Cattallie: A Rogue with a mission.

Where does my story begin? A humorous thing to open with a question don’t you think? I do not know how young or old I may be, and my childhood is a mystery to all. I was found on the backstreets of Stormwind, a very odd place for a Night Elf to be found in those moons. Living in the back alleyways I fended for myself the best I knew how. Lifting certain trinkets off of unsuspecting tourist, snatching tidbits of bread and fruit from the vendors, then one day as I bumped into someone deliberately to cut the leather throngs from the gold pouch at their side it was all over. The man grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, shock coursed through my body.


“Hardly a challenge is it? You should know better.” His stern voice bore down on me.

“My apologies kind sir, forgive me, I will not pass you again.”

“You have passed me 13 times since I have been in the trade district; I hardly doubt it will not happen again.” He looked at my attire; the squire shirt and cracked leather pants, the only clothes I owned “You definitely do not look like a Rogue, nor are attired as such.”

“Sir, I beg your forgiveness, please do not turn me to the guards.”

He laughed then, his volume carried through the streets and echoed off the brick walls. “I shall not turn you into the Guard. I shall turn you into to something more.”

At his words I stared at him questioning. His name was Elling Trias, the cheese shop owner in Stormwind. His dark black hair was perfectly parted down the middle; one soft leather eye patch covered his right eye. He pulled me half running to the upstairs loft of Trias Cheese, sat me down and explained to me what I had done wrong; here was the beginning of the rest of my existence.

From the Cheese shop tucked in Stormwind I was sent to Teldrassil in Kilmador but this was no homecoming. I do not know much of my race before the Third War and speaking of it is even more uncommon. Tucked away in the ominous mountain ranges to the northeast is Shadowglen. No matter how many moons you have lived, this is where your destiny began.

I arrived with a letter of introduction, the seal carefully melted back from reading it on the boats journey. Frahun Shadewhisper took the scroll from my outstretched hand, my eyes fell on the seal and he took note.

“Next time use a better heat source.” He pointed to the slight burn on the wax. “Shall we begin?”

And begin we did. He trained me to stealth and move silently through the shadows, the entire tricks of the trade not to be seen. I learned close quarter combat fighting styles and ways to retreat quickly if needed. While it would take enough training to fill a Humans life, I absorbed it with the willingness and eagerness of the sun. The Ancients smiled upon me as I learned to survive properly. Learning that being a Rogue, which before this I knew not of, took discipline and valor. That Rogues were warrior assassins in a different light, or rather darkness. We brought something to the world, a sense of chaos among Druids and Priests as well as an order to Paladins and Warriors.

I trained through the land of Teldrassil, growing stronger as I made my way back to Stormwind. There I was embraced by SI:7. Master Mathias Shaw awaited me in the winding hall of headquarters.

“Cattallie, I have heard of your training. As the offer stands are you ready to take your next course?” His deep brown eyes followed me as I shifted slightly.

“As you will it my lord.”

“Send her to Ravenholdt Manor.” He commanded.

So there I went, and there my destiny changed. I took the northern path from Hillsbrad up to the manor only to find assassin guards waiting. Almost to clean to be Rogues, since this lifestyle will get your hands very dirty. They stared at me on my approach, and looked up at my 6’3 frame, their lips pursed.

“Halt, what is your business here?” His snobbish tone told more than I needed to know.

“I have orders from SI:7.” My voice was even.

“Ugh, another one, I suppose I have to let you through.” He rolled his eyes and took one step from my path, speaking to me that way was a mistake.

I lifted my dagger to his throat in an instant, my other hand disarming him quickly; he stared at the other guard who was already sapped to unconsciousness. His pulse raced as the deadly edge of my dagger threatened to cut into his blood supply. He stood frozen in fear, sweat already trickling down his forehead.

“I have no use for incompetent people. How dare you call yourself a Rogue. Carry a message to Ravenholdt Manor that I have no need of their services or they mine.” My last few words carried in the shadows as I vanished from sight.

Can a Rogue go, well, Rogue?

It seems that is what I did. I cut myself from everyone and became independent. It is not uncommon for a Rogue to be ‘on their own’. In fact it is quite ideal. I still pursued my training, gathering professions to hone my skill, and never took disrespect from anyone.

How is my existence now? I am still independent to a point. I enjoy the moon to moons of helping select people. I stalk through the shadows dancing to my heart’s content, slipping my gloved fingers into unsuspecting pockets while never leaving any fingerprints behind. After all I am a Rogue, a Night Elf Rogue. Attempting to change the perceptions of Rogues is a task. My word is only good for the amount of gold you are paying me and I am only loyal to you if you are useful to me. I have naught for politics, your personal grudges, or affairs of any others but my own. I live the oldest profession in Azeroth. I am a Rogue, sinister, cunning, and utterly lethal. Never forget that.