#lanthalis

Lanthalis read the letter. Then once he was safely in his study at home, he read it again. He had an urge to set fire to the parchment. As the edges began to smoke, he set it aside and paced back and forth in front of his desk. 

“Of all of the arrogant, stuffed shirt little...” He fell silent, seething. Batlike ears pinned back and he burst out, “Not required? Just who does this doctor think he is? The entire Light-damned city answers to the Magistry. And if they don’t, they know better than to write it in a fucking letter. Light, none of this bodes well for our operation.” He gritted his teeth and reached for a journal. Flipping to the right page, he skimmed over the entry there.

It didn’t help. He bellowed through the house. “I’m going out! Solandis, mind your damned ghoul! If I catch it in the trash when I come back, I’m turning it into a pile of ash and to hell with your pleading.” He stuffed the letter into a pocket of his robes, pulled his mask over his face, and slammed doors as he left the estate.

((Wrote this back in January for Lanthalis over on felknight. Reposting here to his new blog.))

Lanthalis was quiet as he entered the Temple City of En’kil’ah. Everything was quiet. It was as if the city itself was holding its breath, with the wind whistling through the fortress the only noise. Signs were everywhere that the Scourge had been driven out long ago. Charred bones were piled high, remnants of bodies that had been burned by Horde and Alliance forces. The city itself was less than whole. Altars missing. Obelisks defaced. Scourge banners burned. The husks of dead Nerubians were everywhere.

So, too, were other signs. Carefully dug holes, excavations by the Reliquary and the Explorer’s League. Lanthalis dug in his pocket for the small, runed obelisk. It was a recent find from En’kil’ah, and was the reason he was here now. The potential for knowledge hidden away, out of sight of both the Horde and the Alliance, it drew him in like a moth to flame.

It led him to sneak through the ruins of the Scourge temple city, until he got to the Spire of Blood. Carefully, he ascended. All around, there were signs that the fighting had been fierce. Scorch marks littered the stone around him, and in some places there were holes where spells had blown off chunks of rock. In another place, an abomination’s hook lay embedded in the stone. The metal was stained with dried blood. Lanthalis gripped his staff tighter and moved quickly past it.

As he entered the Spire, he could tell that something wasn’t right. There was a smell of smoke in the air that should have dissipated. Not just that, but he thought he could see a faint flickering from farther inside the Spire. And there, in the entryway, was a familiar object. A blood orb. And it held fresh blood.

Immediately, Lanthalis was on alert, but it was too late. Even as he was muttering the incantation to protect himself, pain exploded in the back of his skull, lights flared, then everything went dark.

Lanthalis woke slowly. It took effort to even open his eyes, and when he did, it was to a dizzying wash of color and light, so he closed them tightly again. He was chained against a wall, he could tell that much. He felt weak and tired, and all he wanted to do was lay down so he could go back to sleep. He couldn’t even tell what had woken him up.

Scrape. Scrape.

Something was being dragged along the hallway. Lanthalis fought the languor, and slowly he was able raise his head and peer blearily down the hallway. Distant, blurry shapes huddled around another shape sprawled on the stone floor. Lanthalis tried to focus, but he was so tired…

He startled awake again, this time to a knife being drawn over his wrist. He felt, distantly, the bite of the blade, and an answering pain in his other wrist, but it was as if he were watching someone else’s pain. He was detached. Spinning in a fog. Quietly, he whispered, “Please.”

The figure in front of him looked up swiftly from his wrist. Lanthalis couldn’t see its face, but he did note twin blue eyes glowing in the darkness. “Pleading for your life won’t matter.”

“I’m not. Please. The obelisk. What happened. Where is it?”

"That? It was very useful, thank you for bringing it back to us. Now, once I’ve regained my strength, we can leave this place. No more digging in this wretched place for my lost tomes." The speaker was a woman. Lanthalis could make out her ears now, long, pointed. Glowing blue eyes. Quel’dorei, his mind said. But the hue of her skin was wrong. Dark, gray, dead-looking.

Lanthalis choked. “Don’t. Don’t want to die.”

"None of us do, pet." She ran a hand across his cheek in an almost loving gesture.

“Can help you." Lanthalis was growing weaker, and his eyes fluttered closed again.

"Why would you do that?" The San’layn leaned closer to him, close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek.

“Came here for. Power. Knowledge. Still. Want to know." It was with supreme effort that Lanthalis continued to speak, and his breath rattled ominously in his chest.

"Knowledge? You’d turn your back on everyone you know for a trove of books?" She laughed. "If you serve me, you will be serving me, pet.”

“Am. Silvermoon magister. Can. Do much for you." Lanthalis choked, tried to breathe, choked once more, then he slumped in his chains, unconscious.

((Just a brief sketchy history. It may be expanded on later, but this is his history as I've been RPing it in-game to this point.))

Lanthalis Goldendawn is the eldest son of Lord Donovath Goldendawn. He's been serving as a magister for a very long time, since long before the orcs invaded Azeroth. When the orcs first came to Azeroth and whispers of their strange magic reached the Goldendawn household, Lanthalis was left as de facto head of the family as Donovath left to pursue his own interests.

This continued for many years, even after the Scourge invasion and the loss of his wife and eldest son to the Scourge. When Prince Kael'thas took his followers and headed for Outland, Lanthalis was among those who left with him. The family lost track of him. Both he and Donovath were presumed dead.

Lanthalis returned during the skirmishes with the Alliance in Pandaria, claiming to have been held prisoner in Outland. Whether it's true or not is up for debate, but he was offered his position as magister and gratefully, he accepted. Not too long afterwards, he was in Northrend pursuing a tale of a misplaced artifact of some power, when he stumbled upon a cell of Cult of the Damned members and the San'layn leading them. He promised their leader that he would assist them in their efforts if they would spare his life. As a magister, he had great value to the Cultists, and so at the last moment, the San'layn turned him.

BASICS Full Name:  Magister Lanthalis Goldendawn Nickname(s): Lanthalis Age: Well over 300 Race: San'layn Gender: Male Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Romantic Orientation: Bisexual Religion: Atheist Occupation: Silvermoon City magister, secretly in league with the Cult of the Damned Language(s) Common, Orcish, Thalassian, Eredun, Darnassian, conversational in several other languages.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE Face Claim: Luke Goss Hair Color: White Eye Color: Fel Green Height: 6'1" Build: Lithe and toned Distinguishing Characteristics: The illusion spell he uses has a characteristic shimmer. When it catches the light right, it can make it seem like he's been messing with enchanting dust.

PERSONALITY Positive Traits: Highly intelligent, curious, patient Negative Traits: When pushed, prone to highly destructive acts of retribution. Uses politics and Silvermoon laws to get what he wants. Manipulative. Greedy. Cares very little killing others. Is still prone to bouts of bloodlust, especially when provoked. Goals/Desires: Power, through any means necessary Fears: Death. Losing his mind. Being found out. Hobbies: Usually involved in Magistry business. Reads a bit in his spare time. Likes attending orchestra concerts and the opera. Quirks: Is usually never seen without an illusion spell outside of Goldendawn Manor. Likes: Puzzles, books, violence, bloodshed, order, music Dislikes: Orcs, demons, Humans, people who break the rules, his son Kirenestus specifically, the Light, paladins and priests, paperwork.

I already wrote a bit on yesterday, but something, I think, deserves mention. I talked with Rosefica and Traejan yesterday. After I left the Row, I found Rosefica sitting on her bench as she always used to and I took the opportunity to let her know about Aegnas.

It seems she thought I killed him, especially when I showed up in his armor. Hardly worth my time. Weakness isn't to be stamped out. Just ignored. It will destroy itself eventually. There is no use throwing effort into erasing weakness. And Aegnas was weak. The fool was only ever any good when our King dominated his mind. Apart from Him, Aegnas is little more than all the others, a weak, self-centered pawn more interested in his daily life than in the continuation of our Master's ideals.

Traejan and Rosefica aren't any better. More interested in their daily lives than in anything that's been happening in Silvermoon, they had nothing useful to tell me. I would remove them from the equation, but as I said before, chasing and stamping out weakness is hardly worth my time. Threats to Rosefica's young nieces will keep them both in line and out of my business.

The task at hand is clear. I must reestablish contact with the Cult of the Damned, and from there I will gain some of the resources I need to continue my research. Other supplies must be bought from the black market. Magister Goldendawn is helping me, there. He has a dark secret. It's refreshing and a bit intimidating. That one is far from prey, and I will obey his demands for secrecy for now.

I want to track down the disease scare that I've heard precious little about, learn about this hospital, and then get in contact with others who can help me procure the things I need. It will be a busy week.

allthejubilees

lifeamongthedistantstars