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| - Well, there was nothing for it. He was dead. Err… Undead. Mort stood, straightened his filthy robes, and walked up the steps. If there was one thing that could be said about Mort, other than a complete bastard, it was pragmatic. “About time you woke up. We were ready to toss you into the fire with the others, but it looks like you made it” the man said. “Bugger off” Mort replied, “Who the bleedin’ hell’r yew?” “Shadder Priest? Whut ye wants me ter talk to a Priest fer? Last rights? I’m already dead ye pillock.” Mordo simply stared. “I said speak with Sarvis, old man. Piss off.” “Forewhut?” “I wot?”
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| - Well, there was nothing for it. He was dead. Err… Undead. Mort stood, straightened his filthy robes, and walked up the steps. If there was one thing that could be said about Mort, other than a complete bastard, it was pragmatic. Stepping out into the dreary light, Mort took in his surroundings. Others were leaving the crypt and being greeted by a bald Undead standing along a path leading away and into a wretched looking town. As each one spoke to him, they nodded then hurried down the path. Near the man’s feet was a pile of weapons and armor; daggers, swords, maces and off to the side some staves and shields. “About time you woke up. We were ready to toss you into the fire with the others, but it looks like you made it” the man said. “Bugger off” Mort replied, “Who the bleedin’ hell’r yew?” “I am Mordo, the caretaker of the crypt of Deathknell. And you are the Lich King's slave no more. Speak with Shadow Priest Sarvis in the chapel at the base of the hill, he will tell you more of what you must know.” “Shadder Priest? Whut ye wants me ter talk to a Priest fer? Last rights? I’m already dead ye pillock.” Mordo simply stared. “I said speak with Sarvis, old man. Piss off.” Grumbling, Mort grabbed a rather mangy looking mace and made his way down the path toward what had obviously once been a chapel. The weight of the weapon in his hand felt reassuring and Mort decided what he needed right now was to smack someone with it. The area bustled with activity as other recently risen ran in and out. He walked in and saw a rather run down fellow along with other Undead at the back, standing about and issuing orders to those who spoke to him. “Ere, I were told ter come find ye” Mort said. He couldn’t help but notice Service seemed to have lost his lower jaw and stood with his tongue dangling. “We Forsaken are at war with the Lich King's army of the Scourge: necromantically raised armies of the undead, foul beasts of the north, and tormented spectres. The northern part of the village has become overrun with the Mindless Ones, and they must be destroyed. Destroy them, Priest, show them no mercy, our former brothers and sisters as they might be. The Fallen are nothing but The Lich King's slaves.” “We who?” Mort asked. “Forsaken” replied Sarvis. “Forewhut?” “Forsaken.” “Foreskin? Look, YEW might be sommat whut got cut off the end of a…” “ForSAKEN” Mort shook his head, dislodging a large beetle from his ear. How’d that get in there, he thought. “Nobody asked ME if I were fornuthin! I don’t hold with bein’ forced inter anything wi’out a proper … HANG ON, what yer mean PRIEST!?!” “Yes, Priest” said Sarvis. “You’re a Priest now. Each of us, as we awake from the Lich King’s control, choose our path. Some walk up from the crypt and instantly attack the nearest creature with magic, their fate to be a Mage or Warlock. Others pick up a sword and shield, becoming Warriors, the strong hand of our armies. And others carry over skills from their previous lives as Human. Upon waking, your first act decided your fate and your place in our numbers.” “I din’t do naught but talk ter this woman who were cryin’! I never did nothin’ priestish in 150 years and I’m not about ter begin, ye git. There’s got ter be some mistake som’wheres.” Sarvis sighed. There’s always one in the crowd who just HAS to be difficult. “Look, you did something healing, regardless of if you knew it or not. Now, the northern part of the village has become overrun with the Mindless Ones, and they must be destroyed. Destroy them, show them no mercy, our former brothers and sisters as they might be. The Fallen are nothing but The Lich King's slaves.” “How do I do that, then? Just walk over an’ say ‘Hallo, yer Mindless, I’m ‘fraid ye’ve got ter die’? Or whut, hits ‘em with this mace? Listen, mate, me arms ain’t whut they used ter be. I couldn’t break wind with this.” Mort could, in fact, inflict a fair amount of damage with this mace, but he was irritable right now and didn’t feel like taking orders. “You SMITE them” said Sarvis. “I wot?” “Smite.” “Smite?” “Smite.” “Smite?” “Look, are you going to stand there repeating everything I say to you, or go out and do as I say? No get out there and start killing!” “Oh, there will be killing alright, me’laddo,” Mort thought to himself looking at Sarvis. “I’ll make SURE there’s some killing, and you’re tops on the list.”
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