WoW Character Stuff
ok, I've been writing back story stuff for my WoW toons, and was stumped on Enkata. Being undead...it was hard. Well anyway, I came up with something, if anyone is interested.
I do not know, truly, what I am. Or how I came to be this way. The name "forsaken" is attached to me, and as I sit here, in a shadowy corner of the Chapel at Lights Hope, I feel this name, and all it implies.
I know I was not always what I now am. When I sit too quietly I slip into the dreams of the dead. Hazy memories of life. Random things, when I close my eyes. The warmth of a fireplace, and the soft tinkle of dishes. A old, wooden table, rough and stained with years of meals, the laugh and bright smile of a little girl. I do not know who this child is. Was she my sister? my daughter? Or a memory of my old self?
And always, if I sit to long comes the memory of strong arms around me. Holding me so tight I it takes a way my breath, and the feeling of another heart beating against mine. I was loved once. And loved so much in return that it nearly hurts remembering it.
Love.
That though always stops me. It is not a part of what I am now. Memories and feelings disappear like fog, before I can grab them. I am painfully aware of my surroundings again. The cold of my limbs, that heat will not warm. Not even if I stood in a fire, until I was wholly consumed. The cold of the stone bench, and the floor beneath seep up though my muscles and bones, making me feel like a part of the cold and overly bright chapel.
Stretching, I readjust my armor and and the two long swords that hang at each hip. They glow with unnatural fire. Fire that, like me, cannot warm anything, only kill.
The electric thrill that rises in my chest, as I plunge a blade though my enemies back, and the warm rush of thick hot blood spilling over my hand must replace the warmth of a lover's embrace, the salute of an ally, a lover's farewell kiss.
Slowly I rise, and silently slip out of the chapel and into the cold dark night.
I do not know, truly, what I am. Or how I came to be this way. The name "forsaken" is attached to me, and as I sit here, in a shadowy corner of the Chapel at Lights Hope, I feel this name, and all it implies.
I know I was not always what I now am. When I sit too quietly I slip into the dreams of the dead. Hazy memories of life. Random things, when I close my eyes. The warmth of a fireplace, and the soft tinkle of dishes. A old, wooden table, rough and stained with years of meals, the laugh and bright smile of a little girl. I do not know who this child is. Was she my sister? my daughter? Or a memory of my old self?
And always, if I sit to long comes the memory of strong arms around me. Holding me so tight I it takes a way my breath, and the feeling of another heart beating against mine. I was loved once. And loved so much in return that it nearly hurts remembering it.
Love.
That though always stops me. It is not a part of what I am now. Memories and feelings disappear like fog, before I can grab them. I am painfully aware of my surroundings again. The cold of my limbs, that heat will not warm. Not even if I stood in a fire, until I was wholly consumed. The cold of the stone bench, and the floor beneath seep up though my muscles and bones, making me feel like a part of the cold and overly bright chapel.
Stretching, I readjust my armor and and the two long swords that hang at each hip. They glow with unnatural fire. Fire that, like me, cannot warm anything, only kill.
The electric thrill that rises in my chest, as I plunge a blade though my enemies back, and the warm rush of thick hot blood spilling over my hand must replace the warmth of a lover's embrace, the salute of an ally, a lover's farewell kiss.
Slowly I rise, and silently slip out of the chapel and into the cold dark night.