#ch arc: neo'la

[bheartwrites]

Finding Hope || To Draenor Pt. IV

Original post date: 08/13/2016 (not revised, may be edited some time in the future). Posted for archival purposes.

Prologue | I | II | III | IV | V |

Three months trapped in some frozen hell, miles away from the world you grew up in was a nightmare Neo'la never knew she’d have to experience, and yet that’s where she found herself in this moment. She trodged through the snow, layers of furs and hexweave cloth piled on underneath her player armor. It’s not so bad, she tried to remind herself. After all, she had survived her entry onto Draenor, and reunited with her Lighttreader.

In the freezing, howling winds of Frostfire, it was the thought of him and their children that kept her warm.

Anandor’s scarred face was bright pink in the cold, fiery orange hair tied back into a messy bun. The fierce winds did him no favor in keeping his long hair out of his face. He kept silent during the trek through the snow, keeping a thick scarf wrapped around his mouth and neck, muffling the sounds of his heavy breaths. Frost coated his plate armor, and he suppressed his shivers as they continued. Trailing behind the elves were a few Frostwolf orcs native to the land, serving as a guide. The troll shaman and young orc warrior they had met upon their arrival on Draenor accompanied them, teeth chattering in the cold while the natives walked calmly as though it were a warm spring afternoon.

“Bladespire Citadel should be half a mile further,” One of the natives called out in a coarse voice, her thick Orcish accent lacing her words. “Stay alert. We may come across the ogres in the area.”

The young warrior, Naz'kal, grunted at the remark, keeping one hand on the hilt of his weapon and the other at the large sack of supplies he had slung over his shoulder. The troll beside him, Ryuk, lacked the sly grin he usually sported, instead gritting his teeth together in the cold. His staff held onto four sacks of supplies, hung on either end of the stick, balancing the weapon on the nape of his neck with both hands. They’d been out in the cold for much longer than comfort would allow, and longed to return back to the citadel to thaw out their toes beside a fire.

The four had lost their commanders upon arriving on Draenor, and as a result, had no direct orders from Azeroth to work off of. Ryuk and Naz'kal had been a part of another squad that came to Neo'la and Anandor’s rescue, boarding upon a ship with a collection of various other Horde survivors and sailing to Frostfire Ridge. With no commander or garrison to turn to, the group wandered independently, following the soldiers who did have a stable command center and partaking in freelance missions around the land. Unfortunately, they knew no mages powerful enough to send them home, nor send a letter back home, at least not a cheap one. They had all lost contact with their families, trapped on a savage planet with nowhere to go.

Despite not having a fully-equipped force, they made a good team together. Naz'kal, a nineteen year old orc, had been drafted into the war at the same time as Neo'la. His parents had died recently on Draenor, leaving him behind to tend to their small farm in Durotar. When the draft reached him, he accepted it without hesitation, hoping that somehow he would uphold his parents’ honor by finishing what they started. Ryuk never let on what his age was, though his eyes tell that he’s seen enough horror for a lifetime. He’s more silly, and often quite cynical at times, but his power in the elements and touch with nature has allowed them to endure many hardships. Anandor, despite having spent eight years as a slave, still had fire in him, and has vowed to protect their group from any harm that befalls them. And so far, they’re still alive.

Their main objective is to get to the heart of the Hellfire Citadel, and dismantle their power before it was too late. Anandor and his group of slaves were to be sent as fodder, an expendable group of lives solely for clearing a path for the Alliance to pass through. Out of the four of them, only Anandor and Ryuk knew what the ultimate goal at hand was. How to go about lending their aid without putting their lives in any more danger was still in question.

Fortunately, they had become close allies with the Frostwolf Clan. In the Bladespire Citadel, they were given food and shelter in exchange for working closely with them. They’ve spent the past few months here simply gathering resources for the clan and importing their goods to the forces in Tanaan.

For now, hauling sacks of cloth, meat, leathers and iron in the coming of a blizzard was their greatest enemy.

Neo'la pulled her satchel closer, glancing over at her allies. “At least we got everything we needed this time,” She says, hoping to lighten the mood. Naz'kal nodded, shivering wildly. She felt sympathy for him, as the orc was used to the Durotar desert and was no where near prepared for this harsh weather.

Ryuk rolled his eyes. “I know we doin’ good by haulin’ all dis stuff, but we need ta actually do somethin’ useful sooner or later.”

“This is good enough,” Anandor replied, an edge in his voice that gave the only sign of irritation. “I’d rather be out doing this than getting killed – or worse.”

“We be spendin’ all our time in Bladespire while others are out dyin’ for somethin’,” The shaman replied, adjusting the supplies he held. “It’s like our commanders died for nothin’.”

“No one dies without a cause, Ryuk,” One of the Frostwolves called out. A tall, aged orc woman trudged through the snow quickly, moving so that she walked beside the troll. Long black and grey hair was tied back into thick braids, and purple eyes that had seen enough for a lifetime looked past the others silently, judging them. The natives called her Deka the “Pack Leader”, and her very presence showed why. “You outlanders complain a lot more than I thought.”

Naz'kal shook his head. “He’s usually quiet. He’s just mad he has to carry so much.” The young orc said with a snicker.

Ryuk grumbled. “In my defense, anyone’d be upset about dat.”

Naz'kal snickered, and Ryuk continued sulking. There was still more land to cover, and the rest of the trek would certainly be filled with irritation. Anandor had had his face buried into his scarf before peeking up suddenly, a hand coming up instinctively to shield Neo'la. She stopped, bright eyes looking up at him as he squinted through the fog.

“What is it?” She asked, trying to follow his eyes. Immediately, the rest of the group was alert, slinging their luggage over their backs and unsheathing their weapons if available. Anandor’s teeth chartered against his will, but still, the hardened look of a warrior remained engrained into his freckled face.

“I think I hear… Listen…”

Everyone held still, listening intently. All that could be heard was the jingling of their supplies and the piercing winds that picked up with speed, and to the others, no danger seemed to be near. Neo'la and Anandor, however, knew this was not the case. Elves naturally have a keener sight and sharper hearing compared to the other races, and Neo'la realized what had been heard.

“Dere isn’t even anything–” Ryuk began, but was interrupted with a sharp ‘shush’ from Anandor. Deka stepped forward, spear in hand as she made her way to the paladin.

“We need to move, quickly,” Anandor said, turning around to the others with a sense of urgency. “Now.”

There wasn’t any hesitation made, and quickly the group set off in double time, most of whom struggled against the deep snow. Soon, the sound that Anandor heard began to intensify in its volume, and the group heard it at last. Distant, sharp howling, echoing in the frosty evening air, and coming closer.

They jogged through the snow, the fog thickening as a storm began to build, and they only barely saw the faint outline of the Citadel behind the swirling wall of pure white frost whirling around them. Heavy breaths could be heard from them, adding onto the sense of urgency. Anandor held his shield out, one he had forged himself, and moved quickly, staying close to Neo'la as he watched their backs. Anandor had only ever caught a glimpse of the wild wolves in Frostfire, and he certainly wasn’t in the mood to fend them off. The good thing, he figured, was that they aren’t too big, and though their bites could probably sever a limb in one try, it wouldn’t be too difficult to shake them off their tails, just simply tedious. And with the backing of a clan of orcs dedicated to the Frostwolves of the land, they didn’t have too much to worry about if they were caught in a pack of wild ones.

Oh, but Light, these are not Frostwolves.

They reached the edge of the ramp to the fortress, fatigue beginning to set in in some of their younger members. Snarling could be heard coming closer, and adrenaline rushed through their veins. Deka kept calm, however, and she gripped her spear tight as the pack of wolves began to make themselves clear. Anandor had only expected to see the familiar grey and white fur of the typical Frostwolf, but instead saw a massive figure of pitch black fur peak through the mist of snow. He held his shield up, channeling the Light through him, awaiting the next move as they made way up the ramp.

Suddenly, a massive wolf lunged out from the snow, as dark as the night, teeth bared and paws out, tackling down Naz'kal. The wolf slammed into the smaller orc, the both of them sliding across the snow and knocking over Ryuk. The black wolf seemed to be three times larger than the normal ones in the land, and for a brief moment, Anandor stood frozen in fear at the sight of such a beast.

Naz'kal gave out a shout, scrambling for his axe and smashing its flat side in the wolf’s snout to keep it from biting him. The natives that guided them quickly took action, their weapons in hand as they charged forth. The wolf backed off from the young warrior, rolling off with blood trickling down from its wounds. The wounded wolf leaped up, attempting to pounce at Deka. She stood without fear, her teeth bared as she leaped back, holding her spear upright as the massive worg landed on the weapon, the spear piercing through its thick hide and lodging in its throat. She rolled out from beneath the beast before it collapsed, twitching and staining the snow with its dark blood.

“Run! We won’t stand a chance against the nighthowlers’ alpha at this rate!” She shouted. Ryuk moved quick to the young warrior’s side, leaving behind some of the supplies he had been carrying. Naz'kal only suffered from dents in his armor and possibly some major bruising on his chest, but overall remained strong and alert, regaining balance with the help of the troll by his side.

More wolves began to appear from the dense snow, a much larger one leaping out to seize Anandor. He turned around only in time to see its mouth wide open and its cage of teeth coming near before a swirl of holy and shadow magic impaled it. The wolf’s warm blood splattered them, and he turned to see that Neo'la had the group surrounded with her magic, hands held up with grace as she kept a barrier around them.

“Please stay focused, Anan!” She cried out, turning to make sure the others were covered. Anandor shook his head to snap back to reality and held his shield ready, struggling for a moment to stay alert. Spears, arrows and blades whizzed through the air, and the snow stained a deep crimson in their wake. The other Frostwolf orcs fought fiercely, and their battlecries challenged that if the garn’s howling. In the midst of the battle, Ryuk pushed past the orcs, making his way to the back of the group and towards the wolves.

“Ryuk what are you doing?!” Naz'kal shouted.

“Got an idea!” He replied. “Don’t wait up, keep ya runnin’! I’ll be up wit ya real soon!”

Deka turned, seeing Ryuk run towards the wolves. He glanced back, and their eyes locked for a moment, and she made a move to follow him. He raised a hand and shook his head, pointing to the fortress. “I’ll hold dem off, ya keep dem safe. I’ll be fine.”

They kept running, and Deka barked commands at the others, shoving Naz'kal a few times so that he’d keep his eyes focused on the ramp ahead of them. The wolves turned their attention to the troll left behind, a whole dozen of the massive beasts closing in on him quickly.

Ryuk’s heavy breaths tormented his lungs with the freezing air, and his limbs felt heavy from the exhaustion. He raised his hands, closing his eyes to focus on his energy. The elements of this world were much different than Azeroth, and it had proven to be more difficult to connect with as a shaman. This wouldn’t stop him, he wouldn’t let it. The ground rumbled and cracked, snow seeping into the new crevices he bore into the earth. He lowered his body, sliding his foot forward across the snow, and he opened his eyes, just in time to see one wolf’s glaring yellow eyes inches away from his face. He shot up, his body straightening towards the sky, and the earth did the same, the land heaving up and launching the wolves back. He stretched his arms wide, and the earth followed, bending and shaping into a wall that closed off the entrance. The wolves snarled and scratched at the wall he had formed, and Ryuk stood there, arms raised and frozen in place. Slowly, a grin split across his features, and he jumped up, pounding his fists in the air as he gave a sharp cheer.

“Ho ho holy shit it worked!” He shouted, turning on his heel and slipping in the snow as he scrambled to meet up with the others. “It worked, oh ho it worked! Ohh someone shoulda seen dat!”

Back at the top of the fortress, the group had barely made it, and were met by some of the Frostwolf shaman. A rather tall orc, adorned in various furs and traditional beads emerged from the citadel, long, heavy braids flowing behind him as he met the bloodied group.

“What’s happened here?” The orc, Kadran asked, offering a hand to some of the injured warriors.

“Nighthowlers came out of their den a little sooner than we expected,” Deka replied. “We lost some of the supplies in the attack.”

“That’s fine, so long as everyone is alright and intact,” He says, looking over the lot of them. “Where’s the troll?”

She looked back, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “He stayed behind to fend off the wolves.”

Kadran nodded solemnly. “We’ll send a few down to find him. He’ll be honored, and–”

His voice was cut off short by the sound of sharp whistles and cheering echoing from the ramp. The orcs turned to the sounds, and saw the troll, covered in snow and splotches of blood leaping up from the ramp, tripping several times and using his hands to practically crawl on the ground. “Alive, alive! I’m here!” He shouted, a wide grin on his face as he ran towards them.

Deka grinned, and shouted something in Orcish before rushing out to meet him. She grabbed him and lifted him off the ground, carrying him back as he laughed. Neo'la couldn’t help but smile at the sight, and she was glad that no one was seriously injured.

Kadran waved his hands at Deka, urging her to put the shaman down. “Alright, let’s behave now,” He says, chuckling. “He might be injured, try not to add onto that. You might snap him in half.”

Ryuk jumped down, adjusting the leather he wore. “I’m fine mon,” He said casually. “I ah, I left behind some supplies. And ah, left a mess down at the ramp. I’ll clean it up later though!”

“It will be fine, I’m sure. Everyone, please come into the citadel, we’ll be shutting our doors very soon. A blizzard is on its way, and we’ll need all the rest we can get.”

The orcs around gathered the supplies that were delivered and took them to their respective places, ready for shipment in the morning. Inside, fires were already set, and the shaman within took the injured with them for healing sessions. Neo'la and Anandor simply made their way to their designated rooms, weary and exhausted from the day’s work.

Neo'la squeezed Anandor’s hand, looking up at him. “Are you alright, love?”

He pressed his lips together for a moment. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… tired.”

“Anan, don’t lie to me, please. Something’s been bothering you, I can tell.”

He gave a heavy sigh, using his free hand to untangle the scarf around him. “It’s probably not something you can help.”

She frowned, and they turned a corner, fingers locked together as they entered a small shack where they slept. Inside was a bed made of various furs and leathers pressed to the left side of the wall, and another door at the right was left ajar, showing their water supply used for bathing. At the back of the room was a fireplace, and already the coals and wood there had been lit by the courtesy of an anonymous orc, giving the room a lovely heat to return to. They released each other, and Neo'la shut the door gently behind them.

“Anan,” She said, turning around slowly. His ears folded back as her gaze met his, and he gave a playful whine.

“Don’t give me that look…” He said, glinting with humor. But she knew him well enough to know that it was a facade. And of course, he knew the same. The paladin sighed again, and he dropped his attention to his breastplate, unbuckling the armor. “Neo, I can’t… I don’t know what to say.”

She came to his side, gentle as always, her touch so soft it was as if she were afraid he’d shatter if too much force was used. It was the presence he had always loved and adored, her aura always made him feel safe, and yet, after years of being without it, he couldn’t fully enjoy it.

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” She says, pain and concern easily heard in her low voice. “I’ve never seen you freeze up in battle like that before. It keeps happening, I can’t continue to pretend you’re fine.”

“But what if I need you to?” He responds, turning his head to look at her. “I don’t want it to distract you, Neo'la, I need you to please, just turn a blind eye to it for now.”

She frowned, and cupped his cheeks in her hands, her thumbs carefully tracing his scars as she gazed into his eyes. “Love, you know I can’t do that. I want to help you. And if you really think I can just turn a 'blind eye’ to this, then you must’ve forgotten who I am.”

He knows she meant well, but still, those last words stung. She could be right, and the thought frightened him. She must’ve noticed too, because she quickly searched for a way to backtrack. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean–”

“I know, it’s fine.”

He removed his armor, changing out of the leather he wore beneath it. She did the same, disposing her messy plate armor into a basket by the door. She’d wake up early to clean them off later. At the moment, her limbs were sore, and it was exhausting to simply lift her legs to get out of her leggings.

“You know,” Neo'la began, sliding into a thick shirt. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. You can talk to me, always, remember that.”

He didn’t respond. He stayed quiet, pretending to be immensely focused on changing into something more comfortable. She frowned, but continued anyways.

“We used to talk for hours on end. I’d tell you about my family, my doubts, and you would always have something so bright and cheery to say to help me. I would listen to you talk passionately about the stars, the lights in the sky I never even dared to look up at. You’d tell me of your youth, your loss, and in turn, I’d always try to help somehow. Always, Anandor, we have always been open. I’m just… I can’t help but worry about you. You don’t talk anymore, it… it scares me.”

She plopped down on the bed, hands in her lap. She turned to look at him, and saw him simply standing there, eerily silent. She turned away, her chest aching.

“I’m sorry, Anan. Maybe I shouldn’t keep prodding, it’s okay, if you don’t want to talk. I just want the best for you.”

He finally moved, turning to see her back facing him. Her ears drooped down, and her posture was slumped over. He didn’t want to hurt her, but it seemed either way, damage would be done. What she said was true, and that was an undeniable fact. They always talked, never had secrets. Their bond and trust had always been so strong, and their deep understanding for one another allowed much liberty in their relationship in comparison to others. So much so that they even agreed it would be fine to have other lovers on the side, and partake in promiscuity so long as they always returned to each other, and focused on their family above all else.

Ever since he reunited with her, however, things seemed to be different. He told her the night they reunited what had happened to him, showed her his scars and allowed himself to be vulnerable. Since then, however, he didn’t want to talk. Slowly, he’d been closing up, guarded and quiet towards everyone, and lately, it was beginning to take a toll on him. Now, he was beginning to question whether or not he’s in the right for guarding himself this way.

He looked down at the shirt he held and tossed it aside, quietly slinking over to the bed. He sat behind Neo'la, wrapping his arms around her and pulled her in close to his bare chest. She nuzzled into him, and he rested his head on her shoulder gently. “I’m sorry Neo. For everything. All I’ve ever wanted was to protect you. All my life, I’ve devoted myself to helping out as much as a could, I became a guard, a Paladin of Protection, and still I can’t seem to hold anything together.”

“That is not your fault, Anandor,” She said softly, tilting her head to look at him. “You cannot carry that burden, love. It is not yours to bear.”

“You can’t say that. You can’t. If I hadn’t fallen those years ago, I would’ve still been with you and the girls. You wouldn’t be here in Draenor, I wouldn’t have let them take you. We wouldn’t be trapped up here, freezing every night and standing at Death’s front doorstep.” His grip around her tightened, and she could feel him tremble. “And Andria… where would she be if not… i-if not–”

“Stop.”

Neo'la pulled away, turning herself so that she faced him better. She placed her hands on his cheeks, the warmth of her palms shocking him for a brief moment. Light, he’d been so cold without her, and his chest hurt from the feeling. He almost couldn’t tell if it was his heart that ached or his scars. He looked at her, gazing into that friendly minty glow of her eyes, seeing the years of pain that had weighed down on her soul within those orbs. Something flashed, and his sight became blurred, and in an instant the warmth left him. He scrambled backwards suddenly, falling off the bed and frantically crawling to the back of the room. Neo'la reached out for him, but his eyes seemed far, and she wasn’t even sure if he was seeing her.

“Anan…?” She says cautiously, pain in her voice. She moved to him, slowly, but he backed away as she came near. “Anandor, please, I’m not going to hurt you.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling intensely. “D-Don’t…” He whispered, barely audible. “Please, I can’t, I-I don’t know, I don’t know anymore, I don’t know…”

Neo'la’s eyes welled up with tears as she retreated from him, kneeling by him, helpless. “Don’t know what?”

“I don’t know!” He shouted out, his voice strained. “I don’t know what’s real anymore, I can’t tell, it doesn’t feel real!”

It wasn’t often that he cried, not that she could recall. Often times, he was hardened, and rarely ever let tears fall, even when they were mourning. But here, he sat huddled near the fire, his voice breaking and tears beginning to stream from his eyes. The effort he put in to try to suppress them was painfully clear, and it hurt her to see him like this.

Not a damn thing she could do about it.

“Let me help you,” She said, her voice sounding more like a plea. “Please. This isn’t… this isn’t right.”

He dared to open his eyes, and he struggled to see her, despite being only a few feet away. “It all feels like a dream, it doesn’t feel real. The snow, the wolves, your eyes, your warmth, the boat, it doesn’t feel like it’s really there.” He held out his hands, reaching out for her before freezing, and retreating, wrapping his arms around himself instead. “I can’t touch you, I just feel you slipping away. How do I even know you’re here? How can I know for sure I didn’t just make it up? H-How do I know I’m still not in my cell, huddled in the corner, praying to the Light to go home?”

His body shook with bitter laughter, a smile spread across his face that didn’t belong there. “Oh, Light, how do I know if I’m even alive? N-Neo, Neo'la my love, please, I… Are… Are you even… real…?”

Neo'la whimpered, and didn’t hesitate in moving to him, throwing her arms around him tightly. He cringed, almost fearful of the warmth that dared to reach him. She held him close to her, shaking with sobs that threatened to arise.

“You’re alive, Anandor, it’s real, baby, please don’t say such things,” She murmured, gently running her hands through his hair. “You’re safe here, I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you like this again, dalah'surfal.”

He held onto her tightly, as if clinging on for dear life. “I’m so scared, Neo, I can’t lose you again. It’s so hard… I don’t… I can’t…”

She held him close, her chest heavy with sorrow. She wanted him to know– No, she needed him to know that it was real. His wounds were deep, and he lay in her arms now, bleeding out all the anguish that had buried itself deep within him.

She hummed quietly, recalling one of the old hymns of the Light she knew by heart. She rocked with him, moving to the slow tune of the melody, her hands beginning to glow with the Light. She brought his chin up, making him look up at her, and she placed her hands at his temples, allowing the golden swirls of Light flow through him. In the next moment, both of their eyes changed to the same gold glow, the Light creating a link through them.

Neo'la had opened up a part of her mind to him using the Light. She showed him her memories, the day they met, their long walks and talks, how she gazed at him from afar, how she held him, and how she loved him. In the Light, there is no lying – only the truth may be seen with its power. And for the first time, Anandor caught a glimpse of how she truly felt about him, how she cared, how she loved. His chest felt warm, and he was no longer afraid. At last, he learned how she saw the world in her eyes, and Light, did it make him love her even more.

The Light faded, and they returned to each other, both messy and hardly presentable. His eyes were red and puffy, her hair was a wild mess, and both lay on the floor near the fire. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt. And yet, they both smiled, embracing each other once more. They’d never be the same. Too much had happened to the both of them to be the same. But that didn’t mean they would stop loving, didn’t mean that they wouldn’t find a way to keep each other safe and intact.

They’re not the same couple they used to be, but love is hard to kill.

Neo'la planted a soft kiss on his lips, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve spent so much time thinking about others, Anan, I don’t think you ever stopped to think about yourself.”

He pressed his forehead against hers, keeping her close to him. “You are my world, Neo'la. I… I just want the best for you.”

“You’ve done enough, love. I think you’ve earned a break by now.” Their free hands intertwined, thumbs caressing their calloused skin. “Let me return the favor, my Lighttreader. I will protect you, and I won’t let you lose anymore. We will find our way off this planet, and we will be home, back to our children once more.

"Together.”

He smiled, wrapping his arms around her thin frame tightly. “Together.”

That night, they slept closer than ever, warm with each other’s heat. And for the first time in many long years, Anandor’s dreams were without nightmares.

–

A loud knock at the door startled Anandor awake. He groaned, carefully unwrapping his wife’s arms from around his torso before standing up. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, opening the door sluggishly.

“Hmm–?”

Naz'kal stood at the door, clad in light armor that bore the Frostwolf symbol. His black hair spilled over his shoulders messily, and his false tusk wasn’t even on. It seemed as though he had woken up not so long ago.

“Ah, sorry!” The young orc said, raising his hands slightly. “Hope I didn’t star– uh Kadran wants everyone out in the main room quick. It’s important, you might want to see this.”

Anandor nodded. “No worries, thank you. We’ll be out as soon as possible.”

Naz'kal gave a short bow and scurried off, and Anandor quickly moved to Neo'la.

“Wake up, love. Something’s come up.”

–

The main center of the citadel was filled with the inhabitants of the keep. The native orcs and their snow white wolves stood at the outside of the circle of people that formed near the stone throne. Azerothians, still weary from yesterday’s work, waited anxiously for the head shaman to arrive. Neo'la huddled in her thick cloak, glancing over at the others. The natives wore scowls, faces scrunched in worry while her comrades seemed rather clueless. At last, Kadran trudged out and made his way to the front of the group, a heavy silence falling over the small crowd as he took his stand. The elderly shaman’s murky chestnut eyes glossed over every face before he began to speak.

“Thank you for gathering here. Apologies for such an early meeting, but we’ve just received word back from our chieftain in Gorgrond.”

“Durotan?” Anandor whispered, leaning in to listen. Neither Anandor nor Neo'la had encountered, or even seen the chieftain and his wife, only having heard stories of their strength and prowess. They’d been out, scouring other areas of Draenor to lend their efforts in the war.

“Our forces in Gorgrond are suffering losses at the hands of both the Iron Horde and the botani. We need to send small scout groups to help lend them our aid with the conflict.” He straightened his back, the beads in his hair jingled softly as they dangled from his shoulders. “Most of you probably haven’t been anywhere outside of Frostfire, and I understand. It will be a dangerous mission, but we need volunteers to venture out.”

Almost immediately, several Frostwolves shot their hands up, proud and ready to give their weapons for their chieftain. Neo'la put a hand on Anandor’s shoulder excitedly, grabbing his attention quickly. Wide eyes filled with wonder and met his weary gaze, and she leaned close.

“Let’s do it.” She said in a hushed tone, though her enthusiasm was still clear. He pressed his lips in a thin line.

“I don’t know, it’s dangerous, Neo,” He said, running his hand through his messy hair. “It just… we don’t know what’s even there.”

“We don’t know what’s here either!” She retorted. “Just being here is dangerous in itself. If we’re going to be stuck up here, we’d might as well see what this world has to offer us.”

Anandor gave a small laugh. “You’re starting to sound a a lot like Ryuk now.” He jested.

She shrugged. “Well, maybe he was right about something.”

Kadran began to pick various volunteers, and Neo'la gave another nudge to Anandor.

“Come on, let’s go. We’re strong, we’ll survive.” She said. She’d always been adventurous, always curious for what’s out there. Often times it was that trait that made them both a good pair, as they both were daring enough to venture out where no one should, just to test to see if they could. Now, fear had moved in and replaced his carefree attitude, and it could either save him, or destroy him.

But perhaps… perhaps Gorgrond could be their key out of this place. He was tired of the snow anyways.

“Okay,” He said at last, raising his hand with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

She grinned and raised her hand as well, and Kadran beckoned them forward. The two elves made their way up to the front of the crowd, standing tall with the other volunteers. Neo'la peered over, and could see Ryuk with a cheeky grin on the other side of the elderly shaman, giving the elves an approving look.

Naz'kal had remained silent throughout the meeting, but after seeing his comrades join the volunteers, he raised his hand too. Kadran raised a brow, looking to the young orc.

“Naz'kal, there is much honor in your blood to offer yourself,” Kadran said, making his way down to the younger one. “But I do not think I can bring myself to send you there.”

“But Farseer!” Naz'kal protested, rising to his feet. “I’m perfectly capable of wielding an axe, and I can fend for myself! Surely others have seen I’m not useless on the field!”

Some of the natives scowled at how his tone towards the shaman, but Kadran simply waved his hand. “You’ve proven yourself, this I know, but Gorgrond may be too dangerous for you. I would prefer to send more experienced warriors out.”

Naz'kal’s azure eyes darted to the others before he focused back on the shaman. “Well, I’ve been… learning the blade since I was eight.”

Kadran chuckled. “How old are you now?”

“Nineteen summers. Twenty by this year.”

The shaman nodded. “You are very young, and it would pain me to send regards to your family should you fall.”

Naz'kal shook his head. “My parents came through the portal a few months ago. They fell in battle, died with honor here against the Iron Horde. I want to honor them, and finish what they started. I’ve nothing but a small farm to return to, perhaps the boar would miss me, but there would be no tragedy in my loss.” He stood tall, puffing his chest out like a proud warrior. “I wish to join the others in Gorgrond.”

Kadran gave a heavy sigh and placed his hand on Naz'kal’s shoulder. “There is a tragedy in every loss, young one. Do not lose sight of your worth. I will let you go, but do not be reckless with your life.” He turned away before Naz'kal could thank him, approaching the other volunteers. “There will be two groups that will meet in Beast Watch. From there, you will be greeted by one of our Laughing Skull allies, and the groups will split.”

Kadran began to point to several warriors, appointing them to their squads. “Deka, Terrum, Mau'lu, Liko and Ryuk, you five will be tasked with taking care of the Blackrock in the north. Rashila, Neo'la, Anandor, Katu, and Naz'kal, you will be tasked with holding the defenses against the botani in the region. We’ll prepare the rylaks to take you there this afternoon. I expect the rest of the clan to be prepared should our chieftain require more reinforcements.” The shaman turned towards the designated fighters with a grin. “Now, get armored, feast, and be prepared for this afternoon’s ride. And dress lightly. It’s much warmer and dryer in Grogrond than it is here.”

–

Neo'la and her group sat around a fire, quietly eating the roasted clefthoof and boar meat the clan provided them. They’d leave within the hour, and Neo'la couldn’t help but feel excited. There was something about the journey ahead that made her feel jittery, like a child going to a new park for the first time. She scolded herself for daring to smile at such a grim time like this, but she couldn’t help but feel that this was merely a ticket out of this world, an opportunity to finally escape and be free. The bright side served itself up on a silver platter, and there was no way in fel she would want to miss out on any opportunity.

If there was even the barest chance of getting out of here alive, she would have to take it despite the odds.

Naz'kal quietly stalked towards Neo'la, his own food in hand as he tried to very subtly sit next to her. Of course, his own awkwardness and shy smile made it all the more obvious.

“Its okay, now,” Neo'la said, offering a warm smile to the orc. “Just have a seat, I won’t bite.”

Naz'kal gave a small smile and sat down on the log beside her. “Ah, thanks. Hope I’m not bothering.”

“No, not at all,” She reassured. The young orc fiddled with the metallic tusk he wore in place of one he lost, looking up at the elf curiously.

“How come you volunteered?” He asked. “I remember you telling me a while ago you have children at home, why… why volunteer?”

Neo'la wiped her hands on a small cloth as she pondered the question. “Well… Aren’t you tired of the snow? It’s about time we go out and explore, yes?”

Naz'kal shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but why…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to sound rude, but why risk your life?”

Neo'la looked up, seeing Anandor and their orcish ally Katu sharpen their weapons. She was silent for a moment, then leaned close to Naz'kal and spoke in a hushed tone.

“I can’t stay on this dreaded planet any longer,” She said. “I don’t belong here. I did everything in my power to stay home. I’m needed there, and by the Light, I’ve learned that I have so much more to protect. Grogrond may very well be our chance to escape.”

The orc’s eyes widened. “Escape?”

She tugged his arm. “Hush, not so loud.” She ushered, glancing up to see if they caught any attention. “Gorgrond is another step closer to Tanaan. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’ll find a way out and back to the portal. I’ll find something. Or not. All I know is that we won’t get anywhere if we stay here.”

He nodded, looking up at Anandor. “While I do think it’s… a noble goal, I don’t think the clan would appreciate outrunners.”

“True. And it pains me to deceive those who had given us a chance to live, but a sacrifice needs to be made. Perhaps not today, but eventually.” She pulled away and sat normally, changing her tone. “Only the future may judge me. Would you like to come with us?”

He sputtered, scrambling for words. “Me, wait, come, like– go with you?”

She nodded, taking a sip from her drink quietly. “You’re young, you’ve too much to live for to waste away here.”

He shook his head. “No no, there’s… not anything for me. Here my actions take meaning, a-and hold honor. I signed up for this, it’s… what I want to do.”

“I see.” She stood up and dusted herself off, attempting to keep herself clean and presentable as always. “Anything planned for when the war is over?”

Naz'kal paused, opening his mouth to speak, but shutting it shortly after. He scratched his cheek, pondering the question. “Uh… N-No, nothing. I… don’t know what I want to do. Maybe become a grunt. Or just… stay at the farmstead. Or move to Mulgore. I don’t know.”

“Well, if ever you’d like, you have a home with us. We’ll take you in if ever you need a place to call home.”

Naz'kal’s eyes brightened, and he sat up straighter. “Do you really mean that?”

She gave a warm smile and gently rested her hand on his shoulder. “Of course. Now, we’ll just have to focus on surviving this first.”

–

“First time rylak rider I assume?” The tall orc Rashila called out to Anandor. Deep umber skin glistened by the light of the fires nearby. Her equipment and leather armor strapped around her comfortably, strong muscles shown clearly from beneath. She held the reigns of the massive rylak beside her tightly, smirking at the elf with amusement.

Anandor, having been struggling with keeping the two-headed beast from lashing out at him, stumbled back and turned to give Rashila an exasperated look. “Yeah. Never dealt with these before, kinda– Gah!” The rylak rammed its wing into the elf, knocking him a few feet away from the beast. He slid across the snow on his rear before the momentum finally gave him peace, and he flopped on his back, defeated. Rashila clutched her gut, laughing in a loud, wheezy manner as she watched the comical display, and Anandor couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

“You’re being too cautious with her!” The orc said, stooping over to yank Anandor off the ground and onto his feet by his shoulder. He flinched at her touch, stumbling a bit as he regained his footing. This prompted another laugh from her, and she simply pat his back in response. “You’re too soft, it doesn’t trust a weak rider. You have to hold it by the reigns tightly, show it who’s the alpha. It’s a beast, don’t forget that. If it believes it can overpower you, it will.”

Rashila, clearly knowing no real boundaries, proceeded to grab the elf by his arm and drag him back to the rylak. He tried to brush her off, but her iron grip would not falter unless he stood exactly where she wanted. She let go, and approached the beast, turning back to Anandor with a smirk.

“Watch closely.”

Turning back to the unruly beast, she stood tall, baring her teeth as the rylak snarled and attempted to bite her. She grabbed the reigns, holding them short and yanked them close to her, forcing the rylak’s heads to face her just inches away. They growled and roared, sharp cages of teeth dangerously close to the orc, but Rashila did not falter. Her face was stone, her dark eyes tearing deep into the rylak’s ego. Even Anandor felt her energy, but watched, fully enticed in the display he saw. The rylaks bowed their heads down in defeat, the beast’s entire posture retreating into a submissive stance. She continued staring at them, looming over them before finally nodding in satisfaction. She beckoned Anandor to her side.

“Come come, this is where you’ll reestablish yourself.”

He stepped forward, and immediately the rylak’s heads shot up to glare at him. He didn’t cower back, and Rashila gave a loud grunt that startled the beast enough to behave. She gave a tug at the reigns to catch their attention, then handed them to Anandor.

“Hold them tightly. Here, I’m showing them the pass of power, of dominance to you. You’re not weak, so don’t let them see weakness.”

He nodded, and gripped the reigns tightly as she had demonstrated, and the beast glared at him, nostrils flaring with puffs of hot air. He held their gaze, and Rashila watched in amusement as the rylak finally backed down.

“There, that’s good!” She huffed proudly. “You act so cautious around all the beasts around here. I can only imagine how soft and sensitive the creatures on your world must be.”

He gave a short laugh. “Well, normally if you take a step wrong, you’ll startle them.”

“Pah. You all just seem so soft, it’s quite funny.”

“We are not soft.” Anandor said, turning to her slowly. “Just different.”

A high pitched squeal was heard, followed by a guttural roar, and both the orc and the elf turned to the commotion. Just behind them, it seemed that even Neo'la was struggling with the rylak, and had called into the snow while the beast beat its wings in a proud manner. Rashila barked a laugh, smacking Anandor’s shoulder with the back of her hand.

“See?” She giggled. “Soft.”

Anandor rolled his eyes and moved to Neo'la’s side, helping her up while the rest of the group prepared their supplies.

“Are you alright? Did you get hurt?” He asked, ready to scoop her up in his arms if need be. She brushed him off, giddy with laughter.

“Oh no no, I’m fine!” She assured, grabbing onto his arm as she stood. “Light, you know how I am with this kind of stuff.”

“You’re shaking, are you sure you’re alright?”

“You worry too much. I’ve never been good with anything that’s not a hawkstrider or feline.” She joked. “Light where did Aliya get her gift from if I’m so useless.”

It was true, after all. No matter what anyone did to help her, she could never fly anything. The only beasts that ever let her near were hawkstriders and very specific horses, but everything else? Not a chance they’ll let her near. That, plus the fact that she had little skill in flying made her the worst candidate for someone to take the reigns in the sky.

Rashila made her way to them, glancing over at Neo'la. “I’ll safely assume that this one needs training too.”

Neo'la shook her head. “The rylak is fine, I think it was just me.”

Rashila chuckled. “Oh I know. I wasn’t talking about the beast.”

Neo'la frowned, but faked a laugh. “Oh well, I think it’ll be best that I ride with Anan. Save space and time. I’m sure we’ll fit, elves are quite small anyways.”

Rashila looked unimpressed, but nodded anyways. “If that works then go ahead, but if you fall off that’s not on us.”

Anandor looked back and forth between the two women, scrunching his brows together. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“You better be.” Rashila’s voice dropped low, and she closed the distance between them, making sure only the elves would hear her and not any bystanders. “You two volunteered for this, but I have little faith that you’re even capable of coming out of this alive. Do not drag us down on this mission. I despise the idea of losing someone out of your recklessness, so don’t let it happen.”

Anandor grimaced, but Neo'la simply smiled. “Oh you’ve not to worry about,” Neo'la said, placing a tender hand on the orc’s shoulder. “We’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

Rashila snorted, partly because she didn’t believe them, and partly because she was bald. “We’re leaving in a few minutes. Be ready. Gorgrond will eat you alive if you slip.”

They split ways, and the elves made their way to the rylak. The moment Rashila was out of earshot, Anandor turned to Neo'la.

“You’re acting really strange, Neo, it’s worrying me.”

“I already told you, I’m–”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

Neo'la puffed her cheeks, evading his gaze before turning to the rylak that eyed them curiously. “We need to get mounted up and be ready to take off. Once we’re in the skies, we’ll have time to talk.”

Anandor nodded. “Whatever works.”

–

“You want to do what?!”

One of the rylak’s heads gave out a screech in response to Anandor’s outburst. Neo'la wrapped her arms and legs around the paladin’s torso tightly, quickly glancing at the rest of their group who had taken to the skies with them.

“Light, not so loud, Anan!” Neo'la ushered, giving him a squeeze. Luckily, the others were too occupied with flying in the correct direction than to pay any attention to the elves.

“Neo, love, these people have done so much for us, and you want to just leave them in their time of need?” Anandor snapped. “Is this what you volunteered for?”

“Anan, I know this probably isn’t my best idea, but one way or another, we need to get home.”

“And at what cost? You couldn’t have just asked them for help?”

She paused, and he huffed angrily.

“I don’t believe this.”

“Anan, we were wronged!” Neo'la said through grit teeth. “You and I, we should have never been on Draenor. We’d be at home, safe with the kids. You know this. This wasn’t meant to happen.”

“Well… it happened. And that’s a fact.”

“Which is why we need to find a way– any way out of here. Do you not want to go home?”

“That’s not what this is about, Neo'la. My problem is they are counting on us to lend our aid, and we’re letting them down. It’s not right.”

“When is anything ever? In war, you have to do whatever it takes–”

“There is honor, and there are morals!” He interrupted, his brows scrunched together in anger. “Even in war one must find any way they can to do what’s right. I can’t believe you would suggest this.”

Neo'la pressed her lips together. He was right, that she would admit, but to stay on Draenor for so long was taking its toll. After last night, she had come to the conclusion that she had to get them home. She didn’t want them to suffer longer than needed.

Anandor sighed. “We will get off this planet, that I can promise. But we’ll have to find a better way of doing so.”

“Let’s just hope that better way doesn’t lie years in our future.”

–

The next few hours of the ride were fairly silent after that. Anandor focused on guiding the beast while Neo'la was left to her own thoughts. She watched as the Bladespire Citadel became a dot on the horizon, masked by the same icy blue snow that coated the lands. The air around them changed in temperature, significantly growing warmer as they left Frostfire. Neo'la was left in awe at the sight of Gorgrond, catching glimpses of the lush forests that dotted various areas of the foreign land. Other wild rylak flew over their heads, soaring high above the mountains with deadly grace, and for a brief, fleeting moment, she almost wished she could stay in this world, just for the beauty of it.

“Down there!” One of their party members, Katu shouted, pointing down at a small camp in the thicket of trees. “Prepare to land there. Careful of the trees.”

Neo'la watched as the other three’s rylaks swooped down to their objective. On her left, she could hear the second group Kadran designated making their descent as well. Her heartbeat sped up, excitement kicking in as they neared the ground, so much so that she was able to ignore the gut-wrenching feeling of the flight. Various orcs, most wearing intimidating skull masks met them as they landed. Anandor helped Neo'la off the rylak, and soon their designated group met up with the others beneath the shade of the massive trees.

“Durotan and Draka will be here to meet you shortly,” One of the masked female orcs stated. “We’ll tell the others of your arrival.”

Rashila stalked over to the elves, wrapping her strong arms suddenly around both of them, resulting in the couple jumping up in surprise.

“Welcome to Gorgrond!” She shouted happily, running her hand through Anandor’s hair, much to his dismay.

Neo'la attempted to slink out of her iron grip subtly, but Rashila wouldn’t budge. “Right, yes, let’s uh, have some space to stretch please, yes?”

“Bah, you two are such mood crushers,” Rashila snorted, giving a pat on Neo'la’s back before stalking away. Anandor rubbed his neck, brows furrowed together in irritation.

“She’s never going to let us be, is she?” He mumbled in Thalassian.

“She’ll get tired eventually.” Neo'la assured, reaching over to fix her husband’s messy hair.

“Let’s just hope this goes over smoothly. I’d rather not cause trouble with Rashila, since she knows these lands well.” He turned to face his wife, tenderly placing a hand on her cheek. “We’re here to fend off the botani, nothing more, okay?”

Neo'la didn’t respond, puffing her cheeks. “Don’t move, you made me mess up your ponytail.”

“Light, Neo, don’t avoid–”

“They’re here!”

Neo'la and Anandor snapped to attention, taken aback in awe as the powerful chieftains rode in. Neo'la had only ever seen paintings and heard stories of Durotan, but never did she ever expect to see him in his prime. The moment he and Draka arrived, their domineering presence was immediately felt, raw power emanating from their stance alone. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the treetops shone on them in a warm light, highlighting the beads of sweat around powerful muscles. They came to a halt before the two groups, dismounting their wolves quickly as they scanned the crowd. They were tall, towering over the other orcs with pride. Anandor, having been used to being up to par with other orcs due to his unusual height, felt rather dwarfed by the chieftains. Fel, even Draka stood taller than him.

Durotan scanned the crowd, seeming hopeful as he made his observations. “Assuming this is our back up?”

Deka stepped forward, admiration and respect clear in her eyes. “That we are,” She said, glancing over at Rashila as she stepped forth. “My group’s to take care of the Blackrock in the area, and Rashila’s for the botani. This is all we can send for now, since it was short notice.”

Draka nodded. “This will do. We’ll be sure to thank Kadran for the quick response. Deka, your group will follow Durotan up north. We’ve managed to dismantle enough of their troops, so it’ll just be cleaning up the mess.” She turned towards Rashila’s group, quickly scanning over the elves with a small smile. “You’ll be following me. I won’t be fighting along your side the whole time, but I’ll leave you with a few of our Laughing Skull allies before we depart.”

Rashila grinned widely, saluting Draka. “It will be an honor regardless.”

“Good. Let’s get going.”

–

The groups had split up soon after, with Neo'la’s designated group following Draka on foot. Various creatures flew past them, and the sun beat down relentlessly on them. It was clear that the Frostwolves were struggling with the heat, understandably, since they were accustomed to freezing temperatures, but for the elves and Naz'kal (Naz having grown up in Durotar), it was just pleasant weather for them. The ground was soft with the lush green leaves that covered the entire surface, and large, twisted branches hung wildly, wrapped around other plants and trees with their own buds and flowers sprouting. It was beautiful in its own way, though it clashed with the entire aesthetic Neo'la had known. She wondered if Draenor had the same seasons as Azeroth, if it knew spring or summer, or how long they were. Light, how long were the years here? She’d been so focused on the missions at hand that she never even stopped to think about the details of this world.

The bushes beside them rustled, and Katu, a rather short, red-haired orc held a spear in hand tightly, his stance steady as he listened for the threat. To the average orc, Katu would appear quite weak, given his physique and lack of tusks. He was born the runt of a family of six, standing simply five feet five inches. Since he keeps quiet about his personal matters, he’s said only that his tusks were stolen from him by another clan, but never went into detail about it. Fel, every time he was confronted about it, the story would actually change a little each time, leaving most to wonder what really had happened. Still, Katu had proven himself to be a fierce hunter, quiet and observant, and often a tactical advantage when it came to times like these.

The rest of the group stopped and stayed on guard, and a small lizard-like creature crawled out of the bushes. Anandor chuckled and lowered his weapon.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” He said, gesturing to the creature. “Just  a little–”

A branch snapped and a massive humanoid seeming to be made purely of tree bark stepped in view, targeting Anandor first. It raised its massive arm, glowing with some strange energy, and attempted to strike at the paladin. Anandor sidestepped the move quickly, his shield raised enough to fend off the beast. Or plant. Whatever the fel this thing is. He raised his sword, and the walking tree whirred around to strike at the others. Shadowy tendrils wrapped around the creatures feet, crawling up its skin, picking and prying away at its carapace and shell. Katu swooped in, lodging his spear through the creature’s abdomen. It shouted out in pain, but soon, the light in its eyes faded, and it collapsed to the ground.

“What the fel was that?!” Neo'la shouted, backing away as the thing fell.

Rashila laughed heartily, much to Draka’s disapproval. “These…” Draka said, gesturing to the fallen creature with her axe. “These are the botani.”

“Dear Light, I didn’t know what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t that.” Anandor laughed.

“Welcome to Gorgrond.” Rashila repeated.

“Most botani aren’t easy to take down,” Draka stated, beckoning the group. “Best get moving before more of them come. Stay close and don’t get arrogant. Up ahead are our other forces. You’ll hold the lines with them until the work we have is finished. Hopefully by tomorrow you’ll be able to return home.”

Neo'la frowned slightly. How I wish that were true…

They followed Draka through the greenery until they finally came across a makeshift fence near a swirl of thorned branches. Several other orcs, both Frostwolf and Laughing Skull were already situated, keeping a close eye on their surroundings.

“This is your post for now,” Draka said, gesturing ahead. “One of the outland generals are expecting my presence to locate some sort of artifact, so I’ll be departing now. Stay strong, and fight like a pack.”

Rashila nodded, giving a short bow. “Stay safe.”

She made haste through the thicket, and soon disappeared in all of the leaves and trees. Anandor turned his attention to the others, regarding them curiously.

“There a problem, Nan?” Rashila asked, sharpening her axe with a rock she found on the floor.

“Yeah, no, uh,” He cleared his throat. “What do we know about those botani? Anything we should be wary of, or… what? We weren’t told much…”

Katu perked up, waving his hand to catch their attention. “Don’t let them touch you,” He said. “They’re known to take and corrupt our kind, even draenei. They mutate their bodies and turn them more like them. Like plants.”

“Yeah,” Rashila nodded. “Transform your entire body like another botani. It’s what they do when they need numbers. They take ours.”

Naz'kal’s eyes widened at this, and the young orc stepped forward. “They just change you into a tree? That can’t be right.”

“Oh it is,” Katu said, nodding. “I’ve seen it. Vines sprout out from your body and your skin starts growing bark.”

“Eventually you even forget who you are.” Rashila added.

Anandor pressed his lips into a thin line. “Well, surely they can be cured… right?”

Katu shook his head. “Not that we know. Once they snatch you, that’s it.”

“That’s why it’s important we stay here and keep them at bay,” Rashila stated. “Can’t let that happen to our chieftains.”

Silence fell over the group soon after, and Katu and Rashila mingled amongst the others that they were familiar with. Naz'kal, awkward as always, slinked over to Neo'la’s side.

“Are you still going to do the thing?” He asked in a hushed tone. Of course, the comment certainly did not escape Anandor’s hearing, and he turned around immediately.

“What thing?” He asked.

Naz'kal jumped back, scrambling for words. “No thing! Nothing!”

Anandor squinted. “Neo…”

“We already talked about it Anan,” Neo'la said, waving a hand. “I already told you I won’t.”

“Why did you tell Naz about it?”

The orc backed away a little, hiding behind Neo'la. Anandor sighed. “I’m not mad at you Naz. I just don’t want people thinking we’re traitors or something.”

“Well uh, I was…” Naz'kal dropped his hands to his side, swinging them a bit. “Ah, never mind, sorry for bothering.”

“No no it’s fine,” Neo'la assured, gently dragging the orc back. Light she could see the agitation building up on her husband’s face, and confrontation was not something she needed to deal with right now. Not now. She needed more time to think, assess the land, find an advantage somewhere somehow. “What were you going to say?”

Naz'kal shuffled awkwardly, glancing up to give Anandor an apologetic look. “About the mutated orcs they were talking about… I don’t know, it’s kind of stupid now that I think about it more.”

Anandor quirked a brow. “What of them?”

“Well… I just feel… uncomfortable by the idea. I don’t know if it’s right to just know that somewhere in this growth someone is suffering against their will. It feels wrong to just sit here when someone probably needs help.”

Neo'la and Anandor exchanged looks. He’s right, but what could they do? They don’t know these lands.

“That’s very noble of you to think that way, kid, but…” Anandor sighed. “You’re talking to the wrong people about this. Rashila knows Gorgrond better than us, you’d want to talk to her.”

“Ha, I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“I don’t think she likes anyone.” Neo'la remarked.

The leaves of the trees ahead rustled, and they were on guard immediately. Anandor held up his shield and stepped forward, his entire body locked and ready for combat. Three large botani strode in quickly, and Anandor wasted no time in charging at the middle one.

“Lighttreader!” Rashila called out, picking up a spear as she ran to the usurpers. “Stay back, don’t be so reckless!”

He ignored her, bashing his shield against one of their attacks. He swung his longsword, cutting off the botani’s hand on the right as he thrusted the blade through the middle creature’s chest. Rashila leaped up, wrapping her powerful legs around the third botani’s neck, lodging her weapon through its torso. With one swift move, she twisted her body, clenching her thighs tightly as she brought the botani down, snapping its neck with the movement. The last one standing used its free arm to swipe at Anandor, striking the back of his head. The paladin fell, using his shield to fall on as his vision failed him. Naz'kal stomped through, bringing his heavy axe down on the creature’s head.

“You okay?” The young warrior asked, giving a hand to the fallen elf. Anandor rubbed his eyes, dizzy from the blow, but took the orc’s hand willingly.

“Fine. That was exhilarating.” He said with the shake of his head, grinning stupidly.

Neo'la retrieved his sword from the corpse, glancing up at the area. “There’s more here, I can hear them.”

Anandor took his side by Neo'la, and she handed him his sword. She looked up at him, gently plucking the thorns and pieces of wood stuck in his hair, her hand glowing with the Light to help ease his disorientation.

A scream in the distance behind them echoed through the forest, and panic set into Rashila’s eyes quickly. One of the Laughing Skull orcs stationed there muttered something and nudged Rashila urgently.

“Draka is over there!” He said, already on the move in that direction.

Rashila made a move to follow, but was stopped by another one of her comrades. She snarled at the masked orc.

“Let me go!” She demanded. “My chieftain is probably in danger, I have to go!”

“That scream didn’t belong to one of our own,” The other argued. “Stay here and hold the line, Rageskull and I will go investigate the area. Stay on guard.”

The orcs left, and Rashila grumbled under her breath as she turned back to her former position. “Hold the line no matter the cost!”

Neo'la nodded, and listened carefully, unsheathing her dual scimitars from her hips. Strange gurgling and screeching increased in volume, and Neo'la grit her teeth in anticipation. From the bushes, a small spear poked out, followed by a few others. A short creature, probably only five apples tall, hopped out of the bushes, large yellow eyes poking out from a face adorned in vividly colored leaves and petals. It held its spear fiercely, and skipped in its steps as it ran forward. Neo'la couldn’t help but chuckle at the walking flower, and she lowered her guard.

“What are those? They’re kind of cu–”

“Do not!” Katu shouted. “Those are podlings, they’re known to take down prey ten times their size.”

The other orcs knocked their arrows, firing at the podlings. A few of them fell, and the remaining ones snarled and charged at their assailants. Neo'la sheathed her weapons, instead using her free hands to summon the Light and Shadows to her will. The swirl of gold and indigo swarmed the small tribe of sentient flowers, forming a thin, bubble-like dome around them. The podlings smacked their spears against the barrier, growling and slashing at the magic. With the swipe of the priest’s hands, the magic closed around them, the Light and Shadow burning their colorful petals to a crisp. Naz'kal shuddered at the display of magic while the priestess simply dusted her hands off.

“That wasn’t so bad,” Neo'la said, turning to the others. “Should we go check on the others?”

Rashila grit her teeth, trying to suppress her surprise at the display of power. “As much as I want to, we should probably stay here.”

Anandor kept his gaze fixated on the swirl of thorns and vines ahead, searching for more intruders. “Where do those things come from?”

“They’re plants,” One of the masked orcs laughed. “They just grow out the ground, ready to kill.”

Katu shook his head. “I think there’s more to it than that.”

“Well,” Naz'kal spoke up. “They’re coming from somewhere. Why don’t we search for their base and take down their order of operations? I’m sure if we dismantle their origin, they won’t have enough to come back with. It’d at least be enough to hold them off.”

The orcs whispered amongst themselves, thinking over the plan. Rashila gave a wide grin and a smack on his back. “This one’s smart, I like how you think.”

“We were told to stay and defend, to hold the line,” Anandor said, giving a cold stare at the others. “We can’t just walk away.”

“Oh please don’t give me that crap,” Rashila laughed. “I’m the leader of this group, I can decide what goes and what doesn’t.”

“If we did make an effort to at least incapacitate their base, it would still count as defense in the long run.” Naz'kal added.

Anandor sighed, glancing to his wife. Neo'la was quiet, but he knew she agreed with them. “Just tell me what I need to do then, and we’ll get this over with.”

–

The best part about being raised in Eversong, was the advantages the elves often had in environments filled with trees. As a young boy, Anandor had often spent his days climbing the trees of Eversong, often times mimicking the way the trolls south of the land did so. He used to gaze at the Farstriders in awe, seeing how they practically glided across the treetops with their weapons in hand, scouring the land to protect their people. Now, those days served as mere training for his situation now.

The other orcs stayed on the ground, carefully treading through the overgrowth. Neo'la stayed with them on the ground, partly because the party needed a healer should the situation turn sour, and partly because she was too imbalanced to climb the trees at the same speed he could. He preferred she stayed down there anyways. He’d have a better view of her whereabouts, and could get to her easily if overwhelmed. With the Light and one of the orc’s bows, Anandor was prepared to protect his group without being seen.

Anandor perked his head up through the leaves, ears twitching as he scanned the greenery. On the right, there seemed to be an opening leading to a large space. A pond adorned the center of it, wrapped around intricately with the roots of various trees. The petals of flowers that grew in the area littered the ground and water, and the rays of the sun poured through the cracks of the treetops.

It would’ve been a lovely view if it hadn’t been for the inhabitants wandering there. More of the massive botani, ones much larger than they faced earlier, strode like nobles in the gardens, mutated orcs and draenei tagging behind them. His stomach churned at the sight of the mutilated orcs, his eyes trailing over the vines and thorns that twisted and ripped through their flesh in unnatural ways. It was wrong, so wrong. No one should have to suffer in such a way.

He glanced back to his party, seeing them advance. Carefully, he gripped at the branches, crouching on his toes as he calculated his move. He jumped forward, swiftly landing on another branch, and with the same momentum, he grasped onto the branches above him and swung himself forward, moving quickly through the trees until he was slightly ahead of the group.

“I think I found them,” He said, loud enough for them to hear, but hopefully not loud enough to attract unwanted attention. Rashila stepped forward, looking up at him.

“Good good. Where?”

He pointed behind him. “There’s an opening in the bushes in that direction. The botani have more of the infected with them. There’s at least a dozen of them there, be careful.”

The orc gave a nod, and Anandor made his way to the overgrowth, keeping an eye on his allies. If they could dispatch enough of the botani, perhaps it’ll be enough to slow their assaults.

The party moved in, and immediately were faced off with two of the guards. Anandor quickly casted the Light to him, smiting the ground with a holy fire. The orcs took care of the botani, swinging their hefty axes at the creatures. Anandor moved quickly through the trees, catching sight of more botani from within the center advancing to the party. He quickly switched to his bow, finding a dangerous balance point on the branches. He knocked two arrows onto the string, aiming down his sights at the tallest creature. It had been years since he used a bow, and he let out a shaky breath as he let the arrows fly. The wind carried the arrows to its target, and the botani was struck down, one arrowhead lodged between his neck and the other piercing his temple.

Agonizing, guttural cries for help were heard from within the thicket, and a few of the infected twitched in sync with it. More of the infected began to emerge from the trees, and soon the party was outnumbered.

We can do this, Anandor reassured himself. The flurry of battle ensued, and he kept focused on silently knocking out various targets without being seen.

That is until he noticed Neo'la was no where near the group.

He swore under his breath and hopped out of the trees. The Light swarmed around him as he hit the ground, breaking his fall. Immediately, he was met with one of the botani swinging down at him. He raised his arm out of instinct, and the bark of the creature slammed into his forearm. He hissed in pain, reaching for the dagger at his hip. He used his right hand to seize the other’s wrist, and with his knife in the other, he slashed the blade across the botani’s arm, popping its carapace off. The Light swarmed him again, and he blasted the botani into charcoal, quickly moving towards his group.

“Where’s Neo'la?” He shouted out, creating a holy barrier around the group.

Rashila snarled in response, wiping the blood from her lips. “A little busy!”

“Light dammit answer me, someone!” Anandor demanded. He picked up his bow again, firing at the botani that came in. They were dying quickly, thankfully, but Anandor would not see victory alone. Dear Light, where has she run off to?

Naz'kal cleaved through one of the infected with a heavy swing of his axe before motioning to Anandor. “I saw her, she went this way!”

“Stay with the group!” Rashila barked. “If she left, she left. We need our numbers!”

Naz'kal was already advancing away, turning back to see if Anandor would follow. The elf grit his teeth, smiting the creatures as he moved to follow the orc.

“Anandor!” Rashila shouted. “You of all people?”

“I’ll be back, but I need to find her.” Anandor said firmly, and sprinted with the warrior.

“Traitor! You and her, traitors! We should have never trusted you!”

–

Naz'kal and Anandor dashed through the overgrowth, dodging vines and other obstacles. The paladin felt guilty for leaving his allies behind, but his priorities meant family came first.

“She said something about the infected,” Naz'kal said, eyes darting about to make sure he was following the correct trail. “Kept saying something about 'eleven’. I think she recognized someone this way?”

“Probably. Light I wish she wouldn’t run off like this.”

“Is she always like this?”

Anandor shot him a glance, and the warrior shrunk a little. “Not always. She can be unpredictable at times, but she’s usually not like this. You wouldn’t know.”

Before Naz'kal could reply, Anandor had come to a halt, his heels digging into the dirt as he stopped. The orc stumbled a bit when he noticed, and he quickly came back to the elf’s side. “W-What ha–”

“Hold on, I think…” Anandor paused, holding up a finger to signify silence. His ears perked up as he listened closely, and he heard Neo'la’s voice. She sounded frantic, afraid of something, and it filled Anandor with fire. “This way!”

They ran, their legs burning as they moved. They turned a corner and into another opening similar to the garden they just left. On the ground lay two dead botani, darkness incarnate leaking through its corpse and swallowing all light around it. At the center, Neo'la sat in the grass, the Light teeming from her fingertips. An infected orc lay in her lap, seemingly unconscious.

“Neo'la!” Anandor shouted, and her head snapped up at the two.

“A-Anan, I–”

“What the fel are you doing?!” The paladin demanded as he stopped in front of her. He glanced down at the orc taking note of the branches that poked out of his skin and the vines that grew in his beard. More importantly, why was she holding him so tenderly?

“Please, help me,” She pleaded. “I know him, I need him to wake up.”

“Neo'la it’s not safe here, we need to go now.”

“Please!” The priest shouted. “I just need a few minutes, anything, I can save him–”

The orc stirred, and Naz'kal jumped back at the movement, holding up his weapon defensively. Glowing blue eyes met Neo'la’s, and the infested orc wheezed as he came to.

“Ghh… Tw-Twelve?”

“Oh thank the Light.” Neo'la said. Anandor raised a brow, crouching down to meet them. He knocked an arrow onto his bow, watching the orc carefully. “Vruden, Eleven, you’re alive!”

“Heh, you… actually remembered my name…” Vruden groaned, his breaths uneven and wheezy. “Can’t say the same.”

“Its fine, I’ll – I’m here, I’m going to help you as best as I can. I-I’m sure there’s a way to heal this–”

“N-No,” Vruden coughed. “I can already feel it… I can feel the wilds, this infection, I feel them taking over. I-I’m already losing some of my memories, i-it’s devouring me.”

“Anandor,” Neo'la called out, tears in her eyes. “Please, I beg of you, help me heal him.”

Anandor lowered his bow, suspicious, but his face softer than before. “Who is this? What’s going on here, Neo?”

“Back when I arrived here, I was assigned a squad to fight with,” The priestess explained. “We were separated since then. I don’t know what’s happened, but Vruden…”

Vruden craned his head to look at the paladin. The effort was strained, and clearly caused him pain, yet he still had a charismatic smile to offer. “Mok'ra.”

Anandor set his weapon down, giving a small wave of his hand. “Then no time should be wasted.”

“Twelve… Neo, right?” Vruden wheezed, his hand gripping at the leaves that sprouted from his chest. “I… We thought you were dead.”

“Takes a lot more to kill me. Where is Krauul?”

“Krauul…” The orc let out a hacking cough, his voice distorted briefly. Anandor raised his bow, wary that Vruden may turn hostile. Neo'la simply rested her hands on his cheeks, the Light swarming around him to ease his pain. “Krauul had disobeyed the orders given. Instead of boarding the ships to Frostfire, we cut through Tanaan. He took matters into his own hands, h-had his own agenda. We did fine aside from a few casualties. But Gorgrond… We stopped here a few days ago on our way back to the garrison. Were going to take down the Blackrock and use their supplies for our own uses.”

Naz'kal, who had been too disturbed to watch and turned away, now perked up and faced the three. “That’s where Ryuk’s group is!”

Vruden groaned, his skin pulsing and twisting, bark hardening in various patches. Anandor threw his bow down, this time completely abandoning it as he moved to the orc’s side. His Light combined with Neo'la’s instantly, and together they managed to stop the growth from progressing.

“We were ambushed!” Vruden exclaimed. “Krauul was taken away by the Blackrock. Me, a-and a few others went to rescue him, but these damn walking trees… they transformed our men into them.” He whimpered, ripping off the vines from his skin. “This… is the end for me…”

“I won’t let it be so,” Neo'la reassured. “I won’t let it take you. W-We can save you!”

“Please, I can feel it sprouting inside my head!” The orc snarled, his hand wrapping around her wrist. “It’s eating away at my thoughts, m-my memories! I-I can’t even remember my mother’s face anymore! I’d rather die than lose myself to these trees!”

Anandor frowned, placing his hand on the orc’s shoulder. “Is there anything we can do to help you? Anything.”

Vruden shut his eyes, suppressing a growl. “My son… My wife… I want… I don’t want them to be alone. I-I… have to at least say goodbye…”

“Vruden, please–” Neo'la pleaded.

“Your Light isn’t helping, priest!” He shouted. “It’s not, it’s not helping it, it defies it, i-it grows around it, I-I’m sorry, it can’t, i-it won’t…”

“It’s fine,” Anandor said, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I’m so sorry it has to be this way, but you won’t be alone.”

“My family will be!”

“I’ll find them. I promise you, I will find your wife and your son, I won’t let them go hungry.”

A single tear fell from Vruden’s eye, and he yanked off the thin metal necklace he wore. “If you really mean it, elf, i-if you’re honest, please… give this to my son. Koda, he’s nine, lives with Dhatri Bloodrend in a farm north of the Crossroads. A warm cottage tucked away in the Barrens… please, tell them I love them.”

Anandor took the necklace, a large, old fang from some sort of beast hung from it. It was adorned in leather strips and a small ruby engrained into it, and it held its own definition of beauty. “I will.”

Neo'la had been pouring her entire energy into healing, focused on trying to save him, but no matter how much the Light filled them, the infection defied it. Anandor took her hands off the orc and shook his head for her to stop.

“I… I have accepted my death, Neo…” Vruden said quietly. “There isn’t anything you could’ve done. I would’ve died here eventually anyways. But… thank you. For caring.” A sad smile spread across his face. “For… remembering my name.”

Neo'la clenched her fists, angry, mournful, guilty at what was happening. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

“I’d rather die now than let the madness consume me. Let me die free.”

Anandor was eerily silent, and he closed his eyes, casting the Light to him once more. He channeled it into the orc’s skull, and Vruden closed his eyes as he felt the magic enter. Through the Light, Anandor sifted through Vruden’s mind, carefully treading through the untouched memories. He found what he assumed to be Vruden’s wife and child, and through the psychic bond, Anandor projected those memories to the orc. The sight of Vruden’s son as an infant cradled into his arms came first, followed with the boy as a five year old feeding a litter of puppies. Faded memories were revived into vivid images of the past, and Vruden smiled as he relived those moments. Through the Light, however, Anandor did not only reach his mind to handpick those memories, but into his heart. The magic swirled within the orc’s chest, and the warm, golden glow carefully and gently wrapped around the infested heart, and slowly, the life faded from the orc. No pain came to him as he took his last breath, and the sight of Dhatri and Koda left him with a small smile when he fell limp.

Anandor released him carefully, opening his eyes with a distant, grim look adorned on his face. Vruden lay unmoving, and Anandor retrieved his bow, rising slowly. Neo'la stared, wishing and wishing that she had found a better way. Naz'kal could hardly even bring himself to words, and he had wished for a brief moment that he stayed behind at the citadel.

“Why?” Neo'la asked, her voice finally breaking the silence.

“Why what?” Anandor replied, emotion completely wiped from him.

“We could’ve saved him. We could have found a way go cure him!” The priestess shouted. “You didn’t even want to heal him! You hesitated so much, and you gave up on him!”

“I didn’t give up on him!” Anandor snapped. “I gave him a merciful death, it was the least we could do!”

Neo'la huffed, rising from the ground. “I… I just thought there was a chance. And there was, and–”

“Neo'la…” Anandor put his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes. “You shouldn’t have run off like that. I don’t know why he was so important to you, but Light, at least say something before risking everything!”

“I knew what the risk was!” She retorted. “I knew what I was doing, and I wasn’t going to be long–”

“What were we just talking about though, Neo?” Anandor shouts, exasperated and weary. “Last night, what were we just saying? Hm? I-I’m struggling a lot on my own already, and you said it, Neo, you said we had to be open with each other. What happened to that? Why won’t you talk to me?”

“It’s different–”

“Is it? You talked to Naz before you talked to me! You’re going against your own word!”

“I cannot stand another second on this dreaded planet!” She shouts out. Hot tears streamed from her eyes, and she squeezed them shut. “Last night, I realized we can’t stay here, not for any longer. We’ll lose our minds here, and I won’t let that happen! Not to you, especially not to you! I-I didn’t say anything because I knew you wouldn’t agree, but if you think I’ll stay passive, then you’re wrong!”

“The last thing I want is for you to risk yourself! Not for my sake. You need to think about these things, Neo, please!”

“I was thinking! I still am. I’m not a fool, I’ve been trying to think of something. And finding Vruden here, it helps a little more, Anan. Coming here, it’s just our gateway, it’s our ticket out!”

Naz'kal shifted uncomfortably, having tried to stray out of their personal conversation. His eye caught movement not so far off, however, and he cleared his throat, hoping to catch their attention. “G-Guys…”

“What did this orc have to do with that?” Anandor pressed, ignoring the young warrior. “Why was he so important that you’d jump in with your life on the line like that?”

“I told you already, I knew him–”

“Was he a lover? A friend?”

“No, none of that–”

“Then why?”

“I thought that if I could find my old squad, then I could find a way to use them to get back home. That’s why!”

Naz'kal scooted closer to the elves. “Um, guys, you gotta–”

“He hardly even knew your name, Neo! What makes you think the rest of his squad will trust you?”

“Light, I can’t believe how stubborn you are, Anan! Why can’t you just see what I’m trying to do?”

“I can see it just fine, but it’s reckless and dangerous!”

“What other choice do we have?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe something that doesn’t involve risking everything we have left?”

“We won’t get anywhere without at least trying something!”

“So you’ll just abandon everything and risk dying without another word said like that?”

“Yes!”

“No!”

Heavy footsteps rushed to where they were, and the elves whirled around to see their group catch up with them, Rashila standing with anger only barely chained in.

“You two…” The orc snarled, hauling her spear up. “You were going to abandon the clan this whole time?”

Anandor bristled. “No, it’s not what you think–”

“After everything we’ve done!” Rashila cut in. “Where is your honor?”

Neo'la huffed, wiping her eyes before stepping forward. “It wasn’t him. It… It was me. Just me, h-he had nothing to do with it.”

The orc snickered, jutting her chin up. “I expected no less. Never would’ve thought you’d try drag your mate to shame with you, though.”

“Judge what you will. I’ve no shame.”

“You have no honor either.”

“What will you do then?” Neo'la asks, taking a step forward. She still shook slightly from crying earlier, but she didn’t keep it from facing off with the orc. “Kill me?”

“Neo'la!” Anandor scolds, grabbing her arm. Rashila merely shook her head.

“There’s no use in that,” The orc said, her voice low with anger and disappointment. “That… is not the Frostwolf way. But I will not stand to have traitors in my clan, not for a second longer. Not when your actions risk the lives of those who are loyal and proud.”

Naz'kal glanced between the two, fidgeting nervously. He really wished he stayed behind now.

The other orcs behind Rashila watched the situation unfold, and Katu simply frowned, a trace of sympathy etched into his features. Rashila flipped her spear and stabbed it into the dirt with a scowl.

“Sunblade, from here on, you are not welcome into our group. The clan will hear of your betrayal, and should you come crawling back to us, your name will be remembered with the display you’ve given today.” She exhaled through her nostrils, eyes flickering to Anandor. “I do not know what fate lies for you, Lighttreader, but expect the same should you stay with your mate. Find another clan to abuse.”

Rashila flicked her wrist to her group, urging them to turn back before glancing to Naz'kal, who had been hiding slightly behind the elves. “You’re still welcome in our clan, pup. Are you coming?”

The young warrior looked up at the orcs, then to the elves, and back to the orcs. He let out a shaky breath, trying to make his decision.

“I… I don’t…” He gave a puff, sparing one last glance to Neo'la. “I’m… I’m going to stay. O-Out here. I-I mean–”

Rashila held up a hand. “I see. Rot out here then, turn against your own kind.”

She turned swiftly, and the group departed from them in silence. Naz'kal huffed beside the couple silently, shuffling awkwardly before Anandor turned to him.

“Why did you stay?” He asks.

Naz'kal shrugged. “Well… Us Azerothians have to stick together, right?”

“You shouldn’t have stayed,” Neo'la murmured. “The Frostwolves would give you a proper home, and they’d protect you.”

“I’ve been sheltered all my life,” The warrior shrugged. “I think it’s time to break out of that pattern.”

Anandor tugged on his cloak, giving a long sigh. “Well then. Let’s… Let’s find a way off this damn planet.”

#plotline #plot: wod #oc: neo'la #oc: anandor #oc: naz'kal #oc: ryuk #ch arc: neo'la #ch arc: anandor #FUCK this thing is like 10k words long i think i forgot how LONG this one was #aaaaand 2016 is the last time i updated this :///

[bheartwrites]

Tread the Light || To Draenor Pt. II

Original post date: 08/31/2015 (not revised, may be edited some time in the future). Posted for archival purposes.

Prologue | I | II | III | IV | V |

Never did Neo'la expect to be reunited with her husband. Never did she ever stop to think he never really died. Never did she imagine she’d be back in his arms, yet here he was, despite the cannonfire and smoke surrounding them, there was never more color in her life until now.

“We have to move, it’s not safe here,” Anandor stated, breaking their silence and ushering her on. “The last thing I want is to lose you so soon again, we have to go.”

Neo'la nodded, snapping back to the situation at hand. The elves moved forward, evading the brute orcs. They had to move fast, and put as much distance between them and the Dark Portal. Neo'la looked around, searching for a sign of Krauul anywhere. “I was told we needed to go to Frostfire.”

Anandor quirked a brow, but remained silent as he ran beside the priestess. “You sure they didn’t mean Shadowmoon? Hold on… Why are you here?”

Another cannon fired, and Neo'la caught sight of the projectile flying to them. Instinctively, she leaped, tackling Anandor to the ground quickly before they were struck by the spiked ammo. “I should be asking you why you’re here!”

The paladin jumped to his feet, helping Neo'la up as they continued. “There are many questions to be asked–”

“Plenty!”

“Keep moving, I think I see your squad up ahead!” Neo'la turned, finding a group of trolls and tauren following a pathway through the trees. “I do believe I see boats by the shore as well.”

“Good good! We’ll make it, we’ll be okay!” They sped up, hope glinting in their felfire eyes. They pushed past the plants in the way, dirt coating their plate boots. They were concealed in the smog of the iron machines, evading the orcs as they left the warzone at the portal. She stayed close to him, not allowing him to leave her sight. It had been years since he was gone, she was not going to lose him again. They made a turn through the thicket, finding an opening to the pathway by the shore. The Horde troops were already boarding the ships.

“We’re going to make it!”

The moment they reached the path, however, Anandor let out a pained shriek, collapsing to the ground. Neo'la stopped, her feet sliding against the dirt to a screeching halt. She turned to her lover’s side immediately, dropping to her knees beside the paladin. He clutched the large arcane collar around his neck, feeling the purple energy radiate and burn, sending shocks into his head and body. “A-Anan! Light, what–”

“Imprisoned!” He choked out, gritting his teeth tightly to suppress the pain. “The collars… they bind us… c-can’t go too far before they stop us, they own us– aghh!”

He fell to the side, landing on Neo'la’s lap. His entire body quivered, pulsating with the sharp energies of the arcane. She watched in horror, her thoughts racing as she searched for a solution. Just when she thought she had him back.

No. She wasn’t going to let this happen. He taught her many years ago that one should not be bound to anyone. That you were free.

He freed her. She would do the same.

She forced him upright, placing her hands around the collar. She felt the energy radiating off the collar, felt the shocks of electricity flow through her body. She shuddered and tightened her grip, the Light beginning to empower her. Anandor’s hand came up, grasping at her wrist.

“Neo'la… W-What are you doing?”

“Saving you.”

She forced her magic into the collar, feeling the energies collide with one another, fighting and swirling, hardly containing themselves within the barriers of the metallic collar. Neo'la felt the arcane, and began pouring her own mana essence into it, charging the power until the elves’ hair stood on end. The magic swirled around them, encasing them in a bright, vivid display of gold and magenta, leaving streaks of sparks in the air. The wind around them picked up, playing with their hair as the energies brightened and burned with increasing intensity. The arcane crackled in the air, and both elves felt their skin crawl and their ears pop. Her hands began to burn at the touch, but instead of faltering, she gripped tighter, her knuckles turning white in response. She grunted, but felt the collar begin to crack. Anandor’s ears perked up at the sound, bright eyes falling to his wife. “Neo'la–”

A loud snap signalled the burst of energy, exploding off the broken collar in a vibrant array of glowing colors. Both elves were knocked back at the force of the explosion, landing on their backs. Even the soldiers boarding the ships nearby had caught sight of the bright explosion. Neo'la’s ears rang, and she sat up with a groan. She held a large chunk of the metal collar in her marred hands, and she looked up, squinting her eyes to adjust to the surrounding environment. She scrambled to her feet, her head still reeling from the blast.

“Anandor!”

He lay on his back, focusing on his breathing. He held his neck, keeping pressure on his wounds. Blood streamed from his neck, and trickled down his fingers. Neo'la staggered to his side, the Light already gleaming at her fingertips.

“D-Don’t worry, my love, I-I got you, I promise, I got you!” She said, tending to the open wound on his neck. Please don’t die on me…

She let out a sigh in relief, seeing as the wound was not as bad as she feared. He looked up at her, bright emerald eyes that she so dearly missed. He reached up, stroking her cheek gently.

“Neo'la…”

“I’m here baby, I’m here, it’s just a scratch, alright?”

“Neo'la, I’m so sorry–”

“No no, don’t apologize, Anan, it’s alright.”

The soldiers nearby rushed to their side. Four orcs, a troll and a tauren, clad in heavy plate armor arrived urgently.

“You two alright?” One of the orcs ask, offering a hand.

Neo'la had just finished sealing the wound when they had come. “We’re okay now, yes.”

“Da boat be leavin’ right now, we need ta go!” The troll exclaimed, gesturing to the boat with his staff. “Ya be lucky we asked dem to wait, but we gotta go now!”

Anandor sat up with a grunt, kicking the other piece of the collar aside. The orcs helped the elves to their feet, and once again, they began to run. Though weary from their previous sprints and battles, they had a new energy, and pounded proudly against the foreign dirt, a roll of thunder resonating in the peninsula as they stormed aboard the ship. The moment they set foot on the boat, someone let out a shout, and the captain set sail. Neo'la and Anandor let out a sigh in relief, falling together on the deck. One of the orcs approached them, taking off his helmet to reveal his face. He had a metal tusk in place of one he had lost, and a surprisingly friendly look in his amethyst eyes. Despite his size, it was evident that he was young.

“Mok'ra,” he said, a small grin on his face. “I’m Naz'kal, good to meet you two.”

The nodded, catching their breaths enough.

“I’m Anandor, and this is my wife, Neo'la.” Neo'la grinned, greeting the youthful orc.

“A pleasure to meet you,” she said.

Naz'kal plopped to the floor in front of them, taking out a flask of water and handing it to them. “Here, you guys look tired. I know I am. The trip is going to be a while, probably a few days from what I hear from the veterans.”

The troll from earlier trotted to the three, a roll of bandages in his hands. “Mon, ya got blood on ya neck.”

Anandor sat up, handing the flask of water to Neo'la. “Just a scratch.”

“Nah mon, nevah just a scratch.” The troll squatted beside the paladin, wrapping the bandages around his neck carefully. Anandor winced slightly, feeling his skin burn at the touch.

“The wound’s been sealed already,” He protested with a small whine. Neo'la watched carefully, making sure that the troll knew what he was doing.

“Bettah to be safe than sorry.” He made sure it was secure, then stepped back, resting on the ball of his foot with a smirk. “Dere, all good!”

“Thank you.” Anandor said, sitting back as he let out a breath of air.

“Ryuk, this is Neo'la and Anandor.” Naz'kal stated, waving a hand to the elves.

“Oh, pretty names!” The troll exclaimed, crouching beside the orc. “I’m Ryuk, just ya average shaman. Dey settin’ up the lodgings below the deck, we’ll get our own spaces soon.”

Neo'la drank from the flask, wiping her mouth when she had finished and passed it back to Naz'kal. “Do any of you happen to know where Commander Krauul is?” Neo'la asked.

The orc and troll exchanged glances. “I don’t think I know who that is,” Naz'kal said, scratching his head. “We came from a different squad, sorry.”

Neo'la nodded. “That’s fine.”

They remained silent, simply resting as they felt the boat rock with the power of the waves. Neo'la cuddled up close to Anandor, puzzling into his chest with a smile. He held her close, keeping her warm in his embrace as the watched the jungles of Tanaan fade into a dot on the horizon. They were back where they belonged now. Back with each other, and despite the blood, they couldn’t be happier.

#plotline #plot: wod #oc: neo'la #oc: anandor #ch arc: neo'la #ch arc: anandor #oc: ryuk #oc: naz'kal

[bheartwrites]

Light Doesn’t Fade || To Draenor Pt. III

Original post date: 09/21/2015 (not revised, may be edited some time in the future). Posted for archival purposes.

Prologue | I | II | III | IV | V |

Neo'la lay on a makeshift bed, sleeping as the boat rocked with the waves. The room she was in below deck was dark, and she slept on a pile of wolfskins laid out on the floor. She had her cloak wrapped around her body to keep warm, and she reached out in search of her husband.

But the side of her bed was empty.

Neo'la snapped awake in alarm, frantically patting the side of the floor. Anandor wasn’t there, and her chest tightened. Was it real? Was he ever there to begin with? Or had she imagined the whole thing? Perhaps… He was still dead after all.

She curled on herself, wrapping the cloak around her in silence, focusing on the waves and rocking of the boat they were on. She fell backwards onto the furs and squeezed her eyes shut, pretending she was asleep, pretending she was okay. It shouldn’t bother her as much as it did, she did have those dreams before, it was no surprise.

Wood creaked, and footsteps sounded in the room. Neo'la kept her eyes closed, trying to ignore the entry. She felt someone lay down beside her, and a strong hand rested on her back. She allowed her eyes to flutter open, and she let out a sigh in relief upon seeing Anandor’s face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, moving his hand to touch her face. She smiled sweetly, leaning her cheek into his hand.

“It’s okay. I just… I got scared, that’s all.”

He quirked a brow, confused for a moment, but understanding registering. He pulled her in close, hugging her close to his chest as he planted a kiss on her forehead. “I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Neo'la pressed against his chest, feeling and listening to his heartbeat. It was strong, and it was real. Her hands glided from his sides, and to his back, feeling the muscle she hadn’t touched in years. He was alive, and though hard to believe, she wouldn’t deny it.

The ship rocked again, the sounds of the waves splashing against the boat loud for a brief moment. They could feel the weather change, as they had been entering much colder climates. Neo'la snuggled closer to her husband, relishing in his warmth.

“Anan?”

“Yes, love?”

“I need to know. I-I need to know what happened to you.”

Anandor stiffened, slowly looking down to his wife. He met her soft, minty eyes, a pained expression passing through his scarred features briefly.

“I…”

She grasped his hand, squeezing it gently. Neo'la felt the ring on his finger, still there in its rightful place. One glance down, and she found the golden band hardly had its original color, and bore a large crack in the center. Yet… still intact.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” She says, looking up into his eyes. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, if it’s too much–”

“No,” he interrupts. “You deserve to know. I need to tell you.” He shifts so he was sitting up, still holding her hand gently. Light, how he didn’t want to let go. He hardly wanted to blink in fear she’d slip away from him, and he would lose everything again.

“There were sixteen of them. A small, yet well equipped group that had come in,” He began, keeping his voice even to his own surprise. “I can’t recall how they got in, but I do remember openly complimenting their tactic. Light, they were clever. They came into the Spire where I and the other spellbreakers had been stationed. My shift was supposed to end within the hour. The Alliance stormed in, some dwarven shaman clearing the path with the use of the elements. I… I still hear the echoes of the lightning crackling, feeling my hairs stand on end. The others spilled in, and we all moved quickly to defend the Regent Lord.

"Our major fault was that we had underestimated their true capability tremendously. We were too cocky, too proud, and we were busy wallowing in our own damn pride while they fought. There was a druid who kept flinging himself at Lord Theron, continuously and persistently clawing at him. Light, if plate armor didn’t exist, that man would’ve been dead at first strike. It was to that same damn druid that I got these scars."

Anandor gestured to his face with a grimace, tracing the deep, pink claw marks dragging across his face at various angles. "A lot happened, I-I cannot quite recall the entirety of the fight, I lost a lot of blood and my vision was blurred half the time. It wasn’t a pretty battle. What I do remember… What I wish I forgot… There was a lull in the battle, and Theron was overly exposed, making way for a clear shot for a mage to take. I saw her while she casted her damn fireball, and I reacted quickly. I ran without thinking and rammed myself into Theron, knocking him over, yes, but successfully protecting him from the spell."

He pauses, taking a shaky breath. Neo'la perked up, worry etching her features as he moved. Anandor lifted the seams of his shirt, and pulled it up enough to reveal a hideous, red and brown scar on his chest. It were as though a crater resided in the center of his chest, jagged scars spreading down his abdomen from the source.

"I took the fire, it hit me instead. I…” The paladin stopped, gritting his teeth as he repressed the feeling. Already, he could feel his chest burn. Neo'la squeezed his hand gently, watching helplessly as he wore a pained look.

“I should have died, then. I felt myself slip away, I felt myself fade, but I… I couldn’t. Instead, I just lay on the ground, and I couldn’t see anything, couldn’t feel anything, not even pain. I don’t know how much time passed after, minutes, hours, days, weeks, I’ve not the slightest idea! I just know they took me, and a few other spellbreakers away. Dragged our bodies like we were loot. Dishonorable.” His eyes changed as he recalled his memories. “I woke up again, stripped of my armor and in shackles. My neck, my wrists, my ankles, all leaden with weight. They had us in cages, myself and the others who were taken. I counted four, least, I only counted the ones still alive. We were uneasily patched up, and my stitches had come undone, seeping in my wounds. I lay there, too weak to use the Light, too afraid to go to sleep. Don’t know how much time passed, but soon, several humans stepped in wearing black coats, had us all line up against the wall. One of the spellbreakers fought back, he had one arm, but Light, he had a powerful fireball from that. Unfortunately, they made him an example.

"I didn’t want to risk my life. I had a family to return to, and as pissed off as I was, I found it to be futile to throw away my life at those people. Some days… I-I wish I did.”

“Anan–”

“They took us away, Neo. They took us and stripped us of our pride, of our names. We were slaves. That was it. Worth money to the fucking Alliance. I spent my years in various cells, in damp and cold rooms, went days without adequate food, I-I ended up reaching a point of which I truly, truly believed that death would have been better!” He sucked in air and held his breath, hanging his head down in shame. Neo'la’s eyes filled with tears, and she pulled him into her chest, stroking his fiery orange hair gently. His chest heaved with emotion, and she could feel the tremors he suppressed.

“They had us in chains, a-and I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t get out.” He huffed, clutching onto her tunic. “I was weak.”

“No no, Anandor, no, you are not weak,” she says, embracing him closely. “You are a survivor. You made it, you didn’t let them break you, you’re alive, and that is proof of your strength.” Anandor stayed silent, listening but saying nothing. He focused on spreading himself. How embarrassing it was to lose himself this way, in front of his own wife. He vowed to be strong, not… whatever this is. He pulls away from the embrace, looking into Neo'la’s eyes.

“My love, I-I never meant to leave, I never meant to spend so much time away, from you, from the girls…”

“Anandor, it wasn’t your fault,”

“I should have come home sooner. Instead, I’m here.”

“Yes, but we are here. Together.” She held his hand, interlocking her fingers in his. “You’re alive, I’m alive, and we’ll get out of this hellhole in one piece.” He closed his hand around hers, relishing in her warmth. He looked into the friendly glow of her eyes – Light, how he missed them so. She was here, and he couldn’t help but smile. He pulled her in, cupping her face into his hands as he kissed her gently. She closed her eyes and melted in him, holding onto him tightly. They pulled away for a breath, grinning as they met each other’s eyes again. Neo'la brushed her lips past his scars, gently kissing his jaw before trailing down his neck. Anandor tangled his hands in her fluffy hair, giving a soft sigh at her touch. The couple who believed it was over, whom had never bid their final farewell, the lovers whose love never died, reunited against all odds. It was unreal, but the warmth, their heartbeats, it was real, and together, they were complete again. In their cold chests, the spark reignited their fire, the eternal flame that gave them hope and gave them purpose had returned.

The ship rocked again, returning them to the cold reality and now raising the bigger question in mind. He looked at her, his eyes then darting behind her, seeing the plate armor and scimitars she wielded cast aside. His heart sank in his chest as his blood ran cold.

They aren’t home. This isn’t their home.

He pulled away, his lip quivering as he dared bring up the question. “N-Neo'la… why are you here?"

She stiffened, her ears drooping slightly. "There weren’t enough soldiers, they had to implement a draft. I avoided for nearly a year and a half, but… I could only evade it for so long…"

His throat tightened. "And the girls?"

"They aren’t old enough to be drafted, thank the Light. Lokra should have taken care of them. Seaa, Zenith and Pamela should be looking over them. I hope.” She let out a shaky sigh, putting her hand to her forehead. “I wish I knew, but I-I can’t watch them forever."

Anandor let out a heavy sigh, and he ran his hand through his hair. "Looks like we were both dragged out here in this mess,” He says, his voice breaking slightly.

“If we can just get out alive, we’ll be alright.” She says, squeezing his arm. “We’ll go home, claim victory, and… Oh and the girls! Ronae and Aliya will be so happy to see you, Anan! They’ll be so glad!"

He didn’t smile back. He watched her with a grimace. She noticed, and her small smile faded quickly.

"W-What?"

"You forgot Andria."

Neo'la inhaled sharply, the color draining from her face. She looked at him, hardly able to hold his gaze before dropping her head in shame. He stared in shock, as there was only one reason why she would react that way. She never forgot to mention any of their children, never.

Andria…

Anandor pulled his wife into him, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and rocked her back and forth.

"I-I …” She struggled for the words, and gripped Anandor’s shirt for dear life. “I failed… I-I failed as a mother, I-I failed her… She’s… I-I…” Neo'la burst into sobs, her small frame shaking violently. He rubbed her back in small circles, his breathing becoming labored as he felt grief overcome him.

“Light… It’s always us, isn’t it?"

"They took my baby, I-I did nothing, I’m so sorry, Anandor, I-I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…” He hadn’t seen her in years. He was gone the entire time, and she perished… so young… She was so little…

“Don’t cry, surfal, don’t cry,” He whimpered, his voice breaking.

Weak.

“I don’t believe it’s your fault… it couldn’t be, you’re a great mother, this I know.”

It’s me who failed as a father.

They held each other tightly, together again. Broken and cracked, maybe, but together nonetheless. What mattered now was that they stayed that way and held each other together and fought with everything they had. They knew they had to return home. It was about time for the family to come together again. Yet, little did they know was that a problem far worse than the Iron Horde had arisen, and would eat them from the inside out before they realized it existed…

#plotline #plot: wod #oc: neo'la #oc: anandor #ch arc: neo'la #ch arc: anandor #child death tw

[bheartwrites]

Heartbeat || To Draenor Pt. I

Original post date: 08/14/2015 (not revised, may be edited some time in the future). Posted for archival purposes.

Prologue | I | II | III | IV | V |

Neo'la awoke, her head aching from the blow she suffered hours earlier. She squinted her eyes, looking around suspiciously. She lay on a flat rock bed with a wolfskin draped over it. A metallic gating served as one of the walls, and she stood up, walking to the gate. She was locked in her small cell, and from what she could see, she was not alone. The building, an old barracks repurposed, had been filled with prisoners, some of whom she recognized. Familiar druids, exalted warriors, champions of the Light, all bearing the same shackles that were leaden to her ankles. So many of them…

An orc, clad in the grunt uniform, patrolled by the cells, followed by members of the Orgrimmar Council. Neo'la paid no attention to them at first, until she turned to see a familiar face. Lokra. And she was heading towards Neo'la’s cell.

The orc pulled out a silver key, unlocking the gate as she entered. Neo'la did not advance towards her friend, nor did she retreat. Soon after, Lokra was followed by three grunts, all holding large boxes.

“Koshu, I am sorry it has come to this,” Lokra said. “I could not stop them. I can, however, provide you my last bit of aid to you. I’ve forged your armor anew, as well as created new weapons for your use. Draenor is no friendly place, you will need to adapt.”

With the wave of the battlemaster’s hand, the grunts held out the boxes, opening the lids. Lokra beckoned the priestess forth, showing her the spiky plate armor that rested for the priest. “Plate is necessary. I was careful to use a different metal, one that isn’t as easy to cleave through. The orcs on Draenor are powerful, you must be able to withstand them.”

Neo'la ran her hand over the shoulderpads, her fingers tracing the Horde and Alliance insignias that had been engraved onto the pieces. Lokra pointed to the next box. “As for your weapons, I doubt a mere staff would do you any good in combat.”

Neo'la quirked a brow. “My staff is–”

Lokra raised her hand. “Koshu, I refuse to allow you to bring a simple staff to such a battle.” She reached into the box, pulling out long, black blades. “I know of your skill in the arts of swords, so I made these to your taste.”

Neo'la took the blades in her hands, feeling the weight of it. “Scimitars…”

Lokra nodded, pulling out the final item from the last box. A large, thick black fabric was unveiled. “You will be going to Frostfire Ridge soon enough. This should keep you warm. The material will trap your body heat, and it is large enough to cover your body.”

Neo'la looked up at Lokra, meeting her eyes. “Lokra, I… I don’t know what to say… How could I possibly thank you?”

The warrior put her hand on Neo'la’s shoulder. “There is no need to say anything. This is my… ‘gift’ to you. I only ask that you do one thing, just one thing.

“Survive.”

Neo'la held her gaze, determination setting in. She nodded, and Lokra waved her hand at the grunts carrying the armor. The grunts moved to the back of the cell, setting down the boxes. The ground shook suddenly, swaying until the level of the ground seemed crooked.

“Lokra, where are we?”

“You’re on a zeppelin carrier,” The warrior replied. “There are three others carrying drafted soldiers. We’ve been flying for the past eight hours, I believe we should be at the Blasted Lands by now. Get dressed quickly.” Lokra snapped her fingers, and the grunts rushed to her side as they exited the cell. “Good luck, Neo'la.”

When they left, the priestess moved quickly to the back of the cell, equipping her armor without hesitation. She felt secure, though plate armor wasn’t something she was used to. When she walked, she expected to feel the resistance of her robes dragging behind her. She felt more agile, more protected, more like a warrior. She picked up the scimitars, tossing them in the air with a twirl just to get the feel of them. Perfect. She sheathed her weapons and tied her long, fluffy hair back into a bun, removing her emerald earrings that had been a gift from her late husband. She placed them in her pocket safely, then reached to toss the cloak over herself.

She felt the carrier sway again, and she grabbed onto the bed railing to keep steady. They were landing, and the feeling of descent weighed on her stomach. Perhaps it was the nervousness and not the flight itself. Either way, she felt the need to vomit.

“Soldiers of the Horde!” A coarse, grisly voice shouted from outside the cell. All the cages uplifted suddenly, leaving all of the cells open. A tall, broad orc stood proudly, clad in black armor. His grey hair was tied neatly back in a long braid, and he glared at everyone with a cold, blue eye, the other having been concealed with an eyepatch. “I am General Krauul, and I will be commanding your platoon. You are to listen to every word I say unless given permission to move freely. Is that understood?!”

In unison, everyone stood at attention, and shouted their affirmation back to him. Krauul held the air of authority, walking past the cells confidently and controlled. “Draenor is not going to be fun in the slightest. This isn’t any Warsong Gulch, these are savages, and they will do anything to break you. Our objective is to push past the front lines at the Stair of Destiny, board the ships, and send you to the Garrisons in Frostfire. Is that clear?”

“Yes General!”

Krauul approached every soldier, calling out their name, class and number. They were all labelled according to the draft that had been implemented. When the General finally came to Neo'la, she stood tall, her gaze unwavering as her eyes locked to his.

“Neo'la Sunblade, priest. Number twelve. You’ll be at the front next to Vruden and Yuland.”

So it was determined. She stood her ground, giving a firm nod as he moved on. All she could think about was her children. Aliya and Ronae, her precious daughters, the last of the bloodline. She had to return for them.

Krauul waved his hands, and the new troops fell in line, trailing behind the mighty orc and out of the carrier. Neo'la squinted her eyes as she adjusted to the light and thick air. A wave of heat hit the soldiers as they exited, and the ground trembled with the cannons being fired. The sky was filled with the thunderous roar of the carriers’ engines, and in the distance, the shouts of battle and sparks of metal on metal could be heard, interrupted momentarily by spontaneous bursts of cannon fire. The sounds of explosions always set Neo'la on edge. She winced each time one sounded off, and they continued marching forward.

“Numbers one through fourteen, step forward!”

Neo'la obliged, falling in place with the other trolls, tauren and orcs. They formed a neat line, standing side by side each other. She kept her hands on the handles of her weapons, watching her surroundings carefully. Already her heart beat in her chest, a thin layer of sweat coating her forehead. She felt her pulse in her ears, and her breathing seemed louder than the carrier engine. They marched forth, passing over mutilated corpses and pieces of detonated cannons and tanks, the metal still radiating heat.

March, just keep marching.

They made way through the mountainous region, the Dark Portal coming into view. Other troops merged with them, preparing for battle. Neo'la took notice of the neighboring soldiers marching under the Alliance flag. They all dressed identically, black and brown plate armor, and a helmet with a cage that concealed their face. What was even stranger was the collars each solider bore on their necks. They were thick and black, purple spheres adorned on it in a pattern. Upon closer inspection, you could see the arcane energy pulsating off the collars.

The troll beside her nudged her arm. “Dey be prisoners,” he explained. “De Alliance didn’t use the draft as much. Instead, dey thought it’d be better to use dere prisoners.”

She nodded. “There’s Horde among them as well.”

“Ya. Prisoners of war. It be cheap for dem to use those prisoners than to properly feed and train new soldiers.”

“Twelve and Thirteen, focus on the objective!” Krauul commanded. Neo'la and the troll snapped back to attention. The screams and shouts of battle grew louder, and the figures of massive orcs came into view. They were running now, their feet pounding on the red dirt faster than their hearts. Neo'la unsheathed her swords, wielding them gracefully as they charged at the Iron Horde. Immediately, she found her first victim, slashing at a warrior’s neck, moving on to her next foe before the first body fell to the ground. One orc raised his mace in the air, swinging down with a force strong enough to crush skulls. She dodged the attack, making room for the troll to shift into the form of a bear. The druid mauled the orc, ripping away at the brown-skin with a roar. Neo'la carried on, coated in blood as she moved, swirling her blades as she slit throats, running until her legs burned. It wasn’t long until they reached the Dark Portal, and she stepped through, feeling the energies rip her from her home world and shift her entire essence miles away in an instant. She was met with the blistering heat and smoke of Draenor, her head reeling from the teleportation. But not a second could be wasted, for she was on the move once more.

“Follow my lead!” Krauul commanded, his voice piercing the sounds of battle. “We need to reach the docks! Go, go! Break formation if you must! Go!”

They obeyed, and Neo'la found herself amongst both Horde and Alliance champions, fighting side by side as they cleaved through the Iron Horde. She swung fiercely, stabbing and slicing through countless orcs, her cloak tattering near the edges as she progressed. Her hair began to spill out of its tie, bright platinum blonde hair flowing out wildly and unevenly. The weapons used against her began to leave dents on her armor, but she was intact. She moved to the rhythm of her heart, her pulse serving as the drums of war as she progressed. The cannons fired away, but eventually she tuned them out. At some point in the battle, the troll she fought with had perished, but she did not look back.

Another cannon sounded off, and Neo'la felt the burning heat of the cannonball graze her, pushing against her armor. The priestess fell back at the force of the cannonball, falling to the ground gracelessly. She heard the projectile crush someone behind her, and smash through a brick structure. She forced herself up, groaning in pain. She looked around nervously, seeing the prisoners of war whizz past. Her squad was nowhere to be seen.

“Come on come on, get up!” She muttered to herself, hoisting herself to her feet. The moment she did so, she felt a large set of hands grab her by the waist, lifting her in the air. She screamed as she looked down at the massive wolfrider that carried her, and the orc slammed her to the ground. The plate armor pressed against her flesh, leaving her muscles sore and stinging. She waved her hands, channeling the Light to heal herself, only for the orc to seize her by the neck this time. His entire hand wrapped around her thin neck, crushing it in a death grip as she struggled to breathe. She dropped her swords, clawing at the hand that held her up as the grip tightened. Black spots formed in her vision as her muscles began to waver in their strength. Immediately,she thought of her daughters, the life she was leaving, her home, her sister, her cousins, everyone who she ever loved. She summoned the Light, but she was too weak to do more. Not even the Shadows came to her aid. Her face tingled from the lack of oxygen, and her head ached. The sounds of battle muffled into a distant ringing until not even pain remained. Her thoughts raced, but her body slowed.

And then there was nothing.

Neo’la fell limp, feeling nothing, seeing nothing, ceasing to exist altogether. Suddenly, a shout was heard, one so familiar, so bone chilling Neo’la snapped back to reality for a split second. Her ears twitched at the sound, but she could hardly move. The wolf the orc had mounted upon let out a piercing howl, and soon, Neo’la was released from the iron grip. She gasped, filling her lungs with much needed oxygen. She could hear the footsteps and grunts of two who fought valiantly. The wolf rushed at the priestess lying on the ground, teeth bared as it pounced. She lifted her hands just enough to launch a bolt of Shadow at the beast. It wasn’t much power, but just enough to keep her safe. Soon, she heard the wolf whine and collapse to the ground, swords clashing and sparking together as one of the imprisoned soldiers fought off the orc. She wheezed, her vision blurry as she tried to get a glimpse of who was there.

The orc fell to the ground, mutilated and torn from the wrath of his fierce opponent. He turned on his heel, the collar around his neck glowing bright purple as he made his way to Neo’la. Her vision became more clear, and she could see various other warriors coming their way. Cannon fire began once more, and the projectile was focused on the elves’ area. She struggled to stand on her own, reaching out to retrieve her weapons. There was something about his agile movements that seemed familiar, and for a moment, she felt she was elsewhere. As if she had lived this before.

Huh. Deja vu.

She sheathed her scimitars and staggered to her feet as the soldier made his way towards her. He turned around frantically, taking note of the cannon fire that neared them.

“Get down!” He shouted. His voice…

An explosion sounded off, and the dazed priestess turned in time to see the flaming projectile heading right towards her. She shut her eyes and held her breath, expecting to feel the crushing pressure of the cannonball. Instead, she was met with plate armor slammed on hers, strong arms wrapping around her protectively as she was airborne. The elven prisoner had thrown himself at her, cradling her in his chest, serving as a shield as they fell. A mistake, on the man’s part, had been made, however. Instead of falling to the concrete foundation of the portal, he had sent her and himself falling directly off the ledge of the pillar. She screamed, and grasped him tightly. She knew this man somehow, somewhere. She knew his scent, remembered him. Perhaps it was the shock talking to her.

Instinctively, he shifted his body so she was on top of him, and he would take the damage instead of her. He lifted his hand, golden streaks of Light shooting out of his hand to form a protective barrier around them. Divine fire surrounded the two elves, and their landing was broken by the shield. They bounced in the bubble, tumbling on each other until the Light faded, and the rolled on the ground, breathless and dizzy. She came to a stop, laying on the ground a bit longer before deciding to move again. She rubbed her eyes, and pulled herself up with a groan. Who is he, who is he…

“Dalah’surfal.”

Her heart stopped, and a chill crawled down her spine. Everything happening around them, the battles, the carnage, the bloodshed, everything seemed to slow to a stop. Her head was reeling. That voice…

With misty eyes, she turned to the imprisoned soldier, training her eyes on the caged helmet he wore. In turn, the elven man grabbed his helmet, and with some difficulty, removed it from his face. Long, fiery orange hair spilled out of his helmet, cascading down his shoulderpads, barely concealing the arcane collar he wore. Deep scars covered almost the entirety of his freckled face, but he still wore the same soft expression in his jade eyes. A small huff of breath escaped him as a crooked grin spread across his face. Neo’la gasped, tears spilling from her eyes uncontrollably.

“You’re alive,” She said, her voice barely audible as she ran to him. She practically leaped into his arms, holding him tight as she sobbed into him. He hugged her back, giving her a gentle squeeze. “My Lighttreader, my Light, my Love, you’re alive.”

Anandor stroked her hair tenderly, holding her tightly as if she’d slip away from his grasp once more. He cupped her face in his hand, tilting her chin up to gaze into those minty green eyes he had missed for a decade. “Neo’la, my dearest. I will never leave your side again.” He leaned in, pulling the priestess– his wife into a deep kiss.

Around them, the war did not exist. The pain had left, and the light sparked in their hearts once more. Her heart beat again, but this time, she knew the rhythm of the music their love had. Once again they were in harmony, once again she could feel.

Once again, she was in love.

#plotline #oc: neo'la #oc: anandor #ch arc: neo'la #ch arc: anandor #plot: wod #oc: lokra