Shreds of Sanity

[Gnash]

Mortimer's trade caravan, a colon of three carts filled with exotic wares and fine spices, had just arrived on the border of Duskwood with the Redridge Mountains. They had left the red rocky valley behind and entered the eerie woods. It was raining that day. The horses were excited.

“Darnit John, keep 'em horses at ease. We don't want no staggerin' and our cart's inventory spread on the side of this here road,”  he barked at his son.

“Sure thing poppa, ol' Bessy just seems spooked by the rain, tha's all. Easy, Bessy â€" girl.”

But the horses didn't calm down. They had heard the branches break. They had seen two glimmering dots in the bushes. Eyes â€"  watching every step they took. No, the horses knew a storm was brewing. But before Mortimer and his two sons knew that they had been turned to prey, it was too late. Their predator, a bulky orc with a massive warhammer, jumped out of the bushes. A deafening roar, that could have been mistaken for that of a bear or lion, drowned the desperate cries for help. Not even the horses survived.

-----

The orc kneels down by a puddle to wash off the blood and bone splinters. He sees his reflection, twisted and malformed by the raindrops that wrinkle the surface.

“You can control it, Gnash. This event was a mere set-back. You are in control. Not it. You.”

The orc keeps repeating this â€" even starts to chant it, trying to convince himself that he hasn't succumbed to bloodlust. But he knows: It is not in his control. Not anymore. He keeps staring at his twisted reflection, trying to come to his senses.

“Why control it, orc? Set it free, and it will bring you glory. Glory and power. Let it take over. Give in. Succumb.”

A voice in his head. It had grown stronger over the past few weeks. Never had it been so clear as this moment. Gnash rubs his temples, and shuts his eyes. As he opens them, he flinches. His twisted reflection stares. At him!

“This is all in my head. Stop it! I am above this. I said STOP!”

The orc stomps his fist in the puddle. The surface breaks, but as Gnash removes his fist, he sees 'it', the entity, hasn't gone. It just keeps staring. Sternly. Gnash bites his own hand to try and awake from this horrid dream. It doesn't work. He whimpers.

“Set it free and claim your place.”

“I-I... I can't.”

“Claim it.”

“No...”

“Claim it!”

“... Claim it.”

[Mazguul]

(( Scary! It's always great to read about characters you don't get to see in game very often. Thankies for writing, especially since it's well written too, and I can't wait to see how this plays out ))

[Vargosh]

((Nice read Gnash!
Good to know Gnashie too has fallen into bloodlust, sadly Vargosh is starting to loose his. D: ))