- Author’s Note
- Prologue Part I – Loss of Innocence
- Prologue Part II – Return of a Mage
- Prologue Part III – Questions and Answers
- Prologue Part IV – Hunting
- Prologue Part V – Celebrations
- Chapter 1 – Rolling Greens
- Chapter 2 – The Little Girl
- Chapter 3 – The Stranger
- Chapter 4 – Berenice
- Chapter 5 (part 1) – The Front Line
- Chapter 5 (part 2) – The Front Line
- Chapter 5 (part 3) – The Front Line
- Chapter 6 – Gregory Victor
- Chapter 7 – The Fall
It is easy to forget the dreadful wars and battles that have ravaged the country-side when in Hillsbrad. Surrounded by fresh green rolling hills, calming warm winds and a bright yellow sun, the community itself is a shinning beacon of what human communities had once been, and for many in the area, a sign of hope of what they could be again.
The small group of farms was nestled between the battered town of Southshore, to the southeast, the Lordamere Internment Camp and the rubbled ruins of Dalaran to the north, and Tarren Mill, a Horde outpost to the east. Its main purpose was to provide food to the allied forces in the area, which, with the added fact that it was located close to enemy territories to the east and west, made it a popular location for enemy raids.
Farmers would often wake up to find destroyed crops, or mutilated farm animals. Sometimes the enemy, which the locals suspected were Horde Agents, would go as far as to kill a couple of resident farmers and their families. During such raids, Allied forces would usually arrive from Southshore to defend Hillsbrad and, after securing the area, would retaliate by attacking Tarren Mill.
And so a dark balance set in on the area: farmers kept on producing for the Alliance, the Horde would attack the farms, the Alliance would retaliate on Tarren Mill and the Horde on Southshore. For the residents of Hillsbrad this back-and-forth became the norm, and residents lived in fear, rarely adventuring outside of the town limits.
Out-of-towners, however, would often be hypnotized by the false sense of security the beautiful sunny rolling greens gave. They didn’t realize that the tall grass and shady areas were a perfect spot for an enemy to walk up behind you and stab you in the back, and would often venture forth, ignoring the obvious dangers that lay ahead.
Crouched behind a tall green shrub was one of these enemies. He had killed many with his blade, but had not done it for glory or honour. He was not acting under orders from the Horde commanders, nor from anybody else for that matter. He was on his own mission, following his own orders, executing his own vendetta.
He killed them, not because they worked for the Alliance, but because they had been spared and he had not, because he had lost everything and they had not, and because when he had needed help the most, they had all turned their backs on him.
His mind wandered, and he thought of his previous life, and the young girl he had married. What was her name again? He tried to remember but couldn’t. His brain didn’t work the same anymore, and he often forgot things from his past life.
So what if I forget those memories? He thought to himself, looking down at his hands, the rotting flesh barely holding on to his bones.
Those people left me to rot, and deserve no less in return!
He clenched his dry, cracking wrists and almost screamed aloud, but all that came out was a dry grunt. He was now but a shadow of what he had once been. His body was small, wrinkled and discolored, his eyes pasty and white with a yellow glow, and his hair sticking out in disorder from all sides of this head. He was missing several teeth, and was certain he reaked, although he had no more sense of smell.
He was an abomonation, a man who had died but was not dead, a rotting corpse that walked the earth, instead of resting peacefully in the ground. He knew he was not alone, that there were more abomonations like him roaming the country side, many of who where fighting in the name of the Horde. They had often invited him to join them, and although he had refused on many occasions, he sometimes wondered why not? Why not join the Horde? Why not fight back against the ones who had turned their back on him?
No, he would stay where he was, slowly rotting in the rolling hills of Hillsbrad. He would take out his revenge slowly, one kill at a time. He would take the life of those who had been spared, because in the end all he wanted was to take away from them what had been taken from him.
Hidden by a tree at the top of a grassy hill, he scanned Hillsbrad for prey.