#rakir

[gentlepyro]

It’s Nina Bronzebellow, a dwarf ranger and Rakir Serpentsong, a half-elf fighter! They both live in Bridgetown and are our starting protagonists :3

[gentlepyro]

My half-elf Fighter, Rakir Moonsorrow. He’s a friend of Fenris and Nina.

[tythis-dielturas]

Tythis’ Fighting Style

Tagged by: @blue-eyedraven

Tagging: EVERYONE! This is fun!

[tythis-dielturas]

Arcitypes - Tythis

Caregiver: 55%

Friendly, sincere, and compassionate. The Caretaker finds their reward in helping others. No one could ask for a better friend.

Spiritual: 30%

The Spiritual seeks the deeper meaning. For them the journey of Faith is never ending. Thoughtful and compassionate, they have a strong sense of moral obligation.

Explorer: 15%

The Explorer is drawn to the unknown wheather its a distant mountaintop, or the road not taken, and have a thirst for adventure. They take journeys, not vacations.

Tagged by: @sybine-bristol

Tagging: @dae-shadowvale, @blue-eyedraven, @daughter-of-ashenvale, @alexkestavin

[tythis-dielturas]

Looking for Contact

~ Tythis Diel’Turas ~ 

What I’m Looking For: Pre-established relationships, friendships, hateships, allies, family, enemies, work associates, clients - ect.

Fandom: World of Warcraft

Sole Faction or Cross- Faction: Both acceptable

Faction I Play: Alliance

Server: Wyrmrest Accord- US

Venues I Actively RP In: Discord, Tumblr, In-Game (Rusty, but getting back into it)

Favorite Type of RP: Long-term, progressive RP - but open to anything

Triggers: None, my dudes

Things I will Not RP: Will not RP adult themes with minors

RP Strong Points: Flexible, communicative, adaptive, and plot driven. I’m also quick at the keyboard, so expect swift responses

RP Weak Points: Flighty, Quick to lose interest, and not very confident in large scale events - but willing to learn.

~ IC Information ~

Face Claim: Abbas Jaffrey 

Originally posted by mathjames

Name: Tythis Diel’Turas

Age: Adult - by Kaldorei standards

Eye color: Bright Silver

Height: 6’6

Weight: Muscular - more mass in his shoulders, back, and legs. Clearly someone who has been built to climb trees, run, and pull back bow strings.

Race: Kaldorei

Class: Hunter \ Animal Rehabilitater

Residence: Lives off the saddles in Ashenvale - has no real home - instead roams in various forests. 

Birthplace: Zin’Azshara

Relationship Status: Single

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Profession: Hunter, and skinner. Makes a living selling furs, and hides to villages, and also by rehabilitating damaged animals he’s come across, and then letting others hunters adopt them. 

Would They Be Known: Among most Kaldorei who are close to the forest could have potentially heard of him. Tythis makes a name for himself as someone who specializes in hunting satyr, and other demons. Otherwise, any hunters looking to adopt good companions, they’d more than likely be pointed his way. 

Personality: Socially awkward, and quiet. However, once comfortable he has a sharp humor, and is quick with a joke and a laugh. 

Language(s) - Darnassian is his preferred language, but is fluent in Common.

Notable Scars, Marks, Ect: Most of the scars that adorn Tythis’ body are predictable with someone who handles large cats. There is a claw mark down his right rib cage, and a bite wound on his left thigh. Otherwise, he has a few knicks, and scars here and there from generally living in the wilds.

Tattoos / Piercings - His ears are pierced, which have delicate little silver studs in them. 

~ The Companions ~ 

Ishte: 

Ishte is a beautiful specimen of Winterspring frostsabers, if there ever was one. She’s large, easily coming up to Tythis’ hip at her shoulders, and the thick cut of her body leaves one easily getting nervous in her presence. There’s a slight blue hue to her fur, to help her blend in among the trees of her native home, but if you were to ask Tythis, he’d say her fur was kissed by Elune herself. her eyes are a striking blue green, which offset her white and black fur almost jarringly. About her neck, and chest, is a thick leather harness, which has a little loop at the back, as if to give someone the vague comfort that Tythis could stop her from lunging at someone if he so wanted too. About her neck is a thick leather collar, which has a metal plate sewn into it, which hosts her name in delicate metal stamped letters. Upon first meeting, one would figure that Ishte were like any other saber: aloof, and distant, like their elvish companions. However, once you are known to her? Prepare for an oversize house cat, who firmly believes she’s still able to fit comfortably in your lap.  

Rakir: 

The other companion, who is constantly at Tythis’ side, is a sad sight, to be kind. The lion, and at a glance it’s hard to even distinguish it is a lion, is a sad, deformed beast who has endured a kind of abuse that one could hardly imagine. His left ear is sawed nearly completely off, leaving nothing more than a wiggling little stump of ragged, poorly mended skin. His right eye is blind, the glassy looking orb simply focusing on nothing or something in the distance. Close inspection would find that scarring about the eye socket suggests either a brutal strike with a blunt weapon, or a swift kick to the socket, is what damaged the eye beyond repair. Rakir himself is smaller than most lions, easily only a third of the weight, and build of a healthy male, and it’s easy to assume that undernourishment, and abuse as a cub is what lead to his smaller stature. There’s a sway to his back, indicating a spinal injury that never truly healed, and left him to walk with a slight leftwards gait, which was neither graceful, nor intimidating. To round off the easily discernible injuries that make up the poor beast, is a mangled back left leg, which twists inwards at the knee. It’s clear that he can put little weight upon it, and with the way he hobbles about, it’s something he’s had a very long time. 

Despite the clearly previous abuse he’s endured, Rakir has a clean coat, and his mane looks regularly brushed. About his neck is a loose leather collar, which houses his name in the same markings as Ishte’s. He’s always seen close to Tythis’ side, and always with his nose usually pressed against his thigh, or within his palm. Whatever abuse Rakir may have faced in the past, it’s clear that Tythis has done all that he could, to give the lion a loving, and happy life. 

At A Glance: 

If one were to look upon this Kaldorei man with the intention of remembering him, they’d find themselves quickly disappointed. He’s tall, like most of his people, but there’s nothing truly staggering about him either. The cut of his body is lean, with most of the muscle mass residing around his thighs, and back - suggesting he’s the kind of man to climb trees, and pull back heavy bow strings. Upon his frame is a set of thick leather armor, lined with chain mail for easy mobility and stealth. The black leather hugs his frame tightly, with reinforced padding along the chest and ribs, but all points of motion are left unhindered, with soft leather as it's only protection. On each shoulder are a few little spikes, which look honestly cosmetic, and upon close inspecting it would seem that Tythis has even attempted to remove a few of them, but they’re so tangled into the leather and chain mail, it proved utterly fruitless. Perhaps he doesn’t care for flashy, and ornate armor, and so the little spikes proved too bothersome to have on.   

A soft cloth hood rests at the back of his neck, and it would seem he prefers to leave it down so his long silver hair can rest against his shoulders unhindered. That would be the most remarkable thing about him: his hair. It’s long, flowing down his back in thick, moon kissed waves, the tips of it brushing against the very bottom of his long back. Often, it’s found woven into a long braid, both for practicality, and simplicity sake - as how can one properly roam the forest with such a wild mane atop their head? Woven into the braid are several feathers, bits of leather, beads, and a few other Kaldorei trinkets, which help to give him a ‘child of the forest’ look, something often found among his tree dwelling people. 

His face has a short cut beard all around the jaw and chin, it's a bit wild, giving the man a roguish, and rather rugged, and ‘lives in his armor’ kind of appearance. However it wouldn't be hard to guess that being alone in the forests doesn't lend itself to much time to care for facial hair. His skin is a soft lavender, a much softer hue to the deep purples and blues that most of his kinsman sport, but with the offset of his white hair, and the striking silver of his eyes, it’s a rather pleasing combination. 

Despite the imposing height, and long silver hair, there is truly nothing all that remarkable about him. His face is often set in a passive smile, eyes darting around to watch the goings on about him, and his ears gently swiveling to catch all the noises. Still, even with everything tied together, one could easily just say, that he was average.

[fuffbutt-word-wall]

Del vs Rakir - fight one shot

A loud clang echoed off the walls followed by a beast's roar. The dark grand hall built solid of stone shook under the force of the battle raging. A figure crashing through one pillar, rock and mortar flying from the impact. Deep dark laughter from the winged figured standing, a spiked flail in one hand dripping in a deep crimson. The beast shook itself getting up on all fours again, large tusks bared with a single solid yellow eye narrowed. A snort as the beast spoke in a deep voice. "I won't let you leave this place Rakir. Even if I must kill myself to do so" The winged one grinned, his blood red eyes bold in the dark. "Doesn't sound like you have much faith in your own abilities Delart. Your age is showing old man." Beast walked forward into the light, deep burns over most it's face and muzzle with one eye functioning. It fur tipping grey from brown and covered in scars. "I don't need to kill you, if that happens to be a side affect so be it" The beast was the famous alchemist Delart Nerann, his mutagen turning him into this form. Long claws, large fangs, and fit fighting body much stronger then his normal form. While he had been a hero once and celebrated, he was weaker in his old age as he was pushing a century. The other was younger, more agile, and a powerful fighter. Rakir, the fallen, was once a proud paladin. Misfortune and corruption had changed the tiefling angel as he now served a baron of hell. His flail and demonic armor showed his loyalty to his new master. His once white wings now stained in blood and greying from ash. -=- The clawed gauntlet dug into the soft flesh of the half elves throat. Blood trickling into his collar as he struggled against the stronger grip. "I'm sure the dragon would want me to take you back to her. Let her corrupt your mind, but so much is lost and you would be no more than another drone. Nothing left of that brilliant mind" Choking in his hold the alchemist glared. He knew the fight was over, his potions and bombs had run dry and he was left defenseless with only his gauntlets left to defend himself. He felt dread creeping into his very soul, taking grip on his heart and strangling. "Finish me then, you've won, fallen" in his heart the alchemist was ready to die. He had done so much he regret, lost so many, but also improved so much. Willing his pitiful life to end so he may see his beloved again. -=- 1st ending- The claw plunged into his chest, peircing his breast plate as he screamed and writhed in the other's grip. The twisted smirk on the tiefling face of pure malice as he squeezed his fingers around the alchemists still rapidly beating heart. The man screams traveled through the halls tickling Rakir's ears. With a final shuttering gasp, the alchemists skin ran white. His one eye rolling back into his head. Rakir dropped the limp corpse to the floor with a thud, a pool of blood slowing growing from his chest wound. Rakir leaning slicing the tail from the corpse before turning and walking out of the hall, his boots making wet bloody foot falls on the flagstone. He arrived at the entrance to the abandoned castle looking over his army awaiting with his hell hound at the head. He raised the bloody tail for all to see. "WE MARCH ON THE CAPITAL! THEIR SAVIOUR IS NO MORE" The demons, orcs, and other abominations yelled in triumph. Clashing shields and weapons in a war chant from their leaders victory. From the ground next to the fighter, arose a war horse made of ashe and smoke with peircing red eyes. He mounted his steed urging it forward holding his weapon high trotting along the lines of his army as they cheered on their leader. The large army disappeared over the hill leaving only mud in their wake, led by the scourge general himself.

[nextsummersseeds]

ϟ (anyone for Mya'dar?)

For every ϟ in my inbox I’ll tell you a random thought my muse has about yours.

"A furless khajiit... I wonder if that's by birth or choice. Perhaps I should ask..."

[whatoddities]

I don't want to do the Purification, though. :c