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PostPosted: Sun Jan 12, 2014 8:52 am 
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Joined: Wed Jun 22, 2005 11:26 am
Posts: 300
Location: West Los Angeles, California
Dear Rossina Dreadweed,

I heard through the poison ivy that you just arrived in Sholazar Basin in Northrend. I hope you are finding the herbs and reagents that you require. Sorry I am unable to join you just yet, Rossina. In time, I will, when I gain more strength in my bones.

As for myself, I have taken to camping in Kalimdor of all places. I suspect that the other Servants of the Banshee may not understand my incessant need to get away from any and all civilization, and to wander through healthy flora and fauna, feeding upon fresh meat. But the farther away I am from the Eastern Kingdoms, the more I have been able to gain perspective on our collective efforts, and on my place in our Forsaken history.

In my peaceful resting, I have been thinking of poetry, as I often did in my human years. I have made a poem for you about my story. I hope you find it pleasing:

---

Patrick Hallren, it was my human name
Innocent scout leading boys and young men
Out in Lordaeon, a forest meadow
This meadow grew sick, and then a visit
Dark visitor he, with the upper hand
He waved his cursed hand towards the forest
Abominations and fiendish zombies
Did flood into that sick forest meadow
We were torn by the Cult of Damnation


But there was no end, not in this defeat
Reanimated bones and rotted flesh
The marionettes for a frozen king
Inching maggots for thoughts, roaches for dreams
Our blood turned black, our bitter nerves turned bare


To the necromancer's cruel musical
We swayed thus, crossed bones and reluctant flesh
Feeding like rats upon the crazed captured
Sadistic frenzies strictly commanded
That necromancer of frost and ruin
Within the putrid halls of Scholomance
Until we were spent, falling to pieces


Left and forgotten on the great bone pile
Beneath creeping halls we slept noisily
No hope possible, all was not quiet


Fate would raise me for soul-crushing conquest
Knights of death plagued the contested Plaguelands
A risen new scout within the forest
There I stood pointing towards the brilliant camps
Scarlet, Silver, and Argent, all did fall


Maggotbrain me, I coaxed them with a charge
Running towards battle-ready paladins
Unintentional, the rebelling brain
Securing a trap, the damned did falter
Near total defeat upon a grim field


Strings cut, I lay upon that wretched field
Sickly weeds took root between phalanges
Sickly weeks rooted in years of deep pain
Burning rains, fire ants, and fungal eye
Resting in tumult, resting with hunger
Hungry for life still, hungry for blessings
A painted still-life upon wicked ground
Mourning did not help, obscenities did
Quiet muttering under many moons


Autumnal moon above my wretched field
A widow crept near, a poisonous face
Rossina Dreadweed, it was her true name
She smiled down upon my fungal eye
Her boney hand swung down while mine arose
Greeting the new dawn, helped to my two feet
Hope sprouted within, fire ants fled the salve
Salvation with Sylvanas, Banshee Queen

And here I become, Petrakuss Vileshot
Fearless scout for both living and undead


---


I will write more of these poems as I wander through undeath, Rossina. Surely, both you and my poetry are keeping me from absolute insanity.

In your debt,

Petrakuss Vileshot


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 12, 2014 9:01 am 
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Performer

Joined: Wed Jun 22, 2005 11:26 am
Posts: 300
Location: West Los Angeles, California
My dear Petrakuss Vileshot,

It is good that you create these poems. It is keeping your mind intact and active. This is especially true after suffering the thought-draining slavery at Scholomance, and the years of rotting on that remote field. It speaks of your spirit, how you truly embraced the Shadow all those years. The fact that you had a tiny bit of rebellion within you that led to the defeat of your necromancer master, this speaks volumes. I believe the power of the Shadow is strong with you.

As you must know, finding you on that field has been one of the most memorable moments of my undeath. You have no idea how oddly jovial I felt - something that I had never felt before, or since. It was like finding a unique and dreadfully poisonous flower in the middle of nowhere. When I retired to my room that day, I actually did a dance.

Indeed I have been successful in finding precious reagents for the Royal Apothecary Society in Northrend. Next time we meet, I will show you how to carefully pick herbs for our concoctions. Our aims are high and mighty, and we need all the herbing fingers we can muster.

Embrace the Shadow, Petrakuss!

Rossina Dreadweed, Priestess of the Cult of the Forgotten Shadow


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