Servants

[Amaena]

The door to the humble, secluded flat swing open harshly, banging into the wall and making them shudder, the glass lamps clinking in their metal bases. The setting sun's red light shone past the figure in the doorway, who barely gave a passing glance around the room before she strode inside and slammed the door closed with equal force. Amaena tore her gloves off and threw them into the corner as she walked through the room, her worn red mask following them quickly to the same place. She flopped down onto her bed, her feet kicking her boots off once she was settled.

It was like this every day since Conidivh died. There was nothing to break the utter monotony of the day to day that Amaena absolutely hated. Sure, there had been that one last stab at Lovely, and it had been fine seeing her broken and finally realizing her place...but ever since then, nothing. She would have expected her Master to contact her at least once, but he had been regretfully silent.

So, days passed end on end, each more dull and dreary than the last. Shaw didn't trust her with anything beyond the most menial of tasks, despite her rank with SI:7. The man had an uncanny way of knowing when someone was only faking their loyalty, but since he had no proof, he had to continue treating Amaena like one of his own. She almost wished he would have found something, so that she could be free of this horrid fate. She'd much rather be fleeing for her life from a band of SI:7 assassins than waste her days away spying on nobles or delivering messages.

Amaena sighed and reached into her vest, her fingers easily finding the secret pocket situated right above her heart. She grasped the necklace inside and pulled it out, the flat pendant shaking wildly as it came free. She held it up over her face, her eyes locked on the pendant as it swung slower and slower on the fine chain, the ebony surface catching the remaining sunlight.

After Conidivh's death, Amaena had commissioned to have a replica of that very necklace crafted to help continue the illusion of Conidivh's - and in turn, Deathwing's - supreme power. The untrained eye saw no difference, but Amaena could easily tell which was from an unrefined dragonkin and which came from the almighty Deathwing.

It wasn't entirely necessary for her to have a replica made, as she had the trust of Deathwing, but...for some reason, she was afraid to put it on. She didn't know if she was merely afraid of some form of reprimand, or of overstepping her boundaries. The pendant was entrusted to Conidivh, not her, and even if the boss was dead, she might still not be worthy of wearing such a thing.

Amaena closed her eyes, letting her hand fall to her chest, the pendant resting just below her chin.

Days of starvation and weariness had caught up with her. She was so close to the Greymane Wall, the last vestige of salvation from this scourge that lapped at her heels, but fatigue had overcome her. She laid still, crumpled in a heap at the base of a tree, dirty blonde hair covering her vision.

Just how long had it been? How long since she'd escaped? How long since...that? She tried not to think of "that" too much. If she tried to remember "that", it would only scare her even more.

A rustle of leaves that sounded like footsteps near her caused her eyes to open sharply. There were many dangers in this forsaken forest, and it seemed all knew of where she was and what she meant to them. A few coin on the slave trade...or perhaps even a few nights of meals. She knew she had to keep moving, but even as she tried to struggle to her feet, her legs gave way and she collapsed back to the ground, her face in the mud. It was all she could do to keep from crying in frustration and despair.

The footsteps stopped before her, and a low voice wafted to her ears.

"Child...you look hungry."

Her eyes snapped open again and she looked up at the figure. She could tell it was a human male, but most of him was shrouded in a large black cloak and hood. He looked down on her with one visible eye, black hair lining the edge of his visible, hawklike features. From within the folds of his cloak, a hand appeared, offering a large red apple down to her.

With strength and speed she didn't know she had, she snatched out at the offered food, but he was faster than her. He pulled it just out of her reach, and tsked.

"No food until you tell me your name, little one."

A surprisingly animalistic growl sounded in her throat as she bared her teeth, and she leaped at him again, her hands clamping on his as her teeth found purchase in the meaty part of his thumb. She bit hard and didn't let go until he dropped the apple at their feet. Ignoring the blood on her lips, she greedily plucked the apple from the ground and began to devour it, the juice mingling with the blood to run down her chin.

The man merely chuckled at her and pulled his hand back within his cloak. "You will do well for me, little one. You don't possess the right power I need...but you will serve your purpose." He knelt beside her as she finished the fruit, the same hand, now uninjured, resting on her head. She turned to look up at him as if she just realized he was there. "You will be my servant from this day forward."

She smiled up at him.

Amaena sat straight up out of bed, her legs swinging over the side in one swift motion, the necklace falling to the floor at her feet. She stared down at it, then set her lips in a firm line. Her Master still had use for her, or else she wouldn't still be here. She had to get in touch with him, somehow.

With a confidence she still didn't completely feel, Amaena reached down for the necklace and pulled it over her head. The moment she released the chain to rest around her neck, a strong voice sounded in her mind.

"Amaena...I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me."

"N-no, my Master...I was just...unsure on what to do..."

She heard a chuckle. "I'll forgive your hesitance this once, since you've served me faithfully for these years. There are more pressing matters that you must attend to."

"Anything, my Master."

Amaena gasped as her right arm moved on its own, the hand raising up into her vision. She began to mumble words she'd never heard before, in a voice not entirely her own. Energies she'd never tapped into coursed through her veins and welled in her hand, congealing into a small shining globe of power. Amaena stared in awe as Deathwing himself channeled a scrying spell through her. The awe in the spell quickly changed to something completely different as Deathwing showed her a vision through the spell.

"Now you see...you have been called to your task once again."

A malicious grin slowly split Amaena's features. The scrying spell dissipated in a cloud of white energies and Deathwing's voice fell silent, but Amaena was already preparing.

Things were going to get rather interesting...and Amaena couldn't wait.

[Xelthan]

To begin, darkness.

The man was almost afraid to open his eyes. Pain. Unrivaled agony. In the blind dark, this was the first comforting sensation that allowed him the knowledge that he yet lived. The soothing information quickly lost it's quality, however, as the primal fear of greivous injury swept over him. He did not want to see what caused this agony. Disfigurement. Amputation. What was done to him to cause his mind to forecibly deal with such reckless suffering? No... he would not give in to fear. The Light ever was his shield and cloak.

The man opened his eyes. He immediately wished he was blind again.

Not a mark lay on his exposed flesh that he could see, beyond the red irritation of straps securing his wrists. Aside from being naked, the man noted that not a blemish or wound was evident to cause him this much discomfort. Yet the image the man latched on to; the all-consuming vision that he had hoped never to look upon again in this state, was the unemotional visage of the very man he held responsible for much of the kingdom's woes, though he could not prove it.

He wanted to slam his eyeslids shut. He wanted to howl.

"Welcome back to the waking world, your grace. I was hoping you'd be so punctual with your conciousness, as I have quite the schedule to keep," the face spoke in an even and unconcerned tone.

The man raised his head a few inches off the table, fighting through the pain-induced image of every muscle and tendon in his neck fraying and snapping. "Wh-what is this... They told me you were DEAD!"

"And they told me you were pious," the face chuckled. "I fear we both have made the textbook mistake of embracing assumption, my dear Benedictus."

Benedictus choked back a snarl, taking the time instead to survey his surroundings. Damp stone walls. The sickly sweet stench of decay and old mortar mixed with crumbling wood in the stale air. The Catacombs. His heart skipped a beat in his chest; no one would hear this outrage occur so far below his own church!

"So you noticed. Excellent. That will make the nature of our conversation all the more...pertinent." the face spoke.

"The Light tear you assunder, Conidivh! This time you have gone too far. M-mark my wo-"

"They are marked, catalogued, and for the most part, ignored. Archbishop, please pay close attention. This part is dire if not topical. The pain you are feeling now should be, even to the untrained mind, a clear indicator that something is very, very, wrong. If you insist on further proof on this matter, then please feel free to embrace the Light now to soothe your distress. I'll wait." Conidivh replied smoothly, stepping back and making a gesture with his hands as if inviting the Archbishop congenially for a drink.

Benedictus sneered. He summoned the commensurate enrgies, the blessing of the Holy Power into his form. This trick was one of the first any passing into the order of the Priesthood was taught, abd memorized by rote. The energies flooded into his naked and now shivering form...

...and sluiced out just as quickly as water through a sieve. The agony remained. Benedictus let loose with an involuntary gasp as the Light passed through him and beyond as if he were the meanest spirit of the Nether. He turned his head towards Conidivh, fully pulling him into focus.

Conidivh stood there, his hands folded in almost mock-prayer as his eyes surveyed the Archbishop like a mildly entertaining street-act. He was garbed in robes of rick black velvet festooned with intricate silver inlay and stitchwork. His hair - prematurely white for one his age - was immaculately combed. Conidivh stood there, observing, as if dressed for a formal dinner party in the Mage district.

Conidivh met his gaze and nodded. "As you can see, or feel rather, Benedictus, I was not lying. At this juncture, I have no reason to lie to you. The truth, in this regard, is the ultimate spirit of inquisition."

Benedictus bit his lip in reaction to a fresh wave of torment. His rasping breath took moments to calm while it passed. "In..inquisition?! Perposterous... You have no authority, Conidivh... Mathias Shaw himself struck you from record and-"

An odd sensation distracted the archbishop. He had not seen Conidivh approach, nor his hand move, but it hovered above his body, fully open. It was the sudden feeling of two light strikes to his bare chest that drew the Archbishop's gaze. There, still glistening with the blood of it's owner, were a set of human ears.

"This Shaw did not listen to the warnings, nor heed the spoken rules of his station. He'll not need what he never used, your grace."

Benedictus' eyes widened of their own volition. "You..you murdered the head of SI:7?! You will h-hang for this, Conidivh!" But Conidivh had already moved away from the table, leaving his present for Benedictus where they lay. Conidivh idly flipped open a small notebook before turning his attention back to the man on the table.

"Were he a unique thing, you might be right. That Shaw was not even the real Mathias Shaw, nor was his predecessor. The name is merely an office to facilitate a public face for an organization that is otherwise purposefully faceless. A figurehead. A recruiter. A glorified function of a larger whim. When one is killed or..." Conidivh made a small mocking bow toward Benedictus. "...in this case, oversteps himself by working with the church? We simply replace him with a suitable candidate. Looks are rarely an issue, as "Shaw" has few real subordinates. Those under him already know of the nature of their boss' precarious position, and act accordingly. It's quite simple, really."

Benedictus clenched his jaw as a renewed attack on his senses wracked his frame. "GRAH! W-what then, do you mean to do with me, villain? I am not replaceable, and my absence WILL draw notice!"

Conidivh did smile at this, a slight quirk of his lips.

Benedictus wanted to howl.

[Teelia]

((Ooh!! Ooooh!!! More!!!!))

[Xelthan]

"I agree with you there. You, by definition of your station, are irreplaceable through any such means as the line of Shaws. Most astute of you to remind me. I had nearly forgotten that crucial piece of information while administrating my services to you the past few days." Conidivh bowed once again as if the Archbishop were not a nude tortured thing on the table before him.

Benedictus' breath caught. "D-days? You lie. Someone would have come looking for me to stop this insult long before then. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME, CUR?!"

Conidivh sighed and moved out of reach of the spittle flying freely from the Archbishop's mouth, taking the time to make sure his regalia was still immaculate. "Yes. That. You may not know this, your grace, but I've had the distinct pleasure of putting Paladins, Priests, and even quite a few warriors to the question. I must say, with no small compliment to you, that you've presented a unique challenge to me. You see, I'm considered a fair man even by those under my particular brand of care. With that in mind, I've used alternative means for this meeting of ours to ensure that no physical harm can be seen. No scars, no disfigurement. I would prefer you hale in aesthetics if not in mind should you agree to my offer."

The archbishop strained against his bindings. "Lies. You've no power to conduct this! You've not the time or energy to break MY will, fool! Someone will come for me and right this farce and I will personally pull the lever at your gallows!" The opposite man heaved another impressive sigh. "I had hoped for a bit more civility, but I can certainly understand your perspective, even one so obviously inflated by delusions of grandeur. A moment then, before we continue."

Conidivh walked at a stately pace around the table to the man's right, where a smaller table with a number of vials was neatly placed. Conidivh gave the Archbishop one suffering glance over his shoulder, the look fathers gave wayward children before inflicting their punishment. He unstoppered on of the vials and connected it to a strange device fitted for it; an amalgam of silver with brass bindings that ended in a slender needle.

Conidivh continued conversationally, as if discussing the weather, while inserting the needle into the crook of Benedictus' arm. "To answer your previous question. 'What have you done to me?' I believe it was. I'm somewhat of an alchemy buff, you see. This particular mixture is best delivered in stages. It accelerates your natural sensations, provides ample adreneline to stave off shock and provide conciousness, but has a tertiary agent that's practically three-fold in effect. It numbs the mucles, akin to a sever cramp. It is a slow-acting poison that works as a neurotoxin, adding to the existing pain you feel there. Lastly, it employs an advanced form of the standard Mind-Numbing agent used by rogues in the field to slow the energies of mages, druids and, of course, Priests such as yourself."

Benedictus struggled, but to no avail. "You don't have the right toYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGHHHHHH!!!!"

The Archbishop's form tried to rise off the table as a new and hellish pain coursed through him. This was beyond reckoning, beyond endurance. This fresh torture was a bonfire beside the match-flame of the previous. His scambled thoughts plucked prayers for the darkness again out of the jumble, and his body ignored him with a sickening awareness and lucidity he had rarely known.

"It's remarkably fast-acting, isn't it? I'm rather proud of it. As I mentioned, it's delivered in stages. You can't die from it, but I have little hope that an excess of these doses won't drive you irrevocably insane. I'd personally rather avoid that, but omletts and all that. Each stage becomes exponentially worse to the patient. I'm sorry to tell you that this was merely stage 2. As you can see..."

Conidivh motioned to the small side table. Benedictus focused through his agony to see four neat rows of the vials. There had to be more than 30 of the evil devices.

"...we've a long way to go yet. As for your tenure here, once again I've no reason to lie to you. You've been here exactly five days."

Fresh sweat blossomed over the man's body as a thin veneer. "N-no...not po-possible... Someo-one would notice..."

"Which leads to the aformentioned point I had neglected to discuss with you during your nap. You were taken, as an egg from the nest, during the night. What occurs now wasn't precisely ordered, no, but I assure you authority was given to reprimand you for the latest events." Conidivh paced to the head of the table and sat down on something out of Benedictus' view. He leaned forward so his gaze peered into the Archbishops's.

"The trial of Kurohane did not end as you had hoped. You wished to excise and hold her up as example to the power of the church in the body politic of Stormwind. You failed. You then turned your attention to one she knew and one who had done the merest misdemeanor to your Church's law. Naturally, I laid hints here and there, but I was suprised that you picked them up. You wasted valuable time, effort, and resources to pursue the Priest Nouri. Your would make an example of someone, so secure in your absolute power were you. I do hope the phrase 'Necessary separation of Church and State' is not wasted on you at this time."

Benedictus let forth a guttural sound, fighting down the sensation of his joints being pulled by taut ropes. "Som..someone...notice...guards.."

Conidivh nodded. "I'm getting to that, your grace. You overstepped your balliwick, and checks and balances have come into play. You are merely one of the elements in a restructuring of the body politic of Stormwind. As for one noticing your absence, I am sure you are familiar with the unique device known as the orb of deception? It has it's uses, but it's hardly adapted to specific disguises. However, I'm pleased to say my constituents of the Mage order have solved that problem. The device is now quite capable of duplicating persons based solely on samples of their hair. Isn't that remarkable? Speech, form, physical habits. All miraculously duplicate by the use of it. In a sense, a true doppelganger."

Rage fought with pain in the archbishop's mind. He roared and thrashed at his restraints. "LIES! You don't posess such an artifice, you spawn of the Legion itself!"

Conidivh slowly stood and walked a few paces toward the staircase ascending up inot the Church proper. "You are correct. I personally do not. However, your replacement is making use of it. I do believe he's giving an oration to the younger initiates even as we speak."

There was silence, save for some far off drip of groundwater striking the stone floor of the catacomb in irritating rythym. Suddenly, and surely growing with volume, came the pain-wracked sobs of the man strapped to the table. "What...what do you want from me?!"

Conidivh turned to look at his captive audience. "Yes. The offer. You can either agree to fall in line with the new order of things for the good of the Alliance, or you will give your replacement permission to make himself at home in yoru stead. Additionally, you will give me permission to carry on with our unique relationship down here, and I will get to quietly bet on the number of vials it will take to drive you mad."

Benedictus continued to sob and try the limits of the straps. Conidivh shrugged as if it were no consequence either way to him, speaking as he turned to climb the staircase. "You said I've neither the means nor the time required to break your will..."

His voice floated down into the chamber as Benedictus watched the black hem of his robe whip out of sight.

"...I assure you. I have an ample supply of both."

[Redburn]

((YAY, my favorite spymaster is back!!!!))

[Xelthan]

Trias moved a knight into place, his fingers resting upon the piece a moment before deciding the move was the correct one and leaning back away from the board. "So which one is in place now, 'Divh?"

Conidivh examined the board a moment before realizing he had been adressed. "Hmm? Yes. The real deal, as they say, is currently installed in his rightful place. He'll behave. He's realized that the current political and outer enviroment is alligned against him."

Trias took a sip from his flask and nodded. "So the mark against him? Lovely really put that into motion, did she?" Conidivh chuckled and moved a pawn into position for emphasis. "Correct. It was a stroke of malevolence that I did not honestly think her capable of. Needless to say, it worked in my favor while persuading Benedictus to see my side of the argument."

"Hmm. What else beyond pain could you have used to 'persuade' Benedictus into anything?" Trias studied the board, ocassionally glancing up at his companion.

"Fear. Benedictus' experience in the catacomb showed him one thing above all else; no one in Stormwind is beyond reproach or payment. No amount of guards would protect him from further rebuke, and no amount of loyalty is now left within the Church to succor him. He can either do as he is told, or learn to forego sleep, trust of food and drink, and house suspicion for everyone around him for the rest of his days."

Trias took another draught. "Well then. Very neat. You've still not told me where you were... or what happened between you and Lovely in Old Town..."

Conidivh shrugged and slid his queen to take Trias' knight off the board.

"No one in Stormwind...or elsewhere... is beyond reproach. I've payed my penance and been given reprieve. I wonder then how everyone else will fair now that I am to judge with a clear mind and crystal focus? I gave Benedictus the right to despair."

Conidivh looked up at Trias, his face expressionless. "I wonder now what rights I will have to give to everyone else in my path."