**Author's Note!!** I've had evil images in my head ever since reading WC3: The Antarctic Toilet by Agent Smith (which is excellent, by the way, go look it up!), so I couldn't help at least starting a goofy-weird fic like this. It's not supposed to be comedy, but some of the concepts are pretty laughable. I've always thought of the Warden as one of those closet-nympho chicks who would torture her prisoners in THAT way, hehe. So don't yell at me, this is just a fancy. In progress, like everything else!
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They brought him in struggling, his thick muscles bulging, trying to free themselves of the tight grasps of his captors. The solemn captors' hands left deep purple marks on his arms and wrists and small, oozing cuts where their nails tore flesh. Illidan Stormrage wrenched his limbs here and there, teeth bared menacingly, barbed words flying from his mouth as he swore repeatedly, calling to his older brother, naming him the Betrayer, among other things.
Malfurion Stormrage followed the procession with no emotion on his face. He refused to recognize any of Illidan's desperate pleas to him, set in his ways and sure of his decision. Illidan had caused too much trouble and hardship to his people to have any other fate than this. He needed this punishment, Furion believed. It will make him realize his wrongdoings give him a chance to communicate with his inner self and perhaps reason with it. He and his brother had never really gotten along; they had chosen complete opposite paths in life and followed two very different philosophies. Furion's philosophy followed more that of his people, the Night Elves, who wanted peace and solitude in the world. He became a druid, worshipping the goddess Elune and the spirits of the forest. He cared nothing for power and self-promotion; he only wanted his people to be happy and healthy. He was the arch-druid of their community, respected and revered for his wisdom, a figurehead in Night Elf society.
Illidan was too ambitious for his own good. He had chosen the path of the demon hunter, a position enshrouded in shadow and power. He used unholy magic in his practices, forsaking any sort of god or goddess. He lived for power, and power only. Demon hunters sacrificed much of their freedom and even their sight, driven by the mad desire of personal gain and strength. The majority of the Night Elf society was extremely wary of the demon hunters and often shunned them, calling them blasphemers and traitors to the race. Furion tried to accept his younger brother, but could only see him twisting into a demonic figure as his hunger for power consumed him. He had to be stopped. And his actions of creating another Well of Eternity confirmed this for Furion. Illidan was a threat to his people, and this could not be allowed. So Furion followed his protesting brother into the depths of his soon-to-be prison, his heart heavy and face expressionless.
Marching in the front of the procession was Maiev Shadowsong, a warden with the best reputation of the Sentinels. She walked with her head high, ecstatic with the position she had been given of Illidan's watcher. She had been given other jobs as a jailor and had never let her superiors down. Now she was the superior, only second to Furion (whom she held a great respect for) and the High Priestess of the Moon, Tyrande Whisperwind, and she intended to fulfill every aspect of her duty with this job. Illidan was a very dangerous being, and this had been made clear to her.
But Maiev did not fear him. She had no fear of anything that might obstruct justice being laid upon a criminal, or fear of the criminal himself. She had been given this job with extremely high honors, and the point of Illidan and the treacherous crime he committed only drove her to perform her tasks of justice further. She listened to Illidan's protests with a strange sense of satisfaction; no one could see the twisted smile on her face as they approached the cell that would be Illidan's for the next eternity or so.
The procession arrived at the cell. Illidan was clamped into numerous large, strong chains by his wrists, arms, ankles, legs, and neck and thrown into the cell on his back. Before he could get up, the chains attached themselves to various rings on the walls and floors. He rose and lunged at the nearest body, but was brought up short by his restraints. Satisfied, the procession left him and stood behind Furion, waiting, as Maiev took her place next to Illidan in his cell.
"Illidan Stormrage," Furion said gravely, "you have been sentenced to an eternity of isolation in this cell for crimes against our race. You will be watched by Maiev Shadowsong, the most efficient and competent warden of the Sentinels. You are expected to think about the evils you have committed and what consequences they may have and have had to the Night Elves and the entire world itself. Do not attempt to escape, as you will find that we have taken every precaution to keep you down here for your full sentence." He glanced at Maiev, who in turn smiled maliciously at Illidan. His tone softened slightly. "I do hope, brother, that if you join us again, it will be as a respectable and responsible individual. Farewell."
Chapter 1