( It’s been sometime since I’ve had a chance to write and publish something. Here’s coming back from roughly a 2 year hiatus.)

 

The Marksman never claimed to be a saint, nor a nice man. Not more than a handful of times, at least.

 

Screams of pain and agony echoed through the jungle of Tanaan, more specifically a small cave where the kaldorei hunter had taken brief camp to, even away from the eyes and ears of his allies. Against the cave wall was a sin’dorei magi, one that had his hands pierced through with some sort of enchanted arrow, the etchings along the shaft of the arrow showed that of specific spell-work, as the mage seemed to be unable to defend himself at all against the angry night elf’s means of getting information.

 

“Speak, or I swear by the Goddess I will rip your throat out with my bare hands, mage.” Kanta growled, kneeling down to grab the lighter skin elf by his shoulder, his silver eyes shining angrily out from the cowl of his hood. “I know the Horde is up to something out here, and I care little of your excuses. I have seen your precious Horde turn traitor on us before, and I plan to keep myself ahead of your tricks.”

 

The mage spattered blood that drooled from his busted mouth and swollen gums, not even able to raise his hands in defense from anymore of the Marksman’s assault with that rigid arrow that pierced both palms. “I tell no lies, dammit! We have no plans, none that I know of! We seek to aid Draenor in defense of the Burning Legion! Our mission is the same as yours!”

 

Kanta dropped him, letting him slump to the floor in a small puddle of his own blood as he paced the cave slowly. That hood covered any identity of him. He had been hunting down some Horde members over the last few years, anyone that seemed to pose a threat to Alliance lives, Templar lives, or the lives of his own family, kin, and race. He hunted alone when he did this, leaving no trail, mark or anything that would prove him guilty. He had made that mistake in the past.

 

“Nothing, is that so? I truly doubt that. I have seen what your kind has done to the Outlands. What makes me so convinced that you would not try to do the same? Living off the fel magic that floods from the demonic portals. Your race must truly still be craving magics.” He smirked, a toothy grin coming from underneath his hood as he peered to the magi again, who only spit at Kanta’s boots.

 

“You know nothing of us, nor our struggles you coward! You were not forced out from your homeland for practices! We did not cause what your Queen once did!” He spat again, his chin covered in some blood. “You are nothing but an ignorant Night elf! How dare yo–” The Sin’dorei quickly cut off, but not due to Kanta’s anger getting the best of him.

 

Kanta’s movements for his quiver at his side at revealed the Templar sigil of his guildstone that was wrapped to the side of his belt. He had never kept it in a bag or his satchel, but merely wrapped it with runecloth tightly to his belt for easy access. And the golden cross shone brightly in the darkened cave.

 

“You… You are a Templar! You are supposed to defend and protect against those who prove of peace! Those who wish for our world to be without war between our races!” The Sin’dorei rattled on, all while Kanta just stared him down, now removing the tanned leather hood from the top of his head and face, along with the visor with it.

 

“Templar, yes. And once upon a time I believed that, mage. I did truly think at one time that all races, both factions could be equals and at peace.” He smiled, almost sincerely as he kneeled down, grabbing the back of the arrow despite it remaining in the elf’s palms. “And then the Horde issued an order to invade Ashenvale, skin kaldorei sentinels and hang their skin, and skinless bodies from our trees. After that, they began to cut down my forest.” He said, pushing the head of the arrow closer to the Sin’dorei’s gut. “Betrayed by allies that I once thought would aid in the defense of Ashenvale, when they attacked from lumber for their own buildings.”

 

The Sin’dorei squirmed, but kept his midsection rigid to not want the kaldorei to accidently ‘slip’ his arrow into the pale pink belly.

 

“So, one more time. This time with feeling. What is the Horde planning in Tanaan. Attack plans, defenses, weaponry.” Kanta said, teeth clenched as his other hand removed his hood, his silver eyes glowing and scorching into the sin’dorei’s own green.

 

“I told you… I know nothing.”

 

“Nothing. You swear?”

 

“I SWEAR!” The magi nearly spit and screamed out his answer, just before the arrow pierced through his midsection by the quick hand.

 

“A shame. I believed you that time, you however saw my face.” Kanta whispered, twisting the arrow in the Blood Elf’s gut.

 

“Nothing personal.” He said, ripping the arrow at last from the dying elf’s stomach. “Just business of keeping people safe, secure, and unknowing.”

 

The Marksman pulled up his hood over his head and eyes again, clicking his tongue as a fel wolf came to his side, sniffing the air and the body of the dying elf. His eyes met with Kanta’s one last time before his vision faded, the wolf and Night Elf standing over him.

 

“Come, wolf. You know these jungles well, let us see what other prey you aid in finding.”

 

The wolf snarled in answer to the Marksman, it’s body of glowing green fel energies, but it’s eyes showing an uncorrupted bright blue, against the glowing green and yellow that the wolves were known to have.

“We have much to do.”

Author Kanta
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