The Fallen Crusader

[Saturo]

A hero. That's what I once was. I stood boldly against the shadow, and purchased another dawn for my allies. With my life.

I still remember it like if it was yesterday. 
"Archers, back row! Spellbreakers, keep the gates at ALL costs! And I do not want to see a single magister not casting!"
The orders of General Lorathien were though. He would not allow any deviants. Grumpily I took my position in the front rows, near the great gate. Other spellbreakers were lining up near the smaller gates. 

We could see the ravens flying above us. They expected death, and corpses to feed off. Sadly, I knew that they were going to get a LOT of food soon. I had been up on the wall earlier, and I had almost immediately wished I hadn't. The foul armies of the Scourge were slowly marching towards us, headed by a single knight. Horrific wagons drove forward next to horrible, lightforsaken zombies, Geists, ghouls, even what seemed like a giant. 

I could see the other paladins occassionally. They had taken position amongst the spellbreakers. All of them were humans, i was the only elven paladin i had seen. There weren't that many of us here, Prince Arthas had dissolved the Silver Hand a while ago. The paladins had spread out, most joining a church of some kind. Others, like me, had decided to stop this foul "plague", no matter the price. Rumours had spread of the undead march upon the elflands. I had come here not only for the battle, but also for my heritage. 

We could hear them know. The knight had reached the gates, and was just about to yell out his message to us. The Ranger-General had disappeared about an hour ago, but there was no doubt that she would not be missing during the battle. 

***

I didn't know it then. I don't know if it would have mattered. 

The gate opened! The knight was smiling triumphantly, and I instantly recognized his pale face. Prince Arthas! The human next to me, Korga, had also noticed. He seemed much more surprised. Lord Uther had been correct. Arthas was carrying an urn of some sort, and as we all stood and awaited his next action, we shuttered. A cold wind had blown over us, unnaturally cold for Eversong Woods. As Arthas lowered his weapon towards us, the undead masses charged. General Lorathien was not slow to follow with his own command. 
The spellbreakers had started their variation of a combat strategy, and I smiled at the realization. I could easily defeat them all in hand-to-hand combat, or even with a weapon. Their training didn't prepare then for enemies that can't be affected by their spells. As I rushed forward with my blade raised above my head, I could hear the light sound of arrows. They rained down on the front rows of the undead, and many of the decrecit beasts fell. 
Towering in front of me was a horror that I could not have imagined. The huge golem looked like it was stitched together from several corpses. It's left hand was carrying a large hook, with which it tried to pierce me. I raised the small shield, and almost fell backwards under the heavy blast. I quickly got my balance back, however, a d tried a quick series of sliceing moves. It worked a bit too well, and a large amount of a green, gooey substance splashed out on me as the abomination fell. The moment the fleshgolem hit the ground incould hear a loud screech. A fetid zombie had jumped towards me with it's sharp claws raised. I ducked and raised my shield horizontally.
"Eek!" was all I heard before the headless corpse fell at me. It's head had been severed against my shield. It's corpse was heavier than it's size indicated, and I had to struggle to lift it off of me. Not too far away I could see Prince Arthas fighting three spellbreakers at once. He was quickly winning, and I could only watch in horror as he slaid each one and then raised then to fight as part of his foul, unholy army. I shouldn't have paid so much attention to their fate. I felt the pain in my chest. As I looked down, I saw a long sword sticking out of me, right at my heart. The pain of the sword going in wasn't the worst. It was the clumsiness of the soldier drawing it out that hurt. He had twisted the sword. I tried turbig around, but only my left leg was working. I fell around, and found a young elf holding a long, bloody bastard sword. A wicked grin was spread over his pale face. "Foul shadow" was all I thought as I drifted off, dying. 

Death. It wasn't the end. Not even near. 

The pain. Overwhelming. But not as bad as the hunger. For blood. Flesh. The living. I was one of them! But the realization was without horror. Such feelings were gone. I struggled to lift myself up, but I couldn't. 

"This one is strong, scourgelord!"
I was pulled to my feet. I managed to open my eyes, and found myself staring into an almost skeletal face. It was still alive, but it's exposure to necromantic magic had corrupted it beyond belief. 
"Paladin" it practically spat out, clearly no emphathy for such warriors. "The light won't help you now."
"I serve only Ner'Zul."
What did I say? I didn't think it, I just said it. 
The necrolord stared me in the face a bit longer, and then exclaimed "Take it to the Death Knights."
He threw me back at the ground, and I struggled to heave myself up. 

Nobody told me where to go. I just sensed it. As I began walking, I noticed how heavy my feet were. I turned my head skywards. A great citadel flew above me, decorated with skulls and other skeletal armaments. 

"What a sorrow state we are in, if this is the state of the new recruits." he said,  and shoved me forward to the other recruits. I took my place, and first now noticed that I still carried my longsword. I wasn't wearing the shield tough, some other undead had probably deemed it worth looting, and taken it.
My training wasn't like the one the knights of Acherus had received. It was much tougher. Once we finished, only four of us had been deemed worthy. I was amongst them. We were given information about how to emblazon our weapons with unholy runes of power. We learnt about runecasting. Killing. The modulation of death. Our final test was one of pure carnage. Kill the unworthy recruits. I remembered doing it with pleasure. Every single one of the cursed souls. 
It was this bloodlust that grabted me my final rank. Scourgelord. I was to ride into battle on my deathcharger, which had previously been called only "Vanquisher". I had raised the steed myself. 

I changed during this time. My skin grew paler, I had lost most of my blood when I died. I realized that I had been lying dead for almost a week before I got raised. But my skin was growing paler yet. My hair was losing it's colour. It was becoming a blueish/white colour instead. The glow of my eyes was becoming stronger. When I issued commands I could hear how my voice began to sound more like that of a banshee. It was echoing. 

***

Then came that day. I was sent to the necropolis called Acherus. My status as scourgelord meant that I was there to observe and lead the fight against the Scarlet Crusade. I sent many young Knights to their deaths to fight what would to them be impossible odds.

Today:
The scarlets had been defeated. The young Death Knights were issued their new armour, and sent off to Light's hope. We were preparing for the final battle. The necromancers were out in the scarlet town of New Agamand, getting us new troops. I was not concerned with that. My skill was in the use of the runesword, not the manipulation of life and death. I only cared when Highlord Mograine sounded the horn, sending a wave if death in. But I, a former paladin, should have known better. We thread on holy ground. The defenders were strenghtened by the Light. But such thoughts didn't even cross our mind as we flew in on our dead steeds. Our runed weapons were hungry for blood. The ghouls were crazed, clawing everything they could reach. Undead giants were stonping anything that moved. We Death Knights spread death and destruction. As the defenders of light fell, our necromancers raised them. We were doing well until the Ashbringer, highlord Mograines sword, started fighting it's master. 

Long story short, we lost. And we won.  

Now I stand here, with my free will back. In front of me are two portals, held active by the skeletal magi of the necropolis. One leads to Stormwind, capital of the alliance, where a small amount of my kind, the high elves, currently lives. The other leads to Orgrimmar, whereinwhich Thrall, leader of the Horde resides. My corrupted brethren, the Blood Elves are part of them.

And the choice is tearing my heart out. The young orcs had no problem choosing. Neither did the humans, night elves and other races. But I am part of both. And neither.

Which side to put my allegiance with?                

[Dragonpuff]

/claps
Very good! The jumps kinda threw me off for a bit, but once I got used to it, I think it worked well.
The decision he is left with at the end is very interesting. I only wish players could get that kind of choice!

[Saturo]

Yeah... I can't write without the jumps. I'd need some kind of filler text, and that I suck at. And since I didn't write it in there, it's about Decay, my high elf death knight. I don't play her anymore, but then again I wrote this about a year ago.

(She picked Horde in the end.)

[Sonata]

That was a wonderful story Saturo! 8D Any chance there miiiiight be more, my bookworm demands more to read.

[Saturo]

Perhaps, but the only other story I have finished is one about my dwarf pally, Ráper. And that one is just about a dwarf looking for the ship to Valiance Keep, but accidentally getting to Darnassus instead. It's sort-of fun, but I hate the way I wrote it. English assignement.

Oh, I have an EVE-chronicle too. It's about a private in the Federation armies getting hunted by cannibals on a spaceship. I submitted it a month ago, if it gets approved and posted I'll link to it.

But for deathknights, Roonok just wrote something AWESOME!

[Sonata]

*wags tail* xD aww that dwarven story sounds good.
I shall stalk Roonoks fics! *goes to reaaad them*
I don't know much about EVE but if it gets approved I'll try to read it.