A heavy brown cloak draped Lyia Duskvenom's shoulders, the hood attached to it covering her bowed head as she stood in the darkened room.
Candles lit the square chamber all along its walls, a small rise to the end of it, opposite the door where a black-robed man stood, facing her, in a cloak and hood of his own. His size and build would hint to being human. He cleared his throat to speak.
"I see you've decided to take Us up on Our offer."
A silvery eye peered out from beneath the brown hood, burning a sharp gaze towards the man.
"You made me an offer I could not refuse."
The man chuckled. "Yes. Yes, We did. We did not expect your coming this soon, however. Tell Us, what is it you think to accomplish with this simulacrum of punctuality?"
"Very little. Just proving time is important. Timing moreso." answered the Kaldorei girl's voice across the dimly lit air.
"We see this. Are you ready? Your first task is at hand."
"I was born ready."
"...Cocky, are we?... This will serve as a test, young blade. In Elwynn, in the Sunderholm Manor, you shall find a man named Tobias. He is a Warlock, pieced together by magics most foul. The gist of the matter stands towards the fact that We could not prove his involvement in the Fel arts. As such, it comes down to..." the man trailed off, waving a hand suggestively.
"I understand, but know this: I've lived my life for twenty of yours, Human. I am not amused by your patronising attitude, no matter who you are. What should I do, and what should it look like?"
The man chuckled once more across the space between them. He raised a hand, palm out towards the elf. "Hush. Lay to rest any who stand in your path, but place no pointers neither to you, nor to Us."
"You have the word of the Liar."
"...Good."
The Kaldorei turned, creeping towards the doorway soundlessly.
"...And Liar?..." came the man's voice.
She looked over her shoulder. "Yes?"
"If you are caught, We deny any association with you. We never met. We do not know you. Today you spent your time elsewhere."
She looked forwards once more and exited the small building, out into the rain. She headed Northwards, until she reached Elwynn.
The First Task
Spoiler:
A storm was brewing. Lightning cracked the blackened skies, a lone Night Elven woman rapelling down the inner wall of a massive-looking estate.
The rope she used slid, humming through her gloved hands, rain pelting her from above, and making visibility next to nonexistent for the guards posted atop the walls.
The Elf darted for the house, sprinting to an unnatural speed, pushing muscle, sinew and bone to the very edge of its potence. She noticed a small window, rectangular in shape, which led to a basement. Or so she presumed...
She leapt for it and stretched in mid-air, hitting the window feet-first just as thunder from a lightning strike rolled to muffle the sound of cracking glass.
She was in. Now came the hard part. She tip-toed to a nearby oil lamp, blowing it out and peered down the hallway. After a moment of listening and watching, she concluded the passage was unguarded and crept down it noiselessly. She reached a fork in her path, to her right a dimly-lit, but massive keg, and to her left a door.
She turned the knob on the door very slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible, yet found it locked. She slipped out of a glove a set of lockpicking tools and took but an instant to unlock what once was barred. She retried the doorknob and found the door creaking open. She winced to the sound.
It appeared that the passage she came in through was in disuse. Past the door she found another hallway, at the end of which being a relativelly bright light and the sound of piano playing. She frowned a bit, but moved forwards, finding little choice to do otherwise. She slipped a small mirror out of a pocket, and held it up to the corner at the end of the hallway, peering into it.
She saw a human woman in a white dress, playing comfortably on an ancient-looking grand piano. She frowned. Something seemed... just wrong... about her. She examined her form for the briefest moment and realised what that was.
The woman appeared perfect in all meaning of the word, as though her body were sculpted with an intentionally careful hand. A vision of perfection yet... unnatural in all aspects. Lyia's frown faded as the woman stopped playing and moved somewhere out of sight.
The Kaldorei listened to the footsteps tapping further and further away on a wooden floor then turned the corner into the room, only to find it empty. There were a few exits to it, but the Night Elf's gaze landed on the stairs. She started her ascent up them, seeking to move once more as stealthily as possible. She reached three doors at the very top of the stairs.
Lyia leaned down, peering through the keyhole of one of the doors, a mild thumping sound coming from behind it. She shook her head ever so slightly and stood back up straight, moving for the next door. She leaned and spied the room's insides through the same orifice, her eyes widening to the sight before her.
She saw inside a great many number of fellish symbols strewn across the walls, demonic sigils carved into the ceiling and floor, and realised the sense of wrongness came from the presence of Fel energies. She nodded to herself, moving for the last door, and peeked inside, only to find her mark.
A heavily scarred man, as though he had been shattered into a thousand pieces, and then put back together, white lines spiderwebbing his skin, sat in his study, reading from a book as heavy glasses weighed down his face, in a speck of candlelight.
The Kaldorei girl turned the knob on the door and entered, the well-oiled hinges turning without a sound as she herself sneaked forth noiselessly towards the unassuming man. She reached up, over her shoulder for the sword, wishing only to end this now.
Pain. Pain spread through the Night Elf's body for a very brief, but agonising moment, and she bit her lower lip to choke down a scream, drawing her sword and turning sharply, slashing at whatever lay behind her.
It just so happened that her movements were fast enough to behead the Succubus, which had produced the pain, the head falling down and splattering blood onto a white dress. A cough came.
The man at the table looked up to the Kaldorei and nodded. "So, this is my end, hmm?..."
The Night Elf did not answer. She simply turned for the Human and raised her sword, inhaling and preparing for the last blow of the night.
"...Not again-" the human's voice was cut short as the katana tore through him, splitting him asunder. Lyia yanked her sword out of the corpse and flicked it clean of blood, wiping it lastly on the man's clothes.
A knock on the door came. The Liar leapt through a window, exhaling rapidly as she fell, rolling once she hit the ground and sprinting off, to the angry shouts coming from the manor behind herself.
She reached the grappling hook she'd left behind and took hold of the rope, climbing it, before rappelling down the outside of the walls, using the last remnants of the now light rain to cover her tracks for her as she sped into the dark forest ahead.
The Night Elf weaded through a massive crowd of mixed genders and races in the Trade Quarter of Stormwind. She was covered well by her brown cloak, looking more akin to some stray and tall pilgrim than the Liar figure for which she was known.
Her ears perked, and she glanced to the source of a loud, male voice.
A crier stood atop a stack of crates, yelling viciously into a cone-like object words he read from an open scroll held in front of him. Sunlight dimmed as the solar eye descended towards the horizon, bathing the sky in a fiery glow. Around the city the torches and lamps were being lit preemptively for the coming night.
"Hear ye! Hear ye! Esteemed noble, Tobias Sunderholm was found dead in his manor, alongside his wife, apparently murdered by a mysterious assassin. The killer is at large still, yet as the Guard looked further into the matter, a link between Warlockery and the Lord was uncovered.
His Majesty's agents have concluded the formerly honorable Lord Sunderholm a foul demon-herding Warlock! King's Honor..." the man's voice trailled off as the Kaldorei distanced from the crowd surrounding the crier.
"Hmm..." was all that came from her when she sped down a darkened alleyway into the very bowels of the city. Her feet hit the ground faster and faster, and guards were further and fewer with each passing moment. She did not mind them. She actually felt comforted, at times, by being around them. Yet where she was headed, they never tread.
At last, she reached her destination, pushing open a small wooden double-door and bending down to pass through it, as it did not allow this at her full height. She peered inside to the now familliar scene.
Candles lit all along the walls, at near chest height, a rise opposite the small door on which a black-covered man stood in the shadows. He seemed to have his back to her, this time, hands clasped behind his back. His head turned slightly, the hood on his head rustling.
The Liar treaded inside, closing the door behind herself swiftly, covered still by the heavy brown hooded robe.
"...Standing with your back to a door. How unwise."
The man looked straight forwards, into a featureless wall. "...We would expect it so. Yet, before dealing judgement on another, examine first your own status. You are standing with your front towards Us, and your back to the door."
Lyia blinked, her silvery orbs' glow flashed out of existence for the briefest moment. She nodded. "It seems I am. But knowing the dangers of doing it is the first step to avoiding them."
"Precisely. We are staring at a wall, as such, We cannot be attacked from the front. We fear not being attacked from behind."
"...I see." she lied.
In the dimness of the man's hood, a smile crept across his lips. "So, you did what We asked. Tobias Sunderholm is no more, and his warlockery has come to an end."
"Yes. I avoided any unnecessary slaughter, too." she said, a hint of pride in her tone.
"We noticed. Tell Us, do you know what you've acoomplished?..." he turned for her, to the rustling of robes.
She stared up at him, furrowing her brow. Through her mind flowed scenario after scenario, all in one flashing computation. Mere moments passed before her eyes widened in realization.
"...I've sparked confusion. A hitwoman killed a Warlock. The people hate warlocks, but don't see blades in the dark as typically 'good' people, either. I might have gained the slightest inkling of sympathy towards them- But that defeats the pourpose of what you asked me to do, namely, leave no trace of my involvement or yours."
Her words rang across the room, and it all fell quiet for a long few minutes. Finally, laughter broke the silence. The man nodded once. "You've passed the first test. Now, We believe we can move on. Your next mark is an elderly lord by the name of Julius Exeus."
"The Surgeon?" the Liar interjected.
"Exactly. The -former- surgeon lives a double life, Liar. While his days are spent in practice of his medicine, his nights are consumed amidst a drugged harem, on which he oft' conducts surgical experiments to advance his skill... Or sadism. You will infiltrate and get close to him, and confront mister Exeus with the misfortune of his end."
"So you want me to pretend I'm-" she was cut off.
"Yes. Any objections?"
"...No. Not really."
"Good. He resides in Alterac, but you already knew this."
Lyia Duskvenom turned around. "I understand... I see the extent of this, you know..."
"Liar, if you did not understand why you do what you do, We would have no use for you. We will speak once more when you return." he turned once more, to stare at the wall, a standing shadow in the dimly-lit room.
The Night Elf pushed open the door and made her exit.
Fracture Point
Spoiler:
Evening was aging and fading away, stars dotting the darkened skies, a crescent moon leaving its mark among them. Despite the now chilly air, a Night Elven woman in an elegant, if slightly revealing black dress slid out of a carriage, with grace quite uncommon for one with the muscular development of a martial artist.
She smiled at the man behind herself and nodded a goodbye, closing shut the door of the carriage and walking forth for the mansion up ahead.
She reached the door, where two guards stood, and was stopped by them.
"You have business inside? The Doctor is in, preparing for his dinner."
"Why, yes, I am here to dine with the good mister Exeus. I would take it he told you to expect me? I am Lyssera Silversong."
"Ah. Please, forgive us, Lady Silversong. We did not mean to-" the guard was cut off.
"There is no trouble." she smiled at him, a black leather gloved hand daintily turned the doorknob and entered into a grand hall. A tall, thin man came for her, bowing slightly.
"Ah, Lady Silversong. Welcome to the Exeus Manor, please- Right this way..." he gestured to a side door, made of a dark wooden matter, to the right. She nodded and followed, her stride still carrying what the butler could only surmise as regal grace.
Lyia was led to a small, but lavishly decorated dining room, where a well-filled diminutive table, apparently crafted with a pair in mind, stood in the center, a balding man on one end of it, that smiled placidly up at her, gesturing to the only empty seat opposite his. "Please, sit. I would dine with my client."
The Liar nodded and moved for the chair. She was just about to sit on it when the butler slid it right beneath her just so that she landed quite comfortably on its soft cushion, then he made his exit, bowing deeply, if silently.
The Night Elf smiled over at the man. "Forgive me.. Lord Julius Exeus, correct?"
He nodded, the calm, placid smile still plastered to his lips. "Yes, and please, let there be no more formality between us, Lady Silversong. Call me Julius."
"As you wish. In turn, call me Lyssera."
"Naturally. An honor to meet you in person. Now, please- Eat. I am sure you have had quite the journey, all the way from Stormwind." he gestured to the salad and the roast suckling pig, as he himself removed a slice of the meat and set it atop his plate, dining down of it.
She nodded at him in turn and dug into the salad, apologising for not posessing a more carnivorous nature.
"It's quite alright. I would not expect a Kaldorei to delect in the slaughter and consumption of a living animal." he said, smiling. "I mean no offense by it, though, and I apologise if such was caused."
"No offense taken." she smiled back. "And actually, we do eat meat. It is a personal prefference."
"Ah yes. Yes, of course, I see. Now, would you like some wine to top it all off, madam?"
"I try to stray from alcohol..."
"Please, I insist. A mere glass would do you no harm."
She seemed to ponder it for a moment, then nodded. "Alright." she said, her tone amused. "But just one glass."
"Of course, of course.." he rang a bell that lay atop a silken, heavily embroided napkin and the butler came in with a bottle of a deep red wine, that, when opened, bore an alluring perfume.
The Liar was poured a glass, as was Julius. The man looked up to the butler. "Excellent. Now, leave us, and take care of the corridors. I would not want us interrupted."
The butler nodded and scurried out, and the Liar raised her glass to her lips and took a sip. She nodded once in approval. "Quite the taste. I've never had wine this sweet before. I must say, it's quite the pleasant experience."
The surgeon lord nodded in return, taking a long mouthfull of his glass. "Yes, quite so. The secret is fermenting the wine with the correct herbs and such. A delicate, secretive process. My own vintner would not share with me his knowledge, if you can believe it." he let out a chuckle and eyed her over expectantly.
"Wait 'till you see the aftertaste."
She smirked slightly at him, holding the glass between three fingers. "I do not tend to wait." she downed the entirety of her glass in one go, and leaned back, to sit against the backrest of her chair. "Hmm... Very interesting." she nodded.
"Yes, quite." he still seemed to be staring.
She nodded slowly. Her response time seemed sluggish. She still had a smile on her lips. She felt her vission blur and she seemed to go slightly limp, sighing softly. Her eyes half-closed and she relaxed on an exhale.
The man got up, pulled her, struggling slightly, off her chair and opened the door, dragging her limp form out it, and towards another of the doors in the great hall beyond.
He opened that door as well, with a small key from one of his pockets, and proceeded forth, tugging the Kaldorei after himself down a stone hall.
The hall had many, many doors on its sides, all with barred viewports, reeking heavily of blood and rot. To the end of the corridor could be seen a mockery of an operating room. He heaved her atop a stone table and eyed her over.
"I never got the chance to experiment on a Night Elf. You will do quite nicely. Take heart for you further science by an amount you will never come to know."
"Ssstheti... bloom..." came the mumbling reply, head lulling from side to side on the table.
The man took hold of a scalpel and moved for her, smiling brightly as he brought the blade down towards her. "How perspicaceous."
Her hand thrust upwards, grabbing his wrist with great force, twisting it about, making him drop the scalpel into her open palm. Her fingers curled around it in the blink of an eye and slashed vertically across his neck, preventing any spurts of blood from reaching her. He let out a loud scream of pain as the blade cut into him again and again, until he, drained of blood, expired.
She stepped out of the room, closing it behind herself just as daintily as before. She strode up the stone corridor, picking each lock as she came to it, and pushing open the cells, revealing the carved-up bodies of human women, and even one Draenei.
She shook her head at the carnage and opened the door to the great hall, closing it behind herself and thanking Elune for no one being present.
She climbed up the stairs, until' she bumped into someone. The butler. She wrapped an arm about his neck, snapping it rapidly, to a sickening crack, then trod downstairs for the front door, leaving the lifeless body behind her. She pushed it open and eyed the two guards, smiling at them.
They looked to her, an air of confusion about them.
She crushed one's windpipe with the back of her fist, ramming her palm into the nose of the other, pushing it up into his skull. As they both died she concluded two things: One, was that she let no one who saw her face that night live. The second was that she was happy to have grown a fair tolerance to most anesthetics. Medical or otherwise...
She tore the lowest parts of her dress off and broke into a sprint, leaving the manor and its grounds behind...
Yawning mightily and pushing off a heavy blanket off herself, a Kaldorei girl peered about Refugee Point, listening to the many soldiers and civilians alike, sharing the news with eachother.
A male voice boomed across the camp towards another. "So, did you hear? Julius Exeus, the Surgeon, died. Most think he killed himself after murdering three people in his mansion."
"Yeah. That bastard was a crazy one, I tell ya'. Guards found a pile of bodies in his basement. Women, all chopped up. Seems the doc lost most of his screws, ay?"
"I'd be inclined to agree. You know, despite the fact that he used to be worth something in society, I'm personally glad he died... The things he did to those ladies was unnatural... I'm happy conscience finally caught up with him."
"Conscience my arse. I think it was some assassin..." the voices trailed off, as Lyia pushed herself to a stand and moved for the nearest gryphon roost, paying for a flight to Ironforge...
The sun had risen to its full height, its lightbound majesty bearing down on cold Dun Morogh, making snow glint and glisten as though it were a blanketing of jewels set upon the ground.
Lyia was wrapped tightly in her brown hooded cloak, shivering slightly as she trod for a square, medium-sized shack on the center of an iced-over lake.
The shack itself was wholly unremarkable. It showed a distinct lack of use in the last few years, as the girl's half-gloved fingers curled around the door's handle to push it open, its hinges creaking horribly, the wood itself making a sharp cracking noise as it swung open ahead.
She frowned slightly at what she saw inside. Carefully-tended, all along its walls, the very same candles she'd seen two times before burned in the darkness of the square room.
On a small rise, as expected, a black-garbed figure stood, a crooked smile beneath a dark hood, its extence well concealed by both the dim light and the raiments of the man's choosing.
"...Cold, are we?" came the man's voice as soon as the Night Elf closed the door.
The Liar nodded "Yes. Very." came her short answer, before resuming shivering and the chattering of teeth.
"Good. Then We won't waste any time... While We believe that at times leisure is to be had, this once We must make each second count. There is a demonic cult leader in the Blasted Lands, attempting to summon a powerful fellish entity into our world by sacrificing his entire coven to bring it forth."
Lyia nodded once. "I see. I am to get there and kill him before he has a chance to summon the beast, correct?"
"Indubitably. Now, joining will not be hard. It appears the cult leader, one Seviros Barthan, is seeking to bring a great many number of people of questionable character to the ritual. You will pose as one of these cultists."
"...I once worked alongisde Seviros. Diplomacy..." the Night Elf said, her voice betraying a faint hint of apprehension.
"Yes. As you know, mister Barthan is quite the successful orator, brokering trade alliances all across Alliance lands. Few would conceive such a prosperous and beneficent man a warlock and demon-worshipper."
"I see..." the Liar turned for the door.
"Liar, do not forget that what you do is not murder, nor assassination."
"Oh?" Lyia glanced over her shoulder, tilting her head back.
"...It is Justice." came a glee-filled reply.
Wordlessly and void of expression, the Night Elven woman pushed open the door, and curled the heavy brown cloak around herself further, trying desperately though in vain to keep warm in the Dwarves' frigid lands...
...And into the fire
Spoiler:
Dawn approached at a rapid pace, the red ball of solar flame a crimson speck on dark gray skies.
Chants filled the air, vibrating through it all across the blood red dirt. The sense of foreboding was so strong it was palpable. Many a cloaked figure stood before a skull-adorned altar, many other piles of bones and heads surrounding the grizzly ritual area.
The ground itself seemed to have been carved a large circular symbol into, lines crossing wickedly about its center, beneath the feet of the song-bound disciples.
Among them, a Kaldorei stood, head bowed, hands deep in her robe's sleeves as a heavy hood weighed down on her head and flattened ears. She frowned as the chant suddenly stopped.
A lone figure walked to the altar, soft shoes padding across the gravel on the ground, out from the mass of people. The figure pulled down his hood and faced the crowd. He smiled at them blissfully.
"We stand on the verge of a new age. A new dawn is upon us... A new world lies at our feet."
Lyia looked up towards the speaker, recognising him in moments. She frowned deeply as she heard an old colleague, Seviros Barthan, monologue atop the rise on which the gruesome stone altar was placed.
"Yes... I speak of death... And what lay beyond it. For too long our greatest minds and greatest thinkers have wondered what happens after death, and I have brought you the answer!" Seviros picked up a skull off the altar, holding it up to the grim, dark clouds.
"Yes, Brothers and Sisters... We will conquer death. We will conquer what lay after. We will let our mortal tethers perish, that we, and we alone may hold whatever lay beyond in our grasp! Forever!..."
"Forever." came the crowd's reply in ghastly chorus.
"Now, in order to gain our new world, sacrifices must be made... You know this, I know this. It's in our blood. There cannot be something in exchange for nothing. We must pay... Our lives, towards the Nether, that our spirits may cross the boundaries barred to flesh."
The man slipped a ritual dagger out of a sleeve and stabbed it through the forehead of the skull in his hand, pulling it out with a sickening crack afterwards.
"Now, raise your blades, brothers and sisters... And plunge them deep within, that our spirits may move on, to a new, brighter realm, to a virgin, golden dawn..."
The crowd moved in unison in drawing blades from various places, be they the folds of their robes, or their sleeves, and ramming them through their heads and chests, blood wetting the ground below to their fervor.
One by one the cultists collapsed, their blood seeping into the massive symbol beneath them, filling it with the essence of their life. The blood bubbled, as Lyia still stood, glaring gaze affixed to the man near the altar.
Seviros raised his own dagger in turn, cackling gleefully. "And so, our souls go to feed the Legion! Come, demons, fel-spawn and darkest nightmares! Consume our world!" he howled, seemingly maddened as he stared up at his knife, the last of the cultists dropping dead, and only the Liar standing further.
She slipped a small throwing knife out of a sleeve and dropped the cloak off her shoulders, sprinting for the human. The blood on the ground was now glowing furiously, in the formerly dead, empty eyesockets of the skulls now blazing fellish flames.
The diplomat brought the dagger down towards himself, then winced. A knife had stricken the back of his palm, and he turned sharply. "You! Who are you to defile the sanctity of this most glorious communion?" he asked out loudly, pointing an only accusing index finger at the Night Elf that sped towards him.
She did not answer. She merely leapt and, in mid-air, rammed her palm against his sternum, sending him onto his back onto the stone altar. The man flailed, yelling.
"It's not done! It is not yet done! More blood need be spilled!" roared his voice, lightning cracking the skies, and the boom of thunder rolling to the spectacle below.
"It never will be done. You're not dieing here..." she proceeded in knocking the man unconscious and dragging him Northwards towards the Swamp of Sorrows...
The Liar walked away to the sound of feeding crocolisks.
The sun was high over Redridge at mid-noon, bathing Lakeshire in a warm glow, quite unlike the time of year. The lake's waters were flanked on all sides by children and grown ups alike, fishing for their daily food, swimming, and carrying water off towards the Inn. A lone Kaldorei girl walked for said inn, under a heavy brown cloak.
Pushing aside the wooden doors, she made her entry, picking out a table by the fireplace to sit at. She lounged on a chair for what little spare time she hand, bathing in the relaxing heat of the fire, and eavesdropping on the other patrons.
One voice in particular sounded rather shaken, and as Lyia discerned, belonged to a woman who was acting as a barmaid, sharing the news with a couple of male patrons.
"Th-They're dead. All of them. My hubby, my sonny, all of them. They killed themselves in the Blasted Lands, on some fel-damned altar..."
"Aye. Grim tale... Heard of the suicides, but couldn't really put my finger on it. There must've been at least ten dozen people there, all those corpses, the slaughter..." A man shuddered to the thought.
"But did you hear? This one Seviros Barthan, diplomat guy went missing on that same day. They didn't find him among the corpse piles, though. Weird stuff..."
"Yeah, my cousin who's in the Guard said they found some corpse in the Swamp of Sorrows. Bastard was half-eaten by Crocolisks by the time they got there. Though, by the looks of things, that may be our missing diplomat."
"Think they're related? So many public figures've kicked the bucket lately... And all of 'em had shady pasts for some reason..." Another man said off-handedly.
The second male looked up to him, a glint in his eye. "Look, I don't like it much, but I have to say, whoever's picking the corrupt sods off, is doing a good thing. I may dissagree with the means, but the outcome's worth it."
"I guess I could see it like that..." The man trailed off, drowning his thoughts in his mug of ale.
Lyia allowed herself a smile, covered still by the heavy brown cloak. She sighed afterwards, stood up, and made her exit.
By the time the Liar reached a house atop one of Redridge's mountainous peaks, the birds were singing loudly their afternoon chorus, and she pushed open the door, sliding herself inside, to greet the all-familliar candle-lit square scene.
"You know, a little variation wouldn't hurt once in a while..." She mouthed to the black-garbed figure atop the rise opposite the door.
"Myes. We suppose it wouldn't. But that is not the point of Our matter."
He turned towards her, looking down to something in his black-gloved palm. The candlelight flickered for a brief moment, and Lyia could notice that he was holding a very small scrap of torn parchment. She looked up to him, covered still by the hood of her cloak.
"What's that you're looking at?" she asked, her voice placid, calm.
"Your results. One hundred and forty two people killed themselves at that ceremony, Liar." Came the man's answer, and the sound of rustling robes as very subtly he shook his head.
"I see. They could've stopped me from doing what was necessary if I would've acted before they did that."
"So you just let them do it..." It was a statement, not a question.
The Night Elf nodded silently.
"...Very well. We cannot condemn a worthy goal, no matter the means to it. Now, onto business. We have knowledge of a certain group of criminal figures, whom, guided by the lust for coin, women and land, will be gathering in council momentarily. They intend on having a feast, to celebrate their recent earnings."
"And I am to dispose of them, correct?"
"Yes. The means by which you do it is up to you. But We doubt you could survive so many armed men in combat, Liar. Subtlety should be your best friend in this one."
"I see. Any specifics on collateral damage?"
"None. Our personal suggestion would be that it be kept to a minimum."
"Very well. Where is this council held?"
"Westfall. An abandoned farm. Good hunting, Liar." came the man's voice as he turned towards the featureless wall behind himself, staring at it blankly.
Lyia turned around, pushing open the door and exiting into the still-brilliant sunlight outside.
Last Supper
Spoiler:
Crickets sounded across the field, along with the cawing of carrion birds. A harvest reaper lumbered in the distance, whilst evening came and went, the skies dotted by a myriad of silver points of light, igniting the heavens in all their splendour.
Beneath all this, and under the light of the full moon above, a lone Kaldorei walked for an abandoned farm, at the entrance to which she was stopped by a small boy. He looked up to her.
"Wow, lady. You're tall!" He exclaimed.
"...Yes. I am." She nodded at him, then tried to continue on her way for the door. The boy sprinted up in front of her and stood there, barring her path.
"Look, there's men in there. You probably don't wanna go in, lady. It's not the best place to be right now. They kicked me out. Said I wasn't good enough a pickpocket." The boy scoffed. "That's what they think. I nabbed a ring off the leader. See?"
The boy held up a small silver ring with a blue stone, to the Night Elven woman. He was only able to raise it up to her waist, though.
The Liar nodded once more. "Alright. Well, do you want anything so you'd let me pass?"
"Well, since you're nice and didn't hit me..." The boy stowed his ring in a pocket. "...Do you have any candy?" He asked, looking up at her with a glint in his eye.
Lyia sighed, slipping her hand into a pocket, and taking out a carefully wrapped vivid green gumball, handing it over to the boy. He quickly unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth, chewing it gleefully.
"It's great! Green apple! My favorite! Thanks..." he exclaimed, getting out of her way.
She looked to him, a hint of sadness in her eye. "You're welcome." she mouthed, and moved for the house. She turned her head, calling over her shoulder. "See you in under five hours." Before pushing open the door and entering.
She emerged into a small living room, where half a dozen assorted characters were. Some were burly, some were lanky, all in all, there were six men, at one table, a final empty chair waiting for a seventh. Lyia herself moved for the chair wordlessly.
"So you're Seven, huh?" One of the lankier men asked, looking up at her.
"Yeah." She answered, sitting down.
"Never knew Seven was a woman. And a purple elf at that." He grinned over at her, baring blackened, cracked teeth.
"Kaldorei. Not purple elf. I'm also quite pink." She glared over at him.
"Kla-whatsit. Anyway. Seven never told us what 'e did. 'S good t'finally meet'cha in person. These're Six, I'm Five, that's Four, that's Three, the one over there's Two, and that's the boss. Number One." Five pointed to each in turn, the last being a rather butly man.
The Liar examined his hands, noticing a white strip of flesh around a finger, where, she assumed, the ring of the boy outside had used to be. She smirked slightly beneath her metallic mask, nodding once.
"I see." She said, nodding. "Let's get down to business, shall we?"
Number One nodded with a grunt. All the others gave their approval as well. Soon, the table was stacked with food and glasses, a fair-sized bottle of some alcoholic beverage being brought to the table by Three.
Five picked up the bottle and passed it to Lyia. She took it, raising an eyebrow.
"Since you're tha' woman, you get to pour us some drinks." Five explained, flashing another sickening grin.
She frowned, standing, and uncorked the bottle. She feigned fumbling with the cork and slipped some rapidly-disolving white powder into the liquid, which came from the inside of her fingerless glove.
She poured Six, Five, Four, Three and Two a glass of the now-poisoned wine, but when she came to One, he waved a dismissive hand, grunting. She simply nodded and re-corked the bottle.
She sat down on her seat, and dug into the meal in front of herself, before noticing One had been staring at her hip, where rested tied with a bit of rope, a bottle of Moonberry juice.
"Moonberry." Number One said in a low bass growl.
Lyia nodded at him. The others were frowning slightly, running hands along their bellies and complaining about how the wine was getting to their heads.
"Yup. Want some?" she asked One. He nodded with a grunt. She slipped the bottle off its cord and offered it to him. He took it, uncorked it rapidly, and chugged down, before tossing the empty bottle in her direction.
The Night Elf caught it, and set it on the table. One by one, Six, Five, Four, Three and Two collapsed with their faces in their plates, going limp in their chairs, dropping to the ground lifelessly.
Number One winced briefly, then started convulsing. Lyia moved for him, and pushed him off his chair and onto the ground, looming over him. She just stood there, looking down on him and watching him slip from violent convulsions out of consciousness, then into death.
She exited the house, only to find the boy from earlier down on the ground, holding his stomach, gurgling and rolling from side to side in the dirt. She darted to his side and knelt.
"Next time... Do not take candy from strangers..." She murmured to him.
The boy shuddered uncontrollably. "I... I won't! Okay! I-" he winced.
She nodded slowly. "Good... Now, if I spare you, you have to promise me something."
"Y-Yeah... Anything, just!-" The boy let out a whimper, choking down a scream.
She slipped a vivid pink gumball out of a pocket, unwrapped it, and held it above his mouth. "Promise me you'll stop thieving, and learn either the Light, or the Arcane. Promise me you'll live a good, honest life, and will -never- be like those men in there."
"I-I promise! I promise, alright?! Please-! I'll be a Paladin! A monk even! Or some mage! I won't steal anymore-"
The Night Elf dropped the gumball into his open mouth, and he reflexively started cheing. The more he chewed, the better he seemed to be.
The Liar stood up. "If you don't keep to your promise, I will find you, and I will kill you." she walked off into the dead of night, leaving the now relaxed boy behind herself...
It was past midnight in Stormwind, and the Liar walked Cut-throat alley with a sigh. She glanced about to the homeless and the odd thug that dotted its sides.
Crickets broke the low murmur of speech intermitently as a bright moon shone down over the place where no one would dare tread to light the lamps.
As Lyia walked, she picked up fragments of conversation from the nearby thugs, her sharp hearing compensating well for the low tone in which the humans were conversing.
"So, did ya' hear? One got offed." One of the thugs said.
"Yeah. Heard someone got'em all. Prolly Seven since no one found their body." Came another's voice.
"Mm. Some bastard little kid told the guards about the Council's killing. Bugger got a reward. Still, it means without the bosses there to keep the thugs in line, Westfall 'n Elwynn 'n Redridge'll be in chaos for a while."
"Pshht. So what? Some sharks'll get back on top and that'll be the end of it."
The Liar broke into a sprint, unable to hear anything further of the conversation. Still mildly sore from the near-death experience she had previously received in the Catacombs, she sped for the nearest square-house.
Once on the steps of the house, she turned the knob on the door, hearing a faint clicking sound. She pushed the door open, peering inside. She frowned deeply at what she saw.
Across from her, on the rise opposite the door in the candle-lit room stood a man robed in crimson silks. He turned for her.
"...The Liar comes at last." Came his voice. It was distinctly different from the Night Elf's normal contact, and she did not like the change one bit.
"And you are? Where's-" She was cut off by the wave of his hand.
"Aeon. You will know Us as Aeon." Interjected the man.
"Well, then, Aeon... Provided our contract is the same... What is my next mark?" she asked, a faint degree of anger in her voice.
"Tell Us, do you remember what you were called when you entered the Council on your previous task?"
"Seven. Why?"
"Because Number Seven is your next mark, Liar." he crossed his arms over his gut, the silken robes sliding soundlessly, fabric on fabric.
"Alright. Where and how?"
"Number Seven, alias Herbert Gunston is a wealthy and, We surmise, powerful mage, currently secluded in his tower in Duskwood. There, he studies the Worgen Curse, and that which keeps the Woods in their dimly-lit state."
"I wasn't trained to kill Magi."
The man seemed to consider her words. He slipped a hand into a sleeve, taking out a silken, and very large black cloak. He folded it neatly and flung it for her with quite the amount of grace. She caught it. The man nodded.
"That is a Cloak of Shadows. An enchanted, spell-absorbing cloak. It will not take more than one, maybe two blows before being rendered useless, however. Do take care that you make your blows count."
The Liar nodded, slipping the cloak beneath her own heavy brown garb and turned for the exit, pushing open the door and leaving behind this new Aeon and the Square-house, as she had come to call it.
Mirror, Mirror
Spoiler:
Lyia Duskvenom stood at the foot of a Mage-tower in Eastern Duskwood, eying it over before proceeding for the entrance. She curled her fingers around the door handle and tried pushing it open. To her surprise, the door simply swung open, allowing her entry.
The room was well lit by a lamp suspended from the ceiling, a spiral staircase winding its way around a central support, leading to the upper floors. The staircase itself, however, seemed lacking in any steps. It was, for all intents and pourposes, unusuable.
"Would you like to play a game, assassin?" asked a wizened voice coming clearly from somewhere above.
"...I'm not here to play games. But if that's what it takes..." the Liar drew the sword off her back, her left hand moving for one of the knives on her belt, a wicked little grin forming beneath her metallic mask.
"Splendid." admitted the wheezy voice. "Now, gaze within, into the very mirror of your soul, and see if you can defeat the ultimate mark." it chuckled. It was distinctly male, and very oddly familliar.
Across from Lyia, another shape materialized. As it took definite form, the Liar's jaw dropped. She was staring directly at herself. She shook her head, quite convinced it was an illusion and moved for her mirror image.
The Night Elf's image moved for her in turn, mimicking her every gesture symmetrically. The Kaldorei girl raised her hand and tapped her image on the cheek. The image, in turn, tapped the girl on the cheek. It felt real. She stepped back, and the image stepped back in turn.
The Liar darted forwards, the image mimicking the movement, and swung her blade diagonally, only to meet the image's own sword to the clanging of metal on metal. She sighed, taking a moment to think.
"There is no shame in quitting, you know... Just walk out the way you came, and it will all be over." came the voice from above. Lyia just shook her head and eyed the room.
She noticed the support in the center and nodded very subtly. She circled it, the image circling it as well. She drew a knife off her belt, and positioned herself just so. She tossed her knife at the image. The image in turn tossed its knife for the Liar.
Lyia's knife struck the image in its eye, dissipating it entirely. The image's knife stuck in the wooden support at the center of the room. She grinned.
The voice chuckled appraisingly. "Well done... Now, on to the next part." Steps materialized where the unusable staircase once was, floating in mid-air and allowing the Liar passage to the next floor.
She warily tread up them, finding herself in the same room with four identical men, each staring at her. When they spoke, the sound came from all of them. "I am number Seven. I am called Herbert Gunston. And I will be the death of you, girl."
The Liar run her hands along the back of her belt, gripping at something. The Men all charged various spells, some ice bolts, some blasts of arcane, some fireballs, and blasted for her all-out.
Lyia pulled the Cloak of Shadows off her belt and cocooned herself within it, the spells impact it harmlessly. She sighed, closing her eyes in the dark silken veil and listened. While the sound of breathing came from all four of them, it was off slightly. One moved faster than the rest.
She frowned. They shuffled on their feet, and she assumed they were about to fire for her again. Once more, the sound was off. She curled her fingers around the pommel of another throwing knife and spun out of the cloak, eyes darting rapidly from one target to another, until they came to the direction sound came fastest.
There she noticed something. The image was the only one with a shadow. She tossed the knife rapidly for it, and a sickening thump came, the dagger sticking out of an eyesocket as the man collapsed backwards, limply and the other images dissipated.
The Liar sighed, relieved. A clapping sound was heard, coming from above as her mark slowly spilled a puddle of blood around himself. She moved for the nearest staircase and ascended to the topmost floor.
The topmost floor, however, was a square room, lit by candles on its side, the lighting very dim. Across from the staircase, a single, black-robed man stood, facing her on a rise.
"Well done." he admitted. This was her first contact. She recognised the voice.
"You. So this was all a test?" she asked, her voice growling.
"No. Not at all. It was a task just like any other. We got to mister Gunston first, and invaded his mind, puppeting the mage with ease. You have fulfilled your objective and passed the test."
"...I... see." she nodded at him.
"Now... Liar, you are no longer mere hired help."
"What do you mean?"
"By passing this test, you've grown in Our eyes. No longer will you kill the petty and the meek. You are now a Blade... And as one, your tasks will... differ slightly."
"I see. So this is some sort of promotion..."
"Precisely. In honor of your successes, you will have one day to rest. Afterwards, we shall speak again, and you will have more work to be done under the banner of the Blade."
"I see. Well... Thanks." she turned around.
"Thanks? This is not charity, Liar. This is Justice." the man shook his head slowly, and turned to face the wall behind him. Her cue to leave the building. She trod downstairs, yanking her knives out of Herbert Gunston's corpse and picking the other off the floor where the mirror image dissipated.
Leaving no trace behind, the Liar exited the building wondering what she would do on her day off...
Sunrise greeted Stormwind the same way as ever. Guards patrolled the streets and one by one the lamps were snuffed out, their flames unneded in the coming dawn. The last few stars were fading from the sky as the Liar walked for the orphanage in the Cathedral District.
Lyia carried in her hand a pouch, fingers curled firmly around it. She bore no heavy cloak, nor did she wear a mask this time. Her step carried a different tune altogether. She heard a passing Priest's voice.
"Aye, the funeral for mister Gunston's being arranged. The proper services will be ministered... I find it somewhat ironic that we pray for, and send to the Light, one in whose tower was found evidence of corruption to the point of treason to the Alliance. Such are the mysteries of-..."
The Night Elf turned her attention elsewhere, namely to the tall, middle-aged woman ahead of herself. She nodded at her, smiling.
"Caroline. Good to see you again..." Lyia eyed the woman over as she gave her greeting.
"Likewise, miss. It's always nice to see you come by... But I'm afraid the kids are still asleep. They stayed up all night yesterday, doing Light knows what. Those children have energy, let me tell you..." the woman trailed off, smiling brightly at the elf.
"I'm sure they do, Caroline. And, it's fine. I just came to make a donation... I got some time off work, and thought you could use it." Lyia held the pouch out to the human woman, who eyed it suspiciously.
Eventually, Caroline extended her hand and took the pouch, eying over its insides briefly, eyes going wide. She looked back to the Liar.
"How do you always manage to do that?... Get money like this, I mean... I make this much coin in a year, mind you. And I have three jobs supplying it. Though, the kids take up most of my time."
"I have my ways, matron." Lyia smiled at the woman. "And I would rather my coin go to ensure a better, brighter future for the little ones, than on drinks and senseless merrymaking."
"You treat yourself too harshly, miss."
The Kaldorei chuckled to this. She shook her head vehemently. "No, I don't. Trust me, I have fun. Lots of it." She grinned. "Anyway... Keep it all. Get the kids something nice for me. I've gotta' go. My own mother's waiting..."
The human woman blinked in apparent surprise. She nodded once. "Certainly. I won't keep you any longer. Thank you, miss."
"You're welcome." Lyia called over her shoulder as she walked away, for the mage tower of Stormwind.
She ascended the spiral stairs, humming in anticipation. She pushed open the doors and headed for the topmost level. There, a man garbed in red turned for her, a smile on his face.
"What can I do for you, ma'am?" he asked amiably.
"I need to get to Ashenvale. As soon as possible."
"Certainly. Would you happen to have payment for the transport?"
Lyia sunk a hand into a pocket, holding out a few silvers on the palm of her hand out to the mage. He nodded once.
Within moments, the Liar stood alone on the cobblestone path leading to her house.
Other Side
Spoiler:
Lyia inhaled the sweet Ashenvale air as she stepped for her house. She eyed it over, noting the hippogryph roosted atop the roof, the two Nightsabers and one massive brown worg up front, and the scent of herbs, spices and meats coming from within.
The Night Elven girl flashed a grin as she noticed the rapid passage of purple hair. Someone was home.
The Liar reached the porch rapidly, and sprinted for the stairs, climbing them with enthusiasm.
She eyed her mother, standing near the balcony over a small, smokeless oven, above which a metallic plate holding leaves, a few thin twigs, and a slab of meat, now roasting.
Serenwylde turned for her daughter, blinking. "Hey. Didn't expect you home..."
Lyia darted for her, wrapping her arms around the woman and sinking her face in the nook beneath her shoulder wordlessly.
The aeons-old huntress just smiled, hugging the girl back and patting her back. "It's alright, kiddo. I'm here. Welcome home... Sorry for the mess... I'm not the best cook in Ashenvale." she said with a tint of humor in her voice.
"It's alright." came the muffled reply. Lyia looked up to her mother, grinning. "I'm just happy I got to see you..." she released her, "You have no idea what it's like... Just living... wondering whether you approved of my actions or not... Whether you liked me or not... Or if there was some problem with me..."
Serenwylde moved away from the odd stove and set her hands on the girl's shoulders. "No matter what you do, I'll always approve of it. You're my daughter, Lyia. Nothing will ever take that bond from us. It's in our veins. Through it, neither you nor I will ever be alone."
"I... Thanks, mom..." Lyia sighed, "I just... I was afraid. I thought you left me because I was somehow... improper."
The huntress shook her head. "I left out of my own stupidity. It's not your fault. It never was, nor will it ever be. We're told that with age comes wisdom and experience. I ran away from that experience. I was... afraid... If anything, I was the weak one, Lyia... Not you. You're better than me in so many ways..."
"I don't wanna be better... I just... want to belong somewhere..."
"You do, hon. You always will." Serenwylde smiled at her. "Now, let's eat and forget the hard things of the world. For now, we have spiced, herb-roasted moongraze stag." she winked, taking the slab of cooked, and tantalizingly-smelling meat off the stove and moved for the table.
She set the table rapidly, letting the large slab rest in a certain nice bowl, whom she'd won in a tournament. The huntress cut the meat and arranged it for the both of them.
Lyia meanwhile wandered to a larger bowl in the very back of the house, which was filled with moonwell water, and on the surface of which five candles in small paper cups floated.
Lyia bowed her head to them, then turned, and dined with her mother...
Darnassus was bathed in an ever-purple light, soft and gentle, giving it an air of mystery. The birds were singing their songs in the trees, and the Sentinels vigilantly watched over the crowds amassing on the many paths through the city atop Teldrassil.
The problem with purple light, and living atop the new World Tree, was that one could never discern if it was day or night properly, unless the moon was out.
Lyia Duskvenom frowned at the sky, now starlit and bright, weaving her way through a throng of people, covered by her heavy brown cloak, her face covered by a metallic mask with six breather holes.
She sighed quietly as she exited the crowd, eying a massive tree in front of herself.
The tree itself had a door on it, and a stone path leading up to it. But, for some reason, the grass around its roots looked well-walked.
The Liar went around the base of the tree, her foot tapping something amid the roots, making a hollow, wooden sound. She frowned, looking down.
A wooden trapdoor lay beneath her feet, and the Kaldorei girl opened it and slipped inside. She found herself in an oh-so-familliar candle-lit square room, a red-robed man ahead of her. She recognised him as Aeon.
The Liar nodded once. "I see you have a long reach, to have a Square-house here in Darnassus..."
"Our reach is long. Our pourpose demands it. We have your next mark, Liar. Before We share it with you, We would have you know their crimes. They have conspired with Satyrs, selling information on Kaldorei troops in exchange for Fel-blood. They have also... fraternized with Sin'dorei to the point of treason to the Alliance."
"Alright. That's enough on their crimes. Who are they?"
Aeon slipped a hand into the folds of his crimson silk robes, and held a small piece of paper, a name scribbled on it, out on the palm of his hand towards the Liar. He inhaled, and blew the piece of paper towards her.
She caught it and eyed it over, her eyes widening. "...Are you sure this is correct?"
"Yes. We know she was your former student."
"I see." she crumpled the piece of paper in her hand. "So... Do I have to..."
"End her." Aeon's voice said. He nodded once. "You've taught her very well, Liar. She's been hiding until now, and the damage she has wrought is considerable."
Lyia turned around, reaching up for the trapdoor through which she entered. "To those who misuse what I taught, will come only the blades of the teacher to quell them."
"Precisely. Good hunting, Liar." Aeon said, turning for the wall of roots and dirt behind himself.
Lyia pulled herself upwards, calling down a hippogryph from its roost, and flying for Feralas.
First Crack
Spoiler:
A hippogryph flew swiftly above the Southern wilds of Feralas, a Kaldorei girl leaping off its back and diving through the branches, only to hit the ground and roll to a halt harmlessly. She didn't bother catching her breath.
The Night Elf looked around, sniffing the air. She nodded once, noting the faint scent of smoke, and headed for it and a small orange speck in the distance.
As she neared it, she heard a faint 'twang' and darted into a nearby bush. An arrow struck the place where she formerly stood.
She sighed. She heard the snapping of a twig in the distance, towards the orange speck, and the shadows of the forest seemed to cling to her skin, allowing her to shadowmeld towards it.
As she got closer, and in the light of the campfire producing the glow, she became visible.
A single Night Elven girl, looking barely of age, sat with her back to Lyia, an Elunite katana across her back, identical to the one the Liar herself used, and a straight-edged sword at her hip. A bow was on the ground to her left.
The girl turned her head, her purple ponytail trailing across her right shoulderpad. "So, they sent you to kill me..."
Lyia nodded silently.
"I thought so." the girl looked forwards, away from the Liar. "What did they tell you? That I drank demon blood? Made love to Satyrs? Fel-suckers?"
The Liar blinked. "...Exactly."
The girl chuckled. "I'd guess so, huh?..." she stood, turning around, for Lyia. For the first time in over a year, the eyes of the student met those of the master.
Lyia stared at her former pupil. "Why did you do it?"
The girl tilted her head to the side. "Why not?"
The Liar shook her head. "That is not the way I taught you, Ma-" she was cut short.
"Shut up. Your ways were flawed. You yourself were flawed. Your feigned love for your people, your clinging to figments of thought like honor, pride, and justice were all in vain. Look at yourself. You're an assassin. You kill people for coin and what you think is right. You're called 'The Liar' for fel's sakes!" The girl interjected, sounding irate.
Lyia closed her eyes, huffing a sigh. She bowed her head for a long moment before speaking, her silver orbs' gaze meeting her student's once more. "...The choice you made in the Barrow Den was meaningless, then?"
"Just as meaningless as you are. A piece of trash adrift on an ocean of stupidity, greed and vanity." came the biting response of the girl.
The Liar nodded once, drawing the sword off her back and the knife off her belt. "Then... I am sorry, Sister. I have failed you."
The girl herself yanked the katana off her own back and the sword off her hip, growling as she sped towards her teacher, swinging the blades in a surprisingly controlled pattern.
Time and again Elunite steel met Elunite steel, the blades clanging loudly and bringing sound to the forest's already brilliant song. Time and again elven blood wet the grass, until only one stood standing, the other kneeling in defeat.
"Finish it!" the girl growled, looking up at her former teacher.
"You never could win against me... Goodbye, my friend, my student, my ----." Lyia's last word was covered by the sound of the whistling blade, falling down for the girl's neck, severing her head from her body and ensuring a rapid, painless death.
The Liar walked away, her blooded blade in hand, a few cuts on her arms and shoulders, staring ahead of herself, her breathing slow and silent...
The sun was low over Desolace, bathing the once-searing desert in a warm, if low golden glow. Carrion birds were feeding voraceously off the Kodo graveyard nearby, and aeons-old spires reached for the sky at the edge of the ocean.
A lone Kaldorei dragged an Elunite sword, nearly identical to the one on her back, through the sands as she moved for one of the towers. She looked around, her ears twitching.
She smiled briefly under her mask as she darted for the one bush in sight, hugging her legs to her chest behind it and setting her chin on her knees, attempting to make herself as small as possible before shadowmelding.
The sound of thumping boots across the dirt and patting paws came, the familiar voices of Kaldorei sentinels breaking the deathly silence of Desolace.
"Captain was overjoyed. Seems some satyr-lover got killed. Fel-sucker... Funny thing is, she was trained by one of the Darnassian Scout corps."
"Was she? Well, it must've taken quite the amount of effort to end the traitor, then."
"Judging by the amount of cuts on the body, and by the angle of decapitation, I'd think it took someone skilled, is all... at least, that's the way the Captain puts it."
"Wow. So, someone just decided to off a traitorous ex-Scout Corps member?"
"Pretty much. Here's the strange part. Her sword was missing from the body..." the voice trailled off as the Sentinel patrol distanced itself from the bush behind which the Liar had hidden.
Lyia stood, coming out of hiding once the other Night Elves were far enough and moved for one of the tall, ancient spires. Once she'd reached it, she tried opening the door, only to find that it would not budge.
She walked up a spiral pathway, winding its way around the outside of the spire, until she reached the very top. In the dim sunset, a single, crimson-robed man stood between four braziers, staring out to sea.
"Aeon." came the Liar's voice in greeting. It was strangely emotionless, smooth.
"Liar." came the answer. The silken hood moved silently, as the man's head turned. "Well done."
Lyia stared at him, unmoving and unblinking. Silent.
"Now, on to your next task. Find-" he was cut off.
"She's dead, you sick bastard..." Lyia growled.
"...Yes, she is. You killed her." came the man's calm reply.
The words cut into the Kaldorei deeper than any blade ever did. "Where's First Contact?" she asked just as calmly after a while.
"They are indisposed."
"I see. What's my next mark?"
"Not what, but who. Your next mark is a man, an assassin like you and like your... former student. His crimes include feeding information to the enemy, His name is Kain Everlocke. You will find him out in the Barrens, in a shack near the largest Oasis. He is alone, but not to be underestimated."
"Mm." the Liar nodded, turning to walk down the spiral walkway.
"Good hunting... Liar." Aeon murmured, and turned to stare out to sea once more.
Lyia sighed as she reached the base of the steps. She realized she was still dragging her studen't sword through the dirt.
She called down from the sky a large hippogryph and attached it to the saddle, letting it fly off with the extra weapon.
Fissure
Spoiler:
The Liar stared at the shack in front of herself. It had one door, and was perfectly square. By now, the sun had set, and the moon risen. Between the cracks in the planks forming the shack's walls, was easily seen the warm glow of candle-light.
Lyia had in her hand a small smoke bomb. The smoke was intended to work much like tear gas. She lit it, sprinted for the doorway, kicked the lock open and rolled the bomb inside before closing the door and waiting.
She huffed a quiet sigh, drawing the sword off her back and knife off her belt after a while. No sound came from within, and she pushed the door open with her toes, peering about inside.
A black cloaked figure stood with its back to her, wicked daggers curled, one in each hand. The rustling of robes came with the turn of his head, an eye glinting in the last light of a dying candle. The eye blinked.
"...You!" he growled. His voice was instantly familliar to the Liar.
"First Contact-" she was cut short as one of the jagged daggers sped towards her midsection and she had to parry it away. "What the fel is going on?" she asked loudly, gowling.
"Who sent you?" he growled back, raising a dagger and trying to bring it down on her.
She blocked it with her sword, letting a bladelock commence. "Aeon." she said firmly, and aimed a sharp knee for his gut.
He took it, wincing and stumbling backwards. "Aeon's a traitor to the Blade." he lunged forwards, one of the wicked blades aimed for the Liar's shoulder.
She twisted rapidly, the point grating against her skin, leaving a faint scrape. She let fly her own left fist for the side of his head. "Then you're not my enemy! He is!"
The man took the fist to the head, staggering aside. He stared at her, his hood now lowered. "...How do We know you're telling the truth?"
"How do I know you are?"
"We guess it's a matter of trust."
"Trust no one."
The man smirked. He dropped the daggers, picking up a thin stick off the floor, and put it through one of the waning candle-flames, setting it alight, then lighting the ones that were snuffed out by the incident.
In the new light of the Square-shack, his face seemed cracked, many scars criss-crossing his flesh, a glass eye staring directly ahead of himself. He affixed his good eye to Lyia.
"That is, after all, what Our Justice is based on... Now... We'll informe the Blade of Aeon's betrayal. We will contact you when the time comes."
"...Very well. However, remember this. If you are lieing, if this is a ploy for you to escape your sentence, I will find you again... And I will kill you."
The man nodded. He turned to stare at a wall, opposite the door, stepping onto a small rise. "We know, Liar... We know..."
"Good." the Night Elf turned for the door, pushing it open and went out into the dark night.
First light dawned over a crossroads in Felwood, bathing the green, tainted air in a faint hint of golden warmth. The odd bird chirped loudly across the dim, black and green scene, the scent of corruption heavy in each breath.
The Liar leaned against a signpost, one plank of it pointing towards Winterspring, the other to Moonglade, from whence she had come. She turned her gaze towards the sky, eying the rising sun with increasing apprehension. She heard the faint tapping of footsteps, an ear twitching beneath her hood.
Her hands reached into the folds of her cloak, seeking comfort on the hilts of weaponry. She turned for the source of the footsteps, the heavy fabric rustling quietly.
A man garbed in black approached her. She nodded subtly at him, to which he spoke.
"Liar." he said as the distance between them was closed.
"First Contact. What's the plan?"
"The plan is that Aeon is in his little base, on a mountaintop in Winterspring, not very far from here. You will end him."
"How did he get a place in Kaldorei lands?..."
"The... place, as you name it, is not entirely Kaldorei in make. You see, it is constructed in a hybridization of Lordaeronian and Night Elven architecture. It is fairly recent, and populated entirely by humans. As it is atop a mountain, it is almost always well-hidden by the mist surrounding the peak."
"I see. How do I get there?"
"You will kill Us and present the head to the guards."
Lyia blinked. "Kill you?..."
The man smiled beneath his hood, and the smile, this time, was visible. "Or make it seem such, yes."
"What do you mean?"
The human slipped a hand into the folds of his robes, taking out what looked to be a severed head. He trod for the Liar and held it out to her by the hair.
"As you can fathom, none of us know eachother's faces or names. They are our most prized posessions. Yet you know Our face. The name Aeon gave you was false, however. You are the only one to know what We look like. Not even Our superiors know this."
Lyia frowned. "Change your face. Have a mage transmute it or something. Trust me, and die." she took the head, slipping it beneath her cloak, and turned for Winterspring.
The man chuckled. "Of course, of course. Trust no one." he nodded. "Bring justice to Aeon's doorstep. Fell the traitor. Avenge your student."
She simply stared forwards and started walking towards the snowy, Eastern Kaldorei land.
Aeon's End
Spoiler:
Cold. The mountainous peaks of Winterspring were very cold, the snow creaking underfoot of the Liar as she shivered slightly beneath her heavy brown cloak. Even the birds were hushed out, the only source of visible movement being a small, white rabbit darting along somewhere to Lyia's left.
To the Night Elf's right, however, was her hand, trailing along a stone wall. Her breaths let out plumes of steam as she walked, nearing a tall, black gate. It was midday, and the snow glinted brightly in the sun.
She reached the gate, two heavily-robed men with long, curved swords on their hips stopping her there.
"Halt. Who are you?..."
The Kaldorei girl looked down to one. "I'm the one bringing Aeon his just reward." she held up the severed head. "He sent me after that bastard..."
"Oh. You're the Liar. He's been expecting you..."
Lyia nodded once. "I thought so. Now..." she gestured with her free hand to the gate.
The two guards looked from one to another, then nodded. They pulled a lever on the inside of the gate and it creaked open, allowing the Liar entry. She stepped past the threshold and looked around.
Directly in front of her was a cobblestone path leading to a three-story pagoda-like Kaldorei building, the only difference from the normal Night Elven architecture being the fact that its stories were entirely closed by walls made of a faintly translucent, white material, as opposed to the unwalled bare stories the Night Elves preferred.
The building was enclosed by a thick garden around which the wall spread. The entrance to the building itself had two more guards posted.
"Nice place you have here." Lyia commented to one of the gate guards, reaching up behind her cloak.
"Yeah, the pay is-" a sickening gurgling sound cut him off, the Liar's Elunite blade running into and out of his throat at an unnatural speed.
"Sh-!" the other gate guard managed to start, before being finished off by the sword's merciless bite, his head rolling off his shoulders and thumping wetly on the ground as the Night Elf sprinted for the two remaining men in sight.
A first guard yanked his sword half-way out of its sheath in alarm, before having his arm kicked down into the scabbard of the weapon, the hand slipping off the hilt and onto the blade of the sword, cutting his fingers. The Kaldorei's sword raised rapidly across his neck to quell any possible shouting.
Meanwhile, his comrade had drawn blade fully, and swung for Lyia diagonally downwards, gravity fueling his fearsome blow. The girl twisted, trying to get away from the blade, but it found purchase in her arm, giving it a clean, if shallow cut, her blood starting a very slow and steady course from about three inches above her elbow.
She growled, sinking her own weapon into his thorax, then pulling it out, the last of the four collapsing at her feet. She turns for the door, dragging an anesthetic-coated knife along the cut and sighing.
"So it begins..." she stared at the door for a moment, then raised her leg, kicking at it savagely, the force opening it. She sped inside, blades at the ready.
She found herself in a small but lavishly decorated room, a square, wooden staircase on the middle of it. The walls had many a panoply, swords, polearms, knives, bows, and even firearms on them and straw mats covering the floors.
She noticed that towards the corner of the room, a small portbell stove churned, and the air was much warmer than outside. She blinked, raising her weapons as the thumping of feet descended the wooden stairs, a pair of men armed with vicious-looking voulges leaping off the stairs and landing on the floor around her.
Lyia wasted no time. She leapt for one, sinking her sword into his shoulder before leaping off it, narrowly avoiding the swing of the other's voulge. Still, both enemies were standing. She twisted for the yet unharmed one, slashing a pair of horizontal gashes across his torso before twirling away, the blade of the other whooshing through the air where she had been a fraction of a second before.
She felt time slowing and her blood growing cold in her veins. She assumed it was blood loss, or the anesthetic doing its work and leapt between the two, ramming the pommels of her sword and knife into their jaws, before kicking off the floor and flipping in mid-air. The Night Elf heard the voulges swing beneath her and the sickening thwack of metal hitting flesh, bone and sinew.
The Kaldorei landed a foot or so next to the pair of broken bodies, their weapons stuck into one-another, their lives fading. The Liar ascended the stairs to the topmost floor.
Facing a wall, the crimson-robed Aeon stood. Lyia herself had long since lost her cloak in the small blood-bath. She glared over at him. As though sensing this, he dropped the robe off his shoulders and turned.
"And so it comes to this..." Aeon was by no means ugly. Coarse, straight black hair tied in a top-knot fell down one of his shoulders, his very dark eyes affixed to the Liar, a faint smirk on his thin lips.
"You made me kill her..." The Liar growled back, her voice and breathing hoarse and ragged.
"Still angry about that, are we?..." He drew a pair of swords calmly off his belt, sliding them soundlessly out of their sheaths. "Come, then. Settle this dispute..."
Lyia grinned beneath her mask. She snapped a throwing knife off her belt, tossing it for Aeon. He blinked, the knife slicing along the upper part of his shoulder, then piercing the wall behind him, through the hole now made entering the cold Winterspring air. He looked from the cut to the Liar.
"How futile." he remarked, charging for her, blades crossed, only to uncross once he was near enough, the swords coming down diagonally for the Night Elf.
She raised both knife and sword to try blocking the weapons, but one still managed to whistle dangerously close to her ear. She flattened the hearing organ rapidly to her head, avoiding the incoming blade, and sent her knife up towards his midsection.
A blade came to block the knife, and a bladelock ensued. One of Aeon's swords came for her own sword-arm, and she raised the Elunite blade to parry it, rendering it harmless for a few moments. She trailed the tip of the sword along the man's chest, leaving a shallow cut. She darted backwards afterwards, receiving a cut to her own midsection.
She stared at him. His movements were slow, sluggish. He swung for her again and again, yet she merely moved out of range. The Night Elf watched the human fall motionless on the floor, the swords dropping out of his grasp, the poison in his blood now rendering him immobile, and slowly spreading further.
The girl slipped a hand in a black pouch on her belt, taking out a number of glowing white vials, which she crushed in her fist and splattered the contents all across her own wounds. She could take her time and she knew it.
She knelt over him, her wounds slowly closing due to the Moonwell water's healing effect. She opened his mouth, smiling beneath her mask, and took out of another pouch a fistfull of dark purple seeds, dumping them in the man's mouth and moving his jaw for him, mimicking chewing for quite sometime. As she decided the seeds were duly crushed, she added more, until she ran out.
"What you are chewing are Nightmare Seeds. They are powerful hallucinogens. They bring the nightmare to life. Just one is enough to give someone the most potent and frightening visions on Kalimdor... I just fed you about fifty. I can only imagine the horrors you're seeing, Aeon. I wanted you to feel it before you died... Fear."
The Kaldorei moved his jaw further until she was satisfied all the seeds were crushed and stared at his wide-open and rapidly moving eyes for a moment. The Night Elf picked him up by the scruff of his neck and moved for one of the walls. She tore a rectangular hole through it with her sword and held the man out over the precipice.
"This is for her." The Liar growled, decapitating the paralized Aeon and letting both body and head fall down the side of the tower-like building. She shivered slightly in the cold air.
Lyia moved and picked up Aeon's crimson robes and slid them onto herself. They were surprisingly warm and comfortable. She nodded once, deciding to keep them, and pulled the hood over her head, walking downstairs, and out the front gate, not giving a second glance to what she left behind...
Night had settled over the Stonetalon mountains, uncountable brilliant points of light spearing the black skies, at their center looming a silvery moon, an eye to all that went on below. Wolves howled loudly at the white orb from atop peaks in the distance, their cries echoing across vallies and through the thickets of yet-untouched trees.
On a path amid such trees, the Liar walked, covered well by a crimson silk robe, its hood resting on her head, and the sleeves dangling by. She did not bother to put her arms through them, instead wearing the blood-colored garment like a cloak. She glanced to what seemed to be a very small log cabin up ahead, exhaling slowly into her mask.
She approached the cabin, taking note of the strands of golden light that sifted through the cracks in the walls, made so by the slow but steady displacement of the logs that they were made of.
The Night Elf found herself curling her hand around the handle on the door and pushing it open, with a bit of strain due to being still slightly sore and tired from the previous day's events.
The door swung open to reveal a familiar scene. She stepped inside the candle-lit square room, huffing a quiet sigh, the black-garbed man across from her on a rise turning to face her. A brief, jerky motion suggested surprise.
"...Aeon's robes?" came his voice.
"Yes. They were warm, and I was cold." Lyia answered simply.
"We see... A charming memento."
"Mm." the Liar nodded. "Now, what comes next?"
"Rushing forwards without thinking will end you, Liar. To be quite frank, We're surprised you survived the guards at Aeon's estate. No doubt luck was on your side, because no matter how skilled, anyone falls when faced with greater numbers."
"Luck is better than skill. I had it. Your point?"
"Our point is that you could've died. Quite easily. And the Blade would've lost another of Our hands."
"Right. Is this some sort of scolding? He's dead and that's that."
"...No. It was merely personal opinion. Now, We would have you understand what just happened. Aeon's death caused a power vacuum within the Blade. You wouldn't know this because We do not share knowledge of it openly. However, Our advice to you is to look for... talent."
"I had a student once. Look how that turned out."
The man frowned. He raised a black-gloved hand and coughed into his fist. "Myes. Still, consider it as an option."
"I'll think about it." was all the Liar said.
"Good, now, do you remember what Aeon last tasked you with?"
"Of course. Kill Kain Everlocke. Traitor and spy." came her brisk reply.
"Good, good. Now, We have acquired information as to how mister Everlocke is actually a real person. It would seem Aeon was mistaken as to his crimes, however. Our eyes in the field have suggested that in addition to the smuggling of information into and out of Theramore, he also deals in the transport and shipment of potent Fel-based drugs."
"All the more reason to lay him to rest."
The candlelight flickered for a brief moment. First Contact's robes rustled as he shifted.
"Veritably. However, the good trader seems to be piecing together your latest handiwork, as such, he has grown fearful of his life. He keeps two armed guards with himself at all times."
Lyia blinked a couple of times, her silver eyes flitting into and out of the darkness of her eyelids. "So, he expects me?"
"We did not say that. He is merely fearful, for he has noticed that corrupt officials and other wealthy people with a darker side to their lives are turning up dead all across Azeroth."
"Ah. Good..." She turned for the exit to leave.
"Liar... Remember, be on the lookout for talent."
The Kaldorei shook her head and pushed open the door, going out into the brilliance of the night.
Threefold Return
Spoiler:
Clouds were gathering over Theramore Isle, blotting out the stars and moon, and wreathing the Liar in the darkest of shadows. Torches blazed beneath the rooftop on which the Night Elf crouched.
She had taken the entirety of the previous day to sleep, just so that she'd recover enough energy for this job. Before starting, however, she even stopped for a cup of thistle tea, for that extra edge. She smirked beneath her mask, watching a man in fine clothing being escorted by a pair of armed mercenaries out of the tavern.
The Liar eyed the guards along the path. There were few of them, and far imbetween. She would never think to make her presence known to one. After all, Kain Everlocke maintained the cover of a completely legitimate businessman.
Lyia watched the mercenaries turn with the Mark around the main fort of Theramore, and into an alleyway. She followed, speeding across the rooftops, her steps light and almost soundless. A guard leaned against a halberd at the entrance to the narrow street.
She frowned at him, then blinked. From the man's helm came loud snoring, making the piece of head armor vibrate so loud that the Night Elf could easily hear it. She nodded once to herself very subtly, and kept following the three.
The Kaldorei leaned over the edge of the rooftop, when the two mercenaries and her mark were about a quarter of the way down the cobblestone path, and tossed a small tile at a potted plant on a balcony, and it fell down, shattering on the path, out of the three's sight.
But not, it seemed, out of earshot. The mercenaries looked from one to the other and murmured hushed words, before nodding. One remained with Everlocke, the other went in the direction where the sound had come from.
The Liar hung from the roof, letting herself drop down right behind him once he was far enough from the others. He turned to the sound of her landing, yanking his sword from its sheath and raising it.
He stopped there. The Liar's sword portruded out of the back of the mercenary's neck, blood coursing along its blade as she slid it out in a fluid motion, flicking it clean of blood and speeding after the remaining two.
She used a makeshift grappling hook, no more than a thin, flimsy boat anchor and a piece of rope to ascend a small building and eye over the two. They were midway down the alley to the docks now. She bit her lower lip beneath her mask, hoping dearly time enough was left for what had to be done.
She slipped a knife off her belt, staring at a point on the back of the second mercenary's neck. She leapt off the building, rolling once she hit the ground, and flung the throwing weapon for him, striking him with a sickening thump. The knife disconnected his spine from his brain, making him fall to lifelessness in moments.
Kain turned sharply, only to watch the mercenary fall, and gaze into the silver glowing eyes of the Night Elf that killed him. He turned to run for the docks, panic taking over him.
The Liar sped after him, sprinting to an unnatural speed, pushing her body to its limits. Lyia caught up with him rapidly, and, sword in hand, carved a gash on the side of his neck. The man doubled back on himself, backpedalling and falling to his bum and elbows, almost on his back. Horror was evident on his face.
"Assassi-!" he managed to bellow, before the unforgiving blade severed head from body, leaving him in a puddle of his own lifeblood. The Liar glanced around, noticing lights turning on in houses, candles and torches being lit.
She rushed out of the alleyway and towards the docks, in as silent and swift a manner as she could, leaping directly into the water and swimming Northwards, out of Theramore.
Once far enough, she glanced over her shoulder. The island-city was set glowing with torchlight. Lyia looked back forwards and kept on swimming...
Rain in the Barrens was supposed to be an uncommon thing. Yet now, it poured down endlessly. Dark gray skies covered the gold and red fields and steppe, their thickness blotting out the sun as they spilled their contents on the world below, breathing life and moisture into a dead, parched ground.
The Liar sat staring at an Elunite sword, single-edged and gracefully curved, the glinting silver and green metal seeming etched with faint and indistinguishable patterns.
Lyia reached out to the sword, which was, for all intents and pourposes, identical to the one on her back, save for the amount of wear and tear that it had been subjected to, then stopped. She sighed.
"So, do you remember what we did back in the Barrow Dens?... How you thought I was hurt and tried to save me. I was fine, but still, you were worried. Do you know why I..." The Night Elf shook her head. "You know, no one ever worried about me like that before. I mean, sure, they all put on those worried, angry-that-you've-been-gone faces, but never enough to risk life and limb for me."
The Kaldorei girl leaned back against a tree, thunder roaring overhead as she stared at the weapon sticking out of the ground in front of her. "I remember you trying to shoot a Death Knight with a bow and arrow, only to tell you that poison doesn't work on them that much, and that Moonwell water would've been more effective. It was funny at the time... You were so unskilled..."
"But, you see, we grow as time passes..." the Liar stood, yanking the sword out of the ground and staring at its guard. "And as we grow, we change from what we were, into what we are. Change is a constant..."
She turned for a nearby tower, walking towards it. "...And neither you, nor I could ever have escaped it." she murmured, donning crimson, silken robes and pulling their hood over her head.
Lyia reached the tower's archway entrance and pressed her palms to the double doors and they swung open ahead of her. She trod inside, into the dim candlelight.
The room was circular this time, yet still lined with wax candles all about its walls, seeming more a chapel, or hall of ceremony, than a den of blades. A man stood with his back to her, atop a rise opposite the door, garbed entirely in black. He turned around, eying her over and nodded once.
"Liar."
"Same as always."
"To repeat something is to impress its importance upon those who would overlook it. Let Us repeat something before We start. Your luck will run out sometime. Heed Our warning and do not become overconfident, for it will surely be your downfall."
"Mm." The Night Elf nodded. "I'll try."
The man raised an eyebrow beneath his hood. "Trying is not enough. You either succeed, or you perish. Now, quite the ruckus has been stirred down in old Theramore by your little game of hide and seek."
"I'd think so too." The girl just shrugged, the silken robes sliding soundlessly on her bare shoulders.
"The guards found many an illegal contract on mister Everlocke's body. They traced them easily to the supplies of smuggled goods and fel-tainted drugs. For all the people know, the mysterious hand of justice has struck once more." He continued, his tone tinted by a faint sense of pride.
"Murder is murder. You're falling into a romantic vision of killing. This isn't some fairytale, Contact. Their blood is real. Their weapons are real. Only I know how many times I got cut, stabbed, jabbed and so on. I must've used up half a Moonwell's worth of water on myself in the last two months alone."
"Liar, We are perfectly conscious of what We are doing. Now, on to your next task. Near Steamwheedle port a ship lay anchored. Its captain, Valn Serismouth is quite the arms dealer, We are told. Go in by night and end him. Watch out for the crew... And remember, that no matter how fast you are, you cannot dodge bullets." The man ended in an amused tone.
"I will try not to get shot, thank you very much. I'm partial to staying alive." The Night Elf's tone carried a tinge of sarcasm.
"Very well." First Contact turned for the wall behind himself.
The girl turned around, pushing open the double doors and went on her way, but not before dropping the sword she'd been speaking to earlier, off in her hippogryph's saddlebags.
Of spheres and lead
Spoiler:
The desert is a cold place at night, because of the rapid cooling of the sands therein. The sea sloshed nearby as the Liar pushed a boat towards it, bright stars reflected in its waters.
The boat took to sea rapidly, with Lyia in it, and she rowed for a little bit until she saw her mark's shelter. A fair-sized sailboat, anchored a ways to her right. There were some torches lit atop its deck, but it was otherwise silent.
The Elf swam to its side and sunk a knife into it, using it as a climbing point to ascend the side of the vessel.
She managed to climb all the way to a cannon port and slid herself inside. She peered about her, noticing an amount of gunpowder kegs and nodded once to herself. The room was lit by torches.
She glanced upwards, to the sound of loud snoring and shook her head subtly before moving for where she assumed the captain's quarters were, her steps as quiet as she could make them across the wooden planks.
The Liar neared a thick wooden door and knelt down beside it, to try pushing it open. It creaked as it moved, however, and she heard footsteps behind herself. She slipped inside, blinking a couple of times at the man sleeping in the bed to her right. She looked about the room.
It seemed to be your average captain's cabin, with astrolabes, a globe and other navigational equipment, among which a small gold-trimmed cask which she barely resisted the urge to pry open. She turned for the man once more.
He grumbled in his sleep and turned on his side, towards her. Lyia slipped a knife off her belt and took another step closer. That was where her luck seemed to falter. The plank underfoot creaked loudly and the captain woke with a start.
The man yanked a flintlock pistol out of a holster next to the bed, only to find the Liar's blade going down for his hand, severing it at the wrist. The Night Elf twisted her body, thrusting her knife through his neck and turning it in the newly-formed wound.
The pistol that hit the ground discharged loudly, the bullet hitting a window of the cabin and shattering it, producing quite the amount of noise. The Night Elf yanked open the door, going for the cannon room, and taking a torch off the wall, tossing it at the gunpowder kegs. She leapt through a cannon port, to loud shouting coming from the ship.
"There! Shoot it!" yelled a sailor, pointing directly at her as she swam as fast as she could. Another man figure cocked a rifle, pointing it at her. He fired. A bright flash of light ensued, the whistling of a bullet splitting the air. A dull thwack was heard, before a loud explosion tore the ship asunder.
The Liar winced as she felt the spherical projectile hit her left forearm, and forced herself to keep on swimming despite the pain and running blood. She tried moving for the rowboat, and managed to clamber atop it with her one good arm.
Lyia rowed one-handedly towards the port, but blacked out due to blood loss before the boat even hit the docks.
...
Warmth hit her as she flexed her fingers. Her eyes flitted open, peering into those of another Night Elf. She herself did not say anything.
"Rest now. You've lost a lot of blood." the woman above her said. "The wound is closed, your arm is fine, but the blood loss may have you tired for a bit more."
"Wh-appened?" Lyia managed to mumble.
"You were shot. Don't you remember?"
"Yeh... Yeah..." The Night Elf's silvery eyes closed once more as she slipped into restful sleep. When next she woke, she found her arm bandaged in blooded cloth and poked at it. She didn't feel any pain.
She slowly, carefully unwrapped the bandage only to find her forearm intact. Her skin was still slightly pale, though. A goblin entered the room and looked to her. She glanced down to her nose and was relieved to find out that her mask was still tied around her face. She reached for her weaponry and found it. She eyed the goblin.
He spoke first, stepping for her. "So, ye're up. Good. Now get the f**k outta' my store. This ain't no hospital. Weird elf lady said to give you this." he held out a stubby palm, on which a blood-encrusted lead sphere lay. "Said you might want a memento or sommin'."
The Night Elf blinked. She reached out and took the bullet which had formerly found shelter in her forearm and nodded, standing. She felt a bit dizzy at first, but soon recovered her balance, going out the door and into Gadgetzan...
The sun beat down on the autumnal leaves of Azshara, their yellowed frames cracking lowly and falling to the ground. A wisp circled a tree nearly out of sight before fading behind it, to wherever the spirits of the forest and fallen Kaldorei go. A cool breeze wafted by, coming from the ocean, bearing a scent heavy with arcane.
Lyia Duskvenom climbed a hill, approaching a small wooden alcove, a hollowed-out tree trunk that had long fallen to the ravages of time. The tree trunk was thick enough to be about twice her height, its brown bark wrinkled and thick, save for one human-sized doorway on its side.
The Liar moved for the doorway, pushing it open, only to hear it creak on its hinges, its lower edge grating against the wooden inside.
The dimly lit square room was familiarly lit by candles which lined its perimeter, and opposite the door, on a small rise, stood a man, facing her. He nodded his head once, his black hood rustling from the movement. He said nothing.
The Night Elf looked straight at the human, closing the door behind herself.
"I was shot."
"So We heard."
"A Draenei and a Night Elf helped close and cleanse the wound..." she glanced off to the side, eying over a flickering candle.
"Mm.. Are you ready for your next task, or shall it wait?" came First Contact's voice.
The Kaldorei girl shook her head, looking back to him. "Not yet. I want another day off. I have a couple of things that need doing." The corners of her eyes crinkled, but her face was otherwise expressionless, the metallic mask covering any slip of emotion.
"Very well. Do not tarry, however. Our time is limited." He nodded once and turned to face the wall behind himself.
"So, I can just take the day off?... Heh. I'm starting to like this job..."
The man in black smiled at the wall, crossing his arms over her gut in the process.
Lyia turned for the door, pushing it open, and called down her hippogryph nearby, mounting it and flying for Teldrassil.
Leaps of Faith
Spoiler:
Teldrassil, the new World Tree, was still in a growing stage. It had many wooden outcroppings, like thick branches, some of which could be walked. The winds blowing around it carried a sweetish smell, combined with that of seawater.
On a thick wooden branch, the Liar crouched, standing on its very edge. She glanced to a hippogryph perched atop a stump, winking at it. She then looked down.
Her breathing quickened as she gazed downwards, all the way to the waters surrounding Teldrassil. She was, for all she knew, on the highest branch that reached out over the water. She heard the hippogryph caw.
She grinned, nodding once at the animal and took a moment to steady her breathing. She leaned over the edge of the branch, exhaling and letting herself fall.
The feeling of weightlessness overcame her, and she thought she felt time slowing. The wind brushed across her skin as she plummeted out of the crown of the world, stretching out to slow her fall for a few moments. She watched the watery surface below come nearer and nearer.
She closed her eyes for a bit, imagining she had wings. Lyia smiled, opening them afterwards and, as the water came closer and closer, she turned to face it, hands in front of her, making sure that she would have the least amount of surface contact with it, because unless she positioned herself properly, the impact could kill her.
Cold. After her rapid descent, the Liar found herself in the cold water, though not for long. The hippogryph from what felt like a half hour ago, though in truth was little more than a couple of minutes, snatched her from the surface of the waves, carrying her off towards Darnassus.
A few hours later, she found herself atop her hippogryph, flying out of Shattrath, a Draenei at her back. She stared dead ahead as the mount sped towards the Nether. The air became thinner and thinner the further she got.
She glanced over her shoulder to the Draenei and nodded. "Now."
The Draenei, incidentally, was a Paladin. She set a hand on her shoulder, bathing both mount and the two of them in a golden Light, encasing them in a thin fillament of the magical energy. The Liar then leapt off the hippogryph, literally floating in the extremely thin atmosphere and near nonexistent gravity.
She rolled about, she mimicked swimming, she eyed the shattered planet below. She chuckled. "I'm in... the sky... Just like the Draenei from Azshara Crater said... I'm probably not cold 'cuz of the Light around my body..." she trailed off, murmuring to herself.
The Night Elf slipped a hand into a pocket, taking out a gumball and tossed it lightly out into the Great Dark Beyond. It kept floating, and floating, and floating, until it got so far away that she couldn't see it despite her sharp eyesight.
The Kaldorei girl soon felt out of breath and looked to the Draenei still channeling the Light-spell around the two of them and the Hippogryph. She waved and pointed downwards. The Paladin nodded once, ushering the weightless duo towards Lyia and, together, they descended back down onto the remnants of Draenor.
Once they hit the ground, the Liar paid the Draenei, whom curteously refused the sum and only took half the price originally established. Lyia just shrugged and nodded, looking up to where she assumed she had been, suddenly feeling heavy and very, very small...
Wind made the reeds of the nearby pond rustle, the house behind which it was still standing as an ageless monument to Kaldorei architecture. Ashenvale was dark by then, and an otter swirled about the pond, playing with bits and pieces of sea food.
Lyia Duskvenom stared at the juvenile aquatic creature, smiling beneath her mask. "I should probably name you. I'll call you Otty. How's that sound?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.
The otter just flapped about, tumbling upside-down in the water, happily playing in his new home.
"Yup." the Liar nodded. "I knew you'd like it. Still, strange that that Draenei whose name I don't know gave you to me, just like that... When I told her I liked wet and slippery animals." she chuckled. "Bet she didn't know the extent to which those words can be taken as innuendo."
The Night Elf reached out to her side, her fingers curling around the hilt of her student's sword, which she then rested on her lap and stared at. "You'd like Otty. He's a great listener. Just like you were..." she shrugged. "Then again, I kinda' liked it when you answered... You used to be so worried once." she frowns at the sword, trailing off.
Otty splashed water at her, breaking her none too happy train of thought. She blinked a couple of times. "Hey!..." she splashed water back at the otter. Thus, their miniature aquatic war began.
The otter won when the Kaldorei girl was thoroughly soaked. He circled around her ankles, as she was now knee-deep in the pond, and grabbed one of the fish, floating on his back with his belly to the sky. Otty ate happily as he watched Lyia stomp off to dry.
The Liar left her house, the pond, and her student's Elunite Katana behind soon enough, going South, back to the spiral towers of Desolace. Therein, amid the sands she ascended a spiral tower along the ramp winding its way about its outside.
Once she got to the top, First Contact stared out to sea, just as Aeon did once, and turned towards the Night Elf, nodding once to the crimson-robed girl.
"Liar. We take it you're ready for another task?..."
"Yes."
"You've given your arm plenty of rest, then?" he asked, amusement tinting his tone.
"It was just my forearm. And yes, I have. What with weightlessness helping out with joint stress and all." she answered in the same humor-tinged voice.
The man nodded once, and turned towards the golden, blazing sunset sprawling across the sky above the ocean. "Good. Now, your next mark is a man suspected of necromancy. We say suspected because there have been found no trinkets suggesting it in his household, nor any public sightings of his dark art. We surmise he practices in secret, beyond even where our eyes can reach."
"So, as per usual, I'm to take him out and let the guards sort it out."
"Yes, however, do try and find out what exactly he does with his magics. His name is Selan Kelen, and he lives in Westfall. Otherwise, this should be an easy task. He is unguarded, as far as We know. Good hunting, Liar."
"After rest and relaxation, and falling out of the sky, a further relaxing job is all I can ask for..." The Kaldorei smirked beneath her mask, turning around and walking down the winding spiral pathway, calling her hippogryph. She mounted the massive beast and burst upwards into the wild blue yonder.
Mortality
Spoiler:
Night encompassed the Kelen farmstead in the middle of a field in Westfall. The sky was cloudy, but it did not rain, instead only blotting out the moon and stars, bathing everything in a perpetual darkness. Through the windows a couple could be seen, blowing out the gass lamps of the household after a hearty dinner.
The Liar walked the field quietly, towards the house. She glanced to a small black dog sleeping in a doghouse next to the entrance and sighed. She looked back to the doorway, shaking her head.
She kept on going, and she felt a distinct sense of foreboding washing over her, as though something was terribly wrong. She nodded once, slowly and to herself, her resolve renewed by what her senses were telling her. Her fingers curled around a knife's hilt, which she rammed into the door frame, sticking it in, making it sound distinctly like a knock on the door.
Lyia pulled herself up, off the ground, and stood on the upper edge of the door frame, crouched, and peered down below.
Her mark opened the door, the small black dog scampering towards him to lick at his shoes. The Liar frowned as he looked around.
The man shrugged, turning to get back inside, and the dog returned to his doghouse. Lyia used the knife as a pivot-point, swinging down and into the house just as the human nearly closed the door behind himself, wrapping an arm about his waist and raising the knife to his neck.
"P-Please don't kill me... please... Don't..." he mouthed with a shaky voice, panic overcoming him. He shivered in her grasp, sounding horrified. "I'll give you anything. A-anything, just please... don't kill me."
"You reek of undeath, human. You're a necromancer..." came the Liar's cold tongue.
"I-... I just wanted my wife back... I only used it once. I wanted her back... I was so lost without her... So alone... I raised her..." He said, just as shakily as before. He seemed he was about to collapse.
"You raised your wife into undeath... You made her your slave... You're sick, you know that?..." her grip tightened, and the knife slowly punctured his flesh, drawing a few drops of blood.
"I just wanted her back, I swear!" he yelled. His wife came down, looking very pale, her cold, hollow gaze affixed to the Night Elf, and the human in her arms. She said nothing.
"Goals don't justify the means. You twisted the most sacred sentiment possible into a perversion of itself." she dragged the blade across his neck, severing it.
He fell down, dropping limp onto the floor, a puddle of blood spilling around him. The woman ahead stood there, staring into the silver eyes of the Liar.
Lyia looked back at her. She shook her head. The woman dropped to the floor, as her master expired so did she.
The Kaldorei girl pushed the door open, and knelt by the dog, removing his collar. He did not seem to object. She sighed. "You're free now. Go find a better master..." She muttered to the small black pup, then turned around, walking into the pitch-dark night...
Thunder rolled past and abated, leaving Ashenvale in a cold, thick mist. Behind an ancient-looking, yet sturdy Kaldorei house, in a pond spun merrily an otter, tumbling and turning, flapping and swirling about its waters. The otter itself was named Otty.
The same Otty was being watched by Lyia Duskvenom, who seemed intent on speaking with it.
"So, this one Kaldorei, really bad at subtlety, told me you eat clams. Do you eat clams?... Well, let's see." she took a clam out of a net to her side, and tossed it for the otter.
Otty caught it and flopped onto his back, prying open the clam with his paws to get at the soft and juicy meat within, eating it.
The Liar raised an eyebrow. "Huh. So you do eat clams. Well..." she glanced to the clam net at her side, then looked back towards the otter. She stood, dragging the net further by the pond's side and left it there, turning around and picking up her student's Elunite Katana.
She sat down, cradling the weapon in her hands, looking from Otty to it. "How we live the double lives we do... I remember you had a bit of a problem adapting to that." she chuckled, smiling at the green-tinted silver steel afterwards. "I met a sad lady yesterday. She lost her brother. Maybe that's why. I should get her a pet. Or lots of bubblegum." she shrugged.
"I think bubblegum would either make her smile, or rush for the nearest tree..." the Night Elf raised an eyebrow at the sword. "Anyway... I've gotta' go.." she stuck the sword into the ground, standing and walking off.
It was early morning when she reached a square-shack in the Stonetalon Mountains, set atop a peak, with eagles circling it and patrolling from its perch atop a cliff to the shack itself.
Sunrise was nearing and the Liar sped towards the shack, striding for it, before giving it a quick eye-over and opening the door. The shack's simple, wooden plank walls were lined with candles as per usual, the door itself a heavy form of oak.
The Kaldorei girl eyed the man across from her, atop a rise. He turned for her, smiling beneath his hood, to the sound of rustling black robes.
"Liar." he said, nodding his head in greeting.
"First Contact... He tried to revive his wife."
"And he succeded only in bringing her into undeath. A slave-state. A perversion of the truth, and of life's most noble sentiment." He said, in a firm, stern voice.
The Liar sighed. "True enough..." she shook her head. "Anyway. What's next?"
The man slipped both hands into his sleeves and brought them together in front of his gut. The candle-light flickered to the coming dawn. "Archibald Servonhold is your next mark. A wealthy business man, We are told, his dirty little secret consisting of conspiring with others against the king of Stormwind and his Court of Nobles."
"How'd you find out about it?" The Night Elf asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We found out by sending an infiltrator in one of his meetings, as an informant. However, due to the uncertainty of the verdict, the mole did not strike. He lives in Hillsbrad, at his estate there."
Lyia nodded. "I see. And now, since the verdict is confirmed, I can take him out."
"Precisely. However, you must make it look like an accident. His manor is always well-staffed, as such, you cannot kill him overtly. You must not be seen."
"Finally, a challenge." the Liar grinned beneath her mask. "With pleasure, Contact. Have fun with whatever you do in these candle-lit rooms." she turned around for the door.
"We watch the candles burn out. For each candle, there is a life. As a life ends, a candle is extinguished." he said over his shoulder, turning for the wall behind himself.
Lyia blinked, pushing open the door, and exiting to greet the bright, new dawn.
Down the drain
Spoiler:
The sun was still high over Hillsbrad, the sky cloudless and bright. Some crows passed overhead, flying Northwards, whilst across the plains blew a wind carrying the sweet scent of slightly over-ripe grapes.
The Liar sped for a manor at the center of the grape-field, using the heavy foliage to cover her movements. Very few workers were about the grounds, and she thanked whatever deities were listening for this.
She came out of the fields, moving for a side-door which gatherers usually used, opening it quietly, as it was unlocked. The Night Elf slipped inside, glancing about, her ears perking. She saw no one, but heard footsteps coming from a hallway to her left. She darted forwards, for what seemed to be a narrow spiral staircase, ascending it as swiftly and silently as she could.
Now on the second floor, she eyed over her surroundings. White-painted wooden doors to what she assumed were bedrooms lined the sides, one left unpainted to the end of the corridor, near another similar staircase. There was also a yellow-painted one, which she moved for, as she saw a small wooden icon on its upper part.
Lyia tilted her head to the side, staring at what seemed to be a small boy urinating into a pot, carved out of wood and stuck to the door somehow. The Liar glanced to the hinges as she heard someone approaching from the other side of the door, and moved for the side of the doorway.
The door opened, blocking her from the view of whoever came out of it. A faint sigh was heard, as well as footsteps walking away. The door closed behind a man who descended the stairs at the end of the hallway, not noticing her as she was flattened against the wall and unmoving.
She unstuck herself from the wall and entered the strange room, peering about its insides. She saw strange porcelain bowl-like chairs with water inside them, and some other cup-like devices implanted into the walls made of the same material. The Kaldorei girl shook her head, scratching her ear. The smell of the place was telling her the icon on the door was suggestive enough.
The Liar looked upwards. She hopped up for a moment, tapping the ceiling with her hand. She smirked. "Hollow." she muttered to herself, and kicked off the floor, ramming her palm into a board, pushing it upwards and slightly to the side. As she now had a small ledge to climb on, she clung to the side of the square hole, pulling herself up.
Lyia slowly slid the wooden tile back into place and waited...
Hours passed, and footsteps came. The sound of servants scurrying past, and masters dining somewhere down below also reached the Night Elf's ears. She slid the tile slightly, only to see an impeccably well-dressed man, adjusting a bow-tie in a mirror. She nodded once and pulled the tile soundlessly out of the way, setting it down carefully to her side.
The man smiled at himself in the mirror. The Liar shook her head, dropping from her hiding place and falling just so that her weight fell on the back of his neck, bringing him to the ground. He tried to scream, but a hand covered his mouth.
Lyia wrapped an arm about him, and moved for one of the water-filled bowls. She stuck his head inside, setting her foot on the back of his neck, and waiting... She glanced to a button on a nearby white rectangular box, just above the water bowl, and pushed it. Water flushed from it and into the bowl, covering the man's head completely. She blinked, watching.
The man eventually went limp, and she stayed a couple of minutes more, just to be sure. She then took her foot off the back of his head, and splashed a small amount of moonwell water on it, to cover the mark the sole of her boot left behind. A knock on the door came, and she leapt through the only bathroom window, falling with a roll and sprinting back into the grapevine fields form whence she came...
In the depths of night five candles burned in paper cups, floating on a bowl filled with moonwell water on the upper floor of a house in Ashenvale. The candleflame flickered, casting shadows about the walls, its golden light the only in the room save for a pair of silver eyes, staring at it unblinkingly.
Lyia Duskvenom knelt by the bowl filled with moonwell water and her siblings' ever-burning candle-flames, muttering a short prayer under her breath. She never had been very faithful, but it seemed right. She then pushed herself to a stand and moved for a table.
The Night Elf slipped a hand into her pocket, taking out a silver coin, and eying it over. "Wonder if I should tell my mother of the Veil, and of how she only sees one side of it. How about this... Heads means yes, tails means no." she flipped the coin, tossing it upwards, and it spun.
Minutes seemed to pass before the Kaldorei girl descended the stairs and called down her hippogryph, mounting it and flying off, leaving behind the house with five candles and a silver coin standing vertically on its edge on the table of the top floor.
Seven hours later, the same hippogryph swooped down over a shack in the side of Southshore, Lyia dropping off its back and landing directly in front of the doorway. She eyed the shack over.
It was square, as per ususal, having a slanted, flat roof, tilted backwards so any rain would fall away from the door. She shrugged and turned the handle, entering to the familiar scene.
The man across from the doorway, garbed in black, turned from the candle-filled wall behind himself and towards the new arrival, nodding once.
"Suicide by drowning is not really an accident." he said, with mild amusement in his voice.
"Maybe not. But he's dead and that's what you asked for." She said, her tone brisk and unapologetic.
"Yes. We could easily plant the incriminating evidence on his body by forging a suicide note in which he confessed everything he had done. In a way, you've done better than what we asked." The man said, further humor echoing in his tone.
"I tend to do that. Now, what's next?" she asked, smirking beneath her mask.
"So eager, hmm? Good. I hope you're comfortable with hallucinogenic fumes, because you're going into a den of such, to end a drug lord." The man said cautiously.
"Happy fun times. I'll be sure to take whatever antidotes I have beforehand." Lyia replied, cracking her knuckles beneath her heavy brown cloak.
"Good. Now, I don't have to tell you not to make a mess of things. Get in, get out. Cutthroat Alley. Seventh house on the left."
"I'll smell it a mile away." she turned around, exiting.
Perception
Spoiler:
Evening came over Cutthroat Alley and the downtrodden and the thugs in the area were moving for their hidey-holes. The air was thick with smoke, thick gray clouds rising in plumes over the broken down shacks and houses littering the sides of the street.
The Liar walked quietly down along it, covered by her heavy brown cloak, rubbing her left arm. "I hate needles." she muttered, speeding for the seventh house to the left. She stopped at the courtyard gate.
The first thing she noticed was that the light blue paint was peeling off the brick walls of the place, and the two big bouncers on the sides of the door were seemingly bobbing their heads up and down.
She closed the distance, eying the two more carefully from beneath her hood. Their pupils were dilated, and they were staring dead ahead. She stifled a chuckle, and reached out, opening the door.
One of the large men looked towards her, but turned his gaze elsewhere quickly, as though startled by something he'd seen.
The Liar stepped inside, humming rather cheerily. She inhaled some of the thick gray smoke, sighing it out her nostrils afterwards. She shook her head, clearing her vision, as the drag made her slightly dizzy. Lyia moved for the stairs of the two-story building, ascending them, leaving behind a room with a thick, moldy carpet on which were gathered many humans with what seemed to be cigarettes in their hands.
The Night Elf turned the corner of the the staircase, peering up at the second floor, trodding for it. She immediately reached a door, two chairs at its sides, seemingly sleeping people on them. She turned the knob on the door, opening it.
The Liar laid eyes on a finely-clothed man with his hand on a small crossbow and a cigarette just like the ones downstairs in his mouth. As he saw her, his eyes widened, and the cigarette dropped towards the floor.
Then three things happened in quick succession. A crossbow bolt was fired and stuck with a dull thwack into something near the entrance to the door. A blade slid across flesh, severing it like a hot knife went through butter. And lastly, the cigarette hit the floor after the two previous events happened.
The Night Elf turned around, flicking her sword clean of blood and sheathed it across her back. As the blade snapped into its sheath, the man's head rolled off his shoulders and he collapsed. She glanced to her own shoulder. It had been grazed by the crossbow bolt, and a small trickle of blood came from the cut. The bolt itself stuck into a wall. Her eyes widened.
She blinked a couple of times at the cut on her shoulder, then reached up with her hand to try touching her lifeblood. She frowned. "It looks... like I'm bleeding a rainbow..." she chuckled. "Probably the drug in the air..." she shook her head, her perception distorting slightly. She looked behind herself and saw a window on the wall, next to a bed.
The Kaldorei girl moved for the window, opening it, and slid out, using centrifugal force to swing herself onto the roof and sprinted off across the rooftops...
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