Hey guys here is the continuation.
Oh, and there are some deviations from WoW lore (concerning magic, and some other stuff), sorry for that =)
Slowly, I began my trip back to the village. The forest had changed drastically. I felt as if a taint had spread through the forest, scourging everything. Most trees were dead, and the few ones that still had some resemblance of foliage had a decisively menacing look.
Animals were more common, but they looked even more dangerous . As the path brought me closer and closer to the village, a sense of worry seeped into me. I felt as if someone was watching me. Gradually, the moon was fading, and with the growing darkness the feeling of being followed increased.
I began to notice eyes, shining like flashlights in the dark. I tried to count them. “One, two, three…” eventually I gave up, as the numbers were overwhelming. I was in panic, as I had only killed one zombie, and thus lacked experience. What was I to do should I be attacked? The circle of eyes grew closer, and as my enemies neared I began to discern some noises. Their breathing was ragged and awkward, and from that I judged that this must have been a legion of zombies of some sort.
Unconsciously my breathing quickened, and I picked up in pace. So did the zombies.
What was I to do? The zombies were getting dangerously close, and the time had come for action. I was surrounded, so escape was out of question. Desperation was filling me up, and in order to do at least something, to prevent this encounter from being a mere slaughter, I tried to muster a fireball.
A spark appeared between my hands, but evidently my fear was predominant, because I could do nothing. A fireball was simply beyond my strength. The spark momentarily illuminated the path, and I got a look at the zombies. They were all dirty and half rotten (as would be expected), some missing limbs here and there, but what surprised me, even through the numbness that I was experiencing, the feeling that we all have prior to our death, was that they all wore tabards.
I clung to that one fact, and suddenly the tabards brought back memories, from long long ago. These were zombies of the scourge, the ultimate evil of Eastern Kingdom. Suddenly hatred consumed my inner numbness, and with a battle cry I made an explosion. Evidently the energy required to create this spell had gotten the better of me, for I blacked out.
A brilliant flash of sunlight awakened me. I was laying in the midst of a road. Although the sun was not a fatal danger to me, it burned at my dead albino skin. I quickly jumped up and tried to make sense of what had happened. I was standing on a massive pile of ashes. The only remainders of the scourge were their tabards. I picked them up to show as evidence to the priestess, and rushed back towards my village. I had been attacked within a mere five minutes of my hometown, so it was not long before I arrived.
To my surprise, I was greeted by a mob of cheering undead warriors. They had been anticipating the scourge attack, and had seen from a distance how I had defeated them all. They were thought that I was dead and were afraid to send out reinforcements, so they had resisted the urge to recover my corpse. This abrupt change in behaviour, from unfriendly, hostile beings into smiling (for the ghastly grins that adorned the rotten corpses were smiles) happy people was unsettling.
However, I was far too exhausted to endure all this attention. I quietly slipped into the crowd, discreet in my torn rags, and walked into the inn. There, a somewhat plump toothless hag greeted me, and offered me a room upstairs. I fell into bed and within minutes was asleep.
A… (the priestess in Deathknell) was on the edge of her nerves. She sat at her desk, rereading her papers again and again, rotten shoulders drooping from overexertion and lack of sleep. Since the conversion of the village, a heavy burden had been thrust upon her. She had been voted as priestess, and had received correspondence from Undercity itself, telling her to fortify the village and defend it from the scourge.
Although it had taken time to accomplish this task, through painstaking effort and not without the help of the village mage, B… (mage trainer in Deathknell), Deathknell was fortified and ready to withstand an attack. And then this young magelet had appeared. Blueflame. There was something about him, some aura of power and danger that made her cautious. Although he was merely an adept, knowing but one spell, the ignites spheres (fiery ball, or fireball), he would soon develop, and become a dangerous competitor to her seat of power. “He is not a man to be trifled with, and must be disposed of” she thought to herself. “I hope that he dies in his first mission”. She sighed tiredly and decided to go to the altar and pray to the Black Lord.
As she lifted herself up from the desk and was about to leave the room, her servant, Laura, entered.
- Mistress, I have important news for you
- What is it? News on the Scourge Legion?
- Yes mistress. Blueflame has destroyed them.
- WHAT?!
A… was in shock. The man had not only gotten back alive, but he had eliminated the zombie legion! She had underrated Blueflame drastically. Now there was no doubt in her that he would have to be disposed of. “I will not allow anyone to usurp my power” - she muttered angrily to herself.
- Bring him in – she whispered coldly.
- Yes mistress, as you command – said Laura, fleeing in panic, afraid to do anything that would displease her mistress. She had seen what had happened to A…’s previous servant, how the woman had burned in agony as the flames slowly crept up her body, devouring her rotten flesh.
I was awaken by the loud sound of a rusty door moaning as someone struggled to force it open. As I struggled to brush away the feeling of dreariness that always is present when one wakes up abruptly, the door opened enough to reveal a blue cowl. As I got up from my bed, a mage entered, fully enshrouded in a blue color that matched that of the cowl. A tall staff made out of dark wood completed her outfit. As I gazed at her intently, trying in vain to recall whether or not I had met her in my previous life, she raised her cowl and spoke in a whisper that reminded me of a frosty breeze:
- Hello fellow mage. I have come here to resume the training that you began in your former life.
I was shocked to find that I was not the only one with previous memories. My first impulse was to question her on the subject, but I restrained myself and remained silent. I had a powerful feeling, a premonition of sorts that I had met her before. She waited for my answer, but when she realised that she would receive none, she continued.
- We will begin with the (latin name), also known as the frostball. Concentrate your inner fury, your will, your destructive desires, but instead of turning them to white hot fury, make it into ice, the coldness of rejection and cruelty. Concentrate this will in your palms and grow it.
I understood what the Mage was attempting to do. She wanted me to learn fury Magic, the magic of emotions. Although I had used this magic the day before, I was desperate then and did not fully understand the implications. Now I remembered. Using fury magic gave fast and easy access to power, but at the same time it “burned up” the person. All spiritual and emotional capabilities eventually were consumed in the process of spell casting, until the caster was merely a empty shell, devoid of any personality or character.
Evidently this is what had happened to the frost mage that was my teacher. She spoke in an even tone that lacked any feeling, and her eyes were cold and empty.
I finally decided to resort to a different school of magic. The magic of pure elements. Although creating a frostball on the spot would be much more demanding this way, the extra effort was worth it. I did not want to turn into an empty shell.
I pressed my palms together, and, acutely aware of the woman’s eyes upon myself, began focusing upon the tiny area between my palms. I tried to create a elemental vacuum that would cause all the cold outside to drift towards me. Within seconds, I had a sphere of gaseous ice that shined with a cold glow and kept growing. I stared at my temporary teacher expectantly, searching for a response upon her face. I discovered none.
“Well done” – She muttered emotionlessly, lowering her cowl. Then she was gone. I dissolved the sphere absent-mindedly, put on my rags (at some point they must have been wizards robes, but now they were so faded that any mystique or grandeur that a magical robe usually exerted was long gone), and went downstairs.
There the welcoming face of the toothless hag, and some guards greeted me. They looked at me with a rugged respect of sorts, and offered me a pint of beer. This I accepted gladly, together with a kebab. Halfway into my meal a young woman approached, most likely a servant. She sat down besides me and stammered:
- My m.. mistress w..would like to talk to you immediately. – She was evidently badly frightened and in considerable hurry. With that in mind I decided that this must be a rather urgent matter, and that I would sacrifice my lunch in order to take as little time as possible.
A… drummed her fingers irritably. What was taking that scoundrel servant of hers so long? Perhaps she ought to give her the same fate that had been prepared for her previous servant. Then she remembered that there was no one in the village at the time who would be a suitable replacement. “well, I will just have to endure her incompetence for the time being” she muttered to herself soothingly.
Then, just as she was preparing to go home, Blueflame entered. He had the agitated look of someone who had been interrupted in the midst of something enjoyable. “Must have been his lunch” she said to herself knowingly, gazing at the crumbs at his cheeks and fat stains on his robes.
- Well Blueflame, I have heard of your success. Your village is proud of you and your achievements. You are a local hero.
- I am honoured to be appointed this role, but surely I am unworthy of it. My success was merely a matter of luck and good timing.
- That might be so, but nevertheless, we have faith in you. More importantly, I have faith in you. Here is your reward. – With these words, A… thrust a bag of gold upon the table.
- - I think that this will be enough for a new outfit and whatever other needs you might want to fulfil. Now, to business. There is an ogre that roams these forests. He has been wandering dangerously close to our village lately, and he must be disposed of. Do you understand?
- Yes, your holiness. I will set out tomorrow. – Blueflame picked up the bag of gold and exited the room with a brisk pace.
A… was feeling unexpectedly good. The thing was in a hat! All the guards in the village had not managed to cope with the ogre, even with the assistance of B… . There was absolutely no way that Blueflame would even stand a chance. “Now there is nothing to stop my unrestricted rule” she thought to herself triumphantly as she left the church.
Author
