An afternoon like any other finds young Eladisa skipping along by a stream. As always, she sings a happy tune and plays with the little bird fluttering around her. She has, once again, opted to play instead of attending her priesthood classes. The day wears on and she dances and sings, stops to eat a picnic lunch of berries and fruit she has picked from the grove. A snapped twig startles her from her reverie. She jumps up to find herself face to face with a large Atlantean lad.
“Dorgan! You idiot! You scared me!” Eladisa punches him in the arm and laughs wildly. The strapping lad grins at the lovely young woman.
“Well…I knew you wouldn’t be in class, as usual, so I came to see if you wanted to go to the dance with me tonight,” Dorgan’s grin spreading into a smile.
Eladisa feigns a scowl and crosses her arms.
“And why would I go with you Dorgan Gorthe?” Eladisa replies attempting haughtiness, a small smile creeping onto her face.
“Uh well, I, uh” Dorgan stumbles confused.
Eladisa bursts into wild laughter and jumps on Dorgan knocking him to the ground.
“Of course I’ll go with you, you big drake!” She jumps back up gathering her things. “Come on, we better go or we’ll be late.”
Eladisa takes off running without looking back. Dorgan trots up alongside her looking over at the face he has seen grow to womanhood. His heart skips a beat. Eladisa looks over at Dorgan and smiles sweetly and her heart skips a beat as well.
As the young couple approaches the keep, piercing screams and the sound of clashing weapons shatter the stillness of the afternoon. The smell of smoke chokes the air. Eladisa drops her bags and her mouth falls open. Just as a sound begins in her throat Dorgan’s hand covers her mouth and he pulls her under a nearby cart. A group of demon Ocs wanders past dragging Malnai, the housekeeper, by the hair. Malnai’s face is bloodied and her body mangled and broken. Dorgan and Eladisa look on in horror.
“Eladisa,” Dorgan whispers in her ear “you must not cast magic, do you understand?”
As Eladisa, accustomed to being outspoken, begins a retort, Dorgan motions her to silence with a severe scowl. Eladisa nods in acquiescence. As stubborn as she is, even Eladisa knows she must obey Dorgan, as an officer of the Protectors, in matters of battle and safety. These Atlanteans are taught from an early age that the Protectors rule any situation of danger. This small clutch of Draenei has survived the burning legion because of this tenet.
“We must go inside through the lower passages,” Dorgan whispers “stay close and above all, Eladisa, DO NOT cast magic or they will find us.” Eladisa’s frightened eyes meet Dorgan’s stern look and his eyes soften. His hand cups her cheek, “I will see you through this Eladisa,” Dorgan whispers softly. Eladisa takes a deep breath, gathering her wits, and snaps a nod.
The two, keeping to the shadows of the early evening, duck into the keep through a hidden lower doorway. The lower passages are thankfully free of enemies, as they were designed to be a means of escape. But why are they not full of the keep folk? Dorgan asks himself. At last they arrive at a doorway that will take them into the main area. Dorgan opens the hidden panel on the door and the two gaze at the horror in the courtyard.
Hundreds of demons clutter the large courtyard. The bodies of many lay strewn all over the stone floor. The members of the Royal house of Wellbringer are lined up tied to stakes near the hidden door. Their naked bodies beaten and bloody. Eladisa stifles a scream and Dorgan put his arm around her shoulders to steady her. A massive demon steps into view. The two can see that he was once Draenei and recognize him at once. It is Grolagar turned demon. They both groan softly. The baritone voice of the demon carries through the courtyard.
“So here we are my dearest cousins, a fine family reunion,” his twisted face grins into, Eladisa’s father, Loette’s.
“You are foul beyond measure traitor!” shouts Loette at the demon
The deep evil laugh makes Eladisa quiver and Dorgan pulls her closer as the two look helplessly on.
“Ah cousin, we shall not mince words this day of my glory. I will be performing the Eman ’do Mar this night and your magic and power shall be mine for the taking!” Grolagar’s face contorts into a semblance of a smile.
Eladisa’s eyes pop wide and she jumps at the mention of the ritual. Dorgan looks at her quizzically. She holds her hand to his ear and whispers the meaning. The Eman ’do Mar is an ancient ritual taught to the Draenei by the Naaru. The purpose is to transfer the magic from one dieing bloodline to another. This ritual is meant to preserve the power and was done willingly and honorably. For Grolagar to do this by force and for personal gain was the worst desecration of the teachings of the Naaru.
Grolagar pulls a fine gold dagger and the Orb of Do Mar, the very one used in the ritual! Eladisa’s eyes well with tears as she stifles a cry. One by one, Grolagar thrusts the dagger after using the orb killing all the Royal Wellbringers. As the last one, Loette, dies screaming from the forced rending of the magic and the pain of the dagger, Grolagar falls to one knee from the power swirling around the orb he holds in his large hand. Holding his arms out expecting the magic to enter him, he casts the final spell.
The massive power swirls madly and shoots across the courtyard obliterating the hidden door and knocking Eladisa and Dorgan on to their backs. The demon horde all follow the magic’s trajectory and upon seeing the intruders, begin to move toward the couple. Fortunately for the two, the sudden movement of so many proved a hindrance to the demons. The first demon to arrive was cut down by Dorgan’s sword as he stood shielding Eladisa behind himself. Fire flowing from his fingertips blasted at the next several demons.
“RUN and don’t’ stop to look back,” He yelled back to the still groggy Eladisa.
“No, I must… “ Eladisa began to dispute forgetting her place, the power of the magic raging in her, alongside the rage at the death of her family.
“NOW!” yelled Dorgan more loudly. Eladisa cast a shield on Dorgan, just as she had been taught and turned to run down the corridor. The sound of demons dieing echoing behind her.
The voice of Grolagar shouting: “GET HER you swine! She is the last of the line, without her I will not have the power!”
Eladisa spends months hiding in the hills of Nagrand. She moves often and flees from any hint of demon troops. Slowly, Eladisa makes her way toward the Hellfire Penninsula, toward the Dark Portal (Map of Outland).
Eladisa flees to Azeroth through the Dark Portal and finds herself desperate to gain more training in her priestly ways, she must learn to control the huge power within her self. She also requires protection from the demons that chase her, until she is strong enough to wield the power. At some point, she realizes, she must turn and fight. In her desperation she casts a spell to summon a demon protector.
One late evening in Elwynn Forest on Azeroth, Eladisa sits on a large rock by a flowing brook. Near a small cooking fire, she is intent on a parchment. The remnants of a gortusk supper at her side. She stands and sighs deeply. She raises her hands to the sky and chants for several minutes. Magic flows between her fingers and hands as the swirling engulfs her she whispers:
“Please spirits hear my call!”
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