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| - The Death Knights were in row after row, file after file, gleaming in the moonlight as their shadow black armour plates reflected the light of night. Each was on their left knee, their opposing hand flat on the floor before them, their head looking at the floor as their eyes closed, listening to their master talk. At the front of the group of no less than a hundred new Knights with every race imaginable amongst the group, a Knight, obviously above the rest by the flamboyance of his armour paced up and down, staring at his new detachment. Previous - Wrath of the Master Next - Demise of a Draenei
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| - The Death Knights were in row after row, file after file, gleaming in the moonlight as their shadow black armour plates reflected the light of night. Each was on their left knee, their opposing hand flat on the floor before them, their head looking at the floor as their eyes closed, listening to their master talk. At the front of the group of no less than a hundred new Knights with every race imaginable amongst the group, a Knight, obviously above the rest by the flamboyance of his armour paced up and down, staring at his new detachment. He stopped at the centre, overlooking the bowed helmets, each with black wings sprouting from the side. His eyes caught upon the tall body of a Tauren, a large crack down his helmet. He grinned as he thought of the tasks these Knights to which he had trained to a high standard survived under his command. He himself was a Captain under his liege, Arthas the Lich King, but thought highly of himself. He stood at six foot three, a boast for any normal human but his features were like those upon the living dead that walked all over Icecrown. His lips were ice blue and his eyes were dim but the same intensity of blue as his lips. His skin was pale and greying, wrinkled all over and on his right arm to which bore little armour, burns had taken away the majority of skin, showing both his lower arm bones which had also been burnt in the monstrosity that had overcome him three years before. "You served with honour. You served with grace. You served with a skill to which your Liege, the Lich King of Northrend, has seen not before these days. Count yourselves now as Death Knights under his command. For Arthas!” He screamed the final sentence with such ferocity that his eyes flared orange and his voice became a fierce rasping sound that made “Arthas” sound more like a war cry of a ghoul. In response, the entire battalion of Knights before him rose to their feet and raised their fists yelling the same war cry as their master. Behind the Knight Master, atop the large flight of steps leading into Icecrown Citadel, a lone Lich floated forward, staring at the ranks of ice eyed Knights screaming in their flaring excitement and grunted. "Yet another group of Knights to be sent to the slaughter, Rasaan?" The Lich’s voice was rough and chilling, sending a shiver down the Knight Masters spine. He turned his head to glare at the Lich from beneath his helmet, before turning to his Knights, each standing with a large elegant but crude sword in their hand. “Knights, dismissed!” The Knights each bowed with their sword across their chest before walking across the large courtyard to the large black buildings to one end; their personal quarters. The Knight Master, Rasaan, slowly paced towards Kel’thuzad, the Lich, his hand at the hilt of his sheathed sword. “Well, when I was told someone was looking for me, I didn’t expect this piece of filth to demote himself to talk to me. What do you want, Renak?” Nul’renak grinned as he stared at the Knights filing slowly into their quarters far down the other end of the long courtyard. He began peering around at the large stonewalls enclosing the area, each as black as the ground and the armour upon the Knights themselves. Above him, clouds rolled over the night sky of Icecrown concealing the white eye of the moon, the only thing in the area that gave light. The area dimmed, and as he looked at Rasaan, he saw the faint light reflecting under his winged helmet highlighting his gaunt face. “I need a favour.” “A favour? Of me? Why in the name of Arthas should I help you?” Rasaan couldn’t help but chuckle the words as he spoke, actually disbelieving what the Lich had said. He stared at Renak with a face of joy from the moment but soon changed to a face of disbelief, as he saw no change in emotion on the Lich’s face. “You are actually being serious?” “I need a Necro Master for the new Necropolis. No delusions of grandeur now. And of course, bodyguards to go with the new commission.” Nul’renak eyed the Knight before him, disliking his character, but knowing it was perfect for the job. “Feel up to it?” Rasaan looked down, grinning at the prospect but soon faced the Lich, stepping close to him, staring into his eyes with a face of annoyance. “I don’t understand it. You spend six years hounding me and making my days here a misery and yet, you come here to give me something you know I would love? Sounds too good to be bloody true for me.” He turned on the spot and began walking towards the Knight quarters, his shadow grey cape dragging along the ground, calling back at the Lich. “Find someone else!” Nul’renak floated at the top of the steps glaring at the back of the Knight as he walked away. By the gods he hated him, but he was the man for the job. He needed him, so he had to do whatever was needed for the man to help him. Previous - Wrath of the Master Next - Demise of a Draenei
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