Chapter 3: The Shadows of Lordaeron

It seems that these reminescents of the past will never stop haunting my mind
These scarring memories will to remain forever, each day they choose to remind

Interlude

The weather appeared to be in a hateful frenzy today. Swift winds were darting across the landscape and brought with their travels icy chills of the winter solstice. Viciously the air cut through trees and tore through leaves in its raging fury. There was a visible rift torn through the balance of Mother Nature, more so apparent in the frequent storms that shattered the peaceful earth below. As a vicious gust of wind sped past Davion's brow, he stood still and gazed intently at this glimpse of nature's wrath at its finest. Intently he watched, ever silently, at nature's grand splendor. It was a dazzling sight to behold...for some at least. Some gazed at the grandeur of it all with a feeling of mystified awe, while some chose to fear this violent fury yet quietly marveled from afar.

The kind words of his mentor were often soothing at these times. His presence alone made Davion feel secure and safe even though most mortals cowered in fear of such a mighty Druid. Possessing infinite volumes of knowledge over nature and being able to transform into woodland creatures at will, Druids were well respected and sought out to receive training from for countless centuries. So blessed by nature these celestial beings were that they even had the gift of morphing their own physical appearance, allowing them to receive a unique blend of abilities.

Transformations, however, varied from Druid to Druid. Some were known to have had the mark of a Claw which symbolized the strength and brute force of a ferocious forest bear. There were those that had the mark of a Talon who had the ability to transfigure their shape into that of a swift, agile Raven. Some gifted ones could even call forth such creatures to lend aid, and eradicate all those who dared to harm the intricate balance of nature. Rumor had it that there was a third, hidden symbol, known only to a select few who practiced it in secret. Collectively, these three marks were called "Ferish Thara'nar" in the Night Elven tongue. "The Trinity" was what this strange symbol was called amongst the ranks of the "Disciples of Arcana". Davion's mentor was the last remaining of his kind though, for the Burning Legion's third invasion had vanquished all Druids but Master Syllabear himself.

As the loyal servitors to the Burning Legion stormed through the vast eastern lands of Azeroth, countless kingdoms crumbled beneath their unfathomable power. As kingdom after kingdom fell under their power, it seemed all was lost. War was on the rise amongst the mortal nations themselves and rebellions had encroached the lands. These insurgents had already taken control over large territories, yet little did they know that a greater force would come to overpower them. The Night Elves of Darnassus sent their mightiest of warriors to aid the Stormwind Alliance, which was already being torn apart within from the aftermath of the War of the Magi. The Burning Legion swiftly struck and broke through the city defenses with ease.

Davion, a mere child at that time, was present in Stormwind during the Legion's onslaught. Shielding his son's eyes from the sheer brutality and savagery of the Legion Davion's father, Alanar Darian, fought valiantly along the front lines. Alanar fought courageously until his very last breath and chose not to submit unto the Legion, unlike his cowardly kinsmen. It was only a matter of time before the entire city came under the control of the Demon Lord, Kil'jaeden. Soon, the Nathrezim leeched upon the last remnants of human resistance, slowly whittling away their life force and determination. All this, painfully slowly so as to try to savor the sweet taste of victory.

Once his mother too fell victim to the Nathrezim murders, Davion was left alone and afraid. Unbeknownst to Davion, his mother had enchanted her child with a spell of protection, allowing him to flee unseen. He fled from the city gates as far as his legs could carry. His journeys eventually led him into the heart of a distant forest. Tired and exhausted, he collapsed at the entrance of a massive cave. There, a sympathetic Druid took pity for the lonesome child and took him into his care. "Syllabear" was what the young Davion would call his caretaker out of love. Amused by the child's playfulness and countless antics, the Druid took a liking to the fascinating name that was chosen for it, and soon adopted it as its own. Syllabear was always fascinated by this title of his and would ponder long hours as to what its meaning could possibly be. Whether it spoke of volumes of wisdom or of an undying connection, Davion would not tell him. Countless years went by as Davion remained silent about the hidden meaning that the Druid questioned him over daily. Whenever asked, he would quickly flash a mischievous looking smile at his mentor. The lad never really had the heart to let the senile Druid know that it was a play on the words "Silly" and "Bear".

The Druid raised him well, almost as if the human boy was his very own child. Aside from al the joyous moments they shared, Syllabear made sure to teach Davion various talents that could come handy. Davion learnt the Night Elven dialect and the use of a staff for battle from Master Syllabear. Strange as it may have seemed, Davion had a magical presence about him, continually encircling in and around him. Even though the Druid could sense untapped energies hidden inside the boy, he could never really unlock this strength no matter how hard he tried. Fruitless efforts were spent to teach Davion how to manipulate the forests and replenish dying life. When all attempts failed, Syllabear nearly gave up.

For his last trial, Syllabear tried to teach Davion the art of transformation. Unable to focus onto his hidden spiritual energy, Davion failed to follow his master's teachings. When it seemed all was hopeless and Syllabear was ready to call it a day, something miraculous happened. Davion's entire body started trembling and he began to experience rapid convulsions. Syllabear calmly began chanted a spell to cure his ailments, however, Davion's body jolted backwards, almost as if he was rejecting this effect. His playful blue eyes slowly turned into an intense bright yellow. Veins began to thicken in his arm, and his muscles began to thicken and extend outwards. Davion's fragile robes tore as his body began to swell readily in size. His fleshy skin began to break out in scales and a tail-like appendage bulged out from behind. His feet slowly became disfigured until they took the shape of crude talons. His fingers quickly narrowed and thinned, but slowly took upon a craggy exterior. Claws took the place of his hands and soon tinted in a greenish hue. As his appearance slowly began to resemble that of a flying serpent, a strange insignia embedded itself into his shoulder. The Night Elves knew this symbol as Ouroboros, a mythical symbol depicting the eternal continuity of nature. In this ancient insignia, a Dragon-like being can be seen, continually moving in a strange circular pattern. With the beast's mouth seemingly devouring its own tail, the creature forms a strange never-ending loop, mesmerizing all those that try and study this phenomenon.

At that moment, the color had begun to drain from Syllabear's face. His calm composure had all but faded, and he was showing signs of panic. He feared for Davion's safety for he knew such a powerful transition could have dire repercussions on such an inexperienced human. It was then, that his worst fears came true. Davion's body suddenly ceased its magical metamorphosis and went limp entirely. The grass beneath his talon-like feet had strangely begun to wither. Before the Druid could even blink, the ground erupted in a fiery inferno. The flames made their deadly course around every inch of the boy's body, licking at the scales that had begun to form. The flames danced continually around him, etching themselves deeper and deeper into what was left of his skin. Leaves and overgrowth around him too ignited in the path of this raging fire, lighting the entire area around them ablaze.

Davion's eyes then squeezed shut, and everything disappeared. The raging fire, the burning leaves, and even the dying grass beneath him was gone. He could hear only the gentle calm of running water. When he opened his eyes, he saw grievous wounds in his skin and charred skin where the fire had been in contact with. Where he expected blood to flow from the gashes in his body, came only a short trickle of blood. His wounds began to close themselves up as quickly as they had appeared. The charred skin was shed off, and new, healthy skin quickly replaced it. Horrified by what was happening to him, he screamed out loud for "Syllabear".

There he stood above him, smiling gently as if nothing had happened. Afraid of what just happened, Davion quickly backed away from him.

"It's all right." said Master Syllabear, "Everything is going to be fine. Don't be afraid, child."

As his innocent eyes returned to their natural blend of blue, Davion spoke fearfully, "But what if it won't be, Master Syllabear?"

Syllabear merely nodded his head and turned to walk away. He beckoned for Davion to follow in a gruff voice. Davion obediently listened and quickly darted to the Druid. The Druid grabbed his hand, and Davion spoke to him, "Thank you."

Yes, these last few years had been hard for Davion. Much had happened to him since that "incident", and in retrospect felt much like a bad dream. It was rather more like a nightmare for him in his days of childhood. But now, his youth is long gone and he is nearing adulthood. Since then he has been trained in the art of combat, and is now a Knight fighting alongside the Shadows of Lordaeron and against the oppression of the mighty Scourge.

The Shadows of Lordaeron were remnants of the Alliance army that once resided in Lordaeron. Shortly after the second Burning Legion invasion, these forces had taken shelter in the desolate forests of Darkshire. As ages went past, their numbers grew until they reached that of a formidable force. When news sprung of the Third Burning invasion, they gathered forces from neighboring towns to try and drive off the wretched beasts from the capital city of Stormwind. As they charged onto the overwhelming masses of demonic forces with their meager force, there was another army fighting them off for different gains. What they sought to achieve from this war may have been different, but both the Human and Undead armies were both hell-bent on their common goal: Total obliteration of the Burning Legion.

This siege lasted for years, where neither army seemed to be gaining the advantage. Where the Humans failed, the Undead advanced further in their charge. Where both failed, the Burning Legion secured a stronger footing. As more and more men of the Human faction fell, the Undead numbers grew substantially. When all hope for the Human army was lost, they retreated with what forces they had left into the surrounding forests. The Undead, however, relentlessly pursued their goal until they finally achieved a victory. Ironically, a victory sought by the Humans as well, but the result of the battle may very well have doomed the fate of many men's lives to that of living amongst the dead. Even more ironic it was that in the previous invasion the Undead fought for the Legion, but this time revolted against their creators.

The devastation that the third Burning Legion invasion had brought, desecrated the balance of nature far beyond repair. Command over the forces of nature now seems out of grasp of any ordinary soul. Many wizards and sorcerers for decades tried to tap within scattered hidden nexus of energies to try to redeem themselves of this lost form of power, but alas, their efforts were in vain. The only being that managed to strengthen his ties with the bonds of nature was the rightfully proclaimed Prophet, Furion Stormrage. It was at this time, however, that the Scourge had had begun to press on the mortal denizens of the earth with reckless determination.

We are the last survivors of the alliance. We may as well be the last of the "living" to roam the earth. Somewhere out there, I hope there are more survivors like us… Yes, there are more out there. I'm certain of it.

We call ourselves the Shadows of Lordaeron. Like shadows we lay hidden, and move unnoticed. We have no reason to stay, and we have no reason to go. How and why this had to happen, I don't think I'll ever know or understand. Sometimes, I wish I could just scream to relieve myself of all this pain and daily torture. I wish to scream out loud so the world can hear me and come to my aid, but not a sound is uttered from my throat. I fear I won't be able to bare this any longer. I feel like I'm dying on the inside. Slowly, my soul is withering away into darkness. I fear I might lose my sanity in all of this madness. Why does this have to happen? Why couldn't things have been left the way they were? How did we come about this predicament? Why is it that I have to continue living with in this torment? Why couldn't I have been killed off like the rest of them? Why! Tell me oh mighty Elune who graciously watches over us. Tell me why!

"What's on your mind Davion?"

Ah, now I remember. Her, the one who has the voice of that of a chorus of angels. When she sings, an angel gets a halo. When she looks at me, the stars shine brightly against the night sky blanketed in darkness. Her presence alone radiates brighter than the sun at its peak. The Master said that someday I would find myself someone to who I'd feel obligated to, someone I would willingly devote myself to with all my heart. For her, I would rather lie on a bed of burning coals or drown in the icy waters of Northrend than have her bleed a single trickle of blood. She is the fairest maiden in the land, and by far the most graceful and elegant. Smile for me Rylai. Oh sweet Rylai, smile for me, my love!

The young girl gently strides in the direction of Davion. A white robe covers her from head to toe which has an insignia imbued in the fabric. It is a circular ball of a light shade with purple strands running through the middle, symbolizing the essence of mana and mark of the Kirin Tor. Her hood is thrown back slightly, just enough to most of her hair, but far enough to reveal to her facial features. The vicious winds beat across her delicate strands of hair, but nevertheless, her golden locks playfully sway in the air.

"It's nothing Miss Crestfall."

She's perfect, as perfect as a mound of crystal. Her eyes, oh lord, what perfect eyes. Lose yourself in them Davion, you know you can not help it. Lose yourself once more, but don't stare. You don't want to offend her do you? The last thing you need is to blow off any chance you two could possibly have. Wait, chance? You actually think she'd have a chance with you? Don't be a fool Davion, you know she's out of your league. Heck, she'd probably run off to marry one of those filthy Undead if you were her last resort. Great, now you're talking to self. Oh that's just great. That is just ---

"I can tell when you lie to me Davion. What's wrong?"

Say something clever. Forget that, say anything. Now's your chance to impress her. Come on, don't be an idiot! She'll go for it! Nah, she probably won't. Or will she? Nah, she's way out of your league anyway. Great, you're talking to yourself again. Good job, you can manage full conversations with your self. I bet you have all the ladies come running to you, you good-looking fox. Yep, she probably thinks I'm totally insane. I can tell. I mean just look at her. She's rolling her eyes now. Heck, she's staring at you blankly. Davion, she wants an answer. Say something! Ok, now she's staring at the floor waiting for answer. Oh by the Light Davion, say something! It doesn't have to be clever! Just say something. Anything will do! Make out a word! Any word will do!

"What?"

Yea, she probably thinks you're crazy.

"I said, you seem troubled. Is something wrong?"

Well, other than the fact that you think that I'm crazy...

"It's nothing Miss Crestfall."

How is she so calm after all that we've been through? Death, sorrow, all those horrors and tragedies we've been through, how can she possibly forget it all? How could she forget the savagery at Stormwind?

I really should try to be more like her. I worry even more than Master Syllabear at times. It's just that when she is near me, everything else seems insignificant. All the gut-wrenching pain seems to just float away with the wind. The way she holds her aqua blue tinted staff gives me a sense of security. The enigmatic white glow from the crescent-shaped tip gives me a sense of awe, and inspiration. The feeling is just unexplainable. Or does she think I'm crazy---

"Davion?" spoke Rylai interrupting his thoughts.

Yea, she does.

"It's, just what we've been through in these last few months. I can't seem to make my peace with it."

How am I supposed to make my peace with it? They all died, every single one of them died. Seeing my own parents slaughtered, having to run away from home. Siding with a rogue orc to lead us, it's all just unreal!

"Have no fear, I will always be here for you and to protect you," said Rylai laughingly, "Just remember, I'm here for you if you ever need someone to talk to."

With her glowing staff held in one hand, she slowly treaded back towards camp. Davion stood motionless, staring at her silhouette disappear into the light fog.

And fear not my lady; I will never let anything happen to you.