-Two weeks ago...-

It was this damned interval, Wylde cursed mentally, as he reached up, tugging unconciously on the neck of his thin, athletic vest as another hot-flash burned his skin. He was as loathe to put more layers on his body at this moment as the rest of them on the ship, but there was no place here for rebellion as the shamman registered with a mean smirk a few groans from others as they forced themselves to don the intricate combat armor. 19 other young Dranei males were preparing to land on the red sands below... supposing they were not attacked or shot out of the sky by the dangerous inhabitants of Hellfire Penninsula.

There was no way of being certain that the landing place was as safe as their intel predicted. They would have to travel the rest of the way to the base on foot, so as not to draw enemy eyes to the Keep, as well as themselves. For the skies of Hellfire were the last on the list of safe places to be...

Upon thier hopefully successful arrival the wet-behind-the-ears soldiers would be briefed and trained for thier duties, a considerate ammount of time before joining the seasoned guardians to stake out the front and prevent the passage of Eredar into the lands surrounding Honor Hold. As infrequenly as they came, feral demons did wander through, and it was the unique pursuit of this hold, to remain hidden, and not kill, but -capture- the tainted Eredar. As long as the Eredar population did not discover this base, and all roving demons in the area were removed, then Valor Keep could be fully built to strength at last, and the area would belong to Honor Hold... Which could expand to seal the Alliance's footing in Hellfire for centuries. Secondarily... they could discover a "cure" - a purification for those twisted Eredar. Although, toward that end precious little, if any, progress had been made.

This was the cause to merit the grievous deaths of hundreds of Dranei men. But of course, it was indeed important now more than ever to safeguard the women in the cities, and back at the recently re-contacted Exodar on Azeroth... It was women they needed to preserve, so that women could bring more children in the wake of such deaths. And it was a fair guess that of the first things Dranei were gifted in... would be avoiding extinction thusly many a time... Only one male was needed to father children with an entire -country- of females... though fortunately, that would never be necessary.

Once upon a time, men and women joining in marriage would be the norm, and males would have an equal opportunity to carry and give birth to thier children... but, such measures needed to be taken in these times, to keep balance in thier population when so many Dranei died in battle. It quickly became necessary to counteract the fact that without males carrying young anymore, far less males were being born... so shots were being given to pregnant females to boost the development of their children into the desired gender, by simulating the horemonal exposure they would have been transformed by from thier fathers. Humans would have thought such a thing unfair, but all Dranei grow up knowing that they belong to thier society and must rise to all callings above thier personal rights. Children belong to the race as a whole, and parents are simply the vessel in which they are brought into the world, and charge of each child who is to be cherished and honored as tomorrow's new hope. Fathers didn't see thier chldren anymore, they fought and fought, knowing that thier legacy lived on somewhere, and would likely follow in thier footsteps... What was this kind of life lived for one may wonder? So that somewhere down the line, all the sentient races may finally know peace.

So had been tradition on through many generations. Male pregnancies were so unheard of now that few natives of Azeroth even realized what the masculine members of the Dranei race were truly capeable of. Norms and social expectations aside... that didn't stop his blood from burning as this interval arrived... Ovum were maturing in the wombs of women, back home, and the biological desire to carry them was potent. At outposts like this, with only a handful of females, all incapeable now of carrying, males could only take the edge off eachother's suffering with sport. As time and duties permitted...

The ship lurched and Wylde's stomach echoed the sensation as he realized they had landed... He wasn't as used to flying as these other soldiers. And of couse he was nervous! He was the only one here who had not enlisted himself years ago for training... He had been rescued from a villiage between Terokkar and Zangar which had been destroyed by Ogres... He was the only shamman here, and the only “home-grown” male at that. He would much rather convulge with the untamed fauna of Outland than make a dash through demonic territory with his neck out, praying not to be seen.

The men had re-taken thier places along the walls of the small hull, hands back to gripping the ribbed handles that were more reassurance right now than stability. Gamek, thier captain and Sargeant stormed suddenly down through the circular hatch in the cieling of the chamber and strode to the door. Wylde half expected a speech but after all that had been given upon boarding and entering the atmosphere, all he did, with a slight turn of his body to glance over his armored shoulders, was give them a "you know what to do" look, as he then grabbed the handles on either side of the huge hatch and with a growl hefted it up in a display of power that impressed all. With his magestic swinging stride he embarked into a thorny tangle of forest, and there was a moment's hesitation before the twenty young men followed.

As the entire group began thier trek though the dry warm air, disappearing into the forest of emmense black vines, the ship - with surprising silence- recharged it's engines and lifted up off the ground. The cloaking worked pretty well, Wylde thought - not all that used to ships - as he looked over his shoulder. It's skin projected the image of the scenery behind on the other side, so that it's mirror like surface could blend in while it was interrupting signals and evading other such sensory.

But the sound of the landing had already alerted someone, or something as he heard the cry through the brambles ahead.. "Ravagers! BIG ones!!" Just glad it was something familiar and no Eredar, Wylde yanked from his belt a metalic disk and tossed it in the direction of the commotion. A filmy bubble appeared in a perimeter around them, and he heard the scream of ravagers as they were suddenly in pain with an ellectrical current traveling between them, which ingeniously avoided all the Dranei within the radius.

Wylde ran into the scene. It was hard to count the huge ravagers, but there appeared to be five or six... Even standing over twelve feet tall, they were no match for so many Dranei equipped to fight demons. Big game was the victim of war in these lands, Wylde thought regretfully as a ravager collapsed into it's own nest of eggs as it's razor sharp, crablike legs were chopped from beneath it by skilled blades. Even as the beast went down it's massive maw clamped down on a warrior's arm, weapon and all, and everyone frantically leaped for the beasts neck, trying to save the unfortunate's limb even as it shook him in a grizly fashion, it's growl reverberating through the bodies of the gathering.

The ship had landed right in the middle of thier den, unfortunately, and it was a massacre. Wylde decided not to help anymore. He planned to save his totems and such for when they would be more useful. The ravagers were felled, and the Dranei's arm was saved.

Halfway along their journey, it became apparent that pushing further without food or water was going to cause some problems. Eleven hours of walking... fending off Ravagers and other terrors native to Hellfire took a toll even on creatures as strong and long lived as the Dranei. It wasn't his favorite sport but it was proving somewhat exciting. Wylde was impressed with his group as he sat down and sheathed a bloodied dagger. Reaching in his belt pouch he pulled a young ravager leg out that he'd stashed earlier. Snapping the leg in half, he pulled appart the segment and a white chunk of meat unsheathed from the shell. He couldn't cook it, but it would taste pretty good raw too...

"I am proud. Already you pups have shown you can learn to work together and imporve-" As Gamek came behind Wylde and saw what he was about to take a bite of he biffed him in the back of the head with a fist. "Parasites! I am aware, young one, you are used to Outlands... but this is still not -your- homeland... Hellfire needs purifying... I can't let you take the risk..."

Wylde saved his grace and played it off, sighing and tossing the leg obediently to the red sands. He watched the other Dranei dig out their rations, hard, breadlike, bland... though supposedly carrying all forms of nutrients and then some. He snorted. That was still never going to satisfy him. Were they raised on that? The thought almost gagged him after his own steady diet of meat, and flora native to Zangar.

As he reflected on things that were farmiliar, fretting over how much of his future would include those things anymore... all hell broke lose.... Wylde gasped as from behind his comrades he saw something terrible, enough to freeze his blood. It rose up, red, colossal and magestic... wielding four black blades in each of it's four hands. Her yellow eyes burned in a terrible beautiful face, and the bony crest that framed it sprouted from her forehead, a ghastly terrifying ornament. Before he could utter a word those terrible blades were buried in his comrade's backs, and screams burned in his ears.

Gamek cried out in a rage, ready to protect all their numbers. He engaged the four armed demoness directly, who laughed. Using the bodies empaled on her blades as projectiles, she flung them at him. He evaded but the insult was more the point, and it had it's effect, as Gamek's eyes burned brighter with wrathful vengeance.

"Don't let any escape!!!" Gamek yelled to the remaining 18 Dranei, who dove in with all they had to kill the three demoness who materialized out of nowhere. Wylde let out his war cry, yanking a totem from his belt in each hand, he threw the sharp shining shafts to the ground where they stuck fast. They were military issued. Not familiar like the ones he made from clay. But he decided to appreciate thier sleek, indestructible design, as well as the punch they packed, as it bound the demons almost on the spot, their movements restricted, screaming in protest.

With flair, he summoned up his shock shield, meeting eyes with his foes as they quickly recognized him as the highest threat. So let it be on! He laughed.

The second totem let out a pulse as they made their way to him slashing away multiple Draenic blades with each stroke. One was knocked from the ground's upheval. Another of the demons finally became overwhealmed by blades. Her blood pooled at the feet of the warriors as she fought with Eredar courage to drag herself to her feet, axes lost, she suddenly grabbed a swinging sword by the sharp end from one of the soldiers and flipped it with a toss, using it to empale a few more before she finally succumbed.

He threw a third totem right into the chest of the one of the two who had not fallen as she determinedly made her way towards him, despite his grounding totem. She screamed as it struck home, collapsing now as it let out a wave of fire that engulfed her. Wylde was a little shocked at himself for that move; he'd almost wasted one of his few weapons but fortunately it worked, as she became nothing more than a platform for the flame totem to create it's area of effect.

But his powerful charms were not terribly durable. The last Eredar made short work of two more young Dranei then she sliced his flame totem in half with one blade, and with stunning accuracy, threw her two blades at the binding and earth totems, destroying them both with perfect aim simultaneously. Wylde had to gather his wits, as he reached for his last weapon, but had to perform a sudden acrobatic to avoid her sudden unrestricted charge - right at him!

"EEEYYYYYYYYYIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!"

There was no getting away from a sword as big as himself, though... although it was a miracle indeed, that it was the flat of the blade which connected to the side of his head, sending him flying to land in a dazed heap, half blind. His shock shield had hardly protected him but it had charged up her blade and burned her hand, though one would think it had no effect the way she held on unfaltering. She struggled now with his comrades as they rushed her. She wasn't done with Wylde though, as she came near to where she'd flung him, she seized him up by the throat, his shock shield spending itself vainly into her flesh and dissolving to nothing.

There were too many blades, at last she was pierced through, unable to block the stave that empaled her just below the ribs. Clutching the limp Wylde who appeared dead to onlookers, she ran into the thorns, disappearing with her likely mortal wounds.

"She can't get away!!!" Gamek yelled, giving chase, but after following a trail of blood to the setting of the sun, they realized, that they would have to move on, and hope her wounds finished the job for them before she caught up with her kin.

***

Wylde hated it when people cried. Especially females. From the depths of blackness a woman's sobbing rended his heart. She sounded in such pain... His nose told him that she was injured. He could smell blood. His own head hurt, his body hurt, so much he couldn't think, didn't know where he was or in what condition he was even in. But for some reason, his heart went out to the being he heard first, and his comatose reaction was to reach his hand over, until his fingers found warm skin, and healing energy instinctively flowed from his hand into the body that needed it. A gasp met his ears, and with it, in a flood of knowledge, his memories.

"Oh...!"

***

What was he doing?! Kah-Shakah looked down at where the small hand gently wrapped it's fingers around her ankle and filled her with healing light... that which burned because it was of a light her bloodline had long ago forsaken, and yet, infinitely forgiving and indiscriminate, it closed her mortal wounds, at least, the flow of blood stopped, and her seared flesh faded into fresh scars...

She dragged him up by the mane, catching his throat again and stared hard into his eyes. "You've killed my sister! Why spare -me- such mercy!?" She spat.

His eyes opened, but could hardly focus on her through the blood and head trauma. She had done much dammage to him, evidently. He was hardly good for anything now, as she'd taken her rage out on him for taking the life of her sister. She'd let him live though, planning to do much more when she decided on a punishment appropriate.

"I... did not think... I ease pain, when I know it is there...."

She raised an eyebrow. "Ease my pain even though you clearly suffer so much...?" Under her mockery was a curious, puzzled personality.

He let out a snort, close to laugter and spoke in a strain of Eredar she had to concentrate to understand. "Well... not to be.. too flattered... it was... impulse only..."

***

As he managed to finally find his way through the fog to see her face, the only thought that passed through his mind was... that she was very pretty, as her sarcastic expression shifted in bafflement. She had a charisma about her despite that she was cruel. Then he regretted letting his thoughts wander on her character, because it was all too distrubing to remember how the Dranei and Eredar were once the same, and to realize this was to care about her, and regret her soul's damnation...

"Is that so, little bug? Well... it's impulse to HURT, I have!"

She cast him down again. His already bruised skull felt like it was split in two from the jarring. Weakly pulling himself up to all fours, concentrating the last of his mana, he drew healing into his aching head. A little more clarity came to him then. He sighed, blinking at the sky above him... was it sunset...? How many hours had it been...? How would he get back...?

"Small. But sturdy." She admired, her hooves stirring dust up by him as she swaggered over to his side. Suddenly she stomped her foot down to press his chest into the dirt. She pushed down with her massive weight until his joints cracked, and bones screamed.

“Auugh!” He growled angrily, trying to cope with the agony rather than let sounds of fear or distress escape his throat.

"You have left me with a decision, Dranei..."

"Decisions come to us from the path of the light... individuals, are only vessels to bring these lessons..."

Her lip curled at that, wanting to hear nothing of the abominable -light- that had once enslaved her kind, and certainly not wanting to think anything else of it. "Spare your sermons, brainwashed fool!" He knew he'd pushed her, but damned if he could keep his mouth shut when his compassion ran so deep.

She grabbed his arms and shoved him up against a wall of thorns. He tried to stifle his cries of pain through his teeth, and was not fully successful. Not enough to prevent her sadistic pleasure. "She was to carry my children! I cannot do it, for I was to leave the clan to join the front... I loved, trusted, no one like her... none of them were good enough. You've spared me my life, even as an accident, so your debt is partly payed... I'll enjoy seeing that you take her place... and -finish- it."

"Wh...what...?" All he could do was stammer as the agony of huge thorns digging into his flesh almost drowned out the horror of her implication...

"Oh yes Dranei, I'll watch you take her place, and you'll suffer..."

"What about the war? How can you be so selfish with thier fates...? Will your clan accept them if they have been housed in a body like mine?!"

"I will tell them I carried alone, while I grieved my sister's death."

"What if they don't believe you? How will you explain the deaths of your comrades?"

"I will blame -your- clan of course, and whether they believe me or not, you will be doomed!"

"You still haven't answered of your children's fates!"

"I don't care!" She slammed him against the thorns and backhanded him, done with his rationalizing as she dropped him to the ground. "Tresspasser! Weakling!" Every accusation was punctuated by a stomping hoof as she followed him across the sand, as he crawled away defiantly. "The Legion will wipe out your pathetic kind!"

She decended on him then, trapping him in a six limbed cage, like a spider looming over him. He rolled over onto his back and stared her down. He knew she could kill him, knew his disadvantage and the extentof his wounds. Even so, his pride and resolve remained. "...Hn." She almost giggled, wrinkling her nose. "I've waited a long time for this... you aren't her, but you will do."

Her arms came up to grab him and he struck out, suddenly wanting to resist despite his acceptance that it was futile... She had two more arms than him with which to swiftly gain advantage, and as expected, she did.

"No...!"

"Oh yes..."