Assassin

Danath walked his rounds at the same time each day, regular as the setting of the sun or the rising of a new dawn. She knows his routine from waking to the time his head bows in rest, she has been watching his movements for some time now.

The assassin crouches motionless in the shadows, warm sun on her back as a light gust of wind tangled the silver white hair framing her face.

He walks along the straight line of his men, stopping to share a few words with two of them before his inspection comes to an end, now he will check the supplies and speak to the trainers in the Hold, same as he does every day.

As night descends the assassin releases cramped leg muscles and makes her way back towards Thrallmar, carefully using the shadows to avoid running into trouble. Once back at the Inn she updates her notes, adding in the human woman he has been spending his time with today.

A voice calls out heralding the arrival of Magister Bloodhawk and she carefully secures her notes before going to meet him. His presence in Thrallmar has proved useful to her when dealing with Nazgrel who has made it clear having an assassin sitting around eating his supplies is unfavourable.

They spend time speaking as they share the evening meal, she smiles a lot and gazes into his eyes, making certain she will have an ally if Nazgrel decides to make her life difficult in the future. Floyd calls the closing and the Magister turns to her, promising to check in with her soon, holding her hand a little too long before he takes his leave.

Her room seems undisturbed when she returns, yet there is a letter on the pallet she is using. Instinct takes her into the shadows and she checks her perimeters before searching her entire sleeping area carefully. Nothing is missing, on the contrary she has gained a note, which is still sitting untouched on her cover.

Pulling on her gloves she takes up the letter, searching the outside for poisons before slitting it open with her throwing blade. The paper is high quality and smells of musk, a familiar scent that relaxes her enough to strip off her gloves once more.

"You are to mail your findings in total and proceed to Silvermoon, leave at first light."

Wasting no time she gathers all her intel, placing it into the leather bag which carries the mark of Shattrath, sealing it she sends it for the attention of Voren'thal. The Scryer will find something of use in her long hours spent watching Danath Trollbane, he always did find the hidden in ways others seemed not to.

Carefully she removes all traces of her presence in Thrallmar before she finds Barley and pays for a final flight to the Dark Portal. Her plan is to pass back through into the Blasted Lands, making her way towards Silvermoon, possibly through the Forsaken City.

The travel is long and she has time to reflect on the work she does for Voren'thal and how she came to be of value to him. He had seen the weakened Sin'dorei losing her fight against the hunger, if he had not taken steps she would be in the ranks of the Wretched.

Her training had started as soon as her strength had returned and it continued to this day, guided by those he saw fit to advance her. In return she gave her skills, her knowledge and her very being to whatever he wished of her, a small price to pay for gaining her life back.

Finally in Silvermoon she finds an inn and asks for a room, along with the room comes another letter which she opens immediately as the scent of musk is still strong on it.

"In two hours you will see a Sin'dorei enter the inn, he is distinctive with pale locks as your own. He is your contact."

She cleans the hours of travel off her skin and changes into a white and purple robe before walking downstairs. He is already in the inn, a sign he is careful even as his eyes look her over without giving anything away. Walking confidently up to her he reveals himself as the contact and asks her what she knows of the situation.

Speaking to him she tries to gain an idea of why she has been sent here to this stranger in Silvermoon without any background information to work from. He tells her he is uniting the Sin'dorei to bring back the former glory of their people. Finally he takes to her the place she will be staying and leaves her there letting her know he will be back soon enough to check on her.

The letter is waiting as she knew it would be but on opening it the words are not what she expects and they leave her with tears in her eyes.

"Celara,

By now you are wondering why I would send you to aid Silvermoon given the events of our past.

I am becoming more frail by the day and I fear I will soon not have the strength to guide your endeavours as I once did.

You are no longer to answer to me or to Shattrath, your new home is Silvermoon and you are to report directly to Ranger Thiv in all matters.

Show him the honour you would show to me Celara.

Shorel'aran

Voren'thal."

Welcome to Silvermoon Celara. Very nice story and full of potential background.

Bala'Dash, assassin.

“Your people, you are a traitor to Silvermoon!”

He sits opposite her, the leaf he is rolling now idle between his fingers as his eyes hold her own. She is unsure of the Ranger, once again wondering why Voren'thal would send her to him.

Is she not Sin’dorei, must she be punished for the decisions made by her leaders, for the orders she was bound to follow?

“Celara, where would you go if you were rejected by Silvermoon?”

She wonders how much to reveal, it’s obvious he has distrust for her and her actions, a careless reply now could result in an unpleasant future, but if she lies...

“I would seek another leader to follow, but it would not be the Mag’har, Garrosh.”

The tension between them is thinly veiled so she forces herself to relax, trying to mimic his posture in an attempt to avoid provoking him.

He keeps silent, leaving her words hanging between them like an admission of guilt.

She knows she has little chance if he decides to execute her, his body shows signs of hard training and superior strength that she won't match in combat.

She has no option but to wait, and he draws it out, perhaps hoping she will break from the strain and say something she will regret.

When he finally speaks he offers her a simple choice.

Stand for Silvermoon or again betray the Sin’dorei.

She has nothing to lose now except perhaps her life and she answers him with a confidence she is not sure she feels.

Ranger Thiv gives her the list of duties she will carry out as his Blood Captain and then he dismisses her.

Alone in her room she shrugs into her new armour wondering about the Rangers past, he has made a lasting impression on her and only time will tell if her choice will prove to be the best one.

** Deleted - Character no longer on TVC **

((This did not take place with another player in WoW. I am adding it to her storyline as it defines her hidden persona, the dark side that hides beneath her calm green eyes.))

The scent of blood hangs heavy in the air as she steps away from the shape on the floor, it still draws breath, each one shallower than the last. She uses the tip of her boot to shove it, a rewarding whisper of pain breaks the strained breathing.

She smiles to herself.

She has gained no information from the Kaldorei, not that she wanted any from him. The last few days have been spent training her talent to extract information from an unwilling prisoner.

On the dirty floor the shattered life ebbs onto the canvas sheet, he is no longer recognisable, a broken ear hangs beside a discoloured swelling that was once a face. She has taken his sight and injured his body, leaving him at the mercy of fear until he is no longer able to hold onto his sanity.

Her brutal torture has been a balance between killing him and breaking him, when he no longer flinched at her touch she stopped, knowing he would do anything to keep what was left of his life.

She stands looking out the door, her gloves slowly hardening with drying blood as she patiently waits for him to die.

Later that day the sun sets on a silent room, there is no sign of the drama that unfolded within its walls. The body is gone, no trace of blood is left on the floor where the canvas was placed. She has been careful to clean up her mess, leaving nothing behind as always.

At her safe-house Celara burns her gloves in her evening campfire as she boils some water. She relaxes with a cup of mint tea, adding some honey before reaching into her pouch seeking a little thistle.

Sun Sword Celara Sunshade

((This RP involves Serpiente of Vile Thorn. The Death Knight was Karkun who ooc killed Celara in a PVP clash outside Stormwind.))

The blood would not stop and she knew the slow seep on the fresh bandage was a bad sign. With a soft sigh Celara cleared away the stained embersilk from the floor around her, aware of the predators beyond the ruined doorway.

Calmly she accepted the challenge, knowing it was her choice to help them, now her price to pay.

The Ebon Knight was no stranger to close combat, swinging his two blades with calculated ease in a dangerous flurry between them. She had lost sight of the Thorns, falling back to the waters edge to make her final stand against the human.

Violence erupted once more, his swift attacks leaving her restricted, forced to defend without rest. She felt the impact as he struck her but she ignored it, intent on keeping him busy so the Thorns could take his back.

With the Knight too powerful and the assassins fighting a new threat she became desperate, no longer wanting to kill, knowing she must escape. Weak and bleeding she had staggered away, leaving him swinging in a haze of smoke.

Mercifully he could not follow her into the shadows, hidden close to Stormwind wall she had traced the symbol on her blue stone with shaking hands. She did not linger in the City, the Ranger was away on business and she trusted non but him. Stopping Cho only to bind the wound, she moved rapidly into Ghostlands.

Survival had taught her one lesson, never get caught in the open when wounded.

She struggled against the dizzy fog in her mind, her trembling body protesting loudly at the loss of blood. Opening her eyes, the floor rough against her cheek, she lay where she had feinted, trying to gather her strength.

A voice had spoken her name, pushing against the floor she forced herself to sit up, keeping alert to hidden danger. He stepped from the shadows near the door and came slowly towards her.

“Thorn, how did you find me?”

He waited before coming closer, watching her intently as he weighed up the situation. Her hand strayed to her blade, eyes holding his above the red mask covering his face.

His questions left her wary, the assassin was not Orthos, she would not trust the Sin’dorei offering her help. A Thorn is a Thorn before all else, she had been told that by a Deathmaster. The Sin’dorei knelt over her, his hand gripping the blood stained leather of her knee.

Her blade nicked the skin of his throat as she threatened his life, trading it for his silence before accepting his help and removing her legguards.

Using his blade he cleaned the ragged edges of the wound, cutting away dying flesh as she tried not to scream. She shivered on the floor, her skin beaded with sweat as he pushed the needle into the edges of the wound, tying each of the 28 stitches in a neat row along the now puckered line.

Exhausted she had pulled her leggards on, the fresh bandage tight under the damaged leather. Celara slept where she had fallen, the Thorn keeping her warm as he watched over her through the night.

Celara

((After the second arrest))

Celara sighs softly.

With a suspect in custody, two witnesses and a further three unknown figures involved in a plot against an unknown Sin’dorei, she has a right to be tired.

The suspect has not made her case any better by her strange behaviour, a fact noted more than once in her interrogation. Once in custody of the Guard she became their problem and one less concern to take Celara from her now delayed task.

Keeping to the shadows she moves from Silvermoon City, making her way into Eversong Woods. Her meditation spot is not far from the City and she relaxes with some thistle before taking herself into restful suspension.

She wonders who the Sin’dorei is, knowing she will try to find her before they do, perhaps she can get her to a safehouse. Opening her eyes she sighs again, the meditation is not working, she needs to move on what little information she has.

Cho is sitting on the grass nearby, making a gentle whirring sound as he preens the dark plumage around his chest armour. She stands close holding some grain for him, then slaps at his tail feathers to get him up so she can mount.

Still tired, she turns towards Silvermoon City once more, intent on trying to find information on this woman.

CS

“I did it, I killed those kids.”

Celara looks at the Sin’dorei with her mouth open, too shocked to speak. What the fel did she think she was doing saying that in the Hall of Blood with Knights present?

Rangers Orthos and Calenor exchange looks as two Blood Knights take her into custody again.

“Come with me.”

The woman falls into step between the Knights as Celara walks towards the detention area of the Hall, the Sin’dorei sits down and starts crying. Celara finds herself at a loss to explain the sudden confession, why, when she has already been released after spending a night in detention, would she wish to return?

The investigation into her possible involvement in the murders has been closed, what is wrong with the woman? Ranger Calenor asks her a simple question before the paperwork is signed for her arrest.

“What sex were the children?”

She replies she cannot remember and without further question he walks out of the Hall with Ranger Orthos to speak in private. Celara sits down next to the woman with a tired sigh, the only break to the tense silence is the Sin’dorei sobbing.

“Why did you say you did it if you did not?”

She replies, her emotional outburst giving Celara little information but it is enough to work out the truth.

“Mins or Val or whatever you are called, you are taking the place of a murderer who is still out there.”

“If we take you and not the correct one, more children may die or worse, do you understand?”

The woman breaks down completely and begins to talk, the gush of words spilling from her in an almost breathless flow.

When Celara leaves the woman is sitting crying, the two Knights standing on either side of her are there to ensure her safety. The ever vigilant Blood Knights will take no chances after witnessing her trying to take an overdose of some substance after her release.

Celara meets with Ranger Orthos to discuss what has been said to her by the Sin’dorei and they examine the information and possible outcomes.

“What will this mean to Belore Alandie?”

“I do not know, we have no choice but to wait and see.”

((This was written some time past but I did not post it up. It is a catch up on Celara's hidden darkside.))

The assassin carefully applies poison before placing her small throwing blades back into the fan, silently she looks towards the leader near the flag point. He is restlessly pacing, his impatience obvious as they await the signal to move on Wildhammer longhouse.

Smoke curls from a cupped hand drawing her attention, the Sin’dorei leans on the wall with a long sword at his hip, his heavy shield balanced against his plate clad leg. She studies him until he looks at her, calm green eyes hold his own before she tilts her head with a smile.

“Move out!”

She steps backwards into the shadows, outside the force mounts up, surging down the hill from the Compound. She follows slowly, feet picking a careful path over the uneven terrain. Her face colours at an unwanted memory of Orthos sparring with her, his attack swift and sudden, leaving her off balance.

She had been no match at all, falling from the battle platform like an unskilled child. Picking herself up from the grass below she closed her eyes briefly, waiting for him to speak but he did not humiliate her further. His silence was made worse by the unreadable look on his face when she did look at him, Celara wasted no time in presenting herself for training at the battlefront.

She catches up with them near the river, the two sides already engaged in battle along the banks. The clash of steel washes over the Sin’dorei and she allows her tight control to fade for the first time in days.

Bodies dodge and weave trying to gain the upper hand, Celara moves closer and picks her target. It dies too fast and she pushes it quickly from her, seeking more until they turn to confront her with blood lust in their eyes.

Her perception heightens, the exhilaration of battle now as strong as a drop of Fel warming on her tongue. A rush of adrenalin and Celara begins to death dance, her blades become the ultimate expression of brutal violence.

She lashes out with a boot, bones break as her blades seek exposed flesh in small unguarded places. Ruthless cruelty drives her, instinct keeping her supple body flowing with movement close to the edge of death.

She is thrown backwards, her feet clear of the ground until it comes up and catches her body with a powerful punch. She struggles to gain air, her blades in her hands as the human crouches over her.

She looks up into his smiling face, he swings the heavy mace up in an arc above her. A powerful thrust reaches his brain and he staggers, falling, body taught with uncontrollable muscle tremors.

She braces her boot against his throat, her blade impaled in his face, tugging hard she liberates it from the shattered orb. Celara smiles down at the mess before her feet, she swells with pride for a job well done.

The shadows embrace her, she stalks a new target, her knee forcing it into her garrote, the wound gapes exposing bone. She reverses her blade against a nearby head but another takes the kill. It saves the life of the Sin’dorei who turns, eyes seeking hers, his sword in his hand.

“Anar'alah”

He seems to glow as he blesses her with his gift, warmth cascades over her body taking all her pain. Broad shoulders flex and he returns to battle, heavy shield ready, he eases the suffering of the wounded, his compassion taking those beyond help.

The sounds follow the assault to the longhouse, silence descends around her, alone on blood soaked ground with nothing left to kill.

A small hand reaches for her boot, the voice strange as it rasps.

“Bur”

The dwarf bleeds from the lungs, it bubbles from his nose and mouth with each breath. She steps into the shadows, watching patiently as he slips into shock. His breathing labours, his lungs fill and he struggles desperately, clinging to life.

The drama unfolds, there is no pity for this small man dying at her feet. All choices have consequences and it is a good day to die, if you are a dwarf.

Celara shivers, the metallic smell of blood taints the air even as it nourishes the ground it soaks.

A shout is heard, raised and carried by voice after voice until it echos over the land.

“Victory!”

“Victory is ours today!”

Moving with the shadows she swiftly makes her way back to the compound where Cho waits patiently to take her back to Silvermoon City.

CS