To The Frozen North
He had been to cold places before such as the likes of the Dwarven realm but Dun Morogh was nowhere near as cold as these reaches of merciless Northrend and they weren't even in the far reaches of the continent yet as it was. The Daggercap Bay coastline was filled with shore crabs that had scuttled away with the new activity that bustled around the place and he could hear guttering lows from the native shoveltusk in the woody tundra beyond.
"Would've stayed a' home if I knew it'd be this damn cold," Darren muttered next to him, pulling his cloak tighter around his frame as he watched others go about setting up camp. Darren was younger in years than Theodred by a good five years but the two had become the best of friends none the less. Theodred knew he could depend and rely on Darren to watch his back and vice versa. However, he was not watching where Darren had set his eyes to but rather on the form of Prince Menethil. The way that Arthas carried himself troubled Theodred distinctly these days. Something was not right with the man and what had happened at Stratholme was proof of that.
The warrior was made of good merit and was in a similar mindset to Tirion and Uther. He had thought about becoming a paladin of the light but he knew practically that he had no patience for long study, prayers or meditations that were very much part of a paladin's life. But had be been a paladin, he was sure he would have suspicions about whether this trip was indeed righteous at all. He had spoken with the other men about what had happened back in Stratholme and what he heard was a little shocking. He knew Arthas cared a lot for his subjects and that in itself was commendable but slaughtering them all on an 'if' as if it was a certainty? He wasn't so sure but they would never know and now they had to find some dreadlord by the name of Mal'ganis.
All Theodred wanted right now was to leave this frozen continent and go home to his waiting family where he belonged.
Course, it was not long before the regiment he and Darren were assigned to was called by Captain Falric and it seemed that Arthas had found some company. He learned quickly that it was none other than the brother to the Dwarven king, Muradin Bronzebeard. He had never met the dwarf but he had respect for him all the same. It seemed they were off to go find some legendary runeblade that Arthas believed would turn the fight against Mal'ganis to their favour. Still, the warrior had doubts.
"What's up with you, Marshall?"
Marshall glanced up blinking from his sea of thoughts and noted it was Falric who had caught him, "Sorry Sir, won't happen again," he said softly and the man nodded.
"Come on, lad. We gotta get our allies here situated," the Captain replied and Theodred was glad for the distraction it provided him. They worked with the help of the Dwarves who had remained behind whilst Arthas, Muradin and number of other men had gone to find what they were looking for. It was a long time of making sure the barricades were in place and holding as undead pelt on their flanks. The others gave Theodred room to move as the warrior sliced and diced with his mace and sword. The things stank horribly as they fell and it was all that he could do to not wrinkle his nose with disgust. They eventually hacked through them all and the place quietened tenfold save for the birds in the air and the bleats of nearby from frightened shoveltusk.
Theodred pulled a cloth from a bag attached to his belt and wiped his face clear of the black ichor that passed for scourge blood as Arthas returned. He noted that Muradin was trundling behind with a less than happy expression on his face and it seemed to be solely directed at Arthas. Theodred frowned feeling that something was not right, was that smoke he smelt?
"By Terenas's crown, the ships!" came a cry and the men turned to see the ships they had used to get to Northrend completely bathed in raging fires and anguish shot through them all to the very last man. How were they supposed to get back home now? Without the ships to take them back, how was he to see his family again? This brought about a silent anger in Theodred who lived for his family, fought for his family and his family was always what came first in his life. It was not long before the men searched for something to blame and Menethil seemed to know exactly what.
"Quickly, my warriors!" Arthas cried, "These murderous creatures have burned our ships and robbed you of your way home! Slay them all in the name of Lordaeron!" and Theodred watched as Arthas led the charge with the men following with their own cries of anguish. It turned out to be a very bleak day as it wore on. The men returned and Muradin looked even more sour but Thodred could hardly care. He was tired and sore from what had happened today. They, he, should never have come. All the men wanted now was a nice hot meal and sleep. It wasn't long however until Muradin and Arthas went off leaving Captain Falric in charge only for Arthas to return sans Bronzebeard some time later with the mystical runeblade in one hand and a somber expression to a worn face. Hearing of the dwarf's death was a shock to all the dwarves staying with them and Theodred glanced to Baelgun, noting the narrowed eyes and felt the dwarf knew something ill was afoot. And then to see the dreadlord himself appear at Arthas' taunt was a shock to see. No one had expected Mal'Ganis to actually show up or offer himself so freely.
It seemed that like the undead that Arthas was quick to slaughter, Frostmourne was just as eager to battle and slice through the demon with total ease. It stunned not just Falric but everyone else too. Even Theodred could see that Prince Menethil had changed, more so than after what had happened at Stratholme but this...? This was not their beloved Prince anymore, that much was for certain. Thodred shuddered to think what Uther would think of it all if he came to learn of it, which the favoured Paladin would definitely be dismayed to learn of.
Events then happened so quickly that even it was a buzz in the warrior's mind. The return to Lordaeron, the murder of Terenas and the metamorphosis of Arthas that not many had foreseen when he had acquired the cursed runeblade, Frostmourne. It was a nightmare he could not escape from and he could only remember his own end being violent. He had time to defend himself but it seemed he could not outlast the one to slay him. As he lay dying in fresh green grass and gentle breeze, his family were close on his mind and were consequently his last thought before he died.
"Light, protect them," he murmured painfully before his battered body stilled. It seemed even then that fate would be unkind as he was brought back to a torture of undeath. A mindless existence where he had no control whatsoever. Even thinking was too difficult a task. In time, history forgot the little people such as Theodred and Lordaeron fell to ruin after the the death of King Terenas. It was a long time before the walls saw movement again never mind old faces. Events occurred where Sylvanas, the Banshee Queen who always hated Arthas with every fibre of her being, revolted against the Lich King's control. In the end, there was little that Arthas could do to put Sylvanas and her Forsaken back in place and in their time of need, the freed undead took the ruins of Lordaeron's former glory as their own to call home.
They built up the sewers and dungeons of the place and it was not long before a new name rose from the ruins; Undercity. A highly appropriate name for a people of whom no one really liked but then the Forsaken knew this best of all and had only themselves to trust. However, it was soon realised that the Forsaken, a new race in themselves, could not fight Arthas alone. It was with hardship that they won a place in Thrall's New Horde. Relations remained tenuous as the Forsaken made Tirisfal Glades their own with Deathknell the designated area for bringing back more Forsaken into their numbers. This is where Theodred had first awoken with a Val'kyr being the first thing he had seen. It was while before he firmly believed this was not Northrend and that he had a new life, albeit a dead existence. He returned to his old calling as a warrior, the skills embedded in his memory and came easily. He rose through the ranks well but otherwise kept much to himself.
Despite being happy with his existence, he still wondered what he had left behind.