The commotion had all started early one morning. The bells of dawn had finished ringing not too long ago, and everyone in the large house was stirring, except the young lord's son. At the age of twenty, he was expected to be up like most of the young, hard working Night Elves his age, but he was a creature of arrogance, and though that it was his right to sleep in whenever he pleased.
He slept on, his dreams circling on mostly about beautiful Night Elf women, when a blood-curdling scream ripped through the air. Nialas' eyes popped open, and he heard the servants rushing past his door and running down the stairs. He could hear their whispers through the door. Normally, he would have ignored them, but now he was intrigued.
Nialas silently crept over and put his ear to the door, his thin blanket around his shoulders. Someone had gotten poisoned, eh? He didn't care.
He jerked back just as door slammed open, and in stepped the commanding figure of his mother. "Nialas. I want you to get up and go into town for me." she said, her stern voice making cold shivers run down his spine. This must be serious. he thought as he pulled the thin cotton cover from his body. He was dressed in sleeping garments: A white sleeveless shirt, and gray cotton pants. He rubbed the sleep from his glowing blue eyes as his mother fretted.
"What's happening out there?" he asked. His curiosity was eating at him, he just had to know.
"That is none of your concern." she said, her tone brooking no argument. Nialas could see through the open door that there was a group of people rushing up the large spiral staircase, and they were all helping to carry someone. Nialas strode over to the door and watched with feigned disinterest.
As they passed, he saw that this was an elf. Her dark hair covered her face and her neck, for it was really rather long. She had leather armor on, so there wasn't much to be seen, for much of her skin was covered. If she survives, I shall really have to take a sharper look… he thought, his mouth curling into a smirk. One of the people helping carry the sleek woman tripped on the sheet, and a pale ivory hand slid from under the sheet, hanging limply at her side.
Nialas' breath caught in his throat, and everyone faltered as he stepped forward and ripped the sheet off. His mother said his name in warning, but he ignored her as he gaped.
Nialas' eyes narrowed, and he looked at his mother. "You bring this scum into our house?" he hissed at her, pointing at the unconscious elf, who was slipping deeper and deeper into death's greedy hands. His mother pursed her lips but said nothing. Nialas was burning with rage, but before he could do anything, she was whisked away and the blood soaked sheet was left behind on the floor. Her eyes cracked, and she looked up at Nialas.
"Do you see what that is? Do you see that?" he asked, pointing down the hall as they rushed the young woman to see a waiting healer. His mother stood in front of him, her presence alone beginning to calm him down."Nialas, she is very sick." she said, her voice full of concern.
"She is the enemy." he spat, walking away from her and towards the window. He looked out of it. "Do you know what father would say to this? He would have our heads if-"
"Your father is the one who found her." she said, interrupting him with a stern look.
Nialas shook his head and stormed out of the room. He knew that he would find his father in the gardens. He followed the trail of blood that led him through the kitchen and out the back door. Indeed, he was still there.
"Father!" he called, and stomped up to him. "You would let Horde scum into this house?" he asked, his voice full of hatred. His father did not respond for a few agonizing moments, then let out a sigh.
"You have much to learn in this world. Compassion, my son, would be one of them." He said, the calmness in his voice making Nialas even angrier. He grabbed his father on the shoulder and turned him around. "You yourself are an admiral for The Alliance, and yet you let the very thing you fight against into our home?" he spat. He saw the anger in his father's eyes before he saw the swift hand that connected with his cheek.
"Many people die each day. Every opportunity for victories against death, we take. That victory, surely, is more important than whatever other victory you are concerned about." he said sternly. Nialas put a hand to his throbbing cheek, and then skulked away, utterly defeated. He is wrong. He is nothing but a sympathizer. Nialas moped. If he won't take care of this the right way, then I shall. He resolved this firmly in his mind.
Once everything had calmed down, Nialas sat at the worn kitchen table as the servants hustled and bustled around him. He would take care of this mess, yes, but first he had to eat. He asked for some breakfast and was quickly obliged. As he chewed on his toast, he began to plot.
Evelith had began her day with a delicious meal of… cold, gray porridge with some sort of fruit on top of it. She scowled as she sat down on the dewy ground and shoveled the bland stuff into her mouth. "Evelith?" a voice called her name. She looked up, face stuffed with porridge, to find her commanding officer towering above her. She stood, wiping her lips on the back of her hand and nodded. "Reporting." she said, her voice full of respect.
"We have a mission for you. Report to my tent after breakfast, if you please." he said, and then dismissed her. Evelith went back to eating her foul breakfast. Eve grinned like an idiot as she ate the tart fruit that had begun disintegrating in the sludge. She would finally be getting an assignment. She gave the bowl back to the cook, who grunted and refilled it for the next person in line.
She reported to the tent, and the tall Blood Elf was waiting for her. For a few moments, he had her back to her. She was about to announce her presence when he spoke.
"We have not received word from the last person we have sent. We assume that he is dead, and we need a... replacement. You are one of the finest young rogues in this army, Evelith. So, for your mission…"
After Eve had received her orders, she returned to her tent, barely able to contain her excitement. She packed hastily and happily. A real mission! This would get her recognized for sure!
Just before noon, and mounted upon her Green Hawkstrider, she set out. By her calculations, she would arrive just after midnight. There, she would watch her target and learn more about him. Only rookies went in blind.
The journey was long, but pleasant weather was her constant friend. Three miles away from her target's location, she dismissed her mount. From there, she began her silent trek.
Just before dawn, Eve hid her pack in a wild bush and picked a tree to be her lookout. She climbed it and settled between the nook of two large branches. From here, she had a fantastic view of the back of the property through the leaves. Getting as comfortable as she could possibly get, she began to wait.
As the house woke up, she began to see servants scurrying to and fro inside the house. She did not pay much attention to them. Soon after, a important looking man strolled from the kitchen door and into the garden. He sat on a beautifully hand-carved wooden bench and looked into the forest. Eve was as still as a statue. The yard was pleasingly empty of any personnel. Eve bet that the Admiral felt safe in his quaint little garden. That was good for her.
After a time her target took a deep, calming breath before returning inside. The rogue was willing to bet that his early morning garden with it's dewy shrubbery gave him a sense of peace that steadied him for his no doubt very stressful day-to-day. This was also good for her. He would never expect an attack.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully, with Eve only moving to reposition herself as the breeze blew by. No need to alert the busy people of the manor to a suspiciously noisy tree, after all.
As the sun crept behind the horizon and the lamps in the house were extinguished, Eve settled into a more comfortable position. She would rest before the pre-dawn hours, where she would oh so carefully prepare herself to finish her mission and terminate her target.
The birds woke her the next morning, chirping loudly and boldly, unaware of a hunter in their midst. She made her way silently down the tree. She crept through the brush to a closer location and prepared herself. If her target was routine, this would be quick. Eve pulled her daggers out and applied the necessary poisons to them. If she didn't lethally wound him, her (very expensive, she thought) poisons would get him.
The sun had not risen, and all was quiet around her save for the constant chirping of birds. Evelith took a deep breath and readied herself mentally. This was her first real mission under her commander. She'd done mercenary work for years, but this was her chance to prove herself.
Just as she expected, and right on time, the Admiral returned to his garden. Eve's heart began to beat faster. This was it.
She stalked across the lawn, her feet making no noise on the dewy morning grass. She was in the zone, ready to kill. Her hands clenched tighter around the hilt of her dagger as she crept closer and closer.
"Nialas? You must be getting better at stealth, my son, I barely caught a glimpse of you." He turned and looked right in Eve's general direction, before looking her square in the eyes. She broke her stealth, and the older Night Elf nodded serenely.
"Ah, I should have known. Nialas is not yet as good as you are, young rogue."
With this, Evelith shot out towards him, daggers trained on his neck. Before they could render him headless, his fist caught her in the wrist and she watched as her dagger slid from her numb hand and into the hand of her enemy.
Eve darted backwards, putting space between the two of them. Suddenly, it dawned on the rogue. There was a real fight ahead of her, and there was a good chance she might not survive it. Adrenaline kicked in, and she renewed her attack on the enemy.
The admiral did not once call for his guards, nor did any of them spot the two fighting. After a few rounds, Eve was worn down, there were numerous cuts all over her, and the effects of her own poison were starting to sink in. She had only been able to land one good-sized slash to his upper arm in the short time they had been fighting.
As expected, she began to lose feeling in her legs. 'God damn, that poison is good.' She thought.
After one sound mistake, she knew it was over. Her ankle rolled and she stumbled, and her enemy darted forth to land a crippling punch to her stomach. Her one remaining dagger went spinning out of her hands as she collapsed, the breath knocked out of her. The world was spinning, and the poison was setting in.
Eve, utterly beaten, lay on the ground and slipped from consciousness. Her last thought was to be grateful that she wouldn't feel her death.
Nialas waited, watched, listened. He slept that night, but only for a few hours. He was waiting for his father to leave, so he could go upstairs and murder the monstrosity that lurked in his own home. 'How dare they!' Nialas thought indignantly. His father was suffering from a lapse in judgement, he assured himself, and he would realize the truth once Nialas showed it to him.
Finally, in the dark hours of the late night, the house was quiet. The inexperienced rogue crept with a kitchen knife (no use using his good daggers, he told himself) into the room where the enemy was healing. He had been listening to her struggle against the healers all day, screaming for someone to just kill her already. Well, Nialas was here to answer that request.
She was asleep on the bed as he opened the door, breathing so shallowly that Nialas had to pause to make sure he wasn't about to stab a dead body. He lunged towards the bed, knife trained right at her filthy heart, but instead of plunging through her chest, it plunged through the mattress.
"What, did you think I couldn't see you?" Her common was heavily accented. She could barely stand, he noticed, but she was ready to fight. Nialas stood, formally breaking his stealth.
"I'm here to fulfill that death wish of yours, scum." Poison dripped from his words, and he readied himself to spring, but stopped. She chuckled.
"I changed my mind. I might be prisoner here but that doesn't mean I can't do some damage while I'm here." She was the one who launched across the room and punched him so hard in the jaw that he saw bright lights flash in front of his eyes. When he finally recovered enough to gather himself, she had the knife, and she looked like she was ready to use it. For the first time in a while, Nialas' confidence was fading.
"For fuck's sake, you really are nothing like your dad." Her voice was shaking. She was exhausted and totally beat, and yet she was besting Nialas with basic moves he should have remembered the counters to. He moved forward to retrieve his knife, but he ended up knocked on his ass, blood gushing from a cut in his lip. This was not how this was supposed to go!
He lunged at her a third time, and this time she managed to wheel him around, put him in a one-armed headlock with the kitchen knife pressed against his jugular. He flailed, but there was no breaking her hold. Even weakened, she was smart enough to subdue him in one move.
To Nialas' dismay and embarrassment, his father stepped into the room with a look that said murder. He wasn't sure if it was for him or the woman holding him hostage. Nialas was wracking his brain for answers. He knew how to get out of this one, if only he could remember.
"Throw your weapon down or it's the end for him." She demanded. Nialas' father obeyed, gently tossing his weapon onto the bed. Nialas, in a sudden wave of intelligence, jerked his head back and grabbed for the knife as she stumbled backwards, gushing blood from her nose. He whipped around and plunged the knife into the first place he could: her stomach.
The enemy elf put her cold hands around his as he stared down triumphantly into her eyes. Her mouth was open in a gasp she never took.
Nialas' father took him by the shoulder and threw him away from the blood elf, who slumped to the ground and yanked the kitchen knife from where it lay buried. She began to bleed profusely, but Nialas was pulled from the room by his hair as his father called for the healer. He was satisfied, for she would surely die now.