Account of the Raising of a Frost Wyrm
The hulking bones were nearly swallowed by the snow, but there was no mistaking the grim claw that jutted upward, twisted in solemn agony. The necromancers assembled without a word, forming a ring around the dragon's corpse. They stood still for a moment as the wind encircled them with gusts of snow. Then the ritual began.
Spokes of unholy light emanated from the center of the frozen bones, cracking through the snow and ice until at last the immense remains were fully exposed. With a gesture from Grand Necrolord Antiok, the bones shuddered and lurched above the ground, rotating slowly into place.
The necromancers' incantations swelled as they began forcing sentience into the creature's remains. Violent contortions racked the body as the wyrm's conscience fought against its corrupt reanimation. A thin shriek pierced the air and the beast was subdued. An icy glow ignited within its gaping ribs, spreading along its limbs and lending an eerie cognizance to the sockets of its eyes.
The Grand Necrolord came forward, and spoke. "The Lich King has seen fit to raise you to serve the Scourge. You will be our loftiest instrument of death, raining torment upon the villages of our enemies, feasting upon the living, and bearing our finest death knights."
The frost wyrm regarded them and dipped its head slightly in accord. The conversion was complete. Rearing back, it flared its wings like a fan of knives across the sky.