Disclaimer: World of Warcraft obviously doesn't belong to me, but to Blizzard and whoever else is lucky enough to own it. If you recognise names of places and so on, that's becauseI got them from the game. Iown my account,after a fashion, and the characters I created on said account. One of them is the Night Elf Rogue (hah, yeah, real original, I know) Inamed Grenn, who features in this story.
He's not exactly James Bond, mind, but, ah well, he gets the job done.
No clue when I wrote this, except that it wasn't anytime this year.
Splintertree Postage - Prologue
The victorious combatant knelt down next to the corpse of the Orc and wiped his blade on the ragged cape of his late opponent.
It had been a quiet fight, but given their shared profession, the Night Elf couldn't say that had been a surprise. It had, thankfully, also been a quick fight, with him easily gaining the upper hand thanks to the professional application of a few tried and true dirty tricks his repertoire was made up of.
The fact that the Orc hadn't been as seasoned as him hadn't hurt either… Well, not him anyway.
Grenn rifled through the Orc's possessions, coming across a number of throwing daggers he borrowed from the dead male, as well as some jewels, which were gratefully accepted as tokens of a battle won.
The money pouch he found held a few coppers, but the rogue left most of them in there.
Finding a concealed boot knife on the corpse, the purple-haired Night Elf placed it in his own boot with a quiet lack of concern.
There was nothing else he considered taking from this Orc, and the rogue took a moment to reassure himself that he was alone - again - and would remain so for a while longer.
He needn't have worried. As he had observed time and time again, the area immediately north of Splintertree Post was empty of any type of humanoid activity save his own.
The Horde didn't seem too concerned with the mountain at their back and apparently didn't really feel the need to send guard patrols out this way.
Grenn appreciated that. It would make his job a lot easier.
A sound reached his elongated ears, and he scanned the grounds beneath him, luminescent eyes tracking the source of the sound to two wolves that were part of the pack that called this area their turf.
The Night Elf grinned, appreciation showing in the way he bared his teeth, not minding this audience to see his fangs, and turned to the dead Orc next to him.
He stood, pulling - though dragging would probably be more correct - the carcass to the edge of the small elevation he had found himself on when he and the Orc had ended their encounter, and pushed.
A number of feet, a couple of rolls and what would have - among other things - been a nasty concussion had the Orc still been alive later, the body crashed down on one of the wolves, the other having jumped out of the way already.
The animal yipped, alarmed, and worked its way free of the dead body, growling and snapping at the unexpected heavy weight, his companion doing the same.
The Night Elf left the wolves to it, satisfied that they would be able to feed the cubs they no doubt had around this time of year, and turned back to what he had been doing before. Climbing the mountain that covered Splintertree Post's back.
Another well-paying mission, courtesy of SI:7.
Fahran Silentblade hadn't been too specific on the why, despite the rogue's queries, but he was to report any strange going-ons in Splintertree Post.
Blunt as he was when it came to important matters like his life, Grenn had wondered why they didn't send anyone obviously more experienced than him, because - flattered as he was at their perceived perception of his skills - chances they were just going to get him killed were evidently present.
He was also pretty damn sure there were people far more seasoned, and as a result, more 'up to the job' than him present in Astranaar.
They were already assigned other, more dangerous tasks, apparently. And they really did need that information, seeing as how they were desperate enough to have him risk his life.
And the pay, of course, wasn't bad.
That, along with the opportunity to explore an area he hadn't been to before without being noticed ended up being too much to pass up, and in the end the Night Elf had agreed to the job.
He prided himself on his ability to get out of tight spots alive and, admittedly, continually sought to improve and challenge his skills just for the thrill of it.
That didn't mean it was generally his own fault that he got in this or that tight spot, of course, but he had to admit that he had only himself to blame for the Alcaz Island incident, what with there not being a single soul in sight to talk him into it.
Heh.. He'd made it out in one piece, though, hadn't he?
And with a cocky grin at that thought, the Night Elf blended with the shadows - just in case anyone else decided to show up - and carefully made his way up the back of Splintertree's Post mountain wall again.
Grenn had never really been one for the straight route, anyway. Coupled with near-infinite patience, that made for a pretty good success rate.
Now to see to it that it stayed that way.