Commission for the very lovely @kharrisdawndancer
Part 1 of 2
Thank you!
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@sirdolraan
Commission for the very lovely @kharrisdawndancer
Part 1 of 2
Thank you!
Give me less "being kind requires zero effort" and more "being kind is worth the effort it takes."
DWC Wrap Up! I always admire your way to set a scene -- you write succinct, pithy, and emotionally affecting work and I love to see it. I always enjoy your characterizations. Thank you for participating. ❤️ Zanda'Dad is also best, and I appreciate you give me Ghorren stories. :)
Thanks so much! With daily prompts like this I like to be succinct and build character, so I'm glad that's being enjoyed!
Also Ghorren deserves all the love, he's just a big dorky dad who can also bring the wrath of the loa down on anyone who threatens things he loves.
Post-DWC Blues Asks
Another DWC has wrapped up and I know we're all feeling it, so now is a good time for all those questions we had while reading the stories!
Ask IC or OoC questions about my stories or OCs! Tell me what your favorite story is and why! Tell me what you liked best about a particular story! Tell me what you'd love to see in future DWCs! Ask or say anything!
ANON IS ON!
*Remember to practice good ask/reblog karma! **Be sure to post a list of your stories below!
A little late since it ended over the weekend, but send for any of mine I wrote for! @keyalinvendel, @veilosdaigoa, @xylaes, @dicenne, @jacelandon
I will do this, too! I wrote for Khaeris, Farthing (Kharris's cat), Mesandrèaux, Tinnaire, Rimath (@rimath), and Jaskian!
I'm going to be disappointed in Blizzard if they never go back to the plot seed they planted with that hamfisted scarlet resurgence questline in Arathi Basin.
Y'know, the one where the scarlet in the jail cell was masterminding a coup the whole time and everyone (except the players) was surprised? That one?
I want the Scarlets to come back and be a major plot element. I want blizzard to use them as the villains they are, pushing that whole humans-only narrative, and all that.
But.
I want them to remember that purity-fixated bigotry in a fantasy setting can't just be about race. It needs to be about the things that don't exist in the mundane reality too.
Like the use of magic. In this specific instance, I mean the Light, but they should be eschewing all of it. Light, fel, void, nature, arcane, all of it. It becomes forbidden and punishable by death and naturally only a few specific officials are allowed to touch it because they need to study the enemy, you see, it's impossible to win a war without knowing how their weapons work, you see, we would never actually use it to our personal advantage, you see.
I want to see the Scarlets become a terrifying force to be reckoned with because they force out paladins and priests entirely and eschew the use of any kind of magic or "not human" energies. They focus on soldiers and tech and victory through massive numbers (humans haven't been decimated the way most other a-side races have). They run headfirst up to that "sufficiently advanced technology" line and go "advance the technology some more."
The culmination of that plotline of course being that there is no benefit to being this way. Zero. None. The pride in doing everything The Human Way (whatever that means) is just how they got you to murder and enslave everyone that wasn't human without feeling bad about it. That yeah look at all you achieved without everyone else, and how you could have achieved that decades ago with everyone else, and wouldn't have had to drown babies or burn homes to do it. That it didn't help.
And, most importantly, that this was not the influence of an old god or the void or anything else. It came from human minds and needed no help to fester. There cannot be another scapegoat. Humans just do this sometimes, and it's up to humans to refuse to allow it (by embracing everyone else and asking for help). Everyone is capable of terrible evil, and by that token, everyone is capable of rejecting evil.
That's the story that needs the Scarlets.
DWC June 2026 - Day 7 - Horrify / Render - Mesandrèaux
It was about as unglamorous as she thought she could get: still dressed in her clothes from the previous night, sitting on the edge of the bed in the hostel's communal dormitory, holding her head. She'd awoken moments ago to someone gently shaking her awake.
~~~
"You're having a nightmare. Time to wake up." The Lightforged draenei's tone was supportive and concerned. Messy had blinked awake, but to vision that swam and blurred, blackening at the periphery. Oh. _Oh_. She sat up on the edge of the bed with the other woman's helpful hand and took deep breaths. Not a nightmare. Not a hangover, no matter what it looked like. No, it was the aura she had come to expect when Sight was impending. Her stomach was tight, her head was pounding, and her heart fluttered with a lingering palpitation. The woman sat with her a few minutes, until she was such Messy was stable, then provided a wash basin and a towel in case she would need to vomit. She apologized for needing to leave, promising to check on the nightborne later as she headed toward the door. She thoughtfully kept the lights off--the rest of the occupants had left for the day already. Messy had wanted to tell her that it wasn't a hangover, that she hadn't even drank any alcohol the night before--though she had smelled of it after getting splashed an enthusiastic fan at the fencing exhibition match last night. Messy wasn't sure why she felt shame that the other woman would think she was a drunkard--there were plenty of youths who stumbled into the hostel late at night inebriated. She just hadn't been one.
She swallowed hard and turned her face up, opening herself to her Goddess and silently promising to do Elune's bidding. Sight struck her immediately, freezing her in her seat and her eyes glowed with unfocused Light appearing before her in runes and cryptic symbols. Her mind did not see the same divinity manifested. She saw great blue fungal caps creating a canopy over ethereal machines and works. She saw familiar wrapped figures moving about their business. Ethereal arcane batteries piled high. Conduits thrumming with power arcing through them. It felt purposeful. It felt imminent. A wrapped head turned toward her point of presence. It started toward her, gaining momentum with the snap and rustle of arcane power so associated with them. A foreign moon--White Lady--hung in the sky and brightened, drawing her awareness, and pulled her toward it; rocketing her perspective out of the vision. Messy collapsed over her legs and felt too heavy in her body. She trembled, unable to do more than focus on her breath for more than a minute. When she had gathered herself, it wasn't the basin she reached for, but her sketchbook and colored pencils.
~~ "Ahhh, that looks like Naigtal. I have never seen those particular mushrooms elsewhere. I have fought there, though it was a Legion world, not Ethereal." The Lightforged gently corrected, looking at the rendering Messy had put to paper. She had been true to her word and returned to check on the young Priestess of Elune.
Messy looked over to her slowly to keep her head from feeling like it was going to rupture. Her voice was hoarse and her shoulders tired. "This is today." "No," the draenei shook her head and smiled reassuringly, "the Legion is vanquished and the Ethereals have no presence there. Rest." Mesandrèaux considered fighting, trying to warn, trying to convince. But the simple confidence of the other woman was heavy and familiar. So, her own pulse felt like it was beating against the inside of her skull, she simply answered, "Oh," and laid back down on the bed.
@daily-writing-challenge
Female Dwarves - With or without beards?
With beards
Without beard
Child Dwarves - With or without beards?
With beards
Without beards
Baby Dwarves - With or without beards?
With beards
Without beards
They shed their baby beards to make room for their adult beards. Like with baby teeth.
Frustrations
(( DWC june 2026, Day 7, Horrify/Render, @daily-writing-challenge CW: none ))
"I want to have words with whoever taught the Dominaar the world "render" in our language," Lorellai all but cussed, eyeing the dissipating shadows of the dominaar they'd defeated to make sure it wasn't about to reform on them. "If I hear the phrase 'Render your soul unto me' one more time I'm gonna push the big red button!"
Spiru quirked an eyebrow at her friend. "So that's the part you find frustrating, not the part where they attempt to either kill or enslave you."
"Nah, that's just badguy stuff, that's whatever, but do they not have -any- new lines? It's getting old!" Lorellai threw her hands up in frustration. "How many more of these would-be tyrants do we have left anyway?"
Spiru's pulled the target list from her belt. "Two remaining from the locations given to us by Decimus. Thus far they have indeed been the same ones who threatened Eversong. If these last two are also appropriate targets, I will regrettably owe Janosis ten gold. I was certain Decimus would use us to eliminate unrelated rivals to his own machinations."
"I mean, he still probably is. It's kind of their way to have beef with each other at all times. Still, Decimus is better than most; he hasn't screwed us over yet, gave us shelter, -and- he actually has read a thesaurus!"
Spiru smirked. "You're -actually- irritated by their lack of creativity in their phrasing, aren't you?"
"And you aren't? Fighting against deadly foes is less fun if they make it boring, Spiru, that's auntie Hlin's rule number 3!"
"Having met miss Stoutarm, that does not surprise me." Spiru said flatly. "Well, we won't know if these other dominaar have wider vocabularies unless we find them. Or perhaps learn to speak their language so they can threaten us in their mother tongue."
Lorellai stopped, and let out a laugh. "Okay, yeah, that's fair. Let's go get 'em, and I'll try to avoid being too rude about it."
Treasures
(( DWC june 2026, Day 6, Anguish/Heat, @daily-writing-challenge CW: none ))
Many years ago
Ghorren grunted as he deposited the heavy wooden chest inside the door to his family home, the contents inside jingling. A mighty haul indeed, enough gold to have made a trip twice as long worthwhile, and more than enough to buy him some extra time at home with his family. He wiped away the sweat soaking his brow, marveling at how much the temperature had changed as he'd made his way up from the docks into the upper districts. The Zuldazar heat sure hit different.
"Yizbei! Your triumphant husband returns!" he bellowed into the house, closing the door behind him and lifting the chest again, carrying it further in to his workbench so they could sort through it.
"PAPA!" yelled a tiny teal blur that slammed into him, clutching onto his leg in a deathgrip. It was followed by a second assault from behind, latching onto his back and climbing up to wrap arms around his neck with a happy "Father!".
Ghorren wobbled, then fell face first onto the nearby couch, playing up his surprise. "Augh! To get home to my family, only to fall to treachery from within! I am unmade!" he moaned, trying not to smile too big at Anwé's giggling in his ear. "Tell me this at least, where is my beautiful wife?"
"Mama's in the restaurant today, Oma wasn't feeling well. What did you bring me?" Anwé answered, sliding off his back and grinning into his eyes as her little sister climbed up to the small of his back.
"Oof, I brought you all many wonderful things my daughter, but first..." he said, surging up and pulling his youngest into his arms, then lashing out and catching the elder sister with his other hand, hauling them both into a big hug. "First you need a lesson in not dropping your guard!" he declared, before planting big wet kisses on both of them, while they tried in vain to push him away.
--------------------------------------------------
Ghorren opened the chest that the beasts of the dungeon had been guarding, nodding at the treasures within. He grabbed the relic Vareesa had been looking for, tossed it to her, then closed the chest and picked the whole thing up. Much had changed in his life, but the joy of bringing home a chest full of treasure would never fade.
DWC June 2026 - Day 6 - Anguish / Heat - Jaskian
The magical practice ranges were always a loud, but controlled, chaos. Sometimes literally with chaos magics, if enough Illidari were in session. She had heard that the more mechanically oriented firing range was said to be just as loud, but likely less colorful. She wondered which might be more mathematical though.
Jaskian shook out her ponytail and tugged off her gloves with efficiency. Perspiration beaded along her hairline and a trickle snaked down her spine. Not just from exertion, the literal heat in the area was rising--several flame oriented casters were having at it and giving each other pointers. The shaman was very animated and the magister was rapt, and another kind of caster--warlock, she thought likely, careful to keep any curl off her lips--listened to both with the intense eyes of someone who loved fire. Jaskian smiled to herself, already making up a small story about the trio in her head. She loved making stories about strangers. Her notebook was nowhere to hand at the moment, so this one likely wouldn’t last, but it was fun to imagine.
The frost on her gloves cracked as she snapped them into her palm and stepped back from her lane, giving it up for the next in line. Her mind quickly sorted and catalogued what she had seen and how her own performance had stacked up. She had done her fair share of supporting the Kingdom lately, even when her husband had been unfairly scrutinized and reprimanded, and it had felt good to get back in fighting form.
She had practiced several different schools today, but she always gravitated back to casting her precision frost spells. Sometimes Frostfire. Perhaps she was so drawn to them from her history in Dragonblight.
A few arcane spells were thrown, of course, and she recognized her husband’s influence in them with a warmth she sent toward him through their magical bond. She’d enjoyed the Ordered feel of them and the crisp, clean lines of runes and pure mana.
A few hefty fire spells, though she always felt she lacked the raw power fire seemed to prefer.
She had seen someone using fel fire, but that certainly was not for her.
There had been some holy Light, a young priest it seemed; he had brought his coach.
A lone Kaldorei Illidari was practicing new abilities with Void magics, and had gleefully cackled when it seemed she had mastered whatever she was working on. … Everyone else active at that time had paused. No heads had turned toward the demon hunter, but all eyes shifted to her.
No one, Jaskian was thankful, was experimenting with Anguish today. She had heard the rumors, and even read two treatises on the matter. She had no wish to draw close to Astalor Bloodsworn and his trials. Hopefully it was one magic she would never have to touch. Magister Bloodsworn was one voice she hoped did not gain strength, though she feared the frightened ears had turned toward his honeyed voice.
Concerns for long-term mana and the direction of the Kingdom would have to wait. There were immediate problems to solve, first. Tomorrow, she would take her place helping to empower the runestones again. @daily-writing-challenge soft mention: @luminashdawnwing
DWC June 2026 - Day 5 - Prey / Abundance - Farthing (Kharris)
There, that was the sound. One eye blinked open, while he kept his head down. Naps should only be interrupted for the most important reasons. An ear flicked to hear the noise again: a little raucous, a little out of the ordinary. It was close. The rest of the noisy city was easy for him to tune out in favor of focusing on this one, delightful sound. Water, splashing abruptly, droplets flying, and the sound of something dragging through the surface. Yes. His head lifted and he found his prey.
An elf laughed and turned the reel and braced the pole. She was small. Just a child, not much bigger than his own. Easy.
Off like a streak, muscle exploded into action and launched him across the marble steps of the reflecting pool. He dodged another elf skillfully, his dash nearly silent. He leapt, sunk his teeth into the fish, and landed on all fours with feline grace. He raced off down the street, yanking the fishing pole out of the child’s hands. A surprised child’s startled cry sounded--satisfying!--as the long pole dropped and followed him like a wild-minded feather toy, bouncing over cobblestones for half a block before the line snapped. He knew he needed to continue to run--he never fled, what a ridiculous supposition!--to stretch his legs and work up an appetite for this abundance.
The fish was not compliant, and the tail curled up and smacked him in the face most disrespectfully. He growled and sunk his fangs in deeper. Food should know its place! His tail lashed and he ran harder.
When it was quieter, after a bath, he sauntered away from the remnants of his ill-begotten meal and left the bones for the rats. Tomorrow, he’d come back for them.
@daily-writing-challenge
Double-booked
(( DWC june 2026, Day 5, Prey/Abudance, @daily-writing-challenge CW: none ))
It was supposed to be simple. Just a quick diversion while hunting one of Astalor's targets, taking advantage of the proximity. It could have been simple. But of course, Astalor had decided to leverage his connection at precisely the wrong moment.
"Your prey gets further away while you treat with this... rodent." Astalor's voice purred with disappointment.
"BLASPHEMY! My acolyte seeks ABUNDANCE in both RESOURCES and GLORY, which will only serve to grant them.... ABUNDANT POWER!" Dundun's voice echoed in her head in retort.
"Foolishness! The only power they should be seeking is that of Anguish, and their prey will slip away while they fool around in your caverns, spirit."
"NAY! THE GLORY OF ABUNDANCE will surely lure their prey to them, SO GLORIOUS AND RADIANT IT BE!"
Morrigan rubbed her temples in frustration, wondering if she might be able to cover up the murder of both a minor loa and a notable sindorei figure in a single day as the argument continued. She should have known they'd be jealous quest-givers.
Which OC has this hat?
June DWC - Day 4 Inadequate/Bond
The quiet tap-tap-tap of Keranna's cane heralded her arrival the way her high heels used to. Pyraelia didn't bother glancing over from her sheet music. Her fingers, flesh and metal, glided along the keys as she played through a particularly complex bridge. They both loved listening to piano, and that alone would allow her cousin to happily wait until she'd finished.
Her walking aid was new, of course. A similar tap-tap-tap of thoughts coming together connected some dots from a story she'd read in the paper earlier that morning. You could name the director of the Magistry Intelligence office. People had a right to know who he was. Everyone else involved still had to be protected. Another agent killed him in self-defense after confronting him with proof of his treachery and betrayal of the Regency. The press was allowed to print that their hero had sustained significant, but not critical, injuries in their confrontation.
It wasn't a secret within their family that Keranna worked for the MI office. Fiorenze had previously worked for MI, but forfeit her security clearances when she left the service, and Pyraelia herself was an Archmage, with all the benefits and terrors that mantle bore. And yes, Keranna was old and could just be using a cane for arthritis or to support an older injury — she'd mentioned being kicked by a hawkstrider in her youth a couple of times in conversations over the years — but why now.
She turned the page, the rasp of it crisp against the otherwise lilting notes. Her ability to avoid a conversation was rapidly diminishing. How long could she hold a fermata? There were a few between where she was and the final note.
Keranna came closer still, patient enough to step only when the clack of her cane would enhance the melody with subtle percussion. That should've been more annoying than endearing, but the older elf had always had a love of music. The Conservatory was proof of that. It had become Pyraelia's favorite place to hide away in the wake of Magister's Terrace. Something was always being created here, and that felt like a balm against the senseless destruction.
The final note lingered in the air as Keranna smiled, "Brava, my dear. You had some deliveries left at your office, I thought it best to bring them to you."
Pyraelia glanced over at the parcel and wildflowers her cousin set on the piano's shoulder and responded with a quiet, "Thank you." And then a more direct, "Did you kill Director Kam'arrin?"
Keranna nudged Pyraelia's calf with her cane and had a seat next to her on the bench as soon as she moved to make enough room, "Yes."
If there was one thing Pyraelia would always appreciate about her, it was her choice to be direct when it mattered. There was trust in that. She closed her eyes and exhaled, letting her shoulders drop a little — in defeat more than relaxation. "You say that with such ease. I still have nightmares about people who died on my watch and this doesn't seem to bother you at all."
"The Terrace debacle was his fault as much as Rommath's," Keranna offered. It wouldn't matter much, but that fact meant something in her blood-stained calculus. "It's something I've been thinking about for a long time. How I would do it. When... I'm glad it wasn't my choice in the end. Making him suffer the way I wanted him to suffer would have changed me."
That wasn't particularly comforting, but it was honest. Pyraelia furrowed her brow and scrunched up her nose as her lips pursed. What she wanted to say was sour, and honesty begat honesty. "I don't think I belong in this family. I'm inadequate compared to you and Fiorenze. You're both so…" What word did she want to use? Decisive? Terrifying? Comfortable with violence?
Keranna was silent for a moment. Her slender fingers found the keys in the upper register and she played the first few chords of a familiar duet many noble girls were taught early in their lessons. Enough to make Pyraelia catch the hint. "Do not ever consider your kindness and gentleness a weakness. Your mother had me raise Fiorenze because she didn't want the lessons a future Queen needed to learn on her conscience. I made her a weapon, the same as I am. Your sister will never forgive me for that, and she's right for it."
That had been the plan all along, for Fiorenze to marry the Prince. It didn't work out that way. Pyraelia put her fingers back on the keys and picked up the tune alongside her cousin. "I didn't know you could play piano, Kera," she said, quietly. "…And it's not like my mother was kind, either."
"She was ruthless. Your father, though, was a lovely soul," Keranna chuckled and matched her note for note, "And I can play many instruments. Mandolin is my favorite and the one I've decided to embrace the most. There's no reason not to learn anything that interests you when you have centuries to do it."
Pyraelia smiled a bit at the sentiment. Learning was her favorite thing, and always would be.
"Take a sabbatical, darling," her cousin continued, crossing one arm over another to move her hand to the higher keys, "You're an Archmage. You may have been born here, but no kingdom commands you. The Magistry wronged you in how the Terrace was handled. It is perfectly fine to want some distance and time to heal."
Why did that feel like quitting? The notion alone made her chest feel tight. Keranna wouldn't say it if it weren't true, though. Not to her. Pyraelia frowned and picked up the short solo meant for her part before answering, "May I have a studio here if I do?"
Keranna leaned and nudged her gently with her shoulder, "You're family, darling. The answer will always be yes."
@daily-writing-challenge // @kharrisdawndancer soft mention for the previous story!
DWC June 2026 - Day 4 - Inadequate / Bone - Mesandrèaux
She held the pieces together to let the glue bond a few seconds before placing it down to join the other figures on the table. A set of nightsabers, an owl, a hydra, a few Sentinels, and a Priestess of the Moon. The little crowd of figurines was waiting patiently on the table before her. The paint was drying on a few she’d already assembled today. She wasn’t even sure what she was making these for. She hadn’t ever played the game that they were used. But it felt satisfyingly meditative to paint them. And maybe she would play one day?
The waitress smiled, leaned on the table and shared a few words after complimenting Messy’s painting skills. She lingered longer than usual and suddenly Mesandrèaux was unsure what was going on or what she was supposed to do. “Ah, a fresh glass of water to drink? And one for the brushes, please?” The young nightborne woman smiled softly and the blood elven waitress reflected it back with a subtle tightness around the eyes. She walked on and left Messy confused about what she had done wrong or how she might have upset the other woman.
The nightborne priestess went back to the miniature figures and got lost in thought as she stared at the warrior Sentinel she had just picked up again. The waters thunked on to the table and jostled her little cadre of figures. Messy looked up just in time to see the waitress walking off again. The woman had always been nice the other times Messy had visited this Silvermoon game cafe. She’d even gotten lightly reprimanded once for lingering too long with Messy.
Oh. Oh. Had she been flirting with Messy? Her eyes narrowed in thought and she tried to piece the puzzle of her memories together. Flirting? It was a solid maybe. Her brows twitched together before she sighed softly. She’d had to ask Marint directly if he had been flirting with her during their last conversation. He had. She didn’t know what it meant that he had been flirting; likely he simply flirted with everyone. He was a friendly man. Still… She didn’t think it was that she didn’t read people at all; she just missed something deeper. Someone happy. Someone was sad. She didn’t think she had trouble with the big emotions. It was the nuance that sometimes flew over her head.
Like an owl--so silent she didn’t even know it was there. She smiled a little to herself at her small, private jest but it hardly lifted her spirits. She had missed the signal, even if it wasn’t flirting, surely the woman was expressing that she liked Messy. But the tenuous bond had broken before it would even think about forming. That felt like her life lately. Inadequate. No bonds. Even back in Suramar she had felt out of step with people she had known before.
Who was she attached to? Her family. She’d never been good at forming deep friendships, never had a romantic relationship, never had a rival, never had a mentor. She had not missed it much while on her pilgrimage; the solitude had felt comfortable. The opposite of demanding. Much like working in the archives at her temple had been.
It had always been easy to make friendly acquaintances. It was the next step where she seemed to stumble. On a melancholic whim she flicked the Sentinel figurine with her nail and made it tumble. She hadn’t meant to make it fall off the table, but it had. She winced to watch as it broke apart at the newly glued interface. Inadequate bonding, indeed.
@daily-writing-challenge small mention: @arealnowhereelf
Unfair Advantages
(( DWC june 2026, Day 4, inadequate/bond, @daily-writing-challenge CW: none ))
Lorellai kept her head low as she moved through the brush, keeping as much cover between her and the ethereal camp as she could. They'd appeared suddenly, and minutes later had assembled a camp that would need to be dealt with, and that meant getting as much information on them as possible for the strike teams coming out of Amani'zar. She had her goggles down, tagging as many important structures and potential weak points as she could, when suddenly her vision shifted, and a flash of her back from a medium distance behind and above, where an Ethereal was creeping up on her, knives out.
She spun, and parried the strike with her sword as her blessed owl Nylas swooped down, sinking glowing talons into the wrappings of the ethereal's back. Lorellai drew her knife in her offhand, and lashed out, sinking it into the energies that made up the alien being, staggering it back far enough to bring her longblade to bear, cutting it down, leaving only smoldering wrappings in place. She turned her gaze quickly to the camp, and breathed a sigh of relief. No sign they'd noticed the scuffle, but she'd need to get clear soon and connect with the strike team. She reached down and ruffled Nylas' head feathers, getting an approving soft hoot from the magical creature. Someday she'd need to see him back to his mistress, but for now, her bond with him was more than welcome.