Spoiler:
Aulten kicked open the door to Manor Calethos, stumbling into the main foyer. It took the man merely a second to notice the sudden rush of dizziness and weakness that rolled over him like a tidal wave cresting on the shore. He stumbled, servant rushing to his side. The young lad barely caught Aulten before he hit the ground, knees first, his weight leaning into the scrawny boy.
"To my desk," he spits.
After working over to the desk, a strenuous process as is, Aulten sat down, cursing. "f**k... Shit's killing me..." The servant boy's face contorted to one of horror at the sudden spitting of vulgar language from his noble master, but he shrunk back all the same. The ragged nobleman lifted a pen and sets it to paper, hurriedly scribbling a note. He signed it simply, stuffing it in an envelope carelessly. He turned to the boy, handing him the letter. His voice was gruff, raw-sounding.
"Get this to Naharev. Fail, and I'll kill you without fucking question. Do you understand?" The lad nodded shakily, running off toward the door to make his way to Stormwind. Within a few moments, Aulten began to stir, dragging himself to his feet. "I've got to make it to Shattrath," he grunts. With that, he began his own trek to the capital, stepping out into the cold of winter.
Two days later, Aulten had begun his trek out of Shattrath, having arrived via portal. "None of them want to help me find my way... I'll have to find my own..." He sets foot into the precious green of Nagrand, examining the landscape.
...
By the end of the day, Aulten arrived at what appeared to be an abandoned village, burned by some unseen foe.
Spoiler:
In the midst of the ruined town would an odd figure sit. Destruction had swallowed the town, nothing but ruined and charred buildings for what looks as if miles. Flanking each side of the figure would be a set of warlgaives impaled into the charred earth.
A man of apparent middle-age could be seen entering the ruins. He appears as though vulnerable, based upon his dress alone. Gone is the crisp, clean nature of his suit, replaced with a more dirty nature, tears visible in the cloth. Strands of grey appear in his lengthy hair, and his face appears some weeks unshaven, unseemly for one of his stature. He does not, at first, notice the figure in what may be considered a town circle, but instead walks the town's abandoned streets.
While the human may have not noticed, the hunter on the other hand had. Without word he would rise, taking up a glaive in each hand before he would call out, his very words burning with anger that fueled the flames that once destroyed the town. "What do you want?"
Aulten shrinks at the sound of an unexpected voice. He calls back, although in no specific direction due to the fact that he does not know where the voice comes from, "I seek shelter from this world while I search for one who can help me."
The hunter, well in years, yet still haste in his movements, quickly makes his way before the human, glaives bore as if ready to strike at any moment.
His voice snarled, the anger only growing further apparent. "A consort of demons finds no home here..."
Aulten raises his hands as a passive sign of nonagression, taking a step back. "I mean you no harm; I only seek one night while I continue my search to find one who can rid me of this blasted curse."
The hunter seems to only grow further angered, gently stepping forward.
"I will cure you of life soon enough... What curse is it you bear? What ailment so great that you seek home from a hunter of demons?"
"That placed upon me by my own father." At the mention of demons, he sidles back further. "When raised in a family where things of unspeakable horror are considered acceptable and commonplace, that which you may despise, I was raised jaded toward. Kill me if you wish, but it was not my choice. I seek to right the wrongs of my upbringing and alter my path."
The hunter had refused to ease even an inch, though he makes no movements now.
"Alter in what way?"
"There is no way I can turn down the path I've walked and begin anew; the way has already crumbled and cannot be trekked in the opposite direction. Instead, I seek either to use what I've been cursed with for the betterment of others, or find a way to shed the curse,” comes the human’s reply.
The hunter snorted, looking the wreck of a man over.
"You wish to rid yourself of the demon's essence?"
Aulten nods meekly. "That or, as I said, use it to help."
The human could almost swear he saw the hunter take on the brief appearance of a demon, his jaw curling into a massive grin as he drapped both glaives. With one swift movement, the hunter brought himself forward, a hand grasping into a fist but inches from the human's heart.
"This is going to hurt." He says matter-of-factly.
Aulten clenches, but likely too late. ... Whatever is about to hit him, it's likely to hurt like a b***h.
The fist would unclench, instead curling around the air as the hunter's brow furrowed with concentration. With that, streams of fel would slowly ebb from the human's torso. While the procedure looked rather slow, steady, and painless, it would actually feel a large tearing pain as the hunter would separate and drain the fel from every inch of his being.
Aulten practically howls in pain, unable to move so much as a finger.
The drain is anything but quick. As the hellish eternity would slowly drift by, the tattoos that adorned the hunter's torse would alight with a crackling black flame.
Aulten would continue his howling until his voice fell hoarse from the sound.
With the moment finally passed, Go'ren would jerk his hand back. Upon his palm burned a fairly sized ball of fel energies, yet with the single clench of his fist, the energies would drain into his own system, bringing his tattoos to an even further roar of black flames.
Aulten collapses to the ground at that, breathing heavily, his chest literally lifting and dropping him back to the ground with every breath. "Wh... What did..." he mumbles, unable to complete coherent sentences through the sheer pain.
"I just tore the fel from your soul..." the hunter would smack his lips, as if just finishing a meal. "Felguard... delicious."
Aulten lays there, as though a fish out of water. His body twitches slightly. "Tha... That..."
Go'ren would raise a brow, the gesture apparent through his lacking blindfold. The two eyeless, burnt sockets stare down at the human with a hollowing expression.
Aulten forces himself, through much strain, into a sitting position. He seems to be regaining some of his sense, although sentences are still proving hard. "I feel... Something's empty..."
"That would be the feeling of the fel removed from your system... You will go through withdrawl. If you are true to your words, then you will survive."
Aulten nods, glassy-eyed. "... Then what...?"
"Your arcane affinity will remain... Though it is dependant upon you to rehabilitate yourself. I am a hunter, not a teacher not a babysitter. You may rest here, however."
The vulnerable human nods, collapsing onto his back. He stares up at the sky. "... I want to kill them..."
"As do I."
"... Now that it's gone... I don't know how I lived with it..."
The hunter brought his eyesless gaze upon himself, eyeing the features of his fel-adorned body. "...I do not call this living... It is servitude."
"Serving -what?-"
"You served the demons... I serve a purpose.. A mentality... A tradition. I've sacraficed my life to become a weapon."
"... I never served demons. I wasn't a pawn of the Legion..."
"To their powers you were.... you prostrated yourself before their abilities... allowed addiction... you needed to live off of it... you needed it."
Aulten shrugs slightly. "Is it... Not the same for you?"
"Not the same, no. I do not become addicted... I do not serve. In turn I kill. I am trained as the traditional Demon Hunters of the Kal'dorei."
"But you don't feel the hunger?"
The hunter shruged slightly. "I feel pain... not much else aside from that."
"And what is it like...? Living only to serve that purpose, I mean."
The hutner shruged once more. "I exist to bring vengance upon the demons for this..." He made a broad gesture to the ruins that encompassed them. "I will go insane one day, encompassed by the demon's soul that exists inside myself... When another fledgling hunter comes along and kills me... perhaps I'll be happy then... perhaps then I'll be free enough to tell you how this actually feels. Until then... I do not know what I feel. I simply exist... I do not live."
Aulten nods. "I cannot imagine such a life."
"One does not always have to imagine when it exists in reality."
"For myself, then."
"It is an existance lived by few, thankfully."
Aulten seems to be regaining some of his composure, clearing his throat. "It is one I am thankful for, nonetheless."
"What is it you call yourself, human?"
"Aulten Calethos. I am a nobleman of the kingdom of Stormwind."
"So be it... Calethos."
"And yourself, Hunter?"
The hunter would come to bring a hand up, idly scratching his cheek. "I have come and gone by many disguises and nicknames... but in Reality I am Go'ren Whiteclaw, the Felfang of the shattered Whiteclaw Clan."
Aulten nods. "Well met, then, Go'ren."
"If one could call a meeting of such well, yes."
Aulten shrugs his shoulders, sitting up again. "While not under the best of circumstances, it is a good meeting, yes?"
"Presumably."
"... Thank you," comes the almost strained statement, out of the blue.
Go'ren snorts. "You have no reason to thank me... simply follow through with your promise or I will kill you without regret."
"But I have plenty of reason to thank you. You could have just killed me when you first saw me."
"You have plenty of reasons to thank, but I have none to care. You are nothing more than another head amongst a myriad in my mind."
Aulten nods. "Then so be it." He attempts to stand, but almost immediately finds himself back on the ground, groaning.
Go'ren looks down to the man. "...That is why I suggested you rest here for the night..."
"... Right, right..."
With that, the Human collapses back onto the ground, sleeping a pain-filled sleep within seconds.