Lucid Dreamer
The Hand of Doom
It was a sunny middle of the day in Elwynn Forest. The citizens in Goldshire were going on about their daily business, as they did in any other day. Despite the ongoing wars and chaos that were unfolding in Northrend, where soldiers of all races from both Alliance and the Horde fought against the Lich King, here, in Elwynn, time seemed to have stopped in place. The ever so prosper and beautiful city of Stormwind throned oh so glorious over Goldshire, Northshire and all the small settlements in Elwynn and even further. But the peace for the day was about to be broken. A travelling salesman wandering the road from Westfall towards Lakeshire was the first to witness an incoming stranger. A grim figure sitting straight, mounted on a horse that seemed oh so dreadful and broken from the world. The horse seemed to be made out of pure white flames, or flaming ice. Its eyes shone with a strange white glow, so empty, as if it gazed from the very beyond of the living realm. The poor salesman, scared of such a sight, immediately ran his way back on the road, towards Goldshire, and, entering the Lion's Pride Inn, he quickly passed the word of the sight.
As the strange rider was entering the small zone of Goldshire, a little settlement that guarded the entrance of the main road to Stormwind, tens of eyes gazed upon him with fear and wonder. Everyone knew already what they were witnessing. An infamous, feared death knight. A damned soldier, elite trooper of the Lich King's Scourge. The death knights were the front lines to the armies that spread destruction and death wherever they marched. The people pulled out of the way as soon as the deathcharger, the death knight's steed, sped through, riding ever so quick and closing to Stormwind's gates.
"What is that abomination doing here?" The voice of the old innkeeper was heard through the mass of people gathered on the road, watching awestruck as the deathcharger galloped further on, approaching the first soldiers that were posted at the gates of Stormwind, guarding through their shift as they always did. However, the death knight didn't seem bothered by all the attention that was being paid to him, and moreover, nor did the soldiers seem to be stressing out about this former agent of the Scourge. Nonetheless, they kept their eyes upon him as he slowed down reaching the gates, passing through in nothing more but a slow pace, the weird horse's hooves making sounds as they hit the stone of the small bridge that passed through the Valley Of Heroes.
Upon entering the actual city, however, things began to worsen. Voices and fingers rose, accusing, crying out and screaming, everything directed at the death knight who so slowly trodded through Stormwind on his death charger, the skeletal horse made out of icy flames and breathing death through its nostrils. As he passed by the Cathedral of Light, a few priests quickly came out behind him, praying to the Light in silence for this poor, lost wanderer. The guards, despite knowing precisely why the death knight was here, refused to let their guard down, and two of them even did as much as escort the former Scourge agent on the paved streets, leading him to wherever he wished to go.
More and more people gathered in the streets as the knight continued his way through the Dwarven District, some, out of curiosity, some armed with rotten apples and tomatoes which they threw in the way of the Death Knight, being immediately berated by the guards that began forming lines and a safe corridor for the harbinger of death to pass. It wasn't long before he would exit the Dwarven District and would head out directly to the Stormwind Keep, where the throne of the King Varian Wrynn lied. He carried a message for the King, a letter, coming directly from the Highlord, leader of the Ebon Blade, Darion Mograine.
As the strange rider was entering the small zone of Goldshire, a little settlement that guarded the entrance of the main road to Stormwind, tens of eyes gazed upon him with fear and wonder. Everyone knew already what they were witnessing. An infamous, feared death knight. A damned soldier, elite trooper of the Lich King's Scourge. The death knights were the front lines to the armies that spread destruction and death wherever they marched. The people pulled out of the way as soon as the deathcharger, the death knight's steed, sped through, riding ever so quick and closing to Stormwind's gates.
"What is that abomination doing here?" The voice of the old innkeeper was heard through the mass of people gathered on the road, watching awestruck as the deathcharger galloped further on, approaching the first soldiers that were posted at the gates of Stormwind, guarding through their shift as they always did. However, the death knight didn't seem bothered by all the attention that was being paid to him, and moreover, nor did the soldiers seem to be stressing out about this former agent of the Scourge. Nonetheless, they kept their eyes upon him as he slowed down reaching the gates, passing through in nothing more but a slow pace, the weird horse's hooves making sounds as they hit the stone of the small bridge that passed through the Valley Of Heroes.
Upon entering the actual city, however, things began to worsen. Voices and fingers rose, accusing, crying out and screaming, everything directed at the death knight who so slowly trodded through Stormwind on his death charger, the skeletal horse made out of icy flames and breathing death through its nostrils. As he passed by the Cathedral of Light, a few priests quickly came out behind him, praying to the Light in silence for this poor, lost wanderer. The guards, despite knowing precisely why the death knight was here, refused to let their guard down, and two of them even did as much as escort the former Scourge agent on the paved streets, leading him to wherever he wished to go.
More and more people gathered in the streets as the knight continued his way through the Dwarven District, some, out of curiosity, some armed with rotten apples and tomatoes which they threw in the way of the Death Knight, being immediately berated by the guards that began forming lines and a safe corridor for the harbinger of death to pass. It wasn't long before he would exit the Dwarven District and would head out directly to the Stormwind Keep, where the throne of the King Varian Wrynn lied. He carried a message for the King, a letter, coming directly from the Highlord, leader of the Ebon Blade, Darion Mograine.