A Meeting in the Legerdemain

A slightly different take here, now. The next few posts to this plotline will be based on roleplay sessions held on both the official forums and an instant messaging program between myself and a few friends. Because there was no easy way to convert hundreds of lines of text into one narrative, I instead chose to preserve the forum-like format by sketching avatars for each character and roughly dividing the paragraphs between them. As this first part took up multiple posts on the official forums, I also broke it into several page breaks to make it easier on your scrolling buttons.

What do you think? Is this format easy on the eyes? Are there any tweaks you’d suggest to make it so? Please comment below, and in the meantime, enjoy!

Author’s Note
“I don’t know,” Keelath was saying.Character icon of Keelath, death knight, with his helmet on.
Character Icon of Mirium, blood elf priest.“What do you mean, you don’t know?” The other speaker was a sin’dorei, a female, with orange hair and the upright stance of someone used to battle, but maybe was not very comfortable in her own skin. The two of them–sin’dorei and death knight–sat in the Legerdemain Lounge. The sin’dorei had a glass of wine and a small plate of some appetizer or another; the death knight sat across from her with nothing.

“The usual problems,” Keelath, the death knight, said. “We were built to kill, Mirium. Not settle down and raise families. ” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “The blood lust has not abated just because the war has ended.”

Mirium, the sin’dorei, slumped back in her chair, eyes going a little hollow, haunted. “Then what?” she whispered. “You could become a bounty hunter?”

Keelath shrugged. “The more peaceful the world is, the less need for such things. If the younger races eventually settle their squabbling, I won’t last through it. You know this.”

“Maybe I’m just too stubborn to accept that’s the only answer,” Mirium says softly. “I lost you once. Not again, Keelath. Not ever again.”

Keelath just grunted with irritation at the sentiment. The two stared at the table, speechless.

Character Icon of Malcotin, worgen.The window he gazed through overlooked the Ledgerdemain Lounge. Malcotin Baen felt an urge to visit the lounge. He looked around his lab and noted the many empty vials sitting secure and sterile on the side tables. He was in dire need of more samples.

His current project was almost complete. He only needed to conduct a few experiments to solidify the data. Malcotin was so close to achieving a breakthrough. His brow furrowed and he emptied his pipe into the ashtray. He needed two subjects, one alive and one undead. The data had to be researched further. In theory, it seemed to him that his own life was a testament to the possibilities inherent in the world. Some races were more…resilient.

He had to gather more data to complete his work. Other races, other ways of living, other methods of creation. The Titans, he mused…yes they seemed to be the answer. But there was so much as yet unknown.

It might take him many years to discover all those secrets. For now…he was no longer restricted by Time. Or was he? A frown marred his handsome face as he contemplated. No, time was running out. Events were moving far faster than he was comfortable with.

One more glance out the window and he decided. Getting his greatcloak, he put on his tophat and left his lab. His dark hair streaked with grey, a distinguished look he cultivated to give himself a dignified appearance. His pale blue eyes were now shaded by special lenses that filtered out the telltale glow of Undeath. Though any other being with his condition would sense it immediately. He did not fear their repercussions in Dalaran. The Silver Covenant made sure to enforce the neutral state of the city. The strong odor of fragrant pipe tobacco was his defense for the smell of death. It worked remarkably well, most of the time.

He strolled into the Ledgerdemain with a serene confidence. He went to the bar to order a brandy and to refill his pipe tobacco pouch. “Good evening, bartender. I am Malcotin Baen. Would you be so kind as to fetch me the standing order I have for the whiskey soaked tobacco I favor? I find your brewer’s methods very satisfactory. The smoke and the flavor are greatly enhanced and I have received many compliments on it.”

He smiled as the bartender brought him the small can of tobacco and his favorite brandy. Leaving a gold coin for the bartender as well as paying for his tobacco and drink, Malcotin overheard the conversation behind him at a table nearby. His senses were alerted to the tension and the emotion between the two elves. A flicker of sympathy in his heart was soon overshadowed by the germ of an idea that started flaring in his mind. The male was a Death Knight, and the female was alive. The way she presented, it was possible she was a Light wielder. Still, the possibilities were there. Sometimes even Light wielders could be swayed…

But how could he approach them without seeming to be nosy? He frowned slightly, then as he stood at the bar, his brandy on the counter, he refilled and lit his pipe. The fragrant smoke soon filled the Lounge and he noted some favorable glances turned his way. Maybe, if he was lucky, one of them would approach him.

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