There are Death Knights in the Scarlet Onslaught. One can find them at Scarlet Point near the Frostmourn Cave in Dragonblight.
I found them recently while exploring in retail and I decided to wait until classic came out before investigating further (since I have not done the alliance quests in this zone).
Anyway I thought this was interesting for a few reasons- that it just shows one does not need to be undead to be a death knight, which I think is the operating assumption for most people.
Also it speaks to the state of the Scarlet Crusade. Prior to this moment they were unwilling to work with anyone who they felt might have the taint of the scourge. Death Knights are one of the Scourge's most versatile operators. But, the scarlets in Lordaeron were more defensive. The Onslaught is an offensive, taking the fight to the lich king in his territory. Perhaps this combined with the fevered evangelism of Abendis gave the organization the permission to allow these people within their ranks.
Finally, what sort of person would abandon the scourge but join the crusade instead of seeking out the alliance? Somehow I doubt any light will be shed on these two points.
The frigid winds of Icecrown felt good against the Death Knight’s pale skin - one of few physical comforts she still felt. From atop Shinigosa’s back, she looked out over the Icecrown. It hadn’t changed at all since the height of the Scourge War. Appropriately enough, the landscape seemed frozen in time, unaltered by anything happening in the world outside the continent. The mindless corpses still shambled about the wastes, the saronite structures pierced the horizon… even the Scourge banners still hung from the ramparts around the Citadel. She tugged Shinigosa’s reins, turning her to fly out west, towards the Shadow Vault.
The spire came into view after a moment or two of obscurity… Avehi snarled some at it. Specifically, she snarled at the thought of Tylveris; the cold, calculating Commander of what Ebon Blade forces still held the Vault. But she wasn’t always in charge there. Avehi remembered well the days of Duke Lankral’s leadership, after wrestling control of the strategic holding away from the Scourge. She hadn’t paid much thought to the Duke in some time. Not him, nor Baron Silver, nor the Runesmith! It was odd to think it, but she did recall a time when being a member of the Ebon Blade was a point of pride for her. Some of her undead colleagues still held a special place in her frozen heart. Grimbane, Uzo, all friends from days long passed. A part of her wondered what all her old Death Knight friends were up to. Yet at the same time, she didn’t ever want to find out.
“Not even him…”
She hadn’t come here for Tylveris. This time. Instead, she cast a passing glare at the Shadow Vault, and nothing more.. The frost wyrm was elegant, disciplined, maintaining her vector without so much as a jostle as she crested the jagged mountains to the west. Then, she began her descent down from the frozen cliffs towards Onslaught Harbor. She passed close by the long-abandoned Death’s Rise, where Avehi and her compatriots planned and executed the final elimination of the Scarlet Onslaught. The view overlooking the sea from here brought back memories… a sense of determination, and belonging. A comfort, of sorts. Had it really been so long?
Normally, when Avehi wanted to get away for awhile, she’d go to the Azure Isles. Mierne was safe and sound, but recovering now at the Exodar. Visiting the untamed wilds of Bloodmyst didn’t seem right without her. How she wished to share some of her problems with Mierne, vent about how every relationship she had seemed to be falling apart. Nedemus hated her… her friendship with Sylaess was complex… she still felt she was dancing atop eggshells around the hormonally-unbalanced Sinafay… and Argonas was downright intolerable, no matter what she did.
But Mierne was in recovery; hardly in any condition to lend an ear to Avehi’s gripes. Not while she was recovering from all she endured down in Nazjatar… But where was Avehi to turn, if not to Mierne? It became painfully apparent to the Death Knight she had no one else.
“Except him.”
Shinigosa’s talons sank into the cool, damp sand of Onslaught Harbor, touching down with every bit of grace as she’d been flying. Avehi gave her an affectionate pat along her side as she dismounted. She’d proven one partner on whom Avehi could rely, at least. Undeath had robbed the drake of so much, but she was still as noble a creature as ever. Avehi recognized and appreciate that. Having delivered Avehi to her destination, Shinigosa took off once more, taking to the skies to soar freely for a while. She’d earned it, surely.
Onslaught Harbor was as vacant as the day she left. Moreso; there were fewer Scarlet bodies strewn about. Scavenger birds had picked most of them clean, leaving only their bones and tabards. No one, not even diseased fowl, had need for either. The Scarlet Crusade, or Onslaught… whatever moniker they wore in each iteration didn’t matter… they were always the same. They served only one purpose, as far as Avehi was concerned; a cautionary one.
In life, she was as zealous and single-minded as these rouge-wearing humans had been. If it wasn’t within the Light’s good graces, it deserved little more than to be purged from existence. She was of such ilk before; faithful to a grievous fault. And it netted her nothing, in the end. She eyed each corpse she passed carefully as she strode across the stone bridge - many of them she’d put in place herself. Faith was dangerous… exploitable… for these humans, and her own people alike. She thought of the Dreadlords who had wormed their way into the upper echelons of Scarlet power. Not once, but twice! Then… she thought of X’era. And Yrel. It pained her to think about it, even now... though she had realized such for some time; the Light was not as pure and unerring as she was led to believe, in her formative years.
She put that all from her mind, for now. Enough troubles swirled about her thoughts today… she need not dredge up more to keep them company. Instead, Avehi climbed the grime-stained steps of the once glistening Scarlet Cathedral - the only true structure on this long-forgotten islet - and stepped inside. To set hoof in a bastion of the Light would be painful for Avehi… but this was no such place. Not anymore. Now, no holiness dwelled in this place. Only a piece of her past she’d left behind.
“Astaloren!”
She stopped in her tracks at the skirt - shredded, defiled scrap of carpeting led deeper into the once-hallowed halls of the cathedral. At one point a vibrant red… now a sickening faded brown. It had aged as well as the Scarlets had. Her chilling gaze followed the carpeting, further back and up the steps to the altar. Rather… where the altar used to be. Now, there sat a throne. A lavish chair of a pompous, self-aggrandizing clergyman, now rusted and gnarled with the ages behind it. It served well enough for a throne nonetheless… a seat in which a dark, still figure sat. Even in such dim light, his silhouette could be seen with enough clarity. Arms pinned proudly to the armrests, shoulders back, feet planted firmly on the ground. His hood hid the sheen of his golden locks, but the ears poking forth from it made him easy enough to identify. His eyes flickered to life - the runes of his blade, stuck into the ground beside him, followed suit… each sparking their ghastly blue hue in succession.
“Avehi.”
Her plated fingers tensed at her hammer’s hilt. Too much time had passed since last they spoke… not all her undead friends had kept their sanity. Or valor. The Draenei approached with that caution in mind. She’d been close with Astaloren back then. But this was now. Times change.
“It’s been a long time.” she greeted him… about as neutrally as possible.
He rose from the chair, and flipped his hood back. Golden hair still cascaded down his shoulders, shimmering in the dim light that poured in through broken windows and cracks in the ceiling. His hand reached to take up his blade, plucking it from the ground like a flower. The runes flared, whispering raucously for a brief moment, as he descended the steps. It seemed he, too, was cautious.
“Too long.” he returned the greeting. “I wondered when you’d come walking through that door again.”
Her tail flickered - she recognized that tone in his voice. That sweet, appeasing, melodical tone he’d use to exude a cool and calm demeanor… when really, he was yearning to split a foe apart. Like a coiled snake, low and watchful, waiting for his moment to strike. This was a mistake. Avehi stopped once more, raising her hammer just a bit higher - runes on her weapon whispering back to his.
“--Astaloren, I didn’t come here looking for a fight.” she stated, a streak of warning in her words.
“Of course not, my dear.” he flashed a grin. “You always brought the fight with you.”
He raised his blade at the ready, closing the rest of the distance between them with considerable speed. The Draenei gasped, reacting quickly. She’d fought beside him long enough to read his moves, now - an advantage she didn’t have the first time they faced one another. A broad cleave to open - she jumped back to evade it. Carried momentum into a vertical strike - she batted the blade away with her hammer as it came down. A practiced twirl to swing his sword up, around, and back in a diagonal slash - she leaned right, letting only the cold air moving in the blade’s wake caress her skin. A practiced series of maneuvers, like steps to a tired and deadly dance. Her eyes flickered in irritation and worry all the same.
Astaloren sprung back, before bringing the hilt of his blade up, tip trained on the Draenei. He sprang forward once more with unholy speed, intent on running her through. Deftly, Avehi brought her hammer close to her chest as well, the crystal head deflecting the piercing lunge off to her left perfectly; she couldn’t afford otherwise. She reached her free hand out to grip Astaloren’s arm, and threw him aside. To her surprise… he fell much harder than she expected. His body slammed into a stone pillar, Astaloren seeming to do nothing to stop or slow being tossed in such a manner.
Hammer aglow, runes and crystalline head alike, she readied herself to retaliate once more in case this was some new tactic she hadn’t yet seen. Had she really just thrown him? So quickly? So easily?
“--Enough! I’m not here to fight you!” she repeated, sternly. “I have no time for such games!”
Astaloren responded with… a groan? Something wasn’t right. He wasn’t right. The realization flashed briefly across Avehi’s face as she studied the elf. Slowly, he pulled himself back up, only to collapse again to a struggling kneel.
“J-Just as well…” he muttered, repositioning to sit with his back against the pillar.
The stammer caused his lips to curl, twisting with the bitter aftertaste of a frown. His energy in the moment diminished, abating like a flame with little left to burn. Less violent, and more resigning. One hand still gripped tight the hilt of his blade. The other pressed to his thigh.
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much of a challenge to you today, anyway.”
Avehi looked him over, seeing him more clearly now that she was up close… and he was finally holding still. Her eyes were drawn to the leg he clutched. Mangled and shattered. Stabilized, but only just so. As she suspected. With a frown, Avehi lowered her hammer.
“--What happened?” she demanded as she knelt beside him on the dust-coated tiles.
“What do you expect happened?” he snapped a bit, exuding a bit of that elven impatience. “The Ebon Blade aren’t fond of those of us who branch off.”
The growl in his voice lingered beyond his words, before dying off a breath or so later. He shook his head, suppressing the agitation. For now. She wasn’t at his throat, after all. He could relax.
“I suspect you know that well enough by now, yourself.” he went on, managing to make his tone more natural and sincere. “They send a Knight or two down from the Vault ever so often, to try and coerce me back into the fold.”
His eyes darted up to Avehi’s face, brow cocked as he gauged her face.
“I generally send them back in pieces.”
The Draenei scoffed, setting to work quickly in straightening his mangled leg. She tugged the plated glove from her hand, and pressed down on his thigh. His lips tightened as he bit back a sound, but he didn’t stop her. His eyes did not flinch. Blood pooled in her palm, oozing from her pores as it streamed steadily into his leg.
“What happened this time, then?” she pressed for more explanation as she worked.
“They sent ten.”
He smirked, then chuckled his proud, if not rather obnoxious, chuckle; every bit the haughty elf now that he was in life. Avehi rolled her eyes, as she continued mending his leg through hemomancy. Some things hadn’t changed, it seemed. It was oddly comforting, after such a tumultuous reception. She’d treated wounds of her own like this over the years… but it had been some time since she used it to help another Death Knight. Bones crackled as they snapped back in place, shredded muscle mending with similarly unkind sounds as Avehi’s blood carried life essence enough through them to do so.
“You were overwhelmed.” she scolded him, tail flickering with irritation.
“I was mobbed, yes. All things considered, however, I did rather well.” Astaloren retained his gloating demeanor. “Fortune favors me. And now again, bringing you by.”
“And yet you tried to stab me.”
The words spilled from her mouth, flat and dull. As if in outright rejection to the attempted compliment. Her eyes narrowed, half-glaring expression matching her voice’s unimpressed tone.
“--I worried they’d sent you, too.” he shrugged, innocently enough. “I thought you were here to kill me. By their order, or your own volition.”
“Hmph. Who says I haven’t?” she snapped back, eyes narrowing further.
Astaloren placed his hand atop hers, meeting her stern gaze with a sincere one. Both their eyes flickered in the moment, for different reasons.
“Then I’ll get what I deserve.” he said, rather bluntly - perhaps a little raw from the circumstance. “If anyone were going to kill me, my dear… I’d die happy knowing it was you.”
Avehi scoffed again, and rolled her eyes. She set his leg with one final, brusque shove. He grunted, before exhaling… it was serviceable enough, for now. Slipping her hand back into her gauntlet, she stood up, and stepped away.
“Do not start that again.” she shook her head. “I may not have come here to kill you, but I certainly didn’t come here for that.”
The Draenei hefted her hammer up once more, sheathing it to her back as she stepped back towards the center of the Cathedral. Her eyes glanced about, recognizing the signs of the more recent combat this place had seen during Astaloren’s stay here. He was formidable enough in combat to believe his tale of ten Death Knights all coming to kill him at once... only for the lot of them to be cut down. Outlines of the lifeless heaps of their remains could be seen in the shadowed corners of the room, lending credence to his claim. She knew his combat prowess was potent. He’d taught her accuracy, follow-through, finesse… the same tools he’d used to best her years prior in the Plaguelands. The same talent that could’ve cut her down again, here and now, were not for his leg damage.
Astaloren stood as well, his leg ready to be used again immediately, if he didn’t mind the pain. Which he didn’t. Undeath had some advantages, anyway. There was never really a pain too difficult to bear that an unholy existence alone hadn’t already dulled away. At least, to some degree. Manageable. He, too, took up his weapon and sheathed it to his back, turning his gaze to Avehi.
“If neither of those reasons… why?” he asked her, ear flickering. “Why’d you come all this way?”
She didn’t respond for a moment. A long moment. A sigh escaped her, as her shoulders slumped.
“... I don’t know.” she mumbled. “I just… couldn’t stay where I was. It didn’t feel like home anymore.”
The elf’s elongated brow raised, as he paced around. Though healed, his leg was still sore. Stiff. It felt wobbly for now, as his muscles learned how to work in unison again. The sharp pain began to dissipate, joints creaking less and less as things returned to proper form and rhythm. He stepped around Avehi, and cast his azure gaze up at her.
“... And this place does?”
She scoffed… but nodded.
“Is it strange that it does, in a way I can’t quite explain?”
“Not at all.” he replied, flashing a grin. “I think we were at our peak, back when we took this place from the Scarlets. The height of the Ebon Blade’s unity and effectiveness.”
Astaloren chuckled, as he paced the halls once more. She saw only the dismal remains of the Cathedral, for now. But he looked around, eyes wide and excited as if he were seeing it for the first time. The same way he looked at it when they stormed it so many years ago. Avehi could see it plain as could be on his face - he was reminiscing.
“It felt good, didn’t it? That rush! That sense of purpose!” he went on, running his hand along another one of the pillars holding the rickety roof over them. “I don’t know about you… but that sensation… the morale victory of finally culling one of our oldest foes is what carried me into the breach of the Citadel.”
“Mm. We were a team, then. United in our goal.” Avehi nodded… lips cracking into a soft smile, for the first time in ages. “The momentum we built up sweeping through Icecrown…”
“We carried the campaign on our backs.” Astaloren interjected… his mood shifting. “But the world will always remember it differently, won’t it?”
The Draenei’s smile hid away once more, replaced by the more comfortable and oft-seen scowl. She let out a light scoff. He wasn’t wrong - the Argent Crusade did only some of the work… yet they seem to have gotten all the credit. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.
“... The living have their prejudices, even still.” she put, simply. “The Argent Crusade ran their campaign in our wake, and enjoyed all the glory of the victory we handed them. Accolades, honors, statues… all for them, and none for us.”
Astaloren nodded curtly. He approached Avehi, letting out a heavy artificial sigh. His hand reached for hers, taking it in a rare moment of tenderness - concern written across his furrowed brow.
“You returned to them, too.” he stated. “Tell me… how have you been received? By the living? By your people?”
Avehi turned her head away, tugging her hand from his - not in any offense of his words or actions, but rather… in shame. She shook her head.
“Some are accepting. But they are rare among the living. Rarer still among my people.” she admitted. “Now, the Lightforged of the Army of the Light have joined with the Alliance, as well. Their prejudices run… much deeper… than most. The Light can be overpowering, at times.”
“So I’ve heard.” the elf scoffed slightly - gentler than he would’ve liked, as not to detract from the conversation. “An entire people devoted to it, too… I still can’t fathom why you’d return to them.”
“Because they’re my people.” she retorted, defensively. “I returned to serve them. To protect them as I did in life.”
“How many of them care?” he asked bluntly. “How many of them acknowledge your service? Your sacrifice? How many treat you as an equal?”
The Draenei turned, and took a few steps towards the exit… before stopping. Hands clenched tightly, air around her growing colder and colder, tail swaying in aggravation. She wanted to leave - this was not the refuge she sought after all… not entirely. The truth of Astaloren’s words echoed in her mind. Resonating strongly with what she already felt. What she already knew. Continuing her service, a holdover from a life cut short too soon… meant nothing to the general public of her people. Certainly not enough to justify her grotesque existence in their eyes. A part of her always knew it to be so.
Astaloren’s hand reached out once more, planting itself gently on Avehi’s shoulder as he stepped up beside her.
“... I told you this was the likely outcome when you left.” he stated, voice taking on a softer tone.
“You did.” Avehi nodded. “But… I didn’t want to believe it.”
The elf turned, nudging Avehi’ softly to do the same so the two Death Knights could face each other. She turned at his behest, eyes meeting his somberly… she’d rather look to the floor, or ceiling, or at one of the dilapidated pillars. His gaze stung - truth wasn’t always easy to face.
“It’s admirable you tried. But… I didn’t seek to raise you to be another simple soldier.”
A wrinkle crossed her azure brow. Confusion. Slowly, she shook her head.
“--What do you mean? Of course you did. That’s all any of us were raised to be.”
“--Yes, yes... I had my assignment, after all.” he admitted, shrugging - there was no denying that much, in those days. “But I saw more than an expendable soldier’s work in store for you, Avehi. Potential. The capacity to be more than what you were, living or dead. You took on a legion of Scourge by yourself. You fought me with conviction, against all odds!”
He nodded firmly, ears perked and gaze brimming with pride.
“When you joined me in breaking free of the Lich King’s dominion, it only proved what I already knew. You’re strong-willed and indomitable, Avehi.” he declared with conviction. “It… baffles me… that you’d return to serve your people as a footsoldier, when you’re capable of so much more.”
Avehi had always wondered what kinds of relationships other Knights had with those responsible for raising them into undeath. Some were vengeful, she figured. At first, even she felt nothing but rage and desire to seek retribution. Others were more subservient, though. She’d seen that time and time again; strong Knights commanding those they had raised. Weaker acolytes falling in line like common ghouls. Such a loathsome existence that must be… detrimental to everything the Ebon Blade stands-- well, stood for.
She never had need to worry about that with him, at least.
Astaloren didn’t treat Avehi like just another ghoul. Another pawn in the Lich King’s arsenal. He engaged with her, conversed with her as an equal. Taught her to fight, helped her cope with undeath… kept her focused on the goals they both shared. Goals they completed together, unified. Aggrandizing as his words came off… she believe every one of them. His actions, then and now both, were proof enough. He respected her. He believed in her. He wanted to see her succeed.
Her lips pressed thin - either suppressing a smile or attempting to force one - as she brought her hand to his.
“I don’t know what more I could ever be to my people, now.”
“Oh, Avehi… you still don’t see it. The Draenei aren’t your people anymore. Now, they’re just people.” Astaloren explained, giving Avehi’s hand a squeeze. “You fought for them, and you died for them. You no longer owe them anything, Avehi. You don’t owe anyone anything.”
He took his hand from her shoulder, and set it gently against her cheek. His eyes darted back and forth between hers, watchful and sympathetic. Comforting, all the same. A strange demeanor for him to take, but it wasn’t the first time he’d done so. Brutal as his reputation painted him, Avehi knew well this more endearing side to Astaloren. She tilted her head into his hand, with a weary, accepting sigh. He had a habit for being right.
“Then… what purpose do I have left?”
“Any purpose you desire.” he stated, as if expecting her to ask. “You’ve lived enough for everyone else. Fought enough for everyone else. Died enough for everyone else… Perhaps it is time you started living for yourself, my dear.”
Such a concept; simple, yet it felt so unnatural for Avehi anymore. Vindicators were so molded to serve, it was hard to remember a time before it. But she did, faintly. To do as she pleased, with whomever she pleased, setting after goals without weighing the altruism of it all. She closed her eyes, nodding slightly in the palm of Astaloren’s hand. It was a relief. A release. Weight off her shoulders to hear it aloud. To hear she could live for herself, even in death. The elf gave her hand a squeeze, his other pressing her head back upright. Admiration flickered in his gaze, as his lips parted in a smile.
“Would you care to stay the night?” he asked, innocuous enough.
The choice would be the first in a long line she’d make for herself, starting tonight. With another subtle nod, she gave Astaloren’s hand a squeeze… and followed him deeper into the Cathedral. Damaged, dilapidated, crumbling in every corner. Walls still stained with the faded red hues of blood and Scarlet frippery. The last fallen bastion of a vanquished foe. Avehi couldn’t say at first why such a desolate place had called to her. Why it felt like home.
But she was starting to see it now.
~*~
(( @miernethepersevering, @sinafay-the-defiant, @nedemus @sylaess for mentions, and extra thanks to @sylaess for proofing and advising <3 ))
And according to Exploring Azeroth, the Scarlet Crusade was supposedly wiped out when the Ebon Blade raised Whitemane as a Horseman. Now, while the Forsaken Heritage quests show that it isn't gone gone, that seems like it means that the Monastery is empty. So, I am super curious about what they could do with it in the future, because for a while now I have been wondering about what the Forsaken would do with it once the Scarlets were gone.
Don't you think that "Scarlet Onslaught" just sounds like a bad metaphor for menstruation?
“… Your appearance will be not unlike a ‘bad metaphor for menstruation’ if you do not quickly remove yourself from my sight and cease bothering me with pointless questions. To insult the Crusade is to insult the Light itself!”
