“Well, this is a strange bunch.”
Mori turned in the direction of the voice that sounded more like a series of grunts than speech. Her eyes first rested upon an orc, clad in the white and golden armor characteristic of paladins, then to the weathered human standing several paces away from him. The human stood silent, his cold, blue-grey eyes glaring at the orc. The spikes protruding from his shoulder plates and the skulls adorning his belt and kneecaps could only mean one thing—
“A DEATH KNIGHT?!” Mori exclaimed with delight. “THAT’S SO COOL!”
Mori scrambled to her feet and almost tripped on her oversized robe as she ran up to the human, who turned his gaze 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 the peaceful town of Dawn’s Blossom, near the eastern shores of Pandaria.
The blood elf could not help but stare in awe at the death knight who towered over her. His eyes glowed fiercely, and Mori quickly fell under their spell. The air grew cold, and a few moments later, she was whisked away to a distant land of ice and snow.
Mori had apparently been entranced for quite some time as she jumped at the clang of metal striking metal. 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 over to the vrykul in protest, shouting vehemently. The being in the urn had promised her knowledge, and she wanted it desperately.
“GIVE ME THE URN, HALVOR! GIVE IT TO ME NOW!”
The orc paladin could not bear the shrieks of the angry child. With a prayer, he turned his face upwards, praying, “Light, give me the strength 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 artifact, her short arms outstretched. The orc shook his head and attempted to silence Mori with 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 him!”
The paladin grunted and looked displeased.
“Urns with voices in them remind me of necromantic magics. Perhaps you should leave it alone. It’s for your own good.”
“I am a necromancer!” Mori glared at the orc furiously.
The orc sighed. “Bah! Such dark energy is pathetic! The Light is the true source of power, all else be damned.” The paladin opted to stay as far away from the urn as he could.
The death knight, however, appeared to take interest in this exchange. With a smile, he pointed to the child and beckoned her to his side underneath the golden honey locust tree. Mori looked at him with doubt, and the human’s smile turned to an impatient glare. A bit intimidated, Mori cautiously walked over to the human. He knelt down and whispered.
“What is in the urn that you need, little one? What is this power that you seek?”
Mori looked silently at the ground. She could not bring herself to look at the death knight eye to eye. The orc observed the death knight attempting to speak to the child and grunted with disgust. The death knight’s eyes glowed as he returned his gaze and smirked at the paladin.
“Does the urn increase your necromantic powers? Does it push you closer to becoming a Lich?” the human inquired gently.
“The being in the urn said it had knowledge for me,” Mori replied. “I want it,” she pointed at the vrykul and the tauren now standing at his side, “but they won’t let me talk to it!”
The death knight spoke to the young blood elf.
“I could always use more necromantic powers at my side. I will assist you in obtaining the urn.”
Mori’s green eyes flickered with hope, but their bright light quickly vanished as doubt settled in. Would this frightening man really help her?
“You don’t look like you like me,” she frowned at the death knight.
“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.”
Mori blinked, confused as to what the death knight meant. 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.”
The tauren bowed to the orc with respect. “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. His perceiving eyes examined the other travelers standing near the pond. He’s a bit scary, Mori thought to herself, but maybe he could be my friend. She grinned and spoke.
“What’s your name?”
The death knight looked down at the child and returned her smile.
“I am called Sahtra the Venerated.”
Mori reached inside her oversized robe and withdrew 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 rock?” 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 he talks to me.”
Sahtra wistfully smiled at the name. He had fond memories of the former Prince of Lordaeron. He turned to the child.
“You know, I served directly under Arthas. I was among his highest commanders and led the Scourge Army.”
Mori’s eyes widened. This death knight served the master of Kel’Thuzad, her idol! Her green eyes glowed with amazement.
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?”
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 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. He spoke calmly, making it clear the orc’s words had no effect on him. “Your light will fail you the same way the spirits failed your ancestors. I have no problem starting another 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 cape.
The death knight looked down at the child inquisitively. What is it? His narrowed eyes spoke for him.
Mori managed to speak after looking at him for a few moments. “L-Let’s leave the orc alone.”
Her wide eyes begged him. The frost forming around the death knight began to melt and evaporate.
Entertained by the sight of a small blood elf trying to placate the massive death knight, Vel’rosh let out a gruff laugh.
“You will perish and burn in Hell, undead scum! The Light will shine on me with favor! Ahaha!”
The orc laughed some more, turned, and left. Mori thought she could see him enchanting his blade with a glowing light.
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’s 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. “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 Mor’thana, but you can call me Mori! I’m a warlock and I’m going to become 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 young blood elf warlock.
* * * * *
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