption of screams and cheers from the crowd before him. Grinning, his violet eyes sharply watching each and every person before him, he turned and faced the Night Elves. "Be glad that I was capable of cleaning up the mess that YOU made, Mistress Whisperwind." Without waiting for a reply, he and his companion walked down the stairs and into the crowd. The High Priestess of the Night Elves watched him go, stunned by his blatant insult.
"I've never known that boy to be like that…" she said, looking to Malfurion. The druid nodded lightly, a frown gracing his violet face.
"Indeed. Perhaps his time on Draenor has changed him. It wouldn't surprise me; that place could change anyone, and with very little effort. So much corruption because of my brother…" He sighed unhappily. Tyrande reached out and took his hand.
"It wasn't your fault. I did release him after all. The blame is with me as well." She gave him a gentle smile that held a light nearly enough to rifle that of Elune's. "Come. It is time that I return to Teldrassil, and you must return to Moonglade."
"You are correct, my love. There are things that must be done that do not include pondering over the hero of the Alliance." They turned and began to ascend the steps into Stormwind Keep, King Varian and his son joining them.
The crowd below was clamoring to speak with the now famous High Elf. But he moved through them with little trouble, keeping a rather tight smile in place. His friend was practically clued to his back and acting like a bodyguard, gently pushing people back so that they could get out. Dwarves kept shaking Ken's hands and inviting him to free drinks at the pub, Humans kept clapping him on the shoulder and cheering his name, and even women were surrounding him, thanking him for saving their sons or husband. He patiently suffered through this torment until he got out of the crowd and managed to take to the streets of Stormwind City.
Eventually the pair of them found refuge in the Park, just outside of Cathedral Square. They had slipped by unnoticed and were now able to just sit down and enjoy themselves.
"You didn't have to be so mean," the insect armored boy chastised, reaching up and removing his head. He was a lot younger than his physique detailed. In fact, he was younger than Ken! He had a rather cute face that went against his oddly manly voice and his eyes glimmered a brilliant blue. There was a pink mark etched into his forehead that looked like an arrow pointed towards his nose with two triangles on either side of the point. Ken scoffed.
You do not deserve to be criticized. The Elves are lower than you. It is the job of the strong to scold the weak.
"Everyone knows the story of how Tyrande Whisperwind released Illidan back when the Burning Legion was a threat. It was she that caused all of this deplorable business. So yes, I'm going to call her out," he growled, crossing his arms and looking away. Paul frowned at his friend. He looked so…different.
It was after the Illidan fight and the few weeks they spent cleaning up demons that it happened. Suddenly he wanted to wear darker clothing, going for a blue robe with white lines down the sides, and golden shoulder pads on his shoulders. A dark blue cape with golden seams now hung down from said pads and his eyes were hidden by glasses that he modified from the ones used to see the ghosts of Shadowmoon Valley.
"Ken, are you…feeling alright?" the younger boy asked carefully, reaching a hand out.
The living are filthy. A curse of flesh and blood.
Ken pulled his arm back and shot Paul a glare. "Of course I am! What a stupid question to ask!" He felt completely okay! Of course, hearing voices in one's head didn't usually qualify as fine, and he had been hearing this one since returning to Azeroth. The worst part was…he had started actually listening to it. "Look, just leave me alone for a little while okay? I'm…tired." Paul looked hurt but nodded all the same, eyes on the ground.
"Okay…I'm going to go get my armor repaired. I'll be back in a little while, okay?" When he didn't get an answer, he sighed and got to his feet. They had been friends for so long and he had always known Ken to be nice. So why was it different now?
With all distractions gone, Ken began staring off into space, his mind wandering. He could hear that voice, so strong and alluring. It whispered of power, something he wished to have….That wish had come after the battle with Illidan. The strength that he had felt during that fight had been simply incredible! He remembered dark whispers then, too, but they were nothing like this one. The ones before had been demons, he knew that, and they were unable to fulfill the promises they gave. But this one…
Come north. Come to me. I can give you what you desire, what you crave…what you deserve.
Ken closed his eyes a moment before opening them. They were dilated and narrowed, visions of a frosty tundra filling his head. "Yes…there is a boat leaving today…I shall come, Master," he said aloud. Reaching back, he pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and let his cape cover his body as he left the Park, following the winding path to the docks. It didn't take much persuading to get him a vessel and a crew – especially when they saw who he was – and before Paul's armor was fully repaired, Ken Ichijouji, the Hand of A'dal, was aboard a ship headed towards the icy land of Northrend, vision clouded and mind full of dark promises.
You will be my Champion, Ken Ichijouji. You will rise above this world and become that which you deserve to be. You will serve your Master proudly…or you shall feel the cold embrace of death.