Jakobus

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It's ironic, it would seem, that a device such as this has become so helpful to me, another little bauble Ixidos had been coming up with.  Such a fine researcher, that boy, if only he had the mind to lead...but I digress.  I record this speech from my sanctum, warded away from the world and its thousands of other recording devices called eyes, ears, and minds.  For so long, I have lived in the public gaze, always swift to recognize my face to the world first.

I have served our people for thousands of years.  I am a very, very old elf, and I know my time is finite.  These are...difficult thoughts, to be sure. 

OFFICER’S REPORT (FILE COPY)
Case #: 481516
Reporting: Sir Sidoran Sunlash, Chief Security Officer of the Legion

(p.1) Regarding the Sexual Assault and Aggravated Harassment of Rhosyn (hereafter referred to as “the Victim”),

I interviewed the Victim early on the morning of 26/4. The statement she gave, paraphrased here due to technical difficulties with the recording equipment, was initially very similar to the statement given to Convocate Sebastien Kerwin (File Missing) and coincides with the report from Doctor Jakobus Nachtengaal ([url=http://www.rp-haven.com/blog/jakobus/report_regarding_rhosyn_delivered_lady_aramalia_solisbane]File Attached[/url]). New developments are detailed from Paragraph 3 onward, with notes included for the benefit of fellow investigators.

Mercenaries Wanted for Expedition to wild Zul'Aman!

 Overview:
In an effort to aid his student in a research project regarding the Troll race, notable scholar Jakobus Nachtengaal is leading an expedition into the lands of Zul'Aman!

What we need:
- Mercenaries with unquestionable loyalty and skills.
- Mages capable of detecting and disarming magical traps.
- Servants to help carry the spoils.

What you will earn:
- In return for obedience and loyalty, you will receive a fair share of the spoils from the rich halls as determined by Nachtengaal himself.

Overview
As per the Law of Silvermoon, I stand under oath and civil obligation to report to the authorities when, in my practice, I encounter matters of dire importance or gravitas.As per that law, I must unfortunately file this report about an encounter I have recently had with Rhosyn.

 The events
Myself and my student Aizawa D'Aranath were engaged in a lesson in my office, when we heard a commotion coming from downstairs. When we moved the investigate, we noticed a horse (in the barding of a “Charger”) standing behind the bar of the Wayfarer Inn, mounted by the female healer Rhosyn. There was no response to her name, and she appeared at first glance to be in a catatonic state. At this moment, lady Sijmen Beauregarde arrived, and I requested her to dismount Rhosyn and carry her to my office for further investigation.

Mercenaries Wanted for Expedition to the Blackwing Lair

 Overview:
After the recent discovery of an egg in the halls of Karazhan, preliminary research by Denley Sunshade has indicated that a suitable next venue of research would be this Lair.

What we need:
- Mercenaries with unquestionable loyalty and skills.
- Mages capable of detecting and disarming magical traps.
- Servants to help carry the spoils.

What you will earn:
- In return for obedience and loyalty, you will receive a fair share of the spoils as determined by Nachtengaal himself.

((Image under the cut))

It would have been a nice evening at home if not for Ticky. She didn’t know who gave him a spring rabbit, but she was ready to shank someone, anyone, for it. He was still sniffling from her sole attempt to rescue the creature when she heard a heavy thud just outside her crypt. By the time she got to the door, whomever had delivered it was gone. There was just a large box with a hand-written note. Ticky’s chocolate covered fingers made a grab for it, but she was faster.

“Calm down, it’s not for you. It just says ‘please post conspicuously’.”

 Date Filed: April 5th

Excursion Date: April 3rd

Jakobus tensed as the shadow pushed himself lightly away from the wall, slowly walking to the center of the small clearing the scholar had found himself in. Surrounded by decrepit buildings, the stench of piss, and a variety of unsavoury sounds, he felt himself almost engulfed by the living, breathing creature that was the Row – not merely a region of the city. From atop several of the surrounded houses he could make out the glint of steel meeting the sunlight, and here and there the creaking of a bow held at tension and the cocking of hammers. Troublesome, indeed.

Mercenaries Wanted for Expedition to Legendary Karazhan!

 Overview:
In an effort to further our understanding of the phenomenon of “Death Knights”, notable scholar Jakobus Nachtengaal and his students are organizing an expedition to the legendary halls of Karazhan, rumoured to be virtually undead-infested.

What we need:
- Mercenaries with unquestionable loyalty and skills.
- Mages capable of detecting and disarming magical traps.
- Servants to help carry the spoils.

What you will earn:
- In return for obedience and loyalty, you will receive a fair share of the spoils from the rich halls as determined by Nachtengaal himself.

((Please be aware there is a slightly NSFW image behind the cut.))

((Please click "Read more" to see the full image.))

In a basement in Brill, behind steel doors, Jakobus paced down the isles of his laboratory, a blackboard closeby. Occasionally, he glanced at his scribblings; endless rows of formulae incomprehensible to any but him. He ran a hand through his golden hair, the ring on his finger catching a few of them – the light pain as the hairs were pulled from their nooks in his scalp barely registered. Self-activating behaviors, Jakobus mused, before snarling at his own lack of focus and returning to staring at the board. It all added up. It was correct. It had to be.

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.

"You women worry too much", the scholar spoke in response to the leatherclad woman’s request. He leaned in to kiss the pout off her face, but the woman leaned back, her hand against his chest as she held him at a distance. “"You women, eh? Way t' trivialize it, Jakobus. Fuck you. We's right” she accused, angrily. Surprised by the strong reaction, Jakobus leaned back, taking in Aedran’s copper-colored hair: “I know my limits, love” he responded, pausing for a moment before adding:  “Trust me – I will be alright”. Clearly, Aedran was not convinced, weeks of held-back concern coming out in one sharp, snorted response: “Whate'er y' say. So when y' stop breathin' in th' night an' I think fer 'alf a secon' y' might be dead, I'll jest tell m'self it ain't no big deal an' put m' pretty li'l 'ead right back down on th' pillow.”

((Special thanks to the fine roleplayers above for a fun late night rp session. I tried to do the scene justice as much as possible without a chatlog available and only my poor memory to rely on.  If I failed, the blame is all mine.))

He walked the streets of Silvermoon like a zombie. In his mind, a slow, reverberating chant could be heard in a disturbing mockery of his own voice.

"Mana. Mana. Mana."

More more more.

He clutched his head, squeezing the temples until his head physically ached. He walked, trying to avoid the mana dens but was drawn back to them like a moth to flame. He paced in front of one of the doorways, drawing the attention of several nobles who tut-tutted and clucked their tongues at him.

"Filthy addict," he heard them say. He turned, forced his leaden legs to walk away. Everything was so bright. So bright.

So...purple.

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.

((Common practice on Haven appears to be to write the response to letters received in-character as a comment on the post itself. Once I wrote it, however, I noted that its sheer size likely warranted a seperate post. I apologize if this offends anyone's delicate sensibilities.

This post is in response to the letter found here. ))

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.

Month of Love, 18th day

Jakobus :: Although he is friendly and a rather beautiful man, he is still very dangerous in all of his strangeness, even after my trust has been given to him in full. His intent is never fully realized until the extent of his experiments come to a close, or some time thereafter. He has a good heart, but a sketchy way of doing things, and it shows too easily when he's not careful to hide it. A good heart because he'll chase after the things that are important to him, no matter their uselessness beyond his need for them. People of emotional importance (See: Aedran) are a project to him to keep after, but must be observed in person. He hurriedly chased after me as I broke into a dramatic outburst, begging me to continue our friendship. I was irrationally distraught and he simply didn't care about being right. He merely wanted me to be alright, after all was let go of. - something to keep in mind -

The small, white creature squirmed in his iron grip, razor sharp buck teeth trying to find the scholar's fingers as the needle approached its soft belly. It squeaked in rage as the needle sunk in and the plunger pressed down, sending the mixture into its veins. It ran around frantically in its cage, as it was replaced, the ticking of the stopwatch only worsening its nervousness. The scholar's eyes were on it, waiting patiently, his muscles tense. Minute after minute ticked away as the mouse calmed down. Five minutes - something should be happening, by now. Six. Seven. Eight.

A sanctuary of books and notes and numbers and theories. Héra relished every moment she had alone with her studies; if purely to find herself in a most comfortable state of nakedness. While still covered with plain unders and an equally plain brassiere, the skin not covered was free from the stuffy warmth of her robes. Her solitude made the tiny, faint scars on her arms perfectly alright to reveal. Years of self-punishment were now meaningless without eyes to capture them.

Now finished with her reviews, the young mage left the couch in the room Jakobus had supplied for her and wandered slowly to her ashwood vanity. Nimble fingers plucked her hairbrush from its place and soothed her wild curls of bedhead with slow, thoughtful strokes. Tired, dusky-lidded eyelids drooped over her vibrant yellow eyes, although they appeared so Sin'dorei green in this light, she thought.

((This post may be NSFW due to the mention of some parts of the female anatomy. Additionally, fair warning that this post may cause mild offense in some. Read at your own discretion.))

Birdsong, he mused, is not all it is cracked up to be. Certainly, to us dumb humanoids, it sounds like a lovely little melody, but to these animals it is anything but play. Such were his thoughts as he awoke in the large bed in his room in the Wayfarer's Rest. It was a late morning – he'd had the luxury of sleeping in, until the birds and laughter of some children outside had woken him. He slid out of the bed, and walked over to his opened briefcase on the table. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, as he produced the syringe, noting his dilated pupils. He was pushing himself too hard, the formula was not good enough yet. He sighed as energy rushed through his veins, and sent electric shocks of activity through the synapses in his head.

Dearest brother,

Silvermoon turned out to be something far more interesting that I had originally anticipated. What started out to be just another excuse for the girls to go shopping turned into a most exciting insider's look at the workings of the city. Most of which I can be thankful for because of a most peculiar man named Jakobus Nachtengaal. He's a scholar and a charmer and an utter amusement all on his own. I know you don't like hearing about it, brother darling, but his arms practically gravitate toward anything pretty, especially if it just so happens to have a pair of breasts.

His tour was a wild gryphon ride of tests and teasing challenges. Like how he tried to see if I had told him my real name, which I had, or even snatching up a copy of a library card admission just to see the details. Don't worry. I put the Academy's address on the form. I wouldn't dare lead any strange men to your door.

He woke, as he always did when he determined he would. It was as if there was a tiny, gnomish alarm clock in his head, waking him up. A light fog swirled in his head, obstructing his valuable thoughts as wakefulness came to him. A warm form was splayed heavily over him, the girl's coppery hair tickling his nostrils as she snored softly. He ran his hand over her naked back, and smiled, his eyes at the ceiling. "No drugs this time, no studies. I want this just to be for us" she had said, after her almost comedic bout of rage where she had threatened to leave. It would have been comedic, but somehow, he had not been able to see the humor in it. He pulled his arm tighter around her sleeping form, pressing her against him as he brought his lips to the top of her head. She was delightful - a vivid and complex mental life mixed with a lifetime of hardship.