Bottom line: you’re TOO NICE, and this will inevitably spell out your doom. You might meet your end by sacrificing yourself to save another, or—even more likely—you’ll happen across some individuals of questionable character who will take advantage of your niceness and lead you to ruin. Either way, it’s not looking good. You need to be meaner. Maybe scream at a small child or leave a bad tip at a restaurant or something, I don’t know. I’m trying to save you, okay?
Laughter, familiar laughter. High-pitched, maniacal laughter, all too abundant in his memories that he jolted out of bed in a panic. Without warning Razail grabbed Samiel, rushed to get his daggers and ran into the infants’ room. Cradles pushed into the corner, Samiel set on the floor in front of them, and Razail turned with daggers ready to fight. A position that was second nature to him.
The laughter that haunted his nightmares, and even his waking thoughts and memories, came again. Each shadow looked over. Each entry double checked without moving from where he stood.
Did Samiel hear it? Did it matter? If this nightmare of his was truly within the apartment then double checking and second guessing could get someone killed.
Unable to speak. Unable to sign to Samiel and tell him what was going on, Razail gripped his daggers tighter.
He’d endure being stabbed again and again if it meant Samiel and the girls were untouched.
When Razail took a couple hours each day away from Samiel, he had gone shopping. Everything he bought was hidden safely from others sight. The rogue did the same thing last year but didn’t have a very good experience. There was a small bit of hope this year would go better.
On the Eve off Grandfather Winter’s arrival, he searched for a suitable place. The first couple orphanages refused his offer, as one had no one that understood how to sign and the other disliked how he looked. It took some time to finally find a third orphanage, but he eventually did, and someone knew how to sign that want opposed to a one eared rogue elf that just wanted to bring gifts to the kids.
They set up a time the next day for him to come and hand the children the gifts in person. Razail was rather nervous at the thought of this, but it was the only way they would let him. All the gifts were packed and loaded safely onto Finnigan, his proto-drake, before they flew off. Razail had started to shake during the flight there, and it only got worse once they had landed.
The head caretaker had met them outside, and even though they were hesitant at such a large for breathing beast being so close to the children, they realized things would be alright once Finnigan had rolled onto his side. Razail and the caretaker had taken the gifts inside, two huge bags filled with goodies the rogue thought the kids would enjoy.
Inside, the children were laughing and playing, running and screaming, and just being happy children. Razail looked around, at something he was unable to do, somewhere he was unable to be growing up that a part of him still wished it could have been.
One little girl ran up to him, a mess of blonde curls that nearly covered her face, and she pointed to his missing ear. “What happened Mister? You only have one ear!”. Razail’s single ear lowered and before he tried to sign and explain, the caretaker had addressed the girl quietly and dismissed her back to play with the other children.
The two walked further into the children’s playroom where there had been a rather small tree set up for the holiday. One chair was set up near the tree and the caretaker had gently ushered the rogue to it. “Do not worry. I’ll be near.” Her soft smile and calm voice was enough reassurance he would be okay, for now, and it continued throughout the whole time he was there.
Each child received a present or two. Dolls, paper and pencils, crayons, paint, balls, stuffed animals, board games, and even a few books for the older children. He allowed them all a couple choices to have, and when Razail was done there was not a single gift left ungiven.
He smiled behind his mask as he watched them all play. Eventually he signed to the caretaker he should go. She nodded and lead him out. Though a couple children saw and ran up to the black and red armored rogue.
“Thank you Mister!” They both said in unison before they had given Razail a hug. Those emerald eyes of his had begun to tear up while he hugged back. And as quickly as he could, Razail left.
It certainly went better than last year. And he’ll do it again the next year to come.
The explosion in the air of the colliding Legion crafted ships was just as mesmerizing as it was awe inspiring. The sounds all around suggested things were done; they had won. On swift footsteps Razail had ran into the Dawnspire, bumped into one very familiar face and couldn’t help himself.
His arms had wrapped around Lazarus so quick it may have surprised him. He pulled his own mask down and had given Lazarus a quick kiss on the cheek, fearing to have done more. The mask had returned to his face and he ran off again as quick as he always had been.
Another face, one he grew to know more recently as a relative, an Uncle, and he came up to the demon hunter with a small, hopeful smile on his face. Monax could recognize him easily now, and offered a brief smile on return as he felt relieved the rogue was okay. It had gone away quickly though, that smile of his that sat under a blood stained cloth blindfold, and he reaches out to hug Razail. “Your not gonna like it kid, but Tyleril, Alex and Rai are in that infirmary. Alex and I.. We couldn’t get Rai’s heart to beat.”
Razail had started to shake, and his smile had been ripped downwards as his his heart started to hurt. He have Monax the quickest of hugs and was let go. The illidari walked towards the battlefield as he said one last thing, “I’m really glad you’re okay, kid.”
Razail ran as tears had started to trickle down his face. Though once he got to the infirmary, once he speed Tyleril trying to heal in his obviously wounded state, and the sight of his twin cousins a dark corner. It was almost to much. Only one other thing had set him over the edge.
He heard the Greenseer had died.
He swallowed hard before he ran off and away from it all. Sobbing that had been silenced from his inability to speak could be seen and felt through the shadows that trailed behind and rippled outward.
He ran.
He ran to find Samiel. To let him at least know someone was coming home, even if it was to just hold the young elf and cry.
Razail wanted his family so desperately, and now he had lost some of them.
Razail blinks as he’s thrown over Tyleril’s shoulder and carried off. He tries to sign to where the priest can see, P-O-P I A-M F-I-N-E, but his growling stomach did not help him in this situation and he just sighed. The rogue gave up as Tyleril was determined to get him home to eat.
A letter sent by Hawk Courier to Symmathan Brightarrow, on patrol in the forests in Southern Quel’thalas. Marked as urgent the corier made fast time to deliver it into the hands of the Farstrider. It had been years since Tyleril had sent him an urgent message. With a feeling of creeping anxiety going up his spine he opened it.
Sym,
Razail’s ended up in the infirmary. In a coma with some of his ear missing. Come back as soon as you can so he can have you at his side. Araedriel Alluvion, another mender, will be at his side most likely when you arrive there. No, Nadim isn’t allowed in the infirmary and has to stay outside
-Tyleril
The letter was short but the last sentence at the end had Sym running to the nearest Farstrider post. When Symmathan and Nadim left the Farstrider’s post hours later Sym ran as fast as he was able with Nadim following behind. It would take him time to get there but when he did he grasped Razail’s hand tightly, holding it as he fell asleep at razail’s side.
Nadim peered from the windows, the exhausted Hawkstrider Sym had rode in on wandered away to freedom.
He’s still breathing. Come on, I’ll get you to the menders, kid. Even if they might not heal me.
Razail’s beaten and unmoving body laid in Monax’s arms as the demon hunter left. He could barely hear the others commenting behind him, something about Argus in the sky. It didn’t matter to him at the moment, the well being of that young rogue did. Monax had learned they were relatives, but had not said anything about it to Razail yet.
Blood creeping down his back, ribs broken, and Monax was having troubles breathing; but he wouldn’t stop until he reached the infirmary. Each step was hurried, and the closer he got to where he needed to be, the more he was gasping for air. He was used to pain, used to pushing himself to stay alive, but now it was for another.
Tyleril Silversword 
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