Blood

While there were many gifts the Cold One had bestowed, there was a price to pay for each one; some of these prices were shared between all of the initiates, and some were unique to the individual. I suppose it has something to do with the circumstances of our so-called deaths, and our various conditions of life prior, but I did not put much thought into it.

Personally, I had to deal with a few very harsh wounds that were not healed when the elixir locked my body within unending stasis. The death blow was a puncture wound from a sword that was plunged into my back, it's edge glancing the side of my heart and opening an internal wound that would have made me bleed to death; another was a slashing blow that ran along the front of my torso from just above my heart, down and across my sternum, beneath my right breast and down to just between the end of my ribcage and the crest of my hip.

While they were clean, did not bleed and did not show even the slightest trace of infection, the wounds themselves were quite garish against my pale white skin. With the help of one of the female apothecaries, I sewed them all shut with fine silver threads, creating a series of embroidered runes across each. The imbued inscriptions strengthened several of my affinities, despite the unconventional application of the glyphs.

The second drawback to unlife crept up on me while I was still in the care of the ritualists, and there were quite a number of times that it almost lead me to slaughtering the lot of them.

Initially, it was like a faint burning at the back of my mind and throat, much like the feeling of sitting near a warm fire. Within a few days, it felt like the burning would consume my entire being, bringing with it the edge of agitation and malice. This lead to much pacing, and enhanced the desire to rip something apart with my bare hands, or at least exert the frustration with physical combat.

And the second drawback brought the third to light.


The Princes rarely associated themselves with the initiates before they left the care of the Instructor. They were far to busy preparing Icecrown and the various necropoli to notice the newborns unless we were sent to assist them. Needless to say, after a month of being within the walls of Icecrown, I had just as little interest in them as they had in the initiates.

Broxmodus, the initiate whom I could not best yet could not best me, and I were sparing shortly after our training in Runeforging. Hours upon hours we spent locked in combat, neither of us retaining the upper hand long enough to best the others; the intimate combat only made the burning thirst worse, though for some reason, I did not feel that Broxmodus would be useful in slaking it.

I felt as though we were being watched, and I gave Broxmodus a silent signal to end our eternal combat. With elegance, we broke apart, our swords raising in salute to one another before we bowed in unison. Before either of us could rise, there was the sound of a single pair of undead hands clapping slowly.

With the unnatural speed that I felt no need to restrain, I rose and turned to face the maker of the sound, only to find Prince Taldaram watching us. Broxmodus turned as well, and immediately bowed his head in respect, a motion which I echoed less than a second later.

"Quite the deadly dance the two of you engage in," the Prince said, taking a step towards us, his eyes staying largely upon me. "Impressive considering one of you is well within the thrall of hunger. I'm quite surprised the lady has not tried to feast from you, Broxmodus - not that it would do her any good."

Rage flared within me, the agitation inflamed by the Prince's implication, though I calmly replied, "I know that it would not, my liege. It would be as futile as trying to feast upon myself."

Broxmodus raised an eyebrow. He had only been an initiate for a few days, so the burning thirst was more than likely still just a tickle at the back of his mind and throat. He looked to me suspiciously, then back to the Prince with even more suspicion; I was unnerved by this, as I myself was suspicious of the Prince but unlike my sparing partner, I would never reveal it.

"Initiate Darkblade," Taldaram intoned, lifting his hand slightly, "report to me once your training for the day has finished."

Confused, I replied, "As you wish, Prince."

With that, the Prince turned on his heal and strode away from us, pausing only long enough to glance sideways at something to our left. Subtly, I swept my glancing eyes to the left to see what else would have caught the Prince's attention down here when I noticed a second one watching our exchange.

A moment after Taldaram left, the second Prince made his way to us, causing Broxmodus' other eyebrow to raise. Keleseth smiled cruelly, raising a hand to keep us from leaving before he could reach us; Broxmodus sighed slightly at the latest development in our training.

"Not so fast," the new Prince said. "I see that Taldaram has already had a word with you, Darkblade. While he is proficient with our particular abilities, I believe I can better explain to you their intricacies. Perhaps we can have a word once today's training is over."

It was not a request, it was a requirement. The Prince was forcing me to chose between them, a choice that had a number of ramifications. Nodding to Keleseth, I turned and strode towards the Instructor and the rest of the newborns, Broxmodus lingering to watch the second Prince for a second longer before following me.


We did not speak, it was not necessary. Broxmodus was clever enough to spot the trap that had been set, and there was no escape from it. Depending upon the rest of our training, his position on the matter may actually be of importance.

Razuvious walked back and forth before the lines of initiates, each step measured and controlled. He looked intently into each newborn's eyes, as if gauging something before he would address us; when he stopped momentarily as he stared me down, I understood why.

"The endless hunger will soon take hold of you, all of you. When it does, you will feel pain immeasurable. There is only one remedy for the suffering," he intoned, pausing meaningfully, "the hunger must be sated."

Mild confusion resonated from the newer initiates, though Broxmodus and a few others who had been here longer slowly nodded. I myself nodded purposefully at the Instructor, my mind screaming for the answers I now knew he held.

"I give you the key to your salvation," he roared, making a grand motion to the pit behind him, turning and beckoning us to take a step forward to look within it's confines.

Below us, several ragged initiates were chained to the walls, each looking as though they were slowly becoming feral, much like the Wretched of Quel'thalas. Many strained at their chains, attempting to grapple those chained near them, the look in their eyes reflecting that of my own.

"Chained to the Heart of Icecrown are those deemed unworthy of the dark brotherhood. Use the key to free an unworthy initiate," Razuvious growled, a wicked grin spreading over his lips. "Allow them to equip their gear and battle you for their freedom. Kill and the pain will cease. Fail and suffer for eternity."

Several of the chained initiates looked up at us, psychotic grins spreading over their faces; they wanted their freedom, or more so, they wanted to take our places at the Cold One's side. My hands dropped down to the two light swords I had forged into runeblades, gripping them tightly - I would never let one of those lesser creatures usurp my place.

Pushing the first initiate into the pit, the Instructor shouted, "Live or die - the choice is yours to make."

The first initiate faulted, nearly killed by the desperate captive before felling the dwarf. Razuvious selected his candidates at random, pushing each one in once the previous had exited the pit. Most of them beat their captives, however one or two fell to the feral creatures who were then lead away from the pit by the apothecaries.

Broxmodus selected an Orc female, which I had expected once I had taken a closer look at the captives. The fight was short, as I had expected, and he cleaved her head clean from her shoulders after barely a moment of combat; her eyes stared up lifelessly at the semi-circle of initiates until the zombies cleaned her remains away.

For whatever reason, Razuvious sent all the other initiates into the pit before he turned to me. Gesturing grandly, he stepped aside so that I could descend into the pit below; glancing about, I could see Taldaram looking down from one side of the grand entryway while Keleseth watched from the other. I wondered how long they had been there as I looked about the nearly empty pit for my prey.

Only one figure remained within the pit, her head bowed low as she knelt, her arms stretched backward slightly by the chains that bound her. She was another Sin'dorei, her tawny hair pulled back into a high tail that lay limply against her back; she was broken, I could tell by how she held herself.

She was also still alive.

"Get up," I growled, unlocking her binds before kicking her equipment closer to her. "Battle well, and I shall return you to the Sun painlessly."

For a long moment, she did not move. I paced the middle of the ring, swords drawn, watching her. Each time I caught her scent, the burning flared, and it took everything within me to keep from attacking her before she stood.

She finally stood, slowly tugging on the tattered remains of her gear, the leather quite ratted and worn. I vaguely recalled seeing that armour somewhere before, however I could not quite place where. Seething with hunger, I slowed to a stop and turned to face her completely once she picked up her battered long swords.

Immediately, she slipped into the shadows, bringing forth a growl of frustration from me. I quickly took a deep breath, searching for the trail of her scent, listening to for her heartbeat. Raising my weapons, I turned towards the sound and smell just as she broke from the shadows to attack.

Steel ground against steel as both of our blades locked against one another, sending sparks into the air around us. Caught under the momentum from her pounce, I let myself bend backwards before dropping sideways into a roll. The other woman spun around, dropping down into a crouch several paces away from me before charging once more.

Her strikes were easily parried, and I began to dance about her, drawing her further and further towards exhaustion. Something about the frantic fight for survival was heady, it made the thirst...different, exhilarating instead of painful. Despite the shifting of the other initiates, I continued to toy with the woman, mirroring her movements with constant parries and blocks.

I began to mimic her fatigue, making my movements lethargic, which required an enormous amount of focus considering my movements were generally simultaneous with thought. She began to think that she might win, and redoubled her efforts, her strikes becoming rapid and precise with more force; I let her push me backward from one side of the pit to the other, feigning a slow defeat.

Faking a stumble, I braced myself against the wall. The woman toward over me, bringing her blades down in unison to strike at my neck and torso. Half way through her arch, I raised my blades to intersect, as if to deflect her attack only pull them forward into her chest and down into her stomach; as soon as my blades were free of her flesh, I reversed the cut, slicing through the lower part of her abdomen and into her thighs.

The clang of steel against stone informed me that she had dropped her blades, and I watched as her hands reach down and try to hold her vivisected midsection together. She took a stumbling step backward, falling to her knees before tumbling to her side, arms and hand desperately clutched around her stomach. Her pale green eyes were wide with surprise, staring up at me with complete disbelief.

A wicked smile spread slowly over my lips as I stepped forward, towering over her for a long moment while I breathed in her scent deeply and removed my gloves. My hand dropped down to her midsection, caressing over her bleeding wounds tenderly, the warm liquid spilling out over my ice cold skin. She twisted her head to look at me, and I slowly raised my hand, licking away the blood from my fingertips one by one as she watched, horrified.

The blood was soothing, cooling the burning within my throat slowly as I licked my hand clean. I could hear gasps from some of the newer initiates, while those who had been raised first began to lick their lips. I glanced at the Instructor and caught him looking between the two Princes with a dark grin, while Broxmodus stared down at me with a raised eyebrow.

As the last of her life drained from her, I tilted the fallen woman's head and ran my fingernail along the side of her neck, pressing harder once I was over the rapidly fading vein there. Blood swelled over my hand, and I pulled it away so that I could drink directly from her veins, the warm liquid rapidly cooling the remainder of my thirst. Once the thirst had subsided, all I could feel was strength and power flowing through my body, the blood flooding through my dead veins as if I were alive again.

She died in my grasp, her blood staining the floor, my robes and my lips; I did not care about such trivial things, and slowly returned to the line of initiates at the top of the pit. Broxmodus exchanged glances with me, then looked between the two Princes, his eyes remaining up on Keleseth a number of seconds longer than they had on Taldaram - clearly he chose to side with Kelesith, and believed I might do the same.

"As expected, my chosen knights have triumphed!" Razuvious roared, striding back to his typical place as we fell into lines before him. "You are ready, all of you, to continue your training. When you are prepared, find the Scourge Commander."

With that, the Instructor turned and left the room, leaving us to make ourselves more presentable before our turn to speak with the Scourge Commander. Robes were torn and bloody, some of them no better than the garb the zombies wore, though there was absolute silence as each newborn made their way out of the room.

I turned to inspect something on Broxmodus' robe, leaning in to whisper, "Prince Keleseth then?"

He barely nodded before replying, "These nobles still via for the attention of their King as mortals do - we must tread carefully. Keleseth works in ways more akin to ours, Taldaram reminds me more of a mage in Prince's clothing."

Turning to look back at the entry to the balcony, I vaguely nodded. Both Princes waited, a few other initiates speaking briefly with them, though they continued to cast glances in our direction. Broxmodus turned to leave, casting one last glance at Keleseth before striding from the room with his great two-handed axe in hand.

Still covered in the blood of the fallen woman, both swords resting upon either hip, I made my way across the room to approach the stair from the side Teldaram was on. He was engaged in conversation with another of the quality initiates, but paused as I neared; without looking over to him, I strode up and across the stairs to stand before Keleseth.

"Darkblade. Quite a display you made today," Keleseth said quietly, beckoning me closer. "However, there are more elegant ways of bringing forth your victim's blood, but that was a glorious start."

I stared at him, eyes narrowing slightly, "You arranged for that, didn't you."

The Prince merely shrugged a shoulder and replied, "There is always one or two living who fail before they are even killed and raised. Their souls and their bodies are harnessed to Icecrown or a necropolis, drained slowly over eternity to remind them of their failure."

"Yet few initiates would feel the hungering thirst quite so acutely," I added for him, "so it is rarely an issue."

His laugh was dark, though his tenor voice seemed to contradict it's own inflection. Nodding, the Prince motioned at my entire person, causing my eyes to look downward at the blood stained robes and blades - perhaps I should have changed before speaking to him.

"Have you taken a look at yourself, Initiate Darkblade? Have you seen what changes have taken place," he asked, his hand resting on my shoulder as he turned to lead me out of the hall.

I shook my head, looking down at my blood covered hands before looking back up at the Prince. Keleseth motioned to a mirror we were passing as we walked down the hallway, and took my shoulders into his hands to turn me to face it.

The image that stared back at me was surprising, more so than the first time I had observed myself after awakening in the ritual hall. There was a flush to my cheeks, as if I had recently blushed, and my eyes that had been like black voids behind the blue flames were brilliant red, like rubies; it was quite hard to tell the difference, as the frosted mist was thick within them, but there was a definite change of colour within them.

"I bet you feel invincible as well," the Prince stated, turning me away from the mirror and leading down the hallway. "The blood of the living and some types of undead will strengthen you, sharpen your senses and give you a chance to continue your fight."

Again, he placed a hand on my shoulder blade, directly over the rune-stitched wound, continuing his introduction, "You were wise to come to me, Seresu. I shall show you the truth behind blood and your unlife, and bring you closer to the Lich King..."