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#13388998 Aug 09, 2017 at 08:25 PM
156 Posts
“Why are your people here?”

Van stood over the beaten body of the man, a youth, some 25 years of age. Human. The man’s dirty brown hair encrusted with his own blood from the cuts in his forehead and trickling down the bruises that marred his cheeks and onto the torn robe that swathed his body. He was restrained to the chair in the dark room and violet shackles adorned his arms, legs, and chest. The chamber was Spartan and the walls stone, deep in the rock of Dalaran.

By the man’s side were two more battlemagi, adorned in the artificer armor of the warriors of the Kirin Tor. Their tabards were bloody and their gauntlets stained. Van narrowed his eyes at the man, and fury was painted across his face. His eyes flicked to the battlemage on the right, a taller man, human in build. Without a word, he turned to the doomsayer again and drew back his fist, driving it into the mouth of the man. The room echoed with the man’s grunt of main and the soft tapping of a piece of tooth pinging against the floor. The doomsayer looked up at Van with defiance in his half closed eyes, swollen purple skin ruining any sense of scorn it might have held.

“Sargeras comes.”

Van glanced to the battlemagi on the left, a human woman. Well built and almost as tall as he was. Wordlessly in kind she held her hand up and arcane magic sparked about it, she reached down and grasped the man’s forehead. Skin sizzled and blood dried up. The man cried out in a long low groan of agony. She held it there for several seconds until Van held his hand up to stop, his battlemage nodded and removed her armored gauntlet, leaving an angry red handprint behind and scorched hair where his fingers had lain. The two soldiers stood facing the doomsayer, looking down at him from behind their impassive masks, the eye of the Kirin Tor glowing dimly in the darkness.

“Why are you in Dalaran? Who sent you? Are you with the Nethersworn?” Van leaned in toward the man, stepping closer until his face rested but a foot from the man. “Tell me, boy, an’ I may yet just leave you in th’hold.”

The Doomsayer was silent for a long moment, the only sound being his labored breathing and soft swallows of blood from his broken nose.

“Useful idiots and true believers. They spread the message well enough. There is nothing you can do, mage. The way is open. The Burning Legion comes. It is the fault of your fooli-“ The man was cut off as Van reached out with lightning speed, grabbing a handful of the man’s hair and bringing his knee up, driving his face into his armored greave. “AUGH!” he screamed, thrashing about in his shackles to clutch at his face reflexively.

“Who sent you here?!” Van shouted at the man, still grasping the man’s head. He jerked it up and stared right into the man’s eyes. “Are you with the Nethersworn? What are your goals here?”

The doomsayer’s lips twitched at the corner, half forming a smile despite the pain.
“Mazh’arakh…kil’zar…” He started to say in demonic, his eyes glinting with a fel power. “..zee’kath-“ He was cut off as van dropped the man’s head and stepped back, drawing his pistol from the holster at his lower back. He never got to finish his spell, for Van pulled the trigger on his arcpistol and discharged it into the man’s forehead. The doomsayer spasmed, and fell limp in his chair, kept upright by the violet shackles which adorned him. Van scowled at the dead doomsayer and his violet gaze lingered upon the fine hole in his head.

Van sighed and holstered his weapon, adjusting the position of the staff upon his back as he did so. “Dispose of him. Then return to yer duties. Civil unrest has already begun and these doomsayers aren’t helping. Root out th’true believers from the…” He frowned. “…useful idiots. Report back to me or t’Minister Demes with what ye find.”

The two soldiers stood at attention and saluted, Van returned the salute in kind and sharply turned about, striding toward the wall of the chamber and vanishing through the transport crystal which was embedded within it, returning to the city above.
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