#pagesfromthepast

[vandelizing]

Pages from the Past: Confessions are Secret Contracts of the Soul

Vandel lead her to the Orb of Translocation nestled away in a small doorway at street level just within the Court of the Sun. Turning around to face her, he offered her his hand. "If you're uncomfortable with this, say so now." "Uncomfortable to enter your home? Don't be absurd, Mr. Vandel." Isoldra promptly took his hand and allowed her fingers to lace with his. He would smile only slightly, "Very well Miss Isoldra." He touched the orb with his other hand, and in a flash of arcane energies the two were transported into a dark room lit only by faint moonlight shining through a veiled doorway. His fingers remained entwined with hers as he lead her a few steps into the room. Speaking a keyword of elegant Thalassian, the blue crystal lamps mounted upon the walls of the circular room began to light up dimly, giving the room adequate illumination to move around. "Welcome to my home." She looked around, a pleased look pulling at her sharp elven features. Her eyes glanced from tier to tier, from the bed, and the furniture and plants that were placed around the lavish apartment. "And to think, I thought that Magisters were the only ones who lived this way." Pulling away from her hand, Vandel stepped into the room while unhooking the sheath of his blade and laying it on a side table. Turning back towards her, he explained his living situation, "I refuse to live as a street urchin, as others in my line of work would sacrifice their self-respect to. Please, make yourself at home." He gestured to the array of seating options. Isoldra took a seat on the nearest couch and held her forehead in her fingers. She traced her thumbs over the sculpted shape of her eyebrows. Something was clearly bothering her. "So what do we do about this?" Vandel turned his back to her, his hands going to the buttons of his jacket to unfasten the front of it. Casting the garment off and folding it up neatly, he laid it on the bed and shook out the cuffs of his white long-sleeved undershirt. "We? That fully depends on what it is you want, Isoldra, whether that is the company of another, or to be left to your own devices." Turning towards her once more, he walked over to the couch she was on and took the spot next to her. His arm rested along the back of it, his attention directed to her. "Or whether you wish for it to involve me." The woman finally plucked off her cowl, the velvet material pooling around her neckline; almost swallowing her narrow shoulders. She leaned down and rested a bony elbow on her angled thighs. Auburn curls bobbed back and forth around her neck as she shook her head. "I've always wanted a family, Mr. Vandel-- always." She stood now and brushed off some unseen dust from her robe, clearly attempting to escape from her own self-pity. "My relations with <REDACTED> are complicated. You know, I told you, that I almost killed him once. Now I simply feel obligated. I know not why I didn't kill him on that night, but something about his presence was soothing to me. I thought that if I spared him, he would spare me from being alone. I have asked him time and time again to come away with me but he will not. He acts as if he's truly hurt by all this, but why then would he cast me away when I haven't done so much as let my lips graze yours? Is it an excuse to leave me? Has he wanted to be rid of me this entire time? I think so." "Now, I'm no whore and I'm no--" It was at this point that her voice shook with emotion, "I'm no stupid woman. I don't follow men around who simply take interest. Fel, I'd be following the whole of Silvermoon around. I would never be disloyal to a lover. After everything I offered to him though, after I asked of him to come with me, to commit to me as I had to him..." "After months of waiting, there comes a time you finally lose hope. And that is why I have grown so attached to you." She kept her gaze to the ground and waited for him to respond. Taking hold of his shades he pulled them off of his face, folding them and setting them on the side table. His body would shift towards her, his arm draping along the back of the plush sofa. "I don't fully understand though. What deed have I done, or words have I spoken that has earned your attraction?" The hand in his lap rose to massage the corner of his eyes. "You may not know, however a long time ago I swore off ever succumbing to emotions for another woman. Until now I have held to that self promise." Sitting up a bit, he leaned forward and tilted his head so that he could better examine the expression she cast towards his floor. "No woman has ever had such a profound effect on me as you have, Isoldra. I wish I could understand why." The light around the room pulsed softly, casting shadows across the contours of his serious expression. "Any man who could hold claim to your affection and loyalty would surely be a fool to throw it away. I cannot speak for the character of <REDACTED> as I simply don't know him. All I truly know is the gut-wrenching feeling it gave me to see you with him." The slender woman lifted her expression full of dread in his direction as she responded. "You served as my escape...I don't trust <REDACTED>. I see the way he stares at other women, and the way other women stare at him. That telltale look they cast his way... they've had him and yet I have not, I know it. He is a young street rat and I love him, however the feelings are not reciprocated, and I love myself more. I have little to give him, or at least little that he wants at least. He has little to give me also, but it's all so complicated." Isoldra paused briefly. "I feel as if he needs me. I am beginning to think though, that I am better than being miserable while tending to him." Emerald eyes narrow into slits as she looked at the expression he held, then turning away from him with disgust. She was certainly disgusted with herself. Vandel sat up, drawing a labored breath and casting his gaze off towards the balcony. A gentle breeze flowed through the veil that covered it. "I am to be nothing more than an escape from a man who refuses to give you what it is you deserve then. I..." He stopped, growing silent for a few moments and cupping his goatee idly. "I had hope that it could be more than that. Perhaps I had finally discovered a reason to care again. Someone to tell exactly what is on my mind, not simply what they want to hear from me." Looking back to her narrowed slits, he reached over and sought to lay a hand atop hers. "Was I wrong, Isoldra?" "You're certainly wrong if you think I don't feel attracted to you. Wrong if you think I don't care about your well-being," she placed a hand on Vandel's chest and allowed her fingers to curl around the fabric of his shirt, "Wrong if you think I don't care about your soul." The tension held in his expression slowly melted off as her fingertips played at his chest. She took note of the strong thumping of the man's heart beat as her words had a profound effect on the rogue. His stark green eyes gazed into hers, searching for meaning, becoming lost in her presence. "Then I have found what I knew most assuredly did not exist." Vandel wrapped his fingers around her dainty hand, keeping it clutched at his chest. "I care about you as well." The admission slipping from his lips with ease.

[vandelizing]

Pages from the Past: Vicarious Vengeance

Controlled breathing. Stay hidden. Make no sound. Your heart is getting louder. Calm yourself. Steady your hand. Patience. A single decisive strike is all you need. Control your breath. Stay hidden…

The list cycled through Vandel’s head as he practically clung to the stone archwork of a dilapidated Sin’doreian home. The last hour had been spent keeping to the shadows while he meticulously stalked and made note of a particular individuals activities. Leading him into the ruined half of Silvermoon that had been abandoned for many years now, the plotting rogue wondered why. What he knew of his mark caused concern for where this was going. Adult woman, Sin’dorei and likely of noble descent, the defining feature of this dark haired and well dressed woman however, was a distinct fel aura. A field of demonic influence far more powerful than that of the common Sin’dorei taint.

No one came to the ruins with altruistic intentions, and Vandel would take care to learn what her game was, for now. That monotonous list railed on at a steady pace, keeping everything in check and his presence unknown. He could sense something foul surround the woman as she approached a nearby spire, the buildings entrance having been almost entirely blocked by the rubble of the fallen upper half of the building. A serviceable space remained for her lithe figure to slip through, and the sneak of an elf knew he would have to follow soon behind.

A fist sized chunk of crumbled wall came loose and smacked on the tiled floor just inside the spire entrances, his cloak having gotten caught on a jagged edifice of the collapsed remains. The sound was quite audible and brought his ears flat with annoyance at himself. ‘Shit.’ He harped internally, skirting inside quickly and finding a nearby cutout of fallen building material to lay low within should anyone come to investigate. After a solid couple of minutes, he felt confident that the mishap had gone unnoticed, and emerged from his hiding spot to survey the interior.

Nothing about the spire’s base level had been made use of for at least as long as the attack on Silvermoon itself, and perhaps even longer. One key detail however did not pass Vandel by; a flight of broad spiraling stairs that lead below ground level, and more notably the faint flicker of fire light that teased its way from the depths below. So there was a nefarious meaning to this detour from civilization. He wasn’t entirely surprised. With a steadied exhale, the rogue moved towards the basement stairs.

The light that escaped to the first floor was from one of a series of lanterns that lined the outer wall of the downward staircase, painting a clear path to whatever he sought at he end. Passing a furniture and debris strewn first basement floor, Vandel continued further down after scanning the room for signs of life and coming up empty handed.

A closed, mold-stained red painted door was all that stood between him and his prey that was no doubt performing some heavy magic on the bottom basement floor. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, the nerves of his skin rippling electric as he sensed a perverse source of power beyond the portal of the room. It was a presence far more intense than a single person could project, and he had a sinking feeling about what was about to occur. A malachite hue beamed through the floor crack of the door, the distinct presence of two shadows casting into Vandel’s view. His eyes fixed upon those dark columns and estimated what could be making them grow larger. As the green light was subsumed by those pair of shadows, he realized nearly too late what it was.

The door of the basement slammed open and splintered at the corner with a crack on the wall of the stairway. From the cramped space behind the door, he could see someone making quite intended stomps up the stairs, as a child who hadn’t gotten their way might storm off to show their parents how serious they were. Before he could get a positive identification on the person they were out of view, drawing a hushed curse from the pinned scoundrel. There was little he could do with the door being left open except to look through the inner crack, into the room that held the object of his true desire for revelation.

A cross between a laboratory and a sacrificial altar, he swallowed his natural inclination to gasp as the macabre business being conducted within was made known to him. It was a circular room lined with work tables and glass cabinets, jars and breakers making up the bulk of their contents along with stacks of tomes. The true focal point of the room however, was a gothic slab at the center of the room where a corpse lie, and standing over it was Her. His knuckles went white with his grip on the hilt of his sheathed dagger, his thoughts now re-tempered with purpose as he witnessed her performing forbidden magic upon the body, that eerie green eminence coming from her rune-tracing hands. He took a mental note of the situation; her back was to him, there were no others visible from his vantage point, there was just enough space to close that she could hear his approach, and most important of all, She was most certainly a Warlock.

The conniving assassin put everything into making his advance both silent and lethal, the constant belted reminders of before now having their steel tested. Halfway into the circumference of the room and he confirmed that she was alone. His soft soled boots didn’t make so much as a whisper as his trained motions dampened any chance of being heard by the ensorcelling witch.

Three-quarters to making his strike true, and she had yet to do so much as turn around or show a sign of awareness. Channelling fel energy of that magnitude took far more than concentration, and Vandel felt safe in his commitment to his act now.

It was only as his gloved hand reached for her shoulder that the dagger at his hip was unsheathed. With the clasp of his mitt, the witch was jarred from her casting and into the jut of his blade aimed directly for her kidney. In that moment everything culminated in his head. Every uncertainty, every inconsiderate factor that could turn this plan against him. In a brief moment of temporary blindness, Vandel was not fully convinced that his assault had worked until he regained focus and saw the violent shower of crimson spray coming from her throat, bathing the cadaver that she had been working on just a second prior. Vandel grimaced in pure satisfaction.

Taking a step back, he relinquished his hold of her and watched as the raven haired Warlock fell prostrate upon her deathly subject. Two wounds to the side and a sliced jugular. He took a quick inventory of the techniques used to end this sinner’s life while wiping his dagger clean of evidence upon the skirt of her robes. It occurred to him now how poorly lit the room was without her demonic incantation, and he narrowed his eyes to make out the finer details of his work. This was not a job. No pay awaited him for this kill, save the satisfaction that one less demonic practitioner darkened the doorways of Silvermoon tonight.

It was time to go. A potential witness was at large, and he had no reason to be here. Stowing away the implement of murder, Vandel wiped perspiration that had collected on his brow from the anticipation. Turning on his heels, the blood-kissed elf made for the stairs and towards the exit.

—-

At least a mile separated Vandel from the scene before he took the time to sit down, catch himself, and reflect on what had just occurred. He knew it wasn’t Her. She was far too sly to be assassinated in her own work space. Still there was a quality to the witch that had just met her end, that scratched partially at an eternal itch deep within him. Perhaps it was her hair, or the silhouette her figure cast in the pale fel green light of that twisted dungeon. Whatever it was it reminded him of Isoldra, and knowing that witch from earlier had paid the ultimate price was enough to sate his unending thirst for vengeance against Isoldra.

Perhaps one of these evenings, that thirst would be quenched for good.

[vandelizing]

Pages from the Past: Just Inn Time

"Thirty gold was the deal." The inn was rather crowded this particular evening, though in Silvermoon it always was on a weekend. Upon the second floor of the Silvermoon Inn sat a handful of unsavory type Sin'dorei. Thugs and junkies the majority of them, one of them set himself apart as the leader of this gang with his scarred face and dark, raspy voice. The sort of voice that a man who smoked all his life might carry. "Your stuff ain't worth a copper more Vandel, and you know it!" The leader of the pack spat on the carpeted floor in defiance. His brash words were aimed across the small table he sat at, to a male Sin'dorei dressed in lavishly tailored black and crimson leathers. Maintaining a confident silence in the face of what any other local ruffian would've deemed fighting words, the stoic man brought a finger to the bridge of his nose and pushed a pair of glimmering ruby shades further onto his face. The corner of his lip curled ever so slightly. "Are you gonna stick to the deal or are me an' the boys here gonna have to teach you how to?" Mere fractions of a second passed by, barely enough time to blink and draw a startled breath before the distinct click and unsheathing of a flintlock pistol and dagger ran the palpable tension of the shady meeting through. The silent Sin'dorei was poised halfway over the table with a boot braced against the edge of it, his blade pressed to the leader's throat and the service-worn pistol aimed in the general direction of the rest of the crew. The loudmouthed leader quickly snapped his mouth shut and stared dumbfounded at the deft elf's approach. With the situation abruptly now in his control, the well dressed man chose to respond in a clear, businesslike tone. "It was fifty gold as I recall it. Fifty gold and a favor for Vandel Mullenfield."

[vandelizing]

Pages from the Past: Severance Package

The transmission crackled across a frequency band used by members of the Order of the Veiled. He knew everyone with their com on was going to hear it, and that made it all the more satisfying as he prepared to cut his losses while aboard the newest company asset, the ship called Mistbreaker.

"And so it comes to pass that business is no longer profitable. By the time you can trace this transmission it will already be too late. Do not bother to locate the Mistbreaker, it is no longer anchored at Alcaz. Carrying ten-thousand gold in bars from the coffers that I filled, the ship will remain in my possession. Proprietary information regarding my employment here has already been confiscated."

The shrewd businessman had arrogantly kicked a boot up on top of the cobbled wooden chest that he'd lugged on-board, it's paneled walls heaving with the overloaded weight of solid gold bullion. Claiming ownership of that which he knew was his to take, he continued his speech with confidence.

"Consider it a severance package, and consider my departure as confirmation that The Order of the Veiled will fail. To the so-called officers of the Order, you are given no respect because you are worth nothing less than complete disregard for your inability to gain the trust of your membership. You have offered the members of this Order nothing of value, save for your egos and your personal issues. To all others who are here truly for the love of coin and conducting business, I implore you to consider other options. The Order is nothing more than a band of mercenaries and patriots, more akin to paramilitary than a business organization."

It had been a topic under discussion since his arrival in the organization. A legitimate business that fronted for quasi-legal commerce transactions had no place in the flooded job market of mercenary work. Yet, there were those within the Order's employ who sought that very goal, and Vandel loathed them for it. It was at this point that the ornery rogue chose to inflict a blow far more painful to the company's well being than could be weighed in currency.

"Ironic, as you have more than Sin'dorei, Orcs, Trolls, Tauren, Goblins, Forsaken or Pandaren among you. By remaining in league with the Order of the Veiled you will be used as a mere puppet for a human-in-disguise, fit only to solve her personal problems. I'll allow those who don't already know to figure out who I'm speaking of. Good luck, <REDACTED>."

Those whom had been exposed to the broadcast were then greeted with abrupt static, as though the com used to make the transmission had been smashed.

It was time to lay low for a while.