Grim Views

Knithawk gave in, and collapsed from exhaustion. After being awake for the last few weeks his rotting carcass was no longer functioning right. He had tried everything he could to keep himself awake. Crafting new elixirs, gathering herbs, even cooking food that he normally eats raw. He had learned all kinds of new recipes. Anything, to keep himself awake.

When the forsaken was first awakened to this new life, he had no memory of his former life. Nothing. If it weren't for his trainer Isabella in Deathknell, or even Ashenfury for taking the undead under his wing, Knithawk would have more than likely fallen into the labor camps in Arathi Basin, working with a pick axe the rest of eternity. However, these two saw something in the forsaken. It was even Isabellas' Sarcastic ego that gave him his name. He fell right in place with the Horde and eventually, The Grim, never thinking twice about his past life. The dreams would change that. They started the night Ugratz dressed up like Father Winter and gave him a strange gift. It was a heart of darkness. He didn't know what it was for but decided to hang on to it just in case.

Knithawk laid on the floor unconscious. A lavender light began pulsating from his bags. As reality faded, the dreamworld set in. A demon towered over the mage. "This is what you left behind Merik!" The demon exclaimed. "Your pain fuels my Ego! NOW SUFFER!"

Knithawks surroundings then changed with the blink of an eye. He was in the middle of Stormwind. Surrounded by humans. Instinctively he attempted to cast a ring of frost but nothing happened. The humans went about their business as if the mage was not even there. Knithawk began to wonder what was happening when a little girl carrying a basket of white daisies skipping down the road caught his eye. "Yithie!" he yelled. It was all coming back now! This was his baby girl! "Yithieeee!" he cried but no one heard him. Scowling, he followed the little girl into a little town home where she disappeared behind the door. He approached the window peering inside to see his little girls' basket of daises fly across the room, followed by an empty bottle of ale. Yithie squealed as a heavily armored man grasped her by her arm, then backhanded her across the face. "Shut up and get in daddy's bed!" the man exclaimed.
With rage, Knithawk attempted to enter the home but he couldn't. It was as if he was shackled. The man followed the terrified girl into the bedroom as the dreamworld faded into darkness, lit now only by lavender light flickering in and out.

Knithawk laid on the floor of the guild hall unconscious. The pulsating light from his bag had now stopped.

Nyali paced through the room, she twitched her ears and ran to the sound when Knithawk fell. She sniffed around him, trying to "see" what had happened. She roared for the Grim members to come help.

Not being able to wake the mage, Nyali moved the corpse into Ashenfurys' study. Knithawk had been unconscious now for days, showing small signs of life every so often.

Ashenfury sat at his desk, filling out paperwork when Knithawk suddenly jumped up, stumbling trying to regain his balance.

"BAAAAAAAAA!!" The mage cried grasping his head. "YITHIE!" He stammered around the orcs' study, crashing into bookshelves, knocking trinkets off of their displays. "MY HEAD! RAAAAAAAAAA!"

Ashenfury sat there bewildered, ink pen still in hand. Knithawks' hysteria finally came to an ease. The forsaken slammed his hands down on Ashenfurys' desk, locking eyes with the orc. "I'm off to Stormwind, to rescue my family!"

Ashenfury had allowed the corpse of Knithawk to remain in his study for the time being. The forsaken had gone through similar episodes while mixing reagents with what was then, unknown results. Assuming the mage had just downed another concoction not meant for mortal consumption the Orc was not worried. Every once in a while Ashenfury would prick a reflex to be sure that whatever force held his soul to the half decayed bag of rot still remained. Sure enough a knee would jerk or an eye would twitch when probed.

Ashenfury made sure that nobody was around and then posted a Supplicant at the door to stand guard. Only when he was positive that there were no others able to see him did he open one of his desk drawers. Light glinted and played off of a mass of lenses. There were cracked gnomish spectacles, polished elven monocles, pirate spyglasses and a multitude of other seeing devices. He ran his hand over several lenses but knew which one worked best. He nimbly picked a tiny set of gnomish seeing eye glasses. The frames sat precariously on his nose looking tiny and undersized. Just as the fuzzy words began to clear Knithawk awoke with a yell.

Ashenfury jumped and frantically hid the glasses in the drawer with a loud slam before Knithawk could see them. After listening to the brief rant he queried, "Stormwind?".

Knithawk nodded in confirmation. "Stormwind Ash." He pulled up a chair and began explaining everything he could remember from the dream he just had. The details of the man taking advantage of his little girl caused a usually clear speaking Knithawk, to shutter and tremble as he gave account to the night terror.

"I must go. I know who I am now." Knithawk thinks about it. "Well, who I was. I have to make sure she is safe." Anger boiled within the mage. "Vengeance will be struck down upon their King Varian and his men for this animosity!" Knithawk slammed down the pummel end of his dagger upon Ashenfurys desk in a fierce uproar, causing the drawer holding Ashenfurys' spectacles to open just enough to reveal its contents. The two eyeballed the eyeglasses then simultaneously turned and locked glares with one another, in what was now an awkward stare down.

Infuriated, Knithawk stormed out of the halls. There was a place in the middle of the continent, Ashenfury showed him. A rock, with a few caves in it and a source of water not to far away. The climate of this area was perfect for fermenting a new potion he had come up with. Knithawk didn't waste any time loading the flasks into his satchel. If everything worked correctly, he estimates a drop of this new potion will knock an ogre out for good.
As the mage grabs for what he thought was the last flask, he noticed a faint drop coming from the tree limb above him. Instantly he was weak and fell to his knees. As gravity took its effect, he noticed the apprentice Kyfur, a goblin he had taken under his wing, hunkerd down and snickering in one of the caves in the upper part of the rock that Knithawk now realized strangly resembled a skull. His head bounced off the ground and his eyes grew heavy. He gazed at the treeline to recognized a familiar friend.
His cockroach. The one being that had been there beside him since day one. A smile crept over Knithawks face. He didn't realize his pet had been the one to dose him up. The last thing heard was a cackle from Kyfur, "Hahe! We's gonna be rich! I'm tellin' ya roachey! I gots tons a folk lined up waiting for dis shtuff!!"
The light in Knithaws eyes became dark. The two outlaws grabbed the bags, the jewelry, the weapons, the equipment, and whatever else wasn't sewn onto him at the time, including The Heart Of Darkness.
Kyfur hoped on his now loaded down goblin trike with the cockroach at his side and shouted "That outta doit der roachy! Don't worry Knitty. We's gonna hawk dis shtuff den we's gonna go gambln' We's gonna gettcha yer stuff back. No prob! I'll even give ya 2% back for ya troubles!"

(( Prequel to https://thegrim.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=9&t=8479 ))

Several weeks later:

"Wha did I tell ya roachy?!? Knithawks gonna go nuts when he sees dis bag a gold! I bet we got 10 times da value of what dat rotted corpse had! He'll be more dan pleased. You watch. "
Little did the goblin know, the forsaken was expecting him and was prepared to take him out. Knithawk knelt down and began to chant to the censor of Ordos. As he hid behind the door frame, a sly grin came across Knithawks' now glowing red face as he listened to the pair approach.
Kyfur didn't have time to put his shield up as Knithawks' dagger plunged through the helpless goblins neck, beheading him. The cockroach quickly scampered into the bag of gold to hide, terrified of what was in for himself.
Knithawk (not noticing roachy) grabbed the bag and put it up for safe keeping in a lock box he keeps in his crypt. As he headed out the door, he looked at his calender and noticed the rest of the Grim would be occupied fighting alongside alliance to take down the Hordes warchief.
This sickened him.
As he shut the door, he looked down at Kyfurs' lifeless head.
"Let's leave these Alliance aiding friends of ours a present. How does that sound Kyfur?"
Wickedly giggling, Knithawk unsheathed his dagger once more and began inscribing in the goblins skull, shortly before heading to the guild hall.

Moments after the beheading, Kyfur took the form of a spirit and rose up. "No, I ain't got time fer da afta-life yet. Der's gold ta be made! I gotta go find Ashenfury, surly he knows one a dem rituals ta bring me back! Yea, He'll know what ta do!"
Kyfur sailed through the clouds in search of the shaman.