Tonight, something very strange happened. A feeling of intense fear has been evoked in me, the likes of which has never happened in-game before.
Someone in my guild was talking about dogs. In my hasty reaction, the depths of my instinct instructed me to respond with “Lapdogs, all of you!”
Instincts driven further, I thus concluded that I must kill Edwin VanCleef. I didn’t even know who this man was, but I knew the name, and somehow, perhaps due to some experience before death, I had failed to kill him.
After the break: the deadmines, van cleef, conspiracies.
Considering my newfound power as a Knight of Death and Destruction, I figured that now was the time that I would be able to handle him man-to-man. I was sure that the cobalt-plated armor that Leyola gifted me upon arrival to Northrend would suffice. (A short aside, I can never stop thanking her for everything she’s done for me so far in life and beyond.)
Anyways, while on a gryphon ride towards westfall from the Eastern Plaguelands, I received a faint whisper from someone far, far away.
“Death Knight, we are in need of your service! The Dragon Keristrasza is held captive in the Nexus, the stronghold of the Blue Dragonflight! Would you care to join us?”
A fantastic venture into a dungeon of the cold depths of Northrend? I couldn’t resist accepting their offer, whoever this person was. I ended up forming a group with an assortment of friendly faces. There were two druids in particular, one of them may have been the one who had whispered me. Somehow I had failed to mention that I was hellbent on getting my revenge on the Defias Mastermind, but I had the self-control and courtesy to accept any summoning spell they would cast.
“Hey! Are you still coming with us?” The whisperer said to me again.
“Yes,” I responded, calmly. “I must get my revenge on this VanCleef first! His blood shall be mine!”
I had reached the undergound docks leading to the giant vessel and hideout of VanCleef. I smote Smite with my own cleaver, yet moments before his death, he urged to me a warning.
“Van Cleef is a Crafty one! Don’t think that Strength alone will stop him!”
Ignoring his warning, I quickly decapitated the bull’s horned head.
At that very moment, I began to feel the connection break with my whisperer.
“I’m sorry, Death Knight! Your position has been…replaced. I, well…goodbye.”
My hearthstone rumbled. The severed link to the others spurned its activation somehow.
NO! I thought. I can’t leave! VanCleef must bleed!
I stormed through the tiers as fast as I could. A grotesque murloc wielding a large stirring rod stood in my way, obstructing my path.
“Get out of the way, vermin!” I yelled, with an intimidating voice. The only response I could evoke out of him was some derivative of “ggghhrrrgglllllgggrrrhhh!!”
He died quickly, but his task of slowing me down was successful. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had no chance to rest my lungs, so I plowed through the final Defias Barrier and headed straight to VanCleef.
“Lapdog!” He said. “The Defias shall triumph!”
Shoving the large mob aside, I aimed my axe specifically at him. With the greatest surge of savagery, I arced my swing perfectly to drive through him, shoulder to hip.
But it would never be. The next moment, I was in Dalaran, with not a single drop of blood staining my blade.
Curse that VanCleef! I shall have his head next time!