Equip Stonefist Insigna and a scythe. Cast Snow Storm and cripple with Crippling Sweep. Bull's Strike if your foe is still moving. Distracting Blow if he tries to heal. Wild Blow if he tries to block with a stance. Power Attack to end his pitiful life. Variants : "None Shall Pass!", Fire Storm for double storm (ice and fire). "Fear Me!" if you want to put even more the fear of god into your opponent.
Stonefist Insignias increase the duration of all knockdown caused by the user (regardless of source) whereas Grasping Was Kuurong drop effect causes knockdown to everything in nearby range. You can precast it to use it twice in a row.
Symbolic Strike is an overlooked skill able to inflict >+70 damage with no investment but requires 6 signets. Scythe is able to strike more foes, while sword or axe allows to use a shield. Signet of Strength boosts the damage a bit, while tryptophan Signet is a good snare. Dolyak Signet and Signet of Stamina makes you bulkier to take hits more easily if need be. Seven Weapon Stance or Battle Rage may be the optimal elite skill. Other options include mesmer signet support with notably 
Keystone Signet, 
Signet of Distraction and 
Signet of Clumsiness (stonefist insignia), 
Echo to copy symbolic strike, ranger has 
Antidote Signet and paragon has 
Signet of Aggression. But you won't have access to scythe mastery .
Awake. Lying on the ground. On some kind of blanket. Then hard stone.
No wind. Cold, moist air. Musty smell. Heavy silence. A grotto likely. But with something more. The familiar smell of death, but dusty, decayed.
Not bound. Not prisoner. Difficult to move. No pain. Numb. Paralyzed ?
How did I get there ? How long have I been here? No memory, no answer.
Finally able to move the head to the side. Blurry eyes. Flickering lights through the helmet's grid. And the silhouette of someone sitting among the lights.
-“Oh, finally awake?”
A woman. Black outfit. Skin white as moonlight, Black and short hair fading in the dim light. Impossible to distinguish more. Impossible to infer more.
The warrior stood up.
-“Don't move too fast, the woman said. You have been in a deep slumber for a long time. "
The warrior looked around.
-“Who are you? Where am I?”
The necromancer was taken aback .
-"You can talk, like for real ? she asked. That's very weird... But also fascinating... "
-"I can talk very well, the warrior articulated, though this was difficult to take seriously because of the hoarse, deep voice, coming from vocal chords that had not been used for a long time. Now who are you and where are we ?"
-"Who I am and where we are ? Oh, sure ! Please excuse me, I wasn't expecting to have a conversation. I am Tombe De Ruine, necromancer. We are in the Catacombs of Ashford, in the kingdom of Ascalon..."
She took a small pause before adding :
"... and I just brought you back to life.”
Silence fell again. Warrior and woman looked at each other, black spiky helmet facing amber eyes.
The vision was finally clear. The lights were actually flames of candles. The walls were adorned with various statues, colorful pictures and skulls. Catacombs indeed.
Putting fingers on the wrist to feel the pulse. A steady heartbeat. Alive.
The woman spoke true so far.
-“It hasn’t been easy, you know. This place was protected with magic traps and very strong creatures. I came here hoping to find some valuable loot, maybe at least a strong weapon. But no, nothing, not even a copper. Instead there was a huge block of ice with a lifeless corpse in it. Well at least, it was a warrior's corpse and I am a necromancer so I went to see if I could reanimate it. The ice was so cold I had to buy a signet from the strongest fire elementalist in the kingdom to melt it ! It worked somehow, and I could finally use my necrotic powers. And there you are, and unlike any regular undead servant, you can move on your own will, think and talk ! I don't get it. Maybe, just maybe that ice prison maintained your body intact over the years, half-alive, half-dead, which would explain this unique situation. "
The warrior was not convinced.
-"But how did I end up frozen in ice ? And why me ?"
-"I don't know that. All I could decipher from the carvings around your tomb was that you fought against the Charr, most likely were killed, but you were special enough that your people decided to freeze you in eternal ice.”
Charr. At the mere mention of the word, memories of the beast-like creatures came surging back to the warrior's mind, as vivid as before. How could he have forgotten those savage beasts.
-“Charr ? Is the enemy still here ? I will taint the soil with their blood until Grenth takes the last of their souls!»
The taste of blood on the sword, the burning of the fires and the strength of the claws and teeth, the deaths and tears the beasts had sown...
The warrior suddenly felt something growing deep inside that had not been there for a thousand years. Anger. Sadness. Feelings that had been long forgotten now exploded from within. Pain and grief and fury. Despite the heavy armor, the warrior stood suddenly fully up :
-“Have we sent all of the filthy barbarous creatures to the Underworld where they belong ? By Balthazar, please tell me. ”
But the necromancer did not answer.
Instead, she sighed and began to speak slowly:
-“Don't move too much ! And before I answer, I need to check something. If you are my minion, you should be bound by spell and sooner or later your one and strongest desire and pleasure will be to serve me. Let's see if you can resist it. Kneel ! ”
The order echoed in the warrior's head. Shoulders and back became heavy, as if a burden had been placed on them, while the ground suddenly looked comfortable and warm... But as strong the order may have been, the body was able to resist.
Surprised, the sorceress released her grasp.
-“How weird" she said, while the warrior was struggling to find breath. "Are you too strong for me to control you? Or is there still life in you ?”
She pondered for a moment, then she looked at the warrior again :
-“As promised, I will answer your question, and sadly the answer is no. The Charr are still very much alive and active, an enduring foe against which we have fought for centuries. Long ago, we pushed them back far away in the North where they still are, and we built a great wall, from moutain to moutain, from the Blazeridge to the Shiverpeaks, a wso long and tall that the Charr never broke through it, no matter how fiercely they attack it daily. ”
The warrior kept silent. Charr. Wall. Still at war.
The words came and went in the soft voice of the witch until they stopped resonating through the empty halls.
The time was gone. Friends, family... everybody was dead now. What meaning did life still hold ? Was it time to start anew? Or just end things right here ? Even the oath that was sworn long ago before the gods themselves, the duty a knight had -to die in battle, protecting the weak from the monstrous- all these ideals felt terribly empty to the warrior.
But this new world needed help again, and against a foe the warrior was all but too familiar with.
Charr. Bloodthirsty monsters. They had taken everything away from the knight, even his own life. There was no purpose for these foul creatures in any world. The knight had made his decision.
-“Lady, you spoke true so far. It may be the spells you put on me affecting my thoughts but I feel that I can trust you for now. If we have a common enemy then you will let me be of use in your war. I know time may have made my blades rusty and this world is alien to me, but if you teach me, you will see that my body can be a treasure indeed, the most powerful weapon against the Charr .”
The necromancer looked at the warrior with a bit of surprise, then smiled with a grin:
-“I'd prefer money but this as much is splendid! But first, let’s get out of here. How long has it been since you last saw the sunlight?”
And both left the empty dark halls.
Upon reaching the exit, the warrior flinched, blinded by the light. But quickly, as the eyes grew used to the shine, everything appeared in clear sight.
There was a vineyard to the left, and woods to the right. Before them lied a river, leading to the right to a lake beyond the woods. A bridge was crossing the river and a small path down it was leading towards the vineyard, to towers and farmhouses.
-“This is beautiful " the warrior simply said.
The necromancer smiled again:
-“This is what you have been fighting for. It's pretty alright, although a bit too bright and warm for my taste. Dark, cold places are better for the blood and the bones."
As she spoke she came closer to the warrior. She could not see much from inside the dark helmet. She asked:
-“Say... I have had this question on my mind for a while but... are you a man or a woman?”
Lame De Ruine
