#Doctor Sunflare

[solexstras]

Is Solexstras often a sad soul? What lifts his spirits?

Settling at the front desk of his clinic, Doctor Sunflare was rummaging through his paperwork on some of his recent patients. His cosmic gaze widened as he felt a question beckon to him about his emotional standpoints. A soft smile was born from hearing the double whammy about his lifestyle. " Hello. Good evening. You ask if I am a sad soul? " He placed a gloved hand underneath his chin his eyes went half-lidded, and natural expression about him. " I do not see myself as sorrowful. We all experience things that make us sad and sometimes depressed. And I am not stranger to such things. However, I believe there is a difference between sorrow itself and fatigued. I... am a tired soul. Bathed in the embrace of the calm of that the shadows can bestow upon us. "

His eyes looked downward, finding himself to be looking back to the more recent things that made him feel sad and immediately shook his head. Rotten little voices, they should know their place by now. " What lifts me, you say? Well, I would say a good levitation spell, but I am sure that isn't what you are seeking in your quest? "His smile blossomed, chuckling with a beat of a magical echo in his lungs.

" I decent meal with an occasional glass of wine is a start. Reciting old knowledge while also going over the new information is another. But the one thing that soothes me the most. " He pauses, considering his next choice of words that he flipped through to be questionable, for they were not where his entire heart lied. "... is to simply help others. It brings me satisfaction and joy to see others grow and heal from my practices. To learn and becoming more than they were before in their lessons of life. "

[[ Thank you for asking @safrona-shadowsun ]]

[duraxxor]

Some new... yet old arrivals!

Hey there everyone! Duraxxor's writer here to let you know that I have added two new blogs my roster! These are two returning characters of mine that have existed about as long as good old Dura here.

The red grouch on the left is Fel'thamar Za'roth. He is a Master Diabolist that has quite the short fuse when it comes to those that do not comprehend how much he values his time.

The purple haired fellow is Solexstras Sunflare. Not only is he a medical doctor, but he is also a psychiatrist with a hint of shadow mending in the magical prowess.

I refer to these fellows at the Sol Twins. One of their biggest tropes is they were once identities inside a singular body. But which one was the body? Were they both warlocks all in one and perhaps they were something completely different? What are they doing now and what is their goals? Perhaps some wonderful people could give them a bit of love <3 Give em' a few good asks if you would like!

@felthamar - for Fel'thamar @solexstras - for Solexstras

[theconstructsworld]

Daily Writing Challenge 2022 Catch-Up

DWC 2021 Story Masterlist

The Construct - @theconstructsworld Click here to read his stories

The Construct, or most commonly known as ‘C’, is one of @gaebral’s finest creations. No one knows exactly what he is, including himself, but over the years he’s discovered some very interesting traits and powers while wandering the world. He’s a knowledge seeker first and foremost, and finds mortal lives fascinating; even though he knows they are a doomed species.

He’s spent a lot of time in Shadowlands since it opened up, traveling between the Afterlives and even exploring Afterlives not available to the common population. During the previous DWC, he was sent to the Maw to collect souls for his Master and has since collected hundreds. Whether they are that of someone who truly belongs there, or someone wrongfully sent, he cares little. They will all have their purpose in the coming years. 

Perhaps he has collected someone you know.

Aerden Lo’sharri, Jr. - @aerdendios Click here to read his stories

Aerden has probably had the most traumatic year out of all of my characters! After the death of his mother just over five years ago, he joined the military and has participated in every campaign since, mostly as a combat medic. Even more recently, he discovered that the abusive man that raised him was not his father despite being named after him, but that @polluxhale had a fling with his mother and he was the product of that. They made it legal on paper, but not many actually know.

After the Shadowlands opening, he was sent to Maldraxxus for some time, and then eventually to The Maw. His platoon was nearly wiped out in a surprise ambush, where he was also hit with a bolt of necrotic magic before escaping with a few others into a cave. He created a distraction while the others ran to safety and managed to topple a charred behemoth off the cliff, suffering a large laceration on his thigh in the process, but eventually managed to make it back to safety with the unknown help of @polluxhale. This all happened during the previous DWC, you can read the storyline ---> Here!

After being wounded, he was sent home to heal and that’s where he’s been. He received the Distinguished Service Medal for his bravery and was promoted to Senior Sergeant. Healing has been a slow process, and the necrotic magic affecting his side seems to have been fully healed, but the doctors still insist on check-ups twice a week. 

Necrotic magic is some nasty business!

Ryland Falkov - @themagictrick Click here to read his stories

Ryland mainly works as the Lead Navigator aboard the ‘Lady Lillium’ ship along with @felonous and @tristennedarkmorn. When the crew isn’t out at sea, they often act as a well-oiled mercenary team when needed. The crew went to the Shadowlands to take contracts and help out, but have since returned. For now.

About a year ago, he also finally caved into @dicenne’s peer pressure and joined the Succulent Tart as a performer! Given he grew up in a dance studio where his mother taught, he’s been trained in many forms of dance; although can be most often seen go-go dancing at various night clubs around Azeroth.

Charming, handsome, and a huge social butterfly, Ryland makes friends easily and flirts excessively with everyone around him.

((More below the cut cause I’m an alt fiend))

Taric Sunflare (Darkmorn)- @taricdarkmorn Click here to read his stories

Taric lives and owns an alchemy shop called ‘The Red Rook’ in Booty Bay, where his pet cockatiel, Pickles, has absolutely captured the heart of anyone that meets him - despite his constant pranking. 

In the past couple of years, Taric met Red (@tristennedarkmorn), who is of some relation to him. His uncle, he assumes, given his mother was once engaged to Red’s older brother. Like all the Darkmorn men before him, he was blessed with the ‘Darkmorn gift’ at birth, but the more extreme version of it. Communicating with and aiding the dead has always been a part of his life, and the main reason he joined Red & crew in the Shadowlands.

For now he’s back in Booty Bay, but will likely return to the Shadowlands with the crew if they go.

Inistellan Volanthus - @inistellan Click here to read his stories

Stellan typically works as a bouncer in Dalaran at The Red Moon, but with a new threat he grouped together with fellow old man @talonoa to create a mercenary team, and has stuck with them through the majority of the Shadowlands campaign. Given his past as the famed assassin ‘The Chameleon’, not that anyone is privy to this information, fighting is what he has always done best.

He is father to @cazmilan, principal dancer in the Silvermoon Royal Ballet and current Chameleon (@cazthechameleon), and also father to @vixannya, famed macabre artist and member of Succulent Tart, with whom he visits every now and then.

Ourobor ‘Ouro’ An’dar - @ouroandar Click here to read his stories

While he does do the occasional mercenary work, Ouro is mainly an arms dealer, selling to the highest bidder which occasionally includes the military. He was adopted into a ‘mob’ family, and one fateful Halloween night years ago were all murdered. Ouro was shot in the head, but he was the sole survivor of the attack. His life since has been devoted to vengeance and he spends all of his waking moments tracking down and murdering those involved. You can read all about that in ‘The List Series’ ---> Here.

Recently, he had an ‘oops’ baby with @songbrook and has regained some of his humanity, but is also very much so aware that they are both in danger at any moment given his desperate need for revenge. He has also recently discovered that he is the ‘Castor’ to @polluxhale’s ‘Pollux’: The two are fraternal twins separated at birth.

Kareenia ‘Kara’ Amberlight - @karaamberlight Click here to read her stories

Kara is @dicenne’s little sister and lives with him at his shop in Ratchet. She loves pastels, painting, and chunky combat boots. This woman definitely dances to the beat of her own drums, but in a very loveable and childlike way. 

When younger, she was attacked and kidnapped, which left the woman physically and mentally scarred for years following. She made a breakthrough not too long ago and has started to live her life again as she pleases. Healing is never linear, so she’ll often be found holed up at home in the safety of her room, or never straying too far from protective, big brother Dicenne at events.

@daily-writing-challenge​

[rassilon-imprimatur]

The faux-retro arrays of old TV tubes and dials in the console room maybe understandable to the Doctor, but the noise-to-signal muddle of them was too fragmented for the ordinary human mind. There was also the occasional porthole – literally, in some abstruse interdimensional manner, allowing one to see what was directly outside the TARDIS at any given time. When not on an actual planet, these portholes were almost literally useless in the same way that a clear piece of glass in the side of an interplanetary spacecraft would be useless – the wildly disparate lighting conditions and the distances involved between objects meaning that one effectively saw nothing.

In the same way, so Anji gathered, that the commercial spacecraft of The Future supplied ‘viewing ports’ which displayed to their passengers false but aesthetically pleasing images – and which bore about as much relation to the actual conditions outside as Bugs Bunny does to the proliferation vectors of myxomatosis – the Stellarium factored external electromagnetic and gravmetic readings to produce an image with which the mind could more or less cope.

From the inside it seemed like a big crystal dome, through which one saw spectacularly flaring starscapes and actual planetary systems, as opposed to mere pinpoints of light or blinding sunflares; the bright, majestic swirls of nebulae rather than the black-on-black dark matter of which such nebulae really exist. Had the TARDIS found itself in the middle of a space battle –it never had, and Anji devoutly hoped it never would – then the Stellarium would show an exciting panorama of spaceships zooming about and firing laser beams and appropriately evil-looking guided missiles rather than, again, mere pinpoints of light and sunflares followed by absolutely nothing as an evil guided missile hit.

The vortex, here in the Stellarium, was dazzling in a sense quite other than the literal: a churning assemblage of luminescence through which points of image and association detonated like exploding gems. For all the chaos of it, the vortex seemed to have order, in the same way that milk swirls through coffee – or the way that a galaxy, seen from a distance, swirls through the void. 

- The TARDIS’ Stellarium from The Slow Empire by Dave Stone, gorgeously realized by @johannesviii!

[inistellan]

Therapy:  Part 4

Read Part 1 —> Here Read Part 2 —> Here Read Part 3 ---> Here

“That’s enough of Vethan Sunsong.  I could talk about him for hours but we certainly don’t have that long left.”  Eyes flitted briefly towards the clock on the wall before settling upon the Doctor once more.

“You know you’re my last appointment of the day, you’re more than welcome to stay over free of charge, I don’t mind.  Anyways, this is all quite fascinating for me, I don’t get many like you.  Have you ever considered writing a book?”

“Ohh I wouldn’t want to take up too much of your personal time Doctor, interesting or not.  I have considered a book but that’s as far as that thought will go:  A consideration.  It’s not a story meant for the public.”  He gave the other man a pointed look.  “Let’s hope that you’re not too loose-lipped with your colleagues.”

“Never.  When it comes down to it I’m just a collector of fascinating stories that I can never tell a single soul.   Unless, well, ya already know the ‘unlesses’.”  Fingers curled once more around the full tumbler, taking a generous sip.  While his words weren’t slurred from all the whiskey just yet, he was certainly getting lazy with his speech.

“Have you ever had any patients you’ve had to turn in?”

“Not -yet-, maybe soon though.  Anyways…”  The Doctor’s free hand waved dismissively off to the side before making a vague gesture towards Stellan.  “Onto the next volume, yes?  Or previous volume?  What happened before ‘Vethan Sunflare, or -who- happened, I should ask.”

“Right.  Othikess Starfall, or as my fellow crew called me, Othi.”

“Crew?  You were a sailor then?”

Lips curled into an amused grin, wrinkling those crow’s feet once more, “Something like that.  Sailor is a nice, legal-sounding term, but the truth is the term pirate is a much better fit.  A boatswain, or bosun, to be exact.  That was my role for years.”

“Boatswain?  I’m not terribly familiar with the term.”

“In charge of the deck crew and maintenance of the deck area.  I also did a lot of carpentry in general, and not just on the deck, always been quite good with my hands.  Lots of hard work, long hours, but Gods did I love being out on the open sea.  The salty sea air and nothing but water stretching on for as far as the eye could see; it was just what I needed, right when I needed it.  Being up in that crow’s nest in the dead of the night with nothing but the sound of the wind and the dull roar of the sea below?  You do some intense soul searching there, that’s a place where you find what you’re truly made of, your true colors.”

“And what did you find to be your true colors?”

“I realized a lot about myself there:  What I wanted, what I didn’t want.  I had been forced into a life that had already been planned out for me and now that I was free of it, I felt -alive-.  At the same time, I felt robbed, wronged, angry, frustrated, guilty...but even a touch nostalgic oddly enough.  I had no idea this was how things could be, but maybe I needed to experience all I had before then to truly appreciate what I had now.”

“So why did ya leave that life?”

“I felt it was about time to leave the criminal life behind.  People always want to romanticize the ‘pirate life’ and I suppose it had its moment, but your views on the lifestyle change vastly when you’re actually a part of it as opposed to hearing or reading stories about it.  It can be a very...lonely life.  It was never something I saw myself doing for the remainder of my years.”

“Y’say it was time to leave the criminal life behind, does this mean your first life you were -”

“Much worse.  I was not a good man.”

An expanding moment of silence settled between the two:  Stellan with his intense gaze fixated on the Doctor that could no longer mask his lack of sobriety.  The red cheeks and slightly unfocused eyes were a dead giveaway, even though Stellan himself displayed no such traits, seemingly perfectly sober.  “You remind me of someone I know…can’t quite put my finger on it.  That gleam you spoke of, familiar but not.”  The Doctor shook his head, returning to his whiskey, “That’s silly, I’m sure it’s just the alcohol speaking.”

Leaning back in his seat, Stellan quickly replaced the focused stare with a casual smirk, assuming a more amicable aura.  “We have gone through a lot of that bottle, I’ll have to replace it for you.  It’s not cheap stuff.”

“You know I was saving it for a special occasion, but I kept assuming every occasion that came about wasn’t special enough.  That something better would come along and I’d regret not having the whiskey to drink for it.  Foolish how we do that with things.  Don’t worry about replacing it though, it’s about time I started drinking this.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to make this an -extra- special occasion then, no?”  Eyes brazenly combed over the Doctor’s seated form as Stellan’s free hand smoothed over the top of his own thigh.

“I suppose we will, but first...I want to hear this final volume.”

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

"Well, the population won't be so much of an issue once the humans die out and the automotons take the majority of resources. The population should stay regularly the same...I doubt you would be making it so they can reproduce." Robin mused for a second, able to tell that Viktor was enjoying being able to have this sort of discussion without judgement. It was also enjoyable for Robin, so...he would happily continue this chat into the evermore darker relations of the topic.

"I do have one fear in regards to this, though, I'm sure you've also thought of it. Janna forbid," he mimicked, but in no way that would be mocking, just coming off of a similar stance, "Something natural knock out the electrical grid. A comet, a sunflare...those up on Targon becoming angry that no one is worshipping them...all of that nonsense."

Reliable doctor...it made him internally cringe. How he missed that life. "Did...ah...Mr Baudelaire completely vanish?" Oh curse his loud mouth, "I used to read his literature on medicine."

Robin nodded, noting the obvious hypocrisy in Viktor's tone...a man complaining about human emotions when he still felt them so deeply. Perhaps that's why he wanted to be rid of them..Robin could respect that much--not to mention understand it. His own emotional capacity had drained immensely, whether it was a useful development or not, he couldn't say.

"Then...if we're talking about stripping away the very thing that makes humans human, why put in so much effort? Would it not be easier to just...start over? Slowly and gradually end humanity while bringing up the populations of your emotionless automotons."

He clicked his tongue.

"Would be much easier then turning people into non-biological substrate, one is a murder of the mind, the other a murder of the body...Regardless, you'd be killing that person."

[safrona-shadowsun]

A letter was sent to the Courier in a purple envelope, sealed by stamp that was in the shape of a violet shadow rune. Should she choose to open it, it would read off. " To: The Courier, My name is Doctor Solexstras Sunflare, pardon my choice of delivery, but I understand, I have my reasons. I would wish for your audience as your reputation from the Void is quite notably delightful. Should you wish for a meeting, my card is inside and has a means of rendezvous." - @shadowed-veil

Alas, it was not the Courier that met at the locale for a rendezvous, but an Ethereal instead, which by some might have measured to be more interesting company by the rarity of such a sight. Elves were plentiful by comparison. After an elegant introduction, Saraj offered up a red leather scrollcase bearing the emblem of a half-filled wine glass on a black field was offered over. Inside, the rolled letter was carefully tied off with red velvet ribbon, the handwriting equally neat and flowing..though unrecognizable symbols to the common eye. Only the eye trained to see past the veil of the mundane would see more, the shifting of shadowy script forming words that were legible. It would read as follows:

Doctor Sunflare:

It is strange that you ask for the Courier, as your request doesn’t meet the standard of the usual business. More strange that you hear rumor through the Void and find it ‘delightful’. I’d wonder what sort of reputation now that you have heard to come to such a conclusion...the Void rarely has any sort of delight to offer. Unless you are insane, of course. I do try not to be.

Perhaps you are in fact looking for the Courier and what she can provide, which is much more of an understandable endeavor. Rarely am I able to tear away too far from business unannounced, and unless you have the talent to stop time itself for us to meet, I’m afraid we will have to conform to an appointment. The Ledgermaine Lounge will do well on a day of your choosing.

Please feel free to list off what you would have me find for you in the meantime, if that is the nature of your curiosity. And maybe within more...understanding of each other, other curiosities might be sated too, yes?

Sincerely,

Safrona Shadowsun, or ‘Courier’

{ @shadowed-veil }

[falling-pages]

“Supernova”

Howdy hoes it’s story time.

She was always a free spirit.

She wore flower crowns in her hair and thigh-length lace cardigans and flowery dresses that would end cheekily above her knees. Her hair was always a mess, long and wavy and a tone of blonde I could never put my finger on, a tone no box could replicate.

Her front two teeth had a gap in between them, a gap she liked to play with by poking the tip of her tongue in between.

Her eyes were kind of complicated, but then again they were the least complicated thing about her. They were a mix of the starry night sky we would sit and stare at and the cool mud in the river we would play in, with little drops of shiny green dew and cool, gray fog.

Her skin was tan like a goddess’, came from basking in the sun, I suppose, as a  wild child, spending her days in the meadows picking flowers and frolicking, making deals with the sun and flirting madly with streams and making homes in the branches of trees. She would shimmy up an oak with ease and then sit there, hands on hips, modestly straddling the branch even in a branch, with this look of wild independence that commanded every creature in the forest, a look that said she was queen of the world and she knew it.

She loved old things. Our favorite thing to do on Mondays after school was to hike a mile up the mountain behind the town, in her boho dress and boots, and visit an antique shop run by an old lady who would invite us in for tea. This Supernova of a girl would rummage around in the goods for hours on end, fueled only by wanderlust and Nicaraguan coffee, as the dust swirled around her like a haze, like a crown belonging to some great literary queen buried in the pile of books waiting to be rediscovered.

Once she found her treasure out of the piles of trinkets, we would hike back down the mountain path. She would talk my ear off about whatever she had found, and although it was a little annoying then, I miss it dearly now. By the end of the hike, her face would be sweaty, her hands and legs streaked with dirt, but she was still gorgeous all the same.

She was a girl who gave me shivers in the summer and warmed me up in winter. She could set your blood on fire and freeze it back with an icy stare. She was quite a masterpiece when she was mad: a brooding, patient hurricane without an eye of calm. She had the kind of anger where you would just have to buckle down and wait for the storm to pass.

It always did. She would love you fiercely and hate you fiercely and kiss you fiercely and slap you fiercely. She would never let you talk down to her. She contained all the world’s power in a violent twitch of her head, and you knew that something would be destroyed at the end. I never got to know her lips, but if I had, I am sure I would be the one destroyed at the center of her love.

She wasn’t fond of modern technology. She didn’t trust it; there were too many ways it could go wrong, she said. She loved ancient things, things thrown away and left behind in the passage of time. She could not be taken in by fine jewels or lavish apartments or promises or modern wares. She made her home in the earth, nurturing it, yielding her own blood and sweat and tears and strength to it, letting it grown and thrive. 

She was always at home in the earth. She didn’t even have a cell phone; if she wanted to contact anyone, she would know where to go. If anyone wanted to contact her, they would know to which tree to go and kneel.

“But how do you take pictures to remember important things?” people would ask.

She would give her gapped grin and tap her temple, signaling that is where she kept her memories, in a place where no hacker could get to them.

“But when you are old, you will want to look back on your life and remember.”

She would often say that she didn’t plan on getting old; she wanted to die in her prime. She didn’t want to wait around and watch everyone around her die and watch her own body deteriorate. She wanted to be one of the mourned golden ones, beautiful people who lived glorious lives who were tragically taken too soon. She would die only when she wanted. She said that when she wanted to go, when she felt fulfilled, she would just go. She would say it so simply and casually over lunch and at my reaction, told me not to waste my life pining after her. I didn’t listen.

She had good taste. She loved old things, vinyl records and black coffee and ‘20s slang and ‘50s pearls and CDs and John Lennon and Agatha Christie novels that smelled of tears and memories even years after you’ve opened them. She once made me a CD playlist called, “Getting over me.” I threw it away without listening.

She would meet with old men in town and smoke cigarettes with them, dressed in a leather jacket and red lipstick, and when the Jimi Hendrix CD would start skipping for the third time, she would hop away back to her forest.

She was always in a state of mystery; one moment here, the other moment there. But whenever her eyes flashed, a motion that set my stomach in knots, you knew something was about to go down. Just like how a star suddenly flashes and gets very bright and hot before it explodes into a supernova.

She was likable, but never popular; that’s good, because she never liked people much anyways. She preferred the wildflowers and deer and flora and fauna our rural town had to offer. She preferred soaking her feet in cold mud and falling asleep in the arms of a tree branch with a wasp nest to cuddle. She would wake up with pine needles in her hair and laugh as she pulled them out.

She had freckles splotched right on her nose, like a family of stars fresh born from a supernova. That’s what I called her, actually. “Supernova.” Never her actual name. She believed she could do anything, so she did. But she was also an explosion. Her laugh exploded from her mouth, her voice exploded from her throat, her hands and fingers exploded with her anger.

Seems kind of fitting that it was an explosion that took her out.

She was gone too early; 18 can barely be considered anyone’s prime. She wanted control; she lost it. She crossed the other side at the hand of happenstance. A hunter didn’t see her, and when she leapt from one tree branch to another, he took his aim and, mistaking her for a deer, shot her right through the chest. 

It was a colossal sunflare that took out the supernova. I just hate that I was the scientist that discovered this astronomic catastrophe.

She went quickly, the doctor said. At least that gave me some comfort. But her woods will never be the same; every time I enter, I see still see her mangled body lying there, blood flowing and mixing with the stream. She always wanted to leave her mark; she stained the woods with her blood.

She left her mark on me too. I shy away from black coffee and skip any Jimi Hendrix song that comes on the radio. It’s been years since I’ve been back to that tiny antique shop, and any strands of pearls I see I put back on the rack. I walk past those old men on the porch and see an empty rocking chair next to the record player. Red lipstick stains and lace cardigans make me shudder. I dug through my trash to find that playlist she made for me, but by now it’s probably made it to the dumpster to be destroyed.

She was a supernova, something dangerous and wild but beautiful and intriguing, something to be avoided and admired from afar, something that caught you by the throat and dragged you near. Something you were petrified of, but something you also loved with every inch of your being. You longed to be so close to it, to feel the stars disintegrate in your fists. But being close to a supernova hurts you; it will kill you if it doesn’t destroy itself first. But if it does kill you, you’ll be so distracted by the beauty that you won’t mind. So in that respect, she was a supernova.

She was my Supernova.

[bohomoth]

Are You Ready To Sail Through Menopause?

Are You Ready To Sail Through Menopause?

Menopause is something that all women will go through in their lives and yet the advice out there is conflicting and often confusing. We regularly hear stories of women who have been wrongly prescribed anti-depressants by their doctors, when in fact they were going through menopausal or perimenopausal depression because of their hormones causing their low moods. And, all too often women are told…

[solexstras]

Has your character ever found themselves in a moral dilemma? If so, what decision did they ultimately make, and why?

He could remember it like it was yesterday. But to the elven people, decades were merely steppingstones. This would mean that yesterday may has well been those decades ago. And it was only recently that the one he would call brother would allow there be a proper truce between them. For his ire was the exact reason that Solexstras faced morality twists.

There was a time where Solexstras was half of another, Fel'thamar. Two souls in a singular body. Even to this day, the Doctor thought of Fel'thamar as merely an extension of the anger he developed in youth. A youth that turned from a budding mage that was destined to be his parent's prized son. Born as Solexstras Sunflare, he studies magic and was absolutely obsessed with knowledge.

But everything changed with young Sol found out that he was actually the result of an affair his mother had with another man. And when his father found that out, he was ridiculed as he watched his father turn into a raging alcoholic. But what could the young man do? He had nowhere to go. His father turned to the bottle and his own mother barely stayed home long enough to even put aside her own mistakes for his sake. So, he continued to stick his nose into his books. He thought to himself the more knowledge he could obtain, the further away from this bad dream he could be.

Then, one day, he found himself in the presence of a sorceress by the name of Morellia Darkwood. She was kind, charming, and even similarly interested in knowledge. And she sought to bestow him a knowledge that at the time he had no idea was truly forbidden. For warlocks in high elven society were not common, and those caught practicing the demonic arts had been looked down upon by the magistry at the time. After all, our Doctor and Demonologist alike are over seven hundred years old.

Every chance he got, he met with her and one after the other, he began learning to summon demons, partake in afflictions, and awaken the ability to wield the green flames, something that was rare in nature. But this story would not have a happy ending. No. For one day, the eyes of his parents would not stray far as they realized the son they must control was participating in magic that even they dare not wield. With this, they got the jump on both of them and had Lady Darkwood not only apprehended and beheaded in a secluded area for him to watch.

Solexstras didn't know why, or even understand, but something awakened in him that day through the grief and absolute misery of it all. A second voice that while he thought he had heard before, he thought it was merely him speaking to himself. But the words that followed were spoken from within him out of rage as he allowed it to take over in that moment. A rage that burned everything down.

For the longest time after that, Sol would recluse himself in the back of his mind as the new voice, declaring himself Fel'thamar Za'roth, took over and ran his life. But both of them had one thing in common despite Sol's overwhelming grief and remorse for taking a life. They both deeply cared about their former master to the point that they studied their new art hard and continued paving her legacy in flame.

[[ @sanguinesorceress there's a bit of a back story with your ask <3 ]]

[duraxxor]

----------------- 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔤 ℜ𝔬𝔩𝔩 ------------------

For your information benefit, I have created this roll as a directory of current blogs. Altercations may occur over time, changing as things update! I would also like to say that all blogs and characters in this Roll are AU friendly unless stated otherwise! Thank you for your time and attention! - The Mun

D͓̽u͓̽r͓̽a͓̽x͓̽x͓̽o͓̽r͓̽- @duraxxor - Main blog Also known as Alphus Durand Daevara in life Father of the Daevara family Batdad

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑜𝓁 𝒯𝓌𝒾𝓃𝓈

Fel'thamar Za'roth - @felthamar Master Demonologist Former Sunfury Mr. Grouch

Doctor Solexstras Sunflare - @solexstras Doctor, Scientist, and many other things Void enthusiast Sleepy Doctor

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔳𝔞𝔯𝔞 𝔉𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔶

Ravlynn Daevara - @ravlynn Self Defense Specialist A Father's Daughter Raven Aiden Daevara - @aiden-daevara Spellblade Adventurer History enthusiast Soft boy

I would also like to shamelessly plug their mother @arrydhalia who is played by @nyyght right here!

𝓗𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓷

Veronath Sunscorn - @veronath Knight of Silvermoon Son of Valanath Blaze

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𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀, 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗹 𝗳𝗿𝗲𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗼𝗻 @𝗱𝘂𝗿𝗮𝘅𝘅𝗼𝗿! 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗼𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗿𝗼𝗹𝗹! 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗳𝘂𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲! Feel free to Reblog!

[duraxxor]

Which OC 7. Is a sweet angel?

Definitely Duraxxor . . .

Just kidding!

Admit it, you laughed. Anywho . . .

If I had to choose which OC had the most potential at being considered the sweetest of my plethora, it would probably be Aiden Daevara. While his serious demeanor may come across as a stand-off, beneath that exterior is a kind, gentle soul that’s been through a lot.

My second would probably be my void doctor, Dr. Solexstras Sunflare. While he may have his quirky, robotic tones, he too possesses a kind soul that only seeks for a peaceful life while possessing polite mannerisms towards anyone.

[ Thanks for the ask! @safrona-shadowsun ]

[duraxxor]

Bloody Stone

Time has passed since the meeting between Dura, Mora, and his two children. Yet, despite his inactivity, much had transpired in the background. Mora had been captured by the Legion's treacherous Man'ari yet.. Dura had no idea since there were no ties to the Stormwind Death reports on his end of the world. However, not all went unnoticed..

" The stone.."

Ah, yes, the jewel around Mora's collar was no ordinary stone, it possessed a fragment of Dura's essence, twisted by the nether energies into a crystallized structure. Oh, how he could remember the pain of having his arm completely torn asunder, how it caused his mechanical limb to twitch at thought. When he had awoken from his unconsciousness, the Doctor Solexstras Sunflare had brought to his attention shards.. shards of crystallized blood.

" Lord Daevara.. your blood has.. crystallized.. a consumption of the chaotic and void energies had given you a temporary limb.. a.. phantom limb, so to speak.. these jewels are a part of you.."

The memory stirred and Dura could remember the Doctor's words. If Dura's hunch was right, the jewel he gave Mora would provide a certain.. string.. a sense of relief that could let him know her fate. And that, it did, when Mora had found herself captured and put through the hellish tortures, there was this.. burning sensation with his chest, one that seemed familiar by nature. An Anger. Hatred. It boiled the very blood he bathed in that day to the point that he felt like destroying his own home. But alas, his resolve and patience we holding him in place.

".. Mora.. whatever you are going through.. hang in there.. you are stronger than you believe.. I can see it.. I can feel it.. my instincts say so.."

His words echoed downward in his mind as he had decided days, almost a weeks or so later that he would attempt a.. rest. He laid within the new lavishing, ebony bed he had recently purchased, eyes closed and mind dormant. However, it would seem dreams had played along his sleepless thoughts as he began to recall not only his own past events, but also saw a glimpse of what Meirodan had spoke about. The twin brothers, broke out into a fist fight, palms embued with the fire in their veins.

" Meirrooooooo!!" " Alphuuuuuusss!!!"

POW!

The collision of brotherly fists was shattering, almost thunderous by sound. It was quite clear that at the time, Dura's ancestors were quite powerful. So powerful, that the dreamed vision had awoken Dura from his meditative slumber. " So much for sleeping.." He said as he finally managed to speak in a present time period. After clearing his disorientation, he would slip from the bed and head to the desk where he had distributed the bloodied stones in a circle.. yet it's epicenter contained not a stone of Daevara, but the Blood Shard that was bestowed upon him by the Sanguine Sorceress. Yet another reminder that he was damned to a servitude to her in favor of her prior assistance. It was then.. that Dura considered making an attempt at her summons, but it was interrupted. Not by a person or creature, but by an instinct.

" Wait.. the burning sensation.. it's.. gone.. and Mora.. her presence feels.. stronger.. but, it couldn't be." He would retract his hand from the shard as he walked over to the window and gazed towards the southwest. Fixated, he would focus strongly on the energies of his crystallized essence for a brief moment and hear a slowed, tired heart rate.

" There.. that's it.. She's home.. and she's.. exhausted.. yet.. something else has transpired.." The crimson eyes slowly opened and slowly fluttered as a magic seeped from him. His physical form pinked as well as his eyes turned and vivid blue hue. He would the proceed to the mirror to note his familiar form. " .. Eyes of the Quel'dorei.. this should do.. less I run into peering eyes.. now.. let's make a trip to the grand city of Stormwind.."

The vicious gentleman smiled as sharp as daggers.

[[ mentions: @magemoraluna @sanguinesorceress @destiny-of-daevara @shadowed-veil ]]

[duraxxor]

Torch Thursday: Solexstras Sunflare

Mod Dura: Oh, well damn, Dura, looks like you've got the attention of quite a few people.. you caught the attention of.. the shadow doctor.. Solexstras Sunflare!!!! *a red haired sindorei walks on stage wearing a purple suit and tie as he takes the offered mic and stands next to Dura* Sol: Thank you, sir! Though I must say.. he's not that bad of a fellow, that is, if you like BDSM leather and blood loss.. But, seriously, when was the last time you ever considered cutting that long hair if your's? From the back you look as if you could be a banshee, and you know how many people are into Sylvanas.. I was once his full time doctor, he was as fit as an ox.. minus the no heart rate, of course. Oh, and he hates needles... what kind of blood sucking, sadomasochistic, undead elven creature that bites people with razor sharp teeth and claws uses daggers, swords, and other objects.. Yet.. he HATES needles... What in the Fel.. And another thing.. the beauty was right.. for a shadow walker, you don't know how to keep your mouth shut nor do you stay out of the spotlight.. I mean really.. Let someone else have a chance, you glory hogging pig. And what's with the Daddy reference, the Dark Father, I didn't realize you were into such things, Lord Daevara.. tell me.. do you call women Mommy too?... Oh.. and one more thing before I give the microphone back to your Modern counterpart.. *Sol gets right in Dura's face* Can you PLEASE.. STOP stealing my donations.. they are NOT your snack!! Thank you... *he bows as the audience applauds him* Modern Dura: Solexstras Sunflare, folks! @shadowed-veil