-Sympathy for the Damned: The Lich Kel'Thuzad's Story-
-Prolouge-
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The day broke quite frilliously blue and beautifully. There was a pleasant breeze, and the
sun was shining brightly, as if to suggest to the whole population of Dalaran to go out on
a picnic. But sadly, nobody was going to frock in the fields to enjoy a outing with their
loved ones today under this fine weather, for Dalaran was under siege by a epidemic.
The magical city of Dalaran was struck by an abomination of a plague, for almost 5 months
now, and the entire metropolis was shedding deaths by the thousands every day.
It is therefore an irony in the fact that Dalaranians no longer praise good weather, nor
holidays, or any other joyous events anymore, and instead loathe them, and even curse
them. Just as I am doing right now, on the marble bench of the medical sanctum's hall
way as I weep. I loathe the clear, cloudless autumn sky. In fact, I despise it so much that
I can't bear to raise my head to stare at it.
I gather my hands and mumbled away something that even I can't understand. No, I was not
praying to God nor to the grace of the Holy Light. The rage, frustration, sorrow, and despair
was stacking, augmenting inside me, and eventually reached its zenith. Somehow, if I didn't
pull them out of my mind, vomit them out through somewhere, I was sure that I would have
gone simply mad. That is why I mumbled. That is why I wept. In desperate attempt to keep
myself intact, and stop the pain that swelled inside.
My impotence to do anything, the cruel jokes of destiny, and the ignorance and apathy of
God, all made me so, so hurt.
So, I wept. Vomiting the bitter evil that was mutilating my soul, I wept. That was all I could do.
To weep, and to cry, and to rant meaningless words, and to hate.
I heard footsteps coming my way. Removing my view from the floor to the source of the sound,
I saw my friend, Antonidas, and two High-Elf priests.
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"Kel... We did everything that we could, but... I'm really sorry."
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Antonidas petted my back as if to comfort me. But despite my friend's care and concern, my
heart came crashing down. His concern, just like the beautiful blue sky above, was mockery
and a target of hate. I pushed his hand aside.
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"How... how is Moria...?"
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Antonidas couldn't open his mouth, so one of the Elven priests filled his place instead.
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"The plague has totally overwhelmed the patient, sir. The fever does not show any signs of
going away anymore, and the buboes have grown to the size of grapefruits. The microvasculars
of the patient have all burst due to the fever, and well she is..."
"That is enough, Kalarhi! My friend here does not need you to go over the whole list of symptoms
a plague patient has!"
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Antonidas was obviously quite uneasy at the moment. After screaming to the Elf, he turned his
attention back to me as if waiting for me to say something.
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"Antony... Let me see Moria."
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Everything went blank white. I couldn't think of anything else. I had to go see Moria. Right now.
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"No. You know well yourself that plague patients cannot be approached by anyone except for
their healers in charge..."
"I'm a priest too, you know."
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Antony gazed into my eyes as if he was pleading me something.
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"... Look, Kel. It's over. Nobody can save Moria now. Not even you. Let it go."
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I ignored my friend's words and sat up from the bench, storming towards the segregation ward,
where Moria was.
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"KEL!"
"Try and stop me if you can, Antony. But if you can't, just shut up and leave me alone. I'm going
to go see my wife."
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Antony didn't make a move. The Elven priests just stood there along with Antony as they watched
me disappear into one of the doors.
The segregation ward was filled with 'final stage' epidemic patients, who were all throwing up
blood and pinkish vomit, holding desperately to their dear lives, trying with all their strength to keep
breathing. Some were screaming with all their might, resisting to the invisible enemy that was
tormenting them. Others were quietly fighting the battle within, letting only small moans and weak
whimpers to escape from their mouths. Most of the screamers were the old ones; to surprise,
the quiet fighters were mostly young ones; children no older than thirteen at the most.
Among the rotting crowd of ill people, I finally found Moria's bed and rushed to her. Her once
white and beautiful skin was somewhere else and was replaced by a blackish red color, due to
her bursted veins from the fever. The same tone was all over her body. I soon found the buboes
the Elf mentioned around Moria's throat and thighs: hideous parasites that seemed to suck away
the very life out of her. Near her mouth were remains of the pink vomit that she had forced out
but lacked the strength to clean. I gently wiped it all off with the sleeves of my robe, when Moria
woke up. She gave out a feeble moan and opened her eyes with an effort. Then, she looked at
me and gave me a weak smile.
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"Hello there, handsome."
"Hello there, angel."
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I gave her a weak smile in return but felt very startled by her voice. I mustered all the will power
I could to keep myself from showing her any tears from me, to keep myself from crying. Her
voice, her beautiful, pure and marvelous voice was gone. All that was left was a cackling, weak
voice of a sick, tormented plague patient that barely had the strength to speak.
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"I, I bet you are thirsty."
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Moria listlessly nodded, so I lifted her slightly from her bed and let her drink from a water sack
I had on my waist. The hand that was supporting her body felt the raging fire that was burning
and eventually killing my Moria. It was terrible. Moria drank the water from the sack slowly, yet
steadily, and soon finished every drop.
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"Kel... I think I finally got it. I finally figured it out. I'm sure of it."
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Moria said this to me as I carefully laid her back on her bed.
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"Hm? Figure out what?"
"Till now, I simply thought that I was sick. Just sick, with a silly fever and a uncomfortable body.
But after seeing you... I finally realize that I am going to die. Die very, very soon."
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I was quite startled by her remarks. Sensing this, Moria shook her head and stroked my face.
I felt the burning touch of Moria's hand. For all this time, I thought that death was cold; cold as
ice, but now I realize that this burning heat is also death. The death that will take away my wife
from me. I couldn't keep it in any longer, and I started to cry.
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"I'm so sorry, Moria... I, I..."
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"No, Kel. I never meant anything to startle you or hurt you. And you don't have to apologize
anything to me. But it is true, isn't it? I am going to die from this disease. That is a fact, and its
nobody's fault. No one can stop it neither. So, I want you to make me a promise, Kel. Promise
me."
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I nodded my head.
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"Kel, I want you to live on. I want to be sure that you wouldn't be hurt from my death, or blame
anyone, anything for it. Don't hate, don't cry... and live on. Live for me. Live and love the world
for me, Kel. Could you do that for me? Could you?"
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I couldn't. Moria, I can't do that. I can't live on a life without you. I can't love the world that you
don't stand on. I can't keep myself from hating, blaming God for the pain he has given you.
Oh, Moria... You ask the impossible...
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"Oh, oh! Moria, I'm Sorry! I'm so, so sorry I couldn't save you! Oh my god... Please, don't
die, please!"
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I started to cry like a baby that was frightened for the first time. I held Moria with all my might,
heaving great sobs and gagging. Moria started to cry softly too, and embraced my head.
How I wanted to feel the pain for her. How I longed to take her place. Oh, what I would have
given, sacrificed if only I could save her from death, at least from this burning torment!
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"Oh, Kel... I'm sorry too... I'm sorry I couldn't give birth to our child..."
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Moria, while sobbing, placed her hand on her belly; the belly that held their 7 month old child
that would never be able to be born. Hence if she was still healthy, if the plague did not come,
we would be happy this very moment, rejoicing for the baby they would soon have. We would
be full of hope, fighting over baby names, and ordering our baby's crib from the carpenter.
That, will never happen. Most of the carpenters are dead in Dalaran. Most of the hope is dead
too. So will my wife, and the baby she holds in her womb. With a final groan, a final smile, Moria
vomited her last pint of blood and pinkish vomit, and died.
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The sky that day was quite frilliously blue and beautiful. If it wasn't for the plague, it really would
have, in fact, the perfect day for a picnic.