Summary: With a name that means to walk safely in the light, one would expect life to be easy, so long as they lived their path in respect to the Light. Well... For a young high elf paladin of the Scarlet Crusade with a dead mother, an undead father, and countless uncles who just want to make what they want of him, life isn't so easy. We follow Amorieln through his many Trials, facing the Sunsworn and Silverblade families and countless adventures along the way.
The chapel shone with light, and one could clearly see the other four beacons as well. Strewn across the region were five holy towers that were seized by the Argent Crusade from the warring horde and alliance parties. These were marks of achievement and conquest, and pillars of hope that shone for all travelers through the dreaded eastern plaguelands. Ever did the scourge rule the area, and continued to under an unknown master. Servants of the light that deemed themselves the Argent Dawn desperately defended these sanctums, welcoming aid from all those willing. But for one being, these locales of purity were far from sanctums, they were a part of home and an extension of the Light which I have followed devotedly. Wherever the Light shines her blessing, I am there to help defend her. That is why I now stand at the foot of the only corrupt tower, the decrepit stone long fallen to decay and beyond repair due to the presence of the scourge in the town surrounding it. Wearily my eyes scanned the desolate town, the wooden homes overcome with natural and unnatural growth both. I heaved a sigh, this place had been long past due for exorcism, and I feared it too late to save the wretched place.
Perhaps I should introduce myself, though names are trivial to those who surrender themselves wholly to the light, I have one for which those less devoted may call me. I am Amorieln Lightrunner. I am a paladin, but not of the normal means. I am an avenger of injustice, and defender the Light's people. One would…judge me wrong upon first glance. You see, I am often mistaken for my crude cousins, and am more often blamed for their mistakes. I am not exactly a proud person of my race, but this injustice on my heritage wears me thin.
If you would listen, I am a High Elf, but I am different than true High Elves and our fallen cousins too. I am both. My mother was a High Elf priestess of the Scarlet Monastery born and raised before the scourge attacks, my father a Blood Elf warrior, who had been tried and convicted as a war captive - about a year before the dark portal opened. My father was sent to the Monastery as punishment, captured outside of Deathknell when he was found raiding the scarlet crusade camps there, and forced under Mograine's hand as a servant, though he was never to redeem his soul - despite the justice-bound population which held him. There my mother, then a pupil to Whitemane, had met him. She was instructed to cure his arcane addiction through purging techniques she had been taught only just prior to their meeting. As most romantic tales go, through their daily meetings to purge his addiction, she fell in love. This happened within a three month time period. This was a secret and passionate romance, but my father might as well have been a rogue, not the warrior he had trained to be since he was nine. They had met mostly in the Monastery's inner confessing chambers where my father was well watched by solemn monks and chaplains, but one day my mother had tempted fate and took him to the stables, to show him the multitude of horses kept there in an attempt to gentle his attitude towards her comrades. He promptly escaped, leaving her heartbroken and at the mercy of Whitemane's wrath, a captive and also a horse missing by her mistakes. He had also bedded her then and there in the stables, a testament to the phrase 'taking a roll in the hay'. Needless to say, her priestess status was revoked, and she was reduced to begging in the streets of Undercity. Undercity was no place for beggars, and especially not a newly pregnant female high elf. She was forced to return to our cousin race, the Blood Elves. She resigned herself to the Blood Elf ways, and succumbed to the addictions of the arcane, transforming her love of the Light into a love for the magic and arcane sorcery of a Arcane specialized mage. Her eyes then had lost their blue beauty and turned the pale emerald of the blood elves that she'd turned to for refuge. By the time she entered the Mage academy in Silvermoon, she was due on her pregnancy. By then she had become so far gone with her addiction that she could not bring herself to care for an infant that required so much care, when hobbled shaking hands could not hold a fragile babe as he nursed on a dry breast that could not produce because it's owner devoted herself so wholly to the arcane. High Elf babies needed tender care, more so than a human child. They required near constant attention, so needy were they. She simply did not have the time. She resorted to abandoning the child, forsaking it as well for it was the blood of a man that had abandoned her at the first opportunity. She held no remorse and left the child at the only location she knew might take pity on a homeless babe. She left the baby boy bundled up in a mint green blanket on the steps of the monastery. If you had not figured this out yet, that little high borne babe was me. How did I end up a paladin stepping on the toes of the scourge in the Eastern Plaguelands? Well, I'll tell you…
Pale emereld eyes warily cast about, she was definitely not welcome here, less a priest today than she had been under Whitemane's tutelage. She softly petted her horse's snout, trying to comfort it. The beast was as uncomfortable as she; it knew it had to place here among the crusaders and hounds of the scarlet color. They were like foxes in a chicken coop, unwelcome and needing to be quickly shot because they were pests. The gray and white spotted horse nickered softly and then complained as it's master silently tied the binding reigns to a thick branch off the tree they both were hiding behind. Best to tether the horse, for if she came back running with humans on her heel the horse would surely bolt off without her in the saddle. She hated to scare the beast, but the horse was also not hers, hence the unfaithful expectancy. She'd stolen it from some camp of undead in brill that were about to turn it into a skeletal warhorse. She had more use for the warmth of a live one due to the bundle in an open faced basket at the horn of the saddle. She tenderly brought down the wicker basket, untying the binds that had kept it still, and after retrieving the precious thing inside, dropped the basket carelessly onto the fading gray grass that had once matched her eyes current color. She pulled back the mint colored blanket only slightly from the infant's face, she did not want to smother the poor thing before the crusade could do it, if that was what they planned to do. She glanced up in a panic at the sound of a snapping twig, heart pounding in her chest, and her fingers shaking in worry. She hunched low to the ground, attempted to silent panicked murmurings that had started without her intent, and clutched the young child to her breast. She waited a moment, and her heart began to beat regularly; no white and red tabards glaringly bright against the dreary backdrop of Tirisfal, and the monastery beyond. She flipped her pale orange colored hair dismissively, a shaky grin on her shallow face. Arcane sickness was blatantly obvious on her person. Why should she be scared? The monastery had been unduly quiet recently, due to the recent opening of the Dark Portal. The zealots were probably all cowering in their beds, the lot of them. Who knows what is on the other side of that thing? Certainly she didn't know, nor her temporary mount. She hesitantly stood, and made forward silently. She monastery was yet a shadow in the mist of the pines, she would be safe a few minutes longer. Gathering molecules of the arcane in the air around her, and after a paranoid double check of what was ahead of her, she cast a blink spell which transported her a lengthy distance closer to the monastery, albeit she smacked her forehead on a branch when she came out of it. She sputtered, then looked around to mark if any enemies would happen to be on the browse, and unhappily trotted on, the babe snoozing silently in the cradle of her right arm. Everything was too perfect, she was getting to close to the pristine entrance that should have been teeming with houndmasters and other ilk that would stick her in the gut. She decided not to press her luck, and quickly cast the only sneaky spell she had in her arsenal, Invisibility. This spell was not infinite, and she was not about to test how long she could hold it. She could tromp about as much as she wanted while cloaked - so long as she didn't get in the face of an enemy. She strode briskly up to the entrance, the proud stone opening that led directly to the staircase up to the entry hall. She glanced through the other archway of the opening, longingly at the stables beyond. She snarled silently at herself, and passed under the first arch. There was no way she would be caught dead going up those steps again, no matter how precious the temperature of the babe had to be kept. She was leaving it here for fate to deal with, not to coddle the thing. She, still invisible through the arcane weave she'd set about herself, timidly placed the red-haired babe on the first, massive step. It began to stir, and she fled without a second glance, back to the horse which had been tethered. Back to an ambush that had been set the instant she had set foot upon the holy grounds of the Monastery.
A Scarlet Champion strode back confidently, a Raven priest and an abbot at his heels. The priest held the robes and jewelry of the now deceased blood elf that had tresspassed, while the abbot held the severed head. The champion held a triumphant grin, the blood over his face the only mark of achievement he needed to show to their superiors. He halted at the entrance to the Monastery, having nearly trodden on something placed delicately on the first step.
"What is it, Jacob?" the priest asked, a bit bothered. He held a hand out in a signal to wait, and the two casters dutifully stepped back, ready to conjure at his mark. Jacob, the champion, knelt down and investigated the pale green blanket by pulling away a few layers until he was met face to tiny face with the boy child of the elf they had just slaughtered.
"That's why Roanari came back..." came the murmur from his lips as he tenderly picked up the boy, gauntleted hands surprisingly careful. He turned to his companions, and gestured slightly. The priest came forward with a coo, smiling in a motherly fashion.
"He looks like Ryan, almost. Are you sure this was why Roanari was here? That doesn't make sense, she was never with anyone before Whitemane banished her." the woman judged quietly, stroking the waking child's cheek softly. He cooed back to her, opening eyelids sleepily to mark stunningly ocean blue eyes that glowed faintly.
"Definitely hers, Beth. She were always a catch with them eyes o' hers. I never seen any elf of any kind with anything but milky blue eyes, 'cept for Roan." the abbot chimed in, smirking. The raven master gave him a stern scowl, and he raised a hand in defense.
"You know I didn't do it, I just liked 'er eyes is all." he defended.
"Better not be some half breed by your seed, Liam, or it's being thrown to the flame..." Bethany grumbled, though her face was smiling jokingly. Jacob rolled his eyes.
"Should we give him to Whitemane and Mograine?" Jacob asked cautiously. He eyed Beth slowly. She shifted on her toes a little with a childish smile on her face that suggested she wanted something.
"I don't know... We could ask for him, Jacob. Ryan needs a little sibling to watch over, to feel like he needs to protect. We could make it work, you know..." She suggested, holding her hands, and thus the bloodied robes, behind her back. Jacob looked down at her through narrowed eyes.
"Liam, what of you?" the abbot startled a moment, nearly losing his slimy grip of Roanari's hair.
"Well, I don't know. No matter what, you need to have him quaranteened, just in case." he offered with a shrug. Bethany stomped a foot cutely and pouted like the eighteen year old she was. Jacob wasn't giving in, as he never did in front of Liam, and this caused her shoulders to sink sadly.
"Then that is what we shall do. You two go to Mograine, show the spoils of the infiltrator, and I shall go to Whitemane and see about keeping him." Jacob announced, immediately turning around and heading up the stairs. He could clearly hear the echo of his young wife's pleased squeal as she began to ramble on to her brother the abbot. Jacob gave a self-appraising smirk at how he'd handled that. He would be making all parties happy - except for Liam. He'd get a return fire later from him, no doubt. The baby in his arms began to fuss quietly, until an ear-splitting shriek burst forth from his little lungs. He wailed without pause, for no reason Jacob could fathom on the spot. Bethany returned to her husband's side quickly - and the child hushed without word. Bethany inspected the babe for a moment with her eyes, looked through the things she'd had in her grasp, and made a triumphant sound.
"Here, Jacob. This must be what was keeping him quiet, likely the only thing that will. It's his mother's ring, conveniently attached to a chain. Wonder if she knew we'd kill her?" Bethany whispered quietly as she strung the simply decorated ring's chain around the young boy's neck.
"What is it about that ring that keeps him tame?" Jacob inquired gently as he began walking once more up the staircase, eyes once more to where he was walking. Bethany kept pace with him, though her eyes were on the boy, who was watching her with a gaze that seemed eery.
"I've read about elves before, and Roanari told me about them back when she.. was still here. The name slips by me, but she told me the ring she wore, that ring, was what kept her from becoming addicted to the arcane, and kept her blue eyes the way they were. Somehow, the ring is a mana font, is what I've gathered, that keeps the elf's addiction at bay, constantly. They're rare though, she doesn't know where she got hers. She probably was left with it by her mother, like she's done for our little friend here. They take a while to bond to their owner, though, something about a full day. She must have bonded the child with it before ditching him out here." Beth rambled, talking quietly as they passed by other members of their crusade, their shoes tapping loudly on the smooth stone beneath their feet. The long channels with both open and closed rooms echoed slightly as she talked. At the absolute end were two massive half-moon shaped doors. One led to the Armory, where Herod was training the champions and such, and the other led to their destination: the Cathedral. Sally would be there, no doubt. At this time of day, sunset, the High Inquisitor would be receiving reports from the camps fighting against various parts of the Tirisfal glades, and inspecting them before sending them off to Renault Mograine. Mograine would be with Arcanist Doan, Loksey or Herod, surveying the defenses of the Monastery. They entered the door on the left, a privilege in itself that they were allowed to pass. Only officers of the different sects, and the guard of the Cathedral were allowed in, unless otherwise occupied by one of higher rank.
"That's interesting, Beth. No wonder Doan boasts that you're his greatest student to have ever graduated the adept stage. You look into everything, love." Jacob praised fondly, sparing her a loving smile and glance. She returned the gesture warmly.
"I know things that are important, so if the time comes and no one else knows about it, I am there to provide the answer. Bless the light for giving me such astounding memory." She murmured, giving a glance upward while touching one closed hand to her heart and drawing a circle from it, then a straight gesture down a short ways. This was one of their symbols, the symbol of the holy Light that they all served under. Jacob quickly made the same gesture, bowing his head a moment before raising his eyes once more. The couple kept a brisk pace as they proceeded to the grand doors of the Cathedral, where bishops and chaplains hurriedly opened the doors for them. Whitemane stood at the end, hands spread over a table with a large dusty map reaching farther than her fingertips on the monolithic stone table. She hardly looked up at their entry - she had no need to, as the other high inquisitor named Fairbanks, looked at them and whispered their arrival to Whitemane's ear. Without pause, she raised one hand, ordering the two crusaders to stop.
"What is your purpose here this evening, Lightrunners, when you both are expected at supper?" Whitemane called, narrowing her eyes as Captain Vachon shoved a report under her nose of the neighboring sentry tower he commanded.
"We bear interesting news of the intruder we reported earlier." Jacob called, head down in submission and down on one knee. Bethany held the same position, robes draped onto the floor and her staff held proudly upright against the carpeted flooring.
"Report, Champion." she barked, finally looking up at the married couple as she silently ordered Vachon away.
"Roanari, the intruder, has been dispatched, High Inquisitor. We have purloined her few items for inspection and salvaging, and have brought what we suspect is her infant child." Bethany called, looking up at Whitemane seriously.
"Does it carry obvious taint of any kind?" their superior demanded drearily, her eyes dark despite her pale complexion.
"Nay, High Inquisitor. Otherwise we would not have brought him to you for further decision. I would have dispatched him personally." Jacob replied, looking up at the woman strongly. She nodded.
"Bring him to me, then. I shall decide now." was the order he received. He stood, careful to mind the babe held in the crook of his massive arm, and approached Whitemane at a gradual pace. She held her arms out invitingly, a soft smile on her white face.
"So you believe this child to be our once beloved Roanari's? I find that hard to believe, Champion Lightrunner. She was very seclusive during her time here, and the time-line suggests that she fell pregnant during her time here. Pity she let that warrior go, cost her her life in the end." Whitemane narrated gently as she took the young elfling. She pulled back the blanket entirely from the babe, showing the poor thing had nothing but a crudely fashioned mageweave diaper on, thankfully clean. Whitemane looked at the corners until she seemed to have found something.
"Ah, here we are. Yes, he is Roanari's. She had this cloth embroidered before coming to her rightful execution. 'Amorieln Sunsworn', it says. 'Named for his uncle, Amariel', it also says." Whitemane read, eyes narrowing.
"That damned Amariel was a no good like his sister." the inquisitor swore harshly.
"Milady...Roanari was a strong member of our priesthood...before she became corrupted by that foul warrior. Perhaps we could raise her child, like we raised her, in hopes that he will become more devout than she, and is less... corruptible." Fairbanks interrupted calmly, his dimly glowing yellow eyes showing little emotion. Jacob flinched slightly and gave a step back from the withering undead. He was a completely and totally devout member of the priesthood that had died for their holy cause, and had risen again because of his unrest. He believed his duty had not been completed, so now he was back with the Crusade, protected savagely by Whitemane and Mograine. Sally gave a soft sigh, then smiled.
"You are right, Fairbanks. We shall place him under quarantine, the standard month should do it. Who will watch and care for him, Fairbanks?" Whitemane complied, looking at him with those bloody colored eyes of hers. The undead gave a shrug, adjusting his cap.
"My lady, if you please..." Bethany called quietly, but firmly. Whitemane looked out to Jacob's wife, a slightly startled look on her face.
"You wish for the child?" She was asked in return, voice showing obvious surprise. Bethany stood and joined Jacob's side, taking his arm. Warmth flooded through Jacob at the touch, there was nothing like having a priest as a wife, you remained at full potential at the merest touch.
"We do, High inquisitor. Our young Ryan needs a playmate and someone to watch, this is the perfect opportunity." Bethany admitted timidly. Jacob gave a nod when Whitemane looked at him.
"Very well. You both know the rules of quarantine. Your entire household will be put under protection of the divine spell, you will be given supplies for the duration ahead of time. You both will be excused of your duties in the meantime. Has anyone else been in contact with the dead mother or the babe during the interim of your walk here?" the High inquisitor queried, handing the young elf off to Bethany, who quickly swaddled the green blanket around him once more.
"Only my brother-in-law, my lady." Jacob offered. Whitemane gave a nod.
"Fairbanks, if you will please escort them - a mild power shield each ought to suffice." the lady suggested warmly. She gave a pause and closed her white skinned eyes as she began to murmur a chant under her breath. A glow of golden white light surrounded her hands as she muttered, the words of cleansing easily recognizable to all those who were able to call upon the light. After a moment more of this, the glow briefly surrounded her and though she was not visibly changed, one knew that she had completely scoured her being of any possible taint, real or unreal. She gave a content sigh and opened her eyes comfortingly at them.
"And there is no need to gather up Abbot Clearwater on the way...It seems he was unsure of whether he was safe around the others or not - he is patiently awaiting your arrival at your humble home." Whitemane announced cheerfully. Jacob gave a low bow, muttering a blessing in her name as he heard Bethany do likewise next to him. He didn't bother to ask how she knew that Liam was back at the house, that was not for him to wonder.
"May the light be with you, blessed Inquisitor." Fairbanks bowed generously, before Bethany and Jacob found themselves surrounded by glowing golden... Bubbles. Jacob grinned as he extended an arm out, the shield expanding it's girth to accommodate the extended limb.
"Always enjoyed these. Why don't you ever cast these for me, Dear?" Jacob teased as he turned to follow the hobbling undead priest out of the cathedral. He heard Beth give a huff as she caught up to his side.
"I'm a raven priest, not a holy priest. I don't do bubbles except my own, dear." was the mildly annoyed retort he received. He chuckled deeply and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, looking down fondly at the infant who had fallen asleep once more. Most likely because of Whitemane, but Jacob wasn't complaining. The little elfling would be awoken at the house, they would need to give him a bath and then feed him. Ryan would be most excited to meet his new little brother, too. Bethany leaned into his embrace with a genuine smile. They poked fun at each other's classes regularly, him being a Champion paladin, and her being a Raven Priest. They were vastly different, near opposites in their skills, but they loved each other all the same.
They passed few people on their journey back to their small two bedroom house, most everyone was in the Galley eating supper. Fairbanks kept an ambling but steady pace, and they reached their destination shortly. Their house was small and simple, the roof covered with red colored shambles, the walls made from white and tan brick. A standard abode, but more than most members of the Crusade were offered. The couple had earned their keep fighting against the Undercity Raiders, forsaken undead that ran under the damned Banshee queen's flag. They were not the only threat that invaded the Crusade almost monthly, but with Jacob's strategy and healing skills in the armory, no raid made it to the cathedral. Likewise with Bethany's ability to strike down combatants with ravens made of dark light, the Library was well protected from raids searching for intel. Liam also contributed, as an Abbot specializing in the controlling of others' minds, he was invaluable in the Cathedral. Liam would interrupt the scrying of mages and the assassination attempts of rogues every time. Mages left arcane trails that Liam would follow with his own magic to control the mage and implode themselves with a fire spell. Rogues also would turn their blades inward under the Abbot's mental sway, their poisoned blades meant for Whitemane or Mograine instead stuck in their own chests.
"About time you got back! Whitemane let you keep the elfling?" Liam shouted as they opened the door - Fairbanks remained outside, yellow eyes watching reverently.
"Yes, she did, brother. We've all got to go under quarantine for a month but I doubt he carries any taint." Bethany replied confidently, smiling up at her older brother. Jacob released his wife to turn back to Fairbanks. Sensing the question, the undead turned to him before the Champion could ask.
"The supplies will be brought within the hour, meanwhile I will safeguard the house to prevent any possible... spread." was the dull murmur. Jacob gave a nod, and grasped the door handle to bring it closed.
"And Jacob?" the undead called firmly. The paladin paused, waiting for the request.
"Mind the elfling, will you? He will have an interesting future, here. He will be the only high elf in our Monastery, now. Andrian fell to the graveyard's denizens this morning. He was gathering kingsblood from the back when he was set upon by a troup of wraiths." the Inquisitor informed in a mournful tone. Jacob's shoulders and heart fell. Andrian had been, while not close, a friend. Andrian had indeed been the last High elf in the group since Amariel and Roanari left. The news that he had been killed in his own home, where he was Grave-keeper, was disheartening.
"I see, Fairbanks. Thank you for informing me of the news, it's too bad... Andrian would have been a great help to raising our new son..." Jacob replied softly, bowing his head slightly.
"Say a blessing from us, when the funeral happens, Fairbanks?" Jacob asked gently. The undead nodded, and turned away in dismissal. Jacob sighed and shut the door firmly. In the entryway he could hear Bethany's bell like laughter alongside a loud squealing giggle that had to belong to the elfling. Jacob let a smile creep onto his face. He'd join them soon, first thing that he was going to do was shed himself of this bulky plate armor he'd donned when they set out to slay Roanari. He regretted killing her, but her death was necessary. She had left their crusade, she no longer deserved to live if she was not to live in the glory of the Light. Her son - his son - however, still had a chance as he was so young. It was curious why Roanari came back with him in the first place, but there was no way to find out now because her body was currently headless in the forest and left for the dire-hounds. Leaving his contemplations at the doormat, Jacob headed down the hallway that connected all the rooms of the house. Since the house was a single story, they had a meager cooking room, a large bedroom, a smaller bedroom, a pantry, and a small hearth-room. The larger room was at the very end of the hall, across from it was the smaller bedroom. Closest to the entryway was the hearth-room, and across from that was the kitchen. Inside of the kitchen a small pantry with an enchanted cold-box resided. Jacob turned into the larger bedroom - his and Bethany's. After shutting the door he easily fell into the routine of stripping his plate armor and under-armor.
Liam smiled warmly at his younger sister who held the tiny elfling named Amorieln. Ryan, his nephew, was sitting next to his mother on a cushioned couch and grinning at the smaller child.
"Wha's his name?" Ryan asked quietly, aware that the babe was sleeping. His mother beamed proudly at her oldest.
"His name is Amorieln. It means 'Safety in the Path of Light'."
A/N Hope you guys enjoyed the first chapter :) I'm working slowly on the second, as I try to flesh out the significant years of our Amorieln's childhood. Pictures will be up eventually, once I finish them, including a full grown Amorieln in armor, and his various weapons. I'm trying to keep this story as accurate as possible to the Scarlet Crusade's info, so please let me know if something is off. Sorry if I don't update often! I'd rather update slowly and with long chapters :)
~Kitt-Kitt