The silence of the room was broken by a painful grunt and a loud clash, the sound of an armored body hitting the floor, and frantic footsteps echoing down a hallway. "Don't run, you're just making things more difficult for the both of us..." With a sigh the shadowy figure faded from view to follow his quarry once more. The ruins of Silvermoon were inhabited by many of the wretched, once elves. but malformed by their addiction to the arcane. Forlorne followed his prey with the skill of a master , quietly eliminating any of the wretched that made a move after his target, knowing it would bode ill if she was killed before he got his chance.
The night was young when as he watched her duck into an abandoned building through his spyglass, and he smiled under his mask, knowing there was no way for her to escape him now. From his perch on an old balcony, he could see across a large portion of the ruins of Silvermoon, the groups of wretched, huddled around remnants of their former lives. The Arcane Guardians that blood elves so often used as the tireless protectors of their city, now husks burnt out by the energies of the Sunwell. Much of what was once a beautiful city had become decaying ruins, mostly uninhabited by civilization, the perfect place for an assassin to practice his craft.
Forlorne smiled under his mask as he spread tarnish on his blades, recalling how his teacher always told him "The best of plans have been ruined by the glint of a blade from the shadows". A shard of a broken mirror gave a glimpse of the master assassin, his mask and hood, enchanted to give the appearance of glowing red eyes, an extra set of daggers strapped to his shoulders, the enchanted armor that seemed to absorb the light falling upon it, as well as the fingerless gloves, four blades running along the back of the hands. Jumping from the balcony to the path below, hardly making a sound, he began the trek across the courtyard, eyes locked on the building his prey was hiding in.
Arilea was terrified, the Master told her to take a package to a building in the ruins. The package was heavy, and for some reason, the Master sent a bloodknight bodyguard with her. The walk to the building was uneventful enough, not even one single wretched was spotted along the way. The sun was just setting as she walked into the building, her guard taking up position to protect his charge. The inside of the building was dark and dank, ripe with the decay of a house unloved. Few of the blue glowing crystals remained alight inside after the years of disuse. With no one to care for it the wretched had taken to using the building as a place to defecate and urinate, and the smell hung heavy in the air. Covering her face with a cloth, the servant girl walked deeper into the building towards the room that the meeting was to take place in, the package held tight in her arms. At the end of the corridor was the room she was to meet the recipient of the package, it was large and spacious, oddly clean compared to the rest of the building, the stench seemed to not invade this space. Pausing at the doorway, taking a deep breath trying to steady her nerves, her master's warning running through her head, with a single hesitant step she crossed the threshold of the room and was instantly greeted by a calm, calculating voice, one that sent shivers of dread down her spine.
"Th.. the Ma..master sent me to deliver your pa..payment" Arilea stuttered "Sir" she added in quickly.
"How much?" the voice asked, causing her to jump, looking for the source. "Five hundred gold... In bars" she eeked out in a meek voice, kneeling down and setting a small, but heavy lock box on the ground in front of her. As Arilea stood again, her eyes locked to two crimson orbs a few paces away from her. "Five hundred? That wasn't the price that was agreed on. The masked and cowled figure started to pace for a few moments, deep in thought about his next course of action. An armed bloodknight, a decent challenge, and an unarmed servant girl. Hardly worth killing. He stopped pacing, his eyes following the curves of the servant girl, she was rather attractive.
"It would be a shame to have to kill her" he thought, "So tell me... Why should I let his bed toy and lapdog return intact? When your master dares to try and screw me." the voice hissed, full of spite and malice. Arilea quickly looked away as the rogue stepped towards her, flinching at his touch. Turning her chin to once more look into her eyes, leaning in close to her, "Or were you meant to be the rest of my payment?", spoken in a soft voice, the implication her master had sold her for the services of an assassin. With thoughts of the betrayal of her master and what this new man might do to her, Arilea blushed deeply ad began to tremble with fear.
Focused on his payment and the slender elf delivering it, Forlorne had let his guard down, and her guard had taken care to exploit the opening. Swinging his sword in a high arc that ended with the satisfying feeling of blade biting flesh as it deep into the rogue's back, from shoulder to waist, a deep crimson pool expanding from the crumpled body on the floor. The a smirk spread across the face of the bloodknight, his blade turned downward with blood dripping off the end.
"That gold... Is my payment you fool" the bloodknight stated with manic laughter. "My payment for killing you, -and- that loose end" he swung his sword upwards, pointing the bloodied tip at the servant girl with a look of disgust on is face. "To even think that a low class worm would ever be in the Master's bed. Insulting! The highest this peasant could ever achieve would still have her on her knees", a sadistic grin crossed his face as he stepped over the body of the rogue. "Not that it matters", he added as he readied his sword for another swing, "She wont become anything other than food for the maggots now".
With a grunt he brought the blade down, aiming for the other elf's neck. Forlorne reacted faster than he should have been able to, fel smoke rose from his back, his severed spine and muscles rapidly regenerating as he stood. With one fluid motion he drew his dagger and sliced deep into the inside of the bloodknight's elbow, cutting the tendons and causing the sword fly out of his hand mid-swing, glancing the servant's shoulder before clattering to the ground. Forlorne grabbed the bloodknight be the neck, twisting his head back and to the side, slitting the bastard's throat from ear to ear, gushing blood covering the servant girl as the blade bit down through flesh to bone, a sickening crack echoing through the room as Forlorne snapping his victim's neck before letting the broken body crumple to the floor, hardly in one piece. Cracking his neck as he looked up from the body only t see the bloodied servant girl fleeing in terror. Taking a pained breath he called after her "Don't run, you're just making things more difficult for the both of us..."
The the blood elf still hadn't awakened, her wound hadn't been a serious one, but much to the rogue's ire, her shoulder didn't stop bleeding for quite some time. Turning down the lantern after changing the bandage for the third time, he walked across the small run down cabin he had been using as a safe house for the last few weeks of his contract to eliminate the competition of another noble. Settling down at a decrepit desk he began to clean and oil his daggers, scraping off the caked blood . "Blood Knights", he sighed, "Always so dramatic when they die, bleeding all over the place". The stink of fel magics still arose from the weapons, liberated from their former masters, members of the Burning Legion who had gone out of their way to anger Nexus Prince Haramad. Grinning, Forlorne pulled off his mask and cowl for the first time in days and unstrapped what was left intact of his armor. The shoulders and tunic of what was once a very expensive set of assassination armor were now damaged beyond repair, along with one of his favorite silk shirts.
The night before a shipment had arrived at the little shack, a delayed "special" order from an ethereal named Latro. Attached to the crate was a note reading "Crafted to the only specifications you gave, Two swords, as light as daggers. Forlorne couldn't help but feel like a child the night before Winter Veil as he read on. "The first sword... Blinkstrike, crafted with the essence of a bronze dragon, and the second, the Shifting Sword, crafted from the lightest alloys in the Twisting Nether. Both paid for by the Nexus Prince as payment for your services rendered". The swords were huge for one handed weapons, four feet long and six inches deep. Giving the blades a few short practice swings, he set them off to the side, pulling out the straw used to pack the swords, Forlorne sought the real prize. A full set of Deathmantle armor, smuggled from the Scryers Tier of Shattrath City. Past all the factional guards and the Peacekeepers, Forlorne's contact could sneak anything through the city, Although he wouldn't have been surprised if she had just let it slip that her buyer was willing to pay anything for it. Valenxia had been know to take advantage of him like that, taking his coin purse for a ride.
Stripping out of the rest of his blood soaked clothing and into the new Deathmantle the difference between the armor was immediate. Made for heavier and more aggressive combat, it didn't hinder the range of motion of the wearer, how ever in place of daggers strapped to the shoulders, there were four very sharp fixed blades. Forlorne cursed loudly when his reflexes betrayed him., the door was suddenly kicked in by a paladin clad in black judgment armor, trimmed with silver. With one word of power, the paladin froze him in his tracks. Repent.
A white mist swirled around Forlorne, enveloping his senses. Appearing from the mists came two shades of himself, one wearing the purest of whites, the other in dark crimson. "So you are here to finally repent for your actions Forlorne?" the white shade asked in a light, almost angelic voice.
"Repent? For what? Who the hell are you two anyway and why the hell and I here?
"I am your shoulder devil, and this prick is your shoulder angel. The light and dark sides of your soul" The devil spoke with an apathetic voice.
"Wait, if you are my shoulder devil, and shoulder angel... Why aren't you on my shoulders?"
"Well..." the angel began, "We don't actually exist, this is just a state of meditation the paladin that's standing at the door forced you into.
Forlorne's not so helpful meditation was interrupted by the feeling of someone biting his lip.
With a start he broke from the repentance and stepped back instinctively, wiping his bleeding lip as his eyes focused on the assailant. She was equal in height, long raven hair contrasting sharply with her light peach skin. She grinned wickedly as she licked his blood off her ebon lips. "It's been a long time since we last me Forlorne." her voice was silky and seductive.
"Shedala Wishwind...Why is it whenever we meet, I always end up with a headache and bleeding?"
The paladin sauntered up to him and kissed him deeply, running her tongue across his lips. "Mmmm... I can taste the fel magic on your blood" She looked at the other elf unconscious in the bed and started to pout. "To bad you don't have an empty bed... I'd make that headache of yours disappear...
The elf took the chair at the desk and eyed the girl in the bed. "So what's with this one? Why did you help her?
Forlorne sheathed his daggers to his waist and pulled on his mask an cowl as the slumbering figure stirred.
"I think I found my apprentice..."
