The events in this series take place between the end of World of Warcraft's Cataclysm expansion and the Mist of Pandaria's Escalation patch. It leads in to an ongoing role-playing scenario (which will take advantage of WoW's new cross-server options); comments and questions welcomed.

The Order of the Sappharite Wolf

Prologue

Bernhart sighed, he didn't like this, not at all… here he was, a former guard of Stormwind, here in Tirisfal… He knew he wouldn't last long if he was discovered. Of course Bernhart held no allegiance to Stormwind anymore, or the Alliance. It was true he still operated out of the city, when he could, but he was done with the menial pay he worked for under that fool, King Varian Wrynn. These days Bernhart, and his small organization, worked as mercenaries, hired thugs for whoever had the most gold to pay them, be they allied with the Alliance or the Horde, which was why he was here.

Through the mist in the clearing up ahead he saw the man who had most recently hired him, an undead shadow priest named Vorrik, though Bernhart knew that was not his true name. He was wearing long black and purple robes and carrying a gnarled staff. His ghostly pale face partially covered by black stringy hair. His glowing yellow eyes peered out from underneath a dark purple hood. Indeed he was a shady figure… but such was the case with most undead.

Vorrik had hired Bernhart and his men to retrieve a certain set of items, a job that had cost the lives of several of his men, but Bernhart didn't care, it was the gold that was important… still, he didn't trust this man, "Undead, of course, can never be trusted." He thought to himself. He smiled to himself; thank goodness he had taken precautions.

The shadow priest grinned as he saw Bernhart enter the clearing, "Ah good, you're here. And alone, I see."

"As we agreed." Bernhart smiled as he approached the undead, carrying with him a small chest.

"And you left your horse at the check point as well, did you?" the Shadow Priest asked. Bernhart nodded. "Good, that shows trust, I like that. An act like that earns you extra, my good man." The undead said holding up a large bag, "Now if you would be so kind as to hand me over the items".

Bernhart handed over the chest while simultaneously taking the bag from the undead's bony hand, he looked inside and indeed the undead was generous, this was nearly twice the amount that had been agreed upon.

The shadow Priest opened the chest and took out a small stone cylinder, "Ah, the runestones of Katec, very, very good, my friend. Should I be in need of your services again, my good man, you can be sure I shall contact you… you've done an excellent job."

"Thank you, sir." Bernhart smiled, though he began to look around nervously.

The undead frowned, "What's wrong, you seem troubled?"

"Oh no, I..." Bernhart stammered.

"Could it be you were waiting for the twelve men you brought with you to flank and kill me? I believe you had seven of them positioned over there," the undead pointed, "and the other five that were supposed to attack me from behind. Bernhart stepped back. The shadow priest smiled and continued, "Yes, well, unfortunately my friend, I'm afraid they are all dead. And as for your marksman on the cliff up there? Positioned to shoot me if your men failed?" the shadow priest pointed above them, "He's quite dead too."

Bernhart drew his sword, but even as the weapon left it's sheathe the undead shadow priest used his staff to parry the weapon away from him. The sword landed in the shadow priest hands, throughout the entire maneuver the shadow priest never dropped the chest he was holding. As the undead smiled sinisterly at him, Bernhart tried to think fast, taking another step back and reached into his vest.

"The smoke bomb," the shadow priest started speaking again, "it will do you no good. True, it may distract me momentarily… long enough for you to get a short distance away, but even if you could manage to get to the mage you hired, the one you didn't even tell your men about. The one waiting in the woods to teleport you to safety should things go awry?" the Shadow Priest shook his head, "My, my, I'm afraid he is dead too." Bernhart began to sweat. How had he known?!

The Shadow priest closed the chest and turned to leave. "Well, it doesn't matter, our business is concluded. I have no need to dirty my hands further and kill you too, even after your attempted treachery."

"You… you're letting me live?"

"Why not?" the shadow priest said to him as he turned back, "I have what I wanted. I don't see why I should trouble myself with you anymore." The undead turned away again and began to walk off. Bernhart exhaled a sigh of relief. Still he knew better than to let his guard down. The undead were not the most genuine race in Azeroth, and Tirisfal was full of undead, not just this Shadow Priest.

"Oh," the Shadow priest stopped and turned one more time, "and just so you know, these runestones?" he held up the small chest, "I'm well aware they are fakes. I know you kept the real ones in a safety deposit box in Stormwind, and had these forgeries crafted to deliver to me instead." Bernhart began to panic. "Don't you worry," the Shadow priest continued, "I've already had an associate retrieve the real ones, though I must admit these are very, very convincing decoys."

Bernhart turned to run. As he did, an undead rogue unstealthed behind him, holding two large daggers with jagged blades across his throat. "How…how did you know?" Bernhart stammered.

"Oh it is my job to know," the undead grinned, "It is quite the ability, and it is both my gift and my curse… I'd say more, but it would be perfectly useless to waste an explanation on a dead man." With that the rogue drew her blades across Bernhart's throat, and his bloody, headless corpse fell to the earth.

"My, my, my…" the Shadow priest said as he approached, picking up the bag of gold, "It is so hard to find good help these days, isn't it?" he turned to the rogue, "Except for you my dear. You did perfectly, Lydia, one could not ask for a better assistant." The undead rogue looked at him, her eyes filled with anger and distain, but also sorrow and fear. She hated this man, but she could not disobey him, no matter how much she wanted to. She knew he enjoyed the kind of power he had over her… and knowing that made her hate the Shadow Priest even more.

"It's time for us to be off." the shadow priest said, "While Tirisfal is one of the few places we can wander without drawing much suspicion, It would still be as much of a problem if the Horde were to catch wind of our plans as it would the Alliance."

The rogue put her blades away and faced her master, "My lord Destegorne?" She began.

"Yes?"

"Is it really wise to say such things? Who knows what ears are nearby to hear your words? There may be Forsaken about, there could even be Alliance spies in the area that followed…"

"My dear, you should know better by now." Destegorne grinned, "If there were to be anyone tonight that would be even remotely in earshot, of course I would have had them killed before we even arrived." Shadow Priest Destegorne laughed. He pulled out a bottle of green liquid and poured it over Bernhart's corpse. As soon as the body came in contact with the liquid it began to dissolve into the earth beneath it. "Now Lydia," Destegorne said as he handed her the chest, "We should depart."

"You still want us to take these with you? I thought you said they were fakes?"

"Yes, ingenious fakes." Destegorne grinned, "We shall still have use of them soon enough." With that the two undead figures left the clearing and disappeared into the mists rolling in from off the sea.