(2023-09-11) A Blade in the Hand is Worth Two in the Search and Rescue

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Author:	Vond
Summary:	Vond and Etone run into Syarra as they are all following the route of the recent abduction of Jenzelle and Brendol. They uneasily but with apparent sincerity agree to set aside tensions and cooperate in the interest of stacking the odds toward a successful extraction.
Rating:	T for Teen

Not too far out from Fort Wildervar, a wooded clearing lay near a trodden footpath that served as the route to a more independently-minded homestead that chose to forge a path beyond the safety of the Alliance's fortifications. There wasn't the time to speculate or inquire as to what drew them to take their chances. The secluded family were familiar with Jenzelle, the healer that had taken an interest in their welfare, but they had not seen her. She never reached even the first stop on her intended circuit.

It was for that reason, in concert with a little aid from the latent magics clinging to Jenzelle's stave, that the clearing was finally discovered by Confessor Greennote and Vond Satterly, his aide and personal guard. There was that faint echo of inspirited warmth from frequent use by a Light-weilder impressed in the instrument, elusive but distinct patterns, traces of a specific individual's approach to spellcasting. Such things that might be intanglible to most, but not to an especially sensitive mentalist with his own Light affinity and well-versed in principles of enchanting.

In the clearing, snow fallen the day prior has formed a thin crust of refrozen surface melt, scattered with gouges from boots and bodies in sruggle. An thin arc of aging bloodspray curves across the ground in one direction, while in another, a more distinct small pool was left. On a more flat and relatively undisturbed portion only steps away, water-smoothed small stones have been arranged in the mocking image of a smiley face, and just beyond that, the rustle of a marten dissipates as it dashes away through the underbrush, thwarted from the free blood-snowcone it had been sniffing its way toward.

Vond is making a taut closed-mouth grimace at the scene, staring at it in a fretful frustration he is taking no measure to conceal.

Etone offers a loud huff as he sucks air between his teeth in a tsssch sound as he cocks an eyebrow at the smilie stones. "What'dyou make of this then? Someone leaving a signature or…?"

Kneeling he reaches down, testing the blood for any warmth and trace of psychic energies lingering. Pinching his fingertips together as he draws his thumb over them in a slow snap motion, the redhead murmurs quietly to himself before making some odd hand gestures toward the stones.

He takes a good minute of silent reflection, leaning heavily forward, his boots crunching the snow at his toes as they bare his whole weight in his awkward looking squatting position. He's listening for something the average ear would easily miss.

Finally leaning back on his heels, the redhead look up at his companion and offers another loud huff, "I'm not hearing the voices of restless dead, but - " He pauses to wipe his hand in the fresh snow and dirt, briskly brushing his fingers along the black coloured cloth of his robes. "- that doesn't mean no one died here - 's just unlikely - 'f it were a murder an all."

Reassuring Etone, good job.

There's sound in the forest, someone trying to be quiet but unequipped to pull it off. There's sound of moving plate mail, solid footsteps, and a faint deadening in the air. Syarra steps into view at the edge of the bloody scene, then freezes in place when she sees the priest and paladin. She makes no move to approach.

Vond settles back on his feet slightly at Etone's assurance that the site was not immediately haunted, while raising his head for an alert scan of the surroundings. The blood looks less than exactly fresh but one can never be too cautious in the Northrend countryside. "Then there's a chance for 'em, yeah? But how'd they step off from here? Flyin'?" He flicks a look up at the scraggly tree canopy, which doesn't look particularly friendly to taking to the skies straight from that point.

There may have been obvious signs of tracks having been tampered with and concealed to a seasoned tracker, but the paladin is no such one. He is, however, possessed of an overtuned measure of the presence of undead. He stiffens sharply and quickly turns, the movements plain to Etone as a signal of him growing suddenly wary to something, and when Syarra emerges, he is already staring tensely in her direction, gripping a second-hand vrykul blade.

"You." The tone is abnormally stern, for Vond, and he looks like he expects trouble. "Where are they?" His hardenening frown wavers somewhat after a moment, stirring with something toward recognition.

Etone struggles briefly to push himself up right as Vond addresses the newcomer.
With a stiffled groan, "Nmf, Hold onwith that a moment -" He looks her up and down for any sign that she might be the culprit.

Syarra raises her empty hands slowly, a placating gesture. Then she raises them higher, slowly, removing her saronite helm so they can more easily see her blue-fire eyes and the calm, blank expression on her face. It's possible she meant to look reassuring.

"I wish I knew. This is not the work of the Ebon Blade," she says, taking one step forward and looking down at the pattern of blood on the ground. "I expect I'm here for the same reason you are."

The paladin looks only moderately assured, his sword lowered but his look and posture distinctly mistrustful, head slightly bowed while eyeing Syarra from a quarter turn. They were told a death knight was suspected, and here is a death knight. Case closed, right? But no, here we are in the world of complications, not all of which can be solved with a brisk smiting, unfortunately. The look of recognition seems to solidify.

"'S that grave dodger from Quel'danas," Vond mutters to Etone without much in the way of relief or gladness, then looks back to Syarra. "Why would you be involved in this?" It's impolite but not overly aggressive, and he pinches his lips with a look as if he might say more if not beholden to such strong wariness.

"A member of Cobalt Company and a member of the Argent Crussade," Syarra says, raising her gaze to consider the paladin and the priest as she lowers her helm to her waist. She watches carefully for their reaction, something guarded in her own expression as she continues, "Taken by a death knight, or death knights. I know people barely tolerate us. How much less, if this story has an unpleasant ending?"

Etone offers a cool, "Hold." again to Vond as if reassuring they both had the same misgivings when it came to death knights, but there were potentially lives on the line - lives that could be saved and now was no time to fuss about.

"I'm well aware there are -" He offers a cockeyed expression as he attempts to deliever his thoughts politely, "- various" he lands on. "factions… You look less bloodied than someone who would've made this mess - we are on terms with the Blade - so - d'you know what to make of this nonsense?"

The priest rolls his shoulders back and jerks a thumb toward the stones. "Besides the obvious, this mean anything to you?"

He's quick to move past some aspects of whole death knight thing, if only to expedite the search. "You track at all - I can't tell how long this 's been sitting here, but it's not completely frozen yet - so …?"

He's a bit hopeful sounding, but honestly a trained tracker he is not and only is going by what whispers he hears.

Vond lowers his shoulders with a vaguely exasperated look, but nonetheless assents to letting his posture further relax from caution of anything immediately quarrelsome. "You know of those that were taken, then," he confirms to himself with the unspoken acknowledgement that there was no need to suspiciously dance around their identities ongoing. He nods affirmatively to Etone's spoken line of thought, questioning Syarra further. "You have any methods of finding them of your like? We were told to expect one name of Mondragon, Scarlet-turned-Scourge who'd been spotted frequenting vrykul territory."

He makes a bit of a face after thinking further. "How'd you find out about this anyhow? We're on orders to give the Blades room to work, but I wasn't aware you'd be notified of something like this," he muses, apparently assuming the flow of information had come from the Argent side of the equation.

Etone offers Vond a quiet cluck of the tongue as he mention the blades. Someone else heard the Cobalt Company part.

Syarra draws a breath and hesitates, then she nods to acknowledge the acceptance, temporary as it might be.

"We have our own sources of information," she says in a low, echoing voice, as she carefully walks around the edge of the crime scene to join them by the stones. She frowns at the smiley face and says, "This is familiar. The playfulness. They like to mock, when things are going as they plan. We've been… we were on Mondragon's trail for a while." Syarra kneels to look more closely at the stones and adds, "Brendol I know, Jenzelle I have never met. I should have."

Vond not so subtly edges around the opposite direction Syarra is moving, maintaining a healthy distance, his jaw quirked when she sidesteps a clear answer to why she knew to be there, exactly. "Then you're commited to seeing them returned safely, and seeing to Mondragon, as she concerns your reputation." He walks through the established gist of what he is being presented with as if to assure himself he has grasped it soundly, carefully eyeing Syarra for any signs of contradiction in her composed and deliberate manner.

"It sounds as if you are more familiar with this one than I am, admittedly. Do you have any sense of where she has been most recently, or other advice on what we're up against? You know why we're here. We want to recover Westwind, and return Jenzelle to Cobalt Company 's well."

Vond adds with another look at the arranged stones, to Etone, "The mocking. 'Going as they plan.' D'you imagine they've got wind of us already?"

In a quiet voice he murmurs, "We've not much else to go on, love. I wouldn't be surprised if they knew someone was on the case - perhaps they hoped for it - though it'd be hard for anyone to know it were us unless we they had eyes on our corrisondence - which…" He pauses to hum and think on that thought. "… is entirely possible."

In a louder voice he continues, "I pray we're not too late to their 'party' that we can't retrieve our lost Cobalt."

"You two, I doubt," Syarra says, reaching out one hand as if to touch one of the stones. She pauses before she does so. "Us, likely so. We've entangled with them before." She drops her hand to her side again and frowns. "I have reason to believe Mondragon will keep them alive. Or keep Jenzelle alive, at least. Do you know a Harvey Morningdew?"

Vond blinks at the question after absorbing the offered assessment, his face still tinged with obvious worry over the notion that Brendon's health may be in less certain regard. "Morningdew. I would not say I knew him extraordinarily well, but he served in the Plaguelands with the rest of the surviving paladins that joined the Dawn. Had a real polished air about him."

Vond tilts his head. "But he died," he insists, as if by insisting so he might contest the most likely potential reasons someone like Syarra would be speaking of the man in the present tense.

"Yes," Syarra agrees, and she shifts back to look up at Vond evenly. "So did I. In any case, I believe that Jenzelle is safe unless the death knight also manages to abduct a woman called Ralaea Westwind. Mourn… Harvey Morningdew… will be protecting her. Her safety is…" some emotion is visible on her face for a moment, something in the vicinity of regret. "I'm telling you in case there's something you can do to help keep her safe. I would ask you to do it, if so."

Etone frowns, "So, we've more to expect than who we initially set out for? Wonderful."

The redhead closes his eyes and sucks in a sharp breath. "Can you tell us more, is this a cult thing, a rogue faction, stray sheep? At this point you've more than us on it and seem to have a good stake in the game 's well."

He purses his lips and deliberately scuffs the smiling face into another pile of rocks with his foot.

"So they are expecting you, not us… mmn gives us a small advantage. Lingering does no one any good."

Offering his hand out to Syarra, Etone confirms, "You're with us then?"

His voice unusually warm in tone, he's unlikely to make for smiting for the foreseeable future, his hand shake offer genuine.

Syarra looks at him for a long moment, then reaches forward to take his hand carefully, such that the spines on her gauntlet will cause no harm. "With you. I'll share what knowledge I can. My husband is working on this as well - he'll likely be heading out this way before long. I… can't investigate in Fort Wildervar myself."

Vond watches Etone extend a hand with a look of focused, ready caution that borders on alarm. For all Syarra's restraint, it's plain that the paladin has not entirely shaken his notion that she might do something dangerous, at practically any moment. It is only a further studying scan of the Confessor's face for his surety and intent that seems to stay him.

"We just came from Wildervar," Vond adds with some reluctance, gesturing to the extra stave Etone is carrying in addition to his somewhat flashier one. "Is there something additional you suspect you might find there, were you permitted entry? No one had much information about them or this Sophie character that apparently witnessed the incident."

Syarra shakes her head at Vond's question. "Nothing specific I know of, but Roper is good at finding information out of the smallest things. And he's human, so more welcome than I am." Turning back to Etone, she adds, "As for what information I have now, they're closer to a cult than a rogue faction, by my reading, but not exactly that. It's a small, close-knit team from the past, led by Mondragon originally. Still, they should be considered Scourge, and offered no mercy."

"Good, then we'll have no reason to be polite should things turn less than ideal. I am not especially inclined to tell you my idea of mercy for the scourge - but - well, I'm sure you're well aware."

Taking note that Syarra went out of her way to be gentle, the redhead acts in his own kind. "Forgive me if it's slipped my mind, but have we ever been formally introduced - or were it only the brief passing from the Isle?"
As awkward as he might be for introducing himself at a crime scene, Etone valiantly continues on, "In case we've not: Confessor Etone Greennote." He shakes her hand one more before setting her free.

"I don't think we have," Syarra says, pulling back her hand when he releases it. "That was the only time we've met, and you were… more distant. In case it has been forgotten, I'm Syarra Sunstrike of the Ebon Blade. And I will not press for your idea of mercy, if you do not press for my idea of none."

Vond gives a short 'huh', a cast toward a single punctuating laugh lacking in humor, when Etone broaches the topic of introductions. "Yeah, we were cordial about it," he assures. Very friendly. "The name was—" he pauses while reaching for the memory, allowing her to fill in the blanks herself, and his expression shifts directly before the surname is spoken, as if it had just dawned on him.

"You have living kin?" the paladin queries with a disbelieving wrinkle of his brow, clearly not having pulled something into recall until now.

There's a brief moment of surprise on Syarra's face, quickly buried. "Just one. My little sister. We were a small family and our parents died during the fall of Quel'Thalas. Do you… know her?"

Etone hums and scratches at his eyebrow, "Vond, didn't we - you- meet with someone by that surname recently?" A lot's happened in the past few weeks, so much to process!

Vond exchanges a quick look with Etone and there is something mildly vexed about it, though it is unclear why. "She spoke with us a mite, and some others as well, when she approached us to inquire about joining the Argent Crusade. I have seen her in good health and recently, if that is any comfort." He seems to hesitate about elaborating further, when he returns to eyeing Syarra warily, perhaps unsure if comfort still figured in her range of experience.

"But to the point, that we might move on from this place more promptly - " The paladin gestures about the scene, apparently abandoned by the offenders but not exactly inspiring ease. "You mentioned Ralaea… Ralaea Westwind. I believe I met her in brief passing but it has been a good while. Why do you take her to be critical to preserving the others? Are you suggesting additional protection may be in order, or do you believe her safe under Morningdew's watch?" Vond's face betrays some vague flicker of pained sentiment aside from the general reluctance to believe that the presence of a death knight might enhance one's safety.

"You know my sister, then," Syarra says, with a faint smile. "And she didn't mention me. That… makes sense. But we're on good terms. As for Ralaea… what I know of Mondragon is that she is collecting certain people. Ralaea is the only one she has not acquired. Until she does so, I do not believe she will…. well, it's possible she might kill Jenzelle, and simply not have her raised. But I think she will not kill her yet. And Ralaea…" Syarra spreads her hands. "She does not like death knights. She does not like being protected. I don't know if Mourn…ingdew will be enough."

Etone perks an eyebrow at Syarra's constant correction of the other's name, but doesn't comment quite yet.
"Does she know you… uaah, are still…" He offers a vague wave to indicate her general 'undeadaliveidness'.

"My sister, or Ralaea?" Syarra tilts her head at Etone. "Yes, to both."

Vond looks slightly worried to see a death knight crack a smile, despite the benign subject that prompted it. He clears his throat, refocusing. "Well. Ralaea Westwind is with Cobalt, last as I saw. We can fill 'em in and see if they can lend additional watch on her, at the very least, given how many able hands they seem to have. I know for a certainty there are rather more of them than those that've been lending backup to great effect in Zul'drak." By the way he speaks, he seems convinced that they should be able to take care of the matter without much trouble. How difficult could keeping tabs on one of their own be?

"I'm rather more concerned about locating the missing before something befalls our Westwind, since you judged his safety potentially less secure even than that of Halveris," continues Vond, while again motioning to the stave Etone is carrying. "It may be possible to divine some general direction from the priestess's belongings. As well, I may be able to tell if there are any unexpected undead in the vicinity if we get anywhere near their location.

The last concern, it seems to me, is whether you believe them to outmatch us, or to be inclined to take dire action should they sense us on their trail." He's not exact whether the 'us' is a matter of two or four.

Etone offers a shrug to her reply before leaning back a bit on his heels, peering up at the cloudy sky that looks as if it may threaten to snow at any moment, "Regardless, let's move on from this exact location, who knows what eyes are on us."

He offers a peculiar hand gesture, if one were looking especially close his shadow seems to distort slightly, but really it's just a trick of the light. Really.
"Though, they've probably long gone if they left a taunting call card behind…"

"Divining? Some sort of magic?" Syarra's eyes brighten slightly with curiosity as she looks at the stave. "Then perhaps you don't need a tracker after all. But yes, let's move on from here. I should meet Roper soon in any case."

"Mmn, I can trace magical signatures but beyond that… Ah, should he meet us then? This Roper," Etone adds.

The paladin seems keen to move on as well, nodding at Etone's opinion of the matter. "It's not entirely a guarantee," he answers, as he begins setting off back to the barely-there footpath nearby, "but the tools of a spellcaster may retain a kind of imprint when subject to repeated use by the same person." He studies Etone for a moment, clearly hesitant to entirely elaborate on his capabilities.

"As I understand it it's a similar principle as used by enchanters to imbue or change magical properties, but, you know, just the faint, passive kind of imprint." Vond's lay explanation makes a certain kind of sense, but does not entirely explain how the Confessor might detect or tap into this.

"More to the point, Mondragon. Do you suspect she would kill them if she got wind of us? And has she accomplices?"

Syarra nods slowly, watching Etone as Vond speaks. "My father was an arcanist, so the concept is familiar… but he never read such imprints." Syarra rises to her feet, turning back toward the scene of the crime, "As for Mondragon, she wants them, so I don't think simply knowledge of pursuit would lead her to kill them. She does have accomplices, two left that we know of. And as for Roper, yes. I think you should meet, if we're going to work together." She starts to raise her helm, to put it back on, but the pauses, looking at the two Argent Crusaders with a question in her expression. Are we?

Vond gives Etone an obviously frustrated grimace when Syarra confirms the additional involvement of two others, presumably more death knights. It is almost as if he does not care for the idea of being outnumbered by death knights, for some reason. He catches the sound of her pausing and then her look, having never quite turned his back entirely. He throws Etone one last slightly nervous glance and spreads his empty gauntleted hand palm-down, height of his mid-line, then sheathes the vrykul blade the other was still carrying.

Etone glances over Vond's signal and opts to do the speaking. "We've already shook on it, so I don't see what more there is to debate on. We, presumably, have the same goal in mind… I won't cause trouble - but I'll need a clear indication of who is on our end of it rather than theirs, should the time for more decisive action come."

The priest looks rather tired, physically or mentally drained - it's up for debate. "Shall we make for a neutral camp then? I've no interest in dealing with other political pettiness on top of all of this, mmnf."

Vond settles back somewhat when Etone speaks up, apparently confirming his assent to the Confessor's confirmation with a serious nod toward Syarra. He is in accord with the other Argent, whatever his reservations.