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Chronicles of a deadman.
Chapter 1

Part 1:

After preparing for many long months, Kel'Thuzad and his Cult of the Damned finally struck the first blow by releasing the plague of undeath upon Lordaeron.

This was my fate, as it was everyone's in my village. But perhaps mine was just a bit more harsh. Everyone had a swift death. I was not so lucky. The very night that the invasion happened, not 7 hours before. My story begins.

My name was Daniel Hathgorn. I had just helped my wife into bed, she was 8 months pregnant, I smiled as I kissed her one last time. I went to my office, and went over a few final projects. A sailor needed a particular map redone. The original was torn, burned and near destruction. I blew gently blew over the damp ink, to let it dry a bit faster.

To my surprise the window in my office was cracked open apparently. A gust of wind bushed its way through and the windows clanking against the wall shocked. I chuckled and caught my breath, than closed the window. But something just didn't feel right. It was in the wind. The air seemed dead, stale and colder than usual. But I just shook it off.

Grabbing the candle and heading my way into the dining room to grab a bite of bread I heard a noise. A scraping noise. Turning to the front door, my brow raised, I slowly stepped forward. Grabbing my sword that laid close to door. She never liked it there, my wife.

My hand griped the doorknob but it didn't matter. Whatever was outside heard me. And with a massive force the door was kicked in. I gasped as I flew back. The door on top of me.

"Daniel?" I heard. She awoke!

"RUN!" I yelled! "RUN! RUN STRAIGHT TO THE VILLAGE! WARN EVERYONE!" We had kept a door in the bedroom that cold only be opened from the inside for emergencies. And this was one.

But my yell was soon silenced, than replaced with an "oomph!" as an orc boot stomped down on me. He kicked me to the wall. I struggled up and raised my rapier. Now with the moon shining down upon them I could see how many their were. Four orcs, four rebellious orcs, with no sign of Thrall's teachings. These we?re the orcs of the demon blood! Slaves of Mannaroth! Demons by nature, mortal by flesh! But it didn't matter. I struck one in the face with my sword, but my assualt was soon faulted as two other orcs slammed me against the stone wall of my home. I was petrified.

Here I was, defenseless and already beaten. The one I had struck was glaring at me with one eye. He stepped closer, his massive tusks stuck out and came inches away from my face. My mouth opened for a quick heavy breath. This was not at all a wise idea. The orc placed his massive figures into my mouth and pulled down with such demonic force! I could feel the bones crumble and the flesh slowly rip and tear! I went into shock!

My life had dwindled. And the only thing that kept me alive was the thought of my wife... my child! A bloody mess, my dead jaw dangled, my shaky hand clamped it shut. My skin, white and lifeless. I don't now HOW I could have even made my way to out the door. I looked upon my home village, this village of which I now forget what to call. All I saw was fire, fire and demons! And a creature of which I had never seen before, laughing and pointing at me! My body laid limp and cold, drenched in blood. And I knew my world had ended that night.

Part 2

"What is our purpose!?"
"Serve the scourge!"
"Who do we kill!?"
"All that stand in our way!"
"When do we kill!?"
"Whenever the scourge demands!"

This is what we were, puppets. Soldiers of the damned. Linked to a demonic force. Arthas, the prince of Lordearon had lead us into battle many of time. But this night seemed different. Something just wasn't settling right. I looked at the ranks, and my brothers and sisters. All stiff and ready for war. I hanged loose. Shaking. I clenched my fist. Not entirely understanding what was happening. Than, a bright flash hit me, and I remembered! I remembered this feeling! It was fear! But why!? I'm a tool of destruction! I do not feel fear!

And than it hit me. More flashes and more memories. "My god! I'm no soldier I'm an artist! What am I doing here!?" I thought to myself! And then I heard them. Drums, orc drums! I was rushed from behind as the entire undead army flushed out of the woods and swarmed the orc infantry.

I fumbled forward and dropped my sword. Picking it back up I looked back up only to see an orc axe slamming down towards me. Than I blacked out.

Hours later I woke on the battle ground. Gazing upon the fallen orcs and the limbs of the decomposing undead.

"wath.. Hasthened?" I asked myself, my hand moved up and felt a lifeless fless chunk tangling. It... it was my tongue! But suddenly I found myself gazing at the smoldering land. I remember it being rather lush and green, now black and charred. I pondered my state. And was entirely confused at everything around me. I was dead' yet I wasn't.

I dashed into the woods and made it to a scourge camp after a few hours of running mindlessly. The land was plagued and dead. Massive buildings of steel and chain floated upon the barren dead lands. I must have been out for days! The entire campsite was empty!

Nothing made sense. An empty campsite, a weak connection to the scourge, perhaps entirely gone. And... memories.... weak memories. But memories.

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