[Story]The Thing in the Woods

Post by Skreeran

There exist few things in this world more terrible than the Undead or the Demons of the Twisting Nether, but exist they do. Even the horrible gods of the ancient lore are dwarfed by the most terrible of things. For these things are older, and are beyond the reach of even the most ancient lore.

My story begins in the Autumn, several years ago. I had lived in Southshore since the end of the Third War, and I was no stranger to the dangers of living so close to the undead. An acquaintance of mine; a certain Theodore Marsh, had heard rumors of a spot of land in the North that had survived the plague. Being something of an ecologist, he was quite interested. I dismissed it as nothing but a rumor and gave it no heed. He reluctantly agreed and we did not discuss the matter any further.

Months passed, and his thoughts became increasingly dominated by the wonder of the hidden grove in the North. Frequently I would hear him speaking to himself wondering how such a place could survive. Finally, on a windy night in the early spring, I awoke with a start to find him pounding on my door. He was dressed for travel and had a horse and cart ready out side. He told me that he could not stand to wonder any more and had to settle the matter, whether I accompanied him or not. I hesitantly agreed to come, knowing that without my aid he would surely perish and would never be heard from again.

We rode North for several days, staying out of sight of the undead guards, steadily approaching the spot he had marked on his map. As we grew closer, I felt a certain dread grow within my spirit, but tried to maintain the semblance of enthusiasm that my partner had. I wasn’t sure why I felt so uneasy, but it was assuredly not because of the scourge presence in the land.

Finally we came upon the spot Theodore had marked, and sure enough, there was indeed a small forest of green and growing trees in a small corner of the forsaken land. I felt relief at the finding, hoping to return home soon, but we had apparently not hidden well enough, for moments later a black-tipped arrow whizzed by our heads. We turned to find that a patrol of skeletons were charging at us. We cried out in fear and rode into the small forest. I didn’t pay much heed to it at the time, but upon later recollection I noticed that our assailants stopped short at the forest’s edge. We rode further and further in until the trees became too dense to drive our cart in, and, at my partner’s suggestion, we continued on foot. The trees overhead blocked the sunlight, first merely tinting it green, but as we hiked further, the light grew dimmer until at last we could barely see at all. The fear of the scourge was replaced once again by dread of the forest. Finally, we came upon a clearing in the center of the forest. In the middle of the clearing stood a large stone cairn that ominously towered over us. I suddenly noticed that Theodore was no longer beside me. Startled, a called out his name, quietly at first, but quickly calling even louder than I had ever called for anything.

An inhuman screech rang through the forest in return, followed by a cry of pure horror that I assumed was my partner. I broke out into a run trying to escape the forest, but there was no end in sight. I wandered for hours, trying to leave the woods, before finally finding the cart in which we entered. Theodore stood, dumbfounded, next to the cart. The horse was missing. I took my friend’s hand, leading him, stumbling, out of the woods. We walked for weeks, slowly returning to our homes, rarely eating or resting.

Weeks went by and Theodore’s health grew slowly better. I felt happier knowing that he was improving. We both went back to our lives, and we spoke less and less. Months passed, and his recovery began to slow, before finally halting. I began to frequently hear him speaking to himself, whispering terrible things when he thought I couldn’t hear. He became more and more jumpy and easily startled, and finally stopped leaving his house altogether. He was found dead in his house by his neighbors weeks later, a letter addressed to me near his body. I kept the letter for several days after it was given to me. I dared not open it, but I felt a strange need to discover its contents. Finally, in the middle of the night as I sat by my fire, taunted by the secrets of the note, I took out my letter opener, withdrew the missive and began to read it’s contents:

“Dear Randolph,

If you are reading this, I have perished by my own hand. I am sorry that this is the way it must be, but I cannot go on after having seen that thing. That horrible thing.

It is coming back for me.

It is coming back. I can feel it.

There is one thing I can give you before my death, and that is your survival. Run. Run as you have never run before.

Godspeed, my friend.
Theodore Marsh”

As I read the letter, I heard a shrill cry upon the wind. The same cry that I heard in the unspeakable forest that even the Scourge fear. An inhuman wail that chilled my very being, and the great dread returned to my weary soul. I opened my door and ran.

I write this now from the safety of Stormwind City, but I still feel at times that perhaps it may return for me. I dread the knowledge that one night, perhaps I may once again hear the loathsome wail of the thing in the woods.

Post by Adamsm

Lol nice heh. Talking about the curse of Trisfal Glades eh?

Post by Skreeran

I suppose, but not necessarily. Just trying to give Lovecraft a proper homage.

After all, the two things in the game that a references to his mythology are both currently killable by players... :P

This was just my first attempt at Lovecraftian Horror, I love his stories.

Post by Adamsm

Heh, it was pretty good. And they have had the myth that something in the Glades drove the High Elves insane when they first landed there......hmmm wonder if the orginal Guardian of Trisfal was suppose to stop the old god there or if it was always against the Demons.

Post by Skreeran

Right, I know the story, but I made sure to keep it vague. That's part of what made Lovecraft work so great, he hardly ever described or catagorized his monsters outright, instead letting the reader try and fail to imagine it... :P

[Story]The Thing in the Woods

Post Reply