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A distantly remembered dream… a memory? Yes, it remembered! It had not in so very long. Darkness, a fog… it recalled time. It felt long since it had considered time.
It was a who… once, long ago. It had a shape, a form. For a long time, it had not - held in the nether, it had lost all track of time, or space. There was only the fog. Why was there fog?
Flashes struck past it’s vision, as it recalled sight. A beautiful world, one that rotted as an apple felled by a worm, Verdant jungles growing brown and sickly.
Then, another one, lush, beautiful and filled with life - and enemies. Here the screaming and yelling happened, a green tide washing over the land - his green tide. He recalled being green and strong, and he recalled the sweet taste of food and drink and women, and the sweeter taste still of power.
And then, the bitter acid of death. A sting only rivalled in pain by something else - something that struck the heart… betrayal.
There was triumph and defeat, trust and distrust, of loyalty constantly scorned - and other times, rewarded until the bitter end.
Death had found him, again and again, and yet he still lived. For he knew that was his fate, as memories rushed in, and a light returned to his undead eyes. He was, for better or worse, still a part of the world’s cycles, for hell had been denied to him.
He was Raal Deathwind, and he persisted.
Night broke into rays of sunlight, as he felt cold stone rubbing against his aging bones. Light streamed in, unfamiliar and wet, and the smell of wet swamp filled his paradoxically missing nose.
An unfamiliar green face stared at him, A girl with tusks in her face and Black, braided hair. She was screaming something, but the Death Knight was not listening as gnarled hands grapped onto the coffin and pulled himself from his coffin.
“I’m alive!!”
It was a who… once, long ago. It had a shape, a form. For a long time, it had not - held in the nether, it had lost all track of time, or space. There was only the fog. Why was there fog?
Flashes struck past it’s vision, as it recalled sight. A beautiful world, one that rotted as an apple felled by a worm, Verdant jungles growing brown and sickly.
Then, another one, lush, beautiful and filled with life - and enemies. Here the screaming and yelling happened, a green tide washing over the land - his green tide. He recalled being green and strong, and he recalled the sweet taste of food and drink and women, and the sweeter taste still of power.
And then, the bitter acid of death. A sting only rivalled in pain by something else - something that struck the heart… betrayal.
There was triumph and defeat, trust and distrust, of loyalty constantly scorned - and other times, rewarded until the bitter end.
Death had found him, again and again, and yet he still lived. For he knew that was his fate, as memories rushed in, and a light returned to his undead eyes. He was, for better or worse, still a part of the world’s cycles, for hell had been denied to him.
He was Raal Deathwind, and he persisted.
Night broke into rays of sunlight, as he felt cold stone rubbing against his aging bones. Light streamed in, unfamiliar and wet, and the smell of wet swamp filled his paradoxically missing nose.
An unfamiliar green face stared at him, A girl with tusks in her face and Black, braided hair. She was screaming something, but the Death Knight was not listening as gnarled hands grapped onto the coffin and pulled himself from his coffin.
“I’m alive!!”