Response: Confirmed/Prospective 4/29 Tavern Night Attendees

[Darren Tereos]

((Ok, this one turned out to take a bit longer, but is a combined work by Angellis and myself. It follows the theme identified by our Bard, "where you go, I follow."))

Several months ago in Northrend...

“Wherever I go, you follow. Got it?” The conversation was between two members of the Horde: a Forsaken and a Sin'dorei. The speaker in this case was the Blood Elf, Angellis Lostarot. A hunter of some skill, but little notoriety, he often found himself the instructor in situations such as these, with his friend and companion, Dayari Antarios, the less living half of the duo.

“Wherever you go, I follow. Got it.” Dayari, a Forsaken and sometimes assassin for the armies of the Undercity, nodded. His nods could be particularly unnerving, as his jaw, only loosely attached, tended to sway from side to side in addition to the intended nod.

The pair found themselves seated in a barren room in one of the fortified towers of Agmar's Hammer, a Horde stronghold in the frozen wastes of Northrend. The sounds of business and battle could be heard beneath them, as the Overlord of the outpost dictated orders, barking cries for execution and slaughter. The noise below made for easy conversation above; there was little chance of being overheard when competing with the volume of a roomful of Orcs. Nonetheless, the two kept their voices somewhat hushed, as befitting any plan requiring subterfuge.

Dayari stared intently at Angellis. However, Angellis could not shake the feeling that as soon as the words left his mouth, they were no sooner forgotten by his addled companion. Since his rebirth as a member of the Forsaken, Dayari's memory had been riddled with holes and for as long as Angellis had known his undead friend in his rotting state, there had been little improvement, only glimpses of memories and unrelated fragments. But, Dayari was handy with a blade and Angellis felt a sort of responsibility for Dayari's survival. Blade or no blade, the guileless rogue could easily be led astray. Fortunately for Dayari, his pointy-eared friend had no such designs or intents to exploit. Angellis had goals more beneficial to both in mind:

Rumors of a High Elf courier, ferrying battle plans between Borean Tundra and the Alliance city of Wintergarde Keep, had attracted Angellis' attention, which had in short order become the attention of both hunter and rogue. Complicating things, Angellis knew that the likelihood of this information being property of the two alone was highly slim to none. Angellis, a Sin'dorei by circumstance more than motivation, had less of his kinsmen's hatred of their Quel'dorei relatives. However, there was no shortage of members of the Horde who would be rendered giddy at the thought of spilling the blood of the Alliance. This left the hunter one option, an option not typically associated with his ilk: finding the quarry and leaving it unharmed. Well, mostly unharmed. It was unlikely for the courier to part with the valued information merely at the request of two members of the enemy faction. Despite the obvious challenge, Angellis was more concerned with keeping his comrade from finding his dagger lodged in the courier's chest. Dayari had a penchant for simplifying problems by way of the blade.

“I need you to write something down.” Angellis stated this command slowly and clearly. He then waited for Dayari's response.

Dutifully, Dayari placed a scroll on the floor, promptly pulling a quill and inkpot from a satchel. “Write what down? Did I forget it already? I don't think you've--”

“You cannot kill him.” Again in a slow and steady tone, ensuring ample time for Dayari to digest and copy down the words.

Looking up from his writing, Dayari said “Don't kill him. Who again?”

“You cannot kill the courier.” Again, the same steady tone, this time with the slightest hint of frustration.

Angellis took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and exhaled deeply. “Good enough, let us go.” Angellis threw his large flintlock over his shoulder with a heavy thud. Eyolf, Angellis' ever present wolf, stirred from his canine slumber at the sound of his master's movement. Eyolf was not of the common variety of wolf. There was a time when Eyolf was indistinguishable from the rest of his pack. But, travels in Northrend had changed him dramatically. The wolf was now a creature of energy, translucent with lighting crackling along his hide.

The pair, plus semi-canine companion, descended from the main building of Agmar's Hammer. Without as much as a word between the two of them, they retrieved their mounts, primitive violet winged dragons of antiquity, from Narzun Skybreaker, the Wind Rider Master of the encampment. Narzun was a military sort, prone to organizing squadrons of freshly recruited Taunka into flight-ready formations. Keeping an eye on the ill-tempered scaled mounts of two vagrants was not a high priority. Thus, it had only been with the exchange of gold coin that Angellis had managed to ensure any likelihood of their means of transportation remaining undisturbed for the duration of their planning. Dayari waved at the Tauren Wind Rider Master, attempting to be cheerful in his greeting. It was Dayari's best effort at being inconspicuous, as he was occasionally aware that the lack of living niceties was one of the things that could unnerve the still breathing about their undead brethren. Unfortunately, his effort was wasted on the impassive solider.

“Nice weather we're having?” Dayari smiled at the Tauren.

Angellis, watching Dayari's futile attempts at facilitating the plan, gestured at him sharply, before he could do any damage, and urged “time to go.” Angellis, standing beside his winged proto-drake, patted a gauntleted hand beside the saddle, signaling to Eyolf to prepare for the flight. Eyolf swiftly settled into a comfortable position on the proto-drake's back. Angellis, shortly following suit, positioned himself in the saddle. Dayari had done the same with his mount and the two kicked off to the skies. Rapidly gaining altitude, the two were soon soaring above the snow-covered landscape.

Angellis surveyed the ground below, his breath forming ice crystals in his hair. Northrend was cold and as high as they were, there was no protection from the chilling winds. But, this was an important part of their plan. The courier would be traveling by land, as the skies were dangerous to all but the most skilled of adventurers. This was due to the Frost Wyrms that circled the skies, guarding the Scourge's operations in Dragonblight. Also, proto-drakes were common sights in Northrend and it was unlikely that their presence would arouse any suspicion in their mark.

Dayari, following shortly behind Angellis, could barely feel the cold that his living companion bundled himself in furs against. Dayari at first watched the ground for signs of movement of their courier. The courier he wasn't supposed to kill. Seeing nothing, he soon busied himself with picking at a piece of skin that had come loose in the wind.

Angellis looked over his shoulder briefly to make sure his undead associate was still with him. Seeing the familiar form behind him, returned his attention to his duties. Looking at the ground below, his keen elven eyes noticed a swift form: a rider galloping eastward along the last remnants of road toward Wintergarde Keep. Before them was the Bone Wastes, a treacherous valley filled with dying dragons, Scourge, and a variety of other un-pleasantries. Shouting to be heard above the winds, he yelled to Dayari to descend upon their target. Lurching toward the ground with alarming speed, the two neared their mark. Unfortunately, the onrush of two dragon-like creatures from the sky was not the most stealthy of approaches. The rider, covered in thick furs, noticed them and veered sharply southward toward a wooded area on a hillside. The snow was thick, but the courier's horse churned through the snow with barely a hindrance to its speed. However, one horse was no match for two flying beasts. Nearer still, the gap between the chased and the pursuers closed. Angellis steadied his flintlock as he prepared to shoot just in front of the rider's horse, hopefully startling it to a stop. As Angellis aimed for the final pull of the trigger, a violet scaled form dove in front of his view. Dayari had moved into Angellis' line of sight, spoiling the shot. But, fortunately for Angellis' plan, blocking Angellis' aim was not the Forsaken's sole intention. The undead rogue dropped from his mount, reaching free-fall speeds as he plunged toward the rider, daggers outstretched.

“Kim'jael,” Angellis muttered to himself in Thalassian. But, instead of felling the courier, plastering himself in the snow, or otherwise ruining things, Dayari plunged both of his daggers into the steed's neck. With a gout of blood painting the snow, horse, rider, and undead rogue tumbled to the ground. Angellis brought his mount to a more graceful landing, re-steadying his gun and preparing to follow through with the second part of the plan.

From the heap of blood, snow, and horse, two individuals moved free. One, the Forsaken instigator, was covered in blood-soaked snow, glistening bright red in the frosty air. Dayari looked at his surroundings, taking several moments to get his bearings.

More rapidly escaping was the Valiance Expedition courier. Breaking free from the crash site, he staggered to his feet and began to move quickly away, hoping to make his escape before something worse could happen.

“Bal'a dash, malanore.” The typical Sin'dorei greeting took on a sarcastic character given the current situation. The Quel'dorei messenger needed only to look at the huge-barreled gun leveled at him to be certain that this was to be no leisurely meeting. Still keeping aim toward the courier, Angellis growled at Dayari, “The horse...not necessary.”

Staring back at Angellis, Dayari responded with a confused tone: “But I didn't kill the courier.” Dayari shrugged and turned to face the now standing courier. The courier, taking assessment of the two visible threats to his life, shifted his eyes uneasily between his confronters.

Speaking again in Thalassian, the hunter said to the courier, “Rumor has it you possess some very important documents. May I see them?” The last was said with a wicked smile. A slight motion of the gun acted as an underscoring for the urgency of this request. “And, if you act upon my friendly request, I promise to respond in kind and let you go upon your merry way.”

The tall, Quel'dorei courier looked to his satchel, stepped backward from his attackers, but halted shortly. He found that, instead of any sort of path of escape, he was standing at the edge of a precipice. Below him, carrion vultures circled about the bony corpses of decaying dragons. “You seem to have left me little choice, Blood Elf.” His gaze looked from the ground below to the rotting undead, to the Sin'dorei with the gun.

“You certainly do have a choice. You can give me what I ask, or you can wait for what will no doubt be a less sympathetic member of our Horde to find you. Now, if you would, the documents.” Angellis, lowered his weapon and extended an open palm. “Please.”

Very slowly, the courier walked forward and, at an almost glacial pace, if not for the shaking in his hands, withdrew a pair of wax-sealed tubes, just the right size for a pair of maps. Eyes trained on the entirely too large gun held by one of his assailants, he handed them over to the Blood Elf. Between the cold air and the embarrassment at being waylaid by his enemies, his checks burned bright red and his eyes watered.

Swiftly grasping the containers, Angellis stated flatly, “there, you're free to go.” Angellis turned toward his scaled mount, relieved that he had succeeded without bloodshed. However, his back turned, he failed to see the Forsaken, in one smooth motion, step forward with boned foot raised and plant it securely in the chest of the courier. The force of the blow sent the courier staggering backward, far enough that his feet no longer made contact with the snow-covered ground. There was a startled yelp as the Quel'dorei was able to again suck in air as he fell toward the rugged earth. Turning at the sound, Angellis moved toward the falling elf, attempting to sprint the last few yards to the cliff's edge. Angellis reached forward to grasp any part of the panicked courier, but his hands found only air and he was forced to watch the man he had promised no harm plummet downward. With an audible crack and shattering sound, the courier fell though the network of bones littering the ground far below the cliff's edge. The body remained still, with the only movement being the temporarily disturbed vultures.

“What did you do? I said do not kill the courier.” Angellis searched Dayari's vacant expression for answers. Finding none in his face, he repeated, “I said do not kill the courier.”

Dayari glanced over the cliff's edge, and shrugged, “he fell.”

Dubious of his addle-pated friend, Angellis stared.

“I did kick him...but he fell.” Dayari broke eye contact and looked to the swirling snows.