Tirion Fordring was trying to reason with Darion, hoping to lead his old friend's son back from his misguided path. "What you feel now is the suffering of thousands of lost souls! The souls brought here by you and your Death Knights! The Holy Light will tear you apart, Darion!"
"What you feel now is the suffering of over a thousand lost souls! They were all heroic souls who fell beneath your sword and your master's! The Holy Light will tear you to pieces, Darion!"
But Darion Mograine, the current Highlord of the Ebon Blade, paid him no heed-or rather, felt not a shred of goodwill toward Tirion. "Save your strength, old man. This will be your last breath."
The dark green blade pointed at Tirion. "Now, you will walk into death."
Without hesitation, Darion rode his Skeletal Warhorse straight at Tirion. The dark green Ashbringer instantly dimmed, losing every trace of its glow. The Runeblade, a Death Knight's most important weapon, seemed to have stopped working.
A muffled thud rang out, like a massive hammer striking flesh. One exchange-just one-and Tirion, his entire body shining with Holy Light, knocked Darion from his horse. The overflowing Holy Light energy instantly vaporized the surrounding Skeletal Giants, Abominations, and Ghouls.
The battle was decided in an instant.
"Impossible. Ashbringer is resisting me..." Darion said in disbelief. "I... I cannot... This sword has betrayed me."
Lying on the ground, the Highlord of the Ebon Blade struggled to shout, "Servants, come help me!"
"You cannot win, Darion. This place is protected by those fallen heroes. You should never have come here. Arthas has taken control of you. You have become nothing more than a pawn of the Scourge, fallen into darkness, fallen into hatred, living to harm others!"
Tirion Fordring's massive hammer, all but