Wrath

Elwynn Forest had been enjoying a perfectly ordinary afternoon when the fabric of existence gave a polite cough and deposited Wrath onto the grass outside Northshire Abbey. This sort of thing did not happen often, which is precisely why the forest pretended not to notice. Trees are notoriously bad at dealing with surprises.

For their part, Wrath was in that delicate stage of new personhood where everything seemed vaguely important and mildly threatening. The Abbey loomed in the distance with the quiet dignity of a building that had seen too much and would very much like a nap. A few guards wandered about wearing the resigned expressions of people who knew they were about to ask a stranger for help.

And so Wrath took their first steps into a world that had not asked for them, did not particularly need them, but would very soon have no choice but to deal with them anyway. These things have a way of escalating.