Post by Mnemosyne on Jun 9, 2007 4:51:52 GMT 1
Biologically, I am a Blood Elf, but what does biology matter when every facet of my being screams "I am Forsaken?" Therefore, I do not align myself with the Blood Elf race or even relate to the Blood Elf people; I am Forsaken in every aspect except one, and that shall change one day. How I came to be the way I am is quite simple, in all honesty...
I cannot tell you the year in which I was born (not that I find this particularly important.) Father told me he never inquired about my age when he saw me lying in a makeshift bed in the Lower City of Shattrath and decided he would claim me for his own, much to the surprise of the Matrons. I suppose they were suprised that a Forsaken Warlock would wish to adopt a Blood Elf babe, but that is exactly what Father did. He said he swathed me in his cloak and not long after, we stepped together through the portal into Undercity and then rode to his home upon his Felsteed in Tirisfal Glades. I asked him once why he had done this, and he replied that he had never had children when he was a living human, so he saw his existence as a Forsaken as an opportunity to fulfill that wish which never came to fruition.
My early childhood was already spent learning not only the ways of a Warlock, but general education as well. Twice a week, Father would take me to Brill on horseback, where I would receive lessons from other Forsaken. It was his wish that I see more of Tirisfal Glades and learn from other wise individuals. I have fond memories of sitting at the feet of Apothecary Johaan, Magistrate Sevren, and Executor Zygand as they instructed me. As for my Warlock instructions, Father himself saw to that and those lessons were ongoing. He always told me I was an exemplary pupil in all of my studies.
Obviously, there were no children with whom to forge friendships or with whom to play. I never felt lonely or friendless, however, because there were always Father's minions. I especially loved to run about and play games with his imp, Plokkip. I was also the one who taught Father's felhound, Zygharph, how to fetch and he also proved to enjoy lying beside me in bed at night (unless, of course, Father dismissed him!) His felguard used to lift me up and set me into trees so I wouldn't have to climb them and would kill any of the wolves or bats in the vicinity, keeping me perfectly safe. His voidwalker, Zan'Grah and his succubus, Malgryn, were my confidants. There wasn't anything I kept from them.
As for the other Forsaken, I never felt different from them and never had any difficulty befriending them. Father always raised me as Forsaken, and I suppose he instructed my tutors to do likewise. I cannot recall a single moment where I have questioned my heritage or the fact that I was Forsaken. I came to view them as near perfect, as they need not breathe, they do not age, they do not require routine sustinance, and they are so brusque. This did nearly cost me my life once when I was younger. Since none of the Forsaken need draw breath, I myself attempted to cease breathing and had managed to succeed for what felt like eternity until the grey skies of Tirisfal Glades transformed into blackness and I remember nothing more of that day. Father told me the next day that I had lost consciousness and Zan'Grah found me and carried me back to our house. Father said it was fortunate we lived close enough to Brill to have Dark Cleric Beryl come and heal me. From that day forward, Father was certain to remind me that I was the only Forsaken who needed to draw breath, lest I attempt my experiment again.
As an older child, Father took me along with him on a trip to Tarren Mill. It was there that I saw a Goblin for the very first time in my existence. His name was Zixil and he had a giant mechanical beast with him that called itself Overwatch Mark I. At first, I was very frightened by both of them and wished Father would do away with them, but Father coaxed me out of the folds of his cloak and said I should speak to Zixil. Upon doing so, I learned that Goblins were highly intelligent beings (and were not evil,) capable of creating technological wonders like Overwatch Mark I. I was completely in awe and from that moment on, I desired nothing more than obtain such knowledge and to build such wonders myself. Zixil also spoke of another sort of being, called Gnomes, who were equal to the Goblins in their technical capabilities, but that the two races used their abilities for different means: Goblins preferred to build explosives and objects for more practical use that would earn them profit while Gnomes toiled away at creating gadgets and gizmos.
Once we returned home to Tirisfal Glades, I begged Father for permission to learn of the things Zixil spoke and eventually, Father acquiesced. He sent for Graham Van Talen, who, since I was still a child, taught me very little and gave me a couple of simple texts, was still enough to please me. Immediately, I pored over the texts and set out looking for scraps with Plokkip so that I could build something... anything..! Finally, after a week and a half of searching and another week of toiling, I managed to create a tiny mechanical cockroach. I was so proud of my accomplishment that I had that lopsided, half-rusted thing follow me wherever I went. Granted, it walked haphazardly, but it was made out of scraps, after all!
About a year later, I met one of those fabled Gnomes. I had been receiving a lesson from Apothecary Johaan when Executor Zygand burst into the room, saying that he was needed in the basement of the inn. The Apothecary said this would be an excellent lesson for me, and instructed me to follow along. Once down there, I saw what I thought at first was a little girl, since she was shorter than I was. I recall that she had pink hair coiled tightly against her head in twin braids... I asked the Apothecary why they had put a child down here, and he explained to me that this was no child, but a grown Gnome female the Deathguards had seized. I noticed the Deathguard next to her had a couple objects in his hands; objects I had never seen before. I questioned the Deathguard and he told me this Gnome was an Engineer and that he had confiscated a Discombobulator Ray, and a Portable Bronze Mortar. He even showed them to me! I tried to speak to the Gnome, but she didn't understand a word I said. All I wanted to know was how she created these wonderful objects, and she yelled at me as though I had just insulted her. The Apothecary crafted his poison and carefully mixed it into a flagon of mead, which he gave to the Gnome. She drank it and turned into ash! I remember giggling and clapping my hands with glee, which pleased the Apothecary, but inwardly, I was very displeased that he had just killed such an intelligent individual.
Finally, the day came when Father told me it was time to set aside childhood things and be counted as an adult; to step forth and forge my own path. He explained that from this point forward, I would have to prove myself worthy of new knowledge to other wise Warlocks and that from time to time, they would test me and my resolve. With that, he provided me with an old dagger of his, a few pieces of bread and some water and told me to go to Deathknell, the place where Forsaken first arise. I never shed a tear, since Forsaken do not cry. I merely waved goodbye to Father and set forth on the road on foot toward Deathknell, uncertain of what exactly it was I was supposed to do once I arrived...
It was in Deathknell that I learnt what work really was. All of these different Forsaken gave me tasks to complete and complete them I did, though they were time consuming and exhausting. Being unused to physical labour, this was a new concept; traipsing about and killing as part of my 'employment' as a Warlock. In time, the day did come where I was to be tested in my skills as a Warlock. However, much to my dismay, I was informed that the test was to take place in Eversong Woods, where the Blood Elves reside. I did not comprehend why, yet I obeyed and made my way to the Ruins of Lordaeron so that I might use the Orb of Translocation hidden within to arrive at the Silvermoon City of which I was informed.
Upon entering Silvermoon City, I nearly fainted from the sight of it all, being unused to such opulence. After all, Undercity looks quite different! This was also the first moment my eyes espied another Blood Elf... then, many of them. I suppose some might think I should have felt an immediate connection or recognised that they were 'my people'. I didn't. What I did notice, however, was the stench emanating from the entire lot of them; the stench of the living. It is a mixture of sweat, perfumes, and heavens knows what else all curdled together into some putrid THING that hits the nose like a charging boar. If it is just one living person, it is bearable. If it is many living people close together, the slightest whiff of it is enough to make me reel over and vomit! I had never known before that living beings smelled so awful! The Forsaken do not; their smell is of herbs and potions, none of them putrid. I had to cover my mouth and nose as I made my way through Silvermoon City, stopping several times to vomit. To this day, I cannot abide being in the company of the Living due to their stench and prefer only the company of my minions, other Forsaken, and my mechanical creations. Somehow, I made it to Sunstrider Isle and passed my test, gaining not only the knowledge to summon an imp, but knowledge of the Thalassian language. I swore that day I would never return, but Fate was not kind to me, forcing me to return to Eversong Woods a second time a few months later.. this time, I was required to pass a test for Celoneus, which ended with me gaining the ability to summon a Voidwalker of my own. After that, Fate has been kind, and I have never been required to step foot in Eversong Woods again.
During my visits to Eversong Woods, I only spoke to those I was required; I made no attempt at gaining any friends there. The random individuals I saw were too shallow and seemed unintelligent; they wasted words where one or two would have sufficed. Besides, those who saw me could tell I was unlike them for the way I carried myself and spoke. They KNEW I was Forsaken (as well they should!) and I believe some of them were repulsed at the entire notion. I expected nothing less; they were (and still are,) after all, inferior to the Forsaken.. they are magically excessive, vain, and not at all self-sufficient (hence their magic addiction!)
Through my travels, I somehow arrived at the conclusion that the war between the factions is meaningless to me. Perhaps it is due to the fact that many from the opposing faction have assisted me in my hours of most dire need.. or, perhaps it is simply because I only care for my Forsaken brethren and myself. I do not ponder the why behind it; I simply know that the label of 'Horde' or 'Alliance' mean nothing and have no place in my vocabulary. To me, one is either Forsaken or not. Unlike Father, who used his minions solely as tools, mine are my dearest friends and equals. In fact, I have an open relationship with my succubus, Glynwen. I refuse to command her to love me and me alone; instead, I have given her permission to seduce any she desires and I, too, am free to do the same... though, I do not take advantage of my freedom, since the right Forsaken simply have not shown themselves yet.
I have managed to befriend a Night Elf by the name of Barheid. He is a Warrior who has assisted me innumerable times during the course of my journeys. However, I have followed my path more adeptly than he has, and now I do not see him as often as I once did. We do, however, occasionally meet in Booty Bay or Gadgetzan to trade goods with one another and to engage in a bit of fishing.
My travels have taken me now to the Hellfire Peninsula, which I find to be the harshest, most challenging land I have encountered. I am grateful I have my loyal Zhar'Gak beside me to assist me in my deeds, for surely I would perish without him. Father had never told me about what was beyond the Dark Portal, and at times, I find myself wishing he had. I could use the additional knowledge, if I had it. All I can do is continue forward, albeit now at a snail's pace. My trek must continue, regardless of the cost.
I do not wish to speak more of myself; it is not my way. I will, however, leave you with this: Once my journeys are complete, I will return home and ensure that I am infected with the Plague so that I finally will be biologically Forsaken. It has been my life's desire to have biology and soul be one and the same.. and so it shall... one day...
I cannot tell you the year in which I was born (not that I find this particularly important.) Father told me he never inquired about my age when he saw me lying in a makeshift bed in the Lower City of Shattrath and decided he would claim me for his own, much to the surprise of the Matrons. I suppose they were suprised that a Forsaken Warlock would wish to adopt a Blood Elf babe, but that is exactly what Father did. He said he swathed me in his cloak and not long after, we stepped together through the portal into Undercity and then rode to his home upon his Felsteed in Tirisfal Glades. I asked him once why he had done this, and he replied that he had never had children when he was a living human, so he saw his existence as a Forsaken as an opportunity to fulfill that wish which never came to fruition.
My early childhood was already spent learning not only the ways of a Warlock, but general education as well. Twice a week, Father would take me to Brill on horseback, where I would receive lessons from other Forsaken. It was his wish that I see more of Tirisfal Glades and learn from other wise individuals. I have fond memories of sitting at the feet of Apothecary Johaan, Magistrate Sevren, and Executor Zygand as they instructed me. As for my Warlock instructions, Father himself saw to that and those lessons were ongoing. He always told me I was an exemplary pupil in all of my studies.
Obviously, there were no children with whom to forge friendships or with whom to play. I never felt lonely or friendless, however, because there were always Father's minions. I especially loved to run about and play games with his imp, Plokkip. I was also the one who taught Father's felhound, Zygharph, how to fetch and he also proved to enjoy lying beside me in bed at night (unless, of course, Father dismissed him!) His felguard used to lift me up and set me into trees so I wouldn't have to climb them and would kill any of the wolves or bats in the vicinity, keeping me perfectly safe. His voidwalker, Zan'Grah and his succubus, Malgryn, were my confidants. There wasn't anything I kept from them.
As for the other Forsaken, I never felt different from them and never had any difficulty befriending them. Father always raised me as Forsaken, and I suppose he instructed my tutors to do likewise. I cannot recall a single moment where I have questioned my heritage or the fact that I was Forsaken. I came to view them as near perfect, as they need not breathe, they do not age, they do not require routine sustinance, and they are so brusque. This did nearly cost me my life once when I was younger. Since none of the Forsaken need draw breath, I myself attempted to cease breathing and had managed to succeed for what felt like eternity until the grey skies of Tirisfal Glades transformed into blackness and I remember nothing more of that day. Father told me the next day that I had lost consciousness and Zan'Grah found me and carried me back to our house. Father said it was fortunate we lived close enough to Brill to have Dark Cleric Beryl come and heal me. From that day forward, Father was certain to remind me that I was the only Forsaken who needed to draw breath, lest I attempt my experiment again.
As an older child, Father took me along with him on a trip to Tarren Mill. It was there that I saw a Goblin for the very first time in my existence. His name was Zixil and he had a giant mechanical beast with him that called itself Overwatch Mark I. At first, I was very frightened by both of them and wished Father would do away with them, but Father coaxed me out of the folds of his cloak and said I should speak to Zixil. Upon doing so, I learned that Goblins were highly intelligent beings (and were not evil,) capable of creating technological wonders like Overwatch Mark I. I was completely in awe and from that moment on, I desired nothing more than obtain such knowledge and to build such wonders myself. Zixil also spoke of another sort of being, called Gnomes, who were equal to the Goblins in their technical capabilities, but that the two races used their abilities for different means: Goblins preferred to build explosives and objects for more practical use that would earn them profit while Gnomes toiled away at creating gadgets and gizmos.
Once we returned home to Tirisfal Glades, I begged Father for permission to learn of the things Zixil spoke and eventually, Father acquiesced. He sent for Graham Van Talen, who, since I was still a child, taught me very little and gave me a couple of simple texts, was still enough to please me. Immediately, I pored over the texts and set out looking for scraps with Plokkip so that I could build something... anything..! Finally, after a week and a half of searching and another week of toiling, I managed to create a tiny mechanical cockroach. I was so proud of my accomplishment that I had that lopsided, half-rusted thing follow me wherever I went. Granted, it walked haphazardly, but it was made out of scraps, after all!
About a year later, I met one of those fabled Gnomes. I had been receiving a lesson from Apothecary Johaan when Executor Zygand burst into the room, saying that he was needed in the basement of the inn. The Apothecary said this would be an excellent lesson for me, and instructed me to follow along. Once down there, I saw what I thought at first was a little girl, since she was shorter than I was. I recall that she had pink hair coiled tightly against her head in twin braids... I asked the Apothecary why they had put a child down here, and he explained to me that this was no child, but a grown Gnome female the Deathguards had seized. I noticed the Deathguard next to her had a couple objects in his hands; objects I had never seen before. I questioned the Deathguard and he told me this Gnome was an Engineer and that he had confiscated a Discombobulator Ray, and a Portable Bronze Mortar. He even showed them to me! I tried to speak to the Gnome, but she didn't understand a word I said. All I wanted to know was how she created these wonderful objects, and she yelled at me as though I had just insulted her. The Apothecary crafted his poison and carefully mixed it into a flagon of mead, which he gave to the Gnome. She drank it and turned into ash! I remember giggling and clapping my hands with glee, which pleased the Apothecary, but inwardly, I was very displeased that he had just killed such an intelligent individual.
Finally, the day came when Father told me it was time to set aside childhood things and be counted as an adult; to step forth and forge my own path. He explained that from this point forward, I would have to prove myself worthy of new knowledge to other wise Warlocks and that from time to time, they would test me and my resolve. With that, he provided me with an old dagger of his, a few pieces of bread and some water and told me to go to Deathknell, the place where Forsaken first arise. I never shed a tear, since Forsaken do not cry. I merely waved goodbye to Father and set forth on the road on foot toward Deathknell, uncertain of what exactly it was I was supposed to do once I arrived...
It was in Deathknell that I learnt what work really was. All of these different Forsaken gave me tasks to complete and complete them I did, though they were time consuming and exhausting. Being unused to physical labour, this was a new concept; traipsing about and killing as part of my 'employment' as a Warlock. In time, the day did come where I was to be tested in my skills as a Warlock. However, much to my dismay, I was informed that the test was to take place in Eversong Woods, where the Blood Elves reside. I did not comprehend why, yet I obeyed and made my way to the Ruins of Lordaeron so that I might use the Orb of Translocation hidden within to arrive at the Silvermoon City of which I was informed.
Upon entering Silvermoon City, I nearly fainted from the sight of it all, being unused to such opulence. After all, Undercity looks quite different! This was also the first moment my eyes espied another Blood Elf... then, many of them. I suppose some might think I should have felt an immediate connection or recognised that they were 'my people'. I didn't. What I did notice, however, was the stench emanating from the entire lot of them; the stench of the living. It is a mixture of sweat, perfumes, and heavens knows what else all curdled together into some putrid THING that hits the nose like a charging boar. If it is just one living person, it is bearable. If it is many living people close together, the slightest whiff of it is enough to make me reel over and vomit! I had never known before that living beings smelled so awful! The Forsaken do not; their smell is of herbs and potions, none of them putrid. I had to cover my mouth and nose as I made my way through Silvermoon City, stopping several times to vomit. To this day, I cannot abide being in the company of the Living due to their stench and prefer only the company of my minions, other Forsaken, and my mechanical creations. Somehow, I made it to Sunstrider Isle and passed my test, gaining not only the knowledge to summon an imp, but knowledge of the Thalassian language. I swore that day I would never return, but Fate was not kind to me, forcing me to return to Eversong Woods a second time a few months later.. this time, I was required to pass a test for Celoneus, which ended with me gaining the ability to summon a Voidwalker of my own. After that, Fate has been kind, and I have never been required to step foot in Eversong Woods again.
During my visits to Eversong Woods, I only spoke to those I was required; I made no attempt at gaining any friends there. The random individuals I saw were too shallow and seemed unintelligent; they wasted words where one or two would have sufficed. Besides, those who saw me could tell I was unlike them for the way I carried myself and spoke. They KNEW I was Forsaken (as well they should!) and I believe some of them were repulsed at the entire notion. I expected nothing less; they were (and still are,) after all, inferior to the Forsaken.. they are magically excessive, vain, and not at all self-sufficient (hence their magic addiction!)
Through my travels, I somehow arrived at the conclusion that the war between the factions is meaningless to me. Perhaps it is due to the fact that many from the opposing faction have assisted me in my hours of most dire need.. or, perhaps it is simply because I only care for my Forsaken brethren and myself. I do not ponder the why behind it; I simply know that the label of 'Horde' or 'Alliance' mean nothing and have no place in my vocabulary. To me, one is either Forsaken or not. Unlike Father, who used his minions solely as tools, mine are my dearest friends and equals. In fact, I have an open relationship with my succubus, Glynwen. I refuse to command her to love me and me alone; instead, I have given her permission to seduce any she desires and I, too, am free to do the same... though, I do not take advantage of my freedom, since the right Forsaken simply have not shown themselves yet.
I have managed to befriend a Night Elf by the name of Barheid. He is a Warrior who has assisted me innumerable times during the course of my journeys. However, I have followed my path more adeptly than he has, and now I do not see him as often as I once did. We do, however, occasionally meet in Booty Bay or Gadgetzan to trade goods with one another and to engage in a bit of fishing.
My travels have taken me now to the Hellfire Peninsula, which I find to be the harshest, most challenging land I have encountered. I am grateful I have my loyal Zhar'Gak beside me to assist me in my deeds, for surely I would perish without him. Father had never told me about what was beyond the Dark Portal, and at times, I find myself wishing he had. I could use the additional knowledge, if I had it. All I can do is continue forward, albeit now at a snail's pace. My trek must continue, regardless of the cost.
I do not wish to speak more of myself; it is not my way. I will, however, leave you with this: Once my journeys are complete, I will return home and ensure that I am infected with the Plague so that I finally will be biologically Forsaken. It has been my life's desire to have biology and soul be one and the same.. and so it shall... one day...
