Grim Views

A neat letter arrives thanks to whatever sort of arcane wizardry The Postmaster seems to employ, looking all very pristine and official when it arrives in the mailbox, tied with a bit of shiny ribbon to a wrapped package about the size and shape of a shoebox.

The parchment is thick and high quality, as one might expect a missive from a high-ranking official to be written on. As well, it is sealed with wax, black and stamped with a crest -- a horse's head the most discernable feature of it.

The handwriting itself is meticulously neat, as if some amount of thought went in the careful formation of every letter. The words, however, are somewhat less formal considering all the pomp involved in the rest.

To Whom It May Concern:

I've no doubt this letter will get to where it needs to go. I'm good like that. I've been watching and listening and word is that you people might be exactly what I'm looking for.

My peers might claim to aspire to particular goals, but talk is cheap and rarely have their actions matched up. At least.. to my satisfaction. What can I say? I have standards. So do they, or so they tell me. Which is to say that as much as they thank me for my service to my face I'm aware that they feel quite differently. To be undead and committed to the well-being of Quel'thalas and the Horde is really a thankless job.

Obviously I'm not even worried if someone were to intercept this. Where is the lie?

Anyway~

We've spent too long playing nice. Playing diplomacy. Pretending like at the end of the day we all want the same thing. It's all good for a temporary truce and nothing more and I know that you know that as well as I do. At the end of the day I like going home knowing all's well because there's no one left to disturb the peace. Even better, war's damn profitable and I fully intend to ride that wave until it's all dried up. We also know the only way that is going to happen and it doesn't involve sitting around navel gazing about what's "honourable".

In any case, I think we can work out a mutually beneficial arrangement.

I'm sure you'll put the extras to good use, won't you~?

- Lord Traejan Lightrend

In the attached package were six small orbs that were wrapped almost.. lovingly? More like eggs than the small metal spheres that they were. By the size of them they would easily fit into the palm of most people's hands and were suitable to carry on one's belt with minimal effort besides. A small card penned in the same handwriting tucked into the box explained what they were and their purpose.

I thought I'd send along a sample of my work because... who doesn't love incendiaries? ❤

They might look small but they pack a punch. They're filled with all kinds of good stuff that will shred your enemies and then light them on fire for good measure. I guarantee you that! Plus there's no messy mishaps like with your run of the mill goblin tech.

Have fun~!

Qabian stares at the letter for a while after he finishes reading it.

He opens the box, raises an eyebrow as he peers inside, then closes it again. He writes the name Gazrit at the top of the card, matching the tidy handwriting as best he can, so it appears the card was written for the named recipient in the first place, leaves it unsigned, then puts it back in the mailbox.

That out of the way, Qabian returns his attention to the letter and penning a reply. Though the envelope outside is addressed properly with the full title, the letter within is conspicuously without salutation, and is written in a tone most would note as strangely lacking propriety for the author. Something about what he's replying to has given the ordinarily serious mage a fit of pique.

Nice title. How many did you kill in the climb for it? I used to be a Count, and they called me Lord then, too. Eventually got tired of the formalities and the upkeep. Better things to do.

It sounds like you have better things to do as well. Shall we see if we can provide you with some opportunities?

Though I doubt any of us will be acknowledging your title in anything but jest. Few of us care for niceties and Quel'thalas, as I'm sure you've realized. I do hope that's not a sticking point for you.

I'd rather not make you wait all week, but am a bit busy for a few days. How does Wednesday at the 7th bell in Dazar'alor's Royal Meat Rack sound?

See you soon,
Magister Qabian Grimfire
High Inquisitor of the Grim

((That's 7pm server/10pm EST on Wednesday the 22nd. War Mode ON, although the Alliance have been getting uppity lately, so we'll be flexible on if we need to adjust that. Let me know if you can't make that time or would prefer a different one.))

Whatever the intention of the tone, Traejan only grins as he reads over the reply before promptly writing back.

Cute. There was only one death involved, actually, though not by my hand. That upkeep is all a bit easier when the only trail of dead involved isn't your own people.

Bit of a test, that. Wanted to see what you'd do. Glad to know we can dispense with the dance and cut to the chase.

I've got business in Nazmir in the meantime, so Wednesday's just fine~

- Traejan Lightrend

(( Will be there at 10pm on Wednesday! ))