Okay. So, this is my first fanfic ever posted to this site, and I've discovered that what I plan to do with the storyline here is kind of complicated. See, I don't really like what Blizzard did with the game, so I'm really just throwing everything (minus Pandaria...bargh) into a gigantic pot and stirring it up before throwing it back out onto the table. In here, the cataclysm has NOT happened yet, but Gilneas HAS fallen. I wanted to incorporate worgen in here, but decided that I wanted to have The Lich King as a major plot device as well. If you don't like, don't read. Now, for all of you still here, ON TO THE STORY!
I got to my feet, realizing that my earlier armor, which had the Stormwind crest on it, had been replaced with a purple-blue cloth robe with a deep hood that covered my face. I was also wearing shoulder pauldrons, a simple cloth belt with a skull-shaped buckle, and a long, flowing, maroon robe. For some reason, I wasn't scared of the man standing before me. In fact, as long as I stared into his 'eyes' I felt more and more calm, yet angry at the same time. Suddenly, I couldn't remember why I had been afraid of him.
Finally, he spoke again. His raspy voice was like a gust of frigid air, cold and with a slight hint of a blade behind it.
"Go, my son. Join the others at the forges. It is time," I was confused about what it was 'time for' but for some reason I really, really did not want to make this man upset, so I obliged. I turned around, and a lovely creature stood waiting for me. She was about six feet tall, and exceptionally beautiful. Her features were marred only by a long scar running down the side of her face. Her voice seemed to come from inside my head.
"Come along, child," she said. I didn't really take to being called 'son' or 'child' but the man with the sword had told me to go to the forges, so I did. I followed her down a long corridor, to another large, open room. There was a large pit in the middle, where swords, axes, staves, and clubs lay in large heaps. Around the pit was railing, and then on the other side of the room was what I could only describe as the forges.
The "forges" themselves were huge structures that were made out of a very dark metal. As I approached, I noticed that in the centre of each one was a shallow pool of molten metal. All around me were people dressed like I was, pouring metal into molds, cooling the molds, and then hammering away at the hot peices of metal until they were correct. I saw one particularly muscled night elf pick up the rather elaborate axe he was working on, frown at it, and then throw it back into the molten metal.
The beautiful woman led me to a forge of my own, but not before the ground lurched beneath our feet. I tried to grab onto her, but she evaporated into blue mist. I rushed over to a balcony, and noticed that the ground was quickly shrinking away from us. At first I found this particularly alarming, but soon a voice inside my head told me to go to the forges and create a blade for myself, like the others. Just like that, I forgot why I had been alarmed. I knew it had something to do with heights, but I couldn't quite remember. I shook my head and went back to my forge.
Scattered around it were several blades, imperfect and apparently discarded. I looked at them, but they were all incredibly simple. I had some idea of how I wanted my blade to look, but if I thought that there would be a pre-made mold for it to the side of the forge, I was severly mistaken. In fact, the small stack of molds was extremely disappointing. There were two molds for the same, simple blade, one for a slightly more elaborate blade, and one for an axe. I looked around at the rest of the people at the forges, and most had chosen the mold for the simple blade, or had just chosen one from the pile of used blades and were adding their own runes to it. In fact, now looking at the others, all the blades had runes on them, and somehow I was able to read the runes. I saw runes for frost magic, fire magic, dark magic, and, in some cases, blood magic. What sick, twisted place was I in?!
I shook my head, and looked back at one of the molds, one for the simple blade, and decided that I was going to make some changes. I left my forge and jumped the railing, landing in the pit and trying not to impale myself on one of the wicked-looking swords at the bottom. It took me a while, but I found it: a small knife with runes on it that read stonecutter. I suppose that it had been made at some point to make the molds, and then thrown away once the job was done. I slowly made my way back up to the forges, clutching my prize in my fist.
Once there, I got a few odd looks from the others, but they otherwise paid no attention to me. I picked up one of the simple sword molds and set it on the table before getting to work. I imagined a weapon that was very practical but also fear-inspiring to my enemies. I started at the crossguard, making 'spikes' that started at the crossguard and went up the blade about four inches, getting smaller as they went and curving towards the blade. Then, I cut a diamond shape into the center of the crossguard, making its top point merge with the base of the blade, and its bottom point merge with the hilt. I also carved a small slot into the pommel of the blade, so that a small gem could be inserted.
As I worked, I imagined how all of these aspects would come into play. The hook-like spikes would be able to catch enemy blades, allowing me to easily wrench it from their grasp. A powerful frost rune could be placed on the diamond shape, and the gem in the pommel could potentially charge the blades' runes, as long as I charged the gem while I was cutting it.
I stood back from the mold, and smiled. It was time to pour in the metal. While it was cooling, I walked over to a box of magical items, picked out a small sapphire and a magical whetstone. By now, the metal was cooled, and I used the gloves and hammer to make the blade flatter around the middle, and thin around the edges. Something told me that no matter how thin I made it, It would not turn brittle or break, but I still made it an inch thick, just in case.
After several coolings in snow and lots of hammering, I finally stepped back and looked at the finished weapon. The blade itself was two-foot-five, while the hilt was ten inches long. Altogether, it was a whopping three-foot-three. If I put the tip on the ground, it came up to my waist.
Now that the blade itself was made, I set about making several accessories. First, I modified the mold for the scabbard so it would be able to slide under the spikes, then while it was cooling, I went over and procured several wide strips of leather from the sword materials merchant. I cut a long, thin strip from one of them, to wrap around the hilt, and saved the rest for going around the scabbard. It was still cooling, so I cut the sapphire while I was waiting. I made sure to channel plenty of mana into it, sometimes stopping to drink some water to replenish my stores, until it was so full of mana charges that it golwed slightly from within and I was sure that it would explode if I added any more. Then, I slid the magical whetstone along the blade, as the magic in it would fix any microscopic imperfections in the sword, thus making it extremely sharp. I then took a small glowing piece of ice from the forge rack and began to put runes on the blade. I put runes on it that allowed it to retain its sharpness no matter how much I used it, as well as runes that would freeze the hilt, making anyone but me who tried to use the sword feel as though they had picked up a piece of ice. After some thought, I also added a rune that would allow me to reanimate dead corpses for a short time by pointing my blade at them and asking them to fight for me. I didn't like it, but I realized that at some point it might be necessary if I ever battled myself into a corner and had nothing but my sword and the enemies' corpses around me. Besides, it would only last a few seconds, and the creature I reanimated would have no idea that it was ever disturbed.
This last rune felt like a much less evil choice than the runes that I saw some of the others put on there blades. Their runes required you to stab the corpse in the heart, and the entire time they were reanimated they were fully aware of what was going on. I had no idea if they knew that was what the rune did, but if they did know, I hope the Light did not have mercy on their souls when it was time for them to die.
I tried to hide my scowl and focused my attention back to my blade. I copied the same runes on the other side, and then tried to decide on a powerful rune to put in the diamond part of the sword. I finally decided on the rune for frost itself. Alot of the others put runes on their blades that meant to freeze or to be frozen but as far as I could tell, the only person that I had seen with the actual runic name frost was the tall man in the first room. It was understandable, of course. Any rune that was used to describe something directly tended to be extremely powerful. The rune fire, for example, could make fire so hot that it would hurt your eyes. Thus, the rune frost would create cold so intense that it would freeze your skin before it even cut you.
This is the rune that I put on the diamond. Of course, I put four other, smaller runes on the points of the diamond. Safeguards, so that the frost rune would not activate unless I said its runic name. Finally conviced that I had done a good job, I reached for the sapphire and slid it into the pommel, using delicate strokes of the hammer to seal it in.
As soon as the last piece of metal closed around the sapphire, the runes on the sword glowed a vibrant blue before going dormant again, ready to be used later. I smiled and took some melted wax from a candle nearby, putting the wax on the hilt and wrapping the hilt in the leather, so that the wax would keep the leather in place. The metal for the scabbard had cooled by then, so I took one of the long pieces of leather and wrapped it around the scabbard before cutting off pieces for metal accents to show. One of these accents was a long strip of flat metal in the center of the scabbard, meant for the name. I had no idea what to name her yet, so I left it blank for the time being, hoping that it would come to me later. In the meantime, I took a separate strip of thin leather and used it to make an adjustable sash, as the sword itself was too large to go on my hip. A few extra touches here and there, and it was finished. It still didn't have a name, but I realized that it would probably reveal itself to me in the course of time.
Satisfied, I buckled it on and started to leave the forges, stopping at the last second to grab stonecutter and buckle it onto my waist before heading back to the tall man in the first room. As soon as he saw me, he made a sound of approval. His voice was still cold as ice.
"Ah, good job, my talented Death Knight. I am very proud of your craftsmanship. No one has ever altered the molds before." He took a long, raspy breath.
"However, let's see if you know how to use it." He led me along a different corridor, this one leading to a large set of stairs. At the bottom was another huge room, almost identical to the forge room, except that this one was empty except for a large pit. At the bottom were several swords like the molds I had seen in the forges. Obviously, those Death Knights had not been up to the challenge. There was a spinning sensation, and all of a sudden we were standing in the pit, I on one end and he on the other. He raised his hands, and his cold voice boomed.
"Let's see if you can survive the onslaught of the Lich King!" He yelled. So that's his name, I thought. How fitting.
Suddenly, two undead soldiers sprang up beside him and rushed towards me. I reached over my shoulder and pulled out my sword, activating all of the runes except for the frost rune. I would not need it...yet. The undead kept running towards me, and I sliced one in half at the waist, while decapitating the other one.
"Is that supposed to be a challenge?" I yelled at the Lich King. He produced four undead this time, and these I recognized as ghouls. We had seen them a lot while I was stationed in the Western Plaguelands. Wait...What?! Where did that come from?! At the last second a calm blanket washed over me, making that scrap of thought float away like a leaf in the wind. I suddenly realized that the ghouls were close now, and I quickly dipatched them. But, now I was confused. What had I been thinking about, again? I couldn't remember, just that it was extremely important.
Obviously trying to get my mind off of it, the Lich King sent wave after wave of horrifying undead abominations my way. I'm sad to say that it worked. Pretty soon, standing in the centre of a ring of rotting limbs and entrails, I had completely forgotten that there was even something to be remembered. That's when he dragged two people, bound and gagged, from a door in the side of the pit.
"To prove that you're a loyal Death Knight," he said, jabbing his large sword in their direction. "You must kill them." I was standing directly above them, sword in hand. Suddenly, looking at their bound forms, their gagged faces pleading for me to help them, and it all came back to me. Growing up, my mother helping me take my first steps across our one-roomed house in Westfall, my father teaching me how to tend the farm and catch fish in the river by our house. My enlistment in the Stormwind Militia, my mother telling me not to go, my father telling her that I would be alright and giving me his old greatsword.
My death on the battlefield.
I was dead, but walking.
Undead.
I raised my sword, but instead of striking at my parents, I whirled around and swung at the Lich King. It caught him by surprise, but he quickly retaliated by knocking me to my feet. He then used his sword to cut off both of my parent's heads.
They both fell to the floor, and two ghoul's bodies hit the stone with a wet thud. One of the misshapen heads rolled over and touched my boot, a smell of decay rising up from it. I quickly rushed the Lich King for decieving me, and this time, he was ready. He sliced at my arms, my legs, my chest, my face. Then, he held up his hand, and I was blasted out of the pit, and off of his floating palace. I saw it grow smaller as I fell away, and I hit the ground with a sickening thud.
The last thing I remember was the sound of a door opening, and the scream of a frightened woman before I was overcome by darkness.