This is the story of Misstres Heartroot and her husband. They only exist story-whise and they reprisent actions taken by the Cult of the Damned. I might creat one of the two as a charecter leter on. Now to the story.

Prolog: Love of the Damed

Chapter 1: Slaying the Land

Chapter 2: Survents of the Archlich

Chapter 3: Speaking whit a God

Shara Heartroot shivered, not only from the cold but also in anticipation. She was going to meet him last she had seen him up close had been when he had come to clame her husband. A member of the Cult of the Damned. She had fallen to her knees begging him not to take her husband. He had then offered her to join whit the Cult and be whit her husband for ever and ever.

She had accepted, at first for the love she felt for her husband. And then to survey next to him, and as time passed, she lost her love but gained something ells. She had a purpose, there was meaning to exists, that meaning was to follow the command of the Lich King. She could hardly remember her husbands name, and if they did not shear the same living quarters she doubted she even remember how he looked.

She knew they would never have children, unless there King commanded it, but that did not make her sad. It had ones but that was long ago now. As she climbed the steers to her beloved King she found that she wanted to see him. The feeling was so strong that she knew that if she would fall and die her spirit or dead body would walk up the steers. Now she could see him, a small court of Necromancers and other servants in circle him.

Whit a wave that was so small that non would have seen it if not all eyes had been on his smallest movement commanded that the court parted to give Shara room. She walked forward and fell to her knees, kissing the icely foot of her King.

"Speak Cultist" her god said to her. He had spoken to her, she this small miserable little shell of a human.

"My King, I have news... " she started then cut herself short. How was she to say this, how could she even think of speaking to this God, it was hybris even to think so.

"Shara, stop! I may be your god, but as all Kings I have use of my servants. So you most tell me why your master Kel'Thuzad send you here?" said the God siting on the throne before her.

"Y-you... know my... "

"Of course I do... Now pleas Shara, speak!"

"As you command." she said and felt how badly she wanted to tell him. "Master Kelthuzad has sent me to tell you that the Age of Prophecy is upon us. The final sighs will soon be well known by all. The mortals will try to break us as we did the Legion. We most be ready my Lord. My King I can travel faster back to my Master if I am one of the holy undead."

Her God smiled and then spoke: "No... You will be my spy in Dalaran. I feel that your mind is strong and your love for me is great. Now go!"

Lowering her head, crying she ones more kissed her Gods foot. And then she walked away crying. Not only because she had not been given the gift of undeath but also because she had to leave her god. A part of her wanted to jump of the tower and fall to her death, but that would mean going against her Kings will. And that she could not do.

Sleeping next to the Pools of Vision as she often did they came to her. Or two of them did in any case. Ther'Zule the Burner of Souls, thin and sickly circled her several times before the other of the Masters of Old appeared. Azurix the Mask of Fear soon followed, he was far more calm and seamed at home in his spirit form.

"Wake her! Wake her now!" demande Ther'Zule.

"Patience fool! She will wake soon, she feel our presens..." said Azurix calmly.

"What is it you want?" asked to young half-orc slowly raising from her sleep.

"Is that any way to speak to your dark gods!" hissed Ther'Zule

"We come bearing news from the Master. He commands that you speak the Heart of Cenarius, tell the Council that the Masters of Old commands this!" answered Azurix.

"I will do as you ask... But I am not sure Mistress Blackheart will hear me..."

"She is blinded by the greatness of the Master... His mind sends all he sees and knows in to hers... But no mortal can Handel vision as that! That is why we can only tell you to look for the heart and to start looking in Felwood!" hissed Ther'Zule and snarled.

"I understand... I will tell my father and the mistress... If she won't listen... Then so be it..."

"Good... We will be watching you shaman... The Shadow Wars has begon..."

Chapter 4: The Heart of the Land

The one true king walked the lads where his alchemist examend one of his greatest relics. The legendary Heart of the Land. Under it a zombie was chained to the frozen ground. The god of the undead had been told that ones exposed to the hearts power even the undead became... life like. In this case despite the freezing cold and rooting flesh a flower had taken root. It seamed to not only bloom, but also attempt to rule the dead body.

Some of the cultists even said the flower spoke. And spoke ill of him. This was indeed a great treasure, and ones it followed the will of the Lich King all would kneel. The dead, the living, the damned and the blessed. The world it self would bend to his power, for there was only one thing he could not stand. And that was things not following his will.

Looking at the flower this small thing of life and beauty in a land of death and ice. He marveled at this will. And he wondered, could he bend this thing, this creation of the Heart follow his command? grasping the frail crown of pencils in his hand he reach out and thought it's mind.

"You know who I am?" he asked.

"No, but I know what you are." answered the flowers mind, the answer was slow and lacked power, but it was whit out fear.

"Oh, what am I then little flower?!"

"You are King of the rooting and weak of mind. Your reign will soon come to a end."

"You are wrong! I am the Lich King, god of the dead. And soon whit the Hearts aid god of the living as well!"

"You are mistaken, the heart will never aid you. And mortals will one day soon slay you. How can you then be what you say you are?"

At this insult the Lich King ripped the plant from the long dead body. It's roots tearing the body to pieces screaming in anger he cast the cursed thing to the frozen ground and cut it in two whit his blade. The life left the plant at ones. Still shacking in anger he turned to his cultists.

"I want the hearts power! Give it to me and you'll be rewarded whit holy unlife. Faile... And I'll see to it that you all live for ever more!"

And whit that the King of the Dead returned to his throne.

Chapter 5: The mision of Dean Heartroot

Dean had ever been the lojal survent of the Lich King. He had kneet before Kel'Thuzad and did so still. He had under the last mouths had a grim mision given to him by the King himself. As his wife spyed on the wizards he was to gather champions.

Champions that would be transformed by the greatness of the allmighty Lich King. Thos lucky few he would gather would become the Masters new Death Knights. But before he could choise he was forsed to spy on the Horde and Alliance alike. But lucky for him the Cult had spies every.

The reports that intrested him he looked in to himself. One of this was the reports of a orc warriors. Not a sesoned veteran true, but old enough to remember the inturnmet camps and the first and second war. The intresting thing was how he was fighting against the Scourge. He seamed to have a burning hate for the Kings forces.

And he fougth them in the Blood Elfs homelands. Not seaming to cear how long he was from home and family and loved ones. This hunger for combat whit his most hate of foes facinated Dean. The blind bloodlust almsot made him feel fear. The orc had been seen ripping the heads of powerfull undead warriors in the Scourge, even biting them off.

But most impresive of all. He and a pair of Blood Elfs had done what non had done before them. They had killed Dar'khan and the orc had ripped his head of whit his teeth. Not wasting any time master Heartroot gatherd his gear and teleported to Undercity where the orc had last been seen.

He found the orc at the translocator in the Ruins of Lorderon. The orc drew his elven blade as soon as he saw the necromancer.
"Whom ever you are human, your dead!" snarled the orc.
"Oh, I think not..." said Dean and cast a spell that summoned ghosts that grabbed the orc warriors limbs. Roaring like a traped wild animal the orc tryed to ripp himself free, but the hands of the dead where like steal.
"You sould look on this whit pride orc. You have been choisen to join the most finest of the True Kings forces." said Dean and slowly walked towards the orc taking out a vail containg a blue, and faintly glowing, fluid. Rubgrsch understood what was happening and clampt his mouth shut.
"Now, now... You need to take your medicin if you are to grow strong." moked the human and had his minions force the warriors mouth open. And then he poured the vails containts in to it.

The orc felt like he was going to be sick. The world had begone spinning, dark blue spots apperd infront of his eyes. His body whent cold, and that cold spred to his mind. And then the world whent black. When he woke he was in a dark chamber, chained to the floor. All around him where the workings of necromancers at there center was a tall dark being dressed in black plate armor.
"A fine specimen Heartroot..." said the dark being.
"Now all I have to do is take his soul."

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