Hetaera

Hetaera is a former Draenei anchorite and current shaman of the Light’s Blade. Known for her sagacious advice, but often hardline views, she is an ardent defender of her people and a proponent for continued warfare against the orcs. Though there are many that would have the Draenei forget the offenses that the orcs have perpetrated against their people, Hetaera lives each day remembering their most egregious of offenses.

A woman of little humor and austere mannerisms, the shaman battles with ire as her guide.

Early Life
During the Long Flight, Hetaera was born on the planet Oberiim to Praetus the Vindicated and his wife, Ilaana. Despite his daughter’s tranquil nature, Praetus had hoped not only for a son, but a son that would have been able to carry on his legacy as a vindicator. He attempted with as much kindness as he could to mold his daughter into a fighter, but her inherently serene disposition caused this to be little more than folly. At Ilaana’s behest Hetaera was entered into anchorite training where she excelled.

Though the Draenei were doggedly pursued by the Legion and its agents, Hetaera’s childhood and early adult life were relatively peaceful. A natural born leader, her peers flocked to her and she imparted upon them what knowledge and wisdom she could. Quick to smile and soft of voice, she became the conscience to many of her friends and the unquestionable voice of reason in times of stress.

It was her romance with the Light that truly drove her through the centuries. Although too reserved to reveal how very much she wished to learn in regard to the Light, her indefatigable desire to become closer to it prevented her from ever slackening in her studies. With each planet that the Draenei visited she attempted to find the Light within its inhabitants and through teaching them of it, managed to understand it a bit more herself. Millennia passed in this manner – the anchorite would sow seeds of enlightenment wherever she might travel.

Eventually the Draenei arrived on Draenor. It was here that the anchorite’s training would come into usage – and here that she would be forever changed.

Life on Draenor
Draenor was a lush and beautiful planet, not very different from the Oberiim of her birth. Much like her peers Hetaera felt it was best to keep to herself, though she did make efforts to seek out orcs on occasion that her previous missionary compulsions might arise. The orcs, devoutly shamanistic, found her teachings to be of little interest, but she learned from them the importance of ancestral reverence and felt no ill will toward them for their insistence upon practicing their own religion.

Now an adult by Draenic standards, Hetaera should have been prepared to seek out her first mate, but a life of scholarly pursuits had left her ill equipped to address social situations. The same woman that had been able to speak to lumbering goliaths on Vaegris or convince chittering plants on Despa to appreciate the allure of the Light, was completely incapable of expressing her changing feelings to those that she found attractive. As quickly as a brief romance would begin to take root, so too would she call it off and retreat back to her studies.

With the settlement of Draenor underway, Hetaera chose to join a small community of anchorites in what would one day be known as Nagrand. The rolling plains were as peaceful a place as could be imagined and through deep meditation she once more began to experience her connection with the Light as she had when converting the faithless – a connection that she may never be able to find within another person, but one that the Light would forever present to her.

Rise of the Horde
When word of orcish aggression reached her ears, Hetaera could hardly believe it. The orcs were far from savages; in fact, some might even consider them noble. Despite this, she sent many of her juniors ahead to Shattrath while she and her peers remained to continue to assist those that fled from various areas upon Draenor. Certain that the Light would protect her through whichever maelstrom was coming her way, though grim tales found her she refused to leave Sae’ar.

It was not until the orcish horde had nearly arrived at Sae’ar that the normally wise Hetaera began to realize how very foolish she had been. The Light did not favor her over any other – if they could be harmed, then so could she. With the last of her supporters she prepared to leave, but before she could the orcs were upon them.

What followed as a cataclysm of combat. Noble guardians fought against savage offenders to little avail, and though some orcs may have fallen all of those who stood before them were decimated. Hetaera received a terrible gash on her forehead as a result of trying to plead with the orcs to place down their weapons.

Though many perished in the razing of Sae’ar, Hetaera and several other female Draenei were taken captive. Unknowing what was awaiting them, they continued to pray with the belief that either the orcs would remember themselves, or that salvation would arrive for them.

The orcs did not change. Salvation did not come for many years.

It was the warlock Gul’dan that came upon the idea to create super soldiers through the interbreeding of orcish warriors to Draenei women, and though Hetaera and her sisters may have prayed, they were not delivered from that nightmare. Far from being alone in her torment, she was branded with the number seventeen on her arm, forever marking her as one of those conquered women.

Faith alone kept her from shattering, but there was no end to the number of cracks that would appear upon a once pristine vase. These were the darkest times of her life; a time with no Light. It was from that darkness that the woman she would one day become was forged.

"Seventeen"
As #17, Hetaera’s life was filled with misery and desolation. The birth of her first child, Ijaa’ni, marked the only moment of joy she would know as she held the half-orcish girl, but just as quickly as she entered the world so too did she leave it. Ijaa’ni was a small child – a fragile child, like her mother had been. Finding her weak, the overseer ripped her from her arms and dashed the baby’s head against the wall, then reminded Hetaera that she was to make a soldier or die like the others.

It was a mortal blow to her psyche; to have something as sweet and innocent as her child in her arms one moment and then to see her killed without mercy the next. Hetaera at long last broke – there was to be no hope, no prayer for the future. But the orcs did not require her to believe in anything, only to produce children. So she was taken again and again, until eventually she was once more with child.

The second born was a son, Draegar. Unlike his sister he took after his orcish blood and was seen as having a great potential for the Horde. Hetaera could hardly look upon the child as he was taken from her, and though his crying haunted her she refused to associate herself with him. To have a third child would be too much for her to bear. She prepared for her inevitable death.

Three months following the birth of her child, when Hetaera was on the verge of relinquishing her hold on life, a group of resistance fighters attacked the camp. In her delirium Hetaera thought that she saw her father charging through the enemy and coming to rescue her, but could not be certain. She passed out not long after the attack was completed. The rescuers fled then into the wilds of Terrokar, where a true awakening would occur.

The Fist of Vengeance
Although in her half-conscious daze she had believed she was being rescued by her father, when Hetaera awakened she found herself confronted by grotesque creatures that seemed more monster than Draenei. These creatures, called Broken, explained that they were once like her but had been forever changed with the events that followed the Rise of the Horde.

The resistance fighters, known as the Fist of Vengeance, were led by a shaman named Rhaen. He permitted Hetaera several days rest before approaching her on who they were and what their cause happened to be. The orcs had several camps through Draenor like the one she had been rescued from; their goal was to bring them all to an end. But when Hetaera thought to express that the Light would not have appreciated that form of retribution, she felt nothing. The Light had carried her through the nightmare, but it could take her no further.

Playing upon the memories that she took with her from the camp; from the screams of her sisters to the memory of Ijaa’ni’s life coming to an end, Rhaen convinced Hetaera that the only answer to her suffering was to fight back. Though she was deathly afraid of the orcs, she nevertheless had a brilliant mind that could assist them in planning raids and crippling their presence in Nagrand.

But war is not a one-sided affair and though their guerilla strikes proved costly for the orcs, it singled out their location little by little. Eventually they were attacked in full and a legacy of suffering found itself unleashed.

The Stormborn
When the orcish warriors broke into the Fist’s encampment, thunder heralded their slaughter. The Fist’s valiant soldiers had been composed of guerilla warriors, not front line soldiers; cornered they proved of little use against the orcs.

Trapped within her tent, Hetaera’s mind could not help but relive each horror and atrocity that the orcs had visited upon her. The sound of their warfare – not at all unlike that which had haunted her for years, caused within her such fear and anguish that she for a moment considered ending her life before they could take her once more. But she did not – she could not. They had broken her once; she would not be broken again.

Outside of her tent she saw Rhaen and the last of the orcs deadlock in the final legs of combat. For every orc that fell, Rhaen seemed that much closer to death. Hetaera watched helplessly as he staggered and dropped to the ground. The orc above him, axe raised in both hands, would be his end.

She could not allow that to happen.

Although she did not know how she manifested the power, she knew where it came from. The rage that she had for so long denied exploded through her. When she emerged from the tent, it was to unleash a brace of lightning bolts that ended the warrior’s life.

It was to the sound of thunder and the flashing of lightning that Hetaera rediscovered herself. She was born of the storm – not the anchorite she once was, but a woman that would forever remember the suffering that she had endured to become what she now had to be.

Rhaen was severely weakened by the results of that fight and the Fist shattered; however, he used what strength he had to prepare Hetaera to embrace her newfound power. Within her, he said, the elements were storming and at war – her hatred was her fuel, but she could not allow it to consume her completely. Fire and lightning would forever be easy for her to conjure; splitting earth and freezing water, child’s play. But it would be the art of healing, that which she had once prided herself on, that he said could never be what it once was. So long as she knew rage, she could not know love.

But Hetaera told herself she had known too much love in her life already.

Joining the Light’s Blade
Years after her emancipation from the orcs, Hetaera had become an accomplished shaman. Though she was far from being comparable to legendary casters, she was confident and certain of her abilities and used them as best she could to protect the Grand Alliance. Still, whenever a theater called for combating orcs she shied away from it and often did not work with the Earthen Ring because of their affiliation with them.

One day while returning from Terrokar, Hetaera had a chance meeting with a young exarch by the name of Terras. What began as a casual conversation turned into an offer for a position amongst the [i]Sha’nash[/i] – the Light’s Blade. Having been without companions since the fall of the Fist, Hetaera hesitantly agreed and found herself within a company of many bold Draenei.

Now elevated to the position of Harbinger within the order, Hetaera uses her wisdom to advise the Exarch’s hand as best she can in the coming battles they face. With Terras’ assistance she learned to overcome her fear of orcs and has since become a force of reckoning in any engagement that involves them.

Appearance
Hetaera is a white-skinned Draenei with equally white hair. Though life has been hard upon her, she retains a very pleasing nature about herself, though what was once serene now can better be considered stoic. More often than not favoring bandages beneath her armor, she attempts at all times to conceal the 17 that is engraved within her arm, though if it is seen she makes little mention of it.

Physically, Hetaera’s regimen has proven advantageous to her general well being. She is fit and has toned muscles, not at all the shapeless and slender creature that others might prefer. Though far from masculine in nature, her body is well grounded and her attention to fitness revealed in both her stride and bearing. She often wears robes when out of combat.

Personality
Hetaera is often referred to as standoffish and cold, though she takes pride in neither distinction. Believing that there are far too many who forgive and forget the crimes of the past, she is a dour reminder of what has been and what could once more be if the Draenei do not remain vigilant. Often found to be either frowning or on the verge of a grimace, she answers jokes with blank stares and rarely smiles.

Although she has expressed a need to see the orcs punished, she does not appreciate those who flippantly remark on how much they enjoy killing orcs. As with many things in her life, Hetaera takes little pleasure in killing and states that it is “justice”, not “honor” or “fun” that motivates her hands. When not spoken to directly she will rarely speak out unless an offense is related; however, when questioned her meaning is often driven home with absolute certainty.

When she encounters half-orc children she often becomes overwhelmed with grief, but tries her best to conceal it. However, when she meets an orc and Draenei couple or hears of them, she can hardly contain her disgust and contempt. It is that situation alone that can have her voice words that she would never say – words that come from her inability to comprehend such an effrontery to the suffering that she and her people have endured.