I suppose it's about time I sat at my own desk to write down my own tale. Granted, most desks are carved of wood and lit by a lamp while mine is carved of bone and lit by a Elven skull I've been covering with oil and lighting aflame, but different strokes..
My name is Cologan Kendric, nicknamed 'Bean' after I once stuffed an elven kidney with them and began to play a game of keep-it-up. As hard as it is to believe, I wasn't always the hateful and arrogant bastard that I am today. Granted, it was present even at birth. Born to a small and remote village, I was a terror even at birth. I murdered my own mother with my simple entrance into the world, a murder for which I was never left to forget by my drunken excuse of a father. With that always in the open, it's not hard for one to believe I was teased to the point of frustration by the other children. I unleashed that frustration in the form of several cruel pranks, taking fingers and once a limb more than a fair amount of times. It wasn't until two very...special elder boys took a liking to beating me bloody that I 'crossed the line' they'd set for me.
You see, once I reached my eighteenth winter of age, I let go of those pathetic morals most had about life. Years of abuse had left that ever-beating muscle in my chest tainted black with hatred and vile thoughts of the death of everyone in that little hamlet. I had spent most of my time in the woods with a small pack of wolves I had been feeding fresh corpses. Oh, they weren't my first kills. No, I asked the Gravedigger to take them off his hands. It saved him work and kept the wolves from terrorizing the village, so he had no complaint. Little did the foolish bastard know that once a wolf gains a taste for human flesh, they'll do damn near anything for more. Even befriend me.
Those two boys soon stumbled onto me and the pack in our clearing. Evidently, they had tracked me down from behind without my notice. How they did so still confuses me, but they're dead. It doesn't matter. As they made their usual threats and comments, I didn't very well let them finish their routine. You see, wolves tend to defend their masters if they sense hostility towards them. I didn't even need to make a motion before the wolves were upon both of them, tearing them apart as brutally as they could. Even as a splash of blood from a chewed artery hit me in the face, I burst into laughter. It was the most glorious and yet amusing thing I'd ever seen.
Three days passed after they 'vanished'. Only then were their bones found and their clothing torn apart around it. When I attempted to explain that they must have foolishly wandered into the woods and the wolves had their fill of them, the Gravedigger gave me up and told them of my activities. It wasn't long until I found myself bloodied once more by the village as a whole, laying across the outskirts. The wolves lay dead around me as a lesson. What that lesson was never truly reached me, I found.
As I traveled across the lands, struggling to make a living even if only for a meager amount of time, I happened across a Magi. His name was Krauxis Xavier. My tutor. When he found the depths of my heart corrupted with spite and hatred, he didn't wait for me to agree to his training. He brought me to a secluded area and sat me down. As I sat, I found my mind pulled free from my body into something he dubbed 'The Dreamstate'. It was his own plane of existence that wasted not even a second of reality's time. Here, he began his training.
His first test was a rather complex one, I found. Before myself and the other's he'd brought, he called a farmer into being. The man was poor and his wife leaving, his lifestock dead and his home fleeting. He asked us a simple question. Inflict judgement upon him and determine his next course of action. The first few involved murdering him. A woman attempted to seduce him. All ended in death.
When I stepped up to the plate, a different tale unfolded. I leaned to his ear and simply whispered words to him. "Your wife is nothing but a harlot and your life better without her. Your livestock are meaningless. Pitiful creatures meant to die from the moment they're birthed. Your home is where you carve it. Your riches drawn from those you remove from the equation. Go now and murder those who fair better than yourself simply due to the stupidity of other's. For what is life without death?"
Krauxis stood and stared at those words. Transfixed in what had just transpired as if in disbelief. Those words I had passed to the man had led him to be a rather deadly serial killer who was never caught due to the gold he'd stolen from the kills, using it to live and alter his appearance. It hadn't been what Krauxis planned for him yet my result was the only one that led him to happiness.
For years, I trained in The Dreamstate, gathering as much from Xavier as I possibly could. More tests much like that one were had. Yet when he finally let me free from his grip and I stood in that clearing, still in my eighteenth year yet holding the knowledge of a man several centuries ahead, I was alone.
It was then that I traveled back to the village that had exiled me from their arms and set each and every building aflame...leaving only grisly trophies of the townspeople behind. Each was murdered in creative ways that I can only imagine still are spoken of to this day. The Blacksmith, I recall, was found with his tongs piercing his eye sockets and the hammer forced head-first into his anal cavity.
My first life-time ended on a rather enjoyable note. I permitted myself to die as I rammed my fist, set alight by my own magic, down the throat of an arrogant bastard of a guard who sought to bring me into his prison. Even as I felt twelve arrows sink into my spine, I took great pleasure in tearing his beating heart out from his throat and crushing it in a shower of firey blood.
Yet, the first death was not quite enough for me. Soon, I found myself pulled into being once more by the hand of Arthas. Of course, like most under his control, I remember little of my time in his hand. When Sylvanas pulled me free of him, it was a rather pleasant surprise. The gore of a war as a rebirth day surprise? Oh, she shouldn't have. After all was settled and life returned to...somewhat normality, I was permitted to go about my business.
I found myself in Silvermoon, helping a small band of mercenaries with their duties. It promised blood with free payment for doing what I'd lovingly do regardless, so it seemed something I'd enjoy. I did. Yet, an elf also took enjoyment in my work and declared that she loved me for my bastardly ways. Ironic that I'd fall so quickly to seduction. Though she loved me, she refused to be mine for the fact I was dead. I could hardly blame her.
When who happens across my path again but Krauxis? I spoke at length with him about the predicament. He knew of a way to grant me life once more and soon it was underway. I sat aflame on a bed for nearly a week, the agony unbearable as the flames of life borrowed their sickening way into my bones once more. When I arose, I found my heart beating and skin replaced with fresh pink hues. An elf.
I went to speak with her in my new form. Yet what should I discover when I walk into her room than another male elf, nude and burrowing between her thighs like some sort of maggot? Needless to say...I murdered both that night and strung them from the rafters to cover my tracks. After taking my own life and ending my second time among the living, I was brought back once more as a Forsaken.
Now, I live my life as I choose. I murder whomever I care to and offend whoever happens to be within range. My main target of choice for bloodletting? Elves. They sicken me with their ways and their very looks. I can't very well walk into that city without the stench of sex greeting my nostrils.
May this short and sweet summary of my life live up to your standards, reader. For the moment, I'm dropping this quill to feed my spider cave. I've a still struggling troll tied and waiting to be feasted upon. Good day.
