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Story: Descent

Alerts rang across the ship in their clamor for attention, as the crew ran helter skelter attempting to extinguish the electrical fires. The ship continued in its sweeping, uncontrolled descent over Ilum. Its Captain, a young Imperial Officer recently promoted to the position, took off her cap to put some stray hairs back into their place, as if to maintain some semblance of order.

As chaos reigned across the small passenger vessel, its one item of precious cargo remained in complete calm. The Padawan held in his detention cell kept to his meditation as the occasional well-dressed crewman ran into the cargo hold to fetch some sort of extinguishing device or tool. The zabrak’s Master had been captured by these individuals and taken to Ilum some months ago; the Padawan felt his Master’s life force drawing dim. He drew on The Force to maintain Peace in this mayhem, to ease his own mind.

On the bridge, the Captain watched as the ship broke atmosphere. The controls were worthless, having been among the first to lose their usefulness. She gripped the edge of the closest chair, watching as the viewscreen went dark. She barked futile orders to a panicked crew, who did nothing. They stood rigid in terror. There was nothing else to do.

The alarms and alerts seemed to decrease in urgency as the ship’s hull shuddered around the Padawan’s ray shielded cell. The red and yellow lights of distress ceased altogether as the cargo hold began its final death throes.

“Master?” the Padawan asked, “What shall I do?”

And a voice, guiding from beyond the clouds of the Ilum atmosphere answered, “Breathe.”



Those last two entries are backdated about two weeks.
Just by the way. The first entry, the letters between Caeryn & Marcus Rosse - are about 10 days old.
The second story, the interaction between Montgomery Pyre & Marcus Rosse - is about 5 days old.

& the rest is on its way!

Story: Marcus Rosse Makes his Move

Montgomery Pyre walked the Undercity’s darkened and less traveled corridors with his usual confident swagger. His eyes were focused on some documentation he carried in his hands, whistling some plaintive tune, discordant with his saunter. His carriage displayed to those who may have laid their eyes on him as a Forsaken in control of his station, one who knew exactly where he was going. And where Montgomery Pyre believed he was going was upwards.

It came as a great surprise to him to be accosted by two ruffians in this dark corridor. Each of them displayed incredible skill as they disarmed him, stole his documentation, and nearly broke his jaw before he could react. What Pyre was not expecting was a mugging in the corridors of the Deathstalkers; and where he did not believe to be going was a darkened room, lit by a single lantern in close proximity to his face.

Where ... Where am I?Collapse )


A Series of Letters: Four

To: C.P.
From: M. Rosse
Re: Events

Regardless of your misunderstanding of my last missive, the events that have transpired have only escalated since your catnapping stunt. If you would heed my advice and cease and desist all ridiculous hangings on in Kalimdor immediately, and return to the Undercity with haste, I would appreciate it.

- M.R.

And the miscommunication continuesCollapse )


Story: Tip of the Glacier

- 4 months prior to the present -

In an office stuffy with its own ironic opulence sat two mobile corpses. They were stiff in their immobile positions, perusing documentation, each one of their clawed fingers reading each piece of ciphered communication carefully, so as not to miss out on nuance. Neither corpse shifted in his respective chair for quite some time, the documents were merely pushed to the side so another one could be brought in to be read. Four months of paperwork, painstaking in its detail, gone over in the course of one evening.

When the last paper was parsed by the fancier dressed of the two Forsaken, he looked up at his companion, dressed in simple grey leathers, “Monty,” he said, “I do believe we have success.”

Or a raw deal ...Collapse )


A Series of Letters: Three

To: C.P.
From: M. Rosse
Re: To be Read

Miss Peyton, There is a matter in the Glades of some urgency that requires your attention. You may find it behooves you to return with haste. While I cannot divulge exact details, they may interest you.

There is no need to respond.
- Marcus

Who's Marcus? Oh wait ...Collapse )


Story: Inception

- 8 months prior to the present -

“Do come in, my dear man,” Anthony Olin’s voice dripping as darkly as his black teeth. “I have prepared beverages for our little chat, would you care to partake?”

Montgomery Pyre surveyed the room. It was sparse enough in its opulence; curtains hung mockingly over absent windows, framed silhouettes of native Tirisfal birds on the walls, “Cheery place you have here, Mister Olin.”

“I do enjoy it, I do enjoy it,” Olin continued in his ichor-sweet voice, “Now, come. Take a seat, pull up a drink. We have so much to talk about.”

Pyre sat in the threadbare upholstered chair opposite Olin, a small table between them. He raised his glass, “Cheers.” Pyre threw the whiskey down in one gulp, “Now, I came here to talk about the Peyton Proposition.”

The Peyton What?Collapse )


A Series of Letters: Two

To: C.P.
From: M. Pyre

What food does your pet enjoy?
Dead fish, I would think.

Wait a minute ....Collapse )

Story: Infiltration

Name: Caeryn Matilda Peyton
Gender: Female
Race: Forsaken
Age: 28 at death

Subjective: “I will say this once, Captain. I get what I want.”

History: Subject is a decaying Forsaken who has spent the better part of the last six years as a desk officer under the observation of Marcus Rosse. In that time she has committed several acts of insubordination, including a brief romantic interlude with a charlatan whom she ordered murdered; a failed mission from the R.A.S. to test loyalties; a forbidden encounter with a Paladin of the Ashen Verdict; and is still held in suspicion of unproven arson, murder, and treason against an agent of the Banshee Queen, the Deathstalkers, all in the name of a traitor. However, she has been permitted to remain under the service of M.R. until the past winter when command shifted under the guise of Anthony Olin. A.O. sent her back into field work, where I was assigned to her for observation.

Objective, Assessment & PlanCollapse )

A Series of Letters: One

To: C.P.
From: A. Olin

You should have arrived at your destination safely.
Your accommodations have been arranged. You will find yourself staying in Orgrimmar.
This should be a fun and new experience for you. Do enjoy.


To: C.P.
From: M. Rosse
RE: New Arrangement

I wish for you to know that I’d nothing to do with your current situation. Had I any mind or input, you’d have remained in the Undercity per our original discussion. Your talents are being wasted on that backwater continent.


And more and more and moreCollapse )