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The little Ghoul that approached them was called Timmy the Cruel. Originally just Timmy, he had grown up on a beautiful farm and had two interesting stories to share.

The first story began when he was a kid.

At that time, Arthas was still the prince. On a day where he patrolled the lands, a mother rushed forward to ask for help, claiming that her child Timmy had been lost.

Although Arthas was a noble prince, he brought his men to find Timmy at once. In the forest, he saved the child who was almost killed by a Gnoll.

Arthas brought Timmy back to his mother, who was grateful to him.

At the time, the prince still loved his people like his own children. He was as Uther had described – filled with the Holy Light and love.

People watched has he grew older, day by day. They anticipated the day when he would take over the throne and rule over this country.

Young Timmy asked Arthas at the time, "What about those who have been captured by the Tauren?"

The tall and strong Arthas bent over to look at the child in the eyes and spoke with a gentle, but firm tone, "Don’t worry, my child. I’ll bring them home."

There was no arrogance or presumptuousness of a Warrior in his voice; there was only selfless love for his people.

However, fate played him again and again. First, the Tauren went against the rules of war and killed the diplomat that had been sent, flinging him into great sorrow and fury. He was unable to rescue his people and at the very last moment, he even slaughtered Stratholme himself. Arthas never managed to fulfill the promise he made to little Timmy.

"Your majesty, will you always protect us?"

"Yes, I promise!"

This left him feeling despaired and guilty, even though this wasn’t completely his fault.

However, no matter how bravely or fiercely he fought, he was still a young man who had ventured into war for the first time, a young man that had enjoyed love and happiness in the palace ever since he was a child.

People had two kinds of reactions upon encountering fear. One was to run, while the other was to battle. Someone like Arthas clearly expressed the latter.

The reason why he chased down Mal’Ganis later was because of both fury and the urge to end his origin of fear.

Perhaps he was naive and thought that once he killed Mal’Ganis, the frightful Undead creatures would vanish from his nightmare and reality. However, fate played him once again, and the rest of the story unfolded as the background of the game that was revealed to its players. He became the Lich King, the enemy to those who he once swore to protect.

His hands were stained with the blood of people.

The second story also began when Timmy was a child.

He remembered that when he was young, he liked a little girl whose name was Pamela.

To draw the attention of Pamela, little Timmy often hid her doll. When Pamela cried, he would stand up bravely and offer to help her find it.

In return, Pamela always proudly said that Timmy was amazing.

What Timmy never expected was that Pamela would move away after a few years. She moved far away from where Timmy lived, to Darrowshire.

Ever since then, Timmy had wanted to visit Darrowshire everyday, but he never got the chance.

Later on, Timmy also moved, he ended up even further away from Darrowshire.

Two years went by, and Timmy could finally help with his family’s farm work. He no longer brought his toy gun around everyday; he left it in a cupboard and would only sometimes bring it out to look at it.

One day, Timmy’s new house was attacked by the Scourge. Timmy wasn’t afraid; he held onto his Pitchfork and fought back bravely.

That was when he saw a man who rode a white horse with long white hair charge towards him.

"This man looks a lot like Prince Arthas. It’s a shame that his hair is white."

Timmy had been rescued before by Prince Arthas when he was a child, so naturally, Prince Arthas was his idol. He swore to become a knight someday when he grew up, so that he could protect and fight for him.

However, when this person ran to Timmy, he knocked out his Pitchfork with a single blow from his sword. Timmy looked up at him, and all of sudden, he saw his face clearly.

"Prince...Arthas?"

The sword wielder also saw Timmy’s face and paused, but in the end, he still stabbed him mercilessly.

After what seemed like an eternity, Timmy woke again from the darkness. He looked at his withered body and glanced around at his surrounding cluelessly. All he could remember was that he was called Timmy; he couldn’t recall anything else.

Timmy cluelessly joined his comrades who happened to be around. Together, with the others, he listened to a man called Rivendare.

They took down cities after cities, villages after villages, devouring delicious flesh. Soon, singled memory of his name was replaced with mindless slaughter.

The target today was a place called Darrowshire.

"Darrowshire...that sounds familiar..." Timmy thought to himself amongst the army of Ghouls as he dragged his body forward.

Darrowshire appeared before him and a new round of slaughter began. Timmy crazily chased after a man, all the way into a house. The man was cornered, without escape, and Timmy ripped apart his neck. When the warm blood spilled everywhere, the corner of his vision caught a shivering body. It was a girl who held onto a doll, and tears constantly dropped out of her pretty eyes.

Timmy suddenly felt a tearing pain in his left chest, which was quite strange, since he no longer had a heart.

"Pamela! Pamela!! Pamela!!!" Timmy cried out, although to anyone who was listening, it sounded just like any other noise made by a Ghoul.

Timmy couldn’t resist against the will of the Scourge and killed Pamela, but he didn’t want her to be contaminated as well. He didn’t want to see her become a monster like himself.

Before he left Darrowshire, he hid away Pamela’s doll one last time.

Many years had passed and Timmy, like his other monster comrades, became the subordinate of Baron Rivendare and camped in Stratholme. The simple and tasteless life gradually numbed him.

Now, he saw a pack of strange people. The will of the Scourge commanded him to slay them.