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@luminashdawnwing
Stelliform.
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Picking up the Pieces
Note: This takes place after the full campaign; there will be no major spoilers, but some events may be tangentially mentioned. The second and third parts of Luminash's, Telivathus', Theras', and Aneyah's parts in the campaign finale are still a work in progress!
It was rare for Telivathus to have guests in his apartment nestled in the alleys of Murder Row; rarer still was for Magister Dawnwing to pay a visit, mostly due to the inherent dangers of someone so nobly-garbed as conspicuous as he moving through those shadowed corners of the city.
And yet, Dawnwing had come, and gladly took in hand a glass of whiskey poured by his host. Placing the bottle back into his lavishly-appointed bar, Telivathus turned on his heel and padded past the magister's chair to take his own seat, with his own glass.
âTaking stock of the damage to the city after the attack, Dawnwing? Or are you here on a social call?â He swirled the amber liquid in his glass and tilted his head, âIt has been far too long since weâve played a game of chess, hasnât it? Theras isnât too bad, but heâs been busy with Aneyah of late, and I am quite starved.â The way his voice hit a singsong note on the Arathi clericâs name made Luminash quirk a small smirk.
âStill giving him grief over his infatuation, are you?â Luminash asked, a brow raised.
âIt is not merely that, my friend, but the way she looked at him when she awoke from the Void haze that hung over her since theâŠincident,â Telivathus replied, approaching the near-miss their people had suffered with surprising tact.
âShe is a good sort. Inquisitive, kind, with a great deal of wisdom, I believe, despite her relative youth. I will hesitate to give my approval unless something comes of it, but Theras could certainly do worse,â the magister admitted, taking a sip of his whiskey and blinking at its strength.
âI never answered your question though, did I, Tel?â Luminash continued, âGet the board set up, but in the meantime, I would like an update on your activities, such as they are.â
Dusk
(Spoilers for the campaign ending of the Voidspire follow.)
âOf course there are conditions attached,â Luminash muttered as he scanned the agreement that had been placed before him.
Despite his irritation, he was forced to admit a certain comfort. Magistrix Bloodflameâs office at the University was much like his own at his estate, or those set aside for his use but infrequently used at Magisterâs Terrace, lined with books and relics of antiquityâand magical potentialâan oasis of calm on a campus teeming with eager apprentices.
âYour demonstration at Lord Saltherilâs, and the scholarship you provided, was remarkable, Luminash,â the magistrix said, pausing for a moment to peer closer at a piece of student work she had been correcting when Luminash had arrived for his meeting. It was a distinct look of displeasure mixed with confusion, reserved solely for the most stunning of student errors, âThat spell matrix is bound to collapseâŠâ
Returning her attention to Luminash fully, she shook her head, âMy apologies. The conditions were at the insistence of the Grand Magister. Although our mutual friends, Lord Saltheril included, have done their best, some compromises must be made in the name of seeing you at your full potential.â
âI will admit,â Luminash replied, âthat âProfessor of Transmutationâ has a pleasing ring to it, though I cannot help but wonder if this insistence upon collegial collaboration in all matters pertaining to the study of Void artifacts is not a way to keep me on Rommathâs leash.â
Weds for Tel:
Have he ever had a âGreat loveâ?
Telivathus did have one great love, his wife Amirys.
She was a magistrix he had met in passing when he worked on the docks at Sunsail Anchorage in his youth, and kept running into over the years. Eventually, he chose to join the Farstriders rather than go to sea, so that he would not be parted from her so often or so easily, at her urging.
They remained together for years, and though he would consider her his âgreat love,â there was a fundamental incompatibility. They argued often, made up often, but remained together, so deeply convinced they both were of their connection; he remained ever restless, she hoping for true roots and stability.
When the Sunwell was lost, and the Sunfury followed Kaelâthas to Outland, wracked by arcane addiction, their relationship suffered even more, with her addiction to magic driving more desperation, and his growing bitterness at the Sunfury putting them further at odds.
In the end, he defected with Vorenâthal and the Scryers, and she, nearly Wretched, fled into Terokkar.
While he has made some connections since, and had grown as a person since those times, especially as he comes to terms with his age, he still laments that he was unable, then, to fix what his own actions helped to break.
Thanks for the ask!
Does Luminash think those in charge of Quel'Thalas are doing a good job at handling the Voidstorm and the threat of Xal'atath? Is there anything he would advise them to do differently?
He thinks they are doing acceptably, especially given Rommath swallowing his pride enough to allow the Renâdorei to help.
He would certainly propose, if given the opportunity, some serious thought into contingencies should the Sunwell fail (perhaps not as, let us say, eccentric as Astalorâs approach, but contingencies all the same).
Spoilers for the campaign follow:
[W]ednesday: Where did his distaste of working with Saltheril or the Thalassian nobility come from?
While technically nobility himself, with a line stretching back to the kingdomâs foundation, virtually all of whom have been magisters, and virtually all of whom have largely been focused on their own academic pet projects and pursuits.
Luminash in particular was raised between Dalaran and QuelâThalas, with little contact in his formative years with other nobles beyond what were essentially pure academics. He knows how the game often has to be played in academic circles, and has always chafed due to his desire to focus on his work and his work alone; this is what gave him his status as somewhat of a black sheep
He doesnât resent nobles for politicking, nor does he entirely dislike the maneuvering; he simply dislikes it as a necessity, or a pre-condition of his true ends.
Thanks for the ask!
âWâednesday Asks!
~ What ifâŠÂ - Ask my OC âwhat ifâ questions ~ Wonderful - Tell my OC what makes them wonderful ~ WTF - Ask/tell my OC something that would get a WTF reaction ~ Whoops - Accidentally send my OC a message/letter that was never supposed to be sent ~ Who/what/when/where/why - Ask my OC anything you want!
ANON IS ON!
Donât be âthat personâ, practice good question/reblog karma!
For @fio-renze , @keranna-zerine and @pyraelia !
For @luminashdawnwing (and any of his âsupporting cast:â Theras, Aneyah, or Telivathus), and @masonkohler.
My own asks will be sent out later in the evening!
A Noble Diversion (Part II)
(A follow-up to this.)
âMagic is the lifeblood of our people,â Luminash intoned, arms raised as he addressed the gathered crowd of gawking nobles in Lord Saltherilâs courtyard. He was the very picture of the magister the nobility expected to see here, wreathed in robes of red and black, trimmed in electrum, which caught the golden light of Eversong, yet did not reflect so brightly as the nobleâs own unalloyed golden trims. It drew a contrast, sent a message, Luminash thought.
âWe have subsisted on the Sunwell for millennia,â he continued, gesturing towards the north, towards the column of radiance holding the Voidstorm at bay. He had seen it wane in recent days, felt the weight of the Void more heavily, âAnd our mastery of the arcane is unmatched. And yet what may help may also harm.â
He began to move through the crowd, the nobles parting around him. While he spoke, he circulated, drawing in others who had been too lost in their conversations across the courtyard; however much he did not wish for an audience, he knew the larger the better in this case.
âWe have all felt the steep cost of dependence on the arcane alone,â he pressed a hand to his heart, âWe have seen the devastation that unchecked necromancy unleashed upon us; we know all too well the dangers of fel and of the Void.â
He let Void linger, and felt a pang of pleasure at seeing a few of Saltherilâs assembled guests shift in discomfort.
A Noble Diversion
Luminash had always felt Saltherilâs âHaven,â as he was fond of calling it, to be a horrid scar on Eversongâs vernal beauty; the eternal revels, unceasing even in the face of the Sunwellâs destruction, the unrest that followed, and now the Voidâs assault and the ravages of the Lightbloom, were utterly tasteless.
Despite the tastelessness, visiting the Haven himself, and being surrounded by the mingling masses of the nobility, and espying representatives of the Blood Knights, Farstriders, and even a few faces familiar from the cityâs darker corners, there might be a method to the madnessâthis time. These reflections came as the magister paid approximately half his attention to the impeccably dressed sommelier outlining Saltherilâs wine offerings; Keranna had been right, his taste was good, at least in wines.
The wine Luminash selected, poured expertly into a long-stemmed glass, was a deep, dark red, rich and sweet in its aroma, and shimmered on the surface with infused mana. The latent magic within offered a pleasant tingle on the tongue and lips, which prompted an appreciative nod to the sommelier, who bowed before taking his leave.
âI trust you are enjoying the fine work of our vintners in Goldenmist, magister?â Saltheril himself asked, joining Luminash after greeting a few other new arrivals. He wore a brilliant smile that almost fully reached his eyes as he ushered his guest up the ramp towards the private pavilion floating above, âThe others will not miss us for a few minutes, will they? We have much to discuss, and I am pleased you have come!â
Pain to Purpose
The sound of whetstone scraping across the bladeâs newly beveled edges soothed Masonâs frayed nerves. The entire process had: heating the steel, hammering the glowing ingot into shape, coaxing out the artwork hidden within cold metal.
Some might not call it art, but the weapon in his hands, gleaming in the glow of the forge that had yet to cool, sang to him. It had almost begged to be released from the prison of unformed metal; the length of a shortsword, it was a massive two-bladed spearhead, a ring open in the center awaiting the presence of the storm. He had seen such weapons wielded by the Valarjar in years past, and something days ago had driven him to his forge before even breaking his fast, a compulsion he could not explain.
As he fastened the spearhead to its prepared ashen haft, he saw the shadows lengthening as evening drew on, and exhaustion struck him like his hammer had struck the anvil since the early hours. His limbs grew slack as he rested the new greatspear next to his other arms and began the rote process of tidying the forge for the next dayâs work. As often, his mind wandered.
Cosmic Time.
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A New Game
In the time since the Voidstormâs eruption and the Sunwellâs great surge, Luminash had scarcely a moment of quiet, neither in the work of the world around him, nor in his own head. Sleep had been hard to come by, and rest in his waking hours even harder: the Grand Magister had placed all of his own on emergency footing, with personal pursuits largely suspended in favor of defense of the kingdom.
Luminash could scarcely fault him that, as much as he might disagree with Rommathâs narrow-mindedness at other times, not even as he and Jaskian were assigned to reinforcing the runestones as they strained against the encroaching Lightbloom. Her skill with the leylines running beneath QuelâThalas was in high demand, as tapping them to their fullest potential was critical to the continued safety of Eversong; Luminash, on the other hand, was especially skilled in transmutation and abjuration, the latter making him an excellent candidate for being, he thought when his mood shifted towards resentment of the Grand Magisterâs decisions, a runestone battery.
As he returned to the Dawnwing estate, the pair of spellbreakers standing watch outside his damaged laboratory tower saluted. He offered, in return, a halfhearted wave. At least his response to the disaster when the Voidstorm struck had earned him the respect of Captain Belâanas and the troops under his command. They had, in fact, interceded on the magisterâs behalf when Rommath heard of what had transpired, and through Belâanasâ efforts, the laboratory and its wards remained intact; the Grand Magister reluctantly agreed that there may be a place for Luminashâs research once the immediate threat had passed.
Astalor