Zhack Feaweather

Zhack's story in his own words:

Every boy from the southern kingdom of Stormwind to the North of Lordaeron who ever heard about the 7th Legion always wanted to join them. Especially those that were born during my time... The sons of the war. Many like me, wanted to become heroes, legends, fame and glory were ours for the taking. I joined Lordaeron's army at very young age, being just 14 I could barely hold a sword. But I still managed to join the Legion, being one of the youngest to ever do it at the age of 16, and for my fortune, my master was a known commander, friend of both Arthas Menethill and Kael'thas Sunstrider. Soon, after extensive training and a great deal of accomplishments in missions I reached the rank of Elite soldier inside the Legion, the Highest Rank for soldiers if you do not wish to be a commander, only a select few can make it to this rank, I think I could count them in my fingers and still have some left. Only the most important missions are passed for those, only the real threats for all the alliance, so it was natural that I was concerned when they sent me to the Capital to investigate some rumors. Some kind of cult was spreading among the population, some shadow society or so they said, it was called "The Cult of the Dammed" I was sent with a couple low rank soldiers from the 7th to work under Arthas who was under the Silver Hand and commanding a small regiment of the Lordaeron Army. Of course he was not satisfied with that and as a way to spoil him even more they forcefully made him a commander inside the 7th Legion, making him commander of my regiment. During that mission all occurred well, we hunted down and killed the Cultist leader, Kel'Thuzad and kept hunting the remaining scourge, but then came the demon called Mal'ganis. He taunted Arthas into a trap and the fool fell for it. When the scourge attacked Stratholme I was there, killing the civilians to prevent them from becoming mindless zombies but that only sparked Arthas' wrath and created a great lust for revenge. As he was my commander during his mission, I followed him to the cold lands of the North where everything went downhill. We established a base and pursued the demon's track. Arthas left us just to come back in the middle of the battle with that cursed sword that made him insane. He killed Mal'ganis, but then he disappeared. The rest of the men established a base to keep fighting the rising undead forces who were causing problems to many villages on the north, I was sent to the front with my Master, but short after he died protecting an entire regiment of the Alliance Army, saving their lives so they could fight once again, the bravest act I ever witnessed. After this I accepted the duty to train rookies who aspirated to become Elite Soldiers. The duty kept me away from the field for months, but one day the Legion called me to the improvised headquarters in Wintergarde. The news were dire, Lordaeron, my home, fell for the scourge, the order of the Silver Hand was ultimately destroyed and the rumors from the few crazed survivors were that the King was killed by no other than his own son, Arthas... To make things worse, the supposed traitor prince was back and called for the Lordaeron army for a meeting in the Icecrown. The 7th Legion was in trouble, many kept disappearing in mission, rumors spread that they supposedly joined the scourge as Death Knights, but we pressed on with our battle to fight for the Alliance. I was the only one the Legion sent to the meeting with Arthas, if we counted him as a commander, only two of us would be there to report what happened. The place was horrible, the cutting winds chilling the soldiers to the bone, but it was nothing compared to the new look of the young prince. His hair was white as the snow and so was his face. His dark armor covered in Ice and a morbid expression that showed no feelings. After some short and cold words, the prince started to fight the men, raising them as ghouls. The rumors were true, he was a traitor. I fought the hosts of undead as they came; the army had no chance against that great number of minions, not to mention against that coward who created them. Only one of them, my best friend, a simple footman who thanks to me knew what to expect from the meeting, was able to fight them back. The undead forces fell one by one as did the army and soon only the two of us were left to face the prince. He was unimpressed with my, maybe he didn't know about my presence there but my skills were well known to him, but my friend standing there beside me took a slight smile from his face. The battle was short, but intense, I barely could keep on, defending from his blows and his power was impressive. He dominated shadow magic and showed incredible skills, maybe on a sword fight I would have a chance, but I was no match for that cursed power. The two of us attacked with fury, but nothing could stand that dark energy. We fell on the ground and rather than finishing us and turning us into ghouls he left... Cold, feelingless, looking at him as like staring at a rock, he was still able to think, he could fight just like before, his ability to think was not severed, but he seemed like an empty husk, all the humanity had left him, even though you could still hear his heart, that dark armor covered anything that could bring him back, he was insane. Left on the frozen soil, even our blood was frozen, we didn't bleed, I didn't feel any pain, a numbing state took over my mind and body but even then I still remember his face, Anub'Arak He came with Kel'thuzad's Cult of the Dammed to recover the bodies for their meat wagons and mostly to serve on the new necromancer's ground, the Fleshwerks. When they found the two of us alive they seemed pleased for some reason. I still don't know what kind of horrors they did to us, but the Light protected our lives for four years between experiments with the plague and work as mindless slaves on the quarry. I was more resilient to their works and could keep my mind during the long times I spent inside that cage while the necromancers were entertained with their creations. There was no real security to prevent our escape as they didn't think it was necessary. Also, most of the undead were busy building the new fortifications of the citadel. In one of these lucid days I managed to beat the sole necromancer who came to get us to their experiments and took my friend with me. He was numb for months and I didn't know if he would ever wake up from that state but I couldn't leave him. The journey was long was we had little time to rest. The scourge armies were restless and As long as we were on Northrends I knew we wouldn't be safe. I didn't want revenge; I didn't want to ever come back. All I wanted was to go back to the safety and peace of the southern lands and forget about all that. I dragged my friend with me and we crossed the sea on a pirate boat, we went to Quel'Thalas to find only ruins. I walked to the south until I reached Stratholme. Huge mushrooms everywhere, the land was tainted beyond understanding, at that moment I thought that maybe all the world was a great mass of blight. Just as I thought that, thousand of undead rising from nowhere came in our direction, at this time my friend woke up, barely able to stand on his feet. Were they there because of us? Because we fled or because we were on their land? I didn't have time to figure out as soon I was fighting to keep the both of us alive. They kept coming; no matter how many we killed their numbers were not diminishing, in an act of courage my friend charged towards them, taking many in his wake and telling me to run. The mindless undead fell for his trick and attacked him. I could hear him yelling among the screams of the mass of undead, had that guy made it to the 7th legion he would be a commander in no time. I attacked the undead with their backs turned to me, I don't wanted to leave as a coward, but the last thing I heard from him made me step back and run. It's too late; it's either you or neither of us. Don't let me do this in vain... Live.... After some short screams his voice stopped but I was already running. The beasts took some time to back their attention to me and I fought my way out of the mushroom forest. Wounded, sick and weak I kept running for days nonstop until I fell from exhaustion. What happened after that I can only speculate. I know that I woke up two or three years later in the Northshire Abbey, on the safety of the Kingdom of Stormwind. Having nothing left on the world, I knew that anyone I ever met was dead, corrupted or would think me to be one of the scourge or a carrier of the plague. I started to work as a mercenary, accepting jobs for rewards and money. But the uncertainty keeps me from joining any military group to take action against the forces that still threaten azeroth and worst of all... The Lich King. Arthas has built a powerful Empire, a restless army that never ends, a massive stronghold; no single man could ever face it. I work now for the day when I'll have resources to help on this fight, to be of help for the humanity and maybe to fulfill my childhood dream: To become a hero.