Visararath

A nomad's wanderings. (Open)

Recommended Posts

The rain poured solemnly as it usually did upon the ruins of Gilneas. A soft roar of distant thunder rippled across the evening sky, masking the footfalls of the single occupant of the City Cathedral. A darkness prevailed through the old building, only shattered for the moment by the eerie yellow glow of the unblinking eyes of it's unnatural occupant.

He couldn't seem to help himself, returning to this place where he felt he had truly given up the last thing that may have left him feeling a connection to the world. Pulling off his crimson hood his lengthy stringy green hair cascaded down to his shoulders, falling over his half rotted once proud Kal'Dorei ears. Without a word Visararath tugged a number of candles from his pack, setting them upon the altar in front of him, Lighting them that their light might add the slightest glimmer of life to the dead city. Attracting whomever may come to it's Will o' Wisp glow. Stepping behind the altar, he would lean forward against it.

"Let them come...friend or foe.." Visara said to the air. "At this point....can I really be picky?" He mused as he considered Infection and it's losses, as well as the many others suffered by all he had known.

He waited.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Though the rain could mask normal footfalls, it could not hide the figure who wandered about. The falling water droplets played a chaotic song upon his armour, making a clear sign that something was lurking in the dead city of Gilneas. Something unknown had brought him here, perhaps it was out of pure curiosity, or perhaps it was some sort of mission, either way, both possibility's required that he search the city. Ranavos's eyes darted about, he knew that Horde rogues loved to hide around these parts, a simple successful ambush would prove fatal for him.

Something caught the mages attention. A faint light emanating from the cathedral windows. His curiosity got the better of him as he decided to venture into the holy structure. Ranavos stepped in, tracking mud onto the bright red carpets of the cathedral and entered the main room. His face turned into a scowl as he saw what was before him. An Undead by the looks of it.

The Archlich was not without his manners. He offered a quick silent bow and motioned for the Forsaken speak first.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Visara cracked his neck as he looked up peering upon the newcomer. He smirked recognizing the Archlich from their occasional meeting in public. "Ahh a force neither alliance or horde, what an ironic twist of fate to meet you in this place." He half mused to himself. "Judging by your initial gestures, I take it we will not be crossing blades today hmm?"

With a smile and a nod Visara kept one hand near his shurikens....just in case.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Ranavos cracked a smirk as he remembered the Forsaken than stood before him. "Not unless you give me a reason to draw my arms." The Archlich looked around briefly before raising an eyebrow at the Undead. "Seeing that you did not mindlessly attack me due to our past interactions. I take it that you require some form of help and you care not of the colours that they wear?" He crossed his arms and stood in a more casual stance. "If I am wrong, then by all means, inform me why you are here... Alone?"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

"Because he is lonely, of course."

A dry chuckle echoed across the high-vaulted ceilings of the cathedral, followed shortly by the heavy clinking of plate armor on bare bone. Keraph Xalascent strode through the heavy doors opening into the church's once-hallowed chambers, a heavy-looking black fur cloak billowing behind his darkened armor as the doors were slammed shut by the stormy wind, and halted at the side of Ranavos, adopting a passive stance as he gestured towards the human.

"This one is under my care, Visararath, so stay your blades. Oh, and mind yourself; he is a prince after all." The warrior's eyes rolled as much as two glowing orbs can, and he grinned wickedly as he continued. "We were out hunting on this fine evening, putting down any roaming ferals we come across, or any nostalgic mutts unfortunate enough to have chosen this night to come and bemoan the loss of their precious city to a far superior foe. My hope is to impart some manner of martial prowess to the young Abner, to train him to be almost as adept in merciless combat as myself, but we shall see how well he learns."

The Forsaken knight stepped further forward, his dark armor almost seeming to absorb the dim light of the candles as he grew nearer to them, and approached the rogue. "Long has it been since I have seen you, Visara. Not since our fold was sundered and it's remnants scattered. I wonder, what has one of the more apt assassins I've encountered been off doing so surreptitiously, and what has brought you here now, lighting a beacon to attract whatever wandering souls find themselves in this miserable city on a rainy evening?"

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Moving his hand away from the shurikens and taking up a relaxed stance himself, Visara turned his gaze to the warlord and smiled, his genuine fanged smile. "Well...to answer Ranavos, it would seem that I am not alone wouldn't it?" A soft chuckle emanated from his throat, a rough dusty sound if ever one was heard, he shifted his weight forward leaning more against the altar, the candlelight giving more to his pallid flesh. "As for your question warlord."

Visara looked over them to the entrance and then back over the pair that had come. "This place has become rather....important to me since the..."sundering" As you put it...I lost something very important to me here...and I await its return to me." A flash of eyes sparkled through his mind but he quickly pushed them aside surrendering to the grim reality he left himself to.

"I had gone off to sea for awhile though...served her majesty in the Royal Navy...but I've returned to land somewhat recently, and so I've taken to our conquered land for a place to stay whilst I am about the Eastern Kingdoms..." He reaches into his vest and tugs forth a dreamfoil cigarette lighting it on one of the candles "And frankly..." He says, whilst inhaling "It keeps my wits strong with all the alliance stragglers strewn about here." He releases a slow cloud of purple languid smoke from his lips as he finishes speaking.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Ranavos straightened his posture into a more commanding one, one more suited for his lordly status. He let the two Forsaken talk, giving them enough time for them to catch up on their personal events. After all, Ranavos was on Keraphs time, rushing his reunion with an old friend would be considered rude and Titans know that such a small rude act would anger the warlord. However, the Archlich had something else to think about. His morals and loyalty.

Hunting Worgen is a great way to improve his combat skills, no wild beast can provide the power and skill that an intelligent creature such as the Worgen can offer, but at what cost? It seems that every passing day his loyalty and morals are slipping away, slowly being eroded by Keraphs training and annoyingly constant praise of the Forsaken race. Each kill was a blow to the Order that he stood up for. He wanted to stop... But that would also halt his rise to power and worst of all, disappoint his Father, Venedict.

Ranavos straightened his posture yet again, he didn't want anyone to clue in on his mixed feelings regarding the path he had chosen. He will just have to deal with the consequences later. He continued to look on, gazing at the two and waiting for them to finish.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Keraph nodded at the rogue, and smirked at his last comment. "It is an excellent hunting ground, indeed. I am almost sorry for the time to come when we wholly rule this kingdom as part of our own, and there are no more wild dogs to put down. The war against Gilneas had put a fire into my dead veins that I have not had since the Northrend campaign, and the expansion of Lordaeron into the surrounding regions we should have always controlled the most satisfying thing I have half-felt since the Lich King was finally dethroned. The Forsaken war machine has seemingly ground to a halt in the days since the Horde's incursion into Pandaria, all while suffering the insult of not being included in our then mostly-sane, if not still repugnantly savage, 'Warchief's' plans of conquest. In the same way, the dissolution of our fold heralded the decline of my own ambition, for there is little glory in riding endlessly unchanging patrols across our once again stagnant borders, and little drive to collect what few members who once bore our banner still remain when the will of our Queen and the fate of our kingdom seem so...stalled."

The gaunt warrior sighed dryly, his words conveying little more than bitterness and irritation. He looked over at Ranavos once more, and though he would not say anything he thought better of the lich for adopting a stronger, more commanding posture. It was important for a warrior of any sort to have a powerful presence on the battlefield, and in any case it seemed that his trainee had hardened somewhat during their time together.

Good, the Warlord mused. The sooner he strengthens both his skill at arms and his will, the sooner he will be useful to himself, and to Venedict...and to me.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now