CHAPTER 1: The Spy

"Just be patient... we'll set up camp for the night and continue our search in the morning."

"The morning! The elves could be miles away by then. We need to continue our search or they'll lose us!"

"Our soldiers are too worn! They cannot press on, if we lose the elves then so be it."



"...As you command."

The shaman started to retreat back to the main camp when suddenly he caught site of something. He started off in that direction to investigate. The elf hiding there soon noticed what he was up to and began to flee. The shaman now caught plain sight of the elf.

"IT'S A SCOUT! CATCH HER!" the shaman shouted as he kept up his pursuit.

Many orcs joined in on the chase but the elf was out of their reach. When she was almost away she suddenly stopped, paralyzed by a spell of the shaman. The orcs closed in around her leaving her with no route of escape.

"We've got you now! There's nowhere to hide!" snarled the shaman.

"That is where you are wrong" the elf calmly replied before completely vanishing into the night before their eyes. Shadow melding was one of the many mysterious abilities of the night elves. However, shadow melding was not extremely useful in this situation as it rendered the elf incapable of movement and was an ability only at night.

"Where'd she go?" asked a confused orc among the group.

"What is this? One does not merely vanish!" roared the angered shaman.

"An elf does" proclaimed the Warcheif as he arrived at the scene. "Do you know nothing of the ways of the night elves? They are craftier than you think."

"So the elf is gone?"

"No, not gone, just invisible" the Warcheif explained as he grabbed hold of his backpack and searched through the miscellaneous trinkets and gems. At last he pulled out a giant green stone and held it up. Suddenly the elf appeared again.

"Slit her throat before she can do another of her tricks!" yelled a bloodthirsty member of the crowd. A few orcs started towards the elf brandishing their axes.

"NO!" the Warcheif screamed as he restrained the vigorous orcs "I have a better use for this elf, a much better use! Come elf!"

The gang of orcs led the elf back to their camp where they locked here in a gigantic iron cage. Most of the horde retired to their tents to rest, save a few guards and the Warcheif himself who went to interrogate the elf.

"What's your name, elf?" spat the Warcheif.

"I'll tell you nothing!" returned the encaged elf.

"YOU'LL TELL ME WHAT I ASK YOU TO TELL ME!" roared the Warcheif back at the elf as he sent a magnificent bolt of lightning at the elf. The elf collapsed on the floor of the cage, on the verge of fainting.

"My… name is… Felhala Starmoon" panted the injured elf.

"You were sent to spy on us?" questioned the Warcheif

"…I was" Felhala responded.

The Warcheif reached into his pack and produced a torn piece of cloth from a night elf robe. The cloth bore the mark of her tribe, matching the one on her own robes.

"This is the mark of your tribe I presume?"

"It is" replied Felhala regaining strength.

The interrogation continued on into the night, the Warcheif extracting information from the all-to-willing Felhala.