Chapter One: Tirisfal
He was trapped. Enclosed. Molchiar cried out, sealed inside a stone casket. He choked on the cry and he realised something was wrong. His throat felt... wait - he couldn't feel it all! Nor any other part of his body. What had happened? He tried to remember anything before he awoke, but only blurred images and disjointed emosions greeted him.
He found he was able to shift the stone lid above him. He heaved and realised the stone must weigh an impressive amount. He couldn't remember much but he knew he wasn't superhuman. Another strange fact.
The stone lid slid off and a murky twilight entered the tomb. He choked on another cry again. His hands! Or... what was left of them.
The pale, rotting flesh clinging to bleached bones horrified him, and the realisation that they were his own horrified him even more. He couldn't even feel the pain.
Clambering out of the tomb, he saw he was only wearing ragged, threadbare cloth. The rest of his body had fared no better than his hands.
What the
hell had happened?
Inscribed upon the lid of the tomb were the words: "Here lies Molchiar Emberflare." The date was worn and covered in patches off moss that Molchiar was too devastated by the rotting mass of flesh that used to be his body to scrape off.
He wandered, lost and distraught, throughout the woods of Tirisfal, miraculously escaping the dangerous creatures that lurked. Perhaps his sorrow was great enough even for the beasts, darkened as they were, to have mercy upon him.
At length he wandered to the entrance of Deathknell, and the Forsaken there found him, and comforted him, and clothed him. And he showed great promise for the dark arts: the magic of warlocks.
Maximillion taught him the basics of warlock magic and gave him a few phrases of Demonic to learn.
Before his training could be expanded, urgent messages from Brill came, asking for help against Scarlet Crusade attacks. Molchiar was brought to fight them before he even knew who they were, but he had a debt to the people of Deathknell for helping him.
When the attacks had been stopped, he met Rupert Boch in the Gallow's End Tavern. He requested training and he soon learnt much more about warlock magic, and displayed an uncommon talent for it. He was especially adept at manipulating disease and similiar arts.
He soon learnt how to reach into the Nether and summon an Imp. His imp became his longest companion but unfortunately was one of the less sharp ones and hadn't learnt Orcish. Molchiar could only communicate briefly with him with the Demonic phrases he had learnt.
He often visited the woods around Tirisfal to do his bit to cleanse to forests of Scourge and corrupted beasts. It gave him time to think, but with his dark powers and a demon to boot, it was also the only chance he had at fun!
Apothecary Johaan took the warlock aside, having chosen him to gather some uncommon materials for him. Molchiar took great delight in the experiments of Johaan and the old alchemist soon caved in to his requests to learn something of alchemy. His skills in plague and disease helped with alchemy, as many of the aspects are similiar.
Still, through all of this, Molchiar held a burning desire to find out the rest: who his family were, and, most importantly, who
he had been.
He met Esker Quinn while satisfying his frustration on some of the inhabitants of Agamand Mills. The bookish Blood Elf mage had recently come to Brill and was on errands for the Deathguards.
They quickly became friends and Molchiar noticed the language of the Blood Elves, Thalassian, which Esker muttered sometimes, seemed strangely familiar. He searched his ears and face for any clue he had been an elf, but they seemed all too human.
He finally, in between errands for the villagers, alchemy training and warlock tutoring, managed to visit Undercity and the liberaries that held the information he longed for so much.
*EDIT* I was going to keep this updated as an on-going chronicle but unfortunately that pesky real life has infterfered. It's unrealistic to keep this going since I need the time to level my char so he can go on these adventures and write the story, since I don't play WoW much any more (yes, it's true!
). I'm sorry if you were looking forward to more installments but it looks like poor Molchiar's gonna be floating in limbo for eternity.
Subject: Sorrow and Salvation - The Tale of Molchiar 
