The Death Knight

A story about a death knight who wanted to make a difference... It's a story written as a World of Warcraft fan fiction.

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1. Prologue

The last thing I remember from my last moments as a real person was the sound of myself screaming. The pain was indescribable. The pain from the sword was not the worst part. The part of knowing that I left my family behind, that I had let them down – not only my family but also my warriors. I really thought that today was going to be my victory, our victory! But I was wrong… I was born to lead, but I failed. 20 years of training, was just wasted. I remember the first summer my dad started to train me. The sun was shinning, there was no wind at all, and it was just me and him. The grass was long, and the sound of birds was making me happy. But I knew that even if I failed in training he would still be proud of me.

He gave me this heavy sword, I could barely lift it. I leaned back and tried to look at the sword, but it was so bright that I felt like I was looking directly at the sun, and I was blinded by it. The handle of the sword was formed like a skull, and it looked like it was trying to eat the sword. Or even maybe the sharp part of the sword, were its tongue. I turned it around and looked closely at it, suddenly I could see something was written into the sword. “Use me wisely”. I just dropped the swords without even noticing. My dad took a short sword up from the ground, and turned fast around. I could read from his eyes that he would like to fight me. I pulled up my sword, and tried to defend myself. I knew he never would hurt me that bad, but still – I knew he would hurt me, that will make me fight better. He has always told me that, if he was too kind in a battle I wouldn’t be able to fight real someday. I swung my sword against him, but as fast as he was he took his small dagger and defended himself. I tried to pull my sword away from his dagger, but my sword was stuck. The handle of the dagger had some kind of grip, which could hold the blade. He twisted his dagger, so I lost my grip around my handle. My sword hit the ground, and the dust was like dancing around it. There came a metallic sound, but it was still intact – of course. I stood there, without my sword as my dad took his dagger up to my neck. “ I guess you loose again my son “ he said with a smile. I guess he was right, I lost again. A warrior with no sword is like a bird with no wings. Unusable.

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