“Well, this is a strange bunch.”

 

Mori turned in the direction of a voice that sounded more like a series of grunts than speech. Her eyes rested upon a male orc with green skin and a bald head, save for a patch of white hair he had tied into a ponytail with a leather strip. The orc’s armor was of a pale blue color that matched his tabard, the golden sun on it identifying him as a paladin of the Argent Crusade. The orc looked to his right with a frown and began reaching for his greatsword sheathed upon his back. Mori followed his gaze to a human clad in blue-black armor from head to toe standing a short distance away. She could see none of his skin or face, save for his blue eyes that glowed fiercely through the cracks in his skull-like helm adorned with horns. A thick cloak flowed down his back and touched the ground, its dark color in stark contrast with the bright pink and yellow blossoms and the lush green grass upon which the man stood. In the grass, he had planted a long, glowing sword, and rested his arms on its hilt.

 

Mori stood up and walked slowly towards the mysterious human. Her eyes widened as, from a closer distance, she could make out the spikes on his pauldrons and the skulls adorning his shoulders, gauntlets, chest, and kneecaps. The young blood elf could see that the sword was covered in strange markings called runes. She could not understand them, but they confirmed her suspicions as to this man’s identity.

 

“You’re a death knight!” Mori exclaimed with delight. “That’s so cool!”

 

Mori almost tripped on her oversized robe as she picked up her pace and ran toward the human, who turned his helmed head to her. His brows narrowed in confusion at the sight of the young blood elf frantically making her way to him, her garments dragging along the cobblestone. Surely, he had not expected to be greeted by such a rambunctious child in this peaceful town, and a stranger at that. But the young blood elf was enthralled. Mori excitedly hopped around the human, first inspecting his ornate rune blade, then his boots, then the fine quality of his cloak. The death knight did not particularly enjoy this attention, but she could not tell and continued to study his armor closely, the grin on her face widening as she took in his appearance with awe.

 

The death knight towered over Mori, and she had to strain her head to look directly up at his. The skeletal helm was cold and frightening, she thought, as if death itself were staring down at her from above. A chill ran down the blood elf’s spine as she continued examining the helm, and finally her curious green eyes locked with his haunting blue ones. The death knight spoke no words, but his eyes glowed fiercely, and Mori quickly fell under their spell. The air grew cold, and she was whisked away in her imagination to a faraway land of ice and snow. Visions of bloodshed and agony filled the young blood elf’s mind, and she could hear cries of pain and torment as the stench of rotting flesh filled her nostrils. Mori immediately covered her mouth with her hands, a measure taken equally to prevent herself from vomiting as much as screaming in horror. Who was this man? What had he seen?

 

Mori had apparently been entranced for quite some time as she jumped at the clang of metal striking stone. She rapidly turned her head in the direction of the sound and realized that in the shock and amazement of meeting this death knight, she had taken her mind off the urn.

 

“Ah. Yes. We would like to get rid of evil vase.” The vrykul spoke in his thick accent with a local pandaren priestess at the bank of the pond.

 

Mori’s eyes widened in horror.

 

“No!” she screamed. “I need the urn!”

 

Mori ran as quickly as she could to the vrykul in protest, shouting vehemently. The being in the urn had promised her knowledge, and she would not depart with the urn before having received it.

 

“Give me the urn, Halvor! Give it to me now!”

 

The orc paladin could not bear the shrieks of the angry child. He turned his face to the sky, praying, “Light, grant me the patience to bear these unpleasant screams!”

 

Halvor ignored the small blood elf and easily kept the urn out of her reach. Mori squirmed as she attempted to grasp the object, her short arms outstretched, but the vrykul was too tall. The orc frowned and attempted to silence Mori by engaging her in conversation.

 

“Child,” he asked, “why do you want this…this urn?”

 

Mori looked at the orc with pleading eyes.

 

“There’s a big voice in it that likes me! I need to talk to the Teacher!”

 

The paladin grunted and looked displeased.

 

“Urns with voices in them remind me of necromantic magics. You should leave it alone. It’s for your own good.”

 

“I want to be a necromancer!” Mori glared at the orc furiously.

 

A necromancer? The death knight looked between the blood elf and the orc and listened intently.

 

The orc shook his head and sighed. “Bah! Dabbling in such dark magic is beneath me! The Light is the true source of power, all else be damned.” Now that he knew what was in it, the paladin opted to stay as far away from the urn as he could.

 

The death knight grinned underneath his dark helm as he thought to himself. The blood elf was still a child, true, but with guidance, she could grow to become a powerful necromancer. He would be willing to provide that guidance for no more motivation than being repaid through assistance from her in the future. It was like an investment of sorts, he reasoned.

 

Mori had given up trying to obtain the urn for the time being and once again turned her head toward the frightening death knight, finding herself unable to look away from him for very long. He took this opportunity to beckon her to his side. Mori stared at him for a few moments before reacting. What did he want? Should she really approach him again? The glow from the death knight’s eyes intensified, and Mori hurried over to him, afraid of irritating him any further.

 

The armored human, keeping one gloved hand on his blade, knelt down next to the young blood elf and whispered, “What is in the urn that you need, little one? What is this power that you seek?” His voice, rather, what felt like one voice in the echo of another, seemed fitting for the sound that came out of a giant skull with glowing blue eyes. It was deep, yet ethereal, as if it was not spoken from the same dimension that she inhabited.

 

Mori looked silently at the ground and gulped. She could not bring herself to look at the death knight eye to eye for fear of summoning again the horrific visions from his mind. The orc observed the death knight attempting to speak to the child and grunted with disgust.

 

“I would stay away from that child if I were you.”

 

The death knight’s eyes glowed playfully as he returned his gaze and smirked at the paladin underneath his dark helm. He turned his attention back to Mori.

 

“Does the urn increase your necromantic powers? Does it push you closer to becoming a lich?” the human inquired gently. He could tell the child was afraid, and patiently gave her time to respond.

 

“The being in the urn said it had knowledge for me,” Mori finally replied. The death knight nodded, encouraging her to continue. “I want it,” she pointed at Halvor and the tauren now standing at the vrykul’s side, “but they won’t let me talk to it!”

 

The death knight glanced to where the young blood elf was pointing and observed the warrior and shaman discussing the small container the former held in his massive hand. He turned back to her and spoke, “I could always use more necromantic powers at my side. I will assist you in obtaining the urn.”

 

Mori’s green eyes widened and flickered with hope at the sound of aid, but their bright light quickly vanished as she turned her head towards his and stared once again at the skull with glowing blue eyes. Would this frightening man really help her?

 

“You don’t look like you like me,” she frowned at him.

 

“I don’t look like I like anybody,” retorted the human. Almost to himself, he spoke, “Show no emotion and fear, and the enemy will not know how to react.”

 

“Huh? What do you mean?” Mori blinked in confusion. He chuckled at her lack of comprehension and stood back up, gently ruffling her silver hair with a smile. She had promise, he told himself.

 

* * * * *

 

Halvor and the tauren finished their discourse with the priestess. The tauren looked towards the steps at the entrance of the town and was pleasantly surprised to see the orc standing there. For a brief moment, he wondered how long the orc had been waiting, and hurriedly walked over to greet him.

 

“Lok’tar, orc! It is good to have a fellow member of the Horde join us, though I do apologize for making you wait. We were taking care of…matters.” His deep, booming voice was lined with concern.

 

“Lok’tar, tauren! Worry not, I understand. I am called Vel’rosh, a paladin hailing from the Warsong clan. My master suggested that I seek out a group of travelers so that I may provide them assistance.”

 

The tauren bowed to the orc with respect. “That is good to hear. I am Tolkar, a shaman from the Ragetotem tribe. May the elements look upon you favorably.”

 

Vel’rosh let out a hearty laugh. “The Light of the Horde is unmatched in strength! May it shine upon you as well.”

 

“Indeed, brother. In these trying times we will prevail by adhering to our honor and strength.”

 

Tolkar joined Vel’rosh in laughter as the two became comfortably acquainted.

 

* * * * *

 

Mori stood next to the death knight and looked up at him. Thankfully, he seemed to be closely examining the other travelers standing near the pond, so she took the time to study his appearance again. He’s very scary, she thought to herself, but he wants to help me, and maybe he can be my friend, too. She took a deep breath, smiled, and spoke up.

 

“What’s your name?”

 

The death knight looked down at the child, and she couldn’t help but jump a little.

 

“I am known as Sahtra the Venerated. And you?”

 

Mori ignored the question and instead reached inside her oversized robe, withdrawing an oval, grey rock from one of its pockets. She held the rock up high for Sahtra to see. The death knight frowned.

 

“What is this pebble?” He had expected an introduction in return.

 

Mori beamed with pride. “This is my pet rock and my best friend. I named him Arthas and I talk to him sometimes.”

 

Sahtra wistfully smiled at the name, and gently took the rock from the child’s hands, studying it closely. He had fond memories of the former Prince of Lordaeron. He turned to the young blood elf and gave the rock back to her.

 

“You know, I served directly under Arthas,” he spoke as he wore a genuine smile on his face, “In fact, I was among his highest commanders and led the Scourge Army.”

 

Mori’s eyes widened. This death knight served Arthas himself! He who raised Kel’Thuzad, the man turned lich and her idol! Her green eyes glowed fiercely as she realized she had many questions for Sahtra, questions about her past, about Arthas, about the lich, the list in her mind went on.

 

The tauren couldn’t help but overhear the (unlikely) conversation taking place between the young blood elf and the veteran death knight. He stared at Sahtra in amazement and, to his own surprise, spoke out loud, “How are you still alive…er, undead…I don’t know.” He looked off to the side and appeared to be lost in thought.

 

Next to Tolkar, Vel’rosh grimaced and spat out, “Arthas! BAH! Disgusting to name a pet rock after that horrible man!”

 

Mori was insulted and began to protest. “Hey! He is my pet ro—”

 

“KNOW YOUR PLACE, ORC! YOU WERE NOT SPOKEN TO!”

 

The death knight’s fury startled Mori, and she scrambled to maintain her grip on the rock. Sahtra abruptly turned his head toward and pointed his runeblade at the orc, his eyes glowing fiercely as frost formed in the air around him. Vel’rosh let out an unapologetic grunt of displeasure, unfazed by the proximity of the massive sword to his throat.

 

“Arthas was a monster! Many brave orcs died to that unholy…creature! He did not deserve the title of king.”

 

Sahtra would hear none of it. He thrust the blade into the grass and pointed a gloved finger at the orc.

 

“Your people went on a massacring rampage because a ‘spirit’ told you so? You destroyed your own planet! Do not speak to me, paladin.” The frost grew into icicles and fell to the ground as his rage swelled.

 

Vel’rosh let out a howl. “YOU ANGER ME! I will crush you if you say anything more!” His eyes shone with the brilliance of the Light, but it appeared that his bloodlust would get the better of him, and soon.

 

Sahtra dismissed the threat. “Your words have no effect on me. The Light will fail you the same way the spirits failed your ancestors. I have no problem starting an orcish massacre, with you being the first victim.”

 

Mori and several of the local pandaren had been nervously watching the orc and the human newcomers. She did not entirely understand why they were so angry at each other, but she did not want the fighting to continue. Swallowing the lump of fear in her throat, she approached the death knight and anxiously tugged on his cloak.

 

The death knight looked down at the child. What is it? The dark skull silently stared at her.

 

Mori managed to speak after looking at him for a few moments. “L-Let’s leave the orc alone,” she begged. The frost forming around the death knight began to melt and evaporate as he sheathed his sword.

 

Vel’rosh let out a gruff laugh, thoroughly entertained by the sight of a small blood elf trying to placate the massive death knight.

 

“You will perish and burn in Hell, undead scum! The Light will shine on me with favor, and I will be the one to deliver you to your end!”

 

The orc laughed some more, turned, and left. Mori thought she could see him enchanting his blade with a golden glow.

 

Sahtra watched as the paladin strode away confidently. Visibly agitated, he uttered, “That orc is nothing more than a flimsy candle in tin armor. I’ll put out his light soon enough.”

 

He turned to Mori and placed his hand on her back. “Let us leave as well, child.”

 

Mori was unsure what the death knight had in mind for the orc, but it probably wasn’t anything nice. She exclaimed in protest, “That orc wants to go on an adventure!”

 

Sahtra looked down at her and frowned. “That orc wants to die.”

 

The young blood elf immediately grinned at the thought.

 

“I can raise him if he does,” she declared smugly.

 

The death knight smiled behind his dark helm. “Denying one the honor of death is beautiful. It is too easy to die. When the time comes, bend him to your will, little one.”

 

Sahtra’s blue eyes lit up as he realized he had forgotten something important.

 

“Tell me, child, what do I call you? What is your name?”

 

“My name is Morthana, but you can call me Mori! I’m studying to become a necromancer and someday I’m going to be the greatest lich ever!” (Mori had a habit of introducing her ambitions in this way.)

 

Sahtra let out a warm chuckle. “I have no doubts with the spirit you have within you, little Mori. Taint the souls of the living with your death magic and bring them to their knees.”

 

And they walked away in high spirits, the veteran human death knight and the aspiring blood elf necromancer.