#yurissa

[swansong-art]

I was intending to make a ref sheet for Yurissa but instead I just did this so uhhh :v here

[the-interplay-of-sex-and-violins]

Kelyn's 136 (but doesn't remember that lol), so I imagine him as something like a mid-to-late twenty-something, in rough human terms.

Alythara's about a century older than him, so around 235 and a slightly more established adult, equivalent to late twenties/early thirties. Yurissa is 16 and thus an absolute infant to all these elves she hangs around with (much to her teenage annoyance).

Tav Question

How old is your tav? (As specific as their actual age or just general life stage. Age chart to help)

[the-interplay-of-sex-and-violins]

Yurissa

Mephistopheles Tiefling

Warlock (pacted to Raphael)

Weaponized autism in the form of a teenage girl

Definitely chaotic, good if dad is watching

Early Life

Yurissa doesn't remember much of her life prior to meeting Kelyn, having been too young for most of it to stick; her earliest memories are of being alone. She stumbled across the drow one day when she was five years old, drawn by his music. Kelyn was quick to take pity on the girl, and Yurissa was just as quick to decide she wasn't leaving his side unless forced to: after all, he was kind and good to her, and her other option was fending for herself.

Before long Yurissa had practically adopted him, and it wasn't too long after that that a group of dark strangers found them...or more specifically, Kelyn. While Yurissa was never told the details, they soon left their home to travel to Baldur's Gate.

The two of them settled in at Baldur's Gate fairly quickly, with Yurissa delighting in the sights, sounds, and better life offered by their new home. She was never clear what exactly Kelyn did, but she was young enough not to worry about it too much; after all, he was a grown-up, so he must know what he was doing.

For his part, Kelyn did his best to raise her to be clever, well-rounded, and confident in herself: he taught her some of the basic tricks of any rogue's trade (with her taking a particular delight in stealth and pickpocketing), a few different languages so they could communicate without others understanding (she knows drow hand sign but can only partly replicate it, and is also more-or-less fluent in Drowic and Undercommon, and knows a bit of High Drow), and an unwavering sense of her own importance that she perhaps took a bit too seriously.

She was around seven years old when Kelyn first met Gortash, and happened to be accompanying her guardian to that first meeting. While the two of them talked, Yurissa quickly got bored, and it wasn't long before she decided to try and pickpocket Gortash; she was caught almost immediately, but luckily the man found her sheer audacity a bit too charming to be properly angry (perhaps helped by Kelyn's profuse apologies and his own desire to partner with him).

Before long, Gortash was a common presence in Yurissa's life, and it didn't take long for her to question him and just who, exactly, he thought he was, directing her guardian's attention away from her. Despite this, the two got along surprisingly well: they were never around each other long enough for Yurissa to actually seriously annoy him, and Gortash largely found her nosy intensity to be harmless and a bit amusing (and worth tolerating for the sake of staying on good terms with Kelyn).

Eventually, at one point when Kelyn had to be away for a few hours for a job, he ended up leaving Yurissa in Gortash's care; she never knew the exact circumstances of why, but it was in truth to protect her from Orin, who had recently been raising a fuss about the girl and hinted that she might try to cut out her brother's weakness if he wouldn't do it himself. Gortash was the only person Kelyn trusted to protect her, as her usual babysitters wouldn't have stood a chance if Orin had tried to make good on the implied threat.

Yurissa was hesitant at first, but eventually found herself meandering into Gortash's workshop to watch him work. She was quiet enough that he tolerated her presence (and besides, when she was in line of sight it made it much easier to be sure she was safe from Orin), and after she showed more than an idle interest in what he was doing, he gave her some mechanical bits to toy with.

Yurissa took to it with fervent interest, and managed to finagle the pieces into something resembling a functional object. It was essentially useless: a small collection of gears, springs, and other miscellany that didn't do anything but provide an outlet for fidgety little hands. But Yurissa was proud of her little creation, although she wasn't sure what it was for...until Gortash took it from her, made some adjustments to smooth the movement of the various parts out, and crafted it into a pendant for her.

Upon Kelyn's return to pick her up, Gortash was all too darkly eager to warn Kelyn to "watch out...she's a smart one".

For the next decade or so, Yurissa's life was happy and largely unremarkable. She spent more time around Gortash as he and Kelyn grew closer, eventually coming to see him as a sort of vaguely uncle-like figure. As she got older, she started to notice enough to realize Gortash was likely involved in some extremely shady business...and given Kelyn's business partnership with him, he also must be. Nonetheless, she reasoned that it wasn't her business: Kelyn had only ever been kind, loving, and doting to her, and Gortash himself had never treated her poorly, and she had enough awareness by then to know sometimes good people had to do less-than-good things...and surely Kelyn, and anyone he associated so closely and freely with, must be inherently good in the end.

She also met Orin during several of her many visits to her brother despite Kelyn's attempts to keep them apart, and was quick to realize she held no love for Yurissa and would, in fact, leap at the chance to hurt her...and given her shapechanging, Yurissa could never be sure Orin wasn't nearby, only that she wouldn't do anything so long as Kelyn or Gortash were close enough to intervene.

As she approached her teenage years, Yurissa began to suspect Kelyn and Gortash were in fact involved in something very dark, and perhaps the man who had been raising her wasn't as good as she wanted to think: she still knew nothing of his actual work (and by now, knew she probably didn't want to), but she'd begun to put the pieces together over the years, and to take notice that things she'd written off as simply odd quirks of Kelyn's behavior might, in fact, indicate something far darker and more frightening about him.

But still, he was the only parental figure Yurissa had ever had, and he'd never mistreated her...whatever darkness he might be hiding from her.

The Trip to Moonrise and Aftermath

Yurissa was fifteen when Kelyn left to take a short trip to Moonrise Towers. He refused to bring her along (saying only that it was nothing she wanted to be involved with), and left her in Gortash's care (as was now typical, whenever he was away for even a few hours), with the promise that he'd be home in a few days.

He never returned.

A short time after Kelyn was supposed to have come home, Gortash sat her down to inform her of the unfortunate news that he would never be coming home: he didn't have details to tell her (and even if he had, he wouldn't have), only that he had it on good authority that something had gone wrong at Moonrise, and Kelyn wasn't going to be coming back.

Yurissa refused to believe it for a time, until reality settled in and she was forced to accept that Kelyn was gone. She stayed with Gortash while she grieved, and in fact he was intent at keeping her by his side as his ward...because, after all, he had promised Kelyn he would keep her safe, and he intended to do that, since he owed him that much and was in no rush to throw Yurissa to the wolves; Orin had taken her brother's place, now, and would have leapt an an opportunity to kill the girl, sheerly to spite the man she had murdered.

Yurissa didn't much enjoy the additional pomp and circumstance that came with being the ward of such a prominent and ambitious politician, but she wasn't eager to be on her own again, and while Gortash wasn't Kelyn, she did care for him and he was good to her in his way. She never fully accepted the story he told about Kelyn's death, however...it was all too vague, shady, and overall suspicious for her.

It wasn't long after that she was approached by a poetic stranger who introduced himself as Raphael. He soon revealed himself to be a devil...and one who was extremely interested in helping her discover the truth about Kelyn's death, and if she felt the need, avenging him. He offered her all the abilities and knowledge of a warlock, in exchange for Yurissa working for him when, where, and however he needed it...and to start, she could keep an eye on Gortash for him, because the devil was very interested in his doings, and eager to make use of Yurissa's closeness to him.

Yurissa accepted, and promptly set to sticking her nose into Gortash's business: at first, by simply asking if she could help him with something, because after all, wasn't she old enough? She was bored.

Gortash took her sudden interest with a bit of bemused, suspicious humor, but saw little harm in giving her some low-risk jobs to do to see if she might be worth trusting with more important business. This largely consisted of running messages from time to time and other minor errands, which she naturally pried into (which he had been expecting she would, and frankly he'd have been disappointed if she hadn't). The majority of them confirmed her suspicions of him having shady dealings, but it was largely what she expected by now: certainly nothing good, per se, but nothing terribly bad either, and well, he was a politician, wasn't he?

Before she could make much use of either the skills Raphael had granted her or her new involvement in Gortash's work, it was all tossed by the wayside when one man walked back into Baldur's Gate, entirely alive and lacking the majority of his memory, including any recollection of Yurissa herself: Kelyn.

[luvs4matt]

i wanted to watch the new season but bruh they ALR have a scandal with that girl yurissa (?) and like i just miss ppg 💔

girl yulissa AND austin 💔 but i gotta see what happens with chelley and ace 💔 and see all of the bs yulissa and austin do because istg

[dsdualstudio]

教師ポイント変更のお知らせ（2025年4月26日～）

いつもD's Speakをご利用頂きまして、誠にありがとうございます。

4月26日に教師ポイントの設定を下記の様に変更させていただきます。

＜レッスン予約時教師ポイントの変更＞

時期：4月26日(土)

人数：計407名　※4/14 更新

＜ご注意事項＞

・ポイント設定は、生徒様からのレビューに加え、教師のスキル、勤務状況等より総合的に判断致します。

・該当の教師をご予約の際、4月26日以降のご予約は新しいポイントが採用されます。ご予約した際の消費ポイントと、表示ポイントに差異が生じることがございますので、ご注意ください。

＜対象教師リスト＞

40→50

Binary

Daedalus

Flordelun

Fordham

Hannigan

Hezmil

Izaiha

Krypton

Polinski

Rhapsody

Sibika

Sparks

Texensis

50→60

Acomo

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Alkeev

Apastron

Aurum

Bammoth

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Basalt

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Bloom

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Callop

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Copper

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Danzor

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Doppel

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Edurice

Espresso

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Fabachi

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Fawntam

Feldway

Felgudio

Fortinghon

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Giesheen

Grancent

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Hoverla

Intal

Jewish

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Leslie

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Maan

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Manuel

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Tula

Unbox

Uvoila

Valir

Ventary

Vikram

Whitehill

Wikino

Yanjit

Yurissa

Yuson

Zalina

Zedla

60→70

Ashantee

Asmodeus

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Benevo

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Chapman

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Eruption

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Legit

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Ortiz

Pluto

Rigsby

Rivka

Rodelyn

Rojay

Sagittarius

Solene

Sundance

Thirdee

Tuesday

Weber

Worthy

Zahid

70→80

Anca

Aphelios

Bageesa

Barcosi

Bastille

Camance

Chuck

Cinco

Colletti

Delantar

Doja

Ecru

Ejalyn

Emfre

Entice

Fedella

Flores

Galadril

Geranium

Goldberg

Herrera

Infinitee

Keyp

Khalila

League

Ledachill

Madera

Mendoza

Mewgulf

Montoya

Murray

Nemesia

Nessa

Nimuel

Opieza

Orion

Piamont

Ponce

Tahoma

Tobin

Triah

Trishika

Vailoces

Vale

Virginia

Zarmel

Zilong

80→90

Bellini

Escapade

Flavion

Hickory

Jenora

Joya

Keanu

Kiva

Malcolm

Nahmae

Nesbitt

Nimbus

Prince

Sharpay

Trellis

90→100

Ady

Alicia

Amor

Bradford

Chansey

Hasan

Ilbert

Jennelyn

Kenya

Mage

Namari

Sylvianah

Tamika

100→110

Andra

Arnette

Diecybel

Elise

Heidi

Hopper

Kanda

Slovene

Vheena

110→120

Beluchi

Connor

Cumin

Drip

Hans

Judge

Zevlin

50→40

Adorett

Ambon

Aurozane

Bachelor

Baylistic

Bissrob

Caspi

Chinoder

Chustiva

Cinebon

Custodio

Deksia

Delsion

Demberin

Depauma

Divjake

Dugtrio

Eliper

Empacis

Entreso

Everglow

Flitton

Formand

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Galenite

Giyann

Kapano

Krylov

Lativer

Leadville

Mariestel

Melfran

Moudal

Nutkin

Parakeet

Pastrana

Phalason

Ponsoy

Ragdeer

Rascon

Remeniss

Rexalla

Riveta

Rudmille

Sample

Sandeto

Senegal

Serawyn

Stardom

Talkum

Verpeach

Vignette

Wakefeel

Zetta

60→50

Adribell

Alofi

Alonte

Arante

Arby

Ariados

Ashworth

Auxtero

Babushka

Bailey

Banimore

Betito

Bronsted

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Chatwin

Chosera

Cinnabar

Cresendo

Cresswel

December

Dianon

Distance

Enigmos

Espares

Faelid

Findlay

Firefox

Gantlos

Gavrilin

Gipslan

Goliath

Greeman

Hadasa

Halphas

Hasset

Herasto

Hibiscus

Honesto

Ichoika

Jackman

Janus

Kalehoff

Laksha

Legrand

Liggoti

Liksi

Lowenthal

Luzmen

Macpher

Marthara

Maxence

Mayzeevon

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Meepoh

Merchant

Miscanthus

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Mohado

Monaghan

Morpheus

Orlean

Palmet

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Pencasa

Polanco

Potestas

Prepon

Rhett

Rosapus

Salitap

Salvador

Setenil

Shortcake

Sonido

Tential

Thadeo

Tocara

Tolemy

Tolls

Uridine

Vaconsin

Vassa

Veliko

Venigas

Vincenzo

Vintage

Witwer

Yonker

Zemenski

Zephan

70→60

Estacio

80→70

Cardyllis

Dice

Sama

90→80

Bey

120→110

Brick

引き続きQQEnglishをどうぞよろしくお願いいたします。

[the-interplay-of-sex-and-violins]

Okay, I'll bite.

Kelyn, in his lucid moments, TRIED to be a good brother. He only joined the Bhaalists after a lifetime (120ish years) in Menzoberranzan, with one older sister who did love him: he had some kind of model of a normal sibling relationship. He was trying to fight Bhaal's will, and it was easy to project a lot of things on Orin: to feel a sort of brotherly affection and obligation to her, to want to protect her even while he knows she's a seasoned killer who delights in it. But is that her fault, part of her nature...or just how she was forced to be?

I think Orin simultaneously loathed his "weakness" while also craving the only kindness and love without a catch that anyone had ever shown her. She was also grown when they met, or nearly so; so there's layers of her being set in her ways and this fucker sweeping in suddenly and taking her de facto spot as The Favorite in the temple.

Then throw in Kelyn's relationship with Yurissa: in Orin's eyes, this dude just shows up and is demonstrably Daddy's Favorite Child, and he himself has his own daughter...who he is explicitly not raising in the cult, and in fact keeping her as far from it as possible. Kelyn is too weak, too soft, but when he kills his work is beautiful, divinely inspired...and he keeps trying to deny his obvious nature despite it? To the point of keeping his "daughter" out of the church...and why? If she's no use as a killer, then she could be used as a sacrifice, but he denies Yurissa both those things. To kill her or teach her to kill is the only way a Bhaalist can show love, isn't it? So what, then, is this?

It must be a weakness...because if Orin has to consider that it's just love, that that kind of love is real and is possible for a Bhaalist, for Bhaal's favorite, and most perfect creation to show a child, then she has to wonder: why did she never get it? It's easy to rationalize her life as simple fact, as what is done when you're a Bhaalist raising a child properly, but when Kelyn is flagrantly proving that isn't true...

If he could love this little girl and not treat her at all how Orin herself was treated, if he could try to extend that same ungodly kindness to her simply because she's his sister and not because there's any hidden catch or terrible expectation...

How could he possibly be Bhaal's favorite? How could he ever be worthy? Why wasn't she ever shown any kindness, when it's possible?

So she had to kill him. That's what their kind does anyway, and she can't handle him being what he is, so she has to remove him, and prove she's the better child in doing so. Then she doesn't have to deal with him being better, more favored, more loved, doesn't have to deal with watching him struggle again and again and again against their father's will when she knows it's futile, and she doesn't have to think about Kelyn, Bhaal's favorite, still being capable of kindness and love that doesn't involve a knife (because that would mean all of them are capable of that too, and chose otherwise; that would mean everything done to her was a choice, not an inevitability).

But killing him is also a blessing, and he doesn't deserve it. What greater insult is there for Bhaalists than to deem someone, especially a rival, unworthy of murder? (Besides, he once threatened to kill her far from Bhaal's altar, to declare her so unworthy of it that she would be forgotten entirely. What's sweeter than to turn that threat back on him?)

(And maybe, just maybe, if he lives despite it all...maybe he'll never come back. Maybe he'll be right. Maybe there was a way out, for one of them. Maybe the girl who craved his affection without knowing what to do with it, maybe the one who saw him try to be a loving father to Yurissa and wondered what that would have been like if she could have had it...maybe that girl also wants him to escape, to be away from this place, to be away from Bhaal.)

idont care if your durge was having crazy eroguro sex with gorty can you get them to put some pants on and tell me about their sibling relationship with orin. please.

[catilus]

A deceptively cute tiefling rogue I drew on commission! More fantasy art, NPCs, awesome homebrew, and other cool stuff: https://www.patreon.com/Catilus

Character: Yurissa, Tiefling Rogue

Deceptively adorable, Yurissa is a skilled tiefling rogue who thrives in the shadows and doesn’t shy away from danger. Here, she’s leaning against a wall with her head to one side, checking to see if the coast is clear before she proceeds with that night’s shady business.

What do you think? :)

Find the full HD version, plus tons of fantasy and SF art, D&D items, my 5e adventures and supplements (FREE for Patreon supporters!), NPCs, and more great stuff at myPatreon: https://www.patreon.com/Catilus

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[raven-scorned]

Shifting Tide

Yurissa poured herself another glass of whiskey bringing the beverage count up to five. Her gaze trailed over the few items that remained in the recently cleared out office. She plucked the glass from the bare bookshelf and walked the short distance to the window that overlooked the training field three flights below. The room looked much like Sapphyre and her offices back in Stormwind where all the main furniture and files had been removed leaving no traces they had ever been there at all.  

“The compound is clear,” Delinar said as he slipped into her office. “Thank you.” She said after downing the contents of her glass. She settled the empty glass upside down on the center of the desk as she savored the flavor of the liquor before swallowing. Her attention quickly shifted to the group now gathering in her room. She lifted a brow in question awaiting their reports.

Ana spoke first bringing forward a few documents for Yurissa to look over. “The funds you requested removed from the organization’s bank accounts have been transferred to your private accounts. I saw the transactions through this morning, untraceable as you wished. The payments that were written for the supplies of the bar and the lease were stopped and voided. Aredhele’s own funds, of course, we left untouched though I think time and suffering would have covered their removal.” Yurissa smirked and nodded. “No need for unnecessary drama. I only want what is mine.”

Her eyes moved to Velistus to inform her if his tasks had been completed. He brought a file over with a few documents she had to sign. As he spoke Yurissa tugged a quill from her bag and a jar of ink doing just that. “The deed of the compound has been awarded to Aredhele as you requested, as well as full responsibility on the leases pertaining to the office, and tavern.  A notary will be sent in the morning with the file as well as notifications over the overdue balances on both. The suppliers have also been informed that she is to be contacted pertaining to the items currently being shipped in for the bar.”  Yurissa nodded once sharply sliding the now signed documents back to the man.

Her eyes moved to Emlinon, “And my parting gift?” Emlinon shrugged, “Everything is set though I can’t imagine why you would gift her the building after you mean to destroy it.” Yurissa stood up to pack the last few remaining traces of her within the compound and shove them in her bag. “Aredhele delights in destruction. It’s a warning, as she has recently taken to turning on people. Not to mention she has one of the master keys to the place which had been a gift as well. Plus I am certain this will make my resignation clear.” She shook her head slightly, “Let’s move out.” She glanced back at the office one last time before leaving the compound facility. 

Yurissa raised her hand to her ear once the Compound was cleared and they were well beyond her property lines. “Fire at will.”

[velerodra-valesinger]

The Axe

(Mentions: @raven-scorned )

It had been two nights since Vel had watched as the axe came down. A simple, clean, motion, a head removed from a body. And though she managed to keep her mind occupied on a variety of other things, she occasionally found her mind drifting back to standing in the Tirisfal rain as she stood by and watched Grey meet his end.

It was not her place to interfere. She did not, technically, have to obey Gidyen, who seemed to be in charge of those who worked with Yurissa. She was there for Yurissa. But even still, what could she have done in that moment?

It was as Yurissa said later, ‘he made his choice’.

Still it was not the execution that lingered with Vel as she went about finding ways to distract herself, it was the image of Yuri as she stood at her post, her eyes void of any light, a tear running down her cheek. It was that memory that haunted her, to see Yurissa - look so lifeless.

It was always a struggle for Vel to understand what others might be feeling. And though Vel wished she could have been more of a comfort to Yurissa, she found herself lost. For just a moment she could feel the cracks within her own mind beginning to shift like fault lines, her own thoughts grew unclear. And Vel felt sparks of anger. Anger with no aim. It was just the most accessible emotion, the most immediate, and it was the one that slipped through the cracks. Though Vel did not allow herself to lose control of herself, no, as was her way she sealed those fault lines and tried to focus on what she could do in the moment. On what made sense to do.

She’d alerted the guards - and made sure to inform others of what had gone on.

Seeing Yurissa drinking later in the night, was a slight improvement to seeing her non-responsive. And while Vel had made sure to tell Yurissa that if she needed her for anything, she need but ask, Vel knew Yurissa wouldn’t.

Yurissa was content ... from what Vel could tell, not long ago, she was mostly content, she had a place to live with Grey, she was looking for ‘window-blankets’, she was - adjusting to the idea of perhaps being - content. Even then Yurissa seemed to suspect her situation could not last. Vel had hoped it would, but it didn’t.

Perhaps what bothered Vel the most, was how she could not bring herself to stand by Yurissa’s side when she was unable to speak. Parts of her mind screamed at her to stay close to Yuri, to not run off. But she couldn’t stand to look into those dim eyes. She tried to hold her hand, but Yuri didn’t even twitch. And Vel, for all her words, found herself all but speechless, unable to offer a word of comfort. She could not tell her Yurissa that things would be fine. She could not tell her that nothing was wrong. She could not tell her things would work out. There were no words…. that would have helped.

Vel had a choice, she could have chosen to stay at the woman’s side, at the woman she considered her sister’s side. She could have continued to hold her limp hand and just -be there-. And what haunted Vel the most, was that she chose to walk away.

She told herself that Yurissa needed space. That she needed to be alone. But Vel couldn’t quite convince herself. Part of her knew - she was a coward. She couldn’t face her sister when she was like this. It was selfish. Gods forbid Vel allow herself to let her own emotions creep out and showed. That she wanted to understand. That she wanted to help.

[narintheitarael]

Inevitability

The decision had been made swiftly. It was an easy one to make, he found. Turning to the magister beside him, Narin gave a nod of affirmation, and she lifted her staff. Moments later, a latticework of magical energies began to weave themselves about his gardens. He stepped forward, giving one final look to the roses he’d spent so long lovingly tending, and the Cerrin he’d created, centered at the heart. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at him, one brow raised in question. 

“Are you having second thoughts, Lord Tarael? You know this need no-” “No. No doubts. Not anymore. I’ve never been more sure of anything actually.”

He turned to face her, lifting his chin proudly. 

“And if I told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times. I am no Lord. I never was. Simply a pretender playing at a game he didn’t truly understand.” He turned, stepping away to leave her to her work, lifting his voice as he moved away. “You may leave once you are finished.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The manor had been vacated. Outside, Llamrei waited, along with all he felt he’d need to take with him. The foyer was strewn with books, broken furniture, and loose papers, all doused in lantern oil. In his hand rested a small matchbook, engraved with a rabbit, a gift from Mary. He’d never really given it much thought after he stopped smoking. 

Along with a music box Yurissa had gifted him, and a very pretty rock, he carried little with him outside of what was necessity. Striking a match, he lifted it, igniting a cigarette that dangled precariously between his lips, before swiftly snuffing the flame with a wave of his hand. Tossing the scorched stick into the mess before him, he took a deep breath, the cherry on the end of the cigarette flaring brightly. Pulling it from his lips, he worked his jaw as he exhaled through his nose, sending twin jets of smoke forward, the soft lighting cast across him making him look like a small, frail dragon.

With a flick of his fingers, he cast it forward into a pile of oil soaked papers, causing them to catch immediately. In rapid succession the flames spread about the room, beginning to climb the walls and to the other rooms of the manor. 

Narin was already gone though. The letters were sent, and the life that others knew him to have lived would be broken up and distributed as an attempt to console those who knew him, never knowing the truth. It was a small comfort to the twinge of cowardice he felt in the act, that he might never have to answer for them. It was swiftly replaced with resolve though as he spurred Llamrei onwards, towards Stormwind, and inevitably towards the Shadowlands.

[swansong-art]

Something about oranges and missing memories.

[the-interplay-of-sex-and-violins]

Kelyn is actually extremely fond of kids for some mysterious reason he can't quite place, particularly if they have any of these traits:

Tiefling

Girl

Sassy

Has The Audacity TM

Kind of a pain in the ass

So predictably, he adored Mol and her little gang of troublemakers basically immediately, and is generally quick to snap into protective Dad Mode TM (which he has??? I guess??) around any children, especially if they're upset. The protectiveness is especially apparent with Arabella and definitely Yenna, since they stuck around and became his responsibility.

This is all because he is a dad in all but name and even if his brain is fucked, part of him still remembers. No points for guessing what his daughter is like.

That said, he has no interest in having his own (which is frighteningly probable considering what he is), and in fact would be terrified at the thought of furthering his own bloodline and potentially making more Bhaalspawn. He's also not intentionally planning to adopt again...but he does tend to find himself in situations where he ends up caring for sad strays who need a loving home. (See: Yurissa, Scratch, the owlbear cub, Astarion...)

Tav Question

How does your tav feel about kids? Not necessarily about having them but just in general. For example how they felt about Mol or Yenna.

[the-interplay-of-sex-and-violins]

Because it's MY self-indulgent sideblog and I get to choose the content, some moodboards I made once. First, Kelyn ofc: former assassin turned bard, trying not to give in and murder the world because daddy said to.

Next, Yurissa, his teenage adopted daughter, who decided to be a warlock for reasons (reasons are "her dad mysteriously died and she wanted to find out the truth about that" and also "Raphael's a fucking dick")

And finally, Alythara, Kelyn's older sister who left the Underdark to find him, converted to Eilistraee, and finally DID find him...after being abducted aboard the nautiloid, and oh hey, when she found her baby brother again he didn't remember shit about fuck.

[pettyelves]

happy endings III

[I II] [ THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF EI’LITHENE AN’DIEL]

I, Ei’lithene An’Diel, Arbiter of Dead Sun and its surrounding provinces, being of sound mind and memory, do herein declare this my last will and testament. At the time of this declaration, I am married to Admiral Kur’elnth An’Diel. My children are listed below and this Will is to include any children produced hereafter:

Xavier An’Diel Thre’shad An’Diel Karkah An’Diel Eilonwy An’Diel I appoint Clarcius Blackbirch, Master Steward of House An’Diel, to officiate my Will. If he is unable to carry out this duty, the burden shall pass to my eldest brother, An’Set Duskbringer.

BURIAL At the time of my death, I assert that my body is to be buried at sea or buried on a pyre with my husband, Kur’elnth An’Diel. Under no circumstances am I to be resurrected.

FAMILY To care for my children, I appoint my eldest son, Xavier An’Diel as legal guardian with the caveat that Dianoara Whitemoon be left as their keeper. I leave rights to visitation with my brother An’Set Duskbringer and sister-in-law Reveria Shadowsun-Duskbringer. All of our estate, lands, businesses, and holdings shall be divided between the children. An allowance of two hundred gold pieces per month shall be sent to Feril Clawmane, to aid in co-parenting of Jam’Voree Clawmane. I request my steward to ensure that No’Vindere Clawmane signs the legal documents to adopt which are located in my safe at the Dead Sun office, if this has not already occured by the time of my death. 

My children, upon turning of age, should be treated as investors and surviving blood of the founders of Dead Sun. Should they wish to lead, they should earn such a right by popular vote. 

As to the affairs of Dead Sun’s Sun Speaker Council, I assert that the role of Arbiter shall not pass down to any Sun Speaker in office. Instead, a vote shall be cast for the next Arbiter-- if no agreement is reached, the position will remain vacant until which time a new Arbiter can be agreed upon. 

The payment of my taxes shall differ to the joint account of myself and Admiral An’Diel, with Master Steward, Clarcius Blackbirch, as it’s officiate. 

BEQUESTS To my eldest daughter, Karkah, I leave my anklet, given to my by her father. To my youngest daughter, Eilonwy, I leave my daggers, stolen from my own mother.  To my eldest son, Xavier, I leave An’Diel Manor, a home his father and I built together. To my middle son, Threshad,  I leave my swords, forged by his grandfather for my hand. To my youngest son, Jam’Voree, I leave my tigers eye pendant, a token he gave to me and that I hope he will carry with him as I have carried it with me. 

One item from the rest of myself and my husband’s things should be selected by those who helped us collect them (at the discretion of my children): Reveria Shadowsun-Duskbringer Saeris Blackblade Velerodra Valesinger Yurissa Scarletleaf An’Set Duskbringer Mavas Hawke Meridianna Duskbringer Endessa Duskbringer Zelphryin An’Diel Clarcius Blackbirch Hillier Strongarm Mairdrin Captain Dylan Reed Peter and Liora Wayland Feril Clawmane No’Vindere Clawmane It has been an honor to know each of you.

I certify and declare, in sound mind and emotion, these to be my dying wishes.  𝐸𝒾'𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑒 𝒜𝓃'𝒟𝒾𝑒𝓁

[ @kurel-andiel​ @revthepunchbear​ @xavier-sunshadow​@velerodra-valesinger​ @deadsunharbor​ @raven-scorned​ @ferilclawmane​ @cleansedbymoonlight​ @givemetheopensea​ @theshalthera​ @shaded-hawke​ @crymsynlotus​ ]

[rhys-valtieri]

In the Waning Hours

Her footfall woke him for the groaning of the floorboards.  He heard the door to her room shut and sat up on his elbows, searching the crack of light that cut like a knife through the dark of his rooms.  He waited, listening after her goings on briefly noting the quiet.  For the tavern was quiet at that waning hour and he couldn’t help but wonder at the nature of her late return.

With brief and lackluster effort, Rhys rolled over and tried to return to sleep.  But he would not find relief from the waking thoughts that plagued him for the woman next door.  He rolled back over onto his back and folded his hands behind his head and neck, staring into the dark rafters thinking.  Pondering where his place was in this season of her loss - if he had a place at all.

“My friend.” he hummed, ruminating. “...whatever shall we do with you.” he wondered with a sleepy kind of sadness.  The kind one wears when there are no good answers and the only way forward carries the promises of further suffering.

In a sudden-shooting action Rhys whipped the bedding from his pale flesh and lept from his slumbering calm with quiet-deftness.  He rolled a pair of clean-violet slacks up his corded thighs then pulled a thin linen shirt over his head and made for the seam of blazing light that cut across the blackness of his paid space.

Reaching for the handle he paused, listening again for an assurance she still stirred.  He found it in the hollow creak of the floorboards buzzing in his bare feet as well as his ears.  With a flick of the wrist he turned the knob and light flooded into the dark of his rooms and he could hear the light conversation of a few late stragglers down below.

He stepped across the foyer-floor between their rooms and offered a light rapt at her door, looking back into the muted twilight vacancy of his own. 

“Yurissa...” he called in a sleep-deep but humble-quiet tone.

(Setting for a new discord RP with - @raven-scorned)

[wokeastroke]

Succor

This is the fourth time I’ve tried to post this today. A sort of story detailing Woke’s travels in the last week or so. Of course, better detail can likely be gotten by speaking to him in game. But who does that anymore?

/////

His travels ranged far and wide, from dark and demented shores to muddy hovels hidden away from the world. Rocks floating through the infinite void fell under his gaze, and the many stricken men and women of the ren’dorei quailed beneath his burning gaze. Anecdotes and tales of their kind melting into the winged, toothed, beasts. Normally strong and well mannered folk, none toy would expect to fall the the whispers of the endless, hungry void became masses of whipping tentacles and shrieked old tongue. Some had even welcomed this, as he’d heard from the dribbling fools and raving prophets before he ran them through.

‘The void ain’t the same.’

He’d said the very same over the little communication device Aredhele’s people had given him. The truth had remained as such. He remembered the nights of painful visions and tremors within Telogrus, guided by the tender hands of the stronger willed, until he’d managed to shut the blasted, sweet kiss of the whispers from his mind. However, this had cost him the warmth of sleep. Where others freed themselves fro the uncertainty of life for a few precious hours a night, he had been forced to take his solace once q week. Perhaps more.

But none of it mattered anymore, did it? No amount of monk-like meditation or drug could stave off the unwelcome visitor the his inner monologues. Woke sat in front of a small fire, within a densely wooded forest. The clearing had been difficult to find, his maps needed slight correction. As a young man, he snorted to himself when he realized that he still was young, he’d either copied or memorized many maps of Azeroth. In the case That he might be waging war on any of them. It came in handy on the off chance he decided to travel.

His company consisted of his horse, idly cropping the grass, the sound of his whetstone grinding down his blade and his new neighbor.

The shhhk of the work formed a regular punctuation to their conversations. If one could call tittered half-truths and grumbled insults conversation. But, however he tried, the whispers knew all. They knew which avenues to follow, which thoughts to tickle to get him to speak. And tonight was no different.

Back to the scum, are we, Lord Commander?

“Why does it matter to you? You’re in their head just as you’re in mine. Find someone who wants to listen.”

If you did not want to listen, we would not waste our time.

Woke bit his tongue. It was true. There was something to be said about having someone agree with your more angry thoughts. Even if each thing whispered in his ears was meant to tip him to the wrong side. The rasp of the Stone on his blade continued for a few more seconds, though the blade would slice through leather like butter already. It was a soothing sound to him. But, all too soon, they returned.

You will go back to the noble-born tart, the mute pawn, as the dead thing and you’ll be just as angry. We see it. It is not your fault. Where else would you go? The words trickled over the wrinkles of his brain like syrup, sticking and dripping and sweet beyond measure.

What do they know about hardship? Two are the weakest of your new, wonderful race. You see it. They do not suffer as you do, they do not deserve the name the way you do. You and the warlock.

“They don’t hear their whispers. It isn’t a new occurrence for elves to disappoint the rest of their race. They’re nobles. Expecting intelligence or any future planning besides who they’ll laugh at next is beyond them.” The whetstone slid a touch harder as his mind was flooded with the images of a thousand Aredhele’s, a million Yurissa’s, trillions of robe-wearing, wine-drinking, cock-sucking, drug-using, sacks of flesh. Useless in the coming wars. He rose in one swift motion, stalking towards a nearby tree with purpose.

His blade slid into his scabbard smoothly, a testament to how oiled and cared for it was. Then he began driving his plated fists into the bark. It was a crude exercise, but it allowed him to release some aggression. And this was the most important part.

Their laughter is born of ignorance to the real world, Woke. Tell us. How many times will you look at a soft face and suffer it to chitter and giggle as if it holds some grand wisdom? As if being shot out of a womb or marrying gives them insight on life?

Woke said nothing. What was there to say? His company was less than shit. They were nobility.

Why not hurt them? Just a bit? Remind them how gold does not staunch a gushing wound? What could they do to stop you? Aredhele is little more than a pair of tits, her friends simply gnats. None could stop your blade. The dead one is but a candle to the forest fire you faced in Northrend. Woke continued to drive his fists into the tree, the sultry compliments bringing a swell of disgusting pride to his chest. He could.

Each could be killed so very easily. And he had friends who would follow him. His mind was assaulted with the torrential downpour of the future. The Lance could rule, cutting down the noble class with impunity, putting the rich to the sword and returning the spoils to the soldiers, the farmers, the people. The Lance fought monsters fought evil. And what was more evil than a noble?

Not long after he saw himself, his lance, Aisling and Risal, Mordera and the Rest. Staring out into the barren wasteland of Azeroth, the flicking tendrils of void energy crackling across their purple veins and darkened faces. Their weapons stained into rainbows with the variety of blood spilled. It was all so enticing, so lovely, driving a hidden flame within his gut to a bonfire. And it could all start with a few simple murders.

Woke sucked in a hard breath as he returned from whatever nightmare he’d been given. His gaze fell upon the tree first, beaten and battered and oozing sap like blood.

He looked about him, to his feet next, seeing the seared edge of grass. His breath came shakily next. How close he’d come to relinquishing control, to letting himself become one of the very monsters he fought. Hate as he might. Bloodthirsty as he was, the difference between himself and a monster was his ability to see these wishes and lusts. To say no to the succor of bloodshed.

As filthy and seductive a lover it was, it could not be born. He rose early the next morning, leaving the forest for the paved paths of Stormwind. The whispers slinked away, like a please feline, enjoying the inner turmoil they’d left. At least, until it came time again to talk to their favorite knight.