Listen closely, ‘heroes’ of Azeroth. Your one true master speaks to you.

You may sharpen your swords all you want; buy as much frost resistant equipment as your puny little heart desires, but if you should have any thoughts of challenging me – the dreaded Lich King – in battle, think twice, for I will not take pity on the likes of you. Step foot in Icecrown Citadel and you shall find true suffering at the edge of my frigid blade!

That is, once my difficulty has been set to an appropriate level.

You have no idea how long I have waited for the armies of man and orc to reach the shores of Northrend. Here, in this desolate wasteland, will the battle for Azeroth be fought and won by my invincible army of undead soldiers. All that stands between them and the spoils of victory are a few respawn timers that have yet to be properly calibrated!

I am keen to your plans, weaklings. Did you really think I would let you roam unchallenged in my fortress? Scattered throughout  are my most devious and horrifying lieutenants, all of them eager to feast on the flesh of the living, something they will surely do so once they have organized themselves in order of ascending difficulty.

Once my preparations are completed, it will be impossible for the likes of a puny mortal like you to compete with my fiercest frost wyrms and most horrible abominations  – unless, of course, you have a party of adequately equipped level 80 warriors.  Then it will be extremely time-consuming!

Consider yourselves warned, ‘heroes’. Return to whatever place it is you call home and wait for death to claim you. A gruesome fate awaits those of you foolish enough to challenge my as-of-yet undecided power.

BY
THE LICH KING