GryphonEbonsoul
03-03-2007, 09:17 PM
THE FALL OF DRAXOD EBONCRAFT
In a small hamlet in Tirisfal Glades, not far from Lordaeron, two young men sit on a grassy hill quietly pondering their future.
“I am truly sorry for your loss, my friend. Your parents were such skilled warriors”, said Onyxu.
“True, but apparently not skilled enough.” replied Draxod.
“What will you do now?” inquired Onyxu.
“I suppose I shall keep tailoring in my shop, at least till a better opportunity presents itself.” Draxod wiped a tear from his eye and bowed his head.
“Well I no longer think old man Farouk is a warlock. I asked him about it and he cursed me and chased me off his farm! I think all he cares about is his damn pigs! A pity, I really wanted to study the ways of a warlock.”
Onyxu shook his head; “I have decided to take Monos up on his offer and join the thieves’ guild. I can no longer stand this place! I am leaving tonight.” With that pronouncement, Onyxu shook his friend’s hand and proceeded to return to his cottage to prepare for his journey.
Draxod wonder to himself if he would ever see his childhood friend again. Not wanting to be alone, Draxod decided to pay old man Farouk a visit. He walked slowly down the dirt road, toward the farm, being careful that no one followed him.
Upon arrival, Draxod knocked firmly on the door. The warlock Abdul Farouk opened the door and smiled as Draxod, his new student, entered.
“I have heard that Onyxu came to you. Why did you not tell him the truth?” Draxod cautiously asked his teacher.
“That boy is both sneaky and very untrustworthy! I cannot risk the others in the village knowing about my past. Besides, I already have a student!”
The warlock then began the evening lessons.
SEVERAL YEARS LATER
After having study diligently in warlock magic, Draxod managed to also squeeze lessons concerning the art of enchanting from his aged mentor.
When he was young, his father taught him to fish and his mother taught him to cook. Whenever possible, Draxod would try to fish as often as he could. He would share his best days catch with his mentor, when time and circumstance allowed.
On this fateful day, there was enough for a hearty fish and potato stew! As usual, the warlock Farouk smiled upon seeing his favored student.
“By the gods, I praise the day I chose to teach you the dark arts!” said the old man.
“I will partake of this feast upon my return from this small errand”. The old wizard then left his tiny cottage to gather a piglet to deliver to a nearby farm.
Draxod cleaned and prepared the fish and vegetables.
Once the stew was simmering on a low fire, he then decided to enter a deep magical meditation, designed to strengthen the will. . .
*
The rogue Onyxu’s blood began to boil!
He despised being played for a fool, and at this time, he felt like the greatest fool in all of Azeroth!
His anger seethed as he sat crouched and hidden . . . just under the shuttered window of old man Farouk!
Not only did that old turd have the audacity to look down on him and lie about his sorcery, but he then taught Draxod what Onyxu longed for . . . dark magical knowledge!
He watched contemptuously as the doddering old fool walked down the road with one of his precious swine.
He then crept silently into the un-guarded cottage with his most prized possession hidden within his sleeve.
Somehow, against all odds, he procured an actually vial of the coming plague the Scourge were now in the process of spreading!
When he learned of the Scourge’s dark plans, he thought it prudent to head in the direction of lands untainted with undead stench!
Along the way he made a slight detour through his old village for one last prank on those who slighted him in the past.
His original intention was to spike the slop of the farmer’s pigs, so that they would die upon eating it . . . and arise as undead pork!
Now he had a more insidious plan.
Onyxu glided silently into the unguarded cottage.
There he looked at the still form of his former friend sitting crossed legged in silent and deep contemplation.
Onyxu removed the vial from his sleeve and uncorked it. He carefully allowed one drop of eternal damnation to gently splash into the simmering fish stew.
Confident that Draxod and Farouk were now destined to be the walking undead, the unseen assassin slipped quietly into the woods toward his nearby steed.
*
Gently, Draxod opened his eyes. Satisfied that the meditation went well, he felt the pang of hunger well up from his gut. He unfolded his legs and stood up. He eagerly grabbed the wooden spoon by the pot and tasted his stew.
His world then changed forever!
At first it was a wonderful sensation then his body felt as if it were on fire!
His razor sharp mind realized instantly that the soup had been poisoned!
With his final act of will, he knocked the stew pot over and collapsed.
Draxod Eboncraft then died on his master’s floor.
*
“Good evening, old man!” Onxyu derisively spat as he rode his horse past Farouk.
The sorcerer continued walking in the opposite direction on the old dusty road, back toward his home. The warlock thought it very strange to see this whelp after all these seasons. When he entered his home, he saw his suspicions confirmed!
Draxod lay dead on his floor!
At least he was dead, until his body suddenly and violently convulsed and shook.
The thing that was once an aspiring warlock clumsily arose!
The undead Draxod looked at his former master and forced on word from his lips . . . “POISON!”
“It was Onyxu” said the old warlock. “I shall follow him and destroy him! You, on the other hand, must leave this place immediately! DO NOT BE HERE WHEN I RETURN . . . my son.”
With that pronouncement, the old sorcerer left his home, summoned his enslaved dreadsteed and gave chase!
Draxod’s last coherent thought was . . . relief. His former master was beginning to smell . . . tasty.
The newly undead thing then quietly shambled into the nearby woods, towards the distant call of the Lich King.
*
Fate was not entirely unkind to poor Draxod.
He eventually found himself among the Forsaken, allied with Sylvanas Windrunner.
Soon his warlock training returned to his battered mind.
With quiet wisdom, he embraced his “un-death”.
All that remained was to join with other like minded individuals, and forge his new destiny . . .
In a small hamlet in Tirisfal Glades, not far from Lordaeron, two young men sit on a grassy hill quietly pondering their future.
“I am truly sorry for your loss, my friend. Your parents were such skilled warriors”, said Onyxu.
“True, but apparently not skilled enough.” replied Draxod.
“What will you do now?” inquired Onyxu.
“I suppose I shall keep tailoring in my shop, at least till a better opportunity presents itself.” Draxod wiped a tear from his eye and bowed his head.
“Well I no longer think old man Farouk is a warlock. I asked him about it and he cursed me and chased me off his farm! I think all he cares about is his damn pigs! A pity, I really wanted to study the ways of a warlock.”
Onyxu shook his head; “I have decided to take Monos up on his offer and join the thieves’ guild. I can no longer stand this place! I am leaving tonight.” With that pronouncement, Onyxu shook his friend’s hand and proceeded to return to his cottage to prepare for his journey.
Draxod wonder to himself if he would ever see his childhood friend again. Not wanting to be alone, Draxod decided to pay old man Farouk a visit. He walked slowly down the dirt road, toward the farm, being careful that no one followed him.
Upon arrival, Draxod knocked firmly on the door. The warlock Abdul Farouk opened the door and smiled as Draxod, his new student, entered.
“I have heard that Onyxu came to you. Why did you not tell him the truth?” Draxod cautiously asked his teacher.
“That boy is both sneaky and very untrustworthy! I cannot risk the others in the village knowing about my past. Besides, I already have a student!”
The warlock then began the evening lessons.
SEVERAL YEARS LATER
After having study diligently in warlock magic, Draxod managed to also squeeze lessons concerning the art of enchanting from his aged mentor.
When he was young, his father taught him to fish and his mother taught him to cook. Whenever possible, Draxod would try to fish as often as he could. He would share his best days catch with his mentor, when time and circumstance allowed.
On this fateful day, there was enough for a hearty fish and potato stew! As usual, the warlock Farouk smiled upon seeing his favored student.
“By the gods, I praise the day I chose to teach you the dark arts!” said the old man.
“I will partake of this feast upon my return from this small errand”. The old wizard then left his tiny cottage to gather a piglet to deliver to a nearby farm.
Draxod cleaned and prepared the fish and vegetables.
Once the stew was simmering on a low fire, he then decided to enter a deep magical meditation, designed to strengthen the will. . .
*
The rogue Onyxu’s blood began to boil!
He despised being played for a fool, and at this time, he felt like the greatest fool in all of Azeroth!
His anger seethed as he sat crouched and hidden . . . just under the shuttered window of old man Farouk!
Not only did that old turd have the audacity to look down on him and lie about his sorcery, but he then taught Draxod what Onyxu longed for . . . dark magical knowledge!
He watched contemptuously as the doddering old fool walked down the road with one of his precious swine.
He then crept silently into the un-guarded cottage with his most prized possession hidden within his sleeve.
Somehow, against all odds, he procured an actually vial of the coming plague the Scourge were now in the process of spreading!
When he learned of the Scourge’s dark plans, he thought it prudent to head in the direction of lands untainted with undead stench!
Along the way he made a slight detour through his old village for one last prank on those who slighted him in the past.
His original intention was to spike the slop of the farmer’s pigs, so that they would die upon eating it . . . and arise as undead pork!
Now he had a more insidious plan.
Onyxu glided silently into the unguarded cottage.
There he looked at the still form of his former friend sitting crossed legged in silent and deep contemplation.
Onyxu removed the vial from his sleeve and uncorked it. He carefully allowed one drop of eternal damnation to gently splash into the simmering fish stew.
Confident that Draxod and Farouk were now destined to be the walking undead, the unseen assassin slipped quietly into the woods toward his nearby steed.
*
Gently, Draxod opened his eyes. Satisfied that the meditation went well, he felt the pang of hunger well up from his gut. He unfolded his legs and stood up. He eagerly grabbed the wooden spoon by the pot and tasted his stew.
His world then changed forever!
At first it was a wonderful sensation then his body felt as if it were on fire!
His razor sharp mind realized instantly that the soup had been poisoned!
With his final act of will, he knocked the stew pot over and collapsed.
Draxod Eboncraft then died on his master’s floor.
*
“Good evening, old man!” Onxyu derisively spat as he rode his horse past Farouk.
The sorcerer continued walking in the opposite direction on the old dusty road, back toward his home. The warlock thought it very strange to see this whelp after all these seasons. When he entered his home, he saw his suspicions confirmed!
Draxod lay dead on his floor!
At least he was dead, until his body suddenly and violently convulsed and shook.
The thing that was once an aspiring warlock clumsily arose!
The undead Draxod looked at his former master and forced on word from his lips . . . “POISON!”
“It was Onyxu” said the old warlock. “I shall follow him and destroy him! You, on the other hand, must leave this place immediately! DO NOT BE HERE WHEN I RETURN . . . my son.”
With that pronouncement, the old sorcerer left his home, summoned his enslaved dreadsteed and gave chase!
Draxod’s last coherent thought was . . . relief. His former master was beginning to smell . . . tasty.
The newly undead thing then quietly shambled into the nearby woods, towards the distant call of the Lich King.
*
Fate was not entirely unkind to poor Draxod.
He eventually found himself among the Forsaken, allied with Sylvanas Windrunner.
Soon his warlock training returned to his battered mind.
With quiet wisdom, he embraced his “un-death”.
All that remained was to join with other like minded individuals, and forge his new destiny . . .