Lasair the Everburning - Lord Arcanum, The Bright Spark

Lord Arcanum Lasair (a.k.a. The Everburning)

The sky is streaked with smoky trails, the dark plumes suffocating the normally bright orange sky of this region of Aqshy. He remembers back to a time when he would walk the city walls as a mortal bright wizard, full of inspiration from the realm and hope that his mastery of the arcane arts would provide him the power to protect his beloved city. It had held off sieges by skaven tribes, blistering assaults from the forces of Tzeentch, and terrifying hordes of undead, all rebuked by the efforts of his city's defenders and the powers that the wizards guild held. 
He brings a rolled leaf up to his mouth as it lights spontaneously and takes a deep breath. From this hilltop vantage point, he could see the entire layout of the city before him. He remembered the smells of the city, markets of delicious foods sizzling, fire-lillies blooming with a sweet scent in the warm breeze, even the sulfurous smell of the factories brought back fond memories to him though the smells were less than pleasant. A plume of smoke escapes his mouth, mixing with the lingering smoke in the air.
Since his reforging, he longed to be back in this city. The sights, the sounds, the people, oh the people he missed so much. Lasair had lived his entire mortal life here. His parents were scholars, proud of him for achieving so much in the collegiate. His friends were mostly drunken militiamen or overly uptight wizards, but they were held together by their love of the city. His wife, a meek librarian at the arcane college, where they met all those years ago before. When he was mortal. When he was alive.
He had wondered as a stormcast whether or not people would remember him as he was, or would he be so alien that they'd shun him. Would he be subject to nostalgia, moved by the memories of his once mortal life? Would the love that stirred in his heart still spark at the sight of his once beloved city? Perhaps by the wife he longed for?
A cry stirs Lasair from his thoughts; their presence had been noted.
He looked down at the city gates as the porticullus is rattled up. Blood stains the outer walls and corpses defiles it in piles. Pyres send dark smoke plumes to dirty the skies above him, blotting out the sky and leaving the scent of burning dead lingering around the city. Gutteral war cries erupt from the city as the war bells begin to toll, calling the inhabitants out to muster. He watched as the doors of a church he once attended bursts open, the sight of a eight-pointed war icon emerging from the once sacred building.
"Lord, you orders?" one of the evocators asks from behind him.
Lasair takes one last drag of his smoking leaf and spits it out over the edge of the hill, snapping his fingers to incinerate the rest of it. 
"Burn it all down."

Physical Description

Identifying Characteristics

Usually will be seen smoking, except when his helmet is on.

Mental characteristics

Personal history

He was taken by Sigmar while he was defending his city. He had refused to use a desperate measure to stop the siege, as it would've resulted in the destruction of a large portion of the city and possibly losing thousands of lives in the process. With the city's desperate defenders, they held the enemies at the gates until they were overcome and Lasair was taken away.

Education

Studied at the Arcane Collegiate at a young age and became a Bright Wizard of great renown.

Mental Trauma

Unable to defend his city from falling to chaos.

Morality & Philosophy

Victory at all costs

Personality Characteristics

Vices & Personality flaws

Enjoys smoking and does so frequently; feels that his health is not a concern since he's basically immortal

Personality Quirks

Often times condescending towards others and feels overly confident

Eyes

Grey-blue

Hair

Long and red-brown

Aligned Organization

The Stormcast of Harmonia

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