All Good Things...

[A L I V E]

Eastern Plaguelands

Terrordale is awash with the sights and sounds of battle as heroes of the brutish Horde lay waste to their mortal enemies, the Scourge. One hero in particular, a Forsaken Warrior, wielding two huge, purple hued swords cuts through swaths of the Lich King’s undead minions; leaving behind him a trail of broken and dismembered zombies.

“I…AM…ALIVE!!” he shouts, to terrify and confuse his enemies, but more so to reaffirm his existence to himself. He runs atop a fallen abomination, using its great bulk as a platform to leap skyward. His swords find their mark, coming down in a cross slash along the torso of a giant Nuerbian Spider Lord. The vicious strike severs the creature’s pincers-like arms, and leaves a great gash across the long dead insectoid’s chest.

He lands on his feet, just to the left of the great beast. With a sinister grin, Alive begins to systematically hack away at the Scourge’s hairy, spindly legs. It roars in protest, but is quickly silenced buy a series of magical bolts of arcane energy. It looks down at the holes in its chest stupidly, and then, seems to almost smile with relief as it drops lifelessly down to the ground.

Alive nods in thanks at the Blood Elf magician, and then shakes off the remaining gore and flesh from his swords. She winks slyly at the Forsaken, before twirling away to ‘sheep’ a fleeing necromancer. This battle is over, and the Horde has secured a victory against the massive invading armies of the Lich King.

Just then, a herald of Sylvannas rides up on a skeletal war horse; the dead steed whines dramatically as she forces the beast to a jerky halt.

“Forsaken, return to the Undercity! We are betrayed!” the rider shouts in Gutterspeak, which is the guttural backwards sounding language of the Forsaken.

Alive and the other Forsaken amassed at the battle cease their aggressions and find their way to their mounts, leaving their allies to clean up the remaining Scourge forces. An hour of hard riding later, they find themselves at the courtyard of the subterranean fortress they have called home for the past six years.

As they arrive they immediately see that their capital city is in chaos, as rogue Apothecaries poison and kill their own people, and are bolstered by a host of demon spawn. A high ranking Deathguard snatches up a fleeing Forsaken and asks him what is going on.

“Varimathras has betrayed us! He’s loosed an army of demons upon us! The Apothecaries are in league with them! You must kill them all!”

The Deathguard releases the undead, and sounds the rallying cry. Alive and several other warriors line up behind him in a tight formation, and prepare for battle. The small company of fighters pushes through the escaping crowds and makes their way to the city proper. There, they encounter a trio of traitorous abominations, who eagerly attack them on sight.

Three of the twenty who rushed in with Alive are immediately cut down at the torso by one of the creature’s wildly flailing chains. Alive manages to duck out of the way at the last moment, only to be picked up and hurled aside by the second abomination. He lands in one of the pools of perpetual muck that bubble up from the tormented earth surrounding the city. He pops out of the goop just in time to see a group of Apothecaries on the ramparts.

Instantly, he begins to target the closest of them, and throws a dagger at her. She grasps at her chest wound, and drops the vial she had been carrying onto the stone floor. The vial bursts, and the air around her is filled with a vile looking green gas.

“POISON!” Alive shouts from below, as he swims behind one of the pillars in the small canal. The others look up to see their foes, garbed in the robes of Apothecaries and wearing protective gas masks on their faces. They begin to drop their venomous cargo onto the group of fighters. Soon after, the courtyard is filled with the vapor, killing all who did not flee.

“The city is ours!” one traitor shouts.

“Victory to the Burning Legion!” another proclaims.

A third, standing far off in one of the corridors near the elevators to the Undercity would have joined in the celebration, but he found his voice snatched away from him as cold steel slices into his body like freshly cured butter. He gurgles in protest, and Alive is quick to snatch the Apothecary into the shadows and finish him off.

The warrior removes the gas mask and the robe from the dead (re-dead?) man, and takes off his own bulky gear. He stows the gear, his weapons and the body in a small alley near the ruined throne room. Now dressed as his enemy, Alive stalks down towards the elevators to seek out more information.

As he arrives at the trade quarter, he is shocked to see rows of Forsaken merchants being lined up and systematically slaughtered by over zealous fel guards. Some of the victims scream in terror, other defiantly call out for their Dark Queen. He grits his rotten teeth in anger as he walks by, powerless to assist them.

He makes his way to the warrior quarter, seeking to re-arm himself with a cache of hidden armaments he had kept inside of gear locker just under one of the crisscrossing bridges in the sector.

[A L I V E]

Just then, he notices that he is being flanked by two alchemists and a hulking abomination.

“You there! Stop!” a raspy female voice says to him.

Alive complies, and offers them a slight bow.

“All Junior Apothecaries are to meet with Putress immediately! Make your way to the Rogue Quarter!” she says, waving him away.

Sighing deeply, Alive offers no resistance, and does as he is instructed. When he arrives at the meeting place, he becomes privy to the plans of this traitorous lot. Grand Apothecary Putress stands behind a make shift lectern, already in the midst of a speech to the gathered crowd.

“Forsaken brethren, the time for vengeance is at hand!” Putress shouts to the eager crowd.

“Too long have we been forced to suffer the indignity of servitude to the stupid Orcs! Too long have we had to suffer the castigations of the weak-willed Tauren!”

Alive watches as the group of traitors all cheer the Grand Apothecary. He stands with his arms folded across his chest, unable to join in the rhetoric of the group.

“…and I won’t even begin to speak about those idiot Trolls! Zul’jin had the right idea when he parted company from them, and I was saddened by his defeat at Zul’Aman.”

He pauses, offering a mock prayer for the Troll warrior he’d never met.

“But we too have seen the way; we too have a greater destiny! And today, we have made the first move!”

The crowd again cheers wildly.

“Earlier our attack on the combined forces of the Horde and the pitiful Alliance were immensely successful. As a bonus, our siege cannons even struck at that bastard Arthas, driving the false king back behind the Wrath Gate and into his citadel, defeated!”

Alive’s eyes would have gone wide with astonishment, if he had any.

“Today, with the successful campaign to take the city as our own, we will establish a new patria – one nation, a nation of the Dead! But we are far from done, Forsaken. Even now Sylvannas seeks to destroy our fledgling utopia as she crawls back to that Orc dog Thrall and begs for assistance. The battle will be fierce, and we will need your help if we are to win.”

“Give us your orders!”

“Death to the Orcs!”

“Hahaha! Good! Good! You Junior Apothecaries are to stay down below and prepare our ultimate defense, should the enemy break through our lines. Prepare the toxins, arm the bomb, hold your ground and victory is assured!!” the Grand Apothecary proclaims.
Alive’s dark heart begins to brighten with this fresh opportunity. They have confused him with someone else, thinking he is an ally. When the time comes, he will sabotage them and escape to Silverpine to wait out the fight. The group disperses, and heads off to their respective battle stations.

Several hours later, the horns of battle sound throughout the city. Alive rushes to his designated post and begins mixing toxins and pouring them into vials. He plays along, waiting for the more heavily armed traitors to leave the room before he makes his move.

He was unable to secure his alternate battle gear, due to with so many unfriendly eyes watching for signs of betrayal; he was however, able to acquire the short sword of a recently executed Deathstalker. He kept the weapon tucked away under his robes, waiting and watching.

“Hey, you can take off the mask, as long as you are careful with the toxins you won’t kill yourself, or us for that matter – heh heh heh” one of the Junior Apothecaries claim. Alive just nods politely, but keeps the mask on his face, for fear that he may be recognized as a survivor.

“Guard! We need you to support the front! That Orc bastard has called forth elemental winds!” a senior ranking Apothecary shouts into the room. The traitors depart, and Alive smiles broadly under his mask. He casually leaves his station, and shuts the heavy doors leading out of the mixture room.

“What are you doing? Open those doors and get back to work!” says a Junior Apothecary. Alive ignores him, and then locks the doors from the inside. He turns towards the unarmed Forsaken, and fills his mind with a fierce inner rage.

“Are you mad? Can you not hear me? Return to your station Forsaken!”

“Mad?” Alive says, cocking his head slightly to the left. He slowly draws out the short sword and inspects the sharp looking dual edged blade.

“I…am…not…mad…I…AM…ALIVE!” he shouts at him, and then in one quick fluid motion, he cuts the Apothecaries head clean off.

The others in the room begin to panic, and some try to run up the cold stone walls of the room. Alive grabs several vials of the poison and tosses it at them, sending them down to the floor in heaps. Those foolish enough to challenge him where jabbed or stabbed with the sword, and withdrew from combat with fewer digits or appendages than that with which they started.

Within minutes, Alive has massacred the workers. He finishes off those still clinging weakly to life and then turns his attention to the new plague. He thinks back briefly to his time aboard Naxxramas, and decides against any rough handling of this new and improved plague. The warrior gently picks up several vials and places them in a leather satchel, which was resting on the cold stone floor.

The sounds of battle are getting closer to his position, and he wished to go in the opposite direction of it. He scampers along the walls, keeping to the shadows. On several occasions he just narrowly avoids being seen by the growing number of demons spawning from the Royal Quarter.

That’s it!

The best way to aid the strike force as it tries to burst into the city would be to shut down the flow of demons into the city. Alive had enough experience with these foul creatures after more than a year spent abroad battling them in Outlands, he knew that somewhere there was one demon keeping the gate open for the rest of them.

Alive changes direction, and heads towards the Royal Quarter.

“You there! Dead puny thing, where do you think you are going?” a hulking fel guard shouts at Alive.

“Master Putress has sent me to collect valuable ingredients from this section, I must hurry!”

“No one enters this area, stinky undead creature! Off with you!”

Alive sighs and shakes his head.

“Demon, I need to get into that room…”

The fel guard snatches Alive up off of his feet and draws him close, to within eye level.

“Why am I having this debate with you? Do you not know your-aggghhh!” the demon shouts as his words are cut short as Alive slashes the demon’s eyes out with his sword.
The demon drops the warrior to the ground and grabs his wounded face. Alive wastes no time and slices at the demon’s legs, aiming for the supple flesh just behind the kneecaps.
The demon falls sideways and bounces hard on the floor; the momentum of the fall good enough to send it falling off the edge of the sidewalk and into the ever present green sludge of the Undercity.

Several other demons rush out of the corridor towards the sounds of their drowning ally. Alive puts on his best “not me” face and points down an adjacent side ally, trying to indicate the perpetrator went that way. Not one to ask questions, the demons run in that direction, eager to have their bloodlust sated.

“Idiots…” Alive muses, and runs towards the gate keeper’s enclosure.

[A L I V E]

Acherus: The Ebon Hold

High atop the mighty citadel, two darkly clad figures clash swords – locked in what appears to be a fight to the death. The larger of the two feigns a high swipe, before spinning to the right and bringing the massive dual edged blade in a mid-section arc towards the smaller opponent. The smaller combatant narrowly parries the strike, and counters with a vicious looking short stab with the tip of the sword to the larger foe’s upper left shoulder. The attack is followed up with a burst of necromantic energies, as the smaller one blasts the larger with Death Coil – sending the large fighter backwards and down to a knee.

“Excellent. Your training is now complete.” Death Knight Bulba, a former Tauren with molting brown fur says to his protégée, one of the many upstart neophytes who assisted in the minor rebellion from the Lich King three weeks ago.

“I am eager to prove my prowess upon the battlefield, Master.” the student replies with only a hint of a grin showing under his dark hood.

“…and so you shall Kaedus. Report to Death Knight Krassus for further instructions.”

Kaedus bows slightly at his instructor, and turns on his heels silently as he walks away. A Forsaken, Kaedus bears all the weight of Death upon his exposed boney shoulders, as he has been twice cursed. Killed in battle against the Lich King as he passed near Dalaran, he only knew six months of freedom after being redeemed by the Dark Lady before he was lured away by a lich named Novos promising power and revenge. Little did he know that the cost of such power would be his indentured servitude to the same being who took great joy in ending his life some eighteen months prior.

He moves with an unnatural speed, a bi-product of their successful assault on the former necropolis; and within moments he finds himself standing outside the audience chamber of Lord Krassus.

Inside, the Death Knight chats casually with a Banshee. Kaedus immediately surmises the Banshee is an emissary from the Undercity. He was not surprised to see one such as herself here, after all, everyone in this part of the world has been touched by death in some way.

“Come in Kaedus.” the former Night Elf warrior said in a cold raspy voice, “This is Lady Melisara, an envoy from the Undercity.”

Melisara flashes an impossibly wide grin and nods slightly at the Death Knight. Kaedus returns the nod and moves closer to the large ebon desk in the center of the room.

“Master Bulba tells me your initial training is complete and it is high time for you to move on to…other tasks.” the senior Death Knight says.

“Yes Lord Krassus. Master Bulba has taught me well.” Kaedus replies in a stoic monotone voice.

“We shall put that statement to the test, young Death Knight.” the Banshee chimes in, her own voice full of putrid venom.

“You are aware of the failed assault on the Undercity some weeks ago?”

Kaedus nods slowly, as his cold blue eyes gaze upon the high elf specter.

“Many heroes fought and died that day to restore to us what was stolen, one of them, a warrior of some minor import may have been among them.”

“You sound unsure of this warrior’s demise Lady Melisara.”

“His body was not found amongst the fallen, we assume him to still draw breath.” she replies.

“…I fail to see the reason to chase after a ghost, my Lady.”

“You do not need to understand the reasonings behind your mission Death Knight.” Krassus pointed out, ceasing all further questions from his subordinate with a tone of finality. The deadly serious quip causes the Banshee to grin a bit more.

“…I will listen…for now.” a subdued Kaedus replies.

“Our scrying indicates that this ‘ghost’ as you put it was among several of the Dark Lady’s favored – those who answered the call first to defend our besieged home. Furthermore, it would appear that he managed to shut down one of the demon gates opened by the traitorous Varimathras. Seek him out, return him to the fold so that he may be rewarded as a hero to his people.”

Krassus tosses a satchel at Kaedus. “Take this. You will find pertinent information regarding your quest inside on a parchment. Return only when your mission is complete Death Knight.”

Kaedus bows low and says, “…as you wish Lord Krassus. Suffer Well.”

He exits the chamber and goes down one tier to the berthing area. He gathers his personal effects, which mostly consist of various sharp looking weapons. Before he makes his way to the griffon stables, his curiosity piques and he opens the satchel.

Inside he finds a filthy blood stained tabard, a folded letter from some Forsaken priest named Althazyr, and a strange looking deck of cards. He unfolds the letter to see the name of this missing warrior…

“Alive? What a ridiculous name…”

[Mahre]

((It is good to read your stories again. They have been missed, as have you!))

[Katahn]

This is some amazing stuff... I am eager to read more of it.

[A L I V E]

Magic Quarter, The Undercity

Kaedus arrives at the Undercity the next day, having stopped on several occasions to combat mindless ghouls who were wandering the countryside between Tyr’s Hand and Andorhal. His memories of the Undercity remained intact, and he easily found his way to the Magic Quarter.

The Death Knight figured that the best place to start his investigation would be at the last place his quarry was seen. He is seeking out Esther Coldheart, a warlock specializing in tracking and revealing demonic energies via various dark methods. He finds her quietly observing a class being taught to neophyte warlocks on the various types of minions they will eventually be able to summon, should they survive the training long enough to do so.

She seems to be aware of his presence before he speaks.

“…fascinating, isn’t it Death Knight? The pains we are able to endure just so that we may unearth some ubiquitous inner strength?” she says, her voice a scratchy jumble of northern accents. “…but I suppose one such as yourself has already come to appreciate tasting true power, yes?”

Kaedus does not respond, but does turn his gaze to the summoned Fel Guard standing in the binding circle not far from where they stood.

“Qurel raztick, naraall ploutoon Sythea!” she speaks in demonic, and out of the shadows behind him, a pale skinned succubus materializes. The demon eyes Kaedus with a hungry lust, as its voluptuous frame slinks silently past him towards its mistress.

“Sythea, fetch for me my rune box, and give it to our friend here, Kaedus.” Esther commands. The demon curtsies low, allowing her more than ample cleavage to clearly be seen by the Death Knight. Sythea looks long and hard at Kaedus, leaving the Death Knight to only postulate the many deviant acts the demon would play out upon him, if given the opportunity.

Moments later, it returns with the rune box, and hands it over to Kaedus. The succubus steps in close as they make the exchange, the demoness’ other worldly fel enhanced stare meeting his deathly blue eyes. In its eyes he saw the promise of a mixture of endless pleasure and pain, as they travel the many dimensions together destroying and plundering souls along the way. After what seemed to be an eternity, Kaedus manages to turn away from it.

Sythea purrs in disappointment, and then moves back to her mistress’ side.

Kaedus regains his composure and begins to inspect the small green box. It is covered in strange symbols on all four sides, some carved into the box, others painted on. It is unusually warm for an inanimate object and Kaedus surmises it’s mostly due to what ever rituals or spells the warlock has cast upon it.

“Death Knight, this trinket will allow you to scry the nether relatively safely as you seek out this Forsaken Warrior.” Ester says.

“Relatively?” Kaedus asks as he secures the magic box with his other things.

“You may fancy yourself as some sort of Necromancer, but you are not trained in the Dark Arts, and there are always risks associated with seeking the denizens of the dark. I am confident you will find a way, you did after all resist Sythea.” she says, as she nods in the direction of the demon. Sythea coos slightly and then bites its lip as it continues to stare at Kaedus. “When you are ready, whisper these words into the rune box.” she says, and then with strength belying her lithe frame grabs Kaedus by the hand and magically imprints a demonic chant into his mind.

The Death Knight snatches his hand away and stares ruefully at the duo. The warlock chuckles to herself and then turns away from Kaedus. As he leaves, he can still feel the sickening stare from her succubus on his back.

[A L I V E]

Undercity

Kaedus maneuvers through the narrow tunnels beneath the ruins of Lordaeron in search of the remains of a demonic gateway, closed some weeks ago by a lone warrior. At a checkpoint, he is ‘assisted’ by one of the Royal Guards. He is then directed to a series of several small rooms near the Royal Quarter of the city.

“Aye, this is where one of the portals was opened” a Royal Guard tells the Death Knight. “…not sure what you’d get outta here though, not much left save some charred walls.”

“Leave me.” Kaedus orders the guard. The Forsaken nods and returns to his post, leaving Kaedus as per his request.

Acting purely on instinct, he selects the room furthest from the main walkway. Moving with great care, the Death Knight places the intricately decorated, jade colored rune box onto the center of the cold stone floor and recites the words burned into his mind by the warlock.

At first, he only felt the slightest touch of fel energies waft into the room. But gradually, the tiny box began to emit its own green-black aura as a strange mist began to spur forth and encircle the Death Knight. Soon the fel fog is so thick that Kaedus can no longer see six inches past his own rotten nose.

When the fog clears, he finds that he is not on Azeroth anymore. Judging by his own horrid experiences with these types of events, Kaedus knew he is now on a lower plane, someplace in between dimensions. This sad world is impossibly flat and grey, with the horizon seeming to melt into what looks like sturdy ground. The land is locked in a perpetual twilight, with what passes as stars twinkling gently far above his head. He is gripped by an eerie silence in this otherworld; a silence so profound that even he could hear his sickly heart beat – although it did so only once every thirty seconds or so.

“What is this?” a female voice says, coming from all directions. “…I wasn’t expecting you back, not for a very long time…”

Unflinching, Kaedus steps forward, and announces himself.

“I am Kaedus Harrowsmith, Death Knight of the Ebon Hold, Retainer to the Unbroken, and Soldier of the Horde.”

“…yes child, I know who you are. Long have I watched you grow.” the bodiless voice replies, Kaedus is taken aback by the faint impression of love the entity passes to him.

“…do you know why I am here, and of whom I seek?” he queries.

“Oh..yes. Although I am surprised you would allow Esther to send you here.” the voice says, and giggles afterward.

“Will you help me then?”

“I will, for a price.” she says.

Kaedus sighs loudly, “…Get on with it.” A gentle tap on the shoulder nearly sends the Death Knight into kill mode as he rolls forward and turns on his knee to face that which assaulted him, with his great sword drawn and ready.

The figure before him is shorter than he, by nearly a foot and clearly feminine by the bulges in her garb. She is clad in robes of the deepest black, with shimmering images that seem to appear and disappear at random; her face is hidden under the hood of her oddly enchanted robe. She tilts her head to one side and places a bone white skeletal hand on what would appear to be a shapely hip and seems to pause to inspect the Death Knight.

“You have grown powerful Kaedus, much more so now than when we first met.” she says. Although he cannot explain it, he feels the woman smile from beneath her hood.

Kaedus’ glowing ice blue eyes narrow in instant suspicion - but he remains silent.

The entity nods sagely at him, and again seems to smile lovingly at Kaedus.

“You will go to Ashenvale, there you will find an enclave of demons mulling about, no doubt working for that fool Sargeras. One of them, a dreadlord named Gorgannon, has an arcane crystal I find valuable. You will retrieve this artifact for me, Death Knight.”

“…sounds easy enough. How am I to deliver this item to you…ah…what did you say your name was?”

“Child, do you not recognize me? You have killed many in my name – albeit callously and cruelly” she says, as she begins to approach Kaedus. “…oh your time here with me was brief, but you were lost and confused and I cared for you so. I thought I’d lost you forever when Ner’zhul and his host snatched you up.” she says, now within arms reach of the Death Knight. “Go now, my child, and fetch for me that which was stolen.” she says as she touches Keadus gently on the chest, sending him flying violently upwards and away from the impossibly flat terrain of this otherworld; and up through the misty grey atmosphere.

When the air around him clears, he finds that he is standing in the same spot as before this strange event started. The rune box lay shattered before him and in his hand he finds another odd item, the Darkmoon Card: Death.

[A L I V E]

Ashenvale Forest

Three weeks later, the Death Knight Kaedus arrives at the orcish outpost called Splintertree Post. The sea voyage had been mostly uneventful, with only a slight altercation occurring between him and a Troll medicine man who thought it prudent to explain to Kaedus in full detail the unnaturalness of his existence. When Kaedus failed to engage in spiteful debate with the Troll, the medicine man attempted to place a hex on the Death Knight.

Kaedus quickly answered with a well-aimed punch in the jaw, breaking off a tusk from the troll in the process and thereby ending any further discussion about his rights to exist for the duration of the voyage.

Soon after, he finds himself on the outskirts of Splintertree Post. His arrival at the outpost must have stoked the fires of emotion, as many of the residents spat or cursed at his presence during his slow ride up to the main gate. This was not unusual nor was it totally unexpected. He was a servant of the Lich King, and he happily destroyed life where ever he encountered it. The sneers and foul language do not faze him, as the misinformed opinions of peons and scouts are the least of his troubles.

During a brief stop in Orgrimmar, he was told that his point of contact would be a Tauren hunter named Jaci Grassmane; and when he arrived at the Splinterree Post inn, that was the person he asked for. The inn’s proprietor, an Orc female by the name of Kaylisk, was more than happy to send a runner looking for this hunter. An hour later, Jaci arrives.

“You took your time getting here, didn’t you…” Kaedus states coldly. Jaci Grassmane is a tall and slender Tauren female; taupe furred with black braids resting comfortably on her shoulders. She is dressed in a combination of mail and leather armor, and wields a large double barreled shotgun. On her hips rest two short swords, each glowing ominously with a greenish glow. The small horns on her head have intricately painted designs symbolizing fealty to the Tauren deity, the one called ‘The Earth Mother’.

“I did not volunteer to help you Death Knight. I’d sooner kiss a pink haired gnome.”

“That can be arranged Huntress, I know of an Acolyte who has a peculiar lust for exotic creatures such as yourself. I will have him contact you…”

Jaci narrows her large green eyes and snorts, “…I can assure you that won’t be necessary. Let’s be off, the sooner we’re done the sooner I can be rid of you Death Knight.”

Smiling, Kaedus dons his saronite plate helm and replies coolly, “…as you wish.”

As they exit the inn, Jaci pauses and whistles loudly. Kaedus watches her keenly as the Hunter scans the skies. Moments later, a huge brown feathered owl descends from the heavens, and rests comfortably on Jaci’s outstretched arm.

“This is Nascha, my friend and protector.” Jaci announces proudly. The majestic owl turns its large head and dark eyes to regard the Death Knight. Its feathers stiffen slightly, but the bird makes no aggressive move towards him.

Kaedus nods at hunter, mounts his dread steed. As they slowly trot out of town, he pauses at the local grave yard. He dismounts and begins to search the graves. A confused Jaci follows, tying down her flame colored battle worg mount to a nearby post.

“What are you doing? We don’t have time to visit with our ancestors.” Jaci scolds. Her complaint causes the Death Knight to chuckle a bit as he continues along, apparently looking for something in particular.

Kaedus stops at an unmarked grave, with freshly turned earth atop it.

“…there lies an Orc without honor; he was a thief and a murderer of his kin. He was tried and executed for his crimes not long ago.” Jaci mentions as she peers over the Death Knight’s razor edged plated shoulders.

“Oh? A murderer you say?” Kaedus says, “…he will do nicely then.” The Death Knight stretches out his hand and utters the words of necromantic power. The area around the grave is surrounded by dark shadows, and a series of faintly glowing runes encircle Kaedus. When the display is over Kaedus turns to Jaci and smiles wickedly.

Just then, a drying, rotted hand reaches out from the grave. Jaci’s face widens in horror at the realization of what Kaedus has done. The orcish ghoul pulls itself up out of its grave, and stands stupidly next to the Death Knight. Its eyes are yellowed and wobbly, and maggots and other earthen vermin flee to darker places as they try to escape the exposed air and sunlight.

Without looking at the ghoul Kaedus says to Jaci, “This is Casketgobbler, my minion and all around fun guy. Say hello to Jaci ‘gobbles.”

The ghoul looks at Jaci with hunger, and tries to mouth some sort of greeting, but only manages a faint groan instead.

“Now, we may depart. Is it true Felfire Hill is not far from here?”

Jaci follows the Death Knight and his minion out of the graveyard, but keeps a respectable distance from them both.

[A L I V E]

Ashenvale

The next forty-five minutes were passed in utter silence, as Jaci struggled to emotionally digest the horror she was forced to witness. She had heard the stories of the atrocities the caste of fallen warriors known as Death Knights had been accused of, but she never anticipated witnessing it firsthand.

She had seen death and destruction in her day, life in the dustbowl appropriately called the Barrens was harsh; but in it she saw the marvels of nature and found the glory of the Earth Mother shining through. What Kaedus had done was wrong, that much she knew. But in life, the ghoul was a killer, and a thief who had been dealt with justly. Who was she to say the poor bastard did not deserve this gruesome fate?

Her thoughts are interrupted when the Death Knight suddenly comes to a halt.

“We must be getting close, can you not sense the taint of fel energies here?” Kaedus asks in a low voice. Indeed, she had felt the creeping taint hanging in the air. Places like this always made her fur stand on its end, causing her to scratch her arms and neck unconsciously. She gently pats Nascha, seeking some momentary comfort.

Suddenly, she feels herself flying towards the soft grass of the earth, choking as the ends of a whip cut off her air circulation. Nascha is quick to come to her mistress’ aid, clawing and picking at the eyes of the owner of the whip; an unbound succubus. The demon falls back, its own claws locked in combat with the great brown owl.
Jaci is quick to recover and instinctively reaches for her trusty shotgun. She takes aim, but holds her fire, as she does not want to harm Nascha.

“Nascha! Away!!” she yells, and the obedient owl disengages; giving Jaci a clean shot at the demon. The Hunter wastes no time, and places three quick shots into the torso of the demon. It cries out in rage, but falls face first to the ground, dead.

“You’ve saved me again, my friend.” she says as she tosses Nascha a large chunk of raptor meat from her pack. The greedy owl wastes no time and quickly tears into the flesh, devouring it. Jaci’s attention soon turns to the Death Knight. It took her a few moments to realize that he had not even dismounted to help her.

“Well, I wouldn’t want for you to break a sweat Death Knight!” she shouts at him.

“You did not require any help Jaci. You are a…capable fighter, I respect that.” Kaedus answers her, without looking at her. “The air here is getting staler. Do you need to make camp before we continue on?”

Jaci shrugs off the compliment, as it sounded like it took him far too much effort to say anyway.

“No, I’m fine. We should probably continue further on foot, be easier to avoid wandering demons.” They release their mounts; with Jaci confident that her worg will find its way back to the post. She watches with grim awe as the strange steed of the undead fighter meanders slowly towards the demon corpse and laps at the black ooze coming from the gunshot wounds. Jaci then forces her eyes to turn away, and tries to focus on the mission.

Not long after, the two find themselves just outside the pathway that would lead them to the hillocks that encompass Felfire Hill. The group huddles in the brush beneath a great Ashenvale sequoia tree.

“…our enemies abound. We will not be able to sneak around much longer.” Kaedus surmises.

“Agreed. But with so many to choose from, whom do we destroy first?” Jaci responds, as her green eyes dart from one target to the next.

“Follow my lead Jaci.” The Death Knight says as his minion suddenly leaps out of the underbrush and deftly latches onto a nearby felguard.

“Yeeeearrggh!” Casketgobbler shouts as the ghoul violently bites into the leather-like flesh of the demon. The surprised demon tries in vain to remove the unliving and surprisingly agile tumor from its back, only to find itself being impaled by Kaedus’ runed, twin dual edged blades. The Death Knight trembles a bit, as he allows the enchantments on the blades to take effect. The right hand sword was blessed with the Rune of the Fallen Crusader, a vicious spell that heals its wielder of battle inflected injuriess and bolsters his strength at the same time. The left hand sword was sadistically enchanted with the Rune of Razorice; which is a frost based magic that induces frostbite on every wound it creates, causing its victims agonizing pain.

The demon falls away, its life force expired. Jaci watches in abject horror at the sheer brutality of the Death Knight’s fighting style, but pushes it to the back of her mind. For just beyond Kaedus, a score of demons are rapidly approaching.

[A L I V E]

Victims and Executioners

Several fel hounds scurried down the narrow path, some tumbling over each other in their zeal to reach the Forsaken Death Knight first. But Kaedus is ready; he has long been prepared for this type of warfare.

The first demon leaps at him, only to be tackled by his ghoul minion. Not in the least bit concerned for either of them, Kaedus presses onward, creating a circle of Death and Decay around him. The surrounding corruption causes many of the demons’ skin to bubble and burn badly, but the fel hounds continue their kamikaze style assault.

Kaedus uses his Death Grip ability to throw one of the demons into a nearby boulder, breaking its back and paralyzing it in the process. Then, using his swords, he sets to work at pureeing a succubus who had come in too close.

Jaci and Nascha back him up as needed, the versatile Hunter switching from her shotgun to a more refined long barreled rifle. From a safe distance, she effortlessly places well-aimed bullets between the eyes of several fel guards and succubae; while her brown feathered owl swoops and dives in upon any who venture too close to Jaci. In a span of few minuets, twenty demons lay dead or dying on the grassy field outside of Felfire Hill.

Jaci runs up to the Death Knight to congratulate him on their victory, but Kaedus waves her off.

“Remember: patience, discipline.” He says to her as he shakes the gore off of his swords before sheathing them once more. He waves at the ghoul, who was busing itself by absently chewing on the eye socket of one of the downed fel hounds, and motions for it to take up the ‘point’ position as they set off deeper into the hillocks.

The sounds of nature ebb away as the group make its way deeper into the demon infested territory. An eerie wind blows past them, rustling the stunted and stifled flora that line the rocks along their selected path.

Casketgobbler stops suddenly, and begins to growl. Kaedus and Jaci draw their weapons and brace themselves for whatever is coming. It starts off as a low rumble, and then suddenly and violently, the earth below is torn apart, as a submerged Infernal rises from up from its hiding place.

The emerald enflamed demon stands slowly, standing finally at a full thirty foot height. It stretches and flexes a bit before bellowing a loud roar at the trespassers. Not waiting for the demon to strike first, Kaedus immediately sets his minion upon the creature. As he runs toward the demon, he casts Death Coil at its back, searing its stone like body with a blast of unholy energy.

Nascha follows behind the Death Knight, screeching loudly and disorientating the demon. As it tries to swat at the great owl, it howls out again, this time in pain as Jaci fires a concussive shot followed by an aimed shot into the torso of the demon. Kaedus raises his arms slightly and utters a spell, causing the Infernal’s magma like blood to painfully erupt out of the cracks on its skin. The demon howls one last time, before shattering and sending its rocky entrails out in all directions. The victory is short lived, as the demise of this foe has alerted others to their presence. Soon after, other Infernals begin dig their way out of the grey earth.

“This way!” the Hunter yells, pointing to a winding path up the western slope of hills.

Kaedus directs Castketgobbler to attack the nearest of the rising demons.

“What are you doing?! We should flee!” Jaci asks desperately as she begins to take aim against the demons.

“Keep moving! The ghoul will draw them away from us!” Kaedus shouts back while grabbing the barrel of her rifle with a strong jerking motion.

“But….he will die!” she protests, realizing the silliness of the statement the moment it left her lips. Defeated, she turns and runs forward up the hill with Nascha and Kaedus closely following behind.

They run onward for several minutes, stopping when they reach the ruins of an Orc camp. Jaci sends Nascha skyward, to serve as a look out while the two earth-bound fighters catch their breath.

“Have you no honor Death Knight? How could you send him to die like…like…”

“Like what Jaci? You said he was a convicted murderer. Through me he has found redemption, and has…died as a hero in the service of the Horde.”

“Stop trying to muddle this up! You know very well what I mean!” she shoots back, her frustration ringing clear in her voice.

“You are young and naïve Hunter. The world is not all about good and evil, or what your culture accepts as moral. We live in shades of grey, and our actions will either wash us white or tarnish us to black.”

“You can’t justify your actions to ME! You go against the teachings of the Earth Mother, of life itself!”

The Death Knight removes his helm and spits. “I have evolved beyond the two dimensional thinking of you and your people. I have become Death, the destroyer of Worlds!” he says, arms outstretched wide and a sinister grin etched upon his eternally dead visage.

“Sacrilege!” Jaci shouts.

“Retribution!!” Kaedus replies as he moves in and covers the young Tauren’s mouth with his hand. She begins to struggle, but the Death Knight uses his magical ability called Strangulate to keep her quiet.

“Be silent, or BE silenced!” he mutters as his attention turns to something stirring in the next ruined hut, some twenty feet away. The bickering between the two caused them to ignore Nascha’s warning calls, and now they realize they are not alone. Jaci regains her voice, and although she does not speak right away, she shoots daggers at the Death Knight with her angry eyes.

“…there are at least two of them.” Kaedus says after some time, as he places his spiked helm back atop his bald head.

“We are not finished with this Death Knight, when this mission is complete we will settle this!” Jaci says to him.

“…I look forward to tutoring you in the ways of combat.”

[A L I V E]

Vae Victis

From the next hut, a short, lissom figure walks proudly into view.

“Come out intruders, we know you are there!” a male voice calls out. Kaedus steps forward, into the fading daylight to meet his challenger. To his surprise, he sees what he thinks may be a High Elf. But something is terribly wrong with this elf.

His skin is dark, much darker than the other high elves he had encountered during his reconnaissance missions in the Plaguelands. His senses are telling him that this being is a demon, and the angry green eyes that stare at him confirm as much.

The elf-demon is dressed in blood red plate armor, decorated with golden symbols of fire. His hair is jet black, and impeccably kept in a neat ponytail. On his back rests a battle lance; its tip faintly glowing red as well, hinting of a magical enchantment placed on it.

The elf-demon is soon joined by a second, more fearsome looking demon, commonly identified as a Mo’arg. The huge beast wears engineering goggles that seems to have been stapled or grafted into its large misshapen skull. It carries an odd assortment of tools and gizmos on its belt and back, as well as two large containers of some vile fluid on its back. The right hand of the demon was gone, and in its place a flame thrower was grafted on.

“You do not belong here, tell me why you have come and I will…” The elf-demon stops in mid-sentence. He immediately produces his lance and drops into a battle stance. The sudden movement catches his accomplice off-guard and the larger demon looks around in confusion.

“Death Knight! You will be destroyed this day!” The elf-demon proclaims.

“…I have already died twice demon. Have you got what it takes to put me down for good?” Kaedus says, mocking him, as he draws his own weapons.

“Cur!! I watched as your kind laid Quel’thalas to waste! I was powerless to stop you then, but that is no longer the case!” he shouts, and then charges towards Kaedus.

The Death Knight raises his hand and snares the enraged elf demon in Chains of Ice. His collaborator, the Mo’arg demon hesitates briefly before it too decides to attack. Jaci sends in her brave pet owl to distract the charging demon, and then brandishes her combat shotgun.

Jaci fires twice at the shins of the hulking demon, slowing it down and then causing it to crash face first into one of the nearby huts. Kaedus wastes no additional time and engages the elf-demon in combat.

The elf-demon’s spear comes in fast in a small arc towards Kaedus’ right shoulder. The Death Knight stiffens and turns to his left, dodging the strike narrowly, only to be kicked in the knee by the agile elf-demon. Kaedus instinctively parries a second slash towards his exposed back by shifting his weight to his right and placing the sharp edge of his left hand sword parallel to his back.

The Death Knight responds with a minor hit to the thigh of the demon, forcing the elf-demon off balance for a moment and drawing a small amount of blood. He uses the slight opening and strikes the fallen elf across the chest with a Plague Strike. The unholy assault immediately begins to rust the elf-demon’s fine plate armor as the dark energies desecrate the earth below their feet.

“Fiend! I will not fall to the likes of you!” The elf-demon protests as he leaps backward, desperately trying to remove the rotten armor from his body, but his efforts are slowed by the constant clawing of foul spirits from the desecrated circle the Death Knight created. Kaedus presses onward, ever grinning at his opponent.

The Mo’arg demon staggers back to its feet, growling angrily at the Huntress. It fires its flamethrower at her, and Jaci just barely leaps out of the way in time. She rolls to a knee and fires another shot at the demon, this time striking it on the shoulder. The stupid demon ceases fire and grabs at its damaged shoulder, giving Nascha enough time to tear apart the hoses that feed fuel to the demon’s flamethrower. It bellows again as it rises to its feet, and manages to swat the brown owl away.

Jaci’s heart drops into her stomach as she watches her beloved pet fall to the earth. The sight is too much for her to bear; and she finds herself slipping into a deep rage. The world turns a bloody crimson in her mind’s eye, and events appear to occur at half speed.

She drops her combat shotgun to the dusty earth, and then draws out her twin cobalt swords. Jaci roars in anger, though she is not wholly aware of it and charges at the demon. Her swords are a green blur as they begin their work onto the flesh of the weakened demon. The demon tries to defend itself, but since it’s lost the use of its right arm; fails miserably. Jaci’s agility and speed cannot be compensated for, and she disembowels the demon. As it drops down to a knee, Jaci quickly double slashes the demon’s throat, spraying herself with its blood.

Meanwhile, the elf-demon finds himself hard pressed to block Kaedus’ increasing melee and magical attacks. He knows he is only moments from defeat, but his pride refuses to allow his mind to accept it. Kaedus disarms the elf-demon and kicks him squarely in the chest, sending him flying down onto the ground.

“You are beaten! Submit and you may retain your life!” Kaedus shouts at the elf-demon.

“I will never surrender to the likes of YOU Death Knight!!” the elf-demon replies, as his eyes grow an unnaturally bright green.

Sensing a trap, Kaedus instinctively wraps himself in an anti-magic shell. No sooner than he had enacted his defense, the elf-demon releases a fiery magical assault, searing everything within fifteen yards in a heated blaze. When the flames subsided, the only objects left were the charged remains of the once high elf and a slightly singed Death Knight.

Kaedus shakes his head in disapproval; as he sheathes his blades and bends down close to inspect the body for loot or any other information. He is joined shortly thereafter by Jaci.

“I see you survived your fight, Death Knight.” she says as she approaches.

Kaedus turns to respond when he notices that she is carrying her pet.

“Nascha took a hard blow for me; it will be weeks before she’s ready to fly.” Kaedus nods at her before returning to his grim work.

“This is where we part ways, Death Knight. I must see to my companion.”

Kaedus shrugs, but does not stop checking the corpse. Jaci sighs and then produces a parchment from one of her bags.

“Take this; the ‘X’ is the last known location of your quarry. I am sure it has not roamed far from that spot.” she says.

Kaedus reaches up and takes the map, rolls it up and puts it into one of the folds inside his cloak.

“…what will you do now? Can you do this without my help?” she asks him.

“I will press on…Goodbye Jaci, Suffer Well.” he replies as his cold, azure glowing eyes watch her depart. When she is out of sight, he turns his frozen gaze to the corpse, and then utters the words of power. The body lurches awkwardly at first, before leaning up and coughing up smoke and chunks of charred flesh.

“Hello Brainchomper, we have much work to do my little elven friend.” Kaedus says as he gently pats his ghoul minion on the head.

[A L I V E]

Gorgannon, the Devil

Nightfall in Ashenvale forest is known to be mystical, magical and in general; awe inspiring. However, there are large sections of Ashenvale where even its native dryads (who are sworn protectors of the forest) refuse to tread. The Death Knight, Kaedus, and his mindless minion ‘Brainchomper’, have entered one of these places; a place known as Demon Fall Canyon.

Several hours have passed since his party broke up and went their separate paths. Not much else has happened to him since Jaci Grassmane’s departure. Although, the closer he gets to the center of the region’s corruption, the more diverse in number and species of demon they encounter.

Kaedus stops on the side of a small rocky hill and drops down to the surface. His ghoul begins to mimic the action, but he orders it to stay put. He continues his low crawl along the rocky hill, slowly pulling himself to the top, and then peeks over the edge to see what lies in the small valley ahead.

Not to his surprise, several succubae and heavily armed wrath guards patrol the avenues of approach. On the opposite ridgeline, he can make out a patrol of fel hounds making a slow circle towards him. He takes a chance at being discovered so that he may look a bit longer, seeking for a patrol pattern or weakness in their defenses. After a few moments he slinks back down the hill, disappointed.

“This could be a problem…” he mumbles to his ghoul. Brainchomper just stares at its master, unable to truly comprehend what is being said.

“…there is however, a way into his lair I think…” Kaedus says smiling devilishly at his minion.

He removes his helmet and walks right up to the first sentry.

“I am Kaedus Harrowsmith. I have a message for your Master.” he tells the wrath guard.

“You will deliver your message to me, undead.”

“No, this is not for the ears of the un-initiated. My Lady only wishes for Gorgannon to know of this.” Kaedus says, letting his azure glowing eyes meet with the burning red dots of the demon. He reaches under his armor, and produces his Death card.

The demon spits on the dusty earth in clear recognition of the card’s originator. “Very well, undead, follow me to Lord Gorgannon.” Keadus nods at the demon, and then dons his helm; the elf-ghoul follows stupidly behind them.

All manner of demon watch him as they cross the threshold, eager to leap at him and tear at what remains of his flesh. For a moment, he begins to question the wisdom of this ruse, but then quickly dismissed the notion, as demons can inherently sense weakness and deception.

He is eventually lead to an open air throne room, filled with the bones of various indigenous creatures of the forest, and more than a few Night Elf and Human bones. Atop a stone cathedra, sits his quarry, the devil Gorgannon.

“My Lord…”, the wrath guard says as it kneels low before the dread lord. “…this Undead, has come to you bearing a message.”

Gorgannon leans forward from his ornate stone seat and inspects the Death Knight.

“…Leave us.” he commands, and Kaedus is left alone with the dread lord. Gorgannon smiles broadly, showing off his bone white teeth, each pointed downward and exceptionally sharp looking.

“I know why you are here, Death Knight. I know whom you truly serve.”

Kaedus stands ready, tucking his hands into sword belt. “Is that so?” he replies coolly.

The demon leans back in his chair and chuckles. “She was unwise to send you alone, Death Knight. Do you think you can match the might of a dread lord?”

“My Lady would not have sent me at all, if she was not confident in my skills, demon.”

Gorgannon chuckles a little louder now. “…tell me, Undead, what did she promise you? Immortality? Absolute power? Riches beyond your dreams? Know that when dealing with her you will always be on the losing side.”

Kaedus sighs and shakes his head, “I have come to collect an artifact in your possession. Will you give it to me without a fight?”

The demons stands up, (a full twelve feet) chuckling all the while. “Mortal, you have no idea what she is doing; do you? I promise you, whatever she says she will give you, I can double it. The Burning Legion has many resources Undead, swear an oath of fealty to me and I will make you a Warlord.”

“I do not have the time for your games thal'kituun. You will find I am not tempted by your empty promises. Return to me that which you stole from my Lady, and our business will be concluded.” the Death Knight says, as he unsheathes his swords and takes a step forward.

“Undead…” the demon bellows, as Gorgannon steps down from his throne. “…you are a fool to challenge me!”

With a quick nod, Kaedus ducks down, dropping to a knee. Simultaneously, his ghoul minion leaps over his head, aimed for the demon. Gorgannon easily catches the ghoul, and knocks it down, stunning it for a few seconds.

Kaedus assaults the distracted dread lord with a spell of his own, Icy Touch, chilling the demon’s blood and slowing the swift moving creature considerably. He follows up the magical attack with a slice of his sword towards the demon’s mid-section.

Gorgannon hurls a shadow bolt at the Death Knight, knocking him back several feet, but not enough to knock him down. The demon has no way of knowing that Kaedus is a master of the Unholy Arts, and has trained his body and mind to be resistant to magical attacks.

Brainchomper again leaps at the dread lord, this time securing itself fast onto the shoulder of the demon. Gorgannon howls in pain as he tries to tear the ghoul from his body. Kaedus circles around behind them, and hits the demon with a Blood Strike, followed by a vicious Death Strike; exposing the demon’s supple flesh to the cool forest air.

Gorgannon manages to remove Brainchomper, and throws the ghoul high into the sky. In the same movement, the demon casts another quick shadow bolt, sending the ghoul up and over the ridge. Kaedus rolls to his left and slices the back of the demon’s leg, forcing Gorgannon down to a knee.

“Don’t make me destroy you!” Kaedus shouts at Gorgannon. The demon snarls at him, and begins to mouth the words of an incantation. The Death Knight Mind Freezes Gorgannon, robbing him of his prepared spells. He kicks the demon in the neck, knocking him sideways.

Gorgannon catches himself with his right arm, and swats at Kaedus with a great leathery wing. But, Kaedus sees it coming, and casts a Death Coil at the wing, corrupting and withering the appendage; he watches with glee as it shrivels and falls away dead and useless.

Continuing his attack, Kaedus rushes towards Gorgannon, and hits him with a Plague Strike; he watches as the bones of the creatures surrounding the throne room reach up from the desecrated earth and tear at the demon’s armor and flesh. The Death Knight spins to his right 180 degrees, and hacks off the head of the demon.

Gorgannon’s skull lands several feet away with a sickening thud. His body disintegrates almost immediately, leaving nothing behind but his armor.

“…you…have..sealed….your…own…demise…un…dead..” the head proclaims, as it too dissipates into the night air.

“Embrace the Shadow, demon.” Kaedus whispers as he sighs deeply.

A glimmering orange rod catches the Death Knight’s eye. He kicks over the armor and picks up the item. Bringing the object closer to his face, he starts inspect it. It holds no warmth, yet it does posses a steady glow. Inside the crystal are swirls of some unknown arcane energy, like a magical storm trapped somehow within the polished glass.

Confident he has the object he was sent to retrieve, Kaedus summons a Death Gate, and returns to the Ebon Hold.

[A L I V E]

Things Remembered…

“Lord Kaedus, you have returned. Your mission was a success?” Krassus, the night elf Death Knight asks of his junior.

“No, Master Krassus. I have returned to the Ebon Hold to gather a few meager items before I depart once more.” Kaedus answers from beneath the dark hood covering his rotted face.

The senior Death Knight’s eyes narrow and he frowns. “…heed my instructions carefully Lord Kaedus. Gather what you need, but do not return unsuccessful!”

Kaedus bows low and replies, “…Yes Master.” He takes a step backward, and then spins on his ways away from Krassus. At this late hour he had hoped that most of the senior officers would have retired to their quarters. But, death has an odd way of keeping one’s mind preoccupied with life’s unfinished business. He promises himself not to be caught off guard the next time he needs to return to the hold.

His musings are once again interrupted by another, this time one of his peers.

“…and so the great Warrior has returned!” a cold, soulless voice chides him.

Without bothering to turn around, Kaedus knows to whom the voice belongs to.

“Charon…shouldn’t you be out tormenting squirrels?” he responds, with a sigh. The two of them were ‘raised’ only days apart from each other and impressed into the Lich King’s service. His memory is spotty at best, but Charon is certain he was a member of the Scarlet Crusade in life.

Charon is a tall, and perhaps in life, handsome human male. His hair is dirty brown in color, and he has a deep scar on his right cheek. Although he tries to hide it with his hair, he is in fact, missing a good portion of his left ear. He is dressed in the spiky plate mail of his occupation.

“Ha-ha-ha! You retain your sharp wit, my dark brother! Besides, you know there are no squirrels in the Plaguelands!” the Death Knight says to Kaedus. “…wait…didn’t the Operations Officer send you out on a mission? If you are here, then it must be over! Tell me, how many did you kill? Did you make them suffer?”

“Cease with your incessant chatter Charon! I am merely gathering more supplies, and then I will be departing once more.” Kaedus says with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

Charon’s eyes narrow in unspoken judgment of his fellow Death Knight. “I see…well, my studies in the art of Blood are nearly complete. I will challenge you to a duel once I have graduated.”

The notion brought a smile to the Forsaken’s face.

“…when you are ready, I will make myself available, brother. Until that time comes, Suffer Well.” he says as he nods and continues on his way to his quarters.

Finally alone in his room, Kaedus removes the glimmering orange rod from the safety of the inner pockets of his cloak and places it on a small work desk that is set against the cold stone wall. For a moment he stares at the magical object, and considers what his next action should be. He feels a slight tug coming from his right bracer.

Upon further inspection, he realizes it is his Death card. As he pulls it out, it begins to glow faintly.

“…Her calling card?” he wonders aloud. The now familiar green-black mist begins to waft into his quarters. “…ah…here we go then.” he says, shaking his head as he allows the fel magicks to take hold of him and carry him off to the drab, grey world of his task mistress.

When the transportation is complete, he again finds himself standing in the center of the featureless world. He looks around and sees the same endless nothing for miles around him.

“Kaedus…my Kaedus…you are back! And, I see you are not empty handed. I knew you were successful. I felt Gorgannon’s passage as you severed his connection to the realm of the living.” She says to him, her voice filling the very essence of his being as it echoes across the dull, grey plane.

A mass of swirling grey mist begins to form directly in front of the Death Knight. In time, a feminine figure materializes from the mass. She is dressed in the same impossibly black robes as before, with her hood drawn over her head, hiding any features of what visage may lay behind it.

“Ah yes, I can…feel its power emanating from you even now.” She says. She stretches out her arm, revealing a bone white skeletal hand from her long black sleeve. Before Kaedus can hand over his burden, the glimmering rod leaps from his hand and into hers.

“…an interesting trick Milady.” Kaedus says smugly.

“Perhaps I will teach it to you, should you prove worthy of such knowledge. Come, walk with me…we have a great many things to discuss, you and I.” She says as the magical object disappears under her sleeves.

“You seek information on another of your kind…a warrior, yes?” she says.

“Yes.” he replies, as he struggles to keep up in step with his shorter host. She moves about this plane with an unnatural grace and speed, and Kaedus finds it hard to match it.

“Alive was last seen near an inter-dimensional gateway, was he not?” She says, as She slows Her pace slightly to accommodate the Death Knight. “…strange magics, ancient and wild powers are used to construct and maintain these pathways through the nether, Kaedus.”

He isn’t sure why, but he can feel Her disgust with the notion of these gateways.

“Those demons are crafty indeed. These gateways are constructed and enchanted in such a manner as only those whom they deem worthy may use them, and arrive safely on the opposite side.”

Kaedus sighs, “…I see…so this warrior is dead, destroyed the moment he set foot through the gate.”

She laughs, a deep melodious laugh; one that is typical of the insane.

“No, child. Not this time anyway. Alive was in possession of powerful magical trinkets of his own. Although, he in truth, was actually ‘possessed’ by these items.” She goes silent for a moment, as if remembering something from long ago.

“The magic in his trinkets protected him from oblivion, and curiously, also had an unexpected side effect.”

“…and that would be what, Milady?” Kaedus asks, genuinely intrigued.

“A pathway into his past. The gateway sent Alive eight years into the past.” She says.

Stunned, Kaedus stops walking. “If he is trapped in the past, then there is no need to continue this discussion. He is lost to the Undercity now, and my mission is complete.”

“Oh really?” She says, as She turns to look at the Death Knight. “…where did your open mindedness go, child? Has the Lich King taken that from you as well?”

“I prefer to call it pragmatism, Milady.” Kaedus replies flatly.

“Hrumph! Your pragmatism stinks of the remnants of your humanity, Kaedus. You are an immortal now, and you must learn to see beyond the petty thoughts of those bound to the flesh.” Suddenly Kaedus feels admonished by the mistress of this strange nowhere plane.

“…and besides..” She continues, “..I did not say he was dead. No, he continued along his way, for several months, until he happened across the path of Arthas himself as he fled to the north to protect that bastard Ner’zhul.”

“What did you say?” Kaedus asks Her.

“..oh yes. Betrayed by an aspiring necromancer named Novos…Alive fought as bravely as he could, but Arthas was not to be defeated that day.”

“…wait…how could you know of this…”

“…he defeated Alive in combat, and raised him again as one of his Death Knight guards.”

“NO! What is this trick you are playing on me?! This is not the story of some Forsaken Warrior! How could you know what happened to me?”

“My child, there is no deception in my voice. Search your feelings Kaedus, you know it to be true. The trauma of your death and subsequent resurrection by Arthas himself proved too much for the fragile psyche you had created for yourself. During your service to the Lich King, shadows of your human self manifested themselves.”

Kaedus collapses to his knees onto the dusty grey earth. She approaches him and gently places a boney hand on his shoulders.

“You are Kaedus Harrowsmith, Sergeant of the Army of Gilneas. You died due to the plague of Lordaeron while on a relief mission in Silverpine Forest.”

“…NO! THIS CAN’T BE TRUE!!” Kaedus screams.

“You are ALIVE, Forsaken Warrior!” She shouts back at him.

“..I...am...broken...everything is a lie!”

“No, You are remade!” She says, as she forcefully stands up the armored Death Knight, turning his body to face hers. She removes his plate helmet and places a boney hand onto his forehead.

“Remember, and be restored!” She commands, sending Kaedus away from her realm in a swirl of grey and black smoke. He is found several days later, in a comatose state, on the floor of his room.

[A L I V E]

Lordaeron, Eight Years Ago

Alive emerges from the portal and into a dark, dank room. He stands there for several seconds, truly confused. When he leapt into the swirling pool of fel energies, he fully expected a legion of demons to greet him on the opposite side. However, and much to his surprise, there is no one there. The Forsaken Warrior sets down his satchel of toxins and turns to the gate again.

“…must be a trick o’some kind.”

He pulls out his sword and begins to assail the way-gate, destroying the runes surrounding the gate and disabling it permanently. Pleased with his efforts, he discards his now ruined weapon, takes up his bag of poisons and exits the clammy room.

“I know you’re out there! C’mon and fight me!” Alive shouts into the darkness of the adjacent hall.

Seconds later, as if on queue, a small force of mindless undead pour out of every crevice of the underground labyrinth, each clawing and reaching for Alive. He punches the closest ghoul in the face, sending bone and teeth flying in several directions. A second skeletal zombie comes in close, Alive easily tears the undead’s arm out of its socket and proceeds to beat the creature across the head with it. The unfortunate skeleton is knocked into the poisonous looking green sludge running adjacent to the rubble adorned pathway.

A swift round-house kick forces two more ghouls out of arm’s reach, but the Scourge keep coming. In desperation, Alive reaches down into his back and tosses the vials into the approaching crowd of undead, before turning on his heels and running at full speed in the opposite direction.

Several hours later, he emerges to the surface. It’s midday, and he reflexively squints his eyes (although his eyes have long since rotted away). He is not sure where he was as he trekked through the sewers; however, once he reached topside the landscape became very familiar to him.

To the west a ruined watch tower lay, and he could see some crimson clothed figures milling about. During the first weeks of his ‘awakening’ one of the Executors had assigned him with wiping out a pocket of human resistance stationed at this very tower.

“How can this be? I didn’t leave no survivors!” he says as he continues to watch members of the Scarlet Crusade fortify the tower. Several yards away, he spots a man resting comfortably in the noon day sun under a tall pine tree. The man is sleeping soundly, oblivious to the creeping death stalking up from behind him.

Alive low crawls to within two feet of the unconscious man, and then pauses to listen; he wants to ensure the man’s allies are not within earshot. He crawls a bit closer, and then leaps on the man pinning him down and tearing at his exposed throat with his toothy maw. Within minutes, the man dies a slow, gurgling death.

The Forsaken Warrior drags the body out of sight and into a small dry river bed; there he gorges himself on the man’s flesh. After he has had his meal, Alive loots the remains, searching for anything of use:

Worn leather gloves.

A few pieces of copper.

Some linen scraps from the Scarlet Crusader’s shirt.

Rusted short sword.

“Bah!” Alive mumbles in protest. The meager loot will not trade for much should he encounter any friendlies out here. Moments later, the air is pierced with the sounds of battle.

Alive takes up his gear and runs off towards the sounds. Not surprisingly, the humans of the Scarlet Crusade are scrambling to and fro, trying to defend themselves from an attacking army of the undead. These are not the mindless ghouls he had fought with earlier. These were his people, these were the Forsaken!

Energized, Alive jumps into the fray, his rusty short sword leading the way.

[Mahre]

So dear friend, what I really want to know is when you are going to start putting these stories into book form? You have a wonderful talent for pulling us into a very dangerous world!