Keepers of the Glade

A *short* tale that I wrote long ago when I first started playing Everquest.

Enjoy!

After our raid on Sol B, I returned to Ak’anon to see if my people would still accept me after savagely killing off many a clockwork. I had trouble with only a few Gem Choppers and found that my once loving race looked at me as if it was my first time there, disregarding all the services I have performed for my beloved city. Ashamed I started walking from Ak’anon into the dark forest of Lesser Faydark trying not to look back.
As I walked I found an outpost, inhabited by gnomes, created to observe the heavenly bodies above us. News of my evils had not traveled this far yet and they greeted me kindly. As I talked trying to forget what I had done I saw that they were no more seasoned in the arcane arts or that of battle than I.
Proceeding to the back I hailed a gnome that was not with the others. Then it struck me, sinister thoughts of destruction and violence. Thoughts of murder and deceit, against all that I had fought for- for such a long time. A flood of different emotions ran through out my mind and body. Before I could stop it, the urge to kill, the lust of blood overpowered me. Always resisting the temptation was easy, but this inner turmoil was too much for me to bear. I had cast a spell before he could even try to defend himself. After rendering him completely vulnerable to both metaphysical and brute physical force, I sat contemplating his life. I commenced to make him choke, slowly draining the life from him. Then with the powers of meta-creativity I altered his grasp on reality. Keeping up the assault on his senses he was dead before I could come to terms with what I was doing.
Alas he had a short life in many respects. He was an outcast from Ak’anon and shall go unmissed. Which makes this incident even worse. I mourned the death of this pariah because not Ak’anon nor even The Dark Reflection would.
I sat feeling sick but with a strange inward satisfaction. Corrupted maybe by the slaughter of gnomes around me hours before. Or my own inward insecurity from always having to avoid the clumsy step. Was it simply building up inside me until I had to vent it and the poor rogue was there? It was an experience I shall never forget, and good experience it was!