Bait and Switch

[Inzema]

Qarosimae sat in her library wearing a thin, black silk robe wrapped loosely about her, reclining in a plush chair with her feet kicked up on a footstool.  Her slippers, the toes shaped like miniature dragon's heads, lay between the chair and footstool.  In her hands was a hide-bound book with a title in Darnassian, and her eyes, glowing green from felfire, scanned back and forth across the text.  She hardly even noticed when her corehound pup pranced in, a sealed letter somehow impervious to its fiery maw clamped between the teeth of one head, the other yapping.  It apparently decided that it was time for a switch, because the second head attempted to pull the letter from the mouth of the first, which set the pup tumbling across the rug and into the leg of the footstool.  Qarosimae glanced down at the pup, several strands of red hair falling loose from the tie and falling in front of her face.  She set the book aside, atop a table beside the chair covered in books, and lifted the puppy into her lap.  The pup wagged its stubby tail so hard it nearly wiggled out of Qarosimae's grasp, but she managed to hold on with one hand while deftly removing the envelope from its twin maws with the other.
Qarosimae rolled the puppy on its side, scratching its fiery red belly, her personal wards glowing slightly as protection to her fingers from the heat, much to the pleasure of the puppy, with one hand while she held the envelope aloft with the other.  She focused on it, probing it with her magical senses, confirming the suspected arcane wards and protections on the otherwise plain white envelope.  A seal appeared under further inspection, depicting a three dimensional illusion of a skull resting atop a tome.  Qarosimae adjusted her glasses, temporarily letting off her attention to the puppy, and opened the envelope, causing a pop as the wards on the envelope dispelled themselves.
Inside the envelope was a single sheet of white paper, folded neatly three times width-wise upon itself, and once unfolded, displayed black handwriting in Thalassian.

"Qarosimae,
I have acquired one of the books on your list.  The price will be as agreed.  Delivery to take place three days hence, eighth hour past noon, at the graveyard overlooking the tournament.
Yours,
Blue"

Qarosimae read the letter a second time, committing it to memory, then incinerated it and the envelope, scattering the ashes with her breath.  She looked down at her puppy, smiled, and began giving it her full, undivided attention and affection.

-~-~-

Qarosimae stood leaning against a tree near the graveyard overlooking the Argent Tournament and listened to the sounds of mock combat carrying upwards from the rings below.  She wore black robes with white spiderwebs of runes stitched across them, a hood pulled low over her face, and a thick fur cloak pulled tight around her.  The snow on the ground around her had melted and her new black boots had gotten muddy and wet from the water.  She let loose an irritated breath, coming out a mixture of steam and smoke that wafted above her facemask and was carried away by the whipping wind.  She stamped her feet, not from cold, but from anxiety and boredom, boots making squishing sounds in the mud and spattering the gooey stuff on the lower edges of her cloak.  She checked the horizon again, the sun having already set, and saw nothing.  She muttered to herself and turned towards the tournament, taking the first few steps back towards the tents when she heard footsteps behind her.  She turned and faced the newcomer, a man in black plate armor covering him from head to toe, blue eyes glowing from the shadows of his helm.  A bone gryphon stood behind him, still as a statue.  The man held out a satchel, the bag swaying in the wind in time with the man's cloak.
"You're late," Qarosimae called out, walking calmly towards the man, the snow melting inches before her as she walked.  The man shrugged.  "I got held up. You got the fee?"  His voice was like gravel touched with the distinct echo of a soul that was not wholly bound in its body.  Qarosimae nodded, pulling a pouch out of the confines of her cloak.  "You seem less talkative than usual, Blue.  Is something up?" Qarosimae said as they exchanged packages, simultaneously ignoring each other to determine if they had received the proper item.  Blue grunted, apparently not caring to answer the question.  Qarosimae looked up suspiciously.  She took a step back from the death knight, flaming wards appearing around her.  "What is going on, Blue?" she said, nervousness creeping into her voice.  Fire gathered around her fingertips.  The death knight looked up, a smile creeping across his shadowed lips.  "Obviously it's a trap."  "Wha-" Qarosimae began before a blow took her from behind.

Then everything went black.

-~-~-

Qarosimae entered her library, shed the layers of clothing needed to keep her warm in the icy winds of Icecrown, down to just a simple robe, kicked off her boots, and sat down in her chair, picking up the book she left and began reading from the beginning.

[Inzema]

Pain, discomfort, cold. These are not pleasant stimuli to wake to. Qarosimae's eyes came open, her mind groggily kicking into gear to try and process the why of these unfamiliar sensations upon waking. Her shoulders were in pain, as were her elbows and wrists. She couldn't feel her feet, but her knees were in pain as well. Her head felt like it was two sizes too small. Her eyes finally came into focus, the felfire in her eyes bringing light into an otherwise dark room. It was with understandable concern that she took note to the fact that she was kneeling on a cobblestone floor, arms straight behind her, and wearing linen rags that managed to maintain decency but utterly lacked the wards and spells that she was so used to. Not to mention that they simply were not hers.

Shifting slightly, Qarosimae took in her surroundings, trying to determine where she was, but unlike her distant (and despised) cousins, the Kal'dorei, she lacked the ability to see in the dark and could only make out her immediate surroundings. She tried to straighten to a more comfortable position and found this impossible, her arms secured in their uncomfortable position by manacles and chains, held straight behind her, and with her fingertips, she could feel the wall, the stone slightly moist. Qarosimae rubbed the stone, feeling for wards in the wall, and feeling none, reached for the arcane blaze.

She was rewarded with searing pain lancing through her mind and body, intense, crippling pain that prevented the concentration required for conjuring even the smallest flame. She choked back her screams, slumped back down. The manacles dug into her wrists, but the pain was nothing in comparison. She concentrated on focusing her thoughts, listening to her breathing, and waiting. A feeling of helplessness and hopelessness came across her. What else could she do? And how long would it take anyone to notice she was gone?

"Fel..." she whispered, fear creeping into her voice.

-~-~-

In Dalaran, Inzema waited, wrapped in shadows. He checked his watch for the fifth time in a minute and muttered to himself. He hadn't been tired since his raising, but physical weariness and boredom were unrelated, and boredom was a constant problem. Stakeouts were especially boring, because nobody was getting killed and there was a lot of waiting to do. Inzema was about to check his watch for the sixth time when his goggles chimed, notifying him that his target was in sight. The lenses whirred, machinery telescoping to allow a better look at the Grim raiding party walking out of the teleportation chamber. He watched still and silent as they parted and went their separate ways then stood and followed just one. Unlike the others, Qarosimae had not stayed for small talk and farewells, walking silently from the group without so much as a good bye, her hood pulled low and her robes concealing the rest of her, save the gloved hand holding her staff like a walking stick.

Inzema could tell something was off, even without his goggles telling him of abnormal energy signatures about her. He knew something was up. She hadn't been in her library for at least a week. She had been avoiding him. She had been like a ghost, only appearing to join the Placeholders and then vanishing. Inzema was tired of it, and was going to get to the bottom of it. He quickened his pace to catch up with her, passing a pair of Kirin Tor mages having a discussion with a Tauren. He lost sight of her when she walked around the corner into the main stream of traffic, swore, and stepped through the shadows into the street.

Qarosimae was halfway down the street already, heading towards the entrance to the Underbelly. Inzema smiled, thanking the dice and his luck. The Underbelly had less people he could lose her in, and unlike the surface of Dalaran, he knew it like the back of his hand. Qarosimae disappeared in a flash of light near the entrance of the tunnel to the Underbelly. Inzema stepped through the shadows, arriving where she had been only moments before, kicked on his rocket boots, and flew down the ramp into the Underbelly. He stopped at the bottom of the ramp and looked around, scanning faces and forms and coming up with nothing. He switched to Qarosimae's standard invisibility frequency and still found nothing. Cursing his luck, he stormed off back up the ramp, looking around for the missing mage.

[Frygyd]

With her fingers pinched over the bridge of her nose Frya sought the outdoors with quick hurried steps. She felt claustrophobic and could not explain why, a pounding in her temples, narrowing of vision, dryness in the mouth and heat in her throat as though she had been shouting for some time. Outside the buildings loomed over her, surrounding, towering, mocking, teetering and seeming to wobble, again everything was far too close. Scowling in annoyance she waved her hands in mystic passings and soon she was elsewhere in the midst of an open field.

Quiet. Wide open.

Looking down she realized she was rubbing at a wrist with her fingertips as though something were chafing yet she wore no bracelets today. Restlessly she walked in spiraling ever wider circles as if to convince her feet that she could.

Something was amiss and she could not discern what. Warm breath steamed the chilly air creating a misty halo about her dark hair and blazing green eyes as the cold winds of Northrend tore at her robes without affect because as a frost mage she did not feel the bite of winters chill.

'So cold the frigid mage abandoning all her unwanted baubles cast aside with nary a thought to their well being or future use.' tittered the voices. 'What has she forgotten? Where is it that screams? How long will it haunt her? Delicious are her screams ...'

"SHUT UP!" she screamed out savagely; her voice lost in the loud buffeting winds.

'Delicious are her screams.' echoed the demonic cacklings.

"Shut .. up .. "she whispered weakly.

Yet it was not of Frya the voices taunted but she would never know.

[Inzema]

Inzema walked the streets of Dalaran, a box in hand. He hummed to himself, the tune to a bawdy Lordaeron folk song involving a woman and her lewd exploits, and every so often as he walked he took a small object, about the size and shape of a coin, from the box and placed it against the nearest wall. The devices, once affixed, would click twice, beep once, and a small red light would flash once before the device took on the color of the stone behind it. Inzema reached the end of his song about the same time he ran out of devices, the song being a long one with many verses, most too lewd to sing in pleasant or even remotely civilized company describing sexual acts that ranged from the disgusting to outright ludicrous. Satisfied with his work, Inzema retreated to the Filthy Animal to wait.

-~-~-

Qarosimae was wide awake long before the door slammed open and searing light flooded the room. Her body was sore in places she hadn't known could be sore, and her injuries had simply continued to increase during her time in captivity.
The first day had been the best in comparison, left to her own in the dark. There had been pain, and the utter lack of stimuli had been maddening, but it was preferable to the torture.
Qarosimae wasn't sure how many of them there were, but was certain there was more than one. Sometimes they would work in shifts, one relieving another to continue the work that had seemed to go on for an eternity. Sometimes they would work as a group, two or three of them working different devices or different body parts simultaneously. Always they wore masks, hoods, and heavy robes, concealing their identities and even their race. They worked in utter silence, never talking to each other, and never talking to her. They had started by breaking her fingers, bone by bone, and it had only gotten worse from there. Qarosimae was certain that had they actually ever asked her a question during these sessions, she would have told them whatever they wanted to hear, simply for the distant hope that they would stop.
The person entering wasn't one of her torturers, but her caretaker. Unlike the others, the human woman wore no hood or mask, occasionally platemail, but more often, like today, a white blouse and grey pants. She would come once every eternity, sometimes after torture, sometimes before, and she would ensure that Qarosimae would not die from her compatriots' affections. She ensured no infections became of the mage and fed her a thin gruel. Qarosimae would listen to the human talk to herself, speaking Common as if the elf couldn't understand. One time she spat on the human after she had finished praying, blood mixed with the spittle. The human left without a word and didn't return for maybe three eternities. Time wasn't particularly relevant in the cell.
Today, the human seemed more tense than usual. She kept whispering to herself, a mixture of prayers and curses towards her fellows. Qarosimae smiled, her eyes locking with the human's.
"The Grim will come. They will kill you, but not before I repay you your kindness tenfold," Qarosimae said in perfect Common, her voice rough and cracking from so long spent screaming. The human broke the gaze first, averting her eyes under the pretense of treating the open cuts along Qarosimae's arms. Qarosimae laughed quietly, lacking the energy to do so more loudly, and even that small effort sent her into a fit of coughing.
The human picked up the bowl of gruel and her medical supplies and left, visibly shaken. Qarosimae smiled and drifted off to a semblance of sleep.

-~-~-

In Dalaran, Inzema sat, head on one of the tables, an arm over the shoulder of a sleeping and still breathing troll woman he had already forgotten the name of. His goggles whirred and clicked as he feigned sleeping, his goggles displaying views from his devices in rapid succession, each time displaying the phrase "Energy Signature Not Detected." Inzema mumbled to himself, shifting his weight onto his right arm. He was bored and losing his patience, but couldn't leave the Filthy Animal without some serious reconfiguration of the network of sensors. Inzema sighed and sat up, the movement disturbing but not waking the troll. He stood and stretched, joints and tendons popping in a cascade of noise, culminated by his goggles beeping and showing him the image of a familiar form walking through the streets. He smiled, pale lips pulling back from blood-stained teeth.
Seconds later, Inzema crouched among the rooftops of the city, watching Qarosimae weave through the throngs below. He watched the man stalking her, moving like a hunter does on the prowl. Inzema fished his dice from his pocket, the bones coaching together in his hand as he watched the man. He cast the dice, the bones rolling across the roof and coming up seven. Three black skulls on white bone on one, four on the second. Inzema hissed and pocketed the dice, focusing back on Qarosimae. He was still seeing an odd change in her aura, the same he had observed last time.
He dropped from the roof, landing directly behind Qarosimae. He grabbed her and stepped through the shadows, dragging her with him into the darkness, down into the Underbelly. He pressed her against the wall, examining her face. He stopped, tilted his head, and took off his goggles.
"Where'sss your glasssesss?"
"What? Inzema? Why-"
"You alwaysss have those thingsss on..." Inzema paused, taking a closer look at her face. Something was off, just slightly. Like when one looks in the mirror and see themselves, but they know it isn't them. He let her go, fishing his dice from his pocket and rolling them in his hand.
"I was going to the library. Why did you grab me?"
"I haven't ssseen you. You've been busssy. I wasss bored." Inzema shrugged nonchalantly, still rolling his dice in his hand. Qarosimae smiled at him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Cute, you missed me." Inzema returned the grin, though it didn't reach his eyes. Qarosimae turned to leave, glancing over her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm not leaving. I'm just going to the library." Inzema nodded. He dropped his dice, the bones bouncing across the floor, the first landing in the corner of the room, a single skull facing upwards. The second landed on a corner and spun. Qarosimae left the room.
The second die stopped spinning.
A single skull.
Inzema recovered his dice and calmly walked out of the room, silently padding across the wet stone behind Qarosimae. He drew one of his knives, the blade gleaming with poison in the low light. His hands trembled as his will wavered. The dice are not wrong. Never. They have not asked this much of him before, but they were not wrong. They couldn't be.
He pulled her close, drew the knife across her throat, and held her until she was cold.

[Inzema]

Inzema was in the guildhall when Leyujin and the others returned from Darnassus. He had been sitting quietly for the past several hours, rolling his dice every minute. Each time he rolled his dice, he would ask the same question in his mind, "What should I do?" Each time, the answer the dice gave was clear. "Wait." He watched his fellow Grim entering the hall, battered, bruised, and bleeding, and cast the dice one last time. "Now" was the message they gave him. He stood, stuffing his dice back in their pocket, and approached Leyujin.
"You lot look like you pisssed off all of the food at onssse. Where you been?" The troll didn't look like he was in much of a talking mood, but Inzema wasn't about to go against the dice. "Darnassus. We went ta git our people back. We din't git all o' dem." The troll started to move on, but Inzema grabbed his arm. "Who is left?" Leyujin handed Inzema the list. Inzema sputtered for a second. "But...I just killed her!" "Dey made copies an' blocked us from summoning dem." Inzema nodded, determination on his face. He wrapped his cloak around his shoulders and went for the door. "Where joo goin'?" the troll called after him. "I can get in and back out without being seen. I still pass for human most days. I know people in SI:7. I'll get whoever's spelling the place. Have a warlock ready for extraction."
In his mind, as he turned and walked from the guildhall, everyone stared in awe as the Tauren Chieftains played a heavy metal send off. Time to kick some ass.

-~-~-

Several days ago, Qarosimae's captors had taken her from the stone room and through a portal held open by a human mage wearing Kirin Tor colors. Qarosimae hissed curses at him before they dragged her through the portal and into an empty room, the walls, floors, and ceilings made of wood. Like the last room, there were no windows, but unlike the last one, this one was both furnished and lit, several lanterns of Night Elven make. The two men took Qarosimae to one of the several chairs in the room and tied her to it, making it tight enough that she could barely breathe, much less move, and left, snuffing most of the lanterns as they left. A few minutes later, they returned, bringing with them the equally battered form of Kergal. They deposited the paladin in a similar manner to Qarosimae and left, snuffing the rest of the lights.
Qarosimae coughed and laughed. "You look like shit," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. Smiling cracked her lips and caused them to bleed, but the little bit of mirth for the first time in who knows how long was worth the extra pain. She licked the blood, the taste of magic burning to be released tasting magnificent. Kergal didn't respond, so Qarosimae sat in silence until she was able to sleep.
It only felt like moments after she shut her eyes that the men came back, took her from the chair, and dragged her from the room. They strapped her to a table in a dimly lit room. An unfamiliar human walked into the light, twirling a knife.
"Hello there. Seems that you and I need to have a conversation," he said, twirling the knife closer to her face. After so long of being under someone else's knife, Qarosimae was not particularly intimidated by the threat of violence, though she was dreading the pain to come. So far it had all been superficial damage that would easily be healed beyond the point of scarring once she escaped. Qaro tried to work up the saliva to spit at the man, but her mouth was too dry to accumulate the necessary amount. The man smiled, still twirling the knife. "How many Grim are there?" "More than enough to kill you," she replied, the response causing the man to smile wider. "Good, I was worried they had broke you. This makes my job..." he inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of the room. "Much more...exhilarating." Qarosimae recognized the tone of voice. It was the same one Inzema used when speaking of his "art." The tone of a madman about to inflict pain in such manners that he could only be deriving pleasure from it.
He brought the knife suddenly to her face and she flinched away involuntarily. "Tell me...your secrets," he said, caressing her skin with the knife blade. He brushed her matted hair away from her face with his free hand, like a lover might, his blue eyes locked with hers. "Tell me everything," he whispered. "Everything that the Grim has done. What they are planning."
"N-no. I will never betray the Grim."
"Oh, you will..." He straightened up, twirling the knife in the fingers of his right hand, his left still on her hair. His left tightened into a fist and he pressed it to the table, pulling her hair painfully and forcing her head to remain still. "You will." He placed the tip of the knife against her right eyebrow, the sharpened blade drawing a small dot of blood. Qarosimae stiffened, her heart racing. "My...what pretty eyes you have."
He dragged the knife down her face, the blade glowing as he did so, then stabbed the tip into her socket and pulled her eye out with one swift movement. Qarosimae screamed at pain not entirely physical as the magic from the knife attacked her psyche and sent currents of electricity coursing through her body. It was only a second, but the second stretched on for an eternity, and the aftereffects caused painful spasms in her arms and legs.
The man smiled down at her as he plucked her eye from the blade and held it before her. "I'm leaving the other in so that you can see what I'm doing. So let's get started."
-~-~-
They dragged her from the room, insensate and trailing blood. The torturers remained in the room, sitting on the table and running his finger through the pool of slowly drying blood on the table. He didn't look up as the light from the door was blocked, but his posture changed, conveying that he was aware. When they didn't say anything, he looked up. In the doorway stood a person shrouded by shadows, a cloak wrapped about them. A pair of green lights glowed from the darkness of the hood. "You crossed me, Samson," said the person in the doorway, a man's voice who spoke Common with a hint of a Lordaeron accent. The torturer's hand tightened on his knife. "I did no such thing." "The elf your boys just carried out. She's one of mine." The Samson's knuckles turned white as his eyes started glowing blue. He lept from the table and charged the man in the doorway, knife in hand. Half a foot from him, Samson stumbled and fell to the floor, his muscles all locking simultaneously. The man in the door knelt down and rolled Samson over. He took off his hood, revealing the shape features and pale skin of Inzema. He grinned, blood-stained teeth lining his mouth like a shark's grin. "Fortunately for you, I'm not gonna kill you. I hear you're the guy who betrayed her, too, and that means she gets you." Inzema placed a device about the size of a gold piece on Samson's chest and pressed the single red button on it. Samson disappeared in a flash of light. Inzema stood, dusted himself off, and left the room.