Disclaimer: All concepts belong to Blizzard. I own nothing, other than the characters.

This is my first WoW story. I'm sorry if some of the storylines aren't consistent with the lore. This is just an idea I had in my head that I thought I would explore. The characters and their personalities are my own. I play WoW but I'm not all that savvy with the backgrounds and main line characters so I'm sorry if somethings a bit off. As always, please read and review!

The sun rose to its zenith as a lithe figure moved about in the shadows. The heat emitting from the vapors seeping through the cracks in the barren dirt was less than comfortable to the individual. Regardless of the uncomfortable environment, the young paladin was well trained; despite the cruel temperature. He was taught early on not to give much heed to such trivial matters. Battles continued with or without a comfortable breeze, and he was taught accordingly. When in battle, the only matter on a warriors mind is the sword in hand and the weapon in the enemy's grasp. Temperature was a privilege; one that so many aren't kindly rewarded. Thus were the trainings of the Horde.

Quickening his pace, Deimos soundlessly made his way to another shadow to hide his identity, where he swiftly took a slow pace. After such a long trek to conceal his presence, his was not about to allow impatience be his downfall. His keen hearing picking up the movement of walking in the distance, the young blood elf quickly put himself up against the structures wall. Holding a breath, Deimos felt the cool limestone wall on the back of his head as he listened to the footfalls come closer. Unconsciously, his left hand fell on the hilt of his sword resting on his back as he braced himself for a confrontation. The paladin was well prepared for an altercation, if need be, though he was under direct orders for a simple reconnaissance scouting. Feeling a grin spread across his face, Deimos figured one or two dead Alliance members wouldn't hurt. Hearing the footsteps stop around the corner from his current hiding place, Deimos felt his fingers curl around the hilt, preparing to unsheathe the sword if provoked.

His pointed ears heard the owner of the footsteps give out an aggravated sigh before the sound began to disappear where it came from. The paladin released both the breath he was holding and the hilt of his sword, allowing his figure to become more relaxed. While killing several Alliance would heighten his day, he wanted to get through the mission the fast and easiest way possible. Reconnaissance missions were usually reserved for lower ranks or punishment to those of higher stature. His was the latter. Shaking his head at the thought, the elf continued his stalking along the foundation of the structure he was sent to scout. Or rather, the meeting that was taking place within the structure.

Intel from Ranger-General Halduron Brightwing had said that there was unusual activity in the central southern region of the Burning Steppes. Usually, the blood elves, or even the Horde for that matter, wouldn't bother themselves with futile information. However, Brightwing had been particularly interested with the amount of activity bustling in the area as of late and had ordered a scouting mission. The young paladin downcast his eyes at the remembrance of being given the recon mission. Such a menial task for such a decorated warrior hardly seemed fitting, the elf mused. But it was used as a punishment for his earlier actions. Or rather, his lack of actions…

The sound of talking stopped Deimos in both his tracks and his thoughts. Quickly, his elven hearing was able to pick up the location of the speaker being around the corner of the wall he was stalking across. Tilting his head slightly, he deduced the voice wasn't speaking Thalassian or Orcish. Rather, it was speaking Common. Not having spoken the language for quite some time, Deimos had to consciously think about the understanding of the words being spoken.

"Steele, we should wait for the rest of the caravan. It's not wise for us to continue on without them."

A second voice replied. "And wait for the trolls to finish the meeting? Not a chance."

Brows together, Deimos cocked his head to the side in confusion. Why would trolls be here? Were they told the intel as well?

A new voice chimed in. "There's four of us and who knows how many of them. Odds are not in our favor this time, Steele. We should wait."

Whoever this Steele character was, he refused to back down. "What's wrong? You two getting too old for a decent fight? We'll be fine."

"I really think we should-"

The Steele character curtly cut the other off. "Listen to your commanding officer? I think that's a grand idea. Now, we continue on with the quest."

Running a hand through his cropped blond hair, Deimos was utterly confused. He was under the impression, based on the intel, that the Alliance was conducting gatherings. Based on what he was hearing, it seemed the intel was slightly skewed. Holding his breath, the paladin walked with as much agility as he could muster to get a view of the group. Peaking around the corner of the building, Deimos kept a trained hand on the hilt of his sword.

His unnatural green eyes took in the scene before him. Three male humans were lowly crouched to the ground, hiding behind what looked to be wooden crates. They all looked to be in their late 30's, though their bodies still had the physique of seasoned soldiers. A belt adorned each human, with a sheathed sword hanging from it, and a polished shield on their backs. Almost immediately, Deimos spotted the all too familiar blue and gold insignia fashioned upon each male's upper arm. Alliance.

I thought he said there were four of them…. The young paladin scanned the area looking for the last Alliance member. However much he scanned, he didn't see a fourth human. Shifting uneasily on his right foot, the elf knew he would have to watch his back with the Alliance being present. While he didn't doubt he could take two, or even all three of the humans, he wasn't content knowing a fourth was somewhere likely stealthed.

The intel had said that the structure had an open roof; which made a great place for listening in on conversations. The easiest and fastest route to the roof would be to climb from the outside. The intel also revealed that on the northwestern wall, the limestone was staggered and rough. This would allow for an easy scaling. Flexing his hands open and shut, Deimos jabbed his hands into an upper section of open limestone on the wall and silently pulled himself up.

This is a job for an intermediate rogue. Not me. I should be on the front in Northrend… Deimos effortlessly pulled his weight up to another crack in the wall. The climb wasn't tough for him but with the plate armor, it was a challenge to maneuver. He felt his palms smack the flat surface of the rooftop upon finishing the climb. Almost done with this mission…

Gazing around himself, the elf took in his surroundings and readjusted his sword. The roof looked worn down, similar to the rest of the building, and was made of the same off white limestone. In the middle of the roof, there was a large opening. It was here that Deimos figured he would overhear any meetings going on inside. There were several unmarked wooden crates and barrels strewn around the roof. Moving swiftly to a crate located close to the opening in the floor, Deimos assumed a crouched position and peered into the opening. He couldn't stop the gasp at the scene before him.

At a wooden table nearly two stories under him, there were four trolls sitting. Two were walking around the table with arms crossed, while three others stood by the door with weapons ready. With wide eyes, the elf was unable to scan the rest of the room with his limited view. But he was sure that there were more trolls prowling around the building. On the wooden table lay a map, though Deimos was unable to see what was illustrated on it. Similar to the Alliance insignia's, the red and black mark on each trolls' upper arm was impossible to miss. It was the same mark that Deimos had on his arm as well.

Maybe they got here before I did… maybe they killed the Alliance members who were holding the meeting.

With a shake of his head, Deimos crouched lower to conceal himself as a troll looked his way. No, it doesn't make sense. Why would they be here too? And so many for just a recon? What were those humans doing here as well then?

Hearing movement beneath him, Deimos leaned slightly to the side of the crate to gain a better view.

"Vol'jin said he wants it done quietly but fast. A group of rogues seems to be the logical choice," a troll with wild red hair said in Zandali. Deimos, not being fluent in the language, had to put a great amount of concentration in deciphering.

"Rogues are slow. I think a full battle will keep them side tracked, allowing for a small group to complete the task," another troll responded. Deimos, trying to keep up with the translation, slightly shook his head in confusion. Battle? Task? What are they talking about?

The red hair troll growled in frustration. "Reinforcements will be fast to his side. Rogues can stealth and kill Lor'themar before any are the wiser."

Feeling his jaw go slack, Deimos could have sworn he heard his heart skip a beat. Kill Lor'themar? Kill the blood elves' leader? I must have translated that wrong. These are members of the Horde!

"When did Vol'jin say he wanted it completed by?" A troll walking around the table asked.

The red haired troll turned to the moving figure. "He wants the elf dead by Midsummer festival."

Mind going a million miles a second, Deimos knew what he heard was true. It was a fact that trolls and blood elves were ancient enemies to one another and simply tolerated each other for the Hordes benefit. He needed to inform his people of this… treason. Did the Orcs or Tauren know? The Forsaken? Did Brightwing know all of this in his intel? No, he must not have. Surely he would have sent a larger party to intercept this meeting.

The trolls had resumed their conversation while the elf was digesting the new found information. Somehow, the young paladin found it increasingly difficult to translate the foreign tongue. The thought of deciphering it made him sick to his stomach. While listening to the rest of the meeting might have provided further details, Deimos knew the importance of the information he heard. He needed to get to Silvermoon… and fast.

Rolling back on the balls of his feet, Deimos was preparing to leave the roof until movement to his right caught his trained eye. Unfortunately, he was too slow in reacting and only managed to unsheathe his sword before he felt the familiar sensation of steel against his throat. A whispered curse left his lips at the situation of being caught off guard. Bringing his sword up to defend against the assault, Deimos rolled expertly to the left, the dagger leaving a thin trail of blood on his neck. The stealthed human rogue rematerialized as Deimos hastly swung his sword in the direction of the attack. A half grin on the humans face was all the elf needed to confirm the burning sensation on his neck. The blade was poisoned.

Angrily, the sin'dorei wiped his hand across the bleeding wound on his throat while the human tauntingly spun his daggers in his hands. Fighting the rogue wouldn't be particularly difficult for the paladin but he knew he was fighting the clock. Whatever poison was on the blade was now coursing through his blood, just waiting to take effect. Deimos didn't have the luxury of time to inspect the wound to determine the poison. He had to dispose of his enemy quickly before the poison took a devastating effect; whatever it may be.

Hands gripping his sword, the elf charged the rogue quickly with his sword up high. The rogue easily sidestepped the attack, bringing one strong dagger up to feign a swip at Deimos. Jumping back slightly at his opponent's blade, the paladin avoided the assault. With amazing speed, the rogue was quick to bring his other dagger up to follow through with his attack. As Deimos swiftly swung his sword in the air to block, he felt his arms begin to shake under the strain of the swords' weight. However, it was enough to block the assault to the exposed skin on his throat. The rogue, sensing the poison taking its toll, was quick to retaliate with a spin around the blood elf. Upon finishing his revolution, the human darted his blade in a forward sweeping motion at the tender skin on Deimos' lower back. The paladin tried to follow the agile human in his maneuver but found his feet wouldn't cooperate with him. Instead, it turned into a clumsy turn with his sword daftly rising in a feeble attempt to thwart off the human.

The rogue smiled to himself as he felt the dagger take a clean cut into the skin. Jumping back several paces to observe the elf, the rogue kept his daggers ready in his trained hands. He knew it was only a moment's time before the poison on the second blade would take its effect on the elf's system as well.

Again Deimos tried to follow the rogue as he back peddled, a smile plastered on the humans face. And again, Deimos knew what the tingling on his lower back meant. Another poison. This rogue is too much trouble… Facing the rogue, Deimos began to take a heavy step towards his opponent and raise his sword in another attempt to end the fight. Immediately when he felt his foot leave the ground, his vision turned fuzzy and the world began to spin. The weight in his hands seemed unbearable to hold and he shamefully heard his sword drop to the limestone with a clatter.

Stopping his pursuit, Deimos willed the world to stay still once again. "What did you do to me?"

The human raised an eyebrow in surprise at the question in Common. "You'll see… blood elf." He spat the last words out at the swaying sin'dorei.

Emitting a growl and ignoring the lethargic movements his limbs offered, Deimos resorted to charging the human unarmed. It was an ill-planned move but done out of desperation. The world tilted to Deimos but he kept his green eyes trained on his opponent; his ultimate destination. Quickly putting his daggers back into their sheaths, the rogue attempted to dodge the clumsy attack. To his surprise and dismay, the elf followed through with his assault and grabbed the human by the shoulders. Had the poison not been present, over powering the thin frame of the rogue would have been effortless to Deimos. However, he found his muscles straining to push the rogue back again the wooden crate behind him.

With wide eyes, the rogue was tossed backwards, the heavy weight of the paladin pushing him down. The crate broke underneath the weight of both men and they struggled for a split second to each gain an upper hand in the battle. Though the rogue lacked the paladin's strength, he had the agility and the effects of the poison on his side. With great effort, he hoisted himself on top of the elf, keeping a hand pushing back on the plated chest beneath him. The other hand quickly tried to send a punch across Deimos' face. The paladin expected it though and grabbed the moving limb with ease. Catching the rogue off guard with the defense, Deimos forced his muscles to push with all their might against the weight on top of him, sending them both into a brawl on the ground. Again, both fought for the dominance in the fight.

Some punches were thrown, most of which were from the human, before Deimos felt all the strength leaving his body. However much he willed, he couldn't force his muscles to cooperate with him. His blond hair was plastered to his forehead from the battle and the poisons. He eyes refused to keep focus on the human nearly ten inches from his face. The sides of his vision began to blacken and his lids begged to be closed. Cursing under his breath, Deimos gave one last shove with all his remaining strength into the human.

The rogue felt a gasp leave his chest as the hard impact from the elf forced him backwards. Grabbing onto the paladins forearms, the human felt the ground beneath him disappear and felt an unfamiliar sensation of falling. The two opponents had wrestled too close to the opening gap in the roof. Twisting in the air, the human was able to maneuver himself so he hovered above the paladin, still grasping onto his arms. Deimos seemed confused by the sudden change in environment and failed to respond fast enough. With a clatter, the two landed unceremoniously on top of the wooden table; Deimos breaking the rogues' fall.

Upon falling, Deimos let a grunt out as his back made contact with the piece of furniture. He heard the breaking of his ribs as the human fell on top of him and let out a strangled scream. The room continued to spin frantically and he struggled to take in breaths to his aching lungs.

The human also heard the snapping of ribs, shortly followed by the elf's scream. He didn't give the paladin much thought, however. Instead, the rogue quickly unsheathed his daggers at the predicament the sin'dorei had landed them in. Surrounding the pair were trolls, also with their weapons drawn. One with crazy red hair allowed his eyes to take in the human before him before his eyes lingered to the prone figure on the broken table. The troll felt his blood boil and his hand grip his bow tighter.

"Deimos…" The red troll took a step closer to the elf, who turned his head at the sound of his name. The rogue remained in a fighting stance, eyeing the surrounding opponents warily. He knew based on the sheer number of trolls littering the room, his chance for survival was minimal.

"You," Deimos began, unable to focus on individual figures anymore. Instead, he fought just to stay conscious. "I k-know…"

"Yes," the troll said, pulling an arrow from his quiver. "And we'll have to remedy this fast."

Before the troll could release the arrow into the young paladins' chest, a throwing star lodged itself into the trolls' upper arm, blood flowing freely onto his Horde insignia. Giving a hiss of pain, the troll looked up at the roof from where the assault originated from. With a frustrated growl, the troll pointed his projectile up at the roof.

The rogue whipped his head around as the troll pointed his bow to the sky. He couldn't help but feel a sigh of relief pass through his lips at the sight before him. Surrounding the opening on the roof were humans, all with their weapons aimed at the trolls. A strangled cry by one of the trolls by the door revealed more humans filling into the room, also weapons drawn. The red haired troll released his arrow into the chest of one of the humans on the roof before spinning to his right to avoid the flying attack aimed at him.

The humans gave out a battle cry as they released their pointed projectiles at the trolls. The red haired troll yelled a line of Zandali, battling his way to the back corner of the room, the other trolls following suit as well. Deimos, through half lidded eyes, stared up at the bright sky, his breath hitching in his throat as he struggled to remain awake. The commotion going on sounded like it was miles away and the elf couldn't bring himself to pay any heed to it. The pain in his chest burned with each intake of breath, yet his lungs were screaming for more air.

The clouded vision of the sky was suddenly gone and replaced with what Deimos assumed to be a blurry face. The face leaned closer to the elf with his mouth moving. Deimos was sure the face was talking but he could no longer decipher the voice from the background noise. Everything felt and sounded so very far away. Unable to keep battling consciousness, the young sin'dorei felt his lids close and blackness overcome him.

The trolls had maneuvered themselves into a corner of the room. During which one stood in the center of his fighting comrades, chanting to himself as his hands began to glow with each word. Steele, a long time seasoned warrior, knew this tactic immediately.

"Kill the mage!" Somehow, he knew his shout would go unheard. The trolls, if anything else, were well trained in communicating without words. Getting to that mage would be like waltzing into Ice Crown and killing the Lich King. It wasn't a simple command. Those trolls were going to protect the mage at all costs, even if it meant each other's lives.

Sure enough, the mage stopped the chanting only to reveal a portal materialize in what used to be unused space. The trolls left standing were quick to respond to their escape route and abruptly stopped their fighting to enter it. Steele watched with displeasure as his opponents figures slowly evaporated from the space they used to stand in, until nothing was left. Sighing to himself, he sheathed his sword and replaced his shield on his back, thinking back on what had transpired.

Steele and the other two warriors, waiting for the rogue to finish the recon on top of the building, heard the battle ensuing on the roof. Just as Steele began to attempt to scale the side of the building to aid his comrade, the caravan of soldiers from Stormwind arrived. His initial feeling of relief was short lived as he knew his friend was likely fighting for his life above them. Being fast and to the point in his command, Steele directed soldiers with long distanced weaponry to the roof while the rest infiltrated the ground entrance. An all over assault wouldn't allow the trolls an escape exit.

Upon entering the building, Steele instantly began the ground assault. The air strike had begun only moments before, allowing the ground fighters to follow up with a more direct route. Steele had taken little notice in the trolls congregating together until it was too late. It was a predetermined strategy, Steeled figured, and the trolls were well prepared for it. The mage was unable to be killed and the trolls escaped through the conjured portal.

Shaking his head at the memories, Steele glanced around at the fallen soldiers. Indeed, the trolls put up quite a fight, however short lived it may have been. Letting his eyes glance over the scene, he rested his gaze on a figure lying on what looked to be, at one point, a table. Hovering over the figure was Williams, his rogue comrade who had battled on the roof. Williams gave the unmoving figure a couple quick shakes on his shoulder before glancing up and meeting Steele's gaze. The rogue gave a jerk with his head to signal his commanding officer to come to him. Wordlessly, Steele moved towards the two figures. The surrounding soldiers didn't pay them any attention; those abled were attending to the wounded. Meeting his destination, Steele gave Williams a quick look over to assess any injuries. Satisfied that the younger man wasn't seriously injured, he followed Williams' gaze down to the prone body.

"What the…" Steele's brows scrunched in confusion. "What happened?"

Bending over the unconscious blood elf, Steele was quick to check for a pulse. Placing his fingers on the elf's neck, he took in the clammy skin and shallow blade wound. Content to have felt the pumping of blood under his fingers, Steele gave the blood elf a quick glance over as he did with Williams.

Williams took in a shaky breath and ran an unsure hand through his shaggy brunette hair. "I'm not even sure myself. Found him on top of the roof with me. From the looks of it, he seemed to be scouting too," Williams shook his head in thought. "Didn't seem right to me, ya know? Why send a blood elf to scout a troll meeting when you're part of the same faction, yeah?"

Williams took in another uneasy breath and continued, averting his gaze. "After hearing the trolls' plan, well, I had to do something. Didn't want to kill the kid so just poisoned him. Got him with crippling and mind numbing. Kids got some fight in him, I'll give him that."

Still crouched down to the young elf, Steele ran a couple fingers over the delicate slice on his throat. The cut wasn't deep and, from the looks of it, had stopped bleeding a short while ago. The older man took in a line of blood running down the paladin's chin from his split lip, most likely from a punch. There was an audible wheezing coming from the sin'dorei's intake of breath. Moving his gaze down to the elf's chest, Steele lifted the plate armor up enough to run a hand under it. Gingerly, he probed several ribs until the young elf gave a pained moan and shifted his head, still unconscious. With a sigh, Steele leaned back away and looked at his friend.

"Looks like a couple busted ribs," Steele began. "You did quite a number on him. Where's the other wound?"

"Lower back," the younger man simply replied.

"Mmm," Steele looked at the elf again in thought and gave a sigh. "We'll bring him back to Stormwind." The older warrior glanced at the rogue. "We'll want a full report on what you heard immediately, including your meeting with our friend here." He signaled at the unmoving elf.

The rogue gave a small nod, eying the blood elf warily. If what he overheard was true, there could be major ramifications in regards to the Horde. But then again, it had little to do with the Alliance so the news may not come as a shock to most. In fact, they may find the news enlightening. A civil war in the Horde could cause their defense and strategy to dwindle, allowing the Alliance a stepping stone in this never ending war. Regardless, the elf would be most likely questioned about his information in terms of the Horde. Eying the injured figure, Williams was sure the elf was in for a rude awakening.