Redal

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About Redal

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  1. Redal's Journal

    Now that I have had time to inspect the jewelry proper, the earrings did indeed have an enchantment on them. Clever girl. Shadowed. I am studying its purpose in the lab once I arrive. Quite honestly, I should have known, with her. It is good to see she has kept up her craft, albeit on a piece so frivolous. Solution 2957-b was unsuccessful, as was -a. In the moments following administration it seems to work exactly as intended to my surprise. However, after mere moments it begins adversely affecting the subject's brain until all cognitive function ceases, in the span of about thirty-two hours. Details have been recorded in the lab log, and shall remain there until I find a suitable partner for my research. As for the solution, I will continue diluting it and testing it until I can deem it a total failure. If it ends up being nothing more than a weapon, so be it. *Must procure several lizard beast subjects in order to perfect its offensive capabilities.* I saw her, again. In The Terokkar Forest. Near the Firewing, watching them. Inking notes on something she saw. But, they're not They could not have what she seeks, if that may be what I believe it to be. I am glad for her to be spending her time, however. I should have a larger timetable for my research, in this case. I could have seized her then, but I am much more resilient in my own restraint to do so. Though, I do very much enjoy the chase.
  2. Redal's Journal

    Up until now, this particular notebook has been used for various random verses, pertaining to alchemical research. Ideas for mixtures. Uses for poisons. Successes in experiments, many many more failures. This book has not been a proper for such things, but instead was meant to remind the arcanist of things to do thereafter. Thoughts that crossed his mind at fleeting moments, when other matters were at hand. One off musings that may be helpful in future enterprises. The spine hardly has shown wear with its infrequent use, though recently, he may just find a real use for this journal yet. The writing is partly in scrawl, partly in well-thought script. It seemed that between entries, enough time has passed that the slant of the chirography has changed. Perchance after a long period of thought? Or a period of keeping his hands busy with an otherwise engaging project. I have seen her in Shattrath three times this fortnight. Not one time did I see her face proper, but I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was her. Reading her by the way she walked. Her slender shoulders back, telling of her pride regardless of her subtlety. Her feet moved fluidly beneath her robes, just as they always have. Beautifully, decorous for such a lady. The way she kept her head down, angled to the left just so when watching her surroundings and the people around her. A display I had become so very accustomed to during our time together. I will Such a woman could not hide the countenance of the Light around her, an aura that none adept in the arcane could ever den I could see the faint glow of her eyes, framed custodially by the shadow of her hood and stray tresses of flaxen hair revealing themselves any which way they could before nimble fingers tucked them back into hiding. I intercepted a package that she surely secured courier for the last she was in the City. Ears... ears? No, why would she? I must have made a mistake. I could have only made a mistake, this is not something she would... She is not some sort of barbarian, no. I would expect something from an orc. A troll. I am mistaken. The depths of her hatred could not even allow her to do such a thing. The parts were disposed of. I do not know who 'Syreena of the Grim' could be, exactly, having not seen her before. But I have heard a tale of one of the dead that partook in the flesh of ears. In any matter, they have been disposed of. I must remember to hire help for this sort of chore, so that I may find the correct parcel without dirtying my hands. The package I was actually looking for was addressed to one Sinlanna Arath'dorei, the name of one associated with the band she has wasted her time around. Merely golden earrings. No writing, no enchantment to hide such writing. Made of delicate latticework. I will keep them, for my darling to wear when she returns.
  3. <p>Jerkface</p>

  4. <p>Are not, you hussy!</p>

  5. Aaren Anastasis

    "Aaren... Aaren..." The elf draws attention to himself in repeating the woman's name with a chortle under his breath, nearby. He keeps his head bowed, focused on inking a page of an elegant leather-bound journal. "A pretty little face, running from a past that rapidly catches up to her. She shall be reminded of her place, soon enough." His lips curl up into a grin that he beams, staring at his words written into his pad of parchment before arcane runes scramble them for the unfamiliar. He flicks a haughty wrist in the direction of whoever has found their interest in him, not looking up for even an instant. "Oh, do not fret, my dear... That is a very good thing for us..."
  6. <p>Ahahahahahaha! I am winning!</p>