World of Warcraft®

It wasn’t true that Leo Othmar desired things.

Things were simply objects, easily created and easily destroyed. What filled the various shelves and walls of Othmar’s study were trophies.

Every little object, from the unassuming jar of shimmering sand, to the stunning painting of Arathi’s foothills, was a representation of a challenge overcome, or one yet to be conquered. Othmar always had a fondness for collecting art and memorabilia, a trait the ancient spirit now residing in his mind approved of and encouraged. Sandstorm viewed the hoard with as much possessiveness and pride as Othmar, perhaps even more.

He leaned back in his chair, idly examining his newest acquisition. The porcelain elekk felt both heavy and fragile cradled in his palm. Gems and silver filigree adorned its intricate harness, the largest gem a dark, elongated crystal set atop the elekk’s forehead. Along the bottom of the statue were arcane markings, providing it with protection from drops and… other undesirable things.

The door to his office opened. He glanced up with a scowl on his face for the intrusion, but the ire faded as he remembered it was time for Bryleigh to come by and share their usual lunch. The woman, still ostensibly only his personal aide, smiled brightly as she casually set the tray of food on the edge of his desk and settled into her accustomed chair.

“Still ruminating over your newest toy?” she chuckled, pouring two cups of tea.

“Wondering where the other two pieces have gone off,” he answered, turning the elekk in his hand. “Maronn, damn the man, has left numerous false leads, and I can’t risk ignoring any of them. Does he still hold it? It is with those do gooders in Booty Bay? Or perhaps Stoneheardt has it yet. I find it difficult to believe he’d let others take the risk, if he knew its significance.”

“That’s why you have Lanveris, Miss Raradien, and your other ‘help,’” she gently reminded. “So you can focus on what’s important.”

“Yes, yet things keep going slightly awry.” The irritation crept back into his voice. “Raradien nearly threw everything off in Booty Bay. Lanveris should not have been sidetracked by Stoneheardt. Maronn will pay for involving him. I should have killed him long ago. Perhaps something slow, with plenty of time for him to repent for-”

“Leo.” Bryleigh’s sharp rebuke cut through his rant. She looked at him sternly, eyes flickering once toward the elekk clenched in his fingers.

Othmar drew a deep breath, carefully placing the figurine to rest on the edge of his desk. “Yes. Of course. It would not do to let my hatred for him cloud my thinking. Maronn will be dealt with appropriately.”

“Good. Now let’s set aside work and enjoy our meal.”

“You are, as always, right.”

Lanveris and Yuuko had their orders. The nets had been cast. There was little for him to do now except wait, watch, and enjoy a pleasant meal with a pleasant woman, a luxury more precious and irreplaceable than any trophy in the room.

The quiet little gnome blinked as she stepped out of the stockades. It was nice to breath fresh air again, but something had to be done about that sun. It was much too bright. She blinked, placing a hand over her eyes as a shield from the brilliance all around her.

Time had passed her right by. She'd completely forgotten just how long she'd been locked away. Certainly her sentence hadn't yet been filled. Maybe her time had been commuted? Whatever the case, she had two pressing matters.

First, she was hungry. She needed to get her hands on something, preferably eatable. And delicious.

Second, she was broke. She had some gold on her person when she was arrested, but prison guards aren't always the most honest lot. She couldn't blame then really, being cooped up with some of the worst society has to offer day in and day out. Something was bound to rub off.

Of course she had to pay a visit to some parole officer before she did any traveling outside the city. Pft. As if. Just as soon as her needs were met, she'd scatter like a ghost. There were few things Ethel was truly ever 'good' at. Burglary and Disappearing. Everything else she kinda winged.

She had nothing, and her nearest safe-stash wasn't even in the city. She huffed a weary sigh. Guess it was back to the ol'pocket pickin'.

Just enough for a decent meal. Maybe a room for the night. A nice room. With a bath. She sniffed herself as she strolled down the cobble stoned canal street. Ew. Definitely a bath and some laundry. As she passed an apple tree she bounded up the side of the truck with an explosion of energy and snatched a red fruit from a branch.

This'll tide me over.

She casually made her way along the canals toward the Trade District, munching on her apple, pondering about getting an actual job. Something legit that paid regularly, or at the very least appeared legit. There had to be a business opportunity out there for someone with her particular skill set. Really, she ought to make an effort to go straight, but seriously... where's the fun in that? She wasn't getting any younger, and she couldn't run from Johnny Law forever. One of these days she was going to get nabbed for something serious. It was only a matter of time.

After lightening a few purses of well-to-do patrons around the Auction House, she made her way to Old Town to scout out a job. There had to be something available. If not legit, then maybe she'd catch wind of a good score.

Yuuko stared at the wanted notice hanging on the side of the building. She was impressed at the precision of the sketch, but knew they must have had help to be so accurate. She turned away to look down the sparsely populated streets. At this hour only those that sought ill on others had business being about. She drew her hood closer around her face as she left the city.

She approached the Moradinel estate from the North. She knew the estate’s security weaknesses well enough, as she used to be in charge of it. The estate was well warded and guards patrolled the perimeter at regular intervals, but she wasn’t here to break in. She was there to apprehend and object and the possessor of the article was currently in the estate. He would have to leave eventually. When he left, she would be there.

Adassos flinched as he walked by a group of boisterous Winter Veil revelers shouting festive carols in Silvermoon City, keeping his head down and hands close to the hilts of his daggers.

He hated this.

He hated having to be in full armor any time he was out of the home, hated having to look behind himself at every corner. But...that wasn’t really the root of it. He hated being seen. The constant light and life of Silvermoon was beautiful, but it made him grow weary. He was a bright presence in the white and gold of his AAMS tabard, easily made out among a crowd, and now he had the added bonus of a target on his back.

He reminded himself as he left the city and walked towards home that this was his job, that he needed this, he asked for this, he had a purpose now. He approached Keoshine and managed a smile at the great panther, patting her shoulder as she purred at him and moved aside to reveal the large Khorium lockbox she was guarding. Adassos deftly picked the lock and checked that the package was secured and safe, before taking it out and carrying it inside of the home with him.

He was wearing thin, what with all the AAMS deliveries and now his third run-in with Yuuko who was after the box (and possibly his life now), he couldn’t keep up. Trading in his worn armor for sleepclothes and yanking the tie from his hair, he stepped out into the gardens outside his and Trenetir’s room and sank to the ground, eyes falling closed. The twilight hour’s breeze blew through the loose strands of his hair, and he breathed a heavy sigh before stealthing to let the shadows cover himself and the box he currently held tightly to his chest.

He wanted to hide, he wanted to be Nobody again.

Days had passed, and yet the infernal itching had yet to go away. Lanveris’s robe was ruined, a burning heap of scrap left somewhere in the Barrens.

He had been moderately suspicious when his bluff on Kordrion Stoneheardt and the AAMS courier Adassos had succeeded. He had cast an illusion to disguise himself as a woman and met them at an abandoned hut in the Barrens, offering to take the dangerous void artifact off their hands.

“Myrokor is dead,” Lanveris informed them flatly when they questioned “her” presence. “The Doomguard can verify that for you. I am here for the package.”

The courier had reluctantly handed the box over, yet getting his hand on the package had been too simple. He carefully opened it before traveling too far, wary of any magical traps set upon it.

He had not anticipated something as simple, as inane, and as infuriating as a mechanical rig to douse him with a cloud of white powder the moment the lid was opened. To his dismay, he started coughing, breathing it in, and then the itching began. Sharp prickles spread over every exposed bit of skin, flesh turning red with irritation. The box was dropped to the ground, spilling out the last of the powder and small, inert gem.

Gasping for air, he quickly pulled off his outer robe, tossing it into the dirt and taking a few staggered steps into fresh air. It took three attempts to summon enough concentration between pained gasps of breath to cast a fireball to destroy the robe and burn the remaining dust cloud into nothingness.

“That… blasted… elf…” Tears welled his vision, but two moving figures were still visible in the distance next to the hut at the base of the hillside. Stoneheardt and the courier had not yet departed. Lanveris’s skin burned with pain, and so they, too, would burn.

He raised his hands, summoning a rain of fire and brimstone around the two. Stoneheardt shifted his form, quickly transforming into a stone drake to protect himself, while the other figure vanished inside the hut for protection.

The fire coalesced on the ground, forming a portal from which Lanveris summoned a giant, two-headed corehound, a beast fit to challenge even Stoneheardt’s impervious stone scales. The hound spit of glob of molten rock at the drake, who raised his wing as a shield. The glob was deflected directly into the hut Adassos had taken shelter in. Flames quickly engulfed the old building.

He saw the corehound charge at the drake, pinning Stoneheardt to the ground before he could fly and escape, but then the growing haze of smoke obscured his vision. He could see the red glow of the corehound engaged in battle with the drake. The courier’s jeweled panther circled the fight in air, darting in and out, before ramming into the side of the corehound.

The beast smashed into the flaming hut, bringing the walls crashing around it. It staggered to its feet, its gait not quite right as it limped back into battle. The panther continued to harass the corehound, drawing it away from the stone drake. Another shot of molten rock knocked the panther from the sky.

However, it had given Stoneheardt the opportunity to flank the corehound and tackle the monster to the ground. The grass and dirt around them churned, transforming into magma. The injured corehound retreated into the earth, leaving behind a lifeless caldera and a frustrated stone drake.

To Laveris’s surprise, the courier had survived being trapped in the burning hut. The elf had run to the fallen panther, his uniform grey with smoot and charred fabric, and his hair decidedly shorter than it had started.

Lanveris considered summoning another demon to finish them off, but his breath was growing increasingly labored from inhaling the powder. With regret he summoned a portal to take him somewhere he could clean off and change clothes; he made sure that he was once more presentable before informing Othmar that this lead had also failed to produce results.

Othmar was furious, of course, far more angry than he’d ever seen the shadow priest before. Lanveris would make sure he did not fail his next mission. It was time to learn more about the woman holding Myrokor’s key. Just who was Lithliana of Doomguard...