((do you know what this place needs some more arthases amirite))
[It is a dark and stormy day.
Heavy plate boots clink down the stairs, but there is no sign of the powerful presence that the Lich King would have. Perhaps he is mistaken for another Death Knight as he enters, but not for long - the face of Arthas is unmistakable, though older and more gaunt then he was as the young Prince. These eyes have seen horrors - but they do not glow.
He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, taps the broken remains of Frostmourne into his opposite hand, and grates in a single voice - a human voice.]
I don't suppose this is hell, but if it is it is sorely lacking.
Heavy plate boots clink down the stairs, but there is no sign of the powerful presence that the Lich King would have. Perhaps he is mistaken for another Death Knight as he enters, but not for long - the face of Arthas is unmistakable, though older and more gaunt then he was as the young Prince. These eyes have seen horrors - but they do not glow.
He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, taps the broken remains of Frostmourne into his opposite hand, and grates in a single voice - a human voice.]
I don't suppose this is hell, but if it is it is sorely lacking.