The Lich Knight Chapter 3: Memories

The rain pours down on Gilneas, a small city surrounded by a circular wall. There were four districts that made up the great city. The Military District, Merchant Square, Greymane Court, and Cathedral Quarter. The Military District was where the Gilneans kept their weapons, and trained their soldiers, as well as where their prison and barracks were built. The Merchant Square was made of houses and vendor stalls, where commerce and trade happened. The Cathedral Quarter was set up right in front of the massive cathedral located directly in the center of the city. It had plenty of comfortable grass for a person to enjoy a pleasant afternoon on. The Greymane Court was a sort of commons, where fellow Gilneans could gather and chat or meet new people. It was named after their dearly loved and honored King, Genn Greymane.

Nicolus crouches on top of Light’s Dawn Cathedral, overlooking the ruins of the once beautiful city he had called home. He grimaces as tears slowly run down his face. I would never have guessed it would happen. Who would have? he thinks. And it happened so fast, too ...

King Greymane was an amazing man, who had ruled justly and fairly throughout his kingdom. He was kind, smart, wise, and a fierce believer in loyalty. All Gilneans loved him, with no exception. He had had a son named Liam, a prince that was loved and adored just as much, if not more so, than his father.

Nick closes his eyes in grief. It all happened on a night so like this. It is raining heavily, dark clouds obscuring the sky. The memories suddenly swell up and slam into him like a maelstrom, and through his mind, he is hurled into the past.

*     *     *

Nicolus Ryder walks through the rain, his hooded cloak his only protection against the relentless torrent of rain. He reaches a building with a sign over the entrance in the shape of a cross. He opens it and quickly steps inside with an appreciative sigh as he shuts the door. He hangs his cloak on the pegs near the door, and walking through the waiting room, heads into the back room, where he gets a candle and strikes up a flame.

He holds the candle as he goes to the others on the walls, lighting them too. There were four in the waiting room in the front, and a set of six in a chandelier in the back room, where he kept the tools of his trade. He was a doctor, a medicine man, a scholar, and a teacher. In the back was a chalkboard up against the wall. There was a desk with a chair near it, where a pile of papers and a pile of books rested. Inside the desk drawers were his medical tools; scalpals, scissors, tweazers, needles of different sorts. There was a cabinet where he kept the actual medicines he made out of local herbs and the like. And in the center of all this was a table long enough for a full grown man to be able to lay comfortably on. He sits himself at his desk and opens one of the books as he begins reading.

The candle is burning low when suddenly he hears a loud BANG. He shoots to his feet. That was a gunshot I heard, he thinks. He quickly picks up his bag he keeps by the door, containing powerful types of medicine and other emergency triage equipment, throws on his cloak, and hurries out into the storm.

He runs through the rain, heading in the direction he had heard the gunshot. He reaches a house with the basement door open, light pouring out of it. He hurries down inside, and stops short as he sees a heap of fur lying on the ground with a very humanoid shape. No, oh no no no, he thinks. He approaches slowly and on closer inspection, his suspicion is confirmed; it is a Worgen. However, it is wearing human clothes, oddly enough. Then he remembers how Worgen could somehow transform ordinary people into one of them. “Well, maybe if I can study you, I can find a way to cure you,”he thinks aloud. He nods, and grabbing the huge monster under the arms, begins dragging it back to his office.

He bursts through the door, dragging the now-soaking wet mass of fur inside, hauling it to the back where he heaves it onto the central table. He doubles over as he catches his breath. Then he goes to the door,  shuts and bolts it, and walks back to the back room. He sets the Worgen on its back, and looks it over.

It is larger than any human, and it wears the clothes of a man known as Crowley. “Poor fellow,” Nick mutters. He finds the bullet wound and he goes to his desk, opening drawers and withdrawing the tools he will need. Using his skills in medicine, he takes the bullet out and sews up the wound with deft experienced fingers. He goes to his cupboard, and grabs a medicine bag. He returns and sprinkles a leafy-green powder on the wound. The Worgen suddenly growls, squirming a little. He puts the bag back and returns to the desk, taking out a syringe. He walks back to the Worgen and is about to stick it in when its eyes fly open.

With a snarl it leaps to its feet. Nick shouts, nearly dropping the needle to the ground. He runs to the cupboard, and loads a yellow vial into the syringe. He turns and barely raises an arm in time as the Worgen leaps at him. Its teeth sink into his arm and he cries out in pain. He brings the other hand, holding the shot, down on the back of its neck and delivers the sedative. The creature’s eyes go wide, then they flutter closed and it collapses.

Nick gets up, holding his wounded arm tenderly. “Argh,” he mutters. “That sure stings a lot. Wretched mongrels...” He quickly heads to the desk and pulling open another drawer withdraws a towel, which he presses to the wound. He grabs a strand of cloth from the same drawer and ties it tight over the towel. He then heads to the closet and throws it open where a large cage is. He grabs the Worgen and hauls it into the cage, shutting and locking it firmly. He grimaces in pain, and heads over to the cupboard again, grabbing a set of vials from it. He heads over to the table and after a couple minutes has the wound disinfected, properly wrapped up, and the bleeding already slowing down.

Suddenly a knock sounds at the door, startling him. He walks over, pulling his sleeve down lower to hide the bandages. He opens it to see a man with a neatly trimmed white beard standing there with a pair of spectacles and a top hat.

“Mr. Nicolus Ryder, I’m glad you’re here. Your house’s district has already been overrun.”

“Nick, please, but who are you?”

“Lord Godfrey, and by King Greymane’s request, he wishes for you to join him and the others at the Cathedral. The Worgen have overrun our city.”

Nick’s face pales. “Oh, I had no idea the situation was so dire!”

“There are many wounded that could benefit from your experienced hands, Dr. Ryder,” Godfrey adds. “Many will die without your help.”

“I’ll come immediately!” he says and quickly hurries inside. He assembles the bag, packing extra supplies, and he quickly grabs his fencing foil from the back. On his way to the door, he pauses by the cage, then opens it.

He hurries back to see Godfrey still waiting for him. He glances at the weapon in Nick’s hand. “You know how to use that?”

Without a word, Nick brings it up, deftly plucking Godfrey’s hat off his head with the tip. He flicks it upward and the hat lands back on Godfrey’s head. Nick smirks, but Godfrey doesn’t so much as smile.

“I’m glad you can do parlor tricks, Nicolus, but now’s not the time for them.” Without another word he turns and starts walking. Nick shrugs and follows him.

The rain has only gotten heavier since he had dragged the Worgen inside. They hop on the horse Godfrey had come on, and they speed through the storm. Lightning flashes, and as Nick looks off into the gloom, he sees a multitude of yellow eyes watching him.

“What of the other sections of the city?” he asks over the pounding of rain, the horse’s hooves, and his own heart.

“All fallen by now,” Godfrey shouts back to him. “The mongrels are relentless in their assault. We had enough ammunition to wipe out Gilneas five times over and we used it all on them. They just keep coming!” Just then, a chilling howl pierces the air. The two men look back, and Godfrey urges the horse on faster.

They arrive at the Cathedral, the entire courtyard surrounded by Worgens. At the steps leading inside the massive structure are great canons, firing into the masses. They come to a stop, dismount, and run inside.

The inside of the Cathedral is spacious. All around men and women lie, wounded, fewer others remain upright with guns pointed at the entrance. Nick quickly assesses the situation and moves to the first group of victims and begins healing them.

He has just finished patching another up when suddenly one of the ones still standing doubles over and drops to his hands and knees. He pants and heaves, then black fur begins sprouting from his skin, his figure grows bigger, and his mouth begins to elongate. Oh no, please no, he thinks. Then the man rears up and howls. Everyone turns to him at the same time, just as Worgen pour in from every entrance. Nick quickly grabs his sword, only to find it falling from his grasp. A terrible pain appears in his chest and he groans as he doubles over onto his hands and knees. He gasps for breath, feeling like his lungs can’t expand enough. An itch appears all over his body, and he watches in fascination as fur begins to sprout from himself as well. By the Light, please, no! He feels his bones elongating, his muscles swelling beneath his skin. Then a presence of some sort, a dark shadow falls across his thoughts. He can no longer control himself. His primal side is there instead. He stands up slowly and howls as the other Worgen with him do. Then Nick is forced to watch in silent, helpless horror as he begins slaughtering his friends.

*     *     *

It has been many months. He is the alpha of the Worgen pack. His knowledge of how the body works seems to be at the disposal of Nick’s primal side. He has gotten used to knowing without doing. He experiences everything his body goes through, he just can’t control it. He comes to a stop, as does the rest of his pack. The smell of the dead wafts to him. He barks to the rest of the pack, “Circle around. Flee. I will hold them off.” He is their best hunter and fighter. He crouches down, and waits.

They emerge like some horrible fog out of the woods. Corpses, dead bodies everywhere. He bears his teeth, and with a snarl, launches himself into their midst. He rips them apart, crippling and mauling the monstrous creatures. He downs an abomination, when suddenly he is lifted and thrown into a tree. He looks to see a normal looking elf in black armor marching toward him, a big sword with glowing figures along the blade drawn, with dark tendrils linking from his outstretched hand to Nick’s neck, and its eyes are glowing a soft blue.

“My, my, what a feisty monster!” he says contemptuously.

Nick bares his teeth, and howls loudly as the man approaches, his distance making the high decibels really hurt his pointed ears. He covers them, dropping Nick to the ground,who immediately pounces the elf. They roll and tumble, trying to get the better of one another. The elf gets clawed and bitten many times over, while Nick gets bumped and bruised. Finally, Nick ends on top of the elf, snarling, his claws going for the throat, when suddenly he is yanked through the air, landing at the feet of another man in identical dark armor. He looks down at Nick in a way that would suggest he was looking at a pile of droppings.

“Really Koltira, is it so difficult to kill a common Worgen?” the man asks with disdain.

“You weren’t the one fighting it,” the one called Koltira gasps as he gets to his feet. “He is a vicious fighter. I’d like to see you take him on, Orbaz.”

“Perhaps I will spare him just to show you,” Orbaz mused aloud. Nick struggles to get back to his feet, only to have a metal boot smash him across the face, knocking him to the ground.

Stay down, Nick despairingly thinks, but he starts to get back up.

“Hmph,you’re right, this is a stubborn one.” Orbaz appraised. Koltira comes over and a sharp blow to the head sends Nick to the ground once more. “Wait a second! Don’t kill it...I wonder ...” Nick rolls over, just in time for the  sword to impale him through the heart. He doesn’t die, oddly enough. Through his teeth, Nick snarls at Orbaz, who grins down at him like he just found a cache of gold, or something along those lines. “I say we make it a Death Knight!”

“Orbaz, I knew you were insane, but that is almost a statement worthy of a second death.”

“Listen Koltira; if this is how vicious this mongrel is now, and how stubborn, imagine what a powerful Death Knight he will be!”

Koltira crosses his arms, pondering this, while Nick lies impaled by Orbaz’s sword. “Alright, fine; resurrect him. But don’t come crying to me when he rips your throat out.”

Suddenly, a chill fills Nick. He gasps and whimpers, feeling the cold down to his very soul. Suddenly this dark something goes into his brain, and he feels the Worgen suppressed for the moment. He quickly reaches out and seizes control of his body once again. He starts getting smaller, the fur falling off of him, his claws shrinking back into his fingers, his snout shortening. Finally, he sat up, in control of himself. He looks at his chest, where a large, ugly scar is. He looks up at the shocked faces of Koltira and Orbaz.

“Orbaz, you have made one of those transformed Worgen into a Death Knight; good going.” Koltira pats the other on his shoulder and walks off.

“Hello there,” Orbaz says as he crouches down in front of Nick. The urge to kill him is sudden and powerful, the desire to lunge forward and rip his throat out with his bare hands. Coupled with the beating Nick just received, he doesn’t resist all that much. Nick roars as he hurls himself at the Death Knight. A blow to his jaw so fast he doesn’t even see it sends Nick back to the ground with a grunt of pain. “Well, at least I know that wasn’t a waste. Usually it takes awhile for the desire to kill to set in. You must have a thirst for blood that is almost as great as mine.” He grins evilly.  “Welcome to the Scourge!”

***

Nick wakes up from the memory, shaking his head. When I became a Worgen ... How I became a Death Knight... He sighs and starts walking through Gilneas. He lets his mind wander as he looks around the desolate, abandoned city. Next thing he knows, he’s at the Gilnean cemetery. He searches about, and finally finds the grave of Liam Greymane. Oh Liam, you deserved a better death than what was given to you. He places a hand on the grave, and again, he finds himself in the past once more.

***

He walks into Stormwind Keep, his dark armor covered in rotted fruits and the like. The people of Stormwind had done everything in their power to make him feel unwelcomed. But he hadn’t come this far only to be made an outcast, and he was not one to give up easily. The guards in the corridor all draw their weapons as he walks in, eyeing him as if he were a filthy, dangerous animal. Nick stoically refuses to make eye contact though. He reaches the throne room, a huge circular room, in the back of which was the throne, where King Varian Wrynn sat with his son, Anduin. To the left, a great archway where sunlight shone through, and to the right, another that lead into a different room.

He slowly approaches the throne, where not only King Wrynn and Anduin look down at him, but King Genn Greymane as well. Well, so far so good. Now if they’ll just refrain from killing me yet, maybe I can actually walk out with my head. He stops at the foot of the stairs to the throne and looks up at King Wrynn. Then, with deliberate slowness, he draws his sword, the Runes glowing mutely, and lays it on the floor at his feet, before kneeling before it and the Kings.

“You have a lot of nerve coming into my Keep, Knight. The only reason you are not dead yet is idle curiosity.” King Wrynn slowly gets up from his throne and walks down the steps until he is standing over Nick. “Remove your helm, Death Knight-”

“Lich Knight, your highness,” Nick corrects him. There is a sharp intake of breath all around the room, but Nick ignores it. Then, very slowly, he reaches up and removes his helm, setting it by his sword. Then he looks up, his short brown hair and glowing blue eyes finally meeting Varian’s blue ones.

“Nicolus!” Genn Greymane says, a kind of confused happiness on his face.

“Please, Genn, let me handle this,” Varian says. Then, turning to Nick, “Speak quickly, Knight, for it may be the last words you ever say.” Nick silently takes off a glove and traces a blue Rune onto the back of his hand. A blue flame flares above his palm, and then the flame disappears, along with the Rune, and leaving behind a crisp letter with a golden seal. He offers it to Varian. The King takes the letter and opens it, scanning it quickly. He then glances at Nick. 

“Were this letter from anyone else, I would’ve discarded it and beheaded you at once. But it has the seal of the Light on the envelope, and Tirion has a very peculiar way he signs his name.” He slowly ascends back to his throne, gesturing to the guards, who, albeit grudgingly, put away their swords. As Varian sits, he continues to regard Nick, who remains kneeling. “Tirion wrote that you have somehow been cleansed of the Lich King’s influences, and that a sect of the Death Knights of the Scourge have broken away, calling themselves ‘Knights of the Ebon Blade.’ He says you are to be trusted.” He pauses, letting the words sink in. “I trust Tirion’s judgement. I don’t trust you, but him. And he says that you should receive a full pardon, and set to aiding the Alliance in anyway you can.” Again, a pause. Then, “Nicolus Ryder, as King of the Alliance, I hereby grant you full pardon of your crimes during your servitude to the Scourge. Aid the Alliance as you can.” He then says quietly, “Do not make me regret what I have done.”

“I will not, your majesty,” Nick says.

Genn Greymane asks, “Vairian, would you mind if I spoke to Nicolus here for a moment?”

“Go ahead,” he replies, not taking his eyes off Nick. King Greymane stands and walks down as Nicolus puts back on his helm and sheathes his sword across his back again.

“Come with me Ryder, we have much to talk about.” The two exit through the arch that has sunlight pouring in. They enter a courtyard outside, a raised area a garden of sorts in the center. They walk around its perimeter. Nick glances at the King, who seems perfectly at ease.

“King Greymane-”

“Please, call me Genn.”

Nick blinks, then says, “Nick. Call me Nick.”

Genn nods. “Alright.”

Nick starts again, “Genn, when I turned ... well, what happened to Gilneas?” He moves in front of Genn, stopping him. “Why are you here?”

Genn sighs heavily. “Oh Nick ... after the battle at Light’s Dawn, the Worgen completely over ran Gilneas. We left and Aranas was able to make a potion to restore the minds of our people turned Worgen.” He pauses and leads them into the garden itself. “The Forsaken became a problem then. They attacked us mercilessly, trying to seize Gilneas from us. We fought hard back, along with our then Worgen allies ... but it wasn’t until the Druids came to help as that we were able to make a play for Gilneas city.

“We fought tooth, nail, and claw, and we were able to push them out ... but then I found Sylvanas ... and I attacked her.” He looks at Nick. “I’m one too, you know. A Worgen. Have been for quite a few years now. But finally she knocked me down, and time froze for us. I saw her knock an arrow, saw her draw back on her bow, but then ...” Nick watches as Genn’s eyes fill with tears. “Then ... my son ... my pride and joy, Liam ... he jumped in front of her ... he saved my life, at the cost of his.” Tears start to trickle down Genn’s kind face.

“I’m sorry, Genn,” Nick says softly.

“It’s alright. He is in a better place now.” Genn looks skyward. “He is buried at the Gilnean cemetery now ... buried with his ancestors. We had to leave Gilneas, as the Forsaken filled the area with their fel-born Plague.” He balls his fists in anger. “They forced us out of our home ... but the Night Elves were kind enough to take us in. The Gilneans live there now.” He looks at Nick. “Perhaps, we will be able to return someday ... but until then, all we can do is help do our part to eliminate mutual enemies so we can focus on the Horde.” He turns to Nick.

“I heard that you were one of the best doctors and scholars we had in Gilneas. I hope you can be as helpful now as you were then.”

“Your highness, if anything, I can be more helpful.” Nick replies.

“Good!” Genn places a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, Nick. May your blade stay sharp.”

“And your mind,” Nick replies, placing his hand on Genn’s shoulder in turn. They shake hands, and Nick whistles, summoning his Scourge Gryphon. He mounts it, waves to Genn, and takes off into the skies.

***

He emerges back in the present. He looks down at the grave of Liam, the rain still pouring as heavily as before. Suddenly, there is a zoooooommm behind him, along with a flash of azure light. He whirls around, drawing his blade and stopping just shy and decapitating a blonde woman in white and light violet robes.

“Good evening,” she says in a soft voice. She is in her mid twenties by the looks of it, but her eyes say she has lived many lifetimes. “I’m Lady Jaina Proudmoore. King Wrynn said I could find you here.”

“He was right,” Nick replies. “Is there a reason you came here to find me?”

“Word is that you were a member of the Scourge once, and that you now hunger for vengeance.” She says softly. “I have come to give you that opportunity.” Nick tilts his head at her. “We recently have cornered the Lich King and the Scourge in Northrend. If you are willing to help, you could help us crush the Scourge once and for all.” She smiles hopefully at him. “Will you join us?”

Nick looks around the cemetery. There is nothing left for me here, he thinks. And this is my chance to redeem myself in the eyes of all who know me. I can end the Lich King’s reign of terror. Finally, he says, “Tell me what to do.”

           She smiles in relief and holds out a staff of light purple metal, with a purple-green focusing crystal on the top. Nick places his hand on the staff, and everything disappears in a blinding flash of azure light.