A/N: Alright, I would like to get some of these silly legal things done. First, I do not own World of Warcraft. I own an account of World of Warcraft, but the actual production and creation of the amazingly great online game is done by Blizzard (and maybe some other companies on the side. I'm not very technical) This is purely fan-made and I am gaining absolutely zip profit from this. It was created for the entertainment of others out of the goodness of my heart. (coughmaybe a little evilcough)I apologize if there are any spelling/grammar problems. I am my own beta, and I go through my works, but i miss some stuff. Feel free to point it out if you find something wrong.

That out of the way, I'd love to take a whole page for myself, but I won't. =P this story will eventually lead to YAOI or hard male/male relationships. This story is rated M for profanity, sexual themes/references, and explicit violent themes/references. If any of this disturbs you in anyway, this is not the story for you. So kindly take your leave.

…Now. =DD

Complete Silence

Prologue

Azeroth was a land that once was overcome by complete peace and harmony. All creatures lived in perfect balance, all giving and taking their fair amount of energy and land. Every living creature who lived on this sacred land faced challenges, but they never turned on each other. It was simply another world that believed it would live in tranquility and prosperity.

…It was also another world that was horribly mistaken.

Although I won't dwell on mindless details, the land had eventually broken up into extreme rage and loathe. The Burning Legion fought the Scourge. Alliance fought Horde. War claimed the land and its people, dragging all from the raging Orcs to even the prideful Night Elves into its evil grasp. Armies were built and spread, backs were turned, and most regretfully, blood was shed.

***

The sky was painted a hue of orange and pink, no clouds marring the atmospheres perfection. Smoke mingled with the rich scent of wet earth as a young Night Elf warrior stood in front of his Goddess's, Elune's, temple. His body was clad in thick mail armor; It was clearly polished, though worn from recent and old battle use. His long cape of blue silk fluttered silently behind him as a faint breeze blew through his unkempt, though still visibly perfect, hair. The long nourishing green strands mingled with his pale blue skin, his sharp jaw line pressurized in a tense gesture. There were forty three men standing behind him, all of which dressed in nearly the same fashion. They all held sharp swords or wicked battle bows. These men were prepared for war.

The young Night Elf turned to his followers, his companions, and stared at them all intently. He seemed to gaze into each and every one of their souls, asking them all the silent question if they were prepared for violence. If they were prepared to give up their lives, and leave their families and friends behind to defend their country and countless others. They all seemed determined. No man would leave that day.

"You all are brave," The apparent leader started. His voice was soft, though demanding. "I give you all my respect for that. We shall not give the Burning Legion the thrill of opponents who cower beneath their gaze. We will rise against them, and we will conquer." His glowing gaze trailed over every other of them slowly again. "In Elune's name, I bless you."

Not only a few frightfully silent seconds after his speech, a loud, tormented battle horn was blown harshly, and the ground beneath their feet began to shake and tremble. Commander Scronic, the Night Elf leader, turned on his heel and snarled at the appearance of Orcish in the distance. He raised his sword into the air high, and as loud a voice as he could muster, he shouted to the heavens. "For the Alliance!"

Arrows from the back of the group flew forward, and the others charged. The battle had commenced.

Scronic mounted his large forest cat and so did the others. They all raced forward into the mess and began to fight for their lives.

The commander took no waste, and jumped off of his cat, slashing his malachite embedded broadsword at four screaming figures, all of which bled from the mid section and fell over. Their faces had been painted with war paint of various colors, and the blood that splashed up and onto their faces made it smear. They gasped until they bled out and died.

Scronic rose from his knee's and looked at them all in pity. Violence was all he knew for that moment. And violence was the last thing he saw on that battle ground.

****

A female Night Elf stood bent over a fire, her hands outstretched towards the flames that itched to lick her fingers. Pig meat that she had scoured from earlier sat in a pan above said heat, and was simmering as it cooked. A mere infant sat on her lap, its glowing eyes wide and innocent. They clutched tightly to her soft shirt, both hands occupied in the cloth. They pulled faintly, and she looked down. "Shush for now, the meal will be prepared soon." She whispered soothingly, stroking a hand through her child's short green hair. "When your father returns, he will be expecting food. He deserves no less after leading all of those men into battle."

The child hummed softly in response, picking at the decorative beading in his mothers blouse. "F...Fad...Fadder…" He struggled out, seeming pleased with himself afterwards.

The mother's eyes widened and she stopped what she was doing. Looking down at her child, a small smile slowly spread across her lips. She grabbed the infant and held them close. "That's right, your father." She whispered, having understood what her child had meant.

The sound of heavy foots stomping on the dirt road that lead towards Ashenvale Kalimdor filled the air, and soon the honorable kel'dorei were able to be seen approaching. They all looked battered and bruised, some even riding on the backs of others. Some were deathly still and pale; some of which were recognized. All of the women and elders, and the few men that stayed behind poured out of their huts and buildings. They were all in a small city named Astranaar, and all men who had left were known.

As the men stopped a few feet away from the villagers, space and time stopped. All held their breath as they searched for their loved one's, and finally, the mother spoke up as her eyes landed on a pair of tired ones. Green hair cascaded over his cheeks and forehead, and they smiled at each other. "Scronic!" She exclaimed as she ran towards the man, her arms thrown in the air. Said man jumped off of his mount and ran towards his wife, his arms circling around her waist and picking her up. They twirled in their spot, both faces buried in each others shoulders, both crying in relief and happiness. Soon after, all other villagers did much the same, all running towards each other. Some cried in relief, and some cried in sadness, as a good portion of the men Scronic had taken with him had perished.

Scronic undid his wife's braid, pulling her long raven strands free from their bond. They tumbled over her shoulders and back, her light blue skin glowing with her happiness. "Elequire," He whispered softly. "You are a great relief to the eyes of the violent."

Elequire smiled softly, her hand finding its place on her husband's cheek. "Scronic, I am only a relief to the loyal and proud." She responded, pulling down her husbands head and letting her lips linger lightly against his own. After a moment, Elequire pulled away. "You must see your son. It has been months since he has last see you."

Scronic nodded and allowed himself to be gently pulled by his wife to their shared home. Inside, a small breathing figure played with a small stick that was carved into the shape of a sword. It was dull on the end, and the child could never swing it hard enough to hurt something, but just the mere sight made Scronic proud though saddened. "Jamel." Scronic quivered, approaching his child.

Jamel turned in his spot on the floor and his eyes widened. "F-Fadder?" He bumbled, chocking out the new words with his young voice. He stood on his fat legs and balanced himself, then wobbled quickly over to his father. "Fadder!" He repeated, squealing. He held his arms out much in the same way his mother had only moments ago.

Scronic chocked on his own air and fell to his knee's, scooping up Jamel in his arms. He buried his face in his hair, breathing in the scent of his own flesh and blood. With his son squirming and giggling and just being so... so alive in his arms, Scronic thought he knew complete happiness.

***

A loud crash, and then the sound of crackling fire. Screams and Cries of agony. Jamel sat in the back of the hut he shared with his two parents, now much older since his father had returned. He had been a mere infant then, but now he was a young man or 'teen-ager' as some humans called it. His knee's were pulled up tightly to his chest, his hands needing the blanket his mother threw over him what seemed like hours ago, but was actually moments. He –No, ALL of the village- had been awoken by the sound of fire and arcane magic. His father, now known as The Great Elder Scronic, had rushed out of the small home with his old battle sword and his mother had followed close behind, though she had shape shifted into a midnight blue feline, her teeth long and dangerous.

Neither had returned to the hut yet, and the smell of burning tree's and bodies was making Jamel feel sick. He listened to every sound around him carefully, shaking violently with every final scream or the sound of flesh being ripped open. Before he even had time to react, a body was slammed into his own home. He jumped up onto his feet, as quiet as his feet would allow him. He ignored the memory of his mothers voice in his head from when she had instructed him of survival skills when he was younger. 'Never fight a being that you see lying alone, and never approach an injured animal. Besides both of these skills, you must learn to pick up on power surges that radiate from the body. If the pulsations seem strong, then they are more powerful then you. If the pulsations leave you feeling weak and drained, do not go any nearer.'

This being was definitely radiating powerful pulsations, but he was also bleeding sluggishly through a large gaping hole that was placed right above his left abdomen. It was still breathing, but Jamel figured it wouldn't be able to do much harm to him in such a condition.

Moving closer to the being, he inspected it further, noting immediately that it was not a species that lived normally in Astranaar. It didn't have near as long of ears, and its build was more choppy and bulky then that of an elf or human. It had strange markings drawn over its cheeks in black, white, and red. Its skin was a smoggy green, almost that of a pond that was filled with disease and covered in moss. Two long tusks jutted over its upper lip from its lower set of teeth. Its armor looked as if it was made of rotted metal and leather pieces that were lazily sewn together, but it's weapons were well sharpened and covered in blood; still wet.

Jamel jumped back a few feet out of habit as the being groaned loudly, gasping out when his body went into shock. He turned over with his eyes screwed shut, his face contorted in pain and anger. When he opened his eyes, he met with Jamel's, and suddenly life seemed to spurt back into his beaten body. He got to his knees and crawled/limped over to Jamel, his eyes glazed with blood lust. His grubby hand reached out and caught Jamel's ankle, pulling him closer to him. Jamel panicked, and despite his teaching, screamed and writhed, clawing at the polished boards beneath him. His nails scratched helplessly at the wood, and suddenly sharp, unbelievable pain raked through his left leg. He let out a loud animalistic cry as he looked back with wide eyes to see that his leg from the bottom of his knee down was cut open and bleeding raggedly. The scent of his own ripped open flesh and sweat mixed with the rotten scent of the being behind him made him virtually sick. 'Find something sharp.' His mind automatically told himself. And so he did.

Eyes scanning over the room quickly, he spotted something sparkling in the outsides fire light. Squinting quickly, he realized it was his father's dagger. Not in as good of shape as his fathers sword, but it was still regularly sharpened and polished. Jamel looked back at the being (which he suddenly realized was an orc) and crawled backwards a little. This gesture threw off the orc a little, so he slightly lessened his grip on Jamel's ankle. Taking this moment to his advantage, Jamel threw his foot backwards and sunk it deep within the orc's wound. After he saw his foot was literally inside of the attacker, Jamel had the courtesy of paling immensely. He yanked it out, crying out again as pain shot through his leg and it began to bleed more. The orc was in no better condition, and actually seemed to be paralyzed momentarily. Jamel writhed forward and grabbed the dagger by the blade (since that was the closest part facing him), moaning as he felt the sharpened edge bite into the flesh of his palm. He paid no mind to the wound and turned around, slashing mindlessly at the orc.

Eventually, Jamel had cut the orc to the point it wasn't even fighting anymore, and was simply a gasping heap of blood on the ground. Finally, the final blow was taken and the orc went completely limp. The sudden lack of pulsations confirmed Jamel that the attacker was indeed deceased.

But as soon as Jamel was relieved and went into the false state of mind that he was safe, his vision began to blur. He clutched his head as an incredible amount of pain forced itself inside of his skull. The edges of his sight turned black and soon, the entirety of it was consumed by the growing darkness.

Falling over limply, Jamel only took notice of the last thing he heard that fateful evening.

Complete Silence.

A/N: SO! This is really short… Yeah, this is the prologue of my story. Right now there isn't any hot action or anything. Actually, this showed a little bit of one of the main characters past: Jamel. Trust me, if you like Jamel right now, then soak this chapter up. Because as a future reference, this may be the only chapter that I ever write that will be from his point of view. And only the last part of it was!

Reviews are yummy. I eat 'em up like … like FOOD!!!

Rates are also like.. food.. yeah…

Flames will be taken to the top of the next chapter where I will proceed to make fun of them and make smores with, Because everybody likes smores and I'll share them with the nice people!

Next chapter will either be posted tomorrow or next weekend. =P Depends on if I get any reviews that inspire me a lot. ::Shrugs:: THANKS FOR READIN!! =DD!!!

Commander Scronic/The Great Elder Scronic (Night Elf Warrior) – Me (As in one of my characters)

Mother Elequire (Night Elf Druid) – Me

Jamel (Night Elf ???) - Jessica