Noises of battle echo throughout the room above as Valkors looks over to Sylvanas and whispers quietly. "Dark Lady, Lordaeron Intelligence gained knowledge of this attack just in time." Sylvanas nods slightly, thanking Valkors in her own silent way.
Hours pass, eventually the cry of a night elf woman is heard, and Valkors looks down, as his sockets begin to weep dry tears. "It's... It's such a shame, that a beautiful innocent Night Elf had to die." Looking up at Sylvanas he sees her calm, emotionless face, shuddering slightly at how uncompassionate it is.
Valkors clears his throat as he looks at Sylvanas, "Ahem... well now, I'm glad that the Apothecarians came up with such a brilliant scheme so quickly. Who would've thought, using such a concocotion of chemicals on Night Elf would have transformed her in such a way, a would be banshee... it seems we are coming along quite well in our search for a new plague." Sylvanas once again, quietly nods at him. Valkors gulps slightly, dreading the day when the new plague comes, recalling the horrors it put him through in his Human life. "Well then... stay put M'lady, I shall take a peek."
A stone tile creaks and is pushed up, sliding aside as a boney hand is viewable. Valkors peers around the empty room, Varimithas slightly bruised up, as he looks over the dead decoy's body, turning his head towards Valkors and nodding of approval. Valkors, with great relief states, "The coast is clear m'lady." as he extends his hand to Sylvanas to help her out of the hide-away shelter.
The near lifeless corpse of the once Night Elf huntress looks up blankly at the banshee known as Sylvanas, seeing that cold blank stare looking back at her as she feels herself fade away into nothingness.
The undead contemplates to himself in his hideout within the Arathi Highlands. "The Shan're, 'eh?" mutters Valkors McClaudes, looking at the bounty for 25g in his hands. Looks through some photos taken by some strange gnomish mechanism, looking directly at someone he's seen before, a Night Elf rogue.
Valkors sighs unhappily, putting the photo aside as he thinks to himself, "A murderer? Justice must be served then... but... my morals?" Valkors knew he was always a protector of the elves, completely immersed in the beauty of their culture. To harm them would be unthinkable, but the Shan're's unprecedented attacks upon Splintertree Post, and the rogue in question's murder accusations, it was all too much.
Standing up, Valkors stands up preparing to head towards the forests of Ashenvale to do some investigating. "Looks like I'll have to get in touch with Drecael again." contemplates Valkors, thinking of his old night elf friend. Casting aside the photograph in anger and dismay, he gives it one last look as it faces up to him from the wooden floor of his hideout. Walking towards the docks he thinks of that photo, and the night elf that was looking back at him from it, whispering to himself, "Satoya."
SI:7 Operative Dossier of Valkors McClaudes Enclosed...
------------------------------------- SI:7 Operative Dossier-------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------- #SWSI7255 --------------------------------------------
[Heavily Classified Information, High Ranking Officials Only]
Name: Valkors McClaudes
Gender: M
Age: Deceased
Height: 5' 11"
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
Distinguishing Marks/Tattoos: None
Cause of Death: Undisclosed
Military Experience: Lordaeron Guard
Military Specialty: Light Scout
Competence Assessment: High
Weapon Proficiencies: Unarmed, Swords, Daggers, Poisons, Guns
Weapon Specialties: Dagger, Gun
Other Proficiencies: Herbalism and Alchemy
Criminal Record: Multiple Sexual Harassment, Disorderly Conduct, Public Drunkenness Charges, Deadly Assault of a Stormwind Guard in a local Tavern, Petty Theft, and Pick pocketing Charges
Temperament: Disciplined, Honorable, and Flamboyant. Subject has an infatuation with Night Elves of both sexes, primarily females. However we have noticed a trend that leads us to believe that the subject is simply obsessed with beauty. Subject performs phenomenally well in combat, and works well with SI:7 Operative Edwin VanCleef. Subject’s ability to perform is compromised when a female becomes a factor in a combat situation.
Background: Background investigation reveals subject born in the town of Brill. Mother died giving birth to subject. Subject lost father, a Lordaeron Guard and friend of Operative Edwin VanCleef, at a young age during an attack upon Lordaeron led by Hellscream, Ner’Zhul, and Doomhammer. Adolesence spent living as a street urchin in the Tirisfal Glades, pick pocketing to survive. Young subject learned tricks to apply to his art of thievery from traveling circuses, escape artists, and other pick pockets. In subject’s teens, for unknown reasons, the subject then traveled the world and lived life on the sea as a pirate for quite some time studying under a man known as Captain Campbell. Returning to Stormwind the subject participated in a bar brawl at the ‘Tipsy Elf Tavern’. The subject was thrown into the Stockades and sentenced to life, for disorderly conduct and deadly assault upon a Stormwind Guard with a poison tipped dagger. Operative Edwin VanCleef vouched for subject’s release from Stockades in exchange for his services in SI:7, subject recruited into this organization.
[All information after subjects induction into SI:7 is heavily classified material]
Recommended Assignments: Light Scout, Infiltrator, Saboteur, Assassin, and Personnel Security Detail.
Limitations: Ability to perform in combat is compromised by things of beauty, such as females. Unwilling to harm females unless there is no choice in the matter. Subject’s flamboyant behavior is a risk factor in certain types of missions. Subject should be watched over carefully as to prevent mission failure.
Loyalty Assessment: Flawless. Subject displays unwavering loyalty to the Stormwind Army, Lordaeron Guard, and SI:7 Operative Edwin VanCleef.
------------------------------------------- #SWSI7255 ---------------------------------------------
------------------------------------ SI:7 Operative Dossier ------------------------------------
[Valkors' Office]
Valkors looks up from his desk, peering around as he notices the odd-eyed little green creature approaching his desk. "You there, little green man. What do you want of me?" asked the Director as he leaned over his desk to see the little creature. Even though the goblin looked exhausted however he managed to sputter out "The Pirates... The Pirates of Kalimdor are disbanding!" With that mere sentence Valkors practically fell backwards over his chair with astonishment.
"THEY WHAT?!" exclaimed the undead with disbelief. "How? Why? Was it the Blackwater Raiders?!" The Goblin looked up, "No, No Mr. McClaudes. It seems it is by their own wishes that they disband, it seems the old sea dogs have met their days, as fewer and fewer exist among their ranks. Many turning to a life of crime or dying during missions I assume." Valkors sighed to himself and grabbed a pen and paper scribbling a letter. With hand extended he handed the letter to the Booty Bay repesentative, "Give this to Captain Blacktusk." The goblin nodded "Yes, Yes, I shall do so right away!", and with that the little man scurried off down the halls of the Undercity.
[The Letter]
As Valkors looked at the little man, he gathered his thoughts writing it down on paper.
Ahoy! Captain Blacktusk,
It is a sad day when the beloved Pirates of Kalimdor disband. However, I too was once a Pirate under the ship flags of a man known as Captain Campbell. He trained me well as a sea dog, and for that I am grateful. I know what your men are going through, and I can assure you that you will always have comradery amongst your mates. There is it not a day that goes by that I do not think of my former mates, our days on the sea, and my life as a pirate...
But, I digress... us undead easily get off topic with memories of our past lives I suppose. Here's to you Captain Blacktusk, First Mate Boven, and all the rest of you. I wish you all well in whatever you may do, and I hope that you use your skills in the name of good, fighting the good fight. Please... I beg of you all to not end up on the wrong side of the law... on the side of my pointed and poisoned daggers... Instead, let us meet in the Salty Sailor and share a tale or two, and perhaps an equal amount of drinks as well.
Respectfuly Yours,
Valkors McClaudes
Valkors was thankful for quite a few things, and one of the most important things he was thankful for was his skills within Alchemy. Being able to create many new and exciting potions to aid him in his undeath has been quite handy. Even though he had no eyes, he could still see. Even though he was rotting, he kept his flesh from decaying so quickly. Even though most undead knew only gutterspeak, he managed to retain his past memories of the language and his life as best he could.
A voice spoke to him "Landowar Lost burvon thought Valkors?" Valkors cursed his undead rotting brain for slowly forgetting his once primary tongue of speak. He looked up at the human female in front of him, her name, Orianna. Orianna's hair was a long dark black, which contrasted quite well with the white tabard and scarlet red flame displayed upon it. Quite funny for a forsaken like himself to be chatting with a member of the Scarlet Order. So they met in secret within the undead crypts of Duskwood, to exchange important information, as was usual with this contact of his... all notion of her once being a friend in life far in the back of this undead's mind.
"Valkors, bur landowar you want?" said Orianna as she held out some important documents. Valkors let out only a small nod as he reached out and grabbed the documents with his boney fingers. He read over them as best he could trying to make sense of it all. He gripped the paper tightly and tearing it to shreds after reading only half. That name caused him to go into fits of rage at times, and at others break down in what some folks may call crying... if you can cry without eyeballs or tearducts that is. Edwin VanCleef.... how he despised that man.
Orianna was about to speak when she noticed that the rogue undead was no longer in her sights. She sighed to herself and then slipped away into the shadows aswell, probably returning to see Sir Wyatt of the Scarlet Order. Valkors only caught fragments of memories within his mind of that young girl Orianna, aboard the ship of Captain Campbell. The Captain... the man who taught him the ways of the sea and how to use a gun... among other life important lessons such as holding his liquor and where some of the best brothel's within Stormwind were. Not that any of it mattered now... and with that Valkors headed off to his private hideout.