The spider walked carefully across the blade of the dagger. Each step deliberate, methodical, silent. It reached the point of the weapon and gently descended on the thinnest of lines of silk, an acrobat like no other. It’s a creature that has traditionally inspired fear, yet it’s movements, its sleek, calculated precision, are a thing of misunderstood beauty.

Shadowed tilted her dagger to see her reflection. In her mind, she was much the same. Her once plump cheeks had rotted away along with her teeth, and her long golden hair of her youth had turned discoloured and wispy. Yet, was there not beauty in her actions? Her lithe form fading in and out of the shadows like a temptress, just out of sight yet ever present? The allure of beauty and death, much the same as the tiny arachnid that skittered away into the shadows.

She had grown fond of the creatures. The way they would wait in silence, ever patient for their prey, held great appeal to the solitary rogue. The manner in which they could strike with such sudden, deadly ferocity. Their poisons, withering their prey, rendering them immobile and there for the taking. The way they leech the very life from their victims until they are nothing but a husk. It all felt so delightfully familiar.

Shadowed smiled her toothless grin. Does a spider love its work as she does?

She uncrossed her legs and pushed herself up. The venom web spider, nearly the size of a man, lay sprawled dead at her feet. She had just been leaning against its abdomen, taking a mid-afternoon rest. Reaching back, she slipped her dagger from the spider’s head, gently and with care, with honest reverence. Sometimes she wished she didn’t have to kill the creatures, but out in Duskwood without a town nearby willing to do any more for her than kill her on sight, she had little choice. What other way would there be to replenish her poisons beyond going to the source?

Still, even as Shadowed was days away from any Horde encampment, the place felt like home. The perpetual shade was a haven for rogues that allied themselves so deeply with night and shadow. There were few better places to lay her traps and await her prey, with the gloom and fog as it were. The mourning calls of the dead and the screams of pain and terror that came from the Raven Hill cemetery were but music to her ears. There was little she loved more than adding to the grim cacophony.

And of course, there were many such opportunities to do so. Duskwood was the place where the fledgling Alliance adventurers went to cut their teeth. They would come with their high-minded ideals about purging evil and bringing light to darkness. Oh, but how their terror would bring such joy to Shadowed.

Does a spider love its web as she loves hers?

Distantly, she heard the rattle of iron and the curses of a dwarf. To her, it was like the plucking of a thread on a web. She sought out the newcomers, relishing in the hunt. It didn’t take long for her to spot them. The dwarf warrior was yelling loud enough to wake the dead of Raven Hill, if they hadn’t been raised already. She watched him, her unknown presence looming behind trees and in shaded corners. An ally was with him. A night elf, lean, tall, wielding the light but in a cumbersome, awkward fashion, immediately identifiable as a priest new to his calling. The two were hunting spiders, presumably on Commander Ebonlocke’s orders. Hunting spiders! Shadowed couldn’t help but grin again, the irony bringing such joy to her cold heart.

Running in front of the pair as they defeated another of their quarry, she stepped upon the top of a hill, making sure to place herself right in the best light of the moon that still pierced the gloom and dusk of the Duskwood sky. She stepped out of the shadows, revealing herself to the two Alliance adventurers. She smiled, raising a hand and waving in casual greeting.

The dwarf saw her first, his great axe briefly falling by his side as revulsion showed upon his features. “What… what happened to that one’s face? Even for an undead, lad…”

“By the light of the moon…” the priest said. “She’s a monster…”

“Agh,” the dwarf spat. “Nothin’ an axe can’t fix.”

“Or the cleansing power of the light,” the priest agreed.

Shadowed put her hand down and reached for her dagger. Weapon in hand, she raised it in a wave again. This time, however, she let her smile slowly fade. Then she, too, faded away, entering the shadows once again.

“Blasted rogues!” the dwarf yelled. “Show yourself, coward!”

The priest went back to back with his companion. He cast a shield of holy light around the dwarf. Shadowed noted the act of selflessness so characteristic of the priests. A useless show of support, he’d discover soon enough.

She waited, circling the two as they circled as well, searching every dark place for a footstep left in the grass, a broken twig, anything. The fear was beginning to grow in them, so strong one could almost taste it, breathe it in, feed off it. The dwarf continued to yell his challenges, but she came close enough to him to see that sweat had begun to bead on his forehead. She’d seen dwarves like him before. All bluster, but they felt fear just as any other.

“The light will protect us both,” the night elf whispered to his ally. How sweet, thought Shadowed. Brothers in arms! Of course, she couldn’t have that. She much preferred the solitary life, and couldn’t help but feel the desire to impose it upon others.

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Does a spider love the hunt as she does?

Stepping out of the cloak of darkness, she appeared from thin air not one body length away from the dwarf. He roared, charging at the rogue, swinging his axe with all of the pent up tension and anger that had built inside him. She stepped easily below the wild swing, and from a pouch at her hip threw a sprinkling of blinding powder towards the priest right as he turned to support his friend.

Immediately, the elf had lost all vision as he tried desperately to rub the burning sensation from his eyes. “Come on, then, come at-” he heard his friend yell before his taunt was abruptly cut off. Frantically trying to clear the powder, he stood helpless as the sounds of slicing and the swinging of blades caused him to panic. He managed to open a blurry eye to see the silhouette of his friend falling to one knee, the rogue spinning and running a dagger across his chest. Something splattered against his robes, and he managed to open his eye long enough to see droplets of crimson dot the cloth.

Finally his vision cleared. He stood, terrified, casting another barrier of light but this time over himself, searching desperately for the rogue. His dwarven companion lay dead, propped up against a tree, dozens of cuts and slices across his body. The night elf was too afraid to scream, as if he dared not upset the quiet and provoke the assassin.

Does a spider sense fear when it’s trapped its victim?

Shadowed stepped from the shadows not a foot from the face of the priest. That same, wicked grin ran across her face, her wretched visage more than enough to inspire fear in even the bravest of soldiers. “Tell the others,” she whispered. This time, the priest did howl as he ran back to the safety of Darkshire.

---

It was days before Shadowed emerged from the crypts of Raven Hill. She would hide there amongst the dead while the greatest champions of the Alliance would fly in from Stormwind as the bell was rang to alert of an attack of their own. Mighty paladins covered in plate and glowing with the holy light searched far and wide for the assassin. Hunters with guns the length of their body scanned the perimeter. Other masters of stealth and treachery lurked in every corner.

She’d test her mettle against them now and then, finding a solitary champion and having a much more difficult challenge. But today, they wouldn’t find her. She had enough of a taste of her prey for now, and she would be more patient than they. Eventually, they would leave, returning to their duties in some faraway land. She waited, ever patient, until she was certain the last of them had left, unable to avenge their fallen comrade. With them gone, she'd emerge again.

Finding her way to the southern road in Duskwood, leading out of Raven Hill and towards Darkshire, she stayed just off the beaten path. As a strange turn of fate, the next being she found was not one of the Alliance, but rather a troll - an unusual sight in Duskwood. He hailed her, and beckoned her over.

“Another member of da Horde!” he said in greeting. He had two daggers in his hands as well, showing himself as another follower of stealth and shadow. Strangely, he also carried two bricks tied around his waist. A peculiar troll, certainly.

“Indeed,” Shadowed replied. “What brings you to my home?”

“Your home?” he asked. “In Alliance territory?”

“It’s where I find my prey,” she said with that same toothless smile. The poor troll couldn’t help but recoil slightly. Even for an undead, she was particularly unsightly. “The better question is what brings you here?”

“I protect da Horde who journey from Grom’gol in da south to da Swamp of Sorrows in da east. There are many dangers dat lurk from here to there. I follow dem, send da Alliance on fool’s errands, and get dem there in one piece.” He smirked. “Most don’t know I even exist, or dat I saved ‘em from danger.”

She tilted her head in confusion, unsure of what he meant by sending the Alliance away. It mattered little, however, as something more pressing caught her attention. Along the path, an eerie green glow came into sight. As it came closer, it was revealed to be a human warlock, holding his staff aloft and having it glow with a green flame, serving as a torch made of his own power. To walk down this path alone was either ignorance or arrogance.

“He’s mine,” Shadowed said.

“What do ya mean?” the troll asked. They both cloaked themselves, but the troll waited along the side of the road, watching for his new ally. He finally spotted her as she picked up a rock and tossed it to the human’s right, getting his attention. The warlock paused, looked over, and immediately began summoning a demon to aid him. Before long, an imp was pulled from nothing into existence, sitting at his side. He waited, looked around again, and continued on his way. His pace increased just slightly.

Seeing an opportunity, she stepped through the shadows and arrived right behind him, pounding the hilt of her dagger into his head. He fell unconscious instantly, toppling forward, injured but alive. “What are ya doing?” the troll called. “No Horde are around! He’s no threat!”

Shadowed looked over, again perplexed. The warlock began to come to, holding his head and wearily rising to his feet. She stepped forward and thrust two daggers through his back with such force they came out the front. Ripping them out, he fell limply forward, dead before he hit the ground, falling face down on the path. The light of his staff faded into darkness as his blood pooled around him.

Shadowed returned to the side of the troll, who simply stared at the body, jaw slack. “He neva stood a chance…” he whispered. “Ya… ya toyed with him. You monster! I will not support you in this… this… cruelty! If ever ya want a real fight, come to Arathi! Or Alterac! Not this nonsense!” The troll disappeared into the night, likely to never be seen by her again. She found herself alone, the cool dark of Duskwood her only companion. She thought for a moment, considering the troll’s proposal.

Does the spider enjoy the solitude as she does?

--

Shadowed found herself among the graves of Raven Hill once again. She laid down in an empty tomb, recently exhumed by grave robbers. She had come a long way since being reborn in Tirisfal Glades. When he came into being in her second life, they had almost put her back into the grave. They had thought she was so mad that she was no better than the mindless scourge. They were wrong, of course. She, like her quiet arachnid companions, were just misunderstood in their true beauty.

The cool night was a comfort. Someday, she may consider the troll’s proposal, when she grew weary of hunting such easy prey. But for now, she would sit and wait, her daggers her fangs and Raven Hill her web. Woe to the Alliance who dare tread upon her home.