Chapter 9:
Originally I planned on waiting for the Ashen Verdict to make their first move, but as time runs through the hourglass sometime things change. Something inside me told me I still had to settle a score beforehand.
It proved actually rather easy to track down Orbaz Bloodbane thanks to the Ebon Blade lending me their sudden and most unexpected help. They had been constantly tracking him with everything they had ever since he returned to Northrend and he wasn't the type that's too interested in hiding away anyways.
After fleeing from the battlefield of Light's Hope that one day, his bond to the Lich King remained unbroken as the only of us four. He then quickly advanced inside the Scourge into high ranks, giving me also a faint idea where I could be standing right now.
No one who knew him or his ferocious wrath would deny that he had always been the born leader, strong and cruel enough for the Scourge. He was picked by destiny and shaped by undirected hatred for the living to take a top position amongst the ranks of Arthas' legions.
But not only that, the Ebon Blade even found out about replacements for the other three of 'our' former group. A strange mixture of hilarity thanks to the situation and fully fledged anxiety to meet them takes the reign in my mind. I'm sure they are dying to meet me too, and I have the feeling my axe is ready to them their wish.
Some when around noon I took a wyvern from Dalaran to the stronghold of the Argent Crusade in Icecrown. The skies over the glacier are already dark as night as I met with an ambassador of the bronze dragonflight. I greeted him with distance, though ready to do my bidding as we had arranged. He did not trust and I trusted none of the flights in return, although I still hold my grudge mainly against Alexstrasza and her kin for trying to fool me into something that never was part of this life's truth. Nonetheless the dragon in a bloodelf guise as an officer of the Warsong Offence simply tried to help me, so I agreed eventually. His brethren would take me to the steps of the black citadel so I could strike out as I desired.
As we flew over to the fortress of the Lich King, I had the chance to gaze at the different smaller battlefields below between all the ripped apart grounds and dead bodies lingering about, waiting to be resurrected.
We heard constant explosions around Mord'rethar, the gate of death - one of many scattered throughout the whole of the Icecrown glacier; either the Orgrim's Hammer or the Skybreaker must have been unloading onto it yet again. Ymirheim stood in bright flames like a bonfire on a summer's eve as I saw how soldiers of the Warsong Offence charged at the city walls. Inside the surface mining area called the Pit of Saron most slaves had been freed by members of the Argent Crusade and the undead overseers were taken down as we passed over it high above.
The dragon landed in the middle of the large staircase, right in front of the citadel. A small encampment of the Argent Crusade as well as the Ebon Blade had already been set up and a large battering ram with the head of a lion was waiting directly in front of the barricaded door for the right moment to strike it down.
A cold breeze blows into my face, caressing me as I summon Abigore. It offers a strange feeling of home amongst all the solitude and anger not only I sense, but the land below my feet as well. With a short nod I try to show the dragon my acknowledgement for the help he offered to me but the bronze creature rises up into the air as fast as we have travelled here, not seeing any of it as it heads back to the stronghold of the Argent Dawn and to the safety of the established haven.
I noticed how his eyes were fixed to Shadow's Edge most of the time even as we were flying - seems to be more of a threat than the frostwyrms patrolling the air around the spire of the Lich King. Animals fear this weapon. Their instincts tell them to flee, to stay away from it as far as possible! Thus for they avoid me, they loath me. And for a short period of time that dragon carried the same burden as I do always.
Abigore is as fast as ever. Sure-footed he jumps down the large stairs, fit for giants. As we reach the ground level, we are surrounded by the undead nerubians roaming the area, keeping the few crusaders here at bay. More cannon fodder of the army of the Lich King thrown at me. It's not worth the bother. Abigore just rushes passed them as I navigate him towards the east.
We pass through a gate leading into an area filled with blazing forges and undead blacksmiths forming freshly gathered Saronite into armor and weapons of destruction. A skeletal structure of a Necropolis is hovering above us, designed to hold what little future was left for the Scourge.
Entering the area I already know where I would find the replacements of Koltira, Thassarian and me. During the course of the last short day I received another note from Darion supplying me with the information necessary to find them. I have to admit he is pretty good in guessing what goes on in the back my head, he's been the first one in quite a while.
Baelok, Rider of Blood, is the name of my first target. All three of them have these fancy titles 'Rider of this and that'. Even the names of their deathchargers are taken down on the little sheet of paper Mograine has sent me. All of them are supposed to become lieutenants on the unfinished Necropolis above me, Malykriss. I can still remember how I was once promised something similar to that. Or ... not only similar, but the same...
They really are good at collecting information about people, I have to give the Ebon Blade that much.
In midst of enemy territory I get off Abigore and draw my axe as I dismiss him.
Lots of newly found death knight initiates are wandering around the area, it shouldn't take long for them to notice me. And just as I finish this thought in my head, the first one comes charging at me, recognizing me as a threat. He seems to be not much of a fighter though, probably just woken up from his endless agonizingly silent dreams. What a pity that destiny has led his path right across mine so early. Maybe he could still have been formed. With a step to the right as he tries to strike I plunge my axe directly into his chest, easily bursting through his bleak armor.
Motionless the initiate falls over as I remove the axe from his torso with strong pull. A feint white entity is sucked from the body of the death knight into the blade of the axe, denying him his final rest in peace. I feel a slight sting in my body, but the pain is immediately washed away as I notice the increase of my strength. It may not have been much and it may not make too much of a difference at this point but I clearly remembered the feeling. It's been so long since last time...
This was the first time I let the axe lash out an opponent. I look at the blade of my weapon as the last black drop of viscous blood runs down the side. Shadow's Edge just tore apart a piece of armor probably made of pure Saronite and didn't even take a scratch.
Another two of the more foolish death knight underlings come charging at me as I continue on my way to Baelok. None of them takes more than one blow. The souls taken in as a reward for my malice fueling the rush I had missed for so long!
I now can see his steed standing next to a tent filled with bars of Saronite, Bloodsunder is its name.
'A beautiful fiend.' I think to myself as I first spot it. The rider also shouldn't be too far. I turn a bit to the east and there I spot him standing next to one of the forges, gazing at the flames and supervising a couple of skeletons wailing away with their hammers.
I get a little closer as all of a sudden his appears strikes me. At first I think that this can only be a joke but with every step I take it becomes more and more undeniable... the painful truth...
On the little note of Mograine there are remarks about who they should replace. Baelok is the one who took my seat in their ranks. Due to striking similarity to my style of combat they gave him a weapon that looks exactly like Armageddon. But that's not it... My rage bursts out as I see his full height and the long beard. Baelok is a... VRYKUL!
My fist clutches tightly around the handle of my axe.
I start to enrage even further as I see him standing there, the bulky human-like figure, with a long white hair reaching down his neck.
"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" I yell at him as I charge at the tall death knight in blind fury.
He turns around and offers me one of his simple battle calls, a scream, nothing more.
Once in motion Shadow's Edge turns out be a strong and swift weapon - easy to handle, but still with a deadly precision to it when you strike.
Baelok barely blocks the first hit with the edge of his blade. With a loud crashing sound Shadow's Edge hits the side of his weapon tearing through it for a third of its width. Within the blink of an eye I can suddenly see open fear emerging in the expression of the vrykul. I almost laugh out loud in my insane frenzy as I see that he is actually making a step backwards.
With a strong pull I free my axe from the clutch of his blade, breaking out a bit more of the sundered sword. I'm sure Armageddon would have withstood such an attack easily.
The expression on his face is sullen as he looks at his weapon and speaks a few words in his native language.
I don't care for his gibberish! I simply don't care what he's trying to tell me!
A vrykul... they compare me with a dammed... VRYKUL!
I dodge his following first attack and strike low. My counter is aimed for the right knee and the axe finds its target with ease.
The blade almost cuts through the whole leg as Baelok let's go of his weapon and drops to the ground letting out an agonizing scream. I don't worry about the initiates around here hearing us. If they see what I am doing to their overseer most of them won't even hesitate to flee judging by their attitude.
Dark red blood covers the earth as the vrykul tries to get back onto his knees. He again says something to me in his native language, a curse or an insult most likely. With his remaining strength he tries to grab the rest of his sword lying only few meters away.
At least his fighting spirit isn't broken already...
"I'll make sure they can't make a vargul out of you, my dear friend!" I say as I lift my axe again for the final blow.
Baelok hurries to raise his sword to block the strike aiming for his neck. I hit the blade a few centimeters above the other 'notch'. The sword isn't able to withstand the power of the blow anymore, the tip simply breaks off and my weapon cuts through the neck of the vrykul almost completely unhindered.
With a loud rattling noise it rolls away still in the helmet, the ice blue eyes wide open, the braids in his white beard now covered with dark red blood.
Bloodsunder the deathcharger looks at me eagerly after his master has left this world to now be a part of my siphoning axe. I pet his head a few times and speak quietly to the fiend.
"Sorry for you, but I already have a deathcharger of my own."
The horse shrieks as an answer not too happy but neither disappointed as it vanishes into the shadows. He now is one of the few freely living nightmares.
As soon as the figure of the horse vanished before me I spot the small pass winding up the mountains to the higher levels behind the tent of Baelok. Somewhere up that ridge I will find the over two.
The replacement for Thassarian is called Sapph, Rider of Frost, with a steed called Icefury. As I reach the end of the path I stand high above everything else on the top of the black Saronite walls on the same height as the unfinished Necropolis.
I hear how weapons clash against each other. It seems I stumbled into the training ground for the not so experienced death knights. As they fight, geists jump around the area, servants for them fulfilling everything they wish for or need - should it be to carry a dead body.
All of them are too far away and by far too weak to be a threat for me. Further to the east I find a long stretched out ledge from which one must surely have a good overview over the battlefield around Mord'rethar.
Sapph is standing at the very end of it, only centimeters away from the edge. It turns out that the Rider of Frost is actually a female bloodelf. So, Thassarian was replaced by a woman? How most amusing!
Her deathcharger stays away from the ledge. Its stares at me as I approach, but remains calm not uttering a single sound. It knows I wouldn't try to hurt it without reason. And I'm sure it's far more intelligent than its master.
As I come closer she turns around to face me.
"I knew you would come." She announces and lifts her axe.
Compared to her companion she has no problems dodging my first attack. She even follows up on her own with a swift strike aimed for my torso. She scratches my armor though, but it hardly inflicts any damage.
She may be fast, but that is all that is to her.
I grab her arm with my left hand and lift Shadow's Edge with the other one.
"Nice try!" A bright smile on her face, a sudden chill shoots through my arm. I look at it not knowing what is going on. It ... it is just as if she has frozen it, frozen solid. I can't even move a finger. Immediately she aims for my other arm with her axe. I'm hardly able to pull it away fast enough... Instinctively I thrust my axe at her side. It's tip gouges through her armor knocking her away sideways. She staggers to the edge not able to find the usual elf-like balance. I walk towards her as she tries to prevent herself from falling from the edge. I would have imagined that this should be a lot easier for her, but maybe she has lost that trait upon becoming undead. Every death has a price tagging along to it.
I give her a little kick against the left leg which finally sends her falling down the cliff. Carefully I look over the edge as gravity does its work, smashing the frail body upon hitting the solid ground and rock below. The moment she has passed away, the effect of her spell wears off and my arm turns movable again. Sadly no soul is left to be collected this time.
All in all a short fight, but I have to admit it was a close call. Still she wasn't too different from the Thassarian I know, a lot of cryptic bullshit for talk, swift hands and no foot-work.
But there is no time for resting, not yet at least.
The next way I am going is following the path along the Saronite walls to the west and then south. Somewhere on ridge close to the citadel I should find Rokir, Rider of the Unholy, and his steed Plaguehoof. Concerning how much Koltira has changed, I am anxious to meet his substitute.
Yet the most annoying part about this whole thing is getting there first. I'll have to travel through the whole training grounds.
To my surprise sand amusement none of the initiates even notice that I'm not of the Scourge. They look at me, bow deeply and keep on training with their partners. That way I actually manage to go about half the way without having to kill even once. The abomination in the middle is the first to notice and attack me. Clearly the fury I once sported so openly had diminished during my time of solitude, but I'm sure it will awaken sooner or later, for the good or the bad of it.
Anyway from that point onwards I have to cut my way through to get to the other end.
It doesn't take me too long to get used to the small amount of pain I feel every time one of them dies to my weapon. Every dead body that falls offers my blade another wretched soul to happily feast on. After I finally manage to leave the training grounds behind I meet only a few more geists that playfully jump right into my blade. One of them actually leaps directly onto the sharp spike crowing the axe.
Done with all the trash I had to face I come closer to Rokir after long last. His physic gives away his human origin as he stands in midst a ground covered in bones.
He has kept close watch over me from the moment on I had begun wreaking havoc in their training grounds. Our eyes first meet as I approach the stone ring around his bony home.
As I continue onwards and set foot onto the layer of bones, something grabs my ankles. The Rider of the Unholy only smirks as he looks at me and how I try to get out of his grasp. He then mumbles something very quietly with a gesture pointing into my direction and hands start reaching up from the piles of bones everywhere around us. Skeletons are slowly digging their way up and out of the earth. There are at least eight of them that try to emerge from their easily disturbed resting place. At least he is a skilled one, not like the other two. Now freed from the clutter of other bones all eight skeletons start approaching me. I hope he is aware that shenanigans like these are of no real threat for me! They are all mere puppets on a string.
I strike for the first one that comes in range. Shadow's Edge separates the upper body from the lower part with ease. With a loud explosion the remains of it explode knocking me over. I almost lost the grip on my axe. Luckily I landed partially outside the bone pit, otherwise surely more of the skeletal would have grabbed out for me.
In the meantime more of them have reached me. As soon as they touch me or even each other, they start exploding like the one before. One of the last blasts knocks me off the layer of bones and into a strange safety of distance. I cough as I get up to my feet. It hardly did any damage to me, except for throwing me around for a bit, taking a spin or two. Seems I'll have to take back everything... he's not skilled, he's just plainly annoying.
Rokir laughs out loud as he sees how I charge directly at him yet again.
As I rush forward I'm able to take two to three steps before the bony fingers are again clutching around my ankles. With a strong pull I tear off the arms still holding tightly to my feet on each side. I hear a faint explosion underneath the earth behind me and keep on going. It doesn't take long for the next pair of hands grabbing a hold of me though.
I strike at them with Shadow's Edge severing them from their bodies. Rokir's eyes widen as I make my way towards him hacking and slashing at the ground.
Not much longer and I will reach him. He backs off further and further to the end of the layer as I keep approaching, leaving his minions no time to fully make their way into this world.
"End of your territory!" I say the moment I stand right in front of him with a short look to the ground around us, before offering him to the blade in a feast of blood. "Maybe you should have become a fire-mage instead. They're also annoying as hell..."
I drag the dismembered body to the edge of the path along the forges and throw it down to the blacksmiths just for the heck of it. That bastard deserved it...
Wiping the dirt off my armor I then continue to follow the way winding down the mountains again leading straight to the cavern underneath the citadel of Arthas. Exactly the way I wanted to go if I can believe the note of Darion.
I will find him down there the parchment says, Orbaz Bloodbane, 'The Hand of Suffering'.
It seems he has risen to be the commander of the death knights of the Lich King. And I guess he is the one who is supposed to become the head of Malykriss once it is finished, if it ever gets done at all.
He really doesn't try to hide away for the slightest bit. I find him standing openly in the cavern amidst of on-going fights between warriors of the Ebon Blade and his own underlings.
I'm sure he noticed me the moment I entered the cavern, if not earlier already and I'm also sure that he recognized me immediately.
As I suspected... he did. I'm greeted with cold laughter.
"So you are still alive?" He asks in disbelief. "I assume you are now a puppy of the Ebon Blade, aren't you? Another fool who turned down immortality for a false hope."
"You missed the most important thing..." I answer as I come closer "I'm nobody's pet! I'm here on my own behalf! You are the one only dancing on a string!"
Orbaz laughs out once more.
"You've never been a piece of trash like the other two... You had the chance to become someone, to obtain strength and beyond your imagination and rise! RISE TO THE TOP OF THE WORLD! To stand at his and my side! But no..! You turned the master down! You disappointed him! And now I will be the one to pass judgment for your treachery!"
Bloodbane lifts his weapon and prepares to strike as I tried to do the same the blades of our weapons collide. The notch my axe hews into Orbaz's weapon is not as large as the ones before, but still remarkable. Yet Orbaz's strength is tremendous, maybe even greater than my own. It feels as if this single hit shattered several bones within my body.
"Be witness to the power the Lich King has bestowed upon me! A power you can only dream of!"
The runes on Bloodbanes weapon start glistening in a dark violet and a nova of shadow energy comes emerging from him. The shadows quickly consume the light around us, pulsing forwards to devour me. Yet things often turn out to be different than expected... Shadow's Edge is drinking the foul magic happily.
"What is this trick of yours!" He calls out as he tries to hit me again now that his magic did not work.
I dodge the attack and strike back on my own. I am able to hit the side of his weapon and break at least a small part off from it.
"You cannot defeat me, you fool!" He yells again but his next attack also misses me. As I try to return the favor, Orbaz manages to block it away with his weapon. That damned thing. He can call himself lucky that it's so long.
"You had your chance as his servant! I will take parts of your limbs and this time you will become one of the mindless slaves!" Again he charged at me directly, but this time I won't dodge. My mind is set and so is my weapon. The blade of his polearm comes rushing towards me as I pull up my axe to stop it. A spark flies through the air before the tip and blade of his weapon finally breaks.
"How did you..."
I immediately strike at him again without warning. The blade of my axe cuts through the side of his Saronite armor as well as most his undead flesh hidden underneath. He falls to the floor holding the wound not to fully break apart, gazing at me as is essence slowly leaks out into the open, waiting to be taken up by Shadow's Edge.
"The master will eradicate you naughty children! Every... single... one..."
He tries to laugh one last time, but is interrupted by him coughing up a few last drops of his viscous black blood.
I've always wanted to fight him, although from time to time I even feared him. I despised him for what he was. And I wanted to kill him for how similar to me he seemed to be.
Now the time had finally come. After a few short, yet intense trades I was the one to wield the weapon that cut him down.
But still what an ignoble way of dying...
The Ebon Blade will soon win this fight down here now that the head has been severed. There should be no need for me to stay.
A bang from above interrupts my thoughts. I hear people yelling in the distance, followed by another bang. This could only mean one thing - the battering ram.
So it finally had begun.