Thassarian originally wanted to reject this voice full of darkness and death, but when he thought of his tragically killed comrades and his father's teachings, his hesitation turned into determination.
"I do."
"Very well, feel the call of our master and become his sharp blade!"
A violent pulling feeling spread to every part of Thassarian's body. He was like a drowning struggler, and then was dragged back to the shore after a terrible suffocation feeling.
"Huh-ha-"
Thassarian sat up suddenly from the ground. Everything that had just happened was like a nightmare, and the things around him became real again.
He found himself lying in a strange hall. This hall was entirely made of unknown black metal, and the lighting was a faint blue that Thassarian had never seen before.
"Are you awake? It looks like my work is a little heavier again."
Thassarian searched for the voice and found the speaker, but when he saw the face, his whole body froze in place like a wax statue.
The person in front of him was only seen in portraits, and should only be seen in portraits.
He swallowed hard, "Lo...Sir Lothar?"
"Oh? Am I so famous that even a kid like you knows me?" Lothar touched his chin. Sure enough, one has to die to become famous?
After Thassarian heard Lothar's confirmation, he couldn't believe it - hadn't Sir Lothar been dead for more than ten years? How could he be standing in front of him alive again?
But after observing a little more carefully, Thassarian discovered that Sir Lothar's appearance was still very different from that of a normal living person. His skin was very pale, and his pupils were shining with blue light.
This is not a characteristic that a living person should have... Wait!
Thassarian thought of something. He looked at his hands. The originally healthy wheat-colored skin turned into the same pale color as Lothar.
"I... I should die. I died in the battle with the Dread Lord." Thassarian held his head. The gap between perception and reality made his brain a little confused.
"Well, to be precise, we can't really be called living people." Lothar threw a piece of close-fitting clothing to Thassarian, "I asked the psychic to repair your broken upper body - tsk, then The battle must have been brutal, you were almost torn into a rag doll.”
"The devil's claws pierced me..." Thassarian touched his intact upper body. The big hole in his abdomen had disappeared, and his entire body was intact.
"What's going on, Sir Lothar? What's happening to us now?"
"As you think, we are all dead." Lothar's voice echoed with soul, which is a characteristic that only high-level undead have. "But you don't want to die just like that. There is a certain emotion that allows you to succeed. I stood up, I don’t know if it was hatred or love, but it must be very strong.”
Arthas does not blindly choose death knights. He will only resurrect those who still have considerable obsession with the world of the living. These people often rise from the grave for some reason.
The other soldiers who were sent to Icecrown in the same batch as Thassarian believed that they died a worthy death, and their wishes were fulfilled, and they entered eternal sleep.
Thassarian was resurrected in this death knight selection and became another dark knight of the Scourge.
"How could it happen - I'm obviously dead, is this some kind of evil witchcraft?!"
But Thassarian obviously didn't know this. He thought he was resurrected by the devil.
Lothar patted Thassarian on the shoulder, and the coercion he involuntarily exuded helped Thassarian recover from his somewhat out-of-control state. "There is no distinction between good and evil in power. The key depends on how we use it. "
"You and I are still attached to this world, or have something we must do." Lothar's words were full of vicissitudes.
Thassarian remained silent. He neither agreed nor refuted Lothar's statement. He silently put on the close-fitting clothes.
Lothar saw that the soldier was in a very low mood and knew that he had not recovered from the surprise of death and resurrection. "It seems that you still need time to digest it. If you have anything else to ask, you can come to me on the upper level of the fortress." .”
"Wait, ser! - I want to ask, what will happen to those who were sent here like me?"
Thassarian remembered what Lothar had said before, that he was not the only candidate for the knight.
Lothar smiled and said, "They have no regrets. We will send them home."
Leaving Thassarian still in a daze, Lothar left the ceremony hall. When he passed a room, he stopped and put his hand on the evil iron door.
After thinking for a moment, Lothar opened the door - this was the training room, where a tall and majestic figure was frantically slashing at the training puppets with a rune hammer in his hand.
Even though he was waving his war hammer with both hands, his attacks were as fierce and continuous as a storm. The puppet was obviously unable to withstand such a blow. After the hammer completely smashed the puppet into a pile of scraps, the orc stopped and carried the rags expressionlessly. puppet and threw it into the garbage pile aside.
"Have you vented enough?"
Lothar leaned against the door, face to face with Orgrim who came over to throw away garbage.
"You come in front of me because you want to taste my warhammer again?" Orgrim snorted coldly, but put the warhammer on the weapon rack aside, "I am loyal to that guy, but it does not represent me. I must obey your orders."
"But before Arthas left, he appointed me as the supreme commander here. If he disobeys me, wouldn't he be disobeying the Lich King himself?"
"Hmph, you're so glib, you still haven't changed at all." Orgrim strolled to the puppet storage area aside and picked out a new puppet.
"What's the point of just knocking on those dead things?" Lothar casually took a long sword from the weapon rack and made two gestures. "If you really want to fight, I can accompany you for a while."
"I don't want to smash your head in and then have to find a psychic to fix it."
Orgrim installed the new puppet and pressed his hand on the puppet. After a while, the former orc chief suddenly asked, "Lotha, do I look ridiculous now?"
Lothar didn't expect Orgrim to ask this question suddenly. After being stunned for a moment, he replied, "To be honest, it's a bit."
"I knew it - he resurrected me just to see my jokes." Orgrim snorted. Although he surrendered to Arthas' iron fist, he still couldn't really get out of his confusion.
"It's precisely because of this that I say you are ridiculous," Lothar shook his head. He knew Orgrim too well, "You haven't realized your identity yet."
"My identity? I know very well that I am just a poor man who has lost all his glory." Orgrim sneered and punched the puppet, leaving a clear fist mark.
"Glory? All our glory disappeared the moment we died -" Lothar put down his sword boredly when he saw Orgrim like this.
He thought Orgrim could figure it out, but now it seems that the orcs are still locked in a circle by their own thoughts.
"We are not living beings, and the word glory has nothing to do with us. There is only one reason for us to act of our own will."
"Destroy everything that threatens Azeroth."
"We are not the Grand Marshal, the War Chief, or even the hero or enemy written in the history books, but the Avengers."
"Orgrim, Arthas hates the orcs so much that he could have killed all of you long ago, but he didn't - think about it."
"As for the target of our revenge, you should be very clear."
After saying that, Lothar left quickly, and the evil iron door was closed tightly again. The soul flame in Orgrim's eyes kept flickering. The powerful death knight murmured alone:
"the Avengers?"
