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Micael

The Bar at the Top of the World (Open)

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As far as the world was concerned, Micael Goerin had fallen from grace. They said he had retired from SI:7 after Porter was killed. The Paladin's beard had grown out, and he spent most of his time drinking in a Dalaran bar called Legerdemain Lounge, which most referred to as the Leger. It was no surprise he was here today, drunk at his usual booth, wearing leather armor and chain mail instead of the polished heavy plate he had once worn. His weapons were also different. A thick shield with a faded Lorderon crest, and a knife, in addition to his regular broadsword. His life was broken. He hadn't been the same since Porter was killed. He couldn't deal with the fact he had gotten the man killed. Throwing down some silver for Barton, the curvy bartender, Micael grabbed another whiskey and gunned it down. There was fire in his stomach. Once the fire had been the Light. Now, it was alcohol.

He could still do it. He could still do all the spy things. Last time he got into a fight at Cantrips and Crows he had broken a bottle over an Orc's head and almost killed a skinny kid from Goldshire. He could still run and jump and swim and fight, but he was washed up. Every night he'd stumble home to his apartment, pass out on the couch, then wake up, puke, clean himself off, then do it again. His tab was almost constantly open. They knew him by name, and around town he used a variety of aliases. It was a complicated life, but it kept SI:7 from finding him. He didn't want that life anymore. Looking up at the barkeep he croaked, his lips cracked, one word to convey his message. "Another."

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Evellin roamed the streets of Dalaran, occasionally swiping a hand over her face and letting it drag across slowly, eyes narrowing and peering at the passing locations. She was looking for Tuuroto, who said he'd meet her in Dalaran. She wasn't certain when, or where, really. She just assumed he'd try to invade her thinking space whenever he was ready. Either way, she had some time to kill, and she really didn't know how to go about it in the famed city of mages. Parlor tricks and light shows were unimpressive and too much a regular aspect of life these days.

The Death Knight sighed as she veered to a tavern. It was such an unoriginal choice.

She marched into the Leger, single-mindedly heading for the bar to fulfill a habit that hadn't done anything for or against her since the day she was killed. Eve adjusted her swords so as to not sit on them and plopped onto a chair, holding up a finger to the bartender. "Something... cheap, aye?"

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Micael barely glanced up as the new patron entered the establishment. At least until he heard her voice, where his heart beat increased slightly. Why was a pirate in a landlocked area? Reaching to his hip, he removed the two thin pieces of leather that kept his sword and knife in their sheathes before glancing to his left. Yes, it was Captain Evellin. Was she here for him? He took a hard swallow of his whiskey. No, forget that, he exhaled the air in his lungs, and killed the entire glass before turning his head to his left. "Evellin Raverty, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Silently he said a prayer to the Light, but while a massive surge of power used to flow to him like a dam burst, now he got someone opening a release valve. He really hoped he didn't have to fight her...

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Evellin stifled a groan. Her surname had been changed for years now, and still she had to correct people time and time again. Even the old name of Urich's ship, Raventy's Bosom, haunted her to this day. "Stormguarde," she muttered. "Evellin Stormguarde."

Accepting her drink with a nod of thanks to the bartender and a few coins tossed her way, Eve turned to appraise the bearded man who knew her name. She studied his face for a time, finding it difficult to recall what features must lie beneath that tangled mess. But that voice- where had she heard that voice before? It was familiar, it was, but somehow didn't match the appearance...

A small noise of disbelief escaped her. "Agent Goerin?" Eve let out a small laugh- seeing a familiar face brought a sense of warmth sometimes, even if she hadn't always get on so well with the face in question. "I thought you were dead."

Her eyes narrowed as she gave him a quick up-down. "Not far from the truth, either, I reckon. You look like shit."

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Micael Goerin flinched. In reality many still knew him as the clean cut Special Agent of the alliance's intelligence outfit. But, truth be told, he was hiding from them. He was washed up, no longer the type who wanted to arrest people for graffiti. His work had been rewarding, of course. It had allowed him to stop evil such as Venedict Abner and Jon Ableham, but it wasn't without cost. His left leg still bore scars from where Mattinmor had nearly taken it off with a shotgun, his back had a myriad of scars from a bomb that damn Gnome had set off, his arm had a knife where Cuero (or was it Ulrich?) stabbed him, and overall, he was just tired. Tired of seeing his friends die. The explosion in Theramore had wiped out the 73rd to his knowledge, and Mack and Nika were both dead. Regardless... It made him feel a little bit better that Eve wasn't immediately trying to take off his head with her two swords, especially seeing as Micael had nearly killed, and certainly arrested, Vlynor dozens of times. "Well Captain, you know us Paladins... Harder to kill than worth the trouble. As for the Agent bit, I don't work for them anymore. His voice was hoarse, but cleared up as he spoke, making it very clear that the operative hadn't spoken for a while more than a few words. Although if she looked carefully, she'd notice his radio still sat on his belt, waiting for a call from friends like Branngas, long dead. A depressing notion indeed.

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"Funny you say that about paladins, Goerin." Eve cast a sidelong glance at the man as she took a swig of her drink. "You're the last one I know still standing. The rest, ripped from this world- the Light's faded, and, evidently, you have faded along with it. No longer an agent, hm?"

The pirated paused to study Micael further. She used to despise him, as she used to despise the long-gone Seventy Third- that bomb in Theramore was good for something, at least. But by this time she'd beat on him enough, even to near death, that she considered all the things he'd done to her husband to be mostly repaid. Mostly. Eve figured that Nika no longer had a care for this one, though, so her previous excuse to not kill him was out the window- he's my friend's boyfriend, right? What excuse was there now?

"Yeah," Eve finally said. "I'm not a captain anymore, either. Funny how every upward slope has another side to tumble down, eh? Let me buy you another drink, and you can tell me what happened."

Without awaiting a yes or no on the drink, Eve held up two fingers for the bartender. "Two coffees. Strong. And cut him off already, will you? I can smell the drunk on him, and my nose is dead."

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It wasn't often that Nika ventured into Dalaran, these days. There was little that brought her to Northrend, aside from a special reagent she had need for now and then, that was specific to this region. And with the shift in focus to Pandaria, fewer people made the journey into Dalaran to restock on supplies to sell in the markets. As a result, she found herself needing to return herself.

The streets of Dalaran felt emptier than they used to. Political tensions kept more people out of what used to be a neutral city. As she passed by the tavern she used to frequent, a quick glance through the door caused her to pull up short. Evellin. She caught her friends profile as the woman turned her head to speak to the man seated next to her at the counter. His back was to Nika, but she recognized his build in an instant.

Micael..

Their last encounter had been painful. Lines had been finally drawn in the sand. He had been sworn to kill people she had been sworn to protect. Their relationship had ultimately dissolved, and they had realized that the next time they encountered one another, there was a good chance they might be forced to try to kill one another.

At least, that had been his words, before he kissed her on the top of the head and walked out of her life. She had never seen him since, until now.

She had no doubt he would stand by his word, and kill her if it meant protecting his people. As well he should- and she could never fault him for that. It was one of the characteristics she had always loved about him. He never faltered from what he knew was right.

It was her own inner conflict that kept her from fitting in anywhere, really. She could never fully commit to either side, and so she drifted. It was her ties to people like Ugraz and The Grim that eventually destroyed nearly every relationship she had- friendship and relations much deeper. And it was her inability to fully cut those ties that prevented her from being able to join the first guild she had truly considered home in many years that caused her to be ostracized by them as well.

Not taking her eyes off the pair, she edged through the door and found a hidden spot on the staircase nearby, to listen..

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It was rare for Ranavos to visit Dalaran, but today was a special type of day. Weeks, if not months of patrolling Alliance lands at night left him on the brink of... Sleep deprivation? Does he even need sleep?... Perhaps it was his illness that drained most of his energy... Bah, nothing can replace the bliss of closing your eyes and just relaxing with not a care in the world.

The Lich stepped into the bar. A grin plastered on his face as he approached the barkeep. He gracefully sat down on the stool, making sure this 'royal' attire didn't get wrinkled or caught on anything. "Give me a drink! Something expensive!"

Ranavos couldn't wait to unwind- He looked to his side and raised an eyebrow... "Eve?"

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Micael gave a short, gruff laugh as Eve pointed how they'd both lost their prestigious titles. Something though, nagged at him, on how few Paladin's were left. He knew they were a dying order, but there were names that to the initiated were legendary. When he was a boy at the Church, he wanted to see his name with them, Sir Micael Goerin of the Alliance... But one name he dreaded to ask, and so he did in a soft voice: "Even Urivial?"

Her next comment was different. It was strange to think about. A year ago he had been on the fast track to taking over for Porter at his retirement, and then Shaw's job in less than a decade. That was then though. Again he laughed, darkly. "Not much to tell really. SI:7 has seen me shot, blown up, stabbed, slashed, poisoned, and nearly killed a million times. I've been sent all over the world to fight monsters like Venedict and hunt shadows. All they wound up doing was making me kill friends, like Jon... After Porter died I was given an order to take out key members of the Horde. Venedict, Inzema, Ashenfury, Ugraz, high profile individuals that would demoralize the enemy... But one of the names on the list... I couldnt kill her. So I packed my seabag and disappeared. Without Mack Porter Si:7 lost its mentality for justice, replaced it with a mentality for violence and force of action."

"See the new thinking is that you pick off top leaders slowly they'll surrender. Porter always believed that it would be better to negotiate a long term peace. My training was to bring order, to fight a war but to focus on a peaceful solution as our endgame. When they destroyed the island my entire warfighting unit was wiped out though. So now I'm hiding out up here where the local SI:7 operatives occasionally hear I've been sighted in smaller towns like Goldshire or Moonbrook. They'll never find me here. It's just me and my friends." He grinned as he nodded at the bottles of whiskey on the shelf.

"What about you? Why aren't you a captain anymore?"

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Eve stifled a groan as everyone's favorite pompous lich managed to find the seat right beside her. She hunched her shoulders a bit, waving a dismissive hand at Ranavos as she tried to pay attention to Micael's story.

"Urivial's dead," she answered quietly after his inquiry, before falling silent and resuming her listening. The death knight tried to keep an even expression as he went on about deaths, jobs and peace. The only indication for emotion was the faint twitch along her jawline as she lightly and habitually clenched and unclenched her teeth.

When he finished, she shifted her weight, pushing one of the mugs of coffee out toward him insistently. For once she was glad that her body could not submit to the effects of drink. "I'm not captain because in the end, I had a mutinous crew, and I was a fool to think they ever had my back." Eve took a swig of her own coffee.

"Sorry for your loss, by the way." The pirate's tone was uncharacteristically soft, and sincere. But her eyes were staring out at the bar, and she quickly found herself noting the lich's presence once again.

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Porter.. dead.

The news was crushing, and she sank back against the wall of the stairwell, scarcely noticing as Ranavos took a seat at the bar with Micael and Evellin. She pressed her fist against her lips hard, smothering any noise she might make as tears flooded her cheeks. She recalled one of the last time she had seen Mack. He called her a Traitor then, and she had broken down and cried. Really cried, after months of mistakes and regrets caught up with her. He hugged her tight, then. At some point, he had even adopted her. She hadn't looked at anyone that much like a father since Pierce Montagne, years ago.

The idea that Porter was really gone now was unbearable. She sank down on the stairs and buried her face in her hands, gulping back the grief and loss as she listened.

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The man next to Goerin looked sickeningly like Abner, so much so he nearly blew up the entire bar with Light. Fortunately though, he was drunk, and knew it. A more subtle way of finding out if this guy was an enemy would have to do. Sliding his hand to his belt, he discreetly removed something, just as the bartender slid a glass of fine scotch towards the man. Goerin caught it, and using the sleight of hand Porter had taught him, emptied a small vial of Holy Water into it, before grinning and handing it to the man with the accent. "'ere you go, friend." He said with a drunken grin before turning back to Eve. "Yeah, who would've guessed pirates were untrustworthy, huh? How did... How did Urivial die?" He spoke with a certain reverence of his old friend, but another Paladin would feel slight rush of air flow towards Micael as he prayed for his departed comrade.

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Evellin blinked at Micael's touching of the drink, but didn't think much of it. Had it been someone she cared about on the receiving end, the Death Knight's paranoia might have made her pick the drunkard up by the scruff and demand to know what poison was used. But... nah.

"Pirates are surprisingly loyal to their captain. These weren't pirates... they were... they even attacked my husband for being undead. They were self-righteous Alliance-sympathizers.. or half of them were... the other half was even worse. Altherion-sympathizers." The disgust was almost palpable in the woman's voice.

"I don't know how Urivial died. What little I know came in bits and pieces, and given that I've not seen him since, I can only presume the rumors of his end to be true." There was a slight sting to the tone. She'd only gotten to know her real brother for a short time, after all.

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Ranavos accepted the glass with a grin and nodded politely before taking a big swig of his drink... His joy soon turned into discomfort as he felt something burning inside of his stomach. The Lich held back the urge to yell in agony by biting his lower lip. The drink he ordered was probably far too strong for him. "Damn, that drink packs a punch..."

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"I'm sorry Eve... And Altherion? Well... We all know how I feel about him. What about everyone else?" He asked, one eye glancing over at the newcomer. He knew fighting was grounds for expulsion in Dalaran, but it happened a lot. He had pulled off assassinations here before. Porter had once thrown a traitorous gnome off the side of the city. It was just a matter of getting caught. He rarely got caught doing anything. If he did, his sea bag was right next to the door, along with 2300 gold, a free pass to Booty Bay, and Jon Ableham's loaded shotgun. He had assembled the kit just in case SI:7 caught up to him... But regardless. He was still ready to fight the enemy if he had to. He ignored the Liches yelp. He assumed that meant the individual was undead, probably even an enemy. Goerin could tell him to leave in Orcish, but the fact that he said anything meant it wasn't Abner, who would never give him the satisfaction. That, or he drank like a little bitch. Either way, for now, this guy was fine. Turning to the man he simply said "You look like someone I once knew..."

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With a crisp tarot deck in one hand a certain inebriated Cornish Rex slouched upon his shoulder, the reigning Redblade Admiral turned the corner towards the Legerdemain Lounge of Dalaran. Tuuroto had sent a letter to Evellin Stormguarde in regards to meeting her in the mage-city in order to get her up to speed with the latest developments with the Order of the Redblades, but, as anyone who knew him well would expect, he had forgotten to specify when and where in the city to meet. Thus, Tuuroto spent the afternoon aimlessly wandering the city, checking every tavern he passed while cheerfully greeting “Varm pleasure smiles” to both humans and Sin’Dorei alike.

Almost instantly, Tuuroto froze in his tracks as he heard a vaguely familiar voice from inside the tavern.

“Madam Stormguarde?” the tarot reading Draenei thought to himself. He paused for a moment, rushed to the tavern’s exterior, and pressed his ear against the side of the building. He sensed that there were other people besides Evellin in the tavern: people with distinct, head-throbbing auras that a Draenei of his particular arcane lineage could not mistaken.

Normally, the Redblade Admiral would barge into the tavern, drag an empty stool to the bar counter, grin naively, and stick his nose into a conversation he clearly was never invited to. This time, however, he hesitated. Whether it was the intimidation of sensing such strong presences within the tavern, or simply because he feared putting the wrong foot forward again with Evellin, Tuuroto casually backpedaled a few steps and then swiftly pivoted in the other direction. To the normal onlooker, one would hardly notice Tuuro’s sudden change in action.

However, as he left the scene, a tarot card of a dancing gnome in a jester’s outfit flew out from Tuuroto’s deck and landed on the top step of the Legerdemain Lounge. On the bottom of the card was the phrase, “The Fool.”

Tuuroto let out a heavy sigh. He did not know why.

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Not looking where she was going, having just made it to Dalaran for the first time, Liffle Jabberlittle ran headlong into Tuuro's hoofed leg. Blame the goggles, but my that was a very tall gnome! She could only manage, after looking at the smiling face of her beloved admiral, "A-Admiral! Y-you... wh-what are you doing here!?" She spoke very loudly, almost obnoxiously. The gnome looked flustered and beet red through her high-powered gnomish goggles. Suddenly she beemed with light at Turro, "T-Turro, get in there! What are you doing waiting out here by the door!? Move, move quickly!" Also very loudly.

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Ranavos tried to hide that fact that he was still in pain. "Someone you once knew? P- Perhaps a name will help jog your memory. I am Ranavos Abner." He raised a brow at the stranger and shot a quick glance at Eve. "You look familiar as well..." The Lich decided not to take another sip from his drink, if he did, he would most likely pass out.

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Evellin glanced over as Ranavos spoke, arching a brow. She froze a little as the two interacted, trying to remember whether or not they were or had been on good terms. Hadn't the lich been interrogated once? With holy water, not too long ago?

Shifting her weight slowly, Eve freed both hands up and braced them gently against the bar, her muscles coiling like a cat prepared to pounce. Whatever happened, she was in between the two, and that meant it was no doubt up to her to stop a fight before it even broke out. The question was, who would trigger it?

Was Ranavos prideful enough to target Micael should Micael's identity become apparent? No, no... Ranavos had better judgment than that, right? It wasn't like the lich to strike out in combat, even when encountering someone he didn't get along too well with.

....

Micael, on the other hand...

Eve shifted her weight again, subtly, prepared to restrain the drunk in a bear hug.

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"Abner? So, Venedict adopted you, did he?" The room grew slightly brighter as Micael's palm started glowing, curling into a fist. The name Abner was still a sore subject for Micael, who never really got over the fact that so many people he cared about had suffered during the Worgen Riots, and more so that he never had the chance to tear off Venedict's head, have a mage minimize it, and use it to tee off from the top of SI:7. The Light hit his face in such a way that it gave Ranavos a clear picture of the man behind the beard. Micael Goerin was alive, and he was pissed. "Ranavos, after everything that Urivial had done for you, you still run with the likes of Venedict?" He looked like he wanted to say more, but he also looked tired. Not taking his fierce gaze off the Lich, he held up a hand. "Scotch rocks." He ordered, throwing down some coin. He couldn't physically assault the Lich, but he could totally out drink him.

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Ranavos couldn't believe his eyes, the face of the stranger finally registered. "Micael...?" The Lich grew fearful, remembering all of the times that the paladin has abused him. Now the pain in his body made sense, it was probably holy water. "Nonono! It's not like that! You see.... Venedict is 'gone' he hasn't done anything in the past few months! Although it is true that I am his son, that doesn't mean I'll become a psychopath like him! I am a architect, a visionary, a creator, I have ascended undeath itself!" The prideful lich could of continued in his speech, but stopped. "I am nothing like him."

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Evellin groaned audibly at the presence of the apparent Light. This restraining business was going to end up hurting a lot, she could tell already. She lightly braced one boot against the bar, prepared to push off with as much speed as undeadly possible.

After everything Urivial has done for him? Eve couldn't help but bristle at that. Micael hadn't even been around long enough to truly know her brother- in fact, the Urivial he knew had been nothing short of a monster. Eve opened her mouth to retaliate, but only managed to bite back a growl as yet another drink was ordered.

"He's cut off," she insisted to the bartender, placing her own coin on the counter as compensation even as Ran began to respond. The pirate half-listened, shaking her head faintly as his rambling did not seem adequate enough to diffuse the situation. It was quite possibly better to redirect it instead, before Ranavos got himself fried, and Micael was booted out the city.

"I killed Urivial," Eve announced flatly, somewhat out of the blue.

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Ranavos's self given titles were counter effective, but Micael was in no mood to continue the argument. Even drunk, he knew it would just spin him in circles. He also knew Eve was full of shit, seeing how he had seen her face when she said Urivial was dead. Instead of beating the snot out of Ranavos, he elected to do something very different. He decided to ask questions. "Ranavos, last time I saw you, you were stuck in a body that axe crazy lunatic Altherion made you. Why do you look so life like now?" Although he was officially not working for Si:7, it was obvious he still had that hunger for information.

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Ranavos was surprised at the sudden question, he expected the Paladin to throw a punch by now. "V- Venedict put my mind in another body after the one made by Altherion was destroyed... By Venedicts hands." A frown showed up on his face, still remembering the vivid details of the process.

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