Fly by

The hooves of his Palomino clumped noisily through the dry earth. On his right, steamy hot springs, and on his left, the dry, barren remains of hot springs long drained by the pump station in the distance. He scanned the horizon for any sign, but saw none.

As he rode, a heavy breeze against his back made him turn to see a large reptilian face staring into his own. It was all that he had to prevent from falling off of his horse while also keeping it from being spooked as a large crimson drake flew overhead. The grim passenger riding it turned and gave him a rotting smile.

He continued to ride on the edge, the albino sand flinging behind him in minor dust clouds as he eyed the flying drake and it's rider. Eventually, the drake vanished into the horizon. Relaxing slightly, he turned to his right and saw a pillar of smoke. Making a sharp right, his horse jumped from a small ledge and from his position he could see that which he sought.

A plane crash. Small craft, single passenger, alive thankfully. He padded the neck of his horse before approaching the lone pilot.

From one pilot to another, the day was starting to seem very interesting.

Last Rites

A chill wind swept through them, Reckir grimaced as he turned to look at his companions. The Death Knight Thassarian, seemed unaware of the chill; his cold, glowing blue eyes scanning the top of the floating fortress, Naxxanar. Reckir's younger brother, Wilmarth, seemed to glow slightly, also hardly bothered by the cold. His eyes too scanned the area, fierce and unwavering.

Reckir sighed and stepped forward, "Let's do this Thassarian, it's now or never."

The three of them exchanged glances and nodded before walking up the southern staircase to the edge of the platform. Shortly after, a tall, grey-skinned elf in red garments stepped onto the platform from a staircase on the west side while a horrifying image walked into view from the eastern staircase.

The Lich King.

The brothers and their death knight companion readied their weapons and watched on in silence as the two evil beings exchanged words, seemingly unaware of their presence. The elf spoke, his voice quiet and slightly muffled by the large fang designed collar of his robe, "My liege, the infiltration and control of the Alliance power structure by our cultists is well underway."

The avatar of the Lich King rang out with his deep raspy voice as it replied, "Your progress in this region has been impressive, Blood Prince Valanar. I am pleased..."

"The power you've bestowed upon me has allowed me great mental influence over human minds. I bear these offerings as proof of my progress." added the elf, as he motioned behind him.

Two figures walked into view from the western staircase. The first was General Arlos, the man in charge of Valiance Keep, the location that Reckir and Wilmarth had been assigned to by Captain Adams. His one eye appeared dazed and he wavered as he walked. The second was a young woman with long, raven black hair that nearly covered her face.

"Leryssa!" Thassarian cried out as he ran forward, "What have you done to my sister, you motherless elf scum!?"

Valanar and the avatar of the Lich King both turned to face the trio. The Lich King seemed to smile from within his dark helmet as he taunted, "Now this is a surprise, Thassarian. I hadn't heard from Mograine or the other death knights for months. You've come to rejoin the Scourge, I take it?"

Thassarian's lip curled up into a furious snarl, " I would sooner slit my own throat. You will pay for what you did to your own men, Arthas... for what you did to me! I swear it."

The elf turned to the Lich King, his expression calm, yet it was obvious that the dark creature was eager to please, "Allow me to take care of the intruders, lord. I will feed their entrails to the maggots."

The image turned it's back to those gathered and spoke with dark purpose as it faded from sight, "Do not fail me, San'layn. Return to Icecrown with this fool's head or do not bother to return."

Once the image is gone completely, the elf turns to the trio, "Yes, my lord!" he cries out as he raises his hands to cast his spells.

Wilmarth sprung into action, casting protective magics upon Reckir. Thassarian and Reckir charged side by side, their weapons drawn. The elf lifted his staff to deflect the oncoming blows, and then thrust his free hand forward, launching a bolt of blood at Thassarian's chest. Thassarian was knocked back a few paces while Reckir lifted his Axe up high to swing it down violently on the elf's exposed back.

Valanar spun around with his staff, sweeping out Reckir's legs from under him. As Reckir laid on his back exposed, Valanar channeled his energy and cast out beams of pink light that shot at the three attackers. Reckir glanced behind Valanar and saw Wilmarth charging his power into his weapon as he rushed to Reckir's aid. "No Wil! Don't strike!"

But it was too late, as Wilmarth swung his weapon upward, the field of energy around Valanar absorbed the force of the attack and redirected it back at it's wielder. A large slash tore open Wilmarth's chest and sent him flying back to the edge of the platform. "WIL!" Reckir cried out.

"Pitiful... just pitiful." Valanar sneered as he stopped channeling the field and turned to face Thassarian.

Reckir stared at the lifeless form of his younger brother before turning his hateful gaze onto the elf. With a roar, he leapt to his feet and hefting his axe high, he charged at the elf. Thassarian lunged with his twin runeblades from the opposite end, dismembering the Blood Prince.

"What... what happened to me?" with the Blood Prince dead, General Arlos and Leryssa sprung to life, "Ugh! My head won't stop spinning..." Arlos mumbled as he slumped to the floor, unconcious.

"Thassarian, you're alive!" Leryssa yelled as she rushed to her brother's side.

As the woman and her death knight brother exchanged words, Reckir stepped numbingly towards the fresh corpse of his brother. He fell to his knees, red fury showing in his face. "Wil..." he mumbled to himself, dropping his axe at his side.

Just then, a swirl of warm air and leaves swirled about Reckir's body, removing his fatigue and recovering his wounds. Bewildered, Reckir glanced around to see a tree waving it's branches around at the southern staircase. Another death knight, his face hidden beneath his helm stood at the tree's side. The tree wore several trinkets, and had a face etched into it's bark. As the tree finished casting it's spell, a cough was heard from behind Reckir.

"WIL!" Reckir roared, helping his brother to his feet.

Wilmarth looked down at his sundered armor, "This is going to be expensive..."

Reckir laughed and punched Wilmarth in the shoulder. The brothers then walked up to the tree, which was a shapeshifted Druidic healer, and offered their thanks. The tree and his companion nodded before the death knight added, "Seems you took care of the problem for us, it's the least we could do."

Reckir and Wilmarth nodded before turning to see how Thassarian fared. Laryssa was crying but stared at her brother with reverence as he walked towards Reckir and Wilmarth. "You did well, my friends. I was hoping to leave my sister out of all of this. Thanks to you she is alive and well.

My obligations to my king and my army have been fulfilled. It is clear I'm not welcome among my comrades anymore. I will have to find my own way, fighting no wars but my own and following no orders but my heart's.

Perhaps we shall meet again. Until then, know that you will always have my gratitude."

The three exchanged salutes and grim stares. They knew this was the beginning. The war was far from over.

The Wrath of the Lich King had only just begun.

NOTE: The characters Reckir, Wilmarth and the Druid and Death Knight companion are original. However, the events are an interpretation of the events that occur while playing through World of WarCraft. Some dialogue and manuscripts are taken directly from the game. (If not modified slightly).

The Alchemist

"A Homonculus. That is impossible, Reynard!"

"Difficult. Not impossible, sir." Reynard replied calmly.

Reynard was a man of his tribe, the tribe of the Twin Goddesses. As were most of his people born under the moon of the elder sister, his hair was a light blue and his eyes were like ice. He adjusted his glasses, as they were hanging loosely on the bridge of his nose.

"If you can acquire a Mandrake root, the process described in the Book--" Reynard began.

"A section that is deemed forbidden! We do not make Homonculi, Reynard!" the man argued, attempting to quell his rage.

"Why is it forbidden, sir?" Reynard asked quietly.

"Because it is a power that our world is not ready to wield. Not yet." The man said, his tone final.

"I understand." Reynard said simply.

"Be gone then, and no more talk of these Homonculi, my pupil." The man commanded with a wave of his hand.

Reynard stood from his seating, adjusting his apprentice's robe slightly before leaving the chamber. We do not make Homonculi, Reynard! His master's words still rang in his ears, yet he was not convinced. A homonculi could be made, and due to his resourcefulness, Reynard knew exactly how it could be done. He tried to seek permission from his master, but to no avail.

It didn't matter. It was a formality anyway.

Reynard moved at a relaxed pace through the hall to his chamber. Other students and various servants, although scarce at this hour, busied themselves about their duties. He resisted rushing to his room, he didn't want any more attention than he usually recieved. Relax, there's plenty of time. he thought to himself.

His chamber, upon entering, was pitch black. Holding his staff aloft in his right hand, he waved his left around the room. Flames sprung to life in their sconces, illuminating the room. After checking the lock on his door, he rushed to his desk, making sure to carefully set his staff against the wall before taking a seat in a comfortable chair.

Upon the desk was an old book, tattered and worn. Sheafs of paper were stuffed haphazardly between various pages, giving the book an even more bedraggled appearance. Gingerly opening the tome, he leafed through the pages until arriving at the one which he saught. Along the top of the page, in the old language, was written the word Mandrake. Reynard afforded himself a grin as he set to work.

~~

The torch burst into flames, causing a young man to cough.

"Easy, Gideon. Don't die on me, now." Reynard said, handing the torch over.

Gideon took the torch meekly, his wrist and hands appearing frail as they emerge from the sleeve of his baggy robe. Gideon strengthened his grip by holding the torch with his other hand, holding it just high enough so he could see further without blinding himself.

"Are you sure about this, my friend?" Reynard asked, his voice slightly muffled by the mask he wore.

"If there's a possibility it can work, it should be worth the risk." Gideon replied, offering Reynard a meek smile.

Reynard nodded and turned, as he begun to walk he called out, "I'll leave it to you then."

Gideon nodded and proceeded down the tunnel, holding the torch with his rapidly draining strength. After what seemed like an eternity, he reached a large cavern. The roof had broken, so that moonlight shone inside. In the center of the moonlight, a clutter of various plants and vegetables were growing.

Gideon walked towards the cavern garden with determination. He secured the torch in a sconce near the entrance, and walked closer towards the moonlit garden. Upon arriving at the plant of his choice, he dropped to his knees and pulled a spade out from a pouch slung about his shoulders. As his vision became light, and his eyes became heavy he began to dig, dig, dig.

After some time, Gideon rose to his feet, taking a moment to drink some water from his flask. Getting a second wind, he walked away from his work and walked over to the torch hanging at the entrance. After one final swig, he poured the flask over the torch, dousing it.

With the cavern being illuminated by nothing but the moonlight, Gideon approached the site of his work, where he had dug. Falling to his knees, he looked into the sky, at the twin moons, "Thank you, Goddesses."

He then bowed his head, and reached for the plant... and pulled.

~~

Reynard stood on the hillside, with the cavern a good distance away. He watched the light flicker and glow within the mouth of the cave. He watched the light and shadows dance and move, jump and glide, until finally there was darkness. At that moment, a strange feeling gripped at Reynard. He clenched his jaw before approaching the cave.

Upon entering, he stared at the sight before him. Gideon was hunched over, bits of earth scattered about him. Reynard approached his friend, stopping a couple feet away. He glanced up at the twin moons, still visible from the opening, and gave a silent prayer. He then took his staff and prodded Gideon in the ribs. The frail figure moved aside with little resistance, and Reynard took a step back as he stared upon what he saw in cold horror.

Gideon's eyes and mouth hung wide open, staring at Reynard with a cold, unfeeling stare. Reynard, steeling himself, pulled a sack from his satchel and scooped up the plant Gideon had unearthed, stuffing it within the sack, and the sack within the satchel. Reynard then knelt before his friend, drawing a silver dagger from a sheath attached to the satchel. With a slice, Gideon's blood began to flow freely.

After taking a vial full of Gideon's blood, Reynard got to his feet swiftly, placing the vial carefully within it's place in the satchel. He turned, breathing heavily into the mask, Gideon at his back. Reynard took a step forward, and then stopped.

Reynard turned back to Gideon and knelt at his side. With a gloved hand, he closed Gideon's eyes and mouth, nodding another silent prayer to the Goddesses above. Reynard then stood to his feet, and gripping his staff firmly, he slammed the staff into the ground.

Gideon began to float, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Reynard turned to the exit and walked out silently, Gideon floating behind him. Once outside, Reynard slammed the staff again, this time, a large gap opening in the earth. Reynard raised his left hand towards Gideon, and then slowly lowered it. Gideon slowly lowering into the gap in line with Reynard's hand. Once inside, Reynard slammed the staff a final time, and the earth closed around Gideon. Thank you... my friend. Reynard thought to himself. He would not let his friend's sacrifice go to waste.

~~~~

Reynard stood before a large construct, about two feet taller than himself. It was fashioned out of a modified suit of armor that the guards wore, a balance between extravagent and competant. The chestpiece had been modified so it swung open like a door hinge in the center. The door was swung wide open, with runes etched into all the surfaces within the chamber.

Reynard dipped his gloved hands into a small container, and pulled out a bloodsoaked object. He then thrust the object within the chamber of the construct before withdrawing his hands and slamming the door shut with his elbow. He stood upon a stepladder and using his elbow, he swung upward the facecover for the helm of the construct. Using his bloody hands, he wrote a word in the old language on the inside of the helm. He stepped down from the stepladder, taking a moment to wash his hands and removed the gloves which he wore. Grabbing his staff in his right hand, and securing his ring on his left, he used the staff to close the faceguard of the helm, and with his left hand, he slammed down on the chest of the construct.

~~~~

Rain poured down violently from the stormy sky, causing the road to become muddy which in turn hindered the progress of the old carriage. As the muddy road turned to stone, the carriage approached a large open steel gate and a series of crimson banners. The carriage then proceeded through avenues of large buildings and pedestrians; bald beggars, plump merchants, and crimson-haired scaliwags.

The carriage stopped before a moderate sized building that looked to be in disrepair, but was solid. The driver hopped down from his seat at the front of the carriage and opened the door to the carriage with his left hand. "We're home, my friend."

A single light shone from within the dark confines of the carriage, and a meek voice called out, "Home?"

The driver took a step back from the carriage, standing beneath a covering that was erected in front of the entrance to the building. As the occupant of the carriage took his time to exit, the driver took a moment to remove his hat, shaking his blue hair free. Reynard looked up at the armored construct, with the two glowing eyes, and nodded. "Yes, Gideon. We're home."

The Forsaken Diver

Reckir stood on the docks as he looked upon the lake next to Fort Wildervar. Captain Adams had him transferred to this snow-covered fledgling town for some reason that he seemed unwilling to share. It was cold, on the border to Grizzly Hills. They were high enough on the mountain for snow to fall, surprising as it was that snow didn't fall everywhere in Northrend.

The town was busy as villagers moved to and fro, setting up buildings and buying and selling land. Weird... Reckir thought, acting so normal even though they're surrounded by murderous giants, rabid animals, and the Lich King too close for comfort... But anywhere was too close for comfort to the Lich King.

"Bahhhh this is going to take forever!" a man yelled.

Reckir turned to see two fisherman bickering on the other end of the dock. He strolled up to the men and greeted them. "Something the matter?" he asked.

"I never want to see another barrel of salted fish as long as I live!" the man shouted in exasperation, "Filling barrels day in and day out, and ther are still more to be filled! I wish I hadn't used up all that bait I bought from Nat Pagle. Worked like magic, it did. Now I'm lucky if I can catch a fish an hour!"

The other man looked up sleepily from his pole, chiming in with his two cents, "I hear the northern barbfish make pretty good bait." the man muttered.

The first man turned to the other and continued shouting, "But who's crazy enough to dive into a freezing cold lake and hack up the water plants in search of them?! Not me! But maybe..." he trailed off as he turned to Reckir.

"Maybe I can persuade you to..." the man began.

"Hold it! What's in it for me." Reckir said, holding his hands up and giving the fisherman a stern look.

"I don't have much... But there's 5 gold coins in it for you if you can get me 5 of those fish. A gold a piece! Fair deal if ever I heard one." The man answered.

Reckir slipped a hand into his pockets, feeling for the pouch that held the Nagrand Cherries he picked up in Stormwind. Let's you breath for 5 minutes underwater each! Great deal!~ the man had assured him. Reckir shrugged with a sigh, "Deal." and turned to walk to the end of the dock.

Popping one of the cherries in his mouth and rubbing himself with Fire Oil, he dove into the water. It was freezing cold at first, but the Fire Oil kept his temperature even. With his Axe in hand, he swam through the lake, chopping up plants in search of the elusive fish. After finding two, and cracking the shells of more crabs than he'd like to, he advanced upon yet another chunk of plants.

To his surprise, a Forsaken spy lunged out from the plants, attempting to strangle Reckir with it's sharp, bony hands. Reckir kicked at the creatures torso, knocking it back before it could dig it's claws into his exposed neck. With a roar that was muffled by being underwater, he swung his axe with all his might and cleaved the Forsaken in two. Twitching, the light in the corpses' eyes faded, and a book began to float to the surface.

Reckir grabbed the book, slipping it into his belt before searching the rest of the body. He found nothing else of importance, and so he swam to the surface. Once on the docks, he dried himself off and donned his equipment. He walked slowly, staring at the cover of the beaten, yet surprisingly durable book. He tossed the few fish he had gathered to the fisherman and collected his coin before proceeding to the nearby Inn.

Once inside, he took a seat next to the fire and began to thumb through the book, which was surprisingly written in Common. Fortunate, since he knew little to none Gutterspeak. The book read the following:

Day 1: The Human scum seem blissfully unaware of my presence here, as intended. They're ripe for bombing, and it should only be a matter of time before I've charted out their position.

Day 2: Charting complete - A trivial task for such an accomplished fellow as myself. Why I got stuck with this job is beyond me - they should have J-Y C. do it. That ridiculous accent should have been justification enough.

Day 3: First breath of air is finally getting a bit stale. Perhaps I should surface momentarily for another in a few days. Still bored to tears - where is that blasted signal?

The ranting continued for several more pages, until...

Day 12: Ah, sweet relief. The second breath tasted like the purest orphan tears I've ever had. The signal remains puzzlingly absent, and I could swear that one of the crabs is attempting to play drums on my big toe.

From there, the rants grew more disassociated...

Day 36: Third breath of air finally expired, and the veins in my left elbow filled with bubbles again on the way up. The drumming of hte crabs is a constant companion now, a percussive backdrop to my blackened little corner of hell. Clearly, I've been forgotten by those wretches. If J-Y were down here, they wouldn't have forgotten him! They wouldn't have left Hans or Sylvia behind! Why me?

From there, the entries trail off in a despondent scrawl... Reckir closed the book and smirked to himself. "Seems I did you a favor, blighter." He mumbled as he tossed the book into the fire.

NOTE: The character Reckir is original, the events are an interpretation of the events that occur while playing through World of WarCraft. Some dialogue and manuscripts are taken directly from the game. (If not modified slightly).

Gjalerbron 2

Reckir entered the meeting hall of Westguard Keep, saluting to Captain Adams and a polite nod to the Priest and the Captain's Advisor.

"How did it go in Gjalerbron, soldier?" the dwarf asked, his back turned to the warrior.

"The mission went according to plan... but there were some unsettling discoveries." Reckir answered, "The Scourge are working with the Vrykul and plan on attacking our Keep right as we speak... they have a Frost Wyrm."

A hushed silence fell upon the hall, broken only by the outburst from Captain Adams' advisor, Mage-Lieutenant Malister, "A FROST-WYRM!?"

Reckir nodded gravely before pulling out a piece of parchment. "I managed to acquire their battle plans, including how they plan to use this Frost Wyrm, Glacion."

"Let us see the plans, boy." Adams demanded, holding out a mailed fist.

Reckir handed over the plans obediently with one hand, his other holding his helm at his side.

The four of them discussed details of Gjalerbron and the Scourge occupation for the next several hours. Once finished, Father Levariol motioned to an open door with his staff. "Accompanying you on this mission will be a Paladin of our Order, and one you should be quite familiar with."

Reckir stared at the open door quietly, and nodded grimly as his fears are answered. The Paladin in question was his younger brother, Wilmarth. A powerful warrior of the Light, but no brother wishes to see their sibling in danger.

"Good to see the Wastes treating you well, brother." Wilmarth said with a smile, saluting Reckir.

Reckir returned the salute sharply, "Let's get to business then."

~~~~

After a swift ride on horseback, the brothers arrived at Gjalerbron, at the base of the stairs leading into the center of the town. "The Scourge's taint is strong here..." Wilmarth muttered quietly, "I'll take the Catacombs to follow the Father's orders. You--"

"I know. I've got a Wyrm to deal with." Reckir snarled out. Staring hatefully up the stairs.

Wilmarth nodded briefly at Reckir before rushing towards the entrance to the catacombs beneath Gjalerbron.

"Wil." Reckir called out.

Wilmarth stopped in his tracks to turn and face his brother.

"Don't die." Reckir said as he readied his axe.

Wilmarth gave a nod before dissapearing into the Catacombs.

Reckir rushed up the stairs and out into the elevated courtyard, surprised at the little resistance he had seen so far. Overhead the Wyrm Glacion flew, seemingly unaware of his presence. He heard the sound of ice crashing on a platform to the north. After checking the plans, he saw that this was the platform where Wyrmcaller Vile controlled the Wyrm. Hefting his axe, he rushed up the stairs, cutting down the Scourge minions that stood guard on the staircase.

Once on the platform, the Vrykul mage known as Wyrmcaller Vile stood surrounded by a blizzard. Slung to his belt was a horn fashioned of bone and ice, which Reckir could only assume was the device described in the plans that could summon back Glacion.

Roaring a battle cry, Reckir charged into the blizzard, swinging his axe wildly. Vile snarled in response and flung bolts of Ice at the warrior. The ice broke uselessly off of his armor, only striking glancing blows. With a splatter, Vile fell to the ground in two pieces, Reckir's axe striking true. The blizzard immediately died around him, leaving him in eerie silence on the platform.

Taking the horn from the corpse, he wiped off the mouthpiece as he took a deep breath and blew the horn. A terrifying roar answered him as Glacion descended upon the platform, screaming at the warrior. Hefting his axe, Reckir answered with a cry of his own as he and the Wrym exchanged violent blows.

In the end, the Wyrm fell. As Reckir walked to the edge of the platform, he saw his second target. The ringleader behind the whole operation... Mezhen. Reckir glances over the edge, and, with a running start he leaped over the edge, landing in the snow and causing the white powder to rise around him. Standing to his full height he crossed the courtyard with a sprint, climbing up the stairs to the opposing platform.

Tired from his stunt, he stood panting atop the platform where a group of Necro Lords, led by Mezhen, stood circled around a crystal, chanting and channeling their energies. After readying his axe, he charged into the group, cutting down the Scourge minions around him. Mezhen screamed furiously, "You fool! I won't let you destroy that which I've worked so hard for!" as he readied his magics to unleash upon the warrior.

As Reckir raised his axe to finish off the warlock, a blast of necrotic energy hit him in the chest, knocking him back onto the center of the grate. Reckir struggled to get to his feet as Mezhen taunted him with a painful demise.

Yet just then, a warmth filled Reckir that seemed to repel Mezhen. Glancing around in shock, Reckir looked to see who his rescuer was. "Strike him down now, you idiot!" a voice called from below.

Reckir looked through the grate beneath him to see Wilmarth casting his healing energies upon Reckir, a pile of scourge corpses littered about the Paladin. Reckir nodded, sweat dripping off of his brow as he lifted his axe and swung it at the exposed neck of the bearded villain.

As the severed head hit the ground, Reckir turned to smash the grate open with his Axe. Once an opening was made, he tossed a rope down for Wilmarth to climb to the surface. After exchanging thanks, Reckir noticed a parchment clutched in the Necromancers hand. Scooping it up, the brothers soon realized that the Queen of the Vrykul, Queen Angerboda was attempting to awaken her King, King Ymiron, in the main structure of Gjalerbron.

Gathering their wits, the brothers fought their way through Gjalerbron until finally reaching the entrance to the chamber where Queen Angerboda was attemption to awaken King Ymiron. Blood-stained and tired, they entered to see the Queen combining her energies with three Necro Lords as they circled King Ymiron. The King floated in the air, his eyes closed in slumber.

Roaring their individual battle cries, the brothers charged into the hall and struck down the Queen. As her dying cry rang out, the energy she was unleashing backfired and struck dead the Necro Lords, causing the King to descend to his feet. As King Ymiron awakened, he saw the brothers standing over the fresh corpse of his beloved Queen, and roared in his fury. Just then, a shadowy figure emerged between them, facing the King.

It was the Lich King.

The Lich King yelled: Not yet, Ymiron, I have other plans for you. You will serve me better within Utgarde Pinnacle. And if these insects survive to find you again, you will get the chance to avenge your wife.

Within seconds, the shadowy avatar of the Lich King and King Ymiron faded from sight.

~~~

Reckir stood alone on the balcony of the Inn at Westguard Keep, the events of the day fresh in his mind. Wilmarth and he had reported their findings to Captain Adams, who was shocked, but resolute. Given the next few days to rest, the brothers parted ways. Reckir stayed in the Howling Fjord at Westguard, while his brother sailed back to Stormwind.

Reckir slammed his fist into a wooden pillar a wave of rage coming over him.

"Arthas..."

NOTE: The characters Reckir and Wilmarth are original. However, the events are an interpretation of the events that occur while playing through World of WarCraft. Some dialogue and manuscripts are taken directly from the game. (If not modified slightly).