#lazarus redmorn

[jonathan-nevermore-smith]

Breakout, pt. 2 - Blind

The door to his cell rattled open.

He’d been waiting for this.  Resigned himself to it.  He sat up, holding out his hands to be bound.  

“How disappointing; I was hoping they had shoved your direhorn in here with you. It would have made for great amusement.”

Wait.  

This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen.  

He stepped up, following Thyssia to the cell door and looking out.  

They were...escaping?

What?

How?

How did-

Now was not the time to consider that; now was the time to move.  

Ith followed the others out, overwhelming the guards, taking back their things.  It had never felt so good to load his rifle, the bolt sliding into place with a satisfying metallic double clack.  There wasn’t much time to enjoy it; time was working against them.  How they had escaped, where they were going- There wasn’t time to consider such things.  Check the next corner, watch this alleyway, cover the right flank; hundreds of hours at the range and hundreds of hours drilling made the motions automatic, rote.  Mechanical.  

He’d leapt over a wall, sweeping the left flank with his rifle when Vaelrin held up a hand.  Pressing against the wall, eyes snapped to where the Captain was looking.  

Lazarus? Wearing the blue?

You are blindly following the path you have found, without questioning the rightness that you walk it, the worthiness you have that it is yours to claim.

Instinct said to draw the rifle to his shoulder, brace against something, draw in a half breath, and shoot.  Standing, looking over Vaelrin’s shoulder as he squatted in a half-crouch, the wall already steadied him, sight posts were lined up-

You must learn to question when you do not understand-- do not blindly press forward when you have the chance to think.

‘I lost my father at a young age too,’ he made to put a hand on the young man’s shoulder, but thought better of it.  If Lazarus had wanted to be touched, he would have made himself open to it, ‘If you ever want to talk, Lazarus, you only have to ask.’

The rifle was lowered, his finger relaxed off the trigger.  

Wearing the blue wasn’t enough to condemn the young man to die.

Other things were more important, like making sure they escaped and that no one was left behind who didn’t want to be.  

(Thanks to @forever-afk, @dorksworn, and @treyu for their contributions.  I don’t have the original rp Laz, sorry, so I had to paraphrase)  

[razxion]

Razail: A Gift Delivered

Time seemed to crawl, each day longer than the previous as Razail waited with a gift to be given.  It was simple, perhaps that is what bothered him, besides the fact it has been many days, nearly weeks, since he has last seen whom this gift is intended for.  His heart starts to hurt each time his eyes catch sight of the small bag within his pack, each time his worry grows: Are they alright?  Will they like it?  I miss them.  Do they think about me as much as I have about them?

Finally he grew sick enough of wanting to give his gift in person that he was going to deliver it to their home, even if he doesn't get to hear or see how it would be received.  Deciding to put on his old armor, black with gold trim that was mostly patchwork now, if you looked close enough.  It made him feel more confident that he could hand his gift over into the hands of another that would surely deliver it to the person he wanted.  Grabbing the small bag, Razail leaves the apartment of Tyleril Silverwood, without a word.

The rogue runs as fast as he can, remembering where he needs to go with ease.  Getting closer to the beautiful tree, he slows down, admiring them as he passes over the old wooden bridge.  The sight of the enormous mansion causes him to pause and grip the small bag tight.  Razail debates on heading further, if his small gift is even worth the time to bother another with.

Hours pass with no one noticing his presence, and noticing someone move past the windows closest to the main door gives him a reason it would not be bothering them too much.  His emerald eyes keep a close watch on the door as he runs up to it.  A swift knock, and a hope that this can be handled quickly.

A woman answers, a servant, and before she can even speak Razail holds the bag out to her.  “Can you make sure Lazarus gets this for me, please?” She nods, gently taking the bag from his hands and looks down at it while she speaks.  “I certainly will ensure Lord Redmorn receives this.  Who-”  She looks up as Razail runs away.

His gift is delivered.  Inside is an elementium ring, shaped as a leaf with a peridot gem within a spiral on the opposite end, and a bathing bomb of sorts, along with a tiny note written poorly but the best he can do:

Lazarus, Thought of you. Razail

@treyu @tyleril-silversword

[thanidiel]

Inheritance

[Taking place IC after Monday 3-12-18]

‘Fore the dust has even fully settled from the Battle of the Beard, multiple battalions have broken from the Archon’s army in pursuit of other objectives at hand. Amongst the divisions disappearing over the horizon is the motley cavalry at Thanidiel Highdawn’s command; a mixture of lynx and fox fur, interspersed by equal black and crimson, vanishing into the forests of Eversong.

Though her pace is as swift and sudden as is always exerted, a squad’s worth of horsemen under her banner has risked not immediately taking to their leader’s trail, and instead surge along the sprawling campgrounds of Telchis’ forces as soldiers return to their tents.

Eventually, the presence of Lazarus Redmorn is noted and sought out by this small band of troops. They come with no message nor words passed unto them from their draconian Captain - they merely pass a unstrung longbow into the afflicted man’s hands.

Thalassian-make, and of a well-treated, flexible and sturdy, wood. Elegant and designed for both function and appearance, it still stains with a blood that has yet to fully oxidise. It looks as though it had been lightly cleaned, but that others had not dared to remove marker of what this object has experienced.

Though word had been contained from Quel’Thalas proper, word had not been hidden from the Sunguard of the status of its battalions and how they had been bled of their archers against mortar and lance. Absent of shame, Thanidiel’s men had scavenged and looted the battlefield of any dead parties, to replenish supply where they could before their departure.

In the ways of Thanidiel, this queer situation could be described as a… recycling of sorts; efficient, and ever-reminding of the brutality of warfare, in a way that echoes her character as a whole.

Evidently, she must have assumed that Lazarus was both needing of such a tool, and that he was also unlikely to waste it with early death.

3x Mystical Essences removed from Thanidiel Highdawn’s Inventory to craft a Bow for Lazarus Redmorn.

[+1 to Mod damage/healing on basic attacks and abilities]

[+2 to Max damage/healing on basic attacks and abilities]

[Reach: +5ft range to basic attacks/healing and abilities]

@treyu

[gwynealin]

One Long Night

“3rd: Write about a conversation your character overheard and wished they hadn’t.”

After Aeleara had been mended of her migraines, she laid in a cot still recovering from the mending. It was night time by now, yet she could not stop fidgeting about. Sleep was the last thing on her mind, as she was busy enjoying thinking about things without a nasty headache in the way.

In the cot beside her laid Lazarus Redmorn, fast asleep and mumbling about his dream. Aeleara’s ears perked up at the sound of his voice and she quickly focused on what he was actually saying.

“Mmnnn, my… my hero! Oh, Aeleara yes~ lift me up in those strong, Light-loving arms of yours~!”

The paladins ears pinned back and a look of disdain settled upon her face. “Oh no…” she thought to herself. “This is the only thing I can focus on now…” Her morbid curiosity made it hard for her not to listen to what he was saying.

And then he started making gross kissing noises and muttered “Protect me with your big strong paladin arms Aeleara~” in between fake sloppy kisses with the air. She felt weak to her stomach now and could only stare up at the ceiling, wanting the night to be over as soon as possible. Needless to say, it was a very, very long night.

(( Mentions: @treyu for helping me get some ideas))

[eleeria]

an unfortunate letter;

@treyu @pyrar

--

[ Delivered to Lazarus in a hand that is definitely not Eldriana’s handwriting is a rather official letter: ]

Lord Redmorn,

Some days hence we were informed of an expense to your estate that was several hundred gold over your allotted stipend as per the trust agreement. After discussion between the trustees of your estate, the trust has agreed that we believe it is in your best interest, considering your rather luxurious spending habits and the poor morale that the estate suffers from after your father’s unfortunate death, that we cease providing you with a stipend for the foreseeable future. This decision was not made lightly, and we regret any inconvenience this will cause you. However, we believe it in the best interest of your people and estate to preserve your funds for the upkeep of the lands and villages.

Please do not hesitate to contact me with any concerns.

Sincerely,

Lady Eldriana Fairlight

Matriarch of the Fairbreeze Cove

[ And written in her normal handwriting below it, attached to an already completed application for a shop in a side street in Dalaran: ]

Don’t spend my money! Get a fucking job!

I’ll love you more when you leave my money alone,

E.

[thanidiel]

When the Smoke Settles

While the rest of the Guard dedicated their energies in the aftermath of the Battle of the Dawnspire to recovery and repair, Thanidiel Highdawn had supplied only two days’ worth of efforts before she had taken her horses and mourning clothes to make for Quel’thalas’ Capitol. It seemed almost as though the Blood Knight had wiped her hands entirely of the Guard and their affairs in favour of preparing for her coming duties with the Blood Watch - if it were not for the presence of a Blood Knight cadre later in the week, leaping over debris and navigating broken city streets to make delivery on the Lightward’s behalf from the backs of their rounceys.

First, they make to locate Knight-Lord Ethalarian Dawnstalker. Presented to him, is a sturdy, simple claymore at face-value. Deeper study proves the weapon to be a masterful reforging of the blade he had shattered in Thanidiel’s hands on the morning of their first spar. Blood-red mineral has been worked into the grey steel; staining it with the Order’s favoured colour. Unsheathed, a note spills from the oiled lynx-leather scabbard.

“Everything of Elven-make proves stronger when it is reborn.”

@trained-trainwreck

Second, they make for the main triaging center to locate Elleynah Stormsummer. To her, the Blood Knights supply a good set of iron horseshoes meant for long journeys and a square saddle-blanket of a well-padded wool quilt. For Brightdawn, of course. She earns lengthier words from Thanidiel,

“The Feast of Winter’s Veil was one of the most favoured holidays amongst us who lived in Quel’thalas’ most severe backcountry. In all of my years, I’ve yet to experience anything quite as endearing as soldiers warding away the bone-chill of the air, our stomaches half-full, and still managing to find camaraderie in the dark nights with what we could scavenge for one another - or hoard earlier in the year - in our winter migrations.

I find it only fit to maintain such military traditions when blackness seems to be a trend of Dawnspire winters.”

@stormandozone​

In the same vein, they make to locate Prisa Violette amongst the medical staff. In broken Common the transfer of an old book of Thalassian-Common translation predating the Second War to the Human is made. She manages to earn a note from Thanidiel, too.

“Stop listening to Bricini.”

@pyrar​

To Zalin, his gift of sharpening-stone for a favoured blade is countered with a tin of a dozen cigars of a unique blend - tobacco and bloodthistle rolled in silverleaf. No words are left for the Sentinel as their dedication to their work speaks enough on its own.

@curiouslich​

After that, the Knights seek out Ithanar. For the closer from whom the Lightward would call comrades, he is given… a shirt. It’s a good shirt. Comfortable in its fit and fabric for the large man. But, uh, the design has managed to -exactly- mimick Islesun’s favourite red-shirt. What kind of sick joke.

“Your last one is started to grow ragged like you.”

@captainswingbeard​

From Ithanar, they spring to Esheyn and provide to her a potted plant. Shimmering arcana guarantees the bonsai-specimen to last an eternity. The unique twisting form hints at a Suramarian origin although manipulation has turned its leaves crimson and its bark pale in a Thalassian twist.

“You have a better heart for these pretty things than I do. Take what would be wasted on me.”

@kinari​

Kyranyx, too, is found by Thanidiel’s Knights. To her, the soldiers endow a simple mantle of an orange lynx’s coat. The ruggedness hints that it was not bought - but a creature hunted down by the Lightward’s spear itself. Running one’s fingers through it, the undercoat shimmers in a paler shade of gold. 

@commander-ryther​

Lastly, they make for the outskirts of the Dawnspire, hunting down Kaltaia through the bold signals of her presence. To her… she is presented with a long length of Legion-forged chain; one of the dozens used to enwrap and take down the Ultimate Weapon early into the assault by Baal’s vanguard. The Construct’s red paint intermixed with Mo’arg blood still marrs the metal. No words, nor announcement, come from the Knights. They make their delivery swiftly and ride equally swift back to the Main Road. Another ‘gift’ reminiscent of the bloodied spear from Tyr’s Hand. 

@azriah​

The services of Thanidiel’s Blood Knights are dismissed for the time-being after that. However, one last gift is imparted by the woman. Awaiting in the mail of Bricini’s residence when she, too, eventually concludes her services to the Dawnspire for the time being, is a letter enclosed by the waxen seal of the Thalassian Magisterium.

To Doctor Bricini Lightwing,

Your research in the field of regenerative medicine has not gone unseen by the State. The potential in your work, as observed with your treatment of a Lazarus Redmorn and Thanidiel Highdawn, has been noted.

In light of the State’s Will and Desire to encourage the powerful innovations of its citizenry for the good of our Kingdom, you have been granted credit in the worth of three-thousand gold coins by the Magisterium.

This credit will be used solely in the pursuit of your research as relating to the medical-field. Should you continue to display excellence and potential of great service to our People, you may see more substantial reward. It is to be stressed that any fraudulent misuse is highly unadvised.

The same Hand that feeds you has the same potential to gouge out your cheeks in an instance.

Hand of Belore Renalays Bloodhallow of the Inquisition; Magistrix of Quel’thalas

@jessipalooza