A Thing or Two
Posted: Sun Sep 02, 2018 4:18 am
Malkaris never really quite knew what he was going to be up to. Each passing day would bleed into the next without any sort of x variable that would make one stand out beyond another. Idly, he would meander about Zandalari lands, from the Grand Seal to the markets and various little communities that had since washed up on the King's shores.
He was used to flow of things, everything around him flowing like tumultuous rapids, while he on the other hand, glided above, his toes dipping in periodically only to be nibbled on briefly by passing creatures beneath, but never being a part of it. People went off to fight and die, or return, changed by the horrors of war. A cause, Empire, or Kingdom could rise and fall and he would be none the wiser. It's all the same to him as far as he's concerned, for better or worse.
So It would probably surprise no one, how little regard he gave the mandate that his associates held in such high esteem, but it was entertaining enough to see those who would join, give up normally irreplaceable parts of themselves for something so temporary and tenuous as someone else's approval.
Still! The charade was fun enough to occupy his time, at the very least finding it less boring than listening to some Trolls whine about the vulgarity of blood magic.
"Lord Darkfire."
Really, at least they know how to throw a party -
"Lord Darkfire?"
Malkaris shook his head slightly, glancing up at the Shal'dorei sitting in front of him. The man seemed somewhat anxious to go about their business.
"I must confess, this is all so... strange." The elf was pale but trying to maintain his composure, remaining in his seat, leg crossed over in a sort of faux pose of confidence.
"Perhaps. However you did mention you needed a thing or two fixed before you'd allow me to run my gatherings here. You conveniently left out the part about the group of loyalists hiding near your home with a demon or ten still languishing about with them."
Malkaris sat across from the proprietor, moving his hand about for emphasis. In his hand was another dismembered hand, stiff as wood before putting it down on the desk in front of him.
"To be clear, you lied to me about... a great many things. Which I can forgive, but an attempt on my life?" His words were soft, but weighed enough to cause the man to lose his composure somewhat.
"With respect, it wasn't my-"
"Shhhhh." Malk had stood up and placed a bloody finger on the tavern owner's lips. His eyes were predatory, narrowed and focused on the sentient speck of dust in front of him. He continued.
"Enough... enough. I usually do not tolerate the existence of one who's tried to kill me but you have something I need. This puts you in a decidedly unique position. Give me access to your venue to use at my discretion, live. Simple."
The elf blinked, confused by the soft matter of fact tone of voice Malkaris used throughout. He looks about nervously, unsure of what would happen if he called out to his guards and it didn't help that the Shal'dorei in front of him was covered in blood and staring intently through him.
He nods in resigned agreement. What else could he do? He was no fighter and if one of the pockets of those still loyal to Elisande after her murder couldn't kill this one, it's highly unlikely he would be able to do anything either.
"I'll draw up the necessary documents then. I'll have someone on my staff handle the finer details... but to be clear... You're, NOT going to kill me, correct, Lord?"
Malkaris had walked over to one of the bookshelves in the dimly lit office and was fingering through the pages. He glanced up at the tavern owner (he didn't remember the man's name, nor did he care beyond his job title) and gave him a soft, polite smile.
A few days later
"Uh... Malkaris, I have to ask, but, what in the seven hells do you have me sitting in?"
Malk looks up from the desk at his visitor, and old friend from Silvermoon (and property owner) whom he gave more patience to than most others.
"You like it? I made it myself." He muses dryly as he continues with the contract the Sin'dorei had brought over for him to sign.
The Sin'dorei looked down at the legs and armrests of his chair made from a strange type of leather, white hairs knit throughout in various floral designs around two eyes that blinked with constant tears and a mouth locked in an eternal grimace. The Blood Elf, familiar with some of Malkaris' peculiarities, seemed almost unfazed. Almost.
He was used to flow of things, everything around him flowing like tumultuous rapids, while he on the other hand, glided above, his toes dipping in periodically only to be nibbled on briefly by passing creatures beneath, but never being a part of it. People went off to fight and die, or return, changed by the horrors of war. A cause, Empire, or Kingdom could rise and fall and he would be none the wiser. It's all the same to him as far as he's concerned, for better or worse.
So It would probably surprise no one, how little regard he gave the mandate that his associates held in such high esteem, but it was entertaining enough to see those who would join, give up normally irreplaceable parts of themselves for something so temporary and tenuous as someone else's approval.
Still! The charade was fun enough to occupy his time, at the very least finding it less boring than listening to some Trolls whine about the vulgarity of blood magic.
"Lord Darkfire."
Really, at least they know how to throw a party -
"Lord Darkfire?"
Malkaris shook his head slightly, glancing up at the Shal'dorei sitting in front of him. The man seemed somewhat anxious to go about their business.
"I must confess, this is all so... strange." The elf was pale but trying to maintain his composure, remaining in his seat, leg crossed over in a sort of faux pose of confidence.
"Perhaps. However you did mention you needed a thing or two fixed before you'd allow me to run my gatherings here. You conveniently left out the part about the group of loyalists hiding near your home with a demon or ten still languishing about with them."
Malkaris sat across from the proprietor, moving his hand about for emphasis. In his hand was another dismembered hand, stiff as wood before putting it down on the desk in front of him.
"To be clear, you lied to me about... a great many things. Which I can forgive, but an attempt on my life?" His words were soft, but weighed enough to cause the man to lose his composure somewhat.
"With respect, it wasn't my-"
"Shhhhh." Malk had stood up and placed a bloody finger on the tavern owner's lips. His eyes were predatory, narrowed and focused on the sentient speck of dust in front of him. He continued.
"Enough... enough. I usually do not tolerate the existence of one who's tried to kill me but you have something I need. This puts you in a decidedly unique position. Give me access to your venue to use at my discretion, live. Simple."
The elf blinked, confused by the soft matter of fact tone of voice Malkaris used throughout. He looks about nervously, unsure of what would happen if he called out to his guards and it didn't help that the Shal'dorei in front of him was covered in blood and staring intently through him.
He nods in resigned agreement. What else could he do? He was no fighter and if one of the pockets of those still loyal to Elisande after her murder couldn't kill this one, it's highly unlikely he would be able to do anything either.
"I'll draw up the necessary documents then. I'll have someone on my staff handle the finer details... but to be clear... You're, NOT going to kill me, correct, Lord?"
Malkaris had walked over to one of the bookshelves in the dimly lit office and was fingering through the pages. He glanced up at the tavern owner (he didn't remember the man's name, nor did he care beyond his job title) and gave him a soft, polite smile.
A few days later
"Uh... Malkaris, I have to ask, but, what in the seven hells do you have me sitting in?"
Malk looks up from the desk at his visitor, and old friend from Silvermoon (and property owner) whom he gave more patience to than most others.
"You like it? I made it myself." He muses dryly as he continues with the contract the Sin'dorei had brought over for him to sign.
The Sin'dorei looked down at the legs and armrests of his chair made from a strange type of leather, white hairs knit throughout in various floral designs around two eyes that blinked with constant tears and a mouth locked in an eternal grimace. The Blood Elf, familiar with some of Malkaris' peculiarities, seemed almost unfazed. Almost.