An officer stood before Ror's desk. Hands on his back, waiting. Behind the desk Ror was studying a six page internal report. There was a frown on the elf's face as he read the report carefully, and with each page the frown turned deeper. When he was done, he tossed the report on his desk and sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
"Sir?" Asked the officer, and Ror raised his hand only to drop it back onto the leather armchair. After a moment, he let go of his nosebridge and eyed the report on the table. "So... Mason has been dealing with Vector..." The officer looked down at the report and then said, "Sir, there's more than that: allegations of corruption, power abuse, general negligence of duties..."
"I already knew Mason was incompetent," interjected Ror. "But that's something else than being a traitor." The officer fell silent, then curtly nodded. Ror waited, and let this sink in a bit. The officer forced to wait with him. After some time Ror made his decision and opened a desk drawer. Inside were two black leather gloves. He took them out and put the first of two on before the other. It was a tight fit. As he stood up, the officer said, "Sir?"
Ror ignored him for a moment as he took a black coat from the coatstand and wore it. Before exiting his office, he turned and said to the officer, "Tell Aneh she's been promoted to leadership. I'll deal with Mason." Ror's face was grim and serious. He closed the door behind him, leaving a saluting officer behind in his office.
The halls of the Tripower were silent as the lone figure of Mason skulked through them, until he eventually encountered clan guards. Ror watched from the shadows the display of bloody violence as Mason found his deserved end at the hands of the instructed guards.
On this world all life is connected to the Lifestream. In a way life itself borrows its existence from the Lifestream, to collect experiences and then - upon death - to return. Something Ror, as sage and as expert on this topic, was well aware of.
And so, as the first sword stabs pierced Mason, Ror stepped forth from the shadows behind Mason. Ror's dark cloak billowing and his eyes glowing a sinister blue from the magic he cast. A strange device like half a pair of glasses was on his face, and in his gloved hands a long metal chain. The chain swooped through the air and at its end was a crystal container. As Ror summoned magical energies, it started to spark. And in Mason's dying moment, Ror tore Mason's soul away from Mason's body and trapped it into the magical container.
The guards had stopped stabbing and now watched Ror finish the last of his druidic incantations. The magic made their neckhairs stand up. They were reluctant to act, allowing a large pool of blood to form around the corpse.
