I am

A story about the first and only Undead Worgen Druid from the World of Warcraft setting. A mixture of initiation and unholy magic creates a creature the likes of which no one in the world has seen. Except one. In his travels through the forests of Lorderon, he comes across another special person. Lillian Voss.

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1. Before the Change

I am.

I was born Lord Wilfred Glendon in our fair city of Gilneas in the midst of the Second War. It was there, in her magnificent spires and flying buttresses that I was schooled and raised, both to be an educated man and to be a military leader. I was of certain nobility, and was expected to make my ancestors proud. Instead, I followed a much different path then was intended.

I am a Druid.

I trained under Madame Celestine of the Harvest, cultivating the earth and hearing the resonance in nature all around us. When the Third War echoed across the lands, I was barely able to grow a flower or heal the many scratches I had received at the hands of the roses I tended. As the war raged on, I felt the need to respond in kind to the people who needed us, but was expressly forbidden to go beyond our towering wall. I instead skirted along the perimeter, finding holes in the wall and assisting my brethren who were outside of the city-proper’s aid. I did what I could, when I could. My aid may have continued, had I not been caught.

I am a rebel.

Because of my treasonous actions, I was placed into confinement. Disgraced at what my countrymen had resorted to, I accepted my punishment and still fought as I could from the inside. That was where I met Crowley. He taught me what it was to still be a true Gilnean and recruited me into his ranks. I practiced my Druidic arts as best as I could, and began to find a focus inside me that fueled my anger. I found that when I tapped this power, a bestial hunger would rise up and blur my senses, but sharpen them and be exhilarating all the same. I wanted more.

I am feral.

When the attacks began and I saw what resulted from their bites and slashes, I at first wanted to join the packs of angry creatures. I realized it was the pain and anger inside me wanting release, and what better way to indulge in it could there be? These… things… turned my brethren into something more. Something I related to. So when we were finally released by King Greymane to aid in the fight against them, I almost sought one out just to have it attack me. But something held me back. I felt something in the earth that warned me to be wary and to prepare. I pleaded with some of the men that I fought alongside with and redirected their course away from the oceans and further inland. I prevented our deaths during the Cataclysm.

I am a hero.

To add insult to injury, we discovered that there was an enemy who poured through into our country with the destruction of our wall. These Undead monstrosities made the feral creatures pale in comparison to their atrocities. Rumors flew like the wind that these aberrations were able to raise our slain countrymen to bolster their ranks. But there were other rumors as well. Rumors that these “Worgen” were also still human, and able to control their shifting given the help of the Elves. Most important, once you were one of them, you could not be raised as the Undead. Crowley himself had become one and I saw firsthand the power it gave him. He said it was a process that did not take long, and that I could partake if I so desired. I did so desire.

I am Worgen.

Something has gone terribly wrong. In the midst of the ceremony to turn me into a Worgen, we were attacked by the Undead. They had apparently learned of our location and ability to turn each other and taken action to cease it. I feel powerless to help. I have already been bitten by one of them and can feel the flame in my blood. The Elves have blessed me with the ability to control it, but the process is still excruciating and lengthy. Fellow Worgen and men alike fall in spades around me as the mightier force of Undead sweep through the area. I see the Worgen who are killed be left behind, while the men are dragged off back the way they came. I reach down deep inside me, hunched over in the dirt of my land. My hands and fingers curl in the soil and feel the life all around me, lending me their power. I look up with a snarl on my lips, just as the axe comes plummeting down into my skull.

I am dead.

I scream an endless scream as the light I approached is yanked back into oblivion. My scream turns into a howl as blue energy swirls around me. I feel coldness, so deep down in my soul that I can sense the ice in my heart. Something is trying to control me. A presence in my mind that tells me I should be angry at the living for letting me go. A voice that tells me to follow… her. My “Queen”. But I am lying on the earth. I can still feel a warmth trickling up my spine to my head, pushing the thoughts away. I can feel the flame in my blood purging the evil from my heart. I force my eyes open and see winged blue women floating above me. I slowly stand and am surrounded by the Undead. But they do not attack.  I recognize fellow Gilneans, shambling aimlessly around. I see them equipping themselves for battle and can hear fighting in the distance. I look down at my own hands and am horrified at what I see.

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