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Dawn of the Dragon	By : RotSeele Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 3875 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft. I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
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Twenty-Four
Wrathion crouched behind a thick tree trunk and craned his head to look at his quarry. Ever since Karidormi had gone off on her own yesterday, the remainder of their party had been scouting out any possible leads that could lead them to any surviving, and hopefully sane, black dragons. Wrathion had mixed feelings about meeting the black dragons here in Outland. He was both excited and scared. What if they didn't like him? What if they were as insane as the whelps and drakes still living back home? Those whelps and drakes were alive only because they didn't pose a threat to Azeroth, and because they tended to become prey items for other creatures, whether on four legs or two.
Wrathion lowered his gaze to his hands. He hadn't told Anduin, but he was scared. What if this adventure hammered home the fact that he really was the last sane black dragon in Azeroth? What if this adventure just proved that, no matter what had been done to "save" him, he was still his father's son and would become the very thing his father had been? What if-
He cut himself off as something moved in the brush.
At first he thought it was Anduin, but it moved too quietly to be the human. The footsteps were light and barely discernible over the other noises of the forest. A practiced hunter, a master stalker; definitely a rogue class, which made Wrathion wonder if it was Dashiell. Then the wind shifted toward him and it was most decidedly not the blood elf. No, Wrathion decided, this scent didn't belong to anyone male, but he couldn't figure out anything else. Not until he saw her.
Then she appeared, poking her head out of the brush as a patrol of an Orc and freshly hatched black dragon turned around to patrol back in the other direction. She was pale-skinned, black-haired, with crimson eyes. She looked human, she looked feral, and she looked absolutely deadly. Wrathion thought she was beautiful. The girl creeped out of the brush and began to stalk the Orc with the hatchling black dragon, carefully staying out of sight of both. Wrathion watched her get close enough to the orc to be able to touch his back, and then the girl turned her wrist toward her. A knife dislodged from her sleeve into her hand, and in a split second after that, she rammed the knife between the orc's ribs.
Wrathion stared, mouth wide open, as the girl wrapped her other arm around the orc's throat and pulled her arm tight, cutting off the scream about to issue from his throat. She pushed the knife in deeper, then slowly lowered the corpse to the ground as she withdrew the knife. She wiped the blade clean of blood on the orc's tunic, then sheathed the blade back against the underside of her forearm. Only then did she turn to to tiny hatchling, who seemed to be looking around in awe. Gentle fingers ran along the hatchling's snout until short nails reached a spot just behind the hinge of the jaw. A sharp scratch was all it took for the little black dragon to flutter its wings and become goo in the girl's hand.
She took hold of the hatchling black dragon and pulled it close to her. Then, with furtive glances around her, she stole back into the shadowed forest, vanishing as quietly as she'd appeared.
Wrathion took off after her.
Compared to the girl, Wrathion was about as quiet as a mushan beast in a china shop. He slipped around trees, following her scent, trying to keep her in sight. He lost her once, when she rounded an unseen corner, but quickly found her trail. He followed her deep into the forest and discovered her destination - a small camp hidden by thick bushes. There were small cages scattered here and there, some filled with tiny forms, others empty. There was a bedroll and a small pit that held smoldering ashes. There was a pack hidden beside the trunk of a tree, half open, as though someone had been rifling through it and had gotten interrupted.
Wrathion felt cold steel against his neck before he even sensed she was there. "I can explain." He said, hastily holding his hands up in surrender.
"Yeah, right." Her voice was barely a whisper, as if she didn't want to draw attention to herself. "March."
Guided by the knife, Wrathion entered the girl's camp. Once out in the open, the girl came around to Wrathion's front, the knife still pressed firmly against his jugular. Up close, Wrathion thought she was even more beautiful. "I was just-"
"I don't really care." She tilted her head, studying his face. "You're new around here, aren't you?"
"That obvious?"
Smart ass. She didn't have to say it; it was clear in her eyes. She pressed the knife a little harder against Wrathion's skin. "Who sent you?"
"No one sent me."
"Then why follow me?"
Wrathion blinked. "You want the truth?"
"Do you want your throat?"
"You're pretty. And I wanted to learn more about you."
Her crimson eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in shock. At least she pulled the knife away from his throat. Finally, she seemed to get over her shock, but she didn't sheath that knife. He hadn't expected her to; he'd keep a weapon in his hand if he were in her position. Her eyes narrowed. "So who are you?"
"Wrathion."
Her brow rose. "Wrathion, huh? Well, Wrathion, why don't you go ahead and go back to wherever you came from. I'm in the middle of something very important and I don't have time to play babysitter."
Wrathion waited until she'd sheathed the knife to grab her arm. "Well, I'm in the middle of something very important too, and I think you can help me."
She slashed a glare at him that made him fear for his arm's well-being, so he let her go. "And what could I possibly help you with?"
"I'm looking for black dragons."
She stopped and stared at him. The corners of her mouth twitched. "Black dragons? You're looking at them." She gestured to the tiny hatchlings in the cages. "Here's what you're looking for. The rest of them are wandering the forest, probably on their way to being dead."
Wrathion felt his chest tighten. "Dead?"
The girl barked out a laugh. "You really don't know, do you? Look, Wrathion, just go back to Everglade and go back to your little friends. The only black dragons you'll find here are dead ones or hatchlings. And if you get lucky and find a big one, just run. It's going to eat you."
Wrathion clenched his fists. "And how are you such an expert?"
"I've lived here all my life, watching everything. You're the one who's coming in here thinking he's got all the answers. Would you just go away already?"
"No."
Her sanguine eyes seemed to glow as she glared at him. "Look, you're interfering in a delicate operation. You're gonna get me caught!"
"Why are you taking the hatchlings anyway?"
She rolled her eyes. "It doesn't matter to an outsider like you."
"Yes, it kinda does." Wrathion growled. "My friends and I are here for them. We need their help to save Azeroth."
"Azeroth!" She barked, and it sounded like a mix of a laugh and a growl. "No one here gives a damn about Azeroth! Azeroth condemned us to this awful place, forced us to make a life here among creatures that want to kill and eat us, and ever since that stupid Dark Portal got reopened, our lives have gotten even more miserable!" She rounded on him, her knife drawn and aimed at him. "So you and your little band of wannabe heroes can just turn around and get the hell out of Blade's Edge!"
Wrathion's eyes narrowed until they were crimson slits. He reached out and slapped the knife out of her hand so hard that the blade slammed into the trunk of a nearby tree with enough force to drive a rent into the trunk about two inches wide. The girl's eyes widened. She took a step back. Wrathion took a step forward. "You think me some wayward human? You think me some fool easily cowed by a few harsh words and threats?" He barked out a rough laugh that seemed to make the earth shake. "You have no idea who or what I am. You should be on your knees, begging for your miserable little life!" He reached for her.
Her fist found his solar plexus as she bent in toward him, avoiding his hand with a quick sidestep. As Wrathion doubled over, gasping, her foot swept his out from under him, and he fell flat on his face. Then she was kneeling on his back, her knee digging into his spine. Her hand gripped his hair and pulled his head back sharply, allowing him to see her burning crimson eyes. "I knew what you were the moment I smelled you." She hissed, her words almost sibilant. "You're the one who has no idea what he's dealing with. You're just some Azerothian runt who thinks he owns the world just because-" She stopped.
Wrathion saw her glance around. He couldn't hear anything except his own breathing, the small cries of the caged hatchlings, and the soft hiss of wind through the trees. But she heard something. Something that caused her to release Wrathion's hair, causing his head to snap forward. She rose off his back, put hers to the split tree trunk, and had another knife in hand before Wrathion had even gained his footing.
"What-"
"Shh."
Wrathion opened his mouth again, intending to disobey her, when the hatchlings went eerily quiet. Wrathion felt a shiver crawl along his spine, then quickly put his back to the same tree, and drew his sword. "There's something out there."
"Thank you, Captain Obvious."
"You're welcome, Sergeant Sarcasm."
The glower she gave him should've incinerated him on the spot. Instead, Wrathion only gained the confidence to grin and say, "It's not like you didn't expect-"
The forest in front of them exploded in blinding light.
Somehow, Wrathion was able to throw up enough of his arm to block the light, but the girl was already moving, her dagger leading. Wrathion heard a grunt and a wet gurgle, and by the time he lowered his arm, the girl had killed one Orc and was engaged in combat with another. Two more orcs were grabbing cages and bolting, while the last was loading some kind of gun. The girl moved quickly, ducking under attacks that had taken down human warriors, while delivering her own attacks with such ferocity Wrathion wasn't entirely sure she was human.
"What are you waiting for?!" The girl screamed at him. "Don't let them get away with the children!"
That snapped Wrathion out of his reverie. He bared his teeth and took off after the two orcs. He caught up with one and swung his sword two-handed, scraping the edge of the blade against the orc's shoulders and spine with enough force to put a rent in the orc's armor and send her crashing to the ground. The hatchlings in the cages chittered and yelped, screaming in fear and rolling their golden eyes as they sought to get away from Wrathion and the Orc, who was now regaining her feet and turning to face him, drawing a whip and a short sword. She snapped the whip, making Wrathion flinch at the sharp sound.
"Long way from home, ain'tcha little boy?" The Orc snarled, cracking her whip again.
Wrathion didn't bother to respond; he pushed off with one foot as he'd watched warriors do and charged at his enemy, sword leading. He knew he was at a terrible disadvantage. He'd never actually fought a real battle before, which meant that - the fight with the two shamans non withstanding - Wrathion couldn't even begin to hope to defeat someone who'd been fighting most of their lives. He didn't want to use any of his powers, but right now he was pissed enough to use brute strength. The Orc female was a warrior herself; she knew every trick in the warrior handbook and Wrathion knew it. But what she didn't know was what she faced was a very young, very powerful black dragon.
They clashed in a shower of sparks, and the Orc grunted as if she hadn't expected the weight or the fury behind his strikes, but she came back strong, her whip moving like a snake to wrap around Wrathion's sword and yank it from his hands. That didn't matter because Wrathion didn't really need the sword in the first place. He reached for the power that slept inside him and drew on it, feeling the power fill him. He saw the orc's eyes widen at the same time the earth responded weakly to his call. It wasn't enough to attack with, but it was enough to upset his enemy's balance and drop her hard on her back. Wrathion quickly stepped forward, a wreath of flame surging around his clenched fist and up his arm.
"I'm not a little boy." Wrathion growled, then cocked back his arm to drive his fist and the fire through his enemy.
He never got the chance.
Something hit him hard on the back of the head, hard enough to make his vision turn black. He had the sensation of falling, heard a girl's cry, and then heard nothing at all.
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Dawn of the Dragon