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Nadir stepped through the portal, his Ethereal guardians following suit to stand at either side of their employer. His frame would be lithe, that of a man of constant movement... If he had one. In it’s stead were simply dark wrappings upon which ancient runes of concealment had been painted by an enchanter. From between these wrappings arcane energy drained out into the open air of the Stormspire. Shoving a hand down into the bag tied to a bandage at his side, a smile would have spread across his featureless face if it could.

The trio began to stride as his bandaged hand rubbed against the smooth surface of the Soul Gem he had stolen. It was all too easy! The beings of Azeroth were just a gullible as all the rest. He looked back at his two companions, “I would say I can’t believe they fell for it brothers, but it’s hard to compete with thousands of years of practice.” Nadir let out a low chuckle from somewhere in his chest, letting his thoughts wander once more. He had sold technology for millennia, and raided caravans for even longer. The art of a good con however, couldn’t compare to either.

All he had to do was tell a group of adventurers a demonic artifact was being stolen from a heavily guarded tower, and he had the world’s finest at his beck and call. One of them didn't even want to get payed! She was too excited about saving the world or something. Silly human. A couple had been smart and followed him back to Auberdine, but that’s what the Night Elf was payed for. To act like a druid, and to take the artifact. A youngling, only several hundred years old, he had no idea what was going on. What the gem was. How could he know it wasn’t really a surprise gift for one of the people following him? That was the beauty of it. Nadir got away scott free too, and now the Soul Gem of the Highborne was in his hands.

He wasn’t too sure however since he had little feeling in his appendages, so he looked down into his palm in any case. Sure enough, there was the small red gem. That little gem would get him over three tons of obsidian. A king’s ransom on other worlds, for an item of little to no value on Azeroth. The perfect trade. The best part was, he already had a contract with someone. A night elf woman who’s name he’d forgotten, but it was written on a paper some place or another that he would look for. Her demeanor was mechanical, voice monotone. Some dark magic practitioner or another. Who knew what she might want to do with an ancient artifact of a rather substantial magnitude of power? All Nadir knew was that he could care less. His people and he would move on to another planet in the coming years, and what happened to Azeroth after that was inconsequential.

“Ah, the life of an Ethereal...”
"Every gun..."

[Image: Jonah-Hex-Counting-Corpses-Flaming-Leap.jpg]

"...Makes its own tune."

~ The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly ~
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