The sun had finally set beyond the tree-tops of Ashenvale, plunging the forest into darkness. The only light in the area now radiated from the small campfire from which the green-skinned orc now sat, warming himself as he sat watch.

Although a warrior, right now he would have rather been anywhere but Ashenvale - he knew, all too well, about the keen hunting abilities of the elves and would have given anything to be back at home in Durotar.

Tearing another piece of flesh off the bear carcass, which he hungrily devoured, he glanced off into the distance.

Had he saw something move? He found that hard to believe - the night elves wouldn’t be that brazen to attack Hellscream’s Watch, especially not while fire rained down on Astranaar even through the night.

Still. Something didn’t sit right. “Probably a bear or something. Cursed forest is filled with them.”

Tossing the bone onto the fire, he stood up and grabbed his axe, hoisted it over his shoulder, and began moving toward the edge of the forest - glad to have an excuse to use the blade of his axe.

As he inched closer to the trees, he tightened the grip on his axe. Warrior or not, being away from the light of the campfire made him a little apprehensive -

What was that? A rustle came from the trees followed by a low growl.

The orc froze, standing up-right with the blade of his axe ready to strike - beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead. A new wave of terror came over him as he came upon a realization.  This was hardly some wolf that out prowling the forest for prey.

He was being watched. No - hunted.

The forest was silent, save for the rustling of the leaves in front of him. A sudden streak of white appeared to his left, as screamed out in agony - his left arm torn to shreds and bleeding heavily - and dropped the axe to the ground.

Another streak of white to his right caused him to cry out once more - this time clutching his right arm - and drop to his knees. The pain was intense, like nothing he had felt before. His flesh had been nearly ripped from his body.

He was fading quickly - the loss of blood was too much.

His eyes became heavy.

The forest distant.

A white saber lunged from beyond the trees and bared down upon him.

It was the last thing he remembered before everything went black.

It was a warm, summer night in Stormwind City - the type of night which allowed the citizens to stroll the streets of the Trade District or frequent their favourite tavern for a drink before retiring for the night. Along the outskirts of the city - among the massive stone walls - stood the Stormwind Royal Guard; their ever watchful eyes on the lookout for signs of intruders, unwelcome among the city.

A lone figure stood outside the city walls, looking up; her body covered in dark clothes with a hood covering her entire face, making it difficult to discern anything at all about this person. Two shimmering, glowing swords - pristine, despite being, no doubt, used for the most gruesome purposes - hung down from the sheath of her belt.

Although a mild, summer evening, the ground upon which she stood turned cold and hard, almost as if she were standing upon the frozen tundra of Northrend. Her hands tightened the grip on the reigns of the horse that stood beside her; oddly, it was as if no one paid any attention to her at all. She nearly blended into the darkness of the night nearly effortlessly.

“You’ll have to wait here, Boreas. I feel that entering by stealth is a bit better than strolling through the gates - I could do without the stares,” Taeldra said, while looking up upon the walls of the city, looking for the perfect time to enter. “Anyway, I’ll only be a little while, assuming that the half-wit managed to perform this task.”

Taeldra stepped forward, letting the reigns fall as the steed gave a whine but did not move. She opened the pouch, which was attached to her belt with a drawstring, and withdrew a large hook. In her former life, she was a rogue - silent, stealthy, and deadly. Thankfully, she thought, she retained much of her agility. Indeed, it was an asset to her survival during her time-serving the Lich King as her abilities attracted the attention of many of the commanders and she quickly made her way up to serve as one of few confidants. Her callous nature allowed her to fit in well among the others as silent assassin, able to do tasks which others have failed.

These days, however, since denouncing the Lich King and going her separate ways, much of that rage focused on the cultists that serve to worship the Old Gods, along with the few, remaining hold outs that stay loyal to Arthas, refusing to believe he perished. Though she remained on good terms with the rest of the Knights of the Ebon Blade, she returned to her former solitary life, preferring to take matters into her own hands the way she knows best.

Crossing over to the tree, she looked up to make sure the guards were in other parts of their patrol, tossed the hook up to a sturdy branch of the tree, and began to scale the tree - pausing once she reached the top for one last look before effortlessly leaping across the gap and landing on the stone floor of the tower.

Regaining her composure, she brushed herself off and slipped back into the shadows, descending down the spiral staircase that led to the town below, pausing occasionally to listen for sounds of the guards above.

Stepping out of the tower and feeling the soft grass under her feet, she looked up at the building ahead of her. It was unlike the other buildings in the area; a thick layer of dirty covered the few windows in the front, making it difficult to look inside while various people met outside, many of them covered with long, dark cloaks and hoods covering their faces. A few of them looked up at Taeldra before entering the building but many of them hardly paid any notice to her; those that did were hardly in a place to question the strange woman standing before them, preferring, instead, to focus on their shady dealings with the others.

The sign above the door hung on one hinge. It had taken its toll from the weather but you could still make out the faint letters, which read: “The Slaughtered Lamb”.

Scowling at the hooded patrons, she walked to the door and pushed it open before she disappeared inside.

Yes, I have Tumbled. Er, Tumblr-ed? Either way, I am here. <3