09-21-2012, 03:55 PM
((The following are the musings of Cristovao and the letters he writes to House Whiteshore's members announcing his resignation from it. Feel free to write your own IC replies to the letters!))
I sat at the Blue Recluse in Stormwind's mage's district; pen in hand, parchment before me on a simple table. My fingertips tapped anxiously, as I attempted to gather my thoughts. My mind was racing, trying to piece together some kind of answer that could be found acceptable about my current musings. Recent;y, I had spoken to the Lady Morgan, a priestess of the Light… Morgan, the lady of House Whiteshore… Morgan, the wife of the so-called Lord Tavren Black, head of House Whiteshore.
Tavren Black. The warlock. The enterprising entropist. Months ago, I caught eye of the dark skinned, well dressed man, at Theramore. I was traveling with Diwaata to the Exodar, following our escape from Tanaris, where we had been kidnapped by some mysterious organization in the mountains. Tavren was arguing with that crimson mercenary, Mirran West, about a potential job, but I don’t think Mirran was interested. I interjected… Light, I don’t even remember what I said. We exchanged some idle discussion, and he went his own way, as I did mine. Little did I know he followed me; at least, I think he did.
When Diwaata and I arrived at the Exodar about a week later, I found myself having some time to myself. I stood by the nearby ponds of the crashed Naaru vessel, idling in thought. What those thoughts were… I also can’t remember. Cripes, I’m so empty headed. Anyway… Tavren, he was there, with another man. A titan of a man, really. Trenton Whitefire, and he had to have been almost seven feet tall. Tavren introduced himself to me, and me to Trenton. His arm was busted up, though how anyone managed to mangle that Vykrul is beyond me. Maybe he arm wrestled a Tauren, I dunno. I offered my aid, as I should, being a man of the Light, and mended his injuries. Tavren was grateful, and claimed to have a special offer for me. I was pulled aside, far from the earshot of the nearby vindicators and harbingers, and listened to this offer.
An offer of a lifetime, he called it. A real sense of humor, there. He was familiar with my relationship with Diwaata, it seemed, though given he saw her clinging to me as I healed her swollen hoof at Theramore, it is of little surprise. He said he sympathized with my love for her, and that he sympathized with me, as well. Draenei… they don’t age. They’re immortal, some as old as the cosmos themselves, and myself… I’m just a human from Lordaeron. The very definition of a weak, mortal shell. I always knew this issue would arise between Dia and I, but I never really sat down to think about too hard. I suppose I thought I would cross that bridge when I got there… but, eh. Doesn’t matter now. Tavren made me face it now. I will die, and Diwaata will live on and on, forever without me. Tavren said he could… stop that. As I said earlier… he was a warlock, but rather than serve the Legion or befriend demons, Tavren pursued a very different path with his fel manipulations. He prevented aging and death itself. A grand thing to know, to be sure, and how it enticed me so… but, like all things, there was a price, and Tavren’s miracle? Heh… it had two.
First, if I were to reap the benefits from this offering, I would have to swear my name to his noble house. Whiteshore, he called it. Secondly, the source from which I may live forever… was from the lives of others. In my mind, I knew this couldn’t be right, yet still, I rationalized it, as did Tavren. From anyone else, it would seem like he was corrupting a paladin just for the fun of it, yet he… he seemed to genuinely care. The small sins I would commit now, they could be made up for with a lifetime of good. More than a lifetime, an eternity. I would live forever, I would never have to lose Diwaata. I could meditate on the Light for centuries, I could be as wise as Velen in due time! And those who would be taken in for this cause? Criminals. Rapists. Brigands and murders, scum who live wretched lives off the streets in the countryside, who thrive off of innocent blood. I would do the world a favor, ridding of them, and I would benefit from doing so as well. Oh, how sweet it was to think that to myself.
Oh, how wrong I would be, though. I accepted Tavren’s offers, and within the weeks following Grenalin’s resurrection, I found myself escorted to the home of Tressian Ravenholdt. Ah, Tressian, I had met him before. A necromancer at Annabelle’s wedding, he was. A cousin, I think, but he was sanctioned by the Argent Crusade, or so he said. My, how hypocritical I was to denounce what he did, when here I was, serving a user of Fel. At any rate, Tressian’s home proved to be interesting, to say the least, an abandoned, defunct necropolis in the mountains of northern Lordaeron. It was here I met Christine, the armswoman of Whiteshore, and I was given a set of armor in the gold and black colors of the House’s emblem. Before I had time to really admire how good I looked, though, an explosion rocked the whole place. I was clobbered by a falling part of the ceiling, but when I awoke I saw a small band of Alliance explorers; draenei mage, a night elf druid, human paladin, and another human death knight. They approached Trenton, whom I thought was injured, to give a healing hand, but it was a farce. Trenton drew a dagger and attempted to kill the paladin. I stood there, panicked, and went to separate them, and heal the paladin’s wounds in attempt to salvage the situation, but as I did, the death knight introduced Trenton to his boot, before I could stop him. What a mess this whole thing became. I tried to heal Trenton, but he was furious with me. I tried reasoning with the paladin, but he would hear nothing of it, he was here to destroy this necropolis and any who used it, for the “greater good”. That really should have been my first warning, but alas… I tend to be a bit of a knucklehead. At any rate… we chased off the adventurers, without loss of life on either side, though the necropolis suffered for it. Trenton would forever hold it against me, though. Ugh. He was much more sociable when he had a broken arm.
I was punished for what I did. There’s a bar, at the far end of the mage district here in Stormwind. Really, it isn’t too far from the Blue Recluse… just down the road. It is where Whiteshore’s members gather to discuss and plan things out. I arrived with the others, and was lead to the lower floors- by the Makers, the whole place is a secret warlock coven- and was stripped down. Lashed ten times by Christine, my back still has faint scars from that day… thankfully, Diwaata never asked about them. Probably guessed I got them from fighting some Scourge, who knows. Fortunately my future meetings here would be more… upbeat. I got to know Tavren fairly well, actually. I learned of his respect for the Light, his good nature, and got to meet his wife, Lady Morgan. I made a friend here, too. Matherand Torraine, a real scoundrel of a fellow, but with the sort of soul that sticks up for you if you stick up for him. I may have to ask him out for a round of drinks sometime in the future. We owe each other anyway, one late night I was idling about and this madwoman calling herself an inquisitor started bombarding me with questions, and it was Matherand who told her off… though he did so by dropping a candlestick on her lap after splashing her with alcohol. She took it to heart, though, and tried to kill the guy later on. Fortunately for him, I came across the scuffle and stopped it. Poor man was on death’s door, too.
I’m getting off track, though. As the months went on, in between get togethers at Stormwind, there was one other place we met at occasionally – the Felfire club. A rather immature establishment, in my personal opinion, playing itself up as high class, full of darkcasters and other taboo practitioners who think they’re of an enlightened state of mind, debating how the world goes round without ever reaching any sort of conclusion. And they play pranks, but beyond the point. I would show up there, in my Whiteshor colors, to keep people from recognizing me, but sadly, the ruse ultimately didn’t work. Aroes Blackstone, the brother of Morgan, saw through me, and he called me out. This was the second time it happened, actually. When Tressian saw me at his necropolis, of course the first thing HE did, was tell Annabelle, and of course the first thing SHE did, was invite me to her home and tell me how stupid this all was, although she did so kindly and understandingly. I took her words to heart, I really did, but… I didn’t want to believe them, but now, Aroes too was calling me out. Perhaps Anna should have been harsher to me, because he left me dumbfounded for words. A rapist? A murderer? A traitor to his family? It was… hard to take in. The Tavren I knew was none of those things. He was a commoner who earned his way to nobility, and was loathe to ever be compared to a “true” noble. He had a virtue of leadership about him, and was a loving husband. He even told me that should he ever have a son, he’d like for me to train him as a paladin. I could not delude myself any further, though. Regardless if Tavren is truly a wicked man or not… he was not someone I could serve in good conscience. Not anymore.
Before I could do anything, though… I needed answers. I needed the truth, to be enlightened. First, I sought out Trenton, and as before, his personality was impossible to peg down. He invited me for a swim in Stranglethorn Vale (I politely declined), he was jovial, jesting even. I wished to ask him some questions about Tavren, and why he serves him, and all of a sudden, he tenses up. He gets serious, and a tad bitter, too. I did my best to defuse the situation, but… it mattered little. We went to the Bay for drinks. I wanted a casual, friendly atmosphere. We weren’t on duty, after all, but alas. So, I left empty handedly. I went to Stormwind, next, some weeks later. I wrote to Lady Morgan to meet me for a talk… and, most thankfully, she accepted. In fact… it was just a few days ago. My talk with her… it is why I am here now. Why I am running wild with my thoughts, staring at these blank parchments. She told me how she met Tavren… it was a confessional. How they fell in love… truly, I thought it was sweet. She, too, is burdened by his deeds, I think, but she would not have him any other way. She loves him for all of who he is, both good and bad. It is a complete shame, too… I feel that Tavren could easily have all he wants in life, without all the harm he causes. Morgan says he will not let anything stand in his way of his visions for a happy life, though… but part of me wonders, does he actively seek out conflict? Bah, it is impossible to say. Regardless, Lady Morgan gave me… peace of mind, with what she told me. It may not have been the answers I wanted, but they were the ones I needed to know.
This leads me to where I am now, staring at these pieces of parchment as I attempt to figure out what to write on them. My talk with Lady Morgan was my unofficial leave from House Whiteshore, and thank the Light, she was most gracious about it, but now I must make my departure officially known. Having not seen Lord Tavren in months, I can only hope that a letter of resignation shall be enough. Only time will truly tell…
My letters now written, I gathered them up with my parchment and pens, heading out for the nearest mailbox to ship them off to their recipients. As I slipped them in, I felt a great burden rising off my chest and shoulders. This is what's for the best. I'm sure of it.
((And thus concludes Cristovao's short lived tenure with House Whiteshore! For everyone involved, I just want to say thank you for some of the best RP I've had on Cristovao, even if it didn't go as far as I had liked. Noone was to blame, and now the character has moved on, and I had a blast doing it. Whenever Whiteshore stops being inactive (which I hope is sooner than later), I'll conjure up a new character for it, so you haven't seen the last of me yet!))
I sat at the Blue Recluse in Stormwind's mage's district; pen in hand, parchment before me on a simple table. My fingertips tapped anxiously, as I attempted to gather my thoughts. My mind was racing, trying to piece together some kind of answer that could be found acceptable about my current musings. Recent;y, I had spoken to the Lady Morgan, a priestess of the Light… Morgan, the lady of House Whiteshore… Morgan, the wife of the so-called Lord Tavren Black, head of House Whiteshore.
Tavren Black. The warlock. The enterprising entropist. Months ago, I caught eye of the dark skinned, well dressed man, at Theramore. I was traveling with Diwaata to the Exodar, following our escape from Tanaris, where we had been kidnapped by some mysterious organization in the mountains. Tavren was arguing with that crimson mercenary, Mirran West, about a potential job, but I don’t think Mirran was interested. I interjected… Light, I don’t even remember what I said. We exchanged some idle discussion, and he went his own way, as I did mine. Little did I know he followed me; at least, I think he did.
When Diwaata and I arrived at the Exodar about a week later, I found myself having some time to myself. I stood by the nearby ponds of the crashed Naaru vessel, idling in thought. What those thoughts were… I also can’t remember. Cripes, I’m so empty headed. Anyway… Tavren, he was there, with another man. A titan of a man, really. Trenton Whitefire, and he had to have been almost seven feet tall. Tavren introduced himself to me, and me to Trenton. His arm was busted up, though how anyone managed to mangle that Vykrul is beyond me. Maybe he arm wrestled a Tauren, I dunno. I offered my aid, as I should, being a man of the Light, and mended his injuries. Tavren was grateful, and claimed to have a special offer for me. I was pulled aside, far from the earshot of the nearby vindicators and harbingers, and listened to this offer.
An offer of a lifetime, he called it. A real sense of humor, there. He was familiar with my relationship with Diwaata, it seemed, though given he saw her clinging to me as I healed her swollen hoof at Theramore, it is of little surprise. He said he sympathized with my love for her, and that he sympathized with me, as well. Draenei… they don’t age. They’re immortal, some as old as the cosmos themselves, and myself… I’m just a human from Lordaeron. The very definition of a weak, mortal shell. I always knew this issue would arise between Dia and I, but I never really sat down to think about too hard. I suppose I thought I would cross that bridge when I got there… but, eh. Doesn’t matter now. Tavren made me face it now. I will die, and Diwaata will live on and on, forever without me. Tavren said he could… stop that. As I said earlier… he was a warlock, but rather than serve the Legion or befriend demons, Tavren pursued a very different path with his fel manipulations. He prevented aging and death itself. A grand thing to know, to be sure, and how it enticed me so… but, like all things, there was a price, and Tavren’s miracle? Heh… it had two.
First, if I were to reap the benefits from this offering, I would have to swear my name to his noble house. Whiteshore, he called it. Secondly, the source from which I may live forever… was from the lives of others. In my mind, I knew this couldn’t be right, yet still, I rationalized it, as did Tavren. From anyone else, it would seem like he was corrupting a paladin just for the fun of it, yet he… he seemed to genuinely care. The small sins I would commit now, they could be made up for with a lifetime of good. More than a lifetime, an eternity. I would live forever, I would never have to lose Diwaata. I could meditate on the Light for centuries, I could be as wise as Velen in due time! And those who would be taken in for this cause? Criminals. Rapists. Brigands and murders, scum who live wretched lives off the streets in the countryside, who thrive off of innocent blood. I would do the world a favor, ridding of them, and I would benefit from doing so as well. Oh, how sweet it was to think that to myself.
Oh, how wrong I would be, though. I accepted Tavren’s offers, and within the weeks following Grenalin’s resurrection, I found myself escorted to the home of Tressian Ravenholdt. Ah, Tressian, I had met him before. A necromancer at Annabelle’s wedding, he was. A cousin, I think, but he was sanctioned by the Argent Crusade, or so he said. My, how hypocritical I was to denounce what he did, when here I was, serving a user of Fel. At any rate, Tressian’s home proved to be interesting, to say the least, an abandoned, defunct necropolis in the mountains of northern Lordaeron. It was here I met Christine, the armswoman of Whiteshore, and I was given a set of armor in the gold and black colors of the House’s emblem. Before I had time to really admire how good I looked, though, an explosion rocked the whole place. I was clobbered by a falling part of the ceiling, but when I awoke I saw a small band of Alliance explorers; draenei mage, a night elf druid, human paladin, and another human death knight. They approached Trenton, whom I thought was injured, to give a healing hand, but it was a farce. Trenton drew a dagger and attempted to kill the paladin. I stood there, panicked, and went to separate them, and heal the paladin’s wounds in attempt to salvage the situation, but as I did, the death knight introduced Trenton to his boot, before I could stop him. What a mess this whole thing became. I tried to heal Trenton, but he was furious with me. I tried reasoning with the paladin, but he would hear nothing of it, he was here to destroy this necropolis and any who used it, for the “greater good”. That really should have been my first warning, but alas… I tend to be a bit of a knucklehead. At any rate… we chased off the adventurers, without loss of life on either side, though the necropolis suffered for it. Trenton would forever hold it against me, though. Ugh. He was much more sociable when he had a broken arm.
I was punished for what I did. There’s a bar, at the far end of the mage district here in Stormwind. Really, it isn’t too far from the Blue Recluse… just down the road. It is where Whiteshore’s members gather to discuss and plan things out. I arrived with the others, and was lead to the lower floors- by the Makers, the whole place is a secret warlock coven- and was stripped down. Lashed ten times by Christine, my back still has faint scars from that day… thankfully, Diwaata never asked about them. Probably guessed I got them from fighting some Scourge, who knows. Fortunately my future meetings here would be more… upbeat. I got to know Tavren fairly well, actually. I learned of his respect for the Light, his good nature, and got to meet his wife, Lady Morgan. I made a friend here, too. Matherand Torraine, a real scoundrel of a fellow, but with the sort of soul that sticks up for you if you stick up for him. I may have to ask him out for a round of drinks sometime in the future. We owe each other anyway, one late night I was idling about and this madwoman calling herself an inquisitor started bombarding me with questions, and it was Matherand who told her off… though he did so by dropping a candlestick on her lap after splashing her with alcohol. She took it to heart, though, and tried to kill the guy later on. Fortunately for him, I came across the scuffle and stopped it. Poor man was on death’s door, too.
I’m getting off track, though. As the months went on, in between get togethers at Stormwind, there was one other place we met at occasionally – the Felfire club. A rather immature establishment, in my personal opinion, playing itself up as high class, full of darkcasters and other taboo practitioners who think they’re of an enlightened state of mind, debating how the world goes round without ever reaching any sort of conclusion. And they play pranks, but beyond the point. I would show up there, in my Whiteshor colors, to keep people from recognizing me, but sadly, the ruse ultimately didn’t work. Aroes Blackstone, the brother of Morgan, saw through me, and he called me out. This was the second time it happened, actually. When Tressian saw me at his necropolis, of course the first thing HE did, was tell Annabelle, and of course the first thing SHE did, was invite me to her home and tell me how stupid this all was, although she did so kindly and understandingly. I took her words to heart, I really did, but… I didn’t want to believe them, but now, Aroes too was calling me out. Perhaps Anna should have been harsher to me, because he left me dumbfounded for words. A rapist? A murderer? A traitor to his family? It was… hard to take in. The Tavren I knew was none of those things. He was a commoner who earned his way to nobility, and was loathe to ever be compared to a “true” noble. He had a virtue of leadership about him, and was a loving husband. He even told me that should he ever have a son, he’d like for me to train him as a paladin. I could not delude myself any further, though. Regardless if Tavren is truly a wicked man or not… he was not someone I could serve in good conscience. Not anymore.
Before I could do anything, though… I needed answers. I needed the truth, to be enlightened. First, I sought out Trenton, and as before, his personality was impossible to peg down. He invited me for a swim in Stranglethorn Vale (I politely declined), he was jovial, jesting even. I wished to ask him some questions about Tavren, and why he serves him, and all of a sudden, he tenses up. He gets serious, and a tad bitter, too. I did my best to defuse the situation, but… it mattered little. We went to the Bay for drinks. I wanted a casual, friendly atmosphere. We weren’t on duty, after all, but alas. So, I left empty handedly. I went to Stormwind, next, some weeks later. I wrote to Lady Morgan to meet me for a talk… and, most thankfully, she accepted. In fact… it was just a few days ago. My talk with her… it is why I am here now. Why I am running wild with my thoughts, staring at these blank parchments. She told me how she met Tavren… it was a confessional. How they fell in love… truly, I thought it was sweet. She, too, is burdened by his deeds, I think, but she would not have him any other way. She loves him for all of who he is, both good and bad. It is a complete shame, too… I feel that Tavren could easily have all he wants in life, without all the harm he causes. Morgan says he will not let anything stand in his way of his visions for a happy life, though… but part of me wonders, does he actively seek out conflict? Bah, it is impossible to say. Regardless, Lady Morgan gave me… peace of mind, with what she told me. It may not have been the answers I wanted, but they were the ones I needed to know.
This leads me to where I am now, staring at these pieces of parchment as I attempt to figure out what to write on them. My talk with Lady Morgan was my unofficial leave from House Whiteshore, and thank the Light, she was most gracious about it, but now I must make my departure officially known. Having not seen Lord Tavren in months, I can only hope that a letter of resignation shall be enough. Only time will truly tell…
Quote:Lord Tavren,
I write this letter to regrettably inform you that I am resigning from service to your house. I can not, in good conscience, continue to serve under you, with the knowledge of the things you have done to others. Whether or not you consider these actions as crimes, I can not work for a master who has committed them. Do not consider this personal, though, and do not worry that I will bring down righteous wrath upon you and others among the House. I have no such intentions.
I shall leave you all as you are, as I hope that even if I may leave the house that we stay on good personal terms. I have seen a side of you that is good, Tavren, and I only pray that one day it is the only side of you that can be seen. I will spare you a sermon, for I’m certain you don’t wish to read it, and leave the issue at that. Should you ever need me for anything that my talents can be used for, do not hesitate to ask for my help.
I pray the Light bless you and your family in all things to come,
Cristovao di Silvio
Quote:Lady Morgan,
Though I have already told you of my intentions to resign from House Whiteshore during our private talk, I send you this letter as a formality to reaffirm my leave. I have written to Lord Tavren as well, and hope he receives it well. Once again, I will offer my assistance to you should you ever need it in the future, and I thank you for giving your time with me.
I pray that the Light will protect you and those you love in the future,
Cristovao di Silvio
Quote:Sir Trenton,
Rare was the moment where we spoke on positive notes. I hope this letter will be one of those few. I have sent letters of resignation to Lord Tavren and Lady Morgan, and I feel it only fair that I tell this news to you, as well, as you were the Knight Champion of the house. I apologize for whatever misgivings I have caused between us, for it was never my intention to disrespect you. I had merely wished for us to be friends, but if that is impossible, then let us at least put our differences behind us and let that be that. Should you ever need me for something, feel free to ask it of me, and I will see if I am able. Until then, I hope your life stays well, and if you desire it, I will never bother you again.
I pray the Light will keep you strong for all future endeavors,
Cristovao di Silvio
PS I will have the Whiteshore armor and colors returned to you, for I have no use of them now, if this is alright.
Quote:Dear Matherand,
How have you been, lately? It has been a long time since we last met, and I pray you are healthy and well. I regret to tell you that I am resigning from Tavren’s service under House Whiteshore, for personal reasons you shouldn’t worry yourself about. Despite my resignation, I wish to stay on good terms with the few I knew well, including you. Perhaps in the future we should go out for drinks in Stormwind or Ironforge, just have a good time. You were a good friend for me in the short while we knew each other, and I hope we can remain friends into forseeable future.
I pray the Light will grace you in the things you pursue in life,
Cristovao di Silvio
My letters now written, I gathered them up with my parchment and pens, heading out for the nearest mailbox to ship them off to their recipients. As I slipped them in, I felt a great burden rising off my chest and shoulders. This is what's for the best. I'm sure of it.
((And thus concludes Cristovao's short lived tenure with House Whiteshore! For everyone involved, I just want to say thank you for some of the best RP I've had on Cristovao, even if it didn't go as far as I had liked. Noone was to blame, and now the character has moved on, and I had a blast doing it. Whenever Whiteshore stops being inactive (which I hope is sooner than later), I'll conjure up a new character for it, so you haven't seen the last of me yet!))
Your stories will always remain...
![[Image: nIapRMV.png?1]](http://i.imgur.com/nIapRMV.png?1)
... as will your valiant hearts.