A sealed parchment, bearing the wax stamp of Silvermoon City

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Ristikus
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A sealed parchment, bearing the wax stamp of Silvermoon City

Unread post by Ristikus »

DEPARTMENT OF WAR
SILVERMOON CITY - SUNSWORN

FROM: BRANDT, RISTIKUS - CAPTAIN - SUNSWORN
TO: THE GRIM MANDATE - (COMMANDER, IRREDEEMABLE, HIGH INQUISITOR or RANKING OFFICER)
VIA: SILVERMOON EXPEDITIONARY WARFARE TRAINING CENTER (SEWTC)

SILVERMOON CITY, AND ORDER OF THE SUNSWORN HEREBY REQUESTS TRANSFER OF - Brandt, Ristikus (CAPT.) OF THE Sunsworn - TO PROCEED NO LATER THAN 1 DECEMBER TO YOUR RANKS.

To whom it may concern,

I - Captain Ristikus Brandt, of my own volition and pursuit - seek servitude amongst The Grim Mandate, to serve as such until my death or discharge by approval of no less than the high inquisitor of your service. It is within my understanding that rank will have no relevance until my worth is proven within this mandate, and my pursuit is justified exclusively by the count of Alliance kills carved upon my epaulet. It is for this reason I seek transfer, and request a response at your earliest convenience.

SIGNED
By Direction
Captain Ristikus Brandt
Sunsworn - Company C.
Commanding Officer
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Khorvis
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Location: Lincroft, NJ

Re: A sealed parchment, bearing the wax stamp of Silvermoon City

Unread post by Khorvis »

The leftover treats of the Grim Hallow's End festival were dwindling. Beneath a knotty oak, High Inquisitor Bloodstar lay in a pile that was more candy wrappers than fallen leaves, his chest heaving as the sugars coursed through his veins. The orc panted in Alterac's late autumn chill, his breath starting to mist, and brushed the trash from his gut.

"This did be a mistake," Khorvis winced as he staggered to his feet and steadied himself against the oak. Plunging a fist into his belt pouch and fumbling for something to distract himself from the Blight Boar rave that was raging in his stomach, he extracted the letter from Ristikus. Sugar-glazed eyes scanned the entries, noting the militaristic formulae.

"Sunsworn... Captain... command experience... transfer? What the bloody piss do this be?" Khorvis stood up straight, glaring at the words on the parchment. Immediately he regretted the rapid movement. "If the Regent Lord's lackies do think they can - urgh - pawn off," the warrior said into a clenched fist, belching, "their dregs into our ranks, they do need a hiding!"

He slapped the paper. "Bah, this did never happen when we had a proper Warchief." Bloodstar squinted at the entry again. " 'It is within my understanding that rank will have no relevance until my worth is proven within this mandate.' HA! How right you do be Captain Ristikus Brandy, as you will soon learn." Throwing his head back to laugh, the movement proved too much and quickly the letter became an illegible mess of half-digested tricky treats and pickled voidfin.

...

Later that evening, once the orc's stomach had time to uncapsize, Khorvis sat at within the Grim Halls at the Desk of Resolve penning his response.

OFFICE OF THE INQUISITION
ALTERAC - REDACTED

FROM: HIGH INQUISITOR BLOODSTAR - IRREDEEMABLE - GRIM
TO: BRANDT, RISTIKUS - ASPIRANT
VIA: THE GRIM INQUISITION AND BIOLOGICAL MASS RECYCLING (BMR)


Aspirant Brandt,

Your transfer do be approved, pending your successful passage of the entry trials. Report to the Inquisition within one week's time for intake and re-education. Bring only what do be listed in the enclosed packing list.

Peace through Annihilation,
High Inquisitor Khorvis Bloodstar
Irredeemable - Dread Coven
The Grim


The mentioned packing list was also illegible due to another regurgitative accident.
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Qabian
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Re: A sealed parchment, bearing the wax stamp of Silvermoon City

Unread post by Qabian »

((On request, sneakily added here.))

Logging started on 10/28/2020 at 21:39:47.
Feyde nods at you.
[Mellinoe]: Interesting choice of meeting place.
[Khorvis]: This one should understand. A statement.
Mellinoe looks up at the giant structure, then at the person coming through the gate
Khorvis grunts at Ristikus.
[Khorvis]: Throm'ka, elf.
Ristikus glances about the southern ridgelines, a hand relaxed on the hilt of his blade. His glance then turns to the three. He dismounts, then proceeds to stand at attention - presenting a crisp salute.
Ristikus salutes Khorvis with respect.
Khorvis takes his time dismounting, letting the absurd assortment of blades and spikes rattle on the way down.
[Khorvis]: Speak your name and your business.
[Ristikus]: Captain Ristikus Brandt - I seek admission to your mandate, sir.
Qabian eyes Feyde, but says nothing, staying where he is.
[Ristikus]: The gear list within your letter was.. difficult to decipher. I've brought with me three days sustainment, rope, my blade and buckler.
Ristikus tightens his grip on his sword, seeing the spider mounted elf approach from his left. Seemingly caught off guard, he glances once again to the southern ridgelines, scanning them from west to east.
Mellinoe observes the soldier with mild interest, then looks to Khorvis.
Khorvis makes a noise in his throat, the letters reminding him of sugary treats best forgotten, and nods. "Brandt. Good. I do be Khorvis Bloodstar. I do think you know what that means."
[Khorvis]: These do be seasoned Grim. Nevvarine, Feyde, and Grimfire.
Mellinoe dismounts, giving Ristikus a customary bow
Mellinoe bows before Ristikus.
Ristikus returns his attention to the now four, a hollow gaze darting between them. "Greetings."
Qabian stays motionless, still mounted, staring into the distance over Brandt's head rather than acknowledging any introduction.
Feyde pats the side of the Precious spider trying to settle it. Watching curiously.
Khorvis nods his head towards the inner sanctum of the Pass. "Bah, that do be enough posturing. Let us get down to our business here."
Ristikus releases his grip from the hilt, slowly inching towards a relaxed state. His attention remains on the orc, however he occasionally glances to his peripheries - eyeing the others.
Khorvis takes a place around a shattered table. What was once a bureaucrat's checkpoint had become his wardesk.
[Mellinoe]: This one seems very cautious, Lasher.
Mellinoe gives Khorvis an amused smirk, "Did you do something to them already?"
[Khorvis]: Frankly that do be impressive. Most come in headstrong, demanding, and begging for the Lash.
[Mellinoe]: Really
Ristikus looks towards Mellinoe, containing some restraint within his voice. "This pass keeps company to more than just your mandate, ma'am. With respect."
Sparkscatter looks around.
Mellinoe gives a thoughtful look, like it hadn't been a pattern she'd observed herself.
Mellinoe hails Sparkscatter.
[Khorvis]: So, Brandt. Your command did request a transfer of your sorry pink flesh.
Sparkscatter eyes Khorvis.
Sparkscatter greets everyone warmly.
[Khorvis]: Explain yourself. In small words, for my elderly sake.
Feyde grin at Tweezle still sporting her Hallows End costume
Sparkscatter is festive. Somebody's gotta be.
Khorvis gives Tweezle a small grin behind his facemask, but maintains his attention on the recruit.
Ristikus pauses, carefully deciding on what to say next.
Sparkscatter peers curiously at the pretty-- ehem, the new elf.
[Ristikus]: I personally requested the transfer, Master Khorvis. I am at a point in my career where should I proceed any further, I will be canalized into staff and planning roles - with few opportunities for command, or.. more importantly, combat.
[Khorvis]: You do distain the strategist? The rod of command?
[Ristikus]: It's not my intent to undermine their value, but it is not what I am here for.
Sparkscatter waggles her eyebrows, which, mostly just looks like her mask moving around a little bit on her face.
[Ristikus]: The logistician, the administrator, and the strategist all have their place. I am none of these however.
Sparkscatter leans in and whispers to Mellinoe. "Cannon fodder?"
[Khorvis]: Then be specific. For every bloodthirster I did run with in worg packs never did mince words.
Sparkscatter snffs and eyes the elf out the corner of her eye. "'d be a waste."
Khorvis seems at once both impatient and goading, like a combatant in the arena toying with a hamstrung foe.
Mellinoe looks to the fairie goblin, "A little callous."
Ristikus darts a glare to Tweezle at 'cannon fodder', but remains silent. He returns his attention to Khorvis. "I am an infantryman, Master Khorvis. I belong with my feet on the ground. While so many may perceive this as naivety, this is what I was put here for."
Sparkscatter shrugs sheepishly. "It's been a day."
Khorvis snaps his fingers. "There it do be."
[Ristikus]: The strategist is nothing without the tactician to drive his intent in the trenches.
Qabian keeps a cold stare on the road back toward Tranquillien, scowling under his mask, but the only sound he makes is the occasional creak and click of his mount's armor settling.
Mellinoe raises her eyebrows at Ristikus, glancing back to Tweezle, "I don't think he appreciated that comment."
Ristikus keeps his gaze on the orc. "Without the.. Cannon fodder." He glances to Tweezle. "The strategist would be nothing but a bureaucrat with a fucking map."
[Ristikus]: Respectfully, sir.
[Khorvis]: I would delve into the tunnels of that argument with you at length, Brandt, but that do not be my purpose here tonight. Nor do I think some of our company would enjoy the discussion of swordplay.
Sparkscatter smiles brightly.
[Khorvis]: We take your intent clearly. You do wish to kill.
[Ristikus]: Aye'.
Sparkscatter certainly does not murmur "Depends on the sword play" okay she totally does, but really, it's under her breath...
[Khorvis]: You do know the words of the Mandate?
Sparkscatter really hopes this isn't a pop quiz.
[Ristikus]: Yes. I do.
[Khorvis]: Implied tasks, Brandt. Do come on, now.
Sparkscatter snickers softly.
[Khorvis]: We do have little need of automatons. Phaw, enough goblin engineers to fulfill that role for eons. No, we do need thinking killers. Clever and scheming warriors.
[Khorvis]: Grim, what do be the words we carve into our fallen enemies?
Sparkscatter gasps! She gives Khorvis a look.
[Feyde]: Peace Through annihilation
[Sparkscatter]: Peas through Automation!
Feyde sighs at Sparkscatter.
Sparkscatter smiles brightly at Feyde and gives her a thumbs up.
[Khorvis]: Aye, peace through annihilation. The one truth you might depend upon come your dying breath.
Mellinoe repeats, "Peace through Annhilation... what does it mean to you?" She said towards Ristikus.
Sparkscatter gently pats Mechabun Five K.
Ristikus blinks, glancing towards Tweezle - then back at Khorvis, seeking a cue. He then nods, responding "Peace through Annhilation."
Sparkscatter ooohs softly at Mellinoe's question.
Qabian finally dismounts from his pony and lets it wander away down the road. He leans against the pillar supporting the arch, his attention drifting lazily between Khorvis and the new guy.
Sparkscatter gives Qabian a tiny little subtle wave. Yeah, the thing the goblin is best at. Tiny. Subtle.
[Khorvis]: Nevvarine asks a bloody important question.
Ristikus turns to Mellinoe, considering his response carefully. "There should be no time or consideration for diplomatic niceties. The point of war is to impose our will upon the enemy. Nothing but total war, or annhilation of the enemy, can achieve our goals."
Qabian gives Tweezle a lazy salute.
Mellinoe offers a smile to the paladin, looking back to Khorvis.
Khorvis claps his hands together, one of flesh, the other of gears. "Well spoken. Almost as well as the colonels and commanders you do seek to flee."
Ristikus smirks. "All politicians, sir. Respectfully."
Sparkscatter wrinkles her nose.
[Khorvis]: But like those long-toothed strategists, it was all theory and no grit. I do not give a rotten kodo-hide about your philoso.. philo... high ideals.
Qabian rolls his eyes.
[Khorvis]: No, we do need a Reason.
Sparkscatter watches Q to see if he's gonna ask the babies question.
Qabian doesn't seem inclined to say anything at all.
Mellinoe decides to interject again, as the translator of Lasher-to-everyone else, "Do you have a reason for seeking transfer to us other than future opportunities for combat? Or do you have a more personal goal?"
Ristikus glances his arms now folding behind his back as he proceeds to dig in in his heels. "I am an infantryman. It is where my passion lies. I am here to fight."
Mellinoe furrows her eyebrows, seeming a tad disappointed with that answer.
[Ristikus]: And again, respectfully - it is not my place to determine or decipher reason behind who or why we fight.
You raise your eyebrow inquisitively at Ristikus.
Qabian smirks at Tweezle. "Cannon fodder."
Ristikus turns to Khorvis. "Not too long ago we fought your kind here in these woods, Master Khorvis. Then shortly after, we determin some scheme to align with you and fight the Lordaeron cowards who abandoned us most recently."
Sparkscatter grins at Qabian.
Khorvis lets the elf continue, little perturbed by his discomfort.
Qabian looks between Khorvis and the new guy, then sighs and rolls his eyes.
Ristikus turns his gaze to Qabian, his stare narrowing in focus - but restraint keeping his anger reigned in. "Had I cared much for reason I'd find myself in robes rather than armor, and in council with other politicians who shy from the sword."
Ristikus he nods towards Qabian, "I mean no disrespect, sir - but it's all semantics, and it's all to keep everyone from thinking they're not the good guys."
Feyde grins all the more at the man. "I joined for the fight.... Our work requires a passion for it. A drive. Something that pushes you forward when things become easy and lure you to peace"
Sparkscatter raises her eyebrows, which is just another wiggle of her mask.
Ristikus returns his gaze to the orc, a scowl curling over his lips. "I share no pretense with the statesman, master orc. I am here for the fight. That is my passion. The integration, the planning, the killing - all of it."
Khorvis nods at Feyde, her blades glistening in the darklight.
[Khorvis]: Very well, you do claim a more pure purpose to this fight. You do not be the first. Aye, many have donned our tabard with contorted ideals of justice and purpose.
[Khorvis]: So we do set aside the why, but maybe we look to the What, aye?
Ristikus seems puzzled, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow sir. The what?"
[Sparkscatter]: Killing other soldiers is one thing how about, y'know.... NOT-soliders.
Sparkscatter gives a little nod, like what she's asking is completely obvious.
[Khorvis]: Your foe, of course. You cannot swing a blade without a target. What in the fel do you think we aim at?
[Qabian]: Trees.
Mellinoe chuckles
[Sparkscatter]: I didn't bring an axe.
Ristikus glances between Tweezle, Khorvis and Qabian. "Whoever considers to lift the blade against." His puzzled looks remains, continuing to glance about defensively. "Shall I go down the list in detail, sir?"
[Qabian]: Oh, Tweezle. You and I don't need to stoop so low.
Qabian looks at Brandt. "Perhaps the better question is who do you not aim against? Who is not fair game? Who is innocent to you?"
Khorvis gives Qabian a bowed nod that contains a thanks that his clearly hamstrung words could not.
[Sparkscatter]: Who's stooping. Wait, is that a short joke?
[Sparkscatter]: I didn't think you had it in you.
Mellinoe quickly goes back to not being as amused, "Do you spare any of your enemy's kin simply because they aren't fighting you? Do you show mercy?"
Qabian shakes his head with a grin in his eyes, but doesn't answer Tweezle.
Mellinoe stares at Ristikus... if such a thing could manifest as daggers, he'd be stabbed many times over.
Ristikus turns to Qabian. He pauses - lowering his gaze, considering his question. He glances back to Qabian. "The Alliance is the enemy. If I kill a father, his two sons will perpetuate the war. If our objective is to win this series of wars that we've had for so long, then anyone: associates, members, or friends of the Alliance must fall.
Qabian nods.
[Mellinoe]: And what if they are your kin? Or used to be... Closely or distantly related.
Qabian looks at Mellinoe. "Ten gold he has no kin?"
Ristikus darts his gaze back to Mellinoe, offering a quick and venom laced response. "The high elves are traitors, and will have their justice - whether it be the blade or the rope."
Sparkscatter cackles.
[Mellinoe]: Devolved over centuries of living in trees, or a few days of playing in void magics...
Qabian laughs quietly. "Bah."
Khorvis strokes [TRP3:The Lash] coiled round the hilt of his blade, clearly excited and incensed.
Mellinoe tilts her head, "No friends of yours decided to chase after Alleria's tail?"
[Sparkscatter]: So impersonal
Sparkscatter tsks softly.
Ristikus inaudibly snarls, flaring his nostrils in anger. "No friend of mine betrays their own people, ma'am."
Qabian is probably smirking.
Sparkscatter oooohs. "No true goblin." She cracks her knuckles. "What an easy way out."
[Khorvis]: A worthy response. Of course, as a grunt, you do understand the value of action of mere words. Which you may see through the Trials.
[Mellinoe]: Did I touch a nerve?
Qabian looks over his shoulder. "And Dar'khan was right there. What a wonderful legacy he left us."
[Mellinoe]: How am I supposed to know the true loyalties and motivations of someone who has no, and never has had, any attachments? Any history to speak of?
[Ristikus]: I didn't say I have no history. Perhaps you misunderstood.
Mellinoe crosses her arms over her chest, "I'm listening."
[Ristikus]: I have family, living - I do not pretend to be from an upbringing of toil. Quite the opposite, actually.
[Qabian]: Oh good.
Qabian laughs.
[Ristikus]: My father passed prior to the second war - and my mother remains here, loyal to the Sin'Dorei. She has no illusions or loyalties to our former kin.
Sparkscatter snickers at Qabian.
Khorvis removes a gauntlet and gnaws at some grit stuck beneath a sickly thumbnail.
[Ristikus]: They are exactly that - former. Should we meet them in combat, I will spare no effort in killing them - just as I would a human, dwarf, and all.
Mellinoe raises an eyebrow, speaking in a low tone that would be seductive, if not bitterly cold, "How much do you like you like your mother?"
Ristikus stares Mellinoe down.
[Mellinoe]: An honest question. Do you talk often? Visit?
Sparkscatter cackles.
Ristikus blinks, glancing back to Khorvis - as if looking for a life raft. He returns his gaze to Mellinoe, searching for meaning in her questioning. "Not as much as I should."
[Ristikus]: She raised me. What do you want from me? Is a pre-requisite of the mandate to have parental issues?
Mellinoe gives another smile, but it's clearly... very dark, "I'll assume you care very much about her. That's good."
Ristikus catches himself speaking out of turn, taking in a sharp breath - attempting to calm. "Forgive me."
Feyde starts snickering that slowly turns into a long hard laugh.
[Mellinoe]: She is taken by Alliance forces... who knows for what reason. To use her as a pawn, or ransom...
Sparkscatter totally wishes she had pocorn.
Qabian looks amused.
[Mellinoe]: You, as any loving son would, go to bring her back. One of them uses her as a shield, a knife to her neck... To defend themselves from your sword piercing their heart...
Mellinoe continues to stare icicles into the recruit, "What do you do?"
Ristikus meets her gaze, his fists slowly clenching and releasing.
Khorvis grumbles under his breath, trying to distract the elf. "I did once watch a draenei mother strangle her own infant with the entrails that I did let slip from her belly with my blade. Do you believe she does care for you that much?"
You blink at Khorvis.
Sparkscatter glances at Mel out the corner of her eye. Something definitely glimmers through the mask's eye slits.
Ristikus tenses, his fists now fully clenched. "I wouldn't pursue my mother unless directed to. I am the son of my people first, to her second."
Sparkscatter lets out a low whistle. "Harsh."
[Qabian]: How sweet.
Sparkscatter doesn't say All Brawn No Brains but is probably thinking it pretty loudly.
Mellinoe hmms at that, the coldness of her expression and tone easing
[Feyde]: He has potential
[Qabian]: Does he?
[Mellinoe]: He's worth a chance.
Mellinoe looks at Khorvis.
Khorvis holds up a mechanical hand. "Enough. There do be time enough to torment his spirit during the trials."
[Feyde]: Could be. Seems like a follows orders type. That isn't so bad.
Sparkscatter blinks, the glimmering in the eye holes of her mask flickering in and out as hse does.
Ristikus continues staring at Mellinoe, his shoulders once again loosening. "I'm curious what the right answer is."
Qabian shrugs. "Every soul Silvermoon pushes into armor proves again and again that they have no real value, especially where the Mandate is concerned, but luckily for him, I'm no longer the one he has to convince."
Mellinoe looks back at Ristikus, "I won't feign to know what military customs may tell you, but..."
Ristikus returns his attention to Khorvis, remarking under his breath. "Aye'. Lucky indeed."
[Khorvis]: There do be no right answer, Brandt. And likely that fact may kill you during your trials, if I do not do my job properly.
[Mellinoe]: There rarely is just one correct answer. I'm satisfied with your response.
[Ristikus]: I understand.
Ristikus nods at Khorvis.
[Khorvis]: You do be familiar with our trials?
[Ristikus]: No, sir. All I know is I won't enjoy them.
Qabian barks a laugh.
Sparkscatter gives a little shrug.
[Feyde]: I enjoyed mine. Mostly.
[Khorvis]: If you do call me sir once more I will let Tweezle take you to her den of battle pets. I do work for a bloody living!
Mellinoe smirks at that, "Mine were very rewarding at their end."
Qabian chuckles. "I hated mine. Clearly I failed the rest of you if you had fun."
[Ristikus]: Forgive me. Master Khorvis.
[Qabian]: Mm, even better, Master.
Mellinoe smiles at you.
Sparkscatter tsks at Qabian. "Different strokes for different folks, hmm?"
You shrug at Sparkscatter. Who knows?
Khorvis starts barking off words. "Combat. Resolve. Sacrifice."
[Khorvis]: Each one will help mold whatever the regiment at Silvermoon do be tossing us into a worthy Warbringer.
Sparkscatter frowns and wonders if Khorvis means her bedroom, or her lab. Or... She shakes her head. It hardly matters until it does.
Mellinoe does not wish to think on such things
[Khorvis]: Combat does test your ability with that blade you do so like to keep unsheathed. A task worthy enough to impress your peers, I should hope.
[Khorvis]: Resolve tests your memory. We Grim do have a history of some length. You will seek out our elders and learn their tales. I do think you might find much in common.
[Khorvis]: And Sacrifice... well, we will see if you do arrive at the final trial. All of us have given up some part of ourselves to carry this standard.
[Khorvis]: I do suspect you have questions, but as far as I can tell, my stamp can seal your transfer, Brandt.
[Ristikus]: I imagine the few I do have will remain unanswered until my trails, Khorvis - if you'll permit me the opportunity.
[Khorvis]: Very well. I do name you a Supplicant of the Grim.
Sparkscatter does not look gleeful bu-- okay, she *totally* looks gleeful.
[Khorvis]: Lok'tar, Brandt. Report to the Grim Halls. In short time you will be assigned your first trial. Then we will see what you do truly be made of.
Ristikus nods at Khorvis.
Ristikus stands at attention and salutes.
[Sparkscatter]: PEACH THROUGH REANIMATION!
[Qabian]: Take care. You follow in the footsteps of many failures.
[Khorvis]: Peace through annihilation!
"While our enemies remain, peace is not victory." ~Warchief Sylvanas Windrunner
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Khorvis
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Location: Lincroft, NJ

Re: A sealed parchment, bearing the wax stamp of Silvermoon City

Unread post by Khorvis »

[[ Thank you, Qabian. ]]
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