A letter from the Uncrowned

[Vyalis]

Vyalis and his brother stood in the balcony of a tower, the Magus Commerce Exchange and the whole of Dalaran sprawling below them. It remained a beautiful city, but a certain suffering hung in the air like a foul odor. Ever since it was attacked by the Legion it hadn't been the same.

Vyalis turned to his brother: "I don't understand how we've gotten to this point, Gidius. It seems like only yesterday we had our sights set on the Alliance ready to tear their throats out, and now we find ourselves fighting on the same side of the battlefield. I'll be damned before I accept any sort of peace with those foul humans!" Vyalis spit at his feet.

Gidius looked flustered by his brother's anger. He had never liked to be around Vyalis' rage. It may have been the anger that saved them from their father's wrath growing up, but it had slowly taken on a new form-- it was vicious now. Though his brother was often able to keep his anger in check, times like these made Gidius feel uncomfortable-- even threatened-- around Vyalis.

"Well there's not all that much you can do about it, short of taking on the whole of the alliance by yourself," Gidius replied meekly "At least until this war with the Legion is over." Gidius was a strong mage to be sure, but his magic wasn't powerful enough for him to feel confident enough to stand up to his brother.

The mage continued hesistantly, seeking a way to talk his brother off of this ledge of rage: "Plus, the humans make up only part of the Alliance... And they certainly aren't all to blame for what happened all those years ago--"

"WRONG!" Vyalis interrupted, his face turning red. "And I'm tired of all your blasted compromises! If you're not for the horde then you're against it. And remember... History does not take kindly to half measures."

Gidius met his brother's glare, and for a second he could have sworn he saw some sort of tenderness in his eyes. Before long however, the rogue had vanished into the cool night air, leaving his brother to ponder times long past in which he and his brother had seen eye to eye.
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Vyalis fumes as he walks through the streets, his mind swirling with rage and clarity. He arrives in the order hall and sits down heavily at his desk, a quill and parchment in hand. He begins to write.


"To the order known to me as "The Grim",

I have heard great tales of your exploits throughout Azeroth and beyond. I have heard of your "Mandate", as I believe you call it, but have until now found it to be too extreme. However, as it often does in war, the situation has changed. No longer do I feel like we have room for half measures or weak handedness when it comes to the Alliance. No longer can we suffer from the same weakness that festers throughout their lands. And no longer can we allow third parties to distract us from the real challenge that faces us:
The alliance's way of life threatens our own, just as much if not more than the Legion does.
We must be ready to answer the call of war, ESPECIALLY now that they are not. The Alliance lies at our feet weaker than ever, and it is our duty to strike them down... for the sake of our world.
If you will have me, I will pledge my blades to you so long as you hold fast to this "Mandate", and never let circumstance get in the way of what must be done.

I away your reply in urgent regard."

The rogue rolls up the parchment and seals it with the mark of the Uncrowned. He calls over one of his loyal thugs, a man that had been with him since Northrend.

"Deliver this to the guild hall of The Grim, and don't stop for anything along the way."

[Qabian]

Qabian raised an eyebrow, reading over the letter as he entered the Inquisition office. There were quirks to this particular request, but that did seem to be the order of the day, and they could be addressed in person.

Qabian dropped the open letter on Syreena's desk, then moved to his own to pen a reply.

The Grim have been following the Mandate ceaselessly for over a decade. That will not change.

We are in need of blades backed by the promise of your words, but if you wish to offer yours, we will test them first. You will find a representative waiting in Brill within the next few days.

~Q

Some time later, Qabian put the reply back in the hands of the man who had delivered the request, hesitating just a moment as he considered the possible risks, before nodding and returning to the confines of the guild hall.

[Syreenna]

Syreena walked into the Inquisitor's office, sucking on a candy cane. It wasn't quite the season for it yet, but she had a few left over from last year.

The brightly striped candy sticking out of her mouth didn't match the rest of her appearance. The small Forsaken was clad in red and black leathers under the Grim tabard, and blades of various sizes were sheathed in her armor in several places. Her hair was dull and stringy, her teeth were filed to points, and her face was a patchwork of various flesh stitched together with heavy black thread.

She picked up the letter on her desk, a brow raising as she recognized the broken seal. As she read the letter, a wicked grin formed around the candy cane.

She glanced at her own writing materials, but the broken seal on the letter meant the High Inquisitor already read it and probably already replied. She knew she would need only wait for his summons to meet the new applicant at the interview.