Weeks of grime and dirt smeared the once proud heroes. Remenants of vanquished foes and the blood of brothers mingling indistinguishably together etching deep furrows in brow and armour. Scores and dents, tears and rents. They resembled little of their former selves and but for the light in their eyes you would think they were little more than the minions they fought.
A frost layer was rapidly developing on their armour as they awaited Tirion, where had he been while they cleared out the Undead vermin? Here he comes shining in all the righteous glory of a paladin waving his sword like a toy. Justice? Freedom? Safety? They sacrificed them all in his crusade while he waited at camp to deliver his proclamations.
The Lich King sat imperiously on his throne, the battered and scarred husk of High Lord Bolvar chained spread eagle above his head. The fool Tirion had his moment snatched as he drew in the icey breath with which he sought to offer the King one last chance. Fat chance.
Arrogance exuded from both players one in an aura of light the other dark. How many died at their hands.. Their exchange was cut short in a flash of ice. The would be exectioner a prisoner at the feet of the very man he sought to strike down. Our heroes were once again the only thing between disaster and glory. Surging forwards they met their fate.
Unsurpisingly it wasnt as straightforward as it seemed. Ailments spread, zombies arose from the packed ice along with hulking behemoths. Undaunted they continued. They fought back the mewling minions and forced the King back again and again. Until the very winds turned against them, sheltering on the edge the shadows in their souls turned against them. Manifesting under the Lich kings machinations. Even this was not enough for he then shook the earth its self causing vast damage and sending bodies and rocks hurling hundreds of meters below. The moment seemed to repeat itself over and over and over and over and ... well anyway. The image of a shaman falling.. horrible..
Yet still they fought on. Winged Valkyr came to snatch them away and were torn from the sky. Shrieking souls bombarded them from above. The very ground was defiled in his name. Nothing here is sacred, nothing clean, nothing pure. Again the winter turned against them the very nature of Northrend manifest in his powers. The earth shook, the warriors roared. The Lich King staggered. Sensing weakness they pressed harder, yet it was to no avail. Frostmourne that foul tainted blade showed its true power. They fell. To a man they fell in agony. No priest could recover them from the void now. No shaman, nor druid, not even Tirion could bring hope here.
Then the true tragedy was unveiled. The lich king himself sought to bring them back.. but only so far as undeath. To become the greatest servants of that they gave their lives to end. A tragedy of epic proportions.
It was at this point that Tirion finally did something. He broke free of the icecube and shattered Frostmourn in one stroke. Some have wondered why he didnt just do this from the start. But its pointless speculation. The reality is he's a Ret and ret is short for retardbution.
The lich king still lived, he span in place like a giant loot pinata. Literally for once. Revieved by the former king of Stormwind the heroes set about with a frenzy. LOOT EPICS WOOO TITLES they chanted and thats what they got.
The wicked king is dead ding dong the king is dead lalala..
*ENTER RP MOVIE GO WATCH IT IN DALARAN KK*
News update! Now fits into a size 10!!
sorry its full on rp and so long in coming. I've been busy.
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