As I settled into my chair, I thought of the project I am about to do. It was going to be one of the biggest stories of my life, and I prepared to write it as well as I could. I spent weeks brainstorming on how I would write this story, who I was going to get involved, and the conclusion to what was going to happen, as well as an epilogue and basis for continuing it. I was prepared. But something happened, something that made me throw away a weeks worth of work. This incident started with a pounding at my door.
Before I continue, let me digress for a moment to explain. My pen name is Troy Stardancer. I am a writer of fan fiction. I have been writing fan fiction for twenty years, usually based upon a world I created with My best friend Mark. This world was Dungeons and Dragons based, and filled our imagination with ourselves as heroes saving a created world from the evils, in reality, we deal with since high school. Although I only have one story (in three parts) currently published on , I have written hundreds of short stories featuring us as heroes. Today, I planned a different, new set up. I was planning on writing a story about my guild in World of Warcraft. We weren't a very big guild, but we were loyal to each other, and I felt that now was the time to get down to seriously making our friends come alive in my literary work.
Then something happened that changed my life, as well as my writing.
It started with a pounding on my den door. I looked at the clock; it was just midnight. That would mean it was only one person who should have been knocking at the door; my wife of eight years, Krystal. My daughter, who had just turned five last month, should be asleep, as well as my son, who turned two in February. I figured Krystal wanted me for something real quick before she went to bed; after all, it was finals week for her students; two more weeks of teaching and she will be free until mid August. I got up from the desk, surprised at my stiffness (I realized that I have been working on the computer since dinner was over, about 6 hours), and went to open the door. Nothing prepared me for this.
Standing in the doorway was a heavily cloaked figure of almost impossible height. The long cloaked robe cover the figure completely, and I detected a pair of icy glowing blue orbs where the eyes should be. This figure stood well taller than I am (by comparison, I am a little below average male height, about 5'10", but the figure standing before me was at least 6'10").
What would be one's initial reaction if they open a door and see The Grim Reaper standing directly in front of them? Consider your reaction, and then you will probably mirror mine. My reaction was one beyond fear; I was paralyzed. The figure never made a threatening movement though. In fact, it walked into the den and stood, hands folded in it's robes, and stared at me. When it spoke, the voice startled me even more.
"Please close the door." It said. The voice…how can I describe it? The voice was definitely female, that is as far as I can go in identifying it. But several other things made her voice unusual. She pronounced her s with a long hissing sound, and the way the voice sounded as if it was more of an echo of a voice than a real one. Now that I heard her voice, I can tell that this person must be female. Very rarely do females grow so tall though, (Krystal herself is well above average height, at 6'1). The cloaked figure had a lithe body, considerably thin from the way the cloaked formed, and she walked with an unusual but graceful gait. The figure removed her hood, and lowered her cloak. What I saw next was, well, stunning and highly unexpected. She was female, but not human. She had light grey skin, long green hair with bangs coming off each side of her perfectly chiseled face, and green eyebrows so long they run off the sides of her face at least an inch or two. Her ears were prominently long and faced backwards extending at least six inches behind the back of her head. Her eyes were glowing blue, as if they were electrically charged; she had no pupils that I could see. On her face was an elaborate tattoo; both eye areas had tall, thin, purple cylinder tattoos reaching from the top of her forehead to the beginning of her chin. There was a purple fireball like tattoo that encircled both eyes. Although these tattoos meant something to her, I for one failed to see the trial and tribulation worthy of them.
Unless my eyes were deceiving me, I was looking at a true to life Night Elf, or Kaldorei. Impossible! Night Elves were a creation of Blizzard, a computer game company, and is a playable race in World of Warcraft! I was staring at something that does not exist in real life…and yet, here she was, taking a seat in my chair beside my computer desk! I blinked twice, turning my head, refusing to believe what I was seeing…. Slowly, I looked back. She was still there, looking at me in amusement.
"Does my presence surprise you?" she said. Her voice was light and musical, but unnerved me because it still had that disconcerting echo within it.
I closed the door and then crossed my arms (keeping my back to the door to make sure I was able to feel something, as well as remember where the only exit was).
"Yes it does." I finally spoke, in a voice not my own. "You, don't really exist."
"And yet here I am." The echoing status of that voice was freaking me out!
"You're a creation of graphics, computer programming, and imagination. I play the game that your race is part of. Nothing like you exist in the real world."
"Real world you say?" she retorted. "Is your world truly the real world?"
"It is for me. I exist in this world. You exist in a different world created by people like me."
She laughed. It was a hollow sounding laughter, one that set my teeth on edge. Not only was it sounding hollow, but the echoing sonic of it made it more unpleasant. It was then, when she removed the covering cloak, that I realized something.
This woman/night elf staring at me was fully armed and armored. She was wearing an elaborate breastplate with intricate designs on it. Her legs had long covers that ended in mid thigh, also made of plate armor.. She wore boots that looked leather, highly polished, but was covered with plated links that were tied and molded into the material. It was her paudrons, though, that unnerved me. Her shoulder guards were plate, but each side was emblazoned with the design of a skull. Her weapon, strapped to her back, which I could see the head of it, was also horrible looking. The weapon was an axe, the head was keenly glowing, almost a strange greenish mist covering it. The blade was serrated, looking more like a wide saw. The blade was also colored with black, blood red, and ochre green, and looked to be dripping a glowing blue liquid (though looking at the floor, I see no drops or residue.) Around her midriff was a thin belt with what appeared to be 2 quarter sized rubies embedded in it. The thing that struck me the most was a small black shawl covered her middle, tied on the sides. In a way, she looked sexy, but I was thinking more of what she was.
"You're a Death Knight." I realized. "You were once a scion of Arthas, the Lich King."
She was, indeed, a Death Knight. A former scourge lord that was risen by The Lich King to help defeat the Scarlet Crusade and the Order of the Argent Dawn. These relentless and unholy warriors were betrayed by the Lich King in order for him to confront lord Tirion Foldring. Led by Highlord Darion Mograine, the Death Knights broke free of Artha's control and vowed to destroy him. Though these Knights were considered Scourge, Those that broke from the Lich King were no longer undead, but they were tainted with unholy power that he bestowed upon them. Therefore, Though Death Knights were still relentless soldiers and valuable allies, they still were generally untrusted due to the powers they use to destroy their enemies.
Now staring at this beautiful but deadly female, the question I was feeling coming out finally found it's way to my voice… "who are you? And why are you here?"
The Kaldorei female Death Knight stood, towering over me. She looked at me with a distant pain I could not describe, as if she missed her past life, only to be the soulless being she was now. She did, however, reply. "I am now called Isabow, the Dark Sentarian. I know not who I was, but in order for me to become the Death Knight you now see, I must have been a legendary heroine of renown. I have no memory of who I was, just what you see me as now. I feel no pity, no remorse. Everything that stands against the Ebon Blade, The Alliance, and me is doomed to die by my unholy might." Isabow looked at me with grim determination, only to see me looking at her calmly. "You don't seem impressed."
"No, you have me wrong." I replied. "I am impressed. But I also know that I am safe. For you see, since I am not of your world, you would not view me as an enemy. If you did, I would have been dead by now. But what I don't know is why you are here, now. Am I asleep and dreaming this? Is this real?"
Isabow smiled again. This time it was a genuine smile, that showed more of her Kaldorei heritage than her Death Knight status. "You are astute. Yes, I am here for a reason. I take it you heard of The Magic Dragon?"
I nodded. The Magic Dragon was the guild which my 'toons' were part of in World of Warcraft. I had a paladin, a priest, a hunter, and a warrior in that guild. Krystal had a mage, a warlock, a death knight, a druid, and a hunter in the same guild. In fact, Krystal's older sister Jesse was the Guildmaster. It was then that I realized. "You're the Guild master."
Isabow nodded. "And now, I will tell you why I am here." She sat down at the computer desk chair, then waited for me to sit in the side chair by the rollaway desk, which I complied. "I know what you are about to do. You are about to write a fan fiction story about the Fall of Naxxramas."
I leaned back, jolted. Not even Krystal knew what I was planning. All my beloved wife knew was that I was brainstorming and planning a writing project. "How?…" I stammered.
"…..do I know this?" she answered. "That was the reason I came here. I felt the pull of your pen. I felt each and every tap of word you typed on the computer. I felt your motivation, your drive, to see this project through. In a way, you created me with what you brainstormed. You brought me to life with your imagination and your determination to finish your project. In truth, you created me to help you."
"Help me?" I was baffled.
"Yes. You created this scenario as we speak. In fact, you are now more than ready to see this project through. As am I." She stood up, and she looked at the computer. "Look into the computer, Troy Stardancer. Look into a world that more than eleven million people stop by in. What you are about to see in that computer is what you will write. I will experience it, as you will see. You will see everything from the beginning to the end. You will see your creation of the Battle of Naxxramas, and you will see Every battle, every injury, every death, everything. You will see rather or not if My guild will conquer Naxxramas or totally wipe from it. You will see that some have already been in some of Naxxramas….but this, this will be the battle you have been preparing to write for over a year now. Come Troy Stardancer, come see what you will create."
I first thought Isabow was crazy. I will chronicle the Guild's exploits into Naxxramas, as I watch them? It would mean I would document every action I saw. Maybe there was something to creating this story. I thought about it, and decided. Yes I will look into the computer. Yes, I will see what she says I will see. But I thought this with skepticism. How does looking at a computer screen allow me to see their first blow against the Lich King? Well, it wouldn't hurt to try, would it?
I stared into the computer screen. The only thing I could see on my screen was the little fish swimming around on my Microsoft lagoon screensaver. For five minutes I stared at nothing but fish swimming. This was stupid. I turned to say this to Isabow.
She was gone. In fact, there was no one in my den with me. Now I thought, I am going crazy. Did I imagine Isabow, a Night elf Death Knight, was going to show me the realm of Azeroth and show me the first strike against the Lich King? I must be mad.
I turned back to my computer…..You may say, with irony, that was the turn of my destiny.
I am no longer in my den. I am…flying? ….through an apparently very cloudy sky. I could see nothing but fog ahead of me, as I was wisked through the sky at alarming speed. I know not where I was going, only I was traveling faster than I could think. It was about five minutes later when I finally stopped. What I saw before me was impossible, yet, here it was.
I was looking at a large town. An fortress type town built on the plateau of a large cliff. The upper part of the town had a large wall surrounding it, and I could see the heavily armored troops of Alliance's 7th legion patrolling the wall, occasionally pausing to shoot fiery arrows at something below. I knew now where I was; I was in Wintergarde Keep, the main base for the Alliance. I realized that I was now standing on the Gryphon flight stables area. Though I could see several people looking and walking around, I noticed that none of them acknowledged me. However, one familiar person was seen. I could see Isabow. She was walking toward the large building to the far east, which I recognized as Windergarde's Inn. She stopped, turned, and then looked straight at me. I could see her staring directly at me, as if she could see me. It was then I noticed how cold I should have been; I could see her breath when she exhaled. The ground, though trampled, was still packed with snow, and heavy snowflakes were falling from the sky. I knew then that I was not really here; I could not feel the bitter cold that the region of Dragonblight was. Therefore, I knew Isabow was right…I am here only to observe, and chronicle her guilds' quest for the Fall of Naxxramas.
End prologue