Ok, this is my first large contribution to the forum, hope u like it (BTW, I joined a couple of days ago, and it is a great pleasure to be a member of this forum  )

It was dark and cold. As I regained my consciousness, I noted my surroundings. And they were unusual indeed. I was lying on a large slab of stone, an altar of sorts. The air was so cold that fog departed from my mouth, and yet I did not feel its sinister bite. Something was wrong. I did not know what, but I had a premonition, a gut feeling.

Where was I? Where was my family, my wife? Suddenly memories rushed back to me. The starvation, the suffering… Then the sudden arrival of grain. As more memories surfaced in my head, tears began running down my face. I remembered my wife and my children gradually growing weak, their skin acquiring a sickly green tinge.

Death and degradation had reigned everywhere. But what had happened? If I was not dead, then what was I? This thought triggered another gut feeling, of larger magnitude. Suspicion and worry seeped into me. I jumped from the altar and ascended up the staircase.

As I approached the exit, moonlight gradually illuminated the ambience. Now I could see properly. Suddenly I tripped. My hands reached out to soften the fall, and I screamed out in terror. My hands were… rotten. Some remainder of skin still clung to my limbs, but it served no purpose. I shook convulsively and moaned in agony. My voice had also altered. It was ragged and unfamiliar, the voice of a lowly peasant or mercenary, not that of an educated scholar and future mage. I had died and... undied? But surely this was not possible!

And yet, there was no other explanation. I was now an undead. I regained my previous stance and resumed my ascent. As I reached the exit, a set of menacing yellow eyes observed me. A ragged voice, not unlike my own proclaimed: “Welcome, fellow Forsaken. We were afraid that you wouldn’t make it, and were going to toss you into the fire, but it seems that you have arrived at last. Speak to the village priest, A… (what was the name of the priest in Deathknell again?), she will guide you.”

Before I knew what was happening, my legs departed and I began walking down the hill. My first encounter with a fellow undead had left me shaken, and I had still not recovered my normal heart rate. Then a sickening thought crossed my mind. “What if I do not have a beating heart at all? What keeps me alive?”

 I had a momentary compulsion to part my plain robes and glance at my half rotten living organs, but a wave of nausea caused me to change my mind. As I approached the village, my light sensitive eyes could see every detail, disregarding the lack of proper illumination. My beloved village was in ruin. Half-rotten bodies were everywhere, already contributing to the rich soil of our farmlands. Surprisingly though, the stench was not unbearable. Perhaps this had to do with my inner transformations. All of the huts were half destroyed, and a thick coat of grime coated all the surfaces my eyes could discern. In the middle of the village stood our church. Memories of Sunday praying, of pleasant tea parties with the priest came rushing back, and it took a great effort on my part to suppress my tears.

As I opened the doors, three pairs of the same glaring yellow eyes fixed upon me. I approached the undead wearing a priestly garb, and introduced myself. She (for this undead did have some resemblance of breasts, and other womanly forms) gazed intently upon me, and exclaimed:

-   Blueflame! We are delighted at your awakening. We feared that you would not endure. Apparently we underestimated you. What darkens thou so? What is the cause for thy grief?

-   And you dare ask such questions? My family, my wife, my children, my whole village has died! And now rotten corpses walk this land! Who are you to soothe me in this moment of grief!

-   What? This is… This is impossible! You… You remember your former life?

I was genuinely shocked at this reaction, for it seemed that I was the only one that knew what fate had befallen our village, and who these undeads had been in their former life.
For, even through the terrifying disfigurement that had through these people, their former identities were still discernable. Upon the podium stood the former mayor, the priest, and the mage. Apparently they had resumed their responsibilities even in their undead lives, for they had retained the garbs that were appropriate for their professions.
Deep in thought, I suddenly realised that I had still not given these people an answer. I panicked, and decided that it would be safer to hide from them my knowledge of the past, in case it might not be agreeable with them

-   No, but I can see the corpses that lay upon the ground, and a wedding ring still encircles my rotten fingers.

-   Oh… well, that is understandable. But you must come to see that this is all for the greater good. We are a superior race, and from the lowly ranks of human peasants many undeads of brilliant talent have emerged. You are amongst them. Fate has a lot in store for you. Do you think you are ready to begin your service for the Forsaken?

-   Yes, your holiness, I am prepared.

-   Fine. In that case, you are sent upon a mission. You are to destroy the infestation of zombies that surrounds our village

-   But… Are they not one of us? Do they not also belong to the Undeads?

-   Yes, my friend. But they are the unsuccessful excess. They are mindless creatures that serve no purpose. They must be disposed of. Understand?

-   Yes, your holiness.

As I exited the church, I wondered how on earth I would be able to destroy those zombies. They were larger than me, and though they did not attack me themselves, they had a menacing look to them that was not to my taste. Most of my muscles had rotten away, so there was no doubt that I would have no chance should I attack with my staff. Then an idea hit me. I had been an apprentice mage in former life! Maybe some remainder of occult knowledge still dwelled in the rotten sponge that was my brain.

I concentrated my will in my palms, and gave way to all the blinding anger and lust for revenge that I contained within me. I let my passions ravage me. And suddenly, a ball of flame formed itself within my hand. I nurtured the sphere for some seconds, and then directed it at one of the zombies. The zombie shrieked in agony as the fireball annihilated on of its limbs, and came rushing towards me. In panic, I summoned a second fireball, and this time I hit it right in the chest. The zombie suddenly froze, and crumpled into a pile of ash at my feet. My first kill had been successful.

yeah of course mate. I was originally writing on microsoft word with 1.5 line spacing so it was much easier to read

That si better on the eyes

very kewl well done

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.

Thanks a lot dude.  The names make things much easier, i dont have to use letters any more hehe.
Ur right, ive got way too many "as I" in there, and I will edit it as soon as possible (holidays just ended so im kinda busy atm  )

OK this is a new addition, its rather short compared the previous two but im working on it =) 

thinking of writing something original (not adapted from any other author or game) but its so damn hard to come up with something! 



I was feeling better than ever. “Ah, the beauty of gold” I thought to myself merrily as I trotted down the road towards the local shop. “One set of plain blue wizard robes and one wooden staff” I said confidently, setting the bag of gold upon the counter with a satisfying thunk! The shopkeeper’s eyes widened and he retrieved a bundle of cloth and a wooden staff. I eagerly awaited the moment when I would have the opportunity to channel my power through a staff. Using a staff would dramatically increase the speed and power of my spells, and definitely increase my chance of surviving against my next target, this monster (wasn’t it called an ogre? What a funny name). “5 silvers please” said the shopkeeper with a feeble fake smile. “Dream on” I said sarcastically, and put 1 silver coin in his hand. His smile faltered somewhat, but as I walked out of the shop I heard no complaints.

Thus properly equipped, I was ready for my mission. I waited until it was dark, and then I set out. Some might ask: why not wait until the morning? My answer would be that darkness gave me a tactical advantage, because, although darkness would lessen the awareness of the ogre, I would not be hindered in any way by the lack of light. As I left the village, sounds of forest nightlife enshrouded me, until no one but myself would be able to distinguish the sound of my ragged breathing. The hag from the inn had told me that this ogre could be found to the north of the village, and that is where I went. As I walked along the forest path, half crouched and hidden by the darkness, I heard a steel blade singing. Somewhere ahead there was a battle. I ran towards the scene and this is what met my eyes: a fifteen-foot tall rock golem was ramming a priestess with stones. Although the priestess was using a holy shield, it would not hold for long, and the golem seemed to be immune to holy magic. With a prayer to the gods, I channelled a frostbolt through my staff and hurled it at the golem.
Apparently cold was more efficient against golems, because a massive chunk of the golems head fell off and landed beneath its feet. Solid diamond, the golems brain, was visible. Another frostbolt finished him off. The golem stood there for a second, suspended in the air, and then fell to my feet, now merely a bundle of rocks.

A soft, intensely feminine voice cut through the air like a scythe. Although I understood from the intonations that the Paladin (who turned out to be a woman) was thanking me, I did not understand the language she was speaking in the least. Suddenly a flash of moonlight illuminated us, and we saw each other in clear light.

She was a human, while I was an undead. Her long speech was cut off short, and now she wielded her sword menacingly, ready to defend herself. I felt sorry for her. She had no idea that I still remembered my former life and that this ugly, rotten shell still contained within it the soul of a village scholar. Knowing that she would not understand me, I did not speak, but merely bowed deeply. The priestess was stunned. She remained still for a minute, and then curtseyed reverently. I made a feeble attempt at a smile, which was unreturned, and made the universal sign for farewell: I waved. Thus we parted, and it was long before we ever saw each other again.

I resumed my journey, still shaken from the recent events, and attempted in vain (for the beauty of human I had encountered blocked all other thoughts from my mind) to concentrate upon the task at hand. I wandered aimlessly, and eventually reached a suitable place to sleep at. I fell asleep as the first rays of sunlight fell upon the forest (you might enquire as to why I slept during daytime and travelled in the night: the answer is simple. My skin was still deathly pale, and the absence of pigmentation made travelling under direct sunshine painful. I waited eagerly for the moment when a tan would form on my skin, for then I would be able to resume a more normal lifestyle.)
The musical twittering of cicades that always accompanied a sunset in this land returned me back to the conscious world, and I gathered my belongings and set out, my earlier experience still fixed in my head.
The dilemma I was facing seemed imminent. My exterior was obviously repulsive to this human, and we did not speak the same language. “No apparent answer to the question at hand…” I muttered to myself. As if this conclusion had made everything clear, I decided to put this whole matter out of my head, and with new determination set out. “If a solution exists, it will surely present itself”.
   

sorry dude i was kinda having doubts on whether she shud be a priestess or paladin and so i forgot to edit it. thnx for reminding me 

sorry for the long delay, will be adding next part/chapter later today. 

oh dammit sorry this was supposed to be the same post as blueflame. Anyway If you havent read the first part then just open the Blueflame post. Umm Daal/Xaal if you stick these too together then i wont mind

Ive probably said this too many times, and it must give off a distinct whiff of desperation 
but
I would really appreciate some critique. This is more an excercise in writing than anything else, I am trying to develop my writing style, and that is why I really need some feedback. If u can, tell what is good, point out my weaknesses, etc.
tx in advance

hmm good point I didnt actually notice that one

Guess that its subconscious => im a loner by character so that probably reflects upon the protagonist
dunno If I could be arsed to completely redo the beginning to make the characters more central, I think that I will bring Blueflame out of solitutude in the next part of the plot (as planned )