Ravenian's Introduction

Ravenian Wed Apr 15, 2009 2:20 am

With a clouded mind, the orc opened his eyes.
This new, dark world swam in front of him like a restless tide, with everything out of focus. Confused and with his head spinning, the orc sat down to think, as best as his hazy mind allowed him to.
He vaguely remembered a skirmish in the Eastern Plaguelands, with him leading a small force of Orc scouts and outriders to bring support to the Argent Dawn in Light's Hope Chapel under order of his warchief Thrall.
Something went wrong.
They were ambushed by a swarm of Scourge at Corin's Crossing, his brothers and sisters in arms cut down and devoured by ghouls before they could even realized what had been going on. He could only remember being surrounded by an army of approaching undead and thinking "my life is forfeit. I may as well die as a warrior and bring as many as I can with me". Thus, cleaving furiously, he killed at least six of them before a hulking abomination worked his way through the melee and cut a deep gash on his chest, which sent him sprawling on the ground. Before drawing his last breath, he heard a deep thundering voice which said "Take him.".
He was suddenly brought back to reality by a fierce blow to the head delivered with a stick, and a dark figure looming above him told him that the Lich King was expecting him.
Was this what it had all come down to, in the end? His will shattered to pieces, he had a become a servant of the very own entity he died to fight against.
He had become a deathknight.
"Rise, my chosen knight" The dark king said "Scour the living. Bring destruction in their lives. Wherever you will tread, doom shall follow. Rise, and forever be known as Ravenian the Death Knight".
And so it has been for many a month.
Rising swiftly in the undead ranks thanks to his combat valour, the orc brought chaos and suffering in his wake, burning human towns, killing innocents and raising more undead minions for his scourge army. They were gaining a strong foothold in the Eastern Plaguelands, and they were preparing for a massive battle to annihilate the remaining Argent forces in Light's Hope Chapel. One task remained: to prove himself true, the Orc had to slay a leader of the Dawn belonging to his very same race - a fellow Orc of Durotar.
Cold hearted and merciless, the Orc headed to meet his captive. Sword raised, poised to strike, his soon-to-be victim exclaimed:
"Rav'osh! Is that you? Of course it's you... I'd recognize your face anywhere. Try and remember Durotar, brother! Remember the sacrifices our heroes made so that we could be free of the blood curse. Harken back to the Valley of Trials, where we were reborn into a world without demonic influence. We found the splendor of life, Rav'osh. Together! This isn't you. You were a champion of the Horde once!
Listen to me, Rav. You must fight against the Lich King's control. He is a monster that wants to see this world - our world - in ruin. Don't let him use you to accomplish his goals. You were once a hero and you can be again. Fight, damn you! Fight his control!"
The speech moved him deeply. He no longer was a slave to the Lich King's will- his mind and spirit were fighting to free him of the dead lord's grasp. However, yet, it was not wise to fight his control openly. He would wait until the battle of Light's Hope Chapel, where perhaps he could join the Argent Forces...
The following morning, war horns blared and cut the morning chill. The clatter of steel of swords and armor was ringing throughout the camp, battle excitement visible among the combatants. Abominations were raised, towering flesh giants of unspeakable horror, ready to draw blood from any living creature.
And so they marched, all of them roaring furiously except the Orc, who kept thinking of the words of his dead brother. He was brought back to the present by a fierce yell, ordering them to charge mercilessly and make no prisoners.
The battle seemed to last an eternity, the presence of Mograine gave him an amazing strength which burnt in his vein like molten lead, his eyes blazing blue like cold ice in which the fire of fury burnt endlessly. He could no longer count how many enemies he had taken down, when all of a sudden a vision appeared to them all which froze all combatants in a striking awe: Highlord Mograine, the Ashbringer, Darion's own father, appeared through the mist of blood on the battlefield.
The vision of his father partnered with the presence of Tirion Fordring roused the feeling of life among the deathknights, turning their efforts against the Lich King himself who was forced to retreat under the pressure of this new threat.
On that day, the deathknights stood as one to form the order of the Ebon Blade.
He no longer was Rav'Osh the orc, nor was he Ravenian the Deathknight. He was now Ravenian of the Ebon Blade.
He soon swore allegiance to his Warchief Thrall, who sent him to the Outlands to battle off the remaining Burning Legion forces to gather his strength before facing his true enemy in Northrend.
In the fiery and crumbling region of Hellfire, he happened upon a band of adventurers with interests similar to his own, who he promptly lent his sword to.
His long journey had just begun and he would continue on the perlious path, wherever it may lead, as a proud Ranger of the North.