Speech = ``…..´´

Thoughts = …. ….

Inner thoughts = "….."

ºº

Even in defeat, we will wrench out victory from their jaws and spit at their fangs in defiance. Only the craven die more than once in the face of death

-Unknown paladin of the Scarlet Crusade-

ºº

Uther point of view:

Kingdom of Lordaeron:

The fields were on fire…..

The flames burning bright and high around them as they licked the ground with their hunger teeth, defying the cold winds and rain storm falling around them like a thick curtain that toyed with them with each step they took..

In fact, they appeared to grow stronger, the mud-hell that covered everything he could lay his eyes down and the humidity of the air proving not enough to extinguish them in their roots. And as if embolden by such an impossible event they soared through air with thick smoke and dust.

It would have been a poor representation of the horrors that had taken place in a myriad of cities all over the kingdom, the shadow of Stratholme still heavy in his mind after all this time, like the foreword of a horror story that only the dead knew its end had it not been for the added effect of that electric taste in the mix.

How it was filled with its passing static, like whips of ethereal, invisible energy that stabbed his throat and lungs with each sallow breath. Pulses of bright light pierced through the darkness that had swallowed their little battle ground with the speed of their swings.

The chunks of soil were ripped out by the roots as typhoons were unleashed with the brutal clash between their stubbornest…

The ground burned by the sheer rage coursing like molten iron inside their veins...

Little remained of what it once was a place of calm and solemnity as war and passing took hold of the reins of their reasoning.

But there was no choice but to fight on...

It had to be this way...

A thought that repeated itself as the two of them tore through the walls of a mausoleum like two rabid bulls, the walls not withstanding the speed of their crashing.

Dust and pebbles flew through the air, while the ancient tombstones and statues were rendered out from existence in record time, holy encryptions carved into the stone rendered lost as hammer and sword cleaved through them like butter in the confine spaces they were at. The darkness of the old and shaking building not stopping the two pairs of glowing eyes from continuing on their sole and simple task.

A golden hand graving the fallen prince face, its very touch scorching his face, pulling him up and down in a rapid and brutal fashion as he employed his face as his own personal hammer to demolish any statue the old Paladin could come across.

Arthas elbowed him, a move that would have shattered his ribs before, but only staggered him now…, graving him by the bear and yanking him towards him where the back side of Froustmourne met his skull. Leaving a large gash in its wake, but mending almost instantly on the spot...

Loosing his step he was thrown away, landing with a loud thud against the closest wall..., denting it visibly, cracks tearing through the once smooth surface like a spiderweb.

Time seemed to slow and speed up at strange times….

Their bodies becoming nothing but blurs of black and gold mixing together in sparks of violence, a stark contrast with the slow pace the air of his breath turned into mist or the drops of water and dust as-well as some specks of blood here and there floating around him.

Suspended in the air...

His blood would have froze inside his veins at the sight of the blade surging through the air, but now he merely brushed aside, slapping it with his now new arm. Its icy touch rendered void against the power of his faith, the energy giving it form driving it away from him and redirecting it to stab deeply into the wall right next to him.

As close as he was and with the back against the wall he could not swing his hammer, so instead he thrust the head of his tool like a sword against the boys throat. Almost breaking a windpipe and pushing the bastard in a violent fit of coughing, his last remaining eye widening as if he had been robbed of his owns lungs.

He took a step forward, digging his heels on the broken floor before swinging his hammer and slamming it on his guts, blood and spit spilled out from his mouth as he propelled him through the wall into the open once more...

Slowly, he made his way outside as the building crumbled around him...the wind peppering the scars on his face with its cold touch, trying to wipe away the blood sliding from his now blazing eyes.

Arthas was kneeling on the ground a bit further away from him, the rain glueing his moon like mane against his sharp features, the madness of his eye flaring brightly as they found him back into the fray. The sword on his hand gleamed with anticipation...

He rose, wiping away the blood from his lips even though he only managed to smear it further into what remained of his normal face…

He clenched his jaw, crouching into a stance the wings on his back spreading to the sides...

``You will regret that….´´

Arthas did not wait for his response, instead he sprung to action, reducing the distance between the two in mere seconds at a speed that someone so big should not have been able to accomplish before he jumped through the air at the last second and tried to lance him.

It would have worked had it not been so clear to see...

Like a second part of his, his flaming wings flickered into action, reaping him from the ground in an instant with a simple flick of the ethereal and pure flames that made them be. Pulling him away from danger and allowing the young boy to plunge the dirt behind his back as deep as he would like before he plummeted down like a bird of prey over him…

His hammer raise high above his head, the very power eating him alive now glowing through it like never before, making the grey surface of metal become golden, shining with a strength barely equal to a small sun. One that he would plunge as deep as he could on his students vile heart as the ground grew nearer and nearer by the second.

The head of his hammer rabidly slammed against the ground, the force sufficient enough to crush even the biggest of abominations into powder with ease, but the young boy that had been beneath him threw his hands up, shielding himself with a strike of his own, swinging the cursed artefact towards him.

His eyes were open wide, but whether there was panic or glee on them he did not took notice, he did however watch as the ground cave in under the pressure, leaving nothing but a massive crater on its wake.

Before the unstable energy lashed out and blew up on their faces.

He saw it happen a mile away, but there was nothing he could do.

Time slowing down to a crawl for an instance as he saw the fiery blaze engulf the two of them in its embrace before the shock-wave ripped them apart from each others presence. Shoving them apart, before skidding them away into the air, landing loudly on the ground soon after.

Their armour was shredded and battered. Falling to pieces around them as they tried to regain a modicum of balance, the world around them had grown silent like the grave in an instant, though only to be replaced by the unending, nerve wrecking buzzing stuck between his skull that was grilling in and out his brain.

Blood slipping down his ears into the murky water under his feet, becoming lost in the pond..a result of his auditory organs having burst as a result of the explosion.

He clenched his teeth with enough strength that they would have been able to chew a rock and spit two in return.

It did not matter, he would heal in a hear-beat. And what he could not hear now he could do with sensing through the air...

And sense he did as he extended his hand forward, a burst of lightning coming out from his fingertips, but unlike the ice blue shade of the Lich, his was filled with a vibrant, yellowish colour. The spell souring through the air and tearing inside the cloud of smoke still covering the field before him, just above the new made crater...

Blocking a crescent moon like wave of lethal energy from reaching him just in time..

He still knew that he was not coming from there, quickly..., Uther turned to face the interloper who did not made himself wait, coming from the far end of his right, his glowing eyes catch a glimpse of the defiant blue eye which burned bright with the reflected light of the azure runes on his blade.

He scowled, raising a hand crackling with power.., but drawing it back a fraction of an instant later, the limb barely avoiding been severed like its twin by a blade he knew all too well.

...Had that been an after-image all along..?... The thought troubled him, but soon find that he did not have the time to even consider such things as the neon blade had not made a complete arc as he had believed it would, but was rather moving on the opposite direction.

A result of either mastery of the blade or just raw, brute power to rein it down...

It cut through his chest-plate, tearing apart the mail and cloth padding his chest and cutting a large gash in his chest before it came out from the other end, ripping a chunk of steel in the process. Fresh blood glistening its foul edge...

He promised himself that would be the last mistake he would do as that awful, soul reaping sensation came back with vengeance.

Slamming his ethereal hand on his guts and using the inhuman strength and motion of his body he kicked off from the ground, reversing momentarily the hold that gravity held over his body, adding to it the speed of the Lights will over his muscles and veins.

Arthas bounded after him…., leaping with eerie silence through the storm, like a soundless and nimble wolf, baring his luminescent fangs as he gave chase. A feat not surprising as the magic casters of his army of monsters lend him his strength

``Oh you are not doing that boy….´´

Extending his soul, the probing tendrils of his thoughts colliding with the fiery, yet tranquil surface of glimmer of the Light he had access to, seeking out more to end this menace to the world. And as much as he loathed acting defensibly, even now…, he knew that there was no other way to punish his boldness.

He swept his hammer out in a wide arc, invisible energy riding the blow powering it, and even though he struck true and Arthas had managed to get his blade between themselves and his flaming hammer.

He knew that was not his original goal...

For as he clenched his teeth and his muscles threatened to pull out of their sockets as the two champions locked blows, as the entire storm was cut in half and the night sky above their heads welcome them with its silver hue….

A small sense of satisfaction struck when that murderous psychopath was no longer was able to manage to hold his sky borne position…, not even with the added power of those on the ground who could have predicted the rebound effect of such crash between two supposed immovable objects.

And so he was sent flying away.., hurtling towards the ground from the sheer force of the blow. Wailing his arms frantically in some attempt to slow himself down.., but failing spectacularly.

Uther spun the hammer again, but not with the intention to strike.., for there was nothing to reach with her adversary spiralling out into the ground, .but rather bring forth something greater.

Blood spilled out from his mouth, its bitter taste enveloping his senses, his chest aching with an agony that he had not known until this day, but that did not stop the myriad of golden of portals to pop into the air. Like cuts of gold and shimmering light into the fabric of reality they replaced the stars over the sky.

And from each and one of them a sword made out of pure light as big as a house came to be….

He extended his flesh remaining arm, the gilded gold covering it now scorched and broken, yet no less impressive as he clenched his fist, releasing a thunderous smite of holiness upon the spawn of evil as each and every sword was sent flying after the prince, spiralling out and cutting through the air with inhuman ease.

Falling over the blacken skies of the fallen kingdom like shooting stars...

Until one struck dead centre on its target, sending him spiralling down to earth.

When Arthas reached the ground he would not even be able to do a thing as two dozen blades of light attempted to spear him to oblivion, before short after, exploding and ravaging the land where he had landed and its surrounding in a massive cascade of light.

He dived into the ground, ready to search through the scorched ground and destroy what could remain of him.

But if he thought his task would be accomplished with out interruptions he would be wrong, terribly wrong. Immediately he found himself in all directions by the Scourge. The meat puppets sprawling to action and rushing towards him in an unliving tide of necrotic flesh.

He cursed their interruption, but that only served as confirmation that he was close to achieve his duty.

Arthas was wounded….

And this time no amount of unholy energy would save him, forcing himself to throw himself at the tide, targeting the spell casters first, then the rest...

They saw him too….

Their balled, clawed hands seemed to explode with crackling power, tendrils of nefarious lightning. Spiralling out from them, branching and splitting hundreds of times as it filled the air between he and his many foes the attack that had defeated him before.

But this time it did not even tickled…

Like rain water, though of a more volatile nature the current of energy splashed and scorched his armour, but not truly hurting him as they had once in his mortal vessel.., only lessening a bit the protective glow that surrounded him. Their undead visages sparkling with shock and fear once they realized too late they would be unable to stop him from crashing right above them like a supernova.

And he did…

The shock-wave of pure energy coming out from his body once he landed on the ground was akin to throw a rock into a calm pond, the ripples tore through them like never before, yet once he opened his eyes..only dust and ashes remained, in which he stood tall over as the thick particles started to attach themselves against his body.…

Coating him in a silver, dirty shade….

Uther grit his teeth, swiping his staff back and forth at the foul creatures and their masters who attempted to encircle him, the bodies they inhabited with such sinful intent becoming obliterated to the molecular level with the power of his faith.

He tore through them...

He butchered them...

They were animals, and they would die like the animals they were….

Ghouls and zombies moaned and gurgled their putrid breath through rotten throats, slamming against his sanctified body with claw and teeth, yet incapable to bring any harm as he dispatched them like the nuisances that they were. Their primal intellects unable to comprehend the reason why their bodies started to fall apart on their own, the weak tethers guiding them hacked by the invisible tugs of the Light in his rampage.

Their eviscerated bodies fell down like string-less puppets as their non-life slipped through their crooked fingers.

Rusted swords and axes rose in the air and crumbled into dust as the shining beacon of his hammer turned into powder those who should have never had their eternal rest disturbed. Marrow bone and pale splinters drenched in shreds of meat and poorly dissolved brain matter showering all over the field from the skeletons and transformed civilians of the kingdom.

Their empty carcasses where left littering the ground and forgotten under the mud and fire…

A score of abominations marched through the field, bashing and skidding away anything or anyone in their path. Chubby legs and grotesque visages trembling and shaking with each long stride in his direction.

He extended his hand at them.., still glittering with power that crackled at the edge of his finger tips as he tried concentrated for a snap second. His lungs starting to fall apart inside his rib cage, an invisible hand clenching his heart as platforms of light appeared over the abominable creations feet, and with one, struggling pull…rose them up into the air hundreds of meters above his head.

Their bodies crashing and bursting open when they reached reached the ground, bursting like rotten apples when their stitches gave out from the massive strain they were subjected too in an instant, and flying all over the place like small darts...

But it was not enough,

Nor nearly enough, not even as the thousands turned into mere hundreds…., their bodies piling up in either dust or chunks of flesh and bone in his wake.

The anger in his heart soared to ever newer heights as the rage burning inside his glare only met the an-fazed stares of dull, empty eyes of his assailants.

They could not comprehend his rage. They could not understand the righteousness that drove this madness turned violence into being, they were oblivious to the cognation of the human hatred.

And that made him hate them even more….

The sound of guns blasting echoed loudly even under the howling winds, speaking of his hearing returning as it was proper.

Loads of steel behind discharged as bullets surged through the air and strike him from left and back. Bouncing off and getting lost into the ground, most slowed down by the ethereal essence wrapped around him, the rest merely slamming against the old, sturdy plate mail.

He would have chuckled if he could have, but just growling came out. If they had attempted to kill him the attempt had been rather poor, they merely allowed him to spot their black hooded heads that until now had been hiding under the tide.

But its speedy thin out had left them exposed, vulnerable...

Blood stained lips grinned bitterly.

Finally someone to understand his grievances.

The panic of their eyes and fumbling of their weapons grew faster with each long stride he took, the wings pushing him at great speed like a human size javelin at them.

``Shoot him! Shoot him dammit, you lousy, blind pieces of shit!´´

``W-we are trying b-boss! He just wont come down…! Why is he not going down!?´´

``Stop hitting at his chest, you bloody wankas and aim at that bulb of a he-ARGH!´´

The man whose words appeared to be the commanding officer of the lot was shouting, spitting froth and further to get his men to coordinate their attacks, a plethora of colour insults slipping from those pale lips that came to an abrupt end when half his cranium came loose, flying above the heads of his peers and showering them with gore.

And like a wolf that had been set loose inside a closed barn with the poor and defencelessness livestock inside, he lunged forward, not willing to let this chance to waste.

They shrieked as he made his way through their ranks…

Cursing him or either pleading to the devil they sold their souls, it was hard to make heads through the ever lasting cacophony of carnage...but they died.

They all died…

Neither finding mercy for none gave it to their victims as he bury his fingers into the open, baffled jaw of one of them and rip it out from its hinges, spurts of blood and teeth splashing against his golden frame while his hammer pushed a skull of another inside the cavity where its neck should have been.

Fear oozed out of each and every last one of them.

A sight that would have troubled his old heart had this taken place a few years, or even just months before the disaster struck.

But now he could only relish in the fact that a small part of them understood that their path was as hopeless as the future of the land that gave him birth.

``R-run for your lives…´´

``The legends were true! Nothing can beat the Light bringer!´´

``Cowards! Come back here and fight for the glory of the Lich king…-Urgh.´´

Cowards or brave alike were felled by the hammer, his swings making no distinction whatsoever of who they caught in their approach. Copious amounts of blood dripping down their bloodstained faces., the light emanating from the tool now giving off a bright, reddish hue that tarnished the air around him as if it was bleeding into being.

While he became a red angel of death…

``...´´

Such an ominous thought to behold…, to consider…

That if someone else were to witness this madness they would consider him as vile and terrifying as the things he was fighting against.

He clenched his teeth, closing his eyes as he paused for a second. The weight of his old body and the strain inside him catching him by surprise, clawing and nagging into his narrow bone with the depths of their bite.

He had burnt the candle from both sides and was now working on fumes….

The wings flickered, the veins around his throat and head becoming darker and more visible by the second.

Demanding attention as the blood inside his veins boiled….

But he was too busy scowling at what approached at him. Men and women, not the weak and craving that he had seen so far in the cultist, or the crude nightmarish visions for humanity of the Scourge.., but rather warriors, men and women made for war. Clad in thick plates of armour and carrying alien looking blades that glowed in the air, leading their way...

``Traitors...´´

He snarled, his voice striking like a violent whip that would have rendered flesh void from their skin when his eyes managed to get a glimpse of the shredded and stained tabards , that could not have belong to anyone but the first Legion.

He avoided the first two strikes, then parried the seven that followed it…, decades of experience and the power consuming him making what should have been a one sided ordeal in a stable confrontation.

But there were too many to hold them off for too long. Even with his burning and dimming power they were clearly not to be trifle with as they spanned and danced around him, using their given powers of evil to not just kept him at bay….but besiege him.

He grunted in pain when two sharp objects hit him..

The two broad swords which struck him did not breach his holy armour, but had much to his surprised absorb far more of the glowing light that shielded him than he had believed to be possible.

Now just a small tether was covering him….

He rapidly punished the two offenders by their hubris...

The first, a brown haired woman with several dots on her head, he caught by the ankle when she tried to leap over him, kicking off fro his chest after delivering her strike. Simultaneously, he struck at the second with his glowing hammer…, pushing away that azure like blade from him.

The woman in his hand screamed as he crushed the steel and bones around his grip in his gauntleted fist, keeping hold of her ruined leg as he belted the other with attacks from his weapon.

The second offender, his helmet covering his facial features, but not enough to conceal his inhuman nature, revealing it almost at once when he dashed at him from the side, revealing his fleshless jaw that had been set in an eternal, grotesque grin...

His limbs waved oddly, weaving with his movements like the rolling of waves instead of the mechanical stumbling of the risen...speaking of decades of skills engraved into his skull. Skills that instead of being put to the protection of his kingdom, had been spent butchering it.

It smiled widely at him when he notice his glare, rolling back into a more protective combat stance, and fanning two of his own fingers at him. Gesturing the aged Paladin to bring forth what he had.

And he would...

Bellowing rage without words or voice as he swept in, striking with not only his trusted tool, but with the screaming, flailing body of the Death knight he had caught.

Now the grinning bastard seemed far less eager to engage in his own onslaught, attempting to parry his hammer and avoid striking his companion. Perhaps out of companionship, perhaps a shred of honour or care for his fellow kin remained somewhere buried deep within the filth and callousness that coursed through his dead heart, but it did not matter..

Ironically that light in the darkness doomed him as a bolt of light sprung forth form the centre of his hammer.

The glob of light slamming into dark clad knights chest and coming out with ease. Leaving nothing but a head size hole in his chest, dark blood turning into a greyish mist before the howling cries of his prisoner blow them away as he slammed her repeatedly into her friend.

As if he was a nail and she the hammer…, leaving nothing but bent, mangled flesh and steel behind.

The last remaining four clad wretches tried to engage him, but he had no intention to allow them any more near than the ashes that clung to his face.

With his last, left handed swing, Uther tossed the screaming woman towards the group when each of the traitors were closer to the rest, and instead of retracting his hands to prepare for the assault, given that it was probable that they would most likely dodge it in time, he pushed another gout of Light out through it

The howling traitor was silenced as the bolt not only tore through her first, ripping up her body, scorching her flesh and armour even blacker than it could have been possible before she blew up from inside out. Sending smoking pieces of the once living or unliving body of hers scattering in all directions, reaching his fellow traitors in the thick of it with deadly effect.

The one that had been the furthest away had fared marginally longer from the first attack, catching the bolt with his azure blade as it wrent its way out of the now dead knight mouth. But without his balance in check, the blades corruptive essence was not enough to catch it all.

The stream of light split and burst as it met his sword, melting his hands and chest, causing whatever little focus the warrior could have attempted to muster to flee from his mind as his blade cracked and broke apart, alongside part of his skull when he was hurtling back by a horrific torrent of predatory energy.

He smirked. Now it was his turn to charge...

Broken and confused as they were the proved no threat to him as he made quick work of them, stomping his boot into the chest of the last one, bending the metal down and squeezing his guts like a piece of bread under the hands of children, he rose his hammer above his head, ignoring how he tapped his leg, trying to push it away to no avail...

``You….treacherous, cowardly cur...´´

``Save your breath, filth…., you will have enough time to plead for the Lights mercy in the other side..´´

He brought it down, a splash of blood smearing over his face and legs as he did, raising his hammer there was nothing left of the knights head. What little remained was now part of his armour grim decorations.

``My job is to lead you to it…..´´

His haggard breath was all but spent, feeling a numbness stir up inside him…

He felt cold….

So cold…

Was this how death felt..?

He was not seeing any light at the other end….

``I see that you have been having your fun with my men…, impressive, I almost believed you were a different man for a second..´´

The voice were spoken softly, almost gently...but the essence they carried behind was anything but. It almost felt wrong to hear it with his own ears. He spun around, not even allowing to finish it as he lashed out to his side…, not willing to give any show of weakness or shock take hold of his arm, ready to strike in a moments notice the bane of his existence...

But the only thing he felt was that sting of pure ice piercing his side.

A frigid gasp leaving his lips. His eyes meeting for a brief second the sickly blue shade that had rob of the purity and shyness those very same eyes once held before he was kicked by the prince, removing him rapidly and prompt from the blade freezing his insides like a frost spell.

His legs almost gave out on the spot, but he forced them to keep him standing…., hiding his stumbling as he crouched to the ground.

``Slow…, you have become slower.´´

Arthas was back in the game…., very much alive by the looks of it, but he was bleeding too, perhaps even more than him. Most of the armour that had wore his upper waist was now gone, with only his left arm to remain protected by the thick black plates…, leaving the rest of his body exposed to the elements.

The raw, pale skin of his body that had been carved by years of harsh training now nothing but marred and distorted as large of chunks had been ripped off violently, a massive gash almost cutting him in two had it been any deeper, the flesh surrounding the cut now ashen to the eyes..., part of his hair had been burnt into a crisp, allowing to see the pale shade of his skull where the flesh had all bit disappear.

His cape had remained mostly unscathed, a fact that surprised him, but not as much as how it remained hanging behind his back when there was nothing supped to be holding it any-more like his armour. Much to his horror he realized that for some reason it had become fused into his back…, part of the flesh having melted and solidify over it...

Two more of those black, clad knights accompanied him….

``….´´

No words were shared as he bellowed his charge, wrath fuelling his sore, tired muscles into action

He spanned to meet his apprentice with his hammer, the other two backing away somewhat, getting out of their masters way as they reoriented their attacks to flank him while their master kept him busy directly.

In response, the aged paladin drew once more into the borrow power, blood spilling out shyly from his nose as he sent out his thoughts, allowing the shred of energy that shielded him to permeate the ground around and behind him.

When he sensed the two of them drive in for him, ready to pounce at him from his blind spots he acted, letting it loose. The dark, blacken and humid ground flashing golden as the soil became bright as the sun of morning, and splashed outward in a molten cascade.

Arthas seemed to sense the danger before it occurred, retreating before it even happened...but not with his lackeys whose aggression had finally come to bit them.

They screamed, their armour catching fire as the energy washed over them… They tried to stop it, trying to snuff out the flames consuming them with their hands, but it was not a fire that could be quelled by mortal means.

Nor he believed there were anyone else capable of the healing arts to bring them back to health, before he focused his full focused on the fallen prince who using the attention he had wasted on his attack had managed to struck him twice with rapid, yet almost harmless stabs that tore through his pauldron and poked the flesh below if just barely..

Despite of his apparent wounds, and being dressed with now nothing but rags and smouldering ruins of armour he comported himself well.

Something that could not be said for him…, his strength drained and his shield spent he found himself facing an overwhelming force he could not fully counter. His strength was brutal, mechanical even, his only saving grace the lack of depths of his perception as some of his attacks were not as perfect as the rest, granting him just a small breathing window to abuse and not die on the spot

Something had changed in the way the boy carried himself…, his demeanour less morbid and more silent. His face no longer grinning.

He was serious now…, pushing him like never before.

Yet neither his arm and hammer were found wanting, each parry meeting the glowing blade with just the right amount of might, sliding past with the perfect amount of speed, prompting another charge of his own instead of backing away like before...

Those blue eyes focused on the hand held star that laid under his grip.., remembering lessons of old, as his blade bounced the hammer to the side, striking the wind harmlessly….neglecting the paladins actual hands. A mistake which caused him greatly..

Arthas locked the glowing weapon perfectly, catching it such that to shift it away would have allowed for a killing blow to occur as pretty as a picture, only to feel suddenly his old teachers free armoured fist driving into his stomach with the force of a thin battering ram.

Flesh bruised, organs bled and bones shattered…., but he refused to be sent flying, digging his heels into the ground

His hand lunged forward grabbing the edge of Arthas black cape, his gauntlet fists yanked ferociously the fabric towards him, pulling the young boy towards him, reaping out the cape and a part of his pale flesh in the process before he slammed his hammer against his back with all the force he could muster with his remaining hand.

The sound of flesh being pounded so violently echoed sickly inside his head, watching before he even hit the ground how some of his ribs broke and speared out from his chest as his body was sent flying like a bolt, his flight ending in a sonorous collision face down to the ground in an instant, a grunt of pain coming from him as he tried to stubbornly stand up.

Now it was his time to find some difficulty standing. Using the rune blade as an improvised clutch.

``After all this time and you still lean to much towards aggressivity, to harm…., to kill...´´

The words hung heavily on the air, but even more on his tongue as he tried to find any ounce of air to push them out from his almost dead lungs. You have learned nothing that I taught you about defence...´´

``You always thought yourself so much better than I, than anyone else! Smirk as long as you want Uther, but is not I who will die to day´´

His words seethed in unholy rage only grew ever darker as his visage grew ever more madly.

….

``You are right..., you are already dead, boy...´´

He muttered dryly, but not before reeling back as a fit of coughing struck, blood spilling out from his lips into the ground. Sparking a faint chuckle from Arthas.

``Tell me Uther, why do you appear so feeble and weak? Why do your body tremble on its own? Is it the Light, Uther? Is gnawing at your soul...? Is it…!?´´

He scoffed at his student..

``Perhaps its the Light….., perhaps is this old body... who can no longer keep up…, but what that speaks of you…. that you cant beat me at my worst!?´´

Roaring as the two clashed weapons once more, the energy spilling out from their tools of war clashing and violating the very laws of reality itself, but now it was clear to see that the two struggled to keep their weapons lock in place.

``You cant win…., like everyone else before you, you shall fall to my blade...´´

``No matter how many of us you slain, Arthas...more will rise against you´´

A shadow appeared before the boys eyes, his jaw clenched.

``Then they will fall as-well….´´

The ominous words were followed by the cooling aura surrounding the blade becoming thicker.

Grinning his teeth he blocked the damned weapon just in time as it descended over his head, but this time something else happened, something that he had not seeing for a long while.

Frost…

Specks of cold, bitter frost...encroaching him, forming around and quickly spreading all over where the blow had taken place, cooling the weapon before it slowly spread over his own flesh and plated gauntlet to a point that was unbearable..if he had enough functioning nerves to felt a quarter of the mutilation that his body had taken already.

The blood trickling down the empty spots of his fingers and arm speaking of the bitter truth that it was over as an invisible force was starting to grow stronger inside and outside him. Like a massive hand pushing him down...

The wings of his back had finally disappeared, the glow on his eyes gone as-well...infuriatingly leaving nothing but the weary and ragged empty husk that had hidden below the golden facade that had glowed so brightly until then.

But sometimes the first that burned the brightest, also burned the fastest….leaving barely anything behind but ashes.

Sweat trailed down his face, glistening the old skin and the line expression that had settled. The lights blessing that had been with him was now truly spent..and with it any hope for victory.

Something that he had known already for a while...

Something that he knew would happen before this duel had taken place...

But a part of him had wished to denied it, to adhere to the hope that he could do it...

It was not fair…

There was nothing fair about it...

But did it matter now? No, not at all. He could only clench his teeth as he sensed his guts churn and liquefy on their own, his guts becoming filled with his own blood as there was nothing else to heal his body….but to take what was owed.

...Damn you Arthas…

Sadly, his peril was noticed by the one he had wished he would not...

``Growing tired in your old age Uther?´´

Barked Arthas more than said, his once soft yet kind hearted voice warped in a mockery of it.

With the weight of a broken body weighing him down he could do little but be pushed back, slowly loosing ground.

His body looked anaemic, while arthas who by far looked worse for wear appeared to be invigorated. How the thirst of blood had reinvigorated him to a point he thought no possible.

"Careful boy, if we allow our passions to ran unchecked we will become as vile as the orcs we face..."

The words of what now seemed a long gone era of peace and naivety echoed inside him, leaving nothing but a bitter taste in their wake before anger started burning any shreds of sympathy that it may have resided in his soul, that still did not abate the underlying ache gripping his heart so tightly that it would have burst already from his chest. He had failed him, he clearly had…

As a teacher..

A friend….

A father…

He tried to be something else that he was not and the kingdom had bled for it, now there was no one else to share such burden. Arthas had seemed to that. The monster had come home….and by the end of it another may replace it.

Curse his soul for not burying his conscience when it mattered, for betraying his wishes at every turn…

``Oh, how this brings back memories...don't you agree, Uther..?´´

A blade ripped out the pauldron from his shoulder, almost ripping out part of his bone as-well.

``All those years ago, the two of us training...always beating me...´´

The upper more left side of his chest cave in as the blade now carved in, almost with impunity as his arms were barely able to reach in time to block. Too weighed down…

He fell, his back landing on the ground with a splash. Arthas quickly hoping over him, graving him by the throat and squeezing it, looming his face near to him. The empty eye socket rippling with energy, making the wound even more hideous...

``The last time we met I was nothing but the student, now I am the master...´´

That seemed to make him chuckle, he however was not very amused by it…

Allowing himself to be pull forward by the iron grip of his student as he pried.., he gripped his battered will and push it, the boy not realizing that the blood was not just of his body dying in real time...but an unsound quake of defiance.

``A master of evil and pettiness is all I see, boy...´´

He growled at the boy, sparks flying off from his armour as the cold blade struck deep into the left side of his guts, but the trembling of his hand making him miss his spine, though he still felt the slot of metal freezing his insides.

But there was little there to care or protect. The mess that was present inside him instead downplaying the damage far more than any spell would have allowed.

He replied in kind, his glowing hand lunging forward and graving a good hold of the marred, broken side of his face. His ethereal digits digging into the empty socket and trying to reach into his brain as they scratched and tugged the bone like a hound would carve a hole into the ground to either play with their owner or just bury their own chew-toys...

Arthas shrieked in pain, a tale of shame that would echoed over the air above them like a fine tune.

The boy recoiled visibly backwards, finding help in the altruism form of the flat face of his hammer slapping right into his unprotected face, even if the blow was slow...and held not as much strength as even the weakest one that he had done a few minutes ago.

``But you have a long way to even reach the dirt from my boots´´

By the time he rose up from the ground Arthas had already do it and was trying to hold his skull from opening further where his grip was ripped a chunk of his now empty socket. Nothing but a feral expression warped on his face.

He could only shudder with apprehension. What could he do in the face of such madness? What was he supposed to do against this vile curtain that refused to abide to his wishes and fall to his tugs?

What...what was he supposed to do….?

It was clear that Arthas had been transformed into something else, something more monstrous, more insidious….what little was left of the boy was merely the name he wore of his past life and the body of a perfectly looking human being.

But nothing could have survived all this punishment…,and yet he was not being consumed by those powers either. He was mad, indeed…, but nothing else seemed to impede his judgement, no struggle to continue at peak efficiency than the blows his body had received from him.

Was the Light merely less powerful..?

She brush off that line of thought with a second. No, the Light was not the one to blame here…, merely himself for not being able to channel it properly.

He had blundered his end when he had the chance too…, the Light having nothing to do with it.

And now that he was bereft of it, what could he hope to accomplish?

….

….

No...

No...it did not matter.

The light may no longer be with him…, but that did not change who he was, the oaths he had carried until that very day...

Aif you take the unholy powers that these monsters had they were nothing but lifeless husks on the ground, but take away the light from a paladin and what was left behind was a man.

Just….a man.

And that was what he really was…, who he had been since he had been born to his now final breath. Just a man…, like the many who had come before him. Like those who will walk the earth after him..

Being old was not an excuse any-more.

So that's why he could not do that...

For honour...

For his people...

For the Light.., no…, for what was right. He could not give in…..

He was a man of Lordaeron, he was a servant of the people...

He would die as such…

Not with fear in his heart and dark thoughts in his soul, but with a smile on his face. He had done what he could given the hand that he had been granted, it was now time to pass the torch to the future generations

They would learn of the mistakes of those that came before them.., and right the wrongs that they had not been able to do in their time.

He would not be there to see it…., but the Light would. And that was enough….

He charged...

Unholy energies surrounding the blade brooming with life to a point that it seemed to carry the glow everywhere it went as they parried the attack.

``You can never be forgiven for the things that you have done…and so it falls to my hands to cut down the prodigal son´´

He sneered at him, having difficulty to breath.

``Oh Uther…, you can not possible imagine the beauty of death, of the world that the Scourge will bring, the new order...´´

He slammed the far end of the handle on the boys guts, using the moment he stumbled to smash his head into powder but the blade push him back, cracks tearing through the hammer.

``Things that I will never even wish to know...´´

``So stubborn, there is still potential in you that shines through, imagine the unfulfilled glories we could see to..!´´

He felt utter disgust as he slammed the hammer from head to toe, trying to cave his skull like a ripe fruit, only to be push back if only barely.

``That you still believe I seek any glory betrays the true blindness that has overcome you!´´

``You are spitting out your life you ungrateful old man….!´´

He ignored him...

``I recall the virtues I stood for…! I recall the struggles and the things we have done…! I will not be deterred form my vengeance, I remember the lessons passed into the sons of this land. I am just one of the Lights children…! I am Uther the Light Bringer...and I reject you now and always!´´

Each cry was followed by strike of his own, each and every shout bringing forth the raw emotions that had been bottling inside into a fiery storm of violence unleashed sorely on that cursed blade,. cracking it...

But that was not the only weapon to shudder, bereft of the power that it had covered until then, and mangled by decades of long service. his hammer broke with the last strike.

The massive glowing head of the weapon that had been gifted to him the day he had been named as a member of the Silver hand, the very same object that represented the oaths and fortitudes he had carried from youth to his very last years broke apart.

Unable to handle the constant punishment it had been subjected too until it could no longer do so.

And before it even fell to the ground..., the sharp, serrated edge of the sword pierced through his chest. Light, armour and chain-mail forgotten as it tore through him like a wet-sack of paper….

Uther growled blood…

A sound utterly composed of vicious pain and shock, but could do little as the blue glowing runes of the blade burst out from his back. Arthas held Froustmourne steady, or as much as he could given his injuries in his chest, perhaps expecting the old man to fall and slice himself in half for him with the movement

He held himself firm enough to avoid that humiliation, even as trails of red began to drip from her nose and eyes and colour his pale moon skin. The severed head of the hammer pulsed one last time as it hit the ground, bouncing before coming to rest on the muddy ground of this desolated and ravaged cemetery.

His glowing, flickering hand appearing once again from his stump...empty of anything to carry now clasping the broad shoulder of Arthas, the hand exerting a rare crushing pressure which the pale prince fend off with an arm.

As his legs gave out, his killer was borne down to a crouch as-well. Uther tried to speak, but a gout of blood spilled crimson over his lips in place of any words. His eyes already losing their focus, and with small twist of his wrist, Arthas sliced a hole into his lungs.

He had no more words to say, for now…, but he was not gonna leave it end like this with out one or two last words. His true remaining hand trembling as it still grasped tightly the pole between his digits,

Arthas was shocked when he noticed him reeling his arm back, dropping his hold over the cursed rune-blade as he tried to put some distance between the two, but he was too close.

Unable to avoid in time to be stabbed with the now sharp edge that had been left behind, the metal pole spearing through him, reaching deep into the exposed flesh until it popped out from the other side, mirroring his own situation with disgusting perfection.

He coughed, blood slipping down too those cursed lips that had smirked at the agony inflicted on his own countrymen, stumbling back as his hands tried to pry off the pole stuck between his ribcage and spine. Sweat sliding down his pale skin while he huffed loudly by each centimetre of metal he pulled out.

Uff….if only his aim had not failed him at the last second that pole would have pierced his heart as he had wanted.

Alas..he was glad to see him suffer nonetheless as if he was almost unable to pull it out by himself….

``I gut you…´´

The words were harsh and sharp, yet barely audible through the clenched teeth.

``I killed you….´´

``...´´

``I bested you…..´´

``...´´

``Say it….´´

``...´´

``Say it Uther…!´´

``….´´

``SAY IT...!´´

Like the child he was he snapped at him, his voice whipping the air viciously as he ordered him, commanded him to answer what his delusion mind wished to hear.

There would be no victory for him….

No prize…..

Against all odds he stood up, the wobbling of his legs still present, yet he dug his heels deep into the ground.

His last remaining hand graving the hilt of the sword, uncaring of the destruction that such an act would bring. He would not suffer it for long...

``What do you think you are doing….?´´

Orders coursed through his brain into his limbs, coaxing them to action, which did not correspond with the timid and trembling shudders of his fingers as they were ravaged by the dark miasma that had made the sword as vile as it was dangerous.

``Trying to stab my heart now Uther? With my own blade…?´´

It was only when he was sure his hand would not slip away from the hilt that he rose his head, his eyes misted then, glossy as tears rimmed each, barely able to make out the boys features, yet brutally grinning at him...

``No yours…., Arthas….´´

Confusion dawned in his face, before horror replaced it with swiftness..

``Mine….´´

He said as he plunged the sword deeper, twisting it to the side with the last ounce of strength he could muster.

The beating throbs of his heart stopping as the organ was rendered useless…, his arm fell limp to the side of his waist, inert

One last thought crossing his numbed mind before the darkness claimed him and swallow him whole. Deaf to the cries of outrage and pain coming out from the boy he had considered as his own son. His mind shutting down, yet his body remaining tall over the empty fields…

...Light...save my soul...

That day would remain forever burnt in the minds of every soul of Lordaeron for millennium to come.

A tale of the bravery and humble nature of the aged man who did his task as the Light required of him, never giving in to temptation or the weakness of flesh in the face of termination. Doing what he and many others had done and would continue to do for what they believed.

To stand the line, and die standing ….

ºº

And here is the Uther part that I promise two two chapters ago, it took some time but here it is nonetheless.. I could not just upload the two together unless you wanted a 19k chapter.

Until the next time though I feel quite tired...