World of Warcraft®

The clink of glass and acrid aroma of bubbling chemicals comforted Wallan as he puttered around his workshop in Brill. His thoughts were as busy as his fingers as he crushed the weeds and mixed his potions. The tiny imp sat in a corner tearing apart a spider, trying to make it spin more web.

"You blasted imp, if you kill it there will be no more webbing!" Wallan yelled at the green hellion and tossed a shadow bolt at the giggling imp. "I should have roasted you long ago and served you to the voidwalker! At least he follows orders!"

The deep chuckle of the voidwalker menaced the imp who promptly fled into the attic. "I obey, Master" the voidwalker intoned.

"Yes, of course you do...blue blobs always obey...or they get banished to Xandru's ninth hell for a week!" Wallen growled. "Even if you did mess up the most important assignment I ever gave you...."

The voidwalker merely stared with vacant eerie eyes, his failure had put him in the famous Xandru's seventh hell for a month, he still carried the taint of sickly sweet flowers in his aura. "What is Xandru's Ninth Hell? Not flowers!! Please no more flowers!!" he sighed and sulked in the corner.

"If you had not failed me I would still be in Gilnaes with my family and friends, sitting in Dovercliff mansion with my treasure..." in a fit of rage Wallan sent a flask of acid flying at the voidwalker who promptly vanished. The shattering glass and resulting plumes of green smoke did nothing to relieve his anger.

"I shall have it yet! If I have to kill every last one of the Dovercliff family...as far as I know there are only two....that scoundral Wallen and his sister....Rosanth..." his eyes grow misty as he recalls her radiant beauty. "If only...she had been more agreeable..." With a snort and shrug Wally went back to work on his potions. "Need more gold...more weeds....more demons...." he cackled as he worked.

The office of AAMS was lit by lamps as Rosanth wandered in. Verogoth was still busy doing paperwork, she smiled as she seated herself at the table. "Good evening Sir Verogoth, you are still working?"

Verogoth greeted her warmly as always, his eerie blue eyes did not frighten her any longer. It had taken a few days of interacting with the powerful death knight before she had realized he had a heart of gold. "I am always working...it's what I do" he chuckled.

"I need to talk..." she started out, trying to remain calm. "About my brother...and what happened between us..." her voice almost failed her as she clutched the mug of mead and sipped to clear her throat.

"Of course Miss Rosie, I am always here to help" Verogoth smiled warmly.

Rosie took a deep breath and sat down at the table, a mug of mead before her. With shakey voice she began.

"Long before...the worgen curse took over the Gilnaen people...before the Forsaken grew so bold...before Deathwing shattered the world as we knew it...there was a tragic murder..." her face contorted in agony as she fought to control the memory and the tears.

She took a deep sigh and sipped at the mead, "My father...was a brave and strong warrior...he bowed to no one save the King Greymane...he was loyal to the crown and fought for Gilnaes without hesitation. He also had a very volatile temper...which he passed to my brother Wallen. They fought constantly...over trivial things at times..Wallen wanted to race our horses, they were sturdy and fast. Father insisted they were well trained warhorses, not meant for such frivolity, as he called it"

Rosanth sat sipping the mead for a moment, "Mother was often the only one who could control or pacify either of them....she was our rock in the midst of chaos..."

The quiet tavern office was empty except for Rosie and Verogoth and the nightmare scene playing in her head unfolded.

"That last evening I saw them alive...was a nightmare from Hell...a storm blew in and the winds were knocking things about...Father and Wallen argued in the den...their angry words seem to accompany the cracks of thunder. Mother was in the kitchen cooking and I was upstairs getting dressed for dinner. When I heard Wallen slam the front door and the house settled into relative calm...I heard Mother order the servants to watch the pot while she went out after him. It was only a few minutes later I heard the scream..."

Rosie rocked in the chair, fighting the tears and trying not to sob. Verogoth tried to sooth her, his comforting presence helped somewhat and she struggled to sit up straight. "I am all right...I must tell you this...I have told no one else..." she sipped the nearly empty mug and Verogoth poured another for her.

"That night...I heard father rush out the door with a curse...I ran to the window...the lightening and thunder crashed and it started raining hard..I could barely make out the struggle from the window...I yelled for the servants and rushed down the stairs..we grabbed torches and headed out the door...only to find...Mother and Father both dead...ripped to shreds....and Wallen standing over them...covered in blood..." Rosie dissolves in tears and sobs, leaning on Verogoth.
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((OOC this is the story I have so far, working on getting things situated and will post more as the story unfolds. Wallen has his own version of the story, that will be posted later. Any comments please keep them constructive thanks!!))

Acrid smoke filled the tiny workshop as Wallan worked feverishly, only a bit more and he would have his final product. Digging furiously in his storage vault he cursed aloud, "You blasted Imp, where has all the bloodthistle gone! Have you been eating it again?"

The imp giggled and promptly disappeared around the corner, wisps of green smoke following him. A flask of green acid flew across the room and missed the imp by a half inch. Splintered glass and green goo ate at the floor as Wallan cursed.

Mumbling something about roasted imp, he grabbed his cloak and went out into the night to harvest more bloodthistle, he did not have enough gold to buy it and he knew where it grew in the Eversong Woods. "Come along!" he growled at the voidwalker as he stomped out the door.

With bloodthistle in hand Wallan finally had enough to mix in with his special pipe tobacco. The mixture contained just enough bloodthistle to get that idiot Wallen totally hooked on the magic enhancing drug. Once he had Wallen hooked on the drug it was a matter of coaxing him to Kalimdor. The deed that contained the clues to the location of the treasure. Wallan was sure that the son held the deed, it was only normal after all. Though the old man had failed to give him the information he needed, the son would be easier to crack.

Wistfully Wally thought back to the days when he was welcome in the Dovercliff home. When he had thought to convince Rosanth to marry him...that would have been a much easier route to the treasure his old grandfather had sworn was hidden somewhere in Gilnaes. The key to the location was inscribed in the words of the deed in some kind of code.

But Rosanth had spurned his advances, she was enamored with a warrior who had eventually died...mysteriously. Wally grinned as the thoughts of revenge whirled in his head. He would show her...with all the power he could muster...and she would beg for mercy and kiss his rotting hand.

Wallan woke up early, he would be going to the Undercity and making some discreet inquiries in the rogue district. He could not offer much in gold until the treasure was found. He hoped he would not have to use his charm potion, though it had proved most interesting in previous experiments.

The relative quiet of the Slaughtered Lamb was broken by the stomping tread of the dwarf Baridin as he cheerfully greeted Wallen and set a frothy mug of mead on the table. Wallen nodded and puffed on his pipe, "Good day my friend, it is good to see a cheerful face in this quiet tavern."

"Wut's wrong lad?" Baridin asked, his voice full of concern.

Wallen sighed deeply and took a long drink of the mead, "Old memories haunt me Baridin...I have a sister who hates and fears me...and no family to give me any support."

"And why does she hate ye lad? Surely there is no reason for her to fear ye if you are a competent warlock and have good control over yer demons...is there somewhat else?" the dwarf sat close and quaffed his dwarven stout. He patted Wallen's shoulder with an effort to comfort the morose Gilnaen.

Wallen slumped in his chair, "It is a long story Baridin, and it is my control of demons that got me into this deepest of despair...."

"Tell me about it lad, mayhap I kin help ye" setting another mug of mead in front of Wallen the dwarf sat back and waited for Wallen to tell the tale.

Wallen nodded in thanks to the dwarf and contemplated a moment before he began. "It all started many years before the Forsaken were invading Gilnaes, long before the worgen curse ran rampant through the woods...I had a friend...who told me of the secrets of demonology. I embraced it as heartily as if I were born to it. My father hated the idea..we fought about it a lot...that and other things..." He stopped to fill and light his pipe, drawing in the sweet smelling smoke and letting it drift across the room.

"Mayhap ye were born with a natural talent for it lad, tis good if ye set yer mind to it and study hard, ye will have great power some day." Baridin nodded in an effort to set his friends mind at ease.

Wallen shrugged and nodded, "Someday...I will be more powerful...and there is something else my friend told me about it...a secret hidden somewhere...an artifact he believed would give great power to the warlock who could master it...he believes the deed to Dovercliff has some sort of clue...but my sister holds the deed. Something my father and I disagreed on..vehemently. The last arguement we had was about that...his final words still haunt me"
Wallen shook with barely contained emotion.

"What happened to yer parents Wallen? Ye kin tell me." Baridin leaned close and listened raptly as Wallen told him the story.

"The night they died...my father and I argued about the deed...he swore I would never have it, the danger would be too great. He would not tell me why, though I think he knew more than he would ever reveal to anyone. I left his study in a fury of anger, slamming the door and going out into the darkening night as a storm approached. Mother was in the kitchen and Rosanth upstairs, I am sure they all heard the curses and dared not say anything to either of us. I went to the stable to check on the horses. Then I heard my mother scream, the most ungodly fearful screech I have ever heard...my heart nearly failed me hearing it...I ran out of the stable and ran towards the garden...when I saw this nightmare of a demon tearing my mother apart..." Wallen stops to drink from his mug, the agony of the past shredding his soul.

The dwarf sat in stunned disbelief, "Was it somethin ye summoned? Lad...that can make anyone have nightmares..."

Shaking his head, Wallen whispered, "No, not I...it was something another had summoned...and I ran with sinking heart to help her...but my father got there first...he was screaming something about the Dovercliff curse...I think he also believed I had summoned it...but I could only run towards them with my staff in my hands...as the rain started and thunder crashed around us. The demon fought with my father and had shredded him beyond help before I could get close enough to try and banish the foul creature. It was all I could do...and as the demon disappeared in a flash of purple smoke I fell across the remains of my parents...there was so much blood....everywhere..."

The dwarf sat in stunned silence. Taking a deep draught of the stout he shook his head. "That is beyond horrifying lad.."

Wallen tries with shaking hands to relight his pipe, "That is not the worst of it...Rosanth and the servants came upon us only moments later...they saw me and the ripped remains of my parents beneath me...and assumed....my guilt. They drove me off with pitchforks and torches as Rosanth fell over in a faint...I was so glad I had saved her life...but they would not hear my words....I ran...in fear and pain...and then...the worgens found me....and I was cursed..."

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Rosanth stirred restlessly in her sleep, the flickering of lightening and the distant thunder bringing her bolt upright in the bed. Images of driving rain and the torn bodies of her parents flashed through her mind and she clutched the blanket tightly.

"NO! No....Wallen...how could you...." But the bloodspattered man standing over her parents would not answer...could only stare in confusion. The servants sprang into action and brandished torches and pitchforks menacingly at him and Rosanth lost conciousness.

When she awoke after that fateful night, the servants were dashing around the house in total disarray. "Wake up Rosanth! The city is under attack! We must flee!!"

In confusion Rosanth stumbled from the bed, grabbing leather armor and reaching for her staff. "Who is attacking?" she tried to stop a servant who had rushed into the room in panic.

"Forsaken...and worse...the worgen who stalk the woods...they have become an epidemic...all of us are going to die!!" the frightened girl wailed.

Rosie grabbed the girl and shook her lightly, "Stop! We will fight..do not lose hope!"

The village was a shambles and Rosie caught sight of Liam Greymane directing the fighting. Encouraged by his bravery and sense, Rosanth fought and helped rouse the citizens of Gilnaes. The nightmare of losing her parents took a backseat as she worked to secure her people.

It was not until after she had reached Darnassus that the memories had surfaced...insidious and chilling. Did her brother really kill both Father and Mother? Rosie tried in vain to stifle the memory. She had not seen Wallen since the fighting began. There was no way she could prove that Wallen had done this thing, and part of her did not want to believe it...so she held her tongue and tried to go about making sense of her new life.

Druidic training involved becoming as one with the spirit of bear and cat, the viciousness and cunning of each filled her soul. The shape of a sealion helped her to swim fast and silent in the water. The blazing speed of a cheetah helped her to outrace her enemies. But there was nothing in the animal world to help her banish the horrid memories.

The AAMS had brought purpose and meaning to her existence. She had made friends there who would stand by her side. Wistfully she thought of Sir Verogoth, he had been a rock she leaned on to spill her soul's anguish. He suffered as well with the past...she knew that becoming a death knight was a nightmare in itself. Rosie realized with a pang in her heart that Sir Vero was not a man to be taken lightly, though she knew he cared. Friends are needed no matter what...she thought to herself.

Wearily she gazed out the window as dawn lit the horizon. Another day, and more work to fill the hours until she fell from exhaustion into her bed.

Cackling with sinister glee Wally mixed the vile weeds into the pouch of pipe tobacco. Whoever smoked this would be driven mad with sinister berzerker rage. Wally tied the pouch securely and tucked it into his satchel. Now to find someone to run some tests...who could he enlist? Someone who would not suspect....someone expendable.

Stepping out into the outer corridor, Wally searches for a likely victim. A total stranger who may appreciate the finer tobacco that he had used to cover the vile weed. Perhaps he could search in Orgrimmar, nothing but crazy orcs there..who would notice one more berzerk Orc?
Wally grins and heads to the Zeppelin to Orgrimmar. The Felguard tromping by his side making snide comments until Wally dismissed him with a wave of his hands, "Begone! You are nt the Master! I am! Do Not Forget!"

Drums echoed through the canyons as Wallan made his way through the maze. Orc, trolls, blood elves, tauren and goblins thronged the streets. Noisy and busy, Wally liked it, most of them to ingrossed in their own petty squabbles, who would notice one more berzerk orc or troll thrashing around. Perhaps the tauren would be more interested in tobacco however.
He did not discount the Forsaken, he already knew of several who shared his love of good smelling weed.

Setting up a small rickety stand near the cleft of shadows in the Drag, Wallan began to smoke his own pipe, with untainted tobacco, and waited for someone to notice the sign he had hastily scrawled and hung on a convenient pole.

Tobacco Shop- Fine tobacco from all corners of Azeroth

In bright colored tins and boxes, he set out a selection of the tobacco he had obtained from traveling herbalists looking to make a bit of silver. He sat back and observed the traffic, wondering who would be interested in his wares. Puffs of aromatic smoke wafted from his stall, drifting across the canyon.

Riding her raptor through the Drag in Orgrimmar, Tohatsu paused when she smelled the pipe tobacco. She eyed the Forsaken with his arrangement of containers with a bit of suspicion.

"Wat is dis smell? It not be foul and rotten like I expek from Forsaken....is dis more Forsaken trickery?" her nostrils flared at the sweet smelling smoke coming from the stall.

"It is fine pipe tobacco, lady Troll, no harmful effects...I assure you...care to try some?" Wally grins at the thought of a troll being even more bezerk than usual.

Tohatsu shakes her head, "I do not do dis ting....smoke be bad for breathin' , meybe dat Orc will try it...and I watch..." she settles down to wait and see if there is any ill effects on the Orc.

((OOC- anyone can try it! Up to you if you get a sample of the good stuff or the spiked with vileweed berzerker special!))

Sorting through his many treasures, Wally finds an old dagger. Encrusted with a deep green gem, it brings him to mind of his old friend Wallen Dovercliff. The days of instruction spent with his student has left a lasting impression. There was so much potential there...so much more than the surface talent. Perhaps there was another soul attached to the Dovercliff scion, even the possibility of the elder Horatio Dovercliff, reaching from his prison in the Nether.

Wally fingered the dagger and traced the runes written on the handle. A small weapon with the potential to trigger hidden knowledge...but Wally would have to make the timing right, and be witness to the deed...to learn the secret...and reveal the location.

This would call for a skilled rogue, who could be paid enough gold to wield the blade only enough to make her talk...and reveal the location of the hidden. The prize that has eluded Wallan Hardcastle for many years. An artifact of great power.

Lisa sauntered down the alleys and side streets of the Orcish city as if she owned it. It was a defense mechanism she had developed over her few years as one of the walking dead. In all actuality, she was absolutely terrified of the people that really ran the city. But to anyone watching her pass, she was as comfortable here as anywhere. She stopped short when saw the sign advertising pipe tobacco and the Forsaken man plying those wares.

Lisa took one look at the tins and boxes and asked, rather rapidly, "Well, well, what have we here? Smoking accoutrements and the like, yes? Should I partake? Would it be lady-like? I wonder if I have enough money to buy some. I wonder if I have the courage to try some. Tell me, tell me, good sir, how much for your fine product? I will need a pipe as well, so where can I buy one?" She smiled broadly, eagerly awaiting the answer.

Wallan smiles at the mage, "Indeed, you may have a pipe free if you wish to try smoking, here....I have some samples you may try. They are all mild, with a pleasant fragrance and delightful flavor."

Wallan shows her how to fill the pipe bowl with the crushed leaves and tamp it down with a finger. "You can use a match or a fine tuned thread of fire to light it, drawing a gentle breath through the stem to bring the smoke to your mouth. It is a bit stronger than a cigarette, though milder than a cigar. Most people do not inhale the smoke fully...just enough to get the flavor from the tobacco."

He lights his own pipe and sits back to watch the mage try out her new pipe. "A few silver for the tobacco, if you want more just come back." the pleasant odor of tobacco fills the small area.

She worried, but then she did that a lot these days. She'd become friends with both Dovercliffs through the course of her sermons. She'd listened to both, heard both sides and yet... She sighed. Perhaps it was her own strained relationship with her now fallen brother that drove her to become involved; perhaps it was simply her own curiosity and that ever growing need to help everyone. Either way, she'd agreed. Genevra orchestrated the meeting between Rosie and Wallen, the first since that fateful night.

As she sat in the Stormwind City Hall listening to Wallen tell of that dark night when his parents died, it was hard to listen to again, knowing how it ended. She'd heard the cough upstairs, and turned her head to regard Rosie as she stood in the doorway. Genevra smiled a reassuring smile, hoping that she had not made a poor choice when this was all through.

Standing at the top of the stairs, Rosanth hesitated a few moments. After all this time, assuming her brother was guilty, it was hard to shake the nightmare. Swallowing and trying to wipe tears from her eyes, she slowly descended the steps. Wallen's account of the tragedy was accurate and chilling. His face as he looked up to see her standing there was full of emotion and hurt. Even after all these years, the shared bond of her twin was like an open wound, raw and throbbing. "Wallen, I can feel your pain....I believe your account...even though the servants would not." she could barely whisper.

"Rosie....can you ever forgive me for all the pain and suffering you have felt?" he stood and waited as she made her way down the stairs. His eyes pleading, and his voice breaking as he tried to speak clearly.

"I can only ask your forgiveness in return..for doubting you...if only we had been able to speak at the time...but the worgen and the Forsaken made that impossible." she stopped in front of him. "We can put that in the past now and try to make this life a good one...but there is one thing you need to know....I cannot go against Father's wishes...the deed is mine and I will not relinquish it...the consequences are far more dire than you or I could ever deal with...it is best left locked away."

A flicker of relief flew across his features as Wallen moved forward to envelope Rosie in a hug. He stopped short however and looked at her with a barely held in look of anger and resentment. "You would deny me my Grandfather's legacy? I am not Horatio Dovercliff, though I have been told he was a warlock of great power. Rosie, please consider...the legend of his sacrifice is only whispered in the darkest of secret societies."

Shaking her head in what she hoped was a definute denial, she retreated a step, "I can see that this old arguement will never cease...there is a reason why I cannot let you have this Wallen, mainly because you are a warlock. You don't know all of the history of Grandfather Dovercliff...you only know a legend...a myth spread about by a corrupt society seeking only to control something which is beyond even the most skilled among them..."

The resentment and rage threatened to overtake Wallen as he stood struggling to contain it. "I see that the predjudice and prideful nature of Father has made you blind to the truth...I should have known you would continue his arrogant refusal to allow me the legacy of power Grandfather surely meant for me..."

Putting on his hat and grabbling his cane, Wallen turned to Lady Genevra with a bow. "I thank you madam for orchestrating this meeting..my apologies for any unpleasantness I may have caused you." With a courtly bow, he turned then and after one last scathing look at Rosanth, went out the door.

Realizing that perhaps Lady Genevra may have been caused undue stress, Rosanth hurried to her side. "Lady Genevra...are you well? I am so sorry things did not go as well as I had hoped....even though it makes me relieved to know Wallen did not kill our parents...he is still a warlock in search of a power he cannot even begin to understand."

Sitting near Lady Genevra, Rosanth had a chilling thought. "I do hope you understand why I cannot let Wallen have what he desires...and I pray that this has not put you in any danger...I should really put the deed in a safe place...where no one can find it...yes...remove the temptation away from all who seek it."

Rosie sits in contemplation...where could she stash the deed to keep it out of reach? Even carrying it around with her did not make it safe from....thieves and rogues who would not even know what they had.

Watching from the convenient perch of a crate, Tohatsu could not help but notice the greedy eyes of the Forsaken as he handed the mage some tobacco and a free pipe. He was up to no good, but what his game was she had no clue. An orc and a tauren came strolling by and bought some tobacco from Wallan and he seemed excited about something though he tried to hide it.

Wallan packed up his goods and left soon after. He seemed to be following the last two he sold his tobacco to. Suspicion roiling in her gut, Tohatsu followed him a distance away.

Coming around the corner of the road she watched them all go out the gate and stand in front of it. The tauren and orc stood talking quietly and began smoking their pipes. Wallan sat near the gate, setting up his wares on a crate and began cajoling those passing by to partake of his tobacco.

Tohatsu stood near the wall and leaned against it, trying to relax. She observed the orc and Tauren as they conversed, the smoke around them seemed a bit odd. Suddenly the two were shouting angry words and began using weapons and spells against each other! Tohatsu gasped as the two combatants erupted in a fury she had never before witnessed! The guards only seemed mildly interested and shrugged it off as duels were fairly common outside the gate.

Wallan however seemed very interested as he wrung his hands as though enjoying every blow and shout that was filling the area, He began taking notes in a battered book and seemed oblivious to the stares and consternation of the few folks who stopped to watch the fierce battle.

Tohatsu had seen many duels, but the ferocity of these two was beyond anything she had ever observed. The duel went on for many minutes and only stopped when four guards finally grabbed the tauren before he could land the killing blow to his friend. The tauren struggled with the guards and it was all they could do to restrain him. The orc lay in a pool of blood, seemingly unconcious.

With sinking heart Tohatsu hurried over to the orc and checked for a pulse. The orc held on with the barest whisper of life clinging to him. Tohatsu called on the Loa and prayed fervently, calling the spirit of the orc back from the edge of the abyss. As she probed his mind she reeled back from the rage that filled his soul. Sending soothing images of peace she finally managed to banish his anger and began cleansing his body of the toxins.

The orc sat up finally and gazed around in confusion. He caught sight of his tauren friend and his eyes narrowed as the guards still struggled with the mighty bull. "I thank you priest for your kindness...I do not know what came over me..."

With a deep breath of relief, Tohatsu nodded, "I be heer ta help....but I tink it be da tobacca dat make ya crazy...it be wise not ta use it unless ya go inta battle." She turned to the struggling tauren and walked closer.

Four guards struggled to hold down the bull who was shouting obsenities. "Hold him a bit more...I try ta cleanse dat poison outta his system.." she called on the Loa and prayed fervently as she sent her mind into the tauren's. Sending forth healing and soothing thoughts she finally managed to calm him. As the poison left him the tauren sat down in exhaustion as his mind reeled. The guards reluctantly turned him loose as he slumped to the ground.

Tohatsu looked around for the Forsaken who had sold the tobacco, but he was no where in sight. She tried to tell the guards about it but they seemed to be ignoring her as they admonished the fighters to be more careful.

She was relieved to see the orc and tauren seemed to be friends again. Apparantly the poison was out of their system and they were both healed. Wondering if anyone even noticed the Forsaken and his poisoned tobacco she shrugged. This was wartime, perhaps it was a secret project and it would be best for her to keep this to herself.

Haggerty looked at his dwindling supply of tobacco and sighed. How did he let it get this low? Thumbing through his list of suppliers he came upon a strange entry. His list of suppliers seemed to be mostly Alliance, except for one from a Horde supplier in Brill. Wallan Hardcastle...why did that seem familiar to him? Ah! Yes, he was a brilliant alchemist who worked wonders with the many herbs that grew in the Ghostlands and Eversong woods. Odd that he was listed as only one purchase. Haggerty looked at the small pouch to see if it had an identifying code, this was one of the few tobacco purchases he had made in the time he was in Southshore, before Deathwing and the Forsaken had made things so difficult.

Knowing it may be hard to find, he resolved to get his new friend Sir Verogoth on the search for news of Hardcastle. Perhaps he was still in business. It would not hurt to give the AAMS some business.

Wallan Hardcastle cackled to himself ans he rubbed his bony fingers together. "Now the stage is set, I need to get in place to grab a hostage. Once that fool Dovercliff who thinks he is a warlock gets that tobacco, he will be out of commission and I can get to work on finding that deed. I do need a rogue though...to steal it from her would be the best course...I need someone who is shady enough to steal from their own faction and who has a need for the gold...hmmm...perhaps I need to get in touch with someone from the Defias...they are more likely to have a rogue in their ranks who will do as I ask"