Verdantine

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Information

Player: Proxy

Character Full Name: Verdantine Mournsonnet

Character In-Game Name: Verdantine

Nickname(s): -

Association(s): None, after being dismissed from the Knights.

Race: Blood Elf

Class: Paladin

Age: 157

Sex: Female

Height: 5' 9"

Weight: 136 lbs.

Appearance

These days, Verdantine is most comfortable in the dirtied and beaten plate armor she scavenged from the Ghostlands. When a trip to the City or the threat of polite company looms, she will find a generic and socially-acceptable robe or blouse to don. However, she will not be found gloveless or in anything that will expose her arms, and low necklines show bandages tightly wound around her chest. Clothing is no longer a sign of her occupation, and she has lost the rights to a tabard... therefore, it is immaterial.

Hair: The Ex-Knight has given up elaborate hairstyles with the loss of a functional left arm. When the deep-brown curls are in the way, she'll tangle them in a knot at the back of her head and continue. Often she'll raise her right hand to her hair and tug at the snags left in it from this 'solution.'

Eyes: Verdantine' once deep emerald eyes have hollowed, the glow typical to the Sin'dorei having been all but chased from the orbs... though a flash of strong emotion will call something from the depths.

Other: It is very important to note that Verdantine is by no means a delicate and pure elven beauty. Her features are much sharper. High cheekbones, narrowed eyes, angled jaw, perpetual frown, oft-furrowed brow.

Verdantine's left arm hangs stiffly at her side. She can flex her fingers without pain, but any firm contact with the limb or movement of its other joints can send the Mournsonnet reeling with agony.

(M'gonna be talking about 'Seneschals' in the History section. Most of it is right there worked into the text, but here's some more. Best to read the History first.)

In times of extreme pressure or shortage of veterans, a Seneschal can be called directly to the battlefield- for insight, reports, overseeing base camps, and battle by the order of a Knight-Master or above. The position of Seneschal is not a true Blood Knight title. Technically, they are still ranked as 'Knights,' and are therefore rather low in the chain of combat command regardless of contributions made in their particular branch. It is generally understood that only Knights should hold the duties and title of Seneschal- Knights are generally experienced enough to train for the work, but not yet ambitious enough to use their privileges for self-advancement. There is no set precedent for a Seneschal attempting to advance beyond the rank of Knight, but it is imagined that the request would be denied outright, or at the very least, the Seneschal would have to step down from their duties and re-enter the usual system.

Personality

Verdantine is now driven by little more than a sense of duty- if Fate dictates her people to die, then she will fight to preserve them, as all the elves have done. This is by no means her retirement... Vengeance comes on the wastes teeming with the living dead. Parchment-pushing requires drive and meticulous printed Thalassian. Regardless of her weapon- quill or claymore- Verdantine intends to leave crimson lines across all that would threaten the Sin'dorei... as she has done before, and will again.

As such, Verdantine's work has eclipsed all the other aspects of her life. Socializing comes at events conceived by the higher-ups, and even that only requires a few memorized pleasantries. Sleep is succumbed to in short bursts between accounts and filing systems... food and drink are snatched up from tables as she strides through the Wayfarer's Rest or the Silvermoon Inn on her way to meet with this banker or that Lord. Verdantine Mournsonnet moves constantly forward as long as her legs will bend and straighten- often, agitated tension is the only thing that keeps her muscles from collapsing.

Her only real relief comes when she siphons from the crystals in Silvermoon- locked in an office or den somewhere, she can artfully drape herself on a plush crimson chaise and let raw power seep through her skin to her core. Unlike many other elves who see the addiction as just another thirst to quench, Verdantine sates her desire as personal reward and recreation. She can spend an entire day of leave reveling in the memories of a kingdom long fallen while the power of beings laced with hatred and malice sting her fingertips.

History

Verdantine's military career began in the struggles between the Amani and the High Elves. The Mournsonnet patriarch, her father, was well known as an excellent marksman and effective strategist- his wife a powerful sorceress. Naturally, their eldest child was to follow in their footsteps. Laughable attempts at target practice and severe wounds from arcane backlash nearly crushed those ambitions. It wasn't until Verdantine was on her way to see her father, who was stationed in a camp in southern Quel'thalas that her real affinity was discovered. An Amani berserker ambushed the younger Mournsonnet and the officer who was assigned to escort her that day, targeting and immobilizing the more experienced elf. Verdantine drew the officer-issue longsword from the fallen Ranger's scabbard and, with the aide of her wounded comrade's trained lynx, felled the troll. Thereafter, the focus of Verdantine's education was shifted to swordplay, with the 'selfless' service to the Farstriders disguising her lack of talent in the more 'acceptable' High Elven arts. This earned her quite a bit of ridicule from the other trainees, and the full-fledged Rangers often sent a scowl her way.

Years later, the call to arms rang out over Silvermoon- Arthas was approaching the walls, and fast. Verdantine, who by now was mostly recognized as a Ranger, followed her father to the streets to join the rest of their unit. The elder Mournsonnet took the majority of his command to the gates, leaving his right-hand behind with a handful of Farstriders to aid in the defense of the inner city. Verdantine was among these few, the second-in-command being the veteran who had accompanied her on her way to her father so long ago. Determined to do the best they could, the ten or so rangers left behind rounded up children, the ill, and those otherwise unable to help defend and began to herd them to a 'safe' location.

When the wall was breached and scourge flooded the city, the massacre was terrible. Verdantine's unit was caught out in the open, and most were torn to shreds with the first wave of ghouls. The civilians were dismembered and messily devoured. There came a short lull- perhaps the outside defenders regrouped and made another attempt at resistance- in which Verdantine, the officer, and one other surviving member of the unit retreated to a nearby building.

The fight resumed within minutes- but this time there would be no 'lull.' The defense had crumbled, and the streets teemed with the living dead. The ensuing struggles for survival in pockets of the city painted the smooth white walls crimson. Verdantine's situation was no different. She emerged a full day after the Sunwell's devastating destruction, dragging her officer's longsword in one hand, the wounded and pale officer himself at her side, one arm slung around her shoulders. They stumbled about the bloodsplattered streets of the once-fair Silvermoon, eventually regrouping with other survivors.

Here, her companion was taken to be treated for his wounds, leaving only his sword, a grim smile, and a promise to 'come back for it later,' with Verdantine. Her mother and sister, both magi, were in the first district to fall, and a survivor reported seeing the elder Mournsonnet torn down by an abomination. Days passed as she and many other of the desolate High Elves waited to die, and join their brethren. Prince Kael'thas' return from Dalaran gave hope to the remaining elves. Reborn as Sin'dorei from the blood and fire of the massacre, those champions who still stood rallied around their Prince in preparation for the journey to seek aid. However, Verdantine was among one of the groups to remain in Silvermoon, intending to bury the dead and help rebuild the throne of the Sin'dorei's beloved Prince while he led those with the will to walk onwards.

The reconstruction began slowly. South, in the distance, Eversong burned. The sky was no longer clear with the magic drawn from the Sunwell- the sun blazed red through the haze of ash. When the fire died, the cold came: the artificial 'eternal' spring of the elves was coming to a swift close. Bodies that were mostly intact were dragged to the Scar and burned; those that were only smears on the cobbles were washed or scorched away. Buildings were examined- the High Elves had not built shelter in earnest for hundreds of years, so naturally the newly-named Blood Elves were at a loss. Those magi with any remaining power banded together to erect new walls around the eastern side of the city, which had suffered a little less damage than the western. Verdantine herself picked up both blueprint and blade by turns, serving on reconstruction crews as well as cutting down the dead still roving the Scar. As one of the surviving 'Farstriders', most of her time was spent standing by the Shepherd's Gate, staring towards the shifting darkness hiding the undead.

The arrival of M'uru as a gift from the errant Prince was met with much joy from the laboring Sin'dorei. Renewed by the fresh source of power, the buildings warped into being much more smoothly. Trees and flowers were shaped from the earth with a tug of the hand, stone melted into form with naught but a grin. Silvermoon waxed once more. Soon demons eternally imprisoned in crystals were obtained, and these hubs of power were mounted atop the towers like triumphant flags. A new spring began- but this one was a season of crimson petals and gold boughs.

Then Liadin emerged, light spilling from her fingertips. A triumph of the magi, Lady Liadin became the first of a new order- the Blood Knights. Many flocked to her, learning to bend the raw power they drew from M'uru into a weapon or salvation. Verdantine stepped forward as well, when the call was put forth. Silvermoon was reborn in scarlet splendor. There was nothing for her do now, save managing records in the Royal Exchange, and if she could still be of service in the thousand battles to come... then damn the 'Noble' Farstriders, damn her 'eternal soul,' and damn the consequences.

The following months had Verdantine in rigorous training. Many warriors and former Light-wielders far greater than her had also taken up the mantle of the Blood Knights. However, the Knights would need an administrative branch- a task presumably to be given to the new Knight-Lords of the Order... but those who were not drilling Cadets were being thrown into the fight against the Scourge.

Verdantine had much experience with such things, and upon becoming a Knight, stepped outside the conventional ranking system along with a few others. This small, officially unnamed branch of the Blood Knight Order was created to manage finances, record events, maintain the Knight Halls, and communicate with the other sub-factions residing in Silvermoon. Perhaps in a time of peace, not threatened by the Legion or the Scourge, Cadets and Adepts alone would fulfill the duties of the nameless branch's "Seneschals"- but in the current state of constant warfare, it's best that the inner workings of the Order are oiled by a choice, experienced few.

When a council of leaders is convened, it is a Seneschal who receives the invitation, confirms its validity, and then hand-delivers it to the chosen Champion, all the while making mental arrangements for parchment, ink, and quill to be set out for the representative, as well as putting in a request for a pre-prepared opinion to be written by the Matriarch. It is a Seneschal who collects and then properly sorts reports and observations generated by Knight-Errants, and can locate any given document within a day at the formal request of a Blood Knight of proper rank- as well has having it in his or her hands just hours after the parchment is unearthed, regardless of where that Knight may be.

In fact, it is a Seneschal who hurries back and forth between the gilded headquarters of the Order and the Royal Exchange at least ten times a day, records of purchases and lists of possible expenditures clutched in her hands, figures neatly printed at the tops of each neatly bound sheaf. Verdantine's connections with the bankers and new merchants of both the Exchange and Bazaar during the reconstruction efforts made her a prime choice for the Seneschal primarily responsible for budgets and supply.

Verdantine has long-since filed the proper paperwork pronouncing her father, mother, and sister dead, as is her right and family duty. Logically, it would be better to have legal power over her own affairs- and if an elder member of the Mournsonnets still stands, why, she'd be delighted to correct the records. She has not, however, visited the Silvermoon Registry on personal business since then. If any of her friends or comrades are alive, she doesn't know of it.

However, a chipped and battered longsword bearing the Farstrider's crest rests on ornate gold pegs above her office door- she often glances up at it with a faint smile as she heads out on an errand.

Recently

Verdantine became to first Seneschal to step down from her station and back into the ranks of the Knights. To balance outrage at such a slight as well as grudging respect for years of service, Mournsonnet was given the title of Knight-Master and sent to the Outlands, presumably to die in combat and preserve whatever pride her family retained. A mercy killing, one might say.

The new Knight-Master vanished shortly after entering the Dark Portal, and reappeared in Azeroth with a grim demeanor. She was stripped of her rank and dishonorably discharged from the Blood Knights, drawing her work of the last five years to a bitter close.