A Draenei Death Knight (1)

My brothers and sisters... There is no understanding from what I’m going to tell you. You won’t like to hear it. But I do not seek your approval, your compassion, or any of the weak feelings you might have from my story.

I was there. Perhaps the darkest day in our history, when our beloved temple of Karebor was invaded and the holiest among our people were slain by the vicious orcs of the Burning Legion. My spirit is old now. It felt tortures worse than most of you can imagine. But those days are craved into what’s left of my humanity, if there is any.

I was a holy Draenei myself. I was young back then, following the steps of the Naaru, of our leaders and their beautiful words about light, life and peace. All but gone in what seems to me like a few moments, like a heartbeat. Yet I can’t forget the stench of blood coloring red the land and the waters of what once was the beautiful Shadowmoon Valley. I saw the orcs slash, cut, stab, chop and crush with mace, sword, and axe. Their bloodlust was unstoppable. And at each of their swings I saw one our own fall. I was hiding. I couldn’t move. I cowardly stood there, watching the blood run down the stairs of our Temple…

He lowered his voice and his head as he couldn’t hold that thought any longer. It crossed my mind that he was indeed mourning his kin’s death.

Have you ever watched your beloved ones die? Helplessly die in front of you while there is nothing you can do to stop? Have you ever felt your heart being stabbed not once, but over and over again by a cold, dark, merciless blade? There is no way to explain that. Pain is a mere word. Oh no… that was not pain. This feeling is way beyond pain…

He stopped and looked straight into my eyes and with his gaze I felt my spine freeze. His glowing blue eyes were smiling at me. A grim smile. And then I understood that pleasure drove his words.

I was there the first time our leaders renamed our temple to how its now called as I was told. The Black Temple. So that was how our beloved holy light was rewarded? It turned into a shadow, a dark monument to our defeat. I couldn’t sleep. In my head it was a permanent nightmare of flesh, blood, screams and despair. I tried counsel from my superiors, blessings from the Naaru… I prayed. I remember praying for hours, days, months! I prayed a lot back then, asking for forgiveness first. Then I asked for peace. In the end I was praying for a selfish night of sleep. And then one day I prayed for revenge.

The simple fought of revenge woke me from my endless, and foolish, hope of forgiven. I would never be forgiven because I would not forgive myself. Not until I had my revenge. But for that I would need power. More than I had ever seen among my kin. No. I would need more. I would need the kind of power that could turn the Temple of Light into The Black Temple…