Conquest of the Horde

Stuck. Don had been stuck inside the Soul Shard for months. For months, he had pressed against the most minor of faults within the gem. For months, he used all of the spiritual strength he could muster to fight against the prison he had been forced into. And now, finally he was free. His soul pushed through a crack he had been working on for weeks now, seeping out into the spirit world. It wasn't much better, but hey... At least he wasn't surrounded by purple walls for the rest of eternity.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Nagrand

Izmir held his worn staff in hand, using it to steady himself as he climbed up the massive incline. The Draenei's eyes glowed in the light of the setting sun, sending shadows across his face, revealing his features. The Priest was obviously ancient, but he didn't look a day over twenty by human standards. Wrinkles from smiling often creased his face, however, he wasn't smiling now. Sweat dripped down from his brow as he neared his destination, each foot placed precariously on unsteady rocks. It had been vital to place the tomb in a nearly unreachable place, so Don's body wouldn't be brought back from the dead by one of the many necromancers he was not on the best terms with.

The man managed to find a final foothold, putting all his weight upon it. With a huff, he pushed, and brought the rest of his body onto the plateau. In front of him, a stone casket jutted out of the ground, holy scripture written across the sides and top. Izmir stepped forward, up to the tomb, resting a hand on it's lid.

The Draenei thought back to the times he had had with Don, the unexpected ally and close friend who now lay rotting inches away from him. The two had many dealings within the Aldor's Rise, the ancient Priest finding it amazing that a man of such a minimal age could best him in bartering; A practice he had taken up for the Church's benefit many years ago. As soon as the Dark Portal was opened, and Don Bronco started selling his fabulous Talbuks, Izmir had been buying them for the vindicators and other warriors within the Aldor's ranks. That had stopped however, when Don died.

It had taken Izmir many weeks now of searching, asking, and prying, as to the whereabouts of Don. The Priest managed to pry it out of one of the ranch hands several days ago however, and with the provisions for resurrection readied, set out for his old friend's grave. Now, he stood there, a lump rising in his throat as he thought about what he was to do. It wasn't often he personally had resurrected anyone... What if something went wrong? Izmir shook his head, banishing those thoughts along with any other doubts. His faith in the Light had yet to waver, and he'd be damned if it did now.

Resting both hands on the top of the coffin, the Draenei began to chant. The runs on the sides of the coffin burst into life, as a white light shot out from them, illuminating the nearby area. The chant grew more and more complex as it went on, the Priest beginning to sway as his hands, arms, and then chest began to faintly glow with the power of the light. Soon, he was a beacon in the twilight of Nagrand, light spreading from the whole of the coffin, as well as the whole of his body.

And then, without notice, it stopped. The light vanished, and the Draenei stumbled backward several steps, panting heavily. He stood there for several moments, catching his breath, before walking back to the tomb. With his staff, he pried the lid off, revealing the unconscious form of Don Bronco. He lay in his normal suit of leather armour, a gun at either hip; If it was not for the pale tinge to his skin, and the ragged breathing that caused his chest to rise and lower, he would have looked just like his old self. Casting a levitation spell on himself and his freshly living ally, the Draenei began to slowly float down the side of the mountain, ready to crawl into bed for a well earned rest. Don on the other hand, had much to do when he awoke.

DRAWBACKS:

Temporary:
- Severe cough.
- Major fatigue.
- Shaky hands; Don will be incredibly inaccurate with his guns as his nerves get used to, well... Use, once more. His hands shall be unsteady, to the point of uselessness, unless firing at point blank range.
- Don will suddenly become a vegetable at random intervals, as his spirit continues to attach itself to his body. This causes a complete shut down of his body for anywhere between several seconds, and several minutes.

Permanent:
- Scar tissue covering the upper right portion of his back, as well as a scar in the center of his chest. They look much like veins, all intersecting at a point about as big as a fist; They're a sickly purple colour, with hints of green and black in several areas.
- Susceptible to soul based attacks. (No chance of resisting them.)
- An even worse distrust of anything that has to do with Fel or Shadow.
-Don can never fulfill his lifelong dream of becoming a priest, which he was so close to attaining, due to fel taint.

((Anna breaks down in, three, two...))