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"... I rest..."
"... I sleep..."
"... My life... my past... there is much to tell... will you listen?"
Your dream shifts to the verdent lands that you somehow know where once shadowmoon valley. Shadowmoon village reaches to the sky as numerous orcs bustle about preparing for the morning ritual.
"Gortok!? Come here, boy," a tall, deep brown orc yells to a nearby hut. The Orc has ragged tusks, a sign of long life, but he also keeps the scarrs of battle upon his face.
"Comeing father," a small boy hollars, he runs to his father's side and turns his gaze to the south. "What is so special about the ritual this morning father?"
"Today Nerzul will pick an apprentice, although you arn't strong with the ancestors like your friend Gul'dan, you have a spirit others don't, so I want Nerzul to at least bless you on this day."
"Father... do you think I will be important? When I grow up?" The boy looks at his father, question in his eyes.
"Of course my son, whether you be a great shaman or a hunter means nothing, you will be well known one day." The father ruffles the boy's hair and turns his attention to the approaching caravan.
A voice speaks to your mind, the same one you heard when you slept.
"That day, Gul'dan was chosen to be Nerzul's apprentice, I was blessed... and the end of the orcs began..."
The vision shifts again, this time to a great temple... a battle! Orcs fight Dreanai, blood splatters accross the stones, many bodies, both orc and draenai lay lifeless on the ground.
"Gortok! Report!" a gutteral voice says from nowhere.
A tall orc, deep green but so deep to be a brown still stands on a nearby rock, he watches the battle with interest, his face scarred from combat but his eyes deep with red.
"GORTOK! REPORT!" the voice says again. The tall orc reaches into his pack that hangs from his side and pulls out an orb, red in color with claws reaching to grasp it. As he pulls it the orb changes inside and an image of a masked orcish face appears.
"This is Gortok reporting from Karabor," he says to the image. "The battle goes well Gul'dan, the draenai are falling and we are taking the temple as our own."
"Good," the voice answers back. "I have a new mission for you, once the doorway is open I want you to lead the expiditionary force, so prepare your warriors... For the Horde!"
"For the horde!" Gortok yells, his cry answered by every orc within ear shot.
"... for the horde... how foolish we were..." the old voice says again, the image blurring once again. The image that appears is one familiar to any who reside in Azeroth... the great keep of Stormwind... but somehow you know thats not the name. It is Stonewind, the original keep that fell in the first war. Even now the siege has taken it's toll.
"Gortok..." a voice eccos from behind a tall deep green figure. "Your time has come, you shall die!"
"HA! A human claims to be the one that will kill me?" the figure answers. Gortok pulls a pair of axes from his side. "Let me see just what I face, so I may remember this day for eternaty!"
As the orc turns he sees a man, old but strong, facing him, the man holds a sword in one hand that shoud be held in two, the resolve on his face apparant.
"My name is Lothar! By the name of King Lain you will die!" the human shouts.
"RRRRRRROOOOOAAAAARRRRRR!" Gortok returns.
In only two seconds the battle is over, Lothar's blade stuck in the orcs chest as it charged, the axes falling to its side.
"...hehehehe... you think my death will mean anything? Doomhammer never trusted me to begin with... my death means NOTHING!!!!!" Gortok screams as Lothar removes the blade and in a swirl removed the orc's head.
"... if only that was the end..." the voice speaks again.
Your image does not blur but time passes in the blink of an eye, you see the same masked face you saw in the orb above the body of the fallen orc.
"Gortok... arrise... you have not finished your services to me," the orc speaks.
As he finishes the masked orc places the head of the fallen orc on its body, completing the ritual the fallen body stirs and stands.
"... what do you wish of me... master..." the fallen orc says as it kneels.
"You will serve me just as the fallen knights of the humans will serve, as a Death Knight! I want you to lead them!" the masked orc emphasizes.
"...yes master Gul'dan..." the fallen orc replys.
The voice returns to your mind.
"...And so my servitude began anew..."
The image changes yet again, this time to what you know as the temple of the damned, to a group of undead upon horses. They stand, waiting. An old orc, shrivled yet still strong approaches, as he does the undead part allowing him entrance.
"Gortok, what has he done to you?" the old one speaks to an undead in the shape of an orc.
"My master has returned me to his service, but he is dead now, so I have no master," the undead returns.
"This is not right, Gortok I am sorry but I cannot return you to life, but I can offer this..." the old one begins speaking and chanting. He ends by throwing carcoal on the undead, which screams as if pain has wracked him.
Panting, it speaks. "What... Why? Why have you brought my spirit back!? This existance is dispicable! Why did you not just slay me?!?!"
"Because I need you Gortok, you alone can lead the Death Knights, I need your help, and in return you will have peace, whether dead in service or by my hand when we escape you shall rest in peace, you have the word of Nerzul, elder shaman of the orcish horde." the old one begs.
"... so be it..." the death knight replys.
"... so be it... I had no will to comit to suicide... but the promise of peace was enouph to bring me to my sences and serve him one final time..."
The image changes yet again, this time a great red figure looms above a peice of land that floats in the sky, upon which an old orc stands with ten others, one of which is the undead.
"NERZUL!!! DID YOU THINK YOU CAN ESCAPE ME!!! DID YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN FROM KIL'JEADEN!!!" the figure screams.
Shaking in responce the old orc answers, "I serve you no longer Deciever! Slay us, as I'm sure you will!"
"NO... YOU WILL NOT DIE THIS DAY! HAHAHAHAHA, INSTEAD YOU WILL SERVE ME FOR ETERNITY!" as the being speaks a suit of armor raises and the old orc collapsis.
"What have you done!?!?" the voice of the old one screams, but the voice comes from the armor, not the body.
"THIS DAY YOU WILL SERVE ME FROM THE ROOF OF AZEROTH, YOU AND THE REST OF THESE... SERVENTS WILL BECOME MY NEWEST MINIONS... NERZUL, YOU ARE TO BECOME THE LEADER OF THESE... UNDEAD LICHES... YOU WILL BE THE LICH KING!"
"... the lich king... that name still brings shivers to my dead body..."
"... Kil'jeaden then threw us all into icecrown glacier... where Nerzul still sits... where the runeblade Frostmourne was found... where Prince Arthas became a Death Knight of the lich king..."
The image changes a final time, to a pillar of ice, on top of which is a block of ice. The voice comes from the ice, as if a being was trapped inside.
"... with his new power Nerzul tried to get me to serve him again... I will NEVER serve him again... he has failed me twice... he will not fail me again... I dispise the lich king... and when I get out of this ice... all of those who believe him to be the one true enemy... will find me... Gortok, orcish general of shadowmoon... no... they will find me... death knight general of the damned... and I will serve them... I will serve them as they seek his distruction... for I am no longer an orc... I am undead... I am... Belier..."
You awake, a cold sweat runs down your face, for a split second as you watched the ice, you saw eyes open...
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