My name is Lucius Eyndell, once, in the past, I had achieved everything, I earned my position as a part of the royal alchemist in the Kingdom of Arathor, I had married the woman of my dreams, I settled down in Stromgarde after having my daughter, my own flesh and blood.
However nothing good can last forever, before my daughter had even grown up my wife had become sick with an illness. I swore then to them both that I would work day and night without pause to cure my wife.
In the end I failed to save her. All my years studying as a herbalist and an alchemist has only amounted to nothing, my efforts was in vain, I could only watch as my wife became worse as days passed, my promise has become nothing more than a big fat lie.
The funeral was hard for the both of us, she slowly grew to despise me, and rightly so as well, I resigned from the Royal Society of Alchemist of Arathor soon after, I couldn't bear living in that city where my wife died.
Thus we travelled, from one place to another, working here and there, my skill are still valued despite my failure, we tried to find some closure, closure we never found as we journeyed on.
We went from the highlands of Arathi to the snowy valleys of Alterac, all the while hearing rumours of an unknown plague spreading in the east of Lordaeron, of course it was only rumours but I kept it in mind.
Dalaran was, suffice to say, mesmerising, its towers and academies, despite it earning the name of the city of magic, it still needed experienced alchemist, throughout our journey we never went hungry. That was at the very least one thing this failure of a father can always assure his daughter of, is that we'll always have a roof in our head, a fabric on our bodies, and food to stave off our hunger.
As time passes, by the time we reached Gilneas, my daughter is already grown, and her disdain for me only grew larger, I can never fault her for it, she stayed with my parents whilst my assistant, Cynric and I continued our journey to Lordaeron, the rumoured plague turns out to be real, and the Eastweald is ravaged by it although Tirisfal Glades is spared the majority of the damage.
As an alchemist of Lordaeron, my pay is steady and my life is as stable as it is, I was beginning to consider to settle down here, my daughter still maintain contact with me until the greymane wall was built, sealing me off from her forever.
In the end, I suppose it was for the better, she will be well protected there if anything were to happen to Lordaeron.
Seasons passed, and as I was beginning to settle into a stable life in Lordaeron, the kingdom and the capital has found itself in its darkest hour.
Suddenly, my assistant, Cynric called out to me.
"Lucius!"
"Cynric is that y-"
"Lucius we must leave! It's Prince Arthas! He's gone mad, he murdered his father in his throne room, he's killing civilians as we speak!"
I panicked, and as such, Cynric and I left the capital immediately thereafter, we were intending to flee into Tirisfal Glades.
We didn't get far.
Strange, is it not? How fate works.
Many moved to the Capital City for a fresh start, a new life away from their past.
For it was here like many others that I found my new life.
It was here where my life began anew.
Now, here I stand before the wall that sealed off the homeland of my only remaining kin.
I started to wonder that when the forsaken began the onslaught of Gilneas what would happen to my daughter.
However I realised something shortly after.
I don't care what'd happen. I feel nothing for them.
I finally understand who I am now, I have found my closure.
I AM FORSAKEN!