Fall from Grace
From the personal journal of Anowene Amatarsu
I woke in the tomb where I was laid to rest. I don't know how long I had been dead, or even what killed me. For the longest time, I remained there, immobile, my mind alive but my body unmoving, struggling to remember who I was and the life I once had. All I could determine was that I had once been human.
After clawing my way out of my grave, I found myself torn between Light and Dark. My teachers told me that I was a priest, but that the Dark path was the only choice for me. So, I obeyed them…for a time. I manipulated the minds of the creatures I sought to destroy and wielded my dark power against them.
For many seasons, I journeyed from the ruins of the once mighty Lordaeron to "help" my brethren in the struggle. I was at the bidding of Thrall and his people and even found myself in the company of the treacherous Blood Elves, one of whom became my closest friend.
However, from the moment I woke so long ago, there was a glimmer of light in the back of my mind. And the more I struggled to contain it, the more alluring it became.
I made the mistake of confessing as much to my teacher during my session deep in the bowels of the Undercity. It was then that I was taken to Deathknell where I was to be "instructed" and brought into the Cult of the Forgotten Shadow.
Anowene strode briskly through Silvermoon, mumbling angrily to herself. Young inhabitants of the pristine city moved quickly to get out of her way, though she couldn't ever be sure if it was because of her determined stride or her rotting flesh. After turning a corner and almost running down one of the pompous guards, she found the inn where she was to meet Caryn.
"I was weak!" Anowene stormed at Caryn, who raised her eyebrows slightly as she lounged on the cushions in the small corner of the inn. The innkeeper glanced warily at the pair, eyes narrowing at the sight of the Forsaken.
"And what exactly does that mean?" she drawled back, her boredom evident in her tone. Caryn lifted a dainty hand to brush some stray locks of deep red hair from her porcelain face, her hand finally coming to rest lovingly on the large mace by her side.
With her head bowed and eyes closed, Anowene took a deep breath and continued, "They said I was too weak to ascend when my human life died Caryn." A look of puzzlement crossed Caryn's face. "They said," Anowene explained, "that this….this thing that I became is a curse because of my weakness."
"And you believe that crap?" asked Caryn in a laughing voice.
"I…I don't know….," Anowene faltered, her mind racing.
"What exactly did they tell you Anow?" asked Caryn.
Anowene paused for a moment, remembering the feeling of belonging she felt upon entering the church in Deathknell surrounded by others, like herself, struggling to find their place within the remains of the teachings of the Holy Light. They had embraced her fully into the cult, ready for her to say the word and she would become a Lightslayer, a zealot in loathe of the Holy Light and all it stood for. They wanted her to be alone in her journeys, but still a part of the cult. They wanted her totally and completely, and to do that she had to leave her world and friends behind her.
"They said they could help me be strong again," Anowene whispered before turning silently away from her friend.
From the personal journal of Anowene Amatarsu
I've thought long and hard about the Cult and its goals. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be part of something? It took Caryn hours to calm me down about this whole thing and persuade me to think more rationally.
Anyhow, back to the issue at hand. Apparently I missed the invitation to join our religion. Because from what I've learned, all Forsaken join this religion early in their lives. Or maybe most would be a better word. I've spent some time sitting in the library reading up on this. It was a bit tricky getting the Scarlet to leave me alone. But after I killed enough of them, they let me sit at one of the tables in peace.
So, here's my problem. I like to heal, to use my power for good. But the Cult of Forgotten Shadow doesn't want me to heal. Indeed, they'd prefer that I not use any spells of Holy Light at all. There are mostly other priests there, so I felt an immediate kinship. But they seem bitter and resentful of our fate. Admittedly, I was pretty upset too when I discovered exactly what I had become. I still don't know what I want to do about the Cult. I need to keep thinking about this a little longer.
Now if I could only figure out a way to keep my robes from tearing on my bony elbows…
It was several days later, when Anowene and Caryn had an opportunity to talk again. They had just returned to the Undercity after defending Sepulcher from an Alliance attack. Their friends had to endure their squabbling all the way from Silverpine Forest. Anowene glared at her friend, "What do you mean I have to change? Why can't I keep being the way I am? Why the hell does everyone want me to change?"
"Anow," sighed Caryn, "you're undead. You know you really shouldn't be using holy spells. You left your human life behind long ago and you still can't embrace your darker side."
"You know what they say Caryn," said Anowene in an accusatory tone. "They say it's addictive. I don't want to be drawn to that type of power. I'm content to use my spells to do good, to heal and protect."
And with that Anowene turned and stormed off, her bony toes clicking briskly on the stone walkways of the Undercity.