Shadow of the Death Knight.
by Snort | 08/09/2007 06:06:09 Part 1. The Mantra. The Burnig Legion was beaten, it's general defeated, the remaining forces fleeing, seeking refuge within the darkest corners of Azeroth. The time for the heroes to return home had come, to enjoy the time to develop their own agendas, or aid the cause. One of these heroes was the Spooner, the Squire, whos master was slain while following the directions of the big hand in the sky, and never ressurected at the Hero Altar, because the mission was over. Thus Spooner followed his master's steps and became a Paladin. The world of Azeroth was young, Spooner began his quest of mastering his career. Months passed and he became a true Paladin. The Light was kind as trough him he felt the wrath of Uther the Lightbringer being unleashed upon the battlefield. Fear dominated once he, and others like him stepped upon the battlefields. The Horde lived in fear of these great heroes, veteran grunts telling tales of these wielders of the light, being able to creeate unbreakable shields that protected them and made orcs, tauren, trolls and undead smash their heads into their keyboards. They thold tales of these champions of the light, once beat down, near death, with a single touch they could heal any wound on their body, turning defeat into ultimate victory. But the most fearful tale of all, was this of a great demon, so powerful that even the greatest warriors would not dare face it, yet one of these knights dared, and with one swing the demon was defeated. And once the demon respawned, another of these warriors of light did the same, and many to follow. The horror among the ranks of the Horde reached it's peak. The war leaders summoned a meeting to form a plan. And so it was, all the Horde characters came to this meeting. They shouted and cursed spitting on the name of "paladin". These monsters in golden armor. These Immortals... Within the hut where the meeting took place enters and old troll shaman, it's tusks were broken and drool coverd his chin. An old staff supports his aged body. Many trinkets, medalions and critter skulls ornate his wear. Silence falls over the crowd at the presence of wisdom. "Long have you been pwnt by these Paladins, but no more... Your prayers shall be answered, my brave warriors." Spoke the old shaman. "Follow me outside." The shaman proceeds outside, barely dragging his feet. One by one the members of the Horde follow. Long they walk, the shaman's slow legs reach the Barrens. He stops. His gaze turns to the starry sky. What a silent night it was. The shaman turns to the crowd, and looks them carefuly. They were many. But not as many as the Alliance that is because Horde members were more educated and mature. He takes a breath, for his voice needs to reach far. "Today I will reveal a secret, and ancient secret passed from my ancestors to me... today I will reveal the mantra wich will instrument the downfall of the Holy Knights. Remeber this, the mantra is not to be abused..." His voice echoes trough the Barrens. A brief silence follows as the Horde waits for the shaman to reveal the secret mantra. The silence is broken by a voice: "lol STFU noob" The old shaman knows this voice, knows other voices like it. He carefuly clicks it and places it on his ignore list, then takes another deep breath: "Join your hads and look to the sky, repeat after me... beg the Winds, the Storms and BLIZZards to hear you... speak the mantra..." The old shaman raises his hands as if trying to hug the night sky itself and roars the ancient mantra: "NERF!" The voices of the Horde slowly join the shaman's pleas twards the sky. Voice by voice the mantra is spoken louder. Undead, taurens trolls and orcs, holding hands shouting togeder the mantra: "NERF! NERF! NERF!" The wind begins to blow harshly, clouds cover the once clear night sky. Critters run in fear. The moon turns red as if bleeding. But the voices grow ever louder. "NERF! NERF!" The clouds boil in the sky. Suddenly lightning strikes, cleaving the clouds revealing a siluette. A gigantic goblin holding a bat. At the mere sight of this diety the shaman falls to is knees, as the rest of the horde. The goblin diety decends to the ground, he looks at the crowd and points his bat at them. Upon the bat he sees the mantra carved into the fine wood, just like in the storys his grandfather used to tell him, warning him about this mighty weapon, when he bragged about his Chain Lightning crits to the other classes. "What is the meaning of this?" Speaks the goblin-diety. The shaman bows deeply, his long nose touching the dirt of the Barrens, and speaks: "My lord, I humbly ask forgivness for disturbing your mighty being, but my people are haunted by defeat upon the fields of battle, as the Alliance wields a weapon with far too much power. We, the Horde are demoralised to the point of cancelling our accounts. And our departure will serve as a grimm omen. This omen will fortell of the end of the World...of Warcraft." The diety doesn not seem touched by the words of the shaman. Yet it speaks: "And what is this weapon you speak of, old shaman?" The shaman slowly raises his head revealing tears. "The paladins, my lord. They destroy my men with their blinding holy damage, and when the great horde warriors manage to beat one down, with heavy losses, he either uses his bubble of light or lays on his hands...whatever that means... the point is, my lord, they are far too powerful for the humble orcs taurens, trolls and undead... Please my lord. My boys fear them in battle... help us..." The shaman bows back down sticking his face in the dirt. The goblin-diety, is clearly unimpressed by the shamn's tears. He ponders the situation for a moment then speaks. "I shall grant you your wish, shaman. Tommorow ready your weapons, and go to battle after the patch, and you shall withness the awsome power of my weapon, for tonight my wrath shall descend upoin the Paladins." The shaman raises, cleaning away the dirt from his eyes. "Thank you my lord, your kindness knows no bounds..." The goblin cuts him off with a gesture of his hand. "Do not be so joyful, for in return for my grace you have drawn upon your people a terrible curse, wich will come in time... for now, enjoy the battlefields..." The gathering sees the goblin-diety ascend to the sky. From there he throws his bat twards the Eastern Kingdoms. A loud series of deafaning thunters follow, the sound of horrors unknown realeased upon the city of humans and dwarfs... "It is done..." Speaks the goblin diety... (Seems like the post lenght is not unlimited, so I will have to continue the story trough another reply) [ Post edited by Snort ] |
by Vaneras | 11/09/2007 18:41:20 I will not comment on the "truth" behind this story, but I must complement it nonetheless... It is indeed a good read :-) Bravo Snort, I bow to your excellent writing skills :-) /bow |
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