Fors woke up and stared at the ceiling. He had found temporary housing within Stormwind. He still did not have his answers, however. He sighed and his eyes shut again, images flashing across his awareness. He saw forests, cities, oceans, and more but he saw blood the most. Blood dripped at the corners of every vision. Some images were entirely coloured by the bloodshed, others only a little. A desert entered his vision, a man came into focus. A blade slid into vision and then out again and the image began fading.

It was several hours later before Fors stirred from the bed he had paid for. He was working off his lodging with odd jobs in the city but it was enough to keep a roof above his head. He sighed again, he felt that he sighed more and more frequently.

�Who am I?� Fors asked the empty room, a question he repeated frequently. �And do I even want to know any more?� He thought back to the blood that seemed to soak the fragments of his memories. He shook the images from his head and began donning his armor. This always took the longest time, as if his hands wanted to do something else. The plate always felt foreign and heavy in his hands and on his frame. The blade he carried felt wrong as well. He had looked into this and found leather pleasing to his fingertips, and daggers fit his palms with more familiarity than anything else.

Fors looked into the mirror of the room he rented and stared into his eyes. They looked back at him as if a stranger, always taking a moment to recognize what was now his face. He knew the hair was wrong and that the eyes, even without the magic evident in them, were the wrong shade of blue. His shape, his essence was wrong and yet he knew not what else to do.

The Templars felt familiar, but he tried to stay away now. Memories that returned seemed to center around violence more often than not and they had begun to haunt him. His hands, though not necessarily his current hands, were responsible for much violence, for so much blood and he worried on who he would be when he remembered.

Fors stared at the mirror a while longer before closing his eyes. The visions of bloodshed returned to his mind. He could not see himself as a telltale smirk crossed his features, the barest hint of a predatory menace crossing his face.

Author Sielic
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