#darazar

[chairim-arrais]

Jejum de Imbolc está pra começar 💙 Então... volto por aqui só na próxima semana 😊 #bruxinhamo #bruxinhamô #imbolc #wicca #paganismo #pagan #mo #darazar #cat #blackcat #fantasma #rodadoano

[thunderfell]

Homestead

Daraala looked on as her child played in the dust outside their small shack. His dirty blonde hair was tied up in a braid behind his crest. He grinned back at her over his shoulder, his distinctive features lit by the setting sun. There were muzzle lines on his cheeks, and his eyes were a far cry from the glow of the draenei. They were cat eyes, telling the tale of his parentage as clear as the sun to any who saw him. A group of children dashed past, laughing and skipping, their bare hooves kicking up dust as they passed little Darazar. “Ha ha, mutt-child!” they called, scampering away with frightened shrieks as Daraala stepped forward menacingly, her hands raised as she muttered nonsense. They all thought she was a witch, an evil sorceress who consorted with saberon and botani. Her small, rundown shack, full of herbs and strange roots helped her image. She sat back down, gingerly, hugging her ragged shawl to her chest. She could never get warm these days, even at high noon. Her garden, filled with the most exotic of herbs and remedies, moved gently in the evening breeze as the cool winds swept down from the mountains to the east. It couldn’t save her, though. Nothing could, anymore. “Darazar, come on in, it’s getting dark.” “Aw, Ma, a few mo’ minutes?” She smiled, “All right. But only a few, we have to make supper.” He hopped up suddenly from his playing. “Oh, can I help? I wanna make stewballs again!” Daraala smiled again. Darazar might never be accepted into draenei society, but that didn’t mean she was going to let him grow up uncultured. And while teaching him to read and write had proven difficult with his cat-like attention span, he had quickly taken to the culinary arts. “Yes, you certainly can! Here, help you Ma inside and we’ll put some stewballs on.” Darazar bounced up, carefully helping his mother up and leading her inside.

Not too far away, hidden behind a clump of boulders, a pair of cat eyes peered at the two as they disappeared inside. “Your son begins to grow, Longclaw.” The muscled saberon grunted. “He is not my son. Nor will he ever be.”

[thunderfell]

Birthright

Some stories begin in light and turn to gloom. Others start in the dark, but eventually reach the light. But this story starts at dusk and only grows darker. Yet even the darkest night has a far-off dawn. Only time will tell if it is ever reached. Years ago, in the small village of Telaar on Draenor, a draenei woman dressed in tattered rags stood before the Council, clutching her newborn child to her chest fearfully. “Daraala, you can hide from the truth no longer! The Council demands you show us the child, or we will be forced to banish you. You have nothing to fear, my child. Simply let us see to the truth of the matter.” Daraala only clutched her child closer to her chest. “No! You will not take him from me! He is mine!” The elders of the Council looked at one another perplexedly. “You cannot hide his face forever,” the High Elder spoke, finally. “The Council has a right to see the child you have brought into the world.” “You have no right at all!” the draenei woman spat. “Darazar is mine!” The High Elder sighed. “If that is the way of it, then you leave us no choice. Guards, restrain her and bring us the child.” The two guards standing sentry at the doors stepped froward, broad shoulders looming over the young female. She began to kick and scream as one held her firmly whole the other pried the small bundle of a child from her arms. He presented the swaddled baby to the High Elder, who took him carefully before pushing back the bit of blanket that hid the child’s face. His lined features paled at what he saw looking back up at him. “Light’s breath…” he muttered, aghast. “It is…. an abomination!” He held up the babe for the rest of the Council to see, causing gasps of consternation to rise from around the room. “Light preserve us! It is true!” The High Elder looked once more at the young mother who still vainly struggled against her captor’s grip. “Daraala, you have committed a foul act of sin against the Light, and against our people. By bringing this… creature into the world, you have proven true the accusations leveled against you, and are shown to be an adulterer, a creature of debauchery, and a sodomite of the lowest degree!” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Your crime is deserving of death, but since your sin has brought life into the world, according to the customs of us Draenei, you are to be forever exiled from Draenei lands, you and your abomination of a child! “Guards, remove her. And take this… Saberon spawn with you.”

[thunderfell]

Draenei Duesday

Because there isn’t actually a day of the week that starts with D. 

Anyways, having posted the start of a new series of character sketches and backstories two weeks, I proceeded to immediately dash off to Italy without a laptop, making large amounts of typing virtually impossible. Note-to-self: Don’t start new projects on the eve of Spring Break. 

But the goal is to post a series of backstory snippets for my main on Tuesdays, and for my most used alt on Saturdays. 

Darazar, a draenei death knight, is my main, and will be written about on “DraeneiDuesday,”, while Sajael, a human construct warrior, will be written about on “SajSaturday”

That’s the plan, anyway!