Phetatarei could taste a mixture of dirt and blood in his mouth. It was a familiar taste, he had known that mixture from since when he was playing with his peers as a child. The first time he tasted it he was probably trying to steal a ball from one of his friends, but ended up being thrown on the ground instead. This time this taste was not the result of playing a game, it was the result of battle.

He was ordered by Jol to escort a scouting party from Telredor to the border of Hellfire Peninsula. The Draenei wanted to make sure there were no orcs trying to invade the last Draenei bastion of safety. Velen had known a long live as a refugee and since the fall of Shattrath, he decided to take his followers to Zangarmarsh. 

Phetatarei was not the leader of the scouting party, but he was considered the most experienced in battle. Even at the age of twenty he had already trained hard to join the league of the vindicators and he had devoted his life to become a paladin of the Naaru.  He did have training in the arts of combat, but he had never come face to face with an orc on his own before.

The scouting party was led by a Broken seer named Vaklir. Vaklir was the only one of the group who had some knowledge of the Orcish language and the Draenei hoped that if it would come to contact between the party and some orcs, they could try the diplomatic approach. Apart from the seer and the young paladin, a herbalist, a priest and a trapmaster had joined the party. The herbalist was an ancient Draenei who had originally lived on Argus and out respect of her old age, people just called her 'The Wise One'. The Wise One had hoped to find rare ingredients for apothecary supplies while out in the marsh. The priest was named Elredan and was considered one of Pheta's best friends. He was a little bit older than the paladin, but they had known each other for a very long time. Finally the trapmaster was a lady called Alnasha.

Although Vaklir was considered the leader of the scouting party it was Alnasha who had decided on the route to take. She had the most knowledge of the marsh and she had marked her way to her traps with subtle axe cuts in the giant mushrooms towering over them. Because of the muddy underground the party was clothed in some light leather equipment and although all of them carried a dagger, it was Phetatarei who was the best equipped for battle. He was carrying a large hammer, inspired by Naaru design, he carried the long pole firmly in his hands, gripping the weapon as if danger was always imminent.

They traveled by night, but the Zangarmarsh didn't feel like it was asleep at all. Tons of fireflies were circling around the muddy pools and many spore bats were on the hunt looking for easy prey. Somewhere in the far distance the Draenei party could spot a big campfire in the lands of the Sporregar. The Draenei and the Broken did not speak. They were close to the border claimed by the orcs and they didn't want to get any attention.

From time to time the scouts stopped to check a trap or give The Wise One some time to gather her herbs. In a way, Phetatarei really enjoyed these outings in the night. The moons of Draenor would cast a mysterious glow over the marshes and even if his hooves got wet, he never felt cold when hiking through the tricky pools. While Pheta was enjoying the hue of moonlight, Alnasha suddenly put her fist in the air, signaling her companions to stop. As if moving by one strong muscle the whole party kneeled down, trying to hide themselves from sight. Alnasha pointed a bit further to a large mushroom where she had placed one of her traps.

Two bulky orcs were inspecting Alnasha's trap and it looked like a young spore bat was caught within. Phetatarei did not understand what the orcs were saying, but they were talking very loud, obviously not afraid to alarm anyone. One of the orcs was carrying a large club with metal spikes over his shoulder. In his other hand he was carrying a large torch. The second orc, although appearing a bit smaller was still brawny and his face was covered by a hood. The hooded orc opened the cage and let the spore bat free, only to use some dark magic on the poor creature. A fel green beam traveled from the orcs empty hands while the spore bat shriveled into nothingness. The orc with the club laughed loud. Then suddenly he turned towards the Draenei scouting party.

Elredan gasped in disbelief when he saw the spore bat disappear, Vaklir had covered the priest's mouth before he could cause more noise but it was clearly too late. The orc carrying the club and torch shouted in their general direction. The other orc summoned a felhound and ordered the demon beast to sniff out their surroundings. The Draenei knew it was only a matter of time, before they would be found out. Vaklir released Elredan from his grasp and whispered: "Move back to Telredor, I will try to distract them, whatever you do, don't look back!" Before the Draenei were allowed to speak against this idea, Vaklir already jumped out of their hiding place and shouted something in the orcs' language.

Alnasha took The Wise One and Elredan by their hands and guided them back to the secretive Draenei village. Phetatarei followed suit. In the distance they could hear the seer and the orcs in conversation. None knew what they were saying. Soon after they heard an awful sound. It was not totally clear what happened, but it was certain that the orcs killed the Broken. The felhound was ordered to sniff out any other stragglers. Alnasha started running, knowing that no matter what, they had to distance themselves from danger as soon as possible. 

While the Draenei were running, trying to get to safety, the big orc torched some of the mushrooms in his surroundings trying to light up the marsh. Some older dried out mushrooms spread fire quickly and the Draenei could no longer hide in the dark. Again the orcs shouted something. Soon after they were chasing the scared Draenei. "Keep running, don't look back", yelled Alnasha. Although the trapmaster knew her way in the marshes, she had trouble looking for a straight path, avoiding any unseen puddles which could drown them.

The felhound raced after the Draenei and his ugly snake heads were snapping at the heels of Phetatarei. Elredan noticed this happening, wrought himself free from Alnasha's hands and turned around. "Pheta, watch out!" With a quick side step, the young paladin dodged the felhound and let it run past him. Elredan did not have any time to react and before any of the scouts had time to react the felhound jumped on the poor priest. The priests hands were glowing with holy energy, he was trying to cast a spell. But before he had the chance to finish whatever incantation he was trying to speak, the felhound ripped open his chest, while the snake heads ripped out the eyes of Elredan.

In this moment of panic, Alnasha kept running, trying to bring The Wise One to safety. Pheta had lost sight of his two other companions, and before he had time to mourn the dead of his friend, the felhound turned around, growling towards the scared Draenei. Phetatarei shifted his grip and with the weight of his strong hammer he smashed the felhounds' main head. Green blood splattered in all directions and in the light of the fel energies released by the demon, Phetatarei could see the body of Elredan. The paladin kneeled down next to his friend, but it was clear that the priest was dead. There was no more glow in his hands, and were his eyes used to be, Pheta could only see empty bloodied sockets. The body was still warm to the touch, but the soul had already passed on.

Phetatarei did not feel rage, but he was fueled by guilt. He was ordered to escort this party and already two of them had passed. He knew there was no way to catch up with Alnasha and the Wise One and even if he did, he might have led the orcs to the Draenei's hiding place. He knew he had to make a stand against the orcs, even if he would pay his life for it. With a shocking degree of calmness he turned around and he saw the two orcs splashing towards him.

The orc with the club grinned when he saw this young boy trying to look menacing. He threw his torch on the felhound, cremating the body slowly. Another set of fel energies released themselves from the dead demon but Phetatarei was not phased by this. He knew he was blessed by the Naaru. He knew the Light was with him and although he was not powerful enough to connect his soul to the Light, he knew the Holy Light strengthened him. Maybe the orcs saw a puny teenager, but he was much more than that, he was a trained vindicator.

Driven by his young sense of arrogance he dug his hooves deep in the marshy undergrowth. Whatever would happen, he would not move. He would not leave the body of Elredan, he would not lead the orcs to Telredor. The hooded orc turned to the big one and said something unintelligible. The big orc put down his club and squatted. Apparently the Warlock wanted to extract revenge for his lost demon himself. Slowly the hooded figure approached Phetatarei. Again the warlock was speaking, but even though the young Draenei did not understand the words, he knew it was Demonic.

Without a clear sense of danger Phetatarei sprinted towards the Warlock and stunned by his sudden movements the Warlock did not dodge his attack. The paladin smashed all the weight of the hammer in front of him, crushing the ribs of his enemy. Beneath the hood Phetatarei could now clearly see eyes, glowing with the power of the fel. How could the Draenei ever forgive their former allies when they had drunk the demon blood. The warlock staggered backwards and before he could take a moment to react the blunt of the hammer smashed his face.

Not realizing the burden of death, Phetatarei turned towards the other orc, who had sprung back on his feet. This one however was not taken aback by the might of the young Draenei. The orc had slayed many of his kind before and this young skull would just be another anonymous addition to the Path of Glory. The orc roared and spit a sliver of saliva in the Draenei's face. It was then that Phetatarei realized the orcs did not feel for honorable combat.

The orc swiped his club and with a swift blow he hit Phetatarei in the side, the metal spikes penetrating the leather armor protecting the boy. The paladin cried out in pain, but did not take the time to check his wound. He blocked the next blow of the orc and the one after that. The orc lifted his giant club above its head and tried to smash the Draenei. Phetatarei however jumped towards the orc and smashed his shoulder beneath one of his elbows. The club landed on his back but did not cause any severe damage. Pheta now smelled the reeking sweat of the orc, and realized that he was fighting without any true protection. The orc was wearing a horned helmet and small mail skirt, but apart from that he was not carrying any armor.

With his weight beneath the orcs elbow, Phetatarei tried to topple the orc, wrestling for any form of dominance. The orc was heavy, but his slippery shoes did not hold any ground in the marsh, while Pheta could keep his balance with his hooves digging in the dirt. To his own surprise he succeeded in throwing the orc on its back. But while doing so the orc was able to snatch his hammer out of his hands. After falling the orc quickly rolled aside and tried to stand up as fast as possible. The orc was able to wield both the hammer and the club. And Pheta in all his inexperience was left without much defense. 

The big orc started laughing loudly, mocking the young Draenei. Swiftly the orc started swinging both hammer and club towards Phetatarei, who could do nothing else but give ground. Still the Draenei was not stressed yet. Until he got a smash to the face, turning him face down into the mud. Phetatarei tasted a mixture of dirt and blood in his mouth. Suddenly he realized this was not a game anymore. Both Vaklir and Elredan were death. If he didn't watch out, he would follow them soon to the realms of Auchindoun.

But what if it could be a game? What would he do in a situation like this in a wrestling match or while playing ball? This was not honorable combat, he was allowed to play it dirty. He tried to stand up and in the meantime filled his hands with mud from the marsh. He asked for the Gift of the Naaru and the bright blue light blinded the orc. Phetatarei was filled with a warm hue allover his body and the calmness in his mind returned. He pushed his mud filled hands in the face of the orc blinding the green monster even more. In an attempt to get the mud out of his eyes, the orc started wildly flinging his head in all directions.

Phetatarei used this moment of confusion to grab back his hammer and in one swift strike he crushed one of the orc's knees. In a reaction the orc smashed his club against the same side of the Draenei he struck before. Phetatarei too was forced to address this pain and staggered backwards. He was clearly bleeding and the Gift of the Naaru would not be enough to heal his wounds this time. The orc now had to use his club to aid him in standing, he was not able to bear the weight of his body anymore.

Phetatarei exploited this, smashed his hammer against the club, forcing the orc back to the ground. The orc tried to grab back his hammer, but in a quick reaction the Draenei crushed the orc's hand with a hoof. The orc cried out in pain and looked worried. How could such a young child, bear so much might? Still standing with his hoof upon the orc, Phetatarei lifted his hammer and let the weight drop on the orcs chest. Crazed by the rage of battle the orc just started laughing. Phetatarei repeated his blow, over and over again, until finally, the orc stopped moving.

Tired, Phetatarei looked at his surroundings while slowly falling down. The hammer slipped from his grip and soon he too fell down on the marshy soil. The fire the orcs started had stopped, but still the charred body of the felhound remained. The boy was now surrounded by death, the seer, the priest and the orcs all lied lifeless around him. He tried to touch his side, inspecting the damage the spiked club had wrought. He was already caked with blood and when he held his hand close to his face he could feel the warm blood dripping on his lips. Dirt and blood had filled his mouth, but life was not a game anymore. Overcome by pain he passed out.

They brought Phetatarei back to Telredor on a stretcher. It seemed like sunrise was to start soon. It was Jol who had brought him back, together with some Vindicators. As soon as The Wise One and Alnasha arrived with the bad news, the Draenei acted. They brought back the bodies of Elredan and Vaklir as well. The orcs were cremated at the spot.

"He is MY son!."

"I know, Rheia, but he also is my student. We both share a responsibility for his life. If I had known they would be attacked, I would not have sent him alone."

"By the Naaru. Jol, you think this is a game? You just wanted to see if he was 'ready for the task', don't you?"

Rheia, Phetatarei's mother and Jol, his teacher were having a heated discussion. In the meantime Sathykon was seated in a chair with his hands in his hair. He knew better than to join the discussion. He admired the fire in his wife, but sometimes her devotion could scare him as well. Sathykon did not have access to any kind of magic or healing energies, he knew that the only thing that could save his son now was patience.

They had taken Phetatarei to a separate room at the local infirmary. Although his wife was angry at Jol, he knew that the paladin trainer was the first to set out and go looking for their child. As their son grew older they had to accept the fact that parenting was over and Phetatarei had to decide on his own ways now. In a time of war and refuge, he guessed, parents could not protect their children from harm anymore.

"Rheia, please. Calm down. Jol went out and got our son back, didn't she? It might look like she sent him to danger, but she was also there to get him back to us. I don't understand the way of the Naaru like you do, but we must start to accept the fact that our parenting time is passing. Phetatarei has a calling with the vindicators, whether we like it or not."

At first glance it looked like Rheia wanted to strike him down with holy fire, then she let out a deep sigh. She started crying and Sathykon opened up his big arms. He was a chubby man and Rheia always felt safe when she could hide her face into his body mass. Embracing his scared and crying wife, Sathykon could not hold back any tears himself.

"You are a fool of a husband." Rheia chuckled.

"I know, my dear. But I also know our son will be allright. I think it's better for us to go home and get some sleep. Jol will watch out for Pheta for now. We are not the only ones who can protect our child. We'll have to work together here in Telredor."

Rheia nodded and with a firm grip around her husband's hand, she let him guide her back home.