World of WarCraft – A Death Knight's Tale,
Part I – Rebirth
"On your knees you mindless wretches!" came the chilling and other-worldly voice of the Lich Commander, Chillwinter.
The lich had been tasked by the all-powerful Lich King himself with the deliverance of a chosen warrior to champion the cause of the Burning Legion and serve by the Lich King's side. At his behest, all surrounding ghouls, skeletons, and undead soldiers dropped to the floor in honor of the four new captains who had just entered the great hall.
Armed from head to toe in armor as black as night, a contrast to their extremely pale skin and soulless glowing eyes, a result of their "training," deep in the gloom of the floating necropolis of Acheron, away from the sun, sometimes for years, the four human Death Knights had been hand-picked by the Lich King in service to his greatness. They could feel the lich's empty stare gaze into the their souls, peering, probing, looking for any sign of human weakness still residing anywhere in their warped, tortured and manipulated minds. However, none of them dared move or show the slightest hint of discomfort, such an action could be potentially fatal. He eventually rested his stare on one.
"Captain Aran," he named the Death Knight, "of all present here, you have shown the most promise."
The Knight gave a slight bow but said nothing.
"His majesty the Lich King requests a meeting. Will you accept?"
The knight finally spoke, "I will."
The lich's face curled into a sly grin (if one could call it that, seeing how his face was literally a skull). He would have been a fool not to accept. But then these humans were a foolish lot. It was only after months of torture and manipulation that they began to show signs of submission to the indomitable will of the Lich King.
Chillwinter beckoned Aran to follow with a boney finger as he drifted to an outside pavilion.
"My Lord," he said bowing low, "I bring you your chosen champion, Captain Aran Bloodbane."
Before them stood one of the most imposing figures Captain Bloodbane had ever set eyes on. The Lich King virtually radiated power. It was the most unnerving, most fantastic thing the young captain had experienced in his life, even after it had been ended. He instinctively dropped to his knees.
"Leave us…" the Lich King ordered his Lieutenant. He did not even seem to speak, it was almost as if his ominous voice was carried on the winds themselves.
The Lich King waited until the lich was out of sight.
"You have proven yourself worthy, my chosen knight," he spoke once again.
"I am honored, my Lord."
The King turned to look down upon the surface below the giant floating necropolis on which they stood.
"All that I am: anger, cruelty, vengeance - I bestow upon you. I have granted you immortality so that you may herald in a new, dark age for the Scourge. Gaze now upon the lands below us. The Scarlet Crusade scurries to undo my work, while Light's Hope stands defiantly against us – a blemish upon these Plaguelands. They must all be shown the price of their defiance. You will become my force of retribution. Where you tread, doom will follow. Go now and claim your destiny. You are now Sephirion. Champion of the Scourge."
With his last words, he raised his mighty blade, the runesword, Frostmourne and anointed General Sephirion. The newly christened knight could feel the power of the Lich King flowing through his body, powers unimaginable, powers dark and very lethal.
"The time has come, prepare yourself. Seek out Razuvious, he will arm you properly."
"Your will, be done." Sephirion said, standing and slowly leaving the pavilion, still shaking slightly from the rush of power he had just experienced.
---
Razuvious was impatient to say the least. He hated working alongside these walking rotting undead corpses. He would have much preferred the company of the knights collected from the battlefield turned to the all-mighty will of the Lich King. Looking around he noticed the large group of ghouls assigned to him lagging somewhat.
"Faster you dogs!" he shouted, loosing a dark orb of energy from his hands into one of them, disintegrating it immediately. He didn't know if these bags of skin of bones could feel fear, but it at least made him feel better to vent a bit of his frustration.
"Master Razuvious," he heard a voice call from behind him.
He turned to see one of the several Death Knights he had witnessed in the vicinity, approaching.
"What do you want?" he snapped at this new arrival, though it seemed to do nothing to faze him.
"I am General Sephirion, chosen Knight of his majesty, the Lich King. He has assigned you to arm me…properly."
Sephirion's last word seemed to drip with a sense of entitlement and superiority, two qualities Razuvious coveted for himself. He was quickly coming to not like this new General, but he had been chosen by the Lich King, and he had no choice but to obey.
"Tch! You there!" he shouted to one of the meandering skeletal guards, "bring up one of the prisoners."
Several moments later the skeleton reappeared holding what appeared to be an elf bound in shackles. The prisoner's bloodshot eyes and trembling body made it painfully obvious he was terrified. His moans and whimpering seemed to fall on deaf ears however.
"You want your weapon?" Razuvious stated, snidely, "You're going to have to earn it."
He turned and unsheathed a long and very large sword from a weapon rack behind him.
"Take his life," he said handing the weapon to Sephirion, "and then take his soul."
The young general accepted the weapon, and inspected it. It gleamed, despite their very dark surroundings. It was likely this sword could cut through a sternum like a knife through butter. Turning to face the captive on the ground in front of him, he made himself ready and raised his new blade into the air, preparing to bring it down upon his hapless victim.
"No! Please don't…please spare me, please…please…I beg of you."
Sephirion stood motionless for several moments while the elf at his feet continued to moan and cry. The sword in his hands still raised high above his head.
"Do it!" Razuvious commanded, suddenly.
Unsure why he had stopped, Sephirion immediately brought the blade down, cleanly separating the elf's head from its shoulders, the hollow sound of the limp body falling to the ground, echoed on the walls of the necropolis.
"Now, complete the ritual." Razuvious instructed.
Sephirion lowered the blade to the body and utilizing the dark powers recently bestowed upon him, pulled the very living essence of the former elf into the blade infusing it with the power necessary to complete the process of creating a runeblade.
"Excellent," Razuvious actually commented the young Death Knight, "A stolen soul from a slain innocent, your weapon is complete, and is now bound to you. It has been infused not only with the soul of your victim, but yours as well. As a result you will soon begin to feel pain…a ravenous hunger. A yearning that can only be sated one way: the death of your enemies."
The blademaster was correct, for even after his words has been uttered, Sephirion began to feel a longing, a craving deep inside of him. The execution he had just carried out awoke something within. He needed more, the pain he was now feeling was unbearable. He had to kill, slaughter, maim. All enemies of the Lich King were his enemies, and they must all be destroyed! His soul called for blood, and he had no choice but to obey.
"I am ready master Razuvious…" Sephirion panted, the change now becoming evident on the outside.
"Good…" Razuvious remarked with a sneer, "Then you must now attend Highlord Mograine. He will give you your next instruction."
"Yes…yes, sir." Sephirion winced as he sheathed his newly forged weapon, which seemed now itself to demand blood from the young general. He could feel it calling to him, hungering as he did, hungering for death.
---
Highlord Darion Mograine was the Lich King's right hand. Main commander of his mighty army, and was the wielder of the corrupted runesword, Ashbringer; a weapon that had once belonged to his cur of a father, but now belonged to him, along with the nickname itself, Ashbringer. Unquestionably, among the Lich King's chosen Death Knights, his skill was without a doubt the best. Now Mograine had been sent word of a new general, who was hand picked by the Lich King, and ready to carry out the will of the Scourge, and he would, or he would die trying.
It was not long after, that the new knight appeared before him, and he looked to be in pain — the wonderful side effect of the runeforging process. He craved destruction, and Mograine intended to give it to him.
"Lord Mograine," the general approached and dropped to one knee, "I am General Sephirion, how may I serve the whims of the Lich King?"
The Highlord could see the pain was evident in this new general, and his yearning for the death of others pleased him greatly.
"Prince Valanar awaits your arrival below in our camp of Death's Breach. I want you to report to him and carry out his wishes. Those are the Lich King's orders."
Sephirion stood once again, and bowed before departing.
"Suffer well, brother." Mograine said after him.
---
Utilizing the magic teleportation pads within the necropolis, Sephirion was instantly transported to the surface beneath the floating fortress, to the outpost known as Death's Breach. Nearby stood whom he knew to be Prince Valanar, once a prince of the Blood Elves, now a trusted servant of the Lich King.
"You must be Sephirion," he said through a mask covering the lower half of his face, "we have been expecting you."
"What is your command?" the Death Knight general inquired.
"Your first task is the eradication of as many of the fools of the Scarlet Crusade that you can find. Kill as many as you are able, when you succeed in this, you reward will be waiting for you at the Chapel of the Crimson Flame, you will find Commander Plaguefist there will a…special surprise for you."
It was apparent that the former elf was smiling under his concealment.
"Now go, and serve the Lich King."
"It shall be done."
---
Sephirion had heard of the Scarlet Crusade. A fanatic bunch of overly zealous paladins and wizards whose brutal tactics and excessive natures made them unwelcome in the Church of Light. Everywhere they looked they saw enemies, even within their own ranks. Many had rallied to their banner, their primary goal: the complete and total eradication of the Scourge. But it would be they that would be facing eradication this day.
The first structure the young Death Knight came too was a small cottage, which had boarded up its doors and windows. However, this attempt to make the house appear vacant was nothing but a ploy. Sephirion could sense people inside…and they were frightened. Removing his weapon slung over his back, in one quick motion, he carved the door in two, and kicked his way inside. There on the floor, sat a woman doing her best to hide the two children who were apparently clinging to her in fright. They could not have been more than a few years of age.
"Dogs of the Scarlet Crusade," Sephirion grinned brandishing his sword, "allow me to ease your pain."
The woman cautiously peered up at the general, but she wasn't looking at him. Then what…?
The answer came in an instant, when Sephirion heard a voice shout from behind him.
"SCOURGE SCUM! DIE!"
There was not even enough time to turn to face his would-be assailant before a sword came down and shattered into several shards of metal across the back of the general. The man who had crept up behind Sephirion had only a moment to wonder in confusion what had just occurred before feeling the runeblade of the Death Knight before him pierce through his chest. The insatiable hunger Sephirion felt was being satisfied as the blood of the Crusader, most likely the woman's husband, dripped off his sword. The man gave one final gasp before Sephirion swiftly withdrew his weapon and allowed him to fall in a crumpled heap to the floor.
"Now…where was I?"
Sephirion turned once again to face the woman, still clutching her children to her, even more terrified now seeing the lifeless body of her husband laying on the ground in front of her…which gave the Death Knight an idea. Using only a slightly different spell than the one he used to absorb the soul of the elf he had recently slain back with Razuvious, Sephirion instead absorbed the soul of the dead Crusader and out of the dead body itself, a skeletal-like ghoul erupted from the corpse. What delicious irony. Without another word, Sephirion left the cottage, the screams of the inhabitants following swiftly in his wake.
---
Carrying out several more executions of the foolish Scarlet Crusade, Sephirion made his way to the chapel where Commander Plaguefist waited for him. Finally arriving at a church building in flames with corpses scattered all over the yard, he saw Plaguefist standing amongst several other knights of the Lich King.
"Finally made it at last, have you?" the Commander said in a somewhat irritable tone. "Well it took you long enough. When we got here, we tore the place apart, and headed toward the nearby prison house. We weren't expecting what we found in there. Seems the Crusade's been real busy. That whole thing is full of Argent Dawn prisoners. Most of them were already dead by the time we arrived, but a few were still breathing. I was about to go in there and execute the rest of them, but I think you should have the honors. In particular, there's a real feisty human in there that I think you'll take great pleasure in executing."
"I kill whomever the Lich King commands." Sephirion said calmly, "Human, Orc, Elf…it makes no difference to me."
"Tch! Have it your way." the commander nodded in the direction of the prison house indicating its location just behind him, "just make it fast."
The Death Knight general made his way into the nearby structure. Upon opening the door, he looked around seeing the many corpses of former members of the much more well-known faction known as the Argent Dawn, the Church of Light's military branch. They were strewn all over the place, not all of them in one piece. It seemed the Scarlet Crusade weren't very picky about whom they captured. Sephirion scoured the rooms for the human the Commander spoke of. Eventually finding a strong solitary looking human woman, alive, huddled in a corner of a separate room, he decided this was his assignment. He approached her, drawing his sword.
"Come to finish the job, have you?" she said without looking up at him. "Very well…I'd like to stand for…"
She abruptly stopped, mid-stance as their eyes made contact.
"…Aran?"
A rush of inexplicable emotion suddenly hit the Death Knight general.
"Aran! It is you! I'd recognize that face anywhere. Oh, by the Light, what have they done to you, Aran?!" tears began to well up in her eyes as she attempted to reach out and touch the general, who instinctively pulled away.
"You don't remember me? Do you?" she asked, her voice catching in her throat. "It's Ellen, Ellen Stanbridge."
Ellen…Stanbridge? That name…why? Why did it sound so…familiar? Why did it evoke feelings of…happiness and…comfort?
"No! They've taken everything from you!" she sobbed, "They've tried to drain you every last ounce of good…everything that made you…human."
Sephirion had heard enough of this foolish prattle. This human was an enemy of the Lich King, and all enemies must be destroyed. He readied his sword for the final strike to end this insufferable woman's life.
"You have to think, Aran. Think back!"
Once again, Sephirion, for reasons unknown to him, stayed his hand.
"Try and remember the valleys of Elwynn, where you were born. Remember the splendor of life. You were a champion of the Alliance once. This isn't you!"
"The…Alliance? But…no!" the Death Knight thought to himself, "I am the Lich King's servant, his chosen knight! She has to be LYING!"
"Listen to me, Aran. You must fight against the Lich King's control. He is a monster that wants to see this world - our world - in ruins. Don't let him use you to accomplish his goals. You were once a hero and you can be again."
It became clear to Stanbridge that this Death Knight who was once her dearest friend was struggling within himself to rediscover the truth.
"Fight, damn you! Fight his control!"
"AAGGHH!!" Sephirion cried out in agony, his head felt as if it was on fire. In that one moment the humanity that all but been erased was reawakened within him. Dropping his blade, he stumbled backward, holding his face in his hands, feeling the forgotten sensation of tears in his eyes. Sephirion…Aran Bloodbane remembered…everything.
Aran had known Ellen Stanbridge for many years. They had grown up together and each considered the other their dearest friend. When both their parents died in the Second War, leaving them orphaned, they swore they would look after each other. And when Aran volunteered to join the military, partially out of duty and partially out of respect for his father, who had been a high-ranking army official before he died, she decided to sign up as well. And having spent so much time together throughout their lives and in their years of service, it was no secret to either of them that they shared a very special bond, but they had never been lovers, for they both understood their current relationship as soldiers. Sephirion had been a General, and she his Lieutenant. There was no room for emotion on the battlefield. Perhaps, one day when the military no longer needed them, they might have settled down in a quiet corner of Elwynn forest where they had grown up, but when the time came to lead a strike force against Acheron, the floating necropolis, Aran answered the call. The attack had been ill-fated however, and he…he had died. He recalled the vivid details of being knocked from his horse…and impaled by a blade, but…how had he…the Lich King! He had done this. He had destroyed the man called Aran Bloodbane, body and soul. He had turned him against his friends and allies!
"NO!" Sephirion shouted, falling to his knees. "What have I done? How could I…I didn't want…I'm…so sorry."
"Aran…?" Ellen asked the Death Knight cautiously approaching him.
"Ellen? Is that you?" he asked, turning to embrace her, "Oh, Ellen, I never wanted this…I just…"
"Shhh!" Ellen said cradling her sobbing friend for several moments. "I know…I know."
The silence was broken when an impatient voice called from outside.
"What's going on in there?" Plaguefist shouted, "What's taking so long, Sephirion? If you can't handle one little woman, maybe I should just do it myself."
Ellen turned back to her friend.
"Listen to me Aran. There's no more time for me. I'm done for." The Death Knight looked up into the bloodshot, yet still beautiful blue eyes of the woman he loved, "You have to finish me off, Aran."
"No, I can't…" he started to protest.
"You have to!" she cut him off, reaching down to retrieve his dropped sword, and forcing it into his hands, "Do it!"
The young knight stood and gripped the hilt of his blade. Yet still hesitated.
"Do it, or they'll kill us both!" she insisted.
Slowly raising his sword, he saw the last few tears fall down his friend's face.
"Remember Elwynn. Remember me…" she choked out, "this world is worth saving."
"Forgive me."
One swift motion later, the woman that was once Ellen Stanbridge, the life he had treasured, the woman he had loved was gone. He re-sheathed his weapon and made his way out to report his "success" to Plaguefist.
"This chapel will be a pile of ashes in a matter of hours, you've done well, General. You're a cold-blooded monster," The commander cackled. "I salute you."
As Sephirion made his way past the smoldering remains of the former church, he looked to the sky, to Acheron where the Lich King stood surveying the destruction being wrought upon the land.
"I will have my vengeance, you monster," he muttered, "I will make you pay!"
---
The Death Knight had to hide his newly re-discovered feelings from the rest of the Lich King's servants, lest he be discovered and killed. His final assignment was to strike at the heart of the Paladin army standing against the forces of the Scourge. He was to report once again to Highlord Darion Mograine at the edge of Light's Hope Chapel where waited the infamous Paladin, Tirion Fordring, one of the church's strongest and most devout paladins. Sephirion had never met Fordring, but his reputation preceded him, both in and out of the church. He was known as a talented cleric and a fierce warrior.
Sephirion found Highlord Mograine at Browman Mill, but he was not alone. Among him were more zombies, ghouls, and skeletons than the general had ever seen, Death Knight or no.
"Soldiers of the Scourge, hear me!" Mograine called out to the "troops," holding his sword, the Ashbringer high above his head. "Our chosen champion has arrived. General Sephirion will lead the charge into Light's Hope. They dare oppose the Scourge and for that reason alone they must be destroyed! The mighty armies of the Lich King stand at the ready as the final battle for the Plaguelands approaches. Today we ascend into the immortal realm of Scourge heroes!"
The Highlord turned to face Sephirion, "Give the order, my King's chosen warrior."
General Sephirion turned to look at Mograine then, shifted his gaze to the church in the distance. The Scourge forces at his command were massive. This would not be a battle…it would be a slaughter.
"Attack."
---
The battle lasted longer than anyone, including Sephirion had originally estimated. The strength and zeal that the soldiers of Light fought with was as fierce as the destruction wrought upon them by the armies of the Scourge. They seemed evenly matched, almost to a point of stalemate.
"The skies turn red with the blood of the fallen!" Mograine bellowed, "the Lich King watches over us, minions! Onward! Leave only ashes and misery in your destructive wake!"
Every time Sephirion swung his sword and cut down a soldier of the Argent Dawn, he felt the sadness and regret for what he had done, what he had become, grip his heart, which had slowly begun to beat once more.
The battled waged, seemingly without end. Then all of a sudden, every last skeleton, ghoul and undead soldier immediately crumpled to the ground as a flash of blinding luminescent light stunned all still standing. When it had faded, standing in the center of a ring of corpses was one who Sephirion could only guess was Tirion Fordring himself.
"Enough of this!" he shouted, in a very commanding tone, as he surveyed all the Scourge forces who were still alive, Death Knights, warlocks, and other humanoids who were not of the undead. "Bring them before the chapel!"
Two burly looking soldiers grabbed Mograine and forced him to his knees in front of Fordring.
"Have you learned nothing, boy?" the Paladin berated the Highlord, "You have become all that your father fought against! Like that coward, Arthas, you allowed yourself to be consumed by the darkness…the hate…Feeding upon the misery of those you tortured and killed! Your master knows what lies beneath the chapel. It is why he dares not show his face! He's sent you and your Death Knights to meet their doom, Darion. What you are feeling right now is the anguish of a thousand lost souls! Souls that you and your master brought here! The Light will tear you apart, Darion!"
"Save your breath old man," Mograine snarled, "it might be the last you ever draw."
"Then allow me to show you the thruth." Fordring calmly said, placing a finger on Mograin's forehead.
What followed was several succinct images; images of Mograine as an eager young man, not unlike how Sephirion used to be. He wanted to go off and fight the undead, but his father forbade it. He was too young, barely of age to hold a sword. All present could hear the words of Highlord Alexandros Mograine in their heads:
"My son, there will come a day when you will command the Ashbringer and with it, mete justice across this land. I have no doubt that when that day finally comes, you will bring pride to our people and that Lordaeron will be a better place because of you. But, my son, that day is not today."
The vision was abruptly interrupted when an ominous voice seemed to come from upon the wind.
"Touching…"
In as dark a shadow as the light Fordring had appeared in, Arthas, the Lich King himself stood in the middle of the battlefield with Fordring and Mograine. In a fit of rage, Mograine, his mind now his own once more like Sephirion's, lashed out and attempted to attack his former master.
"You have forsaken me, bastard! FACE THE MIGHT OF MOGRAINE!"
With a simple gesture, the Lich King brushed one of his greatest Death Knights to the side where he collapsed, battered and broken.
"Pathetic!" the Lich King chuckled.
"You're a damned monster, Arthas!" Tirion accused his former prince.
"You were right, Fordring," the Lich King laughed, "I did send them in to die. Their lives are meaningless, but yours…How simple it was to draw the great Tirion Fordring out of hiding. You've left yourself exposed, paladin. Nothing will save you..."
Raising Frostmourne to point at Fordring, the ground began to shake as the Lich King began to cast an intensely powerful spell to eliminate Tirion Fordring once and for all. However, suddenly, the spell seemed to loose its potency as the Lich King actually dropped to one knee, his powers waning rapidly.
"Impossible…" he whispered.
"Tirion!" came a shout as the sword Ashbringer was hurled through the air, caught by the paladin and in another flash of light, the sword that Mograine had used to slaughter so many was cleansed and once again became a weapon of holy righteousness.
"What…is…this?" the Lich King panted.
"Your end." Tirion stated, firmly.
"This…isn't…over…" the Lich King said, once again beginning to fade into the darkness, back to his throne in Icecrown, "When next we meet, it won't be on holy ground, paladin…"
With that, the once invulnerable, all mighty Lich King vanished with his tail between his legs.
Fording crossed over to where the broken form of Darion Mograine lay. Placing his hands on him, the Highlord was instantly healed and once again, stood.
"Rise, Darion, and listen…" the paladin turned to address all the soldiers present Argent Dawn and Death Knights alike, "We have all been witness to a terrible tragedy. The blood of good men has been shed upon this soil! Honorable knights, slain defending their lives – our lives! And while such things can never be forgotten, we must remain vigilant in our cause! The Lich King must answer for what he has done and must not be allowed to cause further destruction to our world. I make a promise to you now, brothers and sisters: The Lich King will be defeated! On this day, I call for a union. The Argent Dawn and the Order of the Silver Hand will come together as one! We will succeed where so many before us have failed! We will take the fight to Arthas and we will tear down the walls of Icecrown!"
Hundreds of cheers sounded from the soldiers of the Argent Dawn.
"The Argent Crusade comes for you, Arthas!"
"So too do the Knights of the Ebon Blade…" Mograine added, albeit somewhat begrudgingly, "While our kind has no place in your world, we will fight to bring an end to the Lich King. This I vow!"
---
In yet another blinding flash of light, all the Death Knights present found themselves transported far away from the Plaguelands and the battlefield, and now stood at the gates of the great human city of Stormwind. And there in front of them stood a figure that Sephirion recognized as none other than Varian Wrynn, King of Stormwind, and behind him, hundreds of citizens, soldiers, venders, and others, all who Varian turned to address.
"People of Stormwind! Citizens of the Alliance! Your king speaks! Today marks the first of many defeats for the Scourge! Death Knights, once in service of the Lich King, have broken free of his grasp and formed a new alliance against his tyranny! You will welcome these former heroes of the Alliance and treat them with the respect that you would give any ally of Stormwind!"
Several cheers and shows of appreciation erupted from the crowd gathered from their king's proclamation.
"Glory to the Alliance!" he shouted amidst the cheers.
***
And so it came to pass, former heroes of the Alliance, broken free of the control of the Lich King. The dog will return to bite hand that once fed it, but it will not be easy. That monster took everything we were, warped us beyond recognition, and used us as tools for his evil ends. And I — Aran Bloodbane, now Sephirion, his chosen champion; his General. I have been violated most of all. He took my life, he took my love; he will never steal anything from me again. I can still hear his voice inside my head, calling me, calling me to murder and kill, but I will fight him. I will fight him with every last ounce of strength in my body. I swear upon my life, I will find the Lich King, I will smash through the very gates of his citadel, and I will make him suffer for what he has done.