A collection of flashbacks of Munio Coldclasp, about his life before undeath.

Fenris Isle Edit

An Icebolt shattered over the Rot Hide Gnoll’s face, and it’s body hit the ground with a dull thud. Munio Coldclasp walked over to the corpse and searched it for Embalming Fluid he was collecting for the Apothecaries. This one had none on it’s person. Disappointed, Munio walked over to the shore of Fenris Isle and sighed. He had been out here all day, which started well. He found seven of the eight jars of Embalming Fluid the Apothecaries required from him almost right away. But now, he had found none even after felling many more than he had done to collect his seven. Standing on the edge of the Isle, he took more time to analyze his surroundings. He had swam here from the Decrepit Ferry and found the water cold, even for his tastes. He remembered the days when this lake was warm, sun swept, and full of life. Now, after the Scourge, he found Lordamere Lake and the surrounding forests dead, plagued and full of opposition.

Scourge, Worgen, Forsaken, and Humans, all fighting each other for a dead forest. Munio couldn’t help but feel disheartened by it all. The Scourge and Worgen are monsters, and needed to be exterminated; but the Forsaken and the Humans? Why fight? We were all once brothers in arms, only separated by a horrible misunderstanding of each other. One seeks to destroy the other who they condemn as monsters. The other seeks revenge for past crimes and injustices. But if both sides took a moment to look at one and other, they would realize there wasn’t much difference. Only a disgusting tragedy that changed the bodies of those affected. Munio thought back to slaying those of Dalaran in the area. It was in defense of the Forsaken, his new family. But who’s to say he is no longer Human at heart? He felt a surge of guilt every time his bolts broke over the Dalaran crest upon the chests of his former brethren. Even worse for him, he spent his whole life in Dalaran, and followed the same teachings of those he killed. Munio had only left Dalaran when it was being destroyed by Arthas his Scourge; he defended his home until he was forced to flee to save his family. The scar on his shoulder felt sore at the thought of this. That wound had saved his wife and son’s lives and even freed a man from the grip of the Lich King, but led him to the life he lead now.

Munio looked into the center of the lake. Fog crept over the surface of the water, and he could barely make out the chain of Islands ahead. His thoughts turned to what was on the other side of that wall of fog. Dalaran. He hadn’t seen it since he leapt through that portal into Stormwind, and died when he attempt to make his way back – in his mind, to see it for one last time, to see what had become of his home, the great city of magic. Once again, the words “Second Chance” passed through his mind. Truly, it was probably his third or fourth chance at life. Regardless, his Undeath truly was a second chance at life in his mind, not a sick, twisted and random damnation.

He entertained these thoughts for a short while, until he heard several grunts from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw a few Rot Hides making a sad attempt at sneaking up on him. He spun quickly, his robes flowing with his movement, and threw a quickly conjured bolt of ice at the closest Gnoll, catching it off guard. He followed it up with a Fire Blast, and felled the first Gnoll. The other two charged in anger. Their rotting bodies closed in on Munio, and just before they could reach him, he thrust his staff into the ground and a Nova of Ice blasted forth, freezing the Gnolls in place. He let loose all of the Arcane energies he could muster into a blast surrounding him, shattering the Gnoll’s icy bonds and sending them flying away though the air. The both hit the ground simultaneously with a thud. He checked them all for Embalming Fluid, and his last search was successful, he had found his final prize.

With the task at hand complete, he spun around and dove into the water behind him. Dalaran awaited.

Memories of Dalaran Edit

This night Munio met the greatest evil and the greatest good in the streets of Dalaran.

A younger man walks through the evening mist of Dalaran. The mist seems to intensify in the presence of this thin man, and clings to his robes. He is dressed in blue – boots to hood - with his hood drawn over his head he looks down at the ground, watching his steps. The man removes his hood, revealing his identity. A shock of blue hair, deep and seemingly glowing blue eyes, and a soft face, Munio Coldclasp was quite the looker in his living days. Looking up at the stars, he sighed. It was a long day of training attempting to master the Blizzard technique. The idea of the exercise was to contain the Blizzard within a small room within the tower, but Munio couldn’t contain the Blizzard and on several occasions the Archmages would have to stop the Blizzard from engulfing the city. Of course, this was a simple task for them – a snap of the fingers.

Munio’s master Archmage Tirrius always encouraged him, although Archmage Antonidas constantly reminded Tirrius of Munio’s family history. “ The Arcane may flow through him like a river running down a hill, he has no control over his tremendous power – Munio Coldclasp is a danger to himself and others – just like his father was. The same fate awaits this boy.” Munio’s family had a long history in Dalaran. Every man and woman in his family was a Mage of some sort and each generation grew in power. His father ,Usus Coldclasp, the only child of Meras and Senia Coldclasp, began his training at an early age. When he reached the age of 16, he caused a rather large explosion within Dalaran, killing many residents if the city. Afterwards he was regarded a threat to the great city and he was banned from using magic. (He became and apprentice tailor, married the daughter of his Tailoring Master, and then had his only son, Munio). Antonidas was the one who made this decision – and regarded anyone from the Coldclasp bloodline to be “unstable”. Tirrius believed however that if Munio chose the more controlled art of Frost, unlike his father who attempted to harness pure Arcane Power, he would become one of the greatest Frost Mages of that age.

Munio had always had an affinity for the cold. As a child he often put out fires and froze glasses of water by looking at them. His father, seeing this talent, brought him before the council, and so the training commenced. Today however, he questioned his abilities. Still looking at the stars, Munio admired the patch of sky he could see through the mist. A scream pierced the tranquil twilight. Munio leapt to his feet and drew his hood. He scanned the street ahead of him. From his view he saw a purple glow emanating from an alley to his left. Quickly, Munio made his way to the narrow passage. Dashing down the alleyway he made a right turn and came upon the scene.

A small purple rift was down the alley, but closer to him, was a strange creature making it’s way toward an injured woman. Many feelings rushed through him – fear, confusion, anger, surprise. He kept his head, and flung a poorly made Arcane Bolt toward the beast – he drew its attention. The beast walked around the woman, and approached him. It was red, and was scaled on it’s hide and had a furry belly. Four Tusks came from its head and it reeked of death. Munio focused, and launched a Frostbolt at the demon. This time, he hurt it. It landed on the beast’s side, and knocked it off guard. He then launched another Bolt at the beast’s head. It snapped a horn off the creature. He angered it, and it began charge at Munio. He grabbed a nearby crate and held it front of himself. The beast rammed into the box it’s last three horns planted firmly in the wood. Munio slipped to the side and let loose a Fireblast. The beast finnaly drew its last breath. Munio ran over to the fallen maiden. She was alive, but hurt, if Munio didn’t get help soon she would surely die. Munio focused as hard as he could – he pictured the first place that came to mind.

Antonidas burst up from his desk in surprise. Before him was Munio Coldclasp soaked in the blood of the woman in his arms. “Help her sir!” He cried.

Antonidas, flustered, quickly called out the doorway, “Get a priest someone! What have you done boy!” He blasted.

“I have done nothing but save this poor woman’s life Antonidas! Get help! She’s going to die!”

Tirrius burst in the door, “Help is on its way.” He said calmly. “Now…” Tirrius touched Munio’s shoulder, and everything went black.

Munio awoke in the same position he went black in, clutching onto the woman, but now, she was healed. What had happened? He looked around. Antonidas, Tirrius, and a priest, were all standing before him. The woman awoke. “Uh… wha…” She looked up at Munio, “Who are you?”

“I am Munio Coldclasp, and I think I may have rescued you.”

A rumbling in the distance. Munio withdrew his hand from the dome around Dalaran. He looked around, unknowing of what was approaching. He missed his home, but this did not matter. Munio could never return to his home, unless peace was made, which may never happen. These memories tugged at his heart. Or at least, his metaphorical one. He placed his hand over his chest, and felt for a beat. It never came. The rumbling got louder. Munio glanced over to the left, taking his eyes from the purple-white dome. An Elemental Slave was advancing on him. Munio was far to underseasoned for this, and began to run for the shore. The Slave was following him, and was gaining. Munio spun around and faced the creature. It hit him in the chest with a dull thud, and he was propelled through the air.

“Who are you, mi’lady?” Munio said.

“My name is Myrcilla. What happened?”

“I’m not to sure myself.”

Antonidas broke in, “You appear to have been attacked by a demon. Munio here teleported you both into my study.”

Tirrius continued, “I heard the Archmage call for help, I passed the call on and came as soon as I could to help.”

“What happened after that, Tirrius?” Said Munio, confused.

“I froze you and the lady, encased in ice her wounds stopped bleeding, and you were both safe from harm.” Munio looked up curiously, “You’ll learn to do this in time. Although you were both frozen, you were still able to be healed by my priestly friend here.”

“That explains it then… I guess I didn’t rescue you mi’la-“

A robed man burst into the room, “Archmage Antonidas sir! The Kirin Tor reported to a disturbance within the city, and when they arrived they found the corpse of a Felstalker near an area covered in blood! They ask for you council at once!”

“And they will have it. Tirrius, you await me here with Munio and the girl. I will explain the situation to our fellows.” Antonidas left, followed by the robed man.

“Tirrius, what is going on? What is this Felstalker they speak of?”

“That is the demon you faced, I assume. Now, explain to me everything that has happened – every last detail.”

Munio recited the story, Myrcilla had never left his arms in all of this chaos, and she listened to the happenings in disbelief, and gazed at Munio throughout the entire account. “So, you did save me.”

“Maybe. But it’s all in a days work.” Munio smiled.

Tirrius sighed, “Well you two have obviously had a heck of a night, you’d better get home.” Tirrius ushered them out of the room.

The mist no longer clung to Munio’s robes, he was warmed by his companion, who he escorted home. This would not be the last time they met.

Munio awoke. He rolled over to see the face of the Gnoll he had slain earlier, quite the opposite of the face he was dreaming of. He was back on Fenris Isle. Munio sat up, the water washing at his feet. He had dreamed of the night he me his wife. That night Munio met the greatest evil and the greatest good in the streets of Dalaran. Munio stood, and did an about face. He an across the Isle and dove into the water on the other side. The Sepulcher awaited.

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