Book that I Write in: Learning to Eat

Book that I write in,

I was riding with Vaalis's along the Northern coast of Stranglethron Vale; the sea turned to ice in front of his charger's hooves and enabled us to travel on the ocean. Vaalis said he was going to teach me how to eat, and the more I thought about it the more I convinced myself I must have misheard him. It just didn't make any sense. I knew I didn't need to eat as Forsaken; in fact, this marked the first time I'd thought about food since coming out of the grave. More so, there was just no good reason for him to make me take such a long journey by zeppelin and then horseback simply to eat. There were bats in Trisifall with perfectly good meat on them. Bats were such a staple in Forsaken society anyways; we ride them to flight masters, sow cloaks from their hides and even keep them as pets. I thought if we needed to eat, bats would be a common part of the Forsaken diet.

I was so lost in my thoughts I didn't notice the landscape change gradually from lush jungle to dry wheat field. I had exhausted my capacity to amuse myself by fiddling with the horn on the saddle and watching the water frost over and was just starting to work up the courage to ask Vaalis what he had really said before we left when he pulled on the reigns and his mount slowed to a trot. He looked down at me and announced we were here. I looked around, torn from my thoughts.
“We're...Here?” I asked, unsure. As his steed approached the shore I saw what looked like dry farmers fields and grass. Did Forsaken graze like cattle? I wondered. For someone who enjoyed talking so much Vaalis really didn't like repeating himself.

“Yes, dim little worm, we are here.” He snapped at me. His mount stopped and I scrambled off the sadde and onto the shore while he tethered his charger to a nearby dock, while it still stood on frozen water. I opened my mouth to ask him a question and he replied with the anwser before I could ask it.

“The grass is yellow, the buildings are brown, the sky is blue. Now silence little worm.” I wasn't sure why he was so on edge, but he was looking around cautiously with his hand on the hilt of his weapon, ready to draw it. I tried to emulate him as we stalked up a nearby hill. Vaalis was moving very slowly to minimize the sound of his heavy plate armour creaking. As we crested the hill Vaalis motioned for me to lay down, and he fell to one knee and smiled.

I laid on my stomach, following his gaze to the foot of the hill and nearly gasped aloud. There were humans who had made camp at the foot of hill we were standing on! My jaw fell open as I gazed at them, moving and talking, sharping their weapons and oh... They were cooking meat. What was left of my nostrils flared as I smelt it, it was amazing. I was adapting to the dulled sights and smells of being Forsaken, but to inhale the sent of this meat was new and so divine! I'm sure I would have salivated if I was able.

Immediately, I gushed with appreciation for Vaalis. Just because we didn't have to eat didn't mean we shouldn't! How kind of him, how considerate, I reasoned, of him to take me all this way to bear witness to the finest meat cooks in all of Azeroth. I thought they must hide here in the middle of nowhere to escape the pressures of society and better hone their cooking and butchery skills.

I wondered how we were to acquire the meat from them. Was it possible to buy it? Would they trade with Forsaken? Perhaps it was a test and I was to steal to the meat from their fire undetected? That seemed more likely. I counted: there was seven of them. I was just going over the logistics of where to place my smoke bomb to distract the most of them when Vaalis laughed and began to charge down the hill, his blade drawn.

I didn't move from my position, but I watched with mild horror as Vaalis cut the masked, magical, meat chefs down. I had killed Scarlets - often, in fact - but these ones had not attacked us! Vaalis wielded his weapon (which I'm sure is as big as my entire person) with great skill, cutting down the seven men in four clean blows.

Being a fledgling Deathstalker, my trainers often chastised me for fighting on my heels rather than my toes, but Vaalis fought entirely on the offensive and seemed to be enjoying himself; laughing merrily. The massacre was over seconds later, and Vaalis was cleaning his runeblade on the shirt of a fallen human. I snuck down the hill towards the succulent meat; unable to resist it's siren call any longer. Wiggling the bones of my fingertips I snatched my prize from it's spit and tore into it ravenously. I chewed thoughtfully, then slowed down, examining the meat. Something was wrong, it tasted like nothing. I could smell it distinctly, and the texture was there... I spat out my mouthful, gingerly biting into another section of the meat only to find the same complete lack of taste. It might as well have been dirt in my mouth. I was baffled, and found the disconnect from smell and taste mildly disturbing. My plan originally was to show Vaalis how well I could eat, but now I feared I was defective as a Forsaken.

I was torn from my thoughts by the sound of hysterical laughter from Vaalis. A small voice in the back of my mind commented that the Forsaken seemed remarkably prone to laughter, so long at it was at the expense of another of their kind.

"No, little worm..." he chided. "Like this." And he bent low to one of the slain humans and pressed his mouth against the stomach of the corpse. I jumped back when I saw him tear into the flesh of the freshly slain man and eat his innards by handfuls, pausing only to slurp down a bit of intestinal tubing loudly.

"By the Dark Lady's rotting tits!" I exclaimed, jumping back and cowering from Vaalis. He beckoned me to the corpse with remarkable (and slightly uncharacteristic) patience, gently explaining it would be alright. He finally won me over by saying I would likely taste the flesh, which tilted my mental scale just over to 'curious' from 'disgusted'.

I approached the corpse cautiously, as if any moment it may have sprung to life and attacked me. I gathered my courage and remembered the time I had taken apart bodies to learn more about human jaws. Vaalis reached inside the open stomach and handed me a bit of unrecognizable flesh. I took it in my hands and sniffed at it like a nervous animal, then looked up to see Vaalis giving me an exasperated look. Silently reminding myself I had experienced worse, I popped the flesh into my mouth and chewed, keeping my hand over my mouth so I couldn't spit it out and disappoint him further.

The flesh tasted like pork tinged with copper. It was interesting and I thought maybe humans were the other, other white meat. Asides from being the first thing I'd tasted in weeks, the sensation was wonderful. Vaaais explained as I chewed, sitting back on the ground and wiping his tin jaw with the back of his hand.

“The flesh of the living regenerates us, little worm.” He said, drawling. “This is an important trick! Do not forget, humans are vile creatures who attack us without a thought, wanting to put us back into the graves we crawled from. When they raise arms against you, you must defeat them, then consume their flesh and take their power for your own.”

Somewhere during Vaalis's explanation I decided the sensation of healing that eating provided combined with actually being able to taste something was euphoric, and I tore into what remained of the body in a frenzy for more. Vaalis watched me with a strange lopsided grin, but I was so consumed with eating the poor bastard in front of me that I couldn't appreciate his approval.

The lack of colour in my sight makes killing humans easier, I'm convinced of this. I'm not very brave, and while the trials of the Forsaken are meant to push your limits, I don't think they have made me braver at all; in fact, I think they've just made me better at hiding my cowardice (which is close enough for me). But what I'm trying to say is that if I saw red blood flow from my enemies rather than a thick grey liquid I'd probably be a lot more squeamish about the whole killing thing. Still, I couldn't bring myself to chew on the head of this man. His expression in death was one of shock and anger, I could tell even with the mask on his face. I also noted he had a tattoo of a cog on his hand, which I found strange. Vaalis made a comment about not expecting me to be such a messy eater and immediately I froze, like a guilty criminal caught in the act. Suddenly I was very self conscious of the blood and gore covering my mouth.

Sheepishly I looked at Vaalis, then took the mask from the body and used it to clean my mouth. I wanted to blink my eye sockets, and looked down at the mask, realizing I felt marginally better with the cloth wrapped around my face. So I secured it behind my head and wore it. I know what you're thinking, and no; it wasn't for some poetic reason about taking the garb of my enemy as well as their flesh. It was because I thought then (and now) that the rot around my mouth is pretty damn unsightly. I wore that mask for months, and still cover my mouth even though I know worrying about facial decay when you're Forsaken makes about as much sense as nasal surgery with a screwdriver.

Vaalis and I started going through the pockets of the men he killed, liberating them of any coin. He explained to me the advantages of being Forsaken while we looted. I was impressed with what he told me, the will of a Forsaken is exceptionally strong, and we resist magics of dark nature with greater ease than other races. I hadn't known of or used any of these benefits yet, but I felt stronger and more prepared just for hearing them.

Vaalis threw something at me when we finished, and at first I thought it was my share of the kill, but closer examination revealed it was a flat stone with a strange sigil on it. I looked at him questioningly, and he told me it was a 'hearthstone' and claimed it would bring me back to The Sepulcher. I was then to go to Hillsbrad and aid the Forsaken I found in 'Tarren Mill'. I looked down at the stone in wonder, thinking about how interesting it would be in new lands, lending my sword to new Forsaken when I heard the sound of a spell being cast.

My head snapped up, and my hollow eye sockets fell on the spot where Vaalis had stood moments earlier. I called for him for several minutes before realizing he was gone, and my yells were likely to attract the attention of other humans in the area. Panicked, I called on the hearthstone and felt the pull of magic take me away, back to the lands I knew.

It took me a moment to adjust to the dim clouds of Silverpine after standing in the bright sun of... Wherever I had been. I patted myself down, making sure my mask was on and the teleport from the stone had not caused any of my limbs to disappear. Looking around the graveyard of the Sepulcher, I noted how grateful I was to have a familiar landscape. If there's one thing being made aware of your own existence, after spending years fighting as a mindless tool for an evil being will do, it's make you appreciate the little things.

Maybe my personal reflection on recognizable sights was the cause, but I quickly spotted the back of another Forsaken's head poking above a tombstone in the distance. The Sepulcher is very quiet, and I had seen few other Forsaken save for those who lived there, so I was curious about this head and who it belonged to. I also felt capable and proud after using a hearthstone for the first time, so I decided to investigate. I walked quietly along the far side of the graveyard, hoping to keep my intentions of getting a better look at the mystery Forsaken a secret.

When my walk finally shifted my perspective so I could see the profile of this Forsaken I knew instantly I had made the right choice by indulging my curiosity. He had been a man in life, with a bald head and long limbs. He wore tattered robes and a string of small beads around his neck. I was fascinated with the chair he sat on, it sported large wheels that looked as if they had seen much use. My engineering mind was elated, and demanded to know why the frame was that size, or why I couldn't see any discernible brake system or eject button. I reasoned he must not be able to walk, as his legs looked battered and useless. After I observed his chair, I concluded it was designed with extreme simplicity, but it also made sense in a very pragmatic way.

I forced myself to look away from the chair and back to his face, and I was shocked by the expression he wore. He looked very contemplative, and (I have still never used this word to describe another Forsaken in all my time out of the grave) very approachable. Without thinking I had taken a step towards him, my desire to speak with a Forsaken who looked so peaceful overwhelming my higher brain functions.

He turned his head to look at me as I came closer, and I saw he lacked eyes as well. My words were spilling from my mouth before I had a chance to think about how stupid they must have sounded. "That's quite the chair you have..."

"Book that I Write in" is the journal of Genavie, a Forsaken Deathstalker. The story is ongoing and based off of actual roleplay done with the character on Wyrmrest Accord - US. The first entry can be found here."