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Naga as a race are a mixed blessing for me. I really want to like them, but their origins as the Highborne (who brought about a little event known as the War of the Ancients), their constant harassment of other mortal races, and their current activities in the Outlands remind me that the Naga are the bad guys. However, I still want a reason to like them, so I am working on this story. Read on, and if you like the story, notice any lore inconsistencies, have a problem with me not liking Naga, or have any other reason to post, then please do so.
The story will be broken up into Parts, both to make it easier to read and to make it easier for me to add more to it. It is hardly done, and I will be making tweaks to previous content and adding more new stuff until I think it is.
10,000 Years Before the Third War
Arkthan woke up. His green hair, purple skin and silver eyes marked him as a Night Elf, and the crest on his uniform identified him as one of Queen Ashzara’s Highborne. At least, that was what he was previously.
Arkthan got up out of his cot - calling it a bed would be too kind - and walked up to the bars of his cell. Outside, he could see a long corridor, lined with cells like his own and occupied by all sorts of Night Elves Queen Ashzara had imprisoned. At the end of the corridor was a pair of guards, one of whom Arkthan was until only recently. He had spoken up against the magical experiments going on in the throne room, and the demonic creatures coming out of the portal there. He had been imprisoned in the dungeon underneath the palace, and would undoubtedly be horribly tortured before he was killed. It was hardly an entertaining thought, but Arkthan didn’t plan to go down without something to show for it.
He turned to his cot again, but before long he could hear the echo of footsteps coming down the stars leading to the dungeon. He walked up to the bars again in time to see a hideous creature descend. It was like the cross of a Night Elf and a goat - his chest and arms were those of a Night Elf, but his lower body and legs were distinctly goat-like, and his face was a cross of the two. The guards, however, seemed unaffected by the newcomer’s hideous appearance, and instead stood at attention and saluted.
“The Master approaches; he will arrive within the hour. These mongrels are no longer needed - kill them all, then come to the throne room for the coming of Sargeras.”
With those words, the goat-Elf turned up the stairs and walked away. The two guards started to walk down the hall, and opened the first two cells. They entered, followed by brief screams. They came out with blood-stained swords, and moved to the next pair of cells. Arkthan was third in line - he would be next. He could see the guard across from him, and he stabbed the elderly Elf sitting in there without hesitation.
Arkthan backed away from the bars as one of the guards approached his cell.
“What are you doing?” Arkthan yelled at him. “Have you gone mad?” It seemed like Arkthan’s chance to go out with a bang had arrived. The guard opened the door, and without a word stabbed at Arkthan.
Arkthan dived to the side, although the guard still cut a hole in his uniform. Turning to face Arkthan again, the guard was met by Arkthan’s heavy swing. A snapping sound could be heard, and the guard backed away, clutching his nose. Arkthan grabbed the guard’s sword arm, and letting it go for a moment preformed one of his favorite moves. Bringing one arm swinging down on the guard’s arm and the other swinging up in a scissor-like motion, he snapped the arm in half, although he bruised his own arms on the guard’s metal bracers. Screaming in pain, the guard dropped his sword and fell to his knees, clutching his broken arm. Arkthan kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling backwards. Picking up the guard’s sword, Arkthan turned to face the other guard, who had dispatched the prisoner across from Arkthan’s cell and was now coming for him.
Arkthan swung wide at face level, driving his opponent back. He then jumped to the side as the guard swung at him, and stabbed into the guard’s side, plunging into his gut. To Arkthan’s horror, the guard’s blood had an unholy green tint to it, and as the dying guard fell to the floor a light went out in his eyes - a fiery, unholy light that Arkthan hadn’t really noticed until then.
Taking both swords, Arkthan returned to the first guard and, with a swift strike to the base of his skull, killed him. That guard had the same unholy blood as his comrade, which was proof that something sinister was happening to the Highborne. Grabbing the keys from both guards, Arkthan set about freeing the other prisoners. He soon had them all free - almost two dozen of them - and handing off one of his swords, began to think about how to best escape. There was no way the group would be able to fight their way through, but perhaps there would be no one to fight. The demonic goat-Elf had ordered the guards to come to the throne room when they were done, so there was a good chance that there would be no guards on duty. Telling the other Night Elves this, he began to lead them up the stars.
A rumbling sound interrupted their climb. It grew louder and louder, until the stones were shaking and Arkthan could no longer climb. His head started to ring, until whatever it was hit the palace. The dungeon the group was fleeing imploded, showering stone and water into the stairwell. Water started gushing in at an alarming rate, and the Night Elves started climbing quickly; if they stopped, they would drown. However, judging from the sounds coming from above, the entire palace had been hit by the shockwave. The sounds of falling rubble and screaming Night Elves could be heard, but they were drowned out by a more fearsome sound. A chorus of crumbling stone could be heard, and then for a second nothing.
Reaching the top of the stairwell and entering the center chamber, Arkthan looked up at the sight of the entire tower falling down on him. The lower walls had been shattered by the impact of the shockwave, and now the entire palace was falling. Arkthan turned and dived back down the stairwell, knocking back the Elves gathered there into the rising water.
“Get down!” he shouted, and with those words took a deep breath and dived under the rising water, as the palace collapsed on his head.
Arkthan woke up, again.
At first, he had trouble focusing on much of anything. From what he could tell, he was still in the staircase leading up from the dungeon, but there was almost no light around. There was something giving off a faint luminescence above him, but the weak light revealed little of the surrounding landscape. From what he could tell, based on the rubble scattered everywhere, the staircase had collapsed with him, and possibly the other escapees, inside it. Arkthan pushed himself up off the floor, but something got in his eyes. He had kicked up a cloud of dust, and it was floating in front of his face. He lifted a hand to brush it away, but what came up was not the hand of an Elf.
Instead, it was the hand of some kind of reptile. The top of it was lined with hard, circular scales that were a murky green color, and the bottom had larger, softer scales that were light brown. It had four fingers, all of which ended in a sharp claw. There was a large fin on it, starting at the wrist and ending at his elbow, which was a rusty red color. Just to make sure it was his, Arkthan moved it around, rotating it and picking up a handful of sand. Instead of falling to the ground, however, the sand floated in a cloud around his hand. Arkthan would have been stunned if he wasn’t already shocked by his new body; he was living underwater at this moment.
He was no longer lying down, now, and so he was hit by yet another shock; he was no longer standing on legs. Looking down, he saw his belly, covered by the same scales as those on his underarm. Instead of ending at his waist, however, it continued and tapered off behind him, forming a solid tail, which bore more of the rusty red fins. Arkthan was no longer a Night Elf, and as this realization dawned on him he sat there, paralyzed with the weight of the revelation.
He sat there for a long time, although he had no idea how long it was. He was interrupted, however, by his arm, which started throbbing. Turning to examine it, he saw the bite mark of some kind of serpent there. The scales around it had a pinkish hue, and the flesh underneath was starting to swell. Wondering when he had been bit, Arkthan pondered how to best deal with the wound when he caught a scent.
While Arkthan had never tasted blood before, his new body knew exactly what the smell was. His fins, which had been slightly limp until just then, stiffened up. His tongue flicked out of it’s own accord, and in doing so brought a much more accurate picture of where it was coming from. It was wafting up from down the stairwell, and so Arkthan turned and started to climb down. Seeing the sword he had taken earlier, he picked it up and started to swim down the stairs. Arkthan himself had no idea how to swim, but his instincts took over and let him focus on examining what was ahead. As he swam further down, the luminescent light - which seemed to be coming from the stone itself - dimmed, and the scent of blood grew stronger.
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Arkthan came into the remains of the dungeon. The entire room was clouded with blood, and so he had a hard time seeing, but from what he could see the corridor was almost entirely blocked off. Swimming down the hallway, Arkthan examined the bodies floating around him. There were two basic builds; the male figures were built like him, with faces more like those of snakes than Elves. Feeling his own face, Arkthan realized that his own looked no better. The female bodies were much slimmer than the male ones, but they possessed four arms and still retained some semblance of their previous Elfish faces, although it lacked a nose and was ringed by a large crest.
There seemed to be two groups of dead survivors here. One group was similar to him; they possessed dark, muddy colors and no weapons, with the exception of one, who possessed a sword similar to Arkthan’s and was surrounded by a small ring of dead foes. Arkthan was certain that these were his fellow survivors, as they had clawed their opponents to death, and had been hacked to pieces by the second group’s blades. This other group possessed blue scales and orange fins, as well as being well-armed. As Arkthan drifted through the rubble, he found more groups of dead bodies, but the second blue ones started to take on more violent poses of death. Several looked like they were burned, and several had holes in their bodies, probably left by some kind of magical bolt. When Arkthan stumbled on a hole in the last cell on the line, his last doubts were banished when two larger blue-scaled bodies with makeshift armor bore the mark of Queen Ashzara.
Exiting the ruins, Arkthan came out into a completely different world than he had ever seen before. The sea floor was littered with colorful rocks, seaweed, and large chunks of rubble that Arkthan doubted were natural. Hundreds of different types of fish were everywhere, and the entire place was illuminated by rays of sunlight coming from high above the landscape. Behind Arkthan was the dungeon he had just left, resting against a cliff. Higher up, Arkthan could see several small shelves, holding small clusters of rubble, and outlined against the light coming from the surface was the main palace structure, albeit quite battered by its descent into the ocean. Arkthan was stunned by the beauty of the entire scene, until movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
Swimming towards him was a group of three survivors, two male and a female. They were all blue-scaled, and remembering the slaughter behind him Arkthan raised his sword, ready to defend himself.
“Another of those drudges,” the female remarked. Despite being underwater, Arkthan could hear what she was saying clearly enough. “Kill him,” she said to her escort, gesturing at Arkthan. She was obviously superior to them, as they unquestioningly drew their long blades and swam towards Arkthan. Baring his teeth in a snarl, something Arkthan had never done before, he prepared for battle.
The two Highborne circled like sharks around Arkthan, looking for an opportunity to strike. They didn’t wait long, and almost immediately they darted in simultaneously, striking at Arkthan. He twisted away from the first, and as the second torpedoed at him Arkthan slashed out at his face. The Highborne twisted out of the way, but Arkthan’s strike still connected with something. His opponent shrieked in pain and sped off, spurting blood from a gash in his arm. The commander above the battle began casting a spell, and within moments she had healed the gash, allowing the warrior to return to the battle. In the meantime, Arkthan and his other foe stood there, parrying blows and striking in return, with neither getting anything but scrapes for their efforts. When the second attacker returned, however, Arkthan was at a huge disadvantage. He only parried a few strikes before he took a solid blow to his shoulder, and despite quickly switching to his left hand Arkthan was severely outmatched. It wasn’t long before his blade was knocked out of his hands, and as the Highborne attacker reared back for a finishing blow Arkthan’s body pulled yet another surprise out for his benefit.
From some gland on the back of his head, buried in the fins that had replaced his hair, a jet of ink spurted out. Arkthan was propelled forward, and after a second of being stunned again he turned around to view his attackers. They were lost in a large cloud of jet-black ink, which was quickly spreading and had obscured their view of him. Weaponless and wounded, Arkthan decided that his best option was to run, and so he turned around and fled to the safety of the rocks and seaweed on the ocean floor.
As he fled, Arkthan caught the scent of blood. It wasn’t his (Arkthan’s nose was ignoring his own blood, it seemed), but it was leaving a definite trail leading directly away from the ruined dungeon. With this discovery came two revelations; the hostile survivors that had attacked Arkthan could easily follow his trail of blood, and some of his fellow escapees had made it out of the dungeon alive. Quickly turning to follow the faint trail, Arkthan set off.
Several days went by. Arkthan, despite being underwater, could still tell when the sun was up or down, because the light changed from a dim, murky twilight to an impenetrable darkness. His damaged arm was bandaged in a makeshift seaweed patch, and had stopped bleeding by now. For several hours, he had been followed by small sharks. The fish had made Arkthan nervous, until they went away after it was apparent that Arkthan wasn’t going to die anytime soon.
The trail of blood he was following had been there for almost a week already, and Arkthan was lucky that a current hadn’t washed it away. Despite his luck, it was getting harder to pick up, and Arkthan was worried he might loose it soon. Although the trail had been going in a straight north-east line the whole time, Arkthan could easily wander off the trail or miss a sudden turn the fleeing survivors could have made without the presence of the guiding scent. Arkthan’s fears were realized when a light current picked up early the next day, washing the last faint traces away.
Arkthan now had a choice to make. He could continue to go north-east, hoping to eventually stumble across the fleeing survivors. On the other hand, he could return to the ruined palace and attempt to join the Highborne ranks, although his only encounter with them proved that at least some of them were aware of the escaped prisoners and their current status. He sat pondering for several minutes, weighing the options, when a third choice was forced over his head in the form of a weighted net.
Struggling to get out of it, slashing with his uninjured hand and thrashing about, Arkthan was quickly and hopelessly tangled in the net. After it was obvious he could not escape, Arkthan stopped struggling and looked for his captors. They immediately made themselves known to him; several humanoid fish-people swam up to him, one right in front of his face, giving Arkthan a clear look at them. They were, as Arkthan had already seen, humanoid, although they were hunched over in a pose that would be very uncomfortable for a Night Elf. Their faces were those of fish; they had the large, pupil-less eyes and gaping mouth of one of their undersea relatives. They had long arms, ending in four-fingered hands, which were webbed and grasped crude weapons made out of seashells and coral. Their backs were lined with long, thin spines, and to finish off their amphibious appearance their skin was covered in the small, smooth scales of a fish. This group was obviously a group of hunters; they were equipped with more nets like the ones wrapped around Arkthan, as well as long coral spears. They also wore the skulls of some kind of animal as helmets, giving them a fearsome appearance.
The one in front of Arkthan seemed to be the leader; he was decorated with a necklace of various animal teeth, as well as a wand with some kind of gem on it. He was not wielding it right now, but instead had a long knife fashioned from a seashell. It seemed to have some sort of ceremonious purpose, as it was decorated with small beads and some kind of paint. Arkthan immediately realized what it was fore when the creature grabbed a handful of fins from Arkthan’s head and pulled up, exposing Arkthan’s neck.
Arkthan immediately resumed his struggles when the creature began to chant something in it’s own tongue. The creature ignored him, however, and continued it’s chant. As the words started getting faster and faster, and when they reached a crescendo the priest raised the knife in the air.
Triggered by the situation, the ink glands in the back of Arkthan’s neck fired off again, rocketing him forward and bowling over the priest. Arkthan scraped against a coral formation as he flew forward, cutting through the net and scraping Arkthan’s arm. The severed cord freed Arkthan’s arm, allowing him to tear the rest of the net off him and start swimming away. Before he made it very far, however, another net landed over his head, pinning him to the ground. The priest came over to Arkthan, and angered by Arkthan’s escape he had the other hunters pin Arkthan to the ground. He once again began the short ceremony, and Arkthan’s struggles were suppressed by the hunters on top of him. Before the priest could finish the ceremony again, however, he was struck in the chest by a bolt of energy.
“You fools!” came the cry of outrage from above Arkthan. The other fish-men scattered, but were struck down by more energy bolts. The two Highborne warriors that had fought Arkthan from before swam down and intercepted two more fleeing fish-men, beating them down with the hilts of their blades. The priest in front of Arkthan stumbled up, with a nasty-looking burn on his chest, but before he could do much more the third Highborne, this one the priest, bolted down and slammed him into the ground.
“Remember your place, worm!” she yelled into the creature’s face. Grabbing him by the gills in his neck, he picked him up.
“You are a slave! Remember the oath you made to never harm one of your masters?” she continued to yell into his face.
“Made under the threat of death,” the unlucky creature managed to gurgle.
“Does it matter?” the Highborne hissed back, with venom filling her voice. “You made an oath, sealed with your blood, and you have broken it by attacking a Naga!”
“He-” the creature tried to say, but the Highborne refused to listen to him. Slamming the creature into the ground again, she hit him with another bolt of energy. He was blasted back, and despite his wounds he tried to swim away. The Highborne preist would have none of that, however, and whistled some kind of command. A small worm-like creature materialized from thin air, and immediately bolted off to the wounded fish-man. It quickly reached him, and started burrowing into the escaping creature‘s side. The worm’s target started writhing in pain, spurting blood from the hole in his side. He thrashed about for nearly a minute, until he literally exploded in a gory shower. The remains were quickly seized upon by nearby fish, and satisfied that the offending creature had been punished the Highborne priest turned to Arkthan.
“Excuse the mess,” the priestess said to Arkthan. “These worms will be broken in time, but for now they are a bit feisty.” She made no move to help Arkthan. “I am assuming you aren‘t one of us?” At Arkthan’s quizzical look, she continued. “A Highborne, I mean. You bear the colors of a normal mud-dweller.” She waited a moment, and when Arkthan refused to comment she hissed and whipped out a long dagger.
“Answer me! I will not hesitate to slit your throat for Queen Ashzara. However,” she said, calming down a bit, “I would prefer not to. Despite your non-Highborne ancestry, your unique talents make you a valuable asset to the Queen. If you choose, you can join our ranks.”
Arkthan didn’t need to ask what would happen if he refused. After only a moment of thought, Arkthan spoke up for the first time.
“Very well,” he replied. Satisfied, the priestess put her blade away.
“I am Adru, a Sea Priestess. Over there are my guards, Zellik and Gron.” The two Naga in question would have come over and said something, but were too busy with the fish-men to do more than nod at Arkthan. “What is your name?”
“Arkthan,” Arkthan said. He wasn’t feeling very talkative, and so he started working on getting free of the net. Adru didn’t bother helping him, but sat patiently while Arkthan struggled out of the net. After a few minutes of wriggling and clawing, Arkthan was free.
He was met by the blade of a knife, angled so that any sudden moves would bury it in his neck.
“Now, before you decide to go somewhere I don’t want, I need to do something,” Adru said. She began chanting some sort of spell, and soon a worm similar to the one that had slain the fish-man priest appeared. Caught in a corner, Arkthan stared helplessly as the worm swam over to him.
“This isn‘t going to kill you, like the Mur‘gul fool over there,” Adru reassured Arkthan. “It‘s more like a remora; it will latch on to you, and I will be able to see and hear everything you do.”
Arkthan held still as the worm floated over to him, and shortly after it began burrowing into his arm. Baring his teeth and clenching his fists, he waited for the worm to stop. After only a few moments, the creature had settled in his arm.
Adru, satisfied with her work, swam over to Zellik and Gron. With nearly a dozen of the Mur’gul creatures captured, the group seemed quite pleased with their catch.
“We will return to the palace now,” Adru said. Gesturing for Arkthan to follow, she went off, followed by her guards and the captured Mur’gul. Arkthan hesitated for a moment, wondering why they weren’t guarding him, when the worm in his arm started to wriggle. Arkthan understood immediately; if he was disobedient, the worm would rip him apart just like the Mur’gul priest. Looking back at the ruined body, Arkthan followed the other Naga.
After a week of traveling, the group returned to the broken palace with a half-dozen Mur’gul in tow. The other six had tried to escape, and had been ruthlessly dispatched by one of the two myrmidon (which was the term generally used for a male Naga, along with Siren for a female). Arkthan had taken pains to avoid being a burden, always thinking of the worm in his arm.
The two myrmidon brought the captured Mur’gul to a camp at the base of the palace, while Adru led Arkthan to a low section of the palace.
“You are about to meet Lady Ona Darkscale, a Priestess of the Tides,” Adru informed Arkthan while they swam. “She will swear you into the service of Queen Ashzara, and replace the remora in your arm with one of her own. You will then be assigned to a role in our society. As a Priestess of the Tides, she is one of the highest-ranking members in our society and will take no disrespect from anyone.”
The two entered a hole in the wall of the palace and entered a hallway. The rich decorations and furnishings were ruined by the weeks underwater, and were already being replaced with underwater vegetation. The long corridor passed several small rooms and plenty of rubble-blocked doorways, but the room at the end was the most important one. Two myrmidon guards sat at the entrance, wielding large tridents and wearing golden armor. They stopped Adru and Arkthan at the entrance and blocked sight into the room.
“Why are you here, sister?” one queried.
“To enlist Arkthan into the military,” Adru responded, gesturing to Arkthan.
“Very well; you may enter,” the guard finished, shifting aside to allow Arkthan entry. The two entered the room beyond.
The large room was, in its previous life, a richly decorated bedroom. The old decorations and bed were still here, although they were next to useless. However, a new bed had been moved in, an enormous clam shell with a large, apparently water-proof pillow at the bottom. At the window that looked out to the palace’s surroundings was an impressive Siren.
She had four arms, like the other Siren Arkthan had seen, as well as a long tail with a fork at the end that resembled a fish tail. Her most striking feature, however, was her head. Instead of the large crest that most Siren possessed, she had hair. At least, it was hair at first glance; further examination revealed the hair to be many snakes, several of which were regarding Arkthan and Adru with curiosity.
The Siren turned around to face the newcomers. She was ornately decorated, with golden armor and plenty of jewelry, unlike the very little most other Naga wore. She bore no weapons, but Arkthan had no doubt that she had a powerful grasp on magic.
Adru bowed to Lady Darkscale, as Arkthan had no doubt she was, and Arkthan quickly followed suit.
“Welcome, daughter,” Lady Darkscale said to Adru. “Who is this?”
“This is Arkthan, Lady Darkscale,” Adru replied. “We recently found him in the lower levels of the palace, and his unique talents have brought my attention to him.”
“Show me,” she commanded Arkthan.
“I would gladly do so, Lady Darkscale,” Arkthan said, playing it safe, “but it will hinder the remainder of the meeting if I do so.”
“You may be new to our society,” Darkscale said, “but when you are given an order by your superior, you do it.”
Arkthan bowed again, and then activated his ink glands. The room was quickly filled with chocking ink, and Arkthan had trouble stopping himself before he smashed into the far wall.
Coughing filled the room for a moment, until a current sprung up from nowhere and blew the cloud of ink out of the room. The two guards had entered, but Lady Darkscale waved them out.
“Quite a useful talent,” Lady Darkscale remarked. “You mentioned multiple ones, however; what else can he do?”
Arkthan was angry at being referred to as some kind of animal, but he kept his temper.
“He has fangs that look more like those of a snake than a normal myrmidon,” Adru responded. Running his tongue over his teeth, Arkthan realized that his upper canines were, indeed, like those of a snake. He opened his mouth at Lady Darkscale’s glance.
“You are what we call an Anomaly,” she said, satisfied with Arkthan’s display. “Don‘t take that as an insult, however; it is common belief that Anomalies are the future of our people. You all have quite unique talents, and are naturally superior to your common brethren.”
“Don‘t take that to your head,” she said, adopting a more threatening tone. “As a myrmidon, you are still inferior to any siren. Keep that in mind.”
“Now,” she said, turning to her daughter, “Why does he have a remora?”
“When we first found him, he ran away and tried to escape,” Adru said. “To ensure his loyalty, I put a remora on him.”
“Very well,” Lady Darkscale said. “His talents would be especially useful in your line of work, so I assign him to your group,” she said. She turned away, apparently done with them. However, her gaze fell on Arkthan’s shoulder.
“What‘s that?” she asked. She had seen the bite mark on Arkthan’s shoulder, which had mostly healed by now. It was still a bit puffy, however, and it had attracted Lady Darkscale’s attention. She moved over to Arkthan, touching the bite mark gently.
“How old is this bite?” she asked, alarmed by it.
“Two weeks old,” Arkthan said. It hadn’t bothered him at all, although he suspected whatever had bitten him was responsible for his late start in this new world.
“This bite is from a sea anaconda, one of the most deadly serpents in Azeroth,” Lady Darkscale said. “It‘s bite can take down a hydra, much less you. How are you still alive?”
The question was a rhetorical one; Lady Darkscale turned away, considering the new revelation.
“You must have some kind of immunity,” she said after a moment. “That‘s the only explanation I can think of. Well, you are certainly one of the better Anomalies. If you can fight as well as your talent suggest, then you will make a fine addition to the armies of our Queen.”
With these last words, Lady Darkscale turned away from the two of them. Done with the encounter, Arkthan followed Adru out of the palace.
EDIT:
Changed the size of the entire story.
The story will be broken up into Parts, both to make it easier to read and to make it easier for me to add more to it. It is hardly done, and I will be making tweaks to previous content and adding more new stuff until I think it is.
10,000 Years Before the Third War
Arkthan woke up. His green hair, purple skin and silver eyes marked him as a Night Elf, and the crest on his uniform identified him as one of Queen Ashzara’s Highborne. At least, that was what he was previously.
Arkthan got up out of his cot - calling it a bed would be too kind - and walked up to the bars of his cell. Outside, he could see a long corridor, lined with cells like his own and occupied by all sorts of Night Elves Queen Ashzara had imprisoned. At the end of the corridor was a pair of guards, one of whom Arkthan was until only recently. He had spoken up against the magical experiments going on in the throne room, and the demonic creatures coming out of the portal there. He had been imprisoned in the dungeon underneath the palace, and would undoubtedly be horribly tortured before he was killed. It was hardly an entertaining thought, but Arkthan didn’t plan to go down without something to show for it.
He turned to his cot again, but before long he could hear the echo of footsteps coming down the stars leading to the dungeon. He walked up to the bars again in time to see a hideous creature descend. It was like the cross of a Night Elf and a goat - his chest and arms were those of a Night Elf, but his lower body and legs were distinctly goat-like, and his face was a cross of the two. The guards, however, seemed unaffected by the newcomer’s hideous appearance, and instead stood at attention and saluted.
“The Master approaches; he will arrive within the hour. These mongrels are no longer needed - kill them all, then come to the throne room for the coming of Sargeras.”
With those words, the goat-Elf turned up the stairs and walked away. The two guards started to walk down the hall, and opened the first two cells. They entered, followed by brief screams. They came out with blood-stained swords, and moved to the next pair of cells. Arkthan was third in line - he would be next. He could see the guard across from him, and he stabbed the elderly Elf sitting in there without hesitation.
Arkthan backed away from the bars as one of the guards approached his cell.
“What are you doing?” Arkthan yelled at him. “Have you gone mad?” It seemed like Arkthan’s chance to go out with a bang had arrived. The guard opened the door, and without a word stabbed at Arkthan.
Arkthan dived to the side, although the guard still cut a hole in his uniform. Turning to face Arkthan again, the guard was met by Arkthan’s heavy swing. A snapping sound could be heard, and the guard backed away, clutching his nose. Arkthan grabbed the guard’s sword arm, and letting it go for a moment preformed one of his favorite moves. Bringing one arm swinging down on the guard’s arm and the other swinging up in a scissor-like motion, he snapped the arm in half, although he bruised his own arms on the guard’s metal bracers. Screaming in pain, the guard dropped his sword and fell to his knees, clutching his broken arm. Arkthan kicked him in the face, sending him sprawling backwards. Picking up the guard’s sword, Arkthan turned to face the other guard, who had dispatched the prisoner across from Arkthan’s cell and was now coming for him.
Arkthan swung wide at face level, driving his opponent back. He then jumped to the side as the guard swung at him, and stabbed into the guard’s side, plunging into his gut. To Arkthan’s horror, the guard’s blood had an unholy green tint to it, and as the dying guard fell to the floor a light went out in his eyes - a fiery, unholy light that Arkthan hadn’t really noticed until then.
Taking both swords, Arkthan returned to the first guard and, with a swift strike to the base of his skull, killed him. That guard had the same unholy blood as his comrade, which was proof that something sinister was happening to the Highborne. Grabbing the keys from both guards, Arkthan set about freeing the other prisoners. He soon had them all free - almost two dozen of them - and handing off one of his swords, began to think about how to best escape. There was no way the group would be able to fight their way through, but perhaps there would be no one to fight. The demonic goat-Elf had ordered the guards to come to the throne room when they were done, so there was a good chance that there would be no guards on duty. Telling the other Night Elves this, he began to lead them up the stars.
A rumbling sound interrupted their climb. It grew louder and louder, until the stones were shaking and Arkthan could no longer climb. His head started to ring, until whatever it was hit the palace. The dungeon the group was fleeing imploded, showering stone and water into the stairwell. Water started gushing in at an alarming rate, and the Night Elves started climbing quickly; if they stopped, they would drown. However, judging from the sounds coming from above, the entire palace had been hit by the shockwave. The sounds of falling rubble and screaming Night Elves could be heard, but they were drowned out by a more fearsome sound. A chorus of crumbling stone could be heard, and then for a second nothing.
Reaching the top of the stairwell and entering the center chamber, Arkthan looked up at the sight of the entire tower falling down on him. The lower walls had been shattered by the impact of the shockwave, and now the entire palace was falling. Arkthan turned and dived back down the stairwell, knocking back the Elves gathered there into the rising water.
“Get down!” he shouted, and with those words took a deep breath and dived under the rising water, as the palace collapsed on his head.
Arkthan woke up, again.
At first, he had trouble focusing on much of anything. From what he could tell, he was still in the staircase leading up from the dungeon, but there was almost no light around. There was something giving off a faint luminescence above him, but the weak light revealed little of the surrounding landscape. From what he could tell, based on the rubble scattered everywhere, the staircase had collapsed with him, and possibly the other escapees, inside it. Arkthan pushed himself up off the floor, but something got in his eyes. He had kicked up a cloud of dust, and it was floating in front of his face. He lifted a hand to brush it away, but what came up was not the hand of an Elf.
Instead, it was the hand of some kind of reptile. The top of it was lined with hard, circular scales that were a murky green color, and the bottom had larger, softer scales that were light brown. It had four fingers, all of which ended in a sharp claw. There was a large fin on it, starting at the wrist and ending at his elbow, which was a rusty red color. Just to make sure it was his, Arkthan moved it around, rotating it and picking up a handful of sand. Instead of falling to the ground, however, the sand floated in a cloud around his hand. Arkthan would have been stunned if he wasn’t already shocked by his new body; he was living underwater at this moment.
He was no longer lying down, now, and so he was hit by yet another shock; he was no longer standing on legs. Looking down, he saw his belly, covered by the same scales as those on his underarm. Instead of ending at his waist, however, it continued and tapered off behind him, forming a solid tail, which bore more of the rusty red fins. Arkthan was no longer a Night Elf, and as this realization dawned on him he sat there, paralyzed with the weight of the revelation.
He sat there for a long time, although he had no idea how long it was. He was interrupted, however, by his arm, which started throbbing. Turning to examine it, he saw the bite mark of some kind of serpent there. The scales around it had a pinkish hue, and the flesh underneath was starting to swell. Wondering when he had been bit, Arkthan pondered how to best deal with the wound when he caught a scent.
While Arkthan had never tasted blood before, his new body knew exactly what the smell was. His fins, which had been slightly limp until just then, stiffened up. His tongue flicked out of it’s own accord, and in doing so brought a much more accurate picture of where it was coming from. It was wafting up from down the stairwell, and so Arkthan turned and started to climb down. Seeing the sword he had taken earlier, he picked it up and started to swim down the stairs. Arkthan himself had no idea how to swim, but his instincts took over and let him focus on examining what was ahead. As he swam further down, the luminescent light - which seemed to be coming from the stone itself - dimmed, and the scent of blood grew stronger.
Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Arkthan came into the remains of the dungeon. The entire room was clouded with blood, and so he had a hard time seeing, but from what he could see the corridor was almost entirely blocked off. Swimming down the hallway, Arkthan examined the bodies floating around him. There were two basic builds; the male figures were built like him, with faces more like those of snakes than Elves. Feeling his own face, Arkthan realized that his own looked no better. The female bodies were much slimmer than the male ones, but they possessed four arms and still retained some semblance of their previous Elfish faces, although it lacked a nose and was ringed by a large crest.
There seemed to be two groups of dead survivors here. One group was similar to him; they possessed dark, muddy colors and no weapons, with the exception of one, who possessed a sword similar to Arkthan’s and was surrounded by a small ring of dead foes. Arkthan was certain that these were his fellow survivors, as they had clawed their opponents to death, and had been hacked to pieces by the second group’s blades. This other group possessed blue scales and orange fins, as well as being well-armed. As Arkthan drifted through the rubble, he found more groups of dead bodies, but the second blue ones started to take on more violent poses of death. Several looked like they were burned, and several had holes in their bodies, probably left by some kind of magical bolt. When Arkthan stumbled on a hole in the last cell on the line, his last doubts were banished when two larger blue-scaled bodies with makeshift armor bore the mark of Queen Ashzara.
Exiting the ruins, Arkthan came out into a completely different world than he had ever seen before. The sea floor was littered with colorful rocks, seaweed, and large chunks of rubble that Arkthan doubted were natural. Hundreds of different types of fish were everywhere, and the entire place was illuminated by rays of sunlight coming from high above the landscape. Behind Arkthan was the dungeon he had just left, resting against a cliff. Higher up, Arkthan could see several small shelves, holding small clusters of rubble, and outlined against the light coming from the surface was the main palace structure, albeit quite battered by its descent into the ocean. Arkthan was stunned by the beauty of the entire scene, until movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention.
Swimming towards him was a group of three survivors, two male and a female. They were all blue-scaled, and remembering the slaughter behind him Arkthan raised his sword, ready to defend himself.
“Another of those drudges,” the female remarked. Despite being underwater, Arkthan could hear what she was saying clearly enough. “Kill him,” she said to her escort, gesturing at Arkthan. She was obviously superior to them, as they unquestioningly drew their long blades and swam towards Arkthan. Baring his teeth in a snarl, something Arkthan had never done before, he prepared for battle.
The two Highborne circled like sharks around Arkthan, looking for an opportunity to strike. They didn’t wait long, and almost immediately they darted in simultaneously, striking at Arkthan. He twisted away from the first, and as the second torpedoed at him Arkthan slashed out at his face. The Highborne twisted out of the way, but Arkthan’s strike still connected with something. His opponent shrieked in pain and sped off, spurting blood from a gash in his arm. The commander above the battle began casting a spell, and within moments she had healed the gash, allowing the warrior to return to the battle. In the meantime, Arkthan and his other foe stood there, parrying blows and striking in return, with neither getting anything but scrapes for their efforts. When the second attacker returned, however, Arkthan was at a huge disadvantage. He only parried a few strikes before he took a solid blow to his shoulder, and despite quickly switching to his left hand Arkthan was severely outmatched. It wasn’t long before his blade was knocked out of his hands, and as the Highborne attacker reared back for a finishing blow Arkthan’s body pulled yet another surprise out for his benefit.
From some gland on the back of his head, buried in the fins that had replaced his hair, a jet of ink spurted out. Arkthan was propelled forward, and after a second of being stunned again he turned around to view his attackers. They were lost in a large cloud of jet-black ink, which was quickly spreading and had obscured their view of him. Weaponless and wounded, Arkthan decided that his best option was to run, and so he turned around and fled to the safety of the rocks and seaweed on the ocean floor.
As he fled, Arkthan caught the scent of blood. It wasn’t his (Arkthan’s nose was ignoring his own blood, it seemed), but it was leaving a definite trail leading directly away from the ruined dungeon. With this discovery came two revelations; the hostile survivors that had attacked Arkthan could easily follow his trail of blood, and some of his fellow escapees had made it out of the dungeon alive. Quickly turning to follow the faint trail, Arkthan set off.
Several days went by. Arkthan, despite being underwater, could still tell when the sun was up or down, because the light changed from a dim, murky twilight to an impenetrable darkness. His damaged arm was bandaged in a makeshift seaweed patch, and had stopped bleeding by now. For several hours, he had been followed by small sharks. The fish had made Arkthan nervous, until they went away after it was apparent that Arkthan wasn’t going to die anytime soon.
The trail of blood he was following had been there for almost a week already, and Arkthan was lucky that a current hadn’t washed it away. Despite his luck, it was getting harder to pick up, and Arkthan was worried he might loose it soon. Although the trail had been going in a straight north-east line the whole time, Arkthan could easily wander off the trail or miss a sudden turn the fleeing survivors could have made without the presence of the guiding scent. Arkthan’s fears were realized when a light current picked up early the next day, washing the last faint traces away.
Arkthan now had a choice to make. He could continue to go north-east, hoping to eventually stumble across the fleeing survivors. On the other hand, he could return to the ruined palace and attempt to join the Highborne ranks, although his only encounter with them proved that at least some of them were aware of the escaped prisoners and their current status. He sat pondering for several minutes, weighing the options, when a third choice was forced over his head in the form of a weighted net.
Struggling to get out of it, slashing with his uninjured hand and thrashing about, Arkthan was quickly and hopelessly tangled in the net. After it was obvious he could not escape, Arkthan stopped struggling and looked for his captors. They immediately made themselves known to him; several humanoid fish-people swam up to him, one right in front of his face, giving Arkthan a clear look at them. They were, as Arkthan had already seen, humanoid, although they were hunched over in a pose that would be very uncomfortable for a Night Elf. Their faces were those of fish; they had the large, pupil-less eyes and gaping mouth of one of their undersea relatives. They had long arms, ending in four-fingered hands, which were webbed and grasped crude weapons made out of seashells and coral. Their backs were lined with long, thin spines, and to finish off their amphibious appearance their skin was covered in the small, smooth scales of a fish. This group was obviously a group of hunters; they were equipped with more nets like the ones wrapped around Arkthan, as well as long coral spears. They also wore the skulls of some kind of animal as helmets, giving them a fearsome appearance.
The one in front of Arkthan seemed to be the leader; he was decorated with a necklace of various animal teeth, as well as a wand with some kind of gem on it. He was not wielding it right now, but instead had a long knife fashioned from a seashell. It seemed to have some sort of ceremonious purpose, as it was decorated with small beads and some kind of paint. Arkthan immediately realized what it was fore when the creature grabbed a handful of fins from Arkthan’s head and pulled up, exposing Arkthan’s neck.
Arkthan immediately resumed his struggles when the creature began to chant something in it’s own tongue. The creature ignored him, however, and continued it’s chant. As the words started getting faster and faster, and when they reached a crescendo the priest raised the knife in the air.
Triggered by the situation, the ink glands in the back of Arkthan’s neck fired off again, rocketing him forward and bowling over the priest. Arkthan scraped against a coral formation as he flew forward, cutting through the net and scraping Arkthan’s arm. The severed cord freed Arkthan’s arm, allowing him to tear the rest of the net off him and start swimming away. Before he made it very far, however, another net landed over his head, pinning him to the ground. The priest came over to Arkthan, and angered by Arkthan’s escape he had the other hunters pin Arkthan to the ground. He once again began the short ceremony, and Arkthan’s struggles were suppressed by the hunters on top of him. Before the priest could finish the ceremony again, however, he was struck in the chest by a bolt of energy.
“You fools!” came the cry of outrage from above Arkthan. The other fish-men scattered, but were struck down by more energy bolts. The two Highborne warriors that had fought Arkthan from before swam down and intercepted two more fleeing fish-men, beating them down with the hilts of their blades. The priest in front of Arkthan stumbled up, with a nasty-looking burn on his chest, but before he could do much more the third Highborne, this one the priest, bolted down and slammed him into the ground.
“Remember your place, worm!” she yelled into the creature’s face. Grabbing him by the gills in his neck, he picked him up.
“You are a slave! Remember the oath you made to never harm one of your masters?” she continued to yell into his face.
“Made under the threat of death,” the unlucky creature managed to gurgle.
“Does it matter?” the Highborne hissed back, with venom filling her voice. “You made an oath, sealed with your blood, and you have broken it by attacking a Naga!”
“He-” the creature tried to say, but the Highborne refused to listen to him. Slamming the creature into the ground again, she hit him with another bolt of energy. He was blasted back, and despite his wounds he tried to swim away. The Highborne preist would have none of that, however, and whistled some kind of command. A small worm-like creature materialized from thin air, and immediately bolted off to the wounded fish-man. It quickly reached him, and started burrowing into the escaping creature‘s side. The worm’s target started writhing in pain, spurting blood from the hole in his side. He thrashed about for nearly a minute, until he literally exploded in a gory shower. The remains were quickly seized upon by nearby fish, and satisfied that the offending creature had been punished the Highborne priest turned to Arkthan.
“Excuse the mess,” the priestess said to Arkthan. “These worms will be broken in time, but for now they are a bit feisty.” She made no move to help Arkthan. “I am assuming you aren‘t one of us?” At Arkthan’s quizzical look, she continued. “A Highborne, I mean. You bear the colors of a normal mud-dweller.” She waited a moment, and when Arkthan refused to comment she hissed and whipped out a long dagger.
“Answer me! I will not hesitate to slit your throat for Queen Ashzara. However,” she said, calming down a bit, “I would prefer not to. Despite your non-Highborne ancestry, your unique talents make you a valuable asset to the Queen. If you choose, you can join our ranks.”
Arkthan didn’t need to ask what would happen if he refused. After only a moment of thought, Arkthan spoke up for the first time.
“Very well,” he replied. Satisfied, the priestess put her blade away.
“I am Adru, a Sea Priestess. Over there are my guards, Zellik and Gron.” The two Naga in question would have come over and said something, but were too busy with the fish-men to do more than nod at Arkthan. “What is your name?”
“Arkthan,” Arkthan said. He wasn’t feeling very talkative, and so he started working on getting free of the net. Adru didn’t bother helping him, but sat patiently while Arkthan struggled out of the net. After a few minutes of wriggling and clawing, Arkthan was free.
He was met by the blade of a knife, angled so that any sudden moves would bury it in his neck.
“Now, before you decide to go somewhere I don’t want, I need to do something,” Adru said. She began chanting some sort of spell, and soon a worm similar to the one that had slain the fish-man priest appeared. Caught in a corner, Arkthan stared helplessly as the worm swam over to him.
“This isn‘t going to kill you, like the Mur‘gul fool over there,” Adru reassured Arkthan. “It‘s more like a remora; it will latch on to you, and I will be able to see and hear everything you do.”
Arkthan held still as the worm floated over to him, and shortly after it began burrowing into his arm. Baring his teeth and clenching his fists, he waited for the worm to stop. After only a few moments, the creature had settled in his arm.
Adru, satisfied with her work, swam over to Zellik and Gron. With nearly a dozen of the Mur’gul creatures captured, the group seemed quite pleased with their catch.
“We will return to the palace now,” Adru said. Gesturing for Arkthan to follow, she went off, followed by her guards and the captured Mur’gul. Arkthan hesitated for a moment, wondering why they weren’t guarding him, when the worm in his arm started to wriggle. Arkthan understood immediately; if he was disobedient, the worm would rip him apart just like the Mur’gul priest. Looking back at the ruined body, Arkthan followed the other Naga.
After a week of traveling, the group returned to the broken palace with a half-dozen Mur’gul in tow. The other six had tried to escape, and had been ruthlessly dispatched by one of the two myrmidon (which was the term generally used for a male Naga, along with Siren for a female). Arkthan had taken pains to avoid being a burden, always thinking of the worm in his arm.
The two myrmidon brought the captured Mur’gul to a camp at the base of the palace, while Adru led Arkthan to a low section of the palace.
“You are about to meet Lady Ona Darkscale, a Priestess of the Tides,” Adru informed Arkthan while they swam. “She will swear you into the service of Queen Ashzara, and replace the remora in your arm with one of her own. You will then be assigned to a role in our society. As a Priestess of the Tides, she is one of the highest-ranking members in our society and will take no disrespect from anyone.”
The two entered a hole in the wall of the palace and entered a hallway. The rich decorations and furnishings were ruined by the weeks underwater, and were already being replaced with underwater vegetation. The long corridor passed several small rooms and plenty of rubble-blocked doorways, but the room at the end was the most important one. Two myrmidon guards sat at the entrance, wielding large tridents and wearing golden armor. They stopped Adru and Arkthan at the entrance and blocked sight into the room.
“Why are you here, sister?” one queried.
“To enlist Arkthan into the military,” Adru responded, gesturing to Arkthan.
“Very well; you may enter,” the guard finished, shifting aside to allow Arkthan entry. The two entered the room beyond.
The large room was, in its previous life, a richly decorated bedroom. The old decorations and bed were still here, although they were next to useless. However, a new bed had been moved in, an enormous clam shell with a large, apparently water-proof pillow at the bottom. At the window that looked out to the palace’s surroundings was an impressive Siren.
She had four arms, like the other Siren Arkthan had seen, as well as a long tail with a fork at the end that resembled a fish tail. Her most striking feature, however, was her head. Instead of the large crest that most Siren possessed, she had hair. At least, it was hair at first glance; further examination revealed the hair to be many snakes, several of which were regarding Arkthan and Adru with curiosity.
The Siren turned around to face the newcomers. She was ornately decorated, with golden armor and plenty of jewelry, unlike the very little most other Naga wore. She bore no weapons, but Arkthan had no doubt that she had a powerful grasp on magic.
Adru bowed to Lady Darkscale, as Arkthan had no doubt she was, and Arkthan quickly followed suit.
“Welcome, daughter,” Lady Darkscale said to Adru. “Who is this?”
“This is Arkthan, Lady Darkscale,” Adru replied. “We recently found him in the lower levels of the palace, and his unique talents have brought my attention to him.”
“Show me,” she commanded Arkthan.
“I would gladly do so, Lady Darkscale,” Arkthan said, playing it safe, “but it will hinder the remainder of the meeting if I do so.”
“You may be new to our society,” Darkscale said, “but when you are given an order by your superior, you do it.”
Arkthan bowed again, and then activated his ink glands. The room was quickly filled with chocking ink, and Arkthan had trouble stopping himself before he smashed into the far wall.
Coughing filled the room for a moment, until a current sprung up from nowhere and blew the cloud of ink out of the room. The two guards had entered, but Lady Darkscale waved them out.
“Quite a useful talent,” Lady Darkscale remarked. “You mentioned multiple ones, however; what else can he do?”
Arkthan was angry at being referred to as some kind of animal, but he kept his temper.
“He has fangs that look more like those of a snake than a normal myrmidon,” Adru responded. Running his tongue over his teeth, Arkthan realized that his upper canines were, indeed, like those of a snake. He opened his mouth at Lady Darkscale’s glance.
“You are what we call an Anomaly,” she said, satisfied with Arkthan’s display. “Don‘t take that as an insult, however; it is common belief that Anomalies are the future of our people. You all have quite unique talents, and are naturally superior to your common brethren.”
“Don‘t take that to your head,” she said, adopting a more threatening tone. “As a myrmidon, you are still inferior to any siren. Keep that in mind.”
“Now,” she said, turning to her daughter, “Why does he have a remora?”
“When we first found him, he ran away and tried to escape,” Adru said. “To ensure his loyalty, I put a remora on him.”
“Very well,” Lady Darkscale said. “His talents would be especially useful in your line of work, so I assign him to your group,” she said. She turned away, apparently done with them. However, her gaze fell on Arkthan’s shoulder.
“What‘s that?” she asked. She had seen the bite mark on Arkthan’s shoulder, which had mostly healed by now. It was still a bit puffy, however, and it had attracted Lady Darkscale’s attention. She moved over to Arkthan, touching the bite mark gently.
“How old is this bite?” she asked, alarmed by it.
“Two weeks old,” Arkthan said. It hadn’t bothered him at all, although he suspected whatever had bitten him was responsible for his late start in this new world.
“This bite is from a sea anaconda, one of the most deadly serpents in Azeroth,” Lady Darkscale said. “It‘s bite can take down a hydra, much less you. How are you still alive?”
The question was a rhetorical one; Lady Darkscale turned away, considering the new revelation.
“You must have some kind of immunity,” she said after a moment. “That‘s the only explanation I can think of. Well, you are certainly one of the better Anomalies. If you can fight as well as your talent suggest, then you will make a fine addition to the armies of our Queen.”
With these last words, Lady Darkscale turned away from the two of them. Done with the encounter, Arkthan followed Adru out of the palace.
EDIT:
Changed the size of the entire story.
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