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About Laron

  • Rank
    Senior Member
  • Birthday 05/16/1976

Personal Information

  • AIM
    laronravenshank
  • Yahoo
    okottotokage
  • MSN
    mrlong1016@hotmail.com
  1. <p>long time no see.</p>

  2. <p>Howdy! Found ya <img src="<fileStore.core_Emoticons>/emoticons/smile.png" alt=":)" srcset="<fileStore.core_Emoticons>/emoticons/smile@2x.png 2x" width="20" height="20" /></p>

  3. Laron

    Annelia

    *Turns his glowing eyes from the Shadows while sipping his drink.* Awh ran inta dis one deh other night... She seemed nice enout. I 'ope ta keep on 'er good side. Ravenshank
  4. It was a strange request coming from his daughter, but Laron knew if Vilmah requested him to come it must be important. Stepping off his new Riding Saber, he checked his weapons at the door of the Tavern… well… his visible weapons anyway… walking to the bar he noticed the same crowd, nothing out of the ordinary, so he got his drink and took a seat at the bar. “Mead please.” The bartender set the mug down as the Night elf produced his coin. It had been quite a while since Laron had ventured to a bar. With raising his children and enjoying life with his new wife, he had all but forgotten what it was like to sit in a crowded place… with all those… pockets… He chuckled to himself as he patted the coin pouch he lifted as he came in. “The Draenie would just have to do without it for tonight…” He thought to himself as he laughed about his old habits never dying... As he drank his pint, a solid tap fell on his Left shoulder. He half expected it to be an angry squidgoat, but instead his half gaze is met with very pleasant eyes and a green face he could not forget… Vilmah, she had a few more scars, but still pretty for an Orc. He eyed her a bit before saluting. She was finally growing into her frame, and becoming a fine woman. “Gaud Evenin ta ya Vilmah.” She stood with a SinDorei who looked to be a preist. “Who dis be wit ya?”
  5. Laron

    Hunger pains

    As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the cell, he could see that the Elf that was being held was a Sin’Dorei. His eyes turned to a bitter squint as she tried to stand he could clearly see her hands were shackled and bruised from leaving her that way, she was also not wearing a top, which Laron got to see in full view as she turned to confront him. From the look of her tone stomach she was a warrior, not like most the Blood elves he had met who couldn’t fight there way out of a wet parchment bag… this woman looked tougher and more healthy than the women he had seen. As his view gazed at her six pack stomach he noticed a tattoo, written in Elvish runes, just above her navel “Valor” They continued up her front past her full breasts and to the side of her neck… “Lyn?” “Father!?” Laron turning a blush of purple suddenly felt like a school child being caught looking in the women’s dressing room… immediately both people turned as not to look or be seen, “I didn’t mean to look I… what are you doing here?” Laron removing his doublet and draped it over her shoulders, quickly picking her shackle. He could see her shiver in the cold and fought back the anger and tried to think clearly. “Here take this instead.” He handed her the shirt off his back and put the doublet back on. “I need you to be quiet and stay behind me we are getting out of here now.” As the layout of the prison ran through his mind his heart stopped and his mind crashed when he heard his daughter say. “No.”
  6. Laron

    Hunger pains

    Laron stepped off the tram eager to meet this Kal’Dorei who was slandering his good name… He chuckled as he thought of the concept. “The nerve, using my name and getting caught… it’s been over two years since I got caught…This guy had better have a good excuse…” Taking the back way into the prison, Laron gives his old friend, Trendle a call. “Good morning Trendle…” “By the Gods! Laron ya scared me, you elves have way too quiet a step fer ya own good! What brings ya ’ere today? Ya got another load of that Troll poison ya brought last week?’ “No not today Trendle, and lower your voice, your acting like an armature… make a businessman like myself… nervous…” “Sorry, So why are ya ‘ere?” He places a hand on the dwarves shoulder, and kneels down to look him square in the eye. “I need a favor. And if you can pull it, I would owe you.” The man looks back over his shoulder to make sure no one’s listening. “Go on…” “There is some snot nosed punk inside who is usin my name and I want some uninterrupted time…” “Married life not suit’n ya Eh…” “What?, no I don’t swing that way… I just want to talk to him and make sure he gets my point about using others thieves names…” “ im? It a girl… Pretty one too… you should see ‘er?” “Oh? Hmm well that might change things… what is she in for?” “Oh you know they don’t tell me those things…” The man smiles and holds his hand out, looking over his shoulder. Laron smiles back and sets a gold in his palm. “Oh I’m sure they don’t…” “They didn’t tell me she’s in ‘ere for attempin murder, cell 2 you got ten…” “Gotcha…” Once inside he sees a shadow of a woman with full curves laying in the corner of the room. Staying in the shadows, he talks in a calm smooth voice, speaking in Elvish. “You know people who are stupid enough to be caught for murder shouldn’t use alias, especially of people who are known with in the thieves circle…”
  7. Laron

    Hunger pains

    Covering himself, Azrid looked like a woman huddling under the covers, his hue was a bright purple in blushing as he stared in embarrassed wonderment. The woman who had revived him was cooking some sort of stew and was busy adding spices as she hummed a light tune. “My name is Gretchen Steelheart, and this is me Boy Anvil. Yes I cannae see ya boy, come out an don’t you be so rude.” Looking around Azrid sees a small boy peeking out of doorway of his room. Then he sees him disappear as the woman hands him a steaming bowl. Smiling slightly, the thought of his own son comes to mind. “You were brought here ta get a bit O rest.” “Thank you for the food, how old is your son?” He looks towards the door and raises his voice slightly. “He looks to be the same size as my own son.” “Oh he’ll be turnen ten soon, and maybe ya could bring em by to play, Anvil needs some boys ta play with. Since ‘is Father died, ‘es been sticken ta me like glue…” Azrid’s color returns to normal as he drinks the broth. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that…” Gretta lightly touches his hand as she takes the bowl from him to set them in the sink. Smiling back at the tall elf, who barely fits in her small house, she takes a seat at the table. “Ya don’t need ta be so shy, unless ya got a tattoo, you ain’t got nut’in I ‘aven before, I’ve raised four boys so far Anvil is just the youngest. So what brings such a hansom fella as yerself ta the Forge?” She chuckles slightly as she sees his change back to his bright purple in flush. “Sorry Lad, I just ‘ave never seen yer kind with any hair on their faces… it looks good on ya.” Collecting his ripped shirt he pulls it over his head and reties his long green hair. “I don’t really remember… was there a younger woman with me?” He questions as he sits on the floor next to her short table. “Aye lad, the filthy Bloody elf that brought you in was taken to have a nice stay in the prison.” He look is stern and very angry as she sits at the table. “What?!” He tries to stand only to hit his head on the roof of the house. “I have to talk to someone about this now!” Rubbing his head he looks for his boots which are nowhere to be found. “Easy there lad, I’m sure there treatin ‘er okay, she did bring ya in and surrender. So I’m sure they are just askin ‘er some questions.” As Azid walked towards the military quarter, he tried not to let on to that questions were what scared him.
  8. Laron

    Hunger pains

    Laron walked through the crowd in Stormwind, trying not to stand out. Rounding the corner to head to the bank, he notices a crowd that had gathered to see a young girl dancing in the water fountain… from the lack of clothes, she must be in need of money… Standing in the back of the crowd, he lightly pushed his way up to the front, lifting three pouches off the onlookers, and placed two coins on the fountain himself. “Buy yourself some clothes darlin…” He says as he turns to walk back through the crowd. In his earlier decades he might have invited her to dinner, easy to bed and not too bright… but after he had met Najme, these type of women really heald no interest for the Night Elf… Walking out of the bank and depositing the money that some poor fool had obviously dropped… he snickered to himself, heading to the auction house to see if his ore had sold. Walking down the street he sees an old acquaintance, John the stump, they called him that because he had lost his foot to a bear trap on his first mission and now walked with a wooden peg leg. “Hey there Ravenshank… That was quick, I guess the Dwarves don’t know how to make prisons like our Stockades huh?” “What are you talking about john?” “Ironforge… I got some dirt on a Elf named Ravenshank being held there…, I was gonna head over to our agent in the forge and pick up yer gear… but ‘ere ya are…” Laron was puzzled but did not let on. SI:7 looked out for it’s own and would have collected his gear… if he were in prison… He figured this would warrant a trip to the Dwarven city to see who this imposter is… lowering his voice he looks around then answers. “Yeah John, I got out, but darn if I forgot to stop and get my gear… I’ll head back and pick it up, here take this for reminded me. May your blade find it’s mark and your pocket stay full…” Handing the man two silver in a handshake, says his goodbyes and heads for the tram.
  9. Laron

    Waking dreams

    /listens to the story
  10. Laron

    Hunger pains

    “Azrid..! Arzid Redthorn, you come down here this instant!” A woman stand with her long blue hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and her arms crossed. She stands tapping her foot looking at a wooden trap that her baby girl had been stuck in. As she waits, a young boy, dirty from play, slinks in with his head held low “Yes mama?” Pointing angrily her eyes dull and starts to grow a thin layer of grey fur. “Did you do this?! Did you trap your sister in a cage like some pet?!!” The young boy looks at his baby sister who was now a kitten and was playing with the curtains. In retort he nods at Amadare, and starts to defend his actions, rationalizing as a child would. “But Momma… Father taught me a new trap, and it didn’t hurt her, I was just havin fun with her…” As his argumentative look is met with a fierce look of anger, he looks to the ground and digs his big toe in the dirt. “I am not going to tell you or your father this anymore!” Walking over to pick up the playful kitten, she cradles her in her now fur covered arms. “Ama is NOT a pet! And just because she is different doesn’t make her any less of your sister.” The little boy looks up with tears in his eyes, he hated to be yelled at by his momma, but his fear soon turned to anger as he spotted Laron hiding in the kitchen ease dropping. Storming off out into the woods he knew his older brother had told on him. “Oh I’m gonna get you Laron… my next trap I build will be for you… you’ll see…” The little boy smiled as he started to collect wood for his trap. Waking from his dream he is met with a pleasant woman’s smile. He looks at her with wonder as she withdraws her hand from his bare chest. Her beard is trimmed nicely and braded with glass beads and copper bands holding the braids in place. “Thar ya go handsom, you just be lyin still, till yer leg can hold ya.” He suddenly turns a bright shade of purple as he realizes he is half naked infront of this woman he doesn’t know…. “I… where… am I… I mean… thank you?” She turns back to him wiping the blood from her petite hands, and smiles at his new color of blush. “Yer safe from that nasty Blood Elf, now, and that’s all that matters. You just be layin there a bit longer, till yer strength returns to ya. You been dead most the night ya know…”
  11. /clap this is great! keep going!
  12. Laron

    Hunger pains

    The world was grey, no temperature, no smell, just the deafening sound of a whirlwind… He was dead, killed by… his niece… was it really her? She was still a child the last time he had seen her, at least the person who said she was Andellyn… from the future… He sat trying to get his mind around the situation… Slowly the gears are set in motion, he was as simple man, but not stupid by any means… As he sat thinking about what had happened… it hit him like a charging Kodo… “She knows!” The secret he had even kept from his siblings and was only known by his mate. Looking to the swirling vortex he hoped she would be alright, he knew that his death was an accident, but he prayed that Tillna would see it as such…
  13. Laron

    Hunger pains

    The warmth of the inside made the cold outside that much worse… The smell of the woman reminded him of his mate… Tillna, the scent of the barrens on her boots, the smell of blood on her sword, and the slight smell of sweat on her hair. This was no fragile Blood Elf, and that worried Azrid… “When I shift, she will attack me for being Kal’dorei… I will need to act swiftly.” As the night drew to a close Azrid could feel his muscles start to change and his size alter. Shifting his weight slightly he moves his frozen legs, they burn with the mixture of the frigid cold and the changing structure of his skeletal form. If not for his regeneration he would have frostbite from the waist down, but the same thing that kept him stuck, also kept him from loosing his legs to gangrene. As his ribs loosened, he readied himself for combat, wishing he could remember where he had dropped his sword… “I have to get to her before she can get to her sword…”
  14. I would think that muscle does have as much to do with it as bone size. Redthorn siblings (Kal'dorei) Laron 6'3" 185lbs (Thief) Azrid 7'6" 246lbs (Hunder) Amadare 6'2" 115/156/420lbs (Druid) Andellyn 6'4" 180lbs (half Elf) (Paladin)