Post by Asen on Jul 19, 2007 15:54:27 GMT -5
Dark clouds fill the once almost-happy sky of the Wetlands. It starts to rain. Menethil Harbor has closed its doors to visitors due to a recent Horde raid and everyone is either on patrol or looking for refuge against the rain that will come.
Just a small figure stands in the middle of the rain. The figure of a young man. He does not pay attention to the city, he walks in a strange mood, under the guidance of a strange star.
Just as miserable as him, a half-destroyed cottage is hoping to survive the terrible wind and rain, far away from the city walls, in a swamp. The young man runs to the cottage, leaving small tracks of blood. His limbs move from one side to the other, madness embracing him as a mother giving peace to his troubled son after a nightmare.
The young man arrives. His pale face, covered by wet, golden hair and sadness looks at the mud-covered door. The door had strange symbols and words that said:
"Welcome!"
The man opened the door slowly and was not very amused to see that no-one was there to welcome him. Only wooden furniture, covered by dust. Abandoned. He almost felt sorry for those old, wasted chairs and tables. But he was there to look for other things, not to become even more miserable with objects with no life. He walked toward an old table, perhaps for writing. It was full of drawings, letters and dry wine. He opened one that said:
"Asen Ahnenerbe,
I was born from the union of John Ahnenerbe, great human explorer and Morning Wanderer, and his love, Shandre Minnewind, half-elf. My mother died while on an expedition with my father to Northrend. My father left her corpse to freeze before we had to run from the Nerubian guards that were chasing us.
Then, my father settled down with a community of dwarves. I stayed with them until I was fourteen years old. My father left them because they were a bad influence for me.
At the age of sixteen, my father left me alone, for he thought it was necessary for me to become a man and work alone. I really appreciate him for that.
Nowadays, I love a woman called Monica and I plan to travel to Northshire and receive my warrior training.
May the Morning Star rise in your hearts,
Asen Ahnenerbe, son of John Ahnenerbe, Morning Wanderer and explorer.
That is all, Monica. I think I write horribly... Well, I still have many possibilities to become a Morning Wanderer, because my father was one, you know. What do you think of my story? I will not send it to my Masters until you tell me what you think about it. I will send you my reply to the other test my Masters have for me: A poem! I love poetry! And I think you will like it.
Hugs,
Asen
Well, Asen, don't you think it would be nice if you include our son, Sturmy? I mean, I know we left him in the Stormwind for adoption, and that it was the best for him and all that, but! He is your son, Asen. Anyway, I like it. Detail: You are in Northshire right now, bird-head!
Hugs n' kisses,
Monica"
The young man cries. He curses his father and his mother. He curses the sun and the stars.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun shines again over Menethil Harbor. A big fire rages where the abandoned cottage once stood. And a bigger fire rages inside a young man, pale as snow and with golden hair, who has hunger for destruction. He wants to make people suffer as he has suffered. He will find his father. If he is dead, he will destroy everything that is left of him.
He runs, with hate hitting him, as an angry father would.
Just a small figure stands in the middle of the rain. The figure of a young man. He does not pay attention to the city, he walks in a strange mood, under the guidance of a strange star.
Just as miserable as him, a half-destroyed cottage is hoping to survive the terrible wind and rain, far away from the city walls, in a swamp. The young man runs to the cottage, leaving small tracks of blood. His limbs move from one side to the other, madness embracing him as a mother giving peace to his troubled son after a nightmare.
The young man arrives. His pale face, covered by wet, golden hair and sadness looks at the mud-covered door. The door had strange symbols and words that said:
"Welcome!"
The man opened the door slowly and was not very amused to see that no-one was there to welcome him. Only wooden furniture, covered by dust. Abandoned. He almost felt sorry for those old, wasted chairs and tables. But he was there to look for other things, not to become even more miserable with objects with no life. He walked toward an old table, perhaps for writing. It was full of drawings, letters and dry wine. He opened one that said:
"Asen Ahnenerbe,
I was born from the union of John Ahnenerbe, great human explorer and Morning Wanderer, and his love, Shandre Minnewind, half-elf. My mother died while on an expedition with my father to Northrend. My father left her corpse to freeze before we had to run from the Nerubian guards that were chasing us.
Then, my father settled down with a community of dwarves. I stayed with them until I was fourteen years old. My father left them because they were a bad influence for me.
At the age of sixteen, my father left me alone, for he thought it was necessary for me to become a man and work alone. I really appreciate him for that.
Nowadays, I love a woman called Monica and I plan to travel to Northshire and receive my warrior training.
May the Morning Star rise in your hearts,
Asen Ahnenerbe, son of John Ahnenerbe, Morning Wanderer and explorer.
That is all, Monica. I think I write horribly... Well, I still have many possibilities to become a Morning Wanderer, because my father was one, you know. What do you think of my story? I will not send it to my Masters until you tell me what you think about it. I will send you my reply to the other test my Masters have for me: A poem! I love poetry! And I think you will like it.
Hugs,
Asen
Well, Asen, don't you think it would be nice if you include our son, Sturmy? I mean, I know we left him in the Stormwind for adoption, and that it was the best for him and all that, but! He is your son, Asen. Anyway, I like it. Detail: You are in Northshire right now, bird-head!
Hugs n' kisses,
Monica"
The young man cries. He curses his father and his mother. He curses the sun and the stars.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun shines again over Menethil Harbor. A big fire rages where the abandoned cottage once stood. And a bigger fire rages inside a young man, pale as snow and with golden hair, who has hunger for destruction. He wants to make people suffer as he has suffered. He will find his father. If he is dead, he will destroy everything that is left of him.
He runs, with hate hitting him, as an angry father would.