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Mordoth Timire
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Joined: 08 Jul 2016
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re: Claws of Metal: Sides

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 Image result for silhouette rain

Galen Drathis stood beneath his expensive umbrella, scowling as the wind changed direction and the rain splattered against the bottom of his robes. Galen sighed deeply, already formulating a lie for anyone who asked him about the sorry state of his clothing. It was an unlikely scenario, but Galen disliked improvisation. It was one of the easiest routes to mistakes, and mistakes were not what his clients payed him for. In the long years of his partnership with Synphum, he had made very few mistakes. And yet... Synphum still kept him in the dark.

 The sound of wheels over cobblestone made Galen turn his head. Two worgen were dragging something into the cemetery. Just simple worgen dragging a gra-. Galen stopped his thought, closed his eyes, shook his head, then looked back. Why in light's name were they dragging a grand piano into the cemetery?

"It's a nice touch, don't you think?" A Lordaeron accented voice pierced the rain. Galen glanced to his right, watching a tall night elf walk up to him, wearing an expensive black robe, and white silk gloves. All of this was complimented by the mane of dark blue hair that swung and curled in the wind as he walked. Galen smirked as his companion approached. "Compensating, are we Joseph?" Joseph Synphum laughed loudly, his characteristically sadistic smile forming on his lips. "I like it, makes me seem taller, and I've always thought elves look highly intellectual. And yes, the hair is rather nice. A small touch that Igoran added for me."

The two stood side by side, Galen trying not to choke on the stench of Synphum's overpowering perfume. The two worgen who had brought the piano over had now begun digging a hole nearby. "You believe the Wardens will come, correct?" Synphum spoke quietly and methodically, staring at Galen's face for the smallest movements. "Yes, I believe so. However, you are aware that they will bring weapons?" Synphum, nodded, smiling. "If it makes them feel any safer, I'll allow it. It's not like I haven't got guards"

A bolt of lightning revealed the silhouette of one of these so called 'guards'. Perched on a nearby hill, a black hooded figure, the rain dripping off his mask, crafted from a worgen skull. Galen stared up at him. Synphum's personal assassin. Another figure that Galen knew very little about. Synphum followed Galen's gaze, then chuckled quietly. Galen turned to him slowly, opening his mouth to speak. And then... he stopped. The worgen stopped digging, their ears pricking up, their eyes staring towards the entrance to the cemetery. Synphum stopped laughing, following their gaze, a smug grin over his new elvish face.

The clanging of metal against stone. A regular rhythm, like footsteps. A mechanical whirring, a shifting of small pistons and gears, accompanied every movement. Lord Langstrom stepped into the torchlight, a full body cloak hiding everything but his head. Synphum's smile widened as he heard Galen gasp in uncharacteristic shock. Langstrom glanced up at the pair, his single yellow eye darting between them. He straightened his back to a new height, his thinner, yet taller form shifting beneath his cloak. Lord Langstrom continued on his path, the sound of metallic footsteps following him.

"What... what did you do to him?"

"A minor adjustment, old friend."

"Minor...?" 

 Joseph Synphum laughed at his partner's discomfort. "Be glad he's still on your side, Galen."

Once again, Galen Drathis stood beneath his expensive umbrella, alone, shivering in the wind, and watching two worgen dig a grave.

 



_________________

HK-47: "Query: Can I kill him now, master? I would like ever so much to crush his neck, just a little. It is a long-time fantasy of mine."


Revan: "Maybe later."


HK-47: "You hear that, meatbag? I will be back!"


 

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