From the Darkness
Part 4
ver since the cataclysm, which had shaped countless lives, there had been problems in Darkshore. Auberdine was gone. Destroyed by a massive tidal wave that has wiped out the settlement and almost everyone in it. Those who were lucky enough to survive the destruction were able to start anew in the smaller settlement of Lor'danel. However, like most of the areas affected by the cataclysm, those who survived it found themselves in a completely different world, with new hazards that would test their resolves.
One unforseen event that tested the kal'dorei was the recruitment of the previously non-threatening Shatterspear trolls into the Horde. The highly reclusive tribe had been content to stay within their walled valley for some time, seemingly oblivious to the events that were happening around them. However, with the cataclysm came chance. Warchief Hellscream incorporated the Shatterspear into his ranks, and was now using them to extend the Horde's influence into Darkshore. The trolls had slowly began to spread south towards the kal'dorei settlements, with Lor'danel being the first thing they would encounter.
In order to combat this new threat, the kal'dorei worked furiously to halt the advance of the Shatterspear. However, with many night elves losing their lives int eh cataclysm, willing and able military forces were rare. The leaders of Lor'danel had to turn to willing members of the alliance who were passing through on their adventures, luring them to combat the trolls with minor promises of fame, but more commonly with wealth.
Wealth was the reason that three Shatterspear trolls lay dead at the feet of this particular recruit. With his chosen profession discontinued due to personal reasons, he needed a way to put his skills to good use. One had to eat, after all, and gold was gold, however it was earned. So, he had signed up and ventured into the wilderness, in order to cull a few trolls.
Samael Moonskin knelt and examined the lifeless corpses of the three trolls. He had tracked them in their movements, determining their path - a straight line to Lor'danel. A scouting party, no doubt, the slender night elf thought. The first of many. Samael straightened, drawing himself up to his full six feet, eight inches. His pale skin, an unusual hereditary trait that had given his sparse family their name, was streaked with mud and sweat from the day's hunt. A lean, wolfish face with cold eyes regarded the dead trolls with detached interest. This was a job, after all, and it literally paid to be thorough.
Samael had ambushed the trolls as they had moved through the undergrowth of the forest. They had thought themselves clever and undetectable, right up until one of them had become pinned to a tree by the elf's first crossbow bolt. His two companions had looked bewildered, long enough for Samael to reload and fire another bolt, and end another life. The third had met his end by the pale-skinned elf's sword. It was never wise to try and sneak into unfamiliar surroundings, and as good as these trolls were, Samael was better.
However, as Samael bent again, knife in hand, his thoughts turned to a time before the Shattering. Before his unwanted employments as a blade-for-hire. A time which had changed when he had traveled to the nearby forest of Ashenvale, on a personal quest to find out the truth about someone he had cared for.
What Samael had found instead was a deadly web of corruption, blood and war that had lead him headlong into trouble. He had found out what he wanted to, but this proved inconsequential, as more problems had arisen. Once he knew what he had to do, he had not been able to accomplish it. Instead, he had found himself in a bad place turned worse once the cataclysm had occurred, and had suffered for it. Now, he eked out a living killing things for money, all the while watching and waiting for some form of news. Something that would make his purpose worthwhile again.
Samael straightened, his knife sheathed and three bloody troll tusks in his hand. Proof had to be given, after all. As he headed back to where his horse was tied (Samael, in perhaps an odd sentiment for a night elf, preferred horses over nightsabers), his thoughts turned back, as they often did, to the one being whom he would gladly kill for free.
You will show yourself, Morvai Bloodhorn. You will show yourself, and I will be waiting...
One unforseen event that tested the kal'dorei was the recruitment of the previously non-threatening Shatterspear trolls into the Horde. The highly reclusive tribe had been content to stay within their walled valley for some time, seemingly oblivious to the events that were happening around them. However, with the cataclysm came chance. Warchief Hellscream incorporated the Shatterspear into his ranks, and was now using them to extend the Horde's influence into Darkshore. The trolls had slowly began to spread south towards the kal'dorei settlements, with Lor'danel being the first thing they would encounter.
In order to combat this new threat, the kal'dorei worked furiously to halt the advance of the Shatterspear. However, with many night elves losing their lives int eh cataclysm, willing and able military forces were rare. The leaders of Lor'danel had to turn to willing members of the alliance who were passing through on their adventures, luring them to combat the trolls with minor promises of fame, but more commonly with wealth.
Wealth was the reason that three Shatterspear trolls lay dead at the feet of this particular recruit. With his chosen profession discontinued due to personal reasons, he needed a way to put his skills to good use. One had to eat, after all, and gold was gold, however it was earned. So, he had signed up and ventured into the wilderness, in order to cull a few trolls.
Samael Moonskin knelt and examined the lifeless corpses of the three trolls. He had tracked them in their movements, determining their path - a straight line to Lor'danel. A scouting party, no doubt, the slender night elf thought. The first of many. Samael straightened, drawing himself up to his full six feet, eight inches. His pale skin, an unusual hereditary trait that had given his sparse family their name, was streaked with mud and sweat from the day's hunt. A lean, wolfish face with cold eyes regarded the dead trolls with detached interest. This was a job, after all, and it literally paid to be thorough.
Samael had ambushed the trolls as they had moved through the undergrowth of the forest. They had thought themselves clever and undetectable, right up until one of them had become pinned to a tree by the elf's first crossbow bolt. His two companions had looked bewildered, long enough for Samael to reload and fire another bolt, and end another life. The third had met his end by the pale-skinned elf's sword. It was never wise to try and sneak into unfamiliar surroundings, and as good as these trolls were, Samael was better.
However, as Samael bent again, knife in hand, his thoughts turned to a time before the Shattering. Before his unwanted employments as a blade-for-hire. A time which had changed when he had traveled to the nearby forest of Ashenvale, on a personal quest to find out the truth about someone he had cared for.
What Samael had found instead was a deadly web of corruption, blood and war that had lead him headlong into trouble. He had found out what he wanted to, but this proved inconsequential, as more problems had arisen. Once he knew what he had to do, he had not been able to accomplish it. Instead, he had found himself in a bad place turned worse once the cataclysm had occurred, and had suffered for it. Now, he eked out a living killing things for money, all the while watching and waiting for some form of news. Something that would make his purpose worthwhile again.
Samael straightened, his knife sheathed and three bloody troll tusks in his hand. Proof had to be given, after all. As he headed back to where his horse was tied (Samael, in perhaps an odd sentiment for a night elf, preferred horses over nightsabers), his thoughts turned back, as they often did, to the one being whom he would gladly kill for free.
You will show yourself, Morvai Bloodhorn. You will show yourself, and I will be waiting...