A letter written in blood

[Thernok]

To the Grim,

From my early training as a warlock of the Shadow Council to my service under the Lich King, I have had one ideal imprinted in my mind that I hold above all others: A cold, merciless death is the only fitting solution to those who would oppose me and my cause.  There will be no quarter, no bargaining, and no pity for my enemies. In this is my sound resolve. Even now, as I sit in the small house of a human farmstead, writing this letter in the warm blood of the old man who resided here, I have exercise these tenants.

His young daughters, had they been allowed to grow into womanhood, would have been beautiful and birthed more soldiers for the Alliance. They died first. His son was a strong and willful young man, who fought his death as bravely as any of the Alliance's finest... to no avail. The old man's wife died many years ago, taken by the plague. I do not mourn not being the one to take her life, it is less effort required on my part. The old man himself, in his prime, was a fine warrior and responsible for many deaths of the Horde. After I forced him to watch as I butchered his family, he begged me for his death. He will die, but I will not grant it soon. He is currently strung up to the rafters with a wash basin set below him to collect my "ink." His tongue is removed so that I have no interruptions in writing this letter, and the only other sound than his ragged breathing to interupt the scratching of the quill on parchment is the howling of the wolves outside.

When I am finished with this letter, I will leave here with the door left open, so that the wolves may come and have their feast. He will live to see this too, and then he will witness the cunning of these beasts as they plot to add him to their menu.

I am a weapon, and this is the ruthlessness I offer to the Grim should you choose to accept me among your ranks.

~Thern'ok
  Death Knight of the Horde