In a small hamlet in TirisfalGlades, not far from Lordaeron, two young men sit on a grassy hill quietlypondering their future. “I am truly sorry for your loss, my friend. Yourparents were such skilled warriors”, said Onyxu. “True, but apparently notskilled enough.” replied Draxod. “What will you do now?” inquired Onyxu. “Isuppose I shall keep tailoring in my shop, at least till a better opportunitypresents itself.” Draxod wiped a tear from his eye and bowed his head. “Well Ino longer think old man Farouk is a warlock. I asked him about it and he cursedme and chased me off his farm! I think all he cares about is his damn pigs! Apity, I really wanted to study the ways of a warlock.” Onyxu shook his head; “Ihave decided to take Monos up on his offer and join the thieves’ guild. I canno longer stand this place! I am leaving tonight.” With that pronouncement,Onyxu shook his friend’s hand and proceeded to return to his cottage to preparefor his journey. Draxod wonder to himself if he would ever see his childhoodfriend again. Not wanting to be alone, Draxod decided to pay old man Farouk avisit. He walked slowly down the dirt road, toward the farm, being careful thatno one followed him.
Upon arrival, Draxod knocked firmlyon the door. The warlock Abdul Farouk opened the door and smiled as Draxod, hisnew student, entered. “I have heard that Onyxu came to you. Why did you nottell him the truth?” Draxod cautiously asked his teacher. “That boy is bothsneaky and very untrustworthy! I cannot risk the others in the village knowingabout my past. Besides, I already have a student!” the warlock then began theevening lessons.
SEVERALYEARS LATER
After having study diligently inwarlock magic, Draxod managed to also squeeze lessons concerning the art ofenchanting from his aged mentor. When he was young, his father taught him tofish and his mother taught him to cook. Whenever possible, Draxod would try tofish as often as he could. He would share his best days catch with his mentor,when time and circumstance allowed. On this fateful day, there was enough for ahearty fish and potato stew! As usual, the warlock Farouk smiled upon seeinghis favored student. “By the gods, I praise the day I chose to teach you thedark arts!” said the old man. “I will partake of this feast upon my return fromthis small errand”. The old wizard then left his tiny cottage to gather apiglet to deliver to a nearby farm. Draxod cleaned and prepared the fish andvegetables. Once the stew was simmering on a low fire, he then decided to entera deep magical meditation, designed to strengthen the will. . .
*
The rogue Onyxu’s blood began toboil! He despised being played for a fool, and at this time, he felt like thegreatest fool in all of Azeroth! His anger seethed as he sat crouched andhidden . . . just under the shutteredwindow of old man Farouk! Not only did that old turd have the audacity to lookdown on him and lie about his sorcery, but he then taught Draxod what Onyxulonged for . . . dark magical knowledge! He watched contemptuously as thedoddering old fool walked down the road with one of his precious swine. He thencrept silently into the un-guarded cottage with his most prized possessionhidden within his sleeve. Somehow, against all odds, he procured an actuallyvial of the coming plague the Scourge were now in the process of spreading!When he learned of the Scourge’s dark plans, he thought it prudent to head inthe direction of lands untainted with undead stench! Along the way he made a slightdetour through his old village for one last prank on those who slighted him inthe past. His original intention was to spike the slop of the farmer’s pigs, sothat they would die upon eating it . . . and arise as undead pork! Now he had amore insidious plan. Onyxu glided silently into the unguarded cottage. There helooked at the still form of his former friend sitting crossed legged in silentand deep contemplation. Onyxu removed the vial from his sleeve and uncorked it.He carefully allowed one drop of eternal damnation to gently splash into thesimmering fish stew. Confident that Draxod and Farouk were now destined to bethe walking undead, the unseen assassin slipped quietly into the woods towardhis nearby steed.
*
Gently, Draxod opened his eyes.Satisfied that the meditation went well, he felt the pang of hunger well upfrom his gut. He unfolded his legs and stood up. He eagerly grabbed the woodenspoon by the pot and tasted his stew. His world then changed forever! At firstit was a wonderful sensation then his body felt as if it were on fire! Hisrazor sharp mind realized instantly that the soup had been poisoned! With hisfinal act of will, he knocked the stew pot over and collapsed. Draxod Eboncraftthen died on his master’s floor.
*
“Good evening, old man!” Onxyuderisively spat as he rode his horse past Farouk. The sorcerer continued walkingin the opposite direction on the old dusty road, back toward his home. Thewarlock thought it very strange to see this whelp after all these seasons. Whenhe entered his home, he saw his suspicions confirmed! Draxod lay dead on hisfloor! At least he was dead, until his body suddenly and violently convulsedand shook. The thing that was once an aspiring warlock clumsily arose! Theundead Draxod looked at his former master and forced on word from his lips . .. “POISON!”. “It was Onyxu” said the old warlock. “I shall follow him anddestroy him! You, on the other hand, must leave this place immediately! DO NOTBE HERE WHEN I RETURN . . . my son.” With that pronouncement, the old sorcererleft his home, summoned his enslaved dreadsteed and gave chase! Draxod’s lastcoherent thought was . . . relief. His former master was beginning to smell . .. tasty. The newly undead thing then quietly shambled into the nearby woods,towards the distant call of the Lich King.
*
Fate was not entirely unkind topoor Draxod. He eventually found himself among the Forsaken, allied withSylvanas Windrunner. Soon his warlock training returned to his battered mind.With quiet wisdom, he embraced his “un-death”. All that remained was to joinwith other like minded individuals, and forge his new destiny . . .