Lysimachus

WANTED: Illisade Shadesong (Circumstantial RP)

Recommended Posts

Wandering the bowels of Dalaran City, you come across a large poster, depicting a rather poorly-conceived Night Elf, clad in a tight leather suit, his face concealed by a strange, skeletal mask.

WANTED: Illisade Shadesong

REWARD: 500 Silvermoon Golden Pieces

The text reads:

Illisade Shadesong is an individual of very ill repute. His crimes are excessive; they include, but are certainly not limited to,

1. Extortion;

2. Bribery;

3. Murder;

4. Collaboration with Inimical Entities;

5. Disruption of the Peace;

6. General Unlawful and Premeditated Hellery.

He is wanted, Dead or Alive. Absolute Proof of Demise to be delivered to:

House dej Dynastus; Silvermoon City, Quel'thalas.

Be warned, this individual is armed and extremely dangerous. He will not fight fairly, and will not hesitate to flee a battle he does not expect can be won.

Best Regards, Fellow Keepers of Law and Order, and Good Luck!

In unnecessarily elaborate script,

Lysimachus dej Dynastus, Patriarch of House dej Dynastus

((If you have a story concerning an interaction with Illisade Shadesong, you are welcome to post it here, as experienced by your character.))

((Your head shall be MINE, you helling heller.))

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Libelle stares in horror at the post for a few moments.

"I'm going to change my name. I will." She stumps away toward the exit pipe, looking very petulant.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

I smirked at the rough depiction of the elf I'd once seen in the Filthy Animal. He was cocky there, with the no doubt lecherous Sin'Dorei woman at his side. I hadn't seen him about yet, but I intended to make good on my threat should I ever catch sight of the fool.

"Gold?" I muttered to myself. I didn't need any gold to defend the Horde. Still, extra funds might prove be useful.

I moved out to Krasus's Landing and blew my recalibrated whistle, a high pitched shrill unidentifiable to the human, or other bipedal concious life, ear... A few moments passed afore I blew it again.. The Green Proto Drake swooped down and ruffled it's scales. Still needed to be broken in a bit more...

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Give me those!"

The human, a boy no more than thirteen, his hand full of rolled-up scrolls, kept running as he rightfully should down the corridor of the sewers. Svetlaena chased, her running speed not quite up to par, panting already and her good dress getting soaked in sewer water all the way up to the knee. Her cloth slipper hit a particularly grimy spot and she landed firmly on her backside in the shallow flow.

The errand boy stopped, glanced back at her, felt a little sorry, too sorry... he got close to offer her a hand, and found himself caught fast by the shirt.

"Stop putting those up this INSTANT!" her final word echoed in the ambient tunnel, but the boy had already jerked himself free, running too far ahead of her and probably losing himself among the black market crowds.

Shaking with anger, soaked, and smelling quite ripe, the priestess took to her feet again, straightening her back.

"Well then. Guess I got some work to do..."

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

A smirk spread across Selash's face as he walked past one of the posters in the Cantrips & Crows. "I was wondering when he'd finally have a bounty put on his head...although only 500?" He shook his head for a moment before folding his arms to sneer at the reward, "That's awful small for all of those crimes."

He reaches down and takes his flask from his belt for a brisk drink before replacing it and wiping his mouth with his free hand. "A bounty's a bounty, and I owe him one anyhow..." He says before he begins walking off with Taka following him close behind.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Walking through the busy streets of Dalaran he headed towards the sewer's and just before he was about to enter the Kal'dorei noticed a group of people surrounding a notice of some kind. Turning his direction he looked at it and began to read it. He rose an eyebrow and shook his head in disappointment. "Wanted? What kind of joke was this?" He thought to himself. After reading all the crimes he let out a laugh. "That's ridiculous!" He chuckled out loud. After reading he looked at the bottom......."Lysimachus, Libelle's uncle. That's it! I'm not sparing his life anymore!" He thought to himself further.

Just as he stepped away an observer turned around and looked at him gazing into his skeletal mask. The Sin'dorei's mouth dropped and began to point shouting. "It's him! The rogue Illisade it's him!" He yelled out. With that the rest of the group turned around and began to shout with him.

"Oh.....Shit...." The Kal'dorei's heart dropped. This would probably be a good time to ....run. Sprinting in the opposite direction the mob of people chased after him. Logically the best place to go was the Silver Enclave portals but he was just cut off so the next best place would be Krasus's landing. As the rogue was getting closer he let out a sharp whistle. The mob was catching up on him fast, Illisade quickly took out some flash powder and threw it on the ground behind causing the entire area to be covered in a blinding smoke. Coughing and chaos he managed to slip out from the mess and hop on his Gryphon. Nudging his flying animal they took off away from Dalaran.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Grainia laughed again as the crowd took off. She had too much experience with Rogues to think a chase was worthwhile. Heading to the Filthy Animal, she began to compose a note to post in the Infection Guild Hall.

'There are ways, Illisade! Oh, yes, there are.'

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Naheal reads the flyer and buries his face in his palm. "Just 500 gold?" He sighed. "Well, he'll either try to run, or pride will make him try to push that bounty up."

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Boudika knelt down to pick up the paper that had grabbed her attention. Mostly because she despised litter, but she also has a dangerous curious streak. Turning and flipping the paper over to read the dirt covered print, she was able to make out most of the text.

"Heh. 500 eh? This might just pique the interest of some people I know, perhaps give them a little...motivation."

Boudika chuckled to herself as she carefully folded up the flyer and placed it inside of her bracer.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Mages were powerfully clearing smoke from Krasus' Landing when she arrived at the stair. So much chaos... confusion... he had been here, without a doubt. She sought out Aludane Whitecloud, the flight master, and found him coughing and hacking on the flight pad.

Unfortunately he hadn't caught which direction the gryphon had flown off to... no one had. But her heart was more at ease when she reasoned that he at least had caught wind of all this and vacated Dalaran. And, having her on his tail would probably benefit him as well as a flashing sign pointing to his location. It was best if no one knew where he'd gone to for now... even her.

As she left the landing to bathe and wash her dress of sewer grime, a plan was forming in the back of her mind.

She would go right to the source of the problem.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Chaos! Skirmishes! Smoke? Gryphon!

Rand clutched down on the neck skin on the albino drakeling he had come in to land on, just as Illisade was making a break for it, and causing a run of action that startled the drakeling into almost bucking her rider. He got her to land safely, dismounting to give a reassuring pat to the side of her face.

"Scary..." The drakeling murmered in a voice similar to that of a child.

A nod from the hunter, "He's worse when you see him up close." A chuckle, pushing the drake off to go rest on the side of the landing, heading into the city itself... and seeing the tattered remains of a wanted poster on the wall.

He couldn't make out exactly what he was wanted for... but the bounty of 500 gold was still apparent in big bold letters. A quirk of an eyebrow behind the large complex looking goggles, lifting them up off his eyes to get a better look.

"Tch..." The hunter laughed, "I told you to stay away from our women, you blue bastard..." And Rand went on his way.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Amid the massive, glowing crystals of Dynastus Hall, Lysimachus was beset upon by one of his servitors.

"My Lord dej Dynastus, I h-..."

Interrupting him, Lysimachus sneered. "That's MARQUESS dej Dynastus to you, pond-scum. What dares you to disturb my relaxation? Haven't you any wit about you?"

Quickly recomposing himself, the servant nodded. "My sincere apologies, Marquess." Bowing, he continued. "The bounty which you have placed upon the head of the Kal'dorei has been received, with some enthusiasm, by the people of Dalaran. The rogue barely escaped a roving band of would-be reward collectors."

Lysimachus, hearing this news, was pleased. He hadn't been entirely sure of the state of affairs concerning the Night Elves at their embassy in Dalaran, but he was confident that it would, at least, amount to little chance of the Marquess' bounty going unnoticed.

He smiled, his teeth gleaming green in the glow of the fel-crystals. "How wonderfully appropriate." Tossing a small sack of gleaming silver pieces to the servant, he continued. "Keep me informed of the matter, wretch, and it shall serve your purse well. Now get the hell out."

Watching the servant depart, Lysimachus narrowed his eyes, carefully assessing the situation, as it were.

"It shall not be enough." He muttered to himself, pacing the Hall, trying to discern further methods to remove this Kal'dorei virus which he believed was infecting his family.

He stopped, suddenly coming to a realization.

"Grim."

Maniacal laughter drifted eerily through the nearby streets and alleys of Silvermoon.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Having cleaned up thoroughly and written the woman she believed to be her only hope for a peaceful resolution, Svetlaena opened the responding letter with anxiety. She frowned. All that was inside was a hastily-scrawled reply:

'I'll do what I can.'

The scholar sighed. Not exactly a hopeful response. And nothing about potentially meeting the mage behind the madness for negotiations.

"Got to do everything myself."

She was no alchemist, to be sure. But working with herbs for making her own inks had given her at least some knowledge of their various properties, relevant or irrelevant to her purposes. And a little time in the Apothecarium was certainly a well of knowledge she rarely got to put to practice. A little Blindweed... Nightmare Vine was excessively toxic too... there were plenty of things she could use.

She hoped it wouldn't come to this. But from everything she had seen and heard... she had reason to believe her negotiations would have little to no effect.

Just in case, she reassured herself. Just in case.

The result of all the grinding turned out to be a foul, blackish-green mess, which was largely tossed out. The fluids that gathered in the bottom of the mortar were poured into a tiny glass flask. Fatal? She didn't think it likely... the formula probably needed much more refinement, something she didn't know in the least how to do. But enough to debilitate someone... just long enough... that was different.

The Light took a step back. The Shadows soothed her, easing the racing of her mind as she aimlessly gathered a few wisps of blackness around her fingertips. She stared at them in stoic contemplation. It was time to go to Silvermoon City to play the waiting game.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Back in Dynastus Hall, Lysimachus seethed. His attempts at developing a cooperation with The Grim were futile; "these people," he thought, "positively petulant!" How could he deal with such blind righteousness? Even the Marquess had to draw a line in his own ability.

"NEVITT, get the HELL in here." Shouting to his newly returned but not-quite-himself right hand man, the magister Nevitt Autumnburst, Lysimachus formulated a new plan.

"Good evening, sir. I come, as you request."

"Nevitt, I work premierely for the good of mine own family, do I not?" Lysimachus, pacing the room, avoided eye contact.

Without hesitation, the magister responded, knowing well what was expected of him. "You do, sir. Without any concern for your own well-being."

"And does it happen that one of our youngest strays from a proper path?"

"Yes, sir." Quickly finding words that would please his employer, Nevitt continued. "The hell-girl has stricken too far into dangerous, treasonous relationships."

Nodding, smiling to himself, Lysimachus contemplated his next course of action. "I do have one man on the heller's trail, Nevitt. But one shall not be enough. I have prepared a meeting, for you, with the wench's own husband, tomorrow. He is an investigator, and I do believe I shall tap him for these purposes. But we must find more, Nevitt. We shall locate more allies; this travesty must not be allowed to continue."

Stopping at one of the crystals and staring into its green, dusky glow, the Marquess sighed. "Such dark business. But it happens that Darnassus has extended its slithering tendrils too far into business that does not concern them. Shadesong shall be only the first of many; we must teach to the Night Elves their proper place." Finally looking at Nevitt, he posed a question. "And where is that, my dear, helling, magister?"

"On their 'helling aberration of a sea-sick, diseased poplar-tree', sir?"

"NO, NEVITT. IN THE GRAVE. That is where they belong. And we shall see to it that they find their way home!"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

“Hey! Hey you!” the blonde rogue called, holding a hand to his forehead to block out the blinding snow omnipresent in Coldarra as he looked upward. After a moment of reaching around in his armor, he pulled out what might be a rolled map or scroll and thrust it forward at the mounted Night Elf slowly descending.

“That had better not be another-” the Night Elf mumbled from behind his skeletal mask.

“-wanted poster?” the blonde rogue finished for him as he flashed a boyish grin. As soon as Illisade’s hands went guardedly to his weapons, Fynne’s hands darted reassuringly to the other rogue’s wrists. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to collect. I just want you to sign this for me! You know, the autograph of a wanted man, you’re practically a celebrity now.”

A snow-blurred breeze, truly—the tumbleweeds of the arctic, brushed its way between the two rogues to punctuate the moment of silence before Illisade answered.

“You know, I can’t even go into Dalaran anymore!”

Fynne’s grin spread ear to ear, “Dalaran’s boring anyway. I’m sure life on the run is plenty exciting.”

“You got a pen?” Illisade asked, glancing around with not entirely undeserved paranoia.

After a moment of fumbling, the blonde rogue let out an annoyed sigh. “No. But I can grab one from the raid. I’m sure one of the mages has one tucked away somewhere. Stick around for a few minutes – I’ll be right back.”

Before the Night Elf could retort, Fynne had vanished up the ramp to join the rest of the massing legionnaires. It wasn’t for some time that he returned, slightly more disheveled than he was half an hour before. Annoyed at Illisade’s disappearance, but understanding to some degree the importance of staying hidden, he called out for the wanted man. The minutes crawled by unanswered, and the blonde rogue finally gave up waiting and began to make his way far enough from the Nexus to safely call for his steed.

It wasn’t until he was nearly to the exit that he found the body of his slain fr- well, acquaintance, really, face-first in the snow. The snow around his head was painted with blood, and one of his ears appeared to have been cut savagely from it. Wincing, Fynne rolled the corpse onto its back and yelled for Jilliane.

While most of the First had already departed the raid, a few legionnaires stood guard – half from any Horde that were in the area, and half from the Death Knights who kept an intrigued blue gaze on what they considered a prime ghoul candidate. Jilliane and Fynne looked down at the maskless face of Illisade distastefully before the rogue uttered what was on both of their minds.

“…God he’s ugly.”

A few moments of holy magic later, the resurrected rogue was coughing up blood and rubbing his head where his ear had once been. He blinked, trying to shake off the disoriented feeling that accompanied the blonde man waving a familiar-looking poster and feathered pen in front of his face. For some reason, he couldn't help but return the ear-to-ear grin with an ear-to-stump grin of his own.

Fynne winked, putting the pen in Illisade's hand.

“You forgot to sign.”

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

A whip of snowy hair trails behind the violet-clad Cryomancer: Apprentice of the Kirin Tor and Professor of Lore at his own private Academy. He often avoided the underbelly of the city, particularly after having seen one of the "forbidden" enter its corridors. Though still in his mid-youth his opinions on the Magocracy and Politics remained traditional and to most; old fashioned. Likewise this shaped his reaction to a wrinkled poster on the wall of the dank stone tunnel.

"Curious," he said with a squint, pressing flat the distressed paper. His eyes carefully followed the words, scanning them over many times."Rogue Kaldorei, wanted by....Dej Dynastus?"A serendipitous surprise, the dark elf mused; immediately recognizing the prestigious family name. Professor Leah pushed his spectacles over his nose, his eyes straining to read further. An Illisade Shadesong read the ad, and offering a fair reward as well. He nodded, satisfied with his own memory, having heard of the rogue before but only in passing. He hadn't considered him any sort of threat to the law and order of the city, which had recently fall prey to the sort of corruption that comes with allowing vagabonds and fel casters within its walls.

He slid his palms away from the poorly scrawled bust of the man and pulled out his record book. Finding a splinter of lead in his pocket, he wrote down neatly: Lysimachus Dej Dynastus, inquire further of said Kaldorei. He dropped the lead into his pocket and tore the paper free from the book, he would need to take this up with the guard if it were in fact true. Such acts would certainly earn the man expulsion from the city of Dalaran, after all just because there was a crisis didn't mean anything could be tolerated. After the current crisis came to a close so would the doors of the Great Mage city, at least one could hope. He sighed and pulled his hair over his back."Dalaran, you shall soon wear the fate of Silvermoon and the city of the dead..."

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Picking up the poster he kicked a small piece of stone down the crack on the wooden flooring at the bar, laughing his head off at the posters remarks of Illisade a sly look appears on his face. " Maybe I should pay Illisade a visit..." shaking his head Kained looks up at the light passing through the well " What the hell am I saying?! I should just do it for free." chuckling he tucks the poster in his tabard.

"Ranadarus was right, he shoulda stayed away from our women, might of saved him some trouble... regardless seems as a friend I'm stuck protecting that fool. Now... to find him... That's going to be a whole other adventure itself." Looking at the mob yelling at The Kel'dori fly away on his gryphon he rushes off to the landing pad giving a friendly salute, " Well that was hard, Wounder where the hell he's off to now?".

yelling out at him before he departs he waves the wanted poster around, " HEY STUPID YOU FORGOT YOUR FREGGIN DEATH WARENT." Sighing he places it back in his tabard walking back in to Dalaran making his way down the streets towards the Flithy Animal.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Echoing through the cellar of Dalaran, a loud pitchy chorus reverberates off the walls. A hiccup here, a laugh there, and the song continues. A man crosses her path, tall and snowy-tressed, giving her sudden pause. She grins as he continues on, not even making eye contact with her. She lets forth a sharp wolf-whistle, "Now thaaaaa's a man!"

With a self-amused giggle she buried her muzzle into her mug, blowing bubbles into the mead. Not watching where she was going she finds herself face to face with none other than the wall, face planting into a piece of torn paper.

"Wha' tha hell's this crap!!?" she cursed at the wall.

Rubbing her button nose with a scowl, she drowsily peeped a prostrated eye at the sketch. Though it was beyond horrible, it was much better than anything she had ever drawn and it was the first thing to catch her eye."Thish a reeaaally goo' drawer!" she exclaimed, though no one was around, and if there were they merely ignored her drunken banter.

"Aha, wait wait... I know theese one." She narrowed her eyes, having a staring match with the lifeless mask and then laughing hysterically after many moments of silence. "Ah, Illi-saday!" she wags her finger at the poster, "you beat me no!? Ha-ha! I get you next time!"

She turns to leave, slipping in some sludge and again staring at the poster as if it had done this thing to her."NO! I get you theese time!" she proclaimed as she spilled her drink on herself, finding one of her atlas markers.

Nearly keeling over with laughter she began to enhance the portrait; adding a curly mustache, long eyelashes and lipstick to the mask. She also added some ladies earrings to his long Nelf ears and wrote "ME DUMB" in a talk bubble next to his head. She pointed and mocked the picture, tossing her pen at it and proceeded to flip it off. Satisfied she had claimed her revenge, the drunken redhead returned to the docks, promptly clambered into her hammock and passed out.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead