A Brief Story of a Worgen [Story]

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
The Story of a Worgen

(Based on the RPG Time Line of WoW: http://www.wowwiki.com/Timeline_(WoWRPG) Time Line is not official, but around the accurate time. This story uses those years, with present year as 30. Present year is not accurate either, as it may be between the 25 to 35 ranges. The Greymane wall was put up -around- 20 years ago, so keep in mind, this year may not be accurate either!)

When it was in the midst of the Second War, in the year of the King, 6, the Greymane Wall was constructed for selfish reasons of a nation. The cold, sea air wrestled with the trees and blew autumn leaves by. I could smell the salt on the wind as I stood in front of the great wall, holding my mothers hand. The wind bit to the bone, causing my arms and legs to start numbing.

“Mommy, I want to go back inside,” I breathed, clinging to her. I wrapped my cloak tightly around me and pushed down my woolen hat. The ghost trees were stirring the shadows and I did not want to be out here. There was protection from the large crowd amassing before us, but I felt unsafe to my core. There was something out there, watching us.

“Shh, little Kaidrea. It will be okay, mother is here,” She spoke back, trying to reassure me. I buried my face in her cloth robe, but peeked out with a gray eye to see the construction of the wall. It was great, spanning so high we thought it could touch the heavens. It was a magical feat of Gilneas, but it was a trap. No one thought of it as a trap. They were glad because they always found themselves as an independent nation, completely better then Stormwind and Lordaeron, and not in need of any aid.

I turned at the stirring of another tree, letting out a frightened gasp. There was a man, there. He was watching us, but I saw his gaze. I saw it turn to me. He shook his head sadly and I buried my head into the freezing, bitter cloth of my mothers robe. I bawled.

“Kaidrea! Stop bawling this instant!” She snapped, pushing me rudely onto my butt on the cobblestone street. I was luckily padded by the layers of cloth that concealed any skin and made me look like a dressed up fox. I stopped crying, but the pain jarred me. Warm tears of more salt ran down my cheeks like rivers through Gilneas.

“Mommy! I want to go home now!” I heaved. I didn’t want to look at the wall. My mother seethed impatiently and picked me up, stomping off on the cobblestone streets. I still remember the stomping of her shoes with a click clack against the street. That was the day Gilneas turned dark for me, when I was just three.

I had no idea of what was happening beyond the gate, in the outside world. For all I knew, all they were teaching us now, we were the only ones that mattered. The only nation. Sometimes I wondered what was happening, but that was forbidden. And eventually I grew devoted to Gilneas too. We had a magnificent leader, Genn Greymane, with his wife and children, Tess and Liam Greymane. We were a nation of order and prosperity where there were no wars or shortages of food. We had everything anyone could offer. We were proud to be Gilneans.

“Thank Goodness you aren’t sick enough that we have to use those foul smelling poultices. They do work such wonders, though, mother,’’ I announced curtly, briefly dropping a curtsey, and then continued in the door. Ashlynn looked up with a light smile, and nodded, before she turned back to force feeding mother with the spoon.

“You do risk hurting yourself if you go bare foot, Kaidrea,” My mother replied back in a raspy voice, always the one to nag and pretend to care about me being hurt. All she had interest in was for me to finally find a husband and settle down, pleasant. Perhaps I could marry up in society and find a regal nobleman. I dared not go for such high hopes as Liam Greymane. He was a stuck up, stubborn Prince, very much like his arrogant and selfish father.

“Then that is a risk I take, mother. How pleasant it is to see you.” I dropped by and planted a kiss on her cheek before hugging Ashlynn. She set the soup down by the table and took a seat. She had settled down, had a husband and was even pregnant now. She was five weeks along and showing, but not quite there yet. She wanted to name her child, if it was a girl, after our mother, Rose. I didn’t approve of the decision.
“Autumn is coming,” My mother mumbled, turning over in the creaking bed. I swept over to the wooden logs in the mantle and sat down, grasping two rocks to rub against each other. The spark started easily.
“I will be right back mother, Ashlynn. I will grab the clothes from outside.” I nodded at each of them and leapt gracefully off of the doorstep, fleeing from the terror that was our house. I quickly grasped all of the clothes, slinging them on top of my left arm. They had all dried out in the light sun, and now I would fold them and place them in their proper place. After that, I would wash the others and hang them out. Further on in the day, I would prepare a meal and pumpkin pie. We would then go to sleep, and I surmised that the rest of my life would be like this. I would never settle down, I would never marry. I was too wild of a spirit.

In the Year of our Lord, 30. I was twenty-seven now, still young and beautiful. Ashlynn had three children already. The first was indeed a girl, and so she named her Rose. The second was a boy, whom she named James. The third was a girl named Primrose. She was already pregnant again, full of life and love with her husband. I did not hate my sister, but there was such a strong sense of jealousy that I bordered on hate for her. My mother died three years ago, and that I was glad of. She deserved it for causing havoc in our lives.

I was still a wild, free, and young spirit who roamed the orchards of Gilneas. There was no question of my loyalty anymore. I could dance, sing, and recite poetry as well as I did so many years ago. Many of the local citizens of the towns think I never aged once, that I was the same girl from so long ago. We were such a small nation, and so everyone knew each other. It was a big celebration for weddings, which took place in orchards, and births. Ashlynn had won the admiration of so many after her three children. She was a strong, spirited girl.

We were very much twins. It was that one bitter day, like twenty-four years ago when I was three. The salt of the sea stung our bare skin, rather then comfort it. The wind bit us to the bone and screamed at us, rather then dance and play with us.

“It seems there is a storm brewing in the air,” Ashlynn whispered as she stared outside, her gray eyes wide, crimson hair flowing in curls over her shoulders. She was plump and healthy, eight months pregnant and almost crowning. The red-headed twin of mine still had a while to go, but she was blessed and so it would be. I was almost sure that if I had a child, it would be a still-born, or born a monstrosity.

“Then we must stay inside and take care of your children, dear sister,” I replied, closing the shutters rudely in front of her. She was disoriented for a moment, but did not show any signs of rudeness to me. Ashlynn had learned to grow up and cope with me over the years and I appreciated her for that.

It was that night, when the children and we were sound asleep that Gilneas was attacked by the shadows I saw so long ago.

There was an odd sniffing and scuffling sound on the roof. I was a heavy sleeper, so I woke up first, pushing the stifling blanket away. Next, the glass shattered and I fell to the ground hastily. A shadow leapt over me, too fast for me to react, and jumped onto my sister.

I stared as she was torn limb from limb, her bloody screams of murder crying out into the night, awakening her children and husband. They screamed too, but not before the shadow tore them limb from limb too. I knew it could hear my heart beat, whatever it was, and that it was remorseless. It just murdered my sister and her family in cold blood, but I couldn’t find the strength to cry.
I was shaking against the bed, gasping for breath. It turned to stare at me, sniffing out my scent. My sisters hand was on my bed, still leaking blood and turning the sheets a brilliant shade of vermillion. It was a tangy metal in the air. There was a blood splatter on the wall. It would come for me next, it would come for me next. This came with every beat of my heart as I looked on to the shadow.

It stared at me, cold and calculating, but didn’t move. I pointed to the remains of Ashlynn, her chest in her bed, her head on the ground, and… And her unborn baby torn from the womb, shredded into pieces of the dead. It was then when tears began to form in my eyes and I hissed at the the shadow. It hissed back, undeterred.

“You foul beast! You killed my sister! YOU KILLED MY SISTER! SHE WAS PREGNANT!” I hurtled a lamp at the shadow. It recalculated its earlier decision and leapt at me. There was a spurt that joined the blood splatter on the wall, and then it was all black before me.

I woke in a Stockade, disoriented and dizzy. I could remember nothing except for one driving emotion. An emotion to kill, to feel the warmth of blood on my lips and teeth. I wanted to feel it coat my body, so I could bathe in it like it was the sea wind. I wanted to hear the screams of those who died, the lullaby that sang me to sleep. I wanted to feel their fear and feel giddy because it wasn’t my fear. It was theirs, and I was causing it. I was in control.

But it wasn’t that way when the human came closer. I smelled his scent, and buckled against the wooden stocks. They couldn’t hold me here, I was a creature of fury and I would escape eventually. But the human came closer, not intimidated at all. I hissed, glared, did as the hunter would do to its prey, but I was the prey. I was in the trap.
Why wasn’t he afraid? And then I could see no more.

Everything leapt on me at once, including the shadow that I had seen the night Ashlynn died. I turned my head, not wanting to face whatever was in front of me. I didn’t want to see my sister die again, torn limb from limb and distributed across the room. Even her children, not even teenagers yet had been brutally murdered…

“Ashlynn…” It was a whisper on the wind, and it rode on a salty breeze so far away. I stirred, realizing that the voice I had just spoken in was more rough then it should be… Was I sick?
My hand began to bleed, and I glanced at it. I had been pushing my nails into my palm, trying to feel pain to block everything else out. The pain was there, but there was something that wasn’t… I had… claws? The mixture of blue and gray fur spread up the breadth of my arm and, as I gradually came to realize, my whole body.

I began to shake, completely unsure of anything. Did I kill my sister? I looked like the shadow. We were the same creature, the same emotions. It had hungered for blood, just as I did, and it took my sisters.. Or did I take my sisters blood? Did I kill her and her unborn baby?

It was too unclear, but I came to remember my life. I came to accept my birthright and the wild changes that came with it. I came to understand what it meant to be a Gilnean, but also a Worgen. I closed my eyes, letting a howl of sorrow rip out of me. Life was not good to me as it was my sister. Life was a reality of tricks. Life was bitter, like the salty breeze that stung my bare skin.

(( I apologize for any mistakes. This new forum thing is bugging me! Anywho, enjoy! :) ))
Nice story Ysun I love it 10-10!
Nice to have you back, Ysundre, if you ever left :P Great story as always! Brings me back to the old tournament days.
I enjoyed this. :) I've always loved the tormented victim werewolf character over the monster kind. How in the world did you get the forum to allow you to post more then 1500 characters? My posts kept getting cut. ><
@ Wildpaw

Thanks! Also, I copy pasted it, so I really have no idea how many characters it was. I guess.. I don't know, it got tired of repeating "can't be over 5000" characters? I had to cut it down. It was originally two posts, but now it's three.

@ Zeria
Hello again! Thanks. :D. And yeah, it does! I was wondering if we should start up more, but eh...

Anywho, thanks for reading. Feel free to comment moar. ^.^
~ Suni

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