My Return to Gillneas
It has been four years since tearing of the world, Azeroth shredded into a land none recognized. I remember when it occurred, the images so vivid in my mind. But my life before the shattering grows dim, the memories growing fainter and fainter, faces blurring and voices drawing away. My heart would clench of the thought of losing these important memories, and I then decided to make a journey to my old home. I would travel far from civilization and across the Greymane Wall, to uncover what I stood for, what I fight for, and what I live for.
It took many days to reach the city I grew up in, but my trusted hippogriff Goldwings came through for me in the end. I crossed through the Hillsbrad Foothills and into the city. I rode into the Merchant's square to find the remains of the undead camps. Burnt out fires and ratty purple tents decorated the square like flies on a dead carcass. I saw the ally that I was instructed to find a dead guard in, by Liam.
Oh, Liam. I felt a pang in my heart by the mere thought of him. I pushed away the feeling of tears threatening to spill from my eyes. In the Military district I found the courtyard of the prison, bloodied corpses of abominations hanging on hooks from their hastily stitched skin. The odor pounded my nostrils, almost making me heave on the once beautiful cobble stone. Bloodied torture devices held rotting corpses, some clothed in Gillnian recruit uniforms, some in casual clothes, and even some decorated in extravagant attire. It seems that the filthy had no discrimination, all were doomed. I looked around, at the broken catapults, the smashed barrels, by undead scavenging for riches like the filthy rats they are.
My hands shook, my body quivered in rage. I felt it again. The feral rage inside me, pounding, wanted to release itself on the forsaken who ruined my homeland, on the Dark Lady who led them, on the Horde who supported them, and on anyone who stood in my way.
I breathed deep, trying to relax my tensing muscles. Calming down was a trick I have had to learn over the last few years. I had become skilled at this now, I used to become enraged by the annoying buzz of a fly, but I can control my temper now, well better than before. The night elves told me that this would be an ongoing fight for me and others like me.
The purple flag mocked me still, swaying in the chilly wind, making the gruesome face marked on it even more hideous. I lit a match and flung it at it, smiling at how fast it caught flame. I will be the spark that creates the fire that destroys you Sylvanas Windrunner. This I vow.
I thought back to the first night of the challenges Gillneas faced. I remembered Lord Godffrey, telling me to find the ammunition Crowley had hidden. I remembered how I hated him from the beginning, that traitor. I wish I had sent my mastiff Ruger on him as soon as I saw the coward he was. I found the cellar door, and walked over to corner where I had found a man, Josiah Aver, trembling.
"What is wrong?" I had asked with much urgency.
"Get away! Get away!" he screamed at me. "Don't look at me! Leave me alone!" he yelled in agony, "Make it stop! My hands… don't look at my hands!" I had refused to leave this man, taking his arm so I could bring him to aid. I remember the growl I heard, and the howl that had let loose from the man. I was thrown backwards as the beast came after me. Thank the Light that Lorena was there to put two bullets in his chest.
I looked down at my arm where the scar from his teeth still showed. At first it was nothing I couldn't handle, maybe a little more than a scratch. But over time it began to sting and ache, becoming darker and more infected. In Greymane's Court, memories flooded into me. Sylvanas's blood-curdling voice, the bone-chilling laugh of her and her rangers, and Prince Liam Greymane's gasp for air as the banshee drove her poisoned dagger into his heart. Hot tears rolled off my cheek and splashed onto the ground. Liam was more than a dear friend, he was like a brother. His death only fueled my hatred for the Forsaken.
Sylvanas had slipped past me once, it would not happen again.
I moved on to the Cathedral Quarter. The grass was stained with dried blood and the low stone walls chipped. The sky was grey and gloomy, tears falling to mourn the tragedy of this once glorious place. I looked to Light's Dawn Cathedral, the forever burning candles lighting up the stained glass windows, making it the only inviting place in this city. I walk in slowly, feeling the warmth of the Light that had abandoned my people in their greatest time of need. But I held no grudge to it, for I had feared for a long time that it would never accept me, as the monster I had come to be.
Walking up to the altar, the red carpet cushioning my feet, I realized many things. The Light knew what was to happen, and I wanted it to prevent it. But even through the events that tore the gates off of our lifestyle had brought grief and death, it had made us stronger. We were more powerful without our glorious wall than with it to keep us safe. That is why we built it, but the outside world does not halt for anyone. It found us, when we were weak, but we are no longer.
At the altar I faced the pews and saw many I loved and lost. My parents, my friends… Liam. They smiled at me; I knew that they loved me still, even beyond our world. I shifted, my face growing longer, my fingernails turning to claws, my senses coming alive. I was alert to everything, from the crow flying high above the cathedral, to the rat scurrying below in the sewers. Although my skin had darkened, sprouting fur, I had changed not out of rage and fury, but out of acceptance. I stood tall, raised my head to the sky, and let out a piercing howl. That howl shook the Banshee Queen, and all who followed her. This end of Gillneas was not the end for its people. We are back, we are strong, we are driven,
We are Worgen.