The observer walked on his hourly patrols through Suramar city, nodding to passerby and stopping every so often to listen in on what the citizens had to say. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a lone Nightfallen striding down the lane near him. Something seemed out of place, he decided. Moving closer, the observer’s sharp eyes noticed a flicker of magic about the elf. The lone Nightfallen stopped and faced him, craning his head to the side as if deciding on what to say.
“An illusion!” The observer cried out. He began casting a magic to dispel and snarled, “What are you hid-urggghh!”
His words cut off by the agony of the triple-bladed spear impaling him through the chest. The wounds did not bleed, the weapon seeming to soak up every ounce that would have spilled.
The observer’s eyes opened wide in shock and fear at what he beheld before him. The illusion gone, a massively-built tauren clad in armor of darkest night, two glowing blue orbs staring at him emotionlessly from behind a helm styled after some fearsome beast long dead and lost to history. The observer’s last gasps returned only silence as the tauren lifted the spear impaling him effortlessly and swung to the side, tossing his now lifeless body through the barrier nearby. Sheathing the polearm across his back, he took a trinket from his pocket and run his fingers over it in a circular motion. A puff of magic, and the lone Nightfallen was there once more; striding down the street.