In Bloods Shadow (World of Warcraft Story)

Chapter One

    Eversong glistened in the morning sun, with Sunstrider Isle bustling with students. The golden leaves fell to the ground, only to be crushed by a barefoot rogue. Zearria Bloodblade walked to the grassy shore, water barely rippling against it.

   She was very underdressed, in a black top and bikini bottoms, a small brown leg wrapping that held two daggers Incase of emergency. But this was her usual practice swim wear. The black haired Sin'dorei had a satchel with a communication crystal she likely wouldn't use, and her Sunfury Insignia. Her light skin hadn't seen much sun hidden under her leather gear, only a small price of her deeds.

  One golden tree sat close to the shoreline, and she took advantage of its low branch to hold the small brown bag. Sighing, she looked around her. No one was in sight, it was just her and probably a few fish.

  Zearria took a step into the cool water, it was refreshing. Memories of her farstrider training flashed in her head, when she was leading a team, loved blue, and Quel'thalas was whole. It was so long ago. She walked through until her feet no longer touched the bottom, then waded an extra few feet. Ideally, she could get a few laps around the isle, with its trainees paying her no heed.

  Taking a deep breath, she let herself rise to the surface of the water and began to stretch her arms and push herself forward. With small kicks that splashed the water and her head going under and out the waters, she was focused.

One, Two, One, Two. Zearria thought as her arms stretched out. Counting each stride. She was soon half way around the isle within a few minutes, and now staring directly into the golden light called that sun. As long as it didn't damage her good eye, she'd be fine.

   She kept going, and intended to not stop, but something caught her eye. Something was under the water, shining in the middle. Out of caution, she pulled the two short blades off their holdings, and hoped to use them to poke the strange object. Zearria took a deep breath before swimming under to see it. Only half exposed by the sand and seaweed, it looked like a white cup. She couldn't help but wonder what gold she could make from selling it. Booty Bays black market enjoyed her company of stolen family heirlooms. Her guild however did not, but never made a move to punish her for it.

  With the small knives she poked at it, and managed to pull it out of the sand. It was about eight inches tall, with old blue paint on what she realized now to be silver. Someone would like it. She smiled to herself, her lungs beginning to hurt from lack of oxygen. She kneeled on the sea floor, and then pushed herself upwards. Splashing out and taking a deep breath, she gripped the cup with pride.

  Zearria continued her laps, but this time with the worn cup she would sell later. Her blades were tucked away again, but she payed more attention to the floor beneath her as she waded through the water.

   This continued for another thirty minutes until her four Laps were complete, and she walked back unto the shoreline.

   Wet and wrinkled she opened her satchel, with its items still there she added the cup to this mix, and headed to the guild hall. Walking through the city's ruins she took in the quiet, enjoying it. Most activity nowadays was in Silvermoon itself or the Ghostslands, a scar that keeps on giving. Guards stood and saluted her, and she gave them a returning nod, not being one for formality. She was an assassin, a killer and spy in the night. But here she was, rotting in an empty land with everyone gone. I guess Theron wasn't kidding when he said we were bitter.

    The city at least was buzzing with life, citizens doing their daily routines. Children ran around and played while mages showed them magic, others snickered at others mistakes, and guards gave annoyed glances at those testing the borders of laws. Oh and you couldn't forget the drunks with their favorite skimpy partners, at all times of day.