#tragjaan

Tragjaan Agent of the Lightbound

Evil isn't always in purple. Sometimes it's draped in gold and light with a sense of purpose that is blinding to all. I first heard about the Lightbound when I finally got did the Mag'har stuff to get them as an ally race for the Horde. They were actually what I thought the Army of Light would turn out to be in the main timeline.

Arriving as saviors during Legion, only to see corruption in everything with a need to cleanse it from all for the 'good' of the world. But they didn't want to go that deep and my hopes for a 'Blinded by the Light' story arc just became an arc I wanted.

I also wanted the Army of Light to be like the Roman empire cruising the galaxy and conscripting all sorts of races to their banner to fight in the crusade. Some by choice and others not so much, like what they tried with Illidian. But that didn't happen either. Generic space good guy army. But enter roleplay and my own stories. I do what a want.

Just gotta do it. And I didn't.

Another alt idea in the basket to wait for me to get manic crazy over again.

Ex: Fingers would gently push aside the hair of the young dwarf, face tear streaked and plastered in soot. She looked terrified. The armored cowl of the draenei looked down upon her with silent judgement. "There there, little one. You will be safe."

"But me home," the dwarf would whisper as she looked about the burned out hovel of stone homes deep within the Hinterlands. The Wildhammers had called this place home for so long and lived in relative peace just the same. What had they done to deserve this?

The glowing wings of the helm tilted to one side as the fingers continued to stroke her hair with the gentleness of a father. "I am sorry for your home. But I promise you, it will be better soon."

"But how? Why?"

"You know why," as the draenei motioned behind her toward the stakes being lifted. To each was pinned the motionless form of a tattooed dwarf, their bodies covered in wounds and beards shorn clean. "They tempted fates that they have no place touching. They were not meant to bring such blasphemy to this place."

The tears came more freely as the dwarf buried her face in her hands, the gauntleted hand coming to rest on her shaking head. "Fret not child, you are still young. You are still pure. You will see our righteous path and you will know it's hard road."

"You will walk beside us," a glow began to escape his hand as the metal fingers curled into the braids. "You will see the Light."

She wished she could scream.

"They call us the Lightbound," the draenei would speak softly but always with the grave baritone of his people. "The orc use it like an insult but we embrace such a name. We are Lightbound and guided in the purity of our world."

Tragjaan slowly shifted his armored bulk across the curious members of his party, his bright eyes shining in the darkness of the night with the holy power that burned through his being. "My brothers and sisters gladly lead the charge into the masses of the unbelievers. We know the path and we know the price for peace."

His large hand would come to slowly stroke the heavy mace hanging at his belt, the metal gleaming as much as his eyes. "We have done our best to lead with a gentle heart and open hand but many still require a firm word and a closed fist."

"We are not afraid to unleash this, nor will we be again as we push back again," the draenei continued as he began to pace softly with his heavy hooves. "The Naaru guides and the High Exarch directs. We shall have peace."

"No matter the cost."

The Evermorn was a glorious victory for the Lightbound.

Traagjaan, soldier of Light and follower of the High Exarch, had reveled in the battle against the accursed Mag'har. A field littered by with the bodies of the fallen orcs had was being cleansed by holy flame of the few Warframes that arrived with them in the siege. He tried not to smile at the smell of roasting heretics, the lash at his belt ached to remind him of his place. The draenei would welcome his cleansing.

Death and slaughter were not to be enjoyed. This was justice. This was repentance. This was peace.

Nearby he could see some of the orcs bowing before the warpriests, praising and surrendering to the path of righteous. Surrendering to the Light. A swell of disgust rolled within his stomach seeing them grovel in the face of the majesty of their power. Another lash to repent. He welcomed it.

Tragjaan's eyes turned away from the conscription and toward the other half of the orc army. Those who would not embrace the holy power and peace. Their eyes fierce and bodies wounded in the face of extinction at the hands of the victors. He admired that about them. They would not go quietly, even as the crystal hammers were raised flaring with the golden light to met out the Light's justice.

His hooves would carry him to join them.

Another lash to repent.

He smiled.

Late was the hour within the Cathedral, the bells ringing clearly into the night as sang out the eleventh hour. The song was that of hope and ritual as it spread the glory of the power it served to all those who wandered the even now crowded streets of the grand capital of the Alliance.

Deep with the hollowed halls of the great citadel to the Light knelt a large figure, head bowed and eyes closed to the world as full lips would gently whisper to himself and beyond. A great crest of horns and bearing the soft glowing symbol of the righteous above white brows, Tragjaan servant of the Light and soldier in the grand army of the Lightforged prayed.

His was a life of constant repentance and self sacrifice to the power he had chosen to serve as the Army had come to the conscript all who wished to battle the Legion. The young draenei had been willing and ready to sacrifice everything to help all people never face the brutality of his own upon the broken world of Draenor.

Countless of his people slaughtered, mangled, and murdered by the fel infused orcish Horde of their refuge. How many times must his people run into the dark to escape a destructive perverse power such as the fel? He had seen it on countless worlds. Burned husks. Mangled corpses. Maddened minds and bodies.

It had been a pleasure to cut them down. To scorch the earth of these worlds' corruption by the Legion. Snuffing out the demonkind and traitors as they had done to so many of his loved ones. Vengeance was not becoming of those who served the Light and with the Naaru. But justice was needed and warranted.

It was necessary. He was happy to met it to those who would corrupt and destroy.

"Light be with us and you," Tragjaan would murmur as he stood up straight to his full eight foot height, cloven feet clopping across the stone floor. Gently he would tuck away the leather strap within his belt before picking up his tunic and cloak, the bruises and scars across his back shoulders still burning with righteous strength.

"Doom to the Fel, death to the Legion," he would continue to finish his prayer. "Salvation to the universe."