Cinda Splintershard, The Everburning
The smell of burning flesh entered his nostrils as the Dalaran archmage dropped dead at his feet. Cinda spat, “weakling” he said as he yanked the staff from the dead mage’s scorched hands. It looked like it was quite powerful, but in fact it possessed no power at all, it was badly balanced too, Cinda noted while he examined it.
A sound behind him made Cinda spin around quickly, a spell already forming on his lips. A weak minded watcher had entered the ravaged room. Too late the watcher realized that the causer of the damage was still in the room. A fireball struck him dead on and before he could finish the screaming he was dead. Cinda walked up to the body, grabbed a few coins from its pocket and went outside.
Cinda went straight to the shadow priest Allister when he arrived in the Sepulcher. Cinda threw the staff at his feet, “give me ma reward”, he demanded not paying attention to the cursing priest. “Be careful, that staff…” Allister started but quickly shut up when a fireball flew right past his head. “Okay, here you go” the priest said quickly pushing a staff into Cindas hands.