The prompt: The most important thing is the thing most easily forgotten.
- Oblique Strategies (over one hundred worthwhile dilemmas), Brian Eno and Peter Schmidt

"How do we know he won't become a liability?"
"With all due respect, sir, how can I know you won't? You served the Sun Prince, too."
"And I left his service! Lieutenant, you are well out of line. I can't allow this."
"You left his service. Other blood elves shouldn't have that opportunity? Voren'thal..."
"You've been nothing but an asset to the Scryers, Dawnforge. But I can't have you charging cavalier into the Manaforges simply because you think this 'Naztheros' might possibly be your brother."
"You had me charge cavalier into Eclipse Point wearing an Illidari tabard and the scent of felfire to disguise myself. You want my team to storm Tempest Keep while you keep court here in Shattrath. The living windchimes down there spoke to you in a dream, so you call yourself the Seer; you can't see the advantage in this?!"
Voren'thal, the Seer, gazed grimly back at the enraged Blood Knight. Behind him, the Scryers' retainers went about their business as if oblivious to her outburst.
"I'm going to do it anyway," she announced, stripping off their tabard and throwing it to Voren'thal's feet. She stormed off, muttering in the polyglot of Eredun and Thalassian she had picked up trying to infiltrate Crimson Watch. The Seer watched her storm out of his library, his aged features impassive. Volali knelt to pick up the black and gold garment, gently dusting it off. From their balcony, Enchantrix Volali and Voren'thal watched the blood knight accost one of the ex-Netherblood mages and then stalk out of the library, leaving it in quietude once more.

"Gods damn it," Arienne muttered, tossing her hair angrily before whistling into the wind. A wyvern alighted on the Scryers' Tier, lowering her head so that the blood knight could clamber on. Digging in her heels, knight and mount lifted slowly into the air, headed northward toward Netherstorm.

It occurred to her as she dodged the erratic outcropping of the Blade's Edge Mountains that she should have asked Logan to come with her -- if not because she would need backup, then because she would want company. He'd probably be annoyed with her when he discovered that she'd taken his mount, as well. Nudging Violet toward the ground, Arienne slid from the wyvern's back, patting her tawny fur affectionately. A few clicks of her tongue and she took to the air, scribing slow circles in the violet sky. The air crackled with mana, a huge tube overhead carrying the blessed energy toward the distant forge. Pulling on her goggles, Arienne surveyed the scene: Sunfury archers fighting back a swarm of mana worms and a few ravagers. There, in black and red mail, was there commander. Had to be. She'd have to take out a few of his men first; then she could engage him in single combat.

Arienne didn't notice the small orb of fel energy that snaked between her legs and retreated back over the Vortex fields.

Huh. So the blood knight was here. Yes, they'd been friends in Quel'thalas, but now she was a threat to the crown. Why couldn't she have seen reason, like her brother had? Shadowhand hissed out a sigh, padding silently over the hard-packed ground.

At first, Arienne surmised the slight itching underneath her skin was just a reaction to the raw energy crackling above her, and that it was her thirst trying to consume her, and ignored it for several long seconds as she observed the archers' formations, watching the way their commander patrolled, but the itching grew more persistent -- fire in her veins. Arienne tore her goggles off, whirling around to survey the fields behind her.
There, some few feet away, stood what could only be described in the vaguest of terms as an elf: her skin was sallow, green fel energy shining through its thin membrane in places where the veins ran close to the skin. A pair of black-feathered wings protruded from her back, and her tattooed face was curled into something between a snarl and a smirk. Her red hair was a wild mess, her fingers weaving another spell.
Arienne drew her sword, jumping down from the outcropping she'd used as cover to charge the -- the thing, who whirled aside, sending a blast of shadow energy toward the knight.
"Dawnforge! How unexpected," the felblood called, the knight finding her feet quickly.
"Shadowhand?" she asked. "What the fel happeend to you, Ascilia?"
"What the fel, indeed," the warlock laughed, spreading her tattered wings proudly. "Our King has rewarded me for my loyalty."
She still hadn't learned! Arienne thrust for her again, the tip of her sword grazing the warlock's arm, that glowing blood oozing out over Ascilia's bare skin. A single word in Eredun weakened Arienne's form, rendering the blade too heavy for her to wing effectively, the blood knight managing a few clumsy strokes before tossing the sword aside. A gesture purified the land around her, the consecrated soil burning through Ascilia's boots and blistering her feet; a word in Thalassian shocked her with holy energy. Ascilia fired off a few more shadowbolts, bringing the paladin to her knees. Slumping forward, Arienne grabbed the girl by the ankle, murmuring an exorcism that ignited the felfire in her old friend's veins. Yanking the girl's foot out from under her, Ascilia fell hard against the stony ground, Arienne scrambling for her sword, the tip of it against the warlock's throat.
"Where is Naztheros?" she demanded, and Ascilia just laughed.
"Is this about your brother?" she asked mockingly. "He isn't here. He's with the Sun King."
Arienne cursed in Eredun, jabbing the girl with her sword. Ascilia laughed until the sound became a gurgle, then died away completely, her fel blood seeping into the Vortex Fields. Arienne didn't even whistle before Violet dropped down to carry the paladin away.