Operation Broken Blade

Dragonblight Sector
Venomspite Region
2200 Hours

The Deathguard paused on his patrol, his boots sinking deep in the freshly fallen snow. Moonlight reflected dimly off of the white around him, but he paid it little heed; he was not out to enjoy the beauty of the landscape after all, and he gave little thought to such sights in his undead state. The snow was more a nuisance that impaired movement than anything else, another trial in the unjust unlife that saw him stationed in the unforgiving North in the Forsaken outpost of Venomspite.

Above the Deathguard a bird cried out mournfully in the night. He tilted his head back, his dimly glowing yellow eyes seeking the source of the sound. Owls frequently hunted in the evening hours, their cries echoing off of the lonely frozen landscape. This one had sounded unusually close though, as the wildlife of the region generally preferred to avoid the Forsaken and their holdings.

The arrow made only the faintest whisper of sound as it cut through the air, embedding itself in the Forsaken's neck. He blinked once in surprise even as the magically enchanted arrowhead began to sear away the rotted flesh of his neck, traveling up into his skull. His vocal chords already burned away by the magic, the creature silently fell lifeless into the snow, dissolving slowly from the magic and venom on the tip of the weapon.

After the Deathguard had stopped moving, there was the slightest hushed sound of cloth moving, and a pair of silver eyes studied the fallen creature in the moonlight before gently brushing snow over it.

Moments later, there was nothing to be seen; only a lonely patch of snow that looked as if it had been undisturbed.

**************************

The three Deathguards trudged through the thick snow as they circled the outer wall of Venomspite. The snow had begun to fall heavily again, with almost no relief for those who were forced to live in Dragonblight. While immune to the chilling effects of the cold, the trio of undead grumbled loudly about being forced to march around the perimeter of the small Forsaken town. Since most of the Alliance and Horde forces in Dragonblight had been withdrawn back to their homes, it had become increasingly unnecessary to maintain any sort of watch around the place, and each of the Deathguard knew that they were wasting their time.

Snappish even with each other, the trio turned around a corner of Venomspite's wall, pausing as movement caught their attention. There, a little away from the edge of the compound, a green-hued owl flopped about in the snow with one of its wings extended outward, almost awkwardly. As the three watched, the creature jumped and flapped the wing, the other wing remaining tightly pressed against its body. The three looked at each other and grinned; clearly the owl had been wounded somehow and it gave them the perfect opportunity for a bit of fun.

"Let's pluck its feathers out one by one," the leader of the three said with a raspy voice. The other two chuckled and they advanced on the helpless bird.

As the trio approached, one of them moved ahead of the others, stepping towards the flapping, flopping owl, "There there little one," he cooed, "this will only hurt a little bit."

The sound of his voice covered the sound of an arrow in flight. The weapon embedded itself in the neck of the Forsaken furthest from the owl. He made not a sound as he toppled over dead in the snow, his companions unaware of his demise. The first of the Forsaken reached for the owl, clawed hand just about to grasp it when the bird suddenly unfurled its second wing and leaped into the air, claws extended.

The Deathguard didn't expect the owl to lurch at him, and claws tore deeply into his rotted face as the creature took flight. The second Deathguard turned to check the location of his companion and gasped as he saw him lying dead in the snow. He brought a shield up just as an arrow flashed through the air. The weapon struck the wooden shield and shattered it with magic, causing the Deathguard to curse and shake his injured arm.

In the meanwhile, the owl had blinded the first deathguard and snatched up his sword before flying off. The now disarmed Forsaken cursed and dashed after it even as his companion reached to his belt to pull out a horn; he knew that they were under attack and had to warn the town.

The undead creature never got a chance to use his horn. As he brought it to his lips a third arrow slashed through the air, severing his spine at heart level. The undead creature gasped once and fell into the snow face-first to lie unmoving. The third Deathguard, who had run some distance through the snow, turned to stare at the sight of his two dead companions. Even as he did so, the owl gave out a mournful cry in the air over his head, and another arrow cut through the cold northern air.

A moment later, there was only silence and the eerie wail of the blowing wind.

*************************************

She left not a single footprint in the snow as she ran. It was a skill that her lithe body and elven agility imparted to her, and even the other rangers were impressed when she did what they called 'snow walking'. She dashed quickly across the frozen terrain, using her momentum and experience to leap from one patch of snow to another, always choosing snow with a thick enough crust of ice on it to temporarily support her weight.

It made her fast; faster than the deathguards around Venomspite at least. It was an advantage that she had to use to its best potential as the patrols around the town were separated by only 15 minutes. That meant the elf had five minutes to get in, five to complete her objective, and five to exit before the next patrol found the three dead bodies. The thought flashed quickly through the Ranger's mind and made her smile as she ran.

Erawyn always did enjoy a challenge.

As she approached the outer wall of Venomspite, she didn't slow down. Instead, she actually increased her speed, her eyes on a wrought iron fence that lead up to the much higher stone wall around one of the buildings. The structure had a huge metal sphere on the roof with electrical discharges shooting into the sky now and then, along with several large tanks on the outside of the building. Erawyn knew that this structure housed the apothecaries of the town, and she knew that her target objective must be within it.

She dashed through the snow, reaching the waist high wrought iron fence in moments. She jumped into the air, a delicate foot coming down on one of the upright supports of the fence. Without slowly down, she jumped forward, her other foot landing on the next upright. Every third one was built to support the weight of the fence; the rest were capped with deadly sharp spikes.

Paying almost no heed to the danger, Erawyn focused and continued to dash along the deadly fence, increasing her momentum as it lead to the edge of the stone wall. As she approached, she used her speed and the height of the fence to leap higher than she would have been able to normally, her boots briefly touching the top of the higher stone wall and her hands outstretched to catch the lip of the structure's roof. Long elven fingers dug into the snow that covered the shingles, finding purchase at the edge. She hung there for a moment, then began to swing until she was able to do a backflip up onto the roof.

Erawyn paused for a moment, making not a single sound. Breathing heavily, she reached down and placed some of the snow from the roof in her mouth to prevent her breath from fogging and giving away her position. Her outfit was made of form fitting white leather, and with her silver eyes and short cropped silver hair combined with her almost white complexion, she was able to blend easily into the snowy background of the roof. She carefully began to make her way across the structure, peering into the center of the town once she reached the edge and confirming that the way was clear.

Seeing no one, Erawyn dropped off the edge of the roof, using one hand to hang herself in place. She pulled a knife with her other hand and pried open a window on the side of the building, using her hanging position to allow her access to the top of the window frame. After popping the locks, she slipped a bit of oil onto the outer edges and slide the glass open swinging and dropping down inside with almost no sound.

Her elven eyes adjusted to the darkness inside almost instantly, taking in the rows of chemical storage vats and alchemical equipment that the apothecaries used to perform their experiments. At this time of night, the place was mostly abandoned and silent except for the bubbling gurgle of an experiment on the floor below. Erawyn paused to get her bearings, her memory recalling all of her mission briefing and the layout of the structure. After a moment, she nodded to herself and unslung her bow from its place on her back, making her way stealthily down the hall.

At the end of the corridor she found two doors. Her mission briefing had told her that one lead deeper into the rooms that the apothecaries used for storage, while the other was to a holding cell that they used to hold experimental prisoners. She turned towards the prison and tried the handle, finding it locked as she had expected.

She looked around to ensure that no one was about to approach and set her bow down, pulling a vial out of a pouch. Within it was a bubbling green liquid; something she used to coat her special arrowheads. She took an arrow and dipped it in the liquid before scraping it across the lock on the door. The liquid was made from a mixture of animal venoms, and was a caustic acid. It immediately began to eat away at the door lock and Erawyn smiled as she watched the metal melt. She discarded her used arrow, picked up her bow and pulled the door open.

Within the unlit room her eyes detected the outline of a form slumped on the floor in the far corner of a dirty little cell. As the door opened, the figured moved slightly, the rattle of chains coming faintly to Erawyn's ears. She hurried forward, kneeling beside what appeared to be a very very mistreated human male.

"Agent Sarkov?" She murmured. The man looked at her with his one unruined eye, the rest of his face a mask of blood and diseased cuts.

He groaned once and then nodded before responding in a gurgling voice, "Y-yes. Forsaken caught me t-three days ago. Seen better days..."

Erawyn frowned, studying the man closely. He had wounds and bruises all over his body, and several of them looked badly infected with diseases that could only be related to the blight. The man had seen his last days of life, and might seen many more days of unlife. She shook her head, ignoring all of that for the moment, "I need your report."

The man grimaced and nodded, "Should have figured they wouldn't have sent ya to rescue me. Not how SI:7 works. I got it all here. Bastards didn't realize my jacket was double lined. Long story short though, they moved their experiments from here to Silverpine. Definitely working on new forms of Blight from what I could tell and what's been done to me since."

Erawyn nodded once and proceeded to open the man's jacket. Ignoring several infected and horrific looking wounds on his chest, she cut the lining of his clothing open with her knife, pulling out a detailed report on the apothecaries in the region and their activities. She tucked it into the top of her leather armor and nodded once. The man reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"I'm not going to make it," he stated flatly. "You know this."

She nodded once and without a word reached down and pulled a vial from her belt, holding it up in front of him. He studied it and then nodded, "Poison then. Go ahead and do it lass."

She shook her head, "Poison of a sort." She leaned forward and tilted the vile into his mouth. The man swallowed it and grimaced again, preparing to die. What he did not expect was for fur to begin to sprout on his body. Although his wounds didn't heal, his shaped began to change painfully.

"W-what...what's happening..." he croaked, his body shaking violently.

Erawyn pulled her combat knife out and sighed, "It was worgen blood. Now they won't be able to revive your corpse when they find you in the morning. I'm sorry."

Small growls escaping him, the man glared at her, "Yer a hard lass aren't ya? Just promised me you'll avenge me."

Erawyn nodded once and then leaned forward, slitting the half-turned worgen's throat. "I was forged from steel, yes. And no, I can't avenge you. I have orders to follow. Your vengeance will come in time. I WILL remember you."

And then she was up and moving, leaving the dead corpse behind her, the secret report tucked safely in her armor. Seconds later she had flipped back up onto the roof, replacing the glass of the window so as not to give her enemies an extra clue to follow her.

One minute later she was concealed in the woods surrounding Venomspite, just another wisp of wind in the cold northern air.

She'd completed her mission with four minutes to spare. She grinned to herself as she made her way back to the rendezvous point; it was always nice when things went exactly as planned. DOSO High Command would be pleased, and on top of that, the information gleaned tonight would give them some insight into the activities of the Forsaken and their apothecaries.

A time of reckoning was coming soon, much sooner than the Horde realized.