You have to register before you can post on our site.



Latest Threads
A guild games (for real this time)
Last Post: Zlinka
05-20-2020 06:34 PM
» Replies: 1
» Views: 2734
Alliance-Horde pet exchange
Last Post: Zlinka
05-16-2020 07:11 AM
» Replies: 3
» Views: 2025
Last Post: Zlinka
05-14-2020 02:51 PM
» Replies: 1
» Views: 1729
Last Post: Zlinka
05-07-2020 05:13 PM
» Replies: 1
» Views: 1913
Last Post: Zlinka
04-22-2020 07:17 AM
» Replies: 3
» Views: 2669

Who's Online
There are currently no members online.

Inner Demons
Efluvious brooded in the dark.

The recent events involving Thanuist and Coranda had beaten down the last of his inner barriers. A darker, craftier self had emerged. Stalking along the shadows, his usual clumsy shuffle gone, he unsheathed his blade and shaved the hair from his head. His path lead straight across the Undercity from his newly vacated nest of rags in the sewers to the Rogue's Quarter.

"Ahh, Gregory Charles. I have business with you," the now bald Efluvious whispered, "so let us be about it, shall we?"

"And who would you be? A warrior from the looks of it." The forsaken paused, and examined the him. "Ahh yes...you would be Efluvious would you not? It was rumored you were missing," the rogue trainer sneered, "or dead once more. Along with the rest of the useless rabble on the last casualty report."

The warrior's raspy voice laughed quietly. "Efluvious...yes. Useless as you said. No Gregory, I do not think I am he. You may call me Partario, yes. A fitting name for one stitched together as I am. Let us be about our business shall we? It is training I require, and a reworking of technique. A clumsy warrior I am not, though the body is that of one," the newly renamed undead said as he examined himself, "but a good first step on a road to ruin."

Partario stripped the plate mail from him, leaving only leather trappings. He stood as Efluvious never had. No burden on his back, no worry lines creasing his brow. His grin was that of a killer on the loose.


In a profound sense every man has two halves to his being; he is not one person so much as two persons trying to act in unison. I believe that in the heart of each human being there is something which I can only describe as a "child of darkness" who is equal and complementary to the more obvious "child of light." ~Laurens van der Post
"Passion and shame torment him, and rage is mingled with his grief."

[Image: playerfeed_1902018_bigsig.gif]
No grin painted the face of Partario this day. This day, a look of utter anguish scarred his face.

Banishment. Partario had not cared, his utter contempt for the Tribe had been shown with the deaths of Sbin and Cloudjumper. He had lured and infected them with parasites that prevented the body from being raised, but to no avail. The Lady Dispaya had fooled him, and for that her life would be forfeit one day...one day if...he...could...last.

The cold north, Northrend had been unwelcome to this outcast. Dispaya's spell of banishment had left him near Icecrown, a place he both looked at with both admiration and fear. It was not long before he was captured. His body was a good one, vital and healthy. It would be used...by another.

"I have retaken this body, and will not be subjugated any more!" He cried. Strapped to an altar, the shadowy figures began a dark ritual. The twisted soul of Partario clung to the body as a spiders web does to its anchors. One of the figures stepped forward with a dark blade and cut away the wretched spirit as though it were a silken sheet. A death knell sounded, signifying the end of the first half of the rite, all that was left was the new soul to be inserted.

On an similar altar, a cult member braced as a knife was plunged into his chest. Chanting, the shadowy figures contained the newly "freed" soul and brought it to rest on the body of Partario. The soul began to soak in, and the shadowy figures began to leave the room. The hard part was done, now all it needed was time. The door closed with a soft peal of stone on stone.

Moments later, the soul stopped soaking in and began to ooze out. With the extraction of Partario, the chains on the mind of Efluvious were loosed and the battered and beaten mind of Efluvious surfaced once more. "I's...Efoovus...I's..." The cult members soul dissipated with a silent scream.

Several days past, and the newly raised knight stood erect along with hundreds of other Death Knights and tens of thousands of scourge, saluting the Lich King all thinking one thought. "Death to the living."


Who knows but life be that which men call death,
And death what men call life?
~ Euripides
"Passion and shame torment him, and rage is mingled with his grief."

[Image: playerfeed_1902018_bigsig.gif]
The knight crouched in the shadow of the walls of Orgrimmar reminiscing and trying to recall what had brought him here.

"First...what was first? I thinks it was da King. Don't remember dat much. I remembers da Lady, and 'fluvia," He smiled, and winced a bit. "'fluvia, she bringed me to da Tribe."

He scrawled a hammer symbol in the dust. What had happened? A fog lay over many parts of his memories, and he had no idea how he had ended up in the Lich King's service once again, but with full faculties this time. He had awoken with whispers in his mind. Confused, he had began exploring and saw the raw power displayed, and in a moment of weakness, had pledged himself to the power that had once enslaved him.

The events that had followed had only confused him more. How had he done these monstrous deeds? Of his own volition even? His hands had been bathed in innocent blood. What had happened to his tribe? What had happened to him?

As the knight stared at his hands, a memory pierced the shroud, and, like an arrow, pierced his heart as well. He remembered three acts that would torment him forever. He had assaulted Dispaya, and murdered both Sbin and Cloudjumper.

Horrorstruck, he stumbled to his feet, clumsily unbuckled his sword-belt and cast the tool of death from him. His ghostly howl sounded throughout Durotar.

Long into the night, the knight wept with no tears to show it. He was, truly, Forsaken.


Better be with the dead
Whom we, to gain our peace, have sent to peace,
Than on the torture of the mind to lie
In restless ecstasy.
~ Macbeth Act III Scene II
"Passion and shame torment him, and rage is mingled with his grief."

[Image: playerfeed_1902018_bigsig.gif]

Possibly Related Threads...
Thread Author Replies Views Last Post
  Taming Demons (Detteric) Detteric 1 1,053 11-26-2005, 07:01 PM
Last Post: Detteric

Forum Jump:

Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)
This forum uses Lukasz Tkacz MyBB addons.