"Tales of A Death Knight" by Clara D Morra

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When she woke up for the first time in what felt like months, all she could see was blackness.

Then she heard voices. She couldn’t tell who they were, but there was something…something icy cold about the way they spoke.

“This one…”

She could hear a faint voice in her head, but could not make out what it was saying to her.

Then the whispering…

“…in the Plaguelands…”

Coming from everywhere…

“…come from?”


“…defending that blemish…”


“…imagine their faces…”

Whose faces?

“Do you hear the whispers of your master, girl?”

Something… a voice… resembling the icy North washed over her like the Frozen Sea.

Rise, Death Knight. Rise and do your master’s bidding.

Her eyes open slowly, almost cautiously, and the first thing she notices is the gentle blue glow reflected slightly on the floor. What…

Slowly rising, she then falls to a knee.

I hear him…I hear him speaking to me…

“You have been judged and found worthy, human. Take up the bearings befitting one such as you and meet your master. He shall be pleased.”

She shakily pushed herself up. She dared not question who these people were or where she was…

She then came to a realization: she couldn’t remember anything about herself. It seemed to be a miracle that she could even remember her own name.

Then… there was that voice again…

You are useless to me, human, if you cannot even equip yourself for war.

War… she didn’t know why, but she had a feeling that she was very good at war. She was soon surrounded by acolytes, all of whom were bearing various pieces of clothing. No, not clothing. Armor.

They then started to equip her. They held up her arms as a few fitted her with a dark chest plate, while two others pulled bracers onto her arms and gauntlets over those. When they were done, they backed away.

Then that giant of a man let out a laugh that would make anyone’s blood run cold.

“Don’t look so confused, human. I shouldn’t have to tell you what you are now.”

That’s right; he didn’t. She felt… unnatural. Perhaps it was that her heart was no longer beating in her chest.

She felt… very cold.

“Go, human. Go and gaze upon the glory that is your master.”

She almost mindlessly started walking towards a large set of stairs, only to be met by monstrous…no. These were not monstrous. They were beautiful. She did not know what they were, with their glorious wings that held them aloft, and their perfect, ethereal figures.

Whatever they were, they paid her no attention. And then her eyes stopped on another.

She approached him, and he turned to face her. The air itself froze in his presence. And then he spoke, his icy voice filling her ears and mind.

All that I am: anger, cruelty, vengeance - I bestow upon you, my chosen knight. I have granted you immortality so that you may herald in a new, dark age for the Scourge.

She knelt before the Lich King, bowing her head.

I am ever willing to serve you, my Lord. Tell me what I must do.

You will destroy the Scarlet Crusade.

His orders were so simple. And he sent her to the nearly broken town below.

Her rune bladed sword felled yet another defenseless civilian, his scream piercing the dead, stale air. It was a thoughtless, almost boring chore, having to demoralize this “Scarlet Crusade” and its followers. There was no fun, no challenge, in slaughtering civilians by the score. There was no fun in even killing the soldiers that fruitlessly tried to protect said civilians from the slaughter.

They were all like lambs, only more eager to face their demise.

She could hear his voice, as clearly as if he were standing next to her, whispering in her ear.

Leave no survivors” was what he said. She had to obey.

She wanted to obey.

Another soldier ran for her. If only he knew what was about to happen…

She landed a heavy blow to his stomach with the pommel, causing him to stagger backwards. As soon as he had regained his footing, her sword had already embedded itself in his chest.

“You… monster…” He gasped out as she twisted the blade, before finally falling limp.

She threw his lifeless body to the ground, kicking him with no small amount of force.


She came upon a family in one of the houses. The father clearly loved them, shielding them from her sight. How she would love robbing him, all of them, of their meaningless little lives.

You shall be reborn, serving Him for all of time.

And then there was screaming.



And then silence.

These were nothing new. They were like music. The death rattles of men protecting their wives, the screams of women as their husbands lay mangled, the crying of children as their mothers hit the floor, and the dull thud as the children fell from her blade was like a morbid, triumphant symphony, playing for the Lich King.

It was the only thing she truly loved. He would be pleased with her work.

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