Артас: Возвышение короля-лича

           Weak,soweakhewas,withonlytheselumpsofmeattoprotecthim.Hewasshakingandgasping,heavingFrostmourneaboutwitharmsthatgrewincreasinglyweary.TheearthtrembledandArthaswhirledtobeholdnofewerthanthreeabominationslumberingtowardhim.

           Grimly,heliftedFrostmourne.He,ArthasMenethil,KingofLordaeron,wouldnotgodownwithoutafight.

           Suddenlytherewasaflurryofmotion,accompaniedbyanguishedcries.Liketheghostsofbirds,theblursdippedanddove,harryingthemonstrositieswhopausedintheirpursuitofArthastobatandroaratthespectralfigures,whosuddenlyseemedtodiverightinsidethecreatures.

           Theslimy,white,maggotythingsfroze,andthenabruptlyturnedtheirattentiontotheshamblingghoulsthatwereattackingArthas.Agrinspreadacrossthedeathknight’spaleface.Thebanshees.HehadthoughtSylvanastoolostinherhatredtocometohisaid,orworse,likesomanyofhiswarriors,turnedtobecomeapawnofhisenemies.Butitwouldseemthattheformerranger-general’sirritationwithhimwasspent.

           Withtheaidofthebanshee-possessedabominations,thetidequicklyturned,andafewmomentslaterArthasstood,weavingwithasuddenweaknessoverapileofcorpsesthatweretrulydead.Theabominationsturnedononeanotherandhackedthemselvestogrislybits.Arthaswonderedifeventheircreatorscouldhavesewnbackwhatwasleftofthem.Astheyfelltotheearth,thespiritsthathadpossessedthemdartedfree.