Mutual Interest

Selenthiel settled down on the silken cushions that the servants had brought out into the gardens, sighing with satisfaction as she made herself comfortable on her knees. The gardens of the Sunfire Spires surrounded her, the lush greenery carefully sculpted with magic to form little grottos of beautiful bushes and flowerbeds. To her right a marble fountain gurgled as water flowed from the top of a stone maiden who forever poured water into a stone basin before her.

A warm breeze rustled Selenthiel’s head, and she inhaled deeply, enjoying the moment of serenity. She closed her eyes, her hands palm down on her knees before her, releasing the breath she’d taken and entering a peaceful calm. Of late her thoughts had been troubled, various concerns relating to the enemies of House Sunfire rearing up and pointing towards conflicts in the future.

She worried for her family, for the security of their newly joined House, and for the future of Quel’Thalas. Although she had spent some efforts towards setting the House spymaster and Master at Arms, Braeth’el, on a course towards correcting these issues, she couldn’t help but feel a nagging doubt that their efforts would not be enough and that those in her care and protection would come to harm.

Then, of course, there was the matter of her brother, Andithiel. Although she knew he cared deeply for their family, his sullen behavior and frequent disappearances as of late as he went off to sulk gave her just another point of distress on her growing list of concerns. Try as she might, it was difficult to reach him through the shroud of bitterness he’d pulled over himself after he and Kyliska had ended their relationship. It seemed that the more Kyliska became happy with her life, the more bitter the depths to which her brother descended. She knew he would pass through this phase in time, but it was trying to say the least when she had more important matters to consider.

She remained in a state of utter calm, what other races might consider to be a state of prayer. For her, there was little difference between the magic that people like her sister and Biara wielded and the forces of Light and Shadow. The only difference was the way in which one reached them. Where her sister gained power through endless study of the magical tools at her disposal, Selenthiel herself connected with external powers that she wielded and shaped to her will and for the betterment of Quel’Thalas. She tapped into that power now, feeling all of the various prayers she knew as keys to unlock the types of effects she required. They swirled around in her mind and became an orderly list, her meditation preparing her powers for the challenges of the coming days. 

As she relaxed into the power, she felt her mind expand, touching everything around her. She could feel the garden, the trees and flowers and birds who watched her. She could feel the guards that followed her always, their minds distant points around the entrances of the garden. She brushed up against them, feeling their brightness, tasting the loyalty and pride they held within them. And then she paused as she felt a new group passing through the gardens, her meditation nearly interrupted by the newcomers.

Her mind darted towards them, brushing against the edges of their thoughts one by one, as if a bird passing them by. She felt eagerness, the brash boldness of youth, and fierce courage within many of them, and came to understand that they were recruits in training for the House. As she passed by the last she tasted something different, something delicious in the thoughts there. Here was strength, was a bright sparkle of health and well-being surrounded by determination and tempered by a streak of joy and laughter that she knew would bubble forth to bring mirth to those around the mind. He was the leader, was there to ensure that the others learned more of the world. It was enough that she wanted to touch the mind further, although that would be dipping too far into the realm of shadow and, beyond that, was considered rude by most people. Instead she continued to meditate for a time, watching the minds as they passed near her, almost startled out of her meditative trance when one of them spoke close enough for her physical ears to hear him.

“Meditation! Pah! What a waste of time!” a surly young Sin’dorei voice said.

Selenthiel’s eyes remained closed as she felt the presence of the group come to a sudden halt, another voice speaking out over the others. She recognized it at once as the elf named Ketheron, recently hired by Braeth’el to train the many new recruits that House Sunfire had hired. She realized as he spoke that it was his mind she had brushed up against last, it was he that was the leader whose thoughts had been so delicious.

“Shut the fel up and show some respect!” Ketheron barked. Selenthiel nearly smirked, managing to keep her eyes closed and remain in her trance only with great effort. She was startled to hear Ketheron as he spoke next.

“What you see here is neither a waste of time, nor weakness as I suspect some of you lot think,” Ketheron spoke again, his tone firm. “Look more closely at what you see here, and quietly without disturbing her. Note her perfect posture, the way she keeps her back straight, her body angled. Here is hidden strength, the firm, ordered balance of mind that marks a great warrior and leader. You think she is ‘wasting her time’? Let me tell you how wrong you are.”

“Sir, I was just-“ the recruit began.

“Shut it,” Ketheron cut him off. “You all need to learn this. Study her for a moment. Here you see a Sin’dorei of great power and grace. She prepares herself, she unburdens her mind. Part of physical health, part of having the heart and soul of a warrior, is knowing your own mind and keeping it in order. Your mental state is just as important as keeping fit and healthy. Lady Selenthiel is an example to be followed in this. Do you see doubt on her features? Fear? Sorrow? No, you see beauty and serenity. In a battle, her mind will be calm and her decisions well reasoned. She will not order an assault when it is hopeless, neither will she refrain from ordering a retreat when it is needed. A great leader knows when to spare their forces and when to strike, and it is not weakness to prepare one’s mind for such a task.”

“I see sir, I’m sorry,” the recruit said.

“Don’t be sorry, just be smarter,” Ketheron said playfully. “Remember, Lady Selenthiel is a great healer. This means she must make the hardest of decisions in a moment’s notice; she must decide who can be saved, and who must die for the rest to overcome their foes.”

The group paused for a moment, and it was all Selenthiel could do not to smile outright at what Ketheron was saying. She remained still, holding her pose even though she’d stopped meditating. After a moment to contemplate his words, she sensed Ketheron ushering the young recruits away so as not to disturb her further. As she felt them withdraw, she allowed herself to smile finally, her eyes slipping open for a moment to glance behind her.

Ketheron and his recruits were marching in good order towards another exit of the garden, and she took the opportunity to study him. Here was a beast of a Sin’dorei, his rippling form the peak of physical perfection. Not even slightly out of breath as he quick-marched the huffing and puffing recruits that followed him, his face had a look of determination that she knew was directed at ensuring those under his training would be of good mind and body to perform their duties. There was a happiness on his face as he did his work that was admirable and spoke of one who found the simple act of keeping healthy to be one of his most important goals.

She kept her gaze on him all the way across the garden, watching until his shock of red hair disappeared through the far gates. After he was gone she was startled to realize she’d been staring with her mouth opened and a bewildered smile that was not typical of her. She shook her head, laughing at herself and resuming her meditative pose, words whispered to no one but herself disappearing on the warm breeze, “Focus Selenthiel, focus. You’ve too much to worry about right now to think about that.”

And yet, when she returned to her meditation, the smile stayed with her, as did the words Ketheron had spoken.

Prying Eyes

The inside of the tavern was dim and smokey, the patrons further inside hazy outlines. The noise was incredible, people laughing and shouting, a pair of musicians playing some stringed instruments in the corner of the room and of course at least one bar fight going on. Braeth'el ignored all of this though as he made his way deeper inside, stepping over the occasional unconscious patron as he moved.

Further in he found Ketheron seated at a small table, a tankard of ale in one hand and his other wrapped around the back of a barmaid that was sitting in his lap. The barmaid's bodice was unlaced so far that Braeth'el suspected any sudden movements could spell a potential wardrobe disaster. Despite his friend's obviously interested company, Braeth'el grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it over to the table, sitting backwards in it and resting his arms against the back, "Ketheron! The guards said you had the night off so I figured I'd find you relaxing a bit my friend."

Ketheron laughed, bringing his tankard up in salute before taking a long pull off the frosty beverage, "Relaxing indeed, Brae! Been too many days for it, and since we've been able to sit and chat too. That girl of yours keeps you pretty busy eh?"

Braeth'el smirked, nodding at Ketheron's companion, "No busier than you I'd guess. I wish I'd come here to relax and talk about nothing like the old days, but unfortunately I'm still bogged down with work. I actually had something urgent I needed to discuss with you."

"Say no more my friend," Ketheron replied. "When I agreed to train some of your men I figured it would end up being more than a simple job." He smirked, gently shooing the barmaid off his lap. She pouted at him, leaning down so low that Braeth'el actually felt the need to glance away as her tongue came out and her lips met Ketheron's. After a long moment she giggled and scurried away, leaving the two Sin'dorei sitting alone at the table.

Ketheron grinned at his friend, taking another sip of his ale before studying him, "So what's going on, Brae? I have to say, I think you're running yourself ragged. The guards I've been training have told me about all the work you do and the injuries you've suffered doing it. They admire you, but when I heard about it all I was thinking to myself 'when is this guy going to get a break from all this stress' and I've been worried."

Braeth'el sighed and shook his head, "There's no rest I'm afraid. One of these days I'd like to settle down and retire, but I can't do that in good conscience until I'm at least sure the immediate threats I'm aware about are taken care of. There's still one more loose thread that needs to be taken care of before it's all done, then maybe I'll think about what comes next. Might be I'll need to shop for a ring in the near future I'm hoping."

Ketheron's eyes widened and then he smiled, "You old dog you, I knew one day you'd end up with someone special. You always lived life your own way, but I knew you'd find a girl who could keep up. Don't think this means I'm going to be a babysitter and bouncing your brats on my knee though!"

Braeth'el barked out a laugh, shaking his head, "Yeah I can see it now. 'Uncle' Ketheron changing diapers. I'll talk to Kyli about getting your official title changed as quickly as I can."

Ketheron snorted, "She doesn't have enough gold to pay me to do that."

"Our new allies do. I'm sure you've seen the former Felo'melorns, no?" Braeth'el asked.

"I have actually. Andithiel sometimes practices with his bow in the training yard," Ketheron said, his voice thoughtful. "The boy looks sullen I gotta say. Not sure what crawled up his craw but he needs to get over it if he's going to really be a good ranger captain for the House. Saw one of his sisters too, that Selenthiel. Let me tell you, that girl is a sight for sore eyes. She reminds me a little of Arcadia from when I saw her. She was just passing through the yard but you could tell she was gentle in nature like Arcadia was. Surprised me a bit given that I expected the rest of the nobles to be a bit stuffy like Selun'athiel used to be."

Braeth'el nodded, surprised by his friend's keen observations. This was why they got along so well though; they both knew how to properly judge a situation for what it was, "Most definitely. Selenthiel's a darling for sure. It's a pleasure to work with her on the rare occasions I do. It's actually in relation to her that I wanted to talk to you."

"Is she in danger?" Ketheron said, sitting up a bit. "Wouldn't do to have a priestess like her being threatened. If she needs aid you say the word and I'm there."

Braeth'el smiled, shaking his head, "No no, it's nothing like that. It's about an item we've been seeking. Some of our enemies are also seeking the same object and she's come to me with a few concerns about where they are looking and how diligently they are searching. The item is rather powerful and we don't want them finding it before we do. It could be trouble if so."

Ketheron nodded, sipping his ale and considering this, "So you want me to help with what exactly...? I'm not really learned on magic. Arcadia tried a few times but...well you know me, I'm thick as hell when it comes to some things."

Braeth'el smiled, "Nothing like that Keth, more like information. I need you to troll some of the old hangouts and see if you can wring me up some privateers. Our enemies in House Dawnsea have a huge fleet at their disposal and I want to keep an eye on where they're heading if I can."

Ketheron nodded, "That I can do. I know a few people that might be useful. There's this one lass, she captains her own ship. She'd know what to look out for as her people are always looking for opportunities at the port you might say. What kind of artifact are we talking about?"

Braeth'el leaned forward, his voice low, "Well, it's this sort of-"

He paused suddenly, looking past Ketheron and glaring. Leaning against part of the bar nearby was a blonde Sin'dorei woman wearing black scale-mail armor. While she was resting casually against the bar, Braeth'el noted that she'd not taken a sip of her drink in a long while, and when he looked directly at her she'd hurriedly averted her gaze. Not being new to the spy business, he stopped talking and leaned forward, spilling Ketheron's drink intentionally but missing Ketheron himself.

"Oh damn, sorry Keth," he murmured. "Let's get you back to the Estate so you can dry off."

"But I'm not-" Ketheron said before Braeth'el's gaze met his. "Oh, right. Yeah that kind of sucks. I should have been heading back anyway."

The two rose, leaving a few coins on the table and making their way through the bar towards the exit. As they passed through the sheer silk curtains that separated the interior from the outside world, the noise of the place and the hazy smoke fell behind them, leaving them in the cool freeze air of the night and in peaceful silence.

Ketheron had worked with Braeth'el enough to know not to ask any questions. It might have been a while, but long ago he'd seen his fair share of intrigues. The two elves walked silently down a narrow street, heading in the general direction of the Sunfire spires in the center of the city. An expert at such things, Braeth'el kept their pace deliberately slow, resisting the urge to glance back behind him. Although they heard no sound, he could practically feel a pair of eyes boring into his back. Whoever the elf at the bar had been, she was quiet as a ghost when she wanted to be.

As they walked, Braeth'el kept the route intentionally vague, looking for the right spot to confront the spy. His opportunity came not much later as they turned a corner and went down a narrow side street that connected to another main road. The block was short, and halfway down was an alley. As they passed it, Braeth'el glanced over his shoulder and saw no one; their pursuer had not yet rounded the corner. In a flash he grabbed Ketheron's arm and shuffled his friend into the alley. He didn't need to tell his large friend to be silent as they waited in the darkness.

The blonde Sin'dorei had moved in near silence, but the moonlight cast her shadow on the ground as she walked. Braeth'el spied it a moment before she was about to pass the narrow alley opening. With Ketheron hugging the wall beside him, he lashed out, snagging the elf's arm and whirling her suddenly into the alley, keeping her contained within it with his body blocking the entrance.

The elf was certainly well trained. She began to move the moment Braeth'el grabbed her. Even as she was whirled into the alley she jumped backwards, putting distance between herself and her assailant in an instant. Braeth'el had just enough time to pull a dagger as she snapped a bow from her back. Almost as quick as taking a breath she had an arrow in her hand and was about to notch it. Braeth'el didn't hesitate, his dagger flying across the space between them and snapping the bowstring. The weapon misfired, the bowstring snapping the elf's hand and neck, leaving a vicious red welt where it had struck her.

She gasped, dropping the weapon and turning to flee deeper into the alley. Without a sound Braeth'el pursued her, his gait crossing the distance before she could get far. Behind him Ketheron ran after him, a little more noisy but just as fast, the two physically fit fighters used to sudden dashes like this.

As Braeth'el reached out to grab the Sin'dorei, she whirled at him, having sensed his approach. A combat knife was in her hand and she slashed at him viciously. He dodged backwards, slamming into Ketheron and nearly being pushed into the weapon. Fortunately his friend was accustomed to hand to hand fighting and backed up, giving Braeth'el the space he needed. He dropped into a fighting crouch as the blonde elf snarled and charged at him, knife swinging.

The first slash missed entirely as Braeth'el agilely dodged. The second he caught on the back of his forearm, the weapon leaving a bloody but otherwise harmless gash. As the weapon bounced off his arm his free hand came forward, his palm striking the blonde elf in the center of her chest. She gasped, flying backwards into the stone wall of the alley behind her.

In a flash Braeth'el was on her. She slashed out at him again but he viciously punched up and into her armpit, making the attack go wide. He grabbed her wrist with his left arm, slamming her hand against the stone over and over. To her credit, the woman did not release the blade and was clearly well trained. She attempted to bring her knee up into his groin but he was ready for that, his longer reach allowing him to dodge the blow and deliver a right hook to her jaw.

The elf's head snapped back and slammed into the concrete, blood running from her lip. Braeth'el continued to viciously pound her hand against the wall, and in her dazed state she finally released the weapon. It clattered to the ground and her other hand came up, trying to claw at Braeth'el's eyes. She spit in his face, clearly having some skill in hand to hand fighting.

Unfortunately, she was half his size and Braeth'el caught her other wrist in his hand. He slammed that one against the wall above her head and kneed her in the stomach, causing the breath to rush from her again. While she was dazed he grabbed both wrists and pinned them above her with one hand, his right hand coming up to grab her chin and slam her head against the wall again. He stared hard into her eyes, his voice growling, "Who are you, and why are you spying on me?"

The woman glared daggers at him, her voice a hiss, "What are you going to do, kill me on the streets? Is walking a crime?"

Braeth'el growled, releasing her jaw and punching her in the stomach. She gasped, grinning and spitting a glob of blood on the ground, "You like to be rough, don't you big boy? I'm not telling you shit so hit me all you want."

"Maybe I will," Braeth'el growled, punching her in the stomach again. Although her scale mail absorbed much of the blow, it was enough to make her gasp again. "You were spying on my conversation and then followed us. Who are you and who do you work for?"

"I work for myself, so fuck off," the blonde replied, still glaring. "I don't have to tell you anything, and if you think you're going to force me to, think again."

Braeth'el snarled, his arm flexing as he crushed her wrists in his grip, getting a squeak of pain from her. He leaned forward, very close to her face and whispered, "This can go on for as long as you make it go on, and can be as painful as you choose to make it. I don't have time for unknown spies and I'm not going to be gentle. Just tell me who the fuck you work for."

For a moment fear bloomed in her eyes, and Braeth'el could feel her trembling. Despite her voice cracking, she remained defiant, "I-I already told you to fuck off. D-do your worst, I can take it."

Braeth'el's fist came up as his eyes blazed with anger, but Ketheron's hand on his shoulder held the next blow in check, "Brae, she's not going to talk even if you've scared her. You'll either leave her a bloody mess or kill her and then it'll complicate it even more."

Braeth'el took a deep breath and lowered his fist. The Sin'dorei he held against the wall still looked afraid, but remained silent as his gaze met her again. He glanced over her form, trying to determine from the skin-tight, black scale-mail who she might be. Finally he nodded, more at Ketheron than anything else, his free hand beginning to pat her down, and not sparing her dignity as he checked her for weapons or other identification. The elf shuddered, squirming under his grasp but he kept her arms firmly pinned. As he ran a hand up her arm, he noticed something of interest.

With his free hand he began to undo the leather straps on her armor over her right breast. It was difficult to work with her arm held above her, but he worried at the straps until the came free. He began to remove her shoulder pauldron, ignoring the shape of the elf beneath as he tossed metal onto the ground.

"Are you going to at least buy me a drink first?" the blonde said, her anger surging back up again. "First you attack me and now you're going to strip me?"

"Shut up. You could have just answered my question," Braeth'el barked. He finished his task, leaning hard against the elf as her right arm was laid bare. He grasped her left hand with his free hand and jerked her right arm down to look at what he had seen a hint of. There, on her upper arm, was a tattoo of the 91st Sunfury Regiment; one of Kael'thas's groups.

With a disgusted grunt Braeth'el spit on the ground and released the woman, stepping back, "You're just scum, not part of any House. Nobody would take in someone like you."

The woman rubbed her wrists, glaring at Braeth'el and Ketheron, "I'm being called scum by a rebel. Just because you won doesn't mean anything, and it's over now anyway. So unless you want to strip the rest of my armor off, are you fucking satisfied now?"

Braeth'el exchanged a long glance with Ketheron and then shrugged, "Whatever. Don't let me catch you listening to us again or next time it won't be so lucky for you. The last thing I need is a lowlife like you following me around. I don't want to be associated with trash."

With that he turned to walk away, Ketheron moving along beside him. Behind him the blonde elf snarled, lunging at him with a second combat knife she'd kept hidden. Braeth'el had been expecting this though, and whirled at the last moment, ducking down and lashing out with his foot. He swept her legs out from under her and she fell with a clatter and a grunt onto the stone. He loomed over her, kicking her several times until she released her second knife.

"Go back to the Outlands and stay there, Quel'Thalas has enough problems without people like you coming back," Braeth'el said. The elf lay beneath him, panting and gasping as he turned to walk away a second time. Ketheron spit on the ground and the two friends were soon out of sight as they passed through the alley's mouth.

On the ground, Ravinelle Blackfeather grunted, spitting another glob of blood out of her mouth and slowly sitting up, groaning from the pain. She grinned through blood-covered teeth as the two left; she'd heard far more than enough, and the others would be interested to know about the intel. The beating had been worth it in the end if they could locate and get their hands on an artifact that was so powerful that different Houses were fighting over it.

As she picked up her weapons and restrung her bow, she limped towards the alley's mouth. She'd need a long soak in a scalding hot bath to ease the bruises, but she'd repay her attackers back tenfold one day.

She'd repay everyone in Quel'Thalas and the Horde for what had happened to her.

An Interrupted Plot

*Ghostlands at dusk*

The haunted forests were quiet around them, even the restless dead having fallen silent as the day transitioned slowly to black night. Soon spirits would rise from the ground, stalking through the Ghostlands with a faint green or blue glow, their mournful wails a chorus of the night. This close to the Dead Scar, it was dangerous even in the daytime, but it would become doubly so once the sun was completely down. It was for this reason that Ravinelle Blackfeather shifty irritably in her hiding spot, wishing the meeting would come to a conclusion more quickly.

Dressed in skin tight, black scale-mail armor, she crouched in a cluster of thick bushes, her longbow held firmly in her hands and a black-feathered arrow already notched and ready to let fly. She'd tied her platinum blonde hair back to keep it from spoiling her aim, and although her armor was dark she ensured that there was as much foliage between herself and the nearby clearing as possible, as it was difficult at best to hide the golden strands on her head or the tanned flesh that was clearly visible where her armor didn't cover her body.

In the clearing before her, one of her co-conspirators stood impatiently in the gloom, shifting in place and looking around nervously. He was a new recruit, so he had the unenviable duty of performing the actual negotiating in the chance that the entire thing was a trap. Ravinelle looked beyond the dark haired Sin'dorei, her keen eyes just barely picking out the form of another of the group nearby. This one was much more clever and one of their veterans, and his hiding spot was nearly invisible as he held his own bow at the ready.

Ravinelle smiled to herself, looking to her left and seeing another of the group, a Sin'dorei named Lekanus, crouched down within ten feet of her. Like Ravinelle, his armor was dull black and he was almost impossible to spot. Only the bare flesh of his upper arm was visible from where she crouched, and through the foliage she could just barely make out the phoenix tattoo with the small words '91st' beneath them. The sight of it stirred memories in her, and she shifted again, absently thinking about the matching tattoo on her own right arm; it was good to have people from the old Sunfury Regiment nearby. At least you could trust them to do their job.

The thought was interrupted as a stirring could be heard in the nearby forest. All of the brigands hiding in the bushes tensed, their bows taut and at the ready. They relaxed only slightly when three forms emerged from the wilderness, their twisted, hunched gait giving away exactly who they were. In the gloom, Ravinelle watched the three Wretched as they approached the group's contact, her sensitive ears easily picking up the conversation.

"You have it yesssss?" one of the Wretched hissed at their point man, Krellen.

"Yeah, sure," Krellen responded nervously. He reached into a pouch and pulled out a glowing mana crystal, holding it up for all three Wretched to see before tossing it to the lead. They all tensed, the largest of the three catching the crystal and studying it, hissing wickedly at the other two as they drew nearer.

After a moment of silence, the leader of the three looked back at Krellen, "It issss acceptable. We must have more!"

Annoyed now, Krellen's voice was waspish, "You'll have more when you complete your side of the bargain. All that was promised to you. A hundred more crystals."

"Yessss," the Wretched hissed. "The tunnel issss almost complete now. Just liked you assssked beneath the armory of the estate near the edge of the city. Two more daysss at most. You will come then?"

Krellen stiffened, glaring at the Wretched, "We will use the tunnel, yes. And you and yours will not be there when we arrive, got it? Your payment will be in the location we already agreed on."

"Yessss yessss," the Wretched waved. "The deal issss done then. Do not return to us without more magic in the future, or we will feast on you, yessss?"

The Sin'dorei was about to reply when the sounds of people moving through the foliage could be heard again. Everyone looked around nervously now, Krellen and the Wretched exchanging hostile looks. "Did you bring more with you?"

"No, it issss not oursss," the Wretched hissed.

As he spoke, a torch flared up, and from her hiding spot Ravinelle winced as the light stabbed into her eyes. When her vision cleared, there were three Forsaken standing near the edge of the clearing in full armor with drawn swords and shields. They grinned, their filthy yellow eyes glowing dimly. The leader of the group spoke with a growl, "What do we have here? A little parley in the forest? And so far away from your city too. I'm sure the others of your kind would be interested to hear about this."

Ravinelle swore quietly, glancing towards Lekanus. He met her gaze, his hands moving rapidly in silent signals, their military training kicking in from long ago when they served a real Prince of the royal blood.

Neutralize all targets. Quick and quiet.

Ravinelle nodded her confirmation, her bow already coming up. She whispered a word, the arrow tip glowing with enchantment as she sighted down the shaft. In a heartbeat she let fly, her arrow crossing the distance silently.

The lead Forsaken jerked backwards as her shaft found his eye socket, the magical enchantment putting him to his final rest as it exploded in his skull. Two more arrows flew from the nearby bushes, one taking a Forsaken trooper in the neck, the other impacting a hastily moved shield. The wounded Forsaken collapsed next to his companion, while the one who had survived called out.

His call was answered by battle cries coming from decaying throats, three more of the patrol charging into the clearing from the opposite side. In the center of the clearing Krellen turned to face the Forsaken, mistakenly putting his back to the Wretched. They charged him, knocking him over and beginning to tear at him even as more arrows flew from the bushes. Ravinelle let loose another arrow, striking one of the charging Forsaken in the chest and sending him crashing to the ground. The rest of the group of brigands also fired, and the charging Forsaken troopers became pin cushions in a moment as the shots found their marks.

In seconds the battle was over, the only sound in the forest that of sick crunching as the Wretched attempted to bite and feed off of poor Krellen. Ravinelle rose from her hiding spot, another arrow notched as she aimed down the shaft. A moment later Krellen's faint cries were silenced as her shot ended his suffering.

The Wretched moved cautiously off the body as Ravinelle stepped into the clearing, another arrow already prepared should they attack. She glared at them, and the leader hissed at her, "The deal has been ruined. The Forsaken patrol will be missssed."

"The deal remains the same," Ravinelle said, her heart pounding in her chest. Around her she could sense her companions moving into position once more, each having relocated after firing and each prepared to end the Wretched should they attack again. "Leave this place and we will take care of this...inconvenience."

The Wretched glared at her once and then nodded. Growling at its companions, the three turned and slunk off into the forest. Ravinelle remained in place, her bow taut until she was sure they were long gone. She lowered her weapon and the rest of the group, known as the Blackfeather Company, appeared from the foliage, seven in all. They quickly set to work checking the Forsaken for survivor and removing all signs of their presence.

Ravinelle found herself standing over one of the Forsaken that had been shot in the chest. His decayed form still twitched with life, his eyes listless. She nudged him with her boot and he twitched once as she glared down at him. Slowly she drew her bow back, aiming it at his head, "Filth like you do not belong in this realm, or anywhere. The fact that you are our 'allies' makes me sick. Hopefully one day we will rectify that situation."

The Forsaken below her groaned something unintelligible and she let her arrow fly, striking it in the eye. It died with a gurgle, the forest growing still and silent. She looked up at the others as she yanked her arrow free, wiping the tip on the cloak of the fallen Forsaken trooper, "Make sure we have every shaft, every arrowhead, and obliterate our tracks. It's almost nightfall and soon there will be a means to dispose of the bodies. We'll put them on the edge of the Dead Scar and let the roaming Scourge have their taste. Who knows, maybe some of this lot will live again as mindless shamblers."

Lekanus grinned at her and nodded, his hands coming up to signal the others. Most of the old veterans snapped into action in a moment, although Ravinelle frowned as she saw a few of the newer recruits moving slowly or appearing confused. They would need more training in the days to come if they were going to be useful to the group, especially given their mission.

She hooked her bow onto a latch on her quiver on her back and sighed to herself. With her nose crinkling in disgust, the veteran ranger bent down and grabbed the boots of the Forsaken she'd just killed, dragging him through the foliage as others began doing the same for the rest of the fallen. Behind them two of the rangers began obscuring their tracks. When they were done, there would be no evidence of a battle, and the missing patrol would be found mostly devoured or mindless in the Dead Scar by the next day.

When their work was done, Ravinelle nodded in satisfaction, the group gathering one last time before they would separate. She spoke softly as the darkness grew, "Well done. We'll meet in three days to continue with the plan. Once the weapons are secure we'll begin planning the next phase. Until then, make yourselves scarce and keep a low profile. If any of you get word of legitimate work look into it; more coin and a reasonable alibi would not be a bad thing.

The rest of the rangers nodded at her, and she brought a hand to her heart, saluting them using an old military salute used by Kael'thas's forces long ago. Several of them returned the salute before the group broke up, each disappearing into the dark forest like a ghost, no trace of their presence remaining to tell the tale of treachery that had just unfolded in the wilderness.

In the Fel Woods

A fetid breeze blew in through the open window, ruffling tattered curtains and sending bits of dust swirling in little eddies in the corners of the room. The breeze was warm, and it made Serephel’s flame red locks flutter around her face. Sitting on the windowsill, she frowned, a hand absently coming up to brush some of the hair from her face, taking care not to get it caught around the two small horns that thrust forward from her forehead. 

She sat in deep concentration, her other hand steadying the tome that was in her lap, her knees keeping the book upright as she studied the intricate spells that seemed to crawl across the page, the foul fel magic difficult to read and decipher even for those long attuned to its use. The elf was pale, her skin pale from days spent indoors or in darkness studying secrets best left undiscovered. She dressed as a peasant commoner might; the fabric of her white shirt wrinkled with time and age and her striped purple and blue skirt pouring off the edge of the windowsill. Beyond this and the strange horns on her brow, she was much like any other Sin’dorei with her lithe figure and knife-shaped ears.

The room itself was dim, the interior of the tower’s top filled with workbenches and tables that were covered in tomes, crinkled old parchments and candles that burned with flickering green fires. In the far reaches of the domed chamber lay the debris of the previous occupants, the piles of dust from furniture that had decayed centuries before and marble seats and benches stripped of their fine cushions. Holes in the walls hinted at places where expensive sconces once stood and where banners once hung proudly.

All of this was lost on Serephel however; she had claimed the old Highborne tower a few years ago, clearing out those rooms that she needed and keeping the others in ruins where they were unnecessary. It had taken much time and effort to break down the magical wards that lingered on the place, and she had only done so successfully because she used the very energy that had destroyed the Highborne in the end anyway, fel magic. 

She paused in her reading, her vibrant green eyes gazing out into the distance of Felwood. The forest was twisted and vile, the trees weeping fel energies in places and the creatures mutated by dark powers from long ago. Most sane people would not even consider traveling in such a place, let alone claiming it as their home. It suited Serephel perfectly however; where else could one so deeply seeped in fel magic find a place that would serve as a home and base of operations. This was not to say that the venture had been easy, for just beyond the wards that she had placed upon the Highborne ruin creatures roamed that would tear a traveler limb from limb. Even from her vantage point she could see gnolls and other foul creatures moving through the underbrush. They could never touch her up in her perch however, and had long ago learned valuable lessons about what would happen to them should they try. 

In the distance she sensed a disturbance that made her frown, manicured hands gently closing the tome in her lap as she peered out into the tainted wilderness beyond her sanctuary. It was not unusual for battles to unfold deep within the forests as various factions vied for control of the tainted woods. Occasionally adventurers would travel through the area, battling the satyr or gnolls that each tried to claim different areas of the region as their own. The battles were typically short lived however, and what she sense now was different somehow. Beyond her gaze, somewhere in the fel mists, arcane magic was being used in great abundance.

Serephel whispered a word in demonic, the harsh syllables coming from between her pert lips. Her fingers fluttered in the intricate motions of the spell, the air before her condensing into a fel green eye that hovered before her. She pointed out the window, her tone harsh, “Go.”

Instantly the summoned eye darted out into the forest, Serephel’s gaze distant as she saw through it. Twisted forest seemed to flow beneath her, the eye darting across the distance in a heartbeat. When something caught her eye, Serephel mentally commanded it to slow and then come to a stop, the gaze of the eye locking onto the object of her interest. In a clearing some distance from her home, a group of satyr walked through the murky forest, a few bending over the crumpled forms of Sin’dorei that lay dead on the ground. While this would not ordinarily have mattered much to Serephel, the fact that the dead Sin’dorei all appeared to be well dressed, armed, and wearing expensive garments unusual for a party of adventurers did matter.

“Well well, what do we have here?” Serephel purred, releasing her hold on the eye. She rose from her place on the windowsill, setting her tome down and walking over to a nearby desk. There she snatched up a simple white wooden staff, a gem on its top sparkling with purple energies for a moment as she grasped it. She turned towards the window, barking out another spell in harsh demonic, a hole tearing open in the space before her and connecting here to there with magic. With a grin, Serephel stepped through the portal, fel energy wrapping around her and transporting her to the clearing.

After a second of disorientation, she stood in the dark forest, her staff in her hand and her gaze meeting those of the first surprised satyrs. They hissed, several taking a step back from the new arrival while the others circled cautiously, growling at her. None dared approach too closely however, for they were quite familiar with the horned Sin’dorei.

“What do you want, witch?” one of the satyr growled at her in demonic. It hefted a blade, as if wishing to bury it in her chest which, in Serephel’s view, it likely did.

“I will examine the fallen,” Serephel stated in a cold voice. “Be gone while you still may.”

One of the other satyr grinned, laughing at her and causing several of the others to chuckle and growl. It stepped closer, its voice a hiss, “Maybe you will join them.”

“You’re new around here, aren’t you?” Serephel said merrily. Before it could respond she brought a hand up and snapped her fingers. Fel magic flared and instantly howling green flames exploded around the satyr that had spoken, engulfing it in fire. It screamed, its arms flailing as it ran away into the forest only to collapse in a flaming heap nearby. 

The other satyrs growled, several of them drawing blades or beginning to conjure spells. Serephel rolled her eyes, her already meager patience at its end. She brought her staff up, the tip glowing as the sky above them began to flicker with a strange orange-yellow light. Fires began to drift down, slowly at first and then with more force, small balls of fel-flame slamming into the ground amongst the satyr and exploding. Several howled as they were struck, a few breaking and fleeing as the fires broke their moral. Two others continued their spellcasting, and Serephel brought her staff down, drawing a small dagger from her belt and viciously cutting her own forearm while intoning a spell.

Spells flew towards her as blood welled from the cut, her own life-energy flowing into the magic and wrapping around her like a comfortable shield of warmth. The spells struck the barrier and exploded, the ground around Serephel charring to ash while she remained unharmed within it. She grinned, the look devilish beneath her red locks and horns, and the remaining satyr glanced at one another warily and began to back away. 

“You’re not leaving fast enough…” Serephel warned ominously, beginning to stride towards them. The flesh on her arm glowed with fel green light and slowly began to knit itself back together, blood staining her sleeve as flames began to lick up from the ground around her, seemingly burning from the hem of her dress but leaving the fabric and her flesh unharmed. “I’ll not ask again.”

The remaining satyr growled curses at her and back away, quickly turning to join their friends in retreat. Serephel had dealt with them before, and although they were far more ancient than her they had given up their most valuable possessions when they made their pacts and joined the Legion, their free will. Their spells were as they had been long ago, and Serephel had had ample time to experiment, learn and grow, unfettered by enslavement to the powers that fueled her spells. She had burned the satyr out several times when they dared to interfere with her work or approach her home, and would do so again with gleeful malice should they fail to understand the lesson. 

Once the demons were gone from sight Serephel let her power wane, studying the partially burned clearing with interest. She moved swiftly, her high heeled boots digging into the soft, tainted soil of the forest as she bent over one of the fallen Sin’dorei. As she had scried, the elf was well dressed and clearly had been dispatched as a party with the others laying nearby. A quick check of several of the bodies revealed much the same; the little group had not been adventurers as they bore no adventuring gear or camping equipment, and they had come via magic and had meant to leave the same way until the satyr had ambushed them. A search party of some sort then, and one that was looking for a specific area in the forest. But the question was, why?

Serephel bent down again, searching one of the dead elves for clues. She found one in the form of a pendant he wore around his neck. She yanked on the golden chain, removing it from the dead and holding it in her ritual-scarred palm, studying the golden pendant laying there. The emblem of a sun cresting over three waves glittered there, and she frowned, realizing it was likely the crest of some noble family or house. Shrugging, she tucked the pendant into a pouch at her belt, saving it for later study. 

The rest of the Sin’dorei had nothing further of interest on them, and Serephel shrugged again, turning back in the direction from which she’d come. With the utterance of another spell a fel green portal tore open before her, the scent of brimstone filling the clearing as she passed through it and the raging green energies swept her away.

It was rare that Sin’dorei came to Felwood. Rarer still that they came via magic and in a well-armed party. Serephel’s curiosity was piqued, and she would find out exactly who they had been and what they had been doing there. It was obvious that they’d been searching for something, and whatever it was must have been valuable enough to risk so many retainers. An object of power perhaps? Something that could be of use for her own ends? Or a threat to her quiet solitude and study? Regardless, she would get to the bottom of it one way or another. It was past time for her to travel again anyway; her stock of spell components was running low and she needed several things from the city. 

Maybe this was an opportunity or maybe a threat. Either way, it represented a chance to potentially further advance her power or gain additional resources, and she was not one to pass at such things.