Posts Tagged ‘the Plague’

After having lost Idara and Malignant to the plague, they traveled to Moonglade where the Druids were holding the last safe heaven in Azeroth. There they made plans to join the forces heading into Northrend, but as they were about to launch their attack upon the Lich King, reports of the greatest Scourge invasion yet reached them. And so they fought. They fought to defend their homes. They fought for the right to live their lives in peace. But mostly they fought to avenge their beloved ones who were now forever lost.

Shortly thereafter, Masque fell ill. It turned out he too had been infected by the plague, though it devoured him much slower then many of the others, his Undead body having proved more resistant. It was a slow and painful thing to watch, but watch she did. She spent every day by his side lending him strength when she herself had none. Pouring hope into his ear where she herself felt she was beyond all hope, watching him grow ever weaker until he one day did not stir again. She stayed with him for another day and night after his passing- saying her goodbyes, vowing to take revenge and making plans.

Then she went off to face the Lich King and his minions – a woman with no hopes and dream, no joy or tears – just a numbed soul and an iron determination of vengeance. 

That was then. 


Sitting in The Filthy Animal Inn at one of the long tables she watched the people around her. Adventurers and mercenaries brought here by fates similar to hers or the promise of fame and fortune were coming and going. She had hoped for the chance of a quite meal, but it was starting to become evident that this was not going to be it. Too many people were crowded by the door where Innkeeper Uda was trying to sort out how many beds she had left to offer for the night. She would not have room for them all, so some would surely be forced to turn to the Sewers Inn. Despite its dampness and shady location, it was still better then sleeping in the gutter facing the frigid Northrend nights outdoors.

None of them had expected the cold when they stormed the continent driven by rage and pain. It had a life of its own, making its way in under your clothes, chilling you to the bones. Not even the dwarfs were used to this kind of weather.

A thud startled her and she woke up from her thoughts to see her stew had been served. It had been a long day spent hunting shoveltusk for meat and doing odd jobs to pay all the bills. Chilled and hungry she turned her attention to the task at hand. She ate systematically, knowing that the warmth would strengthen her and relax her stiff muscles. It seemed like this cursed continent slowly froze your soul and made the life leech out of you. She could not remember the last time she had felt warm and she felt that no food or spirits would ever warm her up again. She was just so cold. So cold and tired that she simply could not bring herself to feel things anymore.

There was a time when she had raged like the fires of the Blackrock Mountains, swearing vengeance on the Lich King for the pain he had caused her. There was a time when she had cried endless tears into her pillow, her heart aching for all those she had lost. There were no tears left to cry, no fire to warm her soul, all she had left was the promise she had made to her companion, to one day avenge him.

Having finished her dinner, she waved over one of the Barmaids and ordered a pint of cheap beer that she spiced with some Moonshine she had bought off of a shady character down in the sewer district. Hopefully, she would get some sleep tonight and if she washed down the whole bottle of Moonshine she might even be able to escape those horrible dreams from which she invariably woke up screaming to the displeasure of the Inn’s other residents.

With her back against the wall, watching the flames in the fireplace lick the logs, she sunk back into her thoughts. As the flow of people grew thinner and the noise died down she eventually fell asleep aided by the drunken haze brought on by the alcohol she had consumed.

This time she managed to escape the dreams, but morning greeted her with a thundering headache and a bitter taste in her mouth as she woke up stiff on the bench were she had dozed off the night before.


The Filthy Animal Inn


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I wake up screaming. Panting. Wipe the sweat off of my brow.

Where am I? Am I dead yet? Is it over?

As sleep and the nightmares start to fade, memories come back to me. Dead, they are all dead, it was not just a nightmare.

I pick up my journal and start writing.

I am in Moonglade, one of the last safe-havens. I am still alive, for now. I can no longer say for certain which day it is, but it is around the time of the Hallowed, as this time of year normally should be characterized by the remembering and honouring of the dead. This year, I fear Hallow’s End will be remembered as the time of the Plague.

I put the writing feather down, as my hands have started to shake again. If you would have asked me a few weeks ago, what I thought to be the safest place on earth and who I considered my allies, I would no doubt have answered that my allegiance lies with my fellow blood elves and that there is no city safer then our majestic Silvermoon . Ironically, the part about “safest city” has not been proved wrong yet, as none of the other great cities turned out to be any safer.

It is here in Mooglade, far from civilisation that we, through the kindness of the druids, find our last place of retreat.

I try to get a grip on myself again, this story needs to be told.

The plague is everywhere, it does not discriminate between Horde or Alliance, man or beast. It devours all and everything – slowly ever spreading, unstoppable, showing no mercy, leaving no survivors. Those we once loved are transformed in front of our watching eyes into abominations that we need to protect ourselves against.

Of all the people I have befriended, only Masque and myself are still alive and uninfected. We have to my knowledge lost all the others.

As we are running out of options, despair is creeping up on us until we reek of it and hopelessness engulfs us. This enemy can not be defeated.

I fear our world is lost.

I have done all I have been able to think of to help our cause. I have for now abandoned my blood elf body and put my entire focus into being atauren druid in the hopes of using my restorative powers to aid our cause. I have spent the past week traveling back and forth between the cities, trying to keep the plague at bay by killing off those infected and cleansing those, for whom there still washope but for every day that went by our strives seemed more and more futile, our effort seems to be in vain.

More and more become infected every day, by the hour. We simply cannot cure them all fast enough, nor slay them fast enough to put an end to this.

I have known fear before and in the face of danger, I have held my head high and fought. In these moments I have learned about my utter desire to live and be alive, to not give in to the darkness. But I have never before met a foe like this, one as persistent and indestructible.

There is no way to fight back. There is nowhere left to run.

We are doomed…

Author’s note: this post is dedicated to all the players who are complaining over the world event currently taking place in World of Warcraft. Instead of complaining about the way this event is interfering with your game play and calling Blizzard names over it, you could see it as a way for you to relate to the frustration and dispair your characters might be feeling right now, as their world is being turned upside down. I imagine only utter despair such as this event would generate, could cause our characters to venture into Northrend and take on the evil entity that is causing them such harm.

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