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Words of a dead elf
#1
Anithrandil wandered through the forest of their island, alone as far as he knew. Nothing but his mental torment, his feelings and his urges on is mind. He looked at a tree, his mouth twisted, his voice and mind calming as he spoke. His memories, his torment... silenced.

Anithrandil Wrote:"The Hunger they call it. I call it bullshit given a name. They compare it to a worgen's ferocity. Bullshit. Whenever I am around her, Elles, Sorrowfang, Wilfred, Ayla or Coco, I feel the urge to grab my sword and rip out their ribs while they still live.

I have grown fond of these worgen, especially Liza. I hope they understand why I distance myself. I am not trying to hurt them, only protect them from me and myself from them. Ha! They're a strong bunch, they can easily take me down, bring me to the Hold and leave again.

I just don't want any of them to get hurt. Maybe I will leave soon, sate this bullshit given name and return."

After his words, he grabbed a knife and carves a small heart and the letters "A+L" in the heart before turning and heading to several small ruins on the outskirt of the island.
I will not be forgotten. This is my time to shine. I've got the scars to prove it. Only the strong survive. I'm not afraid of dying. Everyone has their time. Life never favored weakness.

Welcome to the pride!
Reply
#2
Anithrandil walked into the abandoned Night Elven inn in his dark and bulky trenchcoat. Under his trenchcoat, one could hear his armor with each step. A dark mask covers his face and his worry. He slowly and as silent as possible made his way upstairs to the bebedroom. His runic blue eyes shift over the sleeping Outcasts and fix themselves on one female worgen, Liza. He slowly strides closer to the sleeping woman and wipes from hair from her face before placing a small piece of paper under her pillow.

Anithrandil Wrote:Liza and whoever else reads this,

When you read this, I have left you. Each hour, each minute, each second I am with you, any of you, I have the urge to lift up my blade and cut you down, all of you.

I understand this is horrible to read but I don’t want any of you to get harmed because of me. I ask you all, do NOT follow me or try to find me. I have to do this alone and with you near me, I will just hurt you, one way or another.

Know that I do this because I like you all. Liza, you have my word, I will return soon.

Anthandil

Anithrandil removes his mask and places a quick kiss on the sleeping worgen’s forehead, his red hair hanging down his face. He slowly puts his mask back on and heads back down and to the center of the village. He gives his undead gryphon a pat on the head, mounts it and flies off.
I will not be forgotten. This is my time to shine. I've got the scars to prove it. Only the strong survive. I'm not afraid of dying. Everyone has their time. Life never favored weakness.

Welcome to the pride!
Reply
#3
Anithrandil wandered into a small, almost unguarded human village. Five houses and a few farms. Upon walking into the village, a simple farmer greeted the agitated undead Blood Elf.”Hello friend.” He spoke. Anithrandil looked at the man from under his dark hood. Without a word, he grabbed his polearm and stabbed the farmer through the heart. His wife screamed in terror as her husband was murdered. From the surrounding houses, more farmers came, male and female alike. The polearm left the now dead farmer’s chest and was thrown to his wife, impaling her heart. Without a word, Anithrandil grabbed his Runesword and looked at the remaining farmers. The farmers looked scared as can be as their friends were murdered in front of their eyes. They ran inside to grab their pitchforks and fight this new threat. They were all murdered in mere seconds.

From one of the buildings, a man in shining plate armor carrying a rather large hammer in his hands. The two looked at each other. The Elf let his trenchcoat fall down on the ground, his white armor revealed underneath. The two slowly walked closer to one another. The two stared each other in the eyes.”Paladin.” Anithrandil spoke.”Death Knight.” The human answered in response. They both raised their weapons. The Elf made the first blow but his sword was met with the human’s hammer.

The two engaged in a complex dance of combat. Each blow send by one of the fighters was parried, blocked or dodged by the other. Magic was used from both sides. Holy and Unholy magic alike. After two hours of nonstop combat, the human spoke.”I know what you want , Death Knight. You want, no, you need to kill. I am willing to make a deal.” Anithrandil in return let out a low grunt.”Speak, human.” The human blew the Elf back and lowered his hammer.”I give you my life, if, and only if, you let my daughter live.” The Elf smirked at the human’s words.”Deal.” The human lost his head a second after the Elf’s word.

From the same building the Paladin came earlier, a human female comes out, sixteen at most. She looked at her father’s decapitated body and the Death Knight, weakened by the use of the Paladin’s Holy magic.”You are here to finish us all, aren’t you?” Anithrandil looked at the girl. He didn’t show emotion yet sheathed his blade and walked back to the woman with his polearm in her chest.”I keep true to my promises, girl. You may run along.” He sheathed his polearm on his back and walked back to his trenchcoat to pick it up.”I have nothing left!” She screamed.”Not my problem.” He responded calmly. “Go to Stormwind. North of here if I remember correctly.” The Elf put his trenchcoat back on and turned.”You’re going to help me bury them!” She demanded. Anithrandil turned around and started to walk off, apparently weakened in his state. His undead gryphon landed in front of him and he flew off without a word, leaving the girl behind.
I will not be forgotten. This is my time to shine. I've got the scars to prove it. Only the strong survive. I'm not afraid of dying. Everyone has their time. Life never favored weakness.

Welcome to the pride!
Reply


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