❅| | A fascinated tilt of an ivory skull, frosted spheres of swirling energy that doubled as eyes peering down toward the little Knight with more amusement than one should be able to garner from a gigantic floating skeleton’s facial structure.

      A single pivot and an outstretched display of bone, sharp sinew grasping a vial from a shelf, and the Archlich would suddenly float off to what appeared to be a regal worktable in the middle of his quarters.

                      “iT TuRNs tO aSH, COrrECT?                                      BuT yOU ARe a bEIng MaDE tO cONSuME.       EnERGy.. tHE sOULs yoUR bLADe dEVOuRs, thEY arE the saMe.                   lITLE wRAiTH, i cAN mAKe yoU aNYThinG YoU DEsIRE.         aSK thE BloOD pRINCes, thEY kNOW, wHAT mAGIC TAstEs lIkE wHAT.                     wHAT dO yoU mISS the MOst?”

Deathly reverberations echoed softly, the outwardly spoken Lich almost distracted in his distinct speech patterns, holding up a snowberry between two fingerbones. It would be a fascinating project, and what an endearing display of humanity to wish for taste as an undead beast that thrived off murder and fear - it reminded him at times of their mighty King.. that young Prince whose ears had been so easily strewn with suggestion.                        

The resonating clatter of an amused skull sounded as soon as the comment passed the Archlich’s prominent perception, the deranged laughter laced with an underlying, deadly venom that could only be irritation flowing visibly from the floating specter in the form of icy sheets of undeath. 

“dO yOU qUEstIon My DECisiOns? … qUEStiON mY lIEge? iT Is tHe DuTY oF aN aDViSor, A stRaTeGist, tO bE aBLe tO pEfORm aS a KiNg wOuLD iN tHeIr sTEad, tO bE aBlE tO cArrY oN tHeIr WIlL ReGARdleSS oF wHeTHer oR nOT tHEir vOIce reACHes aCrOSs tHe bATtlEfiELd.” 

It was the twisted soul of a fallen, frozen Orc that had given him knowledge, but it had been the destructive passion, fierce, warped ideals of a frost-bleached prince that had heeded his whispers, through an entire countryside of some of the most powerful magic and Light-wielders that Azeroth currently knew, in order to bring his own corrupted form back from the Twisting Nether.

No, his purpose was not of destruction and chaos, that would happen regardless due to his King’s wishes, the Archlich’s goal was that of facilitation, to see through any and all tormented visions that their esteemed lord saw fit to share with them. 

“I sEeK kNowLEdgE, nOt pOWer, iT iS sIMplY thRoUGH mY eXtENSivE proWeSS dO yOu sEe eAcH mAniFeST…       nOw, yoUR aRRogAnCE aStOunDS mE,    tHe cHIlL oF tHe gRaVE iS fAr tOo kINd fOr yOu, dON’t yOu aGRee?                   wE sHaLl sEe hOw wElL yOur sOuL HoLDs uP..                        tHeN wE cAN sEe iF aNytHIng oF yOur BoDy rEMaINs.”

Scourge parties were excessive, violent and quite possibly the worst idea that their esteemed King had ever unleashed upon the planet. In response to being granted the freedom to be as plaguey or undead as they all wished, the entirety of Arthas’ army had done their best to be as destructive as possible in a rather short amount of time.

Unfortunately, this also meant that Northrend was the primary playground for the over-excitable scientists and warriors. Looking up toward one of the now several floating citadels scattered around Icecrown, there was one famed for its destructive wake across continents, the necropolis of Naxxramas floated unassumingly somewhere rather pointedly close to the Frozen Throne, with a gigantic hole blasted through one side. 

The Apexis crystals were rather potent, and could potentially give one who could utilize a vast range of energies an unlimited number of possibilities, and the Archlich Kel’thuzad, a former member of the Six, decided it would be funny to hurl one, after overcharging it, at a wall. 

The swirling power that made up frosted, glowing eyes, however, was the face of complete and utter calm as he gazed down toward the little Wraith, taking in the complaints, pausing as though he was contemplating on them. 

“iF yOu fINd THe rEMaINs oF tHAt CRYstAL, plEaSe dO bRInG tHeM bAcK tO Me, mY lADy, aND thEN I mAY nOt hAvE tHE inCLInATioN tO SlEep fOr sO lONg.”

There was also little that could hold back his endearment at the fact even while he was being bitched at to stop being a lazy old fogy, he was stilled deemed ‘Uncle’. 

It was a rather quiet chuckle coming from the generally maniacal specter, an icy trickle that sounded akin to the distant shattering of ice. The little wraith before him bore so much resemblance to the sire, he had seen into the great deathly prince’s mind far before it had merged with power and rage, and part of what he saw there as he had spurred the former Death Knight to greatness in those fading Elven forests was a fascination to this day. 

Well, she was certainly a firecracker, that was for sure, she would have made a fine sort of Princess for them if she had been more willing, perhaps if he hadn’t been so indisposed… his necromatic prowess could have been utilized for greater purpose.

“tHEy dID NOt eVEn tHiNK oN My pHYLacTERY, yOU’d bELieVE thEY’d hAVE lEARNed, inCLUDinG yOURseLF. iT wOULd nOT hAVe mATTerED, eITHeR wAY, I hAVe oTHeR conTInGEnciES.”

A vague flick of the wrist, and a small cup appeared within the Archlich’s grip. The concoction smelled foul and emanated with a dark aura, but was likely merely some strange form of plagued coffee. The offering was held downward, the floating specter’s skeletal frame twisting awkwardly in a light bow as he did so.

“yOu hAVe aN inTEReSTINg dEFINitiON oF thE tERM ‘AlIVE’, cHIld. YoU sHOUlDn’T bE sO sHOckeD bY thE teNACitY oF thE unDEaD. AlL iT tAKes Is a SoUL aND a VesSEl, aND sOULs aRE nOT aS eASIlY lOSt aS bODieS.”

Curiosity flowed from each bleached bone, as the Lich scrutinized the foreign shard before gingerly grasping it within a forefinger and thumbbone, the energy held within the gem surging through the former Archmage and causing the magicks keeping his form afloat to fluctuate and buzz. With a gracious nod, this new gift was eagerly accepted, the hovering specter hurrying it over to a nearby table where the Lich kept many other strange and likely lethal creations.

 ”It IS fILLeD wITH poTENT mAGICKs, bUT theY cAN bE HArRNESsed aND trANSFormED inTO oTHER poTENtiALS. ThIS mUSt bE wHAT MYRUnDIEL hAD gROWing aLL oVEr hIS boDY, iS tHAT cORRect, mY lOrD?" 

It was almost nostalgic to be able to experiment with the gifts given to him by the Lich King, and to be able to compare notes with the Plaguelord was a bonus the sentimental Archlich hadn’t been expecting, not after Arthas had fallen and he himself had been reduced to nothing more than a glowing, jeweled box. 

Letting out a distressingly high pitched chuckle, the fallen Mage turned to give a deep bow toward the monarch of death, gesturing at the rest of his research with a pleased sort of air.

“I cAN eASILy uSE thIS tO FuEL mANY oF mY exPERImeNTS, A poWER soURCE wAS a PerFECt coNTRIBuTIon, I tHANK yOU, mY KiNG, yOu alWAYS knOW jUST wHAT tO bRINg aN oLD nECROmAncer.”

In lieu of screeching aloud about how his subtle attempts at shifting appearances for the sake of their damned King’s return had actually been noticed, and then, by Sapphiron’s left dewclaw, /MENTIONED/, the Archlich was the perfect vision of utter chill, merely seeming pleased by the attention.

A few clawed protrusions that doubled as fingers reached upward, drifting across his own new adornments as though completely modest about the whole ordeal, surprised even that the Lich King would notice anything about his clothing. It was probably a good thing that Kel’Thuzad was not raised as anything akin to a Banshee, or else he may have let out an atrocious shriek akin to an aggressive, undead fanboy, and stun half of his Necropolis in his joy. 

“oH, tHIS, mY lORD? I suPPOse I thOUGht iT woULD bE aPPROpriATE tO dREss A BiT diFFerENTly, iF yOU hAD anYThiNG aKIN tO a NeW viSIOn foR thE ScOURGe, iT wOULD nOT dO To gO aBOUt pERForMinG yoUR wILL iN wITHerED sCRAps.”

Unless, you know, your thing was withered scraps to be intimidating or something, but the Necromancer was rather vain, having come from such a flamboyant city, and it wasn’t as though he could really do much else to clean himself up, having no beard to trim and no hair to comb. 

If he still had an eyebrow to raise, it would have gone up past his skull and into the next universe with how incredulous the hovering Lich looked. With a dismissive wave of a skeletal hand and a raucous round of echoing, maniacal laughter, Kel’Thuzad would conjure up first the frosted illusion of a certain ghastly helm, followed by the ghostly visage of a fallen human prince, reduced to nothing more than a savage agent of death and ruin. Each image floated on either side of the master Necromancer, burning crimson eyes glowing with what could have been utter pride and adoration, if one could easily intuit the emotions of a dead thing lacking a proper facial structure.

“I sERVe thE ScoURGE. I sERVe RuiN aND bEtrAYal, dEAth AnD lOSS, I sERVe thoSE wHO gAVE mE pOWER aND nEW LIfe. I aM unDER thE comMAND oF bOTH pROdiGY aND eXPEriEncE, thEIR comBINEd pASSion aND StrENGth dRIVes mY oWN WiLL. tHE whISPerS iN mY mIND wERE fAR tOo tEMPting, aND I hAVe yET tO rEGRet tHE gIFTS gIVEN To mE. I fACILitATED sUccESS, aND tuRNed a pRINce inTO A kING, I wILL sEE hiS wiLL dONE tILL tHE eND oF tHIS WreTCHed RoCK.”

Raising both hands toward the ceiling in dramatic fashion, and both illusions promptly exploded into thousands of Arcane shards, reforming into the intimidating figure of the Lich King himself, and while it was merely a presentation, the Archlich bowed regally to the image, before allowing it to dissipate. 

“wHaT aN iDIOtic quESTIon.”

A sharp scowl crossed the Archlich’s skeletal features, which was presented in the form of clattering teeth and a slightly aggressive hiss, while the floating vision of death and magick swooped down, a bony finger pointed directly where the Horseman’s heart once beat. 

“SoFT?! I thOUGht I kNEW thAT eLF bETTer! AtTEMPtiNG tO stEAL mY SUBordINATEs riGHT fRoM unDER mE, hOW crUEL!”

A soft sigh escaped from within the Necromancer’s ribcage, a billow of frost escaping his mouth in a sheet of icy indignation. The digit that had been poised near Zeliek’s collarbone began to glow a necrotic green, though nothing in particular came of the spell, apart from say, the creep factor.

“I coNTRol yoUR bODY, iT iS boUND to mE, whICH is wHY YoU cOUld hAVE So DeFTLY esCAPEd whILE I WaS RecoVERing In mY PhyLACtery.. I conTROL tHE deAD wiTH imPUNITY, onLY seCOND tO oUR eSTEEmed kING, iT wILL dO yOU nO GoOD tO sERVE uNDER MYRunDIEL, fOR yOUr fORM wILL onLy anSWER tO mY wILL.”

There would be words to be had with the Plaguelord, this was certain, but for the time being, he would give the cheeky Highborne the benefit of the doubt and just assume he was attempting to toy with the fallen Paladin, and not necessarily attempting to usurp Kel’thuzad’s position.

“AnD inFORM RiVENdaRE hE wAS giVEN aN oppORTUNITY beING giVEN MorGRAINE’s seAT, hE bEST noT sqUANDer mY genERoSITY bY inCURing mY WraTH.”

No one kicks his cat.

The rattling cackling of a mind long since lost to the twisted visions of undeath and Arcane reverberated through each and every hall, filling every room with a discomfiting sense of instability, as there was no telling just what had warranted such intense mirth within the Archlich. It was very likely that his laughter’s eerie and unpredictable nature simply allowed Kel’Thuzad to keep all his minions on their feet, lest they have to answer to the master necromaster’s eccentric wrath.

This day, however, the gigantic floating monstrosity’s glee had true reason, sensing more than witnessing the Plaguelord’s presence, the magically enhanced gates already rising up into the archway in front of the Lord of Naxxramas’ chambers to allow entrance. 

“I hOPE yOU SpOKE wITH SapPHiron, hE hAS bEEN tETChy aS oF lATE, dUE tO HaVING bEEN raISed oNCE agAIN, I’M glAD hE eVEN lET yOU pASS wiTHOUT iSSUE." 

The great Lich hovered idly near a large desk covered in a strange assortment of bones and relics, most of them glowing and several of them covered in a pulsing substance that was likely left undefined, a few tomes lay strewn around the room, indicating that research had likely been occurring.

“COme in, MYRunDIEL, I hAVE miSSEd yoUR cOmPANY, thESE DeATH KNIghts aRE sO SerIOUS, thESE ghOuls aND ABOMinAtions sO MINDless, aND hAVE yOU eVER trIED hOLDing a coNVersATIon WIth A spiDER?”

Claw-like protrusions of bone quickly snatched the undead feline out of the fallen Paladin’s grasp, quickly hauling the disgruntled creature against his ribcage, cooing Scourge-speak so lovingly, so soothingly into the air, sounding more akin to a haunting cacaphony of clicks and hisses than anything one could consider fatherly. 

Stroking one talon down the length of his beloved cat’s spine, the Archlich turned his attention once again toward the Horseman, the swirling crimson energy that made up his eyes appearing to narrow visibly, as though accusatory. 

“HaVEN’t yOU bEEN gIVing oUR KiNG sOME deGREE oF hELL laTELY? I haVE hEaRD thAT thE PlAGUElord aLSO hAs SOme inTERest In YoU.”

A hint of frustration could be garnered from the hollow echoes that Kel’Thuzad used to voice his opinions and orders, as the Lich hovered closer to the avid wielder of the Light, looming somewhat dangerously.

“WhILE I woULD neVER quESTion mY liEGE’s deCISIons, iT wOULd bE a bIT distRESSing tO lOSe yoU whEn I wORked sO hARD To CoRRupt yoUR fORM… mORE disTREssing iS I wAS neVER inFORmed oF thESE conSIDerATIONs…”

If a floating creature was able to pace, that was exactly what the distressed former Archmage was doing, likely unaware that he was still speaking aloud.

“… wHY dID RiVENdaRE kICK mY cAT?”

Also a concern-worthy question.

Horror, absolute and distinct horror, it was a miracle that Rivendare didn’t currently find himself with an abomination’s head for his gall, the Archlich could even view it as treason if he so wished! The nerve of some of these Scourge, he had half a mind to remove every ounce of their free will, and simply use their bodies as puppets till the Lich King required them from Naxxramas. 

“DiD yOU BRing mR. BiggLESWorTH?!”

The former member of the Six all but huffed out puffs of frost in his currently riled, flustered state, leaning down his substantial height in order to inspect every inch of the ivory-clad Horseman as though Zeliek might be hiding his beloved, plagued pet from him.

To be attacked by his own kin, that poor feline, so that’s why his sweet, sweet Bigglesworth had to resort to such violence, what a heartless offence to an innocent creature.

“… AnD DiD yOU manAGE tO Pry hIM oFF beFORe RiVENdaRE wAS inJURed?”

He did still need four riders, after all, and it wouldn’t do to have to replace the Baron after they had already had to replace Morgraine… perhaps that corner was cursed with some sort of affliction he had previously been unaware of. Such a curiosity.

A curious tilt of the former Archmage’s head indicated as much amusement as one could garner from a horned monstrosity’s skull, as a light, dismissive shrug proved he would be little help on the matter, unless it escalated to the point of having to save his feline friend instead.

Evidently, he was planning on taking the plagued cat’s side, but that probably wasn’t much of a surprise, considering the Lich’s normal eccentricities.

“ThERe iS a reASOn moST oF thE HorSEmeN wEAr faCEMasks, yOU knOW, anD iF Mr.BIGGleSworTH iS cuRRenTLY moRE pOWERful thAN RiVENdARE, I caNNot aSSIst hIM.. perHAPS trAINing wiLL dO hIM goOD.”

The mention of Zeliek’s lack of assistance in the matter did cause an echoing sigh to be expelled from Kel’Thuzad’s skull in the form of a cone of frost-like magicks. 

“InFORM tHE PalADIN hE iS tO bRING mE BiggLESworth.. comPLETely inTACt, thAT Is. ThAT wILl fORCe hIM tO gIVe a DaMN  tHE nEXt tiME hIS feLLOws aRE in DanGER.”

A resonating cackle sounded throughout the entirety of Naxxramas, the sound of the eerie laughter a reminder that nothing would go unnoticed within the Necropolis.