Leveling as an Alliance character—particularly in the human leveling zones—is one of the most quintessential and memorable experiences in World of Warcraft.
While I could easily dedicate entire posts to the quaint Elwynn Forest, the infamous Hogger, or the lore-rich depths of the Defias Brotherhood-operated Deadmines, it was in a bone-chilling graveyard in Duskwood that I met a character who awakened something far more personal: an overwhelming thirst for revenge.
What strikes you immediately upon arriving in Duskwood is how drastically the atmosphere shifts from the zones you’ve explored before. Gone are the bright blue skies and towering trees of Elwynn Forest or the golden farmlands and pumpkin patches of Westfall. Duskwood is, as its name suggests, draped in a near-perpetual gloom. The darkness hangs heavy over the land, a result of malign curses that have warped the region and the area teems with unsettling enemies: giant spiders, cursed worgen, and relentless swarms of undead. Many of these horrors crawl out from the crumbling catacombs beneath Raven Hill Cemetery, only adding to the zone’s horror movie atmosphere and chilling ambiance.
It was there, in the heart of Raven Hill Cemetery, that my level 20 character, while valiantly fending off waves of undead with a crude common sword and wearing a miner’s cape and a leather helmet that looked like it belonged in a 1920s NFL game, encountered a fearsome enemy patrolling the graves.
Mor’Ladim.
What made my first encounter with Mor’Ladim, a towering, armored skeleton with ice-blue eyes and a preternaturally glowing sword and Level 35 elite so surprising was that… well, it wasn’t really a surprise at all.
He still cut me down in one murderous swing the moment he got within range, but… that’s actually not what caught me off-guard.
At the time, I was just trying to survive an early Duskwood quest, waist-deep in shambling zombies and low-level despair, when I noticed something in the distance. Massive. Menacing. Clutching a glowing broadsword.
What the hell is that? Some kind of giant skeleton?” I muttered, briefly taking my eyes off the current zombie gang clawing at my head. “Whatever. It’s like three football fields away. Besides, I’ve fought off families of murlocs and Hogger already; it’s just a giant skeleton. I’ve got time.”
I did not have time.
As I pulled another pack of zombies, I saw him start moving. Not fast. Not flashy. Just a slow, deliberate deathmarch. It was like watching the steamroller scene from Austin Powers—me, the doomed security guard; Mor’Ladim, the unstoppable engine of death, casually rolling forward without a care in the world. I could practically hear myself screaming “Nooooo!” in slow motion, hand up in the air, all while doing absolutely nothing to stop it—not that I had much of a choice, what with two zombies clinging to each arm.
When Mor’Ladim reached me and one-shotted me into the spirit realm, I didn’t think, “Well, I probably deserved that.”
No—my first thought was: “Why the hell did a Level 35 elite go so far out of his way just to dunk on a poor level 20 trying to complete a basic quest? And why was his aggro radius from here to Stormwind Castle?”
It felt less like an NPC encounter and more like being ganked by a high-level Horde troll with nothing better to do. I was unreasonably—yet entirely justifiably—pissed.
Still, I tried to shake it off. Next time, I’ll be more careful, I told myself. So I stuck to pulling zombies one or two at a time, always casting a nervous eye toward the horizon—just in case Mor’Ladim came charging wildly from between a set of gravestones like a skeletal T-Rex from Jurassic Park, wielding an aggro radius that somehow stretched all the way to Stormwind Castle, ready to slap me into a loading screen purely out of spite.
Despite my newfound caution, it happened again. And again. Mor’Ladim got me. The next few times, I didn’t even see him coming. One moment I was minding my own business, and the next—before I could even scream a curse—I was cleaved in two by his sword. Mor’Ladim had it out for me, I thought. This was starting to get downright insane.
What had been an enjoyable leveling experience with the Alliance suddenly felt like a Herculean labor—and it was all Mor’Ladim’s fault.
Although being swatted aside like an insect by Mor’Ladim—seemingly for no reason other than his own malevolence—was deeply disconcerting at first, by the third or fourth encounter, it became something more. A catalyst. His brutal ambushes pushed me to level more cautiously, and more efficiently. I began to grind with purpose, driven by a single goal: to one day return to Duskwood, fully leveled, fully geared, and ready. To hunt down Mor’Ladim in Raven Hill Cemetery. And finally claim my revenge.
Next: How I Finally Got Revenge on World of Warcraft’s Mor’Ladim… and It Wasn’t Nearly as Satisfying as I’d Hoped
Featured image courtesy of: LauritsRask
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