[Ley-Walker Prestige Class Story for Razail Dusksinger]
I can do this.
Emerald eyes gazed out towards the Sunwell from a small island northeast of Silvermoon. He could have gone somewhere else with someone to assist that could have watched over him, but right now Razail felt this was the safest place he could be away from home. No one would be put in danger if he messed up out here.
I just have to remember what Afina said.
Razail started to focus on the magical auras around him to see what he knew was there, what he felt was there. He never knew what he was using before to go from place to place while he was growing up on his own. There wasn’t another elf around for him to learn from, or to have asked questions of. He had been able to see where he was going, who was there, where the walls would be or any other obstacle that could have been in his path. Now the magic flowing through the ground and lingering in the air was all that could be used to see. And he looked at the vast network that laid out before him.
It’s just another kind of river. Dip my magic into the ley lines to connect.
He closed his eyes so he could concentrate better on what he was doing, on what he was seeing as part of his own magic flowed through the web of ley lines until he would find a place he could not have walked to any other way.
Look, assure of the path… Like shooting an arrow. Lock on and...There!
Within seconds he was standing on a snowy mountain peak. Silvermoon and the Sunwell no longer able to be seen but there was a place he recognized when he looked upon the landscape below.
Wow, the tournament? I really moved far this time. Oh, cold. Icecrown’s still cold.
Hidden lines barely glowed on Razail’s skin as the young druid changed into a form better suited for this weather. A soft poof was muffled out into silence by the snow which fell all around him. White flakes dusted the blue bear fur more and more as he sat in the snow for some time, amazed at what he had done. A few snowflakes that landed on his big, blue nose were admired before he had shaken off all he could to resume his practice.
Okay. So I can do that to get myself very far away from danger, or to travel where there aren’t any portals to the Dream. Should help me not be in the infirmary as much. I don’t want to die again.
Large paws and claws dug into the snow before Razail laid down. Once more the cool white snow blanketed him. His body had started to hunger after such a great distance was covered by magic that he was not used to using. It hurt differently from the hunger he had grown up being used to, as before he only felt it from a lack of food.
I don't want to see the disappointed looks from any Dawnmender again. The druids believed in me when I showed them how I learned to heal after I had died. They believed I'd use it for good… Even if it's usually something warlocks or necromancers use...
A few moments pass before arcane magics were leached out of the ley-line, as well as the life out of the plants nearby for that hunger to be sated.
I'll use everything I can do for good!
Razail stood back up with more determination than before.
I know there's more I can do. Windsong said I could eventually make portals like her. I can help people with portals. I can protect people by having a safe way for them to escape. What did Afina say about portals again?
His eyes closed as he concentrated to remember when Afina had instructed him and taught him more about the ley-lines and portals. It had been a few months, but it hadn’t taken long for him to remember.
It was something about how they’re connected by one ley-line. Through time and space. Hmm, I’ll start small.
Emerald eyes gazed out once more to his surroundings. It was a mountain peak that didn’t have much area, but also was without anyone that could become hurt if things went wrong. All four paws dug into the snow while Razail dipped his own magic down into the ley-lines again.
I. Can.
Arcane lifted as small motes out of the ground, and what had been close in the air coalesced and sparkled.
Do. This.
All was drawn to him, statically clung into his fluffed out blue fur.
Come on…
Four paws shifted in the snow and Razail braced himself as he pushed all the magics out in a straight line before him. A blue blast of arcane cracked outwards, sending him back a foot away even as his claws had scrapped through the snow and ground to stop himself.
What was that?!
The snow that had been kicked up was brushed away by big paws before those emerald eyes examined what he had done. A line of melted snow marked his attempt, and it went passed the edge of the mountain peak. He stood there and looked out into the snow speckled air, once more amazed at what he had done.
That wasn’t what I wanted but I could really hurt an enemy far from me like that.
Razail turned back to the spot he had arrived at and sat back down to think.
I should practice more before I use this around others. I don't want someone to get hurt on accident.
He hungered again, and this time it was the pain he was used to. A cold breath was drawn in before he sighed.
I’ll ask Windsong about making portals and try them again later. Time to go home before I get stuck out here without anyone knowing where I’m at.
Emerald eyes glanced down at the tournament grounds while Razail focused again, and in the time it had taken him to blink slow, the scenery had changed. He sat there, staring out at the streets of Silvermoon from the apartment balcony he called home only to be called inside for dinner.
It was unexpected. A package was delivered to Razail while he was at the war camp, even with a ceasefire. Though when he saw who sent it he dashed to hide in his tent before opening it. Sent to Razail was a pair of bracers that, based on the style and the -weight- of the enchantments laid within the ancient leather, predated Razail by several centuries if not a thousand years.
Razail-
It's cold here. i hate it. nadim is wrapped up in so many clothes he hisses at me. I hate the cold. Come to my bed to warm me up or the cold will steal my manhood from me. I love you. Come back soon.
Sym & Nadim
[Bracers of the Old Ways] - Mythic Armor
Reach: +5ft range to basic attacks/healing and abilities
Life Leech: Roll 1d5 after basic attacks and abilities to heal for the amount rolled
Spirit Leech: Roll 1d5 after basic attacks on and abilities on magical enemies with existing spell shields to add to your shield up to 30hp
( Thanks @tyleril-silversword for the help naming and getting this in-character to Razail!
Navigating the world without my eyes has been difficult, but I am thankful for the sight I do have as it has helped me greatly to adjust. Thankful too for my friends’ help and my family continuing to stay with me, both alive and in literal spirit.
The words, written as neatly as they could be, transcribed into a journal for the troll shaman Ra'zha by the little elf he helped save, Razail. They have been spending time together whenever possible after the shaman's capture and torture by the Alliance during the battle in Tirisfal Glades. Learning, growing, and sharing are all easier now that Razail has his voice while Zha lost his eyes- makes it rather hard to communicate with sign language!
They playfully fight over the last small rib of meat on the plate they were sharing within the Dawnmender’s setup infirmary in little Tortolla, with the troll the victor. Razail decides to speak in Thalassian while the other eats to help him with learning the language and all.
“So I heard the Falcon company is going out to deal with things in Uldir. I should be going with-”
“No.” Zha interrupts Razail in Zandali, doing the same for the other to brush up on his language. “You're off duty. If anything I'll go in your place. Get myself back on the field.”
“But-”
“No buts! As a mender, and your big brother, I say no.” Ra’zha sets the striped bone back on the plate and the cleans his hands with a little water from the surrounding air before pointing to the journal- or at least where he believes it to be. “You take this back to the Dawnspire and put it in my desk. When I get back I'll tell you all about it so you can write it in the journal for me, okay little brother?”
Razail sighs and nods even as he knows the other does not see. “Alright.” He picks the journal up and the young druid gives the shaman a hug as he changes to speak in the other's native tongue. “Please be careful.”
The troll chuckles, smiles, and hugs back. “I will do what I can, promise. Now go home before your Pop realizes you're here and not there in Silvermoon.” A playful rustle of the other's hair and a push away cause them both to laugh before Razail runs off to do what he is told.
~~~
‘Breathe. You’re safe now.’
He can hear her. He can see her. The form of his mother breaks through the pure darkness along with the softness of her voice. Ra’zha does as she says by breathing in and out for a long while until eventually he calms down. The sounds are different now and he takes them in. No longer within an underground facility built by the Titans, the troll realizes he’s at his desk within the Dawnspire’s infirmary.
When, and how?
The last thing he recalls is fire at his feet from a Titanic Maiden. Panic setting in and then… he remembers nothing more of the Maiden, nor of the facility. The carvings on his tusks, and bones on his helm, all glow brightly with the full presence of his family around him.
‘We did the best we could.’
‘I like ta think I handled those bugs real well.’
‘...’
‘C’mon now, Jul! Dun be like that!’
‘Zenki. They were bugs. I had to handle the rest AND get Zha back to safety.’
‘Enough now you two!’
His mother, like always, handles the situation with Ra’Zha’s twin and older brother both disappearing back into the bones upon his hood. He sits there in confusion on the short conversation and his mother notices. She sits upon the ground beside his chair, gently resting one hand upon his as she speaks.
‘… How you feelin, Zha?’
“Fine ‘nough. I think. What happened?”
‘I saw you panic and took over your body. I am sorry I did not ask, but it was for the best.’
The shaman nods slowly, once, twice, three times then takes in a breath to release slow. It all aches. Leaning back in his chair and examining his own body as best as he blindly can, the shaman’s brows crease behind his long hood.
He can feel minor burns upon his feet, easy enough to heal himself with some rest, but other parts of his body.. Feel wrong. Something in his lungs is causing irritation with every breath, and the worst is his blood. It’s bad enough he can no longer regenerate his own body parts due to a Loa’s curse but something will need to be done with his blood- a transfusion the best possible answer.
Though with a familiar knock on the nearby door, Ra’zha pauses examining himself further as his mother runs over to hug Razail. The spirit of his druidic mother slowly disappears into her bone upon his hood as well after giving the shaman a hug of his own. Each of Razail’s soft steps cause a slight panic; what will he say to have written in the journal? The panic ceases as Razail hugs him.
“Glad you’re back, big brudda. Let me know when you’re ready to for me to write, okay? I know you’ve got to rest up.”
That’s all he needs to hear and with a big grin Ra’zha hugs his little elven brother back as hard as he can to cause them both to laugh.
“Though you should probably take a bath.. Me too. Whatever you have on you is kind of nasty.” Razail points out as they separate. Blood, goo, guts, and other lingering materials that even Zha isn’t fully aware of due to the lack of eyes to see it all. Though now he feels it more.
“Ya right. Go home. I call ya when I be ready.” The troll slowly stands up, grinning as he hears Razail run off with a quick, “Okay!” A bath doesn’t sound too bad, it will give him more time to think on what to do, and whom to ask for help.
tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city.unmade beds. loose ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock.hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.
𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.
freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks.drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your socks on.
𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄.
dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colorless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.
𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋.
chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading about mythology.
𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂.
compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors.attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.
Bottom line: you’re TOO NICE, and this will inevitably spell out your doom. You might meet your end by sacrificing yourself to save another, or—even more likely—you’ll happen across some individuals of questionable character who will take advantage of your niceness and lead you to ruin. Either way, it’s not looking good. You need to be meaner. Maybe scream at a small child or leave a bad tip at a restaurant or something, I don’t know. I’m trying to save you, okay?
[Warning: not a lighthearted story. Some arguing.]
Just like any other day, Alexander comes home to the apartment he shares with his twin, their lover, and lover's sons. Purchasing groceries after an every other day run around Silvermoon is a normal thing for him to do. His mind doesn't wander often so long as there are the people he loves to remind him who he is, and where he's at.
Twin girls babble and yawn sweetly in the room at the end of the hallway. Their giggles interlace with the wonderful singing of his twin. Their father.
Purring emanates from behind another door in the hallway. It's open enough for the three felines to come and go as they please into his cousin’s room, Razail, that he shares with Samiel.
After the groceries are put away, Alexander starts to make dinner for the three adults. No Tyleril tonight, or Samiel, as both are off doing things and spending tonight away from the apartment.
The smell of fish and vegetables starts to fill the air and soon begins to draw the attention of the trio of cats. The young man follows them as usual, though just like every day, Razail waits behind the couch with his emerald eyes peeking over to watch.
“Hungry, Razail?”
A nod with a smile is all the answer Alexander receives and it's enough. He gathers the plates, silverware, and then serves up three helpings he places on the table. A fourth plate of just fish is made for the cats and set near their tower so they wouldn't eat off the table.
The giggles are gone, and Rai'thas is no longer singing. The twin girls are now asleep in the cribs Alexander made for them. Finally time to call his twin for dinner softly from the doorway of the girls’ room.
“Rai, dinner's done.”
“I'm not hungry.”
The paladin sits on the spare bed within the girls’ room just staring at a key on a string hanging around his neck that Alexander does not recognize where it goes to.
“Did you eat?”
“Told you I'm not hungry, Alex.”
“Alright. You should go out for a walk and get some fresh air then. I can watch the girls.”
“Not interested.”
His twin lays on the bed and turns to face away from the doorway. The dangling key starting to irritate him as Alexander knows it goes to something important enough for his twin to keep close. Soft footsteps to avoid waking the babies and he puts a hand upon his twin’s arm.
“When did you last go outside, Rai?”
No answer but a shrug to try and remove his hand. The lack of answers irritating him further pushes Alexander to pick up his twin and remove him from the girls’ room. He takes a few punches to the chest, enough that in his living body it causes him to pause and lose a breath or two.
“Let me go, Alex!”
Alexander does just that, dropping his twin onto the couch and standing over him. Razail slinks to hide behind the couch completely now as the twins start to talk louder and argue.
“There, I let you go. Now answer me: when did you last go out?”
“I don’t remember.”
The paladin holds onto the key with one hand as he stands. Alexander moves to block his twin from going down the hallway.
“Then do me a favor and take a short walk outside.”
“I said I'm not interested!”
His twin attempts to push past him, but Alexander does not let him. He holds onto Rai'thas's arms, and they start to wrestle. It has been something they've done since their younger days.
Twisting, grabbing, pulling and pushing. The two men do not speak until one is thrown hard enough onto the couch to cause it to topple backwards and onto Razail as he tries to scurry away. They both softly curse the same word as their attention shifts to tend to their much younger cousin.
Rai'thas gets off quickly to grab Razail as Alexander puts the couch upright. Both stay silent as they look him over, full of worry watching tears fall across Razail's scars. They find a few bruises, and both try to heal him. Light and blood mending fighting against one another, just like the twins themselves a moment ago, and one wrong move leads to Rai'thas burning Alexander's hand on accident.
His twin tries to help, but Alexander pulls away. The burn jump starting his memory and his red eyes drift to that key still dangling from Rai'thas's neck. He remembers now.
It doesn't take Rai'thas long to tend to Razail, the bruises disappearing from the younger elf and reappearing upon himself in a much more minor form. The paladin slowly hugs his cousin and whispers, “I'm sorry, Razail.”
“I am as well.” Alexander puts his hands upon each of their shoulders, looking first to his cousin then to his twin. “I'll make both of you whatever you'd like for breakfast to apologise.”
His twin releases their cousin and gently removed his hand before standing up. “Just leave me be, Alex. Please.” A few steps down the hall and he pauses. “If you do I'll go for a walk in the morning.”
“Alright.” Alexander replies, and as his twin continues down the hall he quietly adds, “You should use that key. Leave a letter there if anything.” Rai'thas only shakes his head before disappearing back into the girls’ bedroom for the night.
He sighs and gives Razail a hug as well, the young man giving him a quick squeeze before pulling back to sign. ‘I’m hungry.’ Alexander finally smiles and nods, helping him up and to the table.
After they finish eating and cleaning up, already goes into the bedroom his twin and Tyleril share. Opening up the closet, Alexander stares at the large box within. One hand absentmindedly traces each absent scar on his new body that he recalled from the one within the box, his original body.
When he gets to his arm and shoulder where the rot set in, Alexander quickly shuts the closet. Frost forms around his eyes as he goes to bed.
Moments pass, unable to sleep, and the door opens quietly. Razail stands in the doorway, the three cats at his feet as he tentatively waits for Alexander to notice him before he signs. ‘Can you make the stars shine, please?’
He couldn't help but to smile and nod. “Of course.” A learned gesture and the apartment's ceilings alight with a starry night sky- one of many gifts from Tyleril.
His cousin smiles wide while looking at the magical stars and signs some more, rather timidly. ‘Can I sleep with you tonight?’ A rare request that Alexander accepts with a pat to the bed. “Sure. Maybe we both can get to sleep better.”
All three cats leap onto the bed as Razail slowly crawls across to curl up next to Alexander. His cousin picks Tyleril's pillow to sleep on, and he figures he wants comfort from the man that's become a father figure to his cousin. Alexander puts a hand on Razail's shoulder once he settles, and all the cats curl up between the both of them.
It doesn't take long, watching the magical stars dance across the ceiling, hearing and feeling the small purring bodies of the cats, just having someone there, and both fall asleep. Just like any other day.
