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Knightmare :

Part 1 :

I am awake... Yet I remember dying... I reach for the memories and they melt away from my mind disappearing into a chasm of darkness. My eyes open to a vision of hell around me. People are screaming and crying out for mercy. As my vision begins to slowly clear I can now make out men on the opposite side of the room. They are much older than I and crimson covers the floor beneath them. I try to look around the cavernous room to inspect every detail, yet my eyes seem to always wander back to the dark red pool spreading across the cold floor. It creeps ever closer to where I sit, but that does not appear to bother me although something tells me it should.


A loud clanging noise draws my attention to a dim light that has burst to life at my right. I slowly see a towering figure duck to enter the circular room. I sense his presence long before I actually see his full frame. A slight blue glow dances in his eyes as his helmeted head slowly scans the room. Their eerie glow brightens beholding the carnage displayed all around and it sends chills snaking up my spine. I want to turn away from this shadowy monster lurking in the rooms outer darkness, but a strange voice calls to me. It whispers sweet ecstasies to me as I feel a fog spread through my thoughts. I am wrapped within it’s suffocating embrace unable to struggle free. After a time I no longer try. My mind sways under the voices command as it’s soft hum becomes a hammering torrent.


My eyes track the tall metal clad figure stride from the shadows into the dim light of the room. He holds a rune etched sword in his right hand. A demonic skull adorns it’s hilt and again I feel the cold dig into me. It’s icy fingers sinking deep into my chest tightening around my heart and I gasp. Again I resist, but to no avail, the vile cold spreads throughout my body within seconds and suddenly I am quiet once more.


As I open my eyes for the second time a horrid, misshaped being now stands cowering before the armored monolith. His gray flesh hangs in ragged sections much like worn garments. His voice sounds wet as black gore drips from a ruined mouth. The disgusting creature points towards the pile of men across from me and the blue, glowing eyes turn. The sword rises towards the elder men and a blue haze springs forth crossing the space between them.


In a sudden movement one of the fallen rises. The blue glow envelopes him and a gnawing sensation tickles the back of my mind. I know it is hopeless for this pathetic man, but some lost part of me awakens to witness this combat between man and god. As the energy pulses around the frail human something surprising happens. The old, armored warrior takes a step forward. I can see a strange fury burning in the old man’s eyes as his teeth clench tight. Some indomitable spirit seems stirred to life within the old one as a guttural growl escapes his split lips. My eyes are drawn to his feet as the weathered leather boots rise and fall once more. Three steps forward now. The blue energy batters this foolish mortal with growing intensity, yet he wills himself onward, how I do not know.


The blue eyed mountain, with sword held firm, responds to the old man with a ghostly growl of his own. It sounds as if a thousand souls all call out together and I want to flee, but remain seated unable to move. The howls of anger from both combatants seem to shake the ground beneath me and the tiny, far away voice in my mind becomes clearer. I cover my ears against the assault trying to silence the war stirring within my own consciousness, but cannot take my eyes from the old man.


Against all hope the aged warrior has closed the gap now almost within arms reach. His cries burn in my mind like a wildfire. I want nothing more than scream in answer, yet my voice has fled me. I see the blue glowing eyes blaze forth in unrestrained anger and watch the sword bury itself into the center of the old man’s chest, but even then the warrior refuses to yield. My eyes widen as his two hands take hold of the titanic monster before him. With grim determination the elder warrior pulls himself along the swords entire length still holding the evil gods armored chest piece. The fire burning bright in the man’s eyes is a match for the cold blue orbs they peer into. The fearsome gods face seems to pull slightly back and his glowing eyes widen. But then he recovers. A sinister smile slowly spreads across his face and I see the wicked sword twist.


The old warrior never blinks, but I see the life ebb slowly from his once bright eyes. I do not know why, but the tiny voice within me suddenly screams out. The dark, monumental figure slowly allows the now dead body to slid from his sword. It crumples to the ground no longer defiant. I see it linger over the fallen warriors chest for some time then sense the air begin to vibrate around me. The dark gods head tilts back and rage explodes into the room as he screams. Somehow I know the reason. He has been denied this soul.


I pull myself from the spectacle in front of me. I am distracted by my own body. I look down to find my left hand shaking. The pool of blood has at last reached me. My fingers are covered with it’s cold stickiness. As my mind reels the tiny voice fading forever from my mind imparts one last truth upon me. The blood on my hand is that of my father. My eyes dart back to the fallen warrior. I want to reach out to him, but at that moment my lord beckons to me. I feel the tear on my check and wish I could stop from rising, from embracing this dark god, but I must obey, for he is my king...

Arghhh,


Part 2 later tonight. I have to move my computer again, due to the de-construction caused by home invaders. Curse mold and fungi in general...

Awesome. Just. Plain. Awesome.

I approve as well! Kind of want to create a DK on some random server and do the DK quests, just cause they were pure awesome. I don't like their ponies though...>.>

Okay,


Before dropping more parts of this story into the forums I should ask, the boards PG, PG-13..? Some of the torture / combat scenes are realistic in nature... I don't want to get myself banned here... This is about the damned and all...

Oooo me likey!

Knightmare :


Part 2 :

I walk behind my king, to where I do not know, but I must obey... The once caressing voice now mercilessly assaults my tattered thoughts and I know it is that of my master. Even as the pain in my mind becomes unbearable, his thundering voice bids me to endure. That I am to be reborn. To know the truth as no other ever has. To be set free from the shackles of life’s sapping entropy.


Behind me. In a room now forgotten. My father lies cold and dead upon a nameless floor. His blazing spirit extinguished from this world forever more, yet not enthralled as my king had wanted. A dying piece of my soul cries out for him. The fading voice becoming distant, drowned out by my masters unceasing chant. A voice that echoes within my head soon without rival. A disembodied presence that eludes to such emotions as fleeting and childish. He will soon be my father, my master, my king...


After a time we stop. A door opens to the left bathing us in green light. Without moving my master prods me to enter. Like an automaton I quietly march toward my damnation. A foul, stinking creature suddenly appears at my side. His eyes obscured by mechanical devices and blood smeared lenses. Without pause I allow him to guide me to a reclined table. Bits of flesh and gore already mar it’s once shinny surfaces. I know my own will decorate it now. Even within these insidious depths that minute part of me still raging away, wants to go to my father. The part that still can, fears for what will come next. The revolting being strapping me onto the table halts. The master speaks and it’s rotted head nods. My addled brain can no longer make out the words. The blood smeared lenses draw very close to me now. A sinister grin fills my entire view as thick leather is drawn tight across my chest. The minuscule voice in my head is hardly audible, but before my eyes close I can still make out it’s woeful cries. Does it ask for forgiveness? For peace, or for help? The words echo into my failing consciousness. Father! Father... Father?


I awake screaming, but only within my own head. I feel my mouth agape, but no sound issues forth. A vile liquid is being forced down my throat. It’s sickening green tint and smell send me into a panic, but again I remain motionless unable to move. My body no longer my own. I feel the liquid burning, eating away at my vital organs. My eyes open wide as my heart struggles to beat only to succumb moments later and for a time I lay motionless, but aware. I died, somehow revived, and now dead once more? Comprehension escapes me for what has transpired this hellish day.


As I wait for oblivion to take me from this place my heart jumps. The pain is unimaginable and beyond description as again I feel the tortured muscle churn within my chest. It feels as if a burning coal now sits in the place of my heart. Just when the agony threatens to sunder what remains of my sanity the battered organ settles into a steady rhythm. The burning sensation slowly becomes one of icy coldness. Now my arteries and veins carry it’s filth throughout my entire body. My heart is now a dark engine pulsing with fell vitality, warping the very core of my being. Tendrils of consuming cold snake around my body pushed ever forward by a body turned against itself. My eyes water in mourning for what was, but quickly they too fall before the relentless onslaught. The colors of the world swirl and fade, but now even my eyelids refuse to obey me. Misery has become my new mistress, and the world snaps into a blue clarity.


The vile lenses again hover over me, now the blood upon them is no longer red. I see only black smears for my world has become monochrome with shades of lifeless blue. His mouth opens exposing elongated teeth and a writhing tongue. It hangs open as a maddening cackle reverberates in my ears. His words sound like footfalls through a swamp. “ Lucky. Yes, lucky you are. The master wants to make you special. “ His grin abates slightly as I see his head tilt to one side. “ You should be honored. Yes, honored. No ordinary Deathknight. No... “ The putrid smile flashes to new life on his decomposed face. “ You come to me as ordinary Deathknight, and will leave special..! “ He seems to wait for me to praise him somehow, but unending torment has left me mute and prostrate.


After a time I see his features change. He seems frustrated by my lack of enthusiasm and roughly tightens my bonds. I see him grab long needle like instruments from a nearby table along with evil looking knives. He flips a thick lense into place over his right eye and hisses under his breath. Then he stops a moment to peer into my eyes. I can see a perverted pleasure dawn on his hideous face as he inspects me. “ Now I cut the runes into your bones... “

Oh my...poor DK Good story though!

0.o

That kind of thing never happened to Decay. Ah well, sounds painful.

Part 3 :

I sit atop my steed Terrormane looking down upon the village below. My Deathknight’s are gathering just behind me and I sense their growing impatience. I did not realize I had been watching the myriad of inhabitants for so long. My blazing, blue eyes slowly scan the valley beneath us taking in every detail. Humans, dwarves, gnomes and even Draenei walk back and forth under the dim light of the newly risen moon. They seem so innocent, so at peace. None realize death awaits them all in just short moments to come.


My small army and I have been far to the North since I was reborn. In those frozen lands, we have ground countless souls underfoot always victorious for our king. I have never failed to please our lord and master, and do not intend to start now. For a time I hesitate, but why? This town seems strangely familiar, but it is not unlike so many others I have laid waste. So, why now do I falter? What spell has bewitched my thoughts so?


My second in command urges his mount up beside of me. He too has sensed my hesitation. He does not voice any concern, but only peers down at the towns faint lights. He trusts in my judgement fully and simply awaits my orders. I am unsettled, something wholly alien to me. I turn towards Thorgrim. “ Prepare the Knights for battle. “


Thorgrim has been at my side in every battle since we both pledged ourselves to the king. No other Knight holds my trust as he does, no other is as loyal. I watch him gallop off to rally our troops knowing full well all will be as it should. I cannot shake the feeling even now though. This is the first village, so far South, we have been tasked with bringing to heel. I will not allow gnawing pangs to hinder my mission and signal Thorgrim to me. He rides to me with haste. “ Yes Nardigan? “


I keep my voice low not wanting the others to hear. “ Thorgrim. Our king has tasked me with replenishing the ranks. You know of what age and stature we can make use of. “ Again the strange sensation travels up my spine, but I brutally force it away. “ Make sure the Knights know this. As for the rest... “ Thorgrim nods. Nothing else needs be said. He drops back and motions our forces onward. I take up my position beside Thorgrim and we begin our march down the slope towards the unsuspecting town below.


As our force reaches the perimeter of the village it splits quickly encircling the doomed inhabitants. I see the candle light in some windows and pause. For the very briefest of moments recognition flashes through my dark memories of some long forgotten feeling. A face. No... It is gone. I struggle to hold on to the image, but it is hopeless. Whatever it was sinks beneath layer upon layer of accursed gloom. Lost back to the all consuming abyss swirling within my mind. I shake myself mentally and give Thorgrim the signal.


Across the valley cries ring out in horror as my troops enter the village. So passes yet another cord of the living into the furnaces of undeath. I urge Terrormane forward to the center of the small town. There Thorgrim will be waiting as always. There I will meet out my quota of suffering to the masses.


The avenues have grown dark. The glow of street candles have been snuffed out and the night holds sway once more. Terrormane treads the cobblestone without my guidance. She knows the path to damnation as well as I. Ahead I see the silhouettes of frightened beings awaiting my arrival. They have heard the rumors. The stories have filtered down from the North of the Lich Kings left hand. Some call me the Frozen Hand, but my king named me Frostwoe. An undead weapon forged in the forsaken bowls of Icecrown. I am a imperfect copy of his evil blade. Although my bones bear the same powerful runes, and what was once blood is now cursed venom, I can corrupt only one soul at a time. Almost without thought I can capture such a soul inside myself thus twisting it to my masters will. It is then returned to rise anew in service to our king. I bestow his gift of eternal damnation. Beware the touch of Frostwoe...

/applaud

I applaud you so much. This actualy made me think of a official Death Knight character!
The flow of the story is pleasant and easy to follow. I normaly don't read fiction written in this person of view, but you handled it well.

Thanks,


I do appreciate all the positive replies... I am having home / computer issues the past several days and do plan on finishing this particular story line. Our DeathKnight still has one major hurtle to clear before the end...