#breerdon rathwald

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[rathwald]

Daily Doodle

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Daily art: Sir Breerdon Rathwald

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Oldminster

There was always a war to be had. Once a man picks up a blade, he may find it never leaving his grip again. For well beyond the last decade, Breerdon’s loyal service to the Alliance and, more specifically, Stormwind Kingdom had increasingly been acknowledged by his peers. As of late... even he could deny it no longer.

Stormwind was his home now.

There was no going back to Lordaeron, at least within his lifetime. Even if the land were ever to be unblightened, however long that would take, it was hopeless to pretend it would do anything more than return to the hands of the Forsaken-- whom with he had an abysmal relationship. Torture him tended to be something Breerdon found quite unforgiving.

With all the willpower in the word and the addition of his niece’s blessings, Breerdon found the strength to put the past behind him. Family may have been lost, but more family was also found, and he was damn sure nothing would happen to Nevres.  Breerdon’s life was not the life Nevres should grow to aspire to inherit. Every day he returned from his duties, her wide eyes sparkled and begged for his stories regardless of how inglorious or brutal they were. Though her personal time with the Argents was short, Nevres spoke of returning to them nearly every day... She was young, she was ambitious, but she needed stability. When he returned from that blood war, Nevres almost had that peace...

Then scourge. Again.

After their reemergence to this world, Breerdon picked up his blade. Again...  This time however, it was as a knight of Stormwind, now entrusted to protect a southern portion of the kingdom: Oldminster-- the potential new home of the Rathwald legacy.

(All of this to say that Rathwalds finally got some Stormwind land \o/)

[rathwald]

Scribbled Breerdon. My dear Paladad. Not only have I remade him on Wyrmrest Accord, but I also am excited he might get a game option for the mustache he deserves.

[rathwald]

Just tired...

(Old Writing from early BfA I decided to go about polishing for now. Old dad brothers just talking a bit about what they think is the better move for the fam)

A few days before the Alliance would send their men into Lordaeron. There was no doubt that the old warrior from Lordaeron would throw his lot into the ranks not only from his pride as a former knight of that kingdom, but also as a warrior for the Alliance. Preparation was underway; Breerdon’s armor and and sword were clean and touched-up, polished to a admirable shine. He also said his farewells to Nevres, but also added a reassuring ‘I’ll return soon’ for his favorite niece. Alone in his room in Stormwind, though, he felt there were a few things to address. While he was physically prepared, perhaps hesitation was due to a problem of the soul or mind... Across his room was the precious item salvaged from the past Breerdon would never forget, kept covered in a clean cloth and balanced underneath the old family portrait. The warrior knelt next to it and carefully removed the fabric to reveal what looked like an old but decorative slab of metal. His hand gently moved back and forth and brushed some of the dust off, the old house symbol on the shield began to shine again, even if just a tiny bit.  

Breerdon gently placed the shield against the wall again. Quietness in the room, the warrior made no sound, either saying a prayer in his mind or taking another moment of silence for the mournful past of his family that no longer existed. The shield’s symbol was supposed to inspire hope through action-- a small white flower paired with the ferocity and heroism of a sword. The Rathwalds had always believed that rebirth followed tragedy and it was duty to protect that cycle of recovery and peace, yet where was the rebirth that awaited them when they needed it themselves?  The question was plaguing him and he took a seat in the closest chair, his hands folded as he leaned forward to rest his chin upon them. Thoughts were racing through his mind-- his duty of being the one to hold the family’s mantle and what that was supposed to mean. To pass up the opportunity of taking back Lordaeron was losing a chance for their recovery...

The smooth light from the candle that illuminated the dark room flickered with a small breeze from the entry door opening. Hasty footsteps accompanied by the tapping of a staff approached the warrior.   “I don’t forsee any good coming from this wishful endeavor.”

A somber moment of remembrance for the fallen house was interrupted by one of the very men that the family condemned. Jeofford frequently vanished for weeks at a time and just came and went as he pleased-- often as mages do. It annoyed Breerdon, as always. “Don’t speak like you know what is ‘good’ for anyone, Jeofford. You have no stake in any of this.”

“Not particularly, no.” The Archmage’s staff again began to tap alongside his worn, floppy wizard shoes as he took his place next to the warrior’s side. “I was too different for father’s taste--” He began to muse, “You were the golden child, after all. No matter how hard I tried, I was never going to have a place in the house. I was not missed… and father made that perfectly clear. Although I have no more stake, that was not entirely of my own choice.” The silence from his brother forced the mage to continue prattling off on his own. “It’s a little dark in here, don’t you think?” Jeofford lifted his hand and motioned it in a gentle circle, orchestrating a small flame to form and dance around the room to light the rest of the lamps. “There we go.” He closed his hand into a fist and extinguished the magical flame.

“What do you think mom and dad would’ve wanted, if they knew this situation?” Breerdon turned his eyes at a painted portrait of the pair on the wall. The stern gaze of their father was accompanied with a smile because their loving mother was at his side. “They disagreed on many things, but one of the things they found common ground was initiative. What is life but made by the things that you do, not of the things you chose not to? The Rathwalds had prided ourselves on our call to action. We never turned away the chance to do good for our people. It would be pitiful for me to deny this service to the Alliance, as well.” “Very predictable,” Jeofford muttered under his breath. “Not always the wisest of choices.” “It would disgrace everything,” Breerdon voice deepened with disgust. “I would not be able to face myself-- or Nevres-- ever again.”

“You’ll also never face her again if you get yourself killed.” The mage’s tone was laced with resentment and matter-of-fact disgust. “The family is gone. Our house is gone. Leave it be. Focus on your life and your well-being. If not, focus on what is good for Nevres. The future of what we have left, perhaps? The family, what remains, can still use you--”

“My family.. my wife, my son, my daughter... everything was taken from me. Your family willingly left you. Why should I take advice from you about ‘family’?”

The Archmage’s jaw stiffened as the words stung deep. His hands clenched his staff, but his head dropped to stare at the floor. “Maybe it seems too impossible for this old mage...” he muttered bitterly. “I do care about my family, each and every one, and you’re a rockhead, but you’re also my brother. I don’t want to see you throw your life away. There’s so much more to live for. Safeguard the future instead of salvaging the past.” Jeofford furrowed his eyebrow and his eyes shot over to the shield. “That is what I think our parents would have wanted.”

Nothing came from his brother but a deep, acting as cold as the steel of the warrior’s sword. Seconds passed before Breerdon spoke up. “This is for our future. We’ve seen what those monsters on the Horde can do, and to leave them to continue building up strength to use against us from the home that once was ours? No peace can come from that. I’m tired of all this war, and death. I’m old. If not in my lifetime, I pray for peace for Nevres’s future. For that, I would willingly give my life.”

“I see.” Jeofford’s hand rested on Breerdon’s shoulder for a short second before giving him a light pat. “Then I just wish you luck on your endeavor.” A look of sadness spread across his face, but he kept his pepper-bearded chin in the air. “I’ll see to your affairs while you’re gone, then. You can trust me with that, at least.”

At least to that Breerdon gave his brother a small nod of agreement. A nod returned to him, and soon the mage departed, the sound of the door closing confirmed his departure. Breerdon’s head then dropped and he buried his face in his hands. Under his breath, he muttered again, “I’m just tired...”

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The war just does not stop for these aging heroes... (the dads and grandma are going at it again) (https://calltoarms.worldofwarcraft.com/en-us/)

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Needs to carry more swords

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Starting a WoW art challenge off with human faces-- specifically faces of my ocs right now.  Martrey Chantsinger- the mute priest, Breerdon Rathwald- ex-paladin who cares too much about everything, Arhyn Rathwald- warlock who thinks fel magic is hot, Bartolomus Rathwald- a scholar turned deathknight who lost his eye privileges, Nevres Rathwald- small paladin who thinks too good of everything, Loyician Rathwald- a mage so reckless he wouldn’t care of he blew himself up so long as it was worth it.

[rathwald]

Made myself a quick ref sheet of flat colors and basic designs because inconsistency is my best friend

Breerdon is an ex-paladin. After an incident he doesn’t talk about, he became unable to wield the Light. He finds himself too much of a disgrace to directly work with any holy order, so he hires himself out as a guard or merely just wanders to help anyone in need-- provided they aren’t enemies of the Alliance.

Nevres is a young paladin-to-be. She is a survivor of the Scourge’s destruction of the towns along the coast of the EPL. Getting her over her Scarlet heritage, Breerdon has been teaching her to follow a more stable path. Still, she retains a zealous passion and a fairly aggressive use of the Light.

Martrey has been raised to serve the Light; it p much was why he was born. He has become mute ever since he had undergone a mission to infiltrate the Twilight Cult-- the mental strain overwhelmed him. Breerdon is one of the only people who has Martrey’s full respect. Martrey tends to be curt with most everyone else.

[rathwald]

((I messed with ideas and this image above was enough to write a short drabble on since I was planning on pumping out delayed bfa-era writing anyway.))

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How long had it been since he became a prisoner of the Forsaken? The dark stone prisons offered no sunlight to count the days, and the moments he was allowed to see the sky, the bleak overcast blocked any light of hope and mocked Breerdon’s grief with the occasional rain. Footsteps echoed from the shadows across the prison as they broke the monotonous drips coming from the ceiling. A slender figure appeared, obviously Forsaken, slightly hunched over but exuding confidence.  The undead stopped in front of every cell that contained an imprisoned alliance soldier, assessing their condition with thoughtful attention. A few times he leaned forward to get a better look. His frequent sighs revealed whenever he was displeased.

His yellow eyes, as they glowed with that unnatural undeath, darted from cell to cell but instantly locked onto Breerdon the moment they crossed him. The eyes of the Forsaken did not look away. They did not blink.  The aging but still bold knight did nothing but stare back at the monster; it felt like the only act defiance that was possible. “Here’s someone I never thought I’d see again...” The Forsaken’s voice was soft, calming, but was lined with a taunting that sowed unease. Slow steps to Breerdon’s cell, he crouched down so that he was eye-to-eye with him. “You’re so much older now... and fatter. Those white hairs do you no justice.” The facetious remarks, Breerdon was slightly taken aback. The Forsaken did not smile as he jested as if he were completely serious. Breerdon leaned backwards and away from the forsaken, eye narrowing with scrutiny. That voice. Those eyes. 

“Old friend. My Lord. Sir Knight.” The Forsaken continued to revel at Breerdon’s confusion and baited for more. 

But Breerdon finally realized it.   “My squire, is that you?”

[rathwald]

Oldminster Enclave

(Map estimation/headcanon of Oldminster)

-Oldminster was formerly considered lost. Located on the crossing of Westfall, Duskwood, and Stranglethorn It watches a river that highly benefits traders; recovering the area would prove valuable to the kingdom. -It was given to Breerdon after the most recent scourge invasion. -Formerly a church town, once the area was given to the watch of Breerdon, it turned into a near-fortress. -Its citizenry is made up of a small handful of Duskwood locals who choose to support the fight for their home. Otherwise, it’s practically just a military land.

Notable Individuals:

Breerdon Rathwald: A robust Paladin from Lordaeron. Despite age beginning to get to him, he remained faithful to his duties, regardless of whether his kingdom would recover or would forever be lost. His services to Stormwind were not left unrewarded, as he pledged his loyalty and he was given wider responsibility, including his own land.

Richard Theobalt: Breerdon's right-hand man and the second-in-command within Oldminster. He is often colder and more distant than the others, almost opposite to his superior. He is capable of leadership, but his history has left him somewhat haunted and he struggles to improve himself beyond being bastardo.

Nevres Rathwald: Breerdon's niece and the closest individual he'd consider his heir. Despite her young age, she has been through a fair share of events that would put her on par with many veterans. Her recent spat with Shadowlands(content) had her hair turn a silvery/white.

Martrey Chantsinger: Once a priest of the Rathwalds back in Lordaeron, Martrey's experience going undercover in void cults permanently changed him for the worse. He suffered in silence until the Ren'dorei aided a full transition away from the Light and to the Void. Though conisdered Breerdon's 'Left Hand', exactly what Martrey does remains a mystery.

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⅀ _ ⅀

Two, fantastic! Going with characters I don’t think I fully addressed their history on this blog–

Kurtis was a nice boy from Stromgarde, but then the ogres and trolled wrecked the shit out of that kingdom and Kurtis was left without parents or home. Since he was too young to be a useful fighter at that time, he was sent off to Stormwind as a refugee. As Kurtis got older, the retired Stormwind guardsman who was watching over him was like ‘Shit! This kid is going to be like almost a 7 ft tall giant, we should work to make him a soldier’. Thus Kurtis was trained to protect Stormwind, although his heart was always set on fully returning to his homeland.The first time Kurtis actually was deployed to somewhere was to Northrend! But even then, he was stuck mostly dealing with weird metal dwarves and pit fighting the vrykul (but that’s how Kurtis got his hands on his big-ass sword– it belonged to these Vrykul).Anyways, after Northrend, he was stuck back killing gnolls and local threats in Stormwind and was not given anything adventurous for years until the Alliance became more open in their war with the Horde. Around this time, Kurtis served in a squadron under Breerdon Rathwald, so that’s how he grew to know the Rathwald family and respected the hell out of Breerdon and his mustache. After Breerdon and much of the men he knew were lost in the Lordaeron Seige, Kurtis was miserable as hell and has kind of been in a funk ever since.In short: Kurtis was born and raised on protein powder because that’s all he was ever expected to be.

Risk is a simpler boy and a victim of his dad’s impulsiveness. His dad was a great high elf mage who worked plenty with humans of Stormwind. At some point, he immediately attached himself to a human woman and Risk was a result of that affair. Despite all the promises of helping this family he created, he bailed hard when his people needed him– he also had a family in Silvermoon City anyways.Risk got a nice new stepdad after elf-dad abandoned him, but that stepdad lasted only a hot minute because he was smeared under the boot of an orc. With some little half-siblings and a sick mom to take care of, it was up to him to work hard. As much potential as Risk had with arcane magic, he refused anything he got from his father’s side; he turned to work that was borderline criminal. The SI:7 saw use in Risk’s capabilities and eventually the $$$ and the chance at a job where he doesn’t have to talk to people was enough to bait the half-elf into joining them. He served in many places including Northrend, Pandaria, and the Broken Isles. Risk actually is quite familiar with Kurtis as the two ended up being partners whenever Risk was needed to more local work, and they were together in the Lordaeron Seige. Otherwise, Risk hates being around people but hates being around elves even more.

In short: Risk works hard to be a living middle finger to everyone.

[rathwald]

1.2 Worthy

(As they meet Breerdon’s old mentor in the Argent Crusade, she is skeptical and reluctant to be involved with them because Jeofford is ulterior motives.) (Also we’re going with a quick art for this one)

Hearthglen, Nevres had visited it sparingly in the past during the moments Breerdon was called to aid the Argent Crusade. The years had been good to the town-- the grass and trees were green with renewed life, the sky no longer had the looming mists from the surrounding plaguelands. Lungs filled with fresh air, it was a pleasant surprise for her. One hand brushed her bangs that fell over her face while her head darted around, examining the scenery as eagerness filled her.

The portal behind them quickly closed and the giant gates were just a few steps ahead. Jeofford took a deep breath before stepping forward and proceeding through, his pace significantly slower than before with regret in every step.

“Got to admit it, now.” Kurtis began to ramble. “My first time here altogether. Kind of exciting, actually. This is where the recruits for the Argents go, nowadays?” “Mostly.” Jeofford mumbled. His voice lowered and he sighed.    Hearthglen was as full of new activity and life just as much as the former Plaguelands became since the demise of the Lich King. If anything, it was an ideal marker of hope for the rest of Lordaeron kingdom to follow. Life bustled in the inn and the tavern, filled with argent aspirants and their shining armors and weapons that glistened with fresh polish. Draped over them each of them were the tabards of their holy organization.  From all corners of Azeroth, Sin’dorei, humans, dwarves, even orcs and Kaldorei... all in the same town with the same goal in mind: protecting their world. “Have I ever told you that it was my dream to become a paladin?” Kurtis knew very well it was something he wouldn’t shut-up about, but where was the harm in adding one more to the count?

Hearthglen had no glory for the Archmage. He remained quiet and lost the enthusiasm he bore back in Stormwind. Jeofford looked more crestfallen than happy to be there. With his steady pace, he leaned more upon his staff to balance with every few steps. After turning a corner and guiding the group towards a far edge of Hearthglen, he paused in front of a large keep. A bit distant from the rest of the buildings and the front lawn was littered with discarded weapons and destroyed training dummies. It lacked the luster and warmth that the rest of the town had pride in.   Jeofford turned his head and gave Nevres and Kurtis an oddly solemn glare.  “In here is the one we’re looking for. Be weary. Prepared. As much as she is a paladin, humility... she’s immune to it.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head, continuing onward.

A pair Argent knights were posted at the entrance, one on each side of the door. With bored but curious stares, greatswords sheathed, and with their hands placed upon the hilts, they offered no welcome to the trio. Jeofford held his hand out with a calming gesture. “Please. We must speak with Lady Jillevieve.” “Is she expecting you?” One of the men raised an eyebrow. “Archmage Rathwald,” Jeofford introduced himself, expecting his name had enough power to it. Apparently it did.

A voice yell from within the building. “Let the Archmage back in.” The voice sounded harsh and bitter, dripping with animosity. She followed behind Jefford as the knights seemed more concerned with watching him and pushing him forward, more than either her or Kurtis.

A large table sat in the middle of the main interior, and an elderly woman wildly scratched a quill on a parchment and map, finishing by slamming her quill into the vial of ink. Leaning over the table, but still facing downwards at her writing, she took a deep breath, held it for a second, then slowly exhaled before speaking. “You have some goddamned nerve showing your face here, Archmage.” Her fingers were drumming on the table as she lifted her head to make eye contact with Jeofford. “The only reason I don’t smite you where you stand is because you brought guests with you.” 

Jeofford took a step forward towards her, and then to the side, holding his arm to his side to direct the woman’s attention to Nevres. “Breerdon’s charge, Jillevieve. She has no one left-- she could use some help. You could her help, as well.”

The woman’s hardened glare softened when upon Nevres, a look of disbelief then of regret came over her.  “So it’s true. Breerdon died within Lordaeron.” Silence. Palpable grief, but it was cut short when Jillevieve promptly turned around and slapped the mage across the face with enough force to cause him to stumble backwards into the wall. Shocked, Nevres looked down at Kurtis helped the mage steady himself, then she faced Jillevieve with a fiery look in her eyes.

She breathed heavily like an angered beast, but hastily began brushing her loose hair out of her face and back into her bun.  “You have some nerve to do this, right after his death!” Her calmness returned, walking around the table to her chair. She sat down and crossed her legs in a very lady-like manner. “You Rathwalds are all the same. Breerdon was the only exception and the only one worth my time.”

“Not worth your time? I am already a paladin-- you think I can’t keep up with any of the others here?” Nevres shouted. Determination to prove herself filled her. She lifted her hand, a small light glowed within her palm that then erupted in a blinding light. Nevres never took her eyes off of Jillevieve as her hand clenched the remaining light magic away.

Although the blinding holy flash’s force made her bangs sway, Jillevieve dispassionately lifted her cup of tea to her lips.  “Little Rathwald, I have no doubt you could beat a few of the men, here. However, if you think being a good paladin just requires command of the Light, then you may as well join these damned Scarlets still lingering around the plaguelands. I think you’re familiar with them, aren’t you? You’re uncle told me so.”

How dare she bring up the Scarlet Crusade like that.  Nevres felt Jeofford’s hand upon her shoulder. She had to force herself to hold her tongue.

“Do you judge the worth of someone so easily?” Kurtis spoke up when the other two refused to. “All the stories I hear of paladins, it’s the will of the Light, isn’t it? Conviction and willpower, and all that?”

“Not inaccurate, but a fairly romanticized interpretation,” the Paladin answered. “Just because the Light answers your call does not mean your actions are just. I have felt the burn of the Light used against me. From the Horde and from the Scarlets. At this point, I have grown unwilling to train those who have yet to prove themselves in the most basic principles.” “I mean, that sounds like something easily provable...” Kurtis scratched his nose while thinking of all the possibilities. “It can be, with a great task,” Jillevieve added. “No doubt it’s something this Archmage would love to exploit. Several birds to kill with one stone. Why do you think he dragged you along with him, warrior? He uses others to help his problems. Did you think he was helping Nevres out of the kindness of his heart? He has none--”

Jeofford slammed the base of his staff onto the floor. “Cease, Jillevieve.”

“You know what you did. You know what you’re still doing. You know what’s going on.” 

“Uh..” Nevres frowned. She looked up at her uncle, despondent and confused.

“Don’t worry.” Jeofford consoled. “I’m still doing as I told you. We will still find ourselves allies.” He looked Jillevieve straight in the eye and continued speaking to his niece. “Allies are invaluable. If you refuse to aid others, then no one will be left to give you aid when you need it.” Jillevieve’s eyes narrowed, feeling the gaze of the Archmage. She raised her eyebrow. “Do you enjoy moonlighting as a philanthropist between burning down orphanages?”  “Only on weekends, but anyways...” Jeofford straightened his back and tilted his chin upwards. “As much as you make a great conversation, I would prefer we get to the point. Becoming a pupil under the same paladin who tutored Breerdon would be the greatest hope for Nevres. It’s not like you won’t get anything out of it either. I propose she will prove herself to you by helping you with your problem...”

“And there we have it. Nevres, he wants to use you to help me deal with my Scarlet problem.” Jillevieve stood up from her chair, and slowly paced towards Nevres, then around her, scrutinizing her with every step. “You see, the Scarlet Crusade and their beliefs are a disease that will not go away-- in this case it’s a disease I only tolerated because they have been useful in killing the Forsaken and staving off the Horde.” 

Nevres winced when she brought up the Scarlet Crusade, again. A past that would never leave her. “They’re ultimately defunct. You were lucky you don’t remain trapped within their world. Others... not so much.” Jillevieve continued. “Scattered remnants of the organization are so stubborn that even Dawnbringer and the Brotherhood of the Light has failed to sway them to denounce their ways.” She walked back to her table and leaned over it. Her eyes glared around the map at several different locations. “Even as we fight the same enemies, they remain aggressive. A looming threat. A thorn in my side. Another inevitable conflict. For now, we have come to an agreement that the Forsaken are a priority, but we’ve still managed to exchange blows on ocassion. It’s a problem.” Her finger dragged around the areas in the Western Plaguelands, eventually finding a small settlement. She circled around it and tapped it several times. “Right here. The ones that remain in this area. The last time anyone had attempted to make peace with them, he returned polymorphed into a farm beast. We couldn’t fix him for several days. They refuse to negotiate with anyone who is not one of them. Myself and several others have concluded we should eliminate them before they deal more blows to us while we are trying to fight the forsaken. However SOMEONE...” Jillevieve glared at Jeofford. “...Keeps trying to dissuade us, eventually convincing the others to at least wait until we no longer face the undead threat. “But I know the only reason this Archmage came down from his fancy Kirin Tor tower to chastise everyone...”

Jeofford lowered his head. “I can’t allow you to eliminate them. Not unless we try again... to redeem them.” He slowly looked at Nevres. “Nevres, I can’t let them kill them... My son is there.”

(A quick cut off. It’s been too long since I submitted, so I managed to push this one through. I will keep going and see if I can break this apart into smaller submissions as I go along. happy reading.)

[rathwald]

Classic RP Time

Prior to getting into RP, I was a hardcore PvE Horde, so there is a lot of nostalgia on the Horde side for me. But I have more RP plans on the Alliance. Altogether I’m excited to explore the Plaguelands and all the questlines I missed. In these earlier times, it would be fun to have my OCs doing what they did close to this time period.

The Original Rathwald Trio time-- Breerdon-- He is a paladin with fading connection with the Light and remained a struggling fighter among of the Brotherhood of the Light; he is finding keeping up with them more and more difficult. Attempting to keep his surviving and divided siblings together, he still has hope of taking back the Rathwald land and driving away the Scourge forever so that Lordaeron can finally return to peace. He still has hope... Magdeloria-- A priestess tied up with the Scarlet Crusade, she has been working with the Brotherhood of the Light when she could. Nevres’s mother is preparing to give it her all to the Crusade, regardless of her family. She has little love for the Rathwald house, who once hated her for refusing marriage. However she still cares for Breerdon and Jeofford, doing what she can to ease their pain and burdens from the disaster that had befallen them. Jeofford--A talented Archmage with potential, he partially feels guilt for the disasters that have fallen among the kingdoms. Although disaster was hardly from his own hand, he had interests in studying darker magic. Assuming this unexplored magic to be misunderstood, darker forces ended up taking everything from him and destroying Dalaran. Divorced from his wife several years prior, and now his remaining children gone, Jeofford is a sad man who has little to live for. Dalaran may be isolated within its magical barriers, but he has nothing to lose in reaching out to his siblings.

Watch them struggle, fail, and fall apart. :)))

I have some interest in Horde RP, but for now, this is my plan. Hordeside Simply, Foj, Sto, and Ulgrak, the original Horde Boys They’re all probably novices very much struggling with Quilboars and local threats at this time in classic. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[rathwald]

1.1 Our Dawn

(A short beginning in which Jeofford pushes Nevres off to complete the task Breerdon was reluctant to undertake-- reuniting with old family and friends.)

Of all the people for her to look to for advice, her uncle from the Kirin Tor was her last choice. Unfortunately it reached that point.

The letter Jeofford Rathwald sent was the only contact she had with another friend person for several days. Other than that letter, she had her rogue-- something useful any aspiring noble should have. It would be completely false for her to deny that she was not at least excited to have some sort of purpose again. When it came to Jeofford, however, she remained skeptical of his plan, but what else was she to do if not just continue wallowing?

A rhythmic motion of her hands began to fix her hair, taking the long red strands and molding them into braids that framed her rosey face. In full armor, golden, clean, and bright, she was finally starting to look the role of a paladin as her uncle Breerdon would have wanted. Equipping the hammer at her side and shield upon her back, she held her chin high as she left for another encounter with the most difficult endeavor she faced: accepting and moving on from the loss of a loved one.

Stormwind lived on as usual; the walk to the Lion’s Rest had all the familiar faces. Children were fishing on the side of the canal as a man passed by selling freshly baked bread. She felt her mouth attempt to crack a smile as she passed by a young girl running along with a puppy. How long was it since Nevres last smiled? Perhaps she forgot how to— maybe this is why Duard never smiled, either. It was a simple gesture that meant so much, yet Nevres felt as fake as the beer at the inn when she tried grin.

Lion’s Rest— and there he was. Jeofford Rathwald stood with the posture of royalty with purple robes to match. At his side, his hand held an intricate staff topped with the visage of a sheep. A quite benign appearance: this is what the infamous Mage of the Rathwalds looked like, now. “Nevres,” he remarked, looking down upon her.

“Yes, uncle.” Nevres bowed her head.

Jeofford's free hand raised into the air and within it a bright purple light began to sparkle and crash in aggressive motions. Smoke started to rise as his magic completed; he lowered his arm and held out to Nevres what he had conjured.

“Uncle, I’m not a child anymore,” she let out a soft chuckle when she saw it was a gingerbread woman in a colorful dress complete with buttons and a smile. “Uncle Breer always was upset that you spoiled me every time we met.” 

Jeofford’s frown curved into a warm smile. “I always felt the need to make up for the times I was absent in your life.” He leaned forward and gave his niece a hug. As he pulled away to return to his strict Archmage demeanor, he took a better look at her. She was right-- although her stature remained small, she was slowly becoming the paladin she always dreamed she could be.

“I’ll take it if you don’t want it.”

A familiar voice beamed from around the corner, followed by a jovial blond warrior who gave the pair a single wave of his hand-- Kurtis Radesbury, the boy from Stromgarde who grew up as an Alliance soldier. Blue cape flowing behind him as he walked and his armor and greatsword equipped, he looked prepared for adventure as much as Nevres.  Kurtis took his place next to them, towering over the two. “Was a bit of a short notice, but I did get your letter.” Kurtis raised his hand and between his fingers was a similar parchment that Jeofford had sent Nevres. A gust of wind blew the paper from his grip and to the cliffs and sea.  “Um, shit.” Jeofford quickly dissolved the cookie in his hand, much to the warrior’s dismay. The gingerbread woman turned into smoke, and what remained was dust and crumbs that he shook off of his hand. The mage turned his attention back to his niece. “Nevres. I took it upon myself to summon your allies in Stormwind--” “Friends, not just allies.” Kurtis corrected. “--Although the other is missing...” Jeofford tilted his head around to check the other entrances to the park. Mourners of the war and admirers of the scenery were present, but not the one he was looking for. 

Nevres shrugged and rested her hands on her hips. “Don’t worry about the rogue, if that’s who you’re waiting for.” She sighed. “Duard just appears when he wants to. It’s probably the nature of his type-- same as Archmages.”

Jeofford’s eyes rolled to the side and his mouth tightened. “Quite the shame. Sending you around the kingdoms without Breerdon or his priest is very worrying... A few extra hands would help protect you--” “It’s not like you’re sending us to the front lines anyways... are you?” Nevres head tilted to the side in curiosity, causing some of her red bangs to fall over her face.

“Ha.” Kurtis forced out a sarcastic laugh. “Would it be that awful if he did? Stromgarde could use all the help it can get-- goddamned Horde.”

Jeofford shook his finger, “I have no doubt that the Alliance would benefit with your aid, but if you had the might the house once had behind you-- imagine the help you can provide, then. Breerdon taught you strength in yourself, Martrey taught you strength in the Light. Perhaps I’ll be the one to teach you strength in your allies.” He lifted his staff and rotated the head several times. A small portal began to form and fully bloomed once Jeofford returned his staff to its standing position. “A good start would be to meet with Breerdon’s old comrades.” The forest within the portal looked somewhat familiar, with clean skies and white bricked buildings. Nevres’s eyes suddenly lit up with excitement as she could hold back her enthusiasm. "Hearthglen.”