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Everything posted by Syreena

  1. Peace No Longer

    Syreena watched Symorick as he showed some signs of life, or at least animation. Would it work? He had been a Paladin in life, and she had always thought that Paladins had some protection from things like this. Malkaris did mention that it would make this more difficult. But the Paladin had also been infested with fel, so the Light had failed him at least one point. Maybe the fel had left him corrupted enough that this would work. She studied him, waiting for him to wake up with an equal mixture of anticipation and concern. If this worked, would it be as planned? Would Symorick be docile and obedient as promised, or would he be as dangerous to her in undeath as he was in life? Or maybe he’d be completely mad after being dead for so long, his mind twisted beyond functioning. She could only wait and see, and hope that Malkaris’s skill in necromancy was as good as he claimed. She had no reason to doubt him, really. Although the Grim warlocks were notoriously untrustworthy and self-serving, most of them were also quite skilled at their job. Finally, Symorick suddenly let out a hacking cough and tried to move, fighting to get his joints to work. “And here I was thinking whatever it was wouldn’t work,” Qabian said with a smirk as his attention was drawn to the stirring corpse. “Then I would have had to kill Malkaris,” Syreena answered mildly, without taking her gaze from Symorick. “Necromancy, while not my favorite bag of toys to play with, is the one I’m most proficient in,” Malkaris argued. The ritual had obviously taken its toll on the warlock though. He seemed a bit wobbly on his feet, and his skin was a much paler shade of elf. “If you ever need a new dog, Qabian….” The mage shuddered. “I had one. Once was enough.” Symorick groaned, trying to open his eyes. “What…what is going on?” Syreena crouched over him, urging him to wake up and making sure her patchwork stitched face filled his field of vision before he managed to get his eyes open. “Do you remember me?” “How could I forget your gorgeous face,” he coughed, recognizing her unmistakable visage even through the changes it had undergone since he’d last seen her. Qabian glanced between Syreena and Symorick with a look of confusion. “You broke it,” he stage-whispered to Malkaris, who was confused as well, but also intrigued. “I’m not that out of practice….I think.” Malkaris used his reality ripping staff of destruction and mayhem as a leaning post, clearly tired from what he’d pulled off here. “Good. Because you are mine now,” Syreena informed Symorick. “And as you and your Professor once tried to make me kill my own people, so now you will hunt yours.” “As you wish,” the dead man responded automatically. A look of frustration grew on his face. He carefully examined his body. “What am I? What have you done to me?” “You’re dead, or I guess…undead. Just like a Forsaken.” “And I am to obey you?” “Without question,” Syreena confirmed. “If you resist, you’ll be filled with horrible pain.” She gave Malkaris a brief nod as he wearily took his leave. “And what if I were to try and kill you?” Symorick inquired. “You can’t. You missed your chance to torture and kill me years ago. You don’t get to do it now. You’re bound to me now.” Syreena grinned cruelly. “Now it’s my turn to torture you.” “You know nothing of torture,” Symorick stated. He actually laughed at her. “Then you will teach me,” she informed him. “Using yourself as the subject.” “I thought this was torture?” “Is it? How does it feel? A former Paladin, Scarlet…now you’re Forsaken.” “It…I feel like I lost something,” he admitted. “I can no longer hear the Light’s call.” “Good.” Syreena didn’t tell him she intended for him to be reacquainted with the Light again very soon. “You will hunt and kill Alliance every day. And once a day, you’ll report to the Grim guild hall to tell me how many you’ve killed.” Symorick nodded, but Syreena continued. “All Alliance. None are spared. Especially not the Aegis or the Empire, should you see any of them.” “That was easy,” Qabian said with a smirk at the new undead. Symorick looked at the elf, seeming to just notice him there. Syreena saw the look and issued further orders. “No hunting, hurting, or killing any Grim. Or any Horde, for that matter…except Sanctuary.” “I have lost everything twice in my life—friends family, and the Light," Symorick told her. "I need not a third chance, but I feel compelled…” “I don’t care what you lost,” Syreena hissed at him hatefully. “I nearly lost myself because of you and your friends.” “My ‘friends’ left me to die in the hands of demons. There is no love there any longer.” “Here’s a secret,” Qabian said with amusement. “There never was any.” “is that why you had so much fel in you…” Syreena mused. “I was possessed by some dreadlord, a passenger in my own body.” “I feel sorry for the dreadlord.” Syreena sneered. “I imagine he is dead, if I was buried, so I do too,” Symorick said. “A shame I had no hand in it.” “I’m glad it killed you.” Syreena thought a moment, then added, “Though I also regret it wasn’t me that killed you.” “Is that why you didn’t leave it in the ground?” Qabian asked. Syreena didn’t answer him, but thought sometimes the elf was too perceptive for his own good. “The Alliance heads will be yours, Syreena," Symorick promised. "Please do leave the method to me. I prefer to make it last. It has been quite a long time since I have tortured anyone.” “Do as you please with the Alliance. And with Sanctuary, if you catch any of them. Just save any elf ears for me.” “Of course,” Symorick said with a chuckle. “If this fails, and he leads some charge of filth to our doorstep, we kill Malkaris?” Qabian suggested to Syreena. The rogue considered and then nodded; the warlock would be a suitable scapegoat should this go badly. “How long have I been dead?” Symorick asked. Syreena pointed to the dates on the gravestone. “Geo is dead too, and I have the Shard.” Syreena briefly considered giving the Shard to Symorick, not even knowing that the girl once tried to use her influence to put Syreena herself into the former Inquisitor’s hands. “He was a fool, blind and careless,” Symorick said of Geo. “The others are smart and will be well hidden.” “That’s what they always think,” Qabian said. “If you ever find them, kill Morg quick if you want, but Marrus….. Make him suffer a slow and horrible death.” Bitterness laced her tone as she spoke of the professor. “Well, get to work. Unless Qabian has further business with you. I have work to do.” “Risky business, taking an enemy out of the ground. But I did it once, and she never did turn,” Qabian said to Syreena when she bid him goodnight. She made a mental note to ask him about that later. Then the mage turned to the undead man. “Go kill them all.” As Syreena took her leave, part of her was pleased to have a new tool for the Mandate that seemed to eager to kill her enemies. Another part of her felt cheated out of seeing him suffer. She'd expected him to hate his new self, or resist killing his former guildmates. Well, there were other ways to make him suffer, she assured herself.
  2. Peace No Longer

    The previous afternoon, Syreena had run out of grave moss while working on an alchemy project. She’d already harvested what was in the Andorhal graveyard, but the moss didn’t grow anywhere in abundance, not even in graveyards, and Andorhal did not provide enough of the stuff to meet the needs of her project. Now, shortly after midnight, she searched for moss in the cemetery of the Scarlet Monastery. Although she was on her guard, she moved with ease. What little that might remain of the fanatical organization here were mostly asleep inside, and she was not disturbed as she pulled moss from tree trunks and gravestones in the moonlight. As she reached for a bit of the fuzzy plant from one headstone, however, her hand paused inches from the stone, and her head tilted to the side as she stared at the carved words before her, her expression suddenly grown cold with hatred. Symorick O. Tyrrell Paladin of the Light ~He burned brightest so we did not have to~ The date on the stone indicated that the man died just before the Legion invasions started. “I’m not even going to feel bad about what Sym’s going to do to you,” a smug human voice echoed in her mind. It was followed by an elven voice, laden with the usual arrogance along with something that might have been awe. “Ah…The famed Scarlet Inquisitor.” Her memories of that time had been scrambled, erased, retrieved, and repaired with varying degrees of success. But the Forsaken were a willful race, and with great effort, she could recall some of the details of her time spent as a prisoner of the Alliance. Now, as she stared with mounting rage at the name before her, she heard the Inquisitor’s own voice, cold and hard and lacking any empathy. “The next time I see you, I will not be so kind.” “Well, here I am, you fellin’, torturing, monster of the Light,” Syreena growled. “And there you are.” Although she was not actually tortured or questioned by the dead man that lay under the stone she was crouched in front of, the threat of him was used often against her during her imprisonment. The threat alone was effective though, especially after meeting him one night there. He towered over her, so she was face to face with a Scarlet tabard worn over a shirt that still bore the red splatter marks of his recent work. “See something you like?” he asked when he noticed her staring at the tabard. “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” she replied simply, minding her tongue. She knew firsthand what Scarlet Inquisitors were capable of, and this one could wield the Light. In the graveyard, Syreena muttered to herself. “Two down, three to go.” And one of those three was indirectly under her influence, even if she couldn’t outright kill her right now. She gripped and regripped her daggers in agitation. It pleased her to know yet another of her tormentors was dead. She wondered how he died. She hoped it was a horrible, painful death, and she was disappointed that she didn’t get to see it. Now, he lay at rest in a peaceful cemetery, under a tree with moonlight filtering down to his grave. She felt cheated. The man was dead, true, but her desire for vengeance on him was left unfulfilled. Or was it? Her eyes narrowed, a telltale sign that the little rogue’s brain was working. After some time had passed, a slow grin twisted her patchwork face and bared her filed pointy teeth as she stood up. “Paladin of the Light, Inquisitor of the Crusade, Doctor of the Aegis,” she crooned wickedly. “You will rest in peace no longer.” Satisfied with her idea, she made her way out of the cemetery and headed for Brill to put her plan into motion.
  3. Peace No Longer

    THUNK! Khorvis grunted as the shovel hit something solid through the wet dirt. It had started raining, a light drizzle but with the promise of heavier downfall to come. “Here do be your stiff, Shadowblade. Felmancer.” Malkaris, who had been planning out his ritual, peered into the hole and let out a small laugh. “Weeell then.” “What’s funny?” Syreena asked. Malkaris scratched his head. “He’s uh….” “He’s dead?” Syreena suggested, suddenly wondering at the warlock’s soundness of mind. “Energetically confused,” Malkaris corrected. “I can feel faint traces of two opposing energies in what’s left of him. There were faint whispers of how the Ebon Blade tried to raise a powerful paladin, and how it failed, so I’ve heard along the grapevine. He’s no paragon of the Light or whatever, but there is Fel, and lots of it mixed up in that holy soup of his. How much is this worth to you?” By that question, Syreena got the feeling this may be more dangerous than she expected. She also didn’t care. She wasn’t giving up her chance at revenge on one of the Alliance involved in holding her captive a couple years ago. “It’s worth it. No backing out now. I want him.” Malkaris gave her a look that was part concern and part curiosity, as if she were a crazy person and he wondered what she would do next. “Good,” he said as he tossed her fingernail aside. “I’ll need something stronger. More substantial.” “Like what?” Syreena asked, frowning. “That’s up to you. But if you want control of this thing we’ll be raising, it needs a direct link to you. I assume you’ll want this creature to be capable of its own thought, but bound to your will, yes?” “Yes,” she confirmed with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I want him to remember what he was.” As the little rogue searched her person for something, after firmly refusing to let Malkaris take one of her few remaining memories of the man they were trying to raise, Malkaris turned his attention to Khorvis, who had been communing with the earthen spirits of Tirisfal. “Khorvis, tell me…when you commune with the spirits, do they ever ask anything of you?” Khorvis reached out with the fury of his spirit while responding to the felmancer. “Aye, there do always be conflict. But we Grim do not relent.” The coffin suddenly splintered, and the roiling earth dragged the human up out of the hole, along with everything else he was buried with. Syreena gathered several items that were tossed up from the grave and slipped them into her pack. Then she frowned in thought and held something up to Malkaris. “Would this work?” She held up a pale purple gem, given to her by Lomani some time ago. “A friend gave this to me. She said this kind of stone is good for soothing the soul. I keep it with me always. Will it work?” Malkaris looked at the purple gem curiously. “That’ll do perfectly actually.” Syreena tossed him the gem, though with obvious reluctance. He rolled it about in his palm, his look thoughtful. “Yes….yes, this will work well.” Khorvis crossed his arms, letting the rain soak through his leathers. The storm above paled in comparison to the turbulence he felt concerning this strange ritual. Malkaris threw some poultices into a green fel fire he had started under the tree, and pulled out a sharp knife. He looked over the corpse trying to see what parts were sturdy and which parts were…decidedly not. After a brief moment, he jabbed the knife into the corpse, just below the navel. Content with the depth, he took the gem and stuck his hand in with it. His arm moved about a little as he fit the gem to the coccyx. Khorvis retreated a step, keeping a sharp lookout for…whatever his imagination may have been conjuring. Once content with the stone’s placement, Malkaris withdrew his hand and waved it through the felfire again. “This will be your anchor,” the warlock explained to Syreena. “Your will will be his will….when you choose it to be, in any case.” Khorvis grimaced and threw his shield to the ground. He rubbed his forearm, as if it were burned. His shield was icy cold. “And if the gem is ever cut out of him?” Syreena asked. “Will I lose control of him then?” “Possibly,” Malkaris said as he pulled some other tools out. “This will ensure obedience, but like most abused animals, it will take time before he realizes he has a will of his own, in the event that does happen. You’ll uh…wanna make sure that doesn’t happen.” He flashed both of his companions a smile before etching runes of necromancy into the corpse, each one lighting up with baleful light before fading, looking like nothing more than scarification. “Hush, human. Your spirit has a home in the cage of pain, hm?” Malkaris was hushing someone that probably wasn’t even there. Maybe. Khorvis growled, his tusks flashing in the crackle of the sky’s lightning display. “I have seen enough. Raise your plaything, Shadowblade. I do know this game too well to wish to see the ending.” The old orc shook his head and drifted away, heralded by spirit wolves on an astral tide. Malkaris complained that Khorvis would miss the best part. Syreena watched him leave, knowing she would probably hear about this later, but for now, she put her concerns aside to focus on the ritual. Malkaris was talking about her dropping some blood over where he placed the gem. She took the knife he offered her, and sliced open her palm. Making a fist over Symorick’s belly, she forced a few drops of blood to fall over where the gem was. “He will kill Alliance, as he once healed them,” Syreena said, staring at the corpse as her blood soaked into him. “He will torture the humans, as he once tortured the undead.” “That’s for sure,” Malkaris agreed. “This creature is going to be a nightmare.” Continuing the ritual, Malkaris placed his palm on the corpse’s forehead and growled an incantation in his native birth tongue, the elven words coming out somehow darker and more savage than one would expect from a silky elven language. The words gained pace, and his own spectral form was wreathed in darkness, wisp light, and sorrow. “Don’t struggle now, little child. The Light will not save you from this.” As he murmured to the corpse, he dug one of his fingers into its left eye socket, teasing out the man’s soul by pushing it out, like a pimple, with his own energies. He extended a hand to Syreena. “This may get a little weird, but I need you to grasp my hand.” “I think this means we’re dating,” he teased, after she closed her fingers around his. Before any protest, he drew on some of the energy of what remained of her soul, and directed it into the corpse, establishing a bond between the gem, the dead, and the master. The corpse convulsed as it began to awaken, groaning faintly, as if from a long distance as his soul was drawn back into its new pain chamber. Malkaris removed his hands from Symorick’s body and stood up, patting himself off and then kicking dirt onto the fel campfire. Syreena wiped her hands on her leggings and watched the waking body. “It’s done?” “When it finally rises, it’s up to you how you want it to see the world. Loss, hope…that’s on you. It will know it lost something. It will start to remember somewhat. You can direct it. Just….don’t direct it at me. Also! Our souls touched slightly. Don’t be surprised if you start having dreams involving my childhood or whatever.” “What?” Syreena asked sharply. But the warlock only gave her a wide grin. Qabian had arrived at some point during the ritual, but had remained quietly observant until it was obvious the deed was done. “Mischief, I assume?” the elf asked as he stalked up to the pair. “Oh. You know,” Malkaris answered. “A little bit of light necromancy. Raising dead people. Making soul puppets. The usual.” Malkaris went on with Syreena about the things she might see because of their brief connection during the ritual. She was not pleased. “Everything has a price,” he informed her. “Reminding me why I don’t mess with…” Qabian motioned at the ground between the two of them, where the corpse still lay unmoving. “…that.” “It was a rare opportunity I couldn’t pass up,” Syreena said. “I’m sure.” Malkaris and Qabian bickered a bit, but Syreena ignored them. She was focused on the waking corpse, waiting to play with her new “puppet” as Qabian referred to it.
  4. Peace No Longer

    “Malkaris, report to the Inquisitor’s office. Now.” Syreena’s voice over the hearthstone carried a sense of urgency and authority not often heard from the little rogue. She was pacing behind her desk when the warlock arrived. Despite her impatience, she resisted the urge to just drag him with her to the Monastery and order him to do what she wanted. After all, this wasn’t a typical Grim task she was about to ask him for. Instead, she thanked him for coming and told him she needed a favor. Malkaris raised a brow curiously and there was a playful twinge at the corner of his mouth. “I see by your look, you’re willing to listen to it.” “I’m all ears,” the elf said. And with that, he pulled out a pouch containing a few elf ears. “Qabian wanted me to give that to you, by the way.” For once, Syreena was more interested in the task at hand than in adding to her collection of ears, so she got straight to the point. “If I remember correctly, you have some skills in…making the dead live again.” The warlock stiffened slightly, glancing around unconsciously but slowly, but his curiosity deepened, and his smile widened. “I’ve been known to dabble….” “What is your success rate?” the Shadowblade asked him. “Depends on the task. What would you like me to do?” Syreena arched a brow, feeling her impatience rising again. “Isn’t it obvious?” Malkaris grinned and shrugged. “Well. There’s m ore to the art than just making dead things walk or do a dance. There are requirements, depending. Do you want whatever it is that you’re looking to raise to feel? To remember figments, not enough to know, but enough to torment?” “Oh, I definitely want to torment,” she confirmed. A frost gale blustered through to the office. The tinkle of bone chimes resounded with the sound of footsteps. Syreena looked up and nodded to Khorvis. “Lasher,” she said in the way of greeting. Malkaris also nodded to the orc. “Shadowblade,” he grunted, with a mix of admiration and vitriol. Syreena and Malkaris continued the conversation, going over details. Then Khorvis, having watched the two concoct their plot with an obvious air of distaste, spoke up. “That does sound like something unnatural to me, felmancer. Of whom the fel do you speak?” But it was Syreena who answered. “Symorick Tyrrell. I found his grave. Will you help us dig him up?” “Let me be clear,” Khorvis answered, as he stroked the twin braids of his beard. “I do not know who the fel you still speak of. Will this aid the Mandate?” Although Syreena was disappointed that Khorvis didn’t remember the name, she answered confidently. “Yes. He will kill many Alliance.” Malkaris looked between the two. “For the record, I don’t particularly care if it does or not. It’ll be nice to raise a corpse or two for a change.” Khorvis stomped to his feet. “Fine. Even after so many years here on Azeroth, my Common still do be the stuff of hellboar shit. Tyrrell sounds like a name we may have crossed. I will find a shovel.” Khorvis went off to find a shovel, and the other two left the office as well, still talking details. “Can you do anything to make him be my pet and do whatever I say?” she asked. “That I can,” the warlock answered. “But if you want absolute obedience, I need something of you. A piece of you—a memory, body part, something with meaning…” He pointed at her one remaining ear. “No,” she said quickly. He held up his hands in a “don’t stab the messenger” fashion. “Necromancy ever has been an art of give and take. The more you give, or…borrow, the more you can take.” The little rogue bit off a chunk of a fingernail and gave it to Malkaris. “That do?” Khorvis returned with a shovel. “Where do be the grave of this Tyrrell?” “The Scarlet Monestary cemetery.” “Shall we then?” Malkaris suggested, and the three departed to go gravedigging.
  5. The small farm outside of Andorhal was coming along nicely. Syreena was pleased with the progress she was making on the herb gardens, and the workers were scheduled to start tomorrow on digging out a room under the barn for her alchemy lab. As she tended her growing herb garden, she paused to look over her land. Finally, after so many years of living in sewers and tents and inns and the guild hall, the little rogue had finally decided to buy her own place with some of the vast amounts of gold she’d accumulated over the years through various means, most of them questionable if not outright illegal. It was peaceful here, she thought, and although peaceful wasn’t normally her preferred atmosphere, it was a nice change of pace at times. It was especially welcome at her own home when she was working on her personal projects. Just as she was musing about how much progress she could make in her alchemy projects, she heard a strange tearing noise nearby and turned to see what it was. A dark purple portal was opening just a few yards away. A man stepped through the void portal, wearing dark leathers, light hair and facial hair, and a black eyepatch. One of his arms was made of an odd metal now, but Syreena’s undead flesh crawled as she recognized Geodorik Deepwater, the halfling of few words who seemed to oversee security for Eternal Aegis when she was a prisoner there. Her memories of that time were still fuzzy and incomplete, despite all attempts to remedy that, but she did have broken and distorted recollections of Geo’s hands on her as he bound her wrists behind her back, or tied her legs together so she couldn’t run, or shoved her into a cell. Now, judging by the look in his eye and the pistol in his hand, he was here for only one reason, and he wasn’t planning to wait to see it through. Armed with only a garden trowel in her hand, Syreena didn’t hesitate. She threw the little spade at Geo’s face, which was just enough distraction to jolt the revolver’s aim away from her head. She grunted as the bullet pierced her stomach instead, flowing right through her leather armor as if it weren’t even there, but at least that wouldn’t kill her there. Neither rogue wasted any energy on words. Syreena did not bother with asking why he was here, or trying to taunt him with insults, or attempting to intimidate him with threats. Though details were fuzzy, she knew without question that he was all business when dealing with her, thorough, and more than competent. As he raised the revolver for a second shot, Syreena was already in motion, rocking back on one heel to kick her other foot at Geo’s wrist. She felt the impact all the way to her hip, but the gun went sailing through the air. With the pistol gone, Geo drew two swords. As Syreena spun away, she pulled three small throwing knives from slots on her chest armor and flung them at him with deadly precision. He was quick with his swords though, and managed to deflect one of the blades. Another stuck in his armor and did no harm. The third blade, however, landed in the exposed flesh of his living arm. Syreena saw the reassuring sight of crimson blood running down his forearm as she drew two long daggers from her belt. Geo barely winced as he yanked the blade from his arm. Blood sprayed in an arc with the movement. The two stared at each other, and as one, moved in, both raising their blades for attack. Geo had the reach with the swords, but one of his arms was injured, and Syreena quickly took advantage of that, striking that arm again and again until it was near useless to the halfling. Her success did not come without a cost, however. One of her own arms was missing a chunk of flesh, her torso was pierced and sliced, and now Geo had her effectively pinned against the stone wall of the house. His demonsteel arm was raised, ready to pummel her head. He knew that was the only way to do permanent damage to a Forsaken. She ducked at the last second though, and his mechanical fist went through the wall, damaging the arm at the wrist in the process. Geo raised his sword and brought it down at Syreena’s neck, in a strike meant to decapitate the Forsaken. Her own dagger, however, had found its way under his chest piece and pierced the skin there, taking the momentum out of his swing just as it cut through the skin of her neck. Syreena thought this wound to her neck felt different somehow, but she would deal with that later. “I told you I would kill you someday,” Syreena hissed at him. In truth, she couldn’t remember saying such a thing to him, but it sounded like something she would say. Her golden glowing eyes were fixed on his face as she drove the dagger deeper up under his armor, and the tip of the blade went through his heart. This was something she would not forget. She studied him like that for a few minutes before pulling her weapon from his chest. She sheathed one dagger, but kept the other in hand, just in case of...anything. Going through Geo’s armor and pockets, she took any coins she found, as well as any other items that looked useful. The wrist of the mechanical arm was severely damaged after going through the stone wall. She was certain that house was severely damaged as well, but right now, she was more interested in the Eternal Aegis man that lay dead before her. “One down, four to go,” she said softly to herself. She finally put her dagger away and picked up one of Geo’s swords. She lifted it high and brought it down with all her strength at the weak point in the demonsteel wrist. After several tries, the blade finally cut through all the metal and the hand was free for her to take as a trophy. With the hand safely tucked into her armor, she moved to cut off Geo’s head, thinking she was way overdue in sending presents to Marrus and the rest of the Aegis. Before she had the chance to collect his head though, purple flames engulfed the body. The body was quickly consumed by the flames. When the void flames finally died out, nothing remained on the ground except a dark purple burn patch on the ground. Syreena reached up to scratch the side of her neck where Geo had cut her. She was no stranger to a variety of injuries, but this felt different. It was itchy, and, although she couldn’t see it, the color of the wound matched the purple of the patch on the ground. ((Story by Geodorik and Syreena))
  6. Wanted Lore Master

    Zarja! I remember you!
  7. [H] The Grim

    Update.... The Grim raid team has cleared Heroic Tomb and will be starting Normal Antorus when it opens on Tuesday. The PVP team is renewing its efforts to get enough people for a Rated BG team, and continues to run battlegrounds for fun and Honor in the meantime. The Inquisitors are planning a variety of fun events to start next month and occur at least twice a month. Current officers on Twisting Nether: Awatu-TN, Qabian-TN, Syreena-TN, Anaie-TN, Esrythalon-TN, Lupinum-TN Current officers on Wyrmrest Accord: Qabian-WrA, Syreenaa-WrA
  8. Hallow's End Party (Horde)

    ((Starts at 7:00 TN/RH server time. All Horde RPers are invited. Please pretend your character doesn't recognize anyone by sight who is in costume. The auction will be first. Characters won't know who they're bidding on. (But players will.) Proceeds will pay for the costume contest prizes, and future event prizes. The "date" doesn't have to be a date; it can be just a social visit, or the buyer can try to make their "date" do a job for them, etc.--be creative! The costume contest may be broken up into categories (scariest, funniest, etc.) depending on the number of participants. A few characters not competing will be asked to judge the contest. Costumes can be transmogs or just costume items equipped, no restrictions.))
  9. Hallow's End Party (Horde)

    On the Eve of Hallow's End, a Masquerade auction and costume contest was held in the Brill Cemetary. After a session of spooky storytelling, a costumed auction was held. People were "sold" to spend a day with the highest bidder. Jaina (Qabian) was sold to Scree (Tahz) for 1000 gold. Mr. Pumpkinhead (Borghul) was sold to Jaina (Qabian) for 2000 gold. The Dark Knight (Mystery Elf) was sold to Lady Pumpkin (Syreena) for 600 gold. The Terrible Thief (James Riley) was sold to the Dark Knight (Mystery Elf) for 300 gold. Scree (Tahz) was sold to Mr. Pumpkinhead (Borghul) for 400 gold. The Stars (Araun) was sold to Jaina (Qabian) for 500 gold. The gold from the sales was put toward the prize for the costume contest. The winner for the costume contest was a tie between Qabian "Jaina" Grimfire (also now known as "Coconuts") and Tahzani "The Sha" Tallfisher (also now known as "Scree"). THANK YOU to all who participated!
  10. A Rogue's Diary

    10.19.17 Well, I never heard anything more about stealing any rare spellbooks or Borghul planning anything. Maybe the note was just a practical joke from someone? The guard at Dragonsroost Port is still alive and well. I still take him cookies every now and then to try out a new concoction, or just to get the news there. It seems their base was recently attacked by gnomes who were intent on killing Cobrak. Can’t say I blame them, but it’s still a bit comical to picture little gnomes attacking the Borrowed Time base to try to kill that grumpy orc. The guard has come to look forward to my visits, and cookies, I think. He even invited me on a mission to a haunted house to look for treasure, though his elf partner doesn’t seem too thrilled about having me along. Qabian caught the girl and gave her to me. I gave her to Baal’themar, as a gift since he made me that pretty elf-skin suit a while back. I’m sure he’ll make a pretty project out of her in his basement before he kills her. I’ll go out and see in a few days, just how pretty her human insides are. As payback, I recommended Qabian for the position of High Inquisitor when I was asked for my opinion. Nevermind that I would have recommended him anyway, even if I didn’t owe him a favor. He’s the only Grim who seems to care about doing anything other than fighting demons these days. But if I can use this recommendation as payment for the favor I owed him, then I’m fine with being in the clear. Unfortunately, immediately after, he named me as his assistant. I couldn’t very well refuse after the Commander had just punched Qabian in the face for being flippant about the position and serving the Mandate. So now it’s back to doing paperwork and babysitting Supplicants. It’s not all bad though. I can make applicants being me presents, and make Supplicants to my bidding, and watch their reactions when Awatu tells them never to kneel after I’ve instructed them to always kneel to show respect to Grim officers. I’m not thrilled about answering to an elf, but at least it’s Qabian. He’s not that bad. I went with Karthok’s soldiers and ransacked an Alliance base. I got a strange book from the office there. The cover feels like flesh and looks like it has tattoos on it. It’s called “The Twilight Canticle.” I didn’t give it to the soldiers I was with, or the annoying ogre who went with us. Karthok would probably want it if he knew I had it, but he doesn’t. I wonder if the book is worth anything, and to who.
  11. A Rogue's Diary

    I found this diary today when I was looking through my bank boxes for any sweets leftover from Hallow's End. Emmons gave it to me a long time ago, and I always kept it. Cessily isn't a Grim anymore. Devries told me that last night. I was killing birds in Sethekk Halls, so I pretended I was busy so he wouldn't realize I didn't care. I told him I'd ask about it later, but then he told me that Las kicked her out. I don't know why she got kicked out, but I'm glad. I should care probably. Cessily was a Grim rogue, so maybe I should have tried to take better care of her. All I can think of though when I think of her, is that guild meeting in Nagrand when I had to watch Grog get shot full of Muatah's arrows, all over trouble she caused. I wanted to help, to make them stop, but I couldn't, and it was all Cessily's fault. Now she's not Grim anymore. Now she's not protected by the mandate. I don't like the elves. I wish they'd go back to wherever they came from. I wish Las would have let us eat them when they first came to us. I wish she'd kick them all out of the Grim. They are always fighting and arguing over silly things, and they're bossy. They're all prissy and pretty and frilly. Even the boys. They think they're important and better than the rest of us, but a lot of them are dumb. And I hate their city. It's too big and fancy. I always get lost there, and the guards are always snobby to me when I ask for directions. I hope the Scourge take it over and kill all the elves. Then we can go kill all the Scourge there, and the elves and Scourge would both be gone! Then the Grim can go back to the way it used to be, before the elves came.
  12. Old RP Thread Restoration?

    Links to posts from the old TNG forum usually don't work anymore. Try searching for the threads if you come across another broken link. I found these two with just a simple search in Nether Legends. Required Lies: Nourishment For The Fallen:
  13. [H] The Grim

    In the interest of expanding the population of roleplayers we have the opportunity to play with, The Grim has recently opened a branch of the guild on the Wyrmrest Accord server. The Grim is still one guild, with one website & forums, one Mumble server, one Discord, one raid team, and one PVP team. However, some of its members may reside on Wyrmrest Accord now instead of Twisting Nether/Ravenholdt. Current Grim members are welcome to put an alt in the WrA branch of the guild as a Minion (simply write a Letter of Intent, as usual), or they can create a duplicate of their character on WrA who will be the same rank as the TN/RH character. New members will all follow the existing application process, regardless of whether they reside on TN/RH or WrA. The Grim is always open to new recruits. We do currently have open spots on both the raid team and the PVP team. If you’re interested, please visit, and in particular, the links in the “JOINING US” menu on the home page. Peace through annihilation! Current Officers: Awatu-TN, Kiannis-TN, Lupinum-TN, Anaie-TN, Acherontia-TN, Esrythalon-TN
  14. A Rogue's Diary

    8.3.17 So much has happened these past few months. I’m still helping Karthok with his plans to destroy Sanctuary. Since my last encounter with Lazarus, I’ve had Iroh deliver him a pie, along with a beating. But then I’ve been thinking. Maybe straight out violence isn’t the best way to deal with them. There are many more of them than there are of me. I have the feeling I should be playing the long game with them instead, at least until I find out if Karthok’s plans will be successful. Hopefully, he won’t let me down. So far, I’ve stolen some relics from Silithus for him, and I killed an elf in Suramar. Both were easy jobs, but I’m not sure why they were important to him. He doesn’t let me in on his plans. He doesn’t talk much to me at all anymore. He said he will destroy Sanctuary. Others say what he’s doing will destroy the whole world. Oh well. If that happens, at least Sanctuary and all the Alliance will be ended. Peace through annihilation. I haven’t been to the cabin much lately. I am as healed as I will ever be, so it was time to return to the Grim hall and resume my duties there. Besides, barbecues and quiet evenings aren’t really my thing. Sometimes I wonder if that’s what a real family would have been like. I still see many of them at the Cantina, and I may stop back now and then to visit, but my place is with the Grim. I’m still working on new potions and plagues. There’s an orc guard at the Borrowed Time gate I’ve been experimenting on. He doesn’t know it of course, but he’s an easy target. He likes cookies. He seems nice enough, but Fael crossed a line in how he spoke to me, and he failed in his task to find out what happened to Lucion. So I don’t feel any guilt in using one of his guards as a lab rat. I don’t know if word of my success with the relics in Silithus has gotten around somehow, or if it’s a coincidence, but I received a strange letter a few days ago about a similar job, but with a much more dangerous target. Qabian was listed as my contact, and he said Borghul was mentioned in a similar letter that he received. Is Borghul the one behind this? Is it him that wants these rare spellbooks? Because, given the history, I’m sure nothing could go wrong in giving such powerful items to a Grim warlock…..
  15. General Rogue Tips Pick Pocket Macros Pick Pocket with all openers for faster collection of Coins of Air. Example: #showtooltip Ambush /cast Pick Pocket /cast Ambush PVP Sap Macro Saps a PVP target in range. Can also be used to find other rogues/kitties and pull them from stealth if you spam it where another stealther might be. #showtooltip sap /cleartarget /targetenemyplayer /cast sap Tricks of the Trade Macro Puts tricks on a party member in the following order of priority: Target. If no target is selected, Focus. If no focus is selected, Target of Target. #showtooltip Tricks of the Trade /cast help][target=focus,help] [target=targettarget,help]Tricks of the Trade Weak Auras Import Strings - Outlaw Rogue Tips - For Leveling / World Quests Outlaw is my favorite spec to play this expansion for questing out in the world, and even some dungeon runs. However, for sustained single target DPS, as in raids, I can't get the numbers I can get with Assassination. So this post will focus on using Outlaw for quests, and it should work well enough in dungeons as well, especially on trash packs and bosses with adds. Artifact Weapon - The Dreadblades I usually work my way down to Greed for my first gold trait, then up to Blunderbuss, then Blurred Time. For relics, I go with the highest ilvl, and if I have a choice beyond that, I like the ones that have the Blade Dancer trait (Reduces the energy regeneration penalty of Blade Flurry.) Talents 1. Ghostly Strike is good damage, but I go with Swordmaster or Quick Draw, because I like passives when they're "close enough" to the active ability on the same tier. 2. Grappling Hook is one of my favorite talents in game. Use it to get to difficult places, or as a quick way to get a short distance ahead. Put it on your stealth bar! It is usable in stealth and does not break stealth. Acrobatic Strikes is recommended for more serious play, and Hit and Run is used for more damage if you have the legendary boots that benefit by increased run speed. 3. I like Vigor here, because I don't have to think about it too much, and the increased energy is great to start with. Deeper Stratagem is a favorite for more serious play, but you don't often need to get to six combo points on quest mobs. 4. Iron Stomach or Cheat Death. You don't have to think about either of them to benefit. With Elusiveness, it only helps you if you remember to press Feint when there's incoming damage. 5. Parley is like a longer Sap. I've never used it. Prey on the Weak does increased damage when your target is affected by certain spells, most of which break on damage, so I've never used it either. I go with Dirty Tricks for some energy-free spells. 6. Marked for Death is what I usually pick here, though Death from Above is fun for big numbers and closing gaps. On quest mobs and trash packs though, Marked for Death is usually a free five combo points on every mob, because the cooldown refreshes if you kill the mob within one minute of using it, which is nearly always. Fighting Easy Mobs (regular quest mobs, dungeon trash packs) 1. Start in stealth. 2. Ambush target (with Pick Pocket macro) 3. Run Through 4. Marked for Death 5. Run Through They're usually dead here, if not, just Saber Slash (or Pistol Shot when free ones proc) a few more times until you have enough combo points that you think one last Run Through will kill them. If it's a pack of easy mobs, or there are adds, activate Blade Flurry before step 1 above.... 6. Select next target. 7. Marked for Death 8 Run Through 9. If necessary, Saber Slash (or free Pistol Shots) a few times and Run Through until dead. Do not switch targets until dead, so Marked for Death refreshes. 10. For additional mobs, repeat from step 6. If you're taking damage from melee attacks, you can hit Riposte. Riposte lets you parry everything for a time, and strikes back at your attackers. If the attacks are magical, you can use Cloak of Shadows and interrupts (Gouge makes a good interrupt if Kick is on cooldown). If both are on cooldown, and you're taking a lot of damage, use Between the Eyes, Blind, Gouge, etc. to slow the incoming damage. If you're going to die, Vanish and run away. You can also Bribe a humanoid to help you fight for five minutes. Fighting Harder Mobs (rares, named mobs, bosses) 1. Start in stealth. 2. Cheap Shot or Ambush (with Pick Pocket macro) 3. Roll the Bones (doesn't really matter what buffs you get from it for questing and dungeons) 4. Marked for Death 5. Run Through 6. Curse of the Dreadblades and Adrenaline Rush 7. Saber Slash (or Pistol Shot if free) 8. Run Through 9. Repeat steps 7 & 8 until Curse of the Dreadblades buff expires 10. Saber Slash (or free Pistol Shots) to five combo points 11. Run Through 12. Repeat steps 10 & 11 until dead, using defensive cooldowns as needed, refreshing Roll the Bones when it drops off, and using cooldowns (Marked for Death, Curse of the Dreadblades, and Adrenaline Rush) as they become available again. If there are multiple mobs, activate Blade Flurry before starting, and use Marked for Death on each new mob if the cooldown has been refreshed. Once you get legendaries, some of them will change the way you play. There are pants that heal you when you use Feint, and several that may change your rotation or even talent choices.
  16. Flyers are posted around Horde cities and towns.
  17. Reminder! This Saturday! ((If anyone needs help getting an invitation, I'm happy to help you. Just let me know! Invitations are required to fight in the brawls, but anyone can come in and RP. ))
  18. In Search of a Ghost

    Sometimes, in the fleeting quiet moments between battles, when my mind is left to wander as it will, it takes me back to him. Those memories are still whole, untouched by the wicked sorcery of the human professor. At times, I am grateful that these most precious memories were spared. Other times, I think it would have been a mercy if they'd been taken or scrambled with so many others. I remember the first day I met him. That day was at least ten years ago. I was buying poison in Undercity when he approached the same vendor. He seemed to know him. They made small talk and joked with each other, while I was still waiting for my purchase. I got irritated with him, but he started talking and joking with me too, as if we were old friends. He soon had me laughing along with them, my irritation forgotten. I remember sparring outside the front gates of the Undercity until we were both beaten and bloodied. And then we’d spar some more, telling ourselves we were only trying to determine which of us was the better fighter. In truth, we both knew we were evenly matched, but we continued the fights for the sheer joy of combat and each other’s company. I remember hunting mages with him in Felwood, positioning ourselves carefully -- one to ambush the mage and the other to intercept after the inevitable blink. We made such a bloody sport of slaughtering the felcloth gatherers there. I remember sneaking through Stormwind Park together, collecting coins from the Elders, and murdering any Alliance who crossed our path. We’d laugh as we ran and hid from the guards, reveling in the bloodshed and the danger. I remember the quiet talks about fighting, about The Grim, about his guild, about our pasts, about anything and everything. They were secret talks. In those days, Grims did not have close relationships with non-Grims. It just did not happen. He also led his own guild. I met a few of them now and then, but I never got to know them very well. The time we spent together was most often private time shared by just the two of us. “Marry me,” he said one day during one of these talks. I had never before considered the possibility of marriage. What would I do with a husband? What would I do as a wife? I was Forsaken. I had once been dead and was now undead. I would never be able to give him children. I couldn’t even be with him as a wife should be with a husband, and I had no desire to be that way with anyone. I was also Grim. Grims did not often marry, and they never married outside the guild. There was no chance he would abandon his own guild to become Grim. He was too willful to ever take orders from another. “I can’t,” I answered quietly. “You’re not Grim.” I expected him to be disappointed, or angry, or insulted. Instead, he laughed his carefree laugh and said, “You are Grim through and through.” He disappeared sometime after that. I thought him lost forever, claimed by a final death, or some new adventure. Two years later, I would see him one more time. Eight years ago…… The Alliance had invaded Orgimmar again. They seemed determined to kill Thrall. I was part of a small unit of Grim aiding the defense. By the time we got there, most of the Alliance had already been killed or driven off. We helped kill the remaining Alliance as they fled. As the last stragglers were dealt with, something about one of the other Forsaken there caught my attention. He cut down a druid that was trying to sprint away in cat form. In my mind, memories stirred as I watched him move and fight. He was different though. His eyes were now a frosty blue instead of the glowing gold I remembered, his daggers were gone in favor of a large sword, and he wore plate instead of the usual supple leather. Still, I knew without a doubt it was him. “Lucion.” I breathed his name without thinking. Although it was barely a whisper, he looked at me then. After all the time that had passed, I felt nervous as I approached him. “Do you remember me?” “I remember I gave you a flower in Undercity. A lotus. I remember you wearing a black dress. You are all grown up now.” We talked the rest of the evening. It was like before, but it was also different. He told me some things about the time he’d been gone, but he didn’t remember everything. Something about a warlock, a crystal, and a priest with all the answers, and something about empowering the Forsaken, but he didn’t know any details. I was so happy he was back, and I vowed to help him find answers. I never saw him again.
  19. In Search of a Ghost

    Growing impatient with waiting, Syreena decided to call on Faelenor again to see if there was any news. Again, the undead horse and rider, both still clad in red and black armor, rode up to the gate. Syreena drew the mount to a halt several feet away from the gate and sat there quietly, just to see how long it would take to be noticed this time. " What is your business?" An elf called from the wall. An orc nearby already had his gun ready. Syreena looked up at the source of the voice. She also noticed the orc with the gun, but she doesn't seem surprised. It would seem strange to her to show up here and not have weapons pointed at her. She looked back to the elf. Out of habit, she allowed her gaze to rest on his ears for a moment before answering. "I'm selling cookies,” she called up to the guards. “How many boxes can I put you down for?" “Excuse me?” the elf asked. He did not sound interested in cookies. “What kind?” the orc asked. He did sound interested. Syreena ignored the elf and answered the orc. “What kind do you want?” “I like peanut butter.” “Shut up, Gruk,” the elf snapped. “Peanut butter. Got it. How about your pretty girlfriend there?” the little rogue asked, trying not to grin too broadly. “What kind does she like?” “Oh, aren’t you PRECIOUS,” the elf grumbled. “Don’t be fooled, undead. This is a man,” the orc informed her. “I have difficulty too.” “Shut. Up. Gruk!” the elf snapped irritably. “Well, in any case, he has pretty ears.” Syreena made horrid kissy faces at the elf. He looked a little unnerved by the comment, far more so by the kissy face that was all teeth. Syreena gave him a fake pout. “No cookies for you?” She let out a big, dramatic, and totally unnecessary sigh. “Fine. Then send a message to Faelenor that Syreena is here to see him.” Syreena waited quietly for a little while, but soon started fidgeting impatiently. After several minutes, she pulled some paper out of her pack and started folding it different directions. Finally, she tossed the paper zeppelin up toward the guards on the wall. “I got it!” Gruk shouted, reaching out and nearly backhanding his companion as he caught the little device and gently threw it back. Syreena caught it, and was about to throw it again when a noise caught her attention. Just beyond the outer part of the gate, a distance away from the encircling enclosure comes the soft sound of a roar as three large mana sabers approached. One carried atop it the hooded ranger, while the others rode at his flank. They made their presence known to the guards but slowed in their movement as their master saw the Forsaken rogue in all her cookie selling glory, black and red armor to match. He slowed and slid off the massive feline before waving off the guards. “Syreena. As per usual, an unexpected visit. And selling your blight this time no less. He raised an eyebrow and watched the small rogue carefully. “I advise you not try that nonsense here again. It would be bad for our business arrangement.” He whistled softly, and the cats moved toward the gate, laying down with their heads resting on their paws, ears flickering and tails swaying as they watched the exchange. “I take it you aren’t just here to peddle your poison in baked goods form?” Syreena watched the cats through narrowed eyes for another minute. Bones, her horse, snorted at them, but he was too well-trained and had too much experience to be skittish around the big predators. Syreena looked back at Faelenor, but unlike him, she did not dismount. If the felines decided to get feisty, she’d rather be ready to ride away quickly. Her look of wariness changed to one of amusement, and she spread her empty hands. “Relax, Ranger. I have no cookies today. I was just having some fun with your guards. I can make some for you if you’d like though. Cookies, cupcakes, pies….. I’m told they’re to die for.” She winked at him. “Poor choice of words aside, what brings you so unannounced to the port? I did warn that if you traveled this way without so much as a letter, you would be welcomed with swords and guns pointed your direction.” Fael crossed his arms and stared up at the little rogue, raised brow replaced by a smirk. “Surely you didn’t think our business arrangement needed monitoring?” Syreena shrugged, her amusement fading. “Monitoring…maybe not. But it has been a while since I gave you lots of money, and I stopped by to see what it’s bought me so far. Any progress in finding Razvaan?” "General progress on finding him has yielded very little result. The flight has been sent to span the lands of the shore, agents in each major point. The Legion is making the search difficult and I can't stay in Dalaran for too long without having other requests to take care of. Vy waits patiently for the chance to catch a trail and follow it but until we find something, there is little progress to be made." His head lowered to peer over the Forsaken steed, following the trail of energies that kept it animate. "Why did you doubt we would find him, and why pay if you knew it was going to be difficult?" Syreena listened closely to the update, then nodded. Although she looked disappointed, she did not complain or criticize. "I paid exactly because I knew it would be difficult. Probably too difficult for me to find him on my own, unless I got extremely lucky. More eyes looking for him would have a better chance. As long as he hasn't been killed or something already." She frowned at the last thought. “Anyway,” she added in her raspy voice. “I was just wondering if there was any news yet.” "On the front of finding Razvaan there is little news. Only that we have not found him. Leads are scarce and sightings are even more so. Admittedly my own attention has been divided by family affairs but they will not keep me much longer. I do not speak the same for any other agent." He gave a whistle to the guards and had them open the gates, all three mana sabers lazily making their way inside. "I will keep you updated regularly after things clear much as I hate to admit this, your case has proven difficult at best." Syreena looked at the gate as she heard it opening. Seeing it was only the cats going in and no threat coming out, she turned back to Fael with a crooked grin. “If it was easy, anyone could do it.” Her brow furrowed as she thought for a moment. "Hm....let me know if I can be of any help in clearing up your other things so you can focus on this sooner. I would expect a discount on this job though if I do." She grinned again and picked up her reins, sensing the meeting was coming to an end. Her expression turned playful, if such a thing were possible on such a hideous face. "Did you want to place an order for any cookies before I go?" "And here i thought you wanted me to finish the job," He replied with his own smirk. "How could I possibly do that if I suddenly become ill and unable to perform my tasks." He waved off her offer, looking up at her with a bit of caution. "I don't want you to assume that this makes us friendly...but you've kept to yourself and haven't hurt anyone I know as of let’s try to keep it like that!" All humor fell from her at his reminder of how things were between her and him, and all of his guild. She nodded curtly. "Don't worry, ranger. I'll never make the mistake of thinking any of the purple people or their allies will ever be friendly with me." Laying the rein against Bones's neck and squeezing her legs against his side causes the horse to turn away from the gate and start walking. "I'll be waiting for your update." He watched the shift in her expression, studying the way she collapses for a moment before pulling herself back into a more stoic professionalism. "Our ideals are not the problem...but then again, you know that as well as I." Fael leaned on the open gate and watched as the rogue took her leave. "I will send a raven with news of any changes." She nodded again, with nothing more than politeness. "I'll be waiting." Leaning forward slightly in her saddle, she lifted her feet and thumped them against Bones's ribs, sending him into a gallop as she rode away.
  20. In Search of a Ghost

    Torchlight peeked through the main gate of Borrowed Time’s port, giving emphasis to a lively set of guards that patrolled their nightly station. Like most of its crew, they enjoyed the peace the nocturne of the night offered, only having to ward off the occasional stray naga or dwarf that stumbled into view. Their chatter, although never loud enough to cause a stir from the night sleepers, was usually about nothing in particular, and that night was no different. "So I think I'm gonna go for it," the orc guard, Torgan, said. "Course ja are,mon. Dis be wot, da fort time ja gonna be goin for it?" Napo, the troll replied. “Napo, this time I mean it. She smiled at me so I know I have a chance!” “A smile, mon!? Ja be needin’ a bettah reason for da confidence!” “I'm gonna go for it! I don't care what you think,” Torgan insisted. “Whatcha gonna end up doin’ is gettin’ kicked out o da inn, Torgan!” Napo teased. "Ahem!” A raspy female voice called from below. "Do you think you have a chance if I smile at you?" The Shadowblade grinned wickedly, showing all the filed pointy teeth in her patchwork stitched face. As at her last visit here, she sat atop her horse. She waved at the guards, tilting her head and offering a wink that was meant to look seductive, but probably only looked hideous in the macabre face. The guards’ attention turned swiftly to Syreena, and they drew their blades in surprise. They looked her once over, and Napo broke out into laughter. "Torgan, nows ja chance tah test ja self." The orc grunted as he sheathed the blade and punched the troll over the shoulder. "Not funny, Napo. How about you call Chief Rayfeather and let him know--" "Don't strain yourself, gentlemen." The ranger's voice came from below them on the opposite side, having snuck up on them as Syreena had. They jumped and drew their weapons again only to let out a sigh as the sheathed them once more. "Chief Rayfeadah...ja gotta stop doin' dat, mon! Ring a bell or somethin' so we be knowin' ja around." Fael raised a brow and waved a hand in his acknowledgement, having them open the gate for him. "Do your jobs and maybe it wouldn't happen so often." He smirked up at them as the gate opened. Faelenor stepped through to meet with the little Forsaken rogue clad in red and black. "Like I said...things go smoother when your presence is expected." Torgan gave Syreena one more look before shuddering as he walked back to his station, now speaking in hushed tones. "Not even a little bit, Napo." The little rogue watched the guards in amusement at their reactions. She made kissy faces at them as they walked away. "See you later, boys!" The traces of a grin remained as she turned her attention to Faelenor and nodded a polite greeting before sliding down from her horse to land lightly on the ground. "Evening," she said, glancing behind him. "No snobby partner tonight?" Fael closed his eyes for a moment, sighing at the mention of the huntress. "No, she decided to take care of a few things before we started in the morning. Honestly, I wanted to avoid another pointless confrontation between the two of you. She will get job done and be professional about it, but as for facing with clients it’s probably for the best that she no longer interacts with them." After a quick study of the rogue he moved closer and spoke out in a nonchalant tone. "Everything will proceed as discussed, given you've come to fulfill your end of the contract. I say that only because I wouldn't blame you for terminating our negotiation." Syreena leaned against her horse and crossed her arms over her chest as she listened. Then, she turned and opened one of the bags hanging on Bones's saddle. "Well....I do wonder why you choose to work with her. You seem pretty level headed, and she's...." she scowled and waved her hand in a frivolous motion. "....not. Elves like her are the reason I started my collection." Syreena grinned faintly, allowing her gaze to travel to Fael's ears for a moment, before she started rummaging around in the saddle bag. "Anyway, promise you won't let her be rude to Razvaan, and we're still on. I wouldn't want him to be unwilling to speak with us, just because of an elf who can't get over her high opinion of herself." "Her being there was a personal choice. Why it was made is my own concern. Regardless of her stance I need the skill set she provides. Especially since we are hunting blind. She is an exceptional tracker and I couldn't think of a better qualified individual that didn't have a personal vendetta against you. To that same notion, it's people like you that justify her perception. You've no place to point fingers, Sy." He raised a hand and the orc guard made his way down to them. "As for Vy,” Faelenor continued, “She promised professionalism. With the contract signed, you've got my reassurance that no harm will come to any of them. What little you left with us will need to be supplemented with our own methodology. So, are we doing business?" "Yeah, sure, we're doing business," she answered, but she was clearly distracted by the approaching orc. She eyed him up and down, her brow furrowing. Briefly, she touched one of the daggers at her hip, as if for reassurance, but she didn’t let her hand linger on it long. "Who's your friend?" "Someone other than myself needs to count and safely store the payment. I make it a habit never to let it be myself when I'm working a job for the flight," Fael explained. Torgan gave another grunt as he waited for the Forsaken woman to relinquish the bags, eyeing the shine of the coin with a slight lust as the ranger spoke again. "With the offer accepted we can continue as planned. If you come across any other details you may have forgotten or you wish for us to stop our search, send message to us here. We will get it." Syreena narrowed her eyes distrustfully at the orc, looking between the two men for a moment. Finally, she held the bags out toward the orc, and leaned in to whisper quietly to him. "If you skim off it, then tell him I was short, I'll get my smile up close and personal with some very sensitive parts." She snapped her teeth audibly on air, then leaned back with a sweet smile to show off her pointy teeth. The orc shuddered, hand reaching down protectively over his sensitive parts as he stared at the maw of sharpened teeth. "I like my junk, thank you very little." With the sack in hand he made his way back past the gate entrance. Letting the smile fade, she stared at the orc’s back as he left, and then she turned back to Faelenor. "The other half after you've found Razvaan. If you find him." Fael shook his head, sighing at her antagonization, as if he hadn't expected it. "Those are your terms and we intend to stick by them. You've read over our contract and we've made every effort to ensure your conditions have been met. Now we simply do the job. Consider the flight and its resources yours for the purpose of this mission." He gave a customary bow, an age-old tradition from the looks of it, and held his hands out in a questioning fashion. "Until such time, we are allies by necessity. I will keep in contact with you as I can. Is there anything else you need while here? If not then our contract has started." "Allies by necessity.....," she repeated, and then shook her head. "No, nothing else I need. I look forward to hearing from you." After a polite nod, she turned back to Bones and mounted up, pulling the reins to turn him away from the gate. "Tread carefully, Syreena..." He turned to move back into the port, gates promptly closing behind him. The troll guard moved back to his watch of the gate, keeping his attention of the undead rider until she could not be seen in the night.
  21. In Search of a Ghost

    The missive arrived to the Grim's base, carried by a large raven that sat at the mailbox until its recipient would come to claim it. How it knew who it's recipient was, was a different matter entirely, but when Syreena emerged from the guild hall, eating Silvermoon Steak on a Stick, and followed by her two favorite pets, the raven stirred. It flew from the mailbox to perch on her shoulder, pecking lightly at her pauldron before delivering its missive to her. The wax seal that adorned it depicted a raven whose wingspan was spread to show its majesty. The Shadowblade took the letter and held the stick of meat toward the bird. “Hungry?” Then she broke the seal and read the letter. "Syreena, Your request has been reviewed and the contract has gone to one of The Ravenflight's operatives. The specifics of the contract and all else will be discussed and disclosed upon meeting with our Ravenflight associate. Location of the meeting will take place in the city of Dalaran per the agency's request. The Underbelly should be discreet enough for any and all manner of business. Be there when dusk falls." The missive ended abruptly and without further detail. Without warning and having no interest in the food offered the raven leapt off her shoulder and flew off. Syreena watched the bird fly away, then tossed a chunk of meat to each pet. Ber, the undead worg, swallowed his whole while the hydra’s three heads fought over their piece. "The Underbelly," she muttered to her pets. "That doesn't sound like a trap." Her tone was sarcastic, and she rolled her eyes. Then she sighed refolding the letter and sliding it into a hidden pocket in her armor. She didn’t really think it was likely to be a trap, but it was a definite possibility. She would go anyway. The chance to discover Lucion’s fate, and her curious nature itself, would compel her even as her suspicions warned her to be cautious. That evening, just before dusk, the little rogue was in the Underbelly. She perched on top of a stack of crates. When there were no guards nearby, she became unseen. She didn't want to get distracted by some eager fighter attacking her. When there were guards in sight, however, she was visible to anyone looking for her, wearing her usual black and red armor with daggers and other knives visible on her, as well as the bold Grim symbol on her tabard. The clatter of clashing blades and sizzle of stray bolts of magic were particularly exclusive to Dalaran’s underbelly. Most who came to do business in the darker parts were usually dealing in less than legal matters but there were still parts of the Underbelly were even the fighting didn't carry over. With the guards returned to their stations however, the calamity of it all seemed to die down until there were only the footsteps and voices of heavy traffic that remained. Clad in his mesh of leather and mail, the Lord Ranger approached his mark with a curious calm. He lowered his hood and let the pale of his blond hair fall down to his shoulders. The bow on his back and the blades on his hip were clear indicators of his precaution but it wasn't out of place in the Underbelly. "I hope the choice of location doesn't bother you terribly," he spoke out as he stood beside her. "I felt strange holding this meeting anywhere else. This felt appropriate for some strange reason." Before she could answer to his comment he motioned towards the bar on the dock and smirked. "I've an associate who will be joining us tonight. I told them to meet with us there. We can begin negotiations on the contract there if you don't mind." Down to business, no pleasantries needed giving after all. Syreena offered no comment about the location for the meeting. She would never admit to him that meeting in such a violent place, with someone who so obviously didn't like her, seemed suspicious. But he didn't seem to expect a response anyway. "Lead the way," she said agreeably in her raspy voice, as she slid smoothly from the crates. Seating was self-served and it seemed that Faelenor had a favorite table ready for their meeting. When they sat, the ranger glanced quickly around their surroundings before pulling the contract from his satchel. He placed it in front of her and allowed her to read over the details. "The most important thing within the contract is the terms of our agreed negotiation. You have offered the job, we have taken said job, and now you will be reimbursing us for it. Half in advance and the other upon completion. Should we fail to get the job done then you will be reimbursed in full. Should it be through negligence on your part that the mission fails then you agree to forgo the advance you have paid and terminate the contract. Other little details here and there but the biggest detail is the cost. As far as that is concerned I have estimated every expense on our end and have determined a final amount. It's at the end of the contract. Please let me know if it's reasonable." The serious expression on his face remained throughout his pitch until he spoke about the price. "Or if we need to negotiate assistance in helping you find a different mercenary group to hire." Syreena read through the contract, scanning some sections and reading others more closely. Her gaze rested on the final price for a moment, and a thought came to mind. She looked up at him, her head tilted curiously. "Would it cost this much even if it wasn't for me?" "It may seem a bit arrogant to charge so much for my services but that price comes with a sense of pride and reassurance. We certainly aren’t on friendly terms with one another and it may seem like that price was tailored for you but I am far more professional than that. So no, the price is definitely not based on who I am employed by, but because you asked for discretion where no one else would give it. Risk factors, resource management, and a few other items are taken into consideration when narrowing down a price." He crossed his arms and leaned back into his seat as he examined her expressions. "I have given you the option of walking away and finding someone else, but at the very least you have my own reassurance bound by my seal. The Ravenflight take their work seriously when a client is paying." "Okay," she said simply, seeming to accept his wordy answer. "And Razvaan won't be hurt, right? I don't want..." she trailed off, biting her bottom lip. She studied the ranger for a moment before finishing her sentence. "I don't want him to be hurt." "You set the boundaries of the contract and I will abide by them. The only reason I should ever need to harm anyone is if my own life is in danger. If Razvaan presents no immediate threat and this job is as clean as you claim it is, then the only reason I could think of for hurting if the job demanded it. In this case, it’s simply to seek him out and find him for you, am I correct?" "Yes, that's right," she confirmed. Her brow furrowed as she tries to remember something. "I don't think he'll be any threat to you. He's not violent without reason. Not from what I remember anyway. You don't need to keep my name secret from him, by the way. I was on good terms with them. If he remembers me, and how... If he remembers me, he should understand why he's being asked about Lucion." She flagged down a passing waitress and placed an order. Then she looked around curiously before turning back to Faelenor. "I thought you mentioned an associate meeting us here." As if on cue, a tall elf woman slid from around the corner, a smirk plastered across her blood red lips. "You give too much away... you care for this man. A mistake I hope you learn from in the future. You're lucky you chose the flight for your search. Many others would take advantage of that." Simple, tight black and green leathers hugged every curve of her body as she made her way over to the table, letting her fingertips lightly brush against Faelenor's back. The move was hidden from the rogue, though, before taking the seat at the apex between the two. The little rogue eyed the elf woman up and down. No expression on her face gave anything away about her reaction to the words. She didn't bother arguing it, but she didn't admit to it either. "Who are you?" Syreena demanded. "Vyriana, his associate you're so eager to meet." She tilted her head, eyebrow raising in a smug way. A hand casually flipped the long black hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back, gaze studying the little rogue in front of her. "So do we have a deal?" Syreena tilted her head as she regarded the elf woman, already not liking her one bit. "You were listening all that time? So you know my requests? Razvaan is not to be hurt, and nobody else needs to know I'm looking for him." Vyriana snorted, stifling a bigger laugh of derision. "For being a heralded member of The Grim you really are dense, aren't you?" The look she cast to the man at her side was filled with a haughty air. "Of course I know your requests, now would you like us to find your mark or not?" Vyriana really didn't have any patience for stupidity, specially from one not of her... caliber. The little rogue tapped her fingers on the tabletop a couple times, her eyes narrowing. "Would it be less dense to not make sure my terms are clear? Freakin' elves," the last words were muttered under her breath. "Now I see why you let him deal with the clients first. Yes, of course I want you to find him. That's why I'm here. Now who's being dense?" Silently, she reminded herself why she was here, and that it would do no good for that purpose for her to lose her temper with this elf. She managed to resist the urge to pull a blade to find out the exact color of the woman’s blood. Faelenor crossed his arms, eyeing Vyriana as she spoke with Syreena. A look of slight regret painted his face but none the less he continued to listen. The back and forth was pointless at best and Vy's antagonizing of the client, Syreena or not, would not last too long. "Vy...let's keep our head on, please. I'd like to think you've a little more class then that!" He turned back to Syreena and gave her a look before speaking again. "She's new...Good, but new...What we need from you now is all the information you can give us about Razvaan and your friend. Relevant to his location or not, all of it is important." Syreena seemed to relax, slightly, as it became clear that Faelenor at least did not share his companion’s attitude toward her. Or if he did, he was doing a much better job of presenting only professionalism. She slowly pulled her gaze back to the ranger, and her brow furrowed as she tried to remember details. "Razvaan is a Forsaken priest. I never really knew him very well, but I know he was one of Lucion's closest friends. I haven't seen either of them since the Northrend campaign," she explained. "Until the two recent sightings of Razvaan, I mean. I've been searching for clues as to Lucion's fate ever since, with no luck." "And Lucion? What does he specialize in? The last time you encountered Razvaan was in Dalaran and on a ship towards the Broken Isles? Given there is much to be done on those isles I can't imagine he has finished his business there so we can start our search there. I can have a small team keep an eye open for signs of him but we will need a description of the two." He pulled a leather-bound book from his satchel and flipped it to an empty page. A quick wave of a hand and the page gave a dim glow. "I will try to get this as accurate as possible but it's not always right...also was there something of note on his person at the time? Something that would have him stand out?" "Ummmm," the little rogue starts, thinking back to when she saw Razvaan last. "He was wearing plain brown robes. Carrying a dark, curved blade of some kind, a book with spikes, and he had a big round thing attached to his shoulder pads that came up above his head like a dark halo with a ball in it." "Lucion..." Her raspy voice softened a bit even as she mentions his name, and a smile threatened to touch her lips. Then she glanced at Vyriana, and forced her expression into careful neutrality. "He's the leader of Broken Sanity. Or at least, he was. I don't even know if he's still alive now. He's Forsaken also, he was a rogue, but....last time I saw him....." Her gaze drifted to the side, seeing an old memory that was one of few that had remained untouched when that horrid human professor scrambled most of her memories. "It was in Orgrimmar during the days we were fighting in Northrend. The Grim was defending an attack on Thrall in the old throne room. Cristok was leading us. Lucion was one of the defenders there too, and I saw him. Even though it had been years since I'd seen him before that, I recognized him right away, but....he was different. His eyes glowed the icy blue of a death knight. And it seemed as if his mind wasn't all there, though I'm sure many would have argued that it never was." She smiled a small smile then without realizing it, but it quickly faded, and she looked back to Faelenor. "That was the last time I saw him." Vyriana kept an eye on the woman, noticed the almost smiles and the wistful way she spoke of the man, but she contained her eyeroll. The rest of her attention was on all around them. Having taken the seat with her back to a wall it afforded her a view of the whole place, making sure Syreena didn't bring any friends with her. Syreena noticed the elf woman watching her, and she shifted in her seat as she looked back at her. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Without even realizing it, her right hand slipped down to her side to touch the comforting hilt of her dagger there. "What?!" She finally shouted. Without another thought Vyriana's hand grasped the dagger at her belt, wooden legs slithering back before crashing against the floor as she rose over the table. "I should ask you the same thing!" Eyes narrowed her voice dropped a bit, realizing they'd garnered unwanted attention, "Hand off your weapon before I remove the appendage for you." It was said with a sneer, her body language of one not willing to back down first. "Vyriana, ENOUGH." In one quick motion, he rose and placed a forceful hand over the threat of a drawn blade. With a cold stare he eyed the huntress, silent in his attempt to defuse her haughty nature. "Sit down. We don’t need to make a scene in public. If you cannot keep your temper in check then walk away from this table and let me finish gathering the information. I did not ask you to come along so you could start something with the client. So, sit or walk but no more of this." His hand remained on hers, head turning to Syreena's hand. "We are not here to start a fight. We are here to negotiate. Refrain from reaching for your weapon next time and simply ask. We are in public after all and the Dalaran guards are doing their job this time..." But Syreena was already on her feet in a defensive position with two large daggers raised in front of her. "I don't take orders from you, elf,” she spat at Vyriana. She barely spared a glance for Faelenor as he rose. So far, after his initial warranted suspicion of her, he'd been nothing but polite and professional with her. His companion, however, was displaying behavior that represented everything she hated about the race. Suddenly, a sickly-sweet smile twisted her patchwork stitched face, showing off all her filed pointy teeth. She spoke to Vyriana now in a warm, friendly voice. "You have pretty ears." Faelenor’s free hand reached to draw a revolver from its holster. In the same fluid motion the hammer was drawn back and the barrel pointed at the small Forsaken woman, right between the eyes. "Syreena, please..." Syreena’s glowing yellow eyes didn’t leave Vyriana, but she saw the pistol in her peripheral vision. She hissed at Vyriana, but she came here for business, not a fight. After spinning the daggers once around her fingers, she dropped them back into their places on her belt and placed her hands on the table. "Your partner is rude," she muttered to Faelenor, without looking away from the female elf. Vyriana very much wanted to utter a word that rhymed with "bundt" but chose not to be involved in anymore disruption than there already was. Her hand slowly lowered as she sat down, a scared worker having already righted her chair for her. Silent, her gaze stayed on the woman now, just waiting for one more slip up. Syreena finally took her seat as well with a small grin. She looked back to Faelenor, but kept Vyriana in her field of vision too. "So....where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?" The barrel lowered, hammer gently set back in its resting position as the revolver was holstered. The verdant glow of his eyes darted between the two for a moment before he himself finally sat down. "If at all more of those interruptions would be greatly appreciated." He returned to the leather-bound book’s open pages and continued etching the description. "Those details are fine but I'm looking for more physical appearance. Facial features or lack thereof. Anything that sets Razvaan apart. The search will start with him so his description is far more important." Looking back at Vyriana for a moment, Syreena tilted her head, pointedly eyeing the elf woman's ears and ran her tongue over her lips. Then she winked and turned back to Faelenor again. "Well, he's Forsaken. His face doesn't look too bad though, from what I remember. He has dark straight hair, about down to here...." She held her hand just below her chin. "Nothing really stands out about him too much. He looks like an average Forsaken man." "That's plenty for now. I simply need as much as I can get... makes the whole chasing a cold trail that much easier. As I said I will have operatives look out in Dalaran after we've made a clean sweep of the city ourselves and then move on to the Isles. Amalyn may be able to help us..from his description he sounded like a shadowmancer. Perhaps while we search Dalaran she can search the temple. Don't leave any stone unturned." She tilted her head again. "You really think you can find him?" "He won't be easy to find but I didn't make the price so high because of our disagreement in the past. Both Vy and I are good at what we do... One of the few reasons I brought her along..." He turned to Vy with a look that said don’t make me regret this, before turning back to Syreena. "If we cannot find him then you are guaranteed a portion of the fees in return. This covers costs needed to pay for the time spent. However, there hasn't been a job the flight have ever left unfinished." He turned the book to Syreena to give her a glimpse of his sketch for approval. "Oh...and should we find either of them dead (for reals) what would you have us do?" Syreena eyed the sketch then nods slightly. "Close enough, I guess. I'll be surprised if you find Lucion at all. If Razvaan has died since I last saw him, then..... I don't know. I guess I'd want to see him to make sure it's him, if that's possible." She glanced around to make sure nobody was too close, then looked curiously at Faelenor. "You keep referring to the flight. As in dragons? What kind?" His brow rose and quickly fell again. Borrowed Times was known for its association with a few of the chromatic spectrum. A small chuckle escaped him. "The Ravenflight. My apologies. We are an operation run by the Talon King, and not the Arakkoa's Talon King. The founder must have been obsessed with birds or something. In any case, we are a group of informants who do this sort of work regularly...among other deeds not so heavily advertised. We don t associate with any of the dragonflight directly." "Oh," she said, but her tone was only curious. "You said half the money up front? I'll bring it by the base for you tonight, unless there's somewhere else you want me to bring it to you. But I'll give it only directly to you." " We will make preparations and begin our search immediately the following day. When you return to the port I will meet with you outside the gates. This time at the very least the guards will know to expect you. So I wouldn't be too worried about someone pointing spears and arrows in your direction. So long as you haven't done anything to piss someone off that is. That aside, professionalism will be carried through til the contract is over." Syreena nodded, then looked wryly amused at his last sentence. "And then back to arrows and spears pointed at me?" Faelenor looked her over and sighed. "You have to understand that what was done was not simply a stab at Cobrak. You may have thought that you were just getting back at him. But it wasn't just him you were getting revenge on when you hurt Dora. Cobrak isn’t the only one who cares for her. She is someone's daughter, someone’s sister, someone's...student. Of course, the majority of Borrowed Time is going to want their revenge for something you though would only hurt Cobrak." He took his book back and closed it before putting back in his satchel. " So I can't speak for everyone and claim that it won't be that way anymore." Her brow furrowed, but then she looked indignant. "I'll remember that next time someone hurts me while I'm cooperating with them. I guess I should just take it without complaint," she said as she slid from her chair and stood up. "I'll bring the money to the gate tonight." She eyed Vyriana once more, then turned to leave. "No one expects you to just take it..." He called out to her as she walked away, but the little rogue did not turn back. "Just consider what comes with who you are paying back."
  22. In Search of a Ghost

    At the gates of Dragon’s Roost Port, the base of Borrowed Time, a small Forsaken female rode up on a galloping skeletal horse. Both mount and rider were covered in black and red armor. Although many knives of various shapes and sizes were visible on her person, Syreena’s hands were empty, except for the reins, which she used to slow the horse to a walk as she drew closer. As always, the Grim tabard was worn over her armor. She noticed that the reinforced iron composing the fortifications of the port seemed relatively new around what looked like a former battlefield. Craters littered the landscape, with any form of growth burned away by fire and oil that still had a vague scent about the place that was intermingled with the sea breeze. Briefly, she wondered what had happened here, but she was only mildly interested. She was focused on the task at hand. It wasn't long before much attention was pulled towards the gates. The colors and the description of the Forsaken woman were enough to call plenty more guards into watchful motion. Of the gathered guards one figure stood out among them. A ranger, hooded and armed with a bow in hand, stood on the wall and peered down at their guest. The dim verdant glow of his eyes studied the tabard and every weapon that clung to her. Despite the potential threat of so many guards, Syreena was both amused and flattered by the attention. Still, it wouldn’t do her any good to get shot full of arrows before she’d accomplished what she came for. As her horse chomped the bit and shook his head, Syreena remained still and calm. "Brave, stupid, or both,” Faelenor called down to her. “Either way you've managed to get our attention." He turned to each of the guards that followed him and mouthed something to them before turning back to her. "What do you want?" The guard nodded and made his way down from the wall, motioning for another one of the orcs to follow him "I want to hire someone for a job,” she said to Faelenor. The two orcs emerged from the gate and advanced upon the undead. One held a bowling ball sized orb in its hand that he tossed into the air. A red wave emerged from it to wash over the mount and the rogue in a downward motion. The horse, being battle trained, didn't shy from it, but pinned his ears and snapped at it. As the cloud fell over horse and rider, it produced and unpleasant feeling but seemed to have no effect beyond that. “She’s real,” one of the guards announced. “What the fel?” Syreena demanded, putting a hand on one of the large daggers at her hip. " Standard procedure,” the guard explained. “An increased number of Legion infiltrators warrants the checking of every guest coming into the port." The orc motioned up towards Faelenor with an affirmative hand sign. "Oh," she muttered at the explanation. "Well, you could have warned me." Faelenor drew an arrow from its quiver as her hand reached for the dagger. The bow raised and the arrow was nocked all in the same motion. "Though in your case...being real is actually the worst of the possibilities,” Faelenor informed the little rogue. "You have come here to hire one of us?” She looked back up at Faelenor and slowly removed her hand from the dagger to place it back on the reins. "That's right. I want to hire someone. For a job. Like I said." "Yeah, I heard you the first time. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't going mad." Fael loosened the tension on the bowstring, setting the arrow back into its quiver, but kept his mark on the tiny rogue. "Name your business here and now, and perhaps I can find you a fool to take your job." She frowned, looking around, having pictured this discussion not happening quite as out in the open as this. She stifled a sigh as she looks back up at the ranger on the wall. "I'm looking for help in finding someone." "And your idea of searching for help was to come to Borrowed Time of all places. You understand that you probably would have had a better chance at begging Sanctuary or the Alliance for assistance." Fael pulled out his comm mumbled into it. When he finished, he pocketed the device and shouts back down. "Wait there." He moved from his spot but guards quickly take his place. Syreena held her tongue, but she frowned, trying to remember why Borrowed Time hated her so much. Surely they wouldn’t still be this upset over Dora's knee. She waited where she was, but she kept a grip on the reins, ready to signal the mount to run if guards suddenly started swarming out of the gate. "Grumpy, aren't they?" she mutters softly to Bones, her horse. "You'd think they don't want the work." A moment passed before the gate opened. The ranger walked out alone, armed with his bow and a pair of blades on his belt. He stepped carefully towards the Forsaken, signaling with a quick wave of his hand. The gates closed and the guards pulled bows of their own from their stations. Such attention from the guards that she had initially found flattering, was quickly becoming irritating. "Your window of time is short and it's slowly closing,” Faelenor told her. “This is as close to private and within the walls of the gate as you are going to get. So start talking." She was in need of their service. They could care less of what she was willing to pay. But curiosity won out over reason. She slid down off her horse and took a few steps toward the ranger, careful to keep her hands away from her blades. "I don't want to go within your walls. This is fine." Suddenly overcome with doubt about her decision to hire Borrowed Time for this, she fell quiet for a moment, hesitating before stating her request. "I'm looking for someone. I haven't seen him in...well, years. But I saw a friend of his twice since the Horde sailed for the Broken Shore, a guild mate. I'm busy with other business, but I'm hoping for help tracking down this friend to find out what happened to the person I used to know." "Almost every tracker, ranger, or hunter in this establishment has something against you. It's to your fortune that I got here first, or else you may have lost more than a knee cap this time around." Fael hooked his bow back in its resting spot, eyeing the rogue and her surroundings. The goggled lens that covered his right eye hummed as he looks around. Syreena wondered what he was looking for, then figured he probably thought she wasn’t alone. Maybe he expected the entirety of The Grim to come charging out at the gate to take over Borrowed Time’s base. In the interests of a better chance of doing business, she refrained from voicing such sarcastic thoughts. "So either you believe yourself rich enough to pay for this job or you aren't terribly keen on keeping your head... but I'll bite,” Fael continued. “Give me a little more to work on." "Everyone has something against everyone," she says mildly. "Last I heard, you guys take jobs. If that's no longer true, I'll leave." She tilted her head at him. "You want more details... Does that mean you'll take the job?" "Like any establishment that provides invaluable service to their patrons, which I can understand if you aren't familiar with that concept, we also have the right to refuse you. Given your past history with us I shouldn't really have to go into too much more detail. However, through some miracle, the order to send you away wasn't given. So, I'll ask again. The details of the job... we will need more. We need to send the right mercenaries to do the job after all... unless you want Cobrak hunting down an old friend of yours?" "I...didn't say he was a friend. I said I saw his friend," she argued, having second thoughts again. She was reluctant to admit to a group of mercenaries who hated her, what Lucion meant to her. She bit her bottom lip briefly, not even seeming to notice that her filed pointy teeth drew blood. "Maybe this isn't a good idea...." she says, as she started to turn away. She stopped though. If not Borrowed Time to help find Razvaan , then who? "Is it? Can you do business with me without bringing personal issues of the past into it?" "Why do you think you weren't made a pin cushion at the very start of this?" He held out his hand and with another wave the guards stowed their bows and moved back to their regular positions. "So, if you want to discuss a business proposition then now is your chance. Consider my interest a show of good faith." She glanced up at the guards, then she took another step closer to Faelenor. After another moment's hesitation, she began speaking only loud enough so that, barring any special powers or equipment, only he and her horse would hear her. "All right then,” she started. “I'm looking for a man named Lucion. He's Forsaken. He once led a guild called Broken Sanity. Recently, I saw his friend and guildmate, another Forsaken by the name of Razvaan, but I lost sight of him before I could catch up to him and talk to him." "Where was it you last saw him?" He asked as he shifts the bow on his back. "In Dalaran, on the street between the Legerdemain and the wine & cheese shop. Maybe two weeks ago? I saw him once before that too, on a ship leaving from Bladefist Bay for the Broken Shore." "Anyone else with Razvaan when you found him? Perhaps something more notable to help track him down. The streets of Dalaran and ships leaving to the Broken Shore aren't exactly enough to go off of. Two weeks ago leaves a large enough time frame for him to be long gone by now." Syreena’s frustration was evident as she shook her head. "No, I don't know. If it was easy to find him, I would have by now. That's why I need help." Noting the frustration, Fael gave a sly smirk. "I'm simply gauging the expenses of the work. Given the complexity of this job and the resources needed to find him I imagine you know it won't come cheap. Being that this is a mercenary establishment, talk of compensation was inevitable." She nodded, seemingly not upset at all at the subject of the cost. "How much? And also, I assume that, since this is a paid job, that a certain amount of....professional'standard procedure'?" she asked, using the guard's words from earlier. "That's dependent on the merc who gets the job and what their definition of professional discretion is. My interest was personal. But as far as fees go I want to make sure you understand that the more you pay the more professional the work. Dirty deeds aren't done dirt cheap. Once the contract is made and signed you are guaranteed what you pay for. " Fael looked over the rogue once more before asking his final question. "Why not go to the Grim for help? Couldn't you just yell out your mantra and have a pick of the first that yell it back to aid you for free? You had to expect that question to come about eventually?" Her brow furrowed, twisting her patchwork-stitched face. She shrugged, kicking at a small piece of debris in the dirt. "I don't see many of them much. I mean, they're busy....killing demons, and Alliance, and elves in the Nighthold, and...." She trailed off, looking up at Faelenor with a frown. "Does it really matter anyway? It's not a dirty job. I'm not trying to hurt anyone or anything. I'm sure you guys wouldn't take a job like that for me." "Discretion comes with caution. You know who you are but even if you weren't Syreena these questions are still extremely relevant. Our forces aren't exactly laying around waiting for the next job to fall on our laps. But someone has to watch over the port and today just happened to be my day. So yes, it does matter. Simply because we would be sending one of own to do the job. And if it means making sure they come back alive, I will ask for any information I find relevant. As for the job, I will talk with Cobrak and see who he wants to assign it to. If no one cares to work then I may just pick it up myself. Give us until tomorrow to decide. I will send you a message when the decision has been made." He took a step back and bowed his head. "All things considered...this is the best that I can do for you." "Oh," she says. Then she winced. "Cobrak? Are you going to tell him it's for me?" "He has eyes and ears all over the port. He'd know it was a job for you even if I decided to keep it a secret. Besides. Who do you think gave the order to listen to you? It's up to the discretion of the merc if they want your job. We don't hold them to any oath or mantra. So long as they know what they are getting themselves into and won't bring back harm to our port... they can deal with whom ever they want." She tilted her head, considering that. "He already knows I'm here...." she muttered to herself, looking back up at the guards on the wall as if they were suddenly going to start shooting at her. "Umm, okay. I'll watch for your message then. And you'll let me know how much it will cost?" "Yes yes...variable costs are just so difficult to determine right away. Now then..." He gave out a whistle and the gate doors opened. "I will discuss this further with him and I will get word to you tomorrow. Tread carefully...Syreena." "Okay. Thanks....for not shooting me." The little rogue nodded, then backed up a couple steps before turning to find her horse, who had wandered a short ways off. Apparently Bones had given up his search for grass in the burnt area. He was eating dirt. Syreena yanked his head up by the reins and mounted up, looking back at the ranger and the guards on the wall. As the gate began to close, Syreena wheeled Bones around and kicked him into a gallop, going back the way she came. The ranger stepped backwards into the port and watched as the gate closed. He let out a sigh, taking a moment to relax himself before making his way to the office. "Why didn't I shoot her again?" he asked himself as he walked up towards Cobrak’s office.
  23. In Search of a Ghost

    Eight months ago….. The Legion was invading Azeroth. We had been fighting them all over the world. Wave after wave of demons kept coming. Plans were being made to travel to the Broken Shore and fight them there. Although I would not be among the first to travel the Shore, I took a walk one day from the gates of Orgrimmar to Bladefist Bay and observed the preparations being made. Weapon smiths, cooks, armorers, combat trainers, and other various vendors were there, trying to make some coin for themselves while they better prepared heroes to fight a never-ending enemy. These heroes—champions, mercenaries, adventurers—were lined up at the Bay, waiting their turn to board the ship that would soon take them to battle. Perched on a post at the land end of the docks, I watched them as they loaded themselves aboard with various expressions. Some looked eager, some frightened, some resigned. All had sharp weapons, shiny armor, and a sack full of food from the vendors. Each one was determined not to be among the first casualties of this crowd when they landed, as if giving their coin to the vendors would prevent that. I was just about to return to the city when I caught sight of a Forsaken on the deck. By now, I had given up all hope of ever finding Lucion. He still crossed my mind from time to time, but I had long ago accepted that he was nothing more than a sweet memory of happier days. But I recognized the priest on the ship. If Razvaan wasn’t second in command of Lucion’s guild, he was close to it. I had met him a few times back in the days when Lucion and I were close. If anyone knew what happened to Lucion, it would be him. “Razvaan!” I called his name as I ran down the docks, but he didn’t hear me. The ship pulled away from the docks, along with my chance to learn what had become of Lucion. I decided to head to the Broken Shore right away. However, when I went back to Orgrimmar to begin preparations, I found an opportunity to strike at Sanctuary which eventually led to the Ghostlands and a three-month delay. One month ago….. After watching Razvaan leaving Bladefist Bay, I found myself thinking more often of him and Lucion. I wondered if Lucion could have been aboard that very ship. The possibility would not leave me. I did my share of killing demons on the Broken Shore, but that wasn’t my only goal there. I kept an eye out always for Lucion or Razvaan or anyone else wearing Broken Sanity’s colors. I told nobody. Muatah once told me that it was wrong to waste time looking back. It was not the Grim way to reminisce or go searching for long lost loved ones. I would find no support there. I should spend my time killing Alliance and demons, not chasing ghosts from long ago. Then one day in Dalaran, I saw him again. Through the crowd, a block or so ahead of me, I caught a glimpse of Razvaan. I called out to him and tried to push through the mass of people, but again, he didn’t hear me, and I lost him. For days, I sat on the railing of the Legerdemain balcony, watching for him, but if he passed by there again, I never saw him. Frustrated, I considered my options. I was no tracker. I had no skill for finding people in a city as crowded as Dalaran, or a land as big as the Broken Shore. If I wanted to find Razvaan, if I wanted a chance to find out where Lucion was, or even if he was still alive, I would need professional help. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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