The Awakening, Part. 2
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Upon stepping on the small red disk, I was teleported to a floor in the structure with no windows, just walls filled with tattered drapes and dust. It was similar in structure to the first floor I had been on, where the cieling met at an unknown point, and similarly too, there was a gutted out circular area, filled with all manners of strange creatures, frozen in blocks of ice.
The room itself had random spikes of ice protruding from the deck, reaching towards the cieling, unmelting, glinting in the soft blue light that illuminated the area. I caught my reflection in a particularly large chunk of ice, and was startled at what I saw. Something deep within me seemed surprised that I looked... like myself? Things such as appearances were trifling to a soldier of the Lich King, and I turned away quickly, not trusting myself to not ask more questions.
"Welcome, newcomer."
I turned slightly, seeing a skeletal spirit, bowing gently, floating closer to me, it's empty eye sockets turned directly toward me, glowing a faint blue color. His form, though skeletal, was robed in vestmants fit for someone of great importance, though the edges were frayed terribly, showing their true age. Adorned on his cranial was a cloth helm, dust gathered upon it, sitting slightly lopsided atop his head. His arms were lengthy, and not a trace of sinew, muscle or the like could be found on his person.
"I take it you have been called to the way of Frost." He continued, gesturing that I follow him. The Tauren male nodded, saluting the Lich and turning heel, disappearing into the ramparts. I turned my attention back to the Lich, nodding my head curtly once, not feeling the necessity to speak.
The creature floated towards a large tablet, the pages worn thin with years past, the language one I did not understand. I glanced up at him briefly, expecting him to speak.
"Frost is a quiet learner." He said after a few moment's pause. "It does not feed off of death like our Unholy counterparts, nor does it feast upon blood to survive, as do our Blood brothers and sisters." He paused, pulling a strange rune stone from the desk on which the tablet sat.
"It is mostly silent... Deadly. Precise." He slammed the stone down on the desk, and I blinked. "The discipline requires utmost attention." He floated on and I followed, finding a grotesque looking ghoul, chained to the wall, not frozen, but shivering from either the cold, or fear. Which, I wasn't sure.
"Test your true abilities on this creature." The Lich insisted, his sightless eyes trained on it. "It was once a lowly human but now... well, you'll get the point."
Without hesitation, I lifted my blade, and felt the presense of frost encapsulate the sword. Swiping deftly, I struck the stringy flesh of the creature, and saw the frost begin to spread. The ghould began to howl, a terrible sound, scratching at its appendages as they slowly froze and succumbed to the frost fever.
"Hmmm... A natural I see." The skeletal creature announced to himself, scratching his bony chin. "No wonder... Ah well. We shall in time perfect your form, but for now, it seems you will do just fine." I nodded, reholstering my blade, and my ears perked when I heard soft padding footsteps from behind me.
"Not much in da way o' talkin, eh mon?" A voice jibed.
I turned to see a well plated troll, his skin a sickly green shade, his veins black and his hair whiter than frost. His eyes, a glowing blue, eyed me up disdainfully, almost analytically, as he judged my worth before I had had time to prove it. He chuckled, placing his bloodied helm upon the tabletop, grinning at the Lich.
"Ah, Aktemi." The Lich said, disgruntled at the troll's appearance. "How nice of you to join us." Aktemi scoffed, waving off the Lich.
"Don' ya lie ta meh to make meh feel betta." He said, his trollish accent ever present. "I be knowin' ya can' stand meh." I felt that, had the Lich had eyes, they would have been rolling.
"We cannot complete the Gauntlet without a general present, you audacious fool." He snapped, looking at the troll crossly. My attention immediately snapped back to the troll, looking him over again. He was a general? The troll's expression was a cross between boredom and indifference, scratching at his black face paint that was cracked with wear. The Lich did not look amused, but the general did not seem to care. I observed his tusks, long and sharp like a dagger, with dried blood upon them. His facial paint was similar to that of a skull, accentuating his cold blue gaze.
"Eh, calm ya spirit down." He replied, waving off the spector. "I be gettin' the recruits what dey deserve. I'll make sure dey worth da Lich King's service. Ya not be needin' ta worry yaself." His eyes settled on me, observing me closely. He seemed to be searching for something in me, and internally, something in me tried to flinch. I stood, impassive, allowing him to see that I would be a worthy champion of our King.
"New recruits, to the loading bay!" A strong, echoed voice called. I glanced over to see the Tauren who had directed me to the platform, gesturing to yet another telemetry beacon, presumably to transport the "recruits" to another level. Without a second glance at the General, I stepped forward onto the beacon, beaming down to another level, where I saw a skeletal Gryphon, it's bony wings flapping and it's beak clicking as it watched the other Death Knights warily. It's master, a decaying blood elf, stood unaware of his sudden visitors.
"Newbies." Aktemi said, poking his thumb at the group impassively. The tauren snuffed at the general, no amusement on his face. He addressed the Gryphon master, who then turned his attention to our motely group.
"To the forrest outside Andorhal." The Tauren said, his voice low. The blood elf nodded, and I noted that his mouth was sewn shut. As my brain processed what the Tauren had said, another flash of a memory seemed to shoot across my vision. Hazy. It looked as if I had been staring out at the sea, when a hand tapped my shoulder. I turned, looking at a wolfish creature, a Worgen, my mind told me, dressed in a simple white tunic and a tabard bearing an emblem that looked vaguel familiar.
"We are near Andorhal." He said, his voice a low growl. "You should prepare for landing, help Rantok out with the boxes..."
It faded nearly as quickly as it had come, but it left me reeling, almost like vertigo. I hesitated, blinking, not knowing how long I was entranced by the vision. I could feel someone's gaze and I slowly rotated, catching the gaze of the troll general, his eyes searching my own.
He had a peculiar look in his cold, blue eyes, and I suddenly felt as if he was analyzing me. Had he noticed my moment of hesitation? Had he seen something in me that I hadn't? Was he searching me for weakness, a weakness I didn't even know I had?
A tap to the shoulder caused me to break eye contact, and I clambered onto the skeletal creature, it's bony structure vibrating with false life. It rose, and dived into the plaguelands below, and I held onto it's spine, careful not to get bucked off. The creature landed gracefully on the ground, and I dismounted, the grypon immediately taking flight back up to the necropolis.
It was dark, though not impermeable for my eyes to see. I could almost see as if it were daylight, the trees and sky each with its own distinguishable details, easy to make out. My eyes were working as if they'd never truly been open to begin with. I noted that the forrest was not thick, nor was there much vegetation. In fact, most of the vegetation seemed to have died out, and the trees were bare, pustules of rot attached to various areas on their trunks.
I adjusted my blade on my back, looking for some semblance of my bearings. A small, dull light caught my eye, and I walked towards it, finding that a small fire had been started, and a few disciples of frost were already standing, unmoving, awaiting further instruction a ways from the flames. They wore robes identical to my own, save for some being a more bronze-brown color, or looking more torn, but essentially all uniform.
I stood, faceing away from the fire, looking over my company as the last of the knights flew down. Most of the knights were Orcs and humans; male and female, in various stages of decay, all with cold blue eyes that betrayed their very nature. A few night elves too were present, their tall, athletic bodies ever imposing and standing just seperate from the rest of the group, their muscles tense and bodies seemingly ready to pounce at any moment. Only one tauren and one blood elf was present, two gnomes and a few Draenei, totaling around fifty disciples. I was the only goblin that I could see, and I noticed a few of the disciples look at me with cold interest.
"Dis not be a lesson you'll soon be forgettin'." The troll general had made his way down, appearing opposit the rest of our party, his features nearly demonic in the firelight. I noticed a few of the knights regarded the troll with great respect, and it occured to me that many of them had likely seen the troll in battle, something likely to have been impressive to see.
"It be testin' time." None of the frost disciples spoke, some glanced cautiously at one another, as if they too had a sense of dread suddenly wash upon them.
"Da Lich King not be needin' weak soldiers." The general continued, picking at his face paint again. "On'y da strong will be servin' our King. Ya have ya weapon. Prove ya can use it. Ah horn will sound at break 'o dawn. Da survivors be meetin' back here ta head back ta da Necropolis." He looked among us, his gaze training on certain faces, mine included, as if he had already judged those he expected to fail. It was a death match. Ironic. Brought into second life, only to have it brought to an end.
I would not go down so easily. The Lich King's will was absolute. I would not fail him, nor would I prove unworthy of the life he had given me. I would serve him until this body crumpled into dust. My mind was set, and I knew I would fight to the death, for the Lich King.
I was already running into the trees before any of my groupmates could blink an eye. My small body allowed me to move quickly, weaving in and out of the trees, my robes hardly a hindrance as I found a particularly gnarled tree, a small hole dug into it's trunk. I wriggled inside, to find it had been hollowed out by some creature, likely long ago. I crouched down low, my sword already in hand, waiting patiently for my first victim. My sword seemed to thrum with excited energy, as if it too had a sense for bloodshed. I gripped it tightly.
I sensed fear, a pang across a hesistant mind. I peered out of the sliver of tree, to see a human male making his way through my portion of the forest, his hands gripped tightly around a massive two handed sword, his face a trained stoic, thought his hands almost seemed to tremble. He was looking around nervously, as if looking to see if he could find someone weaker than himself to kill, so that he could survive until dawn.
A voice told me to destroy the weak, kill those unworthy vessels, and I pounced, my sword swiping clean through his arm. He gasped out in surprise, stumbling backwards. I charged him again, only to be barely parried by his blade, his eyes wide and armor lopsided with his fall.
I wasted no time in again attacking, this time my blade swiping across his cheastplate as he attempted to scramble away from me. I took his moment of shock to strike his head clean from his shoulders, the head rolling away as his body twitched, then lay still. I walked over and grabbed his head by the hair, gazing into the lolling face and throwing it into a small patch of brush, moving his body out of the path of the forest. I knew there would be more like him, so I quickly resumed my hiding spot, waiting silently.
Over the course of a few hours, several unfortunate souls made it through the portion of the dead forest that I was hiding in. I had a count of about thirteen, when I felt a considerably stronger, more confident aura headed in my direction.
This presence did not contrain a trace of fear or doubt, and instantly I knew I was not dealing with prey. I was dealing with a predator. One who was now hunting me. Sniffing me out. Lurking in the shadows.
"You can come on our from your little hiding spot." A female voice, a dark echo, called out. "We both know it's going to be one or the other that makes it back. Best make this quick." I didn't bother to reply, instead stepping out from the underbrush to get a good look at my adversary.
It was one of the Night Elven women, her hair long and dark green, it's edges frayed and tangled with branches and dead leaves. Her green skin was darkened with decay, insinuating that she'd been dead for quite some time before they had risen her. Her armor, a bronze version of my own, was soaked in blackened blood, her finders twitching around her twin blades.
"Ah..." She said, a sneer upon her sallow face. "A whee goblin." She leered at me, and I stared back, not intimidated. "I expected a stronger creature... like an Orc... To have taken out nearly half our number by themselves..." She circled me, not unlike a cat, her eyes trained on my body as if expecting it to pounce. I watched her warily.
"But no..." She said, stopping short. " I can sense it in you... something stronger, than what meets the eye... No matter." She brandished her swords at me, their edges jagged and littered with runes. "Shall we get on with it then? Dawn is nearly breaking." I felt her frost presence creeping up, ghosting along the ground like a low mist. I took a step back, about to steel myself.
That step back nearly cost me my second life.
A branch had caught onto the broken hem of my robe and tore me down, sprawling to my back. My blade was flung from my grasp in surprise, and I slowled, quickly beginning to panic. All this planning, all this killing. Was it all for nothing? I grasped for my sword, not allowing my eyes to leave the Night elf's face, but could not reach my blade. Curses!
"Good-bye, little Goblin." She said, stepping on the edge of my robe, preventing me from scrambling away and grabbing my weapon. "I'll be sure to engrain your face in my memory for an eternity." Her swords were high above her head, and for a moment, something in me flashed another memory. A sword through my abdomen. Incredible pain. The writing disease of death. More pain. I growled, leaning forward, ready to kick the Night Elf's knees, and hopefully knock her off balance, when suddenly I heard a low whistling, and the Night Elf dropped her blades, black blood streaming from her mouth as she sputtered, falling to her knees, and then her face, to expire. An axe jagged and as large as my whole body was embedded into her back. It had a dark troll fetish attached to the hilt, and I sat, confused, as I watched the general step out of the shadows.
For a moment, he and I observed each other silently. Why had he killed her? She, from an outside perspective, should have likely won. Even had I knocked her legs out from beneath her, I would have had to scramble to retrieve my weapon, and then attack her before she could recover. Glancing over to where my weapon was, I realized the probability of me having survived the encounter would have been slim. The troll walked forward, roughly pulling the axe out of her corpse, wiping the blade on her cloak. He returned my gaze, and held out his hand, presumably to help me up.
I stared at his hand warily, narrowing my eyes. I still didn't understand why he was helping me. If I couldn't defeat this night elf myself... what good was I to the Lich King?
"Why... Why did you help me?" I asked, taking his hand and allowing him to pull me to a stand. He buckled his axe to his belt and shrugged, cracking his neck as he looked around. He chuckled darkly at my expression, and for a moment, I felt that he wasn't going to answer.
"Can' let ya die just yet." He said, his face unreadable. "Da Lich King sends his regards. Next time ya may not be so lucky." He smiled, thinking for a moment. "Besides, can' let all da cute one's die out. Da elfies tink dey betta dan us. She talked too much." I instantly did not trust this troll. His alterior motives had to be vast. Despite this, I said nothing in reply, thankful that I escaped with my life, however little that might actually mean.
"Da event be almost ova now." The general said, his eyes trailing the horizon. "I 'ave strict ordas ta be keepin' an eye on ya." I breathed out. Of course. The Lich King must have had need of me yet. I steeled the bloodlust for now, channeling the inner calm. I knew I would have need of it for my next task. The Lich King was already whispering in my ear, telling me my tasks had only just begun.
The sun rose slowly, and the remaining disciples of frost stepped into the clearing, as the horn blared its sorrowful tune. A quick glance at my fellow champions of the Scourge, told me that the casualties had been larger than I'd thought.
A large, dark furred Tauren, his left horn completely sheared off, stood closest to the Gryphon. His polearm was chipped and covered in a dark liquid I could only imagine was blood. A tall, thin Draenei woman stood next to him, her pale green hair wavy and limp against her face, strands curled around her cuved horns. A grotesque scar adorned her neck. A male blood elf with hair the color of fresh snow stood opposite them, his skin a pale, sickly looking blue. His sword was clean, and I wondered if he had even gotten his hands dirty to survive the night. The last, a male orc, who looked as though he had never been dead to begin with, were it not for a dent in his chest where I contemplated, a weapon was sure to have penetrated, stood next to me, his face twisted in what looked to be anger.
The troll general circled us, observing each of us as individuals, sizing us up.
"Now dat da test be complete, I'll be assignin' ya your next task." He pulled a few scrolls from his belt and handed them to each of us, each marked with a wax seal.
"Ya need ta be headin' back to da Necropolis." Aktemi said, glancing at each of us, his gaze lingering on me. I opened my scroll, and read quickly what was contained within.
A town was drawn upon the parchment paper, its detailed structures labeled, each section drawn out carefully. It seemed oddly familiar and for a moment, a voice, not unlike my own, yet softer, kinder, mused; "The Light".
I followed the other knights to the griphons, whom flew us back to the balcony from which we had came. I dismounted, quickly moving away, towards the Lich of Frost, when I felt someone following me. I turned to see the Draenei female from before, her eyes studying me carefully.
"I noticed we share a mission." She spoke, her accent thick. "I believe the Lich King would find we served him better if we approached this plan together." I contemplated this. I wouldn't mind another body to assist with my task. Pur unholy counterparts had their pet ghoulds and abominations, and our blood brothers and sisters were sturdier than most, able to sustain heavy hits with ease. Perfect for taking on larger groups that paacked a greater punch.
While we still wore the standard plate armor of the death knights, our specialty was frost, a slow disease, quick preservation, high damage. Results. Having another watch my back, all while serving the Lich King, did not seem like a bad idea at all.
"Crysanthemum." I said, inclining my head slightly, lettiing her know that I had accepted her offer. She nodded her head in assent.
"Aeleria." She replied. "Shall we seek out the Highlord for further instruction?" I merely nodded my head, knowing from my master's whisperings that indeed, this was our next stop before our crusade against our first target could truly begin. Without any more words, we walked to the platform where the beacon was, and disappeared into the dark Necropolis.
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Wow... this chapter took way too long. I hope you all enjoyed the story so far, more to come soon! I'm gonna go sleep... xD