((You know the drill. I don't own anything but the story and the random characters. All races/classes/major characters/ect belong to my beloved Blizzard.))
Summary: A party of Horde mercenaries has finally found the warlock they needed to make their team unstoppable. However, when orders from Orgrimmar send them into the Plaguelands to retrieve a lost messanger, they'll find they have no time for odd jobs to make a quick buck. Demons are popping up all over Azeroth and Sylvannas is blaming the blood elf Prince Kael'thas and his allegiance with Illidan, threatening to kick the whole race off the Horde. The only way to prove the blood elves' innocence is to track down the real culprit and find out the truth...but, do they really want to know it?
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Chapter One - Introductions
It was dusk by the time the party had made their way back to Brill, an ancient shade of pale yellow illuminating the still-crowded streets as the mis-matched group shuffled into a little pub beside the Inn. Once the five mugs had found their respective hands, an air of relaxation seemed to replace the one of exhaustion that had followed them into the pub. As they all sank back into the creaky wooden chairs, one of the party kicked his shoeless feet up onto the table and reached up to wipe the blood away from a small cut on his forehead. Each of them had their own battle scars to nurse, all sporting scrapes and bruises on nearly all of their exposed skin. One of them in particular though seemed to have the worst of it; five sets of eyes watching the little pool of crimson that was beginning to collect at the smallest figure's feet.
"As soon as enough of my mana returns, I'll have you fixed right up." Promised the dry, hollow voice of Valeria. She waver her hand as though it were nothing, her white robes billowing in the gesture. "If we hadn't gotten blind-sided by those damned dusk bats on the road, you wouldn't be bleeding all over your pretty self now."
"Aye, T'hak," Inquired the thick accent that could only belong to a troll. "What aboutchu, mon? Ain't you got any more potions on you? What about that healin' spell?"
The question had been directed at the large, dog-like creature at the other end of the table. The animal snorted and let out a little snarl, it's irritated, yet still somehow calm golden eyes glaring at his troll companion. A second later, the beast became illuminated by a soft blue light and replaced by a huge, muscular tauren, whose eyes still held the same glare.
"I can't use that spell again so soon." The tauren grunted back.
"It's fine." The bleeding figure said from beneath her hood. Delicate, graceful fingers slipped out from her cloak to grasp the mug in front of her. As she sipped from the crudely-shaped cup, her blood-stained fingers trembled, but the glow of her ghostly green eyes from the shadows of her hood remained unchanged. Setting the mug back on the table, she reached up and removed her hood, letting her shimmering, starlight-colored hair cascade about her porcelain features like a glow of phantom light.
"I ain't much of a healer," the troll admitted, "But, it looks like you got no other options." With an apologetic look at the white-haired beauty, he set down his mug. A green light emanating from his hands and, a moment later, was channeled into his injured companion's body, instantly sealing most of the deep gash on her upper torso.
"Thank you." She said, genuinely grateful. She took another swig from her own cup, sighing at the instant relief the shaman healer had provided.
"It ain't a problem." He replied, waving it off. "Anything for a face like that." Valeria, the undead, scoffed. She glanced sidelong across the table at her partner in jealous arms. Sharing the same unhappy look as the priestess; a second troll, this one female sat stroking the pale orange fur of a large durotar tiger that was sitting obediently beside her chair.
It wasn't a grudge or a personal vendetta. At least, not for Valeria. The huntress on the other hand, who had set her sights on the shaman long ago, was clearly unhappy about the shift in attention that had taken place the moment the elven beauty had joined their group. It wasn't nearly as big a deal for Valeria. It was more a matter of envy and regret than one of real jealousy or bitterness. Before her first life had been so abruptly ended by the plague, she had been quite an attractive woman, as far as humans go. Being in the presence of Ariynn, the elf, unnerved her more because of that fact than it did because she stole the attention of all the men in the group. Being forsaken, she had no interest in any kind of relationship.
All eyes shifted then as another figure approached the table; a second undead dressed in the robes of a powerful mage. The shaman jumped up to greet him and Valeria was about to pass him a drink when they realized he was not alone. Hanging back a bit, probably by the mage's orders, was a man with long red hair and pointed ears, dressed all in black.
"I've found us a warlock." The forsaken mage announced, sounding as accomplished as an undead was capable of.
"Yes. A blood elf." Valeria snorted, a scowl instantly crossing her ashen grey face. Ariynn's brilliant green eyes filled with offense, mocking the priestess's glare.
"You're point?" The warlock snapped back, his gaze hardening. The mage glanced over his shoulder, shooting his new-found companion a warning look. With an irritated sigh, the red-head dropped his confrontational attitude re-focused his attention on an argument taking place at the bar over whether or not an orc had had too much to drink.
"My point," Valeria snarled, "Is that I don't trust him. He'll probably steal all of our mana potions when we aren't looking."
The warlock's attention snapped back to the forsaken priestess at that, his fel eyes smoldering. With a scowl on his handsome face, the confrontational attitude had returned quicker than the peace-keeping mage had time to prevent. He was just about to knock the judgmental eyes from Valeria's rotting head when someone beat him to the punch.
"Is that so?" Ariynn had taken a few steps toward Valeria, one hand resting one hand resting on her hip, just dripping with prideful arrogance. She wore a look that dared the priestess to push the subject. "Have you recently forgotten? I'm a blood elf too."
"A rogue; not a magic-user." The priestess replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "And therefore, the only class of your kind that would allow me to sleep with both eyes closed instead of keeping one always on my bags."
"Yes; a rogue. All t he better to steal your potions with." Ariynn retorted with a sly smirk. The apprehension floating invisibly in the air around the group's little table could be felt form the bar on the other side of the room. As everyone began to grow tense in the face of the argument, the only calm that remained was in a pair of furious red eyes at the head of the table.
"All the same," Valeria continued, despite all the warning looks and reasons not to. "You aren't capable of exhausting all the magic within yourself. But him…" She pointed to the warlock, who folded his arms over his chest, chewing his bottom lip in an effort to bite back his obvious rage. "All of his skills are based on mana. The only thing worse could be a mage. And with that ridiculous life tap of his, he'll probably be five minutes into a raid and already writhing on the ground, crying for a mana crystal!"
"Enough!" A thundering voice boomed across the table and over everyone's heads. They all froze at this; even the warlock, who had begun moving forward, the mage's bony arm the only thing between him and Valeria slowly, Karn stood, his green skin illuminated by the pub's lanterns as he rose from the shadows. "I will hear no more of this bickering nonsense! A warlock is what we need and he looks to be a decent one. We'll give the blood elf a chance. Let's at least see what he can do."
"Fine!" Valeria spat with a scowl. Being their leader and the one who had originally assembled the group four years ago, she had absolutely no room to argue with him. She did, however, retain the right to be stubborn, which she made clear as day by pointing to T'hak. "You heal him."
"Take a seat, brotha.'" The troll offered, kicking out the open chair beside his. The new-recruit gave a slight nod in thanks and sat. "Names Kal'jin an' I be-"
"A shaman." The warlock observed.
"Tha's right mon!" Said the troll, breaking out into a wide grin. "Guess you been around the block a few times, eh?"
" 'Around the block a few times' isn't going to get you very far running with us." Valeria snorted, scowling into her mug of ale. The red-headed blood elf glared in her direction.
"Don' you mind her any. She always been like that. Valeria's our healer, but its lookin' like yours is gonna be T'hak." Kal'jin motioned toward the tauren at the corner of the table; the only one of them without a drink. T'hak bowed his large head in recognition. The warlock returned the gesture and turned back to the troll, who went on with the introductions. "I know you already met our mage, Odun, but I guess you got no idea about the rest of us. My fellow troll is Malkima, the hunter. The lion be her pet, Ironclaw."
The look he was receiving from this second troll wasn't much pleasant that the icy daggers Valeria had been shooting him. Being a blood elf warlock, one of the most hated, discriminated again class/race combinations he could have possibly aspired to be, he was used to the awkward stares and bitter glances, but these were supposed to be his allies? The people he was to fight alongside in battle? Those he was to defend and be defended by in desperate times? He could already see that this wasn't going to be a very successful venture. Perhaps it would be best for him to back out now. After all, he had done fine on his own until now…
The next face he saw, however, was much more encouraging; beautiful and calm, with a pair of gorgeous fel eyes that perfectly matched his. There was the slightest hint of a smile on her pale lips as she watched him from across the table.
"Tha's Ariynn." The shaman explained, following the red-head's gaze. "Pretty, ain't she? But, I guess where you're from, she ain't nothing special, eh mon?"
On the contrary. Even in Silvermoon, she would have been a rare find. She had the looks that any blood elf would covet, with all the attributes of their high elf ancestors; long locks of white-blonde hair, pale, but still pink skin so far untouched by the ashen grey tint of arcane withdrawal, and decked from head to toe in robes of brilliant crimson and gold.
"An' that big green brotha' is Karn." He continued with a chuckle. "Don' be scared o' him, mon. He might look like a big monsta', but he'll have your back when ya need 'im there."
"Good to know." The warlock replied, pulling his eyes away from the fair-haired rogue.
"So, what about you, mon? You got a name?"
"Oh…well, yes, of course." The elf hesitated. "You can just call me Jack."
"Jack? That don' sound very elvish, mon." Kal'jin noted with curiosity. Karn's eyes raised in recognition, a hint of surprise on his face; the warlock's darted to the table.
"Right," He conceded with a short sight. "My name is Erurainon."
"Well, tha's a mouthful, brotha'." Kal'jin laughed. "I see now why ya'd rather jus' be called Jack."
"Actually…call me Eru instead." He suggested, his brilliant green eyes still on the table.
"Tha's a deal, mon. Eru." No one seemed to notice how the warlock spent the remainder of the night avoiding Karn's gaze.
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((So, what did you think? If you read it, please review. I love constructive criticism and reviews in general. Its nice to know someones actually interested in my story and reading it. Chapter Two is in the works right now, its about half way done; it'll be up soon. Yay for plot development! XD))
