Morrigan
February 4th, 2010, 11:39 PM
Guh! That sound!
I can ever quite get use to that popping sound of bone, or the odd groaning of muscles dead. It always throws me off in the...well when I wake up. You wake up and you're not supposed too, so for that split second your mind plays tricks on you letting you think you're normal. It’s worse on the rare occasion there's a pleasant dream. The dreams of times past...of what you once were...
That's why I prefer the nightmares. Sure they're horrible ghastly things reliving the scourge devouring any life form, and corrupting and twisting it into some unrecognizable monstrosity that's then turned on the people they were protecting moments ago. Friends, family, children, elderly, it didn't matter they're all play things to the Lich King. Play things of a spoiled and ill tempered child who destroys his toys on a whim once he unleashed his Scourge upon you to become one of his puppets. One of the ones he holds onto and smashes down on the other toys to see how they scatter and break as he laughs. Still, there were ones that sought his ranks in some perverse misguided attempt for power. The only small mercy, if it could be called that, that you were granted was you had no memories or thoughts of your own.
Now, I have thoughts of my own again. The memories of life before becoming one of the Foresaken, memories of life before the Scourge, they're there too, most often bringing themselves forth unbidden. The things done while possessed by the Scourge were bad enough on their own. The final knife to the heart came when the Scourge had managed to be cleansed from you, and you rose again as undead to have what was once your own kind turn their backs on you…forsaking you. They didn't understand the disease, the plague that the Scourge was. It's wasn't your choice. You think they would have been more understanding when allies that had been fighting by their side and fallen in battle only moments before twisted, and screamed into unrecognizable forms attacking the ones they had just been defending.
Enough of that, dwelling on it hasn't changed it yet.
*sigh*
What was my name before? That's one of the ever elusive memories. The name I chose for this incarnation seemed as good as any, I had heard it somewhere before but can't remember where. It stuck with me and I liked it so why not? I have since learned it belonged to warrior.
I am no warrior though. I'm a priest.
There was irony in that, Undead and a priest. I could heal people and even bring them back to life. That thought always makes me laugh. I had chosen to train in the darker arts of the shadow though, inflicting as much pain and damage upon my enemies as I can. The greatest joys always come from tormenting the Alliance seizing control of a plushie mind, making him run off a cliff to his death in the Arathi Basin just before I claim the resource for the Horde; while he's fully conscious of what's happening during his internal futile struggle to stop it.
Bigger, more powerful things were screaming challenges though. Challenges that could not be denied much longer. Soon will come the time when I must walk straight into the gaping maw of hell itself.
I can ever quite get use to that popping sound of bone, or the odd groaning of muscles dead. It always throws me off in the...well when I wake up. You wake up and you're not supposed too, so for that split second your mind plays tricks on you letting you think you're normal. It’s worse on the rare occasion there's a pleasant dream. The dreams of times past...of what you once were...
That's why I prefer the nightmares. Sure they're horrible ghastly things reliving the scourge devouring any life form, and corrupting and twisting it into some unrecognizable monstrosity that's then turned on the people they were protecting moments ago. Friends, family, children, elderly, it didn't matter they're all play things to the Lich King. Play things of a spoiled and ill tempered child who destroys his toys on a whim once he unleashed his Scourge upon you to become one of his puppets. One of the ones he holds onto and smashes down on the other toys to see how they scatter and break as he laughs. Still, there were ones that sought his ranks in some perverse misguided attempt for power. The only small mercy, if it could be called that, that you were granted was you had no memories or thoughts of your own.
Now, I have thoughts of my own again. The memories of life before becoming one of the Foresaken, memories of life before the Scourge, they're there too, most often bringing themselves forth unbidden. The things done while possessed by the Scourge were bad enough on their own. The final knife to the heart came when the Scourge had managed to be cleansed from you, and you rose again as undead to have what was once your own kind turn their backs on you…forsaking you. They didn't understand the disease, the plague that the Scourge was. It's wasn't your choice. You think they would have been more understanding when allies that had been fighting by their side and fallen in battle only moments before twisted, and screamed into unrecognizable forms attacking the ones they had just been defending.
Enough of that, dwelling on it hasn't changed it yet.
*sigh*
What was my name before? That's one of the ever elusive memories. The name I chose for this incarnation seemed as good as any, I had heard it somewhere before but can't remember where. It stuck with me and I liked it so why not? I have since learned it belonged to warrior.
I am no warrior though. I'm a priest.
There was irony in that, Undead and a priest. I could heal people and even bring them back to life. That thought always makes me laugh. I had chosen to train in the darker arts of the shadow though, inflicting as much pain and damage upon my enemies as I can. The greatest joys always come from tormenting the Alliance seizing control of a plushie mind, making him run off a cliff to his death in the Arathi Basin just before I claim the resource for the Horde; while he's fully conscious of what's happening during his internal futile struggle to stop it.
Bigger, more powerful things were screaming challenges though. Challenges that could not be denied much longer. Soon will come the time when I must walk straight into the gaping maw of hell itself.