The Death Knights were in row after row, file after file, gleaming in the moonlight as their shadow black armour plates reflected the light of night. Each was on their left knee, their opposing hand flat on the floor before them, their head looking at the floor as their eyes closed, listening to their master talk. At the front of the group of no less than a hundred new Knights with every race imaginable amongst the group, a Knight, obviously above the rest by the flamboyance of his armour paced up and down, staring at his new detachment. Previous - Wrath of the Master Next - Demise of a Draenei