Affably Evil

The world is forever changing; what is required of us is to assess these changes – and act upon them with all haste. I am, as always, a friend of mortal kind and act with it’s best interests at heart. Notions such as nationality, race, or caste have never concerned me. I’ve struggled the brief duration of my life for the progress of all mortal kind – nothing in this world can give me such satisfaction. The mysteries born of magic – of intrigue – of virtue. I’ve sought the answers and pledged my absolute allegiance to you all in hopes of furthering the collective interests of those like minded souls that forever look to the truth that shall release us from our fragile bonds. Those who have asked themselves, if only once, what it means to be alive. 

 

To this end, I would humbly accept and give thanks to the Magistrate for formalizing my transfer from the ever virtuous and generous office of Internal Affairs to take a seat amongst the registrars, historians and archivists that maintain the knowledge of our and those whom are to come in the generations yet afforded our kin. I leave this department with the reassurance that this new calling will allow me to better serve the people, and in effect, Silvermoon and the Magistrate as a whole. Before we part, however, I’m ashamed to admit I’ve been coerced into giving something of a speech.

As many of you know, I am younger than the vast majority that walk our halls. I am not blind to the perceptions that I am overzealously strong-willed, passionate, or – much as I am loathe to admit; inexperienced. What I am, what you know me to be, is innovative. The promise of a new tomorrow. Change can be a frightening, intimidating and somewhat gaudy thing. But it is a necessary concept. What exists today, shall not last the weathering eyes of time. The only constant is forward progress – that is change. A spirit that swells within every idea, every concept ever proposed or swept away. But what I am not – what I refuse to be, is unproductive, corrupt, or useless.

I’ve served this court for nearly a decade, and I’ve the audacity to hold such wishes for the centuries to come. I want to see Quel’thalas blossom once again. I want to beholden unto the praise that our people are to be showered in, to see our glory expand tenfold. It’s my sincere desire that we surpass our heights in days of old, and in company of numerous friends. That our kin shall stretch the expanse of this realm once again – that when all else has turned to dust and the days of mortal kind begin to wane; we shall yet stand atop the throne and begin anew. Just as the resolve of our people has never wavered in times of need – never shall I faulter in upholding the oath I swore all those years ago in service to the court of Silvermoon, and to the realm of Quel’thalas, nor the oath to the peoples of this world. Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen.”

They applaud, if only on ceremony. I bow in deference and smirk; While they rejoice in the fact that I’ll be distant from their scheming and no longer pose an immediate threat – I’ll lurk yet in the shadows. I will linger overhead and watch them play their little games of intrigue and deception. I’ll watch them lay the foundations of carefully arranged conspiracy, and when the time is right… I’ll bring it all crumbling down around them. We wear the same uniform, portray the same interests and collective ‘benevolence’ for the people… But I’m the one holding all the strings.

Theirs – and hers. The foundation for something larger has been laid, and now I dance them to my merry tune. Not to say they aren’t using me to their own ends as well. I’d hope such was the case, lest my darling Astoreth’s change of heart cease to progress along the preordained path. Vellarae has likewise proven herself to be a worthwhile pursuit – and more so, demonstrates an interest in the darker corners of magic and perhaps the skill sets that go hand in han with them. I’m more than delighted to have my own collective. In time, perhaps, I may have another following that is equal to… or perhaps even better than the Palamecians of old.
In furthering my own practices in occult magicks, I’ve enlisted Sanarissa Firewing, whom I assume has no relation to Westel… Not that he’s of any concern anymore… Through my most creative deception to date, I’ve coerced her into agreeing to teach me what she knows. Whether or not anything new presents itself in this affair has yet to be seen. I remain hopeful.

 

“What do you want?” She hissed. Anetho offered a gentle smile as he replied in a charming voice; “Dinner.” Everyone in the room seemed dumbstruck for a moment, save for the warlock whom replied simply, “You’re not my type.” The Red Magister smirked, fishing around in his coat and presenting a set of legal documents. “We can be civil and conduct this inquisition privately or take it to an office where we can assault you day and night with questions.” Another Elf piped up in the Sanctum. “You cannot claim someone whom is not a citizen of Silvermoon – you have no right.” Anetho smirked. “Normally that would be the case unless a crime was committed within our walls. In the event she cannot be remounted or extradited to a suitable government for further inquiry or trial then it falls into our domain and rightful place to hold her – this also applies if we deem it necessary. In this instance the times as tumultuous as they are the city-state has agreed to investigating what has been termed as suspicious activity and will later determine what to make of her.” He ran his right hand through his hair, smiling all the while. He could feel the hatred seething all around. “Judicial Magister Sunweaver has signed off on this inquiry and thus it is a legal matter. I do hope you’ll come along in a civil manner…” The Orc Fel-Weaver snarled. “This is blackmail.” Anetho shook his head. “Hardly so crude, we prefer the term coercion.”

The revelation came later that I’d had it forged and that while the inquisition was legitimate it was arranged for one who did not exist, a man spoken of in a children’s story of old. John Smith – the tragic children’s hero. A man who lost it all and reforged it again all his own. She was infuriated but a small part of me suspects she was also filled with admiration at my antics. I felt no scarce amount of satisfaction at her words.

“Have you heard the tale of John Smith? The rhyme goes something like… John Smith’s forest was burned down, John Smith’s animals were nowhere to be found. John Smith planted new trees. A lot… A whole lot… A whole lot more…” He sauntered closer to her, moving his index finger to reveal whom it the edict was penned for. ‘John Smith’. She snarled, lowering her voice and whispering in his ear. “Silence and secrecy, little boy.” 

 

Speaking of Firewings… I’ve delivered the letter Astoreth intended for me, the one that almost certainly implicates what can only be labelled as a blatant affair between the two of us – and forged the illusion that there is a third party playing Westel and I both for fools. His reaction and vigilence in rooting out this non-existant entity will only expedite what her departure from his arms. It will drive her to her darker thoughts and ultimately finalize the change. I’ve witnessed her raw and unbridled emotions firsthand when we spoke of Vellarae and her distrust of magi. It was beautiful.

To further this deception I’d tossed my office and made quite a mess, a report was filed and I gave a formal statement indicating that a personal missive had gone missing. Likewise I told her to be mindful of this conspiracy as it was the very letter she penned. I need only kick my heels up and watch as her husband – the one meant to smother those hellish flames within her heart, stoke the furnace of her fury. I can’t wait to taste of his despair. To watch his world collapse in an instant.

The greatest revelation however, rests in Mister Felscythe’s words. I don’t know if he found my actions to be entertaining or sickening but he has given me the time and location of the coven that I’ve sought to entreaty – ironically as a result of my dealings with the Lady Firewing. His words filled me with admiration of my own work and left me feeling quite satisfied. ‘This was… unique, Dawnpride.’ T’is very strange to know praise for such affairs – and very welcome.

“…Dance for me, puppets…. Dance for your master – to a melody of midnight.”

 

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~ by anethodawnpride on November 14, 2013.

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