It had been a wonderful fest. Orcs, draenei, arakkoa, ogers, and the many other races of Draenor had all come together to drink and sing to the end of the Burning Legion on their world. The alcohol was flowing in rough amounts, the food was delicious and prepared in the manifold traditions of all clans and tribes, the songs put forward by the most talented bards any people had to offer.
It had, indeed, been a wonderful fest.
Right up until Yrel had begun her speech. It started harmless. She simply put forward the usual niceties, toasted to their victory. Even without raising her voice too loudly, she easily became the centre of attention. The High Exarch had that kind of draw, almost everything about her drew the eyes of others too her.
She was a draenei with white hair, naturally styled into bangs that parted on the right side, fell and curved down to her neckline, in which the sunlight seemed to linger, giving it's a blonde touch at times. The mark of the Naaru, a pink runic formation of light, hovered in front of her forehead, between the bases of her screwed, long horns. Adding to that her immense beauty, fair skin of a light blue tint, high-cheekbones, a fine nose and sultry purple lips, and it would be no understatement that, even now, many of the more savage elements around would have gladly dragged her into a dark corner and had their way with her.
However, fit to her curves, from the medium sized bosom down to the round ass, she wore a heavy plate armour of gold and silver, outfitted with many enchanted gems of a pink colour. If the ease in which she moved in this wasn't enough deterrent, the massive Warhammer of the same crystal would surely do the trick.
People that had been stuck fascinating about taming this wild, unclaimed women had soon been snapped from their fantasies when Yrel began talking about unifying all of Draenor under the Light. The fervour in her voice, the conviction with which she spoke of visions of the perfect planet. With every sentence her speech continued, the other draenei fervently shouted their agreement. Radiance grew in the shape of holy wings behind her.
Grommash Hellscream watched this entire thing, drinking grimly from his horn. "Have we just exchanged the unholy madmen for the holy ones?" he grumbled, already wondering how he would answer this. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit.
"I feel her words carry some truth to them, father," answered the bald orc next to him. Like his old man, the younger Hellscream had a massive body and an unbreakable will. His name was Garrosh, after the time traveller that had come to warn them of the Legion corruption over twenty years ago. Following that orcs demise, Gul'dan had told Grommash that it had been his very own son. Back then, the warchief had just thought it an attempt to confuse him. Nowadays, the parallel's in their looks were undeniable.
As unbreakable his will may have been, that didn't mean it couldn't be put into the wrong path. "Be careful what ideas you follow," Grommash warned his flesh and blood.
"Like you, who butchered thousands over the advice of the deceiver you named me after?" Garrosh returned with a dismissive glance. The comment stung, but Grommash had never been able to put across his side of the story in a way his son understood. Again, he was a fighter, not a diplomat. Neither was the young Garrosh aware that another history of himself had been that deceiver. It was a truth too difficult to put across and Grommash himself knew too little.
"Will you join us, warchief?" Yrel suddenly turned to the two orcs, extending her hand. The Light illuminated her with grace and justice. Things that could very quickly turn into divine wrath. Grommash reached out to Gorehowl, his trusty axe, ready for a fight. His son, however, grinned, the decorative metal pierced into his teeth silently clunking against one another. He had always desired Yrel and the Light sounded much stronger than those basic shamanistic rituals his clans called magic anyhow.
Garrosh Hellscream was ready to take the offer, become an Exarch and join the Naaru in their divine conquest of this world, when a sudden commotion broke out in the massive crowd.
A person approached, of a kind that hadn't been seen on Draenor in twenty years. Pale, with blonde hair, small and slim, at least by orc standards, a weak looking thing, presumably a man. To this assortment of savages, the only impressive thing about him was his armour, a thing that rivalled Yrel's in craftsmanship, but with more sinister undertones mixed into the otherwise holy design.
Anduin was alone, at least physically. 'Is this the one?' he asked K'ara. Due to a lack of functioning legs, and to compete with Xal'atath in some fashion (same master aside, there was still a natural rivalry between them) the Naaru had asked to take possession of Shalamayne. This way, she too could be carried within Anduin's void space.
'Indeed, master, this is High Exarch Yrel...' K'ara answered.
"A human," Yrel spoke, her accent emphasizing the Rs through a soft variation in tone as she continued. "It has been a long time since one of you graced this world. On this fateful day no less. Are you the champion K'ara wanted to summon?"
"In many ways, I am," Anduin answered, his gaze wandering over to Garrosh, who seemed somehow annoyed with the interruption. "I would say that my presence here is more by accident, then by divine grace, however. Yet, I must tell you, that this crusade you plan is unjust."
Garrosh grunted mockingly. "A whelp trying to tell HER what is just?!" he screamed and wrestled, from his father's hands, Gorehowl. Within moments, he had climbed over the festive table and charged the High King. Yrel watched this approvingly, taking it as a sign of Garrosh's purity. "PROVE YOURSELF INVADE- AAARRGGH!" The young Hellscream was slapped aside like a fly by a void tentacle.
'You are getting better at the summoning, Anduin,' Xal'atath complimented. 'We might be able to move onto some more advanced creatures next. A C'thraxxi is a bit much, but a basic N'raqi might be possible soon.'
The people around were less enthused over this usage of Shadow magic. Indeed, all draenei grabbed their weapons in all haste, circling Anduin. As they menacingly stepped closer to the relaxed king, K'ara manifested. Although her stay in the void had cleaned her of the signs of coitus, the fleshmade Naaru was still naked. She didn't mind the gazes of the people around, however. As her master's property, the only eyes that mattered were his.
"Show respect, young ones!" the lightforged demanded, unable to hold herself back any longer.
Yrel immediately recognized the voice that had counselled her through so many years. "K'ara? By the Light, what has happened to you? Why would you take a shape lesser than your divine crystal?"
