When he first arrived, other Death Knights challenged him, thinking him green, or weak. After he went undefeated, other Death Knights tried to subvert him or take his place, so he challenged them. He never lost a duel. Every other Knight fell before him and soon none dared cross blades with him except for Lord Thorval himself, whenever he needed another "workout."
It was some time later, after he had returned from another raid on the small town, when he was stopped by an armored figure he hadn't met before.
"If you are wanting a duel, I warn you now, I'm not terribly in the mood. I might kill you just for the inconvenience."
The tall figure laughed. "No, Bloodsword, not a duel. I am Salanar the Horseman, keeper of the Master's stables. Every Death Knight should have a steed worthy of his skills, yet you do not have one. It is time that is rectified."
Purah knelt quickly. "Forgive my insolence, Horseman. Any task you set I will complete."
The Horseman just laughed again. "You do not have to apologize. I know your reputation and I know that it is well earned." He paused then and looked out over the cliff to Havenshire below. "I would love to create a steed for you, Bloodsword, but I haven't stock worthy of you."
Purah nodded, understanding, and rose. "When last I was in the Scarlet Crusaders' town, I noticed a stable, my lord."
The Horseman turned back to him. "How fortuitous it is that the Crusaders have a stable full of horses just a stone's throw from this post." He smiled wryly. "Go. Find one of good stock, something of your own choosing. Beware the guards there, especially the stablemaster, Kitrik, I think he is called. Find a horse you deem worthy and... "borrow" it. I'll be waiting. Suffer well, brother."
Purah saluted the Horseman and strode off down the hill. Geists passed him on all fours, hissing as they passed. Ghouls under the Master's control also thundered down the hill right into a passing Scarlet Crusade patrol, catching them by surprise. Focused, Purah passed by without stopping. They weren't his concern.
The stable, however, was his concern. The paddock was filled with horses of all kinds, mares, geldings, and even a few stallions. He stopped out of sight, upwind of the guards and beasts. Though the spells of preservation kept him from reeking, truly from seeming like anything but a healthy, if pale, elf, the horses would still know. Animals could always tell. If they caught wind of him, they'd get nervous, putting the guards on edge. It's the last thing he wanted.
The guards were otherwise alert, but not focused. They didn't scan the horizon well, or see him standing not a hundred yards out, though there was little to hide behind to stay out of sight. Fools, the lot of them. He found a gap in the guards, a part of the fence only held by one solder. He carried a pair of maces, but wasn't otherwise dangerous. Purah readied himself.
With a thought, he gathered Shadow energies around the guard, pulling him towards his blade. The guard, bewildered and full of fear, suddenly found himself flying through the air right to a waiting Death Knight. Like so many of Purah's fights, it was over before it began. With the element of surprise, the guard held no chance at all. The guard's corpse now at the Death Knight's feet, he turned his cold eyes to the paddock.
A few of the horses had been spooked by the sudden movement of the guard, but they were already calming again, as Purah was still upwind and hadn't made his move. For a moment, he simply stared at them all, quietly moving about the paddock, eating, resting, completely oblivious to the fact that one of them was about to be chosen to become something else. Something darker.
Purah had never owned a horse, but he had learned of them, about how to spot a healthy, well-cared-for beast. Most of these were in excellent condition, bred for war and work. A few were too young, and he had no interest in any of the suckling mares. Still, that left plenty to choose from.
A well-muscled bay mare caught his attention as she moved amongst the others, obviously one of the lead mares of the herd. Strong-willed, he could tell, and judging from her size could easily hold a fully-armored man in life. Purah could only imagine what she could do when the Horseman was finished with her. He was nearly ready to break from cover, had nearly made up his mind, when the stable master, Kitrik, came into view. Purah paused just in time.
The man was tan from his countless hours outside, scarred and well-muscled. His horse was the same, obviously accustomed to fighting off attackers, whether they be a danger to the herd or to his rider. Purah, however, could care less about the horse and rider. The stablemaster was leading a stallion, black as pitch, into the paddock. He was perfect in nearly every way. Spirited, he was already pulling on the lead, trying to buck out, trying to free himself. Him. That's the one. Not only will he serve me perfectly, his loss will no doubt come as a huge blow to the Crusaders. He's mine.
The Death Knight waited patiently, willing to stand completely still for an eternity if necessary. A patrolling guard came close at some point, and his body joined that of his companion. Still, Purah waited. Eventually the stallion was led back into the stable and Kitrik emerged, mounted up, and went on his rounds of the paddock. Now. This is my chance, he thought to himself. Careful to remain upwind of the horses, he circled around to the building, taking care to pull any guards away from the horses so as not to scare them with a battle.
The stables smelled musty and straw and dust floated in the air. The horses immediately sensed Purah enter. Even as well preserved as he was, animals could tell when death walked inside their home. The stallion was in the largest stable, snorting and pawing nervously at the straw, his black hide sliding smoothly over muscles accustomed to carrying a soldier.
"Shhh," Purah whispered, reaching out to the horse. At first the horse pulled back, unsure of the smell of death, of the old blood and the newer splashes of gore from his recent fights with the guards, but the horse was accustomed to fighting and slowly calmed. Smiling in triumph, Purah leaped up on the stallion's bare back, right as Kitrik returned.
"Ay! You! Get offa' him!" he shouted, oblivious to the danger he was in... except that his shouts immediately alerted several guards outside. Even with Purah's sword skills, he'd have to leave the horse's back. He was too close to lose like this. Go, stallion. Run. Run like the wind. Purah pressed the horse into a run and the steed broke from the stable like a Goblin rocket, scattering straw everywhere. Horses shied away and whinnied, spooking and running away. The stallion's gait ate up the ground and carried him easily away, as if Purah were nothing but a feather upon his back.
The shouts and commotion around the stable faded away behind him as he rode his prize up the hill to Death's Breach to the waiting Horseman. The stallion was fearless, only shying once as a Geist leaped past, and Purah was pleased with his choice. You'll be perfect. No one will have a steed such as you. You'll be mine, and mine alone.
"My, my, Bloodsword," the tall undead said as Purah rode up, dismounting to hand the dark stallion over. "You've chosen well. Very well, judging by the curses coming from the stable." Salanar stared at the beast, walking around him, taking him in. Then, with a word and a gesture, Shadows engulfed the stallion, seeming to devour him whole until he disappeared altogether.
"I have sent the steed to the Shadowrealm. There, one of my riders will slay and raise the beast as a Deathcharger. Now you have to earn it back. Take this horn and enter the Shadowrealm. Find the rider, slay him, and take your steed. If you should succeed, use the horn to return."
Purah nodded, taking the offered horn.
"Thank you, brother. I shall accept the challenge."
The Horseman nodded and gestured, pulling Purah into a whirlwind of Shadows where he fell down, down into the dark.
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