Medryn
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The Lich King is coming. - 2006/06/06 22:39
He sat very still on the icy throne. The dead have a stillness about them that can not be matched. His eyes however were very much alive. They danced over the images that played out on the scrying pool below him: An Empire in disarray, armies scattered. All was going according to plan, now was the perfect time for action.
Soon a select few of his zombie lords would make their way down the mountains, spreading panic and death as they went. And spreading more than that, spreading their black blood, animating more zombie warriors for his armies, and possibly freeing some of the Ancient Dead. As the zombies traveled they would create an army large enough to lay siege to the famous castles of the Empire, killing all mortals in their paths.
With a wave of his skeletal hand he cleared the scrying pool and called to one of his Death Knights, “Are the armies ready to move?”
The cursed knight nodded his helmet, hollow except for two glowing eyes. “Yes Your Majesty, we await only your orders.”
He stood and strode out of the throne room, his Death Knights falling in to formation around him. The courtyard was cold, but none of the inhabitants could feel the bite of the wind, nor would the snow melt when it touched what was left of their bodies. Beyond the gates were even more of the dead, all wanting one thing, to taste the flesh and blood of the living.
He spoke a single word “march” and as one the armies took one step closer to the Empire, then another, and another. Relentlessly they moved forward, dead eyes never blinking despite the glaring sun.
Miles away the people of the Empire continued with their lives, oblivious to their peril. Darkness would soon stretch across the Empire. The Lich King was coming.
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