Aedran (mentioned)

Aramalia stood over her desk, a pile of partially-filled official papers to her left and an open notebook on her right.  Glancing from right to left, she copied the contents word-for-word onto the fresh parchment with a cautious hand.  Despite the late hour, her actions had energy, her eyes a focus that defied the lack of sleep that threatened to close her eyes.  She had hoped that there had been some underlying factor that could explain his actions, but no.  There could be no reason for these actions. Aramalia rolled her shoulders, not relieving any tension, but succeeding in making a number of cracks and pops.  Soon, she thought, soon…Checking for any missed details, she bound the pages together and slipped it into an envelope, sealing it with red wax.  He had considered the Virtue of Compassion a weakness.  To those who would refuse compassion to others, there would be none.

General Aestan Firatril,

As requested, I have investigated the reports made by a number of citizens both within the city and within the Horde.  Based on their testimony, I regrettably inform you that I find it necessary to continue with a formal trial against Hamlen Prideux.  The list of charges includes, but is not limited to: assault, threats of violence, harassment, and attempted unlawful arrest.  Included are the testimonies I have collected detailing the events.  Be sure that these remain private and only seen by you.

Now, I have heard that the voting for the replacement Convocate of Regulation is to happen soon.  With Prideux as one of the candidates, this may cause a bit of trouble.  I trust that you within the Convocation will find a suitable solution.

Dutifully submitted,

Aramalia Solisbane, Lieutenant-Colonel

Standing upon the hill, overseeing his Mindscape, Jakobus narrowed his eyes in tense anticipation for what he would have to do. Decades of work would be risked; his very sanity lay in the balance. Perhaps tonight, he would not return to Aedran. Perhaps he would finally overstep his abilities, cracks and tears slowly laying waste to his very mind. Necessity, he mused, may be the mother of invention, but it is the sister of destruction.

Jakobus :: Success has come to me after my latest experiment with my mentor. His need and his drive to be correct in all of aspects of his work has been challenged and will likely result in my demise, or a humorous hypothetical thereof. He is a man that likes control, and to be in control. There is no fairness between a student and their mentor, as he has told me all too often.

He had set limits and I pushed against them, so much that I could feel his frustration and angry gaze even with a door between us. It feels so wonderful to challenge authority like this. I see why Nikolai was so thrilled to be a devious man for so long.

Damage Control has been placed at a hold, to see how my dear teacher will retaliate. It's worrisome and exciting and makes my heart race. I do hope this becomes a moment that we may both learn and grow closer from. It will open up much possibility for new adventures of the mind.

Leaning back in the worn, dingy hammock, she stared at the rotting wooden planks that consisted of the ceiling, trying to summon some kind of entertainment from them; it was a terrible failure.  She had understood the risks and sacrifices that would need to be taken, what she'd be giving up once the paralytic toxins took hold and the dagger sliced through his arteries.  It was all too hasty, too hasty.  Of course she wouldn't be so forward.  No matter.  That want for revenge...it seemed to slip away, one more emotion consumed by the overwhelming apathy that comes with a job finished with no satisfaction.  And now where was she?  Taking sanctuary in the Underbelly of Dalaran.  She let out a quiet, bitter chuckle at the term: sanctuary.  No different from prison, really, except you pick the accomodations.  She rolled over, facing the entrance of the room, watching as a sewer rat scurried across the floor, sniffing for any scrap of food.  It bolted in squeaking terror as a throwing knife struck the wood a few centimeters away from its twitching whiskery nose.  No, this wasn't the way to be...She scratched her head  through the material of her cowl, her eyes catching sight of a group of chattering sin'dorei.  An idea started taking root in her brain; shallow roots, but quickly digging in.  She sat up and ushered the barmaid close as she wandered by, "Oy, 'ere's some coin.  Buy th' girl there a drink."

The Legion probably wanted a body before they'd be satisfied.  She could manage that.

In a basement in Brill, a lock hummed as Jakobus lay his palm against the small metal plate mounted on the wall and released a small amount of his mana into it. With a theatrical hiss, the door slid open, revealing the well-equipped laboratory beyond. With determined strides the scholar walked in, surveying the room.

The self-application of healing salves to the various burns on my body provoked whispered curses, directed at no one in particular.  Maybe at that damn Mage-Convocate.  I smirked as I wrapped  frostweave bandages around the scorched skin.  Old codger fought better than expected.  Not that it mattered much.  I had done my deed, keeping the pot simmering, stirring.  Still, while there was pleasure in the act, that rush of adrenaline that seemed to be the only narcotic to keep color in the world, it did not remove the irritation deep-rooted in my mind.  It was all growing...stagnant.  The...Liberator, heh, he was too busy resting on his laurels, expecting all to come to him without any effort.  Lazy pig.  Had it been my rebellion, we would have been storming the city by now.  Had I given a damn.

It's about time, I think, to start my own scene.