Darkness

by Veikko

The prologue to a work in progress called "Darkness". The story is about the history of my in-game character, his family, and his ventures within Azeroth. Notable characters are property of Blizzard Entertainment, the rest you don't know are mine.

1. Prologue

Darkness

Prologue

I. Am. Veikko.
I have been called many names.
Veikko the Machine.
Veikko the Obliterator.
Veikko the Rimewraith
The Dreadnaught of Frost.
The God of Death.

For years, I followed in darkness.
Betrayed by my brothers in arms.
Forced to follow the absolute rule of my creator.
Arthas.
The Lich King.

My brother, Malvakai, and I were once students of the Light; proud sons of Lordaeron; students under the first Paladin, Uther the Lightbringer, the courier of the Light. My brother served beside the son of our King, the favored prince of all; Arthas Menethil. As Paladins of the Silver Hand, I looked up to my brother and Arthas. I wanted to be like them one day. I wanted to be the blessed guardian of my people.

One day, Arthas left. No one knew what had become of the prince; all feared him dead. However, he did return. He returned with the dread runeblade, Frostmourne; a testament to his new powers; the unholy wrath that had penetrated his pious reason. The Lich King had taken over Arthas, and with this corruption, Arthas began his war against the living world.

Arthas murdered his own father. He murdered Uther, a man much like a father to him. However, when he began his march on Dalaran and other bastions of human life, his reach didn't end there.

Driven mad by masked voices, the Paladins turned on our friends and family. My brother was brutally tortured, maimed, then murdered and desecrated, just as the rest of our family; our parents and sister.

I was able to get loose and, in cold blood, murdered our captors. However, the disgrace of not being able to save my family, my holy brother, was too much for me to bear.

I gouged out my own eyes, so that I would never have to see their mutilated bodies even in the afterlife.

I cut out my own tongue, so that I would never have to explain to my family why I couldn't help them sooner.

Then I committed suicide, for I thought myself unworthy of Uther's teachings or my brother's love.

I was awoken. However, it was not what I had hoped. My family was not there. My friends were not around. The Light did not embrace me.
Anger.
Sadness.
Vengeance. Yes, this is what gripped my torn soul. The icy tendrils of dark magic tore through my body, dragging me from the world of the dead back to life. Energy poured into my body, giving me sight once again. However, I quickly realized I had not been resurrected by a fellow Paladin or any other vessel of the Light.
I was brought to being once again by pure evil, as an abomination; a mockery of life. I was a Forsaken; an Undead. It was only when I awoke did I realize who had raised me.

Arthas had summoned me to be one of his chosen few. A Death Knight. A Harbinger of Evil.
I stared up at him. His glare met my magical sight. The bastard smiled.

"Veikko.. You will be my Champion."

It has been almost 15 years since that dreaded day; 4 years since my liberation from Arthas' rule. I remember his gaze; that smirk. I remember most, however, the day I was a tool in his destruction; the day Arthas met his end; the day my family was freed from the magical prison of Frostmourne.

It has been a very long time, but for once, I feel a small measure of peace.