Rosrel/Vishlid - The insane psychopath. (COMPLETELY EDITED VERSION)

…Rosren Moonsky woke up, bones aching. He remembered what happened. He remembered all of it. The icy chill that filled his being, physical and mental.

At a young age, Rosren loved life. He loved all living things. Therefore he helped them. He fed the hungry. Clothed and gave shelter to the homeless. He even went so far as to give all of his saved allowance to the poor. He was what could be called an angel. As he grew, so did his kindness. He eventually ended up converting part of his house to an inn. There was no charge, only room and food for people in need. His kindness brought him far, and he earned respect.

Rosren trained as a druid. He wanted to become closer to nature, closer to life.
He became an exceptional druid. He excelled in the arts of restoration, and was fairly good at the arcane side of druidism. Soon enough he was training other people in the fantastic ways of the druids.

Feeling that he had the responsibility of not just helping others, but protecting them, Rosren joined the military of Darnassus. He healed the brave soldiers in great battles, protecting them from death, and raising their confidence. The soldiers thanked him, but not with just an ordinary thank you. They protected his life like their own, for without him they would surely fall.

At the still young age of twenty, Rosren fell in love. He met the woman of his dreams. A nice priestess named Sayuu. She had elegant white hair, flowing down to shoulder length. Her bangs hiding part of her pale face. She was a shy girl, never trying to stand out or be different. Sayuu was Rosren’s world, and best of all she loved him back.

When Rosren was twenty-one they married. He had never been so happy. He had the respect of everyone, and especially, he had the girl of him dreams. Soon Sayuu had given birth to two children, a boy named Rinnel, and a girl named Ryia. The children were two years apart, Ryia being the oldest. His daughter followed his path and trained to become a druid. On the other hand, his son trained to become a priest, just like his mother.

His children were very successful in life, just like he was. They were hard workers, and grew up to be respected members of the community. As all children do, they eventually left Rosren and Sayuu. At an age of forty-one, he was a very proud father. He had a beautiful wife and two lovely children.

…But everything in his life was about to change.

Rosren had been called to an official meeting. The meeting was about using a new type of weapon for warfare. The art of mind control. Rosren was an open-minded person, but he could never use mind control on enemy troops. Just the thought of it disgusted him. But what he didn’t know was that it wasn’t meant for the enemy. The mind control was for the Alliance, not the Horde.

The second Rosren entered the meeting room he knew something was wrong. But it was too late. A sack was put over his head, everything was dark, and the acrid smell of a harsh chemical drowned his senses. He was powerless as he faded from consciousness.

Rosren woke with a start, a splash of icy cold water rushing to meet his pale skin. A person stood before him, shadowed by the darkness of the room. “It’s nice to see you again, Rosren.” A voice sounded. A voice he would remember forever. A voice that would change his life. Sayuu circled Rosren, showing a bone-chilling grin. It was then that Rosren noticed it. The room was not shadowing Sayuu, but a demonic aura. A shadow priest?! How could she have hidden something such as that from me? Rosren’s thoughts raced, he had to escape. He tried moving his arms. It was no use. They were securely bound to a chair. Seeing his recent realization Sayuu couldn’t help but let out a low chuckle. “So you finally realized it. How’s it feel? Tell me, do you still love me?” Sayuu let out a pleased cackle. Her work could finally begin. Startled, Rosren asked for the first thing on his mind. An answer. “What are you doing?!” Sayuu, now behind Rosren, took a step closer and gently brushed his neck with her nails. A chill ran down Rosren’s neck. “What am I doing? Well, I guess I should tell you, thought it really won’t matter. I’m the head of the new art of war, the new era! …And Rosren, you’re the first test subject. I’m going to control your mind, you will be my puppet.” She calmly stated, her icy breath running past his ear.

Sayuu began to rapidly chant words in a foreign tongue unknown to Rosren. Her hands slowly rising to his head. Rosren tried to get away, tried to do anything to stop her, but the drug that was used earlier was still in effect. Sayuu’s hands clamped tightly on Rosren’s head, her nails digging in to him. Small trickles of blood ran down Rosren’s neck. Sayuu finished her chanting. The spell was complete. Rosren was no longer himself. His eyes were empty shells, his thoughts non-existent. He was a puppet, entirely dependant upon one person and one person only, Sayuu.

…

The Orc commander looked across the battlefield, laughing heartedly. “Those foolish Alliance, placing one person in front of one thousand. CHARGE!!” The thousand strong army of Orcs rushed forward, they would plow over the joke of a Night Elf and continue on their way to the defenseless town of Southshore. Little did they know that the Night Elf before them was Rosren. Little did they know that a powerful shadow priest controlled his every action. They also knew nothing of the special magics infused with the “helpless” Night Elf.

…

The Orcish army was approaching. No emotion showed in Rosren’s eyes as the brutal savages dashed towards him. When they finally entered range, he raised one arm, the other before his mouth. Chanting Demonic words faster than thought possible, Rosren cast a spell. A spell of destruction.

The mighty warriors of the Horde were suddenly not so mighty. Screaming for their lives as the fell into and endless pit of darkness, never to return to the mortal world again. The army was decimated in a mere matter of seconds. Never would the Orcs be on the world of Azeroth. Never would they see their families.

Rosren’s slaughtering continued. Armies were demolished. Thousands of people were destroyed. Sent to the endless pits of the Netherworld. Darkness consumed them, fed off of them, strengthened from their essence. The more Rosren killed, the stronger he became.

Eventually even the Alliance saw him as a threat. A mass army was assembled. An army that would hopefully destroy Rosren.

Sayuu, bored with her constant method of disposing of enemies, decided to bring some fun into the “game.” Rosren confronted the army well before it was ready. Incomplete, the army stood no chance. Rosren chanted Demonic words, different this time. A longer chant. A deadlier chant. Ominous clouds trickled into the sky, blocking out the sun by their need to fill the sky with darkness. Rosren’s spell was complete. The army was doomed.

…

Inside the army encampment waited Rinnel and Ryia. The two did not know much about what was happening. All they knew was that a power beyond their understanding was set loose upon Azeroth. They knew it must be stopped. Rinnel watched as the storm clouds strode in, filling the sky with despair. I’m going to die here. His gloomy thoughts repeated over and over. This was his first time in an army so large. He looked over at his sister. She was feeling the same way. He knew it. He felt it. Suddenly, Ryia let out a pained scream. Rinnel’s head snapped over to her direction. What he saw was horrifying. Ryia’s body was covered in blood. Her skin was being torn from her body as if it wasn’t even there. Soon she was dead, a pile of blood, unrecognizable to anyone. The same fate soon followed Rinnel. Everyone suffered the same painful fate. There were no survivors, only a mass pool of blood that showed any sign of an army.

…

Sayuu grinned in satisfaction. Sure, her children died, but they were only there so the fool Rosren wouldn’t suspect anything. Her new spell worked wonders. She would soon be supreme ruler of Azeroth.

…

A group of druids encircled the Moonwell in Darnassus. It’s aura amplifying their powers. They were going to put a stop to Rosren. They were going to stop him forever. The druids began a chant at the same time, as if knowing when to start. In sync, their voices sound as one. The Moonwell glowed brighter and brighter with every passing moment. Soon it was glowing pure white. Eventually the druids finished their chanting. The ritual was complete.

…

Rosren’s whole being began to soflty shimmer. Sayuu, watching from an unknown place, knew something was happening. Something out of her control. Rosren vanished in a flash of bright light, vanished from Azeroth forever.

…

Rosren woke up a strange place. The Emerald Dream. With Sayuu’s grip on him desecrated, he was free. He was free… but he might as well have still been under Sayuu’s control. He remembered everything. Slaughtering people, innocent or not. He would never be the same, not that it mattered. He was trapped in the Emerald Dream. His fate would be the same of those whom he had sent to the Netherworld. A fate of never ending solitude.

Rosren looked around at his surroundings. There was little to nothing. He was in a field that extended farther than the eye could see. There were some trees, and even fewer bushes or shrubs. Get a grip on yourself! Your name is Rosren Moonsky! You are three hundred years old! Rosren did not panic. He calmed himself. His training as a druid paid off.

…*One thousand years later*

Rosren was sitting in a crude chair, his hair a mess after years of not being taken care of. His eyes were constantly shifting back and forth, left and right. His hands never staying still. He was a new person now. His sanity abandoned him. His grip on reality discarded long ago.

“Would you like more water, sir?” he asked, facing the wall. Nothing was there. Yes, thank you very much. A voice sounded in his mind. After one thousand years he had finally found a friend. Himself. Thank you very much, Vishlid. The voice said. “Vishlid… but I’m not Vishlid. My name is Rosren!” A crazed rosren croaked. His voice barely used until now. No, I am Rosren. You are Vishlid. Rosren started to nod slowly. It made so much sense to him now! He wasn’t Rosren! He was Vishlid! “Thank you for clearing that up, Rosren.” Vishlid passed a wooden bowl across what could be called a table. The bowl was completely empty, but not in Vishlid’s eyes.

…*Five hundred years later*

Vishlid had just fallen asleep. He had had a rough day. Rosren wanted to go hunting. Vishlid hated hunting, hated killing. But if Rosren said it was okay then it must be okay. As Vishlid drifted deeper and deeper into sleep, his mind became clouded.
…

Vishlid was standing in the middle of a town. Humans were skittering every direction, trying to get to their destination the fastest way possible in the crowded streets. Vishlid tried to enter a building. Tried to turn a doorknob. It was no use, his hand just slipped past it, as if it wasn’t even there. Vishlid quickly found out that he could walk through many obstacles. He soon found out that normal limitations did not exist in the dream word. He entered the building and walked into a study. Gently skimming his finger along a closed book. When he lifted his finger, he found that he knew the contents of the book. It was a book on alchemy. It showed detailed diagrams of how to mix crushed herbs along with a variety of other things in order to create potions. Astounded, Vishlid went through the entire study, gently tapping on every book. He finally found a place to get away from the cursed Emerald Dream. A place where he could be himself.

…

Vishlid woke up with a start. Sweat running down his neck. The information he learned was securely locked with the barrier of his mind. Subconsciously learning in his sleep, while becoming more crazed every waking moment of the day.

…*Eight thousand years later*

Vishlid was harvesting some edible plants to eat. They looked delicious. Rosren would have to like them! All of a sudden Vishlid felt sick. His body tingled all over, his being shimmered in the day. He was fading. In a flash of bright light Vishlid was gone. Gone from the Emerald Dream. At last, he was free.

…

Vishlid woke up, exhausted but otherwise fine. He looked around. He was outside the Exodar. He was in Azeroth. Stumbling into the Exodar, exhausted from the journey from the Emerald Dream into Azeroth. All he knew was that he was free. And that someone, or something, wanted him back in Azeroth.

I could have made it longer. In fact, I could have made an entire biography of what happened in the Emerald Dream, but that'd be about four pages long and wouldn't be worth it.

Major Bumpage

Righteous bump of justice! =>.<= [ima no read this >.>]