The game had defiantly taken a turn during the meeting he’d had with Sielic that evening. It was clear to him Sielic was a planner, he would have been a worthy opponent. The number of steps ahead he had planned were wrapped up in the facade of insanity he portrayed and even Mosur wasn’t sure how much of that was real. There was certainly something fractured there, but even Mosur recalled the clarity that seemed to come with such a new outlook on life. Truths one couldn’t see before.
All and all Mosur had considered it a fine conversation, it was interesting to see how Sielic was busying himself in his cell, he found this humorous given what he’d spent the previous night doing. They hadn’t gotten into methodology, honestly the less Mosur asked of it the better really. The why of it all though, it would not have been his first guess but the reasoning resonated. It wasn’t just violent insanity, there was a method to his madness and there was little argument against it aside from the social constructs of morality. And in his reasoning those same constructs might even support his claims, his grand lesson.
Mosur mused on this while preparing for rest, disrobing himself of the heavy clothes used to keep the Northrend chill off he tugged his gloves off and tossed them to the bed. He rubbed his hands and wrists after removing the gloves and paused when he noticed a bruise on the inside of his forearm. He stared at it a moment and flared his nostrils while blowing air between his teeth. “Machinations.” He repeated in Draenei and dug through his belt pouch for a bandage. TEST