Tragedy is inherent in all Death Knight origin stories. One of the tools I use throughout Saljourn’s story is his Hearthstone. For reasons we won’t ever know, he was allowed to keep it after becoming a DK, either to torment him or as another means of manipulation.
One of the subtle traits of this object is its glow. As we saw in the first chapter, the Hearthstone is bound to another, which last we saw in the possession of Saljourn’s mother, Tahki. When one wearer summons the other, it glows. Saljourn’s has glowed ever since his deployment to the Eastern Plaguelands.
While less focused on Tauren lore, this scene is special because it is yet another example why they call it the ‘hard right’.
Thank you for following along, and please enjoy the chapter. Again, I do not take any credit for these artist’s work, but thank them for giving me the motivation to create something.
Finally, If you have questions, or advice I would love to hear from you! But for now, please enjoy.
Chronicles of Deepriver
Chapter VI - Agency and Consequence
The Forsaken executioner dragged the whetstone across his halberd. The rhythmic grind echoed in the Lordaeron courtyard. Three young Sin’Dorei knelt in a line, shivering with fright, their eyes downcast.
Those observing included members of the Shadows of Lordaeron. Usually anonymous, the covert force had learned to use the presence of their Tauren Death Knights as more or less of a public endorsement. Standing silently, Sal’Journ watched the prisoners and their body language. He could smell their fear. Once savory, the scent had grown predictable and stale.
The Executor of the Shadows stood beside Sal’Journ, his arms crossed against his chest as he leaned against the cobblestone pillar.
“A fine catch,” The Executor said flatly. “Alleria Windrunner’s agents have grown clumsy,” he said shaking his head. “A pity they were not open to reason. A fine opportunity lost.”
“You stand accused,” began the Speaker of the Court, a gimp hand curled at his side as he delicately traced the lines of the scroll upon the podium with the other. “Of treachery against the kingdom of Lordaeron and the Horde. You have brought shame upon each of your houses,” he added as his glowing eyes shot an unpleasant glance at the prisoners. He nodded at the executioner, who then rolled his shoulders and approached the block.
“So young,” Sal’Journ lamented. “Have the Alliance lost their minds, enlisting the aid of their youth?”
The Executor’s lip curled in a grin. “Ah, but there lies the beauty of their failure. Those before us are their kin. Our targets elude us, but not for long.”
Sal’Journ blinked, dipping his head lower unsure if he heard the Executor correctly. “Kin?”
“Aye, the bait. I do hope they show themselves soon.”
Sal’Journ’s eyes shot to the trio of innocents and the executioner.
The executioner raised his halberd high.
Sal’Journ looked desperately out to the crowd of Horde Civilians watching for any sign of alarm or recognition of those about to lose their lives. His spectral vision pinpointed a Blood Elf couple. Their heartrates were steady and disciplined, but the cry of their souls was unmistakable. The loss of a loved one.
The halberd came down hard and swift. Those watching gasped.
The Executor’s grin was replaced with confusion. The Speaker of the Court’s eyes narrowed as he leaned over the podium for a better look.
The halberd hovered only a hair’s distance from the neckline of the prisoners. As shocked as anyone, the executioner tried to push against the halberd but to no avail. The prisoners glanced at each other.
The Executor’s eyes narrowed, turning to face Sal’Journ. The Death Knight held his hand out in front of him, his fingers pinched together catching the halberd mid swing with his Death Grip. Sal’Journ tossed his arm into the air, hurling the executioner against the wall. The Forsaken collapsed to the ground with barely a whimper.
“Deepriver,” the Executor growled. “What are you doing?”
The Tauren Death Knight rushed toward the prisoners, placing himself between them and the squad of Deathguards who began to surround them. The Civilians of the Horde backed away. Unsure how long the Tauren Death Knight could hold the Forsaken garrison at bay, they were certain the carnage would be great.
The Deathguards approached cautiously at the ready.
“Stand down, Deepriver!” The Executor commanded.
Sal’Journ slowly drew his Runeblade, igniting it with power. The intensity of the Lichfire bellowing from his eyes grew with the surge of energy. The Sin’dorei trio had moved together behind Sal’Journ. He glanced behind at their faces. He had grown so tired of the senseless loss of life over the years, and their hopeful stares assured him he had made the right choice.
He turned back to the attackers and gripped his Runeblade tightly in a fighting position. There were too many to guarantee he could keep the prisoners alive. He thought hard.
“Last warning,” The Executor said as he nodded to the Deathguard to advance.
“No.”
The first Deathguard rushed with a jab of his sword which Sal’Journ easily parried. A poisoned arrow fired from an over watching Deathstalker buried itself in his neck just above his heart. His sheer mass staved off an otherwise certain mortal blow. Sal’Journ moved to desecrate the ground around him but realized the trio would also succumb to his attack. He paused, accepting there was only one option. Raising his Runeblade high, he drove it into the ground. An anti-magic zone burst forth, surrounding them.
The Executor approached the forcefield and placed a hand on it, attempting to look inside.
“You’re doomed,” he hissed through the veil. He backed away and gave the signal. The heavy barrage of attacks that followed shook the courtyard.
Sal’Journ unclasped the Hearthstone from around his neck and gave it to the eldest Sin’dorei, who stared at him in absolute shock. She grabbed the other two and held them close as she squeezed the stone. The anti-magic zone began to falter against the hail of attacks. Sal’Journ forced a smile at the trio as they vanished into burst of light.
The trio held each other tightly. A new breeze blew against their hair. The sound of the wind weaving through the tall grass surrounding them was soothing. The scent of death was gone.
The Blood Elf looked up at the Tauren campsite. A tent and tanning rack stood illuminated by firelight against the clear starry night.