The Cure (unfinished)

I wish to share a story that has been written a few months after the release of TBC... It is not finished... I might finish it in some other ways, been thinking about animation.
Eventhough it ain't finished I hope you enjoy the read.


The Cure

Far in the distance the islands arise from the mist. The boat from Auberdine in Darkshore was on its way towards the Azuremyst Isle. A huge vessel that crashed on to it recently disturbed this isle. The Draenei who fled from their world Dreanor, better known as The Outlands, had made Azuremyst Isle their home ever since the crash. Their vessel was now their home base. They called it Exodar.

It was Exodar where Myrawen was told to go. Myrawen was dressed in a long robe with a hood over her head that covered her face in darkness. The robe was dark in color almost black, her hands were not visible and she seemed to try to hide her identity from everyone else that was on the boat. It was nothing like she would normally wear. As a warrior she is used to wearing heavy armored gear and always tried to fear everyone who gave a glimpse at her. Normally she carried a weapon as she always has done ever since she found one when she was young. But this time it was different. No plate on her that could indicate that she was a strong warrior or weapon that would make anyone seeing it shiver at the sight.

The others on the boat seemed not to take notice of Myrawen who was sitting in a corner near the cabin. On the boat trip some tried to make a conversation with her but she clearly wanted to be left alone after she gave no reply towards anyone that tried. She just kept peering in front of her, away in thoughts.

As the boat came closer to the isle, there were clear signs of an “alien” presence on it. Strange shaped Crystals, which you would never find anywhere else on Azeroth. Above the mountain peak you could see some sort of metal, which could be part of the Draenei vessel, Exodar.

After awhile the boat stood still at the docks. Myrawen looked around and she saw the others that were onboard making their way to shore. Some quickly mounted up their mounts and ran towards Exodar. Some others quickly shifted into other forms and all ran as quick as they could. The last one that left from the boat, a druid, walked towards the dock. Shifted into a Cheetah, sniffed around and ran over the dock towards his destination.

A deep sigh was clearly hearable from Myrawen as she slowly stood up and made her way towards the dock. She walked slowly and clumsy in a sort of way. She held herself tight on the edge of the boat. The feeling that she might collapse on her knees made it clear that she was either sick or terrible old.

The druid that last left the boat reminded her of Kenu’s ability to change forms whenever he wanted.
Ever since she met Kenu, a silver haired night elf druid who always cheered her up and always knew the right things to say in each situation, she had never been this lonely. The day she left him in a hasty goodbye back in Shattrath City, almost a month ago, she felt like she was missing something around her. Like she was half the person, a body without a soul. Each day became worse and each day she felt herself become more and more weaker then she had ever felt before. All that kept her strong was the thought and memory of the time with Kenu at her side. She was missing him whither she wanted it or not.

“Luna.” Myrawen whispers when her feet are both on the dock. A stormsaber appears and it lies down in front of Myrawen. Myrawen slowly and with some trouble manages to mount it. She pats it gently behind the ears and holds on tight when the saber slowly rises on its paws. In a slow pace Luna starts to walk, minding each step that her companion would stay on her back. Myrawen closes her eyes and falls in to her thoughts again.

“Wake up!” A voice calls from the other side of the room. Myrawen opens her eyes. “It is time! Come on!” Across the room there is another Night elf seemly talking to Myrawen. “Time? What do you mean?” Myrawen asks when wiping the sleep from her eyes. “You want to return to Kenu or what? You want to feel better? Then come now!” The night elf seemed pretty eager on taking Myrawen with him. He was tall had long green hair and seemed like a druid on the way he was dressed. Myrawen steps out of bed and asks; “Where are we heading then?”,“To cure your illness off course, that’s why you are here right?” The druid answers.
A bit confused Myrawen jumps out of bed, grabs her axe. “Well lead the way then I guess.”
The druid smiles and opens the door behind him and steps to the outside world. “It is not far and others are waiting, so would be nice to have a pace on it.” Myrawen nods and walks after the druid into the outside world. The druid starts to run when Myrawen takes a deep breath of fresh air and looks around.

The place was familiar and she always liked to come here. It was a place mainly for druids who called it Moonglade. Myrawen and Kenu had spent sometime here and she heard a lot of stories about it when she was young. Quickly she ran after the druid who had made some distance from her. After a short time the druid stood still and pointed towards a ruin. “In there, come on!” Myrawen nods and walks in front of the druid into the ruin.
“Ah you have made it.” A druid who seemed to be from a high order said while looking at Myrawen. She looks around and sees three other druids standing around a drawn circle in the mud. “We have prepared a ritual,” The druid continued before Myrawen could reply, “Though I am not sure that it will cure you… we can at least try and find out what is causing it. Please, come here and drink this elixir.” She slowly walks towards the druid who was holding a flask with some sort of purple substance in it. Knowing these druids can be trusted Myrawen drinks the elixir. “Now we wait till the elixir works.” The druid answers. After some while Myrawen feels her knees shake. Her anger seems somehow to be taking control over her. “It has started. Quick put her in the center.” The druid answers while motioning the others to grab Myrawen. They guide her to the middle of the drawn circle and stand around her. Myrawen’s eyes roll back in her head and seems to loose control over her. The last things she hears are some magic words from the druids surrounding her and she feints.

Sometime later back in the house.
“She cannot stay here.”
“We can’t let her go like this! She could mean a thread to us all…”
“We need to help her. Maybe the Draenei know what to do… after all it is the Outlands that has caused this.”
“Yes, yes… wake her she needs to go now!”
Myrawen opens her eyes. “I will go to Exodar then.” Four druids stare at her surprised not knowing she was already awake. One druid clears his throat. “Take this it will help the Draenei to know about your condition.” Myrawen takes a scroll from the druid’s hand and steps out of bed. “Myrawen…” Myrawen looks at the druid. “Don’t make contact with anyone when you are on your way. This curse you brought with you has the effect to curse anyone by just a look at them.” Myrawen nods and walks through the open door with her axe in her hand. “Luna!” The Night elf yells in a fierce voice. A saber appears and she mounts it. Runs away without a look back to the four druids.

Moments later at the entrance of Timbermaw Hold, Myrawen mounts off. The furbolgs that reside here are well known to anyone that had to pass through to reach Winterspring, a cold and icy place at the east of the hold. The Timbermaw tribe had fled in this hold ever since the Burning Legion corrupted their wood, known as Felwood. Sadly not all furbolgs could be saved and many were driven mad by the demons corruption. Myrawen had fought many furbolgs in her youth, mostly for training her weapon skills, but that doesn’t mean these furbolgs are to be underestimated.

Myrawen slowly starts to make her way into the hold until she sees a Timbermaw Furbolg patrolling in the passage. She had done a lot to get known among these furbolgs. Days and nights she had spend with Kenu to fight their corrupted brethren know as the Deadwood Furbolgs. The furbolg looks at Myrawen and nods slowly. The night elf resumes her way through the passage until she reaches the west end of the hold. Here is where the dark and haunted woods spread out to the borders of Ashenvale. Felwood it was named and used to be a place that looked close to a paradise. Birds would sing their songs, water would stream through it quietly and the sun would shine its beautiful beams between the leaves that covered the sky. Now all that resides here is corrupted soil, burning trees, a venomous stream and the demons that still wandered in this area after the defeat of the Burning Legion. Not a pleasant place to be, so Myrawen decides to make a hasty pace towards the border far south of the corrupted woods. “Luna!” She says with a hearty voice. Her loyal saber appears and she mounts up. “To Ashenvale... Home!” The saber looks at Myrawen and purrs softly when her companion brushes through her fur. With a friendly tap on the back, the night elf lets her mount know she is ready. The mount takes off in a rapid pace.

“We can sssmell you… the ssstench of your sssoul… sssoon you‘ll be oursss… sssoon we’ll control you…” Myrawen holds her stormsaber. “Who said that?! Where are you?” She yells while looking around her. “You ssstill haven’t figured it out, have you? You ssstill think we can be ssseen? You are asss foolishss asss you look...” The voice sounds dark, evil and seems to come from everywhere, the sounds of the surroundings seems to have vanished and all that makes sound is this voice. She knew the voice, she had heard it before but never had it been this loud and this clear. “What do you want from me!? Leave me be or you will meet my axe!” Myrawen looks angry around her with a fierce grip she holds on to her axe and jumps from her saber friend. “Haha! I sssuggessst you control your anger, warrior… We wouldn’t want you to be dead before we have ssstarted…” The voice seemed not to be feared of Myrawen’s fierce look and her axe. “I do as I please… Show yourself and we’ll see who finds death sooner.”
“We can’t do that, Kaldorei, like I sssaid you are a fool to believe that we can be ssseen.” A crushing pain inside Myrawen’s head forces her to collapse on her knees. A suffering scream, releases from her mouth. “Sssee what anger doesss, warrior… Once we control you… we’ll put good ussse to thisss pain and anger that you have.” The pain vanishes as quickly as it came. Sounds returned to normal and Myrawen slowly crawls up to her feet. The stormsaber looks at Myrawen with confused eyes. The night elf looks at her companion. “We need to hurry… it is starting here as well.” With a swift move Myrawen tries to climb on her saber. Clumsy she falls of it again. Confused and somewhat irritated she realizes that she has become weaker, as if she just fought a battle. She climbs on her mount again and makes sure that she sits right. A small tap on Luna’s back makes her run further down the road.

A fresh scent of the pine shaped trees in Ashenvale catch Myrawen’s nose as she draws near the border of Felwood. She smiles softly at the sound of a bird that flies over her. This was the most familiar place Myrawen could think off. She could find every place in this region. In her youth she had played a lot of games in these forests of Ashenvale. Her smile turns brighter when she thinks back.

Ashenvale had been safe until the Horde showed up and laid waste of the forest’s flora in the east. The Horde had brought the Burning Legion to these lands who corrupted the creatures and some parts of the flora. Demons could still be found in different places across the region. Myrawen would never forgive the Horde for destroying this beautiful place and making it unsafe for the younglings who wishes to play in these forests.

Luna was breathing heavy, apparently she had run hard to get her companion save out the Felwood. Myrawen decides to take a short rest before continuing and she knew just the right place. She lets her saber run in a slower pace and pats it gently on her head. “Thank you Luna… Where would I be without you?” The stormsaber purrs softly. “Let’s head to Mystral Lake so we can get some strength back before venturing forth.” Luna looks to her rider and seems to agree with regaining strength.

Not long after they arrive at a huge lake. There is a small refuge near it with Sentinels guarding it. This place was called Silverwing Refuge. It was quite familiar to anyone who has passed through Ashenvale. A lot of fishers had fished here and there were many trainers in the building. The Sentinels where the guards of this place, like other places where the Night elves reside, ever since Myrawen was young she wanted to be among them, to be among the Sentinels. Her adventures started out for her this way. She looked up to them and admired each and ever aspect of them. With them around you would always be save from the creatures that lured in the bushes or behind the trees.
The building looked out over the great Mystral Lake. A huge lake with a small island in the middle and small boats where lying in the crystalline water.

“I have spent a lot of time here, Luna, when I was still young.” Myrawen says while mounting off her stormsaber. The saber slowly walks to the lakes edge and starts drinking from the water. “You see those branches over there by the tree?” Myrawen points towards the east towards a big tree on the shore of the lake. “I used to climb in those branches and dive into the water. I was the only girl who dared to do it.” The night elf smiles proudly while brushing her fingers through the fur of her stormsaber. “You see that boat… over there in the water?” The saber keeps on drinking but her ears are standing up and seems to listen to what Myrawen tells. It is quiet for a moment. Myrawen smiles. “I miss him… I wish he could be here right now and tell me that I am strong enough to make it through.” Myrawen lies down in the grass thinking about the druid she had left, back in Shattrath City in Outlands. For a moment she closes her eyes but only to open them quickly again. “The scroll!” Quickly she looks through her bags if she still has the scroll the druid in Moonglade gave her. “Ah here it is.” She takes the scroll out her bag and seemed to be wondering what it would say about her condition. Slowly she opens the scroll and starts reading.

To the Draenei that reads this,

It is good to know that Myrawen has made it to Exodar. You are our last hope in saving this respected Kaldorei Warrior. Please help her as she would be one of your own kind.

We have conducted some research on the curse that struck her. All that we found out is that at this rate we shall loose her soul to an unknown source. The curse feeds on her anger, her rage and her pain. In other words… Each time she fights, each time she does what she likes best, the curse will devour her soul more and more, making her weaker and weaker until she is an easy prey for a demon to posses her. It also came to our knowledge that this curse is has some sort of effect to anyone who comes in close contact with her. We think that this effect will only become worse when she gets weaker.

We cannot stand for this. Myrawen has fought many battles in the Warsong Gulch on the side of the Silverwing Sentinels. Not to mention all her effort in Outlands towards those who appose a threat for Azeroth. We have…

“Fools!” The Draenei yells and stops reading. He closes the scroll and looks at Myrawen. He had removed her cowl and there were clear signs that Myrawen had a hard time getting to Exodar. “Fools! They should’ve sent you to me right away!” The Draenei says and looks irritated. “Ah, no matter now… Try to rest Myrawen. Don’t try to speak… you will need all your strength if we wish to stop what is happening to you.” Myrawen had opened her eyes and looks at the Draenei. She lies in a strange but comfortable bed and wondered how she got here. The night elf tries to speak but she didn’t have the strength to form a word.

The Draenei looks at Myrawen and puts his hand over her forehead which contained a pretty deep wound like a sword that had struck her. He smiles. “You got quite the remarkable Stormsaber… He seemed to walk straight towards me as if it knew I was the one to go for.” A strange feeling goes over Myrawen’s body when the Draenei seem to be casting some sort of spell, his hands starts to glow green much like Kenu had when he was healing her. She had felt this way before but not quite the same. “Don’t be afraid… I am nearly done healing the wound on your forehead. I hope the wound didn’t cause you too much pain…” The Draenei returns his hand to the side of the bed. Looks at the night elf’s forehead. “Oh... I am afraid I can’t do much about that scar though… but I think there are far worse things happening now that needs our attention.”

Myrawen looks at the Draenei. He didn’t look like most Draenei did; he was called a Broken Draenei. She had talked to him before with Kenu when she first came to Exodar. He told them about how he got devolved during the genocide by the Orcs on Outlands and how he had found a way to speak to the elements with meditation and prayers. Farseer Nobundo he was named, the first shaman among the Draenei.

“I knew this day would come Myrawen.” He continues."Long ago… when I was still considered to be a priest… This curse had taken many of my kind to be drained of life… No one knew how to cure it at the time… and none knew how the curse came to be.” Nobundo smiles at Myrawen. “I think I know both now… I have spend a lot of time in finding an antidote, the wind has told me long ago that more would fall to its knees once the Dark Portals seal would be broken… Rest now Myrawen… Be prepared for a long day.” Myrawen seems somehow happy with the words the Draenei gave her. A comfortable smile spreads on her face and she closes her eyes.

Myrawen sits up straight and looks out over the great Mystral Lake. On her right she finds her stormsaber staring at her with big eyes. Slowly it rises on its paws and knows it is time to travel further towards Exodar. With a soft smile Myrawen looks at her mount and stands up, for a moment she looses her balance but manages to stand up straight. “Oh… this armor it is getting heavier with the minute… Let’s hope we make it in time, Luna.” The saber sinks a bit on her paws making it easier for Myrawen to mount up. With a soft tap, Myrawen makes her mount know she is ready for departure. The mount starts to make her way towards the road a bit up north. The night elf makes one last look at the lake trying to picture it like it would be her last image.

Moments later, after some running on the road towards the west, Myrawen starts to smile brightly. She knows what place lies up the road, like she knows each corner of this region. She wonders if it had changed after she had left Ashenvale. She would see her place of birth again, after a long time. In her childhood she had many friends in this town and she was quite famous among the boys. Although she wasn’t easy to get along with, frustration and a fierce reply could be expected to anyone that did something she disliked. Time has taught her to calm down, to enjoy life as it was given to her. It was mostly because of Kenu who had thought her the ways to balance out her life with the good and the bad. Still, it was in Myrawen’s character to have a short fuse and to get angry a lot faster then any normal Kaldorei.

The mount rides further down the road which was bending towards the north. Slowly out the mist the small town became visible. It was like an island in a small lake, connected with two bridges, one in the north and one in the south. This is Astranaar. A place that stood its ground and still does, against the might of the Horde that on occasion raided this place.

The closer Myrawen comes to Astranaar the more came visible from the mist that was covering the town. A voice catches the night elf’s attention, it seemed to come from the town. The stormsaber stops realizing her companion’s mood had changed instantly after they heard a voice from the town. Myrawen couldn’t understand what was being said. “Gutterspeak.” She whispers to herself. This is the language of the Forsaken, or better known as the Undead, who were alliances with Horde. This could only mean one thing. Horde is attacking Astranaar.

As fast as she could she mounts off and lands with both feet simultaneously, making as little noise as possible. A small tap on the back of the saber, sends it towards the opposite direction. Slowly Myrawen moves towards the bridge on the south side of Astranaar to see what was happening. Bodies of the guards were on the other side of the bridge. Myrawen tries to hold her temper, she remembers quiet well what happened last time she got angry. As she drew closer she sees two Forsaken standing near the first house on the right side. On the way they ‘re behaving it is quiet clear that the one Undead is the pupil of the other. The stronger one, the master, is dressed in a long black robe and wears a cowl to cover its horrifying face. The pupil seems to be wearing the same but a lighter version of it, the cowl was hanging on the back of the pupil and you could clearly see the bones of the jaw which was showing underneath the skin. Each and every time again Myrawen wonders how these abominations could wander around after being killed.

The master sniffs in the air. Quickly as the night elf could she melds into the shadow, invisible till she started to move. This was an ability that each night elf was born with. It made things a lot easier to see who you were up against before attacking. The Forsaken looks towards Myrawen’s direction. He shrugs and continues his conversation with his pupil. A smirks spreads on the pupils face and turns towards Myrawen. “Could they see me?” Myrawen wonders. Before Myrawen had figured it out it was too late. From out of nowhere a fireball heads towards the night elf. With a quick move she manages to dodge it. She looks back to where the fireball came from, an imp was rolling on the ground of laughing. Instantly Myrawen charges towards the Imp killing it with one hit of her axe. She tries to remain calm but she can feel her rage boil inside her, making her forget to preserve her strength for the upcoming journey.

The pupil stands in front of his master and starts to cast a spell or some sort. Shadowy magic covers the hands of the Undead and from it a bolt of shadow heads towards Myrawen. The night elf tries to dodge but was too late to react and she gets hit by the magic the Forsaken had sent to her. She gets pushed back a bit but recovers quickly. Her rage boils more inside her and she starts to run towards pupil with her axe in the air. Just before the pupil could finish his second cast, Myrawen hits her axe between the shoulder and neck of the Forsaken. The Undead collapses on his knees and blood covers the place where Myrawen’s axe took place. With a kick she pushes the pupil, the lifeless body falls into puddle of his own blood.

The Forsaken master laughs wickedly at the sight of his dead pupil. Myrawen takes a few steps back knowing that this undead couldn’t be underestimated like she had with his companion. Slowly the sound around her begins to fade. “No not now… not again!” She whispers to herself while trying to fight against it. The black dressed forsaken looked at her in an understanding way. It seemed he wanted a fair fight… and waited for Myrawen to make her first move. With a grin on his face he prepared himself. In his left hand he carries some sort of glass globe. With a quick spell the globe lighted up and when you look through the glass, you could see fire burning inside it. With his right hand he kept a vast grip on a short sword.

Slowly the sounds turned back to normal, her rage had cooled down but her strength didn’t seem to be improving. Should she run…? Hoping that the warlock would let her go. No! She couldn’t, this warlock had made terror in Astranaar, and she couldn’t just leave the inhabitants to their fate. She pulls herself back together never had she doubt about attacking first. The best defense was offense in her opinion. With a fierce look she looks straight in the eyes of the forsaken. With a taunting gesture, the warlock lets the warrior know that he was ready for her. Without thinking further about the consequences it might follow, Myrawen charges as fast as she could towards the undead. With all her strength she swiftly swings her axe through the air only to come to a stop at the parry of the warlock’s short sword. The warlock didn’t even moved one step backwards to comprehend with the blow of the axe. With big eyes Myrawen wonders what happened. “How can this be?!” She asks herself.

Normally her hits would send any warlock to at least a couple of yards back even if her attack got parried. Had she lost this much strength already? Her rage had boiled up and she was ready to strike again. With a howl of terrifying noise, the warlock sends Myrawen fearing the opposite direction. Myrawen decides to make a run for it. It seemed impossible for her to beat this Forsaken with her condition. The warlock laughs at the sight of the running night elf. He looses sight of her when she steps around the corner of a building. Unable to cool herself down, she notices the sounds are fading around her.

“Why are you running?” A voice different then she had heard before emerges from the silence. It sounded feminine. “Don’t you know I can smell you? I can tell my master where you are…[i/i]” Myrawen melds into shadow and looks around. “[i]You can’t hide either… the stench of your soul will follow you no matter where you are heading… Warrior.” A succubus appears in front of Myrawen. With a quick lash of her whip she forces the warrior to show herself. A terrible pain strikes through Myrawen and the blood slowly starts to drips from her forehead where the whip had struck. With anger Myrawen tries to hit her axe on the demon’s body that on its turn dodges it with ease. “Short tempered are we…? I thought you warriors could stand a little pain… It kind of disappoints me on that matter… Here I was thinking to have quite some fun with you discovering which place of your body would hurt the most.”

The warlock steps around the corner and turns his way towards the demon and her victim. The place where the globe used to be, in his left hand, was replaced with the head of one of the Sentinel guards. “This is what happens if you run from a duel…” The demon says in Myrawen’s mind. The forsaken throws the head towards Myrawen and it lands just in front of her. With the free hand he wanders off to under his robe and takes out a purple stone from underneath it. He throws it on the ground and it breaks in a million shards.

Driven against the wall the night elf seems to have a lot of trouble controlling her anger. Sweat appears from underneath her hair and the salt from it mixes with the wound on her forehead. With an evil grin the head of the pupil appears around the corner. Myrawen had heard about this ressurection ability from her little gnome friend Mucklehugs. It was a way to keep a soul saves from harm, stored in stone, being able to retrieve it to the body once the stone was broken. Rage, pain and anger seem to be taking control over Myrawen. She breaths heavily and sweat is dripping from her face. Her eyes roll into her head and she looses consciousness.

I know, my grammar sucks! Still you managed to get to the bottom so guess it wasn't all that bad