Agatsu's body fell that eve before fools that dared to oppose him with nonexistent explosives that were pulled from their asses. It had all started when a young night elf woman tried to help out an orcish death knight after he'd been shamed. The Forsaken, Mortimer, was on a tirade about how 'this is how the leaving treat us.' Agatsu could handle no more, and due to the insults he'd received, his shame, Mortimer's speech, and not having fed his hunger in ages, he snapped on the elven maiden. Strangely, his runic magic slid from her as she dodged every attack he tossed at her, only managing to hit her once as she rained blows on him. Ostensibly, she was experienced enough that even his instant spells could be evaded. The single blow he landed speared her through the side, disgustingly awry from his target-- her soft, fleshy, midsection. She slid away from him, and oddly and miraculously enough, her group of good-aligned-mercenary-friends stepped around the corner and without even a single thought charged into the fray. Many punches were thrown at frost reinforced saronite armor, and Agatsu had simply stared at them. He opened his mouth to make a witty remark, but only succeeded in chuckling at their feeble attempts to pierce his armor with their weak humanoid or lightning shooting knife throwing fists. One of the men even tried to clothes-line the orc. When he wasn't moving. He stood there and laughed. One could go on detailing this fight, but the point is for some reason their attacks began to work, even though most of them should have miserably failed, and the death knight was exploded into mush, covering the road in filth and disgust. Agatsu wondered, in the spirit world, how the elf fit two revolvers with explosive rounds and C4 in his buttocks.
But it was over. He was much, and his armor lay there empty and gory. Luckily, eyes were watching from the shadows.
Necronium was lurking in the shadows, utilizing his Shadowmeld as usual. The elf just blinked as the scene unfolded and finally ended. After some time, he stared at the gory mess, "What?" It was a tad silly in his mind, how it all worked out. Nonetheless, he stepped from his hiding spot and drew his blades. It didn't take him long to scrape up the mess that was Agatsu's body into the dead orc's helmet. It took him even less time to open a death gate to Archerus.
As per usual, he dumped the helmet full of gore at the feet of the necromancer's, "Fix."
The necromancer stared blankly at the mush, and closed his eyes with an annoyed scowl on his face. "Fine." He waved a hand as if to send Necronium away. Without even looking to see if the Death Knight left, he turned, beckoning to a ghoul that would scoop up the remains and lock them in a trunk nearby. The necromancer gathered at an operating table, bringing many others with him. The good ten or eleven necromancers began to construct a new body, one that would house the Death Knight's spirit.
One week later.
The body sat on the table, armor held into the flesh, irremovable. If the armor -were- to be removed, one would see the runic lines in his flesh, currently. The necromancers had worked long and hard, and as it appeared, a stronger more durable body had been created. The muscles bulged, constructed from different parts of different creatures, mostly orcs, but it appeared other flesh was in use due to the patches of discoloration, dimmer lines outlining the squares of flesh sewn in like textiles. Beneath the helmet is a disfigured face, slightly off as if someone had slipped during its construction, causing the eyes to lay uneven. The necromancers had hardened the flesh with cold, and burned into it shadowy enchantments so that the body seemed original, ripening the muscles and continuing to strengthen it. The overall process took the longest time. Soon the corpse seemed ready, the dark saronite gleaming in the half light. The necromancers bustled about, the corpse was black with lifelessness. They gathered the remains from the chest, raising it in their hands. They began to chant, words that seemed to enter the ears and leave, teasing the brain but not ever giving a hint of what they said. The energy coalesced into a dark blue gem, and soon the head necromancer held it in his hands. He placed a truncheon in the orc's hand, his new weapon. He affixed the gemstone to the end of the mace, then quickly placed on a saronite cap to protect it. They stood back, chanting to send a jolt of energy to kickstart the process. As the unholy light rippled through the orc, the gemstone inside of the mace began to glow, causing bright cyan radiance to circle the tip. The blazing blue energies began to flow through the lines, the same colored light shining through the joints on his armor. After a few moments his eyes lit up, and they new their job was complete.
Resurrecter: 10 Ebon Hold Necromancers
Killer: Vellin.
Drawbacks:
New body, while more powerful he is clumsy until he is able to get used to it.
Significantly weakened without the runed truncheon that contains his essence.
Mentally slower for a week or so.
Physically disoriented for a week or so, meaning he'll be stumbling around, tripping a lot, knocking into things.
He looks different than before, having different facial structure and larger body.
His skin is discolored from the different creatures that were combined to make his flesh.
Parts of his skin have slightly illuminated runic lines, therefore he's easier to spot, especially at night.