The stench of the undead and the fires of the burned choked Araquin as she hid in a closet in a long abandoned house in the city of Stratholme. As she caught her breath she reflected on the last few days, recalling the letter she received from the Argent Crusade, begging her to participate on a recon mission to the ruins. The mission had seemed easy, until the trap was sprung. An arrow through their priest's heart killed him instantly. The ghouls and skeletons swarmed them. Under the command to flee Araquin blinked ahead of the group and triggered her invisibility spell, phasing slightly out of reality. She watched through a broken window as her other companions were cut down, one by one, by overwhelming forces.
Her life flashed before her eyes. The many months spent fighting the forces of Ragnaros in Molten Core. The sorties into Kharazan for the Violet Eye. The campaign against Vashj and Kael'thas. All for naught.
A tear slid down her cheek and past a sad, wistful smile as she remembered the fallen who stood beside her. "I'll join you soon, my friends," she whispered.
"No, you won't mage," came a resonating voice from the outside the house. "You serve the Lich King now."
She wiped the tear from her face, standing resolutely as she gathered what magics she had left. She slid out of the closet and walked down the stairs of the house, head held high in defiance as she opened the front door to see a frost wyrm ringed by many abominations.
"I'll die fighting you. And take you with me." The fire mage called down flamestrikes and blastwaves. Fireballs and fireblasts. Blinking here and there as the undead closed in on her. The raged against her ineffectively as she conjured herself into a block of ice. Rained blows against her mana shield. Screeched as she blinked away after freezing their feet to the ground.
As she turned round a corner she was beset with a bone chilling cold. Facing forward she ran nearly right into a frost covered chest plate of a giant of a man. An icebound fist crushed into her stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs. A blow to the side of her head blinded her. Just before she passed out she heard the voice again, "Take her to the Ebon Hold. Begin the transformation immediately. She serves us now..."
Her life flashed before her eyes. The many months spent fighting the forces of Ragnaros in Molten Core. The sorties into Kharazan for the Violet Eye. The campaign against Vashj and Kael'thas. All for naught.
A tear slid down her cheek and past a sad, wistful smile as she remembered the fallen who stood beside her. "I'll join you soon, my friends," she whispered.
"No, you won't mage," came a resonating voice from the outside the house. "You serve the Lich King now."
She wiped the tear from her face, standing resolutely as she gathered what magics she had left. She slid out of the closet and walked down the stairs of the house, head held high in defiance as she opened the front door to see a frost wyrm ringed by many abominations.
"I'll die fighting you. And take you with me." The fire mage called down flamestrikes and blastwaves. Fireballs and fireblasts. Blinking here and there as the undead closed in on her. The raged against her ineffectively as she conjured herself into a block of ice. Rained blows against her mana shield. Screeched as she blinked away after freezing their feet to the ground.
As she turned round a corner she was beset with a bone chilling cold. Facing forward she ran nearly right into a frost covered chest plate of a giant of a man. An icebound fist crushed into her stomach, knocking the breath from her lungs. A blow to the side of her head blinded her. Just before she passed out she heard the voice again, "Take her to the Ebon Hold. Begin the transformation immediately. She serves us now..."
