Author's Note:
World of Warcraft, Azeroth and the characters contained here within belong to Blizzard Entertainment. They are used without permission and no profit was received for using their characters. The original characters are copyrighted to Nyteknight. Please do not use without permission.
Many thanks to Feffervesce for giving me inspiration after reading your wonderful stories to get off my behind and start writing again after a 6 year absence.
Chapter One: Opportunity
The worst part of Undercity was the smell. The sort of smell that took up residence in the nose and refused to leave. The sort of smell that you can taste. Not that this part of the former capital of the human kingdom of Lordaeron ever smelled good but since the Banshee Queen took over, the smell only worsened.
Nyte could remember the better days of Capital City. Under the leadership of King Terenas II the city rallied against the horde of Orcs that flowed over the mountains from Alterac during the dark days of the Second War. Cowardly Lord Perenolde traded his loyalty to save his own skin and betrayed his people by allowing passage to Lordaeron for Orgrim Doomhammer's troops. The treason was found in time and General Turalyn's forces combined with Alleria Windrunner's Quel'dorei rangers arrived in time to push back the green-skinned tusked creatures.
The city flourished after. Nyte herself attended many Hallow's End and Winter Veil events. It was at a Winter's Veil ball, shortly before the Third War that she met Tae'thelon Sundancer. He was a visiting ranger from Quel'thalas. From his first entry into the city every woman in Lordaeron wanted him. But it was the flame-headed rogue, a spy-master for the king that won his heart.
By this time Alleria and Turalyn's relationship had been revealed to their supervisors and Rhonin and Vereesa Windrunner had just married, much to the protest of both cultures. The union of a human spy and a High Elf ranger still left a lot of wagging tongues and suspicions on all sides. But like Lordaeron itself, that was a remnant of a once happier time. Like the stench of the Forsaken, it left a bad taste in her mouth.
Creeping along the walls of the sewers, Nyte made her way slowly past the rats and green sludge that lined the little known entrance to Undercity. Nyte was only familiar with it because of alcohol. Give the glorious heroes of the Alliance a little booze and they start bragging about sneaking into the heart of Horde territory and attempting to assassinate the leader of the Forsaken. In the end, they assassinated the food and drink vendor, a few guards, and got most of their party killed. Nyte got a very detailed map of the layout of the Undercity for the price of a few pints of Dwarven Stouts.
Inching slowly under stealth, Nyte slipped past the Abomination guards standing in watch at this entrance to Undercity. Huge as they may be, the hulking behemoth was much easier to slip past than the two Kor'kron guards stationed at the throne room entrances. Once past, Nyte slipped up the hood of her Sin'dorei made cloak and dropped stealth. She moved with enough familiarity and arrogance that no one took a glance long enough to spot the missing tell-tale Elven ears.
Moving quickly, Nyte unlocked the door to her target's residence. Twenty minutes later and her patience paid off when Magister Baelaen entered. It was all over in less than five minutes. Nyte's drawing of her blade across his windpipe effectively silencing him, while her second blade was thrust up between his ribs and into his heart. Lying the body on the ground, Nyte rifled through the drawers, finding the papers she wanted.
Once the body was found with the incriminating evidence, the conclusion would be made that he was assassinated by the Horde for skipping taxes due to the Warchief. Only Nyte and the man who hired her would know the truth.
Getting out was far easier than getting in. Slipping past the Scarlet Crusade that routinely patrolled the area, Nyte was quickly on her way home.
Sore and weary, Nyte guided her horse on the path that would bring her into Alterac. Friendly enough with the Stormpike Guards and Ravenholdt, Nyte was largely left alone. Skirting the areas that were still held by the Crushridge Ogres, Nyte made it back just as night was falling and a bitter wind started to blow, swirling snow around her.
Settling her horse snugly into the barn, Nyte made her way to her home. The hair on the back of her neck rose. It was a finely honed survival skill that told her something was wrong, despite what her eyes saw. On guard, Nyte entered, weapons at ready.
A strong hand clamped down on her shoulder pulling her back and nearly off her feet. A vicious looking blade, tinted a sickly green from the poison coating it pressed against her throat, tight enough to draw a small trickle of blood to flow and cause the wound to burn from the poison.
"Hello Celine," a deep voice said in her ear, face close enough to feel his hot breath against her cheek.