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This is the background story to my deathknight. It's a little bloody ^^;
The mist was everywhere. It was slightly yellow and red to the color, and covered the plagued earth beneath it. The sound of distant screams and moans drowned in the mist, even the harsh cry of a lonely raven. Leaves of plagued trees slowly fell down on the ground, some of them caressing a hooded figure crouching on the ground. Green eyes glimmered softly as he looked up from the withered grass, and the hood fell down. It showed a face of a bloodelf, and the tanned skin hinted that he was used to be outdoors. His long yellow hair was practically tied into a thick ponytail, so it did not get in the way. The rest of the bloodelf was practical as well. He was clad in a plain leather armor, with the insignia of Silvermoon on his chest. On his sides two slender swords rested, and on his back a bow and a quiver full with arrows.
Coruel was his name, a scout and ranger of the elven kingdom. His steps where light and left no traces in the woodland, and his keen eyes was vary of the tracks of undead and other vile things made. This was his fifth scouting mission in Eastern Plaguelands, and Coruel hated every second of it. It was an eerie, cold rotting place only fit for the undead. He could barely remember how it looked before the traitor Arthas took over the throne and sent his land into despair. The humans that once lived here now were the enemy he and the other elves fought every day at the borders of Ghostlands. The destruction of the Sunwell had killed most of his friends and family, but those who where left fought on to live.
He sighed, and stopped to check the earth after tracks. Nothing. It was strange, not finding anything in the soil for once. Perhaps he could relax for a bit when he returned to the camp for once, but the elf doubted it. There was no rest for skilled trackers like himself. It was his and the other scouts skills that had kept them alive for so long. He could rest when he returned to Silvermoon. With soft sigh, barely audible, he continued his work.
After scouting through the woods, Coruel made his way around the dead and blighted trees and sneaked back into the base camp. The smell of smoke met his nose, and he could feel a faint trace of tea in it. Hopefully it would be some of that left for him. The elf lifted his hand over his mouth, and made a sound like an owl twice. It was replied by a low whistle, and nodding Courel walked his way into the camp. Twenty elves were there, sitting around the fire or guarding the surrounding area. In the middle of the small camp sat Captain Jaithlar Skyseeker, a tall and proud elf with long red hair. He was dressed in fullplate, with a tabard of Silvermoon over the shining metal. He was armed with a shield and a sword, and his eyes glowed green. Beside him sat Nirielle Silverbirch. She was tall and slim, her hair black as a raven’s wing and her eyes glowed with a soft green light, like emeralds. She was also dressed in fullplate, and on her back rested a slim spear. He had known both of them since childhood, and Nirielle was his fiancé. She was his reason, his love that kept him going in this cruel world.
The woman whispered something to Jaithlar. She kept one hand on her stomach, and she looked stressed. Perhaps it was the tension of doing a mission, Coruel thought and sighed. After all, death was close in these lands. He was calm though. As long as Jaithlar was at her side when he was away, Nirielle would safe. Coruel walked towards his friends and made a short bow. The two elves stopped whispering as he arrived, but Coruel thought nothing of it. He gave them both a quiet smile.
“Captain Skyseeker”, Coruel saluted and waited for the other elf’s response.
“Scout Coruel, would you be so kind and report your findings”, said Skyseeker and offered him a cup tea. “Your beloved insisted to save this for you.”
Nirielle blushed slightly, and Coruel smiled wider and nodded.
“Thank you sir”, he said with warmth in his voice. He carried on. “I didn’t find anything unusual this morning, but the mist is getting thicker. If I may, captain, we should head home before it engulf everything. It is hard enough to see where to walk in this state.”
“Well, we are almost done here”, said Skyseeker and looked around at his troops. “When I get home I would fancy a long hot bath.”
“A bath! I could offer hundreds of gold for one”, Coruel could hear one of the soldiers whisper and he couldn’t help himself. He gave out a soft chuckle and smiled. Life’s simple pleasures was the best after all.
“Since Mr. Dawnthreader is looking forward for his bath, we will leave now. Everyone, break up camp and let’s go. I want to be able to dine in Silvermoon tonight.”
The men and women followed Captain Skyseeker’s orders, and there was no trace after the tents and the campfire when they were done. Coruel helped as well, and when he was done he started to speak with Nirielle. She was so stunning in her armor, beautiful and dangerous at the same time. She was a fierce fighter and he trusted her with his full heart. Even the cold, eerie mist couldn’t diminish her beauty. As they walked, their conversation turned into a cherry one.
“So my dear, I think we should have our wedding in a few days”, said Nirielle and gave him a huge grin.
“So soon?” Coruel joked and got bumped on his neck. “Ow. All right, we will do as you say my love.”
Nirielle giggled, but kept it low. They were not safe yet.
“Excellent. I will wear my red dress, and you will wear your uniform.”
“No I don’t want to wear that stiff thing. Besides, it smells of blood and gore. I would rather have a clean and neat wedding, don’t you think?”
“But you look so handsome in it. How about you wash it?”
“Well that would work too. But it will take more than a few days, mark my words. Just look at it now.”
He showed her his armor, and it was tattered and soiled with dried blood. It was hard to keep it clean in a land where the water was poisoned. Nirielle sighed and shook her head.
“Never mind that idea. Don’t you rangers have any parade uniform at least? I refuse to marry you in simple clothing.”
“Let me assist you with the clothing, Miss Silverbirch. I would hate to see something horrible happened to your beloved because his lack of fashion sense.”
Coruel and Nirielle looked up, and blushed when they met the captain’s gaze. He just grinned back and waved them away.
“It would be my pleasure”, he winked and looked at Coruel. “To more serious matters, could you scout behind us?”
“Of course captain. Nirielle, I will see you in awhile”, said Coruel and bowed towards Skyseeker. Then he quietly slipped into the mist, into the cold and silent woodland.
The elf smiled softly, and then turned serious. He and Nirielle always had that conversation when they were at a mission. He just hoped that one day their plans would be true, and they would settle down in Silvermoon and help out with the rebuilding of the city. But that was just thoughts; wishes they both knew wouldn’t be permitted until the undead threat was gone. He and Nirielle would fight on against the undeads with their group, until the dead stayed dead or… Until one of them died. Coruel shuddered at the mere thought. He couldn’t think a world without Nirielle, without her loving smile, her beaming beautiful eyes, and her soft lips against his own.
A sudden sound interrupted his thoughts, and the elf quickly hid himself behind a tree. Carefully, he tried to focus on the high sound. It was a harsh, chanting sound, and very, very carefully Coruel looked at the direction of the sound from his hiding spot. A cloaked figure stood alone in the mist, with arms outstretched towards the sky. The mist danced around him, sometimes hiding him from the elf’s eyes. Then Coruel noticed that something started to rise from the ground. The sound of flesh ripping apart, a moan that mixed with the chanting. It could possibly only be one thing: That figure was a necromancer. The elf unsheathed his bow, and carefully took aim towards the necromancer’s hearth. With no warning, the arrow flew straight ahead, right into the man’s chest. The chanting sound turned into a high scream, and then was silenced forever. Coruel just prayed to the Light that he wasn’t too late.
Something rose in the mist. Coruel blinked and dared almost not to breathe as he watched the other figures in the mist. The thing slowly turned towards him, and the elf slowly started to back away from the place. The corpse that the necromancer was working with was on the move. A wind swept through the trees, sweeping away the mist for a few seconds. The lack of mist showed Coruel five more undeads, slowly moving around looking after something to eat. The zombies found the dead corpse of the necromancer, and with moaning sounds they started to feast on him. The sound of flesh ripping apart, bones breaking and the sound of chewing almost made the elf throw up. It was utterly disgusting. Pale, he quickly moved away from there, hoping that with the necromancer dead the zombies would stay there as long as there was… Flesh left. He had to report it to Captain Skyseeker, that there was something on the move that could possible hurt them or delay their return to Silvermoon. Quiet as a ghost, he ran back to the others.
As soon as Coruel saw the group, unharmed, he let out a small breath of relief. Nothing had happened to group, but the ranger had feeling that this wouldn’t last long. Three of the other rangers had not returned. A sense of dread spread around the elves, gripping them with fear. Something must had taken them in the wood...
“Captain”, Coruel whispered softly as soon as he arrived to Skyseeker. He made a brief salute. “There is a problem behind us, sir.”
“What?” The captain’s voice was calm, but Coruel could hear a small hint of anxiousness in it.
“I found a necromancer. He is dead now, but his minions are… Consuming him. It was utterly disgusting.” Coruel tried to make his voice steady. “I am afraid that there is more of his kind here.”
“Let’s see what Dawnthreader says when he returns”, Skyseeker said softly. “Perhaps you only found a single necromancer. We are not far away now to the gates of Ghostlands…”
A high scream interrupted them both, and all the soldiers froze. Both Coruel and Skyseeker turned their heads towards the sound, and their long ears shivered as they tried to identify the sound. The scream came again, only to end just as suddenly it started.
“That was Dawnthreader!”, hissed Nirielle and her huge eyes glowed with a hint of panic. “What could have happened to him?”
“Everyone, draw your weapons. Make ready for combat.” Skyseeker’s voice was composed. “If we can fight our way to the gates, we will survive. Be ready for anything.”
Men and women drew their swords and bows, and with no yell or warning, the undead came. A group of zombies, dead humans and elves, moved towards the living. The zombies were dressed in tattered clothes, the flesh was black with necrosis and dried blood covered the rest of their skin. Most of them had no eyes, just unholy blue energy that glowed eerily in the gloomy light. Flies and maggot crawled in their flesh, and the smell was foul beyond description.
The battle was short but desperate. Many of the zombies fell silently to the elves keen blades, but as soon as one of the undead fell, it started to move again. Coruel and Nirielle fought beside each other, protecting their backs from the zombies claws and nails. It was no trace of the force controlling the undeads, but after the elves had hacked every zombie to pieces, the undeads did not rise again. Two of the elves had fallen, and their dead bodies where savaged beyond recognition. Skyseeker looked pale and grim; he gritted his teeth as he looked around after a chance for his troop to escape this horror.
“Everyone, fall back to Ghostlands! Make a run for it!”
All the elves started to run instantly, unaware it was right into their own demise.
Coruel ran quickly behind Nirielle, with his bow in his hand. The air, the land… Everything was dead silent. All he could hear was the shallow breath of the others as they ran as fast as they could.
There was something that wasn’t right. The scouts should have seen the pack of zombies earlier. It had to be something else that had slain them. But what could possibly kill three, no four elves in less than one breath of air?
Something grabbed his throat, dragging him backwards. The force was powerful enough to almost choke him. Suddenly it stopped, and something hit him hard on the back. The fall and the hard collision with the ground knocked the wind out of him. Gasping after precious air, the elf looked up from the plagued ground. Right into a nightmare. A dark shape filled his vision, and ice cold fear swept into Coruel’s heart. The shape, it seemed to be a man, was dressed in black, spiked full plate armor. Over his shoulders was a long dark cloak, embroidered with sinister pale blue runes into the fabric. A helm covered his head, and it looked like a metallic skull. The man carried a greatsword, shining with unholy energy. Twisted runes covered the blade, and the crossguard was formed as a cranium of a goat.
A death knight…
Coruel could hear someone scream, a high sound of anguish. The elf could breathe again, and he gasped when he looked up. From the death knight, a dark force extended from his hand, like a chain, to one of the fleeing elves. It dragged the elf towards the knight, and the helpless soldier couldn’t do anything to escape from it. The elf fell down on his knees, shaking with fear. Without any sound, the sword brutally decapitated the man. The death knight went silently to his next victim, ignoring the beheaded corpse of the man that he just slain. This was bad, really bad. Coruel could just watch as he saw the death knight slay another of his comrades, this time a woman. The knight knocked her unconscious, or dead, Coruel didn’t know for sure, and dragged another elf to him with the dark force. The ground erupted under the two elves, and the area was covered with something that looked like boiling blood. The male screamed of pain, and Coruel could see that mans skin turned into black. It ran through his whole body, and a few seconds later, he just fell apart. His flesh smelled of decay, and the woman beside him fell apart as well, equally decayed. The death knight was superior to all of them. They could never dream of surviving this monster.
Jaithlar turned around, and took a sharp breath as he saw the death knight when it started to massacre his men. The screams of agony filled is ears, and dread took hold of his heart. He couldn’t let her die… His men where lost anyway... Jaithlar quickly moved to Nirielle, and grabbed her hand.
“Nirielle, let’s go!”, he gasped, and dragged her away.
“But Coruel…”, she said faintly.
“I don’t mind if it’s his or mine. But you need to leave now, or else you both will die.”
“I… I cannot let it happen…”, she sobbed. “But the others… They…”
“They are lost! It’s a death knight Nirielle! He is impossible to kill. Don’t let the others sacrifices be in vain. They have given us enough time to run!“
The woman sobbed, and found new strength to carry on. Both elves ran swiftly to the gates, waving to the guards that guarded the gate to open it.
“Open the gate!” Jaithlar roared. “Quickly, while that fiend is preoccupied!”
The gate slowly opened up, with just enough space for the elves to enter. A woman met them, and her expression was of both regret and resolute.
“Sir, do you want us to help your men?”, she asked quietly. Her expression showed that she already knew the answer.
“No.”
Coruel shivered with fear. Sweat ran down from his temples into his eyes, and the elf tried his best to blink it away. Pure horror had him in its grasp, choking him with fear and worst of it, paralyzed him motionless. They could never win... But... He couldn't watch his comrades and friends die without doing anything to defend them. Coruel took a deep breath, and yelled.
“Don't just stand there! Fight him! Think of what will happen if this thing arrive to Silvermoon!”
The other ten elves that were left snapped out of their fear, and with shrill battlecries they threw themselves at the death knight. The knight readied his greatsword, and met their attack with equall fierceness. Swords and knives bounced off the black armor, but a few of the blades made it though the knights defense. The knight didn't care thought. He threw himself at the soldier beside Coruel, and the elf could only watch how each cut penetrated the armor like it was made of paper. The elven soldier's face turned white, then black, and and dark red foam came out of his mouth. The elf fell spasming to the ground. His hands contracted into claws, and then he was still. Coruel gasped, and doubled his efforts. That death knight had to die, and soon. He tried to stab the death knight in his tight, trying to stop his moment, but the blade shattered of the force of the collision. Coruel watched in disbelief how the small pieces that once was his sword flew through the air and to the ground. Another scream was heard, and when Coruel ran past the death knight to grab a new sword from a fallen friend, he watched in horror how another elf fell to the ground. He desperatly clawed at his arms, his chest, legs... The screams got loader and loader until his skin erupted. Out of the wounds came several huge worms. Soon it covered the unfortunate elf, consuming his flesh and blood. The death knight seemed to be empowered by that action, and with new vitality the man stabbed another attacker. The dying scream filled Coruels ears. He wanted to run away, he wanted to hide, he wanted to be somewhere else than here. But he couldn't. He had to fight, for Nirielle, for his friends, for Silvermoon. He could only hope that she wasn't dead.
A cloud of blackness interrupted his thoughts, and he barely managed to dodge it. The others wasn't so lucky. Three of them got caught in the cloud, and their flesh started to decay instantly.
“Move away from that cloud!” Coruel yelled, trying to warn the rest of his comrades. With horror in his eyes, Coruel saw how the last remaining elves looked at each other. They nodded, and then charged the death knight. They fought with the fierceness that only people with nothing to lose could muster. It seemed to work. The death knight was pressed hard, and the soldiers drove him away from the dark cloud. Coruel joined them, and he danced around the knight trying to hit him with his remaining sword. There was no time to look after a new weapon. One by one, the knight defeated them. The last elf, beside Coruel, threw himself at the death knight sword arm. He yelled and scream, and stabbed the armor cladded arm with all his might.
“Coruel! Kill him!”, the elf wailed.
Coruel took a deep breath, and cried out. His sword hit the neck of the death knight, and shattered. Coruel went dead silent, trying to understand what just happened. This was impossible, this was not real. He had failed them all...
“THE SWORD!”
The yell abruptly ended, but Coruel had heard it. With wild eyes, he looked after a sword, and found the huge runesword on the ground. The blade gleamed with unholy energy, but with no hesitation Coruel took it. The death knight must had dropped it somehow. The elf looked up, just in time to see how the death knight was busy with strangling the last elf beside Coruel. Wailing with despair, Coruel raised the sword and impaled the death knight chest. The sword hilt burned his hands, he could smelled the scent of burned flesh. Sobbing, he drew the sword out of the knight again and stabbed him yet again.
The knight fell down on the ground, motionless. Coruel dropped the sword, and sank down on his knees.
“Free... At last...”
The voice was distorted, yet it sounded relieved. Like a long pain finally gone. The knights iceblue eyes stopped shining. He must be dead. He really must be dead. Coruel tried to stand, but he wobbled and almost fell down on the ground again. They where all dead. Everyone. The bodies of the dead elves was spread around the death knight, twisted and tormented beyond recognition. The gate was so close, yet so far away. The scouts would never met their loved ones again, never met their family, friends... Coruel froze as he saw who was standing at the gate. No, behind it. Nirielle and Jaithlar. But why? Shaking, he reached out with his hand towards the gate, as the futile gesture would move him closer to them.
The world turned up and down, and his body felt as it was torn to pieces. Coruel screamed, and when he landed he cried out of pain. Gasping with pain, the elf tried to find out what had hit him. He could barely move his head slighty to the side, and the elf saw that he was bleeding badly. The ground turned red beneath him, yet he couldnt feel anything. Something had hit his spine, and broken it. There was no escape from this hellish place. He would die here, bleeding to death.
Why did Jaithlar abandoned him? Why did Nirielle leave him?
The sound of something slithering closer made him look at the side, and horror filled his whole being. His dead comrades had became undead. Their limp bodies moved awkwardly, but the worst thing was their faces. The only expression Coruel could see was hunger.
He tried to scream, but only a wheezing came out of his mouth, together with a cough of blood.
“Do you want to live?” The voice thundered in his head, cold and cruel like a howling blizzard from the north. The power of the voice was immense, absolute. No one denied it and lived to tell the tale.
“I can save you from this nightmare.”
Coruel watched how his former comrades come closer. He could see them more clearly now, hear their moaning sounds of hunger. Their once clear, kind and gentle blue eyes burned of unholy light, craving for life and flesh.
“I can give you eternal life and power beyond your dreams. The power to save yourself. The power to save your friends and loved one.”
Coruel sobbed, a coughing sound as he could feel the ghouls fingers over his arms.
“All you have to do is to fight for me, in my name.”
The elf screamed as the ghouls started to claw on his body, biting his flesh.
“Swear it, and you will be saved.”
“I swear! I will fight in your name”, Coruel whispered, sobbing with fear and pain. “Save me...”
His voice was cut off when a former elf slashed his throath off. A cold presence surronded Coruel, embraced him with ice and numbness. Claws and pain beyond description took him into howling blizzard of nothingness.
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