Thagajin wrote:

It's A Simple Matter of Principal...

Rain...so sweet...

Rain is useful in so many ways. It muffles the approach of an attacker and washes away the resulting blood. It bathes the land in darkness and gloom and makes everyone move just a bit faster. And in Gilneas it rained more than enough...

Near the canals that run along the western edge of the Merchant Square in Gilneas city a small bakery filled the air with the smells of cooked bread and warm, sweet pastries. The baker, one Zedock Harrison, had been toiling away since early in the morning, crafting his decadent pleasures for the people of the city to enjoy. Each day the workers in the various markets, shops and industries would stand in line outside of his shop, waiting for the chance to hand over their hard earned gold and sloppily scarf down a sinful treat.

"Disgusting...", he would think to himself.

Every day it was the same. The same bored excitement of standing in line. The same look of eagerness and desire. The same impatience as the clerk would take the money and hand over the pastry, and the same look of complete gratification as the food was devoured. Every...single...day.

"Animals...", he would often say, "They do not deserve the life that they've been given..."

And then it rained.

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Thagajin wrote:

It rained, oh yes it rained. The sweet water fell from the sky in a soft drizzle, filling the cobblestone with minute rivers that carried away the filth of the city to the canals. And that is when the idea first struck...

The rebels in the countryside had more than enough firepower to level the entire city if they wished. It would not be hard to procure some of that, not hard at all. With one last disgusted look at the line outside the bakery, Niklaus headed back to his apartment overlooking the Light's Dawn Cathedral. The walk back was quiet, the city had not quite awoken yet. Slowly he ambled along the narrow passages, enjoying the soft pressure the rain drops made upon his cloak and hat. Soon the rain shall have much more filth to wash away...

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Thagajin wrote:

Three locks clicked, the bolts sliding open, and a beam of light bathed a dusty room full of alchemical equipment with flickering torchlight. Ghastly figures danced in the light, seeming to reach for the colored liquids contained therein. Stepping into the beam of light, stood the cloaked figure of Niklaus. With a whispered word cold, blue orbs powered by some sort of arcane power flooded the room with a chilly ethereal glow. His eyes swiveled around the room before resting upon a flask of clear yellow liquid.

This would be the instrument of purification. All he needed was the rebels' means to detonate it. The first grin in months spread across Niklaus' face. Now all he needed was to infiltrate them. Shouldn't be too hard. Crowley was much too trusting of anyone claiming to oppose Greymane.

He stretched out a gloved hand and picked up a dropper. Ever so gently, he dipped it into the yellow liquid, allowing a minute amount to be sucked up into it. With a quick flick of his wrist, he jettisoned the chemical across the room into a metal chest. As it made contact, it flashed, releasing a tremendous amount of energy...enough to push the metal chest across the room. Soon...soon...

Niklaus grinned once more.

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Thagajin wrote:

The rebels' camp was nestled deep within the mountains deep in the countryside of Gilneas. It didn't take much to get access. The rebels had contacts all throughout the city. A few words, pledges of fealty (all lies of course) and he was taken to the camp for training. The first thing that struck him was the overwhelming smell of unwashed bodies and spoiled food. Seems that the rebels weren't doing that well.

Haggard, skeletal men stared out of vacant, hungry eyes. Many eyed him with something approaching desire while others stared at the distant buildings of the capital city. Pathetic...

He was quartered in a small tent near the center of the camp with four other men. They were as useless as most other people Niklaus knew. Two of them suffered from some sort of dysentery and spent much of their time emptying their bowels. They would be dead soon. The other spent most of his time mumbling to himself about mundane and unimportant things. If Niklaus wasn't so determined to complete his mission, he would have dispatched the weaklings himself and saved Greymane the effort.

He spent the first week training and drilling with his regiment. His skill with most weapons, taught to him by his venerable but well trained grandfather, quickly garnered him favor with his instructors. During the second week, the first of his tent-mates died from his disease. Niklaus was amused to learn that most of the man's stomach had vacated his bowels.

After a month in the camp, Niklaus finally obtained the position he was looking for: sentry duty outside the rebels' armory. During the following week, he observed and learned the movements of the other sentries and how easy it would be to obtain the blasting caps he needed. Two months after his arrival at the camp, the day arrived.

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