User:Peregrine2976/Fanfiction/Call of the Lich King Part Two

You are....

I am.... Erra-

''No.... you are.... Frostbl-''

I.... am..... Er-

''No.... your name is...''

My.... name.... is.... Frost.... Blight....

Over and over again the voices whirled in his head. What little sense of self he had was slowly being devoured by the icy will of the Lich King. Lord Errant was disappearing, and Frostblight was taking his place. On the surface, Frostblight gloried in blood spilled and lives taken for his glorious master, but a small portion of Errant still within him shrieked out in horror at what he was doing.

Two years. Had it really been so short a time? It felt like centuries since Arthas had taken his soul. The horror he lived with seemed to extend time a thousandfold. Had he any free will left, he would have driven his sword through his own chest, but he had no will left. He had only the sense of horror, and the sense of dread of what he would become when Errant was gone forever. If he had still held control of his own body, he would have shuddered. He realized with revulsion that once Frostblight consumed Errant utterly, he would... revel, in this bloodbath, this slaughter. He would take joy in the murdering of hundreds - thousands - of innocents.

Frostblight...

Though he would sooner have fallen on his sword than obey the voice that echoed through his mind, he no longer had that choice.

''Frostblight... the humans calling themselves the Scarlet Crusade have counterattacked us again... hasten to the battlefield, and bring glory to the scourge... kill them in my name...''

Knowing he had no choice, he mounted his undead steed and rode to the battle.

* * *

As always, the living fled from his wrath. Unlike most Death Knights, who had slowly succumbed to the darker emotions of humanity and so drawn themselves into service of the Lich King, Errant had been transformed into Frostblight instantaneously. Most Death Knights were slow, cold, and calculating, taking the field with the icy surety that they would be triumphant. Frostblight, however, charged the enemy with reckless abandon, and his rage was, if anything, more terrifying than the cold non-chalance of his fellows. Roaring with fury, he drew Bloodshadow, his Runeblade, and cut into the enemy like a bolt of lightning. None were left alive.

Errant screamed, and Frostblight grinned wickedly, madly.

In the aftermath of the battle, Frostblight surveyed the carnage. It was good to see the enemies of his master falling before the inevitable might of the Scourge. Even now, their bodies were being transferred to Meat Wagons for storage until the Necromancers could arrive to raise them in service of the Lich King.

Suddenly, his mind was assailed by an army of images and sounds, rushing all at once. Then a clear message came through...

"Arthas... my champion!"

He frowned. His master had never been so clumsy before. Never had his orders to other Death Knights - let alone Arthas, his champion - ever been heard by others.

As he listened to the rest of the Lich King's command to Arthas, his eyes grew wide with shock. His master... was weakening? How was it possible? The Lich King was the glorious, most powerful being in the world!

And as Frostblight listened with stunned disbelief, Errant saw his chance.

With what little power and sense of self he had left, Errant thrust Frostblight, still numb with disbelief, to the side, and mometarily took control of the Death Knight's body. Frostblight was too slow to respond as Errant, with great relish, cut the phsycic link between him and the Lich King.

"I... am... Errant."