That night shall be a night this mind and soul will never forget. I try to brush it off, but the static clings to my skin with greater force than I can stand. Perhaps you could say this was a defining fall in my lifetime.
Sha’lim came home from gathering, but he had no catch to carry, and his limp had gotten even worse. I was furious upon this, “Sha’lim, what is the matter? You come home without food for mouths to feed, and you look like the Scourge had at you!”
“Hurgroda, be reasonable!” Junattieta exclaimed.
“No, I need to know this…” I went up to my son and tore off his insignia. There upon his shoulder, where he inched up the piece of cloth, was a clear infection of the Fel. Sha’lim was appalled. “Why do you butt in to my matters? This is just ridiculous!”
“We must call upon Hamuul Runetotem at once,” I stated. “We must cleanse you at once, Son.”
“I need no cleansing, Father! In case you haven’t noticed you’re the one who is up in arms with this.” And with that, Sha’lim stormed away from the Emerald Sanctuary.
“Please, go follow him,” Juna pleaded.
“I feel as though I should,” I agreed.
I tracked his hoof prints a ways up north. He was rather easy to track, considering his limp was at its worst. Thoughts tore through my head at the speed of a hippogryph. What has happened to my beloved son? Why didn’t I pursue this at an earlier stage? At one point my mind raced so much that I felt like I was literally crawling through the woods.
Eventually I tracked Sha’lim to a Physical Nightmare. A place more foul than any other, that has kept Felwood at its most corrupt…Jaedenar. Putrid residence of the Shadow Council. Two wretched Orcs greeted him, took him by his arms and escorted him inside. The entrance was glowing with green, volatile essence. I decided to use the best stealth a Shu’halo could achieve, slitting throats silently along the way. Felhounds marched up and down these dank halls of death. Candles lit the air with the hope of stagnation. Even the candles dripped death. The flames muttered blasphemy of the corruption of the Council. The halls became as twisted as their ideals and morals. After a long, painful following, I came about a sacrificial pit, lined with candles mocking all life. Down the winding pit I saw none other than the epitome of this Nightmare, the Shadowlord himself, Fel’dan.
My Son fell to his knees before the cruel, senseless beast. Fel’dan looked down on him with an air of superiority and seething madness. “You look not well, Sha’lim,” the Shadowlord croaked. “Perhaps your time has come to call to a higher power…you worthless throw-away of the Cenarion.”
Something inside me snapped at that moment. There knelt my Son to an abominable creature, who viewed Sha’lim’s already waning life as to his own disposal. In that instant I drew my halberd, The Smoldering Claw, and laid devastation to all his minion present. Fel’dan seemed nothing but amused by this, while blood danced about the pit, staining my soul as well as my Son’s. When the blood had settled, Fel’dan’s powers began to wreak. “I could only expect the dispensable to come with the dispensed. How much do you truly value your Son?” I must have had a rather visual expression upon my face, as Fel’dan read my ever mood. “Oh, you don’t think I know you are his Father?” the Shadowlord said matter of factual. “I see it in your eyes, yessss. Those are the eyes of a Father who defends his life for his very Son. Those are also the eyelids that shall close death upon you at my command. If your Son is who you have sought here tonight, think again. It is death that lies before you, fool!”
And with that, Fel’dan unleashed his sinister fury upon me, and I matched each blow he gave. Anger gripped my insides to the point where my halberd felt fused with my very own being. We matched, lash for lash, blow for blow. After a hard-fought battle, I had the insufferable creature to his last leg. “You think that you corruption can give you power,” I shouted, “but with power such as this comes a graver consequence. Let me be your Judge of Finality!” And before I took a finishing swipe, I hear a voice behind me.
“NO!” Sha’lim belted out. I looked at him directly in the eye. What I found was not my son any longer. What I saw was indescribably a horrid figure, a figure that had already taken the life of my Son. I did not see Sha’lim, no; the Fel had fully taken over his body. Veins appeared where they normally would never appear, scars traveled across his body like an open sea. Wounds deep and disturbing plagued and claimed his skin. Sha’lim had a bow and arrow…the very set I gave him, pointing directly at me.
“Son…” I was too taken aback by this action, but shook this out of my head. This isn’t my Son, he is already dead. And when one thrust of my halberd, I took what was left of him. My halberd lay thrusted in his jugular, as his body went as limp as a sock puppet. I heard cackling madness behind me once more. I look to turn around and there was my greatest hatred staring right back at me. Fel’dan’s eyes were wild with pleasure, dark and uncontrollable. His laughter made me physically ill. “You are worse off that what I ever could have imagined,” Fel’dan snickered. “You did the job for me! What kind of Father do you call..”
And with that very phrase incomplete, I swung my Smoldering Claw directly for his neck, taking off his head like a kite in the night sky.
