Chapter 2
Reala and her party had been stuck in Thrallmar for nearly a week now. They'd had nothing to do but sit on their few bags and listen to that star struck ninny Martik wax on and on about the paradise of Netherstorm and Kael'thas's new fortress. About she found interesting in that was the rich mana resources and the rumor that the fortress was capable of moving to other planets. She imagined that Kael intended to load that giant ship up with mana (somehow) and sail it back to Quel'Thalas to save their people, perhaps even cleanse the Sunwell.
While the other were held rapt by the devotee's ramblings she kept to herself picturing a beautiful gemstone ship laden with magic energy sweeping down on the beleaguered kingdom of the elves and curing all their ills. Little more than childless fantasies she knew, but she had nothing better to do than sit and indulge them. When they first arrived she'd also taken to watching the other travelers but they had all long since left. There had only been one arrival since then. Personally sent by the Warchief according to the rumor mill.
An elf, but not like her and the other pilgrims. He was a death knight, an agent of the Scourge who had by some miracle separated from it. No one in Thrallmar really thought this elf was sent to the front of Outland because of his skill. He was here to die, if he could. Nazgrel and Shatterskull had been sending him on every bad mission they had. Problem was he kept coming back, and not empty handed. But now all were certain the abomination was doomed. Seregent Shatterskull had sent him into Fel Spark ravine to kill demons and lighten the assaults on Thrallmar. A task that needed doing; but by a company of warriors not a single elf.
As Reala sat daydreaming she heard the panting and pattering that signaled the worg mounted patrol coming in. 'Of all the creatures to ride' she thought as they galloped in, huffing and drooling 'why giant wolves? They have the oddest gait I've ever seen and they're stupid to boot.' As if it could hear her musings a worg looked up and cocked its head at her, whining. Reala looked away. 'Perhaps not stupid, mangy certainly.'
The last few worgs and their riders filed into the fortress town and the gates started to be closed for the night. It took upwards of 15 minutes and ten orcs to close those massive wooden walls and another 8 minutes and two kodos to open them again. Just as they were halfway shut one of the trolls shouted for them to stop. Reala and the others elves picked up on the sound too, and soon it was apparent to every one. There was a single horse galloping towards town.
All waited quietly for the horse to come into sight. One of the other pilgrims spoke up.
"No one else went out on a horse today. Two gold says it's that death knight's steed with no rider."
"He's always come back before," said a tauren woman.
"I will too," said an orc, "One death knight against a nest of demons, he got torn apart in minutes."
The blood elf man nodded to the both of them, and a grizzled orcish veteran walked up to the gates.
"I'll get in on this," he said slowly "but I say he comes back with not a wound on him. I've fought the Burning Legion and the Scourge in my time, a lone demon might go down hard but I've never seen anything like a death knight. I've known warriors who abandoned us to had a chance at the power and strength they saw in the death knights."
Not long after those words left his mouth the horse and rider appeared out of the constant smoky haze. Just as the old solider predicted the death knight appeared unscathed as he rode into Thrallmar.
"No one else coming in. You can close the gates." His voice was as icy as his face. Had he been alive the females might have swooned over him. He had an aristocratic face and wonderful bone structure but his flesh and skin clung to those bones so he always looked something between normal man and living skeleton. His skin was white as chalk and his long, light colored hair was matted with ice even in the insufferable heat of Hellfire Peninsula.
As his dismounted Reala rubbed her exposed for arms, she could feel the hair standing up on her skin. His presence sucked the heat from the air. He strode across the compound with his black silk cloak following him like a trail of blood and shadows.
The old orc hit the elf man's chest and turned his palm out for his gold. The elf gave it up then stomped back over to the other pilgrims. Reala's eyes lingered on the death knight as he entered the head quarters.
Nazgrel wasn't surprised to see the death knight return. He'd stopped being surprised after he came back toting extra wood and metal from the fortifications of Hellfire Ramparts, along with several fel orc tusks.
"Rune, was it?" Nazgrel asked. A commander of men he was still terrible with names. At least he could remember ranks.
The cold elf nodded and threw a bit of armor on the stone table.
"From a Dreadlord in the ravine. And these…" he dumped some severed claws and fel tainted stones next to it, "from the other demons he commanded."
Nazgrel stared at the items a moment, then cleared his throat.
"Rune, you don't have to bring back proof of your kills every time. I'm sure that your…former master may have demanded such tokens but we have no need or want of them. The attacks on our walls have nearly stopped and for me at least that is proof enough."
The other tacticians and dignitaries nodded in agreement. Magister Bloodhawk regarded Rune with a curious look. He'd been trying to talk to him since he arrived, he was the only one who wasn't terrified or repulsed by him.
"Rune, surely you have a real name."
Rune showed expression for the first time since he arrived. His brow furrowed and leaned against the table, growling in annoyance.
"You have pestered me about this since I came here, and I tell you again my name is Rune. The name I had when I lived is of no importance."
"You are a blood elf and…"
"I am a death knight," Rune turned his unsettling gaze on him, "A walking corpse in cased in Saronite with a free mind, nothing else."
Bloodhawk heaved a sigh and turned back to the leather maps and parchments scrawled with reports. Nazgrel gave Rune his next set of assignments and dismissed him.
He headed for the inn though he had no need of beds or drink there. Inside the sturdy stone building he haggled over the many items he'd pulled from demon corpses. His intimidating presence helped, no trader tried very hard to short change him. There were many off duty grunts and tired travelers partaking the beds and refreshments within. Many wary glances and dirty looks were shot his way, those eyes followed him even as he stepped out.
Rune had no need of rest unless wounded, but had no choice but to wait until the gates opened again. His horse Frosthoof was waiting patiently for him by the barn. Like him the animal had no need of rest or food but went there purely out of habit. The keepers shoed him away from it every time, they didn't like him making their worgs, wyverns and kodos nervous.
Rune patted Frosthoof's neck as he approached, then opened one of the saddlebags and took out his polish and rags. He sat down on the dusty earth and began rubbing the blood and tissue from his blade. His muscles knew these movements even when he was alive it took no thought to give extra attention to the caked on muck or the stained bits of metal. The runes that gave him his name glowed menacingly on the great blade like leering faces.
They gave him his power, and gave his blade a second edge in battle. Soon the steel gleamed and caught even the weak light from the double moons. Rune placed it back in the leather scabbard on his back and removed his spaulders. His armor would get the same treatment, but he only ever removed what he had too. He tsked when he saw a large dent in the heavy saronite. He'd need to go back to Ebon Hold to have it fixed properly.
He gave his armor the best polishing he could while removing as little as possible. Thrallmar would not accept his presence; no matter how many demons he killed. He could assault and demolish Hellfire Citadel by himself and they would still be wary of him. He simply wanted to earn the necessary points for assignment in Northrend.
Rune asked for first thing but Garrosh turned him down. But he could still get the appointment he wanted. He just had to rack up some service in Outland to qualify. It was annoying but if it could get him in the fight against the Lich King, well, any other knight of Ebon Hold would agree it was worth it.