World of Warcraft Fiction Forums

Hey people. Im new to this community and want to try my hand at fanfiction. I have however stopped playing WoW about 3 months ago, so none of my stories will deal with any of my own or my friends' characters. I am aspiring to get into the internship at blizzard in the lore department next year. To improve, I welcome any criticism you may have on my stories. Hope you enjoy my writings :)

The Life of Undeath
Waking up from a cold grave, surrounded by dirt, maggots and worms, is not one of the most pleasant experiences in my un-life. I remember waking up from a some terrible nightmare that slips my mind, and gasping for air. My eyes shot open to make no difference at all: closed or open, thick black surrounded me. In life I was claustrophobic; being indoors made me nervous and small rooms freaked me out. Now imagine being able to move your limbs not more than one inch on each side and seeing complete darkness, hearing complete darkness and smelling the rot of your own decaying corpse.
That was my experience. I screamed my lungs out, for days it seemed. In truth, it took minutes for a nearby Forsaken to realise another had waked. They were quick but not surprised; it happened more often that the seemingly dead start leading a conscious un-life. So there I lay, screaming like a child, in a coffin closed with nails while Forsaken dug me up from the graveyard. When I felt movement, I didn't stop screaming. When they broke open the lit, I didn't stop screaming. When I saw my own decaying body, I didn't stop screaming. I can't remember when I stopped screaming.
But as of that moment, my un-life began. I returned to a society like I had lived in once, picked up that I had done once and made friends like I had known once. But there was a sad void in my chest. I often think back about the days when I lived, really lived.
I was a scholar in life, a travelling teacher of the arcane and history. History and the arcane were both subject that fascinated me greatly. I travelled far and wide, from the lush farmlands around Moobrook to the far reaches of Lordaeron. It was on my travels that I was ambushed by ravaging undead. It still evades me how those screaming and mindless corpses managed to ambush me. I think it was on a road in Silverpine Forest.

I like to believe I've grown stronger, that un-life has granted me strengths I didn't possess before. But the truth is, is that I am weaker than I ever was before. My mind dwells on the past and my body won't last into the future. My work in the apothecary brings me outside alot, gathering herbs necessar for research. I work on research to halt the decaying of undead limbs.
There are a few advantages to this un-life of mine: I have acquired new arcane spells, that my dead limbs can manage to put out. I need no breath underwater and no food to sustain myself. Sleep is a luxury that I still preserve. But I have also made enemies.
People that once served the Light to preserve humanity have turned on those that need their help. Those Scarlet dogs are the betrayers of my kind, both the human and Forsaken kind. For what are we Forsaken, if not for the hollow shells of humans that once needed their protection?
Sometimes I stumble across a Scarlet crusader. They all burn with a zealous fire that I can't stand. The zealous fire is quickly doused by my own fire, in the form of fireballs and pyroblasts. But I never extract fun from death. It pains my heart to take life, which is so precious to me since I lack it myself.

I still tend to travel. In fact, I am travelling right now. The dense jungles of the Stranglethorn Vale have always fascinated me. Together with an orc, Kilrush, and a troll, Pi'kon, I took a zeppelin from the Undercity to the outpost of Grom'Gol. Us three travelled north from there and Pi'kon and I found some herbs that piked our interest. Like me, he is an alchemist although more of the hobby kind. Kilrush is our guard. He sets traps at night and watches over us at day.
Three days ago we crossed the border of the Vale into Duskwood. I've known this region in life and it saddens me to see what has come over this once peacefull forest. I had friends here. They lived on various farms in the area. I suggested to my companions to see what has come of those farms, but both denied my request.
They are right though, it's safer to stay away from familiar areas. What would happen if I ran into someone I knew in life? Would they embrace me? I don't believe it. From accounts of other Forsaken I learned that the humans of Stormwind have come to despise their one-time brethren in life. I wish it were different, but it's not. I'll deal with it.
Our goal for today is the outskirt of Duskwood. We make our way for the Deadmines, to investigate the area. We are to meet Pi'kon's mate there, Tayisha and one of the Shattered Hand's scouts, Turok. As we make camp and Kilrush sets traps around the perimeter, Pi'kon and I discuss the route of tomorrow. He says there is a tower not far from out position that is infested with humans, so we should avoid it. I agree with him. I know the area, so he relies on me to decide on a route. I tell them of a pass through the mountains behind Moonbrook. I long to see Moonbrook again. I spend a great deal of my youth there. I expect the worst, but atleast the village is still standing. Not many other villages in the area can say the same.
After another three days we finally reach Moonbrook. And in Moonbrook it happened.

All Forsaken that have met people they knew in life, say it's a terrible experience. They shiver and tremble at the memory. Some say their loved ones burst into tears at the sight of them, others say they had to run for their un-life. Yet there are rare reports of friendship and acceptance. I never hoped for that. I never hoped to meet someone I knew. But it happened. It was bound to happen one day.
I met her. The lady of my life, the blossom of my youth, the moon among my stars. It was her, that day, that I saw. But she was no longer the lady I covetted. She had changed. One look upon her appearance told me she was no longer the fragile woman I had known. She was a hardened knight now, wielding the light as a weapon.
Me, Kilrush and Pi'kon had set up camp in the Dagger Hills, in a safe spot away from the red-bandanad humans. I was out on my own. Kilrush didn't know nor would he have allowed it. But my heart ached to know what had become of my village. I walked down the hills, taking cover in the shadows of grainhouses at the base and shuffeling carefully between houses. She was there, that day. The fountain in front of the big warehouse was nearly dry, but there were three people sitting on it's edge. Two humans a gnome sat there, talking and enjoying the sun. I couldn't enjoy the sun, not anymore. But some part of me was glad she could.
Her once long blonde hair was now shoulderlength and shined in the sun. Her face was turned sideways, but I could see the traces of suffering on her face, even though her red lips were smiling the loveliest smile I had seen in a while. A smile that didn't crawl with maggots or lacked actual lips of flesh.
She donned the armor of a knight and the tabard of a priest. She carried with her a sword and shield. It was so unlike I had once known her. In my life, she was a shy girl, quiet yet happy. She lived three houses away from me. Growing up I realised I had grown more than fond of her, but I never believed that a pretty girl like her could return my love.
Her human friend, a handsome warrior with the traits of a noble and black hair, set beside her. She smiled at him and he smiled at her. The female gnome sat on her other side, but was seemingly ignored. The man and gnome got up and left, for some reason. She sat there, just enjoying the sun. One hand of her rested on her helmet beside her, her other hand was ungloved and slowly combed her blonde hair.
"You can come out now." She said. Her voice was angelic, a sweet melody that brought tears to my eyes and memories to my thoughts. She knew I was here. She had known for a while.
But she didn't talk to me. A male gnome, bald and scruffy looking, came out of the shadows on the other side of the square. They talked. I watched and heared but I didn't listen. Her beauty was soothing my sore heart but at the same time burned me like a thousand flames.
That gnome left as well. I don't know what came over me. One moment I stood there, behind a corner at the backside of an alley, watching her enjoy the cool air, the next moment I shuffled slowly in her sight.
I could tell she didn't recognise me. How could she? My skin, once tanned, was pale and my bones were visual. I didn't dress like I did back then, in the robes of a scholar. I wore easy clothes now, that concealed as much of my body as was possible. I wasn't proud of my frame. She rose and unsheathed her sword.
She spoke. "Stand right there, demon! Don't come any closer!"
I froze. What else could I do? I didn't mean her any harm. I didn't mean for this to happen. But I too spoke. I had trouble with the human language. My throat was still intact, but I spoke with guttural sounds. I believe she understood me. But maybe she just recognised that silent and dorky boy that had stared at her so many years ago.
She didn't lower her defense. She just stood there, her jaw lowered and her eyes big. I could see the tears in her eyes. But then she firmly shook her head.
"No. You are not him. He died all those years ago. I lost my heart that day and took up the blade. You are not him. Be gone. Go away, before I make short work of you!" Her voice trembled and the tears freely flowed at the last sentence. I ran. I ran back to the camp, tripping several times. If I could, I would have cried. If I could, I would have screamed. But I was still. I just ran back.
And I didn't see her again.