Risticus

Risticus Dawnrunner.

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Full Name: Risticus De'nath Dawnrunner

Nicknames: "Rist"

Date of Birth: Unknown

Age: 83 (Elven Years)

Race: Quel'Dorei

Gender: Male

Hair: Dirty Brown

Skin: Fairly decent tan.

Eyes: A faded blue, nearly grey.

Height: 6'2

Weight: Roughly 180 pounds

Place of residence: Often found on a bench randomly in Silvermoon, his quarters have been lost.

Known Relatives: Felora Dawnrunner, Daerotor Dawnrunner, Isadore Dawn runner

Religion/Philosophy: Once a follower of the light, now he questions every divine beleif handed to him.

Occupation: N/A

Group/Guild affiliation: N/A

Guild Rank: N/A

Enemies: Anyone who threatens his way of life, he cares little for his city, and his people ever since the fall of The Hand.

Likes: His former brothers and sisters of The Hand of Oblivion.

Weapons of Choice: A rusted long sword is slung across his back, as aged as it may be, it still packs quite a punch.

Dislikes: Drunks.

Hobbies: Wandering the streets of Silvermoon, often staring off at nothing.

Physical Features: He is tall, not muscular, nor scrawny.

Special Abilities: He used to have the ability to mend even the greatest of wounds, but has not used it for some time.

Positive Personality Traits: Seems to be polite most of the time.

Negative Personality Traits: Short Temper.

Theme Songs: Maps, Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

History: The night Risticus was born, his mother’s life faded away. He was in his mother’s arms as she lay there dieing, being helpless and clueless to what was going on. As he grew to the young man’s age, he stayed with his older sister, Felora, at all times. His father, a member of the Blood Guard, was not with him often so he thought of Felora as his mother. At the time the Amani’ Troll offensive was at it’s peak, and his father was one ordered to quell the attacks. The early morning hoof beats and the clanking of Soldier’s armor was heard. Awakened by the racket, he peered out of his window onto the streets only to see two of the Silvermoon Guard standing before his sister, her face buried in her hands sobbing. His father was killed making one last charge against the Amani’ trolls before the city would be taken. His father’s body was never found, but his spear and his shield was found lying side by side, at the gates of Silvermoon the next day. That day Felora swore that she would care for Risticus, and that she did.

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*Slaid looks to the ground, blushing angrilly with a scowl upon her face*

"We used to get along... better. But... stuff happened and I want nothing to do with him anymore." *frowns*

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Risticus...*her eyes sparkle and twinkle as if thinking that name made her see stars, she blushed lightly* ...I know Risticus, a certain gypsy girl that roams the streets of Silvermoon told me about his smile one day. I would like to see that same smile she spoke of. *sighed into day dreaming*

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"He's Quel'dorei... and through this fellowship regarding the Curse, he has come to consider me 'friend'. I take it as an honor, such respects are rarely given to Sin'dorei."

"I don't know him very well, but with the mess of things, I can use every ally I can get."

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*Slaid gives a faint smile with a shrug and a shake of the head.*

"I don't know where is his or what he's doing nowadays... But, I guess I wish him well."

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The mistress of the deep darkness turns a gaze towards the narrative questioner. Her eyes seemed dullen and deep with the hint of sadness that followed them. Her mistified and cloudied pupils were like small formations of a looming storm cloud, and her emerald pools were that of an unstable ocean as they nearly watered. It seemed this condition turned to that a mixture of deepened rage and remorse.

"Yes, he was...dearly beloved, and..though his spirit lies somewhere between the Realm of the Living and the Realm of the Dead, I still plead my remorse and love to him. He has died by my own hand, and his blood will forever stain it and my heart. I have become a monster, it appears.."

Videlle could no longer continue the conversation, as she turned herself and took her leave, her robes clinging to her sides elegantly and the winds carressing her cold and pallid cheeks and skintone, wherever it becomes exposed. Her large, wild ebony locks, like shadow flames in the midday, was carried with the oncoming breeze that brought forth a feeling of sorrow and overwhelming defeat.

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Laughter erupts from the hooded figure at the mention of Risticus, " Let all know of the foolish little sheep who thought that he could love a wolf. In the end, he is but prey."

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Naheal looks back at the person who mentions Risticus.

"Risticus... A man I have recently had the pleasure of meeting. Though he is in a weakened state now, I'm glad I was able to return his soul to his body. May he find peace where others find strife. And, of course, light bend to his will."

He bows reverantly and moves on.

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*Stelson holds out his palm and a globe of water materializes into it. He stares at it, seemingly in a trance.*

Brother Risticus came to my home. It seems he is back from the dead, and I pray to the earthmother I don't have to put his unnatural life to rest. Hopefully his restless spirit will return to the state it was in during his life, and he will return as my brother.

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I mourned when we had thought he was lost from the world, good men and women of the Order are hard to come by. I take heart to hear though that his health is now restored and look forward to seeing him also serve Silvermoon's guard once more.

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*Pauses a moment as Rosalynd thinks to herself at the sound of the name.*

... For Cartel he is quiet tolorable -- or seems to be so far. I have spoke with him for the first time... though I had seen him many times before.

*Snickers a bit as she smirks.*

He seems to be fond of going topless around Silvermoon. Not that I'm complaining...

*Her fingers go to her lips, her cheeks would blush slightly. She quickly cleared her throat and shook her head.*

I look foward to speaking with him again. He seemed intellegent enough and though Cartel, he doesn't seem as troublesome as others I have seen of his sellsword group.

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Brother Risticus has become a little more distant as of late. Wether or not that is my own doing, I cannot discern. After our speaking with brother Mahk, I have become reclusive. I would like to see Risticus once more. I have plenty to tell him.

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*sighs* Last time I saw him he was blind. I really don't like Paladins to begin with, not to mention Blood Knights, former OR current. Never really talked to the guy though so I wouldn't know.

*pushes the goblin out of his way as he heads to the bar*

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Arrogant. Smug. A Cartel. All tolerable, well... except for the latter.

The first time I met him I fancied the idea of killing his little night elf and playing around a bit in her blood while he watched. Though I must admit, not too loudly though, his company the other night in Stormwind was a pleasure.

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*She smiles softly at the thought of his name.*

He is a good friend to me now.. or so I consider him. There is still much about him I do not know but perhaps that will change over time. I just hope that the Cartel and the Grim's dislike for each other does not effect our friendship.

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Slaid smiles, nodding.

"I'm very happy that we get along better now. We're family again- all of us. We're all together again in our new guild and new home. I'm glad that we can once again strive for a common goal."

She smirks, cracking her knuckles.

"I'll do my best to keep up with them."

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Shi frowns slighty at the mention of his name but nods. "Yes, I have met him. A time or two." Waving her hand a bit in a distant motion she smiles politely. "He seemed nice enough, if not. ." A blush stains her cheeks. ".. a bit underdressed most the time. I really do not know Sir Risticus that well, only through Sir Valeash." Bows her head politely and goes on her way.

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The feral serpentine glow of her eyes, it portrays a burning anguish commonly known, yet intangible by the expression upon this elven's face. A laughter of cynical view presses from her throat, lips of bloody crimson creased, giving the air of chuckle no escape. The pulse of her heart dreadfully beats within many ears, its pace slow, death-like, and unlively. The shadows of the dark, that which is reflected by the heavy rays of the sun splash a porcelain, near blood-drained skintone, over the genetics of this woman. Twin emerald earrings dangle from the lobes of distinguishable, yet exotically slanted ears; their impish make-up jutting through wave after wave of raven-ebon locks, cascading like an endless waterfall along her spinal cord. The fore-locks gently relish her shoulders, also seeping underneath the jewel-crested headband of ruby and golden that pulls back the mane. With the tickle of the slightest breeze, it resembles flames of the shadow.

From the torso to abdomen, what darkness leaves her form unhidden displays the torn carapace-like regalia commonly seen, worn by her. Sprinkling sparks and surges of nether energy creep from the mistified darkness that blankets her. By staring at her, she lures you into her world by attatchment of the soul. Glass fragments shatter with bits and pieces skittering amongst the emptiness around you. The soul tears like parchment. The portrait that is the look upon her face twists into distorted cracks, only to crumble into nothing but the gravel within the sands of time. Your very being feels crushed, heavy and weighted, overwhelmed by the depression of the atmosphere. Before you realize it, however...

You were just merely taking a glimpse at her.

His name burns within her mind.

The sound of his name, rolling off the tongues of others, sears her heart.

You feel the flames touching your skin with malignent intent. And then she was gone, not to be seen again.

A gust of whistling, arctic wind brings you to your senses with a chilling bite, a sting rising through your veins as if blood freshly began to circulate. Your ears feintly hear a voice, no more louder than the wind, struggling to cope against despair and loss. A loss without the guidance and support of others.

"Risticus. . ."

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-Upon hearing the question of her knowledge of the Paladin she smiled, bouncing happily. Fingers reaching up to brush ebon strands from her face.-

" Risticus. Yes I knew him in The Hand. He was fun then, funny too. I will never forget Brewfest. -That- was an interesting day. I talked to him all the time. He was amazing. We started talking a lot after that. Stelson started taking care of me, watching after me, as well as Risticus. It was then that... I... I shouldn't talk to you about him. I don't know you! I don't know who you are going to tell!"

-Panic laced her features, as she quickly moved away. An odd look resting upon her face as a hand came to rest against her stomach. With a mournful glance she looked back at the person who just wouldn't stop asking questions about people, then vanished.-

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Risticus! I called him "Stiff-ticus", 'cuz the dude acted like he had a sword shoved up his ass. Then we drank a little and he loosened up. He's pretty cool when he's not all uptight. He suggested I get my tattoo of Uther the Lightbringer on my inner thighs. I think the dude's a perv in disguise. I also think he'd make a good hero.

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*Smiles and looks up from her writings*

Risticus? I'm not sure I've ever gotten his name out of him, though it does seem to suit him well.

I've seen him many times wandering around Silvermoon and I was lucky enough to share a Zeppelin ride with him Orgrimmar once. He's charming though he does not say much. He smiles often however, and he too has a pet moth which I find adoreable. I only hope I will actually be able to have a conversation with him at some point.

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`Folds the tapestry and sets it lightly in her lap, regarding you with a small smile.`

Risticus... Yes I know him. We have become quite good friends in the recent days. I am very fond of him indeed. I have met few men as polite as he is. He has a great deal of tact, a great deal of strength. What would you like for me to say? He is an appealing man.

`Folds her hands together and leans on the table in front of her.`

He's taken me for a walk or two. He is always ready with a smile for me. I cannot imagine he has it in him to be rude to anyone. It is something to be commended. Yes... I know him... A good man. A pleasant man..

`Lets out a light sigh and gestures one of her women to escort you away.`

Risticus... Yes.

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