The Value of a Life

It was a misty cold night in the Western Plaguelands. A figure mounted on a lean, elegant steed slowly made their way through the tendril-like fog, keen golden eyes scanning every shadow and straining to hear every whisper on the wind. A faint trace of fear just barely evident on his proud features and his long ears were down and back much like a cornered cat. A sharp intake of breath escaped him as a crooked branch reached out and snagged his fine robe, tearing the sleeve near the shoulder. His horse snorted anxiously, and unlike the usual method of transport for his class, it was a simple black horse which he cursed since the light from a flaming mane might be useful in the seemingly ever present darkness.

He couldn't stop thinking to himself how a warlock should be above a fear of the dark, but his power did not lie in the manipulation of shadows or demons, but rather in an almost uncontrollable blaze of fire, the pure root of chaos that seared his veins and gave him reason. Consequently it also got him evicted from the mages academy for being to volatile, but that is a story for another time.

A twig snapped somewhere to his right.

He went rigid as a board and gripped the reins tightly. Another sound, this time from behind him. In a panic he laid a sharp kick into his steeds side which took them galloping full tilt down the barely visible dirt road they were following. A throaty snarl and he sent a wave of flame blindly behind himself, the illumination revealing a sight he'd much rather not have seen. Ghouls, ravenous flesh eaters, and at least a dozen of them were right behind them, and more alarmingly, they seemed to be keeping pace. He whispered frantically to his mount to make haste, but before he could finish one of the foul creatures leaped through the air and with its wicked claws, mangled the flesh of the horses hind leg.

With a shrill cry, the mighty beast fell to the ground, its eyes wide with fear and pain. Struggling with his grip from the sudden shift in position, the small framed elf quickly found himself painfully pinned beneath its weight. Stunned and with the wind knocked out of him, it took him a second to see that the vicious monsters had descended upon him, the sickening sound of flesh being ripped filling his ears as he realized his trusted companion was being eaten alive. His eyes widened and his breathing sped up til his was almost hyperventilating, the fear gripping him and causing his skin to go cold. He freed his one arm but he knew he needed both to weave the magic that could save himself. He struggled wildly, his back and thighs stinging from the sharp rocks and branches that he was squirming against. He could feel the animals blood beginning to cover his lower body which only made him fight harder but it didn't matter, for as soon as he got some leverage he almost screamed in pain when he tried to move his other hand. The wrist was bent at a strange angle, pressed between the horses ribcage and a stone which he could only assume had broken it.

The soulless eyes of the ghouls were quickly beginning to turn onto him, the steed no longer retaining any life worth torturing out of it. His breath clawed at his throat. Was this it... was this how he was going to die?

What happened next was to sudden for him to fully comprehend, only that a shadow within the darkness loomed up out of nowhere and grabbed one of the vile creatures and as though it was a twig, crushed it between its massive dark claws. The other fiends turned towards whatever this new entity might be, but just at that moment a terrible rumble erupted, not from the earth but from the sky. The dark being reached down and as though it was lifting a fallen leaf, pulled away the now half eaten animal and gingerly picked the elf up, shielding the stricken elf from whatever colossal storm was brewing above from them.

The ghouls swarmed at something behind the dark creature holding him, but whatever it was he didn't get a chance to look for just at that moment a super-heated sphere of space rock plummeted to the ground and shattered into a thousand pieces when it struck, taking several of the ghouls with it in a fiery explosion. More of these meteors of flaming destruction followed in short succession, pummeling the ground them, and each concussion from the impacts left him more and more disorientated and he could feel darkness encroaching upon him. He looked for a second up into the pale, empty eyes of his savior and unable to fight it off any longer, let himself slip off into oblivion.

Drifting... it was so quiet. He heard a voice but it sounded very far away. Slowly but surely he could hear it grow louder, and at the same time more shrill and annoying which made him press his eyes closed – as if it would help him go back to the comfortable silence. When it didn't let up however, he cracked an eye open and took in a small, blurry face, although he could already tell it belonged to an ugly creature.

“Hey! Wake up, wake up, wake up – before he comes back!”

His head hurt – badly-, and for a moment as he sat up he could swear he saw stars. “Whe-... where am I...” He whispered to the little creature which he now identified as an imp familiar. His long black hair lay all bedraggled over his shoulders and perhaps only for comforts sake he took his fingers and tried to comb it a little bit back into submission, pulling it together over his one shoulder like he usually had it. Despite his now quiet surroundings his heart still raced a little and he felt quite on edge, even jumping slightly as the imp hopped over to the door and peered around the corner.

However, he silently reminded himself that he had been selected as a novice to train for duty in the Dark Ladies army, though now with whatever had just happened he didn't even want to think how far he'd be set back. He sighed and put it out of his mind, instead turning his attention to his extremely disheveled appearance. His smooth caramel skin was cut and bruised just about everywhere and his once fine red silken robe was stained irrecoverably by dark crimson blood from his mid-thigh down. Despite that, he tried to straiten it out and make himself presentable even as the dark entity reappeared in the room. From the faint light that was cast by the light of the tiny fire in the otherwise long unused hearth at his side he could see it was a Voidwalker, a creature that was a complete absence of light... a void in itself. Though he'd always been a poor summoner he'd seen these creatures often enough in the darkened recesses of Murderer's Row back in Silvermoon where silent assassins and dark wizards went to hone their skill.

Footsteps on the stairs.

The young elf felt himself go rigid again and found himself becoming as small as possible in one of the dimly lit corners of the room. The old wooden door creaked open and for a horrifying second he was sure some new abomination would come through to finish what it had started before. But fear was quickly replaced by curiosity when the person who had entered stepped into the light of the flickering fire.

A man. And by a man I mean not simply a male, but a male specifically of the human race, which struck the elf as rather odd since the last time he'd checked members of the Alliance generally killed Horde on sight. He looked strait at the Sin'dorei and for just a moment the young elf was mesmerized by the brilliant ocean blue eyes that seemed to see right through to his soul. But the human soon looked away and the elf took the opportunity to look timidly at the ground. 'Oh blessed light... have I only escaped the scourge to be killed by someone else...?'

“You have a name?”

The question caught him completely off guard and the fact that it was asked in fluent Thalassian was even stranger still. “I... what...?” He said, fumbling hopelessly with his words as his eyes were once again drawn to the mesmerizing gaze of the human.

“Your name. What is it?”

The elf opened and closed his mouth a few times, expecting he looked rather like a goldfish struggling with the shock of everything that had transpired up to that moment to comprehend and answer like a normal person.

“I'm Marius...” Said the human, putting two fingers against his chest. “You are...?” After a second that seemed like an eternity, the elf almost silently muttered. “Malorian...” This drew a very small grin to the humans lips, and he turned away to prod the fire with a long stick, the logs crackling and sending up small plumes of smoke and embers as they broke. “Well... least now we know you can talk.”

Malorian blinked several times in a mixture of shock and confusion. This was all to surreal, it couldn't possibly be happening. Humans were evil, power hungry creatures from every story he'd ever heard about them. He couldn't even imagine making small talk with one nevertheless being saved by one. He looked the human over with cautious eyes, taking in every detail about him that the poor light would permit him to.

By all standards, the human was his age, at least relatively since their two races aged at much different rates, perhaps by human markers a little bit older. He was built strong, but not bulky or imposingly, and he could see a few small scars on his exposed arm, though most of them were mostly faded. His skin was a shade or two lighter then his own, however still tanned from long hours in the sun. Perhaps the most curious thing about him though was his hair. You see the humans face was young, proud boned and still quite supple, but his hair was silver and white like he was a wizened old man. Malorian had seen such effects before from people who used fel magic but never to this extent on someone who still appeared so young. So lost in thought he was in thought about the matter that he failed to see those blazing blue eyes turn back on him, staring at him with a deep intensity.

“Why did you save me...?”

The words were out of his mouth before he realized and he unconsciously raised his slender fingers to cover his lips. Though he might have saved him, Marius (if that was indeed his real name) was still human and had to be considered an enemy.

The elder warlock smiled and set down the stick. “Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?” He answered in a quiet yet firmly sincere voice. Malorian made no movements to respond, so Marius continued after a brief moments pause. “Perhaps it was because I saw you in danger and some part of me wanted to help? But then again, I am a warlock and the suffering of others should delight me so that can't possibly be it. Perhaps it's simply because I am a warlock and saw a fellow child of darkness about to have their little flame snuffed out forever that compelled me to action.” He paused only for a moment to move over to the window. “However warlocks are notoriously solitary creatures so a feeling a mutual kinship is probably out.”

He turned and looked down at Malorian, seeming to be closer by the minute which only made the elf recoil into his corner more, the smallest twinges of fear appearing on his face. “Maybe it's because your Horde and as a decent member of my race and your not an unbreakable orc like many of your fellow warriors perhaps I'd be able to torture information out of you about your movements into these territories. Although... I can't really say I've ever cared about the Alliance enough to care whether it flourishes or goes up in smoke so, we'll rule that one out.” He was now right over the elf, his face only inches from his, his breath fanning softly against Malorian's soft skin which made his cheeks burn with fear and embarrassment. “So that can only mean...” He laid a hand on the elf’s upper thigh, and though Malorian tried to jerk away, he quickly found one of Marius' strong hands wrapped around his delicate neck.

“I want something from you.”