Though Our Hero Fight epic battles in the world of reality, Some of his hardest encounters originated in his own mind.
During Mathusala's captaincy as Luc Valonforth, he began to have visions in his sleep. Uncontrollable, it seemed, he was forced to sleep with these visions of power. Always they were the same. He would have a sword that was a creation of the light itself, he was wearing armor that belonged only to some of the highest ranking paladins, and he was fighting waves upon waves of undead. He knew there were men following him wherever he went, helping him, keeping him alive. He saw foes that he had never encountered much less heard of, Bat like lords and fallen heros as well as untold millions of undead. Orcs were helping him, why? why? nothing seemed to make since in this dreamland. He tried to free himself from the confinement of his own body, but was forced to watch as he saw men lad in scarlet robes assaulting an abomination. Evil necromancers were raising more undead from the corpses of the fallen but just as quickly they were being slaughtered by a priest wearing the same robes yet with the marks these necromancers bore. Men of his home of Darkshire were holding a wave of spider creatures whilst on his left he saw men, with tabards bearing a sun, defeating a charge comprised of giants it seemed. This couldn't be a dream. It was much to real. Forced, he watched as a hulking figure strode towards him, clad in black plate and with glowing runes dancing on a silver blade, The towering figure reached him and began speaking to him in a voice that was familiar, They fought it seemed for hours as undead swarmed around him, suddenly a flash, from where he could not see. Bright as the sun it seemed, yet even more so, it spread with unrelenting speed outward blinding all around the combatants, killing uncountable undead, Healing many of the wounded men, Yet he seemed to be kneeling now so it was hard to tell, and then he saw clearly the black clad knight that had the incrusted blade. It was Arthas. How could this be? what manner of trickery had mad his lord attack him? Why? Why? Why?
After Mathusala exited the tomb of his king, he began to have new dreams. The started out differently than his visions before, these began with him murdering his brother. What, no, that couldn't be right. But then he saw bandits on a roadside and he shared the spoils from travelers killed on their way to Stormwind. This was madness. He watched himself continue to meet his father, impossible, his father was dead, yet there he stood. but he watched in horror as he cut him down and stole the rights to their house. He was terrified as he climbed up onto a ledge and saw an army following him. They bore his tabard and obeyed his every command, no stop. Undead, thousands, taking him to Arthas. Bowing before him, NO. sitting in silence as he was taken to be made a death knight. A battle, Tirion killed, Arthas leading his undead hordes on into Stormwind. The sword, Ashbringer, weapon of death. Mathusala's weapon of death. World falling to the Scourge. Horde, Hood, Mataus, all of them dead by his hand. Must stop. Illidan, coming out of the portal, hundreds of demons and orcs. Silvermoon, IronForge, Thunderbluff, Undercity, Ogrimar, Exodar, Terdrassel, all gone. only shadow, only death, wait no. A light, brighter and brighter. Yet it too is eventually consumed by the shadow and darkness. Illidan is killed by Arthas. Arthas by no one. Mindless slaughter, thousands of bodies. A pathway of skulls. The end of the world, Sargaras, all returning. Shadow consuming all of them. Sword dark. no. gone.
Mathusala would awake from these dreams with sweat across his brow. These were more visions. More warnings of what might happen, should the world fail to act and stop it. He quickly packed his things and made for the Scarlet crusade. He new that he would be doomed to fate worse than death if he could not stop Arthas and his scourge from destroying the world.
It was on his way to the Argent dawn that he would realize that that thing wasn't Arthas any more, that was the Lich King, Ner'zhul
Mathusala's battles tried him considerably after he broke free of the Lich King's bonds. And just as before he began to have dreams that were more like visions. First he drempt of what might have been had he taken frostmorne from Arthas on that Icy shore so long ago. Arthas would have become the one who would try to save Azeroth instead and Mathusala would have become its destructor. And since Arthas was no match for Mathusala there would be no contest and the world would simply fall to the burning legion.
Another dream saw him claiming the Ashbringer in its corrupted form, using it as another Frostmourne and purging the undead as he went. However the blade too was corrupted and he new he stood no chance of redeaming it. He too would have made the trip to the north and visited the throne of Icecrown. He would have been the Lich King's new toy just as Arthas had been. He too would have become his vessel of destruction and the carrier of the Lich King himself.
These dreams tomented him considerably since he had no way of telling if they were only dreams. Perhaps they were warnings of his dark future. However, after he reunited with the light during the second scourge invasion. Mathusala had dreams of triumph at last. Dreams where he threw down the Lich King Arthas and lead the Legendss to victory at last. He would restore peace to his homelands at last and then maybe, just maybe, He would be able to settle down from his tireless adventures.
with this in his mind Mathusala set out for the Wrath gate as well as Icecrown itself. He was now an avenger. A man with one purpose. By any means nessesary he was going to kill Arthas in the name of the light.
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