Hello, I am a nightborne mage on wyrmrest accord and was wondering if I could join your role play guild. My in game name is Biidwe.
Hi there, apologies that you’ve found this blog so late. As of February 16 earlier this year, the Agents of Suramar is disbanded, and this blog remains only to serve as an archive, apologies. This inbox will be shut down after this message.
With the finale and loose ends out of the way, this blog is now archived. Thank you all for supporting the Agents of Suramar in the long year we were around, and had the honor of being in WrA.
The words of the Suramari officials echo through the dark chamber, distant and haunting, filled with venom and accusatory tones. The Head Archivist sits hunched over the board room table, piles upon piles of documents laid out before him as fingers pointed and fists slammed upon them.
“The Agents of Suramar was trusted with the fate of the capital!”
“An exploration team should not have dabbled in such powers or questions!”
“You put the Shal'dorei to shame with this legacy!”
“Do you remember the names of the men and women you sent to their deaths?!”
All he could do was endure the outrage and shame, eyes glued to the battlemaps and reports of the Agency's final mission.
Operation: Erosion.
Echoes of the goblins’ mortar strikes that day meld with that of the official's fists against the table. The cold air of Azshara stung at the cheeks of the Agents as they hiked up the cliff overlooking the ruins, the faint scent of the ocean air filling the breeze, serving as a short relief from the smoke of goblin mechs and cannoneers. Their short, prideful allies maneuvered through the field with revitalized energy as the Agents of Suramar had finally arrived, the long awaited reinforcements to turn the tides of the battle and defend Orgrimmar's gates. The confidence and hope radiated true through each Agent, despite the odds against them, and in hindsight, such a bright outlook only made the failed operation fill with more sorrow and pain.
Everything was arranged according to plan. The lead goblin, Gail Bladewrench, had bolstered her forces and allowed the Agents a chance to utilize her equipment and mechanics on the field, while Veros pulled the strings to summon the most elite the Agency had to offer: the aerial Runesaber Team. Hopes were high, and as each of the armored Agents gazed down the cliff, they saw only victory at their grasp.
Agent Vyrial met with the Agents at the rendezvous point, having been out and alert scouting the area. The intel he brought along was vital -- numbers of naga beyond reasoning, forces that they could only hope to squash, but more importantly, an idea of their leader. A large, crimson naga by the name of Lord Javae’ta, empowered by dark magic in his assault. From what was gathered, it seemed he was highly intelligent and well respected, a valiant foe to face, but a task that needed to be done. With the briefing out of the way and forces gathered, it had come nigh time to face the music.
Gail set the signal, a bright crimson flair in the sky that alerts the other goblins, and the sounds of bombs and mortars shake the very core of the ruins. In an instant, the naga’s attention are drawn away and rush to the north in the sounds of the bombs, smoke billowing in the near distance and clouding the spiny silhouettes of the naga that rushed about. Veros leads the charge, Agents Shen and Fardevir taking the front line as the sprint down into the ruins, Fardevir’s shield at the ready and Shen’s crystallized ammunition hurled across at the naga, brandishing a blade alongside the warrior as they cut down the naga. Now, their enemies fought a two-front battle, and as the Crimson Cavalry paved the way, the Royal Regiment stepped in, energy lighting the air ablaze as arcane and fire ignites across the field, leaping from fingertips and striking targets in a blur. Runes, lightning and pyroblasts blind the field, the scent of blood and mana drowning the ocean breeze.
The Runesaber Team above drops their arcane napalm upon the naga forces, thunderous and booming, amplifying the pounding of the Agents’ own footsteps and rhythms of war their own heartbeats provided. In the comms, Gail’s voice blares and directs them where to go, where enemies were coming from and what supplies need to be retrieved or destroyed. The Agents are ready, proving to the Horde here and now who they were and the power they wielded.
The sentinel captain grabs the Head Archivist’s shoulder mid-thought, bringing him back to the reality of the dimly lit room. He cringes back as she shouts into his ear, pain shooting through his shoulder as her fingers dig into the still healing flesh. Tactics and protocols are recited loudly in his ear, some of the standards unrecognizable to him, leaving him with more guilt. Suramar’s finest, their elite troops, led by an incompetent recovering alcoholic into a battlefield filled with naga outnumbering them severely.
“You do not go into battle blindly!”
“Your improvised strategies endangered your troops, and the allies on the field!”
This time, however, Veros retaliates, whipping his head around to face the towering sentinel. “I have made my mistakes, but you place little faith in my Agents! I trust them with my life!”
The Nightborne’s fortune in battle only lasted so long, cutting down the naga with ease as they crossed the Forlorn Path. The moment the naga realized their full assault, however, they began converging their forces towards the elite Nightborne. Magic crackled through the air, illuminating the reds and oranges of the area with vivid violets and blues as the Royal Regiment assaulted the naga, held strong by the vanguard of the Crimson Cavalry at the front lines. They would waver, blood of both naga and elf coating their armor as they endured blow by blow, the Runesaber Team only barely giving the Agents enough time to breathe before the naga pushed back and threatened their lives.
For every naga that fell, two more took its place. They held numbers and power the Agents could not hope to have, and they would suffer for it, their ranks and line surely broken by the heavy assaults. Battlemasters rushed to each side as a caster threatened to aim a Giant their way. When the Agents need the guidance and blessings the most, their vanguard, Fardevir, broke ranks and made for the shoreline.
He struck down the naga in his path, diverting away from the plan as he bolts down the ruins towards the beach with renewed ferocity. The Agents called after him as he ran, their lines officially broken and naga spreading across the field to seize the advantage. Arcane barriers were quick to be conjured by the Head Archivist and the other casters as a quick save. There was no time to stall while Fardevir charged off with weapons at their throats, and they fought on, Shen desperately trying to hold the vanguard on his own.
The sounds of battle, the thuds of the giants’ footsteps and crackle of arcane power wielded by naga and nightborne alike was pierced by the bellowing horn cutting in the distance through the land. Both Agent and naga turned towards the shore where the ominous horns had come from, seeing Fardevir standing at the beach head with an ornate horn in his hand. He turns to flash a grin at the Agents, the mist behind him suddenly producing a gust of wind, and the warrior was framed by the sharp silhouettes of Vrykul ships sweeping towards the beach.
The tides of war were now in their favor.
“Press on!”
Where Fardevir came to know these allies was a question that would be answered another time. All that mattered now was cutting through the Forlorn Path and to the Temple as fast as possible. As Fardevir rejoins the fray, they could hear the battle cries of the Vrykul taunting the naga, whistles and shrieks splitting the air as goblin mechs take flight once more. Cendrille, Casimir and Alyssandeur make quick work of the casters that puppeteered the giants as Vyrial and Alsiardo managed to maim the battlemasters that threatened their safety. The Runesaber Team overhead dropped off supplies once the battle settled enough to breathe, the Agents taking advantage of the respite to heal up.
To their right stood the grand Temple that housed the naga's leader, towering over them even after the tests of time had weathered down its original grandeur. There was no more time to waste, the Lord of these naga was the root of the destruction and had to be destroyed at all costs.
Veros runs his hands through his hair, black and white strands caught in his fingertips and pulled tangled and out as he stares down at the documents. Photos and renditions of the naga lord stare back at him, tacked atop the field reports from the witnesses nearby. The director of security hammers the need for strategy and proper tactics, an area of expertise the Head Archivist lacked in, boots he desperately tried to fill.
There was no real Director anymore.
No proper stamp of approval.
Only the need to succeed, the need for victory and survival. The Agents needed a win, and what he led them to was their downfall.
The chamber of the temple was empty, save for a glowing cyan pool adorned by stones and undying flowers. Cautiously, each of the Agents prowled in, every step measured as they tiptoed in, circling the strange pool. Veros held up a fist, and the casters formed a semi-circle around the pool, hoisting their weapons up at the ready. The Crimson Cavalry stood strong at the center, looking on the pool with scrutiny. Oddly enough, there were no more guards in the chamber, nor did any enter once the Lord’s dwelling had been breached. A wave of quiet unrest washes through the Agents as they remain on guard, and Veros demands audience.
“Lord Javae’ta! We have you cornered -- show yourself and face your demise!”
His voice reverberated through the chamber, and for a long moment, they are met with only silence. There is only the slightest quake of the temple, a barely noticeable movement that causes a pebble of stone from the ceiling to drop into the still water. The cyan pool ripples, the circular waves gently colliding with the edges of the pool. Bubbles began to form at the center, and the temple quakes again, but this time, with more vigor and ferocity. A clawed, Void-tainted hand armored by a massive seashell erupts from the center, gripping the sides of the rocks and rending the flowers that had delicately decorated the scene as the crimson naga lord hoisted himself out of the pool. Glaring red scales shimmering with the enchanted water accents his massive form, the spiny fins casting sharp shadows on the Agents’ faces as the naga, lacking proper eyes or nose, flashed a cage of teeth in their direction, and somehow, deep in their guts, they could sense, they could feel the immense intelligence this creature possessed, and the confidence radiated off of his very form.
“How bold of the Shal'dorei to make a stand here,” The naga lord's words echo in the room. “Perhaps you have all come here to enlighten me as to why I should regard your lot as worthy opponents.”
Lord Javae'ta slithered out of the pools, towering over the Nightborne with an arrogant smirk. He held out a taloned hand, a trident teleporting to his fingertips. He regarded each Agent individually, as though greatly fascinated. As he raised his weapon, the Shal’dorei struck, arcane missiles assaulting the naga’s side while blades crashed down against him
Just staring at the still image of what the recons gathered of Lord Javae’ta is enough to send chills up his spine, despite being in the safe confines. The Suramari officials do not relent on him, thrusting a folder into his hands to look through. As he turns it open, his heart sinks at the reminders within -- a list of the deceased... of the injured... and the unaccounted for.
He runs a hand over the ink that read ‘CRIMSON CAVALRY’, the portraits of two of their rather newer Agents that had gone. He lingers a moment on the portrait of the young scholar Alsiardo, closing his eyes tightly, hearing the captain beside him continue to read off each name from the documents he held.
The image of the monk's final mission is a memory that continues to play on repeat; a cadence that haunts and burns into the waking mind. The powerful naga was a creature the Agents were not ready to face, and its sinister grin filled with too many teeth and horrifying truths easily became the fodder of nightmares. How it towered over the Agents, highlighted only by the dim lights of the temple and the bright spells of the Agents, how its massive claw enveloped in dark power that even the light and air around it would quiver and falter, how quickly the Agents realized they would not be able to leave this fight victorious -- it redefined fear to even the non believers of it.
It had happened so quickly, too quickly for any of them to properly respond. Javae'ta struck out his empowered claw, the Agents each making their dodge to avoid the fatal attack, only to turn to see the gangly scholar, the endearing, awkward bookworm of the group caught in the blow of the attack. Crimson painted his chest and the faces of the Agents around him, matching that of the naga's own scaled skin. Alsiardo was lifted above their heads, the clawed talons still pierced through his chest, his signature scarf coming undone to unveil the fear and pain in his face and misty eyes, the briefest of a glimpse the Agents would get of his features before being flung away like a ragdoll. A demonstration of power was in place by Lord Javae'ta, and it was clear, his bloody talon tearing open a rift that screeched and scraped against the fabrics of reality, Alsiardo helplessly thrown into the portal, the hands of the Agents reaching out to save him before the maw of the rift snapped shut, filling the temple with cold, deafening silence.
The silence was broken by horrified shouts, to which the Lord could only grin, twirling his trident and taking advantage of the broken Agents at their weakest moment. Fire and arcane filled the room and broke down the granite and stone of the temple, but there was nothing that could stop Javae’ta for a second. The Temple would crash in on them if they did not retreat now, but good Stars, they would be leaving one of their people behind. How could they hope to call themselves an Agent of Suramar if they could not even protect their own?
“Now you understand fear. Now you understand danger.”
The naga lord’s voice rumbles in the chamber, twirling the massive trident in hand. With a sudden lunge, Javae'ta lurched off the ground, the stone slabs cracking from the force as the Agents desperately tried to flee. Glowing runes floating about and written across the ground by Casimir were broken apart and dispersed by the force of Javae'ta's movement, and as she stumbles back, his head snaps towards her, and he swings his empowered fist across her side effortlessly, the Agent hurled across the room, blacked out upon impact. Veros barely manages to conjure an arcane net fast enough to catch her before she crashes into a pillar, blood beginning to stream from his nose from the overuse of magic. He pulls her back towards the group, Fardevir stepping in just in time to block a fatal blow that nearly came down on the casters, orange illuminating the space as a pyroblast strikes the back of the distracted lord's head. Javae'ta lets out a horrendous shriek, portions of the temple beginning to clatter and come down upon them.
“Squabble before the inevitable, you have already foreseen your own defeat!” The naga bellows, reaching to crush another Agent, only to meet the edges of Vyrial's blades. He grins, tilting his head at the rogue. “You cannot stop the tide. Your little shadow here knew it as well. Embrace your shame.”
Shen fumbled at the entrance with the last of his crystallized ammunition, imbuing them against the slab of stone that trapped the Agents in while the naga was distracted. One, two, three strikes of arcane against the multicolored crystals before finally, it detonated, destroying the stone and allowing the twilight to shine into the temple, a chance for escape. Veros orders the retreat, the Agents quickly attempting to dart out of the Temple as quickly as they could manage. Vyrial's sword dug into the palm of the naga's empowered talon, eliciting a slight snarl from the creature before the rogue pounced away, rushing to Alyssandeur's side. Fardevir faced the creature with an unwavering gaze, shield up and at the ready, stopping only for the briefest of moment when his boot trampled Alsiardo's scarf. He retrieves it quickly, tossing it over himself and beckoning the Agents to escape.
“How noble it is to flee and save a life you cannot keep,” Javae'ta muses, hoisting his trident in the air. “Yet you do not run fast enough. Have I not properly taught you how to fear death?”
The trident whistles through the air as he hurls it, the pointed spires glinting in the light in its trajectory. The young evoker Alyssandeur had dared to turn for only a moment to catch a final look at the naga, seeing just a moment too late as the trident flew directly towards him, piercing through the flesh of his midsection and propelling him off of his feet and far out of the temple, gracelessly crashing into the grass and gasping in shock. Vyrial and Shen bolt out into the orange grass towards their impaled friend, the boom of crackling and destroyed stone filling their ears as Javae'ta burst through the entrance at a deadly speed, slithering unnaturally fast towards the Agents. Cendrille and Veros’ attempts at arcane barriers are shattered upon impact as the naga collides with Shen, slamming the geomancer into a pillar. The naga lord, painted more red with the blood of the Agents let out a victorious cry, the naga on the field mirroring it back, creating a sea of horrendous shrieks that left their ears ringing in the shrillness.
The Runesaber Team circled the sky above them as hell broke loose, their ranks splitting as the sabers let out their own ferocious roars. Arcane napalm rains down on the field of naga, the remaining four Runesaber Agents swooping down to strike at Lord Javae'ta. Clawed paws rend through his fins and scales as the airborne Agents drew their weapons and magic to strike at him. The naga turns to deal with the pesky sabers, the grounded Agents granted a chance to regain their footing. Mirror images were conjured to aid the bleeding Alyssandeur and buried Shen, Gail Bladewrench's voice blaring in the comms with erratic questions, demands, and fears. The remaining vrykul on the field converged at their point in an effort to defend them, one stooping down to aid the wounded evoker and carrying him with the group. There was only so much time they had before Javae'ta turned his attention back to them, and it was clear they had lost this mission.
“-- I repeat, what is going on?” Gail's voice rings back into focus. “The plan was to take out the naga boss, what went wrong? Report!”
Lord Javae'ta summoned a dark cloud of power with his imbued fist, swiping down at two of the airborne Agents, swinging around with his free hand to grasp at a third, flinging him across the forest line and out of sight. The abandoned sabers dashed away, distraught in search of their owners as the naga turned back to the escaping Agents.
“The Operation has failed,” The echo of Veros’ voice through the comms syncs with the ambassador’s voice beside him as he read the transcripts of the final battle, watching the Head Archivist sink with a side-eye. “We are unable to fight any longer. I’m sorry -- We must retreat.”
“A legacy of shame.”
A trail of blood stains the stone floors and the orange grass as they crash out of the temple, dozens of naga turning to follow their trail. Desperately, the Agents tried to keep together, hoisting each other up and limping away in fear. The last of the Runsaber Team flew down to meet them, making haste to load Casimir and Alyssandeur atop the mount, disrupted by the onslaught of spears and spells coming their way. Giants emerged from the forests, and the Agents were beginning to find themselves utterly surrounded. As Veros muttered a prayer while he and the remaining Royal Regiment tried to protect the wounded, Fardevir understood just what needed to be done.
“Get them out of here!” He calls out behind him, hoisting his shield up as he stared down the bastards that held no fear. “Go now! I’ll hold them off!”
Before they could protest, Fardevir had already charged into the fray, the Runesaber master having to restrain the Head Archivist before an even worse decision was made. The warrior’s blade and lungs sang as he dove into the naga’s ranks, a war song unrecognizable to any of them, and he drew the attention of the naga towards him, giving the Agents a much needed clearing to escape.
So many Agents already down.
There was no time to waste. His sacrifice could not go in vain, and so, they obeyed Fardevir’s final wish and ran as far as their legs could possibly take them, hopping over the bodies of the fallen and destroyed mechs that littered the battlefield. The goblins once more were left to fend for themselves, and as they fled, hearing Lord Javae’ta’s power grow and the naga unleash their battlecries, the war song behind them fell silent.
The voices and the memory drowned out in his head in muffled booms and blurs of color. It didn’t matter what defenses he held or what he could possibly say in turn -- the results were a failed mission and missing Agents, a glaring incompetence of the Agency and he as a leader of it. He can hardly recall when he was finally permitted to leave the Nighthold, stumbling out and leaning against the wall for support. By now, the officials have already taken to the Headquarters for their audit, collecting old documents and furnishings, and delivering letters and notices to the now former Agents of their unemployed status. Those in the dormitories would no longer have a place to stay, and all of Veros’ work, research and relics within the Vault had now become government property. Stripped of his titles and past achievements through the year that he served with an Agency that had no reason to take him in, he has become only a regular man, distraught and disturbed, the echoes of failure reminding him there was still so much unfinished work.
So much left to do, and no power to do it.
He grits his teeth, pushing himself off of the wall. Regardless of what the officials said, he still held knowledge, still held something valuable, and the Agents did not deserve to be swept under the rug in shame. An idea ignites in the spur of the moment, and before he can stall enough to think it through, a teleportation spell is at his fingertips, the surroundings of the Nighthold warping until he was yanked across continents, shimmering before the dark forest of Silverpine, standing before the massive, gothic estate where the dead reside. The teleportation shakes him, and he takes a moment before recovering from the vertigo, ascending the stone steps and knocking at the crimson door before him.
Silence.
He knocks again, more fervently until the door swinging open suddenly, a gust of cold air biting at his skin as he stumbles, looking to a dark-armored elven woman standing tall at her doorway. Lichfire eyes burn brightly as she stares daggers into the Nightborne, greyed, dead skin curling with a smirk that tugs at the hideous scars that destroyed her right cheek and dragged down her neck, the final evidence of her own death. The death knight rests her weight onto one leg, folding her arms as Veros straightens up and collects his thoughts, though still unable to help but shrink a little under her gaze.
“Commander Sunblade,” He says, dipping his head.
“Veros,” She grins. “Haven’t seen you since a building fell on you.”
He smiles nervously, clearing his throat before kneeling before her, an action that takes the death knight by surprise. She regards him curiously as he begins.
“I owe you my life, Commander. You and your Knights have done more for me than I can hope to repay. I regret not having the time to show my complete gratitude,” He says in a low tone, lifting his head just enough to meet her eyes, a fierceness in his own that spoke of determination.
“And yet… There is just one favor I must ask of your group.”
Hey everyone, I have a very important announcement to make.
I’m @boilingheart, I’ve been serving as the de facto GM for the <Agents of Suramar> as Veros Moonshine in the previous GM’s absence, and with the sudden developments in the guild, I have to explain what’s happened.
The <Agents of Suramar> has now disbanded.
I've had disagreements and scuffles with Harleena, the previous founder and GM for AoS as of late. As some of you know, I've been with the Agents for exactly one year now, and am one of the last original members from when it was founded. AoS is very near and dear to me, and when in December he encountered problems and our previous officer group had a shakeup, I took it upon myself to take over the guild. I helped change up the website, ran the apps, conducted interviews, cleaned up our discord and started getting on track to run us a new campaign to keep this guild going and alive.
Time and time again Harleena promised he would come back and help out with events or make a return. I did my best to be supportive and patient, since I knew there were personal things he was going through, but I began to realize his behavior was very strange, and it was hard to trust anything he would say. Eventually I tried to convince him to just pass the GM mantle onto me so that I had better control and access to run the guild, and that we would always be here when he came back and I would pass the mantle back to him. For a moment, he seemed to agree with the sentiment, and on January 30, he told me he would log in and pass the GM. Of course, it didn't happen, and he left me in dead silence, ghosting me until he would FINALLY talk to me again on February 7.
When he finally returned, it was to tell me that he'd rather disband the guild and have me make a new one. I tried to fight him on it, tried to convince him to let me keep it, but as you can see, he wasn't keen on budging on his new decision.
I should have given all of you a headsup that the guild was not going to last. I thought I had more time to tell everyone, and to ease into a short, final campaign to give us at least an IC exit. I was going to personally message our most active members that we were going to disband and move onto a new guild, one that I have ready and created, ready to go for the move. <Knights of Repentance> -- however, its theme is a little different than what AoS is, and I understand if it is something your characters likely won't fit into. But it is here to be called a home for any of you who still want to be a part of this community.
Him disbanding the guild today was unexpected. He did not message me. We have not spoken. I have been stressed out trying to keep everything together, to preserve our reputation, and to continue holding us up. I was about to host a MASSIVE RP event today that I poured a lot of effort into to give us a new spin on events, something that would also ICly explain the downfall of the Agents. But his silence remains, and the guild did not disband -- he KICKED all of us out of the guild, leaving only HIS characters in there to keep the guild.
We had promised to continue this guild through thick and thin. When things shook up, I was not afraid, and I wanted to continue the Agents in spite of everything, and though he's readily abandoned what he started, I am still willing to try and continue fostering a community. AoS was my first big RP guild, and I love the time and moments I’ve had with you folks, and I want to continue that. If you have any questions about anything, please message me, either on this blog or my main @boilingheart, and if you’re interested in the new guild, do let me know, and I can toss ingame invites and the new discord invite. KoR’s new guild blog is here: @knightsofrepentance
Attention! Recruitment for AoS is closed until further notice. We appreciate all of you folks who have come aboard to partake in our stories. For now, we will no longer be actively recruiting, and all remaining apps on the website will be removed.
Head Archivist Veros summoned the Agents to Winterspring with the intention of tracking down a legendary relic known as the Crystal of Zin-Malor.
However, while there, they discovered a new problem. A separate group of Nightborne had already been here just prior to the Agents, having slaughtered various Kaldorei druids, the sole survivor attacking the Agents of Suramar in search of vengeance.
With their new discoveries here, they’ve now realized a different conflict is at hand, and it’s up to them to get to the bottom of it.
Adjudicator Vitale ran another dueling session for the Agents, which was a little more violent than the last time, but allowed each Agent to understand more the power of their friends, and in one case, their loved ones.
Our current roster of applications has been sorted through and accepted! For those who have applied, check back on the website for a response. If there are any questions, feel free to reach out here.
The Agents had a drill session today at the Barrens, reviewing their commands and marching practice. On our way to the Crossroads, we ran into Unika of the Whitehorn Tribe who served us free soup, to which all of us were very grateful for! Nothing like a good march and a hearty meal to end off with.
Agent Fifi Vitale held a dueling session for a group of Agents to sharpen their skills, and show each other just what kind of power they held. It was an exercise of combat practice, and a demonstration of battle prowess, that also allowed each Agent to learn to respect each other in their abilities.
Belated Great Suramari Fox Hunt prize for @leahdarkspear for winning first place in the Hunt! This was fun to work on, thank you so much for your patience and for coming along to the Hunt! We loved having you there!
We currently received an influx of applications, and are THRILLED to have you all consider us and drop an app with us. We look forward to meeting with so many of you and with building new RP for us all this year!
Due to our current short-staff and amount of applications to comb through, responses might be relatively delayed, so we apologize ahead of time for such. But we thank you all for considering us, and look forward to embarking on our journeys across Azeroth with new Agents!
At the behest and insistence of Arcanist Noctries, a team of Agents set out to Alliance-controlled Drustvar in order to locate a misidentified relic of old god origin, named by the Kul'Tirans "The Crux of Cykranosh" for a Drust entity.
The mission, executed by Agents Noctries, Moonshine, Wrenwood, Coombs and Soneireux, yielded various twists and turns. The hunt for this relic brought many other discoveries and unanswered questions, the taint of Void and hidden memories of an awful ritual having taken place some time in the past ever present, and when Agent Noctries was face to face with the Crux itself while wearing an enchanted mask left behind in the Manor, he would lose himself to Void corruption, forcing the Agents to hunt him down and subdue him.
Despite the bumps in the road, the Agents would be successful in their mission, and bring home various artifacts for future study, stored within the expansive Agency Vault.
