→ application for paradisa ;
NAME: Saffy
JOURNAL: presea
EMAIL: jerkbender@gmail.com
AIM: inherits the sun / heroic BSOD
WIKI NAME: Saffytaffy
CHARACTERS: N/A.
CHARACTER NAME: Korialstrasz, goes by Krasus
FANDOM: World of Warcraft
CANON: Post-Nexus War.
WHAT THEY LOST: The ability to create new life.
ABOUT THE CHARACTER:
picture i drew!
Korialstrasz, or Krasus to most, is a man of many shapes and many faces. He’s better suited to pulling strings and aiding from the shadows rather than being on the front lines. Watching from afar isn’t good enough, not when it comes to the delicate threads binding mortal fates, so he has agents deployed to various lands. When his eyes and ears cannot penetrate some kind of defense, he dons a mortal guise and treads these dangerous places himself. On top of that, he seems to have a form for every occasion. Each is essential to understanding the core of his purpose in the world; every face has its own politics and story to deal with.
He is first and foremost a dragon, and an ancient one at that. As a member of the Red Dragonflight he is devoted to nurturing and protecting all life on Azeroth. Most dragonkin avoid directly interfering in the affairs of mortals, and even red dragons keep a certain distance. Despite the risks to himself and the world, Korialstrasz rebels against the idea and meddles where he sees fit, always with care. Though he is the prime consort of the Queen of Dragons, he spends a majority of his time guiding the mortal races through his helpers or in the guise of Krasus. He has seen gods die and the world torn asunder, but his attachment to the younger races is clear; he shares a passion for his charges just as his queen, and deems no life to be truly insignificant.
Though he is a dragon and could shapeshift infinitely, he favors one form over the rest. The mortal named Krasus is known to most as a high elf of great influence and prowess. As one of the Council of Six in Dalaran, he’s not required to divulge much of his history and shrugs off any penetrating questions. His quiet stance and wisdom demand respect and caution; his colleagues describe him as, “There’s always more with Krasus.” Krasus is not rash and impulsive-- at least not openly-- and speaks with dignity and restraint. It’s not impossible for him to lose his temper, but he has a measure of patience when dealing with both hotheaded young mages and long-winded, conceited old men. As can be expected of any immortal agent, keeps his cards close and reveals little, if anything, about his true intent.
His machinations came to haunt him when several of his pawns were lost in the struggle of his plan coming to fruition. Convinced that they were dead, he lamented that manipulating and withholding information had made him no better than the enemy. Though his apprentice and his friends later turned out all right, he continued to apologize to them and to his queen, even tried to toss himself into danger as his “penance.” He carries this guilt, but doesn’t necessarily languish in it. His age and experience have given him a certain resilience and humility; he states that he is still teaching and learning, and he holds a deep appreciation even for things he doesn’t completely comprehend, such as the existence of a healing well beneath his home.
While his regard for life and his duties are clearly obvious, his pensive nature can lead one to believe that he is fueled by little more than his own whims. This is false. Beneath the carefully-composed elven façade lies a heart of fire. An accidental foray into the past gave him a lot to think about, but he was more reactionary than cautionary, nearly giving away Deathwing’s intent thousands of years before it would become relevant. Krasus was devoted and loving to his mate even when he wasn’t the prime consort, a quality that spurred him to take on the role of mentoring humanity. Ageless as Krasus is, his profound moments of selfless sacrifice give him a sense of impulsive, well-meaning youth. He longs for his love when he is away, just as he still longs for the sky when in human form. He brings himself to the brink of death just for a chance to convince someone to help the Queen. All of the carefully-planned chess moves are gone when Alexstrasza is in the picture-- Krasus repeatedly throws himself into harm’s way in her name.
There is more to him than his love of Alexstrasza, of course; his relationship with Rhonin is complicated as well. The wizard went from pawn to partner in a relatively short amount of time. When things are most dire, Rhonin is the one he calls. Krasus mentors him with an almost fatherly air even when Rhonin tantrums and refuses to help. The dragon likely sees him as a true friend even if he doesn’t express it very well; his careful treatment of Rhonin says much.
Though Krasus may go about the world in an attempt at secrecy, he is far from the sinister wizard stereotype. He always works with the fierce urgency of a man who knows everything and that it is happening now. Clever, disciplined, gentle, and never the first to raise his voice to anyone, he is the shining example of a diplomat and a friend to all living things. One would think it an honor to be called a friend of Krasus, but truly he is the one honored to know people like Rhonin-- people with the courage to shape their own destinies.
THIRD-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE:
A soft breeze touched his cheek, brushed some of his silvering hair aside with the tenderness of a lover. Krasus inhaled deeply as he roused from his slumber and caught the sweet scents of dreamfoil and goldclover. He blinked once, twice, and as his vision cleared he realized that he was in his tower alone. He scolded himself for his disappointment. His mate would never visit him here. She would call to him, or sometimes the other way around, and if his work was not more dire than the desire of a pair very much in love… then he would come.
When did he fall asleep? He couldn’t remember. Several hours had passed since he opened the window. The pure, clear cerulean of the sky faded to a violet blanket of stars, and the horizon shrouded itself in deep autumn hues lingering before the moonrise. The dragon mage had spent many, many hours poring over the aged tome before him. To most eyes it would seem an ordinary book, at least in Dalaran, but Krasus knew it for what it was.
The secrets written within were ancient before Krasus was born.
Each page was a puzzle in itself. The words on the page weren’t always what was truly represented. There were layers upon layers of magic for every spread, and more magical defenses than a sorcerer’s lair. It had taken him a fortnight to unravel the spell that kept the book shut, and Krasus was counted among the very best when it came to the arcane arts. A lesser wizard might have dedicated his life’s work to deciphering the text. The book had been found in the dwelling of one of Malygos’ lieutenants, a spoil of the thankless but short-lived war against the Blue Dragonflight, and that made it incredibly important in the wake of Malygos’ defeat.
He would read no further without sustenance, his belly told him so. Heaving a sigh that betrayed his true age, Krasus rose from his high-backed chair and gestured at the window to close it. Summer in Crystalsong Forest was more pleasant than one would expect, but it was still Northrend, and the temperature dove with the sun. He imagined that if he looked far into the dusk, he could see across the icy wastes to where his beloved currently resided.
He tucked away that thought and swept down the stairs of the tower toward the kitchen. Tiny blue lights came to life at the edges of the stairs to light his way, a hospitable but unneeded touch. A small meal would suffice for now. And then… he would be back to tracing patterns through the madness.
FIRST-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE:
[private]
It has been several days since I first arrived. Unfortunately, I have not had the opportunity to delve into researching what lies beneath the castle too thoroughly. It is of priority, but the safety of my Queen is moreso. To see her again is a blessing and a torture in and of itself; the eternal conflict of hidden love, I suppose.
I have come to understand that several reckless powers reside here, including a few from our own world: Arthas Menethil, now known as the Lich King; and one whom I would call kin, Malygos the Spellweaver. Somehow they have been kept in check, but I worry for Malygos’ tenuous hold on his own sanity and whatever influence the Lich King has gained in his time here.
… It pains me to see Malygos as he was in my memories, and it pains my queen as well. It was our orders that severed the last thread of that ancient life. We would have not settled on such an action if we did not believe Malygos was beyond redemption. And yet… did we make the right choice? The age of dragons is over and we are so very few, but it feels as if we are needed more than ever. Kalecgos is the most qualified to replace Malygos, but I cannot be sure of his commitment to the Wyrmrest Accord. Even now he sometimes avoids my eyes and I know what he is thinking of.
I wonder how much of this I have brought upon myself.
JOURNAL: presea
EMAIL: jerkbender@gmail.com
AIM: inherits the sun / heroic BSOD
WIKI NAME: Saffytaffy
CHARACTERS: N/A.
CHARACTER NAME: Korialstrasz, goes by Krasus
FANDOM: World of Warcraft
CANON: Post-Nexus War.
WHAT THEY LOST: The ability to create new life.
ABOUT THE CHARACTER:
picture i drew!
Korialstrasz, or Krasus to most, is a man of many shapes and many faces. He’s better suited to pulling strings and aiding from the shadows rather than being on the front lines. Watching from afar isn’t good enough, not when it comes to the delicate threads binding mortal fates, so he has agents deployed to various lands. When his eyes and ears cannot penetrate some kind of defense, he dons a mortal guise and treads these dangerous places himself. On top of that, he seems to have a form for every occasion. Each is essential to understanding the core of his purpose in the world; every face has its own politics and story to deal with.
He is first and foremost a dragon, and an ancient one at that. As a member of the Red Dragonflight he is devoted to nurturing and protecting all life on Azeroth. Most dragonkin avoid directly interfering in the affairs of mortals, and even red dragons keep a certain distance. Despite the risks to himself and the world, Korialstrasz rebels against the idea and meddles where he sees fit, always with care. Though he is the prime consort of the Queen of Dragons, he spends a majority of his time guiding the mortal races through his helpers or in the guise of Krasus. He has seen gods die and the world torn asunder, but his attachment to the younger races is clear; he shares a passion for his charges just as his queen, and deems no life to be truly insignificant.
Though he is a dragon and could shapeshift infinitely, he favors one form over the rest. The mortal named Krasus is known to most as a high elf of great influence and prowess. As one of the Council of Six in Dalaran, he’s not required to divulge much of his history and shrugs off any penetrating questions. His quiet stance and wisdom demand respect and caution; his colleagues describe him as, “There’s always more with Krasus.” Krasus is not rash and impulsive-- at least not openly-- and speaks with dignity and restraint. It’s not impossible for him to lose his temper, but he has a measure of patience when dealing with both hotheaded young mages and long-winded, conceited old men. As can be expected of any immortal agent, keeps his cards close and reveals little, if anything, about his true intent.
His machinations came to haunt him when several of his pawns were lost in the struggle of his plan coming to fruition. Convinced that they were dead, he lamented that manipulating and withholding information had made him no better than the enemy. Though his apprentice and his friends later turned out all right, he continued to apologize to them and to his queen, even tried to toss himself into danger as his “penance.” He carries this guilt, but doesn’t necessarily languish in it. His age and experience have given him a certain resilience and humility; he states that he is still teaching and learning, and he holds a deep appreciation even for things he doesn’t completely comprehend, such as the existence of a healing well beneath his home.
While his regard for life and his duties are clearly obvious, his pensive nature can lead one to believe that he is fueled by little more than his own whims. This is false. Beneath the carefully-composed elven façade lies a heart of fire. An accidental foray into the past gave him a lot to think about, but he was more reactionary than cautionary, nearly giving away Deathwing’s intent thousands of years before it would become relevant. Krasus was devoted and loving to his mate even when he wasn’t the prime consort, a quality that spurred him to take on the role of mentoring humanity. Ageless as Krasus is, his profound moments of selfless sacrifice give him a sense of impulsive, well-meaning youth. He longs for his love when he is away, just as he still longs for the sky when in human form. He brings himself to the brink of death just for a chance to convince someone to help the Queen. All of the carefully-planned chess moves are gone when Alexstrasza is in the picture-- Krasus repeatedly throws himself into harm’s way in her name.
There is more to him than his love of Alexstrasza, of course; his relationship with Rhonin is complicated as well. The wizard went from pawn to partner in a relatively short amount of time. When things are most dire, Rhonin is the one he calls. Krasus mentors him with an almost fatherly air even when Rhonin tantrums and refuses to help. The dragon likely sees him as a true friend even if he doesn’t express it very well; his careful treatment of Rhonin says much.
Though Krasus may go about the world in an attempt at secrecy, he is far from the sinister wizard stereotype. He always works with the fierce urgency of a man who knows everything and that it is happening now. Clever, disciplined, gentle, and never the first to raise his voice to anyone, he is the shining example of a diplomat and a friend to all living things. One would think it an honor to be called a friend of Krasus, but truly he is the one honored to know people like Rhonin-- people with the courage to shape their own destinies.
THIRD-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE:
A soft breeze touched his cheek, brushed some of his silvering hair aside with the tenderness of a lover. Krasus inhaled deeply as he roused from his slumber and caught the sweet scents of dreamfoil and goldclover. He blinked once, twice, and as his vision cleared he realized that he was in his tower alone. He scolded himself for his disappointment. His mate would never visit him here. She would call to him, or sometimes the other way around, and if his work was not more dire than the desire of a pair very much in love… then he would come.
When did he fall asleep? He couldn’t remember. Several hours had passed since he opened the window. The pure, clear cerulean of the sky faded to a violet blanket of stars, and the horizon shrouded itself in deep autumn hues lingering before the moonrise. The dragon mage had spent many, many hours poring over the aged tome before him. To most eyes it would seem an ordinary book, at least in Dalaran, but Krasus knew it for what it was.
The secrets written within were ancient before Krasus was born.
Each page was a puzzle in itself. The words on the page weren’t always what was truly represented. There were layers upon layers of magic for every spread, and more magical defenses than a sorcerer’s lair. It had taken him a fortnight to unravel the spell that kept the book shut, and Krasus was counted among the very best when it came to the arcane arts. A lesser wizard might have dedicated his life’s work to deciphering the text. The book had been found in the dwelling of one of Malygos’ lieutenants, a spoil of the thankless but short-lived war against the Blue Dragonflight, and that made it incredibly important in the wake of Malygos’ defeat.
He would read no further without sustenance, his belly told him so. Heaving a sigh that betrayed his true age, Krasus rose from his high-backed chair and gestured at the window to close it. Summer in Crystalsong Forest was more pleasant than one would expect, but it was still Northrend, and the temperature dove with the sun. He imagined that if he looked far into the dusk, he could see across the icy wastes to where his beloved currently resided.
He tucked away that thought and swept down the stairs of the tower toward the kitchen. Tiny blue lights came to life at the edges of the stairs to light his way, a hospitable but unneeded touch. A small meal would suffice for now. And then… he would be back to tracing patterns through the madness.
FIRST-PERSON WRITING SAMPLE:
[private]
It has been several days since I first arrived. Unfortunately, I have not had the opportunity to delve into researching what lies beneath the castle too thoroughly. It is of priority, but the safety of my Queen is moreso. To see her again is a blessing and a torture in and of itself; the eternal conflict of hidden love, I suppose.
I have come to understand that several reckless powers reside here, including a few from our own world: Arthas Menethil, now known as the Lich King; and one whom I would call kin, Malygos the Spellweaver. Somehow they have been kept in check, but I worry for Malygos’ tenuous hold on his own sanity and whatever influence the Lich King has gained in his time here.
… It pains me to see Malygos as he was in my memories, and it pains my queen as well. It was our orders that severed the last thread of that ancient life. We would have not settled on such an action if we did not believe Malygos was beyond redemption. And yet… did we make the right choice? The age of dragons is over and we are so very few, but it feels as if we are needed more than ever. Kalecgos is the most qualified to replace Malygos, but I cannot be sure of his commitment to the Wyrmrest Accord. Even now he sometimes avoids my eyes and I know what he is thinking of.
I wonder how much of this I have brought upon myself.