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Insomnia

A Tale of Desperation

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Day 1

 

It’s been years since my change, since I stepped into the Whispering Forest - and yet I still feel the whispers.  I had been desperate at the time, financially challenged and in this desperation for food I had consumed a mushroom or two from this strange place.  As I traveled deeper the forest only seemed stranger, the trees seemed to look back and the wind howled.  Though the crowning jewel on the strange occurrences within was a circle of glowing mushrooms I had come across with a series of Fey Dragons that gathered every night at midnight.  I spent at least a week in those woods, watching them, though eventually something changed, a voice was there something that urged me into the circle and eventually I listened.

 

Once I had stepped into the circle I felt off, dizzy, and eventually after several tortuous moments of nausea my body gave in and collapsed - my conscious mind was no more.  I had been overcome by a series of terrible dreams, around me my family lay dead - my hands covered in blood.  Strangely enough I hadn’t seen my family in years though their faces were vividly familiar, almost reassuring.  Everytime I ran forward to hug them, I would look down and I’d been holding a dagger gouged into their guts - I was unable to save them, the bleeding would continue until their body dropped it happened at least one hundred times or so it felt.  

 

After hours of this, maybe longer, I had awoken - t’was midday now.  I ran out of those woods faster than I had run before though it seemed that the corruption I had become victim to I could not outrun.  With time my life grew more difficult, I had urges I couldn’t explain, I would kill numerous small animals - squirrels, foxes, rabbits, nothing large…   Though I spend my time in towns and cities staring at people, women in specific.  I have urges to kill, it was time for me to kill something larger than an animal now, I had the insatiable need to extinguish life.  

 

This voice is ever-present, almost calming as I kill, though every time I have done so I find myself baring pain, regret, and yet…  I still want more, more blood, more death, more pain?


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Woah. Really good, actually.

:ok_hand:

 

The stars align; Elune be with you.


The stars align; Elune be with you.

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Day 2

 

With this urge I had felt unlike myself at first, strange, as if my own body - it’s extremities, felt foreign to me.  The way I perceive the world seemed to shift and crumble, cracking under the pressure of this new corruption. I made my way to Stratholme, lost, without a place to call home as of this point and after a day or two of walking I would find myself there.

 

Upon arriving to Stratholme I found that people had looked at me as if everything was okay, I chatted up a few people in the tavern as I stopped by for some water - hoping someone would read between the lines, realize my condition, for this wasn’t something that could be shared.  I had hopes that perhaps one of the Priests about the place would notice, a Quel’dorei notice with innate abilities? Alas, I was alone, in a sea of faces ironically. I look about the place, though where I once saw friends, families, I now only saw target practice, a Pilgrim’s Bounty turkey yet to be carved.  I made my way to a back alley in hopes of finding shelter as I had done many times before, I rested for what seemed like hours - tormented by the same torturous nightmares that had plagued me only nights before, without any differences it was identical…

 

Hours later, I found myself struggling to the waking world from this nightmare due to a strike to my head, I rubbed it confusedly before realizing I had been struck by a rock.  I looked up, a man draped in dark clothing and a mask stood before me with a knife - a small dagger, not expensive by any means. Behind the man I noticed that night had fallen since I decided to take a slumber, though my half-minded observations of the nightfall had been cut off by his speech, gruff, low, not happy.

 

“Oi, gutter-rat, get on your feet.”  He gestured the blade in my direction, gripping my shoulder, firmly.

 

“I-I...I don’t have anything, I swear it, please!”  I cried outwards, my hands raised before me, tense, scared, alone.

 

“Yeah, yeah, heard tha’ one ‘boutta hundred times before ya’...Give it, or I’m takin’ blood.”  He tightened his grip on my shoulder at this point.

 

“P-Please…”  My eyes watered, the orbs glassy from such before steams made their way down my face: “I got nothin’ for ya’!”  I cried out, in hopes someone would aid me. Many people passed by the ally, though none seemed to stop to help - likely in hopes that attention would not be drawn to them.

 

The man grunted: “So be it...G’night, gutter-rat.”  He would then send the dagger flying towards my gut.

 

Though of course as he did this something happened, something to this day I cannot explain - I had no training in combat, I couldn’t afford such a luxury.  Yet as he sent the dagger to my gut, I raised my arm up and sent an elbow down to his shakey grip on the dagger, it clattered to the ground. He would then send a blow to my jaw, knocking me to the ground.  

 

“Oh, now ya’ve done it, gutter-shite!”  He would then make a dash for me, only to be met with a kick to his left kneecap, he’d tumble down on top of me.  

 

As I found the man now stop me, I would grip his shoulders, my body overcome by the rush, the adrenaline unlike anything I had felt before.  I was usually, admittedly a timid man, though now I was a beast, a heartless thing. I used my weight to roll atop of him, sending a series of blows to his skull, his face bloodied after mere moments.  He attempted to mutter a prayer, though I snuffed such attempts out with a blow to the jaw. I reached to the ground - gripping the knife, I would then ram it into his eye socket and continue the brutal attacks, leaving him no ability to escape the onslaught.  I would rise from his corpse, he screamed for a mere few moments before dropping silent. I looked over the grim scene, I dropped to my knees with my head in my hands - tears once more streaming down my face, though this time it was in regret, fear, and terror of not an armed assailant, but myself.

 

“W-what have I done?!  W-what i-i-is this?!” I shook my head: “Leave me alone, look what ya’ made me do!  LEAVE!” The corruption, the hatred, voices, all of it gone now...Silent. It was tranquil almost, and after mere moments the pain was gone...Regret?  It lingered, though the intensity disappeared if I stopped thinking about it. After moments later, I rose and left that ally.

 

It was this night I slayed something larger than a small animal, I now hunted my own kin as prey, my first murder.  I was terrified of whom I had become, though something about it in a dark part of my mind enjoyed it. Though of course, I dared not admit such things to myself - oh, Light save my soul, guide me, I beg, I plead.


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Hi Insomnia,

Both of your posts are excellent reads. Creative license is obviously something to be utilized in writing, but it is better to omit details if they are not relevant to the story you are telling. Pilgrim's Bounty and the high elf were details that ultimately added nothing to the story -- what is relevant about them? There is a turkey, are the citizens celebrating? If so how do they celebrate, and how does it impact your character or the setting.

I'm assuming the story takes place after the Second War if there are high elves in Lordaeron. How do the people around your character react to seeing one? They were a reclusive people who rarely ventured beyond Quel'Thalas and even then were mostly seen in Dalaran City.

You are a very good writer with a lot of potential. Try to be more fluid and don't clutter your writing up with unnecessary detail. Also, be sure to proofread!

I'm looking forward to seeing more of your work. (:


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22 hours ago, Witch said:

Hi Insomnia,

Both of your posts are excellent reads. Creative license is obviously something to be utilized in writing, but it is better to omit details if they are not relevant to the story you are telling. Pilgrim's Bounty and the high elf were details that ultimately added nothing to the story -- what is relevant about them? There is a turkey, are the citizens celebrating? If so how do they celebrate, and how does it impact your character or the setting.

I'm assuming the story takes place after the Second War if there are high elves in Lordaeron. How do the people around your character react to seeing one? They were a reclusive people who rarely ventured beyond Quel'Thalas and even then were mostly seen in Dalaran City.

You are a very good writer with a lot of potential. Try to be more fluid and don't clutter your writing up with unnecessary detail. Also, be sure to proofread!

I'm looking forward to seeing more of your work. (:

Following the opening of the Dark Portal, the nations of Azeroth and Khaz Modan were conquered by the Horde. The refugees from Azeroth, led by Lord Anduin Lothar, fled across the sea to Lordaeron. There, Lothar convinced the leaders of the human nations, as well as the dwarves of Ironforge, gnomes of Gnomeregan, and high elves of Quel'Thalas, to join forces in the Alliance of Lordaeron.

 

Lordaeron specifically was a pretty overpowered kingdom, setting the standards for a faction that could actually hold many races without much problems. Many high elves were in Lordaeron, mostly in the shape of noblesmen and counselors due to their vast skills, so there are cases of high elves in Lordaeron. Reclusive, yes, but they were there in Lordaeron!

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