World of Warcraft®

He matches my every step, the faster I run the more ground he gains. When at last I believe to have lost the beast he appears before me. Pinned under his massive weight I stare deep into his silver stained eyes. There is no love, no happiness locked within this beast, only rage. This rage consumes all and the very essence of my soul begins to weaken to its thirst. Again I awake covered in sweat at the nights last dream. It haunts me, the beast never leaves, always lurking in the shadows of my heart.

I was Born Velindar Timberfang, the Son of Talendrill Timberfang and my families lineage lies in the great stories of Goldrinn. My father never fostered the wolf blood that surged through our veins and unfortunately I learned too late why. When I was but 12 I came home after a day of teachings with my Shan’do to find my mother embraced by Sharadin, one of my fathers comrades, she was weeping in his arms. While my father was returning from a scouting expidition he and his men were attacked and although he was able to save his men he did not make it through the battle. It wouldn’t be till much later in my life that I would know the full details of my fathers last day. Had I known then what I know now so much may have been different.

While my father was alive his name garnered a certain amount of respect amongst my teachers and my peers. My Father had earned the trust of many men and was seen as a great diplomat and a strong Druid amongst the Kaldorei. But with his passing, new men filled his place and the respect of my pears dwindled in time. What remained was the fact that I was slower, and smaller then the rest of my peers. The natural talents of the druid did not come easily to me. The others were faster, stronger, and more agile then I. But what I lacked in physical strengths I vastly exceeded in rage, the great wolf blood that poured through my veins intensified that ferocity.

Ralaar, son of my fathers sister saw this inside of me. Ralaar was much older then I and nearing the end of his studies. He was a druid like few others having mastered spells and abilities many his age didn’t dare attempt. He was arrogant but as a young elf without a father I was eager to have someone to look up to. It was Ralaar that first taught me the pack form and of our common ancestor Goldrinn. I liked the power, and Ralaar could see how the strength of my will fed off the powers of the pack. Ralaar, Arvell his closest friend and I would often go to the far corners of Teldrassil and practice our forms. The two were more experienced but I had grown bigger and stronger in my age, besting them on many occasions. Ralaar and I began to expand our teachings to new pupils and we grew.

The demons of our past, those left behind from the great wars began growing in numbers. Ralaar and I had confidence in the abilities of our pack. Many of us had graduated and belonged to the Elvin army and were eager to see battle and give our form a true test and prove its worth in the eyes of others. A marauding group of Satyrs had been attacking villages and Malfurion had given the command for us to go to the mainland and eradicate this menace. Our pack had grown to 34 strong we accompanied a small force of about 100 fighters. It didn't take long to find the enemy we sought, their numbers were greater then anticipated numbering nearly five-hundred in total but that did not deter Ralaar. Our pack lead the charge. Ralaar, Arvell and I tore through the ranks of the demonic horde. We slew so many that we became drenched in the blood of those who fell before us and the lust for more grew. We became lost within our own minds and one problem began to grow, we were beginning to run out of enemies. The few remaining demons ran off into the shadows of the forest but our bloodlust was not quenched, and the beast within us did not define friend or foe and my pack began turning on each other and those around us. Malfurion had sensed our desire to use the pack form and with the power of Cenarian himself was able to lull the attacking members of my tribe into a deep trance. It was enough to break us of our hold.

{Part 2}
Malfurion had encouraged druids to explore the nature of their souls and seek out the forms that most closely aligned with their hearts but not this form. It was too dangerous. It could not be controlled. Malfurion forbid the use of the pack form from ever being used again, and in the process created the Cenarion Circle as a means to structure the teachings of druids as a way to create a path of study that lead away from the pack form and maintained the traditional arts of druidism. This did not sit well with Ralaar and he drew into seclusion. I followed him, I would have followed him anywhere. But Arvell and the others felt honor bound to uphold their rank in the army against the Demonic forces that threatened our people.

Within weeks of Malfurions forbidding there was a large attack on a military outpost, one held by Arvell and his men. Outnumbered and out armed they fought, if only Arvell would have given the command his men would have again taken the wolf form and would have been able to fight the forces back. Arvell heeded Malfurions orders...to his death. Along with many others of our pack. Arvells love Velysra, priestess of Elune and close friend to Ralaar and I was distraught over the loss. Ralaar and Velysra blamed Arvell's death on Malfurion. The two new the wolf was the answer to this new war with the Satyrs but first they had to show Malfurion that it could be controlled.

The elders told stories of Elune and Goldrinn, Elunes presence in the night sky enraged Goldrinn and Elune had always sought out a means to tame the beast. It was Ralaar and Belysra that hatched the idea that perhaps with the staff of Elune, an ancient staff embued with the essence of Elune herself passed down among the high priestess and the Fang of Goldrinn could be infused and bring about a means of controlling this ancient form. Ralaar called together the Pack to experience this new awakening, a marriage of both the powers of Elune and Goldrinn. But what happened next was not what either had expected. Ralaar commanded his brothers to once again take on their pack forms, but instead the transformation continued. Not man and not wolf, we turned into something else, something darker....we became the WORGEN.

"It worked" I gasped. There was a sense of control we had never had before. It was as if the rage that had once consumed us was now locked away in a cage, rattling the bars but contained none the less.

Ralaar and I had heard that of some of Arvells pack had broken off, he left one night and came back with many followers. He told me he was now to be referred to as Alpha Prime. In our new forms of both wolf and man we grew stronger outside the gaze of Malfurion's watch. When We had heard wind that there was to be a great battle between the Kaldorei and the Satyr army we rallied the pack. We would show our Brothers that we could be a great weapon for our people.

It was a rallying victory and our pack served it's purpose well, more impressive was the fact that when the battle was over we were able to contain our lust for blood and were able to welcome our comrades in a joyous victory. I do believe even Malfurion was pleased. When I had thought all had gone well I looked upon Ralaar. I could see the rage in his eye's, the Satyrs were dead or fleeing. I shook him hard, "Ralaar! Whats wrong"

He responded, "They killed him but its his fault."
I questioned Ralaar, "Who's fault for what?"
"Malfurion." He seethed. "If he hadn't forbid the wolf form, the one true form, Arvell would be alive with us today. He will pay."

Ralaar turned and charged towards Malfurion. Others of the pack charged in without question. All was lost, the others began attacking those who stood guard in front of Malfurion. Malfurion as strong as he was could not stand up against the pack that stood before him. I saw off into the distance as Malfurion took flight and left the battle. Those now bitten were succumbing to something, they were beginning to change. I stood in horror. We had finally gained the respect we had sought so long for and in a moment Ralaar's desire for revenge superseded the good of the pack.

{Part 3}

Belysra, Arvell's love and the priestess who helped forge the Scythe was broken. She hoped that in helping Ralaar she could bring justice for Arvell's death but not this, not the Kaldorei turning on one another and not this Curse that is spreading amongst the ranks. She knew what she must do. She had to take the Scythe of Elune to Malfurion so that he may put an end to this.

She had reached Malfurion and explained what had happened just before Ralaar and his men had caught up with them. I pleaded with Ralaar to see reason. And I had made the choice that if it came down to it I would stand in Ralaar's way should he attack the heart of our people. Malfurion may have been right along. As Ralaar approached he could see Belysra standing with Malfurion now holding the Scythe of Elune. Before I or Ralaar could make a move Malfurion gripped the scythe and speaking in a tongue that sounded more ancient then time itself he slashed through the air. In it's wake grew a shadowy hue, a force stronger then any I have ever felt began drawing upon myself. My entire pack was being pulled into this vortex. We fought in vain, Gaedrin, one of Ralaar's new comers was first to fall. As he neared the purplish presence it drew him in and he disappeared. Then more fell into what must have been a portal. With Malfurions powers and the powers of the Scythe he had torn through the fabrics of reality and one by one it tooks us all.

For us Kaldorei it was obvious where we had been sent, the Emerald dream. In a physical presence we existed within this dream world. Standing above us was the great tree of legend, Daral'nir. It is said it could calm the most wild of beast and slowly the pack began to succumb to its presence. One by one we settled down under its mighty limbs. And there we slept never expected to wake again.

In time our slumber grew restless, even the magics of the legendary Daral'nir could not contain the rage of the Worgen. One by one we began to wake. Ralaar was the first to wake, he assisted us to a safe location beyond the magics of the tree. None of us could determine how long we had slept. It felt as if ages had past and yet we could not be sure as none of us appeared to have aged beyond a day. Driven by revenge Ralaar lead the pack and gave orders to send out searching parties to find a way out of this world.

Our men went out continuously only returning long enough to hear that no new news had been learned. Until finally one day a party that had been gone for more then a few months returned and told us of the far reaches they had been to. Deep in the forest there was a darkness that began to take hold, they said. As they ventured deeper into the darkness at the center of a clearing was what appeared to be a portal. Without Question Ralaar let out a mighty Howl, a call for all parties within its reach to return.

A week later all the men had returned with Ralaars orders we set out. Our steps were hurried, our leader urged us to move at ever quickening pace. Endless days of running finally ended as we neared the edge of this dark forest. The leader of the pack that first investigated the sight took the lead with Ralaar at his side. We treaded more slowly now, aware we were not the only beast lurking in these woods. At last we came to the clearing, in the middle stood a stone structure, four slow inclining ramps gave way to a flattened top. In the middle stood a dark shadowy mass standing about 2 feet taller then our tallest man. No light escaped and the edges shifted with a purple mist.

For an hour we stood, Ralaar had taken a few of us aside. Similar portals he had heard of in his studies when the Burning legion first came into our world. We discussed the risk but Ralaars judgement would not be swayed. He believed this portal could perhaps lead back to Azeroth and that it was a risk we would have to take. And so the command was given, each man would enter and what ever peril or delight await us would not be delayed.

Later in my research I would come to know what we had found that day was one of the many tendrils of the Twisting Nether whose reach touched our world and the heavens above and beyond. Into it we fell. In the Twisting and writhing we crossed the known universe. Finally our pain ended, each of us thrust out of the portal landing hard on the ground. As I looked up I saw a world that was not home. Nothing like it I had ever seen. The ground was dry and in the darkening light I could see a barren land, the trees that dotted the lands appeared withered with age. This world we had landed on was not of our own, it was filled with darkness and we would call it the Dreadlands.

As the days past no sun broke the plane, this forsaken planet had but two moons that dimly lit the sky. We had found a place to make camp that at least provided us with enough fresh water to sustain the pack. But we grew hunger and only a few squirrel like creatures had crossed our paths. So, Ralaar again sent out parties to scout the area and bring back any food they might bring. We sent out 4 groups of 4. That was our first mistake, we underestimated the evil of this planet. After the second day one of the groups did not return. I did not trust to send out another group to look for them so I took up the responsibilities myself. Their tracks were easy enough to follow, they lead into a valley and up over a ridge. As I reached the peak of this ridge I found our friends. They had been slain, some smolted upon the ground. The taint of Fel Magics still lingered over their lifeless bodies.

There was only one foe, one we Kaldorei had come to know to well that could have done this. It had to be the work of the demonic forces of this world. I surveyed the lands and quickly made our way back to camp. I spoke to Ralaar of my findings and he howled in anger, "Damn that Malfurion, he will pay for sending us here and the lives that have been lost."

It was obvious Ralaar was falling deeper and deeper into madness. I too began to feel the feral instincts pulling stronger. More days past, the bodies of our kin were put to rest. Larger hunting parties were sent out and this time with success. As the days grew on the pack appeared to be changing. Their actions mirrored those of the wolves back on Azeroth.
To keep from losing my sanity all together I left our new form and returned to my born self, Righteous and proud, Kaldorei. Immediately I felt a rush of calm. It had been as if the feral form had been slowly eating away at my soul. It was then that I realized the true dangers of the worgen form. One could control this Worgen form but only in moments of dire need, it was not meant to be a lived in state of being. I spoke to Ralaar about my new understanding but instead of listening he grew angry. Yelling, "Wogen is the one true form, both man and beast. The truest of all forms. To Forsake the Worgen is to forsake me and the entire pack."

Again I pleaded with Ralaar, "Open your eyes Ralaar, there is no civility, as we digress into the darkest depths of this form we are losing ourselves. The men act more like animals then men."

Ralaar quipped, "and what would you have them do, risk the vunerable state we once knew? That existence is weak, the worgen existence is strong and my men or strong."

"Your men will not be men for long" I responded.

Ralaar stands from his now sitting position, "Is that a threat"

Realizing the escalation i pull back, "no just an observation." I continued, "Ralaar with your permission some of our men would like to have time each day to return to the studies of old. A time to reconnect with our ancestors in the forms we were born."

He wasn't pleased that any of his men would ever wish to take the form of the birth but he accepted my position and that ordeal ended.

Myself and 8 other men routinely spent time outside of the Worgen form. In doing so the connection to our soul that had been weakened began to grow strong again. As the days turned to months my pack spent more and more time outside of the worgen form. But tensions escalated between my new pact and Ralaars. This would all come to a head after a fresh kill was brought to the camp.

"Better to write for oneself and have no followers then right for his followers and have no self"