Walking through the city of Brill, you gaze around at the decay, and the darkness. This small town, once a hub of trade near Capital City in Lordaeron, now the Undercity, still bustles with trade and laughter. Song and enticing smells. The difference? The inhabitants are undead. Those that see you gaze at you, seeing if you are one of theirs, or another race all together.

You recognize several races amongst these people called the Forsaken. Most notably are the Humans and the Elves. Though, there are a few Orcs and Trolls. A number of Gnomes and Goblins as well. Pushing your way into the Inn, you see one Forsaken Man, steel armor strapped to his body and covered in weapons, sitting infront of the fire, nursing a mug of ale. You sit down near him, and he turns. rotted face contrasted with the bright, yellow glow of his eyes.

"A live one...." he says. "I was once like you. To a point. Would you hear my tale?"

The undead Innkeeper brings a mug of ale over to you. You pay him and nod at the man sitting across from you now.

"I was once like you," he begins. "My name is...was...Erikson the Brighthammer. And this is my tale." You settle back and begin to immagine the scenes as he spells them out for you...................................................


My name, as I said, was Erikson the Brighthammer. As a small boy I lived in Lordaeron. My father was a nobleman, and one of the chief advisors to King Terenas. I spent many days with Prince Arthas. We were great friends. We played hide and seek with his sister. Gates and Goblins, King of the Castle and all manner of games. Then came the Horde.

We had heard tales of course, of the great geen tide sweeping across Azeroth. But what did we care? We were miles away. But one day, as Arthas and I hid in the throne room, two men and a small boy entered. The first man was tall, and large. His long white hair was done back in a braid. He had a massive broadsword across his back, and a great Lion on his chest. He said his name was Anduin Lothar and that the small boy was the King of Stormwind who's realm had fallen to the Orcs. The other man, a very old man, was Khadgar. I would find out later that he was actually quite young, and that his appearance was the result of a great magical battle.

The explained the coming of the Orcs, and that the Horde would be here in time. Events moved quickly. The Alliance of Lordaeron was founded and thats when they first appeared.....the ones that Arthas and I would worship. The Paladins of the Silverhand. Their leader was Uther, who would become Uther the Lightbringer by War's End. There was another man, who I admired however. He was tall, and lean. And seemed...thoughtful, full of contemplation. His name was Turalyon.

By the end of the War, the Horde had been round up and placed into the internment camps, such as Durneholde. And, when I came of age, my father asked me what I wanted to do with my life. He said to me; "Erik, you are almost a man grown now. You turn 13 tomorrow, and you must choose how you will spend your life. You're a smart lad, and physicaly powerful. Look how tall you are at only 12! And, Antonidas himself told me you posses the talents needed to be a mage! But I know your faith in the Light is strong as well, as is your wish to help the people of Lordaeron. So, the three choices I suggest are to work with me and learn to be a politician, one day to take my place. Or, travel to the Violet Citidel and become a mage. Lastly, the Knights of the Silverhand have requested you to join them, and become a Paladin."

My heart lept at that, Arthas had left the year before to be trained by Uther himself. This was what I wanted, and I said so. My father nodded. I could see he wanted me to follow in his footsteps, but...as a Paladin I could honor the Light AND help those in need! It was what I needed to do. The next day, I was met by a man who called himself Sage Truthbearer. Sage was a friend to Uther, and so, I was able to train along side Arthas.

We lived and trained together, Lord Sage and I, until I turned 20. And that was when all hell broke loose. There was a plague, sweeping across Andhorhal. Arthas was sent to investigate. Little did we know, that would be the start of his downfall. And mine. I do not know the exact details, but what I know is that Arthas become obesessed with a demon who was helping to purpetrate the plague of Undeath.

Arthas knew where the Demon was hiding. The leader of the Undead Scourge as well. Far to the north, in the frozen continent of Northrend. He asked me to journey with him, and I went, against the advice of Lord Truthbearer. This was the beginning of the end for me. You know what happened next. Arthas found the Demon...and the Runeblade, Frostmourne. He was changed, driven insane and losing his soul. He became the first of the Lich King's Deathknights.

But...I was enamoured with it. His power. His absolute POWER. Far beyond anything we had wielded as Paladins. And so, I slowly gave in. And, on the way back to Lordaeron, just before we made landfall.....I submitted. I gave my life and soul to the Lich King, and so, became a Death Knight. As I had no Runeblade of my own, yet, Arthas implanted a small, glowing Crystal inside my chest that would keep me in touch with the Lich King.

And so we landed in Lordaeron. And while Arthas went to visit his father, I went to Sage. My father already dead. I barely walked through the door when I was struck by a blast of Light. Holy Shock. A spell I had helped create and master. Then, a blow from his mighty, mailed fist sent me sprawling. Laying there, Sage Truthbearer stood over me, and spat upon me. "You, along with your friend, have forsaken our order. You are a vile thing, Erik Brighthammer. Begone."

As I stood and walked away, the bells in Lordaeron began to ring franticaly. I laughed. I knew what had happened and as Sage mounted his Charger, I called after him. "The old man is dead, you fool. And soon, you're world will bow before the One True King. The King in the North. The LICH KING." He spurred his horse and took off.

Shortly thereafter, Arhtas appeared, "We have a problem," he said.

I raised my eyebrow. "I am yours to command, my king."

Arthas nodded. "Do you recall the Necromancer, Kel'Thuzhad?"

I nodded. "I do."

"I have a mission....." And he explained what must be done. We were to travel to Andorhal, and retrieve Kel'Thuzhads remains. Then, to Quel'Thalas. The Sunwell's power would be enough to ressurect him. After months of travel, we had what we needed, but, instead of going directly to Silvermoon, Arthas had a better idea while we waged war on Andorhal. "We need something to transport these ashes in, my friend deserves more than a coffin. I know of an urn....that of my father. Which is in this city as well, by some odd twist of fate. We will retrieve it."

I knealt. "As you command, my King." Arthas smiled, a cold smile. But one that clearly showed he favored me. Or so I thought. He called a heareld. Nothing more than a ghoul, really, and it carried a long, clothwrapped package. He handed it to me, and I unwrapped it. Itside was a long, jagged sword. Covered in blue, red and purple runes. I held it in my hand, and heard my Master whisper in my head. You have done well, friend of Arthas. But you must do better. This blade is Darkner. And it hungers. Allow it to feed upon the innocent of this village. And, when the time is right, KILL the one who trained you.

I smiled. "With pleasure." Arthas then offered me a horse, which I delined. Unike him, I prefered wielding my sword two-handed. Which could not be done astride the Undead steed. And so, with a group of ghouls at my back, I stormed Andorhal, killing all in my wake. Women fell before Darkner and I spitted children upon it's point. None were safe. Soldiers fell before our onslought. And, as Arthas entered into a duel with Uther over the Urn of Terenas, he stepped out of the Barracks. Clothed in light and glowing.

I grinned as my Unholy Aura spread, feeding my minions, and drowning those left still alive in sorrow. "Sage Truthbearer. How good to see you again."

He snarled. "Do not speak to me, Abomination. You will perish here."

I laughed. "I think not, old friend-"

"You are no friend of mine, Erik. You are a betrayer. As bad as Arthas." He looked around at the undead encircling him. "And these...." he roared and holy light split the ground, blasting my ghouls apart. I threw up a shield, forcing the Light back. "Are nothing."

My eyebrow cocked. "Nothing?" I gestured, throwing my hand into the air. The ghouls he had destroyed stood again, and the fallen soldiers of Lordaeron ripped themselves from their flesh, joining the army of the Lich King. "Do you not yet understand, Sage? Join us, or die." My Runeblade began to glow red. My Runes of Blood feeding off my emotion.

"I'd rather die, betrayer."

"So be it." I charged. Sage whipped his giant two-handed axe off his back and struck. Darkner caught the edge and I riposted, shoving the blade aside. I threw Sage back, and as I did, I saw Holy Power envelop him. His Spell. Divine Favor. Using the power he stored, he shot out at me with a Holy Shock. Trusting to my new found powers, I caught the blast on my blade, then spun round, throwing the corrupted blast back at him.

He screamed as it hit his armor, melting it. He ripped the shoulder piece of his right arm, and ran at me again. The battle seemed to last hours, though I knew it was only minutes. The entire time, my ghouls held the footsoldiers, riflemen and knights of Lordaeron at bay. Leaving the entire battle to myself and Sage. And, with every life my ghouls snuffed out, my power increased through Darkner. I beat at Sage, and, calling upon all the runes carved into my blade I cleaved through the haft of his axe, then brough my armored elbow up into his face.

The man dropped, the holy light fading from him. His breath was comming in ragged breath. "Don't do this, Erik. You can repent, reclaim your place in the light. Protect your people."

I blinked. "My people? My people reviled me when I returned. As my Lord said they would. I care not for my people anymore. Only the destruction of this damnable world. I care nothing for you, or the people of Lordaeron, my old friend." I said, disdain in my voice.

I raised by blade above my head, the tip of the blade poised over Sage's chest. "Then burn in hell. You are NOT Erikson Brighthammer. Proditus, I name you. The Betrayer."

"Then Proditus I shall be." I plunged the blade through his chest, then tore it from the wound. He perished. There was a blast of wind and shriek as his soul poured from his body and was eaten by Darkner. I laughed, a high, cold, cruel laugh as the power of my Master flooded my body.

Arthas clapped me on the shoulder. "Excellently done....Proditus."

The war went on. We claimed Silvermoon, and the Plaguelands. Established Deathknell south of Silvermoon at the edge of what is now known as the Dead Scar. We shattered the Elfgates, and destroyed the Sunwell. And...Kel"Thuzhad came back.

As the war went on, my power grew. But, it was now that I'd learn the true price of what I had done. During the Battle of Icecrown, I met Prince Kael'Thas. Leader of the Sin'Dorei. The Blood Elves, former High Elves who's kingdom I had destroyed. We battled, but his magic was too powerful for me to overcome. But only because the Lich King was too weak at that moment. Though, I suppose I should thank Kael. Because, it was do to this that I would be set free. He struck me down.

And, after Arthas mergede with the Lich King, I was raised. But...not as I was promised. I was not granted my full Death Knight status. No...was made a puppet. No choice, with Arthas pulling the strings. Constantly whispering in my ear that this was my fault. That I'd brought this on myself for failing him. I hated him, and my hate grew each day as he forced me to do his bidding. I realised now, what I had become.

But, something happened. Though Arthas was indeed powerful again, he slowly began to ignore me. Not think of me as a threat. And, one day, while fighting the Forsaken in the Plaguelands...I was in control of myself again. I found myself, Runeblade poised high over a Forsaken man, about to end his unlife. But I stopped. He stood and ran me through. And I knew no more.

Then a voice filled my head. A beautiful, but gravelly voice. "Hello, Proditus."

I blinked, Mentally. "Sylvanas."

"Yes. I have questions for you, and you will answer." We spent what seemed like an eternity. She questioned me about my past, what I had done, troop movements and...what the Lich King planned to do. Every so often, her Majordomo, Varimathras, enetered into my thoughts telling the Lady that I was nothing and to be done with me.

When she said the interview was over... I asked "What, my lady, is to become of me."

She was silent. "What do you wish?"

"To take up my powers again, and fight Arthas."

"No." She stated firmly. "Your powers will not be given back to you until I see fit. Darkner will stay with you, but it shall be locked. It will seem a normal blade, though...it will change from time to time. I grant it the power to absorb other swords, and take on their appearnance and power. But, you will NOT be one of my Death Knights. Not yet. I will, however, allow you to be one of my Deathguards. A Warrior. Certainly you know how to fight without Necromancy?"

"I do. I was trained in combat before I was trained in the use of the Light. Long before Necromancy. But, promise me this....if I should earn it....you will grant unto me that which Arthas stole from me. My power. I wish only to serve you, milady. But I request that one boon so I may strike him down."

Again another pause. "It shall be so. Rise, Proditus. You are now a warrior in my service, and the service of the Horde." I stepped out of the crypt in Deathknell, and was pointed by a nice man to the Chappell where I would be further instructed.................................................

You finnish your ale, and lean back, the undead man stands and draws his two handed sword off his back. He sighs. "If I knew then what I know now...but no. I'm happy in service to the Lady, defending the Horde. Maybe some of my race have ulterior motives by I do not. I will use any and all power at my disposal to proctect those I care about." He blinks his glowing yellow eyes and thanks you for listening. Then, he departs in the slow, shambling gait of the Forsaken.

When the door closes behind him you sigh, not knowing wether to believe him or not. Only time will tell. And, as the final battle with Arthas approaches....Proditus' power may manifest yet....