sometimes you can't make it

[modforged]

Who: Alexstrasza, Krasus/Korialstrasz, and the Redsworn
What: Successful retreat into the Ruby Sanctum
Where: Ruby Sanctum
When: After a long, grueling battle near the borders of Suramar
Warnings: Please PM the mods if any warnings are needed

[The Ruby Sanctum is a flurry of activity. This becomes clear within two seconds of stepping through the portal. The wounded are guided over to a grassy clearing surrounded by saplings and adolescent trees, bade to lay down and receive healing from other dragonkin. Some of the trees are years old, while a few look to have shot up recently. If you watch, vines engulf one fallen warrior; the body sinks into the ground, and a tiny sapling appears in its place.

Despite the war going on outside, the sanctum is less of a cavern and more like a self-contained dimension. Ample sunlight drifts down through scarlet leaves, which are occasionally home to the crimson scales of a whelpling. There is life everywhere: insects on twigs, birds chirping overhead, flowers at your feet. Dragon eggs lay nestled in the nooks and crannies offered by the tranquil forest. There is a decently-sized spring filled with fresh, pure water, as well as some small rocky outcroppings to sleep in. It's warm and comfortable enough to rest out in the open, too.

The cloaked and ever-mysterious Krasus stands watching the dispersing redsworn, his back against the massive oak in the center of the sanctum.

Occasionally, one may glimpse a beautiful red-haired woman with copper skin winding through the copse.]

[ooc: Mingle log for redsworn!]

Comments

[seesbosscrotch]

"Oh please! You wear the armor and serve the Light, of course you've taken care of civilians. In fact I'd be surprised if you hadn't repeatedly found multiple civilians in the middle of warzones or swamps, desperate for a helping hand back to civilization... odinn fale, I know I did. And don't even get me started on Harrison Jones --"

He held up a hand to interrupt himself, realizing he was getting off-track. "I mean in forging a ragtag, motley group of misfits into an elite fighting force capable of taking down the sort of things we're going to be facing."

[telaari]

It's getting a little easier for her do dismiss his odd rambling as just the quirks of an eccentric mind. The way that he speaks of bringing together the other Redsworn, however, is honestly a bit disturbing. That it's something that happens often enough, that it's easy.

"N-no, this is the first time. Why, have you?" she asks, ahe'd almost be inclined to call him a liar if he said yes. Almost.

[seesbosscrotch]

"Quite proudly. Particularly back in the Northrend deployment." He held up a gauntleted hand, then clenched it into a fist. "We were legendary. Seven years of misery and torture I paid back to the Scourge. Every death in Silvermoon, we avenged in spell and steel! And not to brag, but I was at its forefront! Selama ashal'anore -- justice for our people, Vindicator, and behind my shield, we claimed that justice without death on our side!"

Now he'd gotten all fired up. He swung the fist around, extending it towards her as if making a vow. "This is my business, and now it's yours as well. Anar'alah, we'll protect these people and give them strength!"

[telaari]

If it were anyone else, that kind of overly dramatic speech might have fallen flat. But in spite of her initial wariness toward him and his strangeness, Vas feels the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. It's just the talk of vengeance, she tells herself. Just inconvenient sympathy for someone who spilled blood in equal measure for their slain kinsmen. For someone who took the fight into their own hands instead of running.

But just for a moment, the weight of leading their inexperienced fellow Redsworn feels as light as a feather. If she thought he spoke like a Vindicator before, she doesn't know what he sounds like now. No- she knows exactly what. A hero, something that the Draenei have not had in a very, very long time.

She takes his hand and pulls herself to her feet, but even looking down at him, he still seems somehow larger than himself. Unreal, even if not entirely all there in the head. Or maybe that's how a hero needs to be.

"Yes. Naaru let it be so."

[seesbosscrotch]

What sane person would step in front of dragons, demons, monsters, and maniacs with the strength and ruthlessness enough to cut blood swaths through a host of lesser men... and say, 'Hit me! Give me your best and I'll return it to you tenfold!'

Mar had the one thing he needed: conviction. Absolute, unshakeable conviction that by standing between the worst that Azeroth could offer and every single other person in the world, he was doing the right thing.

"That's the spirit!" And with perhaps entirely too much familiarity, he slapped her on the back with a broad grin. "With our combined experience, determination, and stunning good looks, there's nothing we can't accomplish! No more Alliance or Horde labels from this day forward, Vindicator -- today, as it should be, we stand as Azerothians!"

[telaari]

Vas' soaring mood is cut short as suddenly as it takes off. Perhaps if she was a head or two shorter, that friendly slap would land below her shoulders. Instead, it falls squarely on the base of her tail. She inhales sharply and tucks her tail firmly between her legs, uttering a curse in eredun.

"You- please do not do that."

[seesbosscrotch]

"Ah. Eh-heh." Mar grinned sheepishly, lifting a hand to the back of his head. "Sorry. Got carried away in the moment. I'll aim much higher next time."

It may be some solace to her, knowing that at least he realized he'd erred. He did have SOME grounding, as much as he might sometimes seem he was as unfamiliar with basic down-to-earth sense as the party members accompanying a bored priest.