Thank you all, it’s much appreciated. n vn

Mosur sat in meditation; they were no longer in Duskwood. He had been told the mage Mystery was looking for Sielic and that it wouldn't be long before he arrived. As far as the shaman knew he left nothing to be detected by, no latent magic, no trail, and the weather had been dry so there should be no hoof prints left to suggest the presence of another. Janderius wasn't someone Mosur was currently worried about. He had watched Sielic work when he'd arrived, the scout was expertly skilled, the way his hands moved and how he took no pause to measure his ingredients. Certainly he was experienced at what he was doing. That was another respectable quality, watching a master at their craft work. Now, however, Mosur was the one who had work to do, or at least experiments to begin on. He decided to start with fire. He was good with fire. That phrase always echoed in his thoughts when the elements came into question; it was a soft, bittersweet compliment. He inhaled and exhaled through his nose as he calmed himself. In front of him he placed a small yet intricate substitute for a totem. It was a weave of strong filigreed metal with a carved red stone suspended at the center. He still didn't keep large totems like most shaman, but he made up for size in the elaborate and lavish designs of the ones he did employ. "Come forth spirit of flame." Mosur beckoned in Kalimag. A small flame flickered into existence over the totem. The totem itself was meant to tether the elemental to this realm until it could stay sufficiently on its own, it was also a boon the the shaman if trouble erupted from the elemental it could be dismissed quickly. "Spark." Mosur spoke, there was already an exhausted sound to his voice and he'd only just begun. "Spark, I did not call for you." The elemental was tiny and spun around atop of the totem, he was normally summoned with incense and offerings, not called to a totem. Mosur watched the elemental slow and turn to face him, it twist its head to an unrealistic angle. "I need someone more powerful, this is not a task for you." He paused and listened to the young elemental's complaining and begging, he really was like a child, this spark. "No. Now come down off of that." He reached into his pocket fishing for a ball of incense. Finding it he extended the packed cinnamon-scented ball toward the elemental who came quickly for the treat. "You may stay. Do you recall my time in Northrend? Several years ago? It is going to be like that again, like old times." The flame stopped halfway through its treat and stared at the shaman. "I will explain." Mosur spoke calmly, explaining to the flame what Sielic had requested and what his plans were on how to accomplish the task. "Now, you're going to help me find good candidates. Correct little Spark?" The flame nodded and finished burning the offering, the scent of cinnamon and cedar burned strong in the air. It would be a kind boon for communing with fire elementals. "Come forth spirit of flame." Mosur called again, this time a larger elemental flecked with hardened lava grew in place over the totem. "Elemental, I have a proposition for you and offerings enough, will you stay and bargain?"

There were stories, tales where the antagonist changed their very way of being in the last chapter and did 'the right thing' saving everyone. Why did people write stories like that? That's not how the world worked, why did people cling to beliefs and hopes like that.  It only hurt them in the end. Wasn't I enough?      Why would you do that?             Why would you hurt me like that? Belief in stories like that is just one of the reasons betrayal hurt so much. People believed if they could show someone just how much they loved them or how much they cared for them...if they showed them just how good the world really was, that it would make them change. Bullshit, lies. The more time he spent getting to know Caelryn the more dangerous this friendship was becoming. Despite Koryander's training he was still an amateur fighter, and the possibility of a fight with the young pup wasn't something he was looking forward to. If things turned out in the fashion he had prepared for, her mood, the fight itself would swing one of two wild ways. Neither was desirable; unabashed anger, or crushing sadness. His main concern was that her moods would swing toward the violent side and he would have to defend himself. He could only hope his hand wouldn't be forced, that would be unfortunate. But in the end he had made obligations, chosen his side of the board, he had his reasons though some would scoff at them. It had been a funny line of thought to hit on, fantasy, fairy tale endings. How in the end everything will be okay. Those was all lies we told ourselves and told each other, but maybe they were necessary in order to keep going. In situations like this where Sielic attempted to sow seeds of distrust throughout the Templars. You could attempt to fight him by not believing him. Sure. But Mosur was a firm believer that the truth was a better way to spread terror than lies, especially for someone like Sielic. If he was caught in even one lie, a blatant one not a technicality, then it would give the Templars free reign to disregard anything he did as a possible lie. It would be a lot more comforting for Templars to hear he had traitors in the wings and feel as though they could disregard his statement as just another lie. He believed Sielic though, Mosur knew there would be more to come, knew that there were those among Templars who had given their loyalty to him. The only question was how and when Sielic would begin again. He had made a good move. Templars either had to believe Sielic was lying and leave their backs open, or trust there were still traitors in the ranks and keep looking over their shoulders. It was an admirable play, and one of the reason's Mosur had made the decision he did. Despite what one might think about his normal demeanor, Mosur did not like to lose.

Mosur returned much later than even he had expected, the conversation between him and Sielic had gone on for over an hour and he had much to think on. Surprisingly or perhaps not he had agreed with much of what the Scout had to say and the riddles he had used were amusing. He didn’t appreciate the man’s attempt to turn suspicion on himself, it would be too easily believed he though, but he could appreciate what he was trying to do; in fact he could almost applaud it. The trip back to Westguard allowed him a lot of time to think. This was a larger game with many more pieces than he thought most realized. So far he had enjoyed being a spectator, it was easier to understand the moves that were being made and why when looking only from the outside. The game board was expanding though, and soon where would be no room for spectator seats.

lol well now I feel dumb

...I'm not sure if that's mean but that's what it sounded like to me.

Wut? Why's that? You know Kelanni decided to go Tiefling for her draenei, that's not a bad Idea they get the same stat changes I didn't even think of that I guess I was more thinking of you know Light and Holy well I guess I was going for a cleric, oh well it all works out idk

Sielic walked along the paths of Shattrath, sniffing the air. ‘Find him,’ he was told, ‘Make sure he was okay and bring him back.’ Sielic set off almost immediately and soon found himself wandering Shattrath. From the little he knew of Mosur, and the trail he could still pick up, Sielic made his way to the Aldor Rise and proceeded to enter their chapel there. He chuckled to himself, knowing that these Draenei were dedicated wholly to the Light, and he looked around. He found an Anchorite and walked over to him. “I’m lookin’ for a man named Mosur. Have you seen him?” Sielic smiled warmly, and assumed a relaxed pose. The Anchorite, Nindumen, nodded, “There was a Mosur here earlier. He made a few prayers over there and then left. He seemed troubled. Is something wrong?” Sielic nodded softly, walking over to the spot Nindumen indicated. “If he comes back, I’d recommend making sure he stays here until I return.” Nindumen shook his head, “I will not force someone to stay if they wish to leave.” Sielic kneeled down and picked up a small object, turning it over in his hands. It must have been Mosur’s guildstone. “May the Shadows obscure you from your fate, Nindumen.” With that, Sielic left the building and proceeded to pick up as much of the trail again. Sielic had trouble following the trail, but he managed to follow it outside the city and it became stronger. The city had too many scents to confuse while being on the outside made it vastly easier to follow the trail. Sielic proceeded to follow it to the south. He kept to the shadows and did not find himself bothered the entire trip. Sielic soon found himself in a mausoleum with a few Draenei around, either tending to the facility or visiting lost loved ones. Sielic continued down, the scent of the dead strong, but the scent of one living Draenei continuing further in. The facility seemed to go on forever, and then finally opened up into a large room. A collapsed Draenei male laid across some kind of altar. Two books and candles, lit and burnt out, set up around him. Sielic moved over to Mosur, kneeled down, and snuffed out the remaining candles. He packed up both books, peeking into the one that was not already opened. Sielic looked over the body, and nodded. ‘It definitely looks like Mosur,’ Sielic thought. Sielic kneeled down and, with considerable effort, hefted Mosur up and over both of his shoulders. The strain was evident, but there was not many options available. Sielic carried the man to the opening of the mausoleum and found one of the visiting Draenei on his way back to Shattrath. They carried Mosur together, bringing him to the inn inside Shattrath and rented a room for him. The Draenei left, leaving Mosur and Sielic alone in the room, and Sielic frowned at Mosur as he set him in the bed. ‘The front lines are important,’ Sielic thought, ‘So I will not trouble them with news. Mosur looks like he will recover on his own so we will just wait and see what happens.’ Sielic set himself up in a chair, watching over Mosur. He slept for a time, but awoke to the slightest noise, even a bird letting out a whistle outside the room. He waited.