Guest
11-02-2008, 01:19 PM
A cold dark hand thrust itself out from underneath a bloodstained cloak. The boney finger began tracing the shapes of ancient, evil symbols. Those symbols soon shone blue and illuminated the unmarked grave that lay before the figure. The one who lay here had made an effort that had not gone unnoticed.
Decayed teeth emerged in a grin as the figure admired his work. The dead trees and grayed ground frosted over as the light from the runes touched them. The gravestone too turned to ice and shattered when the stranger gave it a swift kick.
âGet out of the ground already! Come serve you master!â the horse voice yelled at the grave. IN response, the frozen ground beneath his quivered and began to upturn. A skeletal hand pushed its way from the dirt and flailed aimlessly in the air. The figure above it sighed and took hold. One quick yank brought the rest of the corpse out of his earthy home.
âWell, youâre not going to be much use looking like that,â the dark one, sighed as he looked over the fleshless skeleton. He held his hand out in front of him and mumbled to himself. A glowing white run appeared on his palm. As he concentrated flesh began to cover the skeleton. Grayed lungs appeared form thin air and began filling in the empty ribcage. Glowing green eyes filled the long deadeye sockets of the skull. Flesh stretched and squelched over the bones, then plumped as muscle filled out underneath. âMuch better, in my opinion at least. Now you look halfway presentable.â
The bluish elven corpse shuddered in response and moved a stiff hand to cover a newly regrown nether region. Green eyes filled with anger and hate set themselves on the figure before it. The elf snarled and lunged. The dark figured sighed again and snapped his fingers.
The reanimated corpse stumbled and looked around in bewilderment. The scenery had changed. No longer were they in the eerie Ghostlands, but an icy castle. Others stood around him looking just as confused. Hunched over creatures in black cloaks scurried between them handing out clothing and weapons to the naked corpses. Before the elf could react, a robe and sword were thrust into his hands. He quickly dressed himself, prodded by an urge he couldnât understand. Once dressed he admired the weapon he had been given. Before he could really take it all in, a horn sounded and he was urged forward with the others.
âWelcome, servants, to your new home. Whatever the Lich King instructs, you will do!â
___________________________
Crimson hair tickled his face as its owner hovered above him. The scene faded in and out as he felt his life force bleed out on the grass around him. Still, he smiled as his hand reached up to stroke her face. Only then did he notice her holy shield and the trolls above him beating down on it.
Aelânin jerked back to reality as the cold, unfeeling death knights stood in a pack around him. He was one of them now, and in the most remote corner of his frozen heart, he wished it wasnât so. There were many others like him. He could hear their piercing screams as the corpseâs true owner fought the magic that controlled the body. The elf screamed often, too, and the frequency was growing each day.
The hunched and shuffling bodies of the keepers grew restless as ripples of mutiny flowed through the troops. They too had their own reasons for wanting to be free, but fear of the Lich King kept them in line. His wrath kept them in line and drove the desire to keep the knights under control.
While his mind sat unneeded in his stolen body, Aelânin lost himself. Dreams, illusions, and the past mingled with the present and distorted his truth. His red haired beauty was often in his thoughts. She surely hadnât died that day. Perfection like that could not be slain. She had made it back to their daughter, and he was determined to join them.
The soul searched the lands for her, but he could not find his Sehânuist. He had almost given up hope, but then he found her! But how she had changed! Somehow her eyes had become green and she had cut her hair. It took every ounce of power he had to whisper in her ear his joy and disappointment.
Decayed teeth emerged in a grin as the figure admired his work. The dead trees and grayed ground frosted over as the light from the runes touched them. The gravestone too turned to ice and shattered when the stranger gave it a swift kick.
âGet out of the ground already! Come serve you master!â the horse voice yelled at the grave. IN response, the frozen ground beneath his quivered and began to upturn. A skeletal hand pushed its way from the dirt and flailed aimlessly in the air. The figure above it sighed and took hold. One quick yank brought the rest of the corpse out of his earthy home.
âWell, youâre not going to be much use looking like that,â the dark one, sighed as he looked over the fleshless skeleton. He held his hand out in front of him and mumbled to himself. A glowing white run appeared on his palm. As he concentrated flesh began to cover the skeleton. Grayed lungs appeared form thin air and began filling in the empty ribcage. Glowing green eyes filled the long deadeye sockets of the skull. Flesh stretched and squelched over the bones, then plumped as muscle filled out underneath. âMuch better, in my opinion at least. Now you look halfway presentable.â
The bluish elven corpse shuddered in response and moved a stiff hand to cover a newly regrown nether region. Green eyes filled with anger and hate set themselves on the figure before it. The elf snarled and lunged. The dark figured sighed again and snapped his fingers.
The reanimated corpse stumbled and looked around in bewilderment. The scenery had changed. No longer were they in the eerie Ghostlands, but an icy castle. Others stood around him looking just as confused. Hunched over creatures in black cloaks scurried between them handing out clothing and weapons to the naked corpses. Before the elf could react, a robe and sword were thrust into his hands. He quickly dressed himself, prodded by an urge he couldnât understand. Once dressed he admired the weapon he had been given. Before he could really take it all in, a horn sounded and he was urged forward with the others.
âWelcome, servants, to your new home. Whatever the Lich King instructs, you will do!â
___________________________
Crimson hair tickled his face as its owner hovered above him. The scene faded in and out as he felt his life force bleed out on the grass around him. Still, he smiled as his hand reached up to stroke her face. Only then did he notice her holy shield and the trolls above him beating down on it.
Aelânin jerked back to reality as the cold, unfeeling death knights stood in a pack around him. He was one of them now, and in the most remote corner of his frozen heart, he wished it wasnât so. There were many others like him. He could hear their piercing screams as the corpseâs true owner fought the magic that controlled the body. The elf screamed often, too, and the frequency was growing each day.
The hunched and shuffling bodies of the keepers grew restless as ripples of mutiny flowed through the troops. They too had their own reasons for wanting to be free, but fear of the Lich King kept them in line. His wrath kept them in line and drove the desire to keep the knights under control.
While his mind sat unneeded in his stolen body, Aelânin lost himself. Dreams, illusions, and the past mingled with the present and distorted his truth. His red haired beauty was often in his thoughts. She surely hadnât died that day. Perfection like that could not be slain. She had made it back to their daughter, and he was determined to join them.
The soul searched the lands for her, but he could not find his Sehânuist. He had almost given up hope, but then he found her! But how she had changed! Somehow her eyes had become green and she had cut her hair. It took every ounce of power he had to whisper in her ear his joy and disappointment.