So, this recently came up on the World of Warcraft facebook group and now I’m feeling the need to rant on and on about hypothetical potentialities. This is mainly about the Death Knight. I want to shape a scenario where this could have been amazing. But first, lets set the scene.
Imagine back.. you’re in Burning Crusade, you’re level 70, your guild has raided Kara so much that its a wash. You have the play memorized, you have each trash pull down to a science. You made a drinking game out of the mobs for fun. It’s a grand old time, you’re a Blood Elf Paladin, and your Horde friends are your best pals.
One day you log in, and you’re offered a quest to investigate a looming acropolis hovering over the Eastern Plaguelands. You don your finest armor, you stock up on your reagents for your Blessings (that was a thing!) and you set out atop your mighty charger.
The quest begins humbly as a reconnaissance venture, but you’re quickly lured in as you chase enemy after enemy, valiantly fighting for the glory of the Light. Soon you’re in the dank undercarriage of the E. Plaguelands, battling ghouls and the scourge. You are unfaltering, you are unwavering even as the droves of enemies pour towards you. You will mete out justice in the name of the Light!
Then, the air chills and your character is thrown back. The blood-curdling sound of The Lich King’s voice thrums through the air, laughing, taunting you.
A portal opens before you. As you approach it, a mage portal opens to your left and Tirion Fordring steps through — “Hero! Do not pursue him! He is stronger than you can possibly imagine.”
You now have a choice. You can follow Tirion and escape. Or you can pursue The Lich King. You decide to turn Tirion away, and a dialog box pops up. “You will not be able to return. If you cannot defeat The Lich King, he will undoubtedly warp you into an agent of Death. ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO CONTINUE?”
You click Yes.
Tirion calls out to you with words you cannot hear as you leap into the dark, looming portal. Suddenly you stand amidst the center of Acherus;
The Lich King stands before you.
You attack with all your might; you clash in an epic battle, but his power is overwhelming. The light aids you, you push him back again and again, but the undeniable and unbridled power of the Scourge — of darkness — weakens you time and time again.
In a fateful moment, Frostmourne pierces your gut. Your breath, spackled with blood, rushes from your lungs. Twisting, The Lich King withdraws Frostmourne from the sheath that is your body. You feel the light embrace you, beckoning your spirit into its graces.
But darkness surrounds your every thought, your every concept of reality. The last thing you hear is the maniacal laughter of The Lich King as throbbing tendrils of dark power pull your soul and body back together, knitting them entwine with his own power.
You awaken, cyan hues your vision now. Your breath is frozen but you do not feel the cold. Your skin is pale, lifeless, threaded with tattoos of the ebon soldiers of darkness, the elite warriors of the Lich King: The Death Knight.
The armor you wear is a mixture of robes and spiked plate. Your every will thirsts to perform The Lich King’s every command. You are driven with a single, undeniable purpose. You stand before The Lich King now, his eternal servant, and all the power and capability you had before is his to command, and you wield it to become the greatest of his champions.
THIS is how the Death Knight should have been created. It should have been an epic, heroic story of the seeking of justice, a catastrophic failure, the damning actions of a once proud champion, and the path for retribution and vengeance thereafter.