Death Knight - Zhane's Story

Relzhane awoke to the biting cold of his meager bunk, icy blue eyes wide and glowing in the darkness. He could see his breath as he took in quick, sharp gasps of air, trying to calm himself. All around him, other Death Knights slept or sat silently in their own little worlds. He didn't care about them, and they certainly didn't care about about the blonde former Ranger suffering from nightmares. Even the first time he had dreamed of his death and woke suddenly with a shout, not a soul made a move to assist him or even showed him any attention aside from a mildly curious glance. By this point in time, he didn't even get curious glances anymore. His nightmares were a common occurrence and the Death Knights in the barracks had come to expect it.

The images of dragon fire setting alight his home and the sounds of battle all around him lingered as Relzhane lay in the darkness staring at the ceiling. His own labored breathing mingled with the sounds of his dream self breathing heavy as he died, making it seem all too real to him. It wouldn't bother him for too much longer. In the back of his mind, he was aware of that. His thoughts would numb after a few moments and the traces of his humanity that surfaced every time he awoke from his nightmares would fall back out of reach.

“Death Knight,” a whisper called in his mind.

Relzhane's breath caught in his throat. His full attention was on the voice in his head, his vision unfocused upon the ceiling and the ghosts of his nightmare dispersing immediately. As he listened, the voice, echoing and deep, continued.

“Come to me. Now.” The command was simple and to the point. Nothing more was said and Relzhane let himself breath. It was rare that his master gave him direct commands like that. Usually, he answered to other Death Knights deemed his superiors. This night, however, the Lich King wanted to see him personally and told him as such.

Relzhane murmured a soft reply aloud, unsure of whether it would be heard or not, and climbed out of his bed without question. Soundlessly, he dropped to the frigid floor from his raised bunk, landing in a crouch. No-one gave him any attention as he walked out of the room wearing nothing more than a sleeveless undershirt and cloth trousers. The Lich King wanted him now; there was no time to put on more clothing.

Bare feet maneuvered around bones and various other dangerous obstacles littering the floor of the hallways and chambers Relzhane made his way through. It was without thought that he dodged around the mindless ghouls milling around. The odd few made a grab for him but he easily side stepped around them. On an ordinary day, he would have torn them limb from limb without a second thought, but right now there was a more pressing matter at hand. Punishing the obnoxious minions that the Lich King kept around would have to wait for another time.

When at last he reached the chamber that Arthas liked to use as his meeting room, Relzhane was shivering slightly. The air was icy cold on his exposed skin and the floor beneath his bare feet was colder. It didn't matter to him, though. His body was always cold and he pushed through the shivers to do his master's bidding. It was a way of life.

Striking blue eyes turned to the young elf when he entered. The glow was so bright, particularly against the contrasting onyx black of the helmet they were set in, that it hurt his eyes. Instead of meeting the Lich King's eyes, Relzhane approached the man he called his master and dropped to a knee before him, resting his hands together over his other knee.

“My Lord,” he said in revered greeting, his own voice echoing as the whisper in his mind had done before.

“Stand,” Arthas' deep voice echoed around the room.

The tone of his voice told Relzhane that he was not pleased, but the blonde Death Knight could not fathom why as he did as commanded. He lifted his eyes to focus upon the foreboding figure before him.

Tall and hulking in his armor, the Lich King stood with one hand resting upon the hilt of his sword, Frostmourne. The tip of that terrifying runeblade rested on the floor as the sword reached easily to Arthas' hip. Jet black armor adorned with horrifying caricatures of skulls seemed to radiate the cold, making the area around the Lich King easily the coldest place in the entire citadel. Relzhane was not a small man by any means, even out of his armor that mimicked his master's, but standing before Arthas, he felt small and insignificant.

“I am disappointed, Death Knight,” the Lich King said quietly. The echo lent his voice an eerie quality that just enhanced the portrayal of whatever mood the man was in.

Relzhane was about to apologize and ask what he could do better when deep purple light struck his chest and threw him across the room. He landed with a moan of pain upon a heap of bones after crashing into a wall. It was either luck or Arthas' design that he barely missed one of several protruding spikes lining the chamber's dark walls.

“Come prepared next time... Should you survive.”

The last phrase confused Relzhane for only a second before he noticed a third figure in the room. His attention having been solely on his master, he had failed to notice a Death Knight standing nearby in armor that matched his own in every manner, right down to the protruding spikes on the sides that protected his swept back long ears. This Death Knight, who was now coming at him with a runeblade drawn, was a Quel'Dore, a high elf, just like him.

He didn't bother to ask questions as he rolled to the side just in time to save himself from being sliced in half. A sickening crack of bones sounded about the chamber as the pile he had been laying on took the brunt of the attack instead. His attacker did not lose any time in coming at him again, causing Relzhane to retreat from the pile all together and find his footing quickly.

At first, his intention was to just dodge the attacks and figure out what was going on. His mind raced with thoughts of what he could have possibly done to warrant this sort of punishment from the Lich King. He had been loyal to Arthas from day one, doing his bidding and doing it well. He was a trained warrior and had risen through the ranks of Death Knights quickly. He was not at the top, but he was certainly valued by Arthas. He had been told as such on a few occasions, though typically through superiors rather than by his master himself. But now, it seemed the very man he served without question had decided he was no longer worth it.

“Fight!” a harsh whisper ordered in his mind.

Relzhane's thoughts about the reason for this fight vanished and only the battle itself mattered. He let his violent tendencies and temper take over his every action and went on the offensive despite his lack of armor or a weapon. He had other skills he could employ instead of attacking with a blade.

Out of the bulky plate mail he usually wore to fight, the former Ranger was far more agile than his opponent. He dodged several more strikes of the other's runeblade while he worked to get himself into a good position with enough room to maneuver. Finally, when the moment was right, Relzhane launched himself into the air, using the Death Knight's arm as a spring board to flip himself behind the man.

“What now?” he taunted before aiming a spin kick at the elf's head as he turned. Pain shot up his leg as the side of his bare foot and ankle collided with the heavy metal helmet, but it had the desired effect. As Relzhane stumbled back, half limping while he adjusted to his injured foot, the helmet flew across the room and its owner fell sideways onto the ground. He smirked when the Death Knight looked up at him.

The man was young and deathly pale, even more so than Relzhane. While the blonde had at least a little flush of pink still in his dead body, this man was purely white. Disheveled pale blue hair hung to his shoulders and in his face, getting in his eyes as he glared up at Relzhane. Those eyes glowed bright blue like any Death Knight, but what struck Relzhane about them was the blatant blood-lust he saw in them. This man wasn't just fighting because he was ordered to; he was enjoying it.

Several small silver hoops pierced the Death Knight's swept back ears, all the way up to the pointed tips. The skin around one had a faint rosy tint, the only color on his entire body, as if the helmet had tugged at it when Relzhane had knocked it off. A short goatee of pale blue hair was on the point of the man's chin while the rest of his round face was clean shaven. It wasn't an uncommon style for Quel'Dorei, but Relzhane found himself captured by it, his focus upon his opponent's face for a moment too long as the man got to his feet.

The former Ranger turned Death Knight paid for his inattention when his opponent charged him. Unprepared, the only thing he could do was sidestep to avoid the worst of the strike and take a grazing blow to his side rather than being run through with the runeblade. He stumbled aside with a soft cry before hearing more than seeing the other Death Knight coming again from behind. He threw himself to the ground, trying but failing to spin around in order to kick up at the man. Instead, he ended up face down and unable to get up before being pinned to the ground by a heavily plated knee in the small of his back.

“What now?” an echoing voice above him all but growled, mimicking his taunt from before without the sarcastic tone of voice.

“This,” Relzhane managed to gasp in response, his tone lost by his lack of air. He stretched his hand out towards the pile of bones the Lich King had thrown him into mere minutes ago and focused his mind on raising a ghoul from whatever intact body parts were in it. Both his hand and the pile glowed with dark energy, catching the other Death Knight's attention for just long enough to distract him from trying to destroy Relzhane.

A half-rotted figure rose from within the pile, shaking off fragments of bone as it gave a gurgling cry. Mindless for the most part, the undead creature acted on Relzhane's will rather than its own. In response to a wordless command, the ghoul rushed the Death Knight atop its master, tackling him and knocking him aside. The tactic wouldn't work again, but this time, he hadn't seen it coming.

Relzhane gasped for air and rolled to his feet, uncaring of the fate of his minion. What mattered was the fact that the Death Knight wasn't pinning him anymore. He could always re-summon the ghoul again later if he needed to.

After an ear splitting gurgle and a sickening splatter, the blue haired elf turned his offensive onto Relzhane again. The ghoul lay in wet pieces on the ground, its guts everywhere, including all over the Death Knight. This didn't seem to bother him as he turned his sights on the blonde once more, backing him against a wall with strike after strike. It seemed as if Relzhane's ghoul had just made him angry and unleashed some sort of fury in the man. Relzhane could do nothing but duck and dodge the runeblade, unable to make an offensive move of his own.

“You are better than this,” the Lich King's frustrated voice whispered in Relzhane's mind.

In the back of his mind, Relzhane knew that hearing his master complain and give orders in battle made him reckless. He knew that grasping a swinging blade to use as boost to vault himself over the Death Knight's head was a stupid idea. He also knew that making an attempt to wrench that blade out of its wielder's hands as he landed rather than releasing it was idiotic at best. None of that mattered, though. What mattered was impressing Arthas. That was the only thing that ever mattered.

The result of Relzhane's attempt at an offensive wasn't exactly as he had envisioned it, but it succeeded in stopping the sword strikes. Both Death Knights crashed to the ground as Relzhane landed, his balance offset by his grip on the other's blade. They rolled in a fight for dominance as the blood stained runeblade clattered to the floor and slid out of both their reach. A fierce struggle between the pair ensued, the armored Death Knight taking the upper hand but not without suffering injuries of his own from Relzhane's bloodied fists landing punches and to his head. The blonde, however, unable to do as much damage as armored extremities nor protect himself very well against them, suffered the worst for the wrestling match.

As a last ditch effort to gain the upper hand, Relzhane halted his struggles to focus on calling upon minions a second time. His opponent paused for only a second in confusion before taking the opportunity to land a gauntlet clad fist to side of Relzhane's head. He saw stars and lost his focus as his head rolled to the side, but it was too late; he had already cast his will to call for assistance.

A gurgling wail sounded from all sides of the chamber, getting louder by the second. The blue haired Death Knight looked up, pausing once more. Relzhane had already stopped fighting and was struggling purely defensively at this point. He smirked, despite his position.

Before either of them could make another move, hundreds of ghouls rushed into the chamber from all entrances, convening on the pair of Death Knights struggling near the wall. Gurgling and falling all over one another, they managed to pull Relzhane's attacker off of him and drag him away. The man struggled against them, roaring in anger as he fought them off. Several fell to his fury with wails but there were more than he could handle alone and unarmed.

Satisfied that he had bested his opponent, Relzhane didn't bother to put effort into getting up. He was quite badly injured and in severe pain, his clothing torn in several places and soaked in his own blood. His long blonde hair, unruly at best, was matted and tangled, dirtied from the fight and getting in his face. He merely lay there, catching his breath and listening to the ghouls making their best attempt at tearing the other Death Knight apart.

“Enough!” the Lich King's voice bellowed.

In an instant, the ghouls stopped their attack and fell limp to the ground, a collective wail sounding around the room. When Relzhane looked at his master, Frostmourne was no longer resting tip down on the ground. Instead, the cursed runeblade was lifted in the Lich King's right hand while the left was outstretched towards the pile of dead ghouls and the other Death Knight.

“Stand, Death Knights.”

That seemed an impossible task, but it was a direct command and Relzhane had little other choice. It was the reason for his existence to do as his master told him. With a soft moan of pain, he rolled himself over and got onto his hands and knees. When he tried to stand, he gave a sharp cry of pain as his right leg tried to give out on him. He shifted his weight onto his left, though that hurt only slightly less. He turned pained but determined eyes to the Lich King after a moment, standing in place and shaking not only with the cold but with the tremendous pain he was in. It was only his undying desire to follow Arthas' command that kept him on his feet.

Across the room, the blue haired Death Knight climbed to his feet from the ground where the ghouls had knocked him. He was missing his gauntlets and one of his pauldrons, all three pieces of armor having been taken by the ghouls and now scattered amongst the pile of rotting bodies around him. He was bleeding from several injuries that Relzhane himself had managed to inflict upon him as well a few fresh ones. The look on his face said that he wasn't pleased to have been forced to stop fighting.

Relzhane watched as the Lich King lifted his runeblade to point at the other Death Knight. When his master spoke to address the other, he was surprised that it was aloud rather than whispers into his mind.

“Vitorian Bloodrune... You serve me well with your determination and persistence in battle.”

The other Death Knight did not even crack a smile at the compliment. Such words were rare coming from Arthas and it surprised Relzhane that the man did not respond at all. Instead, that same longing for battle remained evident on his face, even as his gaze fixed upon his master.

“However, your reckless lust for blood will end in your demise,” the Lich King continued, his voice changing subtly to convey his displeasure. He had a tendency to always sound angry, but it was always clear when he truly was unhappy about something.

Bright blue eyes narrowed behind a dark sinister helm before Vitorian cried out and crumpled to the ground. His own eyes never left the Lich King, even as his cringed and trembled in obvious agony. Then, as suddenly as it began, the Lich King turned his attention to Relzhane and allowed Vitorian to stand once more.

“Relzhane Dawnsinger... Your creativity when clearly outmatched in battle is impressive.”

A smirk came to Relzhane's lips at that, though the expression was short lived.

“But your cocky attitude will result in failure.”

Again, the Lich King's eyes narrowed, this time on Relzhane. He all but screamed when pain exploded in his head. His vision went blank as he collapsed, gripping his head. It felt as if hot pokers had been stabbed through his eyes, as if his ear drums would burst from within, as if screws were being twisted into his temples. Then, just as with Vitorian, it was over as suddenly as it began.

On his hands and knees, Relzhane felt ill. His vision slowly came back to him, still locked upon Arthas. He coughed up blood as a whisper in his mind told him to stand. He didn't think it was possible, but he tried in order to please his master. When he collapsed without having even made it to his feet, a deep sense of anguish overwhelmed him. He wanted, more than anything, to do as asked. He felt like a failure for being unable to perform and almost wanted Arthas to punish him again for his inadequacy. Without being able to follow the Lich King's commands, his existence had no meaning.

Vitorian approached him, fully clad in armor again with his sword sheathed in its harness on his back. Without a word, he gripped Relzhane under his arms and hoisted him to his feet before hooking his arm over his own shoulders and wrapping his own arm around Relzhane's waist. The other Death Knight said nothing as he did this and turned his eyes back to Arthas once the two of them were steady.

Relzhane looked at the young elf holding him up. He felt better being on his feet as Arthas wanted, though he wasn't happy about needing assistance to do so. He found himself absently wondering whether or not the other had helped him for his own reasons or whether the Lich King had silently ordered him to do so. However, hearing his master's voice aloud brought Relzhane's attention away from those thoughts and instead focused upon him.

“You are to work as partners from now on. You will serve me better together than either of you serves me apart.” The command laid out, the Lich King looked at Relzhane once more rather than addressing them both. It was clear who he was talking to without the need to say his name. “You would do well to summon your own ghouls in the future rather than manipulate mine.”

Relzhane had only a moment to comprehend his master's fury before he found himself thrown against the wall for a second time that night. He cried out on impact and only moaned pathetically when he fell to the floor face down. He was only vaguely aware of Vitorian's shocked expression facing him before the Death Knight approached. He turned his gaze to Arthas for just a moment before everything went black.

Before he even opened his eyes, Relzhane was aware of someone sitting beside him. He found himself wondering who that could be. No-one ever came close to him and stayed there. The closest he ever got to physical contact was sparring with his fellow Death Knights or handing things to them. This was different. A body was sitting beside him where he lay on an uncomfortable bunk. It didn't make any sense.

Confusion was clear on his face when he opened his eyes to see the blue haired Death Knight from before sitting next to him. His vision was slightly blurred and obscured by a swollen bruise next to his left eye, but it was definitely the man Arthas had identified as Vitorian Bloodrune. Relzhane even recognized the injuries he'd inflicted upon the man, a split lip, a cut eyebrow, a bruised eye to match his own. What confused him wasn't that the man was sitting beside him, though that was definitely unexpected. Instead, it was that this man beside him was Vitorian rather than Jaynirr. Relzhane has been certain his lost lover had been the one watching over him. He never got any attention like that around here, until now, and he had been almost certain that the nightmare was over and that he would open his eyes to see the man he knew and loved sitting beside him in the bedroom they shared.

As the confusion passed and he became aware of the reality around him, the biting cold, the dark foreboding walls, the minimalist bed beneath him, a wave of despair washed through the blonde Death Knight. He wanted so much for this to all be over, to go home and live his life as he had before the war, before his home was invaded, before his early death on the battlefield that was once his home town.

“Your name is Relzhane, correct?” Vitorian's soft echoing voice brought him out of his thoughts and back to reality. His emotions faded into the background, ignored and forgotten for the time being. Right now, all that mattered was that he was the Lich King's Death Knight and his assigned partner was addressing him.

“And you're Vitorian,” Relzhane responded, focusing as best he could on the blue haired warrior looking down at him.

Vitorian nodded. Instead of continuing with a conversation that would ordinarily lead to small talk, the man got straight to the point. “Our Lord has ordered us onto the field as soon as we are able.”

“Where?”

“I do no know. He did not divulge that information yet.”

“Helpful,” Relzhane sighed sarcastically. He made an attempt to get up, the urge to find out where they were being sent and to do his master's bidding driving him despite the pain that moving sent through his entire body. He grimaced when Vitorian's bare hand shoved him back onto the hard bunk.

“Do not speak ill of the Lich King, and do not move,” his partner told him harshly, glaring down at him now rather than looking at him with the mostly uninterested expression he had been wearing until now.

Relzhane returned the glare as best he could through the pain. From what he could tell, he had at least one broken rib, and several cuts that he could feel seeping blood into the dressings that someone had put on him. Not only that but his right leg and ankle were stiff and trying to move it felt like someone was hammering pins into his bones. Along with countless bruises he could feel all over his body, it was clear that Vitorian was right; he shouldn't be even thinking about moving right now. He had to be there for the Lich King, though, and that tore him apart inside. He knew he had to heal, but he also knew that he had to do as commanded by his master.

The pair of Death Knights glared at one another in silence for some time before Relzhane closed his eyes. Unable to move, he wasn't able to actually act on his orders. As much as that bothered him, it did give him the time to consider the fact that he would better serve Arthas if he allowed his body to heal before rushing into battle. Begrudgingly, he decided to at least recover to the point that he could at least move without hurting himself. He was not expecting Vitorian to stay with him as he lay in his bunk in the cold, though.

“Not one for words, are you?” the former Ranger asked without opening his eyes. He had dozed off hours ago, bored of being unable to move and having no-one to talk to. Having been angry at the other Death Knight before, he hadn't made many attempts to make conversation, but those he had made went ignored.

“No,” the other responded after a moment, his first words since telling Relzhane not to move.

A ghost of a smile came to Relzhane's lips. It was only a small triumph to get Vitorian to answer him, but a triumph none the less. “Why not?”

“I have nothing to say.”

That response got a small short-lived chuckle out of the blonde. He only stopped because laughing hurt his chest. “Why are you still here? You must have something better you can be doing other than sitting here watching me sleep.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I cannot return to the field without you,” Vitorian answered, his voice laced with contempt.

Relzhane opened his eyes, his vision clearer this time. He was about to bite back at his partner's comment before he looked at his face. The expression was not one he had expected to see. Instead of glaring at him, as the blond elf had expected, the man was glaring into empty space with that peculiar blood lust in his eyes again. The contempt clearly was not aimed at him, but instead at his orders. Relzhane just watched him for a while before closing his eyes again with a sigh.

“You could go to spar,” he suggested after a moment, not entirely certain why he was giving his only companion a way to leave him alone. Relzhane had been a social man in life, enjoying long conversations and being around people. There had been times when he and Jaynirr had simply sat or walked while talking all day, and though he had whined about being in the city, it was never because of the people surrounding him on all sides. That social aspect of his life had disappeared when he became a Death Knight, though, and he occasionally found himself longing to have it back.

Relzhane opened his eyes again when Vitorian paused. He expected the man to be walking away, despite having not heard him get up. Instead, the blue haired elf was still sitting beside him, looking at him with an odd expression on his face. He looked to be indecisive, but there was something more there as well. Through the blood lust still clear in his eyes, there was another softer look that Relzhane could not place. He recognized it as a look he had seen before, not on this man's face but on another face, a face he had not seen in a very long time.

After a moment, Vitorian just shook his head and looked away. That odd look was still on his face, but he did his best to hide it from the former Ranger. Relzhane found his new partner very interesting and wanted to know more about him, but it was clear that the man had no intention of talking further. He found himself strangely glad that Vitorian had chosen to stay, though he could not really explain why.