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Corruption

--by Jarrick


He licked his lips in anticipation as to what was to come next. The horrid sounds echoed throughout the halls as the Scarlets continued their meditation.

“What is it, Lord?” Asked Jarrick. The Highlord looked about and then over to Jarrick. “They are coming. They have found their way into the city, and are forcing their way to us. They wish to take it.”

Jarrick nodded solemnly. “I see. And our forces, are there enough to hold the enemies off from reaching your chamber?” The thick voice of the Highlord rung in Jarrick’s ears. “There are enough to delay them, but I believe it will be your show in battle as well.”

Jarrick nodded once again.

The echoes of footsteps, metal against metal, and arcane chanting bounced off of the solid gate. “They are here.” Exclaimed the Highlord. “I will be heading back to warn Kel’Thuzad and prepare for battle by his side should you fail. That is not a fate you wish to face, make sure it is nothing short of a victory.”

The Highlord reached on his back, unsheathing his blade. “Use it wisely, for you may be the next to wield it.”

Corruption seethed from the blade which was bestowed upon the solid hands of the warrior. Power flowed freely from the blade to the new wielder. For a long, drawn out moment, it felt as though the warrior was nothing short of invincible.

“At long last, you are mine.” Jarrick said to himself in a low voice.

“Or perhaps, it is you that is mine.” The blade rumbled. “Now show me what skills you possess, and shed your enemies blood.”

Jarrick grinned and rushed at the opening gate, seconds later emerging past the door and lunging out-stretched towards the Night Elf which lead the group. Upon locking blades, a high-pitched piercing ring exploded throughout the halls. Light began to rock the Ashbringer, and moments later, it shattered into thousands of pieces, sending shards of the sword throughout the hall, piercing through the armor and exposed skin of all that surrounded it.

The face of a corrupted Highlord formed in the midst of the shattered blade, a thunderous bellow leaving the image’s mouth. “Fool, come get what you most deserve…”

Jarrick rocked forward in his bed, a sharp pain in his left hand. Looking down, several large pieces of splintered wood stuck through his palm and out the backside of his hand. He winced at the pain, realizing he had torn apart a beam from the bed in which he slept.

“The dreams.. They just keep getting worse..” He thought quietly to himself. For nearly three weeks since the assaults on the Necropolis had started, visions of the corruption and evil which surged through the city crept into his mind, with the visions of the Ashbringer becoming stronger every night.

“Something has to be done..”

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