Chikt

Diomades Riverhorn

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[Kallikrates IC]

I've seen this one around Silvermoon a lot lately! Kinda got to know him a bit when I was playing beer pong with a friend of mine. Diomades stuck around to watch the conclusion. He seems very laid back and reserved to me. A very cool guy nevertheless.

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"It's been a while... I wonder how he's been." He smiles warmly. "Good man, but I'm beginning to think that's common amongst Spirit-talkers."

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"...It was no personal disrespect towards him." The rogue was silent a moment, staring out the window. "Not their true colours, but mine. I would have him lead well, and I trust he will."

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Her lips spread across her face at the mention of this Diomades Riverhorn.

"O'course!"she exclaims."Honorable an' wise. Though I di'n't speak with 'im too long. I di'n't need to."

She runs the back of her arm over her button nose, the membrane still a bit agitated from her episode.

"A peddler ga'me some o'that Thistle stuff. An' oh boy, it reacted so'thin' awful! I were lucky that Dio-ma-des were there ta stop tha bleedin'."A sigh escapes her. "A'leas' i's no' as bad as it use'ta be but, still."

Pausing in her speech.

"He also were kind enough ta check tha cub fo' me. He say he doin' jus' fine."

"My cub." she smiled, stroking over her womb,"My hasban's son, In tha care of the mighty Tauren." the thought filling her with such unbearable joy as she pondered raising her son on the summit of Thunder Bluff, surrounded by the people who had saved her, nurtured her, and taught her tolerance and wisdom.

"May he be raised among their number, as a mighty warrior. Make he father proud. An' Odette bless him."

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Diomades is a capable commander and a good friend.

I would fight with him against all the forces of the Scourge if I had to. ..Sadly, such a thing may not be so far fetched...

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"Riverhorn?"

I swiveled my ears back a little before I responded.

"I met him when he had just come out of battle, blood still on his hands, and I thought it was rather cute... But then he got all soft, talking about how I must be 'complicated'. Gods, save me!"

With an eyeroll, I crossed my arms.

"But I guess he is the commander of the Raven Cross, so he's gotta be good at something... some things."

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My Patriarch stands as my ready example of what his people stand for. Strength in the chaos of the elements, dedication to those called family and a compassion to see that all are accepted, regardless of their pasts. But his compassion is tempered with an understanding that war is, sometimes, the only thing people will listen to. And he stands with his people, his wayward children in The Raven Cross, and never behind.

His mind is open, ready for new ideas and philosophies, and he never judges unless presented with truly foolish ideals. His corrections are kindly but firm, as any father should be. He is a Leader, in a world of pretenders and selfish tyrants, and I would gladly bleed - or die - for any cause he believes in.

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Diomades is hands-down the singlemost respect-deserving member of the Raven Cross. He reminds me of a certain gnome... Wipeout, from my RSA days. The sort of person who has enough character and maturity to lead a group of chuckleheads without ever dipping to their level or rising so high that he can't help but act holier-than-thou around them.

Whether or not he has the force of character to steer them toward a path of righteousness, rather than self-righteousness will remain to be seen. Regardless, that he is even capable of directing them to the degree that he does is nothing short of astounding.

Were I as misguided as they, I would count my luck as legendary to even have so much as the opportunity to be led beneath the shadow of this Tauren.

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Oh yes, poor Diomades. So far from the mark. I would ask him this:

This thing, what is it in itself, in its own constitution? What is its substance and material? And what its causal nature? And what is it doing in the world? And how long does it subsist?

To inspire anger, I would need to care. To inspire caring, he would need to be remarkable in some way.

But one of the many things which he does not seem to understand is that I do not need anger, and there are few things which can truly move me, certainly not without providing those blocks which build up to caring. He is to me, very simply, just like everyone else, and all he is capable of doing is answering legitimate accusations with desperate attempts at insult based off of what would amuse him most instead of actual substance, making him impossible to take seriously. The wise thing to do might be proudly standing by what you have been accused of, if it is true, or making some argument to the contrary to clear up misunderstanding, but ever does he display the sort of wit that a wet piece of parchment might possess - this, at least, has never changed about him, for so long as I have known him. I do consider this unfortunate because while I would call other tauren wise, even the peaceable ones, it seems the only word fitting of how he presents himself... is bovine in mentality, doing his race no justice. Afterall, what could possibly exist beyond his little world than the grass he eats, the filth he drops, and the hands that stroke him, telling him what a good cow he is today, waiting to slaughter him tomorrow - as soon as he is fat enough on his delusions to make a good meal.

He has demonstrated time and again, since long before he took up the tabard of the Cross and pulled them all down with him, that his motivations are ones of self-righteous convenience. The only correct answer is the one which benefits him most at the time, he and his expansive filth-covered pasture of an ego - such as flattering himself with the belief that passing ridicule from me means anything special at all. That sort of blindness is... convenient. Relying on convenience and self-importance to light your path through life is pitiable at best, and one's downfall at worst.

May he continue to prove me right.

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Sifar lifts a single eyebrow to stare at the gnome reporter. "Wha' makes yeh think tha' I'd know some Tauren, leader o' nay?" With a shrug of his tiny shoulders, the man turned to leave.

She cleared her throat to say, "I mean, if I did know him, I'd have te say tha' he impressed me more than I thought. Knowing a wee touch o' his history... if I could, tha' is... then I'd wager he has a solid sense o' righ' an' wrong. We migh'n' agree on all o' e'en many things, but given de chance te talk 'em through, we each seem able te come te an understandin'."

"If yeh do see de lad, let him know I'd welcome such a chance," Sifar finished as she waved off the gnome.

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Vynnce looks at the goblin infront of him with a serious look in his eye and a half grin on his face.

"Yea, I know the tauren Diomades you speak of, I have served alongside him for some time with reguards to The Raven Cross....."

Vynnce chuckles a bit.

"He is very skilled in the art of combat and I am proud to call him a comrade en arms. Now get out of here I am late for a contract on a particular elfs head."

Vynnce calmly take a few steps away before vanishing from sight.

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...and his order calls ME a snake.

I once respected him. It already seems like aeons ago. He seemed strong and steadfast, fighting for the best interest of the people. Tolerant. Patient. Quiet, steady as a rock, even trustworthy.

Tauren, I know you remember the day you looked me in the eye and reassured me of my daughter's safety. I looked right back and said I trusted you.

Did those words even give you pause when you struck her down? Of course not.

The price for it shall not go unpaid.

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Laughs at the mention of the name.

"Aye, I know the tauren...Fought with him up in South Shore."

Crosses his arms looking serious

"I would have had his head if it wasnt for him hiding behind his guild, but none the less he put up a good fight and I hope to see him again real soon..."

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Saarvon nods. "I remember crossing blades with this one a few times, though the most recent encounter in Icecrown was more to simply keep him busy. Had I any faith in the light, I would thank it for the flexweave underlay in my cloak, as this Diomades was very fond of hurling me into the distance with blasts of water. Victory, defeat..." Saarvon shrugs. "I did what I set out to do."

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