#tuathal

release meeeee

Hybrid, Protective Big Bro, A Ripped Ace Boi Whom I Love

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, as if patience could be found there. A lot of people did that around her. She’d found that the answer was no. There was no patience on the ceiling, or in the sky, or wherever else they looked to. Eventually he gave a soft grunt and turned away, padding out the door.

AI art by

Well, one thing seems to run in the Sunvein family. We're all terrible at PvP, especially Tuathal.

((Shoutout to my family: Alae, Tua, Syri, and Drath.)) The euphoric gaze adorned by the violent flare of fel-taint illuminated the tanned, war-torn face of the Father as he sat quietly upon his birthright throne in the freshly restore hall of his family. A mighty portion of the Father's flesh was kept hidden in an aged, but well-kept bastion of armor, scars that lined his torso, upper arms and legs fully shielded by thick and authentic plate; shoulders and back draped with a regal soft cloth, and so to were the mana-touched hands - allowing the flow of arcane to pursue the tips of his fingers without limitations. In the firm left grasp of the Father was a silver staff, the butt firmly planted against the cobble that rest at his feet. To the right of the Father's throne steel was hidden in a decorated sheath, propped up carefully against the wooden seat and just within grasp of the seated Lord. After several minutes of silence, patience finally receiving its award as the deep, guttural voice rumbled - emitting the long awaited words. "My Children..." In the moment, the void shifted - spitting forth the void-runners into the plain view of their Father; one male and one female, both carefully decorated in tools of war; more weapon than elf. Each said nothing, standing in anticipation for the Lord's will, and so each would receive his word full-heartedly. "We are Sunvein, born again in the blood of our ancestors. We are Sunvein, True Sin'dorei to the purest of Quel'thalas. We are Sunvein, and we are eternal." The familiar clap of heavy plate boots would begin to echo through the hall, a strong model for an elf now decorated from head to toe in battle-touched armor; the youngest of the Dynasty, enthusiastic and energetic the Paladin, like so many others came into the family wearing rusted armor and rags; now bearing proudly a full set of personalized, hand-made plate. Moving to stand beside the female draped in black leathers, he'd look to his two blood sworn kin, and bob his head simply before looking to the Father. Finally, a young elven woman with a body covered in a snow colored dress appeared just behind the throne, her form sleeked out by the smooth cloth that swayed as she stepped beside her husband, placing her right hand on his shoulder; in the left she wielded a much smaller hand of a male toddler, looking around curiously at the new home, a smile on the youthful face. Clinging to the Mother's leg was a small elven girl, nuzzling her cheek against the cloth nervously. "We are Sunvein, many families have come before us, but none will come after - we were here in the beginning and we will be here in the end... Or we will be the end. We are Sunvein, and our dynasty is eternal."