Sven's little holiday

It's happy hour, the alcohol is flowing. It's time to pull up a tankard of ale, bottle of wine for the ladies and regail tales of heroism and grandeur.

Topic/Postby Sven » 19 Aug 2016, 08:18

Sven's little holiday

I'm not the best at writing but it's nice to get down a little log of what's happening to Sven when I'm not actually playing the game, I suspect this will come in three parts.


Things were not going well for Sven. It started with small things, like having his heart broken having to watch the woman he loved with another, this escalated when he got himself involved in the ugly criminal underbelly of Stormwind. Sven being involved in illegal gambling, drinking and fighting would normally be considered a slow news day but he was always one to pay his debts, it was a rule that had served him well and kept him breathing all this time, but somehow with everything that had been going on he had gotten behind on his payments, far behind. He had friends who could help, sure. But turning to them would be more shame than it was worth, he had always played off that he never cared what people thought about him but deep down he still had some standards, somewhere, his friends could view him as a joke, a drunk and a fool but he would never be a burden on them. To top off his recent run of terrible luck the beast within him has been gaining a foothold again resulting in him briefly turning on his sister in a fit of anger, fortunately she being a worgen herself was more than capable of defending herself. However it made his mind up for him, there was nothing else for it.
The next morning, up before the rooster he had his bags packed, his rifle ready and of course Tyson his longest friend and faithful hound at his side. He had hastily scrawled a few letters to certain individuals but in all honestly he couldn’t even recognise the lies from the truth anymore. Something about leaving, not knowing if he would return, not to look for him. The usual depressing content one of these letters contains. The first few days he set off east deep into the Redridge Mountains, he’d not spent much time there and he figured nobody would look for him there. Tyson was his usual happy self, unaware of anything out of the ordinary – just another hunting trip to him. Sven had thought long and hard about leaving him behind this time and in truth only really changed his mind the morning he left, his dopey Dog happily bounding up and down the Tavern, excited to get out and back into the hunt – how could he refuse him?

The journey had him thinking more about the beast within him, out here when he was alone he felt at least, no pressure within him threatening to burst forth – the beast was calm, happy even. Perhaps it had influenced the man he had become more than he realised, he always assumed hunting was his one true passion but perhaps it was the beasts. He had never bothered to get to know that side of himself, it was a disgusting reminder of the creatures that terrorised his youth. He didn’t even truly know what his beast looked like, the times he had changed he normally blacked out and awoke covered in blood with a full belly of meat he’d rather not identify.

The night of the third day drew closer and he figured it was far enough away from Stormwind that nobody would find him. Out here he was just another adventurer, a nobody. He set up camp beneath a large oak tree; strong branches tore forth from the trunk covering the night sky above him. The gentle buzz of the crickets in the grass the only sound for miles, with the exception of Tyson snoring loudly next to him. He placed a sure foot upon the trunk of the tree and pulled himself up onto a large branch, his hands reaching for the next branch up until he was sufficiently high enough but not so high as to risk standing on a weaker limb. It was a good view, nothing but mountains, grass and the night sky.

The thick rope was coarse in his hands, he had tied the knot before but it never came as easily as it did this night, a sign perhaps. He placed the noose around his neck and pulled the knot up close before tying the other end around the thick branch he was sat on and with that he shuffled forwards off the edge, in the end it wasn’t even difficult, if nothing else he was looking forward to seeing his father again.

“You are so weak” a rough voice from the darkness was the only thing he could determine, shortly after a sharp pain around his neck. His vision slowly began to return to him. He was in the same place as before, under the large Oak tree – only it wasn’t the same, at first he thought his vision was blurred but it now seemed like the world itself was blurred he could focus on nothing beyond the perimeter of the tree. The voice came from a Worgen, not one from the city with their illfitting clothes and their polished weapons. This Worgen was raw, ruthless, tattered and scarred, naked and angry. A worgen from his past, with matted fur and plagued drool dropping from curled and twisted lips, teeth too big for his mouth twist and snarl. He had never seen him before and yet immediately he knew exactly who it was, it was of course himself.
“What must I do to escape from you?” Sven muttered angrily, his voice breaking and churning from the strain of the rope which hung limply from his neck, chewed away no doubt by this beast.
“Escape? There is no escape. Only the gnawing, unending deterioration of your mind. Oh Sven we’re so close now”
“Close, to what?”
“To the eventual breaking of your mind, finally I will be free. Free from your pathetic existence”
“I’ll never allow it, I’ve seen what you do – you’ll never be free, you can’t be”
Sven rose to his feet, anger surging through his veins. He didn’t honestly expect to win a fistfight with a Worgen but if he was killed he didn’t see it mattering much. It didn’t matter as when his clenched fist met the Worgen’s jaw a force pushed him violently back into the Oak tree. Dazed once more his vision returned to the darkness, the only sound in his ears was the loud laughter coming from the beast.

He woke much later to the cold, wet nose of his hound nuzzling at his face. A high pitched whining noise in his ears, it was morning and his neck stung, the rope still embedded in his skin. He couldn’t remember if the events of the previous night were true or if it was all just a hallucination. He laid a hand upon Tyson to settle him and for a moment just sat there, staring at the sun as the tears streamed down his cheeks.
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