I've been working on a side writing project. It's not done yet, but I'll probably post it as I go. The quality of it isn't fantastic--I've never been good at adding in detail oriented stuff--but I've been using it as practice to try and improve without schooling so hopefully it's at least decent.
And just as a warning; it might be a bit cliche. ))
Forgotten Love
The fog rolled in thick and heavy over the bluff above Pyrewood Village. Standing dominant on the bluff loomed Shadowfang Keep; a menacing presence that was black as night amidst the curling fog. Dark, ominus clouds crawled through the midnight sky, settling amongst the towers of the keep. Lightning crackled, illuminating the scene, followed by the boom of thunder.
Within the bowels of Shadowfang Keep Arugal lived, harnessing the power of his children. The former Kirin Tor mage stood by a window, arms clasped behind his back, brooding. He watched the bad weather, enjoying the effects the lightning created upon the land. And yet, he still felt off. Arugal sighed. All he had wanted was to help drive the Scourge from the lands by summoning the worgen from the Emerald Dream. Instead his plan backfired on him and he'd had to retreat to this keep, worgen in tow.
The worgen inside were kept as his slaves and protectors. One of these worgen was a large male named Kethtaz. Kethtaz was a great brute of a worgen; he towered over many of the others and was broad shouldered with pitch black fur and piercing steel gray eyes. Unlike many of the other worgen inhabiting Shadowfang Keep, Kethtaz was, originally, a citizen of Pyrewood Village. The others who were like him tended to stay together in one pack, separate from their more feral...kin. Being the biggest, Kethtaz was also often seen as the leader of the pack, but little did his pack know that the immense worgen felt as if he was on the brink of losing the shreds of his humanity.
Kethtaz rolled his massive shoulders, a sigh escaping his lips as he patrolled. Stopping, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver locket. The necklace was without bells and whistles, much like the picture of the woman inside--a simple beauty. A tear rolled down the worgen's muzzle, falling silently to the floor. His ears flicked as he heard someone coming. Kethtaz quickly stuffed the locket back in his trouser pocket and continued his patrol.