Chapter Two in the saga. This is a little gore, so if you have a weak constitution you may not like this.
Again I do not own War of Worldcraft. (sorry if there is any sort of mistakes in lore)
Time blurred before the knight's eyes as he continued to do the king's bidding. His mind stayed silent for the most part as he moved from mission to mission.
The new command spread through the ranks like wild fire, the knights were to prepare for battle and gather near Light Hope Chapel. It was to be a full assault against the enemy, one that their King had been working up for. All they had been commanded to do was in preparation for this one move.
Nahal merely returned to the camp and sharpened his blade, he called his steed and rode with a group of others toward the battlefield. He watched as more filed around their commanding officers, eager for battle in effort to please their king.
"Spare on one! Rise, minions! Destroy them," Darion Mograine commanded.
Nahal blinked at the command, the others around him roared with the anticipation of battle, he could not get himself into an ecstatic state. Not that he had been able to since the time he woke in this strange new state of being. He had sensed something was off, this…life was somehow wrong.
The voice whispered in his head forcing him to kick his horse forward, he pulled free his weapon. He followed the other minions into battle, he found an enemy and started swinging his blade with deadly accuracy from his endless practice.
While he was occupied freeing his weapon from someone's skull, the sin'dorei was yanked off his steed. Nahal hit the ground hard on his hip, the plate of armor took the blunt of the blow. He felt the tingle of healing edging around his injury, than a sudden burst from his master gave him full repair.
He rolled to his left, his hand claimed the pommel of his rune blade once again. He swung it around in time to block another sword from dislocating his head. His snarl echoed in his helm, as the human prepared another swing exposing his plated chest to the death knight. Nahal knew going for the obvious attack would more than likely put him into jeopardy, he grinned evilly under the mask of his head gear. He waited for the sword to start the down swing, that was when his heel connected with the human's knee. A horrific snap sent the warrior to the ground screaming in pain. Nahal rose, he watched the other trying to overcome the broken joint. The rune blade sang through the air before it ended the misery to the human.
Nahal's eyes searched for another victim, he scowled at the chaotic battlefield before him. Ghouls and other undead ran about biting and clawing at the armor of the defenders of the Chapel. The tingle of wrong edged back into his mind, the very ground seemed to weld an energy that teased the back of his mind. A familiar essence that had once filled him, before more memories could free themselves they were dispatched by the mental commands of the Lich King.
Fresh troops explode from the chapel running through the fray, Nahal gripped his two handled sword as several headed straight for him. He blocked the first clumsy attempt with ease, than the fighting went deadly serious as they were locked in a dance of sword play. Equally matched, the two warriors parried and blocked getting no where fast. The death knight made a calculated move and missed the fleshly target between the harden plates of his opponent. This left him venerable to a deadly blow to his now exposed neck, which his enemy tried to exploited. He felt the blade slam against the armor on his shoulder and bouncing off slashing the tender flesh of his neck. The blow knocked off his helm which landed in a decaying body of a ghoul a few feet away.
Nahal dislodged himself from the other as blood poured down his chest plate. "You felt that didn't you, fiend?" The solider said moving in for the kill.
Nahal wanted to wipe that smirk off the other's face, he was able only to stumbled and fell on his rear. Weakness rolled through him like lightening, he took a breath feeling a bit of natural healing on the back side of the wound. He may be down, but not out of the game. He had one last trick up his sleeve, he chanted a practiced line and seemingly out of thin air three magenta colored warm flung themselves at the enemy. Giving time that the death knight needed to regain his senses, the bloodworm's spit and teeth tore through the enemies armor to the skin beneath. The man tried to pry the creature off with his hands, only to find the worm stretched when trying to be pulled off.
The death knight gasped at the serge of healing as contact was made, life flowed from the drained solider into the sin'dorei. The enemy continued to desperately hack off the parasitic worms that grew bigger with each pump of his heart. The human solider glared at Nahal in horror and fury. Nahal simply rose to his feet as his wound knitted together, he caught the movement of more enemy soldiers making their way toward him.
He turned to face this new threat, he posed himself in a fighting stance. The blade held up between him and the new challenger. The slender woman in brilliant gold and red armor stilled and stared through the holes of her helm. "Nahal?"