Undead Horrors

South of Crimmor

A thorn in life's paw

The humming… The humming is unbearable. Different pitches mix with different frequencies in a cacophony of continual hums and buzzes. It drives me mad… But am I not already mad? What does mad mean, anyway?

Am I mad for leaving “civilized society” as the scholars call it? It cannot be, since I am one of many who do such things and they get to be called “wise men” and “savants”. Am I mad for spending my entire life dedicated to another species than my own? That cannot be, since there are others like me, and all species should be equal in the face of this argument.

They called me mad for trying to show them the superiority of a much lesser species. “They are too dangerous!”, they’ve said. “They are beyond taming!”, they’ve said…

They were right. These are useless creatures to whom I dedicated my life for nothing. Why would the gods create such insignificant beings and disguise them with intelligent looking ordered hives, only mimicking the metaphysical awareness of the ant or the bee? Oh, what a trick has fate played on me…

All these experiments, all this variety, for nothing. Their only desire is to feed and to reproduce… No awareness, no instinctual intelligence, no nothing. I have to release them, for there is nothing else left for me to do.

My life has no meaning, my experiments have no purpose… They will feed, while I rot until there is nothing and I will be forgotten.

At least there will be less humming. Maybe I can even rest, sleep… Maybe I’ll get to dream again, who knows. They were starving here anyway and the blood of game isn’t clean enough.

It’s time, my useless pets, to leave your cage! Ah… What do you know of freedom?



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