Prologue
An eerie silence filled the meeting chamber; walls of blackened steel encased the interior of the room, a cold breeze rolled through the frozen, iron doors which chilled the bones to touch. The room was adorned with banners of ancient past; their age detailed by the dried blood, tears and decay, added a noxious scent to the chamber and between these two standards was a throne, with one lone knight perched upon it.
The knight's armour glinted in the faint moonlight that entered the ceiling, showing the fine craftsmanship to the battle plate, the craftsmanship was of master design, the shoulders and leg plates adorned with skeletal features. The knight reeked of evil, taint oozed from the sockets and cracks in his armour, a blue mist surged from them like a florescent chemical, his eyes also glowed with this necromantic energy, which was all that could be seen of his face in the darkness of the room.
Beside him, he held a very impressive sword; its demonic craft was unlike any mortal weaponsmiths's, the runes etched within the blade spoke, "Whosoever takes up this blade shall wield power eternal. Just as the blade rends flesh, so must power scar the spirit." Only one such blade carried this curse, Frostmourne. Frostmourne stole the souls of each man, woman and child ever slain by this sword, if you listened closely, you could almost hear the screams, begging to be set free.
The doors burst open, immediately two guardians; each clad in ornate black armour emerged from the shadows of the throne as three soldiers, accompanied by one servant, marched in silence. The rattle of iron footsteps against stone was the only sound that accompanied their advance.
"My lord, I have before you the three knights you have granted me the pleasure of seeking," Said the servant, his voice rasping, as if starved of all air. The Knight looked upon them, silently, not a single word escaping his lips, then suddenly,
"Leave us..." the three knights shuddered, the words felt like nails against blackboard. "Falric, Marwynn, escort my servant back to his quarters, return to my chambers once this task is complete."
"As you wish, my lord" replied the guardians, as quickly as they had first appeared they strode towards the servant. The three knights observed the movements, they knew full well the guardians were there, but their movements suggested they were not there at all, as if each step they phased in and out of reality.
The doors slammed shut, the horrifying voice of the knight echoed through the abandoned hall, "Rayge, Haint, Charestia, each of you have answered my summons and each of you understands full well the reason as for my calling?"
"Yes my King." Replied the three warriors; their words betraying all sign of emotion.
"Each of you is the greatest champions of your aspects, Blood, Frost, Plague, I have called you here for a task, to which only you three, and you three alone can complete."
The knights looked at one another, their master's words certainly spoke truth and each of them, from initiate to their higher standing at this moment was all a display of their strength.
"All that I am- Anger, cruelty, vengeance, I have bestowed upon you, my chosen knights, long ago I granted you immortality so that each of you may herald a new, dark age for the Scourge."
"Yes, my King." Answered the knights, once again, their voiced showed no sign of emotion, no joy, no praise, no thanks for their master.
The floor below them shuddered, and slowly began to slide away, revealing a desolate land beneath them.
"What sorcery is this?" Yelled Rayge, his voice a snarl of disgust at the sight of magic, a much frowned upon profession in the aspect of Blood.
The fallen king continued, "Gaze now upon the land below us. The order of the Silver Hand scurries to undo my work, whilst their stronghold, Light's Hope stands mockingly against us-a blemish upon these Plaguelands."
The Lich King rose from his throne, the air freezing, colder, colder as he descended from the stone steps.
"They must all be shown the price of their defiance, their cherished second in command, Vallutus, must be taken from them, the light is strong within him, but we will show these mortals that the Light is nothing but a speck of dust beneath our fingernails, and that it can be extinguished as easily as a burning candle."
The Knights nodded, each of their gazes followed their master until he stood to a halt in front of them.
"Each of you shall be my force of retribution, where each of you will tread, doom will follow."
"Death for the Death God!" yelled the knights, their words echoing in the empty chamber.
"Go now; bring the Paladin's corpse back to Acherus, and claim your destinies, Death Knights!"