The Making of a Man [Rated PG-13]

Year 27

"Papa, we're headed to the waterhole!" Nine year old Litha called out, her golden locks bouncing gaily as she led her sister away from the house. At six years of age, Karayah looked just like a miniature version of her sister.



"Don't be too long, supper will be ready in a couple hours." Bartlett replied, standing in the doorway of their small house.

After fighting in the Third War, he had left military service and built this home in the highlands of Arathi.

On one of his supply trips to Southshore he met the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. They began talking and eventually he asked her hand in marriage. He didn't have much to offer in terms of comfort but she readily agreed. Together they created a home and she gave birth to two daughters.

While the horrors of the war still weighed on Bartlett's mind, being with his family dispelled most of the nightmares. He still practiced with his sword regularly, but not to the extent that he used to.



"You shouldn't let them run off like that without supervision. I don't know why I let you talk me into letting you make that swimming hole so far from the house." Harriet chided.

"It'll be alright, they have Ben looking out for them. See? He's already chasing after." Bartlett replied, motioning towards the two girls skipping away from the house. As he spoke, a large wolfhound burst from the woodshed and loped after them.

Harriet just shook her head and went back to tending their garden. She'd argued with Bartlett over this issue ever since he had decided the girls needed a swimming hole. She wouldn't have had a problem with it, but the only place viable was a mile away, and not in direct sight from the house.

She knew that their wolfhound would defend the girls to his death, but she still couldn't shake the feeling that something bad might happen to them while they were away.

A figure on the hilltop opposite them drew her mind away from her concerns. Straining her eyes, she could make out what looked like a man on a horse. Sun reflected off steel and made her shield her eyes, noticing that the man was guiding his mount directly towards the farmstead.



"Bart, are you expecting anyone." She called warily. They didn't get many visitors, and none of their neighbors wore full armor for a simple visit.



Bartlett looked up from sharpening his sword and noticed the figure. As the figure approached, he recognized the winged helm and narrowed his eyes in irritation.



"Why is he coming here now? I told him never to speak to me again." He mumbled under his breath.



Standing up, Bartlett shouldered his sword. The large two-hander had been passed down by his father, and grandfather before him. When his older brother had abandoned the family to concentrate on his career, Bartlett had inherited the blade.



"It's alright Hari, I know who that is." Bartlett spat on the ground. "It's my brother, Bennit."

"What are you doing here?" Bartlett demanded as his brother dismounted from his horse. He had to admit the Paladin cut an impressive figure despite his misgivings.



Clad in blue plate on his torso, his hands and feet were solid red. The shield on his back and mace at his side emanated an aura of power, and his winged helm flashed in the sunlight. Unlike many others in his order, Bennit preferred not to wear a cape or cloak, insisting that it only hindered his movements on the battlefield.



"Do you have to be so antagonistic, brother?" Bennit sighed. "I thought we could avoid the past today, I have dire news."



"You disappear for five years when our parents were dying, don't offer healing when you became a paladin, and return home after they were dead only to claim your birthright, and have the gall to ask we leave the past behind?" Bart snarled through clenched teeth. "If you weren't my brother I would have run you through the moment you stepped down from your horse."

"Save your dramatics for someone who cares." Bennit replied airily. "I had a higher calling than to be stuck on some isolated farm. When I heard what the Argent Dawn was doing, I knew what that calling was."



Bennit walked up to his brother and looked him square in the eye. Bartlett stared back with hate, but didn't say another word. He knew Bennit would only brush off his arguments like he had many times in the past.



"There have been rumors of massive scourge armies amassing near Lights Hope Chapel." Bennit continued. "I wasn't told if they were marching on the Dawn or the Scarlet Crusade's outpost, but I'm headed there to help where I can."



Bennit put his hand on Bartlett's shoulder and spoke earnestly.



"I had hoped that you would join me. I know how you feel about the Dawn since I joined them, but please put aside your feelings for me. There are larger things at stake than our petty squabbles."



Slapping away his brothers hand in disgust, Bartlett struggled to keep from shouting.



"I would rather die than fight beside you. Take your false piety and get away from my home." He snarled.

Hearing those last words as she walked up, Harriet clutched at his arm and looked at him in alarm.

Looking down at her, Bartlett lost some of the anger in him. Her presence always seemed to sooth his soul, and calm him down when he was on the verge of losing control.

Turning back to Bennit, he spoke in a more neutral voice.



"Go. I have a family now, and I will not leave them for anything. We have our own problems here. I don't need to ride off to solve someone else's."



Sighing, Bennit nodded and turned back to his horse. As he mounted, he called back down to the pair.



"If you change your mind, come to Lights Hope Chapel in the Eastern Plaguelands. I will make sure that you get a decent position, and you won't even have to join the Dawn."



As the Paladin spurred his horse away, Bartlett thoughtfully watched him leave. In truth he had become restless of late, hearing rumors of battles against the Scourge and others. Even though he loathed his brother, seeing him return with word of fighting had stirred something in him.

Shaking his head, Bartlett put the thought out of his mind. He had responsibilities here that couldn't be ignored. No matter how much he wanted to be on the front lines again, he wouldn't abandon his family.



Turning back to his wife, he held her in a close hug and leaned down to kiss her. A voice spoke up behind them.



"I thought that bloody tin can would never leave."



Spinning around, Bartlett beheld a small man clad in dark leather leaning in their doorway. Before he could move or even question who he was, another man appeared around the corner of their house wielding a bow.

Bartlett shouted for Harriet to run as he felt the sharp tip of an arrow lance into his right shoulder.

As he sunk to his knees in pain, Bartlett saw two more of the leather-clad assailants walk around from the back of the house. In their arms, blindfolded and gagged with dirty rags, were his two daughters.



"Don't you know it's dangerous away from home? You should have sent them out with more than a mangy dog to protect them." One of the bandits taunted.



Growling, Bartlett pushed himself to his feet and gripped his sword in his left hand. Although the huge two-hander strained his arm bringing up, he swung it in a large arc at the closest bandit. Sneering, the bandit stepped to the side and punched out with a small knife, catching Bartlett in his right arm and making him drop the sword. A sharp blow to the back of his head sent him stumbling to the ground, too dizzy to rise.

He looked up through bleary eyes to see Harriet being dragged back to the house by two more ruffians. Even though she struggled the entire time, they held her in vice-like grips.



"Did you really think you could cross the Syndicate and get away with it?" The leader asked, stepping away from the doorway and walking towards Bartlett. "The deal was, protection for a modest amount of your harvests and income."



"We...there was no harvest this year." Bartlett gasped, his head on fire from the pain. "Boars rooted through our fields, and raptors killed all but one of our dogs."



"That's not our problem. You've missed all of your payments this year, and now you need to be made an example of." The leader nodded to the two holding Harriet. "Take her inside and have some fun, then burn the house."

Harriet began screaming and struggling anew as the rogues started to drag her to the house.



"No!" Bartlett cried, struggling to get to his feet. "I will pay, just give us more time!"



"It's too late for that." The leader replied. "Maybe you'll remember to pay up next time."



As Harriet's screams continued from inside the house, Bartlett felt a rush of strength flow through him. He rose to his feet and charged into the leader, slamming against the house and driving the breath from him. Gasping, the rogue attempted to swing a dagger at Bartlett, but it was kicked out of his hand. Seeing Bartlett attempting to stagger through the door to his wife, the leader grabbed at Bartlett's nearest boot and tripped him up before he could enter.

As he heard the whimpering cries of his girls behind him, Bartlett looked up just in time to catch a boot to his face. Standing back up, the rogue's leader wiped a hand across his bloody face. With a look of intense hatred, he smashed Bartlett in the head over and over with the butt of his dagger.



"You're lucky we were given specific instructions on leaving you alive." He snarled. As he raised up his arm for another blow, a malicious expression suddenly passed over his face.

"We're supposed to leave you alive, but no one said anything about your family."



One of the rogues grabbed Bartlett's arms as the leader rose and slowly walked over to the two girls. Though he was halfway into unconsciousness, Bartlett was aware of the danger before him. He struggled against the arms pinning him down, but was too weak to be more than an annoyance. Each of Harriet's screams from inside tore away at his soul a little more.

Sobbing, Bartlett pleaded with the leader to leave his family alone.



Time seemed to slow as the leader stepped behind his girls, and casually slit their throats. One at a time.



The leader gestured towards the house and the two rogues holding the bodies tossed them through the doorway. The screaming intensified.



Bartlett watched numbly as the leader strode over and began savagely beating him with his fists. He feebly attempted to ward off the blows, but the leader just pushed his ineffectual arms out of the way and continued.

The beating seemed to go on forever, and Bartlett was on the verge of blacking out when he realized it had stopped. Harriet's screams had also stopped.

As blood dripped into his eyes, he barely made out the two rogues exiting his home. The rogue's leader grabbed Bartlett by his collar and dragged him until he could see inside the doorway.



Harriet, her dress in shreds, blood running down her arms and face, sat cradling their daughter's heads in her lap. Bartlett could faintly hear the quiet sobbing as she tried to smooth their hair.



The leader leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Remember, this is how the Syndicate deals with people who don't pay." He straightened and took the bow from one of his fellow bandits.



Harriet looked up and locked gazes with Bartlett. He could see the anguish in her eyes as tears streamed down her face.



The leader drew back the bow and aimed.



Bartlett mouthed "I'm sorry." as Harriet whispered "I love you."



The bow twanged as the arrow left it's rest.



Bartlett wailed and thrashed around as the arrow impacted her head and threw Harriet to the floor.

The leader of the rogues dragged Bartlett back from the doorway, and gestured to his men. One of them lit a torch and threw it into the house, while the rest began to depart on foot..

The dry wood and furs inside immediately burst into flames. As the smell of burning flesh reached his nose, Bartlett was struck once more on the head and went into a daze. The last thing he heard from the attackers was the leader chuckling as they left.

Time was meaningless as Bartlett wallowed in his pain. His head fuzzy, he knew deep down that his injuries were grievous. He could feel the heat as the flames from the burning house rose higher, and could feel as the cold settled in when they died down.

He passed in and out of consciousness, waking in agony when he involuntarily shifted in his sleep.

Vaguely he wondered if anyone from the neighboring farms had seen the fire, but dismissed it just as readily. None would want to give aid to someone being made an example of by the Syndicate.



After countless hours of pain and unconsciousness, Bartlett's head finally began to clear and he could comprehend the situation around him.

His house was completely burned to the ground, and the ashes swirled in the night's wind. He still lay on the ground in front of where the door used to be, and some of his clothes were singed when the flames had licked too close.

Bartlett slowly pushed himself to his feet, swaying a bit when he stood up. His home was gone, his family was gone, and the ones responsible had returned to their stronghold.

With the leader's face burned into his memory, he vowed that he would wreak vengeance on the Syndicate. Knowing that he was too weak to confront them in their lair directly, he knew the only decision available to him.

He had to seek help from his brother. No matter what had passed between them, Bartlett knew that Bennit wouldn't hesitate to give him aid under these circumstances.



Moving slowly, each step agonizing, Bartlett slowly picked through the rubble of his house. The underground cellar was mostly untouched, and he discovered that most of their provisions were still good.

Gathering up what he could in a sack, a dull gleam in the moonlight caught his eye. Collapsing down on a knee, he sifted away the ash and held the object up in the glow of the moonlight.

It was the coin he'd given to Litha on her eighth birthday. He had found it on a corpse during his time in the war. The unique metal and symbols on it had inspired him to keep it, even though it was obviously very valuable and he could have sold it for a large sum.

He had gifted it to Litha, to the intense jealousy of her sister, and she had carried it with her ever since.



Rubbing away some of the charcoal on it, Bartlett was overcome by emotion. Tears streaming down his face and leaving trails down his soot-stained cheeks, he slipped the coin into a hidden pocket in his coat.



Groaning as he stood once more, Bartlett shouldered the sack with his provisions and walked to where his sword had fallen in the fight. His knuckles whitened as he grasped it's handle. He would journey north and find his brother. No matter what Bennit was involved with, he'd convince him to help eradicate the Syndicate. Or at the very least, find the ones who'd murdered his family and subject them to a slow death.

Two weeks later, Bartlett stumbled into Chillwind camp. His head still bandaged, most of his other injuries had half healed on the journey. Along the way he'd managed to steal a horse from one of the farms and a pack mule further down. He usually frowned on thievery, but justified his actions by telling himself he had to reach his brother quickly.

The camp itself wasn't very big, just a small outpost across a large river from the ruins of Andorhal. Andorhal was overrun with Scourge, and the center of their operations in the area. Their leader, Araj The Summoner, oversaw the numerous plague cauldrons. These plague cauldrons turned every living being they touched into more undead, and added numbers to the Scourge army.



As Bartlett dismounted and led his horse into the camp, one of the guards approached him.



"What's your business here? As you can see we don't have any lodgings or time for travelers."



"I'm simply passing through on my way to Light's Hope Chapel." Bartlett replied. He tried to make his way around, but the guard planted himself in the way.



"Well you'll have to turn back." The guard said. "The ruins are impassible for a lone man, and we haven't the personnel to spare as an escort. Not to mention we don't just escort every traveler who feels like passing through."



Bartlett stopped and looked him in the eye. The guard shrank back a little from the intensity of the stare, but didn't move from the path.

"I don't care about your war. I don't care about any escorts. I don't care about the undead. I am going to Light's Hope and there is nothing you can do to stop me." Bartlett growled. "I have business there, and not even the Lich King himself will keep me from it."



The guard shook his head in disbelief and moved to the side. "If you're really that dead set on killing yourself, be my guest. Just don't come back asking for help when you see that you can't get through."



Bartlett just twisted his lip up as he passed the guard. After purchasing some supplies from the quartermaster's limited stock, he started to make his way towards the large bridge that spanned the river.

Not long after he left the camp, Bartlett noticed that he was walking through what appeared to be a large graveyard. As he moved further in he began to hear faint whispers, the rattling of bones, and the moans of undead. Drawing his sword from it's sheath on his back, Bartlett glanced around in an attempt to spot the abominations.



A sudden screech to his right sent Bartlett's horse rearing on its hind legs. Spinning towards the sound, he swung his sword in a horizontal arc and connected with the skeleton. Bones splintering under the blow, the skeleton staggered backwards before attempting to reach out for Bartlett again.

Bartlett lifted his sword and brought it down in a powerful arc, completely shattering the skeleton and reducing it to a pile of bones. There was no time to be relieved however, since many more skeletons and ghouls appeared from around mausoleum corners and gravestones. He also noticed ghostly shapes moving towards him from a large building several hundred feet away.



His horse screamed in panic and jerked the reins free from his grasp. Galloping back they way they had come, it ran over another skeleton before disappearing around a bend. Bartlett knew he wouldn't be able to fight the numerous undead approaching, so he opted to charge through their ranks instead.

Ducking and dodging around grasping hands, Bartlett managed to avoid getting hit as he made his way towards the bridge. He used his sword as a scythe, bashing skeletons that got too close and cutting ghoul's legs out from under them. He even tried to score a hit on some of the ghostly figures, but his sword just passed through them and they reappeared a few yards away.

As he pushed further into the graveyard, he took several hits from skeletons that managed to make it past his defenses. A ghoul once clawed his leg and he could feel its slowing disease creeping in. Sheer determination, rage, and adrenaline staved off the magical ailment and he continued to push forward.



Bartlett finally broke free from the pack following him as he neared the bridge. Gasping for breath, he managed to stumble his way across just ahead of the howling mob. Nearing the far side, he realized what the guard had meant by the town being impassible.

Various Scourge minions dotted the ruins of the city. Skeletons, ghouls, necromancers, and more moved about its streets. He even saw some kind of hulking flesh beast, looking like they had been sewn together from various other corpses.

The only road through the ruins was completely overrun with Scourge, and there was no way to avoid the city.



Bartlett screamed at the sky in frustration. He wasn't supposed to die like this. While part of him welcomed an end to pain he felt, a burning desire for the revenge of his loved ones overwhelmed it.



"No." Bartlett growled to himself. "This isn't how it ends."



Gripping his sword with two hands, he charged into the town. The first to bar his way was a pair of armor clad skeletons. Wielding swords themselves, both attempted to stab Bartlett at the same time. Leaping to the left, he caught both swords in a downward parry. He reversed his grip and spun to his right, bring the sword around and smashing both skeletons in the back of their heads.

He switched his grip again and attacked the next undead, not even glancing back at the crumbling skeletons.

The ghoul in front of him attempted to slash with diseased claws, but he managed to duck under a swipe as he ran it through. Before he could kick it off his sword however, he felt the ground tremble as something massive stomped the ground near him.

Bartlett looked to his left and saw one of the flesh beasts swinging a massive chain as it waddled towards him. With incredible speed for it's size, the beast lashed out with the chain and caught Bartlett around the chest. The chain wrapped itself around him, and the beast yanked back on it, jerking Bartlett forward.



As he stumbled to a stop in front of the beast, it viciously punched him in the face with a massive fist. Blood running down his face, he stumbled away and felt a sharp pain in his back. Looking down, he could see where the tip of the spear penetrated from his chest.



Screaming in pain, Bartlett twisted around and manage to cut down the skeleton before he collapsed on his side. As he lay writhing in pain, he could see one of the necromancers approaching.



"This one will make an excellent servant for the Lich King." It hissed.



Bartlett growled and attempted to stumble to his feet, ignoring the agonizing pain that lanced through his chest. Dying was one thing, but becoming part of the Scourge terrified him to his core. Chain still pinning his arms to his side, Bartlett stumbled back in a feeble attempt to escape.



Raising its hands, the necromancer unleashed a destructive spell directly at his chest.



Bartlett's last living thought was that he had failed his family yet again.



The spell hit Bartlett and threw his lifeless form to the ground.

Pain like nothing he had every felt racked his body. Waves of agony seared his mind, forcing him to open his eyes. Light from everywhere burned his eyes and blinded, causing him to blink rapidly.

As his sight cleared, a whispering voice inside his head began to speak instructions. Looking up, Bartlett beheld a massive vision of the Lich King standing before him.



Struggling to stand, Bartlett looked around and tried to get his bearings. He was standing in a large, circular room with a single entrance. The middle of the room was indented, and held training dummies on the inside. Blood spattered across the floor, and the smell of rotting bodies filled the air. Tortured screaming could be heard echoing from other parts of the structure.



Various undead shambled around the room, but Bartlett felt nothing for them. Something in his mind soothed him to their presence, and marked them as allies. The voice in his head continued to speak, and although he couldn't understand a word, somehow he understood their instructions.



A powerful will bent him to it's whim, and Bartlett was like a tool in it's hands. Through the fog of the Lich King's influence, Bartlett slowly began to understood what had happened to him.

He had been resurrected to fight as one of the Lich King's champions.

A Death Knight.

Time became meaningless as the newly initiated Death Knight began to master his new powers and abilities. He was given new armor, imbued with the power of Scourge necromancers. Learning the power of Runeforging, he enchanted his new sword with a spell that increased his strength when attacking.



With the presence of the Lich King guiding his actions and thoughts, the Death Knight felt no remorse or pity for those he struck down during his training. He didn't give a second thought to the Scourge that accompanied him, or to the other Death Knight initiates that fought with and against him.

His world a haze, the Death Knight fought against the Scarlet Enclave. Committing atrocities against his enemies, he bulled his way through their strongholds of Havenshire and New Avalon, alongside the Lich King's other Death Knights.

Man, woman, and child were put to the sword before them, and no quarter was given. He felt no remorse, no pity, no emotions as he butchered everything that stood in his master's path.



Completing their task of eradicating the Scarlet Enclave in the vicinity, the Death Knights returned to their base of operations. Acherus: The Eben Hold.



Once there, they received orders from Highlord Darion Mograine, commander of the Lich King's Death Knights. The strongest Death Knights were to join the already massive undead force and begin the assault on Lights Hope Chapel. The last human bastion in the area.

Having proven himself in combat against the Scarlet Enclave, the Death Knight previously known as Bartlett McCafferty was chosen to be a part of the assault force.



As the Scourge army assembled in preparation, a distant memory broke through the haze of the Lich King's control. The chapel reminded him of someone, or something, from his past life. No matter how hard he tried though, the feeling would not become clearer.



His mind reverted back to the emptiness of servitude as a great roar went up around him. The Scourge were starting their charge.

The sounds of battle raged around him. Screams of the wounded and dying rent the air as the Death Knight attacked the nearest Argent Dawn defender.



The knight struck first with a shield rush, then followed up with a stab to the chest. The Death Knight snapped his sword in an upward arc, deflecting the blow to the side. Spinning his sword around, he raised the sword up and brought it down in an overhead chop, but the knight was able to raise his shield in time to block the strike.

Striking low, the Death Knight forced the defender to lower his shield in an attempt to block. As his sword impacted the shield, he dropped his grip with one hand and punched straight into the knight's face. Staggering back, the knight attempted to bring his sword up for a parry.

Before the Death Knight could follow up the advantage, two ghouls jumped onto the defender from behind and bore him to the ground. Slightly annoyed that he'd been unable to complete the kill himself, the Death Knight spun his sword into a ready position and searched for a new target.



Thousands of undead lay siege to the Chapel, surging forward as the defenders valiantly held their line. Less than 300 defenders of the Argent Dawn opposed them, but with divine powers assisting them, many Scourge fell to their forces.

The Death Knight had personally dispatched three of the defenders himself, and had assisted with numerous others. Ghouls, zombies, skeletons, huge abominations, and other Death Knights fought beside the one who used to be known as Bartlett.



Decapitating yet another paladin, the Death Knight looked around and noticed a visible thinning in the defender's lines. By his rough estimate, they had killed almost two thirds of their forces. They still had an overwhelming amount of Scourge in their forces, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before the Lich King's army won.



As he started forward again, the Death Knight heard a scream behind him that seemed to pierce the entire battlefield.



"BARTLETT, WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?"



Spinning towards the vaguely familiar voice, he saw a paladin standing with a shocked expression on his face. The paladin wore a winged helm, and carried a red shield. Memory tugged at the back of his mind, but the Lich King's will drove it away.



Growling, the Death Knight thrust an arm toward the paladin and cast a disease spell at him. With a simple gesture, the paladin cleansed himself of the afflictions.

Uttering a quick spell, the paladin seemed to grow translucent wings behind his back. Thrusting a hand forwards, his next spell froze the Death Knight in place and rendered him completely immobile.



"Bartlett! It's me, Bennit! Can't you recognize me?" The paladin shouted, his face a mask of anguish.



Freezing his veins, the Death Knight nullified the stunning spell and struck out with his sword. Bennit deflected the blow with his shield and dashed back, attempting to put some distance between them.

The Death Knight snapped his arms out and purple tendrils shot from them, encompassing Bennit and drawing him back. Instantly Bennit shocked the Death Knight with a burst of holy power, and attempted to cast a blinding spell.



Hardly stung from the attack, the Death Knight shoved his hand towards the paladin and froze his mind with a quick spell, interrupting his casting. Following up the advantage, he swung his sword and impacted on Bennit's breastplate.

Bennit staggered back, struggling to clear his mind from the mindfreeze. The blow against his chest had cracked his armor, but wasn't life threatening yet. He attempted to parry the next attack with his sword, but only managed to deflect it onto his shoulder.



Blood flowing down his arm, Bennit could feel the insidious diseases from the Death Knight working it's way through his body. He attempted to cast a healing spell, but was interrupted again by a tightening of his throat.



The Death Knight drew back his sword for a last attack on the strangling paladin, when a divine light engulfed Bennit. Eyes widening in alarm, the Death Knight could only watch helplessly as his attacks rebounded off an invisible barrier.



Bennit breathed a sigh of relief as he healed his wounds. He had barely been able to get the protection spell off before his brother decapitated him. Still confused as to how Bartlett had become a Death Knight, he was beginning to understand that there was nothing he could do about it.

His brother was gone, lost in the compulsion from the Lich King, and his humanity stripped during his training.



Looking around, Bartlett could see that the fighting around them was looking very dire for the Argent Dawn. Already, numerous Scourge advanced on the two of them, and Bennit knew that he'd be unable to fend them all off.



Gathering himself for a final stand as his protection spell wore off, Bennit noticed a figure striding out from the Chapel's door.



A blinding light and deafening roar encompassed the entire battlefield. The Scourge closest to the Chapel simply disintegrated, and those farther away slumped to the ground.

Tirion Fordring had entered the battle.



Ignoring the activity near the chapel, Bennit rushed to his brother's side. Turning him over, he could see that the Death Knight looked confused.



"Wha-what happened?" Bartlett asked, struggling to stand. When he'd been blinded by the light, the presence in his mind had vanished. He was no longer under the Lich King's control. He could hear Darion Mograine yelling for the remaining Death Knights to stand down.



"The Highlord Tirion Fordring attacked your forces and wiped them out." Bennit replied. "It looks like something is happening over there, but I can't quite make out what it is. What happened with you?"



"I was being controlled by the Lich King. It looks like whatever Tirion did stopped that" Bartlett attempted to rise but his brother pushed him down again.



"You need to rest. I don't know what they'll do with the rest of you, but-" A commotion where Tirion and Mograine were talking cut him off.



Bartlett and Bennit watched in awe as what appeared to be two spirits began to have a conversation. Too far away to hear, they watched as the Lich King suddenly appeared and banished them with his Runeblade.

Darion Mograine then appear to shake himself out of a trance and attacked the Lich King, only to be thrown to the side.

Incapacitating Tirion Fordring, the Lich King flung the Argent Dawn defenders attempting to attack him away, stunning them as they hit the ground.

Taunting the figures on the ground before him, the Lich King released Tirion from his spell in anticipation of victory. Mograine struggled to his feet and heaved his sword to Tirion, who cast a spell on it and attacked the Lich King.

Shying from the raw power that emanated from Tirion, the Lich King retreated, shouting threats as he teleported away.



Realizing the battle was completely over, the two brothers limped to where the leaders were conversing. As they approached, they could see that an agreement had been reached.



Turning to the remaining Death Knights, Mograine announced that with their newly aquired freedom from the Lich King, they would form a new order and oppose him alongside the newly christened Argent Crusade. They would be called the Knights of the Ebon Blade, and would be able to receive pardons for the atrocities committed while enslaved.



"This is good news Bart." Bennit exclaimed, turning to him. "You'll be able to be pardoned and you can return to your family!"



Bartlett looked at him through narrow eyes, a scowl forming on his face.



"My family was killed right after you left. I have nothing to return to." He spat. "I can still feel remnants of the Lich King in my head, urging me to kill. The worst part is, I don't care."



"Killed? How? What happened?" Bennit asked incredulously.



"It doesn't matter. They are dead, and I couldn't stop it." Bartlett replied.



He brushed past Bennit and walked a few steps before stopping and turning.



"Somewhere inside, I have an urge to kill the ones who took Harriet and my girls from me. But I also have an urge to kill you, and everyone else around me. Both feelings are equally strong." He sighed. "The Bartlett you knew is gone, killed by the Lich King."



"What will you do now?" Bennit asked, disturbed at the revelations. The news that his brother's family had been murdered came as a shock to him, and he resolved to find out what happened.



"Get a pardon I suppose. Find an outfit that wants a killer after that, or maybe join the Ebon Blade in their fight against the Lich King." The Death Knight shrugged. "Either way, don't come looking for me. I'm not your brother anymore."



Bennit nodded sadly as his brother strode away, not looking back. They'd never been close, but he'd always felt that if either of them were in dire need, the other would help.

The man walking away from him though seemed different. Not just his attitude, but even the way he walked seem balanced on the edge of violence. As if with each step he was ready to kill the next person who crossed his path.



Turning back to the rest of his company, Bennit felt as though the last time he'd truly seen his brother, was the day he'd left that homestead. He looked back for one last glimpse, but Bartlett was gone.

Year: 30.



The crowd groaned as yet another combatant was knocked unconscious and dragged out of the fighting pit. The horned, yeti-like creature he had fought roared in defiance as it was herded out of the ring. Blood pooled where the creature had smashed into the fighter with its horns and almost disemboweled him.



There was a raucous crowd in Bizmo's Brawlpub that night. The pirate outfit called Black Flag was hosting their annual tournament for all the lowlifes, mercenaries, and riff raff that called the Alliance cities home. Due to the inhumane nature of the tournaments, a strict guard was kept at the entrance and only those with an invitation were allowed in. All manner of degenerates had signed up to fight the various creatures and prisoners that were kept in the dungeons below. Many more had shown up simply to spectate and intoxicate themselves with the variety of brews available at the bar.



As the fighting pit was being prepared for the next contestant, the crowd gave a restless murmur. They had shown up in the hope of bloodshed and mayhem, but had only been treated to multiple challengers being rapidly knocked out. Even though it was a treat to see the challengers getting mauled be the different beasts, the viewers hoped for a more visceral contest.



The announcer declared the next combatant to try his luck, and all eyes went to the center of the ring where a human Death Knight strode forward. His ghoulish minion followed half a step behind.



Clad in dull brown and silver plate armor, the Death Knight stood with a disdainful sneer on his face. The armor had seen much wear and had numerous dents all over it. Spikes, hooks, and barbs protruded from his shoulders and knees, but there was little else about the armor to mark it unique. He had entered the ring without a helm, and the light from overhead played off his orange spiked hair. As his opponent was announced, he readied the two-handed axe he carried and gazed ahead with glowing blue eyes.



Smashing it's twin warhammers together, the enormous Tauren advanced on the Death Knight. Two Goblins sat on either shoulder, screeching and cursing in their own tongue. Not even slowing, the Tauren advanced on the Human and began swinging it's hammers.



Snarling in rage, the Death Knight ducked under the first swing and parried the second. Enacting his dark powers he inflicted a pestilence on the Tauren, causing it to break out in disease. Continuing with the momentum, the human swung his axe and the Goblin seated on the right shoulder. Squealing in protest, the diminutive creature evaded the first attack on him. The Tauren roared in anger and drove the human back with wild swings from both hammers.



Snarling, the Death Knight enacted the telepathic bond between himself and his minion, and sent it leaping forward at the Tauren. Following behind it with his own attacks, the human was able to knock the Goblin off it's perch. As it fell to the ground, the Death Knight swung his axe back and nearly severed the poor creature in two. Not content with leaving it lie, he raised a plated boot and crushed the Goblin's head with his heel. Smirking in satisfaction, his attention turned back to the other Goblin.



Backing away, the Tauren could feel it's strength waning from the diseases ravaging it's body. It knew that should the human kill the other Goblin, the shield spell they had been casting would fall away and the Death Knight's axe would bite that much harder. Calling upon the powers given to him by the Brawl'gar Arena facilitators, he enacted a magical shield directly in front of him. Closing his eyes, the Tauren prayed that it proved to be as impenetrable as he was told.



The Death Knight grunted in surprise. He hadn't expected this Tauren to have any magical abilities. It wouldn't matter though. He noticed that the Tauren's eyes were closed, and chuckled to himself at the foolishness. Keeping his ghoul attacking the front of a shield as a distraction, the human spun around the side of the shield. Just as he suspected, while it was impenetrable from the front, the shield provided no protection from the rear. Almost laughing, the human raised his axe in an overhead swing and split the remaining Goblin in two.



Snapping his eyes open in shock, the Tauren cried out in alarm and spun around, swinging both his hammers in a great cleave. The Death Knight was only able to parry one of the attacks. The other hit him squarely in the chest, and he could feel ribs cracking from the impact. Stumbling back, the Death Knight called to his ghoul and bid him leap onto the Tauren, momentarily stunning him. The human didn't need longer than that. Calling upon his innate healing abilities, the Death Knight could feel his broken ribs slowly starting to repair themselves.



Hate burning in his eyes, the Death Knight thrust his right hand towards the Tauren. Purple tendrils shot out from his hand and grasped the Tauren, immobilizing him. Drawing his hand back with a swift motion and raising up his axe, the purple tendrils retracted and yanked the Tauren directly in front of the human. Without hesitation, the Death Knight severed one leg with a powerful swing and sent the Tauren lurching. He followed up with a chop to the chest that laid the Tauren on the ground.



Blood bubbled from his lips as the Tauren struggled to breathe. Fear shone in his eyes as he raised an arm in surrender, hoping for mercy. The Death Knight looked down for a long minute before turning away. Before the Tauren could sigh in relief though, the human spun around with his axe raised and decapitated him.



The crowd roared in applause.



Two other humans met the Death Knight as he left the ring to congratulate him. Shoving one aside, he headbutted the other and growled a curse under his breathe. As he stalked away to collect his reward, he passed two recent members of Black Flag drinking at the bar.



"What's his problem?" The Gnome asked his companion. "He won, he should be happier."



"Bah." The Dwarf rolled his eyes. "Mebbe he jus' needs a good lass to roll in the hay with. That'd loosen' him up!"



A new voice interrupted their laughter.



"Why don't you tell that to his face, I'd love to see the outcome."



The two companions turned to see longstanding Black Flag member Helsinki Nightforest at the end of the bar. She smirked and looked over them to where the Death Knight had gone.



"The last time someone suggested he loosen up, he punched them so hard in the face even I couldn't have healed them. Not that I would have anyways."



"Well, what's his story then?" The Gnome questioned. "Why do we have someone like that on the crew?"



Helsinki turned back to her drink before replying.



"I'm not really sure. All I know is that he showed up one day and offered his services to Captain Fenrick. He didn't even ask for payment, which was really strange." She turned back to the pair. "No one even knows his name. He just fights, kills, and moves on. He's very helpful when someone needs actual assistance though, just don't expect him to be friendly about it."



Shouldering his way back through the crowd, the Death Knight passed them on his way out of the pub. Slamming the head of someone who tried to stop him into the wall, he didn't even slow.



"Trust me." Helsinki mused, watching him leave. "We're much better being on the side of that nuthouse than against him."

Year: 30



Lightning crackled over the darkened battlefield and illuminated three figures riding at breakneck speed. Eyes squinted, peering through the rain, they maneuvered around the rocks and obstacles in their path. As they grew closer to their goal, the shape of a large keep began to appear through the darkness. Raising a hand, the figure in front motioned for the other two to slow and stop. As they dismounted and tied up their horses on a nearby bush, the leader motioned towards the keep and beckoned the other two.



Nnutthowze peered around through the dark. They had purposefully avoided contact with the main Horde forces so they could reach this place. Black Flag had been hired to "collect" a cache of supplies that had been hidden away in this remote base. The employer had failed to mention that a sizable Horde garrison also occupied the place. Fenrick, Captain of the pirate outfit, had gathered together a strike force to assault the keep and bring the supplies back to their base of operations. While most of the pirates had met the Horde in open battle, Fenrick, Katalina Moonbreeze, and Nnutthowze had circumvented the battlefield to strike directly at the keep's defenders.



As they moved up the earth ramp towards the keep's opening, Fenrick reminded the other two to watch out for each other.



"I know you prefer to fight alone, Nnutthowze. But we need to work as a team here. We don't know how many they have, and there are only four of us."



Nnutthowze grunted and moved forward. Katalina just sighed and shook her head. She was usually more comfortable back at Black Flag's headquarters acting as the matron of the pirate clan. Fenrick had asked that she come along for this attack though, saying that her Druidic powers would be needed. Unsure of what the Paladin saw in their companion, she nevertheless trusted him enough to not question his judgement.



Light shown from the entrance as they approached. Growing impatient at the inactivity, the Death Knight summoned his ghoul and started to run forward. Fenrick glanced over at Katalina and gave an exasperated shake of his head before running after him. Nnutthowze glimpsed some movement inside the doorway and charged forward with a roar. The surprised Orc inside barely had time to bring up his twin swords before the Death Knight crashed into him.



Backing away, the Orc parried the first series of attacks before attempting to counter with his own. Nnutthowze sneered as the swords scraped off his armor, inflicting only minor scratches. Raising his axe with one hand, the Death Knight reached out with his right and a sent a sickly looking orb directly at the Orc's chest. The Orc doubled over as pain racked his body. Nnutthowze sent another orb at the Orc, and glanced over in satisfaction as his minion seemed to swell with growing strength.



"We don't have time for this, kill him and let's move on!" Katalina exclaimed. She and Fenrick had entered behind Nnutthowze while he was intent on the orc.



"There is always time for pain." The Death Knight responded, grinning maliciously as he sent another green orb into the groaning orc.



A flash of light near his eyes almost blinded him, and he looked back to see Fenrick striding up. Glancing back he could see a ghostly hammer disappearing. It had smashed into the skull of the orc, killing him on impact. Snarling, Nnutthowze rounded on the Paladin, but was brushed aside as Fenrick walked past.



"Just go. You'll have plenty of enemies to hurt in there."



Cursing under his breath, the Death Knight followed the Paladin and Druid down a ramp to their left, and through another doorway once they reached the bottom. The trio entered an open courtyard with a balcony on one end, sheer stone walls leading to open sky, and the supplies on the opposite end from where they stood. They were not alone though.



Two more orcs with swords, a Sin'dorei wielding a staff, a troll with a bow, and goblin with what appeared to be four small pillars around him, stared back.



Each side took a moment to size up the opponent. Katalina could feel her heart pounding, and she leaned over towards Fenrick.



"Why did you say we had four with us?" she whispered. "Did you forget how to count?"



A roar drowned out the Paladin's reply as the two orcs charged in, swords flailing. Nnutthowze rushed forward to engage them, and bid his ghoul to attack at the same time. Ducking under the first blow, he parried the next two before being hit in the chest. The wound wasn't deep and he countered with a chop of his own. The first orc parried the blow and struck out with his second sword. Dodging out of the way, Nnutthowze muttered a quick spell under his breath. Instantly, the ground beneath their feet started to bubble with pestilence and foul diseases. The Orcs cursed as their feet stung from the plagued ground. Glancing over to see how his companions fared, Nnutthowze groaned with pain as he was struck in the side with both of the seconds orc's swords.



Noticing the Death Knight's dire circumstance, Fenrick uttered a quick prayer of healing and threw up his arm towards Nnutthowze. He could see the effect as the Death Knight yanked the swords from his side and brought his axe across with a roar. Turning his attention back to dodging the troll's arrows, the Paladin continued to whisper his prayers of healing and bestowing them on whichever of his companions need them the most.



Katalina's worst nightmare had come true. Not only was she in the middle of a frantic fight, but she had the attention of two of the combatants to herself. Frantically dodging the goblins latest hammer swings, she stayed on the run. Periodically she'd cast another bolt of pure energy at both of her attackers, wracking them with pain for it's duration. The sin'dorei constantly cast fireballs toward herself and Fenrick, but each time the Paladin had been able to cast a healing spell before the burns had time to take hold. The goblin had constantly been at her heels, and she'd done everything in her power to keep away from his lightning charged hammers. Noticing a shift in the fight with Nnutthowze and the orcs, Katalina called out to him.



"We need to end this, follow my lead!"



Intent on his fight, the Death Knight shrugged off another vicious blow on his shoulders and quickly looked over. The quel'dorei had summoned a whirling vortex in the center of the room with the goblin in the very center. Thinking quickly, Nnutthowze realized what she had in mind. Cursing out a quick spell, he punched each of the orcs in the chest with an icy fist; effectively freezing their feet to the ground. Sprinting into the vortex, he marveled for not the first time that he wasn't as affected by the swirling winds. The goblin noticed him, but was struggling too much trying to escape that he paid no heed. As the orcs broke free from their restraints, the Death Knight called upon his powers and shot both arms towards them. Twin purple tendrils reached out and yanked them off their feet into the vortex.



Calling upon her most powerful spells, Katalina threw her hands to the skies. Instantly silvery, sparkling, points of light began to descend from above them. Each time an orb touch one of the Horde, they screamed and writhed in pain. At the same time she began to summon both blue and orange pillars of fire upon the enemy that was trapped in the vortex.



Screaming with rage, the sin'dorei thrust both hand in front of her and summoned a burst of fire from her hands. Caught in the path, Nnutthowze stumbled about, frantically trying to put out the flames on his face. Fenrick muttered a quick prayer, but before he could heal the Death Knight, a sting in his chest made him look down. One of the troll's arrows had found it's mark. Swaying on his feet, the Paladin could feel venom from the arrowhead leaching into his system and sapping his strength. Falling to his knees, he looked up to see both the troll and sin'dorei turn their attention on Kat.



Smirking, the troll fixed another arrow into his bow and aimed it at Kat. Looking up from killing the three trapped in the vortex, Kat looked directly at the troll's face and knew she had no defenses left. She also noticed what looked like a shadow falling over the troll.



Springing from the rooftop, Tobi dove towards the troll with both his daggers drawn.



He had followed Fenrick's orders and taken an alternate route up the side of the keep. Arriving just in time to see the fight swing in favor of the Horde, he quickly took advantage of the distraction.



Tobi crashed into the troll and made the notched arrow fly wildly, missing Kat by mere inches. Both sprang to their feet as the sin'dorei turned to face the newest intruder. Reaching into a belt pouch, Tobi drew out a small orb and smashed it into the ground. Instantly the air around him grew cloudy with smoke, and the sin'dorei's view of the fighters was hidden. Dodging the troll's feeble attack with his bow, Tobi spun around and jammed both daggers into it's leg. Howling in pain, the troll tried to back away, but the rogue stayed on him, slicing and jabbing. Tobi dodged away from one last attack, and ducked under the troll's upraised arm. Spinning around behind him, the rogue buried both daggers deep into the troll's neck. Looking up, he noticed that the sin'dorei had fled the scene.



Sauntering over to lean on one of the walls, Tobi watched as Fenrick and Nnutthowze pulled themselves to their feet.



"Hello darlings, did you miss me?" He grinned.



Nnutthowze just scowled at him and spat.



"Who said you could come?" he said, grimacing at the burns on his face.



"I said he could." Fenrick replied, walking over and healing the burns on the Death Knight's face. "Now let's get what we came for so we can get paid."



Muttering under his breath, Nnutthowze shot a glare over at the rogue. Tobi just winked at him and moved to help the Paladin and Druid.



Walking out through the main entrance to the keep, the quartet was met by the rest of their band. The pirates had crushed the Horde and had been moving to help their leader when they met each other.

As they congratulated each other and boasted about how they would use their portion of the reward, Nnutthowze walked apart and remained silent. He was unsettled by the fact that he'd been unable to keep his companions safe, and that he'd been saved by a rogue. He didn't like rogues and their brash, cocky ways. Most of all though he blamed them for the loss of his wife, his death, and eventual enslavement by the Lich King.



Shaking his head to clear the painful memory, Nnutthowze concentrated instead on another matter that annoyed him. The sin'dorei had escaped. He never liked leaving one of the enemy alive, and this one had burned his face. It made no difference that Fenrick had healed him and prevented any scarring. He swore to find either that sin'dorei, or another one that looked like her. He just wanted someone to kill.

Year: 30



The tavern was busier than normal. A low murmur from the various patrons filled the air, and there was constant movement near the bar. Sitting with his back to the wall, Nnutthowze slowly sipped his ale. The Slaughtered Lamb wasn't the most inviting of taverns due to the faint smell of sulfur wafting from the basement, but it suited his purposes. Even though he had been officially pardoned for the atrocities committed while under the Lich King's enthrallment, most people still looked at him with hate and fear.



This particular tavern though was known for it's less than savory clientele. There had even been rumors of demonic rituals being held in the basement. Nnutthowze felt completely at home.



Rolling a coin over his knuckles impatiently as he waited, He shook his head. The Death Knight had sent out a notice to his fellow pirates about a possible employment opportunity, and instructed them to meet him here. He was growing annoyed at the delay of their arrival.



Hearing a commotion at the entrance, he glanced up to see two members from his crew enter.



As Shigglz searched the bar for his fellow Death Knight, a particularly attractive human female near the bar caught his eye. Grinning, he started walking towards her before feeling a tug at his hip. He looked down to see Fiffit pointing towards the back wall.



"He's over there, come on." The Gnome urged him. "She already has a friend and we don't want to start anything yet."



Reluctantly, Shigglz followed the Gnome towards where their companion waited and they took their seats. Nnutthowze motioned for a barmaid to bring over two more beers before he began.



"I see we have quite the turn out." He began sarcastically. "I guess the rest of them couldn't be bothered with earning some money."



Shigglz just sighed and looked at the ceiling as Fiffit shifted uncomfortably. The Gnome didn't exactly enjoy being in a dark place like this, but he knew there had to be a good reason for Nnutthowze to call them here.



Slipping the coin back into a small pouch on his belt, the Death Knight leaned forward over the table.



"As I'm sure you already know, Tobi has been out scouting around the Horde cities. He's been trying to find out anything about our newest job and what we might be up against. Not very long ago, he was making his way towards the Forsaken city through Silverpine forest when he stumbled across something. It seems that there is a significant gathering of Horde forces just to the north of Gilneas. He wasn't able to understand what they were talking about, but it can only mean one thing. They're planning on some sort of invasion on our outposts in that area."



Nnutthowze looked at both of his companions intently, trying to gauge their reactions. Fiffit studied his drink intently while Shigglz just stared at him in amazement, mouth slightly open.



"Well? What do you think? There is a good chance we can hire ourselves out and make a decent profit if they really are planning a large scale attack."



Shigglz blinked and shook his head before responding.



"I'm sorry, this is the most I've ever heard you talk." He chuckled, leaning back in his chair



"Shut up, Redbeard." Nnutthowze snapped. "I should have known better than to ask you anything." Shigglz only laughed harder.



He turned to Fiffit, glaring at him over the table. The Gnome visibly shrunk under the gaze, but he held the Death Knight's stare with one of his own.



"What about you, pipsqueak? Are you just going to make fun of me as well?"



"Don't get so riled up, it just came as a shock to him." The Gnome soothed. "I think you might have something here, if Tobi proves correct with his observations. It would be good to help people in that area. they've been through so much. I have a number of ideas that could come in handy if we need to start a defense grid. I even have some of my newest inventions back in my workshop ready to be tested, although some of them may prove a bit unpredictable." He admitted.



"While I may not enjoy the rogue's company, I've never known him to be wrong or give bad information. If he says that we have a chance for profit, I believe him." Nnutthowze replied. "Keep your inventions away from me though, I want nothing to do with your contraptions."



Shigglz leaned forward again in his chair, composed for the moment.



"I agree with our little friend here. I can bring this up to Katalina and Fenrick in our next meeting and see what they think. I can't promise that we'll be able to divert much to help though, since we still have that job down in Krasarang to complete."



Shigglz drained his mug, and looked behind him towards the bar. He spied the woman he had first noticed, alone at the bar. Turning back to his companions, the Death Knight pulled out some coins and tossed them on the table.



"If our meeting here is finished, you'll have to excuse me. I have some urgent business I need to attend to."



As Shigglz stood up and joined the woman at the bar, Nnutthowze turned to Fifft with a question in his eyes.



"I didn't expect you'd be on board with this so quickly. What made you accept?" He queried.



Fiffit shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his char before replying.



"As you know, my father was killed by an explosion. Whether it was one of our inventions, or something else, we might never know. While I might not enjoy killing, I want to help in any way I can with my inventions. If only to prove to myself that they really can be useful." After peering into his mug for a moment, the Gnome brightened up and looked back at Nnutthowze. "Besides, I joined Black Flag to have adventures and take my mind off my previous life. There can't be a more perfect opportunity for that than this."



Nnutthowze nodded soberly as Fiffit finished talking. The Gnome's loss and wanting to escape his previous life struck a cord of sympathy in him. He'd had a similar experience, only he knew exactly what had killed his family. And instead of looking forward to a brighter future, the Death Knight had only grown more bitter and angry as time passed.

Nnutthowze knew that joining up with the pirate outfit had been the best decision he'd ever made. Even though he was still gruff and rude to most, their positive outlook had been slowly seeping into him. He found himself helping their causes more and more, and even holding full conversations without wanting to beat their head in.



Shouting and arguing from the bar interrupted the two's private reflections and they looked towards the bar. Shigglz stood face to face with the woman's male companion, while five of his friends stood behind with a grim look on their face. Shigglz winked at the woman and slugged her friend in the face. Instantly all five rushed the Death Knight and started beating on him.



"There he goes again." Fiffit sighed and looked at Nnutthowze. "I suppose we ought to help him. Flying Gerbil?



Nnutthowze nodded and grinned maliciously. He had been waiting for a fight to break out ever since he saw Shigglz walk in the door. It was inevitable.



Standing up, he jumped onto the table and hoisted Fiffit out of his chair. After positioning him on his shoulder, the Death Knight hurled the Gnome at the nearest fighter. Nnutthowze growled in anticipation and leaped off the table, striking one of Shigglz' attackers with a downward punch.

Year: 30



Seagulls squawked overhead, the smell of saltwater hung heavy in the air, and gentle waves lapped against the shores of Krasarang.

His eyes betraying no emotions, the Death Knight stood stood by the ship's bow and gazed down at the forces arrayed below. He could see banners for Disorder, The Mercenary Outfit, foul, and others flapping in the wind.

Some of the most skilled and vicious warbands the Horde had to offer had intercepted their routine transfer of weapons, and now blocked their way.



Nnutthowze had only agreed to joining this expedition at the last moment, Alouette had been frantic trying to enlist enough people to handle the job properly. Figuring it would be a good test for his new weapon and armor, the Death Knight had agreed to join up.



A shuffling at his side made the Death Knight break from his thoughts and turn.

"Think we'll be able to take them?" Destrey asked quietly as he walked up to the railing. "I'm not worried about either of us pulling our weight, but some of our band hasn't been in situations like this before, and others weren't able to get the proper equipment before we rushed out."



"It's not like we have a choice." Nnutthowze shrugged and spat on the deck. "If they don't learn, then they'll die."



Destrey nodded reluctantly. They had fought together side by side in many engagements, but never against foes of this caliber.



"So what are they waiting for?" Destrey wondered aloud. So far the Horde had made no move to attack, and had been content with planting their banners on the shore.



"It doesn't matter, we're taking the fight to them." Nnutthowze replied. "Do you want battle lead, or should I take it?"



"It's all yours." Destrey chuckled, signalling to the rest of their band. "Besides, I think Kat and Alouette already were under the impression that it'd be you."



Looking around the group, Nnutthowze nodded to the faces he recognized. Holly, Meeps, Katalina, Alouette, and Nova were some of the ones he'd been with the longest. He almost groaned when another Death Knight made his way to the front of the circle.

Insisting that everyone call him by some obscure reptile name, the Death Knight had the eyes of a child and never seemed to mature.



Shaking his head Nnutthowze outlined the plan for everyone; they'd charge down and overwhelm the Horde. Never an advocate for over complicated battle plans, he liked to keep things simple and easy to remember.

He looked around to see if there were any questions, and when none were forthcoming, stood and strode towards the ramp leading off the ship.



Hitting Destrey's shoulderplate with an armored fist, Nnutthowze nodded to him.



"So how many do you think you'll take? I have one hundred gold that says I kill more than you."



"You're on." Destrey grinned back. "Now let's do this."



Eyes glittering in anticipation of bloodshed, Nnutthowze raised his mace in the air and charged off the ship.

Screaming in the face of the nearest Horde, the Death Knight thrust his hand forward and uttered a simple spell. Instantly, the Orc began to writhe in pain from the diseases infecting his body. Muttering another spell under his breath, Nnutthowze threw his arms wide and a red ring shot out from around him. Each member of the Horde that the ring touched, became afflicted with the same diseases as the first.



Driving forward with mighty swings from his mace, the Death Knight pushed the initial line of Horde back. Next to him Destrey began a deadly spin with his sword, striking multiple foes in a whirlwind of steel.

Arrows flew by his head, and various magics rained all around him as the rest of the Pirates joined in the fight.



Launching a goblin to the side with a vicious kick, Nnutthowze suddenly found himself face to face with a red armored Orc. Lightning crackled up and down his massive twin maces, and the Death Knight could see what looked like totems of some sort sticking into the ground next to him. An aura of power surrounded the Orc, and he wasted no time in launching his attack.



A great roar sounded in Nnutthowze's ears as he desperately tried to fend off the Orc's savage blows. Each hit reverberated along his mace's shaft, and it was all he could do to keep his defenses up.

A shock of lightning jolted him back even farther, and he saw yet another Shaman with a golden axe chaining lightning bolts through the pirate's ranks.



In the brief moment before the relentless mace-wielding shaman descended on him again, Nnutthowze glanced around at the rest of his companions.



Destrey attempted to hold his ground, but was slowly being pushed back by two Horde who wore the tabard of Disorder. Ice magic and moonfire still crackled overhead, but with much less frequency. He reasoned that Holly and Katalina must have been assaulted and resorted to more defensive measures.

Lightning still poured out from Meeps' fingertips as she attempted to match her Horde counterpart in a battle of electricity.

He could still feel the healing surges through his body emanating from Alouette and Nova, but there was also a waning to the power. As the Orc shaman rushed forwards in another attack, Nnutthowze could hear the death screams of pirates dying. He knew they wouldn't be able to keep fighting at this pace for long.



Grabbing Destrey's shoulder and yanking him back, the Death Knight summoned a gargoyle and sent it straight into the Orc's face. The Shaman roared in outrage as the gargoyle turreted green globs of energy into his face.



"Back! Everyone back to the ship!" He bellowed,



Destrey snarled at him, deep in the throes of bloodlust, but snapped out of it when Nnutthowze smashed a fist into the side of his head. Working together, the two fighters backed towards the ramp, keeping themselves between the advancing Horde and what remained of their companions.

A sudden blizzard and hail of arrows gave them enough of a distraction to sprint back up the ramp onto the ship.



Breathing heavily, Nnutthowze took stock of their situation.

They had roughly half of their force left. Holly and Katalina looked wearied, but a determination in their eyes announced that they could keep fighting.



"We can't keep this up for very long." Nova panted. "Their attacks are just too strong."



"I know. It doesn't help that we can't seem to match them blow for blow either." Nnutthowze grunted. "We couldn't even make it to their healers before we got turned back."



A shout from overheard drew the Death Knight's gaze skyward. One of their newer recruits, a Hunter called Constantinne, shouted down at them and waves his arms in the direction of the Horde.



A thud on the ramp leading up told them all they needed to know. The Horde were counterattacking.

The deck grew slippery from blood.



Struggling in the doorway, Nnutthowze twisted to the side and avoided being impaled by the Forsaken's twin blades. Parrying the next succession of stab and thrusts, he slowly backed down the stairs into the hold.



The Horde's rush onto the ship had overwhelmed them completely. Constantinne had remained in the crow's next and rained arrows down with impunity, but to no avail. Katalina had been forced to retreat into the hold of the ship when two Orcs and a Tauren had set their sights on her.

Nnutthowze had tried to stay near Destrey, but they had gotten split apart in the frenetic action that took place on the deck.

Meeps had been accosted by a purple haired Forsaken wielding knives, and Nnutthowze had pushed her down below with the others. Now he struggled to keep his footing against this amazingly quick opponent.



Hearing a piercing scream, Nnutthowze glanced behind the rogue and saw Holly thrown violently off the ship. Before he could react however, Constantinne leaped off the rigging and dove into the water. Hearing a shout from below that she was alright, the Death Knight concentrated fully on the Forsaken in front of him.



Still feeling the healing affects from Nova and Alouette, the Death Knight slowly gave ground and retreated below. He heard Destrey shout behind him, and breathed a small sigh of relief that his friend hadn't fallen above.

The small confines of the ship limited the amount of Horde that could flood down into the bowels of the ship, creating a choke point. Realizing that the day was lost, Nutthowze growled in frustration and yelled his orders to those behind him.



As he reached the bottom of the ship, the wider space allowed more of the attackers to enter and engage him. The Forsaken was still darting back and forth, stabbing at every opportunity, but now a Tauren Death Knight had also joined him. Looking behind them, he could see another Forsaken casting globes of healing all over the room they were in.



Parrying the first attack from the other Death Knight, Nnutthowze quickly enacted his anti-magic shield, protecting him from the Death Knights diseases. Launching his own attack, he struck a solid blow on the rogue, knocking him back and causing the wound to fester. Sneering, the rogue merely stepped into one of the globes of healing and his ailments vanished. He heard a slight chuckle from the female Forsaken on the landing of the steps.



Working in tandem, the duo pushed Nnutthowze towards the rear of the ship with coordinated attacks. Each time he was able to push one back, the other gave him no chance to follow up. Any wounds he inflicted were instantly healed by the Forsaken Monk standing behind them. She even attacked once with a jolt of lightning that Nnutthowze was barely able to shake off before being driven back yet again.



In a brief lull of the attacks, Nnutthowze was able to look behind him at the rest of his companions. They were gone. Nodding to himself, the Death Knight summoned up the last of his power and launched it at both of his opponents. As they slowed momentarily, Nnutthowze turned and dashed to the rear of the ship, where he dove out of a small opening into the ocean below.



Strong arms seized him and hauled him up into a small boat that was tethered by the stern of the ship. He looked around and saw all of his companions there. Beaten, bloodied, but alive.



As they sped away from the ship, Nnutthowze shook his head and sighed. This was the first loss he'd encountered to such an embarrassing degree. He hadn't seen even a single Horde fall with a mortal wound, and most of the pirates they'd started out with were dead.

Resolving to himself that this would never happen again, he watched as trails of smoke started to rise from the ship as the Horde set fire to it.

Year: 30



No one had seen Fenrick in weeks. Locking himself in his ship's cabin, the only way anyone knew that he still lived was that the food they put in front of the door disappeared every night. They could also hear some quiet murmurings coming from the darkened cabin.

Many of the crew began to fear for his sanity.



Nnutthowze was in the Slaughtered Pig when Helsinki burst through the doors. Quickly looking around, she spied the Death Knight in the corner and rushed over to him.



"Have you heard?" She exclaimed. "Fenrick finally emerged from his cabin and the whole crew is up in arms about his new announcement!"



"Well it's about time he showed his face." Nnutthowze mused, still drinking his ale. "Whats this announcement that has you all in a twitter?"



Frowning, Helsinki grabbed the mug from the Death Knight and slammed it on the table. Before he could do more than glance up angrily, she replied to him. "He's wanting to change the name of our crew. After he emerged, Katalina went into his room and found hand drawn pictures of rabbits everywhere. All of them were colored pink. They covered the walls, ceilings, and even drawn into the floor."



Nnutthowze just stared blankly in amazement at her.



"What in the hells is wrong with him? I guess the ones who thought he was going mad were right after all."



Helsinki shook her head and sighed. "That's not even the worst part. This new name he's considering? It has nothing to do with our profession at all. I think he's been staring at our tabard for much too long."



"So, what is the name he's proposing?" Nnutthowze asked warily.



"Order of the Bunny." Helsinki buried her face in her hands. "I swear, if that man convinces the rest of them, I'm going to do something horrible to his man parts."



"What the hell kind of name is that? Nnutthowze asked incredulously. "We'd be the laughingstock of every mercenary outfit on Azeroth. No one would take us seriously." He grabbed his mug and drained the contents in a single swallow. "Let's go, Hel. We have to convince the rest of them not to side with that lunatic."



One month later.



Sighing into his drink, the Death Knight took another sip. His and Helsinki's campaign to keep Fenrick from changing their outfit's name had been a failure. While they had been off attempting to recruit others to their cause, Fenrick had secretly met with the guild registrars in Stormwind to secure their future.

With the exchange of coin, the registrars had sent out the word that the outfit known as Black Flag would be known with a new name. They had changed all the record books and logs to indicate the new name.



Sighing again, the Death Knight finished his drink and made his way through the door into the darkened street. Before he had gotten more than a few steps away though, he heard someone scuffing their feet on the stones behind him. The Death Knight whirled around with his axe raised, but stopped short when he saw who had been following him.



Katalina stood, mouth slightly open in surprise and eyes wide, in front of him. In her arms she carried a bundle of cloth. He couldn't make out the color through the gloom, but he had an idea of what she held.



"I know you don't agree with what Fenrick did, but I'm hoping you can see past that. We would really like for you to stay with us." Katalina began. She held out the bundle towards Nnutthowze. "I brought this for you, just in case."



"I may not like it, but I'm not going anywhere." The Death Knight replied. "Fenrick took me in and gave me a chance when not many would have, I owe it to him. What's in the package?"



Katalina nodded and placed the package in Nnutthowze's hands. "I'm glad to hear that. I know many others will be glad as well."



Growing a bit uncomfortable with the conversation, Nnutthowze opened the package and unwrapped what was inside. He held it up in the dim light, trying to make out the designs on it, but he already had a sinking feeling he knew what it was.



"It's just a little something that I hope will make you feel more included." Katalina said as she started to walk off. "I'm looking forward to seeing you wear it at our next meeting."



The Death Knight groaned and covered his face in one hand as she walked away. Not only did their outfit's name change, but now he had been given a tabard with their logo on it as well.



"I'm no damn cultist for some mangy rabbit." He muttered to himself. "I'll wear it, but I swear I'll smash the first person who says anything about it through the wall."



Continuing to mumble to himself, the Death Knight put the tabard on over his armor. Catching his reflection in a nearby pool of water, he only groaned again. The bright pink of the tabard contrasted sharply with the dark colors and spikes of his armor. The rabbit on the front stared at him, as if in amusement with his discomfort.



"Order of the Bunny." He snorted. "What kind of nuthouse have I landed in?"

Year 30

The Death Knight was in a foul mood. Over the past few months he'd grown disillusioned with the company he kept. First, was Fenrick's decision to make their pirate group a religious cult that worshiped rabbits.

While he initially tried to bear it and continue as though nothing had changed, over time he realized that his constant rage didn't fit in with the rest.

The second problem was that many of the companions he'd fought with had left for other outfits. Many of the cultists that remained he didn't know, or have any desire to.



After galloping out of Stormwind in a fit of anger, Nnutthowze had slowed his horse to a walk as he entered Duskwood. It had been many years since he'd last visited the dark woods of this place. Confident in his fighting abilities, he left the road and wandered through the forest in an attempt to clear his mind.



A growl from behind snapped him out of his thoughts, and set his horse on edge. Reaching his hand up, he gripped the pommel of his sword and looked around for the owner of the noise.

After the fighting in Krasarang, Nnutthowze had given up wielding a mace and instead opted for the weapon he was most comfortable with. A two handed sword.



Two more snarls in rapid succession on either side sounded, and the Death Knight dropped from his mount and yanked out his sword. It had been some time since his last fight, and he was in the mood for more than a little blood.

He spied a slight movement in the underbrush to the left. Before he could move towards it though, a dark form hurtling through the air from the right caught his eye.



Smacking the rump of his horse to move it out of danger, Nnutthowze braced himself as the hair covered figure crashed into him. Stumbling back a step, he swung down with his sword and left a festering wound on the creatures torso.

As it struggled to raise itself, the Death Knight looked contemptuously at it and whispered a quick spell. One of his more insidious weapons, this spell slowly crept into a dying person or creatures soul. After it had latched on, the spell the ripped away leaving it's host lifeless.

The soul that had been reaped the infused itself into the Death Knight, granting him heightened speed temporarily.



Feeling the extra power, Nnutthowze quickly spun to his left just as another of the creatures leaped forward. As he extended his hand the creature began to choke and cough, stopping in it's tracks. As the creature fell to it's knees before him, Nnutthowze could finally see what had attacked him.



Werewolves.



Examining the one before him, he realized that these weren't like their allies, the Worgen. These werewolves seemed to be completely feral and guided by instinct.



Shaking it's head as the strangulation spell wore off, the wolf climbed back to it's feet and stood upright. Slightly taller than the Death Knight, it glowered down at him with an air of malevolence and hate.

If he hadn't already decided to kill any that he saw, Nnutthowze might have liked the beasts.



Howling into the sky, the werewolf charged at the Death Knight and attacked with a series of swipes from it's dirty claws. Parrying the clumsy swipes, Nnutthowze used his superior speed to leave several necrotic wounds on the creature. Dodging to the side, he avoided being hit by yet another werewolf.



Trading blows, he dodged through the woods. Slicing at werewolves as they seemed to materialize in the night, he couldn't tell how many he killed or injured before they escaped his grasp.



A lull in the fighting brought Nnutthowze to a standstill. Breathing heavily, he scanned the nearby undergrowth for more of the beasts. When he didn't see any, he turned to signal his horse to return to him.



A loud howl from all around him froze the Death Knight in his tracks.



Spinning around with a growl, he raised his arms to the air and began one of his most powerful summon spells. As he casted, Nnutthowze could feel tiny pieces of his humanity leave his soul and seek out vessels in the nearby ground.

Roaring in pain, rage, and exertion, the Death Knight stood in the spell's epicenter as purple shards of his soul resurrected the deceased. Dozens of ghouls, skeletons, and zombies broke their way through the ground all around him, heeding the call.



As the summons finished, Nnutthowze looked into the forest ahead of him with an evil grin. He didn't know what had compelled him to enter these forsaken woods, but he knew that he would stay.



Mentally urging his new army of the dead forward, the Death Knight gave a great roar and charged forward. The werewolves burst from the darkened woods and crashed into them.



As he stabbed the first werewolf through the chest, severing its spine, Nnutthowze knew he was home.