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World of Warcraft - The Templar Knights

By ViMiLu

Romance / Adventure

Prologue

Freezing mist rose into spirals alongside the chilling seat of the Frozen Throne. The former proud paladin and crowned Prince of Lordaeron Arthas Menethil stared out towards the wastes of Northrend. A puff of white smoke oozes from his breath as he sighs. Clutched in his hand, the cursed runeblade known as Frostmourne hisses and shines with a delicate blue light. The steel plates clutched against his skin houses the trapped soul of the former shaman Ner’Zhul who once dared to challenge those more powerful than himself. Greed had gotten the better of both of them. Everything they have fought for, everything they have ever known and loved has been tossed aside. Their sacrifice has created one of the most fearsome villains Azeroth has ever known. There is no paladin. There is no shaman. Only the Lich King remains.

The mighty armor clanged and cracked against each other has he stood up. The Lich King descended from his throne. His tough hide boots slapped against the ice carved steps driving long and deep cracks as he passed. The chilling moist air seeped into the freshly made fractures sealing and repairing them nearly instantaneously. Frostmourne dragged across the icy surface. Disgusting screeches echoed into the highest peaks of Northrend. The Lich King continued his steadied approach towards the center of the encircled peak.

A radiant beam drew his eyes downward. This was no ordinary glow emanating from his blade. Frostmourne was trying to tell him something. It yearned to speak even though its only purpose was to feed and harvest souls. The weapon had served him well. First it corrupted the paladin and gave him a body to wield the awesome power cultivated in the shaman bound armor. Now, it has become the tool that will allow him to rule over all of Azeroth. The only thing he needed now was patience. Everything is as it should be. And yet, the runeblade continued to bark at him. The Lich King lifted Frostmourne and guided the tip slowly towards his empty hand. Fumes of smoke and light danced around his palm as the color began to radiate and grow brighter with every passing moment.

Light exploded into a well of energy high into the blackened sky. Spirits began to pour out through the blade and float about in chaotic patterns swarming the presence of the Lich King. Their wails cried out into the core of his hideous body. The spirits soon collected together to form the visage of a single being. Though his body was no longer his own, the memory of Arthas still remained within the tight confines of the Helm of Damnation. Standing before him, bathing in the wretched glowing light emanating from his blade was the ancient visage of the former King of Lordaeron.

The Lich King stared deep into the soul of the creature while taking slow and calculated breaths. The old man was no worse for wear. He still bore that hideous crown of his that fell to the ground ever so swiftly upon his demise; much like his kingdom soon afterwards.

“You look troubled my son,” the deep voice of Teranas spoke. His words echoed into the air nearly turning into ice against the cold mountain breeze. “Could it be that you can sense what I have felt? With your command over all that is death, you don’t even notice it slipping around your own throat.”

Though his words were harsh, the Lich King did not falter in stance nor composure. He continued to look down upon the ghost with the same look of mild interest and contempt.

“The light is growing. It is beginning to cascade these lands with its warmth and strength. Though you hide in your castle surrounded by death and darkness, it will slowly begin seeping through the cracks of this hideous dungeon. They will be coming for you, my son. They will not as easily succumbed to the will of the scourge as you once did.”

The words of the former king erupted in power with every breath spoken. And yet, his former son continued to stand unwavering and unmoved by any of it.

“Soon, they will be at your gates. An alliance and horde of heroes are coming for you. The light will prevail. It does not waver in the face of evil nor will it ever quit in its pursuit of justice.”

With one final plea, the former King of Lordaeron finished his enthralling speech.

“Where you have fallen, the light will select a new champion. The time of judgment is coming my son. Are you prepared to face the consequences of your betrayal?”

A heavy breath exited the mighty frame of the Lich King. He quickly turned back towards his throne. The heavy whip of his cloak waved over the misty appearance of Teranas and with one quick swipe, dissipated him into countless ashes of light and removed from existence.

The Frozen Throne was instantly hushed into a dull silence. From beneath the Helm of Damnation, a few quick breaths exited in a puff of icy mist. The cool air of the highest peak in Northrend was soon filled with a haunting yet unfamiliar sound. For the first time in ages, the Lich King actually started to laugh.

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