Post by ironmikey on Feb 18, 2012 0:51:19 GMT -5
*****
Document found in a drain pipe in Cold Hearth Manor, Tirisfal Glades.
I write to remember; who I was, what has happened to me… and to remind myself of what I have decided to do. I abjure my former existence, not from choice but from practicality. I know of no living relative who would care to meet with me now, and of property and position… they too were forfeit with my death. What I am now I am against my will, but what I will become… that will be as premeditated as the evil committed upon me.
I am Legion, for I am many: I champion the numberless masses destroyed by the Plague or the war and who were not accorded the dignity to remain peacefully in their graves. Bad enough to be killed for other men’s petty passions… but to be refused even the ability to stay dead… to be ripped from the solace of oblivion and pressed into the service of monsters for monstrous aims… to become a monster oneself…
I. Will. Have. Vengeance.
My awakening did not drive me as mindlessly insane as it has so many others (though I make no claim to true sanity as the living might define it). A career in service to the Crown of Stormwind hardened me to a degree. What many would find horrific I had come to view as little more than distasteful. And I feel this factor alone may answer the question on why some “survive” the plague (becoming creatures such as I) and others perish utterly and cannot be recalled; the most innocent are the least stained by certain… necessities… of life and are immune to the taint inherent in the plague’s concept and action. If this is so, then most members of what have become known as the Forsaken were far from being “good” people in life… and who now have opportunity to plumb the true depths of personal depravities available only to those who have an eternity in which to act and no conscience whatsoever to sway them.
My horror at finding myself a hulk of desiccated flesh was perhaps no different from others in my same state, for the… creature… who greeted me had to speak twice before capturing my attention and seemed unsurprised at my reactions. I was given instructions and, stunned by events, I blindly followed them. That is perhaps a good thing, for with that I unwittingly set the foundation for my future.
In hindsight I see I was put through a series of tests to gauge my mind – my usefulness. The ability to recognize and distinguish between different objects, to understand instructions and obey orders (even ugly ones) without question or compunction, helping indoctrinate other newly Risen into the cadre of undeath. I did scutwork “taking out the trash”, destroying my share of those too far gone in their madness to be of use and so wholly twisted they had become dangerous even to the rest of us. I destroyed simple animals to obtain body parts for use in arcane works… yes, I partook wholeheartedly for it had come to me that the best way my vengeance might be met would be to work from within the system – like a cancer – slowly and insidiously working my way into the good graces of those who could provide me the information I needed on who, ultimately, I must destroy.
Though one could scarcely call anything about my current state “fortunate” I did come across one individual of interest; Master David Trias who introduced me, however unwittingly, to a concept. Though I had been trained to the basic skill of arms like every soldier, Master Trias offered to teach me the beginnings of an entirely different mode of violence – the “dirty tricks” of street fighting and the ways of the thief… and the assassin. Little did he know how I thrilled when I heard him speak thus, for completely oblivious he was handing me the key to my ultimate revenge. I smile inwardly even now as I remember accepting his offer and began practicing the first disciplines he revealed.
Patience is the key… for I have eternity to forge and hone myself into an unstoppable weapon... a weapon powered by the cries of uncounted tormented souls….
I am Forsaken, and…
I am Legion.
Document found in a drain pipe in Cold Hearth Manor, Tirisfal Glades.
I write to remember; who I was, what has happened to me… and to remind myself of what I have decided to do. I abjure my former existence, not from choice but from practicality. I know of no living relative who would care to meet with me now, and of property and position… they too were forfeit with my death. What I am now I am against my will, but what I will become… that will be as premeditated as the evil committed upon me.
I am Legion, for I am many: I champion the numberless masses destroyed by the Plague or the war and who were not accorded the dignity to remain peacefully in their graves. Bad enough to be killed for other men’s petty passions… but to be refused even the ability to stay dead… to be ripped from the solace of oblivion and pressed into the service of monsters for monstrous aims… to become a monster oneself…
I. Will. Have. Vengeance.
My awakening did not drive me as mindlessly insane as it has so many others (though I make no claim to true sanity as the living might define it). A career in service to the Crown of Stormwind hardened me to a degree. What many would find horrific I had come to view as little more than distasteful. And I feel this factor alone may answer the question on why some “survive” the plague (becoming creatures such as I) and others perish utterly and cannot be recalled; the most innocent are the least stained by certain… necessities… of life and are immune to the taint inherent in the plague’s concept and action. If this is so, then most members of what have become known as the Forsaken were far from being “good” people in life… and who now have opportunity to plumb the true depths of personal depravities available only to those who have an eternity in which to act and no conscience whatsoever to sway them.
My horror at finding myself a hulk of desiccated flesh was perhaps no different from others in my same state, for the… creature… who greeted me had to speak twice before capturing my attention and seemed unsurprised at my reactions. I was given instructions and, stunned by events, I blindly followed them. That is perhaps a good thing, for with that I unwittingly set the foundation for my future.
In hindsight I see I was put through a series of tests to gauge my mind – my usefulness. The ability to recognize and distinguish between different objects, to understand instructions and obey orders (even ugly ones) without question or compunction, helping indoctrinate other newly Risen into the cadre of undeath. I did scutwork “taking out the trash”, destroying my share of those too far gone in their madness to be of use and so wholly twisted they had become dangerous even to the rest of us. I destroyed simple animals to obtain body parts for use in arcane works… yes, I partook wholeheartedly for it had come to me that the best way my vengeance might be met would be to work from within the system – like a cancer – slowly and insidiously working my way into the good graces of those who could provide me the information I needed on who, ultimately, I must destroy.
Though one could scarcely call anything about my current state “fortunate” I did come across one individual of interest; Master David Trias who introduced me, however unwittingly, to a concept. Though I had been trained to the basic skill of arms like every soldier, Master Trias offered to teach me the beginnings of an entirely different mode of violence – the “dirty tricks” of street fighting and the ways of the thief… and the assassin. Little did he know how I thrilled when I heard him speak thus, for completely oblivious he was handing me the key to my ultimate revenge. I smile inwardly even now as I remember accepting his offer and began practicing the first disciplines he revealed.
Patience is the key… for I have eternity to forge and hone myself into an unstoppable weapon... a weapon powered by the cries of uncounted tormented souls….
I am Forsaken, and…
I am Legion.