Chapter One: The Cold embrace of death.
The clash of steel, the cries of pain…the blood-soaked ground and the relentless screaming. These are the traits of war, which proves much too much for many, these are not volunteers, war isn't for the weak hearted nor the feeble minded, these men signed up in hope of fame and glory, its only as they look across the battlefield, a horizon of spears at the 10,000 candidates that could end their life in the swing of a blade or the flight of an arrow. It is when these thoughts hit home that average doesn't seem so bad. This is the fate of most soldiers, but not all.
Among these people are true warriors born to fulfil their lords will upon the battleground, these aren't driven by fame or greed, but by honour. In this battle in particular, a fearless warrior renown for his skill and courteous personality graced his comrades with his heroic presence. As he entered the battle upon his steed, the crowds chanted his name, the name "Iceraven" echoed in the mountain valley. The many enemy battalions all of a sudden didn't feel so strong willed. Swinging his claymore upon the enemy, they had been routed by this superior warrior; the morale soared to the heavens amongst the men. More battalions of Orcs were charging towards him and the other humans he fought with, baring their teeth like feral dogs, as they clutched giant axes with ax-heads the size a human shield. The monstrous creatures with their mottled green skin, and surreally muscular bodies were yelling ferocious chants in a foreign tongue. A sight that would unnerve even the boldest of men. Yet with their king's decorated champion standing alongside them, they wielded a weapon far greater than any axe…hope.
As they two forces collided and a flurry of sparks and cries, the battle again began. Although the Orcs looked like primitive creatures, they were well trained with an axe, sweeping strikes cut through the ranks of heavily armoured soldiers with ease. The humans were loosing. Iceraven slung his claymore back into the scabbard on his back, and grabbed his shield and longsword, and went charging into the chaos that was before him. Hammering his shield into the startled faces of his opponents, as steel met bone, a crude cracking sound echoed throughout the valley, swinging his sword with power and precision, weaving out of the paths of axes, he managed to slay a few of the beasts. A sight caught his attention, a soldier sitting on the floor, sobbing over a corpse of a fallen comrade. Iceraven charged over to him, and deflected a strike that was aiming for the grieving mans head; he then twisted himself around and plunged the sharp steel into the Orcs tender flesh. The Orc stared at him, looking both shocked and saddened, before he slumped to the ground lifeless. The soldier just having realised this commander had just saved him from certain death, stood up and saluted, before charging into an unsuspecting group of Troll spearthrowers, cutting them down with a new found determination, he used his blade with incredible prowess, with anguish swirling in his eyes. The tide seemed to be turning, the Orcs were now outnumbered. "Onward! For Stormwind my brothers! For King Varian!" bellowed Iceraven, as his men cheered and came rushing towards the remaining Orcs. The adrenaline and excitement of the charge was cut short however. As a sound crippled the ears and minds of all the humans in the area. It was the howl of Roukan.
As the infamous and gargantuan wolf known as Roukan the Fleshrend, darted into the battle, the faces of the soldiers of Stormwind went as pale as the white flag they all wanted to wave. "Fight on Brothers! Do not fear this overgrown pup! This mongrel is about to be put down!" Iceraven screamed as he led his men on. Roukan leaped into the centre of the Human battalion, knocking men aside with his monstrous paw. It headed straight for Iceraven, its demoralizing roar sent him crashing to the ground, sword just out of reach, just as it opened its disgusting maw, holding too many spear like teeth, it was about to devour the champion when a deep voice bellowed across the battlefield, even the wolf itself turned to see the voices owner. "For Khaz Modan!" as gunfire crackled menacingly, and about a dozen cloaked dwarves came charging down, firing their blunderbusses with incomparable accuracy. The Orcs dropped instantly as the pellets of iron buried themselves deep into their green bodies. One hit Roukan in the back; the beast howled with agony and headed for the sharpshooter squad. Out of the clouds came a new combatant eager to join the fun. On the back of a half leonine creature…a gryphon, the monstrous beast swooped with the grace of a swan, then unleashed its dreaded talons upon the wolf, as the long claws sunk into the wolfs body, it plummeted back into the sky, dragging the wolf with it. The dwarf rider, grabbed his beloved Stormhammer and yelled "See you in Oblivion mangy dog!" as the mass of the hammer collided with the wolf's skull, Roukan fell limply down to the ground…dead.
The gryphon rider then flew back down to the ground. Iceraven had sent a small squad of mounted knights after the fleeing Orcs, to see that they don't return. Iceraven approached the leader of the Dwarven marksmen that had helped him, and also the gryphon rider. "You have my thanks brothers, you were clearly the factor that pulled this battle in our favour, and for that on behalf of Stormwind I thank you" The Human champion spoke with a grateful tone and with the utmost respect.
"Bah no worries lad, nothing better makes our day than breakin bones n crackin skulls!" the short and bulky Dwarven captain replied in a playful voice, as his comrades chuckled and nodded between themselves. Iceraven, mounted his heavily armoured horse, and kicked into a gentle canter in the direction of their base camp.
Satisfied he had served his king well, he headed back to the main camp, overwhelmed with emotion and joy at how the day had turned out, they had managed not only to clear the area of Horde forces, but kill Roukan the Fleshrend, who was one of the greatest weapons the horde wielded.
His path was obstructed by the thud of what looked much alike a goat skull into ground, and then it rose into what looked like a mystical portal, swirling with skulls and purple complexions. The mysterious object morphed into a midnight black as a figure emerged from it, Iceraven drew his blade and held it firmly for the counter-attack, but the figure overpowered him with a draining blow to the head , he looked up in amazement at a heavily armoured figure, holding a dual glaive, Iceraven determined not to be beaten after the battle leaped to his feet but another blow to the head sent him crashing back down to the ground, all went silent as he fell down into the dark abyss of the unknown darkness.
He gained consciousness again shortly after, but only to find he was on a dark and freezing cold platform, stripped down to some ragged shorts. Still dizzy from the knocks to the head he received earlier, he couldn't stand and so just lay there flat on the floor he felt the cold embrace of death sink in, with its demoralising clutches, but was too weak to resist. The air grew even colder as a being came forth towards him; all he could see was the outline and the glowing blue eyes. Still conscious he didn't have the strength to hold his head up to look at the ever nearing being. All he could do was listen to the thud, thud, thud as it came closer then the thudding came to a halt, the being began to argue with something, or someone,
"You fool, look you almost killed him!" shouted the being in a very loud, deep and shadowy voice. Someone replied "Are you questioning my abilities!?"
"WHAT!" Screeched the being, "Are you determined to taste my blade, you arrogant worm! wait for me in the training ring…NOW!" bellowed the being. The other supposed creature who just got shouted at had left.
"Now then my champion, I have waited long for this day, Iceraven…I apologise for your abrupt entrance, you must feel weak hmm? Well I will sort that out for you" said the being with a hint of politeness in his tone, "You, wretch, fetch me a ghoul NOW!" the being shouted. "You may have heard of me Iceraven… I have many names, yet the most common is The Lich King.
A cloaked person came back into the room, with a ghoul, it was one of the most disgusting vile creatures to belong to this world, rotten with bone and flesh exposed, withered skin, blood crusted on its hands and hardened pieces of flesh had formed all over its body, it was standing there, breathing heavily, its eyes had a glowing blue glare, the same as the Lich King. It was dribbling a foul smelling ooze, slightly hunched over whilst its long partially decomposed arms were swaying gently, almost touching the floor.
"Now Iceraven observe" spoke the Lich King, as he pointed his blade at the ghoul, the Lich king focused on the foul creature with an unmoving gaze, the ghoul collapsed with an echoing groan, a dark energy seeped out of the corpse and floated gently into the Lich Kings hand, he grasped this strange energy in his hand and thrust it at Iceraven, Iceraven absorbed it painfully and let out a slight moan.
"What is this dark magic? What have you done to me!?" Iceraven demanded with a confused hatred in his words. "That, young knight is power of Undeath, the greatest of the schools of magic, it has the power not only to destroy life but restore it to the being, with a new unholy strength .This is the strength and power you were destined to control since before you were born, like me, now rise".
Iceraven, did as he was told, only this time he did not collapse, he stood up, his skin was pale and his eyes now glistened with the same energy has his new master The Lich King.
"Here put these on, head down to the training ring in the armoury, if you get lost ask a geist for directions, if they deny you then smack them round the head and they will spit it out, now go!"
"Yes Master" replied Iceraven now wearing his new armour, which was different to golden plate mail he wore before, it was dark and jagged with cruel edges and decorated with skulls with blue glowing eyes. The Lich King turned to look across the balcony at the peaceful lands beneath him.
Iceraven walked around hopelessly he didn't know where he was going in this strange structure, he approached, a small crippled creature with no face but a single eye, and spoke
"Where is the training ring?" the geist lifted a gnarled finger and pointed to his left, Iceraven wandered in the direction, then stumbled, nearly falling to certain death, this structure must have been at least 100 feet in the air, a sudden rage filled him from top to bottom, a strange sensation, never experienced before, his face turned from shock, to that of pure anger. He headed back in the direction to the geist, who was sitting down, sniggering to himself. Iceraven watched his arms grab the creature by its scrawny through, and his hand tightened uncontrollably, the geist`s eye bulging as if about to burst, the lesser being writhed, attempting to escape the iron grip. "You...lied to me!" he heard himself say, he was a spectator of his own body, immobilized as another possessed him. He in his mind demanded the force to stop, to withdraw, it took all his effort, but the force left him, utterly drained. He slumped to the ground breathless.
After a few moments spent on his knees, he managed to stand again; the geist was staring at him in dismay, "ss...S...Sorry…I did not know whom I spoke to!" the creature muttered, whilst rubbing its red raw neck. Iceraven in as much shock as the geist, gave a simple nod, the creature spoke again "tis in the left wing, unholy one" also raising his gnarled finger again, but this time in the correct direction, keen to keep what had just occurred as a one off experience. Iceraven nodded again and walked where he had been directed.
At last he came to what looked like a small arena with a glowing green floor. A freakishly large man approached him, with what looked like armour made out of ice. "You must be the new recruit? Either that or you've gotten lost…very lost" the man grasped the hilt of his sheathed blade as he spoke, "Yes, I am Iceraven…The Traitor King sent me down here" replied Iceraven. The huge being smacked Iceraven in the stomach, and kicked him onto his back, "The Traitor King?! That's the Lich king to you, you pathetic lump of ghoul food!" screamed the man in Iceraven`s face, his eyes surged with hate and the energy that looked like raging blue flames, he then calmed and took a step back. "Now then, care to try again?" said the man. Iceraven felt his ribs, something felt loose, but he got up, he didn't fancy anymore discipline. "I have been ordered to report to the training ring sir, my name is Iceraven, The Lich King sent me" said Iceraven with a cautious voice.
"Much Better, I am Instructor Razuvious, I oversee the duels and run the Armoury, you shall address me as master" said Razuvious with authority. "Ok let's see how handy you are",
"Handy?" replied Iceraven with confusion in his voice,
"Yes, the enemies you are soon to face do not play fair, so neither must we, if they disarm you, unleash hell with those bony things on your hand, that your God graced you with upon birth" Iceraven nodded, and stepped into the ring area where he met an Orc in ripped clothing and in chains. "Release the prisoner!" yelled Razuvious, as a necromancer, clad in midnight robes and clutched a tome etched with glowing blue runes, very tightly, stepped over and froze the chains then shattered them with a click of the fingers.
Iceraven stood poised ready to strike, as soon as the chains had been shattered the hulky orc charged at him and went at him with a monstrous hook which met Iceraven`s jaw, he went crashing to the floor, a few other knights of darkness had gathered around watching and laughing at him. Conscious of the fact he was joke of the day, he rose to his feet with a broken or at least very weak jaw, the laughter continued, then Iceraven charged at the giant orc and swung for his head, he hit but it probably hurt his hand more than the orcs iron skull. He then suffered a lethal uppercut to the chest sending him flying backwards back to the ground again. The Lich King entered.
He raised his blade and pointed at the laughing crew and froze them all in a giant ice block.
"Fools! I shall show you the justice of the grave!" he bellowed with a demoralising roar that would have made giants cower in fear. He then addressed Iceraven.
"Master, my combat is not that of brute strength, but skill that has its own strength, may you please grant me a blade, and I will destroy this orc". Iceraven said with his face covered in his own blood, whilst fiddling with a tooth that had become loose.
The Lich King looked at Razuvious and nodded, Razuvious immediately picked up two claymores and handed them to each of the combatants. Both of them stood ready, blade still and ready to strike, then with the speed of a cobra, Iceraven pounced at the startled orc, knocking his blade aside, and jumping high over him then with a whirlwind sweep executed a clean decapitation, and then booted the headless brute onto his back as dark blood spilled out of the gaping chasm that was formerly a neck. Iceraven dropped his blade onto the floor, and kept his gaze from the disgusting sight that the Orc now made. He headed for his master, and knelt down before him. "Rise" spoke the Lich king as he made a relevant gesture with his gauntleted hand; Iceraven did as he was commanded. as Iceraven`s eyes met those of the Undead King, Iceraven felt suddenly very uneasy, the fallen monarchs eyes flaring with power and unmoving as they searchingly peered into Iceraven`s mind. "I sense great potential in you, knight, but now is when your true calling is brought into light". The Lich King spoke as he shifted his penetrating gaze, releasing Iceraven from his fear inspired trance. You are to report to Amal`thazad the seemingly shocked Razuvious spat out before swiftly moving on.
It took what seemed like an eternity to Iceraven to locate the Lich known as Amal`thazad, who was according to some other initiates a master over the power of frost. Iceraven`s thoughts caught up in a whirling vortex within the bony shell of his head. What had happened, one minute he is riding home after a long awaited victory against Horde forces, and then some had phantom appeared from another dimension and struck him down. Now he helplessly serves the traitor king of Lordaeron. He was but a soldier, the situation was beyond his humble understanding, but even though his mind swelled with confusion, nothing could cloud his judgement over right and wrong…could it?