His head was throbbing as he opened his eyes and awoke from the black out. He could only assume he’d been out for sometime by way of his mouth being bone dry and his tongue stuck to the bridge of his mouth. He wrinkled his nose and gurned slightly to produce even a little of the salty spit to wet his mouth but the taste of blood followed the bitter rush.
He immediately moved his hand to his forehead as if his own touch would lessen the pain before wondering if he had opened his eyes at all. He squinted through the darkness in an attempt to find any minute source of light or reflection and proceeded to blink his eyes in an exaggerated manner. The darkness around him was so total he could feel it pressing in on him, the entirety of this place was as nothing.
Slowly but surely he hauled himself to his feet but did not dare move for fear his prison here may not have bars, but a long drop on each side of him. Again his head began to throb slightly and the temperature around him seemed to fluctuate, even the atmosphere around him was changing fluidly, he found himself in a cold spot, but trying to find the warm was like trying to follow a blob of oil on the surface of a pale of water.
He slumped back down again and held his head in his hands, trying to ignore the pain as he had done so many times before, when out of the darkness came, a low rumble. The temperature now was stirring into something wicked, on one side of him his body was sweating under the vast heat being radiated by whatever it was around him. His other side however was freezing cold and he found himself trying to huddle over to the warm side, but to no avail. The temperatures kept moving and switching, the air growing thinner then dense with moisture making breathing a chore. The low rumbling he noticed was steadily growing, soon the noise was almost intolerable a rushing of air speeding past his ears at such speed as to deafen all sound, even his own screams of anguish were drowned by the noise, but slowly the noise began to fade, as if Derithor had just skirted the edge of a reckless storm.
The silence however didn’t last, the darkness around him was suddenly filled with a voice. Steadily the voices multiplied and became inaudible over each other. However one voice stood out the most to him, its words reverberated out of the darkness and through his head, the tones ranging from a whisper to a screaming hiss which sent searing pains through his mind and left an aching sensation pulsating behind his eyes.
The words were as clear as day to him although the hissing, whispering, wailing of the other voices persisted that once voice came to him clear and true.
She has waited for you for so long. So long. So long
In the halls of the dead where the eyes don’t see she has waited
We awaited your arrival with breath so baited
Derithor, The Orchammer, the scourge of any who would cross him, I can give you what you seek. You seek to see her again, to hold her again, to enjoy her familiar fragrance again. It can be yours again.
His mind was swimming in the words now, who was this being that was promising him something he could never have, was Derithor dead, was this some sort of transitional place between living and death. Who was it that was speaking, some sort of embodiment of the light? His mind was racing as the voice continued, never once revealing its identity, nor ever mentioning the name of his lost wife.
What would you give to see her again, your honor, your dignity, your manhood, your strength or virtue perhaps… or perhaps something deeper …
He waited for a millennia for some sort of ultimatum, the voice however did not come and the chorus of noise had died into an uttered whisper. He cleared his throat and spoke to whatever was bargaining with him
‘What is it you would have me do, what do you want from me so I can see her again?’ his voice was flat and calm, as it had been in life he thought. Still not really paying heed to the thought that he could indeed be dead.
There is nothing mighty Orchammer, nothing you can give me, but your…assistance in a matter. Would you pledge your assistance to me in return I would return your maiden to life and for you to be happy once again in marriage and in love.
The hissing continued, Derithor pondered if this voice was that of one of the mighty dragon aspects, his mind fled back to the days when he would watch the Reds flying across the skies, and the dreaded war cries of the orcs on their backs. Yes perhaps this was a dragon, one with the power to alter the time line and Derithor’s own history, both past and future.
‘You have my assistance, what is it I would do for you?’, the words rang around his head as he awoke in his bed his clothes sticking to him from the cold sweat on his body.
The room was cold and dark, outside the wind was slowly cascading snowflakes into the garden. He stood by the window alone watching the drifting flakes landing on the sill with his wolf pelt about his shoulders. How he had since regretted his deal. Three years had passed since he had been in that dark place and in those three years he had become a pitiful pawn of the scourge, a powerful death knight indeed, but he looked at the vague reflection of himself shimmering in the numerous diamond panes of glass and viewed himself as nothing but a lackey.
In life he had been the Orchammer, a terrible foe upon the battlefield, now in undeath he was the Doom Harvester, bound in servitude to megalomaniacal dictator, hell-bent on the destruction of the world he had once sworn to protect…
Lyta - "Fasinating!
Definently a barigain derithor might take. Its very possible. I love the way you describe the beginning agony.
Be very carefull about deciding to take the story this way, being sure that you want to maksuch a drastic change to his personality. A good advice could be to explore this personality change in an alt first, and test how you like to play it out."
Subject: Dark bargain 
Mon Feb 26, 2007 6:15 am
...its wierd how thats happened though 
