#Another TIM who stole clothing from the women in his life

[coochiequeens]

Another example for SheWon

ByAnna Slatz

July 13, 2023

A 49-year-old trans-identified male seized the bronze medal in the women’s 400m T12 running competition at the 2023 World Para Athletics Championships in Paris. Valentina Petrillo holds several women’s titles and had broken multiple women’s running records, but won his first women’s world championship medal at Chartley Stadium today.

Petrillo, born Fabrizio, was racing against Omara Durand of Cuba, Alejandra Perez Lopez of Venezuela, and Fatima Ezzahra El Idrissi of Morocco. Due to their visual disability, Durand and Lopez competed with guides, who were wearing bright yellow vests and assisted the women to ensure they stayed on the course of the track.

In the final result for the 400m race in the T12 visual impairments category, Petrillo took the bronze, displacing El Idrissi.

According to the World Para Athletics Championships guidance on participation, “an athlete shall be eligible to compete in women’s competition if she is recognized as female by law.” But their policy book goes on to note that it will “deal with any cases involving transgender athletes in accordance with the [International Olympic Committee’s] transgender guidelines.”

Peter Eriksson, the record-making former head coach for the Canadian Olympic and Paralympic program, spoke to Reduxx on Petrillo’s bronze placement.

“It’s shocking to see that women’s opportunities to a medal were taken by a cheating 49-year-old male,” Eriksson said. “The International Paralympic Committee is diminishing the rights of fairness in women’s sport by allowing transgender athletes at their events.”

Eriksson calls the World Para Athletics guidelines a “cop-out,” noting that every sporting authority has the ability to create their own rules. He also says that World Para Athletics policy was adapted from that of World Athletics, which recently ruled that trans-identified males who underwent a male puberty were no longer eligible to participate in women’s championship competitions.

“It’s a cop-out not to make a stance in support of women in sport. It feels kind of like they are trying to push the blame onto the IOC,” Eriksson says. “They adapted World Athletics rules and should also adopt the World Athletics regulation on transgender and DSD participation.”

As previously reported by Reduxx, Petrillo currently holds 8 women’s running championship titles, but failed to earn even one while competing as a male. Petrillo first changed his name to Valentina and began taking estrogen in 2019. The following year, he began competing against female athletes and has since broken multiple Italian women’s running records.

Petrillo has been diagnosed with Stargardt disease, a disorder of the eye that causes retinal degeneration over time. Due to this visual impairment, he has been permitted to compete in both matches designated for women with disabilities, as well as those which are not.

In September 2020, Petrillo raced in the women’s 100-, 200- and 400-meter competitions at the Italian Paralympic Athletics Championships in Jesolo, despite not having undergone “gender affirming” surgery.

At the time, Petrillo hadn’t even updated his identification documents, which still listed his sex as male, though this did not prevent him from being entered into the match. He won first place in all three races and therefore qualified to represent Italy at the Tokyo Olympic Games. But after a last-minute intervention by the Italian government, Petrillo was barred from competing against women with disabilities at the Paralympics in 2021.

At the Master’s Athletics Championships in Arezzo in October 2020, Petrillo outpaced both Cristina Sanulli and Denise Neumann, both of whom had previously won world and European Masters titles and have been regarded as the best in their events. Sanulli and Neumann would later sign a petition calling for men to be barred from women’s sport.

In March of this year, Petrillo competed in and took the win at the 200m race for women aged 50 to 54 at the Italian Indoor Masters Championship in Ancona.

Leading up to the race, a women’s rights advocacy group called RadFem Italia contacted government officials to ensure that Petrillo would not be granted access to the women’s locker rooms. In response, Petrillo was provided with a designated changing room specifically for him at the race grounds.

Petrillo soon after lashed out in a Facebook post wherein he equated criticism of his presence in women’s sports to Nazism, telling detractors they were “on the same level as Hitler” and comparing sex-based sports categories to a 1936 ban on Jewish athletes.

Upset at being denied the use of the women’s locker room, Petrillo wrote, “In Ancona, you made me have a terrible time, it is not fair… you’ve relegated me to a ‘dedicated’ locker room,” a situation which he claimed was similar to the segregation of those called appestati, or sufferers of a plague.

Reduxx also previously revealed that Petrillo admitted that he used to “try on his mother’s clothes” when he was younger, a behavior that was considered a symptom of a sexual disorder known as transvestic fetishism until recently.

He has also said that prior to declaring a transgender identity he would steal his wife’s clothing. While describing a memory of “touching” his mother’s skirt for the first time, Petrillo said, “It was an incredible emotion. It was like touching heaven with your finger tip.”

[violetsystems]

#personal

I deactivated my Facebook yesterday.  I had to create a dummy account to save the artist pages but put “do no contact” in the bio.  I suppose you could say like everything I do that it’s some sort of performance but really I’m just bored and exhausted.  It all seems like a dark, echoing void where everybody talks and nobody listens.  I was genuinely sad for the passing of Bourdain.  Reuters didn’t immediately report it as a suicide.  I found that out in my feed from people who never openly acknowledge me but suddenly care for my well being in the form of a phone number.  If I can admit to being triggered by anything it’s suicide.  It is ironic when you walk around with a patch on your messenger bag commemorating the life of Daul Kim I know.  But most people don’t even know who that is or particularly care.  I can say Daul has always been inspiring to me.  Her writing especially.  How she openly criticized cocaine.  How she used the internet and blogs in a way most net artists wished they had years before anyone.  She even called out Jun Takahashi for casting only white models in his shows.  I’m obviously biased.  But she was also a painter.  She could have been the next Nam June Paik.  She wrote about wanting to be something like that.  And for whatever reason she didn’t.  She ended her life.  And I saw a lot of that in people around me including myself.  How fighting against things that contradict what you really believe in is hard and exhausting.  Bourdain to me obviously also has some parallels.  I travelled to Asia in a similar mind state maybe.  Except in some ways I felt chased out.  It boggles my mind how someone with that much experience can make that choice.  A local newspaper noted that his death ‘served as a reminder that celebrities, who sometimes feel more familiar to us than friends and neighbors, are at the same time total strangers.’  I do believe celebrity is a group hallucination.  It’s the ethereal worth of someone’s legacy in the eyes of those who envy it.  And it can be a trap when people don’t have a complex sense of worth and value.  In American society, it’s the thought that counts.  It’s a phone number and a copy and pasted sentiment on a webpage that “this user knows how you feel” but is unavailable for your emotional labor.

Whether it’s a French flag in solidarity in your avatar or your favorite pundit’s youtube explanation of why Trump is bad, empty actions don’t really change much.  It’s not to discourage them from happening.  Who am I to judge whose personal revolutions are more valid and timely?  It just so happens people have judged mine for years.  How I’ve appropriated this or that.  I stole that hangul for thief directly from the youtube video for the Mr. Pizza commercial it came from.  It literally is a Korean guy standing outside of a Brooklyn pizza parlor with a sign in Korean with Marco Polo’s face with the word for thief.  I make bootleg t-shirts.  I skirt around the law on occasion.  My Korean language skills are shitty.  I haven’t opened up a kim chi taco truck in my neighborhood yet or bought up a mixed used industrial building to flip in the middle of a lower income neighborhood.  I work a regular job where Korean and Chinese are spoken regularly.  I volunteered for three years for a Korean American Chamber of Commerce in a very diverse neighborhood up north.  Most of my friends still made fun of me.  Didn’t keep up with what I was doing.  Watched from afar through my facebook posts but said nothing.  I thought maybe in hindsight if I did all these things people would just see my intentions.  Year after year I would have to state my intentions as they changed and my perspective grew.  But for the most part, there was one constant.  People I knew generally ignored me and what I did.  If they talked about it behind my back it was always negative.  I was problematic according to some social tribunal I’ve never answered to.  And in some of those ways I agreed and turned inward.  I made things that reflected what I felt about the world that felt empty to other people.  To me it seemed pretty simple.  Wear the word thief on your back in America in Korean and nobody would tell the difference.  What you were really saying.  My friend’s brother in Shanghai recently said that with these elements of foreign cultures there wasn’t enough appropriation.  There was a very narrow appreciation and hierarchy of cultural acceptance in America like food, models, clothes, etc.  That these have been made to feel exotic in the Western context and exclusive.  People would rather fetishize than empathize.  And there is no greater mind fuck than recognizing all the times you’ve failed to properly empathize because you weren’t emotionally available to care enough about the nuances.

I’ve been there.  I can say I’m not now.  Reality to me is a much greater mind fuck than I could imagine.  How nobody listens.  How you are supposed to accept that and move on.  How all the time you waste trying to hold up your end of the bargain for society it’s never returned with the same intention and vigor.  How they expect you to smile when they eat their piece of cake and yours in the same bite.  How desperately you need validation that you haven’t wasted your time digging so deep.  How people lash out at you because you are the only person who will listen.  That Bourriaud text is pretty fascinating to me.  It’s been floating around art school for years.  Relational Aesthetics is something I know very well.  I got dragged into an artist collective by a friend at school years ago that focused on cleaning.  We did a bunch of performances.  One we actually made art in the restrooms at school.  That’s like the one rule you can’t break.  We had set up a washing station in the bathroom and cleaned the floors of the basement of the school.  We worked in shifts on our hands and knees while this performance festival went on, wiping the floor at people’s feet.  It was an intense experience for somebody who actually worked there and never considered themselves an artist.  This was back in 2013.  The group was mostly women and it was a very strong dynamic.  I was invited to do a sound piece for another show.  I was really proud the group asked me to do it.  I was also part of a year long exhibition at Jane Addams Hull House around that time.  Jane is like Chicago’s first anarchist.  She fought for immigrant rights, workers and the poor.  Around the time of the war, nationalism had taken a grip of the country and many of the same people she helped turned on her.  I learned how to weave the rags we cleaned with from old bedsheets we got at the thrift.  We built our own looms out of frames and nails.  Then in 2014 I decided to go and try to explore music again and travel.  And somehow I ended up here.  More lonely and isolated than I’ve ever been.  Misunderstood and alienated.  History forgotten.  None of these were just thoughts and prayers.  I went out there and did something.  And I saw results.  Sometimes the results I saw from people revealed their true intentions.  Sometimes it revealed my own and I adjusted.  By now I should know better.  And I know it’s not worth my time like it’s worth down here where people actually feel things.  <3 Tim

[turnertimeline]

Maybe?

Collection: Tim and Annie

Year: 1971

Characters: Timothy Turner, Annie Turner, Shelagh Turner

Content Warnings: none

Rating: K+

Style: Prose

Summary: a little bit of a happier time ahead for Tim and Annie

The small plastic stick with two lines was wrapped up in cloth and in her bag, hiding from Tim. Annie didn't want him to find it accidentally before she got the chance to tell him. 

Tim was getting ready to help Patrick at his surgery and Annette was planning to join and stop in to visit Shelagh and the other nurses. Daniel loved going to the clinic days and playing with the other kids.

With Annie working in Violet's shop, they'd been able to save up and afford a car, which made life considerably easier. Relying on the bus or Tim's parents was a thing of the past and Annie couldn't be happier about that. If her dates were right, she was going to be heavily pregnant during the worst of the summer and did not enjoy the idea of busing around in the heat being that close to term.

With Daniel packed into the car, they set off to Poplar for the day. Daniel bouncing with excitement over getting to play with Teddy. Annie and Tim parted ways with a quick kiss as Tim went to his Dad's surgery and Annie went to the clinic with Daniel.

Once in the clinic after Daniel had run off to play, Annie wasn't entirely sure how to go about getting examined. At least without alerting all the nurses and nuns, who were essentially her family, to the fact she suspected she was pregnant.

Annie had noticed that Shelagh was not at the check-in desk yet, for which she was thankful. But Teddy was playing with Daniel so she knew her mother in law was around.

Annie jumped slightly when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Shelagh at her side.

"Alright?" Shelagh asked, pulling Annie into a quick hug.

"Yes, sorry. Just startled me is all." Annie replied, returning the hug.

"What brings you by today?" Shelagh said as she turned to start walking over to the check-in table.

Now that she had already been seen by Shelagh, Annie knew there was no point or hope in keeping her out of the loop. Reaching into her bag Annie pulled out the bundled cloth and opened it. Looking around she shyly shows it to Shelagh.

"I need to know if it's accurate." Annie says quietly, sticking it back in her bag.

Shelagh gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. "Oh Annie! That's absolutely wonderful."

Annie grins brightly at her. "Can you?" She asks.

"Of course!" Shelagh beams at her. "Go on back behind the last curtain, I'll get someone to cover check-ins."

Annie nods and goes over to the exam area, and is followed shortly by Shelagh.

Shelagh asks her the usual questions, trying to stay professional, even when talking to her daughter. She sent Annie to the toilet for a sample and made notes about her dates and what signs she was showing.

"This will take a few days to come back." Shelagh informs her, and Annie nods in understanding.

"What if.....what if I'm not?" Annie asks quietly. She'd been here before. And in the time it took for the sample to come back, she had gotten her period. That time she hadn't used a home test though, she went right to the clinic.

Shelagh sits on the stool in front of Annie and takes her hands in her own.

"Then you move forward. You go home and cuddle your little boy, and your husband." Shelagh stands up and gives Annie a hug. "I'll put a different name on this so Patrick doesn't see when he signs for them."

Annie gives her a smile of thanks and leaves the little exam area.

Test results usually get back to Patrick's office in a week, give or take a few days. And as soon as they came in, Shelagh rifled through the stack to find the one under the name she put on Annie's test. It took a lot of personal strength not to open it right away to find out if she's going to be a grandmother again. But she folds the envelope up and slips it into her bag to give to Annie that coming Sunday.

Sunday dinner came and it seemed to have dragged. Shelagh had called to let Annie know the results were in, and asked if she wanted to know now, or wait until Shelagh and Patrick came up for dinner. And as much as Annie was incredibly anxious, she wasn't ready yet to know that she wasn't pregnant.

The week or so it had been since taking the home test had been difficult for Annie. Mostly because she wanted so much to tell Tim that she thought she was pregnant. But she didn't want to get his hopes up just to break his heart as well as her own.

When Shelagh, Patrick, Angie, and Teddy all got to Annie and Tim's, Shelagh pulled Annie aside after everyone hugged in greeting. They talked quietly in the corner, oblivious to the odd looks their husbands were giving them.

"Do you want to read it alone?" Shelagh asked quietly, going to pull the envelope out of her bag.

"No." Annie said quickly. "I don't want to be alone if I'm not."

Shelagh nods, "upstairs then?"

Annie nods back and they both go upstairs, telling the boys they'll be back down in a few minutes. As their going up they hear "women" muttered from both of them.

Sitting down on her and Tim's bed Annie takes the envelope Shelagh handed her as they got up the stairs. Her hands are shaking a little as she stares at the front of it.

Shelagh sits down beside her and places a hand on Annie's shoulder.

Slowly, Annie tore open the envelope and pulled out the result. The paper shaking slightly with her hands. Her eyes scanned the paper, roaming over words and numbers she didn't really understand. But at the bottom it read Pregnancy Result: Positive.

The results swam in Annie's vision as her eyes filled with tears. She felt Shelagh pull her into a hug and whispered her congratulations. Annie hugged her back and let out a laugh of pure joy. Pulling back Annie sat down on the bed the test results still in her hand.

"Would you like a moment alone?" Shelagh asked, smoothing a bit of hair behind Annie's ear.

Annie nodded and Shelagh left her with her thoughts for a little. Downstairs she just told Tim and Patrick that Annie was in the rest room and would be down shortly.

Annie folded the test results back up and tucked them into the drawer on her bedside table. Placing her hand low on her belly she laid back on the bed and closed her eyes. Everything was so different this time around. She wasn't gripped with fear like she was when she found out she was pregnant with Daniel. There’s no uncertainty about timing like there was with the baby she lost. Instead, she was filled with excitement and couldn't wait to tell Tim. She could already picture his face. Not wanting to worry the rest of the family, Annie stood up and made her way back downstairs. She tried to keep her face neutral, not wanting to give anything away just yet. She wanted to tell Tim when it was just the two of them.

Dinner went smoothly and if anyone suspected the secret she was holding on to, they didn't say anything. Keeping her hand off of her belly under the table was difficult and she had to make a conscious effort not to do it.

Once Shelagh and Patrick had left, and after Shelagh had given Annie another big hug whispering how happy she was for her in her ear, Tim offered to clean up while Annie put Daniel to bed.

Daniel didn't usually give his parents a hard time about going to bed, but he was so keyed up after playing with Teddy and Angela that it took a few extra stories to lull him to sleep. Annie sat with him on his bed, rubbing his back as she read to him. When she was sure he was completely asleep, Annie put the book she was reading from on his bedside table and watched him sleep. Her little boy wasn't so little any more. At four years old he was getting so big and Annie could hardly believe it. She could already see that he was going to be tall, and fortunately he wasn't as lanky as his Daddy. Maybe he'd have a chance of not being as clumsy.

When Annie hears Tim coming up the stairs she leans over to kiss the side of Daniel's head before standing up and meeting Tim in the hall.

"Is he asleep?" Tim asks peeking around Annie into Daniel's room.

"Finally, it took 3 chapters of the Hardy Boys to get him to sleep." Annie chuckled. They had moved on to simple chapter books for bedtime that Tim or Annie would read to him. Daniel read a picture book first, to work on his own reading, and then Tim or Annie would read to him until he fell asleep.

"What do you say to changing into our pajamas and cuddling on the couch?" Annie asks grinning up at him.

"I'd say yes please." Tim bends and presses a quick kiss to her lips.

As they're changing, Annie has to again resist the urge to run her hands over her belly. There's no visible evidence that she's pregnant, not even a tiny bump. She puts on a pair of pajama pants she stole from Tim and a t shirt. Tim left the room first and Annie went to her bedside table and pulled out the test results and stuck the paper in her pocket.

Downstairs, Tim makes them some tea and brings it into the living room where Annie is sitting with her back against the arm of the couch, and stretched out. Tim lifts her legs so he can sit and replaces them on his lap. Annie giggles as he moves her. Couch cuddles happen almost nightly and in usually the same position. Before he sat down Tim had turned on the radio so they weren't sitting in silence. The music was quiet and they were each reading, or rather Tim was reading and Annie was watching him while she pretended to read.

She wanted to tell him but was having trouble finding the right words. His free hand was resting on her knee, rubbing across the fabric covering her leg slowly with his thumb.  She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out the piece of paper.

"Tim, I have something for you to read." Annie said breaking the calm quiet that was surrounding them.

"Yeah?" Tim asked looking over at her. She holds the paper out to him and he takes it.

Annie watches his face as he reads it, confusion flashing first at the name on top. It was just A. Thompson, her maiden name not quite clicking in his mind right away. When he gets to the bottom of the page, his eyes go wide, but there's still a look of confusion as he reads the name again. And she can see the moment he realizes exactly what she had given him.

"Is this....? Are you....?" Tim focuses on her, his eyes going to her belly. The joy in his voice at the possibility brings tears to Annie's eyes.

She nods at him. "We're having a baby."

Tim just stares at Annie, letting the words echo in his mind. Did she really just say that they were going to have a baby? He moves out from under her legs on the couch to kneel down at her side. reaching out his hand slowly he places it on her belly and meets her eyes. He's looking at her with such wonder in his eyes. He searches her eyes for fear or trepidation, worry that this pregnancy will end like the last. But he just seeing her excitement.

"A baby?" He whispers more to himself than Annie.

"Yeah Tim, we made a baby." Annie whispers back, tears choking her voice a little. And when Tim looks at her with a bit of concern he sees that she's smiling.

With his hand still on her belly, Tim leans to be able to kiss her, smiling back against her mouth. His hand finds its way under her shirt and strokes the skin beneath his hand. Tim breaks away from the kiss and goes back to lift up her shirt a little where he presses a kiss just below her navel. Annie runs her fingers through his hair as he places more kisses on her bare skin.

"Hi little one." Annie hears him whisper and it makes her giggle a little.

"I don't think they can hear you yet my love." Annie teases him.

Tim rests his head on her belly and glares up at her teasingly.

[seasonallydepressed]

My two newest characters.

WISTERIA "ICARUS" WATSON

She stands tall in presence, despite her fairly diminutive stature. She stands at 5'3, her mane of curly strawberry blonde hair oft left wild in her fights. When styled, she may braid a single side close to her head, but she loves the wildness of her hair. Her skin is fair by nature, but tanned by work. She is covered in scratches, bumps, bruises, and old scars. Freckles dot her face, shoulders, chest, and forearms. Her body itself is slender, and fairly rectangular, having less curve than many women of her age. She thanks the Gods for this blessing, as it makes armor fitting easy. She wears layered armors when she is fit for battle, wearing many colors and no clear standard. Out of battle, her clothes are simple and open. Loose pants, an open shirt, and a simple leather belt to match her simple folded leather boots.

It isn't common for a woman to become a squire in the city she was raised. Even less likely for a human to be one. She spent her early days working the land outside of the royal city of Jul'Pei, home of the High Elves. She would ascend to to her position as a squire from there after a dark day. From there she spent years in training, her love of fighting having started on the farm, now refined and practiced, turning her into a capable soldier. She found her mind growing very quickly and that she had a knack for tactics. This quick-wit of hers led to the natural track of focusing more on maneuvers that brute force or magic that some of her peers did. She would never finish her Squireship, however, as her knight died before she could be knighted, and the city was not keen on knighting a human woman.

The story of her becoming a squire is mostly one of luck, good and bad. She was in the fields, tending to the crops at the young age of 12. The Army was occupying their home currently, and she had had enough of them for the time being, pushing her into the fields very early that morning. Due to this, she saw them first. From the horizon, an army seemed to march upon the farm. A warband came crashing through her soft summer morning, razing her crops to the ground. The army was there that day and met the warband with force, but she was caught in the middle armed with only the tools she had brought out this morn. When the warband retreated, she stood there, covered in soot and blood. War had grasped her by the throat and she had broken it's fingers. Now she was hungry for more. A knight in the army, Sir Alderran, and the commander of the company that had been living on her farm had seen her feats. Through his power, he commandeered her for service, employing her as his squire.

Though she remembers fondly her life on the farm, she feels as though when she began her training that her life really started. She threw herself into her studies. She trained hard and fast. She grew strong, swift, and tough. Sir Alderran had ensured she would be caught up in her studies, teaching her not only writing but calligraphy. He taught her courtly behaviour, but it stuck fairly poorly. She would often state she never felt more alive than when she was being fought in the field. Her stature and late start put her at a severe disadvantage in the combats she faced, so her brain had to work to make the difference. She fought with new tactics and surprise moves, often to the disdain of her Knight. Still, she succeeded in combat and rose quickly under the pressure, earning the trust and comradiere of her fellow squires.

When she followed her knight to war, she expected to come back and be knighted herself. They met a warband in a classically stereotypical field. The same warband the Army had allowed to go free back when she had first encountered war. War had once again placed its hand around her throat, but this time she would not be satisfied with simply breaking it's hand, she would crush it's skull. She was flush with anger, and her rage fueled her to stop thinking and start acting. She over-extended during the battle, facing down an enemy much larger, stronger, and more experienced. She was horribly injured, a large gash opened in her shoulder, arcing down across her chest. The wound was given in torture, to ensure scarring, if she were to survive. Due to her weakness, Sir Alderran was to her side, saving her life but leaving his company without command. The entire company fell that day, and as herself and Sir Alderran retreated and arrow found itself married with his skull. She returned broken, bloody, and empty. She had quickly become Icarus, drowning in her sea of grief.

The elves of the city had quickly stripped her of service and rank, despite nobody knowing the truth of what happened that day. She would spend a year and a half in silence, focusing her mind on a fight she had never faced before. Her body, however, went on without her. She joined a fledgling mercenary band that insisted upon calling itself an adventuring guild. The Copper Dragon was her family now, and she pushed out to earn the money to survive. She never reached any high ranks, but she was unbothered. Her silence ended when she found a friend in Juu'Nstas, a quirky Triton far from home. He told unbelieveable stories about a faraway land where people sailed boats to live. The first noise she made in her nineteenth year of life was a laugh. With her voice restored, she tempered her confidence with wisdom, and took to the life of an 'Adventurer' much more seriously. Juu'Nstas at her side and the symbol of a low ranking Copper Dragon on her belt, the two pushed out to seek gold and glory. Icarus had found wings once more.

JUU'NSTAS "JUNE" PLIPATH

He is tall for his people, standing at 5 foot exactly. His personality matches it, bringing a larger than life style of joy into a room. His skin is a pale blue, at times seemingly translucent, and his hair is long, straight, and a soft sea foam green. Being a triton he has webbed hands and feet, and enjoys frequent dips into water. Being a person who hates clothes, he often has to be reminded to remain at least halfway dressed, lest folks find him less than decent. When armored, his mail seems to shine like sunlight filtering through water, and his glaive has an intricate wave pattern across the spine. Though a more reckless fighter, he is suspiciously unscarred. Regardless, his hands carry callouses from all his ropework.

A Triton hailing from Samyasa, who grew up off the coast of the tiny city Plip, Juu'Nstas was put naturally into the role of a deep-sea fisherman. He had greater ambitions though, driven by his desire to explore and see brand new things. People called him crazy, for talking of wanting to sail the rough, stormy, waters and try and see what lies beyond the horizon of his land of birth, but still yet he was able to assemble a group of others with similar minds. They put together a small group, had a ship built sturdy and enclosed, and said their goodbyes. The crew was small, only six folks total. They would be the first to travel across the seas and make contact with another nation-- though they have no real desire for political business, so they would not report this. Though they still tell stories of their homelands to those in a bar. Juu'Nstas took to the travel particularly well, finding his love and religion in the storm, deciding to dedicate himself to that natural world once he arrived.

He knew how to sail before he could talk. He spent his earliest days tying knots and unfurling sails. His childhood was spent submerged more than not, and his middling teens were spent hauling and fishing. In between it all, he learned how to fight and all about the principles of honor, as is traditional for Tritons, however restrictive it was for him. He felt a call to something deeper though. The ocean called him like a sultry lover. In time, he responded, and the cobalt mistress stole him from his life, his love, and his career.

He spent the better part of his early adulthood sailing around the Dellina Delta to find others crazy enough to sail with him, much to the disapproval of his partner Zaajaas. Surprisingly he found five others willing to hit the stormy waves with him, and even more surprisingly they were able to cobble together the money to fund the creation of their own ship: The Fairmaiden's Voyage. The ship was built heavier and sturdier than most, with a closed cabin and windowed helm. It was a unique vessel, slow but perfect to weather the storms that lay ahead of them. He was the last to board the ship, as his partner tried to stop him one final time before he left. Juu'nsta promised him that he would return soon.

On the sea itself, they faced many challenges. Food drained faster than expected, they were sent adrift for a short time, and they didn't expect to grow so irritated with each other. The storms themselves did not help in any regard. During a particularly bad storm, Juu'nstas found himself tied to the mast and praying to whoever would listen. In the storms he heard Melora, who came down in the form of a woman made of lightning and rain. She said nothing, and he thought he may have been hallucinating, but shortly after she vanished again the storm faded with her. From that day, he swore his oath to her, to defend the things she found sacred, and the free anybody from the tyranny she would hate. In return, he was blessed with his divine power.

They were very surprised after the week they spent lost, starving, and maddened, when they came across an unfamilar shoreline. When they touched down on the land and were met peaceably by civilization they were overjoyed. They quickly found themselves telling the story of their travels, though nobody appeared to believe them: calling them maddened by seawater. Still, they were well received and assisted. They took up their boat once more, cruising around to another port town, where they were met by a halfling who was very interested in their story. The halfling man, named Tim, promised them funding for their sailing if they promised to join his new guild, The Copper Dragon. They signed on, and set off to get the lay of the land. Upon reaching the Homestead of The Copper Dragon, they were given their ranks and shown how they could make much more money for a newer, larger ship. They took up adventuring. While drinking one night, after a successful quest and good reward, Juu'Nstas found himself faced with a silent woman, broken by grief and shadowed with doubt. For the first time in months, he chose to tell his story- with added humor- and she laughed. From that moment. They were close friends. He would consider her as close as his shipmates, and she would consider him a brother. After a time of rest, the two decided to travel together, and took to the land for gold and glory.