Ora-Ur hadn't known much warfare. Much of her life had been hard, sure, living mostly alone and surviving off of very little. But war? It was foriegn to her. The orc may have survived through the time of the Horde and Alliance's campaign to deliver Outland from the grips of the Legion and Illidari both, but that didn't necessarily mean she remembered it. She was both young and far away from much of the fighting, living in Garadar with her mother and mentor. So to hear the stories of grand armies clashing, the powers of creation manipulated and sent between them… it was nothing short of terrifying to the younger Ora-Ur. Now, though? She could see warfare with her own eyes.
It was as terrible as she imagined it. The moment Sint had broken them into teams, she saw the fighting that Sint focused on. 'Twixt the gloomy treeline and hazy cliffaces, amidst what must have once been a fortress, was a desperate battle. The lines had been drawn, on one side was black, the other was red. The proud soldiers of Zandalar and the Horde were held up within the ruined keep's walls, whilst the forces of the Black Legion assailed them from any vantage point they could make. A drake circled above their head, a bolt from the beyond striking the stone every few minutes. It was clear that the Horde wouldn't be able to hold out much longer if the Black Legion kept up the pace, but that was when Ora heard the crazed battlecry of someone she knew.
Watching with awe, she saw a massive troll chase across the battlefield, her blade held high over her head. Wrathful flame licked from her form as great gilded wings stretched from her shoulders. Each step shook the ground, and it was as if her charge had stopped time. Each soldier stalled as they watched Ko'hea the Vigilant extend the long arm of Zandalari law to obliterate a dark monster from the realm. With a swing, the dark skies split open to reveal sunlight, the ground trembled as if it were a groundquake, and all watched with bated breath. Ora expected whatever that sword came for to be naught but smoldering ash, but to see the smoke fade only for a dark figure to be revealed was nothing less than horrific.
Then she watched, paralyzed with fear, as her friend was beaten down. Her heart soared when Ko'hea was able to land a few hits, but then it plummeted into an abyss of despair as she saw the monstrous knight pierce her chest with a single strike of their hand. Why couldn't she move? Why wouldn't she move? She had a reckless streak to her, always finding herself face to face with the most dangerous enemy in sight. She had fearlessly tackled a faceless one, she had blocked the attack of a dark and demonic prince, and she had even leapt into death itself to save her best friend. So why now, why now did she stop?
You're afraid. I was wondering when you'd finally feel it. A mocking internal voice bubbled at the edge of her thoughts. You've been going so long and so strong, it was only a matter of time until you hesitated. Hesitation is death, Ora-Ur. And your friend will die because of that.
Just like our mentor.
Ora's hands tightened. She felt her pulse quicken, her breath growing shallow. Her mouth went dry. Just like our mentor. Her inner voice said again, and again… and again.
And Aranor could do nothing but watch Ora seize up, her eyes glazing over. The ranger knew that look. He'd spent enough years fighting to know exactly what it looked like when someone was in another place, trapped by their own demons. Hopelessness wasn't exactly the feeling he expected to feel today, but as he saw his only capable ally stall in her tracks, he immediately knew that this Horde group stood no chance. What could he do? He was but a mundane man with no love for the Horde. They had no love for him, either. Would they even bother listening to him? How could they be sure he wasn't with the Black Legion?
They couldn't be sure. But he knew for a fact that if he didn't do anything, they'd be dead within minutes. So Aranor did something brave. Probably the bravest thing he had ever done. Sheathing his swords, he sprinted to Ora's side, and hugged her. Perhaps he was a complete stranger, and perhaps he had no place in doing that, but it felt right. "Ora-Ur, come back to us. I don't know where you've gone, but we need you. Put yourself together for a few minutes, kill this dastard, and then we can talk."
He expected to get his head ripped off, but instead he found himself holding a trembling orc. She looked at him with a surprised look, as she had been brought back to the present. "...You'd do that for me?"
"That's only IF we all survive." He cracked a toothy grin. "Now, it's time to save that troll."
"That's Ko'hea." Ora gulped, trying to steady her nerves. "But yes. Let's."
Flicking his silver swords out, there was a solid moment of Aranor going completely silent and freezing. THAT was Ko'hea? The troll that was now healing a hole in her chest was the Warguard they came for? "Ora maybe we should rethink- Aaaaand… there she goes." He watched Ora-Ur practically throw herself with a gust of powerful wind, turning her body into a torpedo of elemental lightning. She hit her mark, crashing into the undead commander like a bolt of lightning. Luckily, her path had been cleared by that same magic, giving Aranor a straight shot to reach her.
He caught up the moment the troll managed to pick herself up. Though she shot Ora a suspicious look. "Three?"
"Sorry! She's faster than she looks!" He shouted out as he ran. The ground was slick with blood and mud, causing the ranger to slide to a stop. For a moment he was worried he was going to run into the troll, as by the time he had gotten close, he realized she was immense. Bigger than most of her kin, only likely beaten out by the rare dire troll. He cringed as he saw her turn, rage evident in her features. He was about to be bisected.
"The Alliance? Damnit! They're here?!" She lifted her sword in preparation to end his life, but a moment of quick thinking probably saved his hide.
He stuck his swords into the dirt, holding his hands up so that he didn't look threatening. "Oddly enough, I'm a friend. Ora can vouch, but now's not the time!" He wanted so dearly to explain himself to this angry juggernaut, but he saw the undead begin to rise up from the crater Ora-Ur put it in. "That thing's about to get up, and by the looks of it, we'll need to work together to put it back where it belongs." Though really, Ora-Ur and Ko'hea could handle it. He wasn't much help. With a zealous addition to the end, Aranor felt as if he may have staved off her wrath. "Fiends like that only deserve a quick and decisive death."
Ko'hea recognized that he was on her side with that final addition, a curt nod given to him as she turned back to face the undead adversary. Said foe had lifted, a decidedly feminine voice coming from its steel shell. "Good! Let's dance!" Her hands curled into a clawed shape, as if she was going to dash forward and eviscerate them as if she were some sort of raptor, her body set into a strong martial artist's stance. Ora-Ur did the same, getting into her own sort of battle-stance. That explains why she doesn't carry a weapon, at the very least. Ko'hea had put together a quickly made battlestance, showing her unfamiliarity with dual wielding weapons.
Aranor wasn't an idiot. Things didn't look good for them. He wasn't too sure how strong Ora-Ur was, but he had a reasonable suspicion that she wasn't as powerful as the Warguard. People like the Zandalari didn't promote mediocre soldiers to defend their royalty. That and he had seen how hard she could hit, harder than any paladin he'd ever seen. The Warguard had gotten some sort of second wind, luckily, so she wasn't as weak as she should've been after tanking what would've been a deathblow to just about anyone else. And him? What would a few arrows and fancy sword tricks do to a monstrosity like that? And so instead of preparing to kill his enemy, he was prepared to slow her down.
So that Sint could get there and save them. That, or he could get a head start in his retreat.
Ko'hea chose to speak to Aranor and Ora-Ur. The ranger had a feeling it was aimed only at Ora, though. "That thing introduced itself as Yama-O. Says its a part of an order of things just like it. The wraith knight doesn't seem to have a physical body of any kind. Trust me, I-"
"Wraith Knight? You know what it is?" Aranor piped up, eliciting a dirty glare from the troll.
She spat, "No. I came up with the name while fighting it. Don't interrupt me, human."
If not for the sound of metal being broken, Aranor would've retorted. His attention was caught only to see a boot crush a golden helmet. That must've been Ko'hea's. Serves her right, he thought bitterly. Then his brain quickly ripped itself from that petty place, as he caught up with the fact that this Yama-O had snapped steel with her hands and crushed a helm with the ease of someone wading through shallow water. He slapped himself to focus, eyes trained on the Knight.
Yama knelt for a moment, forcing the other three to get into defensive positions. The wraith chuckled. They were allowing her to control the flow of combat. It was time to test whether or not they could keep up. She swiped a gauntlet through the mud, splattering it into the face of the lightning-bound Ora-Ur. The orc hadn't seen that coming, leaving her dazed for a few moments. Momentum took Yama further, as she smelled blood in the water. Ko'hea was still hurting. That second wind wouldn't save her.
Ko'hea saw the Knight coming. To become a Warguard of Zandalar, one had to be brave. One had to have trained for years on end to steel their body, mind, and soul to become a great warrior and even greater protector. It was no simple role to take. Nor was it an easy one to keep. She so happened to be one of the veterans of her role; the troll's years being capped off by her title, "the Vigilant". Bedrock unbreakable, Ko'hea had held up years and years of her allies and recruits. Pillar stalwart, Ko'hea had faced foe after foe to protect a King and now a Queen. Hero unbent, Ko'hea had stood in the face of certain death to rescue hundreds of lives. Now she would be a martyr, dead to the hands of a ghastly foe. That was, of course, if she allowed Yama-O to break her. The knight moved as fluid, each movement coming with ease and expertise, flowing as water would down a stream. As her body met Ko'hea's, each blow was precise. A flurry flowed like water into cracks in the ground, each and every one almost unconscious. The warguard's weaknesses were just understood.
Ko'hea swung. Twice she brought down her broken blade to open Yama's guard, twice were her strikes left in empty air. She brought her dagger up in hopes of catching the Wraith in her feint, but the wraith's palm struck her dagger out of her way. A quick jab sent Ko'hea backwards, her shoulder left limp from the force of the impact. Yama tightened her stance only to land a flurry of kicks into Ko'hea's now unguarded flank. The troll weathered the unbridled assault, believing that she finally had captured the resolve to sustain this endless storm of attacks. That was, until she felt an extremely sharp pain in her chest. Hoping the wraith didn't catch that, Ko'hea did her best to maintain her facade of unbreaking resolve. With a deft swing of her broken blade, she forced Yama to back up.
"Interesting." The wraith murmured, "You have quite the body, troll. I have a feeling my skewer from earlier was a fluke."
"I'm beginning to think that it was, mon." The troll swiped sweat from her brow, popping her limp shoulder back into place. "I've stood for years as a guardian of Zandalar. You're far from the first overwhelming enemy I've faced." She saw Ora begin to bristle, the mud out of her eyes. The orc was planning something, so Ko'hea decided to distract Yama further. "The greatest I ever fought took the combined might of four warriors greater than me to take down, and he still couldn't kill me."
"Resilience is your greatest attribute. Could've fooled me with that world-shattering strike from before." Leather and chain protested as the knight balled her fists, "But do you know mine?"
"Speed." Ko'hea answered.
"Spe- Okay." She lifted her hands up. "No fun with you."
"They don't hire Warguard for fun, abomination." Ko'hea grit her teeth, squaring her stance. She threw her dagger at the wraith, feeling mildly impressed that she caught it mid air. It, however, was another distraction. Her arms tensed. Her body began to burn. Holding her broken blade's hilt in both hands, she begins to channel. Distance was held. Other combatants would not prove a problem now. It was between Ko'hea and the wraith, and the wraith had no idea what Ko'hea had planned. As the fire started to burn outwardly, the Warguard started to think if she had any last regrets.
Then, Ora-Ur tackled her, "saving" her from her imminent demise. For a moment, Ko'hea wanted to curse the orc who brought her down. Prevailing over her embarrassment, her reason rationalized that her sacrificial explosion would've been stopped if the wraith took her head. "Get your head out of the clouds, Warguard! We need your strength to win this."
If only she knew Ko'hea's plan. Well. If she knew, there would be no chance Ko'hea could pull it off. One life for victory. She explodes, she takes the wraith with her. Her soldiers could go on without her. She doubted the enemy would last without Yama-O. She leapt back to her feet, her eyes trained on Ora-ur as the orc crackled with lightning.
Now it was time for Ora's plan. The orc almost seemed to dance through the mud, each movement made with a fluid grace. Ko'hea had seen better martial artists, true, but now was not the time to doubt her only trustworthy ally in a battle with certain death. Meanwhile, Ora-Ur had planned on Ko'hea following her. To see the troll stand back put a bitter twinge of disappointment in Ora's mind. No less disappointing than the ranger, who had yet to move at all. It was as if he were paralyzed with fear.
The truth wasn't far from what Ora believed, though Aranor's movements were more so paralyzed with indecision. Cowardly was not a word to describe this son of Strom. Aranor was a survivalist, first and foremost. He trusted in his instincts, and his instincts told him he stood no chance and neither did his compatriots. That instinct made him doubt cooperation's effectiveness. Sint had gone to gather the Silver Battalion. Verily, that would prove to be the wraith's downfall. So either Aranor ran to join them, or he stalled to make sure the enemy could not flee. Whatever Ora-Ur and Ko'hea thought to get out of this, neither were correct in believing they would be the enemy's downfall. No, they were the distraction.
Ora-Ur stomped, her foot sending mud and water into the air. The lightning filling her body arced through each drop, creating a cage around Yama. The wraith seemed to be caught unawares by this sudden feat. Though Ko'hea hadn't joined her to attack Yama-O, perhaps Ora could plead to her to attack now. "Now! While she can't escape! Hit her with all you've got!"
"Amusing." The wraith murmured.
"Wha-" Ora's voice caught in her throat as she saw the wraith grab onto her lightning cage, the lightning stopped by a shroud of shadow.
"You have many tricks. So do I. Do you wanna see 'em? Too bad if you don't." If the cage were solid, the wraith was a mist, passing with ease between the bars. Her form completely broke down to escape the lightning. And then, nothing. Between the static discharges from the cage and the raging battle around them, Ora could not see nor tell where the wraith had gone. Then, she felt a weight on her head. A weight that turned into a concussive pain, as the wraith's boot cracked into her forehead. Yama-O moved above Ora-Ur in that moment of confusion, her foot planted squarely on top of the orc's head. "Do you like that one? It doesn't look like you did. Good!"
The wraith did not bother to even return to her stance as she walked to the prone Ora-Ur. She heard some shouts from the side, arrows bouncing useless against her metallic frame. Barely did she even care to notice the growing holy sensation, once again, as the troll made her fruitless effort to win. It was useless to resist the Dark Lord. It was useless to resist Yama-O. Taloned fingers curled to draw in the dark anima in the air. The dark wave sloshed in her palm before it culminated into a ball, a ball she now aimed at Ora-Ur. Another set of shouts fell on deaf ears as Yama lunged, her surroundings fractured with the speed of her move. Hand raised, she was prepared to blow a hole in that weak little orc.
Ora-Ur didn't know war. But this proved to be a learning experience, as she faced her death so soon. Aranor was right to be afraid. This was hopeless.
"Useless." A voice. Time seemed to slow.
He seemed rather disgruntled, this heavy and deep voice. "You bear my blood yet you cannot even make a stand against this arrogant spirit." His blood? Was this one of her ancestors? "You will meet me soon if you do not stand up. Grip onto your greatness, Hynagar. It was my gift to you."
The world began to grow darker, as Ora-Ur now could see a black gateway standing before her. Erected from monolithic black stones and covered in ancient orcish script, part of her wondered if she had already died. This sight wasn't unlike the stories she heard of the afterlife. Her mentor told her of the land where the ancestors dwelled, a land set in permanent and serene twilight. Ancient black and grey stonework littered the lands, a great Shadow Moon hanging above head. Though she knew this sounded very similar to the valley of the Shadowmoon Clan, she also had no doubts that this was a sign that those lands were once very linked to the orcish cycle of life and death. This wasn't right. Her name wasn't Hynagar, anyways.
Ora was not dead. Not yet, at least. That was when she saw a black fist punch through the gateway, a black fist covered in foriegn armor. Now this… this Ora was familiar with. Maybe this would fool some, but she had made herself familiar with the Horde's many monsters. Loyalists to Sylvanas, bloodthirsty generals, and just general lunatics were things that Ora-Ur had planned on taking down on her journey to find the answer to Kalandrios' quest. This was the Mark of Blackfist, the horrifying High Warlord of the Black Legion. The very same Black Legion they were fighting.
She almost felt as if the person behind the voice flinched at her revelation. "I'm sorry, but that's how you recruit your lackeys? I'm almost disappointed that anyone could be fooled by something so obvious."
"You will regret this."
"No. I don't think I will."
Ora-Ur opened her eyes and rolled to the side, the wraith's ball of black magic diffusing into the mud. She used a gust of wind to spin her entire body around, landing two heavy kicks into her foe's side, each of them empowered by lightning. Yama-O was knocked back a few feet. For a moment, Ora imagined that if she could see Yama's face, she'd have the biggest grin on her face. When she heard Yama start howling with laughter, she got her answer.
"WOW! You've got guts. I love it! Not a bad move, too. The whole spin and kick? Caught me completely off guard." She clapped. "Shame you have to die now, with the whole refusal you just did."
"How do you even know that?" Ora shakily stood, holding her forehead as it throbbed with pain.
The knight shrugged. "WELL. You know. The whole Dark Master thing comes with perks." Her guard completely dropped as her mind jumped away from the conflict. "We're all linked to him, I think. It'd explain why he can talk into our heads, and we can hear what he says. Right now, he's yelling at me to shut up!" She cackles. "NAH! Sorry, boss! The fact you sent Malad AND NOT ME to handle War is gonna get you a penalty."
"Malad?" The orc drew her hands in a fluid motion, water being drawn from the mud to heal her wounds. "Another one of you?"
"The absolute best of us, at that. The first Blade... It's a shame I'll never get to see War in action." There was no doubt in the wraith's voice, nor was there exactly any humor. 'Twas not a joke that this abominable thing believed that Malad could handle Sint Dagon. Such confidence bred despair in young Ora-Ur's heart, causing her to lower her eyes to the ground. If not for the actions of one brave man, she'd've likely lost her life to her mistake. Yama lunged to lop Ora's head off, only to stop midway, as something grappled with her from behind.
"...I see." He growled between gritted teeth, the voice of a determined man with naught to lose but his life. Swords skills and archery would do little to avail him against such a powerful opponent, to the point that he realized that there was no point in worrying about what sort of trap he could lead Yama into. Aranor knew that Yama would treat anything he did as if it were child's play. So, why should he worry himself with martial skill or trickery if all he required was his own impressive strength? He was a man of the wild, after all. To shirk one's strength training in a role like his was a death sentence. With a grip of steel, the ranger held Yama-O in a full double shoulder-lock. "You think of us that lowly, huh? Even our greatest doesn't stand a chance against you, you think? Well. I'll just hold you to that."
The wraith was not amused. "You little coward… You blindsided me!"
"Ain't a fair fight to begin with. You should've expected some trickery, eh?" She thrashed under his grip, but he would not budge. Even a few strikes to his legs did not force him to buckle, the man only further clenching his teeth. "...Just shows how out of your league you are. Maybe we ain't strong. Maybe we don't have flashy skills or powers. But we're better than you."
"Nonsense! You're kidding me, right? You actually think that? LET ME GO AND LET'S SEE HOW MUCH YOU'VE GOT ME BEAT." She flailed against his grip, noticing that he was already losing strength. She'd be able to break free soon, and that would be the end of this foolishness. The troll was struggling to get her power under control. The ranger was only human. And the orc had given up, even if she didn't believe that she had. This is how the mortals reacted to her power? It was… delicious.
Then she saw the troll's sword blaze with new life, the fractured half reformed in a brilliant golden Light. Lightning crackled as the orc planted her feet and drew her arms in. Only the ranger defied this strengthened resolve, as Yama could hear his breath sharpen. His heart pounded in his chest. "...You don't want to die here, do you? Can't you see that they'll take you out with me?"
"Don't make a difference. I let you go, I'm dead anyways. Might as well face death with my pride intact." Holding on any longer started to seem impossible as Yama kept struggling against him, his hold quickly beginning to shatter. A helmeted head cracked into the ranger's jaw. Down he went, and so Yama had freed herself. Twisting around with violent energy in her hands, she went for the killing blow on her other adversaries.
With a battlecry, Ora-Ur pushed her hands forward, a torrent of electricity chasing through the air. Silently, the troll ran forward with her burning blade. Yama-O practically shrugged off the storm of lightning and caught the troll's blade with her hands, wreathed in dark magic. "NOTHING YOU CAN DO CAN STOP ME!"
But, suddenly… the darkness around the wraith died. Ko'hea's blade cut through her armor like butter. Ora-Ur's lightning fried the knight's armor. Much to their dismay, there was no body within that metal, but they seemed to at least beat this malicious foe. Ora-Ur and Ko'hea looked at each other in disbelief, before cheering in absolute relief. Perhaps Yama-O would reform later, but they had defeated her after working together. A sluggish Aranor soon looked up to see them celebrate, his eyes trained on the still standing suit of armor. Was the battle so desperate that those two failed to finish the job, treating this undead enemy as if she were any other mortal fighter?
A bolt from the black struck true, only a fist of stone stopping a deathblow. Shattered and marred by this conflict, a mad monster from beyond the grave only could cackle as Ora-Ur's stone fist began to crack under her fist, Ko'hea sent sprawling into the mud once more by a shock of black lightning. "Gh-... Aranor was right to stand back…"
"Seems like he's the only one here with a brain. Seriously? You thought I'd give out underneath that?" She would've clicked her tongue if she had one. "Sure it cost me my armor, but I came to a realization. If we kill the Horde's incursion here and stop word from reaching the Alliance, I get a promotion! I dunno to what, but… I think I'll have my new armor fashioned after you! Out of you!" The wraith slammed her leg into Ora's side, before shattering her entire left arm against the orc's face.
"S-sorry… Grothorn…" Ora vomited from the weight of that impact. "Guess I failed again." The orc could only manage to get to her knees as Yama-O created a shadowy limb in place of her old armored one. She sharpened it to a point.
"MOVE!" Aranor shouted, to no avail. "PLEASE, DAMN YOU, MOVE!"
The world went white.
Yama-O was nowhere to be seen.
Instead, there she stood. A flickering flame danced around her body, white as Elune at her fullest. Her eyes gleamed a golden heat, her body contorted into a violent rage. Not far from her was her blade, white-hot. The ground was scorched. And then, ahead of her, the object of her hatred.
The thing that drew out her fury.
The First Blade, Malad.