Prologue part 2: Under the shadow of Glastheim
Written by SpiritbladeI woke up in a warm bed, a fact that surprised me more than the realisation that I was still alive. To my estimates, after taking a blow like that, I should already be resting peacefully in my grave. At the very least, I would have lost a limb. Fortunately, all of them were still attached. My wounds had been tended to, and the ache reminded her that not even the healing touch of the priests could fully take away the trauma that had been inflicted. Instead of my ranger gear, I was clad in a loose, if not scanty, robe that did nothing to hide the bandages on me.
It emphasised my lean, if not lush, figure. I felt embarrassed in such clothes. Where am I? Who brought me here? A quick study of my surroundings told me that I was in a Keep of some sort. The statues of hooded angels bearing swords and shields dominated both sides of the bed I had been resting on, as though to guard the sleeper.
The armour they wore was resplendent with the sigils of death. I paled immediately, and felt my head spin. Had it not been for the proximity of the nearby oak table, I would have collapsed to the floor. I knew I where I was. By all that was Holy, I knew where I was. And I didn't like the answer my mind trumpeted to me.
I was in a Scourge stronghold.
I was also not in a prison cell with the survivors of Razas's doomed squad, awaiting whatever fate them at the hands of the Scourge. Whatever it was, the stories told to me by the Alliance troops were not pleasant ones. Compared to their old policy of slaying their enemies and re-animating them as undead soldiers, the Scourge now attempted to convert their enemies to the worship of the Ancestor Cult. At the head of this most unholy, newborn, religion was the Lich King himself acting as Emperor and High Priest. Their methods were more insidious now, their agents elusive and intelligent, sowing the seeds of the Cult of the Damned within a dozen Alliance cities and armies.
What made them part ways with the Light, I wonder. Was it the promises of power and immortality that the Scourge promised? Or was it the fervent belief that Death was inherently superior to Life?
I strode to the balcony, and my eyes gazed upon a sight that made my heart stop.
A city stood before me. A fortress-city, yes, but one that was both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. The black skies above were teeming with spectral forms that dove and swirled. I could see the stars and the moon through their translucent bodies, and feel their icy touch as one of them dove past me. The buildings below were sturdy structures, and I could see light blazing from the windows of each and every one – a clear sign that a living family occupied it. The dead had no such need of such trivialities like light – or laughter and song.
The latter I heard drift in the night wind from one of the largest buildings. It was a bawdy song, the same song I hear sung in taverns through Lordaeron, but there was a darker edge to it.
I saw farmsteads in the distance.
What is this? Where am I?
I turn about, to gaze at a familiar landmark to the north-east. It was the Alterac mountain ranges. That would mean that this place is…or was the Violet Citadel of Dalaran!
I needed only to turn my head, and my eyes beheld the Violet Citadel restored to its former glory. But where the Violet Citadel of the Kirin Tor had inspired and awed all those that beheld it, the new Violet Citadel was one that intimidated any besieger that dared to challenge the might of the city-fortress's ruler. The shadowy shapes of Gargoyles swept through the air, and an occasional Frost Dragon sailed past the citadel, their harsh cries and roars echoing in the night air.
"It's majestic, is it not, Asalla Lightbringer?"
I whirled about with a yelp, and would have pitched over the balcony had a hand not gripped my shoulder with steely strength. I soon found myself staring into the pit-black eyes of a well-built man clad in armour. How in the name of the Light did he manage to creep up to me without making a sound? Long, dark hair cascaded gently to his shoulders, contrasting with the pale skin and lips. Two small indentations on his lips told me what he was.
"A vampire," I whispered, half in awe, half in strangled terror.
The man smiled, "Close, but not quite. Unlike the Blood Knights, I can walk in the sun. They must sink into the earth during daylight hours, or risk the wrath of the Unconquered Sun."
"Who are you?"
"I? I am the 30th Death Knight of the Scourge. I am the one who serves the Deathlord Seraphim of the Scarlet Dawn. I am also, incidentally, the one who had you spared. You are a bard," and he drew a thick book from his cloak, "A good one. It's been a long time since I've read stories this gripping."
"How long have I been out?"
"A full week. I apologise for hitting you too hard. In battle, I tend to lose control."
My eyes widened. I immediately recognised the smirking man before me as my memories of how I landed up here returned.
The city of Stranbrad. Next to Andorhal, it had been one of the main suppliers of grain and livestock in the region. It had been a fertile land, long before the Scourge and their demonic masters came. Now, it was but a corpse-haunted city contested by the Alliance and the Scourge. Here was where the Alliance could get a foothold on the Lordaeron Plague-lands, an advantage the Scourge's generals were not willing to give.
Captain Razas Silverbow of the High Elves had led a combined elven-human infiltration team into the city, hoping to take down one of the Abyssal Blackguard sub-commanders. She had been located in the northern section of the city, overseeing the collection of the corpses that the ghouls and zombies had scrounged up from the battlefields.
There was no question to the Abyssal's intentions. She had been intending to raise the dead with her retinue of Necromancers.
When we finally confronted the Abyssal, I was shocked to see that she was human. The upper half of her body was totally bared, revealing the pale flesh and her full breasts, with the lower half of her body swathed in diaphanous silk. A silver skull dominated her torso, linking multiple chains that held her floating mantle and tattered cloak in place. Two enormous bat wings adorned her back. Her crimson-lips pulled into a smile as she tossed her glorious mane of raven hair, revealing a black circular disc upon her forehead.
She raised an enormous hammer high, as though the weight of such a weapon did not matter to her.
Her voice, when she spoke, echoed in the ruins of the city, "Now!"
And that was when an enormous black shape slice down from the sky, bathing all of us in black feathers, and I saw Razas's stout lieutenant, the Vermilion Legion Ogre-mage, Thunderfist, cut cleanly in half. We recoiled. When his body separated into two bloody halves, we saw his killer. And from the descriptions told to me, and from the horrified whispers of the Alliance soldiers, I knew who this dark angel was.
The Angel of Silence.
He turned his soulless gaze towards me, marking me out as his next target. I hastily tried to mouth a spell to bring this unholy angel down. What happened next was impossible. The Death Knight was at least 20 feet away from me. Within a heartbeat, he was within striking distance and his blade was hurling my broken body through the wooden door of a cottage.
I remembered screaming…but the screams that followed mine as the trap was sprung chilled my heart. I did not need to see what was happening outside, nor need to hear the mocking, contemptuous laughter as the Death Knight and his retinue slaughtered Razas's entire unit. The last thing I heard was a voice saying, softly in my ear, "You shouldn't have come here."
"It's you," I whisper, my voice shaky, "You are the one they call the Angel of Silence."
"An astute guess. Yes, I am he," the Death Knight replied as he dropped my book on the bed. I found my voice stuck in my throat, and the questions I had refused to come out. The Death Knight general turned towards me and said, "We have time aplenty, Asalla Lightbringer. You will not be leaving Glastheim for a considerable amount of time. My mistress wishes to hear you perform."
My voice returned, and it came out as a squeak, "Your mistress?"
He smiled, "Yes. The Deathlord Seraphim of the Scarlet Dawn. She knows of the bardic circle of the Celestial Chorus. And from the markings on your weapons and your armour, you are part of their guild."
I could not voice a denial.
"Where am I?"
"I told you already. You are in Glastheim, the city that has been built atop the ruins of what had once been Dalaran."
"But…" and I looked toward the city lights.
"Are you that surprised that the living stand alongside the dead?"
Damn it, but this undead freak is taking my questions out of my head before I could even voice them. "Yes."
He snorted and unbuckled his greatsword before sitting down on the nearby bench, "Most would be. Our master, the Lich King, changed his policies somewhat. The power of the dead cannot grow without the living. Thus, what you see before you now, Asalla Lightbringer, is His will made manifest. The Ancestor Cult reveres the dead and those that have passed into the Underworld, and for its power to grow, it would need the living."
"Your rhetoric reeks of blasphemy," I retort.
"Does it? To you, it may seem so. To me, it is an undeniable fact."
"Then tell me if those who worship the Ancestor Cult are happy with the chains your Abyssal masters place on them."
The Angel of Silence smiled, "Believe me, they are. It gives you strength to know that your loved ones are forever close to you, giving advice, strengthening you inside. Death is never to be feared, only accepted. And try not to believe the lies they tell you. I know the rumours that the priesthood of the Holy Light spreads. Children sacrificed…men impaled…women raped and then murdered…"
"Aren't they all true?"
"Once upon a time, yes. But not now, not ever!" the Death Knight whispered, conviction lacing his voice. I trembled at the rage and anger in his voice. So the soulless Death Knights still retain a semblance of their humanity after all.
A creak from the door made both of us turn. A tiny head, with large blue eyes and silver-amethyst hair, peered into the room. It was a child, perhaps no more than 6 years old. He had a hand-sown teddy bear in his arms.
"Uncle Iceblade?"
The Death Knight put aside his blade and went to scoop the tiny child up into his powerful arms. I saw the resemblance between the boy and the Death Knight almost immediately, despite the obvious disparities in age.
'Uncle? More like father!' I thought, but did not voice out. The tenderness on the Death Knight's face told her that much.
"Sleep, little one. I'll be here for quite some time to attend to Her Majesty. We have time enough."
"Promise?"
The Knight smiled, "I promise. Now sleep, imbecile. You've much to do tomorrow."
The boy nodded and snuggled against his parent, falling asleep in a matter of moments. The Death Knight put his son in the bed that Asalla had vacated.
"Your child?"
"One of many. Her Majesty enforces this decision. The child you see here is the offspring of the Midnight Caste priestess who lured you into the trap on Stranbrad. She looks after him, as is her duty. I do my best to ensure that I can watch over my children and be there when they need me. Being a father is a responsibility I will not avoid."
"What about their mothers?"
"I watch over them as well. I would rather have one mate, but when our Mistress commands, we have to obey."
"How many lovers do you have?"
The Death Knight's pale façade began to redden, and Asalla started to giggle. A Death Knight – embarrassed? Oh God, this was a good time to put it in. The Church's priesthood would have a fit when they hear of this!
"2."
"Oh my," I knew a mischievous smile was on my face, "Who are they?"
"The first you have already met. She is a Midnight Caste succubus Blackguard. Her name is Malia Poisonblade. The 2nd is a Dusk Caste Blackguard. She is the one who tended to your wounds. Her name is Uranus Blackfall."
"What about those two lovers you left back in Azeroth? I believe their names were Raina Bladeblow and Alyss Woodfern."
The Death Knight lowered his head, "I am not so stupid as to think, Asalla, that they will welcome me back with open arms. They were the reason I left to seek my fortune as a mercenary. I held many dreams once…like everyone else. I fought to earn my place in their hearts. Suffice to say, I lost to men better than me."
"Did you surrender your dreams just like that?"
The Angel of Silence chuckled, "You make it sound as though I ran away from a fight. It's just that I chose to end it before I shattered their dreams. Raina needed someone to support her as she fought to reclaim Lordaeron. Alyss needed someone to shoulder the burden that came with the fall of Quel'Thalas. I couldn't be both. But I knew the men who they fell in love with."
"You did?"
The Death Knight nodded, "I'll tell you more about them in time."
"And are Malia and Uranus replacements for Raina and Alyss?" I asked, unable to hold that question in. I couldn't help asking. I've seen women who have shed bitter tears at the perfidy of men. And being a woman myself, I understood.
The pitch-black soulless eyes turned scarlet, making the Angel of Silence look particularly demonic. I shouldn't have asked that question. It was clear that the Death Knight knew about such things, and the sheer thought of it enraged him beyond measure.
"I am not like some men who treat women as their toys and playthings, Asalla. I may be one of the Damned, but I still have my morals. Besides, in the society the Lich King is trying to create, the women are just as dangerous as the men and have equal chance to rise in power as their counterparts. The Dead makes no distinctions between age and gender."
I fell silent for a long moment, watching the Death Knight's child sleep in the bed. His face was quiet, peaceful. It was as if he was used to the undead horrors scuttling about Dala – no, Glastheim. Not many children would have been able to withstand the fear of facing such creatures.
"You do know you left some…admirers in the Vermilion Legion. They're quite unhappy with your decision, but they do not blame you," I finally spoke.
"Tell them – if my mistress does release you – that I give them my thanks. And that now, I am their enemy. They have their duty. I have mine. The Red-Piss legion does not fail that. If they do, they know the consequences. Tell them that. And tell them not to pity me. I made my decision, and I will suffer for it when the time – if it ever does – comes."
"I will," and I sat next to the child on the bed. He was already snoozing softly. I pulled the blanket slightly higher. The unholy powers of the undead had all but turned entire regions into a frozen land not so different from Northrend.
"I suppose you want to know why I joined the Scourge, don't you?" the Angel of Silence asked, "Was that why you took on such a dangerous mission to infiltrate the Shadowlands?"
I nod.
The Death Knight smiled, "Foolish. I've seen fools die for less, but at least, if you do, I'll make sure it'll be worth it. This is not going to be a pretty story, princess. Are you sure you want to listen to the sordid details about my fall from grace?"
I nod again, "All I ask is that you tell me no lie. Can you swear to that?"
"I swear upon the names of the Neverborn and the Dual Monarchy of the Underworld that I will speak the truth, and gloss over no events. You want a story, Asalla Lightbringer, and so I shall tell it."
'That didn't take much persuasion', I thought.
"And if you're thinking why I swore so easily, rest assured that it's to impart a good tale. All stories have a moral lesson. Of which, some I think you already know."
I cursed inwardly. Can this Death Knight read minds?
"This story is also best told with Malia and Uranus at my side."
"Why?"
"Because…once upon a time, they were also part of the Vermilion Legion. They can tell you parts of the story that led to certain events happening – things I will not be able to tell you. I am a commander, Asalla, not a courtier. Red-Piss legion officers do not mingle well with the highborn. Politics was something my Lord Commander dealt with – and it was something she hated," the Angel of Silence grumbled as he stood up.
"I give you permission, Asalla Lightbringer, and extend to you the hospitality of Her Majesty Seraphim of the Scarlet Dawn, to walk free through the streets of Glastheim. You may not leave this city on pain of death. Look through our eyes, and see how we live. This is not an act contrived to deceive you, if that is what you're thinking. This is to show the rest of the world that the way of the Ancestor Cult is a righteous way. A retinue of 4, one of which will be a Crypt Fiend, will accompany you as you do so," he added.
"Why?"
"Because, to Uranus, you are like one of her daughters," the Angel of Silence smiled, "That, to me, is reason enough."
Author's note:
Okay, part 2 of the prologue is out. Now we shall get on with the main part of the story. The timeline will be like ours, i.e. Jan to December. The only similarity is that 25th December will not be Christmas, but the old pagan religious festival of the Sol Invictus, the festival of the Unconquered Sun.
For military ranks, this is how it goes (following Ragnarok Online):
Squires the recruits. Yes sir? Uh, no sir?
Swordies footmen/sergeant/lieutenant/captain. Slice-and-dice.
Knights Knights – heavy cavalry. Good for mincing mortals to bloody piles and undead to rotting heaps.
Crusaders 1 level below paladins, i.e.: Shrine Knights, have some powers. For the Light!
Paladins captains of the Crusaders. For every 50, there's one paladin. For the God-Emperor!
Archers I don't need to explain this. You know they're good at turning people into pincushions.
More to come…and why they're there.