Visiting the Watch ((RP))

Orwyn showed Sedgegrave into his study and shut the thick walnut door that now separated them from the noise of the rest of the household. A medium-sized room, it contained a small sofa, desk, several overflowing bookcases, various small tables mostly covered with (neat) piles of papers, and two large locked cabinets. Pictures and mementos from Orwyn’s career and his family decorated the room. One leg of Orwyn’s cat Tule stuck out from under the drawn curtains that dimmed the sunlight filtering into the room. Sedgegrave couldn’t help but get the immediate impression that the room was nothing less than Orwyn’s personality taken on physical form. Pushing the thought aside, he sat down on the sofa and looked Orwyn over.

“You appear a little harried, Commander,” Sedgegrave observed with a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I think my son inherited his grandfather’s lungs. That man could bark out an order on one side of the city and be heard clearly on the other side.” Orwyn shook his head wearily. “At least my parents have been here to help out. I don’t know what we’d do without them, to be honest. And of course, our blood elf friend picked the perfect time to visit the city, get captured, and cause a growing political crisis. Did you hear that a delegation of refugees actually came here to my home to demand that Mask be executed immediately?”

Sedgegrave frowned. “I had heard, sir.”

“That wasn’t all either. One of the nobles who’s been a pain in my side for years sent me a letter, filled with florid adjectives, about how the Watch was a disgrace and even when we were lucky enough to catch a Horde spy we don’t know what to do with him.” Orwyn rolled his eyes.

“And then there was the boy,” Sedgegrave added.

“Right. Caught trying to spray paint the office wall. I hope THAT’s not going to be a new trend. He said he was going to paint ‘Horde Lovers’ on the wall.”

“What did you do about him?” Sedgegrave asked.

“Well, he was minor and he was caught before he did any real harm, so I sent him home with Corporal Acton. The corporal talked to him and his family. Now he and his brother and sister all want to be officers when they grow up.” Orwyn considered the phenomenon that was Chambliss and shrugged.

He sank into his desk chair and picked up a miniature cannon from the desk surface. He frowned and slowly spun one wheel. “As much as I disapprove of Mr. Mask’s actions, and I do so tremendously, he hasn’t done anything in the kingdom worth executing him for, let alone lynching him.”

“Well, we certainly can’t just let him go either,” Sedgegrave grumbled.

“Oh, certainly not,” Orwyn agreed. “But if he was telling the truth about wanting to defect, and if he gave the military that intelligence he hinted at, I think we could justify merely sending him out of the kingdom. I think the King would approve. The Alliance is supposed to be about truth, justice, mercy and so on, after all.” He gave Sedgegrave a wry smile.

“Tell that to the refugees sir,” observed Sedgegrave darkly.

“They can replace Mask in the Stockade then if they want to riot,” Orwyn replied forcefully. “I don’t care who it is that breaks the peace; they’re ending up in the Stockade. This isn’t the front line. There’s no excuse for savagery here.”

“Yes sir.” Sedgegrave nodded.

“So, this Mask fellow. Can we actually trust him to deliver useful intelligence?” Orwyn asked.

Sedgegrave frowned, “We’ve been able to verify much of what he told us the other night. The problem is that being a Horde assassin doesn’t exactly engender confidence in a person these days. It wouldn’t be a hard argument to make that the sole reason he wanted to meet with you was to stick a sword or two into you.”

“Surrounded by officers?” Orwyn raised an eyebrow.

“He refused to give up his weapons, and he acted pretty confident that he could escape. Plus he seems a pretty impulsive fellow.”

Orwyn disagreed. “When he’s not acting on paid orders he’s impulsive. That vandalization episode required tremendous patience. No, I think his actions the night he was captured were all his own, and he didn’t have much reason on his own to want me dead.”

Sedgegrave waited patiently for several moments while Orwyn considered the cannon in his hand thoughtfully.

“All right, here’s what we’ll try.” Orwyn set the cannon down decisively on his desk. “I want you to go back to Mask, tell –“

A loud pounding on the study door interrupted him. “DAAAAAaaaaad! Come out of there! Everyone’s paying attention to the baby and I’m borrrrrrred!” Even with the door in the way, his stepdaughter Zanika’s voice muffled voice could be heard. She’d put a lot of effort into it.

Sedgegrave hid a smile as Orwyn got up and opened the door. “Zani, take the cats outside and play with them. I’ll read to you once I’m finished here. And what have I told you about yelling inside the house?”

“Not to dooooooo it!” Zani grinned cheekily and raced off.

Orwyn smiled slightly and shook his head as he shut the door. “All right. Tell him I’m inclined to believe him, but we’re going to need some proof. One solid piece of actionable info for the military, and we’ll negotiate terms for releasing him. Give him my word on it. If he wants what he claims he wants, there’s no good reason for him not to take the opportunity.”

Somewhere beyond the door came the sound of a crash, followed by the wail of a crying infant and muffled shouting.

Orwyn winced and rubbed his brow. “You’d better hurry before I decide to go and talk to him myself.”

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Witheeis steps out of the Stock’s building, blinking as he realizes the morning sun is now bright in the sky. He sighs heavily. His daily visit with Alan didn’t go as planned.

“I suppose I need to get over to the office. I hope someone of importance is in there…” He starts his way over to the office building, to wait for someone if nothing else.

“Day 6. No 7… maybe 8? I have lost track of time.” Alan paced across the cell, muttering to himself. His hand throbbed and he was very sure an infection was setting in. No one had come visit him. Not even the Watch.

He needed some sort of distraction, something to focus his mind. Already he was counting down the movement of the guards, mapping the Stockade and where everyone was from his viewpoint.

There had been a commotion last night. New prisoner maybe? He had yet to see or hear who it was. Maybe soon…

He really hoped it wasn’t all in his head.

Footsteps caught his attention, heavy. Plated boots. Sound of metal armor.

“Wolf!” Alan saw his friend arrive. Suddenly today didn’t seem quite as boring.

(( this was before everyone came by. Been a busy morning in the Stockades! ))

((Edit below))

Hours later

“Day 8. I’ve been here a week and day.” Alan rested his head against the wall and his eyes remained closed. “Today was a little crazy. Today was very crazy. Met my cell buddy. Lord Tyrdan. Interesting fellow. Need to poke more. Figure out the truth. Figure out his honor. Yes. Honorable.” The rogues words came in a soft ramble as he fought off the urge to sleep. “Don’t sleep. Don’t sleep. Probably not a concussion. Lily would have warned me… she’s nice. Needs sleep. Going to wear herself ragged. Maybe just lessen her burdens by throwing me and Tyrdan out. Yes. Good plan. Good plan.”

He rubbed his brow with his right hand, the other just staying in his lap. Two days. In two days he had made an appointment with the healer. His hand should be very red and inflamed by them. The infection will spread right through him and he may or may not be delirious by then. She was going to get real mad at him. He smiled under his mask and shook his head.

“Wolf got pissed today. Very pissed. Very very pissed. First time seeing him worgen out. I can definitely beat him in speed. But not strength. Need to remember that. Had a good escape plan using him earlier. Maybe if opportunity arises again.” He had spoken to the Wolf and detailed the plan, just further proof that his extended stay in the Stockades was wearing down his morality. The worgen had even agreed that it tentatively could work.

“Things will be different now though… they know we’re here. They’ll all know. Tyrdan is a Lord of Silvermoon. They know these things. They won’t let it slide.” His rambling was coming in faster and a laugh escaped him. “Good job Orwyn. You now have two blood elves in your prison. What if… What if… neither one of us are truly the dangerous ones here. What if you are completely wrong about us.”

Alan thought back on the masked man that had entered the Stockaded and given Evelos the recorder. To catch a traitor and turn them in to the Watch. That’s what the man had said. Oh he was dangerous. Very dangerous. He had just walked in without hesitation while tensions were are their highest. A man after money? A true mercenary maybe? Yes, very dangerous. “Hopefully he only wants Tyrdan. Not me. Who cares about me anymore.”

His thoughts drifted off to his conversation with Tyrdan after everyone had been kicked out and visitations rights had been fully revoked. Was the man lying? Was he saying the truth? It was much harder to tell without seeing his face, seeing his expressions and his eyes. But… what if he was saying the truth. What if… “Another possiblity… another way to earn my freedom. Yes yes. We’ll do that.”

Noise interrupted his jumbled thoughts and he saw his huntress friend walk over. How she had snuck in was beyond him but suddenly he found himself feeling significantly happier. He greeted her warmly and just as quickly sent her away, not wanting to get her in any trouble.

But just that brief visit was enough to soothe his mind and before he even realized it, Alan was drifting off to sleep.

“40%.” He mumbled sleepily before his head slumped back against the wall as he fell asleep.

Witheeis made his usual route from the mage tower toward the Stockades. As he approached, the guards stopped him.

“Alan Mask was released last night.” Travis, the guardsmen told him. Wit blinked and turned on his heel. “…Blasted. Where’d he go?”

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Alan Mask woke up with a massive hangover, having drunk himself into a stupor the night before thanks to Thelaera’s expert mixing skills and the bottle of… whatever it was he had stolen from her. He turned his head against the faint sunlight filtering into the room and burrowed into the fluffy pillows. It took him all of five heartbeats for him to startle and realize this was not his normal morning routine. Abruptly he sat up, sending covers flying before he remembered fully where he was.

Smell of the ocean. Goblin voices…

He was in Booty Bay.

Memories painfully rushed to his mind. His talks in the Stockade. Evelos healing his rather nasty infection. Ariale. Tyrdan. Lieutenant Sedgegrave. A deal.

Finally Alan had been released, came here immediately. Ate real food, got drunk, came to the room… He rubbed his eyes. Ah. That’s right. He hadn’t come here alone. A quick glance around the room confirmed that the elf had indeed spent the night with him.

It was good to be free.

Alan silently slipped out of bed and gathered his things. He picked up the now empty bottle and then grabbed a stash of papers. His copy of his release form and the agreement he made with the Watch. He would have to make sure these stayed somewhere safe. Reading over the papers one last time he nodded to himself. It was a fair and simple agreement.

1. Divulge Horde information.
2. Do not be seen in the Kingdom.
3. Be accessible to his Handler.

Alan smirked as he tucked the important paperwork into his vest. He had added his own stipulation.

4. Have complete freedom to investigate Tyrdan.

He walked silently to the door before looking back over his shoulder at the elf. “I’ll be right back my dear. Getting us a warm breakfast. Then you and I still have a whole lot of getting to know each other left to do.” He gave her a playful wink before leaving the room.

And while the sunlight and the sounds of Booty Bay were grating at his hangover, Alan Mask loved it.

He was finally free.

And there was now a whole lot for him to do.

He may not be spending time in Stormwind anymore, but he was nowhere near done with the Watch. And now that he was free again, every inch of him itched for some action. As he walked downstairs to get them some breakfast, his hand dropped to the handle of his sword. Oh yes. After breakfast he would need to vanish for a little bit and go work out a very different kind of frustrations in a much bloodier way.

“Stay away from the Kingdom.” He murmured to himself, finding it did not hurt to remind himself.

And more than ever, he thought, watch your back.

(( and this concludes Alan’s stay in Stormwind! Thank you to everyone that played along, and everyone that visited him. It was a whole lot of fun! For the foreseeable future, no more Mr. Mask chilling in the Recluse I’m afraid. But new stories will come… Alan has a lot left to do, and may have earned himself a few more enemies… and friends. ))

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