Case Study of a Madman

Case Study of a Madman
 * -by Razas

((I'm crazy for doing this so early, but I've had a few interesting Ideas with Razas and Slyph. So, here I go.... introducing my final new character: Razilius Masixiumus Mindsplint, PhD, MD, ADD, DDS, AS.))

Journal entry: The Maelstrom, Dock working, and the undead.
Oh, journal, a tragedy! A wicked force of epic proportions! The Maelstrom tore apart our boat and left all my goods and materials. Many of us goblins barely made it from Ratchet to Booty bay, and I have lost all of my Azerothian possessions. Woe is me! The bruisers do not look kindly at me at all, no indeed. A goblin without his money is low in the world indeed. And I have none to my name! Just my wits, some of my papers, not nearly enough to pay for the travel and the boat.

And so they force me to work as a DOCK WORKER, to repay my debts! The utter horror! My learned mind and quick wit... forced to move crates and boxes. Utterly reprehnsible. Lucky I am that I won a few card games in the Tavern, or I would be most likely thrown in the Gurubashi arena for sport as soon as they realized that I could not keep up with the necessary frenzy of booty bay's exports and imports. Nay, I did none of the work. Too horrid of conditions for a goblin of my learning, indeed.

But, thankfully, those fools of Bruisers played a few card games. Apparently lady luck had pity on me after the Maelstrom took much of what was mine, and I won enough to pay back Baron Revilgaz. Thank goodness.

One thing though, journal, really piqued my interest, throughout all this horrid ... Dock working, and card playing. A lone undead, sitting in the corner of the Tavern. I had been counting up the remainder of my winnings after paying back the Baron, and noticed this very odd fellow.

He was talking, shouting, and laughing, as if carrying on a conversation with someone that he truly enjoyed talking to. It was very odd, because no one was there at all. I looked at the bartender, who was cleaning dishes at the time, and made a motion towards the undead, wondering what was going on. The bartender merely kept washing his glasses and dishes, ignoring the boisterous laughter of the undead.

Curiousity may have killed my uncle, cousin, and great grandfather, but I just had to know what in the world was going on with this undead. Part was natural curiousity, and the other a possible opportunity, either for knowledge or for money. Pocketing my earnings, I slowly walked up to the undead, making no sudden movements as I knew these creatures were paranoid and often hunted in the world. I caught a snippet of the conversation he was having...

".. Are you serious?! You did not.... YOU did?! Nooo, you've got to lying, you rotting sack of flesh and ichor. Nope, nope, nope. There is absolutely no way you did that with- Hmm? What do you want, Goblin?"

The undead had noticed me, and his prevously jovial expression vanished in an instant, replaced with intense suspicion, and, I suspect, a hint of anger.

"Uh, s-sir.." I stammered, and I did not know why. All of a sudden I felt like I was a Dustwallow Dragon Fly under a magnifying glass. I pushed up my heavy glasses, and spoke out more forcefully. "Uhm, sir... who're you talking to?"

The undead's eyes widened, as if he had heard a great joke. "Who am I talking to? Why, that rotbag right over there!" He guestured across the table. "What are you, blind?" He laughed harshly, and glared at me. "Now, whats the real reason you're doing this, you little snot nosed green stump?" he hissed.

I'm sure I turned almost three shades darker right then, but I pursued my course. I'm sure I inherited some of my father's stubborness for going after things when you really shouldn't. "Sir, I insist. There is NO one there...."

The undead laughed again, harder this time, with an almost hysterical edge. He turned back to across the table, and said, "You hear that? He doesn't think you're there, Slayarath. Sheesh, what an idiot. What's that? HAAHAHAHAHA! That's great! You're not really there! hahahaha!" He turned back to me, with a wide grin on his face. "Oh yes, Mr. Goblin, he ain't really there. No sirree!" He laughed again, and took a swig of some smoking green liquid, and laughed harder.

Frustrated that I could not get this undead to see reason, and perhaps my own anger that I could not be wrong, I went over to the chair opposite of the undead.... and waved a hand through were a person would sit. The undead, taking notice of me this entire time, his putrid face went white as a sheet when he saw my hand wave through the empty space.

"Oh, by the shadow..." he softly murmured, and put his hands over his face. "I thought I was talking to my son. He was there, but then he told me he wasn't really there... oh by the shadow...." the undead almost seemed in tears, as if I had broken his heart, if there was still a heart to break.

Sensing an opportunity, and feeling a slight bit guilty about ruining someone's good time and plunging them into what appeared to be despair, I came back over to the undead, and pulled out a card, my last card from the Storm in the Maelstrom. "Razilius Masixiumus Mindsplint, PhD, MD, ADD, DDS, AS, at your service. Perhaps I can help...."

The undead looked through his hands.... oh dear, those claws looked like they had been used a lot. He pulled himself together almost immediately, as if he had done this a few times before. "Erm... thank you... Uh... Razas Josephson. Warlock." He paused for a moment, and looked me up and down. Again, I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass... "Yes... Yes, maybe you can help me. Perhaps. Who knows. Maybe. Pie. Need to get the skulls.... Right. Razilius. I will call on you, if I need you. I have a feeling I will. But right now, there is work to do." He stood up quickly, and pulled up a scythe that glowed a cold white from behind the table. I bit back a gasp, for only warlocks that had delved deep into their arts had such a weapon.

"Yes, Razilius. I will call on you. Do not worry, you will be compensated for your time... provided it is worthwhile. Good night.... good hunting." With that, the undead.... Razas... disappeared into the night.

A new opportunity, journal! And usually warlocks with that amount of reputation carried with them a good amount of gold. Yes, I think this will be very good, profitable in money and knowledge. Of course there will be risks, but no goblin of any worth is afraid of taking risks.

The Glade, the Giant, and the Patient
Journal. 2nd Day after my shipwreck.

Oh, Journal, Lady luck has been smiling on me since after that shipwreck. Perhaps she wanted to make up for all the things that have happened to me on my woeful life. The undead, Razas, has already sent a message for me and money to compensate for my time and energy traveling to Tirisfal. I daresay he sent too much, but I'm not going to complain if that is what he thinks he should send me! Indeed, if he continues to be this generous, I will be back up to my previous status within a few months. He has even offered room and board for me at his cottage in the Glade. While I wouldn't normally accept... I don't really have any other place to stay.

Well, I'm going to hop on the zeppelin now, and catch a nap. I'll resume writing once I get settled in and get my impressions of the cottage and the Glade itself.

My word... a lot has happened. I'm sure I'll be able to keep up with all the things Razas has stressed on me, a goblin of my mind always succeeds.

First off, my impressions of the Glade. The Plague has certainly made this once shining land into a dark and dreary place. The sun barely shines anymore. I guess I can't really tell my patient to go out and get some sun if the sun never shines. I'll find something different. Anyway, after getting off the Zeppelin, I made my way to the Venomweb Vale, where Razas apparently had his little house. After avoiding some of the particularly nasty spiders, I managed to find the house. What a rundown place it was! Windows all boarded up, holes in the walls, wood rotting. Simply horrid. Fairly large though, enough to fit a sizeable amount of people, even with the conditions.

When I knocked on the door however, I swear it was like something out of one of those rare, and very bad, crystal ball horror images. An undead, largest I've ever seen, built like a tank, opened the door and stared down at me.

"Who you be?" rumbled the giant in rough orcish.

"I er... um... Razilius Masixiumus Mindsplint, at your service.... I am here to see Razas, to help diagnose his condition.." I said. Again, I swear these undead get more and more odd and terrifying for every new one I see.

"Hmmph. Bigga Brudda just crazy. No have condition," murmured the giant. Then with a booming voice, "RAZAS! Gobbie here to see you."

A rough, scratchy baritone wearily shouted back, "Yes, yes Slyph, I'm coming."

The giant left, and Razas met me at the door. "Don't mind Slyph. He's a little slow, but he's an ok kid. Come in, come in."

I followed him in.... and my what a place. The outside may have been atrocious, but the inside was finely furnished, though in more gothic tastes than I am accustomed to. It almost seemed cozy, except for the large number of shining white skulls that were placed over the mantle. Seemed to be many of each race, tauren, orc, human, elf, dwarf...

"Welcome to my humble abode, Razilius. You will be staying in the guest room. You are free to use any of my books in the house, but you cannot go into my room. If you need something, merely ask Slyph or myself, though we will be traveling in and out every day. Also, stay away from Slyph's explosives. He doesn't like anyone touching them. Though you came at a bad time, I can't really talk right now. Much to do.... bad news around. Friends in trouble, might not be friends."

Razas looked at me as if I should understand that, and when I clearly did not, he turned away. I think a mix of revulsion and rage appeared on his face, but it is hard to tell with these undead. He quickly showed me to the guest room... and the mountains of books in there. It was a veritable fortune of knowledge of a variety of subjects in that room. "Stay here, learn what you can. We'll talk later. Watch out for the spiders, too. They don't mind me or Slyph, but they'll definitly try for you, cause you're still alive. We'll talk with you later, yes indeedy. Mmhhmm."

With that, my landlord, patient, and employer closed the door behind me. I have nothing but time now, nothing but time. As soon as I finish this entry, I'm going to read for the rest of the night. And now, I'm finished! Interesting how things work out that way! I'm sure there will be more interesting things for you later, Journal, but as right now, I have a date with knowledge.

-Razilius Masixiumus Mindsplint, PhD, MD, ADD, DDS, AS

Friends into Enemies, Part 1.
1 month after Shipwreck.

Dear Journal,

I apologize profusely for not updating you, my dear secret keeper, but so much has been going on.... some fearsome things indeed!

Living with Razas and Slyph was an odd experience at first, to say the least. When I look back on my first days, at the time in the cottage I thought they were utterly dreadful. Well, I have seen what kind of dread Razas has lived and died through, I must say that I must have been blessed, or this man cursed. It truly is no wonder that his mind has broken beneath the tragedies that he has endured.

From time to time, he ranted and raved to no one, yelling and screaming nonsensical items, using circular logic, becoming violent. At those times, Slyph was always there. It seemed he was protecting Razas against himself, rather than myself. After these fits of rage, Razas always seemed to want to talk profusely about what he saw in his rages, or what he was feeling. Most of these rages seem to stem from guilt.

Yes, guilt, dear journal. I did not think that a man.... or thing.... such as him could feel such an emotion. But he does. He describes it to me as immense weight at the pit of his stomach. He tells me he plays it off to his allies and friends, that he appears to be a carefree, if somewhat eccentric warlock. When I asked him what exactly he felt guilty about... I could have sworn the place darkened into almost complete shadow.

His second wife was a Necromancer for the Scourge, who helped with the fall of Lordaeron. In graphic detail, he described exactly the confrontation between his traitorous wife his children, and himself. Even as I write about it, it sickens me. Perhaps I do not have the hardness of heart as some of my goblin kin, but his story made me feel an immense amount of pity for him.

He quickly moved away from that subject, and I noted that he didn't really want to talk about it very much. He told me he had failed, and that he needed to get over it. "People fail, " he murmured. "You have to expect them to. Then, if they don't... you be surprised about it." Seems almost as if he is resigned to other people, and himself, failing constantly. A bad habit to get into, but I was not trying to help him yet. First, one must gain an understanding of the subject....

Then, he went on. His fights with the Scourge, his deal with the devil's of the Legion, the murder of his ex-wife. Which, he himself did. I noted a certain amount of glee in his voice as he told me about how he "roasted her alive." Chilling, seeing the darkness in him come forth like that. He then went over some of his experinences.... Oh dear, it appears my time is up, dear Journal. Razas is having me help me research something very important. I will finish what has happened in due time, but right now there are more important things to do, and people to save.

-Razilius Masixiumus Mindsplint, PhD, MD, ADD, DDS, AS.

Friends to Enemies, Part 2
Dear Journal, Oh, so much has happened! I almost can't keep up with it all. Razas has been very busy, with secret this, and mission that. He keeps me busy, all the time. Research, always research. I can't say that I'm not enjoying it. Lordaeron, er, I mean, the Undercity, has a wealth of knowledge, and ever since Razas spoke to some of his colleagues, I've had free reign in the bookshops and libraries. I've learned so much, I can hardly believe it.

But the biggest news was Slyph, the giant...

Let me back up a bit, as I see I did not write out what happened before. Slyph was Scourge. Emphasis on was. He blew up Razas's house, which is why I'm writing from the Undercity, and not the cottage. He destroyed much of Razas's work in Alchemy, as well. Due to his insanity, and part genius, I daresay we may never see some of those formulas again.

Razas slaved in the Undercity to regain his money, and set into motion events to defeat Slyph. He contacted others that Slyph had threatened or touched.... and moved them into the right direction. Insane or not, Razas had a plan. He knew that Slyph was different than any normal Scourge. He had been in the Undercity and not been detected as Scourge. Razas's plan was to capture him, but Razas himself could not do it. Slyph had stolen a powerful artifact that was attuned to Razas's power. Razas could not harm Slyph as long as it was in Slyph's grasp. He did not have to, as he told a few of his.... acquaintances? Friends? I do not know. Anyway, he told them that Slyph must be captured and set free.

And they were able to do it. Freeing a Scourge from the control of the Lich king. Unbelievable. I only learned of this when I found a letter beneath the door of our room in the Undercity inn, from Slyph, stating that he was free.

Razas read the letter once, and burned it to a cinder. "Phase 1 complete. Moving on to phase two," he mumbled, and moved back to his lab to continue his work. Very odd, indeed.... It just seems all so abrupt, to me. Perhaps Razas planned it this way.

Truthfully, I'm very confused, even with all the knowledge I have gained. Razas has become more and more secretive, locking himself in his lab for many hours, even days at a time.

And I could have sworn I saw a black dragon scale in his lab, before he shut the door....

It seems this may be a calm before the storm... or perhaps I'm just getting paranoid. Well.... is it really paranoia if something IS going to happen? I don't know, dear Journal. But something stinks worse than a Bloodsail Raider, and it isn't the dead.

-Razilius Masixiumus Mindsplint, PhD, MD, ADD, DDS, AS.

-Page is blood spattered-
Crazy. Food. Ate. Burn them all. Dead. Curses. Hatred. Lust. Envy. Purpose. None. Food. Damn. Damnation. Blood. Blood. Envy. Blood. Hell. Hell. HELL. Destruction. End. Coming. End. End. Understand? THE END.....

-unintelligible gibberish, completely illegible, spills across the rest of the page.-

Dear Journal,
I am... unnerved. Shocked and scared at what I see before this entry. I don't even remember putting it in.

These weeks have been fairly uneventful. I am delving more into Razas's past, and his episodes seem to have been less and less frequent. I believe progress is being made to his fractured mind. Perhaps he is healing, albeit slowly. Another win for Psychotherapy.... Maybe.

The dragon, Tiny, is the only creature that has been new to the household lately. He seems to like to perch on my head and snooze. I admit, the tiny dragon is quite cute. And the fire in it's belly keeps my head fairly warm during the dark Tirisfal nights when I am up late working on new theories.

However, the dragon, also has a fierce intelligence. It studies you.... watches you. It unnerves me sometimes to see such a small creature act so smart sometimes.

Other than that... nothing much has happened. Razas's studies continue, though he has not uttered a word about them to me.

I still worry about that page, Journal. What does it mean?

Perhaps Razas's insanity is contagious... I know he would never hurt me intentionally...

Right?

-Razilius Masixiumus Mindsplint, PhD, MD, ADD, DDS, AS

*page is smeared with blood. The writing is unsteady and messy*
Dear Journal, 

I was wrong. Lady Luck curse me for a fool, I was wrong. Razas had another one of his episodes... only this time, it didn't stop. I'm holding my now bloody side as I write this. I don't know if this journal will ever make it out, or if I will make it out, but there is one thing to be certain. Razas cannot be trusted.

His insanity is either incurable or far beyond my abilities to affect. I was taking on a mountain, believe it to be a molehill.

The dead man came home earlier this evening, dripping in purple and red blood. The grin on his face could only be described as unholy. He saw me, and I had never seen anyone like this before. Just looking into his eyes chilled me to the bone.... I knew that the man I had talked to was markedly different. It was like staring into the Abyss itself.... and the Abyss was looking back.

He started walking towards me, and a dagger came out. He slashed at me, and I can only thank all the gods that he has not used a dagger in quite some time. It was only a flesh wound.

Pure Lady Luck saved me. So surprised I was, I tilted back in my chair, and fell off. The flipped up chair hit him in the shin, throwing off his aim of another dagger stroke that would have killed me for certain.

I ran for the room that had been mine for nearly 3 months now, and locked the door. It had taken some work, but I had convinced Razas to give me the only key. It had worked to my advantage.

He's still out there. Pounding on the door. Screaming. Obscenities. He's been at it for hours. Lady luck, I don't want to die at the hands of this madman. Whatever he can come up with is more than likely to be far worse than anything after death.

Windows are locked. Everything is locked. He might just leave me to starve.... I can't imagine anything worse, but I know that Razas's imagination is far more vivid than mine. I don't have the strength to take my own life... Too much of a coward.... I don't have a weapon, anyway.

Why hasn't he burned down the door? He certainly has the power.... he just keeps screaming, telling me to open the door.

Feeling faint from the blood loss. Sweet oblivion.... take me to your cold embrace. I do not wish to see what lies for me next when he gets in he-


 * ink runs off the page.*

Asylum
Dear Journal,

I write this, safe in my home, thanking Lady Luck for the safe journey and that I am still alive. The horrible deal with Razas is over. He was taken away, taken away, far away. The Undercity Asylum. I would not be surprised if you had not heard of it, journal, for neither have I. This place is far beneath the Undercity, a second city, almost. It is where the incurably insane go, I am told by my friendly guard. Razas has gone away, lost in his own mind. I am safe, now. The Forsaken Elite came to where we were staying, and subdued Razas, and busted down the door, saving my life.

Never thought I'd be as thankful to the Forsaken as I am now. Nor would have I thought they would save some small goblin's life. Lady Luck is with me indeed. I saw Razas one last time before he left...

He was a wretch, a gibbering maniac, speaking in riddles that I had no idea what they meant. Curled up into a ball, a scribe followed him everywhere, writing swiftly. The lights were on, but no one was home, said the guard. How I laughed!

Freedom tastes so good, Journal. I can't believe it, really. No more Tirisfal. I'm safe here. In the night, nothing to worry about. My guard makes sure that Razas will never come to hurt me, if he ever escapes the Asylum. He smiles a lot, and often asks what I am writing about. I usually say nothing important, but he insists that he takes a look. Usually my writings get taken away, but that's all right. I still have you, Journal. Sometimes people come in and ask me questions, about Razas, about what he did.

I really don't know, I tell them. It was all beyond me. Alchemical and Biological studies. I shrug, and they nod and go about their business.

In some ways, I hope they fix him. That they make him better, but I don't think they really want to do that. They want his knowledge, his madness. It's all really fine by me. I'm safe. Nothing matters as much to me as being safe, after that ordeal. Oh, my, how I am tired, dear Journal. I think I'll take a long overdue nap. It certainly has been quite some time, with all the questions and busyness. Till then.

Oh, one last thing. Very odd, to me. I asked who called them, and they said I did. How very odd, considering I was stuck in that room. Perhaps they heard my shouts....? Oh well. I'm getting very tired.... Goodnight, Journal.

-Razilius Masixiumus Mindsplint, PhD, MD, ADD, DDS, AS

Roommates
My word, Journal.... things have changed a bit. Two new roommates in my safe haven. First, a Forsaken, but he is certainly more charming than most I've met. He has a confidence, a charisma that I don't see often in the dead around here. Always polite to the extreme, he has a few other qualities as well.

He is a bit lecherous, looking always at the females of the species. He's still very polite to them, but his eyes drift constantly. Quick with the wit, he seems to be good fellow to have at a party.

The second is very interesting, a Tauren. Quite large, and oddly curled horns, he is an interesting roommate. Luckily my haven is quite large, and has plenty of room for this individual. He hails from the plains of Mulgore, as most Tauren do, and says he worked in the mines before the Venture Co. forcibly removed the tauren there. Now he works as a bartender, so he claims, always with a shout and a laugh and cleaning the cups.

He particular interest to devising new and powerful drinks. He says that the undead are the new targets for his concoctions, because it takes them so much more to get drunk than normal, living people. So far he's come up with a few volatile substances, which he tends to try to feed to some of the guards around here. Some work, some don't.

It certainly is a pleasure to have these fellows around, as it was getting a bit lonely here and there, with only you to keep me company, and the guards.

Oh dear, sounds like the Tauren is trying to get the Forsaken to try his new drinks.... I better go break them up before the guards get angry...

Salutations, Journal!

-Razilius Masixiumus Mindsplint, PhD, MD, ADD, DDS, AS

Escape!?
Dear Journal, My things have been quite a tizzy around here! We've been playing tiddlywinks all day, such grand fun. The tauren seems to be the best at it, he can grab everyting in one run it seems. However the lecherous forsaken is quite adept at as well. Probably from trying to grab a woman's buttocks or some such nonsense. And probably trying to dodge the slap that seems to follow.

Tiddlywinks, day in, day out. Though one time the Forsaken said, "I've had enough! I know there are friends out there! I'm going to say hi, gosh darn it!" At that moment, our most recent transcriber came in and wondered why the Forsaken was standing up. Well, he wasn't wondering for long as he got a blast of shadow to the face, with that crazy forsaken running out quickly, giggling.

The Tauren and I were appalled, naturally, and cleaned up the tiddlywinks. Where else but to follow our somehow crazy friend?

Soon we found ourselves hiding in a tree in the Tirisfal Glades. It seems our friend was talking to some person, rather gleefully. Not sure who, as we couldn't make it out. We wondered where he got the hearthstone, but really, it didn't matter, as a number of Forsaken, one in a bloodstained lab coat and many guards came an found us.

The guards grabbed our poor friend, and bound him in a white jacket. He started yelling at the top of his lungs, somethng about bunnies. The man in the white lab coat glared at us and scolded us. I felt so ashamed. Why was I running from safety? I need to stay in my home. It's safer there. Always safer. I mean, I have you Journal! What else is there out in that world? Danger, lots of danger, and I for one don't wish to be part of it.

Well, we got back into our cell, and the lecherous forsaken did not at all seem like himself. He went on yelling, inane things, spouting random formulas. Almost reminded me of Razas, but Razas was safely locked away in some other part.

One question though, dear journal.... where did that Tauren go? It seems he has disappeared... and I don't see nearly as many other people in our little social area any more. Curious. Very curious...

-Razilius Masixiumus Mindsplint, PhD, MD, ADD, DDS, AS