Part 1 of 4: Regret
The solitude was not that which drove him insane. He enjoyed being alone. He enjoyed the feeling of the darkness enveloping his skin. In fact, he relished and savoured the touch of the Shadow. In a similar vein, he also knew that it was not Light deprivation. He had ensured that he had called upon its power at least twice a day. The masochistic Undead was unwilling to be apart from the force despite the best wishes of The Admiral.
“Stay your hand... from the Light, Father. Allow your... body... a chance to be whole... again.”
Geriand did not approve of the Admiral’s care or consideration. Geriand did not even approve of the results they were achieving. Almost four months ago, he had left behind everything to join The Admiral’s fleet and work on the cure; a cure which would be responsible not only for saving all of Azeroth, but perfecting it. It was to be the ultimate purge of all that is weak, impure, and vulnerable. Geriand had toiled endlessly, night and day upon night and day, to ensure he achieved only the most pivotal and vital of results. This potion, this elixir, this plague; it had to be perfect.
“You do your... self no good to strain... like this, Father... take a moment to... rest.”
The Admiral clearly plotted against him. The Admiral must know. Geriand knew. He knew the truth. He tried to fight it, to begin with. It became harder though; the longer he stayed on The Admiral’s ship, the harder it became. He found himself repeating his words, struggling to concentrate. Whispers, voices, mutterings. The omnipresent signs of madness, and they all flittered throughout his mind, throughout his secrets, throughout his soul. Geriand knew that if he stopped working, that this presence would find a weakness, and he would show no weakness.
“Father, your work is almost... complete; please allow... me to... finish it.”
He had succumbed. Perfection is a lie. Even the most perfect of forms cannot sustain themselves eternally. Everything must rest; everyone must take a moment to catch their breath. Yet, it is this moment that the presence desires. Once Geriand had relaxed, allowed his mind to open. He felt it enter. He fainted.
~
The shadows encircle and trap his beloved. Kaylina screamed in fear as a pack of Worgen swarmed towards her. Their leader’s jaws emitted succulent saliva that appeared to be contagious for as the first drop splashed against the shadowy essence which mad e up this nightmare world his pack began to drool like famished hounds on the hunt. Geriand reached out to Kaylina, but she screamed at the sight of him. Desperately he fought through the shadows to reach her before the Worgen could. Each step carried him closer to his beloved; each and every motion while she lived was an extra dosage of hope. Somehow, he reached her. Yet the shadows were cruel. As his arms locked around her waist, as he moved to kiss her as he once did; she exploded. Geriand looked down at his arms, and saw he was no longer Undead, he was human. The fresh blood dripping from his tasty, fattening, tender flesh was too much for the Worgen. They leapt onto him, their jaws clamped shut. Hair shot out from his arms, his own jaw extended. Gregor Farrow roared in pain as the Curse of the Moon took hold of him…
~
The Admiral had found Geriand experiencing what he could only describe as a fit. Scattered across the cabin was the Forsaken Priest’s alchemy equipment. Bottles smashed samples loose, and most importantly. Precious test results lost. The Admiral looked at him disapprovingly before smirking.
“I guess... we’ll be... stopping for supplies... again, Father?”
Subject: The Corruption of Dusksworn 
Fri Jul 01, 2011 10:33 am
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