Craze of Darkness: A Tale of the Scourge in Stormwind
Stormwind. To travelers it represents the seat of humanity’s power but it is also an unspoken symbol of loss – for to the north there was once an even grander city, a city called Lordaeron…
As he had done many times after adventuring, Aetoss Broadshield trudged tiredly to the auction house to sell the various objects of interest he had found that day. But this day was different. He was speaking to the auctioneer, carefully appraising the price of a piece of armor when suddenly screams and snarls erupted around him. Clouds of green smoke blinded and choked the room. The paladin escaped to the open air so he could see what was happening. Undead ghouls were lashing and biting every living thing in their path.
Aetoss was familiar with the undead and had slain many ghouls in his travels but there was something peculiar about these creatures. These ghouls moved with their characteristic frenzied brutality, but also with a sense of calculated purpose. However, the fight was over as quickly as it had begun, the ghouls collapsing in a pile on the floor. The room’s occupants tried to make sense of what had happened in the flash of violence, and several were badly injured. One of the people caught in the fight approached and asked for aid. Aetoss recognized him as Sir Lorathane, a superior officer of Stormwind. Lorathane was emitting a strange green glow. The paladin called upon the Light to cleanse the corruption, but it seemed to have no effect.
His mind raced. Why isn’t the Light curing him? Where did the ghouls come from? How did they get into Stormwind without the guards knowing? Was it coincidence that the ghouls attacked an optimally populated and vulnerable building? Surely this is not strategy, I’ve never heard of a ghoul who…
As he questioned the possibilities he felt his arm pulse with pain and he removed his gauntlet to inspect the source. It was a small green gash near his elbow—he must have been injured in the chaos without realizing it. The cut had the same smell of decay as the ghoul’s corpses and he noticed a green haze slowly seeping out of the wound.
No. It can’t be…
Aetoss fled to the road behind the auction house to collect himself. Depictions of the Culling of Stratholme from the scrolls he read during his training intruded on his mind. As he became overwhelmed with the grizzly ramifications, he felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped.
“Aetoss, we must get out of here! I know people who can help us.” It was Lorathane. Aetoss was about to ask for clarification, but Lorathane had already began to run, yelling, “Follow me!”
The two ran hurriedly across the city until they arrived at a tavern in the Dwarven District. A shadow of foreboding crossed Aetoss’ mind but was quickly dismissed - this was not the time to become paralyzed by indecision. The barkeep didn’t look up as he and Lorathane walked past him to the kitchen. He felt relieved to see a small group of people in robes—surely this was some secret order of healers.
“Thank the Light! Something terrible happened at the auction house - a swarm of ghouls appeared out of nowhere and…” He stopped, his eyes regaining clarity after the adrenaline-filled escape. The group emanated the same green glow that was quickly encompassing his own body.
“They’re all infected! Sir Lorathane, what’s going on here!?”
Aetoss turned to see Lorathane standing in the doorway with his weapon drawn.
“You’re not leaving…alive,” Lorathane smirked.
Aetoss struggled for words. He had never spoken of it, but during the days of his training he had looked up to Lorathane, who gained a reputation for his power in combat. The idolization he once held crumbled like plaster.
“What have you done?!” Aetoss asked, shuddering as if with a sudden chill.
“To the basement, now.” Lorathane commanded.
Aetoss knew he stood no chance in a fight against Lorathane, who had far more experience in battle than himself, so he reluctantly started down the stairs.
“How can you do this? You’re a superior officer of Stormwind! How could you betray all you stood…”
“You’ll see. You’ll all understand soon,” Lorathane laughed.
As the paladin reached the bottom of the stairs he saw several other people, all of whom bore the same signs of infection. They looked up in silence, hope having left their eyes in consignment to their fate. Over the course of a few minutes some of them collapsed and began snarling. Whatever was happening, it was getting worse.
A new sensation began to surge through him – at first he felt fear, but it quickly transformed to exhilaration. He began to chuckle to himself, his voice becoming increasingly rough. Words and meaning left his mind, replaced by frenzied hunger. He felt compelled by an unseen force and was eager to fulfill its directive, especially if it meant he got to feed. He had become one with the scourge.
The swarm of ghouls moved quickly in tactical unison as they ran outside and started infecting key locations in the city. A ghoul alone was weak, but together they were strong. Even the powerful town guards fell to the combined ferocity of the swarm. Aetoss the Ghoul felt a rush like he had never experienced. He couldn’t stop moving; he didn’t want to. Each target became the only thing in his mind. His focus was like a magnifying glass set upon a single point and he wanted to see the world burn in its ray.
The town guards kept fighting the swarm, with heavy losses on both sides. Aetoss caught a swing from one of their swords and his carcass collapsed to the ground.
Darkness, sweet darkness.
Aetoss awoke as if from a dream. He looked down at his own hands, his own feet. He was back in his own body. But something was different – he outwardly looked the same, but something had changed within himself. Where there once was a sense of benevolent purpose was now this yawning, insatiable void. He was divided: one side was repulsed by the darkness he saw and the other side was compelled. He stood still in grim contemplation before uttering a single word to himself: “More.”
Somehow, he knew where to go and he knew where the others would be. The cycle of transformation, exhilaration, destruction, and death repeated itself many times. Their onslaught brought the plague to the Trade District, the Old Town, the Harbor, and even parts of the Castle. During the intermittent moments of clarity after death a part of himself questioned what he had become, but his misgivings rapidly submerged beneath the energetic thrill of frenzy.
Aetoss didn’t know how many times death claimed him that day, but at some point it all stopped. He was back—not only in form, but also in spirit. Relief turned to shame.
What have I done?
Only the others knew the role he played that dark day. Many of them went on to live their lives as if nothing happened, psychologically reconciling it as merely a frightful dream. But Aetoss knew. He knew that things wouldn’t be the same. Whatever acts of heroism he would gain renown for, whatever personal experiences of profundity would enrich his perspective – he could not change what happened that day when he succumbed to the craze of darkness.
PS: A version with screenshots is available here.
This is a dramatic retelling of events which unfolded naturally. Lorathane and I didn’t stage anything in advance. In fact, this was actually the first time I ever met him! Unexpected experiences like this are part of what makes an RP server special. Adventures await you if you seize the moment.
I hope you enjoy the story!
-Aetoss