Ashenvale- a dense forest, filled with night sabers, giant spiders, bears, and around the ponds, the dreaded murlocs. Ashenvale is under constant attack from the horde, no matter how many times the Alliance drives them back, and they will keep coming. But today, deep in the woods, two night elves planned there next move. The rogue's name was Amanathore, and the druid's was Kanja. Amanathore had sandy white hair- which was down to the middle of his back. He wore leather-made from the hide of the bears that wandered the lands. He carried with him to razor, sharp daggers, which he had acquired from Molten Core. Amanathore seemed to always have a very serious expression on his face... like something was wrong. Kanja, on the other hand, was quite different. She always had her hair tied back, it was light blue, and very pleasant to look at. She was very sweet, and was willing to save anyone, even at the cost of her own life. She had a bright wood staff at her disposal, and her spells also packed quite a punch! She was sensitive, good-hearted, and a friend for life.
They sat there... in a handicraft, small oak shelter, smack dab in the middle of Ashenvale. "What shall we do..? Astranaar is neck deep in raids every other day... We are low on supplies, and our numbers are weakening." Amanthore said. "Possibly we could get help from the huma-" "NO!" Amanathore interrupted her. "Last time we asked them for aid, they never showed, and half of Astranaar's citizens were slaughtered!"
Amanathore began to write out plans on some paper, Kanja glanced over at him. He had a stern expression on his face, as if he lost in thought, she could never tell anyway. "Amanathore, what are you planning?" He didn't answer, as usual. She leaned back against the oak wall, and popped the top of her cask of water. Just as she was getting relaxed, loud footsteps were marching toward Astranaar. They immediately new what it was…another raid. Amanathore stood up and cleared his throat. "Here we go again.."
Screaming from Astranaar bowed over the lands, it could be heard for miles. Kanja let out a long, drawn out sigh... Amanathore casually walked to his Night Saber mount. Kanja followed shortly after, they both mounted, and went gods speed to the town of Astranaar. As they approached, they could smelt a feint stench, and as they approached, they saw what it was, they were burning the bodies! They bound toward the town, even faster, anxious to fight the greatest enemy- The Horde.
A Tauren was bellowing toward a weak hunter, whom has been stabbed through the leg, and couldn't move. Amanathore leaped off his mount, and lunged forward toward the Tauren. His daggers slid threw the Tauren's armor with ease. It let out a howl of agony as Amanathore twisted his daggers inside the beast's spleen. He forcefully pulled the daggers out of the dead beast, and withdrew them at his sides. Kanja had been fighting off an Orc Shaman, she swift fully entangled the Orc in roots, and shape shifted into a bear. She sprinted towards the immobilized Orc and rapidly clawed his chest, his armor dented, and cracked off beneath the force of the bear's claws. The Orc swung his mace at her, barely missing her head. She flew at the Orc's back, and bit the back out of his neck, the Orc fell to the ground as a bleeding carcass.
A guard fell to the ground behind them, Amanathore rapidly spun around, and his eyes grew wide. "It can't be!" Standing above the dead guard was Thrall, the Orc warcheif. He held two Hammers of Power, his armor was magnificent. Crafted by the best in the lands, every detail was precise; every groove interacted with his movements. Amanathore began to tremble; no one had seen Warcheif Thrall and lived to tell the story. Thrall looked at Amanathore, a helpless rogue, quivering in his boots. Thrall began to grin. "Lok' tar!" he said in Orcish. Amanathore drew back, to afraid to draw his daggers. Kanja ran over to Amanathore, and saw how helpless he was. Just like a small child. She raised him in her arms, pulled out a hearth-stone, and woosh, they were gone.
"Wh-why couldn't I fight back!" Amanathore said still trembling. Kanja was sitting in a corner of their "fort". She was staring at Amanathore. She had never seen him like this before…so…frightened and weak. "It's fine…Thrall is very powerful, you did not know what to do, all the stories you've heard are bound to make any warrior freeze in fright. "We- well why weren't you afraid?" He asked. "..My mother and father were slain by Thrall on one of our raids years back. I was merely 12 years old. I had to go live with another elves family. For 4 years I lived with them, and then my step brother and father were called off to war. About 3 days later we got word that they were slain in the heat of battle. Ever since then I have sworn to get revenge on him, I have been training over the years, and now I realize he is still to powerful for me alone to handle. I was still afraid, but my hatred for him covers it up.." Amanathore was staring at her from across the room. He stood up, and slowly walked towards her. He sat down next to her, and slowly edged toward her lips. She was flushed. Amanathore pulled back. "What am I doing..?" He whispered to himself.
He glanced at Kanja, who's face was beat red. Her eyes were wide with surprise, but Amanathore could see slight disappointment in them. She stood up, and grabbed her staff. "Well…I think I am going to go for a walk." Amanathore nodded. She held her staff in her hands; you can never be too safe. As she found her way to the stone path, she looked around; peering in all directions, making sure no one was there. She thought to herself, "What was he doing? He had said before that he doesn't have any form of affection for me, but back there it appeared as though he was trying to…kiss me..." Thoughts were boggling through her mind; she did not know what to do. As she was walking, she began to realize that she truly did have feelings for him, and all this time she was trying to suppress it.