The Lich King

Frozen Throne

Eroe and I stood before the cyan portal to the Lich King’s frozen throne. I wore my heavy plate armor, dark blue and tinted purple, my longsword sheathed upon my back. Eroe wore long purple, fiery robes and she had short, pony tailed red hair.

    “Ready?” I asked her.

    “Are you ready?” She asked back worriedly. “This is for you. You’re the one that has waited so long for this, not me.”

    I stood for a second, staring into the portal, waiting to charge in and attack him, the Lich King. I had waited, trained, fought against his minions for seven years. He led the undead armies and I alone fought them back, trained as a paladin, fought them, beat them, and now I was here, in his home, Icecrown Citadel, I stood in front of the portal that led to him and I was ready to shove my longsword through his cold, dead heart. I had specially forged my sword out of the bones of all the Lich Kings generals, and my sword glowed with the power of cold undead holy magic. I had killed, slaughtered, butchered everyone and everything the Lich King held dear to him, all that was left was him.

    “Yes.” I said fiercely. “I’m ready.”

    Eroe nodded. Eroe was a priest whose home and church had been burned to ash by the undead, I saved her and her village in the attack, a lot of people died, but I saved more. After that, she joined me in my endeavour to kill the Lich King, and in that time we had fallen in love and now stood at the end of our journey together ready to end it.

    We didn’t charge in, she grabbed her staff from her back and I drew my sword and we slowly stepped through the portal. We stepped onto a large round area, surrounded by the souls of the damned, spiraling around the platform screaming in agony. The Lich King sat upon his frozen throne, silvered armor dressed his cold, rotting skin, his eyes burned with ice. His greatsword, Frostmourne, stood encased in ice in the platform. A dragons skull melded to the hilt of the greatsword, it’s eyes as ice blue as the Lich King’s.

    “You.” The Lich King spoke. His voice was deeper than any man’s on Earth. His mouth could not be seen beneath his crown, the crown of the damned, his fingers were strong and frost bitten.

    “Paladin.” He spoke again. “You have destroyed everything, and now I will destroy you, my army will rise again, you as their leader, and we will take this world.”

    The Lich King’s sword, originally encased in ice, had now shattered its barrier and stood ready in his hand. The Lich King stood taller than normal man, towered over me. The portal behind us had closed, Eroe backed up to the other end of the platform, shaking in fear of the imposing structure that was the Lich King. I stood before him, my sword drawn, my once blue eyes turned to fire, my fist clenching the hilt of my blade, my mothers cloth from her favorite dress wrapped around my wrist.

    “You or me.” I said. “Only one of us will leave her today, Lich.”

    In a flash of blue light, the Lich King charged me, his sword swinging towards my neck. As fast as he had charged, my sword was raised and ready to parry, our swords clashing for the first time in nearly a decade. I could feel my blood heating up, my heart beating faster, and I was comfortable. I knew it was fate for me to be there, attacking him, fighting him, and hopefully, finally, killing him.

    The Lich King stood in shock for a moment. “That is no normal longsword, is it, Paladin. You wield an undead longsword, probably enchanted with your holy power, yes?”

    I nodded. His sword normally shattered other swords, I knew that. I had no idea that my sword wouldn’t shatter, and I was more than happy to know it wouldn’t. He swung downwards again at me, I parried again, and quickly began wailing upon his open skin. My sword sliced through his fingers, fractured his armor and impaled his bones. He wailed in terror and pain.