All Good Things...

[A L I V E]

(( maybe when I retire, I'll do something real))

[A L I V E]

The Architect of Decay

The fanatical crusaders organized themselves into a manageable defense faster than the attacking Forsaken had anticipated. The humans had formed two double columns on the left and the right, leaving a seemingly vulnerable squad of hunters in the middle.

As Alive runs down hill, it becomes obvious to him that the Scarlet Crusade seeks to lull the Forsaken into the exposed center; and then envelop them and cut off their flank with the other two columns.

“...well, we can’t have that now can we?” Alive thinks to himself and he bounds over a fallen log and sprints towards the column of hunters.

“I…AM…ALIVE!!” he shouts as his short sword dismembers a Scarlet Hunter wielding a long bow. His pet, a crimson furred hyena leaps at the Forsaken Warrior with its jaws open and seeking revenge. Alive dives low, getting under the hyena and letting it roll off of his shoulders. He picks up the fallen appendage and slaps the beast across the maw, while kicking another hyena in the ribs.

The group of Scarlet Hunters is stunned by the sudden assault from their rear, and send out cries of alarm to the right column. Two squads of Scarlet Centurions break formation and run towards them to assist.

Alive gets hit with several bolts and arrows from the fanatical humans, and begins to feel his strength wane. Just as he begins to understand the weight of mortality upon him, he is bathed in a glow of pure light, healing his wounds and invigorating him. To his left, another hunter falls, pierced through the stomach with an icy spear. He did not bother to look to see who had healed him, or to thank the mage who saved him, that would have to wait until the battle was over.

The Forsaken lines begin to push into the Scarlet Crusade’s camp, with heavily armed warriors in the front, supported in the center with Shadow Priests, Mages and to his surprise, Necromancers.

“Well fought brother! Here, take this!” a Forsaken fighter calls out to Alive in her native Gutterspeak as she throws a shield to him.

Alive nods in thanks, and then shield bashes a Scarlet Centurion in the face. The hit forces the man’s arms to flail out wildly, and exposes his neck to Alive’s rusty short sword. Ever the opportunist, Alive makes short work of the human, slicing the main artery and killing the man.

Within minutes, the Scarlet Crusade is in full retreat from the tower. Several of the Forsaken give chase, knowing that the humans will tire of running long before the undead tire of chasing. Alive too begins to join the chase, but is hailed by a caster in very ornate robes hued in dark blues and black.

The caster was flanked by two skeletal Shadowcasters. Alive immediately understood that this undead was one of the Necromancers, but was he in charge?

“I do not recognize you, Warrior. But in these dark times assistance of any kind is most welcomed.” he says. Alive offers a slight bow towards the Necromancer.

“I am Alive. I am…not sure where I am…all of this seems familiar…but something is very, very wrong here.”

The Necromancer places a cold dead hand onto the shoulder of Alive, and pats him. “Since the Lich King lost his influence over our minds we have encountered many like you…lost and confused. Fear not! We will help you. I am Novos the Soulcaller, Herald of the King.”

Alive looks at Novos curiously for a moment, but before he can formulate the appropriate response he is introduced to another Forsaken.

“….ah…there he is now. Master Blackpool come here.”

“Blackpool?” Alive echoes, as the name is familiar to him, yet he is unable to remember from where.

The ebon clad knight rides up on his dreadsteed near the two of them. He dismounts easily from the horse and bows towards Novos, displaying a broken, but wicked looking two handed sword on his back.

“The route of the humans near the central tower is nearly complete Soulcaller.” he says, as he turns to the ragged looking Alive. “…is this the Warrior I have heard so much about?”

Novos smiles coldly and nods. “Marduk Blackpool, I give you …eh…‘Alive’.”

“Alive? What an odd name…you are having trouble recalling your past life I see.”

Alive shrugs and says, “I suppose so.”

“Well, our King has empowered his Knights to gather as many free willed we can to contain the human refugees here which threaten our stability. Your fighting prowess would prove most useful in future campaigns. Will you join us, ‘Alive’?”

Not one to ask many questions, Alive nods in agreement. Marduk directs him to a half rotten zombie quarter master to out fit him with proper warrior attire.

“…well Marduk, what do you think?” Novos asks when they are alone.

“I sense a disturbance lurking around that undead.” he replies, as his eyes watch Alive’s departure.

“Will it be a problem?” Novos says as he looks into the blue glowing eyes of his lieutenant.

“No…leave it to me.” Marduk says, with a cold grin spreading across his long dead face.

[A L I V E]

Garron’s Haunt, Tirisfal Glades

Two days later, Alive (now armed to the teeth) finds himself standing with other Forsaken in an operations meeting in the barn house of what was once known as the Garron Farmstead.

Much to his surprise, his unconventional tactics had won him the respect of those around him and, as a reward, he had been granted a field commission by Novos the Soulcaller. Now he was in charge of a platoon of Undead, and was eager to get to the business of Death.

As Dread Commander Marduk (a title which the Forsaken Knight uses only when trying to make a point) begins his brief, Alive cannot help but to wonder at the sheer lunacy occurring around him.

The Undercity, his home base for several years, lay in ruins. It looked to have been ravaged by a quick and brutal war; but with whom were they fighting? Why are his people scattered across Tirisfal in pockets? What happened to his precious Dark Lady? He begins to question whether or not he had successfully destroyed the demonic gate.

“Alive? Did you hear me?” Marduk asks.

Snapping back out of his thoughts, Alive quickly straightens up and sighs deeply.

“No, Sir. I’m sorry, me mind wanders sometimes.” he says, offering a respectful bow.

“Understood, since the start of this insurgency we all have been on edge. Now I will pose the question to you once more. Are you and your platoon ready to leave?” Marduk asks.

“Yes sir. My sergeant-at-arms has the platoon practicing drills even as we speak.” Alive says as he flattens out imagined wrinkles his tunic.

“Good. You will leave immediately for Cinderhome. Should you encounter any human resistance, wipe them out. All of them.” Marduk says, placing a heavy emphasis the later potion of his sentence.

“As you wish, Dread Commander.” Alive replies dutifully.

“Very well, you all have your orders. Platoon leaders, take charge, carry out the plan of the day.” Marduk barks at them. When he is finished speaking, the Forsaken assembled there immediately stand at attention, and remain deathly still until Marduk leaves the barn. Once the Dread Commander has left the building, the undead there begin casual conversation regarding their mission brief.

“Ssso, you are ‘Alive’?” a lip-less Undead asks.

“…And you are?” Alive inquires.

“I am Wroth, I am a Warrior like you. Come, walk with Me.” he insists.

The two walk to the far side of the barn, away from prying ears. Satisfied they are not being watched, Wroth begins to speak in hushed tones to Alive.

“…do you know what is really going on here?”

“We are at war…killin’ some human scum.” Alive says.

“Yes, but what do you know of the ‘other’ enemy?” he asks.

Alive shrugs.

“The insurgency! Ssurely you have heard ssomething of note?” Wroth asks.

“…ah…I’ve been kinda out of it these past few days…not really sure of what’s going on.” Alive says. “…the details o’ these things bore me, I’m a fighter, it’s what I do. If yer got somethin’ to share, the do it…otherwise, I’ve orders to execute.”

“Alright, Alive…but you can not dance around this topic forever. You will have to choose sides sooner or later, for your own sskin I hope you choose the right one.” Wroth says as he walks away from Alive.

Alive stares at Wroth for some time, not sure exactly what he meant by the comment. Again his mind begins to ponder his situation. Nothing is making sense to the Forsaken Warrior. Should he be asking more direct questions to those he is fighting with?

No.

Now is not the time for indecision. When he arrives at Cinderhome, he will inquire the status of Lady Sylvanas and of his people at that time.

“Sir? Are you alright?” another Forsaken asks. It is his sergeant-at-arms, a Forsaken calling himself Cullen. Returning to the here and now, Alive turns to answer.

“I’m fine Cullen. Tell the platoon to gather their gear. We’re leaving.”

[A L I V E]

The Ruins of Andorhal

Alive and his platoon, whom he had affectionately monikered “Unbroken”, had made good time since leaving Garron’s Haunt. During the day’s march, they had not encountered any real resistance; a skirmish here or there with poorly armed human refugees, but nothing to really get the blood flowing.

Dark Cleric Salem, a shadow priest assigned to his troop, was especially eager to capture a living human survivor.

“I am telling you Commander, if you could provide me with a live specimen we could begin testing the blood to see what has prevented them from turning!” Salem pleads with Alive, as they stand over a recently slain human.

“That’s not what our orders say, Priest.” Alive says as he steps over the remains.

“Think of what knowledge this research could yield! New toxins, elixirs of undeath, perhaps even a cure!” Salem says. That statement draws several angry stares from members of the platoon. The Dark Cleric returns the stares with his own fiery scowl.

“There is no cure, you brain-rotted fool!” one of the undead warriors shout to him.

“Aye, we are what we are, only our King can save us now!” another shouts, drawing the approval of others around her. Salem turns to the undead female and begins to preach to her about the virtues of patience and discipline.

Alive, pretending to be totally disinterested climbs to the top of a small hill and surveys the area. His assistant, Cullen soon joins him.

“What does the shadow will?”

“Have the squad leaders set up camp here. I want proper watches set about our perimeter too.” Alive says, without looking at him.

“…but Commander, we are in friendly territory. Would it not be best to…”

Alive turns to look at Cullen as if he were insane. “We’re a stone’s throw from damned Andorhal! There’s no way I’m taking any chances of running into the enemy with so few to defend ourselves.”

“…I am sorry M’lord…but I do not understand what you…”

“You don’t need to understand, corpse, you need to execute!” Alive says, as he places his hands on the hilts of his twin blades. Although he has no eyes, Cullen can feel the Forsaken’s stare burn through him none-the-less.

“As you order!” Cullen relents and stalks off to complete his task. He gathers up the squad leaders and issues the orders given him.

“What? Why stay out in the wilds when there is an inn not a mile away?” one of the undead ask.

“I am sure the C.O. has his reasons, he chooses not to inform me of them.” Cullen replies.

“He is erratic to say the least.” a toothy undead says.

“…an odd choice for this mission. Did he even swear the Oath of Fealty?” another one asks.

“He was appointed by Novos himself, and endorsed by the Dread Commander. At this point only Araj the Summoner can dispute his command of this platoon.” Cullen points out to them.

“Perhaps, but we are also mandated to slay those who serve the usurpers. I do not know this ‘Alive’, nor did I witness his skills in battle. You had better keep an eye on him Cullen…” a finely dressed human male Necromancer interjects.

“If you like, I can bring your concerns to the C.O., Master Colthan.” Cullen replies to the Necromancer, with a wide grin. Colthan snorts and folds his arms, but does not reply.

“…as I thought. You all have your orders, make the preparations then.” Cullen says and then turns and walks away.

“I agree with you Colthan. We must test the C.O.’s loyalties.” Isen, a horribly scarred corpse of a man whispers to the human spell caster.

“Good. Isen, when the time comes we will stand together, until then, carry out Alive’s orders.”

“My talents are yours.” the undead promises, and then goes to prepare the camp.

[A L I V E]

Darrowshire

It was late in the afternoon of the following day by the time troop ‘Unbroken’ made it to the destroyed town of Darrowshire. Truthfully, Alive had not planned on stopping there, however, at the behest of his squad leaders (the human necromancer in particular) Alive decided to inspect the town for human squatters and weed them out.
The platoon was divided into their squads, which broke down further into teams of five. Each team was assigned a specific section of town to sweep, with instructions to sound the battle horn if assistance was needed.

As Alive is not a squad member, he was able to choose two escorts as he made his way through the ruins. Isen, an undead who is missing half of the supporting muscular tissue and skin on his face, and Cullen volunteered to go with the commander.

The trio makes their way to the town center, and Alive waits until the majority of the platoon has begun their sweeps before choosing to inspect a large barn to the southeast.

“Sir, do you know of how this town came to be like this?” Isen asks as he kicks over a dusty bale of hay.

“Nope, can’t say I do.” Alive says as he pokes a barrel with the pointy end of his sword.

“I thought not. I was there, the Battle of Darrowshire, as it is known now.” Isen says. “…it was glorious! Horgus the Ravager led an army here to defeat the human militia.”

“I have heard of that name.” Cullen adds, as he kills a scampering rat in the corner of the ruined barn.

“He was a powerful and talented military commander…I have not seen the likes of that in a long time.” Isen says, as he focuses his dead stare on Alive’s back. “…but the militia had been reinforced by blasted paladins. Their combined might nearly stole our victory.”

“Does this story have a point?” Alive asks without looking at Isen, as he continues to move about the room.

“Point is Sir; I do think you have what it takes to lead this platoon.” Isen says.

“Watch your mouth soldier!” Cullen shouts at the undead.

“Lower your voice Cullen. This guy’s got somthin’ on his mind. Lemme hear what he’s got to say. Speak yer peace!” Alive says as he turns to face Isen, his hands resting comfortably on the hilts of his swords.

“I do not believe you are loyal to our effort. You appear out of thin air, and are promoted ahead of those who have clawed their way up the ranks from the grave!” Isen says as he draws out his twin maces.

“Are you threatening me Isen?” Alive says, as he matches the undead warrior’s stance.

The two angry fighters back each other out of the enclosed spaces of the barn and out into the open; circling each other like hungry beasts each waiting for the other to move first.

Alive, not the most patient of his kind, strikes first by kicking a small rock at Isen.

The undead easily blocks the tiny projectile, preventing the pebble from hitting him in the face, only to find himself switching to a more defensive stance moments later as Alive double chops at his exposed left side. Unable to completely block or parry the incoming swords, Isen opts to take the hit instead.

As Alive completes his swing, Isen bashes him over the shoulder with his free right hand. The Forsaken Warrior grimaces slightly from the hit, but instead of rolling to his left, he steps inside Isen’s guard and head butts the undead, forcing him backwards.

The two pause for a moment, each sizing the other up after their initial exchange. Isen spits out a broken tooth. Alive adjusts his facial carapace and grins stupidly at his opponent.

“That promotion should have gone to me!” Isen shouts as he charges towards Alive. He scores a hit on Alive’s thigh, and again on his right arm. “You do not deserve the favor of the King!” Isen says confidently. Alive responds with a series of short, quick slashes to the forearms of the undead. The two again separate and stare at each other ruefully.

“After I kill you, I’m gonna demote you to Private!” Alive says, taunting the undead.

“My King will revive me, I am his loyal servant!!” Isen shouts, full of rage and bloodlust. He switches into a more offensive berserker stance and charges in again. Alive smiles at the undead, as he hunkers down and prepares to defend himself.

Onward the enraged undead comes, scoring only minor hits as Alive parries, dodges or blocks the majority of his attacks. Just as he had planned, an opportunity presents itself. As he dodges another of Isen’s angry attacks, he steps to his right and cuts the rotten flesh just under the undead’s right arm.

Isen drops his right hand mace and tries to defend himself with his left, but Alive proves to be the quicker of the two, and catches the arm in mid swing. He smiles evilly at Isen before breaking that arm at the joint and kicking the undead to the dusty earth.

“Any last words chump?” Alive says as he sizes Isen up for the deathblow.

“ALIVE IS A PART OF REBEL FORCES AND A TRAITOR TO ARTHAS!” he shouts.

Alive quickly severs Isen’s head from his body, but not before he notices several of his men had stopped to watch the violent fight between him and Isen. He stares them all in the face before ordering them back to work. They do so, but not without flashing hateful and questioning looks at Alive.

“Cullen, to me!” Alive says as he walks away from the bloody scene. His sergeant-at-arms hustles over to the platoon commander.

“Alright, I gots lots of questions and you’re gonna answer them. If I think yer lying I’ll murder you just like that fool Isen.” Alive growls at him.

[A L I V E]

Stranger Than Fiction

“I am not your enemy Alive….truth is the platoon has been poisoned against you. Mostly due to Colthan’s scheming, I am sure. The challenges to your authority will continue, until you can prove you are loyal to Ner’zhul, and to Arthas.” Cullen says.

“What’s happened to the Dark Lady? Seems to me the world’s gone all lopsided!” Alive says.

Cullen looks at him curiously for a moment, and then his dead eyes seem to flash in understanding. “You are still suffering the effects of our disconnection to the Lich King. We are currently fighting on three fronts: The fanatical humans, those undead who serve the demons, and a smaller rogue group calling themselves the Forsaken.”

“We are all servants of Dark Lady!” Alive protests.

“No…Alive, we (pointing to himself and gesturing to the undead around him) all serve Arthas and the Lich King! What you are saying could be considered as treason!” Cullen says to him. “…but I share your sentiments, I no longer wish to serve the being that helped to transform me into…this…” Cullen says allowing his voice to trail off.

“Good, didn’t want to murder you anyways….we’re gonna need a plan to separate ourselves from these blasted scourge.” Alive replies, with a wide grin on his face.

“Agreed, only way would be to leave now, before they reassemble.” Cullen says.

“Yer onto somethin’ there Cullen, you good on supplies?” Alive asks.

“I am certain we can pick up something along the way.” he replies, and the two dash off to the west, keeping out of sight.

[A L I V E]

Back to the War

Alive and Cullen make good time as they cross the war torn forests of the lands now known as the Eastern Plaguelands. They stop briefly near a ruined Scourge war machine, as Alive tries to get his bearings straight.

“Anything look familiar to you sir?” Cullen asks as he uses the down time to sharpen his long sword.

“…some things do, yeah. My mind is still fuzzy. I think if we continue north along this ridgeline, we’ll pass close by Northdale.”

“Northdale sir?” Cullen asks.

“…it’s southeast of elf gate to Quel'Thalas, you know it right?” Alive says.

“That is Cinderhome sir.”

“Is it?” Alive says, as he looks at a scurrying maggot not far from his boot. Cullen places a dead hand on the other warrior’s shoulder and pats him.

“The call of the Lich King is strongest here in these lands. I hear his voice as well. It is understandable if your mind becomes muddled from time to time.” Cullen says.

“Naw, it’s not that Cullen. Everything’s wrong. It’s like some bizarre dream.”

“Do not worry, once we find the rebels we will help them crush Arthas’ forces here; things will be better, you will see.” Cullen assures him.

Alive sighs deeply, “I suppose so. We’d better git a’movin’. No tellin’ how far behind us they are, don’t wanna get caught unawares.” he says as he turns and sniffs the air.

Cullen stops sharpening his blade and sniffs at the air as well. There is blood in the air; a battle is going on not far from where they stand.

“You git that Cullen?” Alive asks as he unsheathes his two swords from the scabbards on his hips.

“Aye, the skirmish is close, and they are not human.”

“Yep. Let’s go take us a look-see.” Alive says, smiling broadly at his companion.

The two warriors hurry over a series of small hills overlooking a large lake. Just as their keen senses had forewarned them, a battle between rival undead was indeed taking place in and near the waters of the lake.

“I recognize those banners, that is your platoon!” Cullen chides him.

“Truth. But I recognize whom they are fighting! That is the army of the Dark Lady!” Alive shouts as the telltale emblem on the flag, a broken white mask surrounded by the wing of the raven, waves proudly in the hands of the banner bearer.

He uses the momentum to his gain, rolling with the startled fighter to the earth. He releases his swords, and leaves the Scourge impaled on the ground for a moment. As he leaps to his feet, he punches a spell casting Necromancer in the jaw, silencing it for a moment. He returns to the dying Scourge and kicks it in the head, breaking its neck with a heavy boot. Then, he removes his blades from the undead’s chest and proceeds to decapitate the Necromancer.

Smiling wildly now, Alive intercepts another Scourge just as it was trying to engage one of the Forsaken Priests. The two lock swords for a few seconds, before breaking contact and squaring off again.

“Isen said you were a traitor, and he was right! I will kill you for what you did to him!” the Scourge shouts at Alive.

Alive merely chuckles at the notion of dying, as he takes a deep breath and shouts…

“I…AM…ALIVE!!”

…and charges the fighter. He has both swords in his hands, but instead of leading with the business end, he flips them so the pointed tip is facing away from his enemy and the flats of the blades rest against his forearms. Alive tumbles into the Scourge, using his fists to pummel his enemy in the face and neck. He wants to stay inside the radius of his opponent as the undead is wielding a sharp looking two handed sword.

The Scourge defends himself well enough, preventing Alive from doing any major damage. Alive shouts with blood curdling fury, and then begins a series of intense whirlwind slashing attacks on the Scourge.

Surprised by the ferocity of his attack, the undead is unable to produce a proper defense, and soon finds appendages flying left and right. The Scourge fighter curses Alive and tries to spit on him, but finds his mirth stolen from him as the Forsaken Warrior splits its head in two.

The battle horn sounds, and Sylvanas’ Forsaken declare victory. Once again, Alive finds himself in the middle of a battlefield, the odd man out. A Forsaken emerges from the crowd, and he seems vaguely familiar to Alive.

“Who are you warrior? To whom do you answer?” he asks in commanding tone.

“I am Alive, I serve Sylvanas, Queen of the Forsaken.”

“Indeed.” the Forsaken replies.

A runner approaches the Forsaken, and kneels in respect.

“Nathanos, the Dark Lady has been pushed back by surprise attack from Kel’thuzad; the attack against Arthas has failed!”

“Dammint! Order our forces to finish off any remaining Scourge here; I will take a group with me to see if we can slow down his retreat to Northrend.” Nathanos says.

“…Blightcaller?” Alive mumbles.

“What? How do you know that name? None but the Dark Lady has called me that!”

Alive shrugs and says “Don’t know, don’t really matter now do it? You need another sword, I gots two for ya!” and he flashes his gore encrusted swords.

Nathanos’ yellow glowing eyes stare at the warrior for a moment, and then he shakes his head. “As you wish, Alive. You will accompany me; we are heading for the coast.”

Alive nods at the Dark Ranger and turns to look for Cullen, but does not see his associate anywhere, not even amongst the dead.

“We must hurry! The Dreadlords are making their move!” shouts a mounted warrior. The Dark Ranger rallies his remaining forces and they ride off to the northwest.

[A L I V E]

Rise of the Death Knight

Forty-five minutes later a small band of undead, who collectively call themselves “Forsaken” arrive at the docks just west of the still burning city of Stratholme. There are large silos near the pier and several pre-staged crates of supplies nearby.

The Forsaken quickly engage the zombie like men and women mulling about the port. One of them, a warrior with a penchant for gnome flesh, can be seen near the front of group; charging in sword first into battle. They easily taken down the force of mindless Scourge undead ‘protecting’ the harbor and take up positions near the supply containers.

“Be ready, the ships will stop here only briefly to resupply. We will only have one shot at this!” Nathanos instructs them. Solemn nods follow the statement as the Forsaken prepare for a fight.

Ten minutes later, a huge vessel approaches. It flies the ruined standard of Lordaeron high upon the mast and the group knows immediately what cargo the ship carries.
The Dark Ranger signals for patience, as they wait for the ship to drop anchor and allow its undead crew to moor the ship to the pier.

“We have arrived, sire.” a severely rotted looking Scourge Captain hisses. From below decks, a tall human figure emerges. The ‘King of Lordaeron’ makes his way to the upper deck. He is dressed in bone white plate mail, adorned with miniature skulls along the edges. Two large skull shaped claps fasten his flowing black cape to his shoulders. In his right hand, a massive two handed sword can be seen. It is the source of his power, and he is never far from it.

“Very good Captain. Make your service repairs and gather what forces still loyal to me aboard quickly. We must make haste to Northrend!” Arthas commands.

The gang plank is lowered, and ghouls begin to pour out of the ship, snatching up boxes of goods. The Blightcaller signals his men and one of the mages releases a fireball at a group of Scourge, incinerating them instantly.

“ATTACK!!” one of the Forsaken shouts, and they all leap into action.

“Ambush!” the Scourge Captain shouts as he unsheathes his own rusty cutlass. Arthas growls at them all as he watches the forces clash from the upper deck.

Alive easily dismembers two unarmed ghouls, and then spins on his toes to his right eviscerating a third. He roars with blood curdling fury, bolstering himself and his nearby companions.

“Push them back, we must secure the pier! Hustle you zombies!!” the Scourge Captain shouts as he manages to flip over and impale a Forsaken rogue.

“I don’t have time for this!” Arthas shouts as the Death Knight begins to walk down to the pier. Several Forsaken rush to meet him, and he cuts them down with one swipe of his cursed sword.

“Hold the line!” Alive shouts as he barely dodges a wildly flailing Forsaken who had been sent flying away by a powerful back hand strike from Arthas. Now the mettle of the Forsaken would be tested.

One of the mages tries to freeze the Death Knight in place, but it fails. Arthas reaches out towards her and she is instantly pulled towards him. Unable to teleport away, she curses at him in Gutterspeak before he punctures her abdomen his sword; stealing her life-force and sending her to the twisting nether.

The Scourge forces seem to be empowered by the presence of their master, and the hosts of ghouls begin to go into a frenzy; turning the tide on the Forsaken fighters.

“Fall back, the battle is lost!” Nathanos shouts as he fires two more enchanted bolts from his crossbow at the advancing Scourge. The majority of the Forsaken begin to disengage from combat, with some managing to sprint away. But one of the Forsaken, who is too caught up in his own bloodlust, does not hear the order to retreat.

Alive continues to cut into the ranks of the Scourge; he is so effective at his work that from a higher vantage point you can easily spot the trail of broken bodies in his wake.
Time suddenly seems to slow down all around him. His movements become clunky, and his swords seem heavy in his hands.

He realizes he has been magically assaulted, crippled by an unseen entity. Seconds later he is forced to his knees, and is quickly surrounded by the Scourge. The Captain approaches him, with a perverse smile across his dead face.

“You should have fled with your friends, traitor. Now I will gut you, and feed your entrails to my ghouls!”

“If it weren’t for yer fancy magicks, I’d be eating yer entrails, chump!” Alive shouts back at him.

The Scourge Captain looks at him curiously and begins to respond again when he is shoved aside by Arthas. The Death Knight looks at the Forsaken Warrior with contempt, but makes no move to cut him down.

“You hate me don’t you undead?” Arthas asks.

“That’s a stupid question.” Alive replies.

“I can feel your anger. You are a powerful warrior. I can use your skills as I assault Northrend.” Arthas says as he moves closer to the paralyzed Forsaken.

“What’re you doing?!” Alive mutters as the air is stolen from his dead lungs.

“I will harness your hate! You will serve me and know the glory of the Lich King!” he shouts as he raises Frostmourn over the head of Alive. His body is surrounded by an unholy purplish blue aura, and Alive can feel his own will slipping away.

“All that I am: anger, cruelty, vengeance - I bestow upon you, my chosen knight. I have granted you immortality so that you may herald in a new, dark age for the Scourge.”

Alive thrashes in agony as the evil grip of the Death Knight tightens around his fractured soul like the jaws of a hungry crocolisk. His memories begin to burn away, yet Alive continues to struggle meekly against the Death Knight.

“Your will is not your own!” Arthas says. Alive screams out in pain, before collapsing under the might of the Death Knight. Pleased with himself, Arthas smiles at his work.

“Rise, and bow to your King.”

The neophyte rises as instructed, his once socket-less eyes now wild with an eerie blue glow. He takes a step and then bows low before Arthas.

“What is your name, undead?” Arthas asks.

The neophyte considers the question for a few moments, and then replies slowly.

“I…am…Kaedus…Harrowsmith. I am…was….a solider of Gilneas.”

“The life you had before is meaningless! You are reborn in my image!” Arthas tells him. “You are mine now. Board the ship; we are leaving for Northrend immediately.”

Kaedus bows low again and replies, “Yes, Master.”

The remaining Scourge gather up the supplies they will need to establish a base camp on the frozen continent and then sail away from the port. Moments later, Cullen and the Death Knight named Marduk Blackpool emerge from a nearby abandoned granary silo.

“I did as you asked Blackpool. I used the gem on him during the fight. Time for you to release my family.” Cullen says to the Death Knight.

Blackpool turns to the undead warrior and smiles. “Oh yes..about that. Your family died months ago. What you saw at Caer Darrow was an illusion.”

“What!? You bastard!!” Cullen shouts, and tries to skewer the Death Knight with his short sword. Marduk deflects the thrust, and then spins around to Cullen’s weak side. The Death Knight takes his broken two-handed sword and thrusts it hilt deep into the back of Cullen.

Marduk whispers into Cullen’s ear, “The Scourge no longer have need of your services. Consider your contract fulfilled.” He then twists the blade violently and utters an incantation, causing Cullen’s body to explode suddenly.

[A L I V E]

I am Alive

“Ah…he is coming around now.” Dark Cleric Beryl says. Kaedus slowly opens his eyes, unsure of where or when he is. Besides the cleric, he can see the misty figure Melisara the Banshee and his mentor, the Death Knight Bulba.

“You are in the Undercity, Death Knight. The Ebon Hold lacks the facilities to treat or care for the injured. As a matter of fact, you should thank Bulba for not allowing them to toss you into the ghoul pit for sport.” Beryl says, as he rises from the dusty, rag covered floor of the medical ward. He nods at them, and leaves to return to Brill.

“You were in some sort of magically induced coma. The priests determined that there was no magical treatment sufficient to return your mind to your body.” Bulba says as he stares down upon Kaedus. “Master Krassus will want a report on the success….or failure of your assignment Kaedus.”

Kaedus sits up, and props himself up against the cold stone wall of the infirmary. He shakes his head in disbelief for a moment, and then his glowing blue eyes meet with those of his former instructor.

“You can tell Krassus I found him and one other thing…” Kaedus says.

“What else have you to report?”

“I’m not going back to Acherus, Bulba.”

The Tauren’s glowing blue eyes narrow in a flash of anger. “Are you sure? You have made a commitment to the Ebon Knights, one not so easily broken I should remind you.” the large Death Knight says to him.

“I know. My experiences have revealed too many truths to me. I have to be amongst my people. I can do more for the Forsaken than I could ever do for the Masters of Acherus.” Kaedus says.

“As you wish Lord Kaedus. I hope the next time we meet; it is still under friendly circumstances.” Bulba says. The massive Tauren makes way for the doorway, and before he exits he turns again to Kaedus and nods.

Kaedus returns the nod and then looks upon the eerily silent Banshee. Her horrible, yet beautiful face smiles widely at him. She kneels down to his eye level.

“You knew it all along didn’t you Melisara? You knew who I was...am?” Kaedus asks.

The Banshee nods and says, “The Dark Lady had been contacted by the Bronze Dragonflight regarding your true identity. With our ranks decimated due to the betrayal of Varimathras we need every able bodied Forsaken we can find.”

He nods at the Banshee. She places an ethereal hand onto his shoulder and says, “You will not have to fear reprisals from the Ebon Hold. I told Krassus you would not be returning to their ranks after you discovered the truth. When this business with the Lich King has passed, many of our heroes will return to us.” She rises to her standing height again.

“You and several others are to assemble before the Queen tomorrow to be honored as the Heroes you are.” she says as she starts to leave.

“Wait. When they announce me, tell them to call me ‘Alive’.” Kaedus says.

“As you wish, Death Knight.” she says as she levitates away.

[A L I V E]

Epilogue

Ten days later, the Forsaken Death Knight, with the odd moniker of ‘Alive’ trots into the small village named Bloodhoof, deep within Tauren held territory on the continent of Kalimdor.

He is dressed in the fine robes and plate armor of his station, and although he no longer formally represents the Knights of the Ebon Hold; he still wears their tabard. On his back are two unholy skull forged reavers, each glowing a hungry purple. In his pockets two cards can be found, the first being his precious Death Card and the second being a gift from the Dark Lady, a card representing victory over the Twisting Nether.

Near the center of the village, an assembly is being held. From this distance he can see each of the Horde’s races represented at the meeting. All of the members wear the same tabard, an emblem of a blue tower proudly upon their chest.

In the center of the circular formation, a Forsaken priest wearing unimposing twill garments speaks softly to the gathered crowd. As Alive nears the group, several of them stand and salute him silently. A gruff looking old Orc warrior snorts at him, a mild acknowledgement of his return to this group of adventurers.

The Forsaken priest stops speaking briefly and locks his gaze upon the Death Knight. For a moment his purple eyes inspect him.

“Welcome back Alive. Please, take your place amongst the rest of the Guardians.”

Alive dismounts and then salutes the priest with respect. He takes his place amongst those gathered in Bloodhoof, not as an outsider, but as an equal and comrade in arms. He takes a deep breath and smiles from beneath the dark hood of his armor.

“I am Alive.” he whispers as his smile grows broader.


THE END