Hell To Pay

[Skafloc]

The gravel of the roadway leading up to the old Asylum crunched under each step Skafloc took. His mind was working in overdrive, sorting out all the possibilities and considering the implications of each.

There were too many variables, too many wildcards at play to reliably predict the outcomes. The danger to Nymare was greater than ever, but the problem was identifying from what angle the danger would prove to be most severe.

Kelse was an unknown. At least he had obtained her word, but it remained to be seen what worth the word of an assassin carried. There were many players inserting themselves into this game. Kelse the assassin , Lovely, Qismett, Illelatro the troll informant. The list seemingly grew with each day.

With the news Kelse brought that there were other assassins hired to carry out the task she had abandoned, Skafloc knew that the time had come to deal with the source of most of these problems. Lord Alin Vos'Arryn needed to be eliminated.

The problem being any direct action from Skafloc or Nymare would be immediately brought to the attention of the Council and create more problems than the killing would solve. No this needed to be done discretely and at arms length.

The main doors of the Castle creaked as he opened them, echoing into the large open hall beyond. Striding within Skafloc scanned the main hall, searching for the object of his mission. The man was more often then not frequenting the main meeting hall, as that is where all the best information was to be had.

This was a job right up his alley. Tartarus needed a workout and Styxen owed him a favor or two.

[Styxen]

Styxen sat in his same spot as usual with his pet mana wyrmling twirling about causing mischief in the form of random chirping and floating in front of Styxen.

The paladin turned his head as he heard the door open maybe it was a new dessert delivery, he did hear Granna speaking of something like that.

He waved at Skafloc and silently cursed his lack of sugary goodness.

"You seem to have a lot on your mind my friend care to talk about it?"

[Skafloc]

Skafloc closed the distance to were the man sat watching the antics of his wyrmling. " Yes, you could say that my friend. " he said as he took a nearby chair. A quick glance around the hall confirmed they were alone.

There was a decanter of wine on the table, and several goblets. Skafloc took some time to pour out a measure for himself. Glancing at Styxen with a raised eyebrow, he reached for a second goblet and poured another measure, sliding it across the table towards the paladin.

Settling back in the chair Skafloc took a sip, savoring the dryness of the vintage on his palate.

" I have a favor to ask of you Styxen." Skafloc said after a moment.

" Consider it in exchange for that little inquiry I made into the background of one particular orc woman. Although, to be fair this favor is much more involved than that simple fact finding."

He paused to take another sip, watching his companion for any sign of interest. He was still watcing the wyrmling, the goblet untouched. Skafloc continued.

" This will be a fine opportunity to exercise your people, if nothing else. But in truth, it could mean the difference between life or death of my wife. Yes, it is that important to me.

I will be direct. There is a Sin'Dorei lordling who has issued out contracts on the life of Nymare, my wife. He is Alin Vos' Arryn, her former fiance. It would seem that if he can not have her, he would deny anyone else her hand. That is the extent of his arrogance. He has already cause much hurt and suffering. I will see this come to and end.

However, it is a delicate situation. Neither I nor Nymare can afford to be openly implicated in his.. removal shall we say. So it is left for me to find someone willing to work on our behalf. I wish him alive, in what state is not my concern, simply breathing is sufficient.

Before I go on, I would ask you now. Is this something Tartarus would be willing to take on? "

Skafloc took another sip of wine as he waited some response from Styxen. Moreso than anyone Skafloc had met the man's expressions and body language was unreadable.

[Styxen]

Styxen eyed the glass set out before him, Skafloc knew of his particular "Aversion" towards alcohol. Though he knew it more of his way to be polite than being a joke as some might take towards him.

He waved the mana wyrmling away, and the little creature wrapped itself around Styxen's arm for a moment before he shook him off.

"I am sure I can take care of this man for you, but to not implicate anyone, That could take some effort. Though if I know you like I think I do, I am sure you have some information on him that will make it easier on me."

Styxen smiled as he pushed the glass aside to lean in closer to the table, "Still breathing huh? You just want to take all the fun from me don't you?"

[Skafloc]

" Oh, there will be plenty of opportunity for fun. He does have a retinue. "

Skafloc swirled the contents of his goblet around, studying the eddys of the deep purple liquid.

" Lord Alin Vos'Arryn. A minor lordling but holder of a seat on the High Council. Well truth is its his father's seat. He isn't a trained military man, nor a magister that I can determine. He is however very very clever and tricky. In the past it seems he has done most of his work through others, never leaving a clear trail to implicate himself. He is tall and rather gaunt. He might have been ruggedly handsome at one point, but his worries, his inner hatred and his... excesses have worn much of the youth away. His hair is a long dark blond."

Skafloc sipped from the wine to moisten his lips.

" Now, his excesses. He suffers from acute mana addiction. His body might have succumbed to it long ago but for a makeshift solution he has discovered. He imbibes some strange experimental elixirs to keep his addictions under control. These potions however have had their own side effects. Styxen, the man is quite insane I assure you. He is a beast."

"Should you still feel this is something doable, I will have a few requests. First, as I mentioned I would like him alive. If he is somewhat broken when he arrives that is fine, but alive is important. I say arrive as I think it best he be brought here to the dungeons. There are few who would consider looking for him there, and fewer still who could succeed in getting inside if they did. Anyone sent to Alin's estate should not bear any emblem or symbol that would link them to Melar Danashj. But, I suppose thats something you would have done in any case."

"If there are guards encountered, they can be slaughtered at will. In fact I am counting on it. There has to be a clear indication that Alin has met with some disaster. Publicly. That way the assassins that have been dispatched by him will break off their missions, seeing that there would be no paycheck for their efforts any longer. Household staff I would like spared if possible. Most are there as slaves and are more victims of this monster than actual respected staff. If they get in the way however, well you will do what you must I imagine."

That is about it. So, still interested? "

[Styxen]

Styxen cocked half a smile at Skafloc nodded at him briefly, gathered his things and calmly walked outside of the castle doors.

"Lord Alin Vos'arryn, never heard of him but I do suppose I could be in for some fun."

It didn't take long for Styxen to find his way to the manor which housed the supposed scoundrel, after all the eccentric don't blend in well with the masses, and this man was no different.

There were a few guards posted at the front and he was sure there would be a couple dozen more patrolling the interior, because people never wanted to just be easy.

As steady as anyone could Styxen approached the guards.

"Halt, who are you?"

"Who me? I am nobody I just really need to quick break if you know what I mean and I thought I would briefly impose for the use of your facilities."

"Go somewhere else, you are not welcome here."

Styxen sighed, "Well that's rude, you would think with such a large place that it's owner could be more generous."

"You figured wrong fool."

Styxen just turned around and chuckled at the comment.

"What's so funny?"

The paladin whipped around lightning fast and grabbed a hold of the guards heads pouring holy energy into them until he could feel their necks snap like twigs.

Reaching into his bag Styxen pulled out a pair of limbs from some recently killed members of the Scourge impaling them into the lifeless bodies of the guards.

"What a shame, you should always let someone use the restroom if they ask."

After letting himself in it didn't take long to find and corner Alin himself, his guards were weak from only fighting fledgling scourge invaders and posed no real challenge at all.

"Easy way or hard way lord?"

The master Vos'Arryn just stared at Styxen from behind his desk, "What is the meaning of this?"

"That wasn't one of the recommended answers."

"You have no right no right to be here..." And Alin reached into his desk to reveal a pistol which he fired quickly in the direction of the paladin who just as easily moved his head to the side allowing the bullet to graze against his face slicing open a trail blood.

Styxen reached his hand up glowing of holy light briefly running it across his skin removing any mark that had remained, "That wasn't too smart Lord not too smart at all."

He lunged across the desk towards Alin and lifted him high above the ground in his grip, "Nobody ever chooses the easy way, ever."

The paladin slammed his captive straight through the desk he had just hurdled further ensuring his passive cooperation Styxen landed a few extra blows for good measure.

As Styxen was leaving with Alin drapped over his shoulder a member of the help spied him.

"What... what are you doing?"

"Just buisness my dear nothing you need to worry about."

"But... but, what will we do without his support?"

Styxen sighed for a moment reaching onto the lord in his arms revealing his purse, "Have a drink on him."
__________________________________________________ ___________

Along with the new noise added to the basement of Melar Danashj was also a brief note on Skafloc's door.

Enjoy the gift, any missing teeth was purely accidental

Styxen

[Nymare]

((Thank you SO much for helping out, Styxen! And thanks for the lesson ... call 911 if ever anyone asks to use my restroom))

[Skafloc]

It had been 2 days. 2 days since their honeymoon in Stranglethorn Vale. 2 days since the sensational evening of the Wedding Reception, marked by festivities, meeting new people, celebrating with old friends, defending Silvermoon against a strong Alliance aggression. The wedding reception that Styxen had taken his leave from early in order to satisfy a favour to a friend.

2 days since Skafloc, returning from their wonderful getaway in the wilds of Stranglethorn, made his way to Deadwind Pass and the castle of Melar Danashj to discover the note pinned to the door of his apartments.

He had gone to the dungeons to see for himself. Having never met the man, there was remote possibility Styxen had apprehended the wrong individual. Unlikely, but still Skafloc needed to verify. It was a simple matter deducing which dark stone cell contained the prize, the shouts of outrage carried down the cold passageway deep beneath the castle as Skafloc, torch in hand, walked steadily through the damp musty air.

He came to a stop before the heavy oaken door of the cell. It was a solid thing, secured with a heavy iron locking bar, with the only openings being a small spy hole at eye level and a sliding port at the base of the door to allow food trays to be delivered to the occupant. Not that Skafloc intended to use that particular convenience.

Flipping the cover of the spy hole aside Skafloc peered into the room beyond. It was very dark, with the only source of light being a small air shaft that led far up to the surface, casting a hazy beam of grey light from the upper corner of the room diagonally across to splash against the hard stone at the far end of the room. In the semi light, Skafloc could just make out the figure chained to the far wall. Both ankles secured by iron shackles, a heavy four foot chain leading from them to an eyebolt set deep into the wall of the cell. His wrists were secured by manacles, which in turn were attached by another chain to the shackled ankles. He had barely enough freedom of movement to scratch his nose. The figure was sitting on the hard stone floor, desperately scraping a link repeatedly in a vain attempt to wear it down, shouting at the link to break, as if he fully expected his words would cause the iron to turn to wax.. Perhaps if he had a year he might succeed.

Some sound caught his attention. Perhaps it was Skafloc’s breathing. Regardless, the figure stopped his efforts to raise his head and peer at the door. Yes, it was Alin. His face was twisted with rage and indignation. Perhaps there was some fear, but if so it was not immediately evident. No, he was not broken. Yet.

Alin shouted at the door, demanding release. Demanding to know who had dared!

Skafloc waited a moment, then shut the eye hole cover with a slam. He then placed the sign on the door to the cell that he had prepared before venturing down into the dungeons.

DO NOT DISTURB…

That was 2 days ago.

Time. That is what Skafloc was using to break Alin Vos’Arryn. Mana addict, and potion abuser. It had been 2 days since the capture and Alin was given no food. No water, no access to mana nor his beloved potions. No contact with anyone. No explanation as to where he was or who his captors were. 2 days chained in a dark, cold stone cell with minimal light.

The rumours were already filtering through the society circles in Silvermoon. Officials had gone to the Vos’Arryn house to investigate the break in, yet no report had been filed as of yet. Some spoke of a Scourge infiltration, as it was said the bodies of valiant guards were discovered with undead limbs wedged inside their shattered rib cages. Other rumours spoke of an assault by a team of rogue Sin’Dorei, agents of some business dealing gone bad. Yet more spoke of a single assailant.

All Skafloc knew was that it was 2 days and Nymare was her old self again. Indeed she seemed positively buouyant! The coincidence was hard to ignore, casting serious suspicion that it was indeed Alin who was the orchestrator of her recent headaches and fuzziness. Something Skafloc was certain to add to the list of things he would discuss with the man.

Then, he would bring Nymare. He could think of no more fitting a wedding gift to his wife.

[Nymare]

((bad language INC!))

He had difficulty remembering the last time he was in so much pain. Hell, he had difficulty remembering the last time he could feel. It was not so bad when he was taken - a few teeth lost, a broken rib - his potions had long since numbed him to any sort of real physical sensation. But, he had been determined to give the show he needed to give in order to be taken. He had expected the retalliation, waited for it, and had set everything up now to where he counted on it. He was not let down.

Alin had not counted on this, though. He felt it all now. The rage that overcame him when he realized what was going on was almost enough to jar a bolt loose from the chain that held his right ankle. A day later, as the last trickles of the potion faded in his system, he came to realize that it was not the bolt which was giving during his rage, it was his bone. The ankle was more than likely shattered... along with the rest of his sanity.

Two days! Two-fucking-days without food, water, potions, mana, ANYTHING. Someone had told them... somehow they knew they would need to weaken me, to throw me into withdrawl. They knew about my potions afterall! But HOW?

It was strange to him, the sensation of absolute hate without the surge of rage that would normally explode through his veins. It was a cold, hallow feeling that chewed away at the edges of his numbed soul. It was frightening how real it was, how powerful. He savored it.

That. Miserable. Whore.

When I get my hands on her...

His madness quelled. She was his drug now, his peace. Thoughts of her, broken in so many ways, soothed his savage mind, eased the hallow gnawing within. Thoughts of her, fully under his control... it was only a matter of time. His experiment had been a success, his tools carefully spirited away from his dungeon in the dead of night. He had his insurance, his salvation, safely tucked away. All he had to do now was wait.

He had not even realized he was scraping a link against the floor, cursing at it for not giving way.

This cannot be a good sign.

Someone was watching him. Pricks of paranoia bristled over his skin with little spikes of madness. Alone again.

He failed to notice the link burning his fingers as the friction against the stone floor became too great.

[Evanthe]

She woke up with a pounding headache, dimly aware of her surroundings. Evanthe was in the basement of the castle, that much was clear from the cold, hard surface she sat on. Reaching around she could feel a bottle, no, two bottles strewn around her. Empty of course. How she had ended up in the basement was lost on her, but it was a fair bet to say she stumbled her after raiding the wine cellar.

And raiding the wine cellar sounded like a fine idea indeed. Just what she needed to clear the effect of last night's (hell, last weeks, last month's) alcohol binge. Placating her addiction with more of the poison.

She stood slowly, stumbling around in the dim light. What time was it? Early evening? Midnight? Did it even really matter anymore? No, not really. Nothing did, it seemed. It didn't even really matter where she was. Evanthe looked around; she was in a part of the castle she had never seen before. It was dark down here; dank with a slight moldy stink. And very quiet.

No sooner had this thought crossed her mind than the silence was shattered. A loud noise, almost a squeal. A long, high-pitched and utterly irritating sound. The type of sound that would make your skin crawl, which, naturally, it did to Evanthe. She moved in the direction of the sound; still groggy and not yet walking with her usual grace. Anything that could emit that needed to be put out of it's misery. Immediately.

As she got closer she realized that it wasn't a squeal at all; rather it was a kind of scraping sound. Metal on stone, perhaps? And it was accompanied by another noise, soft mewing.

Evanthe turned the corner and found herself in a long hallway. The light was almost non-existent, but her eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She could make out the shape of a torch on the far wall, crossing slowly to it she muttered an incantation. Flames leapt from her hand a second later, igniting the torch. The new illumination revealed several heavy wooden doors, each with a long slot at the bottom and some sort of flap at the top. Covering an opening, possibly? Evanthe surmised that this was where the prisoners of the asylum were kept before the conversion to the castle of Melar Danashj. One of the doors appeared to have a sign on it.

The mewing sound increased as the light filled the room, but the scraping noise abruptly ended. That was good, at least. From this distance it was easy to tell the noise was coming from the marked cell. A few steps closer and she could make out the words on the sign, carefully printed in loose, flowing letters.

DO NOT DISTURB.

Well, that was an invitation, wasn’t it? Evanthe’s lips curled into a sly smile. She thought so.

[Evanthe]

She lifted the flap and peered into the room. A small shaft of light poured down from the ceiling, bathing the cell in grey light. Perhaps it was morning after all? Not that it mattered. It could be moonlight or starlight for all she could tell.

At first Evanthe thought the cell was empty; the noise had stopped as she approached and there didn’t appear to be anything in this room. Just as she was about to turn away (the wine cellar again calling her name) a brief movement from the corner of the room caught her eye. She pressed herself against the door, willing to peephole expand, as if her thoughts could transmute the wooden door to glass. It was for naught, however, and whatever had moved long since ceased to do so.

She was about to leave, go after that bottle of wine, when she remembered the sliding port. It was too low to the ground, and the angle was too awkward to be of much use as window. However, Evanthe had another idea.

Evanthe slid it open, cringing as the wood squeaked in protest. It was obvious that the small opening had not been used in some time. The noise of the wood and the increase in light caused the prisoner to resume his yelping. Not actually words, no, just inarticulate noise. The voice was hoarse, but definitely masculine.

Grinning at her own cleverness, she began her incantation. The shape began to form in front of her, a demon’s eye to which she could bind her sight. It was small enough to fit through the narrow opening.

The ritual completed, Evanthe willed the eye forward, below the door and into the cell proper. The light from the ceiling combined with the torchlight seeping from outside provided enough light for her to see. There was a man, ankles chained to the far wall, hunched over and covered in his own filth. His face was haggard and drawn. He stopped yelping for a second when he noticed the eye, giving it a peculiar look. Almost as if he had never seen something so beautiful, yet so repulsive before in his life. She willed the eye closer to the prisoner, hoping to get a better view. Who was he?

She got too close; the man reached out and swiped at the eye. Even with the chains binding him he was able to touch it. And just like that the eye evaporated.

Evanthe’s sight returned to her own eyes, her headache long since forgotten. It had been too long since she’d had a good time, far too long. That was about to change. Evanthe sauntered up to the door and called out, loud enough to be heard through the wood.

“I think you’ll make a very interesting plaything.”

[Evanthe]

“That’s right, scream,” Evanthe smirked, her body pressed up against the door. She had been ‘playing’ with the prisoner for more than an hour, and his voice, already hoarse when she started, was now barely a croak. “Is that the loudest you can?” she taunted. “Pity. I suppose we’ll just have to continue.”

Evanthe stared through the peephole, making sure the prisoner was in her sight. She could just make out his foot, but it was enough. The incantation was quick, just an instant. The prisoner’s yelps turned into a scream (as much as he could muster, anyway), some cross between pain and terror. His foot shook as he tried to back away from the door, the chains around his ankles ensured the effort was futile. That same instant a warm sensation washed over her, perking up her senses and giving her quite the rush. It was the same she felt every time she stole someone’s life-force for herself.

He was babbling now, incoherently. Evanthe laughed. What a silly boy.

“You know, I’m rather sick of your backtalk,” she sneered. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind so much if it was in another language.” She waved her hand dismissively, cursing him to speak in tongues. His babbling continued but the sounds changed. This seemed to upset him, for he was speaking more forcefully now. She giggled, hearing the sharp sounds of Demonic instead of the smooth melodies of Thalassian.

“Shi lok x amir melar ruk raka nymare shi xi lex faramas,” he croaked.

Evanthe stopped her laughing and fell silent immediately. Had she heard him correctly? Had he really said it? Nymare. Those sounds were not remotely demonic. Had he really said her name?

“ Az archim ruk arakal nymare sji sji raka!”

Yes, he had. There is was again. Nymare.

Evanthe turned and slid down against the door, lost in thought. He had clearly said Nymare. Not once, but twice. He had probably been saying her name all hour, but the sounds were hard to make out amongst his inarticulate ramblings. She had something to do with the prisoner being here, and if she had something to do with it, Skafloc for sure had something to do with his incarceration.

She sat there for a few minutes, mulling plans over in her mind. She had wanted, no, craved revenge. She had let Skafloc into her heart and he had shattered it. And it was all because of her. Nymare. That bitch. She wanted to hurt them, both. Badly. And here she was, not ten feet from someone who could help her.

There were several problems. She didn’t know who this prisoner was, nor did she know anything about him. She didn’t know if he could be trusted, if he would turn on her, if he would agree to help her. She didn’t even know why he was here; it was only a guess that he was here because of Skafloc and that bitch wife of his. But it was a risk she was willing to take; the thought of revenge was too tempting to pass up.

All Evanthe had left to do was work out the details.

[Evanthe]

The trip to Silvermoon took around twenty minutes. Evanthe used her stone to return to Shattrath, and from there it was just a quick jaunt to the portals. The longest part of the journey was walking from the Scryer Inn down to the Terrace of the Light. The inn was busier than normal and there weren’t enough wyvern-taxis to go around. Rather than wait for one to free up, she set off on foot. It wasn’t too much of an inconvenience and it afforded her time to finalize her plan.

She was going to help the prisoner escape. She couldn’t open the door; besides, that would hardly be the most prudent route. She still didn’t know who he was or if she could trust him. Letting him walk right out the front door of the castle would be foolish. At best he would get lost in the winding mountains surrounding Deadwind Pass. At worst he would bring the authorities to the castle and cause all sorts of legal nightmares. The rule of Silvermoon and the Horde stretched far; no need to draw negative attention to a place that was her home as well.

No, letting him out would not work. Instead, she would draw him to her, summon him from the castle. This could not be done alone; she would enlist the help of her brother and whatever harlot he was cavorting with that night. She needed him for more than just the ritual; he was very persuasive. On countless occasions Evanthe had seen him worm his way into someone’s thoughts and cause them to submit to his will. If the prisoner would not cooperate she would have to make him cooperate; freeing him was only the first step of her plan for revenge.

Evanthe opened the door to the estate fifteen minutes after arriving in Silvermoon. She still had a key even though it had been months since she moved out. Gazing around the main hall it didn’t seem as though much had changed. Ephram most likely had hired a domestic servant of some kind- the place was far too neat to have been kept this way by just her brother.

She heard noises coming from her brother’s bedchamber. Just as she thought, he was not alone. Evanthe didn’t even bother to knock; she just swung the door wide open.

Ephram was lying on his bed between a young couple. His guests looked at her with a mixture of shock and horror, cowering beneath the sheets. Ephram, once over his initial shock, just smiled.

“What a wonderful surprise,” he smirked. “Coming to join us, sister dear?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but no,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “I need your help. I’ll explain after the summoning is complete. I do think you’ll quite like this, Ephram dear.”

She turned to Ephram’s companions. “I’ll need one of you. Don’t worry; it won’t require any thought. You just need to stand very still during the ritual.” Evanthe looked over each, motioning for the male to come join her. He looked less twitchy than the female, and that was important if the summoning was to happen.

She had never summoned someone without knowing their name. It seemed inconsequential, just a name, but names were very important to warlocks. Names were the key to controlling her demonic minions. She hoped they were not the key to this spell, however. If she concentrated hard enough, perhaps it could work. She needed it to work.

Evanthe took a deep breath and began the ritual.

[Kallindra]

(( *claps excitedly* Oh the intrigue! ))

[Lovely]

((evil!!!))

[Skafloc]

" STYXEN! " he shouted as he stormed through the castle, the name echoing though the long, empty halls. As before, the echos died without any response. Where was everyone? The castle was usually a bustle of activity, yet this one time he actually needed to find someone, anyone the place was deserted.

His anger was greater than he had felt in recent memory. Greater then that night of the attack against the vineyard, greater than the anger he had felt towards Danzrielle deFafnyr and her bumbling ways, perhaps greater than the anger he felt long ago at Verloran and the doom that was brought down on Felina. It was light stealing, warmth sucking anger that enshrouded him in a dark aura, almost a living thing in its own right. Anger directed at whomever had done the deed he had just discovered, and as much anger directed at himself.

Entering the main hall if the castle, he saw the tell tale shimmering oval of an arcane portal, suspended in mid room. Approaching the portal he caught a glimpse through its swirling eddys of magic of the land beyond, the far end of the tear in the fabric of reality. Silvermoon City.

Was this how he escaped? Or was this unrelated? Perhaps Styxen is to be found there. The portal had all the signs of Solenev about it, perhaps he was with her. He was about to enter the arcane gateway himself, reached out tentatively, then stopped.

No, I have to find Nymare first. She needs to be warned immediately. Only then can I start my invetigation. Styxen will have to wait. thought Skafloc.

Letting his hand drop back to his side, he waked over to the bar and poured himself a glass of wine from a crystal decanter. As he closed his eyes, forced his breathing and heartrate to calm as he drank the ruby liquid in large gulps, his mind went back to the scene at the cell.

The door was the same as it had been all week, locked securely with the sign still prominent on its face, " DO NOT DISTURB." Fool he was to think that people might actually heed the warning! Naive, amateurish mistake!

Inside the cell look as it had the last time he visited Alin, a brief entry to check on the man. Alin was oblivious to his presence at that time, curled in a ball at the foot of the stone wall he was chained to looking wretched and broken. Those chains were there still, securely fastened and aside from some scratches on a few links where Alin had been trying in vain to wear them through, they appeared untampered.

Indeed, the very manacles that had secured his ankles and wrists were still locked and undamaged. It was as if Alin Vos'Arryn had simply evaporated!

Skafloc downed the remainder of his wine and slammed the glass down on the heavy oaken bar top, causing the glass to crack and split in two. Ignoring the shards, Skafloc turned and strode out of the main doors of the castle, making towards the stables and his swift crimson hawkstrider.

I should have just killed him outright the moment I first saw him. thought Skafloc. A mistake I will not be making again. The man is now my prey, along with whomever was foolish enough to interfere in our affairs.

Outland was where Nymare was at the moment. That was the first stop, to warn her and discuss the precautions they must now take. Then, to find Styxen. Skafloc held out the small hope that perhaps the man had moved Alin to another location and hadn't found the opportunity to notify Skafloc, but it was unlikely.

Mounting his hawkstrider, Skafloc turned in the saddle to regard the castle. The castle that had suddenly become a less than safe place. Skafloc had to admit to himself that the most likely scenario was an inside job. One did not simply saunter into the Castle of the Melar Danashj, skip down to the dungeons and remove a prisoner from one of its cells without some inside assistance.

Something else to warn Styxen about.

Bringing his mount about Skafloc spurred it forward, making a swift line towards the Pass into the Swamp of Sorrows, and the Blasted land beyond where The Dark Portal awaited. His mind filled with the thousand possible ways that Alin Vos'Arryn would die, along with his rescuers.

[Nymare]

It was difficult for her to tell night from day in most parts of the Outlands that she had seen so far. A quick glance to the writhing sky revealed stars, familiar constellations, but in unfamiliar places. She had been in the Forest for quite some time since her arrival during what would have been mid-afternoon on Azeroth, so it must have been evening when Skafloc finally reached her, asking if she could meet with him. His voice was missing something. She tried to put it out of her mind.

Sliding gracefully through the mixed bustle of Shattrath's busy streets and markets, softly treading down to the slightly less glamorous Lower City, Nymare found herself stopping before the open entrance of the World's End Tavern, which was unusually free of the typical evening rowdiness. Not a single gunshot rang out from one of it's boothes. To her left, a group of refugee children eyed the ghostsaber at her side with wonder and fear from a safe distance.

"Go play," she whispered, kneeling next to Aeacus to give him a hug before she sent him off. The ghostsaber carefully pranced up to the small crowd of kids. Both pet and playmates eyed each other with a moment's reluctance before Aeacus purred over to the nearest little girl and nearly knocked her over with an affectionate bump. The cat playfully sauntered away, leading the children on a game of cat and mouse around the tents where, oddly enough, he was the mouse.

Entering, Nymare found him sitting at a table in a dark enclave, a draenei woman dancing not too far off to the side, but he did not seem to see her. His eyes had been trained on the doorway, and now they looked only at Nymare. She practically burst into a run when she saw Skafloc, who, in turn, took her up into a tight embrace and then held her there. Something is not right... He was holding her as if, should he ever let go, she would disappear forever. Finally, with some reluctance, his hold loosened and he motioned to the chair across the table from him.

"Have a seat?" He offered, guiding her with a hand placed against the small of her back. Once seated, he knelt before her chair, his eyes to the ground as he seemed to struggle with what to say and how to say it. As he looked up at her, she was finally able to see him clearly. His eyes were red, his face haggard and yet like stone. She had never seen him like this.

"Forgive me, dearest. I have made a horrible mistake..." The words were like ice in her veins, but still she reached out, tenderly combing her fingers back through his auburn hair.

"What has happened?" she dared to ask.

As he explained, all life seemed to drain from her limbs, her hand falling faintly back into her lap.

Somewhere back on Azeroth, Alin Vos'Arryn opened his eyes to the first real light he had seen in too long.

[Styxen]

Styxen sat as he normally did in the main hall it seemed oddly quiet for once and that was perfectly fine with him, it gave him free time to actually relax without having to put up with some of the random chatter that went on from time to time.

"Ahh, relaxing for once." and he propped his legs upon the table in front of him.

Styxen heard a familiar chirping noise echo from the doorway leading downstairs toward the basement. Irritated the paladin rose to his feet cursing out the wyrmling, "Must you get into everything there is nothing down there but that dwarf and..."

Styxen blinked for a moment remembering the other "Guest" he brought to stay with them recently, "If you are in Skafloc's way I swear I will let his pet eat you."

He walked down the stairs following the ever increasing chirping, until he was standing in front of the cell where he left Alin. He peered into the cell to see that nobody was in there.

"Maybe he killed him already?" He thought about it for a moment, "Naw, I don't think that is how that hunter works it's more likely that he moved him or instead... Oh hell."

Styxen grabbed hold of the mana wyrmling dragging him back upstairs, "Oh well, I bet there is some pie cooking."

[Evanthe]

Evanthe stood in the doorway, regarding the man before her. Man wasn’t the best word to describe the creature lying in what was once her bed. He was male, of course, but the term man implied a certain strength, a certain vitality, which was completely missing from this twisted and broken wretch. Classic symptoms of mana addiction- the ashen skin, hunched figure, were all present. Was he this way before his imprisonment? If so, why would someone bother to imprison a wretched?

She was pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of a hand around her waist. She knew without turning it was Ephram; the scent of his cologne announced his presence before he had even reached the room.

“So what do we do now, sister dear?”

“Now we wait; one or two more days should do it. We don’t want him fully back to health, but this will go easier if he is at least semi-cognizant.” The prisoner had stirred a few times, mumbling incoherently as she had heard him do in the cell. Most of the time he slept; the stress of his imprisonment, the Sin’dorei addiction and Evanthe’s games all having taken their toll.

“And then?”

Evanthe smirked.

“And then the fun begins.”

[IlleLatro]

The Bandit loitered about the exotic fruit stand directly across from the Vos'Arryn Manor. He had to admit, the Sin'Dorei had a certain amount of style. Even their fruit stands were opulent and provided unusual fare. But their prices - - ridiculous!

The landscape provided suitable cover for casually watching the comings and goings into the manor. He had already been inside, of course; however, no one but the police had disturbed Alin's quarters. He had even discovered the items that poor "wretched" Alin would be needing to stave off his condition. He left them where he found them. They weren't what he was looking for.

He had other suspicions about where he might find young Vos'Arryn, but pursuing those ends did not seem the wisest course of action for the moment. He had been able to trace Vos'Arryn into Melar Danashj, but from there it seemed as if the chap had simply vanished into thin air. The whole thing smacked of foul magicks, just the sort of thing he made it a habit to avoid.

So for now he would play a background role, which suited him just fine: he excelled at backgrounds! He had already had a fine time spreading confusing rumors throughout Silvermoon to throw investigators and the rabble off from the truth of Skafloc's hire. He particularly prided himself on that one because the Ran'Deaus were not even aware of this facet of his participation in the events. They were keen, however, on his keeping an eye on the Vos'Arryn Manor to watch for Alin's return. He would have to come for his potions eventually, and when he did the Bandit would see and know.

Meanwhile, however, he found himself terribly bored. So he did what he always did when boredom finds him: strike up an entertaining conversation with a passing stranger. Or, in this case, the fruit vendor.

"Strange, eh, Vos'Arryn's disappearance an' all?" he smiled at the vendor. The man was amiable enough to him even though he was a troll. Most blood elves had a hard time seeing past that.

"Strange, and welcome. I've had some of the best business in weeks. Everyone comes to try to get a glimpse at the Manor."

"Aye, that's wonderful ta 'ear. I bet ya know all 'bout it, then?"

The fruit vendor nodded with all the gravity of a magister on the Council. "Indeed. From what I understand, he was abducted by a Blood Knight."

"Ya don't say? A paladin? Any idea as to the identity of this mystery knight?"

"That slutty paladin."

Ille Latro did a double-take. "Wha ... ?"

"You know. The Nex'Cruor chick that is part of the Grim."

Ille Latro bunched up his face. "Why 'er? That don't make much sense ta me..."

"Hey, you're the one who claims to understand the social scene here, but you don't even know that that paladin is the friend of Nymare Sunfire, whom Alin sought to marry before Baron Ran'Deau took her for himself? She obviously sought to protect her friend from Vos'Arryn." He lowered his voice a bit. "We all know around here that he's a bit ... eccentric."

The Bandit laughed. "You think I don't know all of this? The Baron is one of my customers. And I 'ave 'ad dealin's with this palady." He shook his head, obviously pitying the fruit vendor for his misperceptions. "No ... I don't think she 'ad anythin' ta do with this 'tall."

"Oh?" the elf scowled. "And what makes you say that, smart guy?"

"Well, simply put, Lovely and Nymare don't get along too well anymore."

"You don't say?"

"I do say. It seems that they 'ad a fallin' out 'naccount o' the palady's flirtin' with the Baron."

"And how do you come by this information, troll?"

"I just so 'appened ta be nearby and see the tramp kiss the baron right in front o' 'is wife. Whoo-ee, 'er eyes flared up in anger and she lept at the palady like a feral cat. Near clawed 'er eyes out! Was a sight ta see."

The Bandit turned and looked on the Manor across the street. "Nope, my money's on the Bloodsail Buccaneers."

"Pirates?" The fruit vendor was incredulous.

"Of course. Alin Vos'Arryn was a known employer o' ninjas. They struck at the source.

Ten to one odds 'e is sleepin' with the fishes right now."

[Chikt]

Diomades stood inside his quarters on the Aldor rise looking at some pictures he had on the wall. Just several days ago, the same wall would have been bare. But now, it was covered in images from Goblin newspaper clippings, pieces of string stretching from one picture to the next, thumbtacks holding it all in place. It had started out all so simply and now it was a complicated, inter-twining mess. It was a road map of his investigation into the seemingly coinciding stories of Nymare Ran'Deau and an organ trader named Malorii.

Thankfully, he'd been able to cross out a few of the things, and the second line of investigation into Malorii and her trade was coming to a close. The things that linked the two stories were crossed out as likely possibilities, and he was back to investigation Nymare's ailment alone. One long, red piece of string connected several images of Nymare, Melar Danashj, articles about memory loss. And the string ended with a picture of one man.

Alin Vos'Arryn.

Despite Dio's greatest efforts, it seemed that he could not find anybody directly connected to Nymare's ex-fiance. At least not currently. And so the time had come to resort to taking matters into his own hands. He was told were to find the Vos'Arryn estate in Silvermoon City, and had formulated a plan that he hoped would work. It had to work.

He looked over at his bunk where he had everything he needed prepared and ready. His usual backpack was ready to go, but he also had two other very important items. A special mana potion with a sedative mixxed in, and a scroll he had gotten during some work in Shadowmoon Valley. It was most important of all. It would give him the appearance of a Blood Elf.

[Anonymous]

No one asked me to do this…..no one involved anyway.


“If you expose the traitor and kill the thorn in their side, they will be in our debt. Do this brother, for the glory of our House.”
But first, I needed information *Ahem*….We needed information. It was the perfect time to bring my new comrade into the fold for a little business. We knew who the key players were in this “game”, thanks to a gabby tauren that could not keep his grass-munching muzzle closed about the “investigation” he was carrying out. It was in fact his indiscretion that spurred us on to take matters into our own hands. At home my brother was able to give me an overview of the situation. It wasn’t a new story for the history books; there was love, betrayal, revenge, and to spice it up an extra dose of betrayal. A few more details were needed before the investigation could begin outright, but the Bandit was more than happy to fill in the details….all that was needed was a flash of gold nears his eyes and a flash of steel near his ribs and we were regaled with tales of kidnappings, paladins, mysterious disappearances, and some nonsense about pirates and ninjas.

After hearing the tale of the two unlucky lovers, a theory began to formulate in my mind. This whole incident reeked of a personal vendetta, from every side involved in fact, and since the Thorn did not have the resources to disappear from his confinement in the manner that he did it would appear he had help from someone who knew that he was there. That meant that someone within their circle of trust had betrayed the lovers, someone with a grudge to settle. Besides the thorn, the bride had no other past loves spurned. That left the Lord Hunter’s past to be scrutinized, and what better place to start than with those that know him best.

My colleague was able to contact a young rogue within his organization and convince her to meet us in a dark and secluded corner of Tirisfal Glade. Anonymity was paramount so we remained in the shadows for the duration of the questioning, despite the elf’s protests. When asked about the young Hunter’s love life the rogue was only to eager to give us a name, along with a helpful anecdote that only further enforced the information she was producing. The rogue was becoming impatient, so with the knowledge we needed in hand we slipped away while the rogue fingered her weapons and veiled threats at the night air.

If any harm were to come to the young bride all this work would be for not. So, after careful consideration, I felt the time was right to inform her of my involvement and warn her of my suspicions. A handy little spell I picked up from a warlock “friend” of mine led me to find the Lady at the World’s End Tavern chatting up none other than the most well-informed Bandit I had ever met. My partner slipped into the shadows of the corner of the bar, to listen in and watch my back should any danger arrive, while I casually approached the table and took a seat. The first order of business, as usual, was to play the game of “Flattery and Humility.” When the game had exhausted itself and an awkward silence had descended upon the table, I asked her if might have a word in private, much to the dismay of the Bandit. Within earshot of my associate, I revealed to the Lady not only my involvement in her affairs, but also my “pure” motives, and a warning to be wary of a certain spell caster within her husband’s organization. Luckily, she had already become suspicious of the one I had come to warn her about, which only further suggested I was on the right track. There was a problem that we both faced, unfortunately, and that was the absence of proof. Without proof there would be no punishment dealt by the parties involved. Blind accusations would only serve to warn the culprit and cause her to tread more lightly.

Now was the time for great care. We would have to carefully watch our target and wait for her to slip up…..and we’d be there too, to hold out a blade for her to fall on.

[Evanthe]

Evanthe crumpled the note, flicking it over her shoulder. What a silly girl that paladin was. Lovely. A foolish girl, so easily manipulated. A compliment here, a kind word there, a kiss or two and she was eating out of your hand. But what good was it? The girl couldn't manage to stay out of trouble long enough to be useful. And what was worse was that she knew.

Evanthe smirked. Well, Lovely thought she knew the plan. A love potion? That silly girl would believe any line fed to her.

She did know too much for comfort, however. And worse still, others were becoming suspicious. Styxen, Skafloc... The time for action was now, whether the prisoner was ready or not.

The desk was covered with a thick layer of dust; Evanthe rarely used it even when she was living in Silvermoon full-time. There were still papers in the desk, from the finest papermill in all of Quel'Thalas, of course. Engraved with golden letters bearing the name Cindersong. Evanthe rifled through the drawers for something more suitable. It was a good five minutes before she found it- a notepad from an Inn in Ogrimmar. She grabbed a nearby pen and tested the ink flow on the first page. Tearing that off, she started her letter in earnest.

[Nymare]

Sometimes, the dark was not as dark, the silence not so silent. Voices. The lucidity was maddening. Pain. Hunger. Mostly pain. The dreams were damning. By the third day, he had forgotten who he was and the dreams frightened him, but he was helpless to wake himself. Too hot. Too cold. Nausea. No relief.

Until the sixth day. On the sixth day, Alin finally slept peacefully.

It was the pain in his ankle that finally woke him several days later. The soft light of the room hurt his eyes, but the air was clean, fresh, and easy to breathe. Each inhalation was like sipping the finest wine. It was a challenge to lift the back of his hands to his eyes in an attempt to rub the sleep from them. Why?

"Saera..." his voice was a croaking rasp, the throat dry and rough. The servant did not come. Eyes still not adjusting to the light, only the outlines of blurred objects registering to his sight, he reached out to the side. His arm was a useless thing, heavier than stone and flailing like a bird against the wind for the cord to the servant's bell. Nothing. The arm dropped back down against the sheets with a thud.

Something in the back of his head was trying to make itself known. His vision was sharpening, the room taking shape... all of it forgein to him.

And then it hit him like wave crashing against the shore. His atrophied muscles tensed, the sudden exertion inspiring most of his body to contort as it cramped up. His cry of pain was a pathetic one as he lay there, helpless to move once again... waiting for the tissues to relax. One by one, they loosened their grip and he lay cautiously still. This was no dungeon. This was not home. This was not where he was supposed to end up...

Something had gone wrong, but HOW? He was too weak to be angry, too desperate to care. He was hungry, thirsty, and in tremendous pain. Wherever he was, it smelled niced, which surely meant there would be food, drink, and relief if the owner knew he were awake to receive it.

"Where am I?" he asked out loud, unaware if anyone was near him.

[Anonymous]

Alright my dear, listen carefully….I have a plan…….

We must make contact with our suspect now….


“Are we going to kill her?”

No, not yet, we need proof first. We should make contact with her “innocently”, as if we do not suspect her being involved. You my dear are going to make contact with her.


“Me?”

Yes, it has to be you. She wouldn’t trust me in the least bit, do not worry I have every confidence in you. Now on to the plan, listen carefully. We know the villain had many vices, namely severe mana addiction. Right now he is likely going through severe mana withdrawal and is very weak, probably not even conscious. This is likely causing the traitor great distress as he can not be of any use to her in this state. We can use this to our advantage.


“How are we going to do that?”

You will contact her under the auspices of being one of the villain’s “suppliers”, but it will not go the way you would think. You will contact her as if you are oblivious to whom his captor is, your task will be to contract her into finding the lost villain.


”I’m not sure I understand exactly where you’re going with this…”

You will tell her that you had heard of her expertise in locating people through fel and/or arcane means and you need the villain located quickly, because for every day he is missing you are losing money. Naturally she will more than likely deny ever having heard of the man before, which would be compete bullshit seeing as she is knee-deep within the Lord Hunter’s guild.


“But wouldn’t her ‘finding’ the villain give her a sort of free pass against prosecution.”

Yes I had thought of that, which is why we are going to take it one step further. When you speak with her you will give her a dose of the villain’s special mana powder, “in case you find him in less than an ideal condition.” We must modify this mana powder first; I need you to concoct a special poison that would undetectable until ingested. I’m sure all parties involved would prefer his death be as agonizing as possible but do not let it be so slow acting as to give the traitor time to treat him.


“There is this certain recipe I’ve wanted to try out…”

Good, the poison needs to be very traceable though and thus very unique. After the villain has died she will likely dump his body in a very public place of the city with evidence pointing in the opposite direction of her as to finally free her of suspicion from the population at large. But when the body is found it will be able to be tested and the poison found. Now we won’t be able to turn her in for murder to the Silvermoon council, since we provided the murder weapon. But it will prove to her “allies” that she is in fact the traitor, and I’m sure she will be dealt with swiftly. Then do you know what will happen?


“What’s that?”

We will be showered with considerable praise and the Ran’Deau’s will be in our House’s debt.


“Khaell, you’re brilliant.”

Thank you Malorii, but I could not do it without you.

[Evanthe]

Evanthe returned to the estate, tired from an eventful day. She had sent the letters; the first an invitation to Lovely at the Nex'Cruor estate. The girl, silly as she was, was too much of a liability. However she could be neutralized easily enough. A kind word and the hint of carnal delights would be enough to draw the paladin to Ephram's house; she would be dealt with from there.

The second letter was earmarked for the Lord's council in Silvermoon. An annonymous tip from a concerned citizen directing them to the location of one Alin Vos'Arryn. Evanthe had given a rather large tip to a goblin in Booty Bay, ensuring it would be delivered in two days time between 3 and 4pm. Alin would be moved into the specified location no later than two. The timing was tight, but she was confident with Ephram's help the plan would go without a hitch.

Hopefully.

Everything would have gone a lot smoother if it weren't that muddle-headed paladin losing her job as majordomo for the Ran'Deau estates. Silly girl. But she would be dealt with soon enough.

Besides, it wasn't as if she needed her to gain entrance to the estate; Evanthe still had the key Skafloc had given her long ago. Silly boy. Had he forgotten that?

She set her bags down in the front hall, whistling for Tiggle to come take them. The leper-gnome arrived in short order, bowing his head low so as to avoid her gaze. Straining under the weight he carried them off to her tempory quarters. Evanthe sauntered off to the wine cellar, eager for another bottle.

The house was eerily quiet; the soft pitter-patter of the gnomes' footsteps on the marble floor the only noise she could hear. Her brother was most likely out, attending some decadent shindig somewhere in the city.

Her thoughts turned to the strange girl she met earlier. What was her name? Did she even say? A supplier, intent on searching for a customer who owed her money. And she needed help, turning to Evanthe for assistance based on her 'reputation'. Of all the people to enlist to find Alin, this girl had sought out her. How convenient.

Evanthe smirked. Had Skafloc sent the girl? If so, he must think her rather dumb. Pity.

One good thing had come from the meeting. The girl had given her a pill, apprently what she was supplying to Alin to combat his mana addiction.

"That could be a treat. I wonder what kind of rush that would give," Evanthe wondered outloud.

As if in answer a noise came from Alin's room, shattering the silence of the estate.

[IlleLatro]

The troll slid into the seat at an empty table at the tavern in Booty Bay, his back to a goblin bruiser. Froth from his mug of dwarven stout sloshed over the sides, dripping slowly over the fingers of the hand which gripped the stein. He frowned and spoke angrily to the drink.

"Ya know 'ow I 'ate comin' 'ere now. This 'ad bett'r be worth it."

The goblin bruiser standing behind the troll pushed his helm upward. It was too large for his head, falling down over his eyes as soon as he took his hand away; likewise, his chain mail shirt hung loosely about his small goblin frame. He stood nervously, alternating his club from hand to hand as he replied. "I know what sort of things you value, Bandit, and I have got just the sort of merchandise you should pay well for." He giggled, a high-pitched sound that should never escape the lips of a guard. "I should think you will thank me after, yes."

Ille Latro took a sip of his drink. Finishing it, he wiped some froth from his tusk and replied, never taking his eyes from the door of the tavern, "Alright, I 'ave faith in ya, eh. I came, didn' I?"

The goblin not-so-bruiser nodded. "And you'll be glad of it, I promise. There's a letter underneath your table, to be delivered to the Lord's Council in Silvermoon two days from now. The contents are most fascinating, detailing the location of Alin Vos'Arryn."

The troll's eyes widened and he hastily bent over the side of his chair to rummage about in his sack. When he sat back up, he held a piece of paper in his hands that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. His eyes drunk in the words on the parchment as his free hand stroked his tusk like a dwarf might stroke his beard. Finally, he sat the paper down on his lap and reached for his tankard.

"Why, that wily b--" the troll drowned his sentence in a deep draught of stout. Finishing, he sat the mug back down on the table. The letter was gone from his lap. "An' ya said this was ta be deliv'red two days 'ence?"

"Yes, yes, between three and four in the afternoon. Great stuff, isn't it?"

" 'Tis wicked stuff, but great that ya caught it, I'll give ya that," the Bandit replied, stroking his tusk. "An' 'ow much did she pay ya ta deliv'r?"

"Sh-sh-she? What makes you think that the person- -"

"Spare me yer anonymities, an' tell me the price, eh."

The goblin beat a series of taps on the wood planks at his feet. The troll nodded.

"I 'ill be payin' ya the same. Ya 'ave just doubled yer money, chum."

The would-be bruiser seemed so ecstatic over this news that he almost dropped his club. He fumbled about with it blindly, the helm obscuring his vision. "That's - - that's great, Bandit! Just great! I told you that you would like it. Glad I could help!"

"Aye, good work. It's worth ev'ry copper, that's fer sure."

"So should I still deliver the letter?"

The troll chuckled to himself. "Well, ya can't v'ry well start castin' doubt on the reliability o' goblin couri'rs, now can ya? Aye, two days from now ya 'ill deliv'r a lett'r ta the Lord's Council o' Silv'rmoon, but may'aps I'll write a replacement fer that'un." He took another sip of stout. "I'll write ya when I decide, eh."

"Sure thing, Bandit."

"It seems ta me, chum, that yer s'rvices are needed elsewheres," the troll replied, leaning back in his chair to put his feet up on the table as he pointed across the room where a wicked-looking gnome was kicking the shins of a Tauren.

"B-b-but I-I--"

"No buts! 'Ow can ya keep people from bein' suspicious if'n ya just stand there an' stare? Yer a bruiser right now, ya gotta go bruise some 'eads, eh! Besides," he drolled, giving a wink to no one in particular, "the lil' runt is e'en small'r than you, eh."

The goblin gave a small cry of dismay, then reluctanctly made his way over to the altercation. Even from behind he was visibly relieved when a more burly goblin - - a proper bruiser - - was seen also striding up to pry the gnome away from the Tauren, who was snorting and looking about ready to step on somebody. As the goblin informant strode up and put a restraining hand on the bull's leg, the Tauren chose the little green man, much to the latter's dismay. The Bandit chuckled at the scene and finished off the rest of his beer.

"I guess I should write some lett'rs o' me own, my custom'rs need ta be informated," he said, smiling to himself. "The end result 'ill be the same, eh, so the only question is, 'ho 'ill pay more ta be informated?"

He got up and strode out of the tavern, whistling happily to himself and taking care not to step on the unconscious goblin laying on the floor.

[Skafloc]

He sat in his study, in the comfortable chair with the high back, hand holded under his chin gazing out the barred window at the herb fields beyond. Here and there some of the hired workers were stooped, thining out the weaker shoots from around the main plants. Every now and then one would look up and scurry out of the path of the wandering lashers that patrolled the fields.

He had increased the number of lashers patrolling the grounds. All part of his new security measures. Still more were germinating in the large greenhouse located at the other end of the Estate.

Security weighed heavily on Skafloc's mind lately. Locks were changed at the insistence of Nymare, a prudent precaution given the present situation. The doors were reinforced with heavy locking bars from the inside as well. Bars had been installed on all the windows, who's sills were also adorned with razor sharp obsidian shards. Inside the plantation house itself alarm wards were erected, a gift from a particular magistrate who had a taste for manathistle tea. Then there was the arcane guardian they had received as a wedding gift. It wandered the halls tirelessly, often startling Chauncey out of his wits.

Best of all he received word that morning that the work was done on his measure of last resort. The escape route. The tranlocation orb was expensive, but well worth the cost. The end point orb had been erected the week previous.

Despite all the measures Skafloc still felt irritated. Things were going far too slowly. He had been willing to take a seat and allow the myriad agents and investigators perform their duties. But it was something foreign to him. He had always been proactive rather than reactive. Easing the course of events with sometimes subtle, often forceful action. This was where his strength lay. Something he had let slip.

No more. It was time for Skafloc Ran'Deau to start stirring the pot again to see what goodies floated to the surface.

He rose from the chair and made for the study door, pausing along the way to toss another cricket into the terrarium, where it was swiftly pounced upon.

"Chauncey! Get my formal uniform prepared. Tomorrow is weekly High Council session and I have been away for too long. "

[IlleLatro]

The Bandit was pulling chunks of mithril out of the depths of Drywhisker Gorge, taking care not to be spotted by patrolling kobolds, when the idea struck him: "Why only be paid by a single custom'r when I can be paid by both, an' improve my standin' with the people o' Silv'rmoon at the same time?"

He hurried back to Hammerfall, running away from an angry-looking human paladin who shouted and brandished his warhammer, chasing him. The orc guards at the entrance made short work of him. The bandit blessed him with a hit to the kidneys, stunning him so the guards could gut him right there on the road. "Serves 'im right, jumpin' a lil' troll like me."

Making his way back to Silvermoon, the troll hurried to the closest mailing facility and sent off three letters.


My dear Shadowy Ghant,

I have it on good authority that the warlock in suspicion indeed has access to Vos'Arryn, and plans to dispose of him on the morrow. Please send word to Khaell and his elven lackey that a suitable place of ambush would be where I have marked on this map. Killing or apprehending the subjects would serve the same purpose.

Please include payment in your reply.

-- The Bandit

My dear Council of Lords,

I have become friendly with your City and Citizens of late, and thought a matter of importance might need to be brought up at your next meeting, pertaining to the situation of a certain Alin Vos'Arryn. You will understand that I deal in information, and I have happened upon some that I am sure the Council will find helpful. If admitted to your session, I will happily relate more.

I remain, most sincerely, your friendly Orgrimmar bandit,

Ille Latro

My dear Baron,

I have turned up some information on the matter of Alin Vos'Arryn. It is of great importance that I meet with you early tomorrow, before the meeting of the Council in Silvermoon.

--The Bandit

Sending off his letters, the bandit whistled a tune as he went to go chat with the auctioneers.

[Skafloc]

The sun was already high in the sky when Skafloc pulled himself out of bed and made ready for the day. Nymare lay semi-covered in the rumbled bedsheets, her bare chest rising and falling in easy rhythm. She looked peaceful.

It had been a difficult night. Their first real argument since their whirlwind relationship started. He loved her dearly, so much so that the thought of what she was considering pursuing still left a cold chill on his soul. It was not so much the path she revealed she was taking that bothered him, it was the possible end consequence of that action should tragedy befall her in some unforeseen future. An oath she would have to take, one that carried an ominous implication .

They had argued long into the night over it. Both feeling the other’s pain, yet stubbornly holding onto their own position. At least it was settled, for the most part. They returned home and spent the majority of the night passionately making up for the fight .

Still, as Skafloc went through his morning workout at the far end of the room, he knew that inside he had made his own vow to himself. His own personal oath. One that overrode any oath demanded by outside agencies.

“ Loyalty beyond death,” thought Skafloc as he hauled himself up and down his chin up bar. There was no mistaking what they meant by that. let them just try to carry that out.. not while blood courses through my veins and there is breath in my body.

A sheen of sweat covered his naked torso as he increased his exertions, working off his deep anxieties. He needed to be clear headed today. For in a short while he would be standing before he High Council, playing his next move in the great chess game their life has become.

Diomades would be waiting in town for him. As would the new player in the game. He had read the note when they arrived home in the night, written in the characteristic script of the Bandit. Skafloc was fairly certain the troll to also be present in town this day. He had is instructions to carry out in any case.

Finishing his workout, Skafloc grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his brow. A sound at the door brought him around. A scraping. Skafloc opened the door to permit the entrance of Aeacus, freshly home from his nightly training sessions. The ghostsaber slid into the room soundlessly, phasing in and out of this reality as he crossed the distance to the bed and hauled himself up to lay at Nymare’s feet.

Seeing he was there Skafloc left for the baths. He had an hour or so before he needed to depart for the city.

A good bath and his best official uniform waited him.

[Darkweald]

On a tree branch outside the Cindersong Estate, a squirrel chittered.

[Kelse]

Kelse couldnt sleep. She hadnt slept all night, and now as the sun shown through her window there was no way she could now. She quietly got out of her bed and slipped on her snow leapord, furry boots and coat. She proceeded to tiptoe out of the house glancing in her daughter's room to make sure she was still sleeping. Once outside, she took off down the snow covered trail. As the wind whipped past her face she smiled for the first time in eight days. Her breathing instantly turned into a whisp of smoke and disappeared. Kelse looked up to see the familiar sight of dwarven architecture. Ironforge always amazed her. She climbed up onto a hill and sat in the snow seeming to disappear due to her coat.

A dwarven priest walked by. Kelse just hid. "Thats not the one I want" A night elf rogue ran by two daggers in his hands. "Patience Kelse," she told herself.

A rabbit hopped by. This rabbit stopped to stare at her. Kelse winked at the rabbit and it went on its way. Kelse smirked, "Why do you even bother Alin?" Kelse stood and turned to face a cloaked figure.

"Still on top of your game I see Kelse," came the reply. The figure pulled out four arrows, made of gold, and handed them to her. "I believe these are yours."

Kelse frowns. She had made these arrows. Made them from the gold Alin had given her for a job a long time ago. "Four arrows. I only need one."

The figure merely nods. "One for each. There are four people now. And you will be paid in accordance. Four times as much as before."

Kelse shakes her head and pushes the arrows back toward 'Alin'. "No. Get someone else to do your dirty work. I am done with you."

"Do you think they truely like you? Do you think anyone truely likes you? No. They dont. Why are you hiding here Kelse? Is it because you cant stand to be emotionally beaten every time Nym looks at you? The hate Skafloc has toward you? You have the power to make it stop. No one likes you Kelse. No one ever will. Ive seen you sit on the mountains here and kill countless enemies that walk by. That is what gives you pleasure. Killing. You were made to kill things. Kill things that hate you. Kill things that despise you. That look down on you. Make your pain stop. They will never love you."

Each word made Kelse want to vomit. With each sentance Kelse fell deeper into the twisted truth this figure told her. Numbness crawled over her body like the plague. Kelse stood there stunned. "...Alin... Y..You are right. No! You cant be right!!" Kelse ran as fast as she could back to her house.

She fell into a lump on her bed. Keelee licked the back of neck. Kelse looked up at her big cat. Keelee purred. Kelse just turned over on her side and closes her eyes just to think. Nym... Oh Nym... Why do you scorn me? You make me believe that you are my friend but is that the truth? Kelse's face turns red with anger. No! Its not! You will never be my friend. And you know to much! You know of my daughter! You will harm her! You will use her to get back at me! I cant let that happen! Kelse opens her eyes now covered with darkness and looks on her bedstand. Four golden arrows lay there with a note on top of them saying, "I think Silvermoon City is a good place to start today."

[Kelse]

"Mommy?"

Kelse looks down the hall of her house. "Yes dear? Are you cold? Do you need another yetti fur blanket?"

Velsas grogily wanders into the room and wipes the sleep out of her eyes. "No, I was just wondering what you are doing up so early in the morning."

Kelse looks at her daughter who looks back at her. "Your eyes are dark again Mom. Who are you going to kill this time? I hope someone is paying you very well. We are running out of food, and our clothes are becoming worn."

Kelse squirms a bit as her eyes return to their normal hue. Her daughter would not like the job she had taken, but they needed money. Being in alliance owned lands had been tougher than Kelse had anticipated. Especially with the freezing cold temperatures. There were no vendors around save the few shady dealers that sell at such exorbitant prices that her finances were quickly depleted. "Oh just your average criminals. And yes, we are being paid very well." Kelse smiles half heartedly knowing that she had just lied to her daughter. Or had she? Nym was to dangerous whit the knowledge she had. Skafloc... Well if Skafloc knew she had a daughter he would surely kill Velsas. The other two? Well, its better to be safe than sorry isnt it? One would sell information to anyone with the highest price. And the last? The last one she would enjoy killing. Alin knew that the only way Kelse would off the first two would be to pay her for two more deaths of her choosing. The only condition was that she had to kill them in a specified order.

Velsas smiled at her mother and snuggled up close. Kelse put her arm around her and sighed. Why does peace come at such a price? Oh well. "Velsas, I must be going. I dont have much time. I will be back soon. I promise."

Velsas nods. She stands to let her mother get up. "Can you do me a huge favor sweety?" Velsas nods again saying, "Anything." Kelse hands her daughter the four golden arrows. "Use the forge and anvil I showed you up on the mountain by those trolls. Make these into bullets. Momma needs them for work." Velsas grins and nods eagerly, going to her room to change into something warmer for her trip outdoors. Kelse watches her go. She finally pulls on her bags and armor, and starts outside, her eyes once again consumed by darkness...

[Skafloc]

Skafloc sat in the high backed chair with his name plate on the back. On either side of him were the two empty chairs designated for House deStrazsa to his left, and the large chair of Duke Nex’Cruor to his right. Before him the assembled Lords of the Sin’Dorei High Council were either sitting in their own assigned chairs around the large ironwood table, or were slowly filtering into the chambers, alone or in small discussion groups. Along the back wall of the large circular gilded meeting chamber was the row of secondary chairs where staffers, spectators and invited guests sat. He strained to catch a glimpse of Diomades and Illelatro, but as yet they had not arrived.

” Patience, they will show..” he thought. Not that it was a show stopper. He was determined to go through with the plan in any case.

Scanning the high backed chairs he took note of who was in attendance. Blackhold,… Daystar…. Hawkbrand… He didn’t see the tell tale blonde mane of Villayna deSinisca as of yet, but there was still time.

High Lord Faolian Dawnstar entered the chamber wearing his ceremonial robes and took his customary seat as the Chair of the Council. In his hands were the stacks of papers bearing the official agenda, and his gavel of oak inlaid with glowing mithril script. Once seated, the various groups of lordlngs and staffers broke up and went to their either their assigned chairs at the table or one of the back row of spectator chairs. The arcane guardians which served as bailiffs and guards took up their positions at the four points of the compass in the room. Another took up position at the main door to herald the arrival of stragglers.

Faolian scanned the assembled Council and stuck his gavel three times to signal the start of the meeting.

“ We stand assembled as Lords of the High Council on this day, to discuss and to deliberate. All praise and honor to Kael’ Thas. All honor to the Sin’Dorei. All honor the memory of the Sunwell. “

All heads bowed in the ritual minute of silence to commemorate the Sunwell. As Skafloc bowed his head, his mind was working. The words of the High Lord brought to mind the minions of Kael’Thas he had encountered in Outland. How many of the assembled Lords were in full knowledge of what was being done beyond the Portal? Where did all the loyalties lie? To Skafloc’s mind the Council chamber reeked of deceit, corruption and betrayal. The sooner this was taken care of, the sooner he could return home to bathe the smell out of his skin and hair.

Faolian stuck his gavel once more to signal the end of the minute of silence and the start of the meeting.

“ The secretaries will now pass out the official agenda for today;s meeting. We will commence with a reading of the minutes of the last assembly, followed by a review of old business outstanding. New items shall be discussed in order, and time permitting new issues can be tabled at the end. Are there any questions before we read the minutes? “

Skafloc rose from his chair and cleared his throat. “ My Lords, Chairman Faolian, I request a Point of Order. “

A few mumbled voices drifted over the table. Faolian struck his gavel. “ The Chair recognizes Baron Skafloc Ran’Deau, who speaks for his house and the houses of the former Triumvirate. Continue Baron.”

“ Chairman, assembled Lords and Ladies, I ask for a change of Order to the agenda to allow me to present information of dire importance to the Council. It is new information regarding the ongoing investigation to the disappearance of Baronet Alin Vos’Arryn. I feel this is of import enough to warrant a special departure from the written agenda and the tables items for discussion. “

The murmur rose in volume to become a mix of discussion. Voices of surprise, interest and a few snickers were overheard drifting across the table. Faolian stuck his gavel once more.

“ Your request has been heard. The Council will vote. A show of hands, all in favor of hearing this report from Baron Ran’Deau at this time . “ Skafloc scanned the assembly as hands here and there rose in vote. The secretaries made the count.

“ All in favor of relegating this to New Items at the end and adhering to the agenda? “ Again hands rose here and there. The count was tallies and whispered to the Chair.

“ The Council had voted. You may proceed Baron with your presentation….. “

Skafloc nodded. Looking around the room he saw still no sign of Diomades and Illelatro.

“ My friends, I have been in receipt of some startling revelations from a private investigation into Alin Vos’Arryn’s disappearance that will shed much light on his disturbing absence. This information paints a picture of revenge, jealousy and the use of fel magics against the family of a Lord of the Council. Much of it is circumstantial, I will admit, however it is by and far enough to warrant an immediate dispatch of armed authorites. The disappearance of Alin Vos’ Arryn is directly related to his dark designs of violence and revenge against my own wife, Nymare Sunfire Ran’Deau. “

All eyes were on him. The voices rose in talk here and there. Now would be a good time for Diomades and the Bandit to show up..

[Lasair]

Lasair Daystar leaned back and stretched out his legs, repressing any outward sign of pain. By the end of the session his joints would be throbbing from sitting in the hard chair for so long. He knew he still cut an impressive figure despite his advanced age that displayed itself in the deep lines around his eyes and sunken cheeks. Not may Sin’dorei lived so long, a simple fact that often brought respect from those wise enough to recognize their betters.

Resting both his hands on the crystal handle of his bloodwood cane, Lasair carefully scanned the room, marking who was present and who was absent, counting his allies and foes and those neutral to his interests. It was more reflex then anything else, as Lasair had no particular concern for any of the matters laid out in the agenda for the day.

As the High Lord called the session to order, Lasair noted the rarely seen Baron Skafloc Ran’Deau was in attendance. Lasair considered the man one of the many landed gentry with delusions of grandeur, little more then a farmer with a token title, grubbing around in the dirt for grapes or some such thing.

Still, for some reason Lasair’s young nephew Visant had suggested that cultivating a relationship with the newly titled Baron might be advantageous. While he did not see any real benefit from such a relationship Lasair had given the boy permission to do so. While Visant might be a slut like his mother, his intuition was usually quite accurate.

Now the Baron was rising and requesting a change in the agenda. Curious, he claimed to have information about the missing Baronet Alin Vos’Arryn. That was not really much of a surprise, as almost every Lord present knew of the man’s obsession with the Baron Ran’Deau’s new wife. What was surprising was the fact that the Baron would come here and broach the subject directly.

Despite his interest Lasair kept his expression neutral, almost bored as he gestured with one hand towards the secretaries to resister his approval to change the order of the agenda. The man probably did not have much of importance to say, but Lasair decided it would give him a chance to study the Baron and it might make for good entertainment if nothing else.

Settling back once again, Lasair stroked his goatee with one hand, waiting for the Baron to continue.

[Chikt]

Diomades had not forgot about his needing to be there for Skafloc to speak before the council, but matters recently had got insane. The Grim and Sanctuary were on the brink of breaking alliances over a child, people were turning up from his past that he had thought were long gone and out of his life. It had all been piling up on top of his other investigations. The newest being to do with the Vaedrins. But that wasn't important right now, this was his chance to get his name out there and end an investigation once and for all.

Running quickly through Silvermoon, he had a large, paper-filled file under his arm and his hat under the other. Reaching a hand out, he grabbed a lamp post in Murder Row and swung himself around the corner. Running through the central district, he came to a stop as he reached the doors to the council. Pushing them open and walking inside, he was quickly stopped by guards. It took only a moment for Diomades to flash his papers with his name and reason to be there before they let him past.

He just hoped he wasn't late.

Heading in the direction they pointed him in, he came to two large doors. Pushing past them, he blinked slightly and tugged at his collar as he found himself in the main council chamber. He couldn't help but feel slightly out of place, a Tauren in a Blood Elven council. It was no matter. His proof would speak, and he had the respect of the Sin'Dorei. They would hear him out and the evidence would speak for itself.

Scanning the room for just a moment, it didn't take long before he noticed Skafloc standing, just finishing a statement it seemed. Chattering began in response to whatever had been said. He couldn't help but be glad he hadn't arrived earlier, lest he bought more attention to himself. At least now he was walking in while the attention was elsewhere.

Letting out a sigh and relaxing, Dio brushed over his black mageweave vest before straightening his sleaves and walking proudly to Skafloc. Tall enough to see over the Hunters head, he kept his file and hat gripped in his arms and decided to keep his mouth shut until spoken to.

The moment of truth... here we go.

[Skafloc]

Skafloc was about to continue when he saw the large doors to the chamber open to admit a large, looming figure. The arcane guardian at the door turned to face the newcomer, barring the path until a flash of official documentation later it stepped aside to allow free entry.

" My Lords and Ladies," said Skafloc, changing his planned speech on the fly. " It was the result of hard work and intuitive investation on the part of an independent agent that brought these issues to light. That agent felt the threat to my wife and to myself was sufficient enough that he came to me with the findings."

Skafloc paused to take a sip of water from the glass placed before his station. The figure stood just to the side of the entrance, hat in hand and a large file of documents tucked under his arm.

"After listening to his tale, I knew there was only one course of action to take. The security and safety of a ranking member of the Council's family was at stake. Indeed the very integrity of the Council itself at risk as one of its junior members was in serious breech of the Law. "

Skafloc motioned to the figure to approach.

" I could tell you the details of what was revealed to me, but I thought it best that this august body hear the words from the one who cracked this case himself."

" My Lords, Ladies, I present to you Diomades Riverthorn. Independent Private Investigator and friend to the Sin'Dorei."

Skafloc motioned to the tauren. All eyes turned to regard him as Diomades took the floor.

[Chikt]

All eyes were on him.

Diomades couldn't help but swallow heavily at the sudden turn of attention to him, but decided not to let his concerns cloud his judgement. Stepping forward, he dropped the large file upon the wooden table with a loud thud, bowing at the hip respectfully before speaking up.

"Lords and Ladies of the court, I believe the evidence I have here today will weave for you a solid tale of a terrible plan dictated by one Alin Vos'arryn against Nymare Ran'Deau."

He paused a moment as the crowds chattering suddenly started up once more, opening the file and pulling out a photograph of Nymare, he held it up for the court to see.

"Nymare, an honorable, strong woman and loyal wife to Skafloc Ran'Deau, was complaining of a very serious case of memory loss. I heard about this in local circles and considered it at first simply a rumor. Investigating matters further, however, it became clear that what I head heard was very, very real. Nymare Ran'Deau had gone to bed in the Ran'Deau home, only to "wake up" several hours later on, fully clothed and armored, on the main road through Felwood. Even in the most serious cases of sleepwalking, a person does not armor themselves and find themselves out in Felwood. I think you will agree travel from the Eastern Kingdoms to Kalimdor is not something one does in their sleep."

Placing the photo back into the file, Dio pulled out the transcript of the spirit walk he had done with Nymare, as well as the small blood sample he'd taken from her.

"I decided to contact Mister and Misses Ran'Deau and explained to them the possibilities of the situation. Namely, mind control. We agreed-"

Cut off, chattering elevated once more in the court before the chairman settled down the audience with a yell for order.

"We agreed upon a time to meet, and a place-Felwood. It was my hope that whatever lost memory Nymare had would show itself once more simply by retracing her steps. However, that was not the case. Misses Ran'deau described the moments of her waking up as 'foggy'. Like the sun slowly rising on a pitch black night. This is curious because when one wakes up they simply open their eyes. There is no fade from black. Coming to a conclusion, I decided a necessary action was what us Shaman call a 'Spirit Walk'."

Diomades tapped the transcript in his hand with the back of his palm.

"Many of the Farstrider Rangers in this court will know what a spirit walk is like, as they do much the same thing with their chosen animal companions. A person is put in a relaxed, dream-like state and their spirit is asked to leave the body for communication. The reason for this was that a spirit cannot forget like the body can. So Nymare's spirit would know her location. However, to my horror, there was a fel taint on Nymare's spirit, residue of mind control, that forced her spirit to fail to cooperate!"

The chamber burst into chatter again and Diomades held up the blood sample.

"Many of the magisters in this room will likely be wondering why I bought something with a faint fel Aura with me here today. This, Lords and Ladies, is just further proof. I hold in my hand a small sample of Nymare Ran'Deau's blood. The taint upon it is obvious. Fel energy is often used to control, energise and even mutate simple creatures. The fel taint in Nymare Ran'Deau's blood is, thankfully, fairly minimal. But it is still enough to force cooperation in her when the person that put the taint upon her to begin with takes control. It was there that Skafloc and Nymare informed me of Alin Vos'arryn. And he was my next line of investigation."

Watching the court silently as it once more burst into chattering, he couldn't help but smile. Whatever the case, he was getting the reaction from the crowd that he had hoped for.

[Chairman Dawnstar]

The gavel crashing against the oaken plank made a startling and unforgivable rift through the chatter, which died down with swift obedience. Faolian Dawnstar looked out across the small sea of nobles and pettymen that had gathered for what was quickly turning into a shameful debacle of a meeting.

"We will have order or we will continue this session in private!" he announced sternly. "Baliff, collect that transcript and that blood sample. A few simple tests should reveal whether or not it does actually belong to the Baroness Ran'Deau as well as when the sample was possibly taken -- but Mr. Riverhorn, I would like to remind you that a fel taint can be established in a great many ways. She was in Felwood that morning, afterall."

Pleased at the continuum of silence as the baliff collected the transcript and blood sample, Faolian relaxed back into his seat somewhat and took in the crowd on his own, noting who was and was not present to witness the tale which was about to unfold. It was, perhaps, not the wisest of things to reveal such personal matters before a pit of ravening wolves such as these - many nobles having suggested that the new Baron, himself, had come for Vos'Arryn in the night. A silent factioning had begun along with all manner of bets and theories, over what might have happened and what should happen, which was ever the case when a group of bored nobles is involved.

"I would also like to remind you, Mr. Riverhorn, as well as the rest of the Council," Faolian began again, "that Baronet Vos'Arryn's home was found in disarray, with his own blood... as well as a few teeth... very clearly established at the crime scene."

Leaning forward, Chairman Dawnstar motioned another baliff to his side.

"Bring me a copy of our Baron Ran'Deau's letter to the council, as well as the file on Vos'Arryn case - our Councilmen and women may appreciate a quick refresher on the facts of the matter as collected by our own specialists," he requested and then turned his attention fully back to the Tauren Shaman turned Private Investigator before him. "You may proceed, Mr. Riverhorn."

[Chikt]

Diomades bowed his head. The blood and teeth at the Vos'Arryn's home was news to him. He may have known otherwise had he been able to get in, but the magical wards-and physical ones-prevented anything of the sort. He'd have to work with what he had. This was a huge bluff and an extreme change of plans, but he kept a straight face and a professional aura.

"That is true, Chairman. And that is where the story became more interesting. During my continued investigations, I learnt from the Ran'Deaus that Alin Vos'Arryn would have special-made potions delivered to him. So I decided to stake out his home. It was when the deliveries of his potions began stacking up and were not picked up that I began to think the worse. I was then, later on, directed to one Evanthe Cindersong. I have been unable to track her down to speak with her. However..."

Dio reached into his folder, pulling out two profiles. One on Alin, and another on Evanthe.

"Alin Vos'Arryn has clashed with Nymare Ran'Deau in past, and has the motive to bring this taint down upon Nymare. However, he does not have the know-how to control it. It seems likely to me that there is a hired, third party in this matter that he contacted to seek revenge upon Nymare. Controling a person through such a taint is a simple matter, and not beyond a competent soul, even if they are unexperienced in magic. It was soon after Alin's disappearance that Nymare stopped having blackouts and memory loss."

Holding up Evanthe's profile for the crowd to see, he continued.

"Evanthe Cindersong. Has clashed with both the Ran'Deaus in past and has good reason to seek vengance upon the both of them. It seems likely that Evanthe Cindersong, being a Warlock and hearing in local circles of Nymare's problem, abducted Alin Vos'Arryn to use for her own purposes. With the blood and teeth at his home, it seems likely that Alin would have not been in a good state. And Evanthe would need time to work out the functions of the taint and how to use it for herself. Evanthe Cindersong has not been heard from ever since Alin Vos'Arryn disappeared."

Placing the profiles back down, Diomades placed his hands upon the table.

"But as recently as last week, Nymare Ran'Deau had another blackout! This lends weight to the possibility that either Alin is back and once again expressing control over Nymare Ran'Deau, with or without Evanthe's knowledge, or Evanthe herself has unlocked the secret to how this taint functions and plans to use it against both the Ran'Deau's!"

Getting the expected ruckus from the crowd, Diomades smiled inside. Time to put the last nail in the coffin.

"I believe this... conspiracy must be hastily dealt with, before we have more cases like Nymare's running around, and the good people of Silvermoon are put in grave danger. Nymare may well be only an experiment, but imagine if other nobility or even council members were to be struck by this mind controller? We cannot risk peoples safety within their city or their homes like this! Not with the Scourge on our doorstep, the Alliance seeking to slaughter our families. If we do not deal with inside threats quickly and decisively, how do we deal with the ones OUTside?"

Reaching into his folder, Diomades pulled out one final item. A map of the Ran'Deau estate, paths of the patrols that were set up before Nymare was controlled.

"This is a map. A map of the estate that Skafloc and Nymare Ran'Deau live in. The red lines are patrols that take place day and night. The security around the Ran'Deau estate is extremely capable. NOBODY is safe from the people behind this atrocious invasion of rights and privacy. It may start as a quest for revenge, but how long until they strike again? And again? At random and simply for power? I ask the council that for the safety of my client and his wife that actions be taken to prevent this from escalating or happening to anybody else."

Bowing his head, Diomades pushed all the items into the file. It contained other items, but he felt no need to pull them out.

"The documents of my investigation are free for the councils perusal, Chairman."

[Mortica]

Dentley sat quietly in his chair and watched as the turn of events unfolded. His notebook held secrets that pointed to truths and half-truths he had made since the disappearance of the baronet. Rumors, facts, each documented with a precise and educated estimate of it's relevance.

He hoped Baroness deSinisca would show. He worried about her, his affection more closely similar to that of a doting uncle than of a servant. Her lands flourished under his care, but he was concerned that if she did not maintain enough presence in the game of Houses that she could lose her title at the whim of a bored noble who found her pawn in his way.

Her interest in the deStrasza lands had kept her playing the game of Houses, but with each return from Draenor, he could tell that the war was dousing her desire for such petty schemes. It would seem in the face of true evil her priorities had shifted.

Dentley smiled. Her father would be extremely proud of her if he were still around.

http://tn.yzeens.com/images/dentley.jpg

[Nymare]

The Ruins of Lordaeron were as quiet as the grave once more. Nymare stood alone atop the westerly stairway overlooking the carnage that remained in the courtyard below. She would have smiled in satisfaction had her face not hurt so badly. Her face, her arms, her back - everything hurt - and she was bleeding from... somewhere... more than one place, more than likely, but it was difficult to tell. All she knew for certain, now that the attackers had gone, was that the scent of fresh blood was keen and sweet over the smell of death and it belonged to her.

This is how it should be done. Balance is an illusion, but this... this is real, she mused painfully to herself as she brought a bloodied hand up before her eyes. The vital fluid was not so fluid now. It was cooling, congealing and becoming sticky as it did so, constricting and pulling at the skin of her fingers as she wiggled them around. This is the price I pay, and this is the peace I get... for they will never stop, and neither will I. I have earned my peace for tonight.

The Sin'Dorei let her hand fall and resumed clutching her side... not so much to keep the wound closed as to keep the pain in. The moment she stopped feeling the pain, she knew, was the moment that the wound was serious. Regardless, she fully planned on tracking down someone to tend to her, but, for the moment, she felt more like resting and just enjoying the simple act of breathing without some dwarf charging at her. Leaning against a ruined stone column, she let herself slide to a seat against the flagstone, a mess of gore-covered blonde hair falling across her fel eyes.

If only politics were so efficient, she groaned inwardly as she turned her eyes to the ever-weeping sky, letting the cool, heavy mist kiss her cheeks. It had been well over a month since the case was presented to the Council of Silvermoon and still the matter remained in deliberation. The system had failed, and having made the case open, it was now impossible for her personal contacts to make too many inquiries into the matter without drawing attention. No one had seen or heard from Evanthe since then, as far as Nymare knew, which could only mean a handful of things.

As long as either that whorelock or Alin were still alive, however, she could not rest. She needed to know what was behind the walls of the Cindersong estate. Her tethered soul demanded payment... vengeance.

But how?

With a sigh of resignation, Nymare turned her face from the sky to glance down at the body that lay next to her. It was human, or that was her guess. Unfortunately, this one had been the nourishment of at least five ravenous Forsaken. It now lacked most of what used to be it's face, the meaty part of the cheeks, lips and chin all gnawed away to reveal death's eternal grin. The dislodged jaw only added to it's disfigurement, one side ripped clean from it's joint. She gazed into the white, unblinking eyes with indifference, wondering who this one was... but something else caught her attention, a small movement within the darkness of the poor creature's mouth.

"What the fel?!" Nymare blurted out in alarm, followed by a curse in Thalassian as she tried to scramble back from the body. Already, her hand was away from her side and reaching for her axe, fully prepared to hack the bastard's head off just to make sure it stayed dead. However, instead of seeing the body animate as she expected, she watched as two long, thin chitinous legs emerged over the remnants of the jaw's lower teeth. Delicately, the rest of the black and red spider crawled it's way out of the corpse's mangled maw, a small bit of tongue meat glistening in it's mandibles. The alarm that she had felt only moments earlier was quickly replaced by a flash of inspiration. She wasted no time.

Mana crackled crisply in the thick, damp air, jumping from Nymare's fingertips to the spider.

Hello my new little pet, the magic whispered to the helpless spider as a perfectly deviant grin broke across the Sin'Dorei's blood-smeared lips. She needed to find Khaell and Malorii for a quick consultation on a matter or two, and then she would be set. She was disappointed that she had not thought of this sooner.

"I think I will call you Vengeance, my sweet," Nymare cooed as she picked herself up, the spider perched contentedly atop her knuckles as she held it up to the ghostly green lamp light to give it a better inspection. "Yes... You shall be my Vengeance."