| rdfs:comment
| - The man moved slowly through the streets. Propped against the walls of buildings as he moved, a leg dragged behind him slowly, thumping stiffly against the cobblestones. Finally, after many stops along the way to drink from the flask in his hands, he came to a door, which he threw open with a grunt. Stepping into a cramped room, he began fumbling, attempting to ignite the flame on a lantern with one hand while the other returned the flask to his lips. "It's been some time, Thomas." Sputtering momentarily, the words rose to the lips of Thomas, a mixture of drunken slurring, hatred, and fear.
|
| abstract
| - The man moved slowly through the streets. Propped against the walls of buildings as he moved, a leg dragged behind him slowly, thumping stiffly against the cobblestones. Finally, after many stops along the way to drink from the flask in his hands, he came to a door, which he threw open with a grunt. Stepping into a cramped room, he began fumbling, attempting to ignite the flame on a lantern with one hand while the other returned the flask to his lips. "It's been some time, Thomas." With the rush of light into the room came a shock to Thomas, as a voice emerged which sent a shiver up his spine, and the flask tumbling to the floor, its contents seeping into the wood. Turning slowly, he was unable to repress the quivering of his lip, or the blanching of his skin at the sight of his visitor. Leaning casually in a worn chair in the middle of the room was a man, robes wrapped closely to his body. In his hand was a glass, filled with dark liquid which he rose slowly to his lips as he looked over his host. Finally, setting the glass aside, he spoke again. "I've been waiting several hours now, you realize. Sampling this... swill, that you would call wine. I must say Thomas, I'm not too impressed with what you've made of yourself. I'd really hoped after our last encounter that you would turn it all around, improve your lot in life." Sputtering momentarily, the words rose to the lips of Thomas, a mixture of drunken slurring, hatred, and fear. "You! They said... said y'were gone. The priests told me y'left Stormwind, no idea where... gave ‘way yer b’longings… after what y'did t'me.." At this he gestured slightly towards his immobile leg. "you've the nerve to come to my..." A dark gleam in his eye, the man rose a hand, silencing Thomas before beginning to speak, a stern tone in his voice. "What I did to you Thomas? I attempted to do you a great justice. You had known ties to several heretical organizations and undesirable elements of the Stormwind underground. My methods may have been a bit.. severe, but they were in your best interest, in the hopes of saving your soul from an eternity of torment in the Twisting Nether. Regardless, you are clearly still aware of what I did, in attempting to redeem you. As such, I will allow you to determine how the rest of this conversation goes, keeping in mind that I've no more forgotten how I did what I did than you've forgotten how it felt." Pressed against the wall, Thomas began to shudder involuntarily as the man spoke. Finally, he raised his own voice again. "Wh... what d'you want from me?" Smiling blandly, the man nodded again. "It's wonderful that you have it in you to be so agreeable Thomas. Perhaps you aren't such a failure as I'd feared. Regardless... you were correct, earlier. I left Stormwind some time ago, with no intention of returning. However, I find that I have been guided in a different direction, and have returned to serve my people in their time of need. Unfortunately, my previous network of informants by and large seem to have met with abrupt ends shortly before and in the time since my original exodus. This is where you come in. Names, Thomas. Names, and leverage. Every Warlock, thief, and malcontent you associate with, because we both know you still do, and everything you know about them that would be of any use to me." Thomas listened, a sinking sensation deep in his stomach. "I... no... I don't keep in touch! Not since you... not since then!" Sighing deeply, the man reached into a bag by his side. Pulling forth a stack of letters, he tossed them casually onto the table for Thomas to examine. As he read, the man spoke again, raising his voice over the low moans that came from Thomas. "Your daughter... Dina, was it? She sounds like a charming girl, Thomas. And quite oblivious to your more reprehensible qualities. Such a shame if I should have to examine further if that ignorance is feigned or genuine, wouldn't you say?" "Y... you wouldn't, you couldn't!" "There is very little I wouldn't do, Thomas. We are embroiled in a war, and not just against the Horde, or the Forsaken. A war within our own people. A war between what is good, and what is wicked. And if I must do whatever must be done to assure that we are victorious, then so be it. Now, before this conversation goes too much longer, I encourage you to pick up your pen, allow me to finish my drink in quiet, and give me what I seek." Leaning back into the seat again, the man lifted his glass, watching as Thomas slowly grasped at a pen, writing slowly on a parchment that had been spread out.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)