Hey guys, my first story! I'm new to this thing so... yeah, I really don't know what I'm doing. Please no flames, but constructive criticism would be awesome! Also, this story will require a tad bit of World of Warcraft knowledge, barely any, and this chapter will contain a lot of needed knowledge of Gilneas and the story of the worgens there.
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Nekri awoke with little to no rational thought, but one question bore itself into his foggy mind, Where am I? He tried to speak, but he found that he had no control over his body. He attempted to blink or wipe away the blurry screen that covered his eyes, yet it only proved that he was in some form of paralysis. What happened to me? He tried to recall the events that led to this, yet every memory eluded him. When he thought he found a clear memory, it melted away as if he were trying to grab smoke from the air. His arm automatically lifted itself and he now noticed it was bulky and covered by a thick layer of bristly brown fur. Wait... fur? What was he? His mind sought answers for questions he could barely comprehend. The four-digited claw at the end of his arm wiped away the fatigue in his eyes. He saw his surroundings clearly now.
He was in a small steel cage, not nearly large enough to bear any comfort whatsoever. Rays of sunlight that were littered with bits of dust found their way between the thick bars of the cage. Outside of his enclosure was a cobble-stone cul-de-sac, and there he was smack dab in the middle. He must have been on some sick form of display, because his cage was suspended 5 feet above the ground by a coarse rope, attached to a wooden hang-man's post. He was surrounded by town's people, each silently staring at him. He hear a loud high-pitched voice saying something nearly inaudible, "So as we can see, these savage, murderous abominations must be eradicated! The massacre in the trading district does naught but prove this!" Nekri was confused. When the man said 'savage, murderous abomination', was he speaking of him? All of the sudden, his body jerked up and turned to the owner of the strange voice. Oddly enough, the voice did not match his body. He was a very tall, husky man with fair skin and grey, balding hair, complete with a full mustache and beard. He proceeded to say,"and should you run into one of these fleabags, THIS is how you dispose of one!" Nekri felt a gun pressed against his forehead. He knew this was the end, and his eyes firmly shut themselves.
Suddenly, his throat vibrated in an inhuman growl and his lips parted into a snarl. As if on cue, he felt the sudden desire to spill this man's blood onto the dirt. As the gun pressed itself against his head, Nekri's tightened eyes twitched slightly from the pressure. He heard the squeak of the rusty trigger being pulled back, then finally, a click. This was a tell-tale sign to anyone, even someone as young as Nekri, that something was wrong. You never live long enough to hear the trigger. His eye's hesitantly slid open, much to Nekri's dismay. He would have much preferred to keep them shut. The man with the gun now stood farther from the cage, addressing the crowd once more, "Should you run into one of these beasts one on one, do not hesitate to pull a bullet through it's head. They've long since lost all traces of humanity. Now, make haste to the barracks and arm yourselves. We can't have you lolly-gagging around the city unarmed with armies of unholy demons running amok through the streets!" With that, the man turned and walked towards Nekri. In a tone that could only be described as sympathetic, he began to speak, "You poor bastard, you're lucky Krennan has a ...need... for your kind," Nekri felt uneasy as the man's expression darkened with cruel amusement, "Otherwise you'd just be another decoration in my living quarters!" He gave a short, hate-ridden cackle, "Yes, a worgen-skin rug does sound most delightful!" His pasty lips curled into a wicked grin before he spun around 180 degrees, lifted his nose into the air and haughtily marched after the stragglers left over from the quickly depleting crowd.
Nekri gave a moment to digest the man's words. So that's what I am... A worgen? Nekri wished more than ever that he could control his body, simply so he could scream in pure horror. But the worgen curse that retained the physical-control he had over his body had other plans, and it proved so as it flung his body into the bottom of the cage, forcing the darkness of a fitful sleep to consume him as slowly and painfully as possible.