Before the mass production of third generation death knights, a few experiments where carried out in secrecy by overzealous Scourgelords. After the invasion to Silvermoon, a lord saw his opportunity and took one of the captured to be forged into a weapon. His weapon.

The white tiger clan is one of the smaller, nomadic keidran clans there is. Little is known of them, but they have managed to keep themselves in relative secrecy from the Templar. When an overly curious tigress with jade-hued eyes adventures too far away from her home though, things are bound to turn badly... or interesting at the very least.

A sentinel who's duty she put above all, a stern fallen paladin who played too closely with arts of shadows and unknown. She, his personal headache. He, her constant target, because playing with fire was what she did best. (Story on hold, consider it complete... for now)