RP:Macon Allies

Part of the Rise of Larket Arc

Summary: Evil plotting is afoot as Thronnel offers his services to Macon in tracking down Kelovath.

Formal Waiting Room

Macon stands near the back of the waiting room with the nearest exit to him being the one to the Throne Room. He is the focus of five Larket Guardsmen, the Death Knight receiving a briefing on Kelovath's escape from imprisonment and giving instructions on what to do from here. He is not pleased. The Rage Axe and the furious artifact empowering it are not with the former sheriff, but they are close by, the angry aura filling this room as well as several others in the fort. “I want to know where they went and -who- let him escape! Now!”

Thronnel strolled into the fort like he owned the place, munching on an apple. He had been busy these last few weeks, but even he knew what had been going down in Larket. The rumor mill was churning out gossip faster than anyone could keep up with it. Of course, there was some truth hidden in there, though it took a bit of doing to parse it out from the rubbish. Kelovath had brought home some half-breed whore, murdered a priest, then escaped with said whore. Oh, and he was the mastermind behind the fermin plague. Couldn't forget that. Thronnel smelled an opportunity, and was keen to act on it. He waited by the entrance to the room as Macon ranted to his men, still eating his apple.

Macon angrily dismisses the gathered guard that there is now no doubt that he has near total control over, grabbing one by the chest piece of his armor like some villainous football coach pulling a player aside to secretly tell him to take out the knees of an opposing team member. Whatever it is he whispers to that kid it will have him heading in the opposite direction of the others once they exit the fort. This leaves The Death Knight and Thronnel relatively alone, save for a sentry or two that they can ignore. The former councilman paces back and forth in front of the entrance to the throne room, his armor clicking and clanging against itself during abrupt 180° turns. He goes back and forth about three times, muttering to himself, probably about what he should be doing, before he even takes notice of the Apple-eating guest. Macon stops, raises a brow at this man he's come across before, and spits out, “Yes?” in frustration.

Thronnel stood aside as the guards marched out, watching Macon's pacing with mild amusement. When the knight finally acknowledges his presence, Thronnel took a few more leisurely steps into the room. "So I hear you have a problem with a rogue paladin." Thronnel holds up the core and, in an instant, it's gone up in flames. The ashes fall to the floor slowly, where they land in a neat little pile. "I'd like to help with that."

Macon tilts his head to the right slightly and raises a brow at the offer. He either ignores the mildly impressive magic display or, in his fury, misses seeing it entirely. “Tha’ so?” He pauses after the rhetorical question, weighing his slight distrust of this man against his clear need of assistance, “Why?” He has several questions he'd like to ask, but settles on that one first.

Thronnel resumed his approach, leaving the remains of his apple on the floor for some poor janitor to clean up. "Well, I could say it's because he's allied with those wretched fermin and he deserves justice... But you and I both know that's not true." Thronnel stopped before Macon, looking him dead in the eye. "I know you killed the councilwoman. I know you're behind the plague... And I don't care." His relationship with Artia may have soured, but he had no reason to disbelieve the things she'd told him. But he had every reason to switch teams now. "I don't care at all what you do to Larket in pursuit of your goals. I have goals of my own, and I think you can be of use. THAT is why I offer my services now."

Macon grits his teeth when Thronnel starts listing the things he knows to be true. There are very few who know these truths, Macon himself has seen to the thinning of that number, and even fewer that choose to ally themselves with The Death Knight in spite (or because) of them. ‘I don't care’ the words wash over the ‘traitor’ and he looks relieved. The act he has been putting on for this past month or so since returning to Larket is allowed to fade away with Thronnel's acceptance. He doesn't deny any of those crimes he has committed and instead rolls forward, because the alternative to accepting the assistance of someone who knows this much is killing them and Macon has enough on his plate right now, “Very well… If you can find the coward, what will you do?”

Thronnel said to Macon, "Well that depends on what you want done. Do you want him to have a show trial for the benefit of the Larketians? Or do you want him dead and out of your hair? I am perfectly capable of seeing to either option. It would also depend on whether I am acting in an official capacity or not. If I am seen to be acting on behalf of Larket, rather than as a common hireling, well, that might tip the scales in our favor."

Macon not very long ago would have loved to just have the Paladin out of his hair. If Kelovath had just never returned from the Frostmaw infighting it is likely that The Death Knight would have never sent anyone after him. But now he wants more. He stares right through the elf while contemplating what he says next, “I am sending you out on behalf of Larket.” Can he even do that? The council is in shambles with more than half of it comprised of the accused murderer and those that he appointed, there is hardly any trust left in it from the people. Macon has at least earned back the faith of the citizens with his masterfully spun lies so who better to speak for the Kingdom than him. No? “I want him back here. I want them t’see him die and erase any belief they ever had in him. He needs to fall here.” He points an index finger down at the ground. “Find him and bring him back. Short of killing him you may do as y’please.”

Thronnel nodded in understanding. "Very well. That does make things easier." For the first time, the elf cracked a smile. It was a cruel, arrogant smirk. "I do believe I even have a plan. I just need to confirm one thing. That girl of his, the half-breed... She was a bard named Josleen, correct?"

Macon half-shrugs, half-nods, “I believe so.” He's sure he's heard that name thrown about today, but they all told him she was a witch. Kelovath told him that she wasn't a witch, but that just made him want to call her a witch more. “Witch…” He mutters the word mostly to himself after it has run through his mind so many times in such a brief period. The Death Knight mirrors the smirk being directed at him, “Good luck.” and holds himself back from adding something like ‘We're counting on you.’ as he's already send that group of guards out and may very well be looking to put another backup plan in place soon as well.

Thronnel seemed to tense at the mention of witches. A little close to home, perhaps. "I believe I know where to start looking, then. I will bring him back to you as soon as possible. Farewell then." The elf turned and walked away, traipsing through the ashes of his apple carelessly. That poor janitor.

Macon turns as well and heads into the Throne room, towards the axe perhaps, wondering to himself something along the lines of ‘Now how do I get in touch with that snake?’