Leoren

Death of a Blood Knight ( The Trial of Sir Leoren Evershine ) [Open]

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< Several notices are placed on public boards throughout the major Horde Capital Cities >

PublicCourtMartial1.jpg

((

The Trial will be carried out in the next few days here on the boards, and shall be carried out in sections, of which the window for replies is expected to be time based.

Index:

A Poster Appears [ Page 1 ]

An Uninvited Visitor [ Page 2 ]

Sordid Requests [ Page 3 ]

Voices in the Dark ( Enter the Inquisitor ) [ Page 4 ]

"All eyes are on Silvermoon." [ Page 5 ]

An Evening To Forget, The Break of Dawn ( Commencing of the Trial ) [ Page 7 ]

Conclusive First Statements, Testimony [ Page 10 ]

Testimonies Continued and Closing Statements, All Rise ( The Judgement ) [ Page 12 ]

The Symphony ( Machinations ) [ Page 15 ]

An Unlikely Exit [ Page 18 ]

[NEW] Bring Them Down [ Page 19 ]

))

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Skafloc stands before the notice and reads it for the third time. His face is impassive, betraying nothing of the many emotions that competed for attention within him, not the least of which was irony.

The words spoken by Leoren at the last confrontation between them echoed on the page of the notice, his condemnation of Skafloc's actions that night. Words that now appeared to have been used in turn against the Blood Knight by his very own superiors.

Obviously something had happened to warrant an accusation from Liadrin so uncharacteristic of the man. This would be a trail the Farstrider Baron would make every effort to attend.

Nymare, just when the sun looks like its shining again for you, the dark clouds descend.

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*While sulking about the city in the early morning before the sun had graced many's faces, she wondered upon the sign resting at the foot of the stairs in the inn she resided in. She noticed first the largely printed "Court Marshal" words then quickly took note of the face that was planted on the sign. Leoren's. She could feel her stomach sink and her heart jump into her throat no matter how hard she tried to swallow she could not get it to go down.*

Leoren... what have you done?

*She knew she had last seen the paladin the night, one of money, of Irontoe's romps through Silvermoon. She had knew that he acted -- differently.. though she did not know why. Perhaps it was somehow related? She quickly snatched down the posted and ran back up to her room to stew on the situation.*

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Hellista shrugged as she saw the paper. "Pfftt. Anyone could have seen that coming. I guess I'll do my civic duty and testify for him."

She then walked into the Blood Knight headquarters, eating ice cream and humming to herself, searching for a contact that wouldn't attack her right away....

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Darkblade eyes the poster as she makes her way toward the Plaguelands. "A paladin, showing cowardice?"

She chuckles slightly. "Must have been caught using his hearthstone inside his little holy bubble."

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Evanthe read the notice, and what began as a small smirk morphed into a quiet snicker which flowed into giggles until, by the time she had reached the end of the notice, she was laughing louder and harder than she had in quite some time.

Cowardice and disertion of duties? Silly little hypocrite.

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Lovely glanced at the notice, shrugged, and walked away. "Cowards should be court marshalled," she thought to herself. "Glad I never knew him."

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A concerned look covers Cerryan's face as he reads the poster. "Leoren...Lord Draco's friend. How could HE be on trial? Surely more treachery and deceit at the hands of the Blood Knights...I have to be there. I must know for sure..."

Cerryan sighs as he makes his way from the Scryer's teir to Silvermoon, city of deception. "Light protect him..."

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"No," Hellista said firmly, her ice cream dripping onto the desk, "I'm telling you he is innocent, and I will testify to that effect. Or at least be a character witness."

The Blood Knight stared at the crimson headed warlock without emotion. "Miss Lok'Tharis, you are lucky we don't take you into custody right now. Only by a strange force of luck were you able to escape your death sentence last time you were locked up in here. Now get out before I throw you out."

Hellista fumed. "Fine. And I'm not hungry anymore."

With that, Hellista threw her ice cream at the Blood Knight, hitting him square in the forehead and leaving a pink glob of scrumptious goodness on his face. Immediately she was set upon by at least twelve Blood Knight guards, who pummeled her into submission and dragged her off to a cell, the whole time ignoring her cries of "I even sent him Murloc Heads, you bastards!!! MURLOC HEADS!!!!"

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I am walking through the Blood Knight training area; my legs feel like pudding after the pounding I just put them through. All I want to do is take a long, hot bath and finish this morning's cross-word puzzle. That clue is still bugging me: a fourteen letter word for-

My thoughts are interrupted by the conversation of a group of Knights, huddled together in front of a poster. I move in to inspect the notice, and am struck with a wave of déjà vu. It doesn't phase me anymore; I've almost grown used to it. But still, if anything were to inspire feelings of having seen it before, this poster should not be it.

Leoren. I haven't met him, but his reputation is widely known among the Knights. I would not have expected him to abandon his duties. For his sake, I hope the trial is fair. But if he is convicted I hope they hang him from the gates, a public display for all to see. Cowardice from a Blood Knight should never be tolerated, let alone from one so prominent. This is a damaging blow to our reputation. I am glad my superiors are dealing with this quickly.

As I walk off to the baths I can't help but hope his death will be slow and painful.

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Aetheril paused momentarily, drawn irresistably by the large notices. Judging by the look of the work and the paper, they were clearly of elven make. News from home, perhaps?

The young Knight Initiate wanted to slip near enough to see, but the gaggle of Forsaken peering up at the notice made him think otherwise. Getting too close would probably make him retch at the collective stench. So he waited idly for the crowd to clear.

"Can't believe I ever came to this filthy Undercity," Aetheril muttered, as a chill ran up his spine. Giving up on waiting, Aetheril heaved one foot forward, and plugged his nose.

Just in time, however, for the message wasn't of much interest anymore, and the small group was already rapidly clearning. One forsaken female gave him a rather offended look as he brushed past, to which he promptly removed his hand from his nose (but refused to breathe through it).

"Your kind, eh, paladin?" She spit the last word at him with distaste, before whisking off into the crowd. Aetheril's hand tightened, almost involuntarily, on his sword hilt.

My kind, is it...? What's this about here?

Aetheril stepped closer to the poster, and read it, his eyes skimming down the page. He raised his eyebrows, his face brightening with interest, though he wondered at the time whether it was wrong that he should be interested in such a public spectacle.

"A public trial...might as well not have a trial at all. Wonder if there'll be arena seating and food vendors and everything that befits such a...spectacle."

Aetheril murmered this quietly, though he drew a couple odd looks from passers-by for talking to himself. He laughed once, a grim bark that punctated his last sentence. The two forsaken looking on hurried off to their business, startled by his bitter laughter.

Aetheril swept away from the paper for a moment, and leaned against a nearby wall, thinking.

And I thought I'd be gone from Silvermoon for a while...what a little fool I'd look like, coming back there...but then again I could deliver some messages or run an errand...or whatever. Make myself useful, get an excuse.

Aetheril scratched his chin, and bit his lip, thoughtfully.

This is too intriguing the pass up...

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Draco Visca,

Though we've had disageements in the past, at this point, I feel that it would be best for the two of us, as well as the rest of the Order of Eversong, begin to find a way to get Leoren out of this situation. As I, myself, have been removed from the Knights recently, I have little to no way of reaching him withing the Blood Knights.

For the sake of a mutual friend, perhaps its time we work together on this.

Naheal Malastar

Naheal finished the letter that he wished to write, rolling up the letter with an enclosed flyer of the trial, he sent it off to Draco Visca in a sealed letter, marked with his personal seal.

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*Zelaine walks through the city streets in her meager Crochet armor her hat hiding her face from the world. She finishes buying food for the week and sets out to leave the city once more then she catches what looks like her brother out of the corner of her eye. She pours over the poster reading as quickly as she can*

"Oh no....what did you do brother...."

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Qabian noticed the sign in passing and did something of a double take before stopping to read what it said. A slow smirk spread across the mage's lips as he read. Then he laughed, long and loud.

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"Did you take all 'er shards away?" a gruff man asked a younger one.

"Can't, they won't leave her skin," the younger replied.

The gruff man surveyed the shakled lady infront of him and shrugged. "Throw her in the high-security area. I don't want a warlock running around and summoning demons. They give me the willies."

Dragging her along, she protested angrily and futily. Her body hit the cold pavement of the cell with a smack. She turned as she shakles were removed, but the cell door was slammed in her face. The bars still reverberated in her hands from the noise as she grasped them and shook them, comically.

"You can't keep me in here! I didn't do anything wrong! That stupid elf had it coming!" she punched the bars and leaned against them angrily, arms crossed and a sullen pout protruding from her lips.

Not only had she aparently lost her memory and reverted back to the "safer" mental state of teen-age-dom, she was thrown in jail for punching a paladin who propositioned her for 'bed-play'.

"He deserved it," she grumbled. As she looked over she blinked, she saw a form on the ground in the cell across from hers. It was another elfs, but it didn't look like it belonged there. Her instinct was to see if it was alive or not. So, like any self-respecting teenager in an adults body, she started pelting it with rocks. Crouching, her eyes were wide as she watched the form being hit with the tiny gravel-like rocks from the floor of the cell.

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The warhorse was a sight to behold, galloping at full tilt with its rider yelling warcries and obscenities, leaving the shoppers and vendors jumping for cover as it sent carts toppling and stands collapsing from its charge through the bazaar. Ri'jael liked her new mount, whom she had named Beast. He was a lively horse and was still trying to throw her off him.

As Beast reared up onto his hind legs, his front legs shattering the table laid out with wares in front of him, Ri'jael whooped, but it cut off as her eye caught something out of the corner of her eye. "Hey, what--"

The moment's lack of concentration resulted in her being unhorsed.

Ri'jael hopped up immediately from the jaw-dropping fall and walked over to the notice. Then she laughed.

"That's the one who wouldn't brawl in Shattrath. So disappointing. Didn't I see him down there with Lazy Liadrin? Apparently he's the pansy I knew he was, hah! I tossed that stupid cloth banner she gave me straight back into her face, and she just blinked at me. She knows I could kick her mana-tapping-tail.

"Trial. Boooooring! ...unless maybe there'll be a brawl? That would be hot. I might check it out. I'd love the chance to beat up some bloody knights. That'll show Lazy Liadrin who's the real power around here!

"...hey, where'd Beast go?"

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Slaid skulked over a ledge in the Undercity, cloaked in black. Her eyes glinted irritably beneath her hood as she listened to the conversing Forsaken below her who were huddled around a fairly large sized poster. They laughed and snorted in sarcastic humor and wandered off, nodding in agreement in raspy voices about how over-dramatic the elves are. She scowled at them in their wake until they turned a corner beyond her line of view and dropped down to snatch the poster from the wall. She dropped down to the bottom level, frightening the Forsaken man and his collection of cockroaches away at her sudden appearance.

She spread the poster out before her and read it carefully, a glare set evenly on her face. Elliot, her tiny emerald whelpling companion and current tutor in the arcane arts appeared at her shoulder, reading along with an eerie grin.

"The Blood Knights," he cackled, emitting green puffs of smoke from his nostrils, "seem to be losing a lot of members... one way or another..."

Elliot grinned at her, not able to see her eyes from beneath her hood, but could see her grit her teeth in anger... though she did not respond.

It didn't seem possible that such a claim could be true. She had heard tales of Leoren's honor, and the few times she had met him in person, his very presence shone such a persona that it made it difficult to breathe. Something didn't seem right. The dragonling rolled his gleaming yellow eyes.

"I know what you're thinking, but you have bigger things to worry about child. Don't concern yourself with this affair."

She didn't turn her head to look at him, but continued to stare at Leoren's face on the poster spread before her as she stayed crouched on the dirty, cold floor. She spoke in a low voice,

"I have to help in any way that I can-"

"No you don't." Elliot snapped, spewing a small bit of golden flame from his nostrils. He would not have her side-tracked. "You haven't even seen this man in person for a long time now. What use would you be, you stupid little girl?"

Growling, she crumpled up the poster and tossed it into the green, glowing river before disappearing into the shadows along with her companion.

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Kiaransalius paused and read over the public notice. Blinking she read over it one more time so as to be sure of what she saw.

"Leoren? Treason?" Kiaransalius sighed softly, I have to talk to Nym... to find out if she knows what is going on here.

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Bir gave the slightest tip of his hat while reading the notice.

"It's ok thorny lamp! I took care of your lady good, yep I did I did. I guess you're not a lamp anymore are you.. they probably took away everything that glowed. Oh well."

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Zelaine wasnt going to stand for this. She snaped into action. She ran to her room in Silvermoon and washed up. She doned her best robes and lept atop her Hawkstrider. She spotted Champion Vranesh just outside the inn. She rushes over to him grabed him by the belt and riped him off his steed. His eyes grew wide quickly but was too shocked to really react. She spun him around and pined him up against the wall of the inn.

"Where is he?"

A grin spread across Champion Vranesh's face.

"Where?!" Zelaine spat. "Or I swear I will..."

Champion Vranesh scoffed. "In MY city...I think not."

Frustration took over Zelaine she narrowed her eyes and took hold of Champion Vranesh's chest plat and with a quick shake craked his head against the wall. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the ground. Zelaine's eye twitched. She spun on her heal and lept atop her Warhorse in one swift movement. For the first time in a long time her mind wasnt at war with itself. Everything was clear. She ran road off to the Blood Knight headquarters. She ran in and lept over the rail and glided gently down to the floor past the captive Naaru. She martched up to Lady Liadrin. "I wish to speak to my Brother...now"

"I am afraid that is impossible. I can let you know when his trial will be held and you are more then welcome to attend." Lady Liadrin replied in a clam voice.

"Liadrin you dont seem to understand what I am willing..."

"No Lady Evershine you do not understand." Lady Liadrin inturupted. "There is more at work here then you need to know. I suggest you let things be for now."

Zelaine glared at her but knew better then to carry the issue further.

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"Please mother, don't do this." Malethia held the crumpled flyer out from underneath her cloak. She looked out from beneath her cowl at the woman occupying the dark back alley of Murder Row. The secrecy was a precaution they had been taking ever since Malethia had left the Order.

"Why do you care for this one? He is not one of your Grim." Liadrin stood firm, her face a mask of emotionless patience.

"No, but his fiancee is...and I fear I provided her ill counsel. I played a part in what has happened, and I must make amends for it."

"The choice belonged to the woman to heed your advice - and the choice belonged to Leoren to act the way he has. You are no more responsible for his fate than you are that of your brother."

"You don't understand, mother. I must -"

"YOU MUST DO NOTHING!" Malethia stepped back in shock from her adoptive mother, almost shrinking in fear from the outburst. Liadrin snarled in frustration, then took a breath and allowed her focus to return. "An example must be made; none are above the Order, not even one of its finest members." Liadrin stared down her daughter, her eyes cold. "Even if I were inclined to help him, I have already spent far more influence than I can afford to prevent another traitor from seeing the hangman's noose."

Malethia stared down at the dirty paving stones, nodding submissively. She knew exactly which traitor was being referenced here. Yet another pain she had caused by allowing Cessily to pull her away from her illusion.

Liadrin's face softened slightly, to a stern motherly expression. "I don't like the rumors I hear, Malethia. People speak of your increasing instability. I know of your wild ride into Stormwind, and of public displays of lewdness in the streets. That is not the daughter I raised into a warrior. A frightened child stands before me now, not a Knight."

Malethia sighed heavily, turning on her heels to walk out of the alley. "Yes, mother. You're right. Perhaps it is time to remember who I'm supposed to be."

"Malethia...don't do anything foolish. Leoren's fate is his own to suffer. Stay out of this matter, it is for Blood Knights alone. A matter of law and brutal neccessity, not the heart. If you interfere, I will not be able to intercede on your behalf again."

Malethia said nothing, instead calling Heartblazer from its home in the Celestial planes and mounting on the warsteed. Her cloak slipped from her shoulders as she rode off through the streets, her golden ceremonial armor a beacon in the dimness of Murder Row.

"You're right, mother. Perhaps it is time I once again remembered myself as a Knight..."

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"Did you take all 'er shards away?" a gruff man asked a younger one.

"Can't, they won't leave her skin," the younger replied.

The gruff man surveyed the shakled lady infront of him and shrugged. "Throw her in the high-security area. I don't want a warlock running around and summoning demons. They give me the willies."

Dragging her along, she protested angrily and futily. Her body hit the cold pavement of the cell with a smack. She turned as she shakles were removed, but the cell door was slammed in her face. The bars still reverberated in her hands from the noise as she grasped them and shook them, comically.

"You can't keep me in here! I didn't do anything wrong! That stupid elf had it coming!" she punched the bars and leaned against them angrily, arms crossed and a sullen pout protruding from her lips.

Not only had she aparently lost her memory and reverted back to the "safer" mental state of teen-age-dom, she was thrown in jail for punching a paladin who propositioned her for 'bed-play'.

"He deserved it," she grumbled. As she looked over she blinked, she saw a form on the ground in the cell across from hers. It was another elfs, but it didn't look like it belonged there. Her instinct was to see if it was alive or not. So, like any self-respecting teenager in an adults body, she started pelting it with rocks. Crouching, her eyes were wide as she watched the form being hit with the tiny gravel-like rocks from the floor of the cell.

(( Co-written with Cerestes, who deserves the majority of the credit. ))

At first, he barely moves, the elf stirring quietly. His movements are weak and groggy, the dim lighting doing little to reveal his identity or features at first. All that can be ascertained is he's not impressed with his wake up call. A dark, venemous voice growls (however meakly).

"... Is it time yet, guards?"

A tiny gasp goes up, surprised to see the figure move and alive. Her hand over her mouth at the shock of the sound of his voice. Somewhere within her, she found the courage to speak. "N... no..." she says meekly, her form broken up behind the black bars, her white and black robe adding to a sort of optical illusion that she was both there and not there.

No reaction. Time reveals more of his expression, faint green eyes able to adjust better to the darkness now - and he looks surprised.

"... What are you doing here girl?", his eyes not fully recognising her as she peered back at him. He lifts himself barely, pushing up at the ground with a grunt riddled with self loathing, ashamed no doubt for his own pitifulness in that moment.

She blinks, fear rising in her throat as she recognizes the movements that betrays his actions as a hardened soldier. She attempts to swallow it down. "S..sorry but I ... thought you were... dead over there...." she moves her face inbetween two bars so she could be seen, and see better. Perhaps, she thought, she would approach him more tactfully this time. "My name's Cerestes, what's yours?"

Another pause. His voice softens at that, "Cerestes...". His emerald gaze watches hers upon him with disbelief. Familiarity permeates his voice just then, his words delivered in such a way as to suggest he actually knew this sudden new comer.

"It's me... Leoren. Cerestes, what are you doing here?"

She tilts her head to the side, curious as to who this man was. "Oh... um. Aparently I've gone through quite a bit lately. I'm afraid I don't remember you, are you from school?" she asks, a lilt to her voice that was both innocent and soft, it would not otherwise have been present in the more experienced version of herself.

The look he gives her in that moment was unmistakeable. Had she gone bonkers? There was no certainty as he spoke while shifting to sit against the cold wall of his cell, "... You really don't remember me, then?"

She swallowed, and leaned forward, her form pressing against the cold bars. "Should I?" she queried. "I.. I'm sorry," she said, her voice attempting to salve the pain she might have caused by her unwanted forgetfulness. "I'm here because... well..." she started. "Long story short, I disturbed the peace. The guard didn't want me summoning demons in the common prison, so they threw me down here....". She then squints, trying to see him more clearly.

As her eyes better inspected him, it becomes increasingly more apparent he has endured a good deal of physical duress, the trail of wounds and bruises showing on his arms. It would not be surprising to see the same on his body, if not for the ragged shirt he was wearing, dirty and greased. Perhaps from the beating of steel gauntlets maybe?

His cracked and parched lips spread once more, "... I see.". It was easier this way, to ignore an old stinging memory than to recount it. Whatever the reason for her sudden amnesia, it comes as a blessing in such dire circumstances.

"Tell me..." she said over the quiet echoes of darkness. "If you can. What's happened to you? Do you hurt very much?"

"I'll live..." he murmured in reply as his face turned away, clearly wanting to keep silent on the nature of his imprisonment.

She didn't like the sound of that. This was obviously a friend of hers, if it was an enemy, he might have been angrier toward her. "Here..." she sas quietly while revealing a shard. There was a humming sound as she closed her hands around it. She threw a healthstone at him, aiming for his lap. Her aim however, was not as thoughtful.

A sharp yowl echoed through the otherwise empty line of cells, the stone's aim clearly off and hitting his fore head instead, "Ouch!". So much for keeping his face bruise free.

Cerestes hisses, breathing in through her teeth. "S...sorry!" she yelps. She gazes at his weakened form through the bars. Something eeriliy familiar about him, though she couldn't place it. "Leoren, was it?" she attempts to make conversation.

"I have a few questions, as you can gather," she continued to stare at him through the bars. "How do you know me? Where have you seen me before? And how did you get here?"

He didn't answer her immediately, a lengthy silence filling the air. "You and I were... intimate. For a time." He doesn't elaborate beyond that, his words already indicating their relationship's finite existance.

"It was a long time ago, Cerestes." Tactfully, he does not answer the last of her questions.

She stumbles back a second at the answer he'd given her. A red blush crept up into her cheeks and she put her hands to the burning sensation within them. Thoughts flooded her young mind as she shakes her head, telling herself something like that wasn't possible for her. He was so ruggedly handsome, even in what clearly couldn't have been his most glorious of moments and she felt so... inadequate. She kept telling herself he wasn't telling the truth, but looking at the situation he had nothing to hide, no reason to lie, and she couldn't very well trust her own memories at this point. For all she thought, she was still in school, unrefined and clutzy.

She clears her throat, her voice cracking a bit as she reapproaches the bars. "Are... are you sure?" she asks, feeling some stupidity. Of course he was sure, he wouldn't have said so otherwise. "I mean... uh... what I meant to say was did you know me before that? I mean, have I grown very much? I don't know anything about myself, and you're only the second person I've met that has recognised me as who I am," she shook her head again. "Nevermind, you're plagued with your own set of circumstances. But how did you get here?"

"... It's better you not know."

His very demeanor was elusive, the subject clearly something he could not bring himself to tell her. To tell anyone.

Changing the subject before she could press further, a slip of a grin can almost be distinguished as he closes his eyes, "... And you were... maturer then. Believe it or not, I'm your junior by a great many years. It certainly felt that way sometimes too back in the day."

Finishing, he takes what relief he could at last from the healthstone that previously introduced itself to his skull. Despite its bitter, acidic taste - it clearly provides some much needed comfort.

He coughs just after, barely interrupting a defeated chuckle, never for a second forgetting their grim environment, "It's funny... really..."

"I've never been called mature before," she says quietly. "That... that I know of. Am I really that grim?" she asks once more in the same quiet tone, her hand passing through the bar, as if to reach to him. She retracted it. "What's funny?"

"Just how--"

Suddenly, the look on his face clearly shows his heart sinking. Beyond the steel door at the end of the long and dank corridor rumbles the stirring of voices, yells muffled and reverberating behind metallic trappings. Whatever short respite this was, it was now clearly over. His eyes open, turning to hers severely, "... We never spoke. For your sake."

As they both heard the steel door swing violently open and collide against wall, he feigned unconsciousness once more - reverting to his former posture sprawled unelegantly against the cold floor.An enraged voice boomed from the end of the corridor, echoing clearly throughout the isolated section of the prison.

"Liadrin will have your heads for this! You were under strict, and specific order not to let -anyone- near him! Including other prisoners you fucking mongrels."

Metallic foot steps pace quickly towards their location, at least three - and by the noise of their steps alone, all heavily armed. Their armor and Blood Knight's tabard both as black as the darkness that veils the prison itself. One raven haired Knight stood firmer, far surpassing the fearful minions at his side in authority and assertiveness. He turned his barely restrained glare to the one on his right, an unfortunate excuse for a soldier.

"Escort the girl back to the her -intended- cell. Now."

The underling complied, unlocking her cell door and roughly grabbing her by the arm. Despite her protesting, there was little she could do as she was dragged away. Her eyes stayed on Leoren's motionless form for as long as she could before he and the remaining two Knights were out of sight. Even at a distance, she still heard the ranking Knight's grim message echo through the solemn corridor.

"You're to stand watch until the trial. No one's to speak to him. Fail me again and I'll kill you myself... And fetch the herbalist. He's -not- to come out of it. We need him ready come the trial."

Her gaze is pulled forward as she's dragged from the lower cells into the maze of hallways and prison doors. She feels squeamish, angry, scared and incredibly sad. She had to do something, she thought. But she wasn’t sure what. A tear trickles down her cheek for the sentenced man she’d met and a guard noticed.

“Why are you crying?” He shakes her arm as they stood, waiting for a platform to lower.

She turns to him, true venom in her gaze as she hissed. “I’m in prison you moron! Besides, your eyes would water too if you were standing next to you. Your armor reeks of days old fish and eggs. Have you been rolling around in a chicken coop, and swimming in that stuff?” as their platform arrived, and rose.

She was met with an unceremonious shove off of the platform and into a cell with many prisoners, waiting to get out. It stank in here too, sadly, and her eyes continued to water. Crossing her arms, she pressed herself up against the bars. “You can’t keep me in here!” she shouted as she caught gazes from the cutthroats, pirates, rogues, and otherwise unsavory men of the large holding cell.

“I demand my rights! I demand cleaner environments!”

“Yeah I want room service!” one growly-throated forsaken shouts out amidst a rise of laughter from the men in the cell. “With pink bows and a warm bath!”

Swallowing, she forced herself into the corner, swatting away insect carcasses and who knew what else, enduring the strange "Murloc Head" related antics of fellow in mates and waited out her time until evening came.

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As the orc strode through Silvermoon he expected to find several things, an annoying amount of gold and red, chattering elves with nothing particularly important to say, and more damned floating plants. What he did not expect to find was the face of his blood brother starring back at him from a poster between two snickering blood knight initiates.

"What's so funny elves?" he ask, his gruff voice silenced their snickering.

"Leoren Evershine is on trial," one managed to mutter before snickering again.

"for cowardice in the line of duteeee" the second finished, or tried to, as he felt himself and his comrade in comedy pinned to the wall by their throats, plate gloves wringing the last of thier laughter out.

"Where...and when..." the orc growled, as his yellow goggles glowed orange from some source behind them, looking from the initiates blueing faces to the ink imprint of his brother's on the wall between them.

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