ANOTHER fanfic lol. This one is actually my oldest project, I started it in like the beginning/middle of fifth grade (going into seventh now) but I decided to remake it. I actually posted a little of it here. Still the same theme, just better written. But I still need to make a new title, I just can't think of one atm.
Draenor eyed the massive citadel, thousands of mounted men, demons, and shadows behind him. Its golden luster that shined even during the winter solstice, the absolute darkest day of the year, was practically burning his eyes, eyes which were accustomed to the eternal darkness that he called his home. Draenor yanked on the rope wrapped around his steed’s neck, forcing it to turn around and face the rest of his men. The citadel stood near the Serion Desert, in the middle of the forest near it on a large hill, surrounded by trees. Draenor, along with his army, stood scattered through the trees.
“For years,” he started, his voice booming so much that it caused the hard earth around them to shake. He started to speak again, “We have sat by, and watched as Incenerous—my father—ruled the land, but indisputably improperly. The civilians have had to pay every piece of gold they own, destroying what he disapproves of, we must give back what he has take! He has stolen what was belongs to us, what belongs to you. But tonight,
redemption will show its face!”
The crowd of misfits roared, well, that’s all they were in the eyes of Draenor. A pack of misfits that he could use as a stepstool. These people, these... beings, were nothing more than tools, a group of every type of species you could imagine: the intelligent, or so to speak, race arachnids, humans, Cyclopes, the race of avian-human hybrid, known as Isori, every type of creature stood in front of him, each gullible enough to trust that he wouldn’t kill them himself after it was all over.
Draenor started to talk after the throng started to calm down, “Our groups shall be split into two parts. I will be leading the main troupe through the front of the castle, the group under my leadership will be that which goes straight to Incenerous, while our commander—Syrus—will lead the secondary attack at the back of the fortress. This group will go around the back, as soon as they go through, they will go straight to the barracks, killing all, and I mean ALL people in sight.”
Syrus walked up to him, chuckling with his mouth hidden by the long, dark sleeve of a cloak identical to Draenor’s, “Redemption huh? Jeez, cut the act already will ya? Really, besides us, how many are you truly intending to let survive?”
Draenor looked at him through the side of his hood, “Those who I will salvage... will be those that are reusable. And what do you mean, besides us?”
The commander looked slightly offended, “So basically, if I get injured, you might kill me too huh?”
Draenor shrugged, “It has crossed my mind to do it even if you’re not injured at all... it has certainly crossed my mind.
~
Syrus and the other soldiers were sweating before the battle even began. Draenor wasn’t a tall man, in fact, he was a little below average height, but when he was determined, nothing took longer, or quicker strides than he did. Not to mention that all of the enchanted and magic-imbued clothing he wore only increased his speed, stamina, everything that you could hope to have.
After a full year of planning, Draenor was finally there. The door towered above him. He pointed to the left, signaling Syrus to go to the other side of the citadel, along with half of the massive army.
Draenor moved closer to the door, and placed his palm on it. First he pushed it, having a small hope that it may be unlocked, and then he stopped. He grabbed the arm that was on the door with his right arm, and started to run a massive surge of power through it. His hand first started to glow yellow, then orange, then red, and then a dark blue, which seemed like a weird change to those who watched in an enthralled manner behind him. His hand continued to glow blue, a glow that the soldiers finally realized to be fire. The door started to shake, and seemed to start glowing as well.
And finally, it burst into millions of diminutive pieces.
Before the pieces were able to fall, Draenor put his hands out in front of him, willing all of the stone blocks to float in the air. The collection of blocks suddenly turned into an improper armory. Spears, swords, every type of murderous weapon lay on the floor in front of the group.
“I trust that these will suffice,” Draenor hissed, marveling his work.
~
Syrus leaned against the wall, the rest of the group stayed outside until he made the signal, peaking around it only to see nothing worth looking at. Those that he looked at weren’t worthy of being called soldiers. They were nothing more than a lazy group of people in armor surrounded by blades that they would sooner stab themselves with than battle the threat that was he. The barrack itself was a big place, perfect for any serious soldier to do any degree of rigorous training. The barrack was outside but at the same time in the middle of the castle, it was basically a field surrounded by stone walls. It was just being used poorly to the point that it was sickening.
Seeing no need to summon the others, he walked out, showing himself to hundreds of stunned soldiers. The soldiers scrambled to gather their weapons as one cautiously walked up to him, he was apparently the commander.
“Sir, we’ll have to ask you to leave,” the commander said, trying to put on the most confident voice he could manage.
Syrus looked at him for a moment, and then began to speak, “Are you aware that there have been two simultaneous intrusions. One at the front gate, and the other at the rear?”
“Intruders? What, when? Who are you anyway? A new recruit from the city I would guess?”
Syrus chuckled, “No, no, no, I just happen to be one of the intruders, but that’s of little importance since you’ll be dying no matter what you do, so let’s just chat. I happen to be a commander too. And I just want to point out that you’re not doing too well,” Syrus’s hand lunged out and grasped the commander’s neck, “And frankly, it offends me.”
The commander gurgled out his words, “Please... don’t...”
Throwing him on the ground, sending him sliding across the ground, Syrus walked out of the field and placed his hand on the ground as soon as he was completely out. The room was suddenly covered in darkness, pitch darkness. The only thing that escaped it were screams. He stood back up, releasing the room of its turmoil. And nothing was left, no soldiers, no armor, no weapons, even the grass had disintegrated. There were no traces that any one of them had ever existed.
Everything had disappeared, in less than five minutes.
~
Draenor stood in front of the door, the door of the fortresses study. He was finally going to face his army. Only two orcs stood behind him the rest of the vast army was scattered throughout the citadel. He already received reports of Syrus’s success with the barracks as well as the archery range shortly afterwards. He turned the knob of the door, the sweat showed even on his lizard-like skin.
As soon as the door opened, he stared in the eyes of one like him... his own father.
“Draenor, you’re the intruder I would guess,” Incenerous said flatly, as if he wasn’t
surprised at all.
“Yes,” Draenor replied in an equal tone, “Father, I don’t want to have to kill you, just give up your throne.”
“Don’t say that, I know as well as you do that you’re going to kill me, as well as all of your other goons, except maybe that Syrus, he’s a prodigy that kid. Only twenty years of age and he whipped out all of my soldiers in a few minutes, not to mention that he toyed with
them too.”
As curious as Draenor was about how he knew that, he simply continued, “Will you yield, or must I sustain your death for several moments?”
“I wouldn’t be much of a king if I simply let you,” Incenerous stood up and drew his sword
in one motion. It was a black longsword with a golden handle, “En guard!”
Draenor unsheathed a katana that was so stained in blood that it was impossible to tell what the color was. The two orcs started to step up but Draenor held up a halting hand that spoke for itself.
Incenerous was the first to rush in, starting off with multiple wild swipes. Draenor’s sword slid across each one, and he finally stabbed at the sword during the last swipe, sending it spinning into the air and then slamming against the stone ground.
As old as he was, Incenerous was extremely agile, dodging Draenor’s thrust; Incenerous dropped to the ground and used one hand for leverage as he pushed himself backwards near his sword. Standing on one knee and a bent leg, the king picked up his sword and thrust it towards Draenor’s head. Instead of parrying it, Draenor took the chance to swirl around the sword and slice at Incenerous’s neck.
Draenor stopped the blade right before it cut him, “It is over, father.”
“So, what happens now?”
“What happens now? Well, I become king, and your head, becomes my trophy.”
Blood spewed onto the walls. And a king’s head... was mounted on a stone wall.
~
Draenor looked out of the window, the rain soothed him somehow. Tomorrow he would start his conquest; tomorrow, he would take the world by storm, literally in certain ways. He turned and stared at his father’s cold, dead eyes. He died with a disapproving look. But the new king was one who didn’t care what was thought of him. He only cared for what he thought of himself. He thought of what he had done: killed his father, killed half of his army, became king, and he was preparing to strip citizens of their freedom.
He felt pretty darn proud of himself right now.
Prologue
Draenor eyed the massive citadel, thousands of mounted men, demons, and shadows behind him. Its golden luster that shined even during the winter solstice, the absolute darkest day of the year, was practically burning his eyes, eyes which were accustomed to the eternal darkness that he called his home. Draenor yanked on the rope wrapped around his steed’s neck, forcing it to turn around and face the rest of his men. The citadel stood near the Serion Desert, in the middle of the forest near it on a large hill, surrounded by trees. Draenor, along with his army, stood scattered through the trees.
“For years,” he started, his voice booming so much that it caused the hard earth around them to shake. He started to speak again, “We have sat by, and watched as Incenerous—my father—ruled the land, but indisputably improperly. The civilians have had to pay every piece of gold they own, destroying what he disapproves of, we must give back what he has take! He has stolen what was belongs to us, what belongs to you. But tonight,
redemption will show its face!”
The crowd of misfits roared, well, that’s all they were in the eyes of Draenor. A pack of misfits that he could use as a stepstool. These people, these... beings, were nothing more than tools, a group of every type of species you could imagine: the intelligent, or so to speak, race arachnids, humans, Cyclopes, the race of avian-human hybrid, known as Isori, every type of creature stood in front of him, each gullible enough to trust that he wouldn’t kill them himself after it was all over.
Draenor started to talk after the throng started to calm down, “Our groups shall be split into two parts. I will be leading the main troupe through the front of the castle, the group under my leadership will be that which goes straight to Incenerous, while our commander—Syrus—will lead the secondary attack at the back of the fortress. This group will go around the back, as soon as they go through, they will go straight to the barracks, killing all, and I mean ALL people in sight.”
Syrus walked up to him, chuckling with his mouth hidden by the long, dark sleeve of a cloak identical to Draenor’s, “Redemption huh? Jeez, cut the act already will ya? Really, besides us, how many are you truly intending to let survive?”
Draenor looked at him through the side of his hood, “Those who I will salvage... will be those that are reusable. And what do you mean, besides us?”
The commander looked slightly offended, “So basically, if I get injured, you might kill me too huh?”
Draenor shrugged, “It has crossed my mind to do it even if you’re not injured at all... it has certainly crossed my mind.
~
Syrus and the other soldiers were sweating before the battle even began. Draenor wasn’t a tall man, in fact, he was a little below average height, but when he was determined, nothing took longer, or quicker strides than he did. Not to mention that all of the enchanted and magic-imbued clothing he wore only increased his speed, stamina, everything that you could hope to have.
After a full year of planning, Draenor was finally there. The door towered above him. He pointed to the left, signaling Syrus to go to the other side of the citadel, along with half of the massive army.
Draenor moved closer to the door, and placed his palm on it. First he pushed it, having a small hope that it may be unlocked, and then he stopped. He grabbed the arm that was on the door with his right arm, and started to run a massive surge of power through it. His hand first started to glow yellow, then orange, then red, and then a dark blue, which seemed like a weird change to those who watched in an enthralled manner behind him. His hand continued to glow blue, a glow that the soldiers finally realized to be fire. The door started to shake, and seemed to start glowing as well.
And finally, it burst into millions of diminutive pieces.
Before the pieces were able to fall, Draenor put his hands out in front of him, willing all of the stone blocks to float in the air. The collection of blocks suddenly turned into an improper armory. Spears, swords, every type of murderous weapon lay on the floor in front of the group.
“I trust that these will suffice,” Draenor hissed, marveling his work.
~
Syrus leaned against the wall, the rest of the group stayed outside until he made the signal, peaking around it only to see nothing worth looking at. Those that he looked at weren’t worthy of being called soldiers. They were nothing more than a lazy group of people in armor surrounded by blades that they would sooner stab themselves with than battle the threat that was he. The barrack itself was a big place, perfect for any serious soldier to do any degree of rigorous training. The barrack was outside but at the same time in the middle of the castle, it was basically a field surrounded by stone walls. It was just being used poorly to the point that it was sickening.
Seeing no need to summon the others, he walked out, showing himself to hundreds of stunned soldiers. The soldiers scrambled to gather their weapons as one cautiously walked up to him, he was apparently the commander.
“Sir, we’ll have to ask you to leave,” the commander said, trying to put on the most confident voice he could manage.
Syrus looked at him for a moment, and then began to speak, “Are you aware that there have been two simultaneous intrusions. One at the front gate, and the other at the rear?”
“Intruders? What, when? Who are you anyway? A new recruit from the city I would guess?”
Syrus chuckled, “No, no, no, I just happen to be one of the intruders, but that’s of little importance since you’ll be dying no matter what you do, so let’s just chat. I happen to be a commander too. And I just want to point out that you’re not doing too well,” Syrus’s hand lunged out and grasped the commander’s neck, “And frankly, it offends me.”
The commander gurgled out his words, “Please... don’t...”
Throwing him on the ground, sending him sliding across the ground, Syrus walked out of the field and placed his hand on the ground as soon as he was completely out. The room was suddenly covered in darkness, pitch darkness. The only thing that escaped it were screams. He stood back up, releasing the room of its turmoil. And nothing was left, no soldiers, no armor, no weapons, even the grass had disintegrated. There were no traces that any one of them had ever existed.
Everything had disappeared, in less than five minutes.
~
Draenor stood in front of the door, the door of the fortresses study. He was finally going to face his army. Only two orcs stood behind him the rest of the vast army was scattered throughout the citadel. He already received reports of Syrus’s success with the barracks as well as the archery range shortly afterwards. He turned the knob of the door, the sweat showed even on his lizard-like skin.
As soon as the door opened, he stared in the eyes of one like him... his own father.
“Draenor, you’re the intruder I would guess,” Incenerous said flatly, as if he wasn’t
surprised at all.
“Yes,” Draenor replied in an equal tone, “Father, I don’t want to have to kill you, just give up your throne.”
“Don’t say that, I know as well as you do that you’re going to kill me, as well as all of your other goons, except maybe that Syrus, he’s a prodigy that kid. Only twenty years of age and he whipped out all of my soldiers in a few minutes, not to mention that he toyed with
them too.”
As curious as Draenor was about how he knew that, he simply continued, “Will you yield, or must I sustain your death for several moments?”
“I wouldn’t be much of a king if I simply let you,” Incenerous stood up and drew his sword
in one motion. It was a black longsword with a golden handle, “En guard!”
Draenor unsheathed a katana that was so stained in blood that it was impossible to tell what the color was. The two orcs started to step up but Draenor held up a halting hand that spoke for itself.
Incenerous was the first to rush in, starting off with multiple wild swipes. Draenor’s sword slid across each one, and he finally stabbed at the sword during the last swipe, sending it spinning into the air and then slamming against the stone ground.
As old as he was, Incenerous was extremely agile, dodging Draenor’s thrust; Incenerous dropped to the ground and used one hand for leverage as he pushed himself backwards near his sword. Standing on one knee and a bent leg, the king picked up his sword and thrust it towards Draenor’s head. Instead of parrying it, Draenor took the chance to swirl around the sword and slice at Incenerous’s neck.
Draenor stopped the blade right before it cut him, “It is over, father.”
“So, what happens now?”
“What happens now? Well, I become king, and your head, becomes my trophy.”
Blood spewed onto the walls. And a king’s head... was mounted on a stone wall.
~
Draenor looked out of the window, the rain soothed him somehow. Tomorrow he would start his conquest; tomorrow, he would take the world by storm, literally in certain ways. He turned and stared at his father’s cold, dead eyes. He died with a disapproving look. But the new king was one who didn’t care what was thought of him. He only cared for what he thought of himself. He thought of what he had done: killed his father, killed half of his army, became king, and he was preparing to strip citizens of their freedom.
He felt pretty darn proud of himself right now.
