"The Butcher of Blackwald": Chapter I

Chapter I

„Early life”

My name is Dieter von Drakenhof. I am Forsaken, I am blessed by the immortality of the undeath. I serve the Cult of Shadow in a rank of captain. My task is to enforce the Shadow’s blessing and Will of Sylvanas to the Living and heretics by means of bloodshed.

It appears, I have everything I desire, that my existence is satisfying.
A high position in one of Her’s best organizations, respect…perhaps.
Battle hungry men to lead…again, daily portion of slaughter to satisfy my sadistic needs and most important, Divine Shadow to help me control them.

But it wasn’t like that all the time…once I was one of the humans I seek to destroy now, pathetic warmblooded cockroach.

I was born in Stormglen Village on Gilneas Peninsula, 45 years before the First War. World was completely different place compared to what it is now.
Alliance hasn't existed yet and Horde was just starting its invasion on the Kingdom of Stormwind. But nations of the north weren’t aware that much of what was happening in the south nor they cared. Except from few Wood Troll raids and occasional bandits harassing remote settlements, relative peace was maintained. My family was of a noble origin, hailing from Duskhaven, they have decided to settle in Stormglen, and open a successful merchant business.
Varity of trade goods would be brought from Kul Tiras, Stormwind or even Exotic Southern Islands. My father was tall and slim, athletically built man, I believe he was the one I should have thanked for my similar appearance back then. He was a man of a few words, a sarcastic but smart person, settling the business deals with witty smile on his thin lips. I knew he loved me, although he never showed it directly…but I knew he did because he taught me all, gave me the books, opened the doors to the wisdom for me. After all I was a heir to his trade business and yes, like me, he hated my mother.
That fat pig, I called “mother”, never deserved my sympathy. Why?..I’ll explain soon. I also had a sister, beautiful angel…her name was Isabelle, or Izzy as I called her. Technically, she wasn’t my sister at all. Isabelle was a love child of my father, a fruit of his love affair with one of Gilnean aristocracy ladies, one who would never rise her, so my father took her, year later he married my mother and so my sister stayed with them while I was born a year later.
Mother hated Isabelle, she was her stepmother of course, but her insane adoration of my father let her into hate toward Isabelle…the bastard child of her beloved husband. Her obsession with my father as silly as it was ridiculous. My father actually had never lover the mother, he married her in order to settle down and avoid the rumors of him being a womaniser. She was so blind and foolish that she would have never thought of blaming him for the affair, her rage was directed at Isabelle.

My childhood was different than of the village folk, I wasn’t the most popular boy. Because of my noble blood the other children would avoid me…for a good reason. I dearly hated these pissants, the way they smelled…like a cow’s filth. I was reading books, they did not. I could write, they couldn’t. I was the best of them surely, but because of my individuality, my only companion…and even more, was Izzy.
I saw my father on rare occasions, he would either travel across the country, or the seas. “Business” he would say, but I think he secretly tried to get away from the mother. I knew Isabelle would often cry…she tried to cover up the bruises on her head under that heavenly golden hair of hers I adored so much.

We sticked together for all these years…two outcasts of noble blood among the uneducated masses of peasants. I finally found out the true power I had over them…wisdom...and with this, I could manipulate them into my own bidding with no difficulties.
But deeply, I hated them all…not only them but everything that surrounded me. The two faced society, snobby noblemen and their constant boasting.
They were all blank...inside, their well shaved pretty faces were masks, to hide emptiness inside, they were illusions. To have everything, all material goods they could desire and at the other hand, nothing…no soul, no emotions.
Was I like them?…probably, I have tried to think otherwise, but my soul was as corrupted as theirs. But in a little different way, I was prideful as them and arrogant but never passive and idle. There was and uncontrolled rage stirring within me, angry beast clawing at the world. It began with drawings…I tried to unload my rage into paper…my rage at society and my love for Isabelle that slowly changed from brotherly love into something else…more carnal. I knew it was wrong but as much as I hated the society I wanted to be different.

One day my father was invited for a fox hunt and he never returned from it. We were told that he had accidentally shot himself while cleaning the rifle. Of course, unlike my silly mother I had never believed in it, such plots were common for rivalries between nobles and I was sure that my father’s death was not an accident. Fortunately, according to my father testament, I inherited all the money. That and my father’s demise were final factors of my mother’s madness.
A little later after this, my lust for Isabelle could be held in check no longer, I was drunk, that was true and Izzy was right there for me, she was always so calm and cheerful, despite of what mother did to her…but I knew that deep inside her mind was as much as scarred as mine, or even more. I believe I was too hot headed, I scared her and she run away. Isabelle would not speak to me anymore after this. I was saddened, true, but I also thought that my dissapereance would give her some time to think this through.

So I went to the Greymane City, to continue my education there. For years I’ve witnessed the vanity of aristocracy, the bitterness of pathetic beggars. My hatred toward the falseness of life was at its peak. It begun with beggars, bodies were found dumped into the city canals, then I targeted the whores, lecherous bitches, this I surely enjoyed more than beggars. I slowly “tasted” all the classes of the society and learned about their insignificance to death. Then I invited some of my “friends” of a very high social status, prideful young men who indulged themselves talking about expensive items, vine or food. I gave them highly poisonous drinks and enjoyed watching them wiggling on the floor in the pool of their own piss, dying slowly. I was one of them by the day, charming, educated young man, but during the night I was the reaper of the vain. I loved this, finally letting off the steam, I was an agent of death, because I believed that no matter the social status, we are all equal to it, “Everything dies” I used to say and this became my philosophy. Mostly I used the knife, because I enjoyed toying with victims, killing them slowly, allowing them to experience death fully, to feel how it is when your consciousness slowly slips away into dark abyss of death. The look of their eyes, when they finally realized that nothing can save them…no money and no wealth, death claims them either way. And when they died, they finally found out how wrong they were about everything, how false the life was and how beautiful death is. I would choose my targets carefully, attending ballets, social meetings, I would evaluate my future preys. I was good at it, being young handsome and intelligent man with witty sense of humor, I drew female attention, naturally I had many sexual experiences, obviously none of these dolls were anywhere like my Isabella, but using my charms I was a professional at getting information about the people.
One peculiar evening I found out about more detailed circumstances of my fathers death. Apparently among the huntsmen tracking foxes there was an assassin, paid by no one else than Godfrey family, they were old rivals of my father, and such hunt would be a perfect opportunity to get rid off my father. He was shot and later the assassination was easily covered up as an accident. I swore my revenge on Godfrey familly however I had more important things to worry about at that time, local authorities grew worried of murders and I had to leave the city for some time to avoid any suspicions.
While packing my personal belongings into the carriage I’ve noticed sheet of unread letters from Isabelle. Apparently I was so engaged with my “activities” that I had forgotten about the closest thing to me I ever had. According to their content, Isabelle was slowly loosing her sanity because of my mothers rages directed at her.
She begged for me to come…the last letter was 2 weeks old…and I knew something was not quite right.

I made haste to Stormglen and when riding in a carriage I contemplated chaotically what shall I do with my mother…She had curely crossed the line this time but couldn’t kill her…no, that would be too rushed and the people would probably found out sooner or later, since militia was already looking for killer responsible for murders in the City.

Upon arrival I found out the worst…Isabella hung herself after receiving a severe beating from my mother. Locals told me the old bitch had been humiliating Izzy psychically and psychologically for last months.
Izzy…the light of my life…the angel in human form, I loved her, she was the one and true love of my love, although my erotic love for her was never fulfilled, I loved her spiritually aswell…maybe even more. And now…Izzy was gone…I would never see her face again, hear her laugh…look into her bright blue eyes, run my fingers along her lovely golden hair.

The thoughts…memories…striking my mind mercylessly…I was standing there in front of my house and I let out the horrifying roar of rage and sorrow, It was like all the evil inside of me finally took the entire control of my actions, I picked up a butcher axe from the nearby market table and ignoring the protesting butcher I had marched to my house, broke through the door, and chopped my mother into pieces. I cannot remember exactly how many swings it took to finally disembowel that ugly fat form that I hated…that took Izzy from me. It all felt so surreal...like a nightmare…my face, clothes were stained in blood, I had turned my living room into a slaughterhouse I ran out…straight into the Blackwald’s welcoming darkness.