So I guess the big question is: How is Tanillivan's story going? Well fear not, lovely friends! Throughout this month I have been working on his story as a part of Camp Nano. I'm detailing his journey all the way through Outland, and will include some of my personal headcanons as to what's been going on there since the end of BC. In addition, the story will be flipping back to previous moments in his life. Basically I want to go back through the moments that lead up to his decision to leave, his journey, and the result of this journey. I'm very excited to write this, and with a bit of editing, I shall start posting it for you all to read!
Tanillivan Lightspell paced back and forth at the inn of Thunderbluff, rubbing his face with his hands, and wishing he could throttle himself. Why did he have to ruin a perfectly good night by doing that? He and Lazraneth were finally talking, discussing ages, birthdays, work. It was normal, enjoyable, and then he at the very end, Tan screwed it all up. He stopped, pulling the ponytail holder out of his hair, and let out a groan of frustration. That was what Laz wanted, wasn't it? Tan spoke honestly with him about the Light's return, though he avoided mentioning Bel by name. The time still wasn't right to speak of her return, but what more could he do?
For starters, he could not run off after giving Laz an awkward kiss goodbye.
He dug into his bag, bringing out the half-finished flask of alcohol and taking a large swig. It brought a flood of relief, an empty promise to forget his pains, and he collapsed on to the hammock. Tomorrow he would figure something out, but tonight he didn't want to bother at all. Sleep overtook him, whisking him away to the land of dreams...
Don't look back. Never look back. Run, run RUN! If you stop now, if you turn to look at it, then it will get you. Every breath burns your lungs, but you can't stop. Every step sinks into the ground, every twig, branch, and rock tries to halt you, to freeze you just long enough in place. You fight, you run, it's always just behind you, waiting for that one moment you give in and turn around...
Then you must look into the shadows.
There was more to the dream, so much more, but by the time Tanillivan awoke, it faded from memory. He placed his hair in its proper ponytail once more, ready to begin again. His things gathered and his plan set, he capped the flask and placed it in his bag, withdrawing in its stead an important letter. One that he had read over and over again, written on old pages. It was this letter that broke the final straw, that made him realize what needed to be done.
No more hiding. It was time everyone knew the truth. They deserved at least that much. The next time he got to see either of them, he was going to tell the entire story.
(Tanillivan's story! PART ONE OF THREE WHICH I WILL ACTUALLY FINISH THIS TIME.)
Word Count: 1,362
Content Warnings: None
Summary: Tanillivan returns to Silvermoon after his stay in Northrend, trying to re-adjust to his daily routine.
It was good to be back in Silvermoon. Tanillivan wandered the golden streets with no true destination in mind, simply breathing in the familiar air. Too long had he been stuck in Northrend, where biting cold and bitter memories dwelled. But now he was home, where he could put all that behind him, and enjoy a quiet day off.
He sat on the bench next to the fountain, reaching into his bag and withdrawing one of his old favorite books. Before he could immerse himself in the tales of adventure and romance, though, he caught sight of a Blood Knight passing by, tall and proud on his steed. A pang of guilt washed over him as he watched the knight move, he turned away, closing his book. Eight months had passed since he lost touch with the Light; the knight represented a piece of what he once was. There were days when its absence pained him, nights when the death knight's attack replayed in his mind over and over again. He had sent a letter asking to be involved with Iudith's praying, but had not chosen to follow up on it. For as much as he wanted to go back, it was easier to ignore the holes in his heart, to cover them up than to fix them. He did not know if he would ever have the strength needed to change, and so did what he had always done. He ran from it.
The mood to read was gone, he placed his book back into his bag and stood up, continuing along his path to no where. Up ahead he spotted the Wayfarer's Rest, one of the most popular spots for the citizens of Silvermoon to gather and relax. He thought of his chair, the spot where he conducted so many interviews, which brought a smile to his face. Surely he would be able to unwind there. Yet he paused at the side of the entrance as out walked a small group of soldiers, with Tarenor Swiftdawn guiding them. In an instant he turned away, his ears folding down in shame. Once he was a lieutenant of the Phoenix Highguard, standing proud besides many brave blood elves in battle. All of that was taken away by a calm piece of paper stating his demotion due to absence. Unable to cope with the thought of losing all that he worked for, he did what he had always done. He ran from it.
No point of going inside, Tanillivan was in no mood to deal with members of his former battalion. He took the turn and walked back up the street, onwards to Murder Row. His walk had much less energy than when he first arrived, and he looked down at the ground, frowning. The innkeeper greeted him cheerfully when he arrived at the Silvermoon City Inn, asking him what he wanted today. Tan did not answer, sitting into the chair as he went through his bags. His things had shifted about in his travels, and he needed to take inventory before presenting himself to the magisters for more transcription work. Parchment here, ink there, his favorite blue feathered quill and...He stopped to stare at the small, beaten up, leather bound book before him. Tan gently places his hand on its cover, setting the diary of Belaei D'antumbral on a table to the side.
“I miss you,” he said softly, looking at the small book that held within it so many memories. It was a bittersweet reminder of what he once had, of happier days gone by when he and Belaei sat together at the top of a small waterfall in Eversong, holding each other close and speaking of their days. Sometimes he woke up in the morning expecting her to be there, giving that small, quiet smile she always had, and was forced to remind himself of the reality he lived in. The final letter he received from her, the one that came with the diary, stated quite plainly that there was a high chance she would not return at all. Six months passed without word since she left, yet he still found himself looking over his shoulder on the impossible chance that maybe she would be there. She was gone, more than likely dead, and Tan needed to accept that. He forced himself to read the diary, as reluctant to pry as he was, it gave him a sense of finality to it all. She was gone, and without a way to truly know if she had simply abandoned him or died, he did what he had always done. He ran from it.
He reached into his bag again, withdrawing a small glowing stone and looking it over. Not worth too much coin, but it wasn't the only thing he was going to present to the Siabi Cooperative. A scroll here, and a well polished book there... He hoped this would be enough. They took him in when he was desperate, and challenged him by sending him to Northrend. With the help of Lazraneth he faced down his worst fears, not conquering them, but in that moment realized that they can be conquered. Despite this, the team leader Tuula was not impressed, and tried to send him on a suicide mission to Dalaran. Even after telling his story to her, once again he was brushed off, the troll casually stating that she was trying to be rid of him for good. What he did instead was plan the mission anway. He called in the help of Maldreth Firesworn to get him into the Kirin Tor city, now strictly controlled by the Alliance after “Lady” Proudmoore removed the Sunreavers. What he did to ensure the successful procuring of a few choice objects he was not proud of, and so he did not dwell on it for long.
The rest of his day was spent going over his notes, sketches, and goods, taking inventory before he was to approach Tuula. He got his guild stone out of his pockets, putting in a request to speak with Tuula, and chose to retire for the night. Packing away his things, he said good night to the inn keeper, and exited to the darkened city streets. An arcane golem passed him by, simply stating its objective to keep the city safe. He moved quickly, his house wasn't very far; it was a small simple building on the edge of the street, where a bottle and a bed sat waiting to hide him from his troubles for another night. No sign of Laz tonight, he thought as he removed his clothes and yawned, climbing into bed. Oh well, for as much as he enjoyed spending time with the energetic thief, tonight there was no energy to spare. He drifted off quickly, hoping that perhaps tonight he would get a peaceful rest.
Hours later, he shot up on his bed, sweat dripping down his shaking body. Where was he? It took a moment before the reality sunk in, his eyes adjusting to the darkness around him. Shaking his head, he grumbled to himself, his heart still pounding loudly in his chest. He clutched his chest, almost as it would stop the rapid beating; he felt like it was going to explode. Breath, breath, breath! He closed his eyes and concentrated, causing the shadows to move around him. A wave of ice cold washed over him, and within a minute, his heart finally slowed. This reaction was automatic, and he looked down at his hands, watching the color return as the shadows faded with a frown. Memories haunted his sleep, mixed with vivid dreams of death and decay. But they were simply that, memories and dreams that continued to cause this, for him to wake up screaming and shaking like a child. Tanillivan hated it, despised how powerless he was in his own mind. Why couldn't he beat this? If only he was a stronger person, if only he had done things differently...
Yet in the end, he did what he had always done, grabbing the bottle of booze from the shelf besides him. He ran from it.
There's been an interesting evolution when it comes to Tanillivan and his backstory. When I first created him, the phobia was the main thing I had. Yes, about a year ago I was one of "those" roleplayers who'd drop the dramatic backstory at the drop of a hat.
The reactions where at first interesting and heartwarming. Iudith taking natural concern for the state of his cousin. Lilliam casting a spell to help him sleep at night. The genuine concern was touching, but then other reactions came in. Characters telling him to "just get over it". Or laughing at him when he freaks out if an undead gets too close. And even the genuinely concerned people were harmful in their own way because they undermined Tan's agency.
So now, because Tan has told his story so many times and because he's so sick of how people act with him, he's gone the complete opposite direction where he doesn't want to tell anyone the details of his personal life. Characters have to basically force it out of him, and even then he holds back some details. He's gone through this too many times and has become quite jaded with how others deal with it.
I feel like I'm constantly doing a balancing act when I play Tan, one between realism and what makes an interesting story. Tanillivan has post traumatic stress, which is a real condition that you don't "get over". There's no dramatic turning point where everything falls into place and all of the fear goes away. In fact, there are times when you make great leaps forward, like Tan did tonight, and times when you stumble back to the beginning. At the same time, however, I need to show that he's improving in some way or another else other characters lose interest in him.
I have more to ramble about, but I'm dozing off in my chair, so good night for real.
What is Markelthas's greatest fear, and hows Tanillivan's love life so far?
I just got this today and OH SNAP this is going to be interesting.
Markas doesn't really have a lot of fears, really. He's comfortable with who he is and where he's been. However, if there's one thing that he's afraid of, it's losing what he has. At one point his family was large, but almost all of it was wiped out by the Scourge. The one surviving brother traveled with him to Outland, but that did not end well. He has his friends from the Crimson Wings and he has Lilliam, both of which he cherishes dearly. The thought of losing the few remaining people he has bothers him immensely.
Meanwhile Tan's love life is... complicated. Since Belaei left his heart still yearns for her. He has accepted the idea that she is most likely gone, but he carries her diary with him everywhere. Meanwhile, he has a "friends with benefits" set up with Lazraneth. He cares for Laz, though his feelings are mostly platonic. At this point he basically uses Laz's feelings to help himself feel just a little less lonely, though that's not what he's telling himself.
Thank you for sending this, anon! Hope that answers your question!
CONTENT: World of Warcraft
SUMMARY: Lazraneth has to deal with two terrible realizations, and the ultimate decision will break hearts, but at least it will be on his terms
WORDS: 1,272
NOTES: Tan dun FUK'D UP NOW, SON. TAN DUN FUK'D UP NOW.
RATING: T for mature situations
“Our little arrangement started as simply one night not to feel so alone. Yet I feel as if it is becoming something more. There’s this spark I see in your eyes, like the night I saw you dance, that I cannot quite describe.”
“What I’m trying to say is…things are changing. And perhaps it is time to acknowledge that there is something more to this, to us. While I’m out, I need to think about a few things, and then perhaps we can discuss it further.”
“This…isn’t…happening!”
It was a day that started well and went sour for the young assassin Lazraneth, one that dared to ruin his favorite holiday of the year, Brewfest. He had taken time away from the perilous Timeless Isles to enjoy more domestic pleasures; the sweet taste of ale, delectable meats and breads, sweets and snacks, and for the first time in a very long time, Lazraneth was openly flirting in hopes to find romance, not a fling nor a night’s worth of thrills. He had done so much to feel better about himself, to be better to himself, from falling into better habits to ceasing the drugs and overdoses, the overly inebriated nights where he would pass out in his own bile, the prostitution with dangerous clientele. He took that promise he made to Tanialle Feli’nara seriously and became a better man, and it was entirely for himself now, and Lazraneth was feeling good. Part of his woes was because of Tanillivan Lightspell, a man he thought he loved. When he thought of the former Lieutenant, his emotions could not describe how the other man made him feel.
From a life where he was treated like a toy, an object, a pleasure hole, he met a man who cared for him, for his emotions, his health, his well being, he met a man who enjoyed his company and tolerated his quirks and accepted his flaws, a good man who was loving and kind, who trusted him and he trusted the other in return. Was that not love was? Yet the very same man had his heart set on another, a woman who left without a word in one of his dark hours. The man would allow him to hold the other in nights were the nightmares were too much, and when they indulged in physical relations, he had always been gentle, always been concerned, and Lazraneth would laugh because the concern was very unnecessary, yet it was one of the things which set a seal upon his heart, that there was a man who was out there, who was not wicked, who put others before himself, a man with tender hands and compassionate touches. Lazraneth pined for this man, pined for the safety and security he felt with him, pined so selfishly that he felt their agreement was nothing more than a con, for this man would never love Lazraneth and see him the way he saw the other. But to have this letter in his left hand at that very moment…
And in his right hand a dagger, one tied with black hair and a name which summoned spite within him etched onto the hilt. Lazraneth was clutching the dagger, and though his hand gloved he could feel his knuckles go white. His anger turned into hurt, and then more anger, gritting his teeth and staring blindly forward in Tanillivan’s humble room. Lazraneth was no fool, he knew just what the dagger signified, that wherever Belaei was and whatever she was doing, she was alive, and she wanted Tanillivan to know. If he knew, he would pine for her again, and this arrangement would be over.
The raven haired elf should have read the letter second and paid attention to the dagger first, perhaps then he would be thinking with a right mind. But the letter was addressed to him, it caught his attention, and thus he opened the contents eagerly. When his eyes gazed over Tanillivan’s written words, Lazraneth scoffed, for the fact that for many months he had tried to pursue Tanillivan, only to be repeatedly let down. He practically begged for his attention, begged to be touched, felt that he had gotten the other man to comply solely out of guilt, which made him feel worse. Seasons later and the young assassin was finally reaching a personal high, so much so as to show himself in the public and flirt for reasons beyond the calling of his loins. He had been dating again, and it felt phenomenal, he felt desired and liberated, he was readying himself to move on from Lightspell, to allow their relationship to be platonic. Lazraneth should have known that something was amiss; lately it had been Tanillivan initiating their encounters, growing bolder, stealing kisses and showering compliments. Lazraneth did not pay it much mind until this moment, and it all came together. He could sense Tanillivan’s shift in energy when he witnessed Lazraneth flirting with another, it made Lazraneth feel guilty, so that night he returned to Tanillivan, like a loyal dog, gave him the pleasure he desired as well as the comfort before he shipped off the next morning. It was a night that made Lazraneth smile in his sleep, yet now he was regretting it, regretting the whole thing. I do all this work to move on...and then this?
Lazraneth knew Tanillivan would only cry for the woman he once had upon finding out that she was alive. It was ideally best to use this to free himself of the priest, but a thought occurred; would Tanillivan change his tune if he knew? After all it had been Lazraneth who had been there, picked him up when he was down, and licked his wounds and so much more, it had been his body which warmed Tanillivan’s bed, and now it was him who his heart was beginning to desire. It felt good to feel desired, and by a man whom he once desired as well, but it also felt good to have the freedom of desiring others who could desire him back. To be with others who saw Lazraneth and only him, to want him to themselves, and weigh that against Tanillivan’s fickle heart, it took no time thinking of exactly what he was going to do.
He doesn’t need to know…not yet. He’ll pay…for leading me on he’ll pay. Let him have a taste of the medicine he dishes out; see if it’s just as sweet. I’ll play with you, preacher-boy…for now.
Lazraneth lowered his hands, resting them on the bed, dropping the crumbled letter with one hand and the dagger with the other. He devised a plan to hide this evidence, and as an assassin in a syndicate which was good at finding the hidden and hiding what was not to be found, it would take no effort at all. He would await Tanillivan to return home, and he would treat him like a king. He would lather him with empowerment and praise; make him feel like a real man with addicting poetry in his ears. He would give Tanillivan his body and make the other man desire him even more, lend an ear to hear the sweet songs of his moaning and crying with every pulse and sway. He would make the nightmares go away, and give him nothing but dreams. Lazraneth would be his drug, and he would have Tanillivan addicted. But the rogue combatant knew, better than anyone…
SUMMARY: Tanillivan sets out for Uldum on his first big assignment for Siabi Coop.
‘Lazraneth,
I apologize for not telling this to your face. I know that, given our situation, it is not a necessary action, but as you are my closest friend I still feel guilty for keeping you in the dark. It has been a whirlwind of change for me, and when I return home I plan on giving you the time to fully discuss it all. As it stand, I feel too much of it is personal for one letter. I am writing you now to inform you that I will not be in Quel’thalas for about a week, maybe more. I have a new assignment, one that I cannot give the exact details for yet. It is neither difficult nor that dangerous, and for that I am quite grateful. While I am working with trolls, I find that these ones are far more civilized than normal, which is another blessing in my favor. Overall, I have to say that I am rather excited for this new opportunity.
There are many things I did not expect to happen to me, and even more events coming that I have no way of predicting. I just… I want to take the time now to say thank you. It seems so unlikely that we would become friends, but there are only a few others I can think of who have been as supportive as you. Whatever task you are up to, I hope that you continue to keep yourself safe. I look forward to hanging out with you once I return home.
Sincerely,
Tanillivan Lightspell’
Tanillivan set his blue feather quill down, smiling at the parchment on his desk. He leaned back, stretched and rubbed his eyes, relaxing as a satisfying crack ran down his spine. Besides him, a small gem flickered, its power running low. He took his time folding the letter, mentally cursing how late it was. It was a long journey from Silvermoon to Uldum, yet here he was, up again at the break of dawn. So many hours spent staring blankly, unsure of just what to tell Laz, or if he should say anything at all. Yawning, he was at least content that he accomplished his goal, deciding that there was no point in sleeping now if he wanted to arrive on time.
His bags were pack, well supplied with food, water, and clothes. He tied his things to the back of his white hawkstrider, and for a moment he paused. The mere idea of leaving Silvermoon was not one he considered until joining the Highguard, and one he did not look forward to until he went on a very special trip with Bel. Now he had neither, and he was leaving the golden city for his own reasons. In a way he felt lighter, climbing onto the back of his mount with ease, yet at the same time it was a bittersweet reminder of just how quickly things changed. Down the street he rode, reminiscing on simpler times, dismounting before the building where the translocation orb waited. Perhaps he would return home an entirely different city, perhaps he would return a completely different man. Either way, he gathered his things, slipped the letter carefully into a mailbox, and walked inside, beginning his new adventure.
Little did Tanillivan know that a few days later, an important piece of the past arrived in Silvermoon. The spy delicately placed a dagger carved out of jade with a single piece of raven black hair tied to its pummel on top of Tan's letter before running off into one of many hidden alleyways. Their target wasn't scheduled to arrive until next week, but until then... well, there was much fun to be had in this city to pass the time.
It's strange. When I first started playing Tan, I didn't have anything really planned out or thought for him. I had a concept, and the rest of the character has been slowly evolving from it. There are so many stories I want to write, but until I get this fully fleshed out, here are the points I've figured out so far. Any thoughts or suggestions would be welcomed.
Grew up in a pretty middle class income bracket. His mother's herb shop wasn't particularly well known, but it was enough to get by.
Training to be a scribe and a priest in between assisting his mother with the shop.
Did not participate in the First or Second War, and didn't really leave Silvermoon growing up.
AND THEN THE THIRD WAR HAPPENED.
The biggest point here is that he was suddenly thrust into battle with no previous experience or real military training. Basically it was like taking a nurses from a hospital and suddenly throwing them into an ambush.
When fight or flight kicked in, flight one. He ran away from that battle, fleeing for his life. This decision is the biggest regrets he has. He didn't stop to try and help innocent people escape. He didn't heal a single person. Overwhelmed by it all, he got the fuck out as fast as he could.
From Third War through Vanilla, Tan was trying to help retake Quel'thalas as best he could. Despite being shaken up, he joined up with a small group of elves that worked to try and rally other survivors.
What he did in BC and Wrath are honestly my biggest sticking points. I know that when M'uru was brought in, he definitely choose to use it to bring back his Light. Other than that, though, I'm still very unsure of what to put in for these years.
That's all I got so far. I'll probably add more when I think of more.
