User:Sir Tristram/Lord Aivoe Darkhallow

Lord Aivoe Darkhallow
Aivoe Darkhallow was born in Gilneas to a wealthy family, he cared little for his family's extravagance and coupled with his parental issues, chose instead to live in the city with his sister. Upon constant denial of his military enlistment, his dream, he moved to Lordaeron was sent out to quell the rebellious orcs in the internment campsand with time inherited his family's estates. Under Arthas's command at Andorhal, Darkhallow was supposedlly killed by a random Necromancer. It was later revealed to him that he never actually died. He was recrafted into a Death Knight as a contingency if Arthas failed. He did not appreciate this position, and insteasted decided to claim the Kingdom of Azeroth as his own where he would wage war against his former Prince and the Burning Legion. He based his outpost in duskwood and traveled through Elwynn Forest into Stormwind itself, his first campaign failed, thwarted by refugees of Lordaeron and Gauldrin of the Silver Hand. He was captured and imprisoned in the Cathedral of Light as Wrynn decided what to do with a man who would only benifit from death. He recently escaped due to efforts of Bazil Thredd sneaking off in the armor of a Stormwind Guard. His current whereabouts are unknown, although some believe he's scouting Kingdom of Azeroth as an adventurer, looking for a new way to crown himself in the ancient keep.

Titles and Nicknames
Lord Aivoe Darkhallow: Recived the title Lord in his home kingdom of Gilneas, keeping it after his move to Lordaeron.

Knight: Was trained as a Knight prior to the outbreak of the Plague of Undeath. Served under Arthas Menethil as a knight until Andorhal.

The Tyrannous King, The Rabid Lord, etc. : Reference to him as the second Scourge King

The Rogue Prince: Referenced by Arthas's advisors, The Lich King greatly dislikes the fact that the Burning Legion had a back-up plan for his failures.

Life's bane: Granted by his combat prowess, baneing opponents quickly and with ease. Also a double reference to the blight occasionally trailed in his wake.

The Contingency: Used by the Burning Legion, obvious.

Blood in the Snow: Used by the Paladin Gauldrin in a conversation with a footman left in Northrend when trying to conceal the conversation's details.

Frostgaze: Used by survivors of the assault on Stormwind Keep during the third war, who witnessed the blue haze eminating from his corneas.

Darkheart, Stillheart: A reference to his unfeeling, little actually know of his condition. Darkheart is also a reference to his runeblade Bloodreaver. Stillheart was coined by the blue wyrm Sargetha when she couldn't hear his heartbeat.

Vampire and related slurs: Most think that Darkhallow acctually siphons the blood out of his opponents, while in truth it is his Runeblade.

The Option: Forsaken, Knights of the Ebon Blade, and Loyalists to the Scourge but not under the control of the Lich King all employ this when discussing loyalties.

Weapon
Darkhallow carries the runeblade Bloodreaver, a vampiric two-handed sword crafted by the Burning Legion.

Mount
Darkhallow rides atop Argos, his warhorse from when he was a knight. He carries a special bond with his hooved friend.

Aivoe's tale as told to a small gathgering of elves in Silvermoon. (WIP)
"Wait here, there is conflict ahead." "Aye." I gripped at the sword in my hand, and gritted my teeth. My patience was thinning, three years of hunting these orcs down and only a handful of occasions where standard infantry, like us, had been engaged. I excelled in combat, I revelled in it. But my superiors prefered to use knights instead. Vaguley plotting executing the Stormwind cavalryman I overheard the definitave sounds of axes rending through armor, the paniced whinnies of horses, perhaps our utilization was near. A faint "Lok'tar Ogar!" struck tension in our small squadron. We heard the thunder of thier massive frames striking the ground. "Fifteen." "Heh, my babe could bane fifteen. I wager thirty." Lyrgos was always a bit cocky. "I call twenty. Janos?" "Twenty-eight. What of you Aivoe?" I smiled, and tilted my head back a little as I calculated my odds."Sixty seven." "Sixty seven?" The look of awe made me giggle a bit. "I count only seventy one." "Perhaps I should've made a more reasonable bet of twenty then Halligren? I stand by my wager of sixty seven.." "Your mad." "I am correct." The great behemoths crested the hillside and tore through the edge of the forest. We took stance as the thunder decended upon us.The first grunt charged at me, being at the forward point of our grouping. I bashed him with the face of my shield and he wailed in anger, but the blow did stop him. Next was a strike to his abdomen with a pierce of the blade under his diaphram. More charged past, engaging the footman strewn across the forest floor. The others fought slowly, defensivly. Two more ran at me as I shifted the weight of the orc over my shoulder. The dying body's thump to the ground was matched by the spike on the face of my aegis sliding into a sternum, which was followed by the the crack and scrape of my blade stabbed into the temple of a helmetless grunt. The weight twisted along with his neck, I bent my wrist back and let the blackrock orc slide off the steel. Once the tip left his skull I swung hard and down onto the the fourth hostile. The following hacked at my breasteplate and I opened his throat for the transgression. Janos and Lyrgos were fighting valiantly but had nine and five to deal with. They fought behind thier shields, and with the handicapped reach, only connected with glancing blows to the massive forms of the Great Red Clan. I rent my blade from the twelfth's latisimus, and slung my sword behind me finishing the last of mine. I charged over to Lyrgos who was beginning to falter under these stronger beasts. He suceeded in removing the jaw of one, another was missing quite a bit of his forearm rendering his prefered weapon hand useless. I passed Vincent but he had bashed one of the orcs off of him and it stumbled back upon me. Dropping to my knees instictivly I bore his weight gripping him about his neck and his thigh and using little effort I guided him to the ground and thrust into his lung. I assisted Vincent and the others on my way to Lyrgos, who has disarmed his opponets and currently was receiving quite the physical beating. I sweeped the legs of the the next, and as I rose Flourished my blade, which sliced open his stomach. Another bolted past me trying to assist his failing clan mates on Lyrgos. I placed the blade latterally through his torso, a bit had slid on his spine, I was going to need a whetstone after today. I reversed my grip while gravity freed my steel. Here I progressed to loose my sheild into the side of the one-armed grunt picking up his weapon. The growl he emitted was part suprise and part invincibile rebuttal, nevertheless he collapsed afterwards. Lyrgos was on the ground now, he had lost his weapon and was beating the dogpile off of him. Upon reaching the pile of orcs, I leapt onto the back of a rather large one pummelling Lyrgos, my feet bent at his hips, and the only other hold I had was the blood drenched metal I had shoved through his neck. We leaned back and I rolled off of him. As I stood one of the greenskins ran across my blade, snapping it at sixteen inches from the hilt on one edge, eight on the other. I clasped the exposed harness on his back and drug him into a chokehold. "Why do you never surrender?" Before he could struggle free I threw his jawbone and upper skull in two seperate directions. Lyrgos at this point swings hard into the face of the roaring orc that he's holding back at just under a foot with his kite sheild. The strike breaks one of his massive canines off and he stops bellowing, shaking his head. Lyrgos gains ground pushing him back in the bewilderment and snatched the severed tooth. He adjusted his grip as he brought it back into the orc's jugular, and while still expressing his angered yell, threw his two assailiants off of him. I finished the one who was not bleeding out. "They're tougher this time." Lyrgos panted out. "Perhaps you just have delusions of grandure. Pick up your blade, catch your beath." I glanced at the pockets of resistance, counting how many where left." "Halligren was wrong." "How so?" "I count seventy six including the fallen." Lyrgos laughed, "Halligren never attended the academy." "It doesn't help that he's from Stromgarde either." "And Gilneas is better?" "Not by much." We exchanged smiles and darted off to save the others. Lyrgos and the others we collected slashed at the orcs providing ample distraction for the killshots I bestowed as we freed more from the clutches of raging savages.My shattered blade was still usable, although I opted to exchange it for one of the grunt's axes lying on the forest floor. It broke at the precipice of the hilt on the fist strike, and I tore of the jawbone of a fallen orc and began to walk towards my next target. His eyes fleeted about, and he dropped his crude stone axe and surrendered. The remaining six followed within my following step. Janos kicked one to the ground. "Pisser!" Halligren approached, laughing. "You owe alot of money, Aivoe." "Count the corpses, you were wrong." A moment, then "Damnit!"

That night we returned to our encampment at Crystal Lake, and silently watched as the aristocracy and thier horses were bore through to lay by the lakeside until their burials had been organized. In Lordaeron Horses were placed by thier rider's side, and Azeroth had a seperate ritual for only the steed. A remnant of the Brotherhood of the Horse I suppose. We hated them, but still mourned the loss. They were egotistical biggots. Garithos, the Dark Knight, was the worst of them all. We were more fearless, most, like I, had chosen to stay as ground troops. Expendable but indisposable. Even so, we watched. A few silently tended to thier workings. Haunting as it was, it would've benifitted from the wounded returning later. After the last was carried back, I made my way to the medical tent. "And the great hero returns..." Vincent was in the process of having his wounds treated by the overworked field medic. "I preserved your life." My rebuttal was not agressive, rather a little comedic to lighten his heart. "I would've been fine." He seemed a bit more angry. "You would've died." My smile faded, and I admit, I sounded a bit condecending. "Why did you come here, Aivoe? You're not injured, you never are." Unfortunatley, it was a possibility. Even though a rarity. "I thought you'd be up for a drink." "I would be if you hadn't gyspied your way into my coin purse." "The tab will be on me, and you can stash your debt away, I have plenty." Vincent sighed. Watching the work on his arm progress. "I do not need to thin my blood." "I take that as a no then?" "When have I ever denied mead?" "As I thought. Have they already released Lyrgos?" "I hadn't seen him in. He's probably patched himself." "He's going to catch an infection." "Too much wine for that." He winced as the nurse stitched through a nerve. I drew my eyes away from the scene, back into his."What of Janos?" "I beleive he's already parted to the anvils." "Ever vigilant. I suppose I ought to round them up. We'll meet at the Lion's Pride then?" "We're contributing to the ruin of Goldshire." "What better place for tired, angry veterans than Whoreshire?" "You're an ass Aivoe." "And you're finished." He shrugged as the nurse walked off from sewing the gash in his deltoid. "It may take me a while to fetch Halligren, He's wandered off to gamble again." "Make note to search the carts." I let the burlap flap slide off my forearm and turned away from the screaming men of our detachment. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. My body shook from anxiety. I pulled out my pipe and tobacco from it's pouch and trembled as I lit it. I had known these men since I was a teenager, and hundreds filled that tent. Thier insides exposed, screaming in agony. I had witnessed them being slaughtered. Witnessed thier agony as they were torn by hand into the many pieces that now filled our infirm. The grass had stained with blood, and this is why my anger towards my supierors surfaced. I possesed a unique combination of knowledge, physical strength, dexterity, alertness, and agility. If the Marshal's had set us loose I could've saved many more from the clutches of the barbariac clans. I sighed out the smoke from my nostrels. These countless conflicts were beggining to affect me, even though we rarely saw engagements ourselves, we had always been deployed with the mounted men. I unfortunatley knew them all, and found little solice in thier demise. Everyone who had seen enough began to have issue. It began with the shortness of breath in the aftermath, followed by horrors during conciousness, then the slow degradation into madness. Many turned to the dens to stave off seperate parts of the mental battle fatigue. My stability was in my pipe, and to wash the days away with ale. Before my fit could pass I headed for the forward barracks. I entered the largest tent to only gather currency and to remove the remaining plates from my form. I had previously taken off the breastplate, helm, and scabbard before my first shivers of the day surfaced, beckoning me to round up the few I kept close to for a night drenched in clouded minds. Additionally at the moment I was only able to remove the spaulders, bracers, and gauntlets when a rustling outside the barracks drew my attention. The stained linen shirt that covered my chest from the abrasive mail billowed open from the strong winds flowing through the old torn burlap as I doused the lanterns. During my overly pampared childhood I was allowed carrots and grapes, strengthening my night vision. I had also not been able to remove my knife that sat at the base of my spine. I unsheathed it latterally and held it in reverse grip in my right hand as my tension grew. I heard the snap of bone and threw open the back flap. Wolves, tending to the body of fallen buck. It took me a moment to recover. This needed to end. "Aivoe!" I spun around, ready to kill whatever I saw. Janos sighed, understandingly, he bore the same disease as I. Immediatley moving on, but lowering his voice. "I need your assistance with Lyrgos, he's caught a nasty bite." I slide the knife back into it's place. and moved to my small chest. "The explination eludes me." "Took a dagger for rabbit hunting. Thought'd be fun." "Bear or wolf?" "Murloc." "Odd thier numbers are increasing in this area." I slipped a roll of leather behind my knife scabbard. "Somebody should really do something." "We'll have to ask the innkeeper if she's put up reward." "Doubt it." My sigh relieved some of my stress. Wiping the sweat from my face I spoke, "Let's tend Lyrgos..." "Aye.." We ventured from the barracks and I trailed my fellow Gilnean. I met Janos as a child, he was born into a military family, his father was a knight that rode alongside mine. Janos's father was a decent man, not the greatest, but decent. He was in so much contrast to mine That I often pondered why they were associated in the first place. My father was a drunk, and often challenged me to duels. I succeeded everytime, but the fighting and heated arguements grew wearysome. At the age of fourteen I left to live with my sister, Coraline, in the city. Janos stayed behind, but joined me under just a few months. Apparently my father had gotten closer to Janos's in my abscence and he endured some of the pain I had delt with. The twisted point of view, the lies. The terrible planning, the idiocy, and stubborness to learn, the redundant stories, a product of the alchohol I suppose, the beligerence, the gluttony, the improperly alligned priorities. When janos stole away he came to me more understanding. He never experianced the hate of one's own father though. The constant nearly manical hate of one's own child was difficult to endure. The man tried to imprison me numerous times on false pretenses, not to mention attempting to ward me into the asylum. Janos believed these tales now. He doubted them before, he couldn't see how it was possible to hate someone's own child that way. He believed the basics, but always thought that maybe I was a bit biased, like most angst ridden teenagers, until he experienced the other "overly exaggerated" parts of him. He came to understand that I hadn't lied, hadn't overstepped the truth for expression, Hadn't even expressed the full detail of it. I believe it aged him a bit. Coraline, my sister, had left when she was sixteen, and was inducted into a school of magi. She was a proud strong woman, and even she did not feel the full sting of my father's hate. I was left alone with this bearing. And I had to leave. When I reunited with my sister, she had aged to eighteen. I nearly forgotten her birthday, and coincidentally arrived on the same day. She was joyous to see me, and told me tales of how she graduated from the university, of how she hunted for the city's meat, re-enrolled into an academy of stealth and alchemy. She was contracted a year later by the King and acted as an assasin as she finished her education. Between jobs she had been a vigilante, executing the wretches of society that the guard hadn't caught or that had slipped through the court system. I stayed with her, and Janos joined us when he fled aswell. I helped her with her inventions, one of her passions. We designed a mechanical crossbow that used throwing knives as bolts. It also carried a cartridge that allowed rapid procession without the need to re-arm between multiple shots. It held seven knives, and would greatly assist the military volleys, pumping out more projectiles, and ones that not only rended flesh in more horrid ways, adding to the demoralization and panic of troops, but also allowed larger volleys. It was never introduced. Most nights I spent with Janos, sharing dreams, some of them serving in the armies, others stories of the great green hordes bearing down on Stormwind. Two years after I had fled the manor, The second orc assault came through the dark portal. We tried to sign the papers at the local tavern looking for troops, but were later denied once our ages were learned. When Blackrock Spire was destroyed we heard news of Janos's father's death. Coraline and I consoled him during his grief, and after it passed his adamance towards serving increased greatly. Then the news came down that Gilneas was to be walled in, and shall serve no more in the troubles of the Alliance. Janos and I bid farewell to Coraline, who opted to stay out of her distaste of all peoples. Janos and I chose to travel to Lordaeron, the great Kingdom who not only employed the strongest army, but was highly cultured, and held more of a republic than a monarchy like Stormwind or Kul Tiras. Upon reaching Menethil's land, we were again denied our dreams, but were told that within a year's time we could be trained, and a year after that, deployed. Janos cried later that night, he had trained under his father, and was joyous to realize his wish of him. I finally knew why his patriarch was close to mine. He was the father of my father. He guided him in much the same way I guide Lyrgos now. As I thought of this, I came across my troubled idiot friend. Lyrgos sat on the shore, trying to sew his abdomen back together. We approached behind him, his winces and vocal grunts told the story of his constant failure to understand anatomy. "Reinforcements have arrived." Janos nearly spoke under his breath. "I don't need your help. I've nearly got it." He tried to squeeze the holes that had already been horridly sewn over back together as he tighted the leather lace. "Pull it out." "Piss off Janos. "He's right you know." "Your advice is damnable Aivoe." "When has my judgement ever failed you?" "Hmm...How about two nights ago, when I was informed that it was safe to swim in the waters." "During the day." "Shut up and fix me." We dropped to our knees on either side of our shirtless, bleeding comrade. I unrolled my surgeon's kit and Janos shuffled through his field satchel. "Why where you swimming in the lake anyway?" Janos inquired. "I've never known rabbits to venture into the waters." I removed my scapel and leaned in to pry out chips of murloc teeth. "I spotted a den on the small island." "And why brave the waters when there are so many here?" I asked. "Figured few have tried there, given the easy pickings." Lygos stated as Janos set aside his lace and clean needles. "I suppose a bow eludes you as much as the hares." I dropped a peice of serrated tooth into the grass and spread open another puncture with my fingers. "I've never understood why you hunt such weak game, Lyrgos." Janos bassed out of his throat before Lyrgo's Grimmace vocalized. He pulled his bandages to the top of his pack and began assesing the bite marks and the new rouge seeping out of little pricks. "Fine dining I suppose." Lyrgos looked confused as I laughed at the remark. "Alright" I leaned back and looked in my ally's eyes. "..some of this may need to be cauterized." I dropped the bloody scapel onto the roll and awaited my patient's response. "....I'm fine." "Oh deal with it." Janos expressed his irritaion in slowly piercing the skin on either side of one of the many mistakes. "Who willingly goes toward pain?" Lyrgos's eyes bore the same look of a child staring in the face of Deathwing. We bothed laughed this time. "I must be mistaken, I had thought you a soldier." "I had thought him a fearless Stormwind Footman." Janos smiled. "No, we couldn't be working on somebody from the great Lion Nation of Stormwind. Thier infantry continue no matter the pain." "Not to mention they wouldn't shed tears everytime they spot a bear." "Nor be bitten by a fish." I grinned at Janos as he cackled his deep laugh. "You're a bastard Aivoe." "So I've been told, anyway we don't have a fire here, and I'm all out of flint." "You up for a drink Aivoe?" Janos winked. "I don't know. Maybe if my friend here can stand, I'll take you up on that offer." Lyrgos pulled back as quick as I've ever seen him move. and in a flash he was up, and feeling no more pain. "That's my answer then." "Off we go." We collected our things and Lyrgos brushed off the saturated sweat on his chest and stomach. He waited as I finished, and then for Janos as I began trecking towards Goldshire, stuffing the surgeon's kit in it's former place as I proceeded. After a short while they had caught up next to my shoulder and I struck a match to light my pipe again. We strolled in silence towards our destination and as we passed the tower Lyrgos sorted out that a few were missing in our usual party. "Where's Halligren and Vincent?" "We are to meet them there." "Halligren's Dwarf mate is in town, perhaps he's off to Stormwind." "I doubt it, he's lost alot of money today. He's probably at the carts." Janos interjected. "The dwarf is likley to meet him there." I added. "Perhaps they've already begun." "Knowing the dwarf, they've had a few, and headed out to the caravan." Janos finished my thought. "And then headed to Stormwind." "Vincent might have his handful, there's alot of kegs in town." Lyrgos had begun working the cogs. ""The dwarf makes quite a fuss when he's visiting. Vincent's already trailed him." Janos slowed, spotting the caravan ahead. "I don't see them." "Let's search the inn first." "Want me to check the city Aivoe?" "No, we travel together, besides your easy to lose there." "I was a babe there!" "Precisley why you are easy to lose. You know Stormwind better than us, and are more comfortable with it's alleys." "More comfortable? I had thought you a soldier!" Lyrgos giggled out. "You're an ass, Lyrgos." I laughed. "So I've heard." Janos, mockingly. "Quiet." I pushed Janos a few feet away, enough to knock him off balance as we enjoyed the good humor. We walked into town, and stopped at the wooden trade caravan, where most dice poker games are held. Already whores approached. Both sloshed, theyc ould hardly walk, and the brunette fell onto Janos's arm, clutching it as if they had been courting for years. "Hi gorgeous..." She said through a wide grin and slit eyes. "Oooh...soldiers are in town, How 'bout it May? You wanna play with swords?" The blonde who now clutched onto me winked excessivley with her mouth agape at the extreme. The brunette cackled out a horrendous drunken noise and returned with a moan to laying on her grasp. "Sounds like fun.." She said a little softer. We laughed at the situation, "Not tonight girls, we took a beating today." I lied. We never had any intention of ever seeing them again. Nor would that be anymore enjoyable than this. "Come on, I'll be gentle." The blonde whispered. "Sweetie..." The brunette whispered in Janos's ear on her toes as he gave in and leaned over to hear her. "I've just had my chastity belt removed." Janos mockingly raised his brow, and without breaking his smile, "Lyrgos!" Lyrgos had already bought a pie, and was in the process of eating it when the joke went over his head. "What?" He spotted what had transpired in his oblivious hunger. "...No." He turned to asses the company going in and out of the Lion's Pride and finish sloppily wolfing down his baked goods. "No luck ladies, but I do have a friend over at the smith that'd love to meet you two." Janos slied in. "Awww. We want you handsome, strong, able men." The brunette nodded. "He's a paladin." He winked. "And questioning his devotions." I added. They both "Oooooh."ed and the blonde licked her teeth as she pulled herself off of me, perking her chest up in excitement. I rolled my eyes, and they stumbled off laughing. "I think you're sweet on her." I joked. "I think she might've pissed on me." I let the tension and phantom touch fall away from my arms. I took slow steps over towards the shopkeep, glancing over his inventory. "Spot something you like?" I laughed at sarcastic statement. "Actually we're looking for someone." "Again?" "Indeed. Has he been around?" "A few hours ago, took off to the City with a dwarf, came back few minutes ago with his mate and headed straight into the bar." "Aye, as we deduced." I nodded a thanks and headed for our destination, shaking my head. Janos trailed behind. "Where has that idiot gone to now?" "He's inside, follow the food." I pointed at the trail of pie pieces. We came to the entrance and I knocked out the ash in my pipe. Aware as soon as it began, we tilted over our shoulders to spot the two girls being tossed out of the the smith.The mud in the street splashed onto the blonde's low cut and thin red dress as she struck the ground with her back. The brunette stumbled back to and fell next to her. The smith stood at the top of the stair, his face had turned the color of the Stromgarde standard, and the whores were returning fire with uneducated vulgarities. "Looks like they've figured it out." I sighed, and turned to head inside. "I need a drink."

We discovered Lyrgos had stolen into the kitchen, and was dressing some of the carcasses the residents had delivered. Apparently he had ordered a pint from the kegs, and was payed to retrieve one from the cellar. Upon spilling it across the butcher's table, he was repremanded by the innkeeper, cook, and guests awaiting a hot meal. Out of guilt and embarassment, he offered his cooking skills to the hostile mob. The tale induced a fit of laughter which expanded through the bar. " I was in Androhal, in autumn. Serving under Uther the Lightbringer and Prince Arthas Menethil, quelling an orc rebellion and investigating the scourge. We were destroying an infected grainary, a plague was washing over Lorderan, turning the populace into the nightmares we had as children. Easy enough to kill. But there were worse, and we were about to reunite with them. There were dark things from the bowels of hell that made up the scourge, the least were Necromancers, mages of death. They retained thier humanity in the armies of un-life. There where real ghouls, living disfigured corpses with only the need to feed and the want of bloodshed. Abominations, giant creatures crudley sewn together many with pieces falling from thier ireggular form. Statues that would come alive and terrorize our skies. We were sure there was more undiscovered horrors that plagued other lands, or that the Cultists were raising into thier armies. This day, we had just touched a torch to the grainary filled with the unholy disease when they came upon us. One of the corrupt mages charged with cannibalistic monstrosities and the great bound beasts toward our line.... I remember my death..... The necromancer immolated five of us, called a rain of fire down upon Arthas and the men around him, and I lost my breath as a green glow emitted from his hands. My steed was comsumed by the flames as I was strangled by the very air I breathed. My vision blurred, I witnessed great butchers carving our troops, others being consumed alive by the dark creatures of the grave...then the abyss consumed me.

I awoke, snow falling upon my visage. I blinked as the flakes fell, and covered my face from the wet onslaught. Oddly. I couldn't feel any of it, not even upon the back of my hand. I sat, and felt the wetness I assumed was melting snow on the stone platform I had been placed. Glancing down, my hypothosis changed. What I had been laying on was blood. Pints of it flowed down the sides of the hard white face. My attention drew quickly to a man in purple robes bearing a goat skull on his head. My murderer stood before me, offering me a weapon to his demise. I accepted, hesitating to take his life. "Where have you taken me?" I barked. "Glory and aprobation to the great Death Knight."His withered voice was unfitting to his stable stance. "You have not answered me." I rose and twisted my hands around the hilt of the dark sword bestowed to me. "I have not taken you anwhere great one. You have travelled." I could hear whispers all around, haunting screams from within my skull, my flesh cold, my heart still. Unfeeling, I had been bore into the very dark wretched hell I had so fervently fought against. "Where are my Brothers?" "Some stand before you.." It was then I noticed, the footmen and dwarven rifleman of our expedition were now disfigured living corpses. Barely recognizable nightmares. Mindless. Feeding on old rotten hues near an ancient crypt. "...others spreading the plague, still more mere bones at the site of our meeting." He smiled at the last comment. Proud of his exploits. It took a great deal of strength to hold myself back. I needed answers. "And what of me? What have I become?" "You have been reborn, able to fufil your destiny. To cripple your enemies in ways you've never even imagined. You no longer need the feeble neccesities of life. Your bindings have been torn from you. Your ties to Lordaeron and the Alliance are broken, you are a knight of Death. Your fate is to serve as the Scion of the new order. Great and powerful demons will claim this realm as thier own. And through the many portals that shall be molded from the corpses of the living, claim all that exists as thier territory. You play a crucial role in the coming storm. They have commanded us to raise you into thier armies. You shall conquer the Kingdoms of man, and sit at the crown of your new expanding nations. This is your new home, your new legion. These are your new brethren, joyous to die by your side." His voice trembled with his age. "If I am to be free, I am free to choose what I serve." "Aye, The Choice is yours." "Agreed..." clenching my teeth I plunged the tip blade through his left kidney, he screamed in agony. "My destiny is my own." "We can only match, move by move, the machinations of fate..." I tore the runed blade from him, and reintroduced it to his heart. He laughed, joyously, while he fell to the ground. Blood gurgled into his jaunt, overflowing at his mandible. "And you have not seen the written fate of the worlds."I watched as he withered and writhed, he had expected death to be some great new step in his eternal insanity. It was not. death was pain, and ending. No chapters or sequels followed. He had never experienced it. I looked across the blighted war camp. This is to be my new empire. These nightmares, my new subjects. "I, am your new king..." The crowd roared.

I walked down the stone stair to the dying earth below me, the place seemed familiar, Brill. The Silver Hand shall make an attempt to purge this place...Let them come. I gathered a small guard to explore my new home, taking note to have one of the big ones with us. The old town rotted away in an undeath, new structures raised in an unorderly fashion about town. I noticed a few living beings here humans of the Cult of the Damned, gathered about a pool sacrificing themselves... chanting. I ordered the butcher to dispose of them declaring "There shall be no religions during my rule." The abomination made short work of them, bugling imbecilic remarks and returning as he finished each batch we came across. Toward the outskirts of town I found a Temple of the Damned, curious, I headed inside paying no heed to the wizards who bowed before me as I entered. One beckoned me to a new altar, clean, stone. I reluctantly abliged, tighting my grip on my murderous sword. "This is your new Adornment my Sovereign, cast by elves, reinforced by dwarves, the mail hand crafted by Mekgineers in Gnomeragon, and the cloth hand weaved by the magi of Dalaran." "And of this?" I held my new sword aloft, still ready to seperate his neck from his torso. "It is the Bloodreaver, A sword specifically designed for you. Forged in the fires of Blackrock, it is thorium, inscribed with runes allow the flow of magics. It is designed to enhance you in combat." I surveyed the room, dark preists, acolytes chanting nonsense into pools of darkness, practices of dark magics. I sat and began to undress, "This place is foul, it reeks of the daemons of our histories." "We call to them to serve you, mi'lord." "I have enough...creatues, at my side." To my cadre, "Purge them." I finished donning the new armor while they sacked it, making sure to keep a few necromancers alive. I planned on turning this twisted place into a school of elven magi. Once we were finished, we strolled out of the Temple and continued our travels west, away from my former Kingdom. They were not my problem, not yet anyway. We stumbled upon a band of thieves that were plagueing my old home, and after executing them we took thier spoils. We traveled for days, my servants dined on forest troll, worgen, elf, dwarf, dog, and bear flesh. Our party continued up a hill, discovering a dragon roost at the brim. The dragons tirred and awoke from her psuedo slumber. A grin shone on my face. "And so, you have come. What agenda has carried you to this place?" Her voice was as a summer rain. "I am grasping at my bearings, understanding my new life and exploring my newfound abilities." "Your presence has bore horrid news upon my roost, Stillheart!" "I mean no harm, I do not bind myself to the dark cults of this place, I seek to found a new city where I can be free from the persecution of my old kingdom. That is all." "You mean no harm, I have seen the fate of our meeting dark one, this land will be as yours, all of this land will be as yours. And you shall not be at the crown." "Honestly, I haven't given much thought of staying here, but I suppose it's a decent idea.." The mighty blue dragon roared, and broke toward the sky barking fand icey death upon us. My blade wrethed with a dark flame, as I thrust it toward her to order my phalanx into assault, the hellish fire tearing off and propelling itself into heart of the dragon, suffocating her much in the same way I had although her flesh seemed to rot away, the membrane between her wings fell onto us, enthralling our unit. The great butcher hurled his cleaver at the beast, rending her winged limb from her bones. I prepared as she fell, and as she impacted, I cut her heart while she yet lived, giving her a quick death. I left her rotting body to my carrion brothers. I wondered if I could raise her into my armies? I'd have to inquire with the necromancers. Pondering, A smoke caught my eye, I dropped my gaze to meet the source. The blood covering my armor seared away, leaving dark splatter across me. I placed the tip of the reaver into the cold hearth and looked to the sky, mulling over the encounter. The dragon's corpse steamed behind me, biting into the winter air. She didn't need to die.

Back at the temple, the humans cowered as I entered, "Where are you fleeing to? What have you done?" I gave suit, grabbing the first cultist I could, and threw his weak body into the bone walls. "We have heard word of Lord Tichondrius's presence in these lands, we....were preparing....agh." "My gripped tightened, I knew they had summoned one of thier Daemons into our realm, at the feet of my old king. This would bring the full might of the Silver Hand upon us. The prince would lead the charge. I ordered him to be held here until I found a suiting death. I was still new to this, I had to learn what my minions were capable of, much less me. I stole into the libraries, and sat for hours researching my new heritage, learning of the old death knights of the second war, necromantic arts, how to command the horrors, the twisting nether, the Burning Legion, but nothing of the skills I possesed. I rose to return a tome on giving life to mangled pieces of different creatures into one being, and stumbled across an ancient book with no title, and no markings on the black burplap covering. Opening the decaying thing, I discovered it was knowledge on the Bloodreaver by it's former owner. I stopped after one line; To bind life to the great obsidian blade, and in turn, bind it eternally to the user as a true extension of themselves, One must introduce it into the hearts of three beings: It's first kill which awakens the thirst, The aspect of Dragon of which will focus the blade's magics into a mirror weapon, and one who unflichinly adheres to it's nemesis which awakens the blade in anger." "The Reaver's ire stems from the Light, it is the enemy of all religion." A portion of the scholar's face plummetted to the pages."And the practices of man are more devout." "Uther..." I spoke without glancing at the skeletal horror at my side. "Monster, rally the horde, we have a raiding party to assemble." On my way out of the temple, I found my trophy hanging from the gallows, the Butcher dragging the other half of the chain to the Necropolis. "Halt." "Ung?" I debated the different aspects, Red of Fire, Bronze of Earth, Green of Nature, Black of Death, Blue of Frost. It seemed suiting, My heart was still, frozen, my blade shall be my twin. "Bring me my spoils." "Yes..." The butcher dropped the chain heavily on the ground, and lumbered over to the Gallows, it hesitated, gauging the distance it had to reach. It continued after sufficent pondering, strecthing to the sky it's stiches upon it's bare gut burst intestine and coagulated blood flopping into the snow, none of it melted away. "Here master." Dragging the mismatched organs, it presented the great heart in one hand. I assigned my weapon a cold soul, p[iercing the muscle the blood left in it's bowels seeping through the blade into it's depths. the Bloodreaver glowed dully with a blue haze. "I am finished, re-hang it." I turned to find a gathering of acolytes approaching me, "Your gift awaits." "I want no part of your unholy magics." "All Empires need thier King on a steed, It allows him to be raised above his battlefields, and thus oversee his warrings." They parted, and one brought Argos to me, he was of bone, but his eyes still glowed the same icey blue that was granted to him in Dalaran. "Argos...that warlock could never burn your soul away." He let out a sharp breath, fire billowing from his nostrils. It was him. "Worry not, they could never take mine." I placed a foot into his stirrups, and climbed onto my old friend. I enjoyed a small moment patting at the exposed neck of my outspoken ally. The moment was short lived however as a ghoul crawled toward Argos's hooves, "They's coming..." it hissed. "Who?" "Foods..." I smiled, Lorderan had discovered us. "Gather everyone." I took a small following of my guard into the foothils, back to the bandit camp I armed some of my men with their armors and leathers. Perhaps they had snatched a footman sheild that could disguise us. My luck was unsavory. I hurried to the Troll camp, hunting for something to lead them into a trap while the rest of the remains searched for armaments. In a tent I found a group of tattered standards trampled into the dirt, this was an old outpost the Trolls had holed up on. "Set these up around camp." The thin figure lumbered of into the wilderness. I quickly followed him, detouring at the west-most entrance to our stronghold. A mage of bone slowed at my side, "They come. The ones of Light." "Call the armies, rally them to our cause." Hearing the slow crank of wooden wheels eagered my anticipation, and brought a ball into my throat. My old brothers crested the hill, I rose to meet them, my legions stirred. "Order them to hold, I will let them feast when I am done..." "They hunger for war my leige, they hunger for conflict. "Then tell them I will lure them to us when we are fully assembled." I galloped away on Argos. All was not right, I had not made the preperations neccisary to allow them into my base. An arrow flew through the air, and pierced the hull of my breastplate. Still I rode, the whispers filling me with hate. I heard the dull roar of footmen charging at orders to remove the plague. I drove Argos past former his limits, he cared not, he was faster than ever. I glimsed at a single paladin cresting the hill, He was clad in blue, his hammer bright and new. His followers bore the mark of Azeroth, not Lorderan. "Stormwind..." He turned to meet my icey gaze. He then raised his hammer to the sky, and pointed at me with his free hand, incanting something I could not hear. The wall of men collapsed upon me, And in my suprise They were clashing behind me with my new brothers. The mage must've disobeyed, letting my forces feed. Treason would not be tolerated. My anger surpassed my senses, hate filled me. These were not my allies, they had abandoned us in our plight to purge the plague from our lands. I took fifty four lives before I reached the Paladin. He swept Argos to the ground, and before I recovered, he struck me over my skull. I felt no pain, It hadn't even broke my motion. I rose, and he struck me again, breaking the arrow shaft protruding from my chest. I still had no reaction to it. "You, will do fine."I held his shoulder, and drove the Bloodreaver into his chest to the hilt. I heard the breath take from him, his essence siphoning into the sword. "Perhaps I should've had more fun with it." and with that, I rent it from his dying husk, the ground around me bubbled, and rotted away, consuming all living things in it, even former living things. Sub zero temperatures emmited from my arm's extension. And a blue haze twined up from the tip of the blade surrounding my arm. I felt it's iceyness enter my hands, and fill me with a new cold. It felt as if all the ice of Northrend had consumed me. It felt strong.

A week passed and I still felt alien in my new land. Filled with hate and ire I rebuked my troops constantly with executions thus instilling a weak order that served well against the waves of infantry breaking against our phalanx. I forged skeletal footman into hoplites, cavalry, longbowmen, rangers, engineers who acted as shock troops. I had instructed one of the wights who retained most of his memory to fashion enough weaponsmiths and armorsmiths to support the war effort. Oddly as time passed more and more of the ghastly creatures regained thier minds, every one that we raised retained the information as I did. The exceptions were the abominations and ghouls who fell into more order and thier hungers weened, and fresh from the grave they bore less dependencey on orders. I must say I was not pleased with the cadavars that filled my battalions, and elected to research bestowing the gift. It was during a summary of studies at the converted temple of the damned, that I had this conversation with a forward guard; "My Sovereign, We have report of an incomng orc warforce, they bear the banner of Warsong." "So they have escaped thier encampents...great work Arthas." "The have armed themselves well, it seems as though they have been free for a while." "This meeting is adjourned. Ready yourselves for battle." I exited irritated, angry. I had sent most of my force on an expedition to Quel'Thalas, to find ground and fashion a holding until my academics were finished. I would be left to utilize guardsmen and the small garrison of untrained troops. It seemed minitues for us to ready, and the orcs were upon us. The guards were trained well but fell to the axe as would thier human counterparts. Few surpassed expectations and stood ground, baneing anything that brushed pass. I hadn't had a chance to mount, and fought with rage. The first orc that charged me, I shoved my open hand into his mandible, gripping at his hard pointed teeth, and ripped his jaw from his form. He fell bleedinging out and wimpering as the next was on me. I dealt with him by pushing the fingers of my left hand through the flesh underneath the diaphram on his left. I placed my right hand bearing the reaver across his chest and pulled my left arm tearing out from sternum to spine and ten ribs. The next fell with a clean shot of the reaver meeting the osophagas. The fourth I crushed his skull in my arm like a nutcracker as I skewered the fifth in the left lung. The sixth I impaled, forcing my weight on the metal in his heart. My rage boiled out into a cry that shook the hearts of all mortals that day. My blade matched me and wreathed in a dark angry hatred, the haze roared as flame and was harmony with the growls seeping throught my teeth.

Months passed, my campaign moved from the northern kingdoms, We attacked Azeroth, raiding monuments of the first war. Our headquarters were in Duskwood, we pressed through Elwynn, slaughtering civilians in Goldshire and Northshire Abbey. I amassed my forces for a final push to Stormwind Keep. This symbol of human triumph would be fitting for the new empire of Darkness, I at the crown. We broke through thier lines ripping apart thousands. We fought into Old Town, and the enemy put pressure back on us. It was here my stand was made. They outnumbered us, but we were stronger. Sixty men to one Abomination, fifteen for a mere Ghoul. My failure was that thier sorcerors had taken out my armada of Gargoyles, thier Magi and Rangers, my Frost Wyrms. I sent in my weapon of destruction, Sargetha, the blue dragon queen. She tore apart the troops behind the line, perching herself atop the keep itself. She was magnificent, crushing her foes with her claws, her boney fingers piercing thier finest armors as she gripped them with rage. Thousands of men tossed into the air, her breath freezing and throwing them into others. She fought valiantly for an hour, thier strength waning. I witnessed reinforcements from Lorderan amassing for an assault on our flanks. "Fall back, leave the rest to Sargetha." We re-alligned to defend against the new intrusion.I glanced back to Sargetha, her cries were filling with ire, she snapped off a tower and a man dove toward her throwing his great maul behind him. My eyes widened as he broke her horn, driving it into her brain. She screamed, and thrashed about trying to kill her assailant, but he stood astride her neck, balancing himself for his kill. Sliding down one of her ribs, he was momentarilyimpeeded by her wing slamming into the keep. He tore around it and called a blessing on her heart. I saw her spirit dissipate her body collapsing into the streets. My attention focused on the reinforcements, they blocked our escape, and we could no longer obtain victory with two fronts. We fought the rest of the day, loosing ground until late after sunset. It was here I was to make my final stand and feel the release of death yet again. I was allowed no such reward. The same Paladin who executed my faithful weapon stood before me, releaving the rest of the alliance infantry of thier new task. I gritted my teeth, ravenous at anyone who dared step close to me. I drove into the line, hacking away at the killzones of the feeble men, Argos in turn trampling and snorting flame into faces of atleast a score. My still heart apparently still felt pain, I collapsed gripping at it. Argos loosing balance and a knight bleeding out his soul with his lance. I reached for my sword, quickly retreating to clutch my heart. The paladin stepped forward, "I know your evil, your betrayal." "Then finish me, human." "Your evil will only be ressurected in some dark place. No, I think I have a better Idea..."

I was jailed underneath the city I intended to rule. They stripped me of my armor, the Bloodreaver, and my pride. I was informed that Bolvar, regent of Stormwind, couldn't decide what to do with me and he elected to hold me until Varian returned or Anduin grew of age to rule alone. The great paladin apparently had more pressing matters to attened to, and left me under to watch of five of his best students. I was chained naked to the ceiling of a cell in isolation, the warrior priests holding the gate. I spent years meditating in my cage, silence was constant, broken only by the shifting metal of my hostile entourage. Late one evening my quiet was shattered by the sounds of combat, another riot. This time, it was louder, closer. My guards readied themselves, multitasking to adress the new problem as well as focusing on my confinement. Thier eyes widened, and took stance as a mob collapsed upon them, newer inmates who had no Idea who I was. I flashed a smile, and threw my arms infront of me, stone and chainlink announceing my freedom as thier fall ended. I swung around and propped myself upright on the chains holding my ankles, and flexed my calves, the combination of weight and pressure sent them and me to the stone floor. I caught myself at a kneel, and rose as the inmates were looting the bodies of armor and weapons. three stopped, and one moved to unlock my cage as I approached the bars. "Take this," I accepted the hammer. "Rohart, give the man some pants." I waited as the short lean man darted off. "Why are you here?" "Heh..." I could see cold breath seep through my teeth. The maul sat with it's iron head on stone, and I found this position useful as I quickly drove the roof of it aginst the wall, a cranium between. "The man's dropped of the edge!" I struck the neck of the next in line, "How I've missed this..." I crushed another, tears flowed down his face, wailing at his shoulder that now resided in his lung. The last drew a blade, and I tossed my armerment away, wanting his. He swung, catching the crossbar I intruduced my hand to his throat, and pried the weapon from his hands. "I must thank you. You have sewn the foundations to a new kingdom. Your name?" "Aldar..." he stuggled as he spoke, hoping I would spare him. He would have no such reward. It was then Rohart showed himself, deceased. Tossing his lifeless body to the hearth was an elf. "And you are?" His voice exhaled through his cracked flesh. "Terratanus.." he gazed off down the hall, "And you know me?" "Fifty yards to the armory, a stone vault with and incantation of light. Complete yourself." Cleaning the steel on my thigh, I witnessed him tear apart his face, and as the skull was finally exposed he dissapated. I yearned for the reaver all these years, it's absence left me weak and unable to focus. This dark elf had instructed me where to retrieve it. I followed his instructions, exisiting the cramped hallway and turning left, to the right was twenty feet and a dead end, and forward was thirty meters into more cells. A short distance down the hall I was joined by the rest of the riotees, a dwarf barking orders. They charged for the gates, releasing orcs and ogres. I found the armory, and standing before the great vault, I snatched a gnome running behind me. "Open the vault." "Hey! Good idea! Let's see... seaforium should work well." He placed some mechanical device at the base of the great door, and beckoned me to exist the room. We flattened ourselves against the outside wall as it detonated, it broke apart and threw stoney fire into the horde of prisoners still filling the quarters. I took a peek at the aftermath, the door was off, but the frame shone with light and was unaffected. "Go in." "My that's some great forging. I wonder what ore they used. You know I think I remember reading about this during a summit at the old obervitories, boring things really. Always talking on and on about the sky and the odd things in it. We don't have the technology to reach the interesting objects yet so I blow it off until we do. Sometimes they bring in Elves to talk about the arcane..." I picked him up and hurled him into the vault, he violently stopped against an invisible wall as if he had hit golden armor. Atleast he was silent. By this time the prisoners had stopped, and were being slowly pushed back. Reinforcements had arrived. I looked around, and found a stormwind guardsman's plate. I donned it and took a matching sheild and blade. Time for a little fun. Wearing the mail brought memories of Lordaeron and fighting against orcs, thus the first life I took while in the herald of my enemy was of the blackrock clan. I cut a swath through many, seperating the lines, workng back to the cells, few behind me bothering to assist. I finished, and pivoted only to see the few remaining beginning a retreat. I slaughtered the ones within reach, and worked my way to the gates where the guardsmen and a few unknown faces were withdrawing aswell. A few adventurous ones stayed behind pickingup pieces of armor and magical items left in the vault. A priest was opening the vault's etheral gate as I entered. My armor looked as if it was red, even the blue comb was stained and this drew stares from the others looting. I said nothing, and waited for the priest to finish. These men and women bore the signs of harsh lives, but none seemed to know exactly what I was, they assumed I was an officer in the guard. The priest finished, and a burly warrior shoved him aside, looking for the best equipment for himself. This brought about the ire of a warlock who challenged the man to a duel. A crescent broke my guile as I pondered the idiocy of this raiding party. While they were busy taking blows and trying to calm eachother I stole my way in, and immediatley felt the presence of the reaver. I found it proturding from a base forard of a manniquin bearing my old armor. Taking the Bloodreaver before stripping down I felt it's iceyness fill me again. I knew now how maddening it's curse of abscence was as I felt the other half of my soul fill in. I thought for a moment, I could not take the city alone, and must hide myself from the general populace. A cloak provided ample camoflauge and I sheathed the reaver. Beyond the still bickering humans I was blinded by the light from the outside, seeing only white as my eyes adjusted to the sun. "My empire shall rise, and from it, we will purge the world of it's great evils and misconceptions. And with the scales eternally tipped, we will erect Morality to reign across all of Azeroth."

A notebook left in Goldshire
There is a small piece of leather binding tucked behind an etching of the Gilneas Herald.

Noticed a man in dark garb by the fire. I generally disapprove of the actions in this place, and this man's demanor coupled with the evils that undertake here just pushed me over the precipice. I engaged him in heated tongues, and he just sat and listened. Exhausting all of my feelings in the matter, he stood. And said something along the lines of his disapproval of the watered down ale, and then began rambiling about his tankard, twisting into the infections and diseases probably hidden in the unwashed mug, and further, into killing me with it in a rather violent way. Having been a veteran of the second war, I met his tensions, and we faced eachother in silence for a long while. He broke it with a laugh, stating he was not here for what I had implied, and he assumed at my visable age, I was not either, and at this shareing, he was content with my presence. I told him my name upon inquisition, and reflected his curiosity to which he responed The Wanderer. We sat, drank, and shared stories long after sunset. He asked alot of questions, and answered few, late at night I admitted my excessive use of alcohol and that I needed to rest until morning. Something urged me to ask if he had a room when reaching the peak of the stair. His only reply, "Goodnight." and with a smile he opened a door to a room I thought I could hear indecentries flowing from. The door shut, and I could hear no more. Morning rose, and I intended to find him but the innkeep had a slip of mind as to who he was. I went to release my horse, and found two naked bodies lacerated and cleaved in ways I could not bear to describe on parchment. They had been tossed out of the second story with all thier belongings, from equipment, to cookware, to paper. Some of the bloodpools had stained the ground, but were missing. I could only think of the wanderer, and our final pleasantries.