If you are just joining us please start with CREATE YOUR OWN AZEROTH: PRELUDE from Hardcore Casual.

This segment is a continuation from Create Your Own Azeroth: The Southern Gate. over at Circumspect Snug.

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Corrigan lets out a low sigh, heard only by Rondrey. Without another moment’s hesitation he looks at the possessed citizens moving toward them with emotionless eyes and issues the command none wanted to hear: “Men, attack!”

I have failed yet again… not only could I not protect the woman I loved, but I cannot even protect a handful of citizens from death, and by my own hand no less! Sylphine, have mercy on me.

“Commander…” Rondrey’s voice trails off as Corrigan brushes him aside, launching his hammer into the mass of banshees moving toward them.

“It is too late old friend, hesitation will surely get us killed,” Corrigan states, his voice lifeless. The remaining stupor from the rum washed away by the realization that those he was supposed to protect were dying by his own order.

Laughter emanates from the treeline as the Necromancer reappears. The clanging of metal and the screams of men, women, and even children dying in the scuffle with the banshees failing to drown him out. Blood flows freely around the remaining soldiers under Corrigan’s command as Rondrey focuses his undivided attention to the handful of citizens left.

“Feel the despair and fear coursing through your very souls,” the Necromancer taunts, his icy glare fixated on Corrigan. “See the futility in fighting my forces now foolish paladin?” He laughs as legions of ghouls, skeletons, and abominations appear through the trees, surrounding the small band of people that remain.

With a roar that seems more bestial than dwarven, Rondrey suddenly breaks into a charge toward the Necromancer, “Filthy, stinkin’, no-good scourge!” Rondrey’s charge catches everyone by surprise, bolstering the spirits of the men and inciting a rage and determination that shines through as they cut down every miserable, vile creature in their path. Limbs fly as the stench of ghoulish blood fills the air. The men seem invincible, parrying or avoiding every incoming attack and responding with unprecedented accuracy in dealing certain death to their foes.

What seems an eternity passes before their charge is slowed, a wall of dead scourge practically surrounding them. Regaining his senses Rondrey turns to look at Corrigan, still standing motionless where he was when Rondrey’s charge caught them all by surprise. A feeling of loss sweeps through every shred of his being as he realizes the reason for Corrigan’s lack of movement, and the small blade protruding from underneath the plate armor on his chest. Corrigan’s body finally falls to its knees, staying there as though locked in prayer as Rondrey looks away with a tear falling down his cheek.

“Yer gonna pay dearly for that,” Rondrey growls at the Necromancer.

A deep, gravelly voice booms from all around them as the Necromancer laughs. Arthas’ image appears before the men, practically draining their strength and replacing it with fear. The image speaks, its gaze locked firmly on Rondrey, “You will wish for a quick death soon enough, priest.”

Rondrey starts to issue a challenge, but is shocked into silence as he hears a sudden cold, soulless laugh from behind. Rondrey whirls around, and in the brief moment it took to realize what he was seeing he lost all hope. They were surrounded still, and although they fought well there was no way they would be able to defeat this newcomer…

The men gasped, and weapons clattered to the ground as fear sucked every ounce of strength left from them. They watched, hopelessly, as Corrigan slowly stood up from the ground where he fell. Corrigan’s skin was now pale, his lips lifeless, and his eyes burning bright with the stare of the undead.

Corrigan laughed menacingly as he looked to Arthas’ visage, “What is your command, Master?”

Arthas’ voice boomed around them once more, “Kill them, and bring the priest to me. This is your test, Death Knight. Succeed, and you will have earned your place among my ranks.”

Arthas’ visage disappears as the sky suddenly darkens. Rondrey falls to his knees, and utters a final prayer to the Light for mercy on Corrigan’s soul.

Corrigan advances, slaughtering the remaining soldiers and citizens as he makes his way to Rondrey’s still kneeling form. Corrigan raises his hand toward Rondrey, unleashing an assault of icy energy point-blank into the priest. Rondrey is knocked back, but with a grim determination he finishes uttering the last of an incantation he began moments before. Surges of holy energy fill Rondrey’s body as he stands, and in a final moment of desperation he unleashes e wave of light so powerful it incinerates him in the process.

As the dust settles the Necromancer surveys the field before him. Not a single man, woman, or child remains breathing, though any of his scourge minions that were within ten yards of that priest’s range were vaporized as well. He looks over to where Corrigan stands, and begins a wild cackling that could barely be described as laughter.

Corrigan looks up at the Necromancer, not a single trace of emotion even beginning to soften the edge in his voice, “A futile gesture, foolish priest,” he whispers. Corrigan turns and starts the trek to Icecrown Citadel, pausing momentarily to look the Necromancer straight in the eyes, “Gather your minions, you report to me now.”

The End

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