Multiversal Application
May. 4th, 2012 09:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madetobearazorOut of Character Information
Name: Diorae
Username: n/a
Are you over the age of eighteen? Y
Current characters in Baedal: Garrus Vakarian
In Character Information
Basics
Character Name: Traejan Lightrend
Username:madetobearazor
Fandom: World of Warcraft
Played By: Ian Somerhalder
Icon: http://www.dreamwidth.org/userpic/32901
4. Original Character Section
Physical Description: Traejan carries himself quite confidently, always drawn up to his full and considerable height, standing at 6'6". Despite being 174 years old, he has the appearance of someone in his mid-20's. He is unashamedly cocky, and it shows. A teasing smirk often curves his lips; the only deviation from his usual calm, controlled expression. In motion, he possesses not only the inherent grace of a Quel'dorei High Elf, but also the practiced balance of a master swordsman.
His complexion lacks any hint of the warmer hues present in living flesh, shaded in ashen undertones and looking every bit as cold as it is to the touch. Falling to the middle of his back in length, his pale blue hair is bone straight with a silken texture. It is generally pulled back loosely and tied with an unadorned bit of a leather, the front allowed to hang freely around his face.
There is a certain darkness about him, this feeling owed most significantly to his eyes. They are a striking shade of glacial blue, a far lighter shade than that of his hair, and are always alert and focused with an almost unsettling intensity about them. These are set just above long, pronounced tear troughs, the only lines marring an otherwise smooth and attractive face. Straight, white teeth. Normal with slightly more pointed-than-usual canines (though nothing approaching those of a vampire). His gums are a blue-grey in colour.
As his attire is concerned he favours his armor above all else. Though it is well cared for it shows its age and rich history of battle in the various scars and chips bitten into the dark saronite. Parts of the set have been fitted with noticeable mechanized enhancements which, to a practiced eye, would all appear to be kept in perfect working order. Outside of his armor he prefers loose, simple clothes painted in a dark, cool colour palette.
A thick scar runs from beneath his right ear and trails diagonally to the left, down across his throat and disappears below his collar where it would continue down over his chest. The old wound is still framed by heavy, cable-like stitches that look to have been put in place by an experienced hand. Runes are carved into his flesh in numerous places; at the back of his neck and trailing vertically down his back, on either shoulder and continuing down either arm. They have a slight blue glow to them, same as his eyes, the edges of them rough as wounds that never healed. When his power is activated, the runes glow noticeably brighter along with his eyes.
He also has a matching set of scars on his wrists, looking to be where bindings of some sort cut into the flesh there. Though healed and painless at this point, they still look much worse than they feel.
On his left shoulder is a brand, a Demonic symbol meaning 'ownership' or 'property', depending on the particular translation of the Eredun language.
His nails are pointed and allowed to grow past the edge of his fingertips. He keeps them clean for the most part, but the area around his cuticles is stained with oil.
His voice is average, mid-range generally with a unique 'echo' that is common to death knights. Deepens and picks up a bit of a "growl" when he's particularly angry. Assuming there is some amount of "universal translation" when one arrives in Baedal, his Thalassian accent would sound British to a standard Earth human.
Sexuality: About as straight as you can get. He's not really homophobic because doesn't care if others choose to date within their own gender, but is incredibly put off by it within his own experience. Advances from other males is met with strong resistance and even anger if continued to be pushed. Relationships seem to be fairly fluid in Quel'thalas, particularly at the time he is pulled from it, but being raised in a highly traditional noble circle he conforms to the standard of normalcy he is familiar with.
World Information: Traejan hails from Azeroth, specifically the land of Quel'thalas in the northernmost region of the Eastern Kingdoms. He comes from the World of Warcraft universe and as the name implies, there is always a conflict brewing somewhere at some point. The faction war between the Alliance and the Horde has been involved in a bitter standoff as larger threats nearly wiped Azeroth out of existance entirely, but was beginning to heat up again before Traejan was pulled from the world. His entire life, even in youth when Quel'thalas was a closed, xenophobic nation involved power and dominance. He was raised in a society that held itself above the rest. Even a commoner was still considered superior to the highest form of any other race, according to the elves themselves. This idea of power and superiority carries on to the present. He was trained to wield the greatest power of the elves, the arcane, since youth. Traejan experienced war only marginally even though the Second War was on during his younger years. His parents served the Alliance and he would occasionally see the human cities to the south. The Amani trolls of the southern forests were also long at war with the elves. This conflict he had more experience with, but he considered it less a war front then picking off savages out of the trees.
Quel'thalas came under siege during the Third War, when Prince Arthas Menethil fell under the sway of the Scourge and marched his undead army north to the Sunwell, the Quel'dorei's vast fount of power. Traejan fell in defence of the city and was subsequently taken as the Scourge swept through the land. This was his first true taste of war and certainly not the last.
History: Born as the eldest son of Imrinde and Eridanus Lightrend. The Lightrends were a noble family of the Houses Nightsnare and Sunfire, the marriage a political one that eventually developed some affection. Imrinde Redmorn of the House Nightsnare was a very gentle, kind woman in the home and with the reputation of a force to be reckoned with in the political and social arena. She was a Magistrix of some great power and influence. Eridanus Lightrend of House Sunfire was an ambitious man and a Priest of the Holy Light who had studied with the humans in Stormwind in his younger days. Bringing the two houses together was a powerful combination, uniting their holdings and wealth.
Eridanus spent a lot of time away on business as Lord and was a man who was difficult to please when he was actually at home. He held extremely high expectations for his children and generally difficult demeanor was only ever mitigated by his wife. Imrinde seemed to be the only person he truly had a soft spot for.
Traejan began mage training at a young age, showing quite a lot of promise in the field. He was guided by his mother. Though his father expected that he would follow her down the path to a political career as a Magister, but Imrinde was the sort of parent who believed that her children should follow their own way and so she never discouraged any of his varied interests. He was being groomed to be the next Lord of their Houses, and so the pressure was high. Traejan appreciated a challenge, and often impressed even his father. All the children were trained in the traditional way of noble children learning art, music, and culture. Traejan in particular excelled at playing the violin.
Fifty years later his brother Telarion, the middle child, was born. The two were opposites in nearly every way possible. Traejan had a tendancy to be more outgoing and confident while Telarion was more reserved and quiet. Telarion trained in the way of his father, with the Light, one thing that Traejan had zero interest in altogether. A rivalry was always present among the brothers. Fifty years seems like quite a span of time to a human, but among elves the split was not as noticeable once Telarion reached adulthood.
By the time he had, their younger sister Tarin was born. Traejan helped his mother raise her just as she had helped her with Telarion. Traejan and his mother were extremely close, even so much as to travel with her when the other children would opt to remain at home.
Things were well until the day arose that he would have to choose a proper direction in life. Rather than go the political route as expected, he went in the opposite direction, opting for a career as a soldier; albeit an elite one. Imrinde fully supported him in his choice to become a Spellbreaker, though it was a decision that severely displeased Eridanus. The relationship between father and son was never repaired in the remainder of Traejan's life, something that occasionally weighs on his mind.
While he made a fine Spellbreaker, it widened the gap between him and his siblings which seemed to cause some amount of distress for his sister as it seemed always her goal to keep up with him despite his advanced age. He'd only recently been inducted into the Order as a full champion when the Scourge invaded.
Traejan sent his siblings away, tasking Telarion with traveling with the injured and wounded evacuees to Sunstrider Isle to heal them according to his calling as a priest. Tarin accompanied him, which ultimately kept the both of them safe. Traejan rode out to fight with the others, cutting down numerous amounts of the undead before meeting his match. It was a Nerubian Crypt Stalker, a large spider-like beast. He'd nearly felled it when it struck once more, slashing him across his neck and chest and wounding him fatally.
His next memories were of the cold, dark laboratory in which he awoke remade. He was changed in all ways, the arcane refusing to heed his call, even his white-blonde hair altered in the process somehow. He found himself grateful for the gift of a second chance, embracing his new existance in unlife. Eventually he no longer had to be forced to fight against his will, serving all too willingly in the Scourge army despite his past. This is where he spent the next several years, aiding the Scourge in exerting control over the whole of Northrend.
Traejan was eventually transferred to the necropolis at Acherus to fight with a small army in the battle against the remnants of the Scarlet Crusade's presence in the Eastern Plaguelands. They were successful in every way possible, up until the final push to Light's Hope Chapel. It was here that the Light pushed them back. The Lich King lost His hold over many Knights when Highlord Tirion Fordring intervened. This event was one considered debatable by some. Those still secretly loyal to the Scourge believed it to have been a deliberate move by the Lich King to send soldiers in to infiltrate the living factions. The Knights of Acherus were regrouped under the lead of Highlord Darion Mograine and renamed the Knights of the Ebon Blade.
However, Traejan never identified with the Ebon Blade, just as he did not identify with the Horde when the Highlord eventually sent him to join the Horde with others of his race. During his time in service to the Scourge the Quel'dorei had also regrouped under a new ideology, calling themselves the Sin'dorei or Blood Elves. They also embraced the use of Fel magic, which was demon magic and extremely addicting. This was to counter the effects of the strong magical withdrawl that the Quel'dorei suffered upon the destruction of the Sunwell by the Scourge. Those individuals that did not agree with the use of the Fel split off and remained with the Alliance. The others joined the Horde, backed by the word of the Forsaken, a faction of free undead based out of Lordaeron; the region directly south of Quel'thalas. Their leader was Sylvanas Windrunner, formally Ranger-General of Quel'thalas, and so she saw to it that her people had a place.
Traejan knew life only one way and the drastic, disturbing changes his people had undergone only made him more bitter. He worked as a mercenary during this time, often taking jobs many would consider immoral or undesirable. His willingness to flount the law eventually landed him in a stifling Orgrimmar jail. The Horde and Alliance eventually brought about the fall of the Lich King, beginning his suffering. Without even the weak presence of the undead lord that had given him life, he felt as if he had no purpose or reason for existance. He struggled for quite awhile with it, toiling away as a menial soldier until some intervention from a fellow, like-minded Knight brought him out of it.
Upon his release he went about things more quietly. He picked up engineering and perfected his skill in necromancy to the point of being able to repair and build constructs and ghouls. His talent with Unholy magic gave him a particular edge in the field of ghoulcrafting. He started building bombs and weapons, doing work exclusively for the Steamwheedle Cartel of goblins. He compiled his own wealth this way, but eventually took back what was rightfully his in the form of what holdings his family still maintained.
Eventually he was reunited with his siblings, to mixed reactions. His brother had taken his attachment to the Light to the next level, joining the Blood Knights. His beliefs only fueled the hate he immediately carried for his elder brother, a hatred of all undead. That Traejan was one of them was treated as a betrayal. Traejan never forgave Telarion for the attempt made on his life, and the rivalry the two had when they were younger turned into something much worse and far more deadly for anyone who came between them.
On the whole, his relationship with Tarin was sound. She still looked to him as her elder brother and even sympathized with his condition. Despite his true feelings, he tried to shield her from the darkness that was the remnants of the Scourge.
Traejan eventually fell in with a group of Knights led by a bold, charismatic Highlord and a shadowy, enigmatic leader. In truth the leadership of the small band of Knights was ultimately completely mad, believing their leader to be a new incarnation of the Lich King himself. Through necromantic manipulation and a blood pact among them, they managed to heal the void and sense of uselessness that Traejan had struggled with for years.
Their front was as a small mercenary group that answered to the Highlord, but hid their true intentions as a band of Scourge loyalists operating in plain sight. The rules were extremely strict, down to the Highlord's ideals of symmetry and military bearing as well as a strict code that expressly forbade relations of any sort.
For all that Traejan had longed for his return to the Scourge, there was also a part of him that still held fast to his reclaimed "life". He'd moved back into the manor that served as their family's summer home; his mother's favourite. He left it exactly as she had, only restoring things carefully to their former glory. He met a woman whom he did not get along with at first, but eventually they grew quite close. She did not know his secret, though he stressed the importance of their discretion. Eventually this schism between the two halves of his life proved too much to bear, particularly when his trustworthiness was called into question when Telarion again reappeared and attempted to make his life exceptionally difficult.
He was forced to leave his beloved home, and the woman he'd grown to shelter and care for. This made him all the more angry and resentful, and his lifestyle was often at odds with the other soldiers. In particular, his fastidious neatness, which seemed an unusual and inconvenient trait to have among the undead.
But it was the Highlord's madness that would eventually bring them all down. Security had been compromised and many of the soldiers were simply "cut loose"; memories were directly altered to prevent any further breaches, even if a priest were brought in to check.
The sense of uselessness returned as did the painful void, only this time he didn't know why. He was happy one minute, and suffering the next, with gaps in his memory thanks to what ultimately turned out to be shoddy and rushed work. He recalls bits and pieces, nothing more.
He began to circle the drain, as it were. Alcohol helped to numb the pain, but it also dulled his senses and loosened his control. He was a hunter and a killer and it often took an extraordinary amount of self-restraint to keep in check. He shut himself off in his home, venturing out only to hunt to satisfy the one need that death knights were created with in mind. It was on one such hunt that Baedal seized him as he closed in on his usual prey; a human.
Powers: Death Knights are the elite soldiers of the Scourge army. They were created to serve as powerful tools and weapons. They draw their power from runes, which must be inscribed upon items in order to draw power from them. However, it does require specific runeforges to imbue the newly carved runes with power.
There are three basic forms of runes which also correspond to a form of magic and fighting style that an individual specializes in.
Blood Runes: Blood magic is vampiric in nature. It draws life force from an enemy target and transfers it to the Knight. A construct such as a ghoul may also be sacrificed to replenish energy. Traejan's experience with this form of magic is rather limited, but he does have a few spells at his disposal to grant him some limited self-healing abilities.
Frost Runes: In certain moods he is more likely to tap into his Frost magic, drawing a Frost aura about himself. The air temperature in his immediate vicinity will drop noticeably and in more extreme cases (or mood swings) the frost may actually coat his armor or nearby objects and earth. He is less skilled with Frost abilities, far more unwieldy and sloppy when compared with more skilled Knights of the sort. This is his go-to power when he is either trying to specifically control himself (ultimately less damage done if he fails) or he is weakened in some way. The frost magic also allows him to cast ice-based magic, create bridges of ice over water, and slow enemies with ice chains; to name a few examples.
Unholy Runes: Traejan's primary focus is Unholy magic. He is skilled, as mentioned earlier, in the creation of constructs such as ghouls and gargoyles which he controls. Prior to Baedal he had a single ghoul he always kept with him who always remained nameless despite criticisms from other Knights. He considered the ghoul an extension of his own body, and so he saw no reason to name it. He used the creature often in combat.
He utilizes the runes forged into his runeblades just as any other Death Knight, and the ones carved into his person serve a dual purpose. They give him a closer connection with his constructs, so much so that he has been able to utilize their senses as his own in limited capacities. But the runes are also a structural weakness, put in place by inexperienced hands. As such, he has a tendency to "bleed" Unholy energy more often then the average Knight, which requires him to replenish this more often. Failing to do so weakens him and renders him unable to utilize his ghoul, which he tends to control without having to issue any spoken commands.
An Unholy Knight in particular is also a master of plagues. An open wound inflicted by a Knight can spell days of agony or death for the victim. Simple contact with him will not transmit them to another. Unholy magic's primary function is to at once cause suffering and reanimate and heal the dead.
He almost never sleeps. Breathing, eating, and sleeping are optional. He tends to sleep only after exerting himself far beyond his usual limits, or if he is especially mentally exhausted. This can be a troubling time, because he is prone occasionally to violent dreams.
Strengths
1. It is much harder to injure and kill him simply because he is already dead. A shot through the heart, for example, would be painful and debilitating but not guarantee death. Limbs can also be successfully reattached and integrated rather seamlessly (except for the actual, physical seam).
2. He does possess above average strength and speed, which is a byproduct of his Unholy specialization. It is not of a ridiculous level, but affords him much more agility then one would expect from someone bearing full plate armor.
3. He does have heightened senses, particularly smell, which is not always a strength.
Weaknesses
1. Holy magic. Holy magic, hallowed ground, and items of holy power repel and burn. Unlike certain forms of vampires, it's not as simple as waving a cross around (unless it is a cross specifically imbued with holy energy). It must be a form of magic enhancing the item, not simply something deemed holy, such as a relic that is revered but contains no actual power.
2. He can be driven into a blood rage not only in times of anger and heightened emotional response (such as battle), but also if he is weakened and in the presence of blood. He is not a vampire; he does not drink it, but simply seeks to harm and potentially kill. Fortunately, he generally is capable of controlling this particular urge.
3. Animals in general dislike him, likely due to the amount of unholy presence he carries about him at all times.
Talents/Abilities:: He is a master swordsman specializing in wielding dual blades. He is also capable of using other forms of weaponry, but to a lesser degree of skill. As an engineer he is good with simple technology and weapons, though explosives were his specialty. He's also quite handy as a musician. He can play several instruments, but is best with the violin.
Personality: Cold and aloof much of the time, though he has quite a volatile streak that can be set off under particular stress and aggravation. He has a tendency to be sarcastic and abrasive in situational ways. If something pops up that he can comment on, he oftentimes will. Sometimes it's with something completely stupid. He has his moments of lapses in judgment.
Traejan can be incredibly arrogant, as a result of being both a Quel'dorei high elf and a Death Knight. He never stopped identifying himself as a high elf, never suffering with or giving into Fel (he never needed to). He is old-fashioned compared to the average elf and has very specific ideas for how things should be. He is also exceptionally racist and judgmental. By "racist" it is not a matter of skin tone or nationality, as it would be among humans, but a general disdain for anything that isn't an elf. Even among elves he is picky, as few live up to his lofty standards. He will tolerate others, never quite getting over the racial divide but eventually warming up enough to allow himself to keep acquaintances and form some limited friendships. Being undead, he also feels he is the superior life form. And he'll be sure to make sure you know that.
Still, despite being generally unpleasant outwardly, he does possess some nicer aspects. He is fiercely loyal and always repays his debts. Someone fortunate enough to earn his trust will have a powerful ally who will always aid them. On the other hand, betrayal is the worst crime you can commit in his mind. To betray him is to sign your own death warrant. If he doesn't kill you (or simply isn't able to) he will, at the very least, try to make your life a living hell at every turn.
He has a fondness for children (that is not at all in the creepy way) that seems to contradict his entire image. He will always ensure that they are kept protected, even if that protection is simply removing himself from the equation. He has, in the past, had associations with pregnant women and has left them be to ensure that his presence alone with his unholy aura would not endanger their unborn children. He also keeps his contact with the children in question to a minimum for similar reasons (as the consequences of excessive exposure are yet to be seen), but should one be at all threatened or in harm's way, he will seek to rectify the situation even at cost to himself.
Traejan favours the idea of an eye for an eye, but it is a one time deal. Should he wrong someone, he assumes they will have their revenge and that will be the end of it. This belief seems to go hand in hand with his idea of repaying debts.
He does have some unusual quirks. He is extremely neat, obsessively so. Anything messy or out of place will annoy him forever. Of course, in battle and in traveling things cannot be helped, but his living space will always remain flawless. He also possesses an abnormal fear of water. Which is somewhat comical since he technically does not need to breathe and therefore cannot drown.
Object: A leather cord, from which two items are suspended. The first is a shard of metal encased in what appears to be a chunk of ice, which is even cold to the touch but does not melt. The second is a signet ring, bearing the Lightrend family crest.
Reason for playing: I've played Trae in one form or another for about six or seven years now and this is my favourite version. I am curious to see how he will interact with others outside his comfort zone. He is also a vastly different sort of character from Garrus, which is a nice little contrast to have when I feel one way or the other. I think he will also do well with Hellsing, but also has some other skills to offer besides the fact that he is a soldier. The idea of purpose and the contradiction of feeling like undeath is his gift but also his greatest curse is a dynamic that I think would be interesting to carry on in Baedal, where he truly doesn't have certain answers.. like why he's there in the first place. There's loads of directions I could develop him in, I can tell. Some issues will dissolve, others may arise!
Gods: Eliandre, perhaps, since death and hunting are both key aspects of the character. I do believe Gediron and Vell would find him more interesting, however, as he is both a warrior and a person with a considerable amount of personal tragedy and suffering.
Writing Samples
First-Person Network Post:
[ Traejan had tinkered with the CiD for some time before finally working out its various functions, noting them one at a time with the practiced care of an engineer. Eventually he switched the video function on, glowing eyes peering into the camera with an oddly bored expression. ]
Right.
I'm not going to ask about where I am, because I'm certain this is no where on Azeroth, and your lovely reading material here seems to have answered that question.
So let's cut right to the point, shall we?
When can I expect this door to open?
I would very much enjoy letting my 'ambition, cunning and resourcefulness' out into the world..
[ His tone was bitter and laced with sarcasm as he quoted the pamphlet that he'd apparently chucked back onto the table off-camera, as the sound of paper hitting something indicated. His parting image was a tight lipped, irritated smile before the transmission ended. ]
First-Person Journal Post: (from his most recent entry in his personal journal; from WoW RP)
I found my tome today.
I honestly thought I'd burned the thing. But.. no. No, here it was. Nestled between a bunch of random, innocuous books. I was bored and decided I'd catalogue the study. Again. It's not like I couldn't tell you every text on the shelf off hand already. I'd done this before. But it was relaxing. Why I was doing it again, I don't know. Something to do? Obsession? Wondering if someone had come in here while I was gone and stolen from me? Stolen from her. Apparently Telarion had run of the study while I was away. Now he was in Hearthglen. The idea that he'd absconded with her belongings and that they were there, of all places, infuriates me. Everything had best be here at the end of this or..
I don't know.
What will I do? Charge in there blindly, blades flashing, demanding his head or my Fel-damned books? I'm not crazy.
Or, I thought I wasn't.
I am on my last nerve, as they say. I can move about pleasantly enough, entertain guests, handle my responsibilities. But the feeling that something might give at any moment is ever present. That I don't always have a weapon in my hand at the time is a godsend, but I know I could do more than enough damage without.
I opened it today. Just let things pop up on the page. Recognized some old names. Saw a lot I've never seen before. That was expected. It felt very strange; this people watching. I was observing people living their lives through brief messages. That let my mind wander and try to figure them out. Who were they? What were they? What did these strangers do for a living? A few months ago I wouldn't have given a shit.
I picked up the pen, but I didn't write a thing. What do you write? My reputation has never been good. No, I'm not whining. I regret nothing on that end. But I'm not one of those people who can pop up, have a chat, and then leave. I can't discuss afternoon tea. I won't discuss what menial tasks I'm doing. That's just not me.
Thistle pops up a lot. I was surprised. I don't know why. Probably because I thought he was dead. For some reason I didn't think he could function on his own, but apparently he does well for himself. That's.. that's good I guess. At least someone made it out mostly intact.
I don't remember anything. I feel like there's this fog in my memory I could paw through for hours and get no where. But my heart knows.
Oh, sappy bullshit, I know. But it's almost literal. That ache in my centre that was gone has come back full force. It's like it was years ago all over again. I almost didn't survive it, but for a few people who pulled me back. Now the only reason I'm surviving is because I'm drowning. I never was a very good drinker, but I find that enough quality wine will eventually generate a beautiful feeling of being numb. Damned expensive shit, but worth it.
I stopped making bombs, because I'm not a moron. This does not help my financial situation.
I'm sitting on what I've hoarded all these years, which is considerable, but it's like a knife in my side everytime I make a withdrawl. Yes, I'm fucking greedy, who are you to judge? You're a journal. I like getting a balance slip with a lot of numbers on it. I don't like spending it because then the numbers get smaller. Hello. Logic.
The goblins will buy my ore though, and I don't have to worry about having my arms blown off because my hands shake. So Nysus and I fly around looking for ore to sell. It's not all that hard. Follow the miners. Sometimes we come out of it with a profit. By profit I mean lunch.
Oh, I know Larsais doesn't like things like this. She probably leaves this house with crippling depression. I am, as you can imagine, shit to be around. She cooks dinner here sometimes, you know? Why, I do not know. I appreciate it, but a slab of pre-cut meat on a plate just doesn't cut it. But we have our pleasant chat over the meal and it's nice and she probably fakes that smile because she's a nice girl and then she leaves. I honestly, truly, do not understand why she sticks around. She should tell me off just like Vittani does and be done with it.
I like Vittani. She's straight with me. I like Larsais too but I'm always wondering and that's complicated.
I'm looking at the tome again.
No, still not going to say anything. Words meant for public eyes escape me.
Third-Person Action Post:
"You are nothing more than the Warchief's dog!"
The cultist was no threat, not with the heavy manacles binding his wrists. Traejan was quite familiar with them; their craftsmanship rather crude compared to the carefully laid enchantment they bore, an enchantment that very effectively suppressed the magical potential of the wearer.
He might have been content to simply drag the orc behind his charger under normal circumstances, but the cultist just couldn't keep his mouth shut..
Traejan grabbed the cultist by the throat, the flesh giving beneath his metal-encased fingers. He leaned in close, speaking in a low growl. "... What was that?"
"Don't think you've won.." The orc managed to choke out, wheezing as he struggled to draw in another breath. Traejan smiled, slamming the cultist against the rock wall behind him. His head connected with the stone with a sickening crunch and Traejan could smell the blood as it began trickling from the fresh wound.
"Let's go over a few.. key points, if you will, shall we? Now that I have your full attention. First, if you're going to operate under the noses of your enemies, right within their own walls.. don't be so pathetically obvious.."
Traejan knew the orc was straddling the line between consciousness and unconsciousness, his mind swimming and his lungs burning for air. His grip tightening on the cultist's throat, he lifted him just off the ground, bracing him against the rock. The motion elicited a quiet gurgling sound from the half-conscious prisoner.
"Secondly, don't get caught. Honestly, what sort of death cult do you belong to that is willing to admit something as mediocre and stupid as you into their ranks? Smells of desperation.. among other things."
Traejan released him, the orc sliding to the earth and slumping forward as he choked and drew in hurried breaths. He looked down at the hand that had held the orc, frowning as he flicked his glove with the other hand as if to dust it off.
"Flames will consume the world... storms will wash away all hope... the elements will reign at last!"
Sighing at his prisoner's insistence, Traejan stepped on the orc's back, leaning an elbow on his knee as he peered down at the cultist. "... Is that right? Are you going to usher in all that destruction.. all by yourself?"
Straightening up again, Traejan took hold of the orc's arms by the wrists, just below where the manacles were sitting. He drew the orc's arms back, the foot still grinding into the cultist's back forcing his tusked face even more roughly into the dirt.
"Orc. Brutish lot, all of you. So.. you're pretty proud of these arms, aren't you? I imagine you'd need them for a lot of things.. directing the elements to our imminent demise and what not.. am I right?"
The orc began to protest more as his arms were pulled back beyond their acceptable range of motion.
"Ah.. mm. I thought so.."
A bit of unholy energy flared around Traejan's hands as he called upon it, bolstering his strength considerably. With one firm tug the orc's arms broke, likely in several places, and then hung limply in unnatural angles as Traejan let them drop to the ground. The orc howled in pain, the sound eventually giving way to quieter grunting and then even less than that as pain and his earlier head wound seemed to be driving the orc into shock.
Despite the fact that it was no one's fault but his own that his prisoner was now a mass of dead weight, he rolled his eyes and dragged the cultist up, securing the collar that would serve as further insurance that he'd remain in his custody until they'd arrived at the arena, which had been converted into a makeshift holding pen. The orc's grunts and bleats of pain were softer now; he seemed to have finally gotten the point. That or more than likely he was too out of it to muster more than that.
"... All you needed to do was shut up, you know." He spoke as if speaking to a child, leaning down to bring himself eye level with the hunched orc. "But since your grasp of language appears to be limited, which frankly is unsurprising given what you are, more aggressive measures were necessary. Believe me, the Kor'kron guard will be only too understanding and see to it you're taken care of.."
His first mistake had been referring to him as anyone's dog.
Misc
Other: If you have any questions or comments on your character or application, those can go here.
Name: Diorae
Username: n/a
Are you over the age of eighteen? Y
Current characters in Baedal: Garrus Vakarian
In Character Information
Basics
Character Name: Traejan Lightrend
Username:
madetobearazorFandom: World of Warcraft
Played By: Ian Somerhalder
Icon: http://www.dreamwidth.org/userpic/32901
4. Original Character Section
Physical Description: Traejan carries himself quite confidently, always drawn up to his full and considerable height, standing at 6'6". Despite being 174 years old, he has the appearance of someone in his mid-20's. He is unashamedly cocky, and it shows. A teasing smirk often curves his lips; the only deviation from his usual calm, controlled expression. In motion, he possesses not only the inherent grace of a Quel'dorei High Elf, but also the practiced balance of a master swordsman.
His complexion lacks any hint of the warmer hues present in living flesh, shaded in ashen undertones and looking every bit as cold as it is to the touch. Falling to the middle of his back in length, his pale blue hair is bone straight with a silken texture. It is generally pulled back loosely and tied with an unadorned bit of a leather, the front allowed to hang freely around his face.
There is a certain darkness about him, this feeling owed most significantly to his eyes. They are a striking shade of glacial blue, a far lighter shade than that of his hair, and are always alert and focused with an almost unsettling intensity about them. These are set just above long, pronounced tear troughs, the only lines marring an otherwise smooth and attractive face. Straight, white teeth. Normal with slightly more pointed-than-usual canines (though nothing approaching those of a vampire). His gums are a blue-grey in colour.
As his attire is concerned he favours his armor above all else. Though it is well cared for it shows its age and rich history of battle in the various scars and chips bitten into the dark saronite. Parts of the set have been fitted with noticeable mechanized enhancements which, to a practiced eye, would all appear to be kept in perfect working order. Outside of his armor he prefers loose, simple clothes painted in a dark, cool colour palette.
A thick scar runs from beneath his right ear and trails diagonally to the left, down across his throat and disappears below his collar where it would continue down over his chest. The old wound is still framed by heavy, cable-like stitches that look to have been put in place by an experienced hand. Runes are carved into his flesh in numerous places; at the back of his neck and trailing vertically down his back, on either shoulder and continuing down either arm. They have a slight blue glow to them, same as his eyes, the edges of them rough as wounds that never healed. When his power is activated, the runes glow noticeably brighter along with his eyes.
He also has a matching set of scars on his wrists, looking to be where bindings of some sort cut into the flesh there. Though healed and painless at this point, they still look much worse than they feel.
On his left shoulder is a brand, a Demonic symbol meaning 'ownership' or 'property', depending on the particular translation of the Eredun language.
His nails are pointed and allowed to grow past the edge of his fingertips. He keeps them clean for the most part, but the area around his cuticles is stained with oil.
His voice is average, mid-range generally with a unique 'echo' that is common to death knights. Deepens and picks up a bit of a "growl" when he's particularly angry. Assuming there is some amount of "universal translation" when one arrives in Baedal, his Thalassian accent would sound British to a standard Earth human.
Sexuality: About as straight as you can get. He's not really homophobic because doesn't care if others choose to date within their own gender, but is incredibly put off by it within his own experience. Advances from other males is met with strong resistance and even anger if continued to be pushed. Relationships seem to be fairly fluid in Quel'thalas, particularly at the time he is pulled from it, but being raised in a highly traditional noble circle he conforms to the standard of normalcy he is familiar with.
World Information: Traejan hails from Azeroth, specifically the land of Quel'thalas in the northernmost region of the Eastern Kingdoms. He comes from the World of Warcraft universe and as the name implies, there is always a conflict brewing somewhere at some point. The faction war between the Alliance and the Horde has been involved in a bitter standoff as larger threats nearly wiped Azeroth out of existance entirely, but was beginning to heat up again before Traejan was pulled from the world. His entire life, even in youth when Quel'thalas was a closed, xenophobic nation involved power and dominance. He was raised in a society that held itself above the rest. Even a commoner was still considered superior to the highest form of any other race, according to the elves themselves. This idea of power and superiority carries on to the present. He was trained to wield the greatest power of the elves, the arcane, since youth. Traejan experienced war only marginally even though the Second War was on during his younger years. His parents served the Alliance and he would occasionally see the human cities to the south. The Amani trolls of the southern forests were also long at war with the elves. This conflict he had more experience with, but he considered it less a war front then picking off savages out of the trees.
Quel'thalas came under siege during the Third War, when Prince Arthas Menethil fell under the sway of the Scourge and marched his undead army north to the Sunwell, the Quel'dorei's vast fount of power. Traejan fell in defence of the city and was subsequently taken as the Scourge swept through the land. This was his first true taste of war and certainly not the last.
History: Born as the eldest son of Imrinde and Eridanus Lightrend. The Lightrends were a noble family of the Houses Nightsnare and Sunfire, the marriage a political one that eventually developed some affection. Imrinde Redmorn of the House Nightsnare was a very gentle, kind woman in the home and with the reputation of a force to be reckoned with in the political and social arena. She was a Magistrix of some great power and influence. Eridanus Lightrend of House Sunfire was an ambitious man and a Priest of the Holy Light who had studied with the humans in Stormwind in his younger days. Bringing the two houses together was a powerful combination, uniting their holdings and wealth.
Eridanus spent a lot of time away on business as Lord and was a man who was difficult to please when he was actually at home. He held extremely high expectations for his children and generally difficult demeanor was only ever mitigated by his wife. Imrinde seemed to be the only person he truly had a soft spot for.
Traejan began mage training at a young age, showing quite a lot of promise in the field. He was guided by his mother. Though his father expected that he would follow her down the path to a political career as a Magister, but Imrinde was the sort of parent who believed that her children should follow their own way and so she never discouraged any of his varied interests. He was being groomed to be the next Lord of their Houses, and so the pressure was high. Traejan appreciated a challenge, and often impressed even his father. All the children were trained in the traditional way of noble children learning art, music, and culture. Traejan in particular excelled at playing the violin.
Fifty years later his brother Telarion, the middle child, was born. The two were opposites in nearly every way possible. Traejan had a tendancy to be more outgoing and confident while Telarion was more reserved and quiet. Telarion trained in the way of his father, with the Light, one thing that Traejan had zero interest in altogether. A rivalry was always present among the brothers. Fifty years seems like quite a span of time to a human, but among elves the split was not as noticeable once Telarion reached adulthood.
By the time he had, their younger sister Tarin was born. Traejan helped his mother raise her just as she had helped her with Telarion. Traejan and his mother were extremely close, even so much as to travel with her when the other children would opt to remain at home.
Things were well until the day arose that he would have to choose a proper direction in life. Rather than go the political route as expected, he went in the opposite direction, opting for a career as a soldier; albeit an elite one. Imrinde fully supported him in his choice to become a Spellbreaker, though it was a decision that severely displeased Eridanus. The relationship between father and son was never repaired in the remainder of Traejan's life, something that occasionally weighs on his mind.
While he made a fine Spellbreaker, it widened the gap between him and his siblings which seemed to cause some amount of distress for his sister as it seemed always her goal to keep up with him despite his advanced age. He'd only recently been inducted into the Order as a full champion when the Scourge invaded.
Traejan sent his siblings away, tasking Telarion with traveling with the injured and wounded evacuees to Sunstrider Isle to heal them according to his calling as a priest. Tarin accompanied him, which ultimately kept the both of them safe. Traejan rode out to fight with the others, cutting down numerous amounts of the undead before meeting his match. It was a Nerubian Crypt Stalker, a large spider-like beast. He'd nearly felled it when it struck once more, slashing him across his neck and chest and wounding him fatally.
His next memories were of the cold, dark laboratory in which he awoke remade. He was changed in all ways, the arcane refusing to heed his call, even his white-blonde hair altered in the process somehow. He found himself grateful for the gift of a second chance, embracing his new existance in unlife. Eventually he no longer had to be forced to fight against his will, serving all too willingly in the Scourge army despite his past. This is where he spent the next several years, aiding the Scourge in exerting control over the whole of Northrend.
Traejan was eventually transferred to the necropolis at Acherus to fight with a small army in the battle against the remnants of the Scarlet Crusade's presence in the Eastern Plaguelands. They were successful in every way possible, up until the final push to Light's Hope Chapel. It was here that the Light pushed them back. The Lich King lost His hold over many Knights when Highlord Tirion Fordring intervened. This event was one considered debatable by some. Those still secretly loyal to the Scourge believed it to have been a deliberate move by the Lich King to send soldiers in to infiltrate the living factions. The Knights of Acherus were regrouped under the lead of Highlord Darion Mograine and renamed the Knights of the Ebon Blade.
However, Traejan never identified with the Ebon Blade, just as he did not identify with the Horde when the Highlord eventually sent him to join the Horde with others of his race. During his time in service to the Scourge the Quel'dorei had also regrouped under a new ideology, calling themselves the Sin'dorei or Blood Elves. They also embraced the use of Fel magic, which was demon magic and extremely addicting. This was to counter the effects of the strong magical withdrawl that the Quel'dorei suffered upon the destruction of the Sunwell by the Scourge. Those individuals that did not agree with the use of the Fel split off and remained with the Alliance. The others joined the Horde, backed by the word of the Forsaken, a faction of free undead based out of Lordaeron; the region directly south of Quel'thalas. Their leader was Sylvanas Windrunner, formally Ranger-General of Quel'thalas, and so she saw to it that her people had a place.
Traejan knew life only one way and the drastic, disturbing changes his people had undergone only made him more bitter. He worked as a mercenary during this time, often taking jobs many would consider immoral or undesirable. His willingness to flount the law eventually landed him in a stifling Orgrimmar jail. The Horde and Alliance eventually brought about the fall of the Lich King, beginning his suffering. Without even the weak presence of the undead lord that had given him life, he felt as if he had no purpose or reason for existance. He struggled for quite awhile with it, toiling away as a menial soldier until some intervention from a fellow, like-minded Knight brought him out of it.
Upon his release he went about things more quietly. He picked up engineering and perfected his skill in necromancy to the point of being able to repair and build constructs and ghouls. His talent with Unholy magic gave him a particular edge in the field of ghoulcrafting. He started building bombs and weapons, doing work exclusively for the Steamwheedle Cartel of goblins. He compiled his own wealth this way, but eventually took back what was rightfully his in the form of what holdings his family still maintained.
Eventually he was reunited with his siblings, to mixed reactions. His brother had taken his attachment to the Light to the next level, joining the Blood Knights. His beliefs only fueled the hate he immediately carried for his elder brother, a hatred of all undead. That Traejan was one of them was treated as a betrayal. Traejan never forgave Telarion for the attempt made on his life, and the rivalry the two had when they were younger turned into something much worse and far more deadly for anyone who came between them.
On the whole, his relationship with Tarin was sound. She still looked to him as her elder brother and even sympathized with his condition. Despite his true feelings, he tried to shield her from the darkness that was the remnants of the Scourge.
Traejan eventually fell in with a group of Knights led by a bold, charismatic Highlord and a shadowy, enigmatic leader. In truth the leadership of the small band of Knights was ultimately completely mad, believing their leader to be a new incarnation of the Lich King himself. Through necromantic manipulation and a blood pact among them, they managed to heal the void and sense of uselessness that Traejan had struggled with for years.
Their front was as a small mercenary group that answered to the Highlord, but hid their true intentions as a band of Scourge loyalists operating in plain sight. The rules were extremely strict, down to the Highlord's ideals of symmetry and military bearing as well as a strict code that expressly forbade relations of any sort.
For all that Traejan had longed for his return to the Scourge, there was also a part of him that still held fast to his reclaimed "life". He'd moved back into the manor that served as their family's summer home; his mother's favourite. He left it exactly as she had, only restoring things carefully to their former glory. He met a woman whom he did not get along with at first, but eventually they grew quite close. She did not know his secret, though he stressed the importance of their discretion. Eventually this schism between the two halves of his life proved too much to bear, particularly when his trustworthiness was called into question when Telarion again reappeared and attempted to make his life exceptionally difficult.
He was forced to leave his beloved home, and the woman he'd grown to shelter and care for. This made him all the more angry and resentful, and his lifestyle was often at odds with the other soldiers. In particular, his fastidious neatness, which seemed an unusual and inconvenient trait to have among the undead.
But it was the Highlord's madness that would eventually bring them all down. Security had been compromised and many of the soldiers were simply "cut loose"; memories were directly altered to prevent any further breaches, even if a priest were brought in to check.
The sense of uselessness returned as did the painful void, only this time he didn't know why. He was happy one minute, and suffering the next, with gaps in his memory thanks to what ultimately turned out to be shoddy and rushed work. He recalls bits and pieces, nothing more.
He began to circle the drain, as it were. Alcohol helped to numb the pain, but it also dulled his senses and loosened his control. He was a hunter and a killer and it often took an extraordinary amount of self-restraint to keep in check. He shut himself off in his home, venturing out only to hunt to satisfy the one need that death knights were created with in mind. It was on one such hunt that Baedal seized him as he closed in on his usual prey; a human.
Powers: Death Knights are the elite soldiers of the Scourge army. They were created to serve as powerful tools and weapons. They draw their power from runes, which must be inscribed upon items in order to draw power from them. However, it does require specific runeforges to imbue the newly carved runes with power.
There are three basic forms of runes which also correspond to a form of magic and fighting style that an individual specializes in.
Blood Runes: Blood magic is vampiric in nature. It draws life force from an enemy target and transfers it to the Knight. A construct such as a ghoul may also be sacrificed to replenish energy. Traejan's experience with this form of magic is rather limited, but he does have a few spells at his disposal to grant him some limited self-healing abilities.
Frost Runes: In certain moods he is more likely to tap into his Frost magic, drawing a Frost aura about himself. The air temperature in his immediate vicinity will drop noticeably and in more extreme cases (or mood swings) the frost may actually coat his armor or nearby objects and earth. He is less skilled with Frost abilities, far more unwieldy and sloppy when compared with more skilled Knights of the sort. This is his go-to power when he is either trying to specifically control himself (ultimately less damage done if he fails) or he is weakened in some way. The frost magic also allows him to cast ice-based magic, create bridges of ice over water, and slow enemies with ice chains; to name a few examples.
Unholy Runes: Traejan's primary focus is Unholy magic. He is skilled, as mentioned earlier, in the creation of constructs such as ghouls and gargoyles which he controls. Prior to Baedal he had a single ghoul he always kept with him who always remained nameless despite criticisms from other Knights. He considered the ghoul an extension of his own body, and so he saw no reason to name it. He used the creature often in combat.
He utilizes the runes forged into his runeblades just as any other Death Knight, and the ones carved into his person serve a dual purpose. They give him a closer connection with his constructs, so much so that he has been able to utilize their senses as his own in limited capacities. But the runes are also a structural weakness, put in place by inexperienced hands. As such, he has a tendency to "bleed" Unholy energy more often then the average Knight, which requires him to replenish this more often. Failing to do so weakens him and renders him unable to utilize his ghoul, which he tends to control without having to issue any spoken commands.
An Unholy Knight in particular is also a master of plagues. An open wound inflicted by a Knight can spell days of agony or death for the victim. Simple contact with him will not transmit them to another. Unholy magic's primary function is to at once cause suffering and reanimate and heal the dead.
He almost never sleeps. Breathing, eating, and sleeping are optional. He tends to sleep only after exerting himself far beyond his usual limits, or if he is especially mentally exhausted. This can be a troubling time, because he is prone occasionally to violent dreams.
Strengths
1. It is much harder to injure and kill him simply because he is already dead. A shot through the heart, for example, would be painful and debilitating but not guarantee death. Limbs can also be successfully reattached and integrated rather seamlessly (except for the actual, physical seam).
2. He does possess above average strength and speed, which is a byproduct of his Unholy specialization. It is not of a ridiculous level, but affords him much more agility then one would expect from someone bearing full plate armor.
3. He does have heightened senses, particularly smell, which is not always a strength.
Weaknesses
1. Holy magic. Holy magic, hallowed ground, and items of holy power repel and burn. Unlike certain forms of vampires, it's not as simple as waving a cross around (unless it is a cross specifically imbued with holy energy). It must be a form of magic enhancing the item, not simply something deemed holy, such as a relic that is revered but contains no actual power.
2. He can be driven into a blood rage not only in times of anger and heightened emotional response (such as battle), but also if he is weakened and in the presence of blood. He is not a vampire; he does not drink it, but simply seeks to harm and potentially kill. Fortunately, he generally is capable of controlling this particular urge.
3. Animals in general dislike him, likely due to the amount of unholy presence he carries about him at all times.
Talents/Abilities:: He is a master swordsman specializing in wielding dual blades. He is also capable of using other forms of weaponry, but to a lesser degree of skill. As an engineer he is good with simple technology and weapons, though explosives were his specialty. He's also quite handy as a musician. He can play several instruments, but is best with the violin.
Personality: Cold and aloof much of the time, though he has quite a volatile streak that can be set off under particular stress and aggravation. He has a tendency to be sarcastic and abrasive in situational ways. If something pops up that he can comment on, he oftentimes will. Sometimes it's with something completely stupid. He has his moments of lapses in judgment.
Traejan can be incredibly arrogant, as a result of being both a Quel'dorei high elf and a Death Knight. He never stopped identifying himself as a high elf, never suffering with or giving into Fel (he never needed to). He is old-fashioned compared to the average elf and has very specific ideas for how things should be. He is also exceptionally racist and judgmental. By "racist" it is not a matter of skin tone or nationality, as it would be among humans, but a general disdain for anything that isn't an elf. Even among elves he is picky, as few live up to his lofty standards. He will tolerate others, never quite getting over the racial divide but eventually warming up enough to allow himself to keep acquaintances and form some limited friendships. Being undead, he also feels he is the superior life form. And he'll be sure to make sure you know that.
Still, despite being generally unpleasant outwardly, he does possess some nicer aspects. He is fiercely loyal and always repays his debts. Someone fortunate enough to earn his trust will have a powerful ally who will always aid them. On the other hand, betrayal is the worst crime you can commit in his mind. To betray him is to sign your own death warrant. If he doesn't kill you (or simply isn't able to) he will, at the very least, try to make your life a living hell at every turn.
He has a fondness for children (that is not at all in the creepy way) that seems to contradict his entire image. He will always ensure that they are kept protected, even if that protection is simply removing himself from the equation. He has, in the past, had associations with pregnant women and has left them be to ensure that his presence alone with his unholy aura would not endanger their unborn children. He also keeps his contact with the children in question to a minimum for similar reasons (as the consequences of excessive exposure are yet to be seen), but should one be at all threatened or in harm's way, he will seek to rectify the situation even at cost to himself.
Traejan favours the idea of an eye for an eye, but it is a one time deal. Should he wrong someone, he assumes they will have their revenge and that will be the end of it. This belief seems to go hand in hand with his idea of repaying debts.
He does have some unusual quirks. He is extremely neat, obsessively so. Anything messy or out of place will annoy him forever. Of course, in battle and in traveling things cannot be helped, but his living space will always remain flawless. He also possesses an abnormal fear of water. Which is somewhat comical since he technically does not need to breathe and therefore cannot drown.
Object: A leather cord, from which two items are suspended. The first is a shard of metal encased in what appears to be a chunk of ice, which is even cold to the touch but does not melt. The second is a signet ring, bearing the Lightrend family crest.
Reason for playing: I've played Trae in one form or another for about six or seven years now and this is my favourite version. I am curious to see how he will interact with others outside his comfort zone. He is also a vastly different sort of character from Garrus, which is a nice little contrast to have when I feel one way or the other. I think he will also do well with Hellsing, but also has some other skills to offer besides the fact that he is a soldier. The idea of purpose and the contradiction of feeling like undeath is his gift but also his greatest curse is a dynamic that I think would be interesting to carry on in Baedal, where he truly doesn't have certain answers.. like why he's there in the first place. There's loads of directions I could develop him in, I can tell. Some issues will dissolve, others may arise!
Gods: Eliandre, perhaps, since death and hunting are both key aspects of the character. I do believe Gediron and Vell would find him more interesting, however, as he is both a warrior and a person with a considerable amount of personal tragedy and suffering.
Writing Samples
First-Person Network Post:
[ Traejan had tinkered with the CiD for some time before finally working out its various functions, noting them one at a time with the practiced care of an engineer. Eventually he switched the video function on, glowing eyes peering into the camera with an oddly bored expression. ]
Right.
I'm not going to ask about where I am, because I'm certain this is no where on Azeroth, and your lovely reading material here seems to have answered that question.
So let's cut right to the point, shall we?
When can I expect this door to open?
I would very much enjoy letting my 'ambition, cunning and resourcefulness' out into the world..
[ His tone was bitter and laced with sarcasm as he quoted the pamphlet that he'd apparently chucked back onto the table off-camera, as the sound of paper hitting something indicated. His parting image was a tight lipped, irritated smile before the transmission ended. ]
First-Person Journal Post: (from his most recent entry in his personal journal; from WoW RP)
I found my tome today.
I honestly thought I'd burned the thing. But.. no. No, here it was. Nestled between a bunch of random, innocuous books. I was bored and decided I'd catalogue the study. Again. It's not like I couldn't tell you every text on the shelf off hand already. I'd done this before. But it was relaxing. Why I was doing it again, I don't know. Something to do? Obsession? Wondering if someone had come in here while I was gone and stolen from me? Stolen from her. Apparently Telarion had run of the study while I was away. Now he was in Hearthglen. The idea that he'd absconded with her belongings and that they were there, of all places, infuriates me. Everything had best be here at the end of this or..
I don't know.
What will I do? Charge in there blindly, blades flashing, demanding his head or my Fel-damned books? I'm not crazy.
Or, I thought I wasn't.
I am on my last nerve, as they say. I can move about pleasantly enough, entertain guests, handle my responsibilities. But the feeling that something might give at any moment is ever present. That I don't always have a weapon in my hand at the time is a godsend, but I know I could do more than enough damage without.
I opened it today. Just let things pop up on the page. Recognized some old names. Saw a lot I've never seen before. That was expected. It felt very strange; this people watching. I was observing people living their lives through brief messages. That let my mind wander and try to figure them out. Who were they? What were they? What did these strangers do for a living? A few months ago I wouldn't have given a shit.
I picked up the pen, but I didn't write a thing. What do you write? My reputation has never been good. No, I'm not whining. I regret nothing on that end. But I'm not one of those people who can pop up, have a chat, and then leave. I can't discuss afternoon tea. I won't discuss what menial tasks I'm doing. That's just not me.
Thistle pops up a lot. I was surprised. I don't know why. Probably because I thought he was dead. For some reason I didn't think he could function on his own, but apparently he does well for himself. That's.. that's good I guess. At least someone made it out mostly intact.
I don't remember anything. I feel like there's this fog in my memory I could paw through for hours and get no where. But my heart knows.
Oh, sappy bullshit, I know. But it's almost literal. That ache in my centre that was gone has come back full force. It's like it was years ago all over again. I almost didn't survive it, but for a few people who pulled me back. Now the only reason I'm surviving is because I'm drowning. I never was a very good drinker, but I find that enough quality wine will eventually generate a beautiful feeling of being numb. Damned expensive shit, but worth it.
I stopped making bombs, because I'm not a moron. This does not help my financial situation.
I'm sitting on what I've hoarded all these years, which is considerable, but it's like a knife in my side everytime I make a withdrawl. Yes, I'm fucking greedy, who are you to judge? You're a journal. I like getting a balance slip with a lot of numbers on it. I don't like spending it because then the numbers get smaller. Hello. Logic.
The goblins will buy my ore though, and I don't have to worry about having my arms blown off because my hands shake. So Nysus and I fly around looking for ore to sell. It's not all that hard. Follow the miners. Sometimes we come out of it with a profit. By profit I mean lunch.
Oh, I know Larsais doesn't like things like this. She probably leaves this house with crippling depression. I am, as you can imagine, shit to be around. She cooks dinner here sometimes, you know? Why, I do not know. I appreciate it, but a slab of pre-cut meat on a plate just doesn't cut it. But we have our pleasant chat over the meal and it's nice and she probably fakes that smile because she's a nice girl and then she leaves. I honestly, truly, do not understand why she sticks around. She should tell me off just like Vittani does and be done with it.
I like Vittani. She's straight with me. I like Larsais too but I'm always wondering and that's complicated.
I'm looking at the tome again.
No, still not going to say anything. Words meant for public eyes escape me.
Third-Person Action Post:
"You are nothing more than the Warchief's dog!"
The cultist was no threat, not with the heavy manacles binding his wrists. Traejan was quite familiar with them; their craftsmanship rather crude compared to the carefully laid enchantment they bore, an enchantment that very effectively suppressed the magical potential of the wearer.
He might have been content to simply drag the orc behind his charger under normal circumstances, but the cultist just couldn't keep his mouth shut..
Traejan grabbed the cultist by the throat, the flesh giving beneath his metal-encased fingers. He leaned in close, speaking in a low growl. "... What was that?"
"Don't think you've won.." The orc managed to choke out, wheezing as he struggled to draw in another breath. Traejan smiled, slamming the cultist against the rock wall behind him. His head connected with the stone with a sickening crunch and Traejan could smell the blood as it began trickling from the fresh wound.
"Let's go over a few.. key points, if you will, shall we? Now that I have your full attention. First, if you're going to operate under the noses of your enemies, right within their own walls.. don't be so pathetically obvious.."
Traejan knew the orc was straddling the line between consciousness and unconsciousness, his mind swimming and his lungs burning for air. His grip tightening on the cultist's throat, he lifted him just off the ground, bracing him against the rock. The motion elicited a quiet gurgling sound from the half-conscious prisoner.
"Secondly, don't get caught. Honestly, what sort of death cult do you belong to that is willing to admit something as mediocre and stupid as you into their ranks? Smells of desperation.. among other things."
Traejan released him, the orc sliding to the earth and slumping forward as he choked and drew in hurried breaths. He looked down at the hand that had held the orc, frowning as he flicked his glove with the other hand as if to dust it off.
"Flames will consume the world... storms will wash away all hope... the elements will reign at last!"
Sighing at his prisoner's insistence, Traejan stepped on the orc's back, leaning an elbow on his knee as he peered down at the cultist. "... Is that right? Are you going to usher in all that destruction.. all by yourself?"
Straightening up again, Traejan took hold of the orc's arms by the wrists, just below where the manacles were sitting. He drew the orc's arms back, the foot still grinding into the cultist's back forcing his tusked face even more roughly into the dirt.
"Orc. Brutish lot, all of you. So.. you're pretty proud of these arms, aren't you? I imagine you'd need them for a lot of things.. directing the elements to our imminent demise and what not.. am I right?"
The orc began to protest more as his arms were pulled back beyond their acceptable range of motion.
"Ah.. mm. I thought so.."
A bit of unholy energy flared around Traejan's hands as he called upon it, bolstering his strength considerably. With one firm tug the orc's arms broke, likely in several places, and then hung limply in unnatural angles as Traejan let them drop to the ground. The orc howled in pain, the sound eventually giving way to quieter grunting and then even less than that as pain and his earlier head wound seemed to be driving the orc into shock.
Despite the fact that it was no one's fault but his own that his prisoner was now a mass of dead weight, he rolled his eyes and dragged the cultist up, securing the collar that would serve as further insurance that he'd remain in his custody until they'd arrived at the arena, which had been converted into a makeshift holding pen. The orc's grunts and bleats of pain were softer now; he seemed to have finally gotten the point. That or more than likely he was too out of it to muster more than that.
"... All you needed to do was shut up, you know." He spoke as if speaking to a child, leaning down to bring himself eye level with the hunched orc. "But since your grasp of language appears to be limited, which frankly is unsurprising given what you are, more aggressive measures were necessary. Believe me, the Kor'kron guard will be only too understanding and see to it you're taken care of.."
His first mistake had been referring to him as anyone's dog.
Misc
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