#darach

[primejourney]

Greetings!

Here is my drawing for the LESSONS prompt (late by a few days). I wanted to take my time with things since I was having so much fun with it :D

I wanted an excuse to draw Ingo is his butler outfit, and “lessons” immediately reminded me of how he asked Darach for butler advice in Pokémon Masters! (…I have never actually played that game lol. I like watching the juicy lore bits on YouTube >D>;)

Even though he stated he felt he didn’t have much to teach, I like to think he gave Ingo some pointers (especially since Ingo really thought he needed it! But little does he know, he’s already quite a natural haha)

More comments under the cut

I’m also not sure if this is in character for Ingo, but I was too tempted to try more extreme expressions on his muppet face XD I get the vibe he might tend to overthink things at times, given how in the game he discussed thinking hard about the future (which is why he has adopted the “keep moving forward and see what the future brings!” ideals…perhaps Emmet had his own way of overthinking things as well, given how hard he thought about singing as a butler or not lol). And I tend to be one myself XD so it felt a bit cathartic to draw I suppose

Oh! It was also fun to see how a little bit of @choochooboss ‘s art style bled into my drawing. I really adore the way this artist draws them (really, it inspired me a lot to start drawing again!). ChooChoo, you really make them look so darn handsome! <3

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

The Day Stiles Snapped

Masterlist | AO3

Twenty-five years of war and supernatural annoyances makes you pretty close to the people you have left. It also means the peaceful portion of Beacon Hill's the supernatural population has rules for living peacefully. The number one rule: don't hurt the pack, their humans are crazy and will not stand for it.

~3k

TW: gore, violence, death

This is actual crap but I'm too lazy and stressed to fix it

Blood and ash covered the ground. The newly rebuilt Hale house had been reduced to a smoldering pile of rubble once more. Stiles, sitting stuck at the base of a tree. He looked around at his friends, taking in the carnage before him.

Scott was bleeding out, slashed nine ways to hell, and he wasn’t healing. Isaac was trying to hell him but was badly hurt too. Isaac’s whole body was shaking, sucking in greedy breaths of air he’d been deprived of.

Jackson was holding Lydia, crying as she stared blankly up at him. He held her face, blood from his hands smearing on her perfect pale skin. For all Stiles knew, she was already gone.

Malia had been trapped in ropes laced with wolfsbane. Every time she moved, the cut deeper into her skin. Her wrists were raw and bleeding as she fought to help the others.

Liam was on the ground, finally managing to push his weight up on his hands and knees. He'd been thrown at least twenty feet before slamming into the foundation of what had been their home, the pack’s house. Stiles could see the defeat in his eyes. Eyes that had found Theo's body. The bloody, crumbled mess that used to be a person.

A shrill laughter echoed off the trees. It pulled Stiles from the horrifying view of his friends and brought his eyes to Derek. Derek who had yet to stop fighting. Their most recent big bad had been playing with him like a toy.

Stiles wanted to help. He moved slightly, a sharp and ripping pain ran through his body. His hand came to the source of the pain in his stomach and he whimpered. He could feel the broken ends of his own bat sticking out of him. His clothes were soaked with his own blood and possibly that of others.

"What are you doing little wolf," big bad evil guy laughed, kicking Derek when he was already on the ground.

Stiles couldn't remember what or who it was or the plan or if they had a plan. His brain wouldn't work.

"Do something! Show me the power of the Hale alpha!"

No. No, that was wrong. Derek wasn't an alpha. He isn't the alpha. Scott is. Scott… Scott was. But… weren’t there two? Who… Who else? Why couldn’t he think? Tears brimmed Stiles's eyes, pain and frustration mixing in what was no doubt a sour smell.

"Well well well. Aren't those eyes beautiful," he hummed, "but they aren't red," each word grew more bitter, punctuated with a blow to Derek’s limp form. "Where's the real alpha, Hale? Where is he, huh? Peter?" Stiles frowned. No. Not Peter. Peter was dead, really and truly dead. “Is it your bitch of a sister? Did she abandon her pack?” Cora did run. Derek told her to run. No, not Cora. “Or maybe it’s one of your precious housemates.”

Stiles watched Derek be picked up and dragged like a rag doll. Closer to the others. Closer to the others. No. No no no no no. Not now. Not like this.

Derek was unceremoniously dragged to each of their pack members. He was watching for a response. He paused longer in front of Malia and she growled and snapped at him. When he was brought to Stiles, there was something in his eyes. Something like an apology. He was sorry, sorry any of them had been brought into this mess.

“This one’s special, hah?” The words came out in a sick questioning laugh.

Stiles felt himself be lifted off the ground. His stomach lurched, contracted. He felt like throwing up. His head felt like it was spinning. The weight of the bat hanging from his body, ripping through him before it fell to the ground. His mouth went dry. Not good. Never good. He managed to focus his eyes enough to tell where they were going, toward the fire.

Big bad lifted Derek up and gave an evil smirk, holding Stiles out over the smoldering remains of the house. It was hot. Stiles’s blood dripped and sizzled. “Start talking or I drop him.”

The world was dulled from the blood loss. Sounds felt farther and farther away the longer he dangled. He could hear slurred words, Derek. Derek was talking. He didn’t know what he was saying. Stiles felt the world slipping from him.

A chorus of howls sang from the woods. It made Stiles’s ears ring but a strange peace settled within him. Two howls rang about the others, two alphas. One… their alpha? Who was…

“I knew there was a new Hale alpha,” the big bad laughed. “I have no need for you now.”

Stiles didn’t know who it was meant for. He learned quickly as his body dropped. He screamed with all that was left in him. Searing flames licked at his skin, he felt himself being burned. His body fell through the wood and ash of the main floor. His eyes opened.

For a second, he saw the sky clearly. Big, beautiful, and dark. Everything in his life had been one of those three since high school. He saw the sky and then it was gone.

He saw the underside of the floor. Heavy, flaming red beams fell after him. Ash surrounded him. He was wrapped in a suffocating blanket of heat.

Stiles hit hard concrete and all feeling seemed to go dark. He helplessly watched as burning wood and debris landed on top of him. He closed his eyes, willing his body to move but he couldn’t. He tried to move his fingers, to search for something, anything, to help him. He couldn’t move. Tears rolled down his face. That familiar sense of helplessness filled his stomach.

He opened his eyes, looking up and there it was again. The sky. Black with smoke as the fire above him grew with new life. This was it. After years of fighting. Twenty-five years of trying to save himself and his friends and this was the end. He closed his eyes.

“Stiles,” a voice screamed, ripping through the air.

Stiles took a shaky breath. He knew. He knew who the alpha was. The Hale alpha. He did all he could. He was dying. Blinking felt like a battle but he tried. Stiles tried to scream, tried to yell, but could hardly manage a squeak. He called up a weak noise that was hardly discernible as a word.

“Eli,” he croaked out.

Derek had ruffled his hair, a feat now that Eli was taller than him, and told him to go. He told him to have fun and they’d hold down the fort. He was only twenty, still learning who he was, and Derek didn’t want him sucked into all this mess. He told Eli to leave and not to look back until he knew who he was.

“Come on, dad! You know what I’m gonna do,” Eli said with a smirk. “I’m going to start the police academy in the fall, make a name for myself, and worm my way into the FBI academy.”

Derek smiled, looking down at his shoes. When he looked up, he sighed and gave Eli his best ‘what’s the plan’ look he’d given Stiles millions of times. “And how do you plan to worm your way into that?” Stiles snickered, sharing a smile with Eli.

“Worming is one of my skills,” Eli said.

Derek sighed. He had that coming. “Could you stop acting like Stiles and be serious for one second?”

Really, he should know better than to ask that kind of question. For his troubles, he was met by a chorus of Eli and Stiles talking over each other in what were distinctly Stiles quotes.

“Don’t Be Such A sour wolf,” Stiles scoffed.

“Positivity just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it,” Eli asked at the same time, giving Stiles a high five. “I’ll be fine, dad. And, if anything happens, I’ll call cousin Miguel... Juarez Cinqua Tiago.” Derek rolled his eyes and Eli laughed. “Alright. I need to go if I’m going to catch my bus.”

Eli gave Stiles a hug, not feeling him slip something into his pocket. He gave Derek a hug, being held tightly.

It would be the first time they’d really been apart in years. It would be the first time Eli would be away from the pack since becoming an alpha after Derek’s, like, fifth temporary death.

When Derek let Eli go, he muttered the obligatory “be safe, kid” which Stiles swore he got from Sheriff.

Stiles had nodded to Eli and looked down as he put his hand in his pocket. Eli gave him a confused puppy look and stuck a hand in the pocket of his flannel. He looked back at Stiles with big eyes, pulling keys out of his pocket. Stiles winked at him and looked at the jeep.

Eli left before Derek could object. Derek glared at Stiles, complicated feelings rising in him. He accused Stiles of sending Eli away in a death trap.

When Derek was sure Eli wouldn’t hear them anymore, his mood soured. He asked if Stiles had a plan.

Loud cracks and crunching sounded from the burning remains of the house before it all caved in. Screams filled the air. Stiles was in there. They all seemed to understand Stiles wasn’t there anymore, his body was.

A horde of werewolves attacked as one. Satomi’s pack took charge. She told Eli to go, to help his pack. He didn't know what to do first. The pain that tainted each of the pack bonds was pulling him in multiple directions. He’d only just become the alpha and he was losing his pack.

So he did what he always did.

Eli ran to his dad.

Derek was left laying on the stairs, sorrow and grief rolled off him in heavy waves. The mix of blood, ash, and loss in the air was sickening. It burnt Eli's nose but Derek knew it well.

"Dad," Eli cried, helping him sit up. He held his dad’s face in his hands. "Hey, it's me. It's Eli."

He looked into Derek’s eyes but he wouldn't look at Eli for more than a moment. He looked around at his pack and whined.

"Don't…," Eli stood up, "don't do anything stupid," he said, looking to see who needed him most.

"You’re just like him," Derek whispered, his voice as broken as his spirit. Eli looked at his dad, utterly confused. "That's a good thing."

“As much I love when you tell me about our family, this is not the time,” Eli huffed. “I need to help Scott. He’s in literal ribbons over there!”

“No, like… like Stiles.”

Eli paused. His mouth hung open. It was a compliment. It was meant to be praise. He’d never compared Eli to Stiles as a form of praise. It took more strength than he knew he had not to stay there. He had to help. He couldn’t let his pack die. Eli bit his tongue and ran to Scott.

He crouched next to Isaac, the sounds of him struggling to breathe cut worse than any knife. Eli gave him a sympathetic look. He looked down at Scott, hardly able to tell who he was. He swallowed the lump in his throat and took Scott’s hand. Eli focused. He dumped all of his power and energy into helping, into healing, Scott. He couldn’t let Scott die.

It felt like he was ripping himself apart. Black veins raced up his arms. Eli was giving his power to save Scott. It was painful and terrifying and exhilarating. It was life and it was death flowing through them. He was bargaining with fate. He was pulling Scott from Death’s door. And it very well could mean their pack would be left with no alpha.

Eli roared, looking up at the sky. He felt it happen, his eyes changing from crimson red to golden yellow. He sighed heavily, looking up at the sky. The sky… It was pitch black with smoke in the fading light.

An explosion boomed from the house. It was loud, almost deafening for the wolves. A mushroom cloud of fire and smoke burst up from the burnt-out basement. Eli threw his body over Scott. He had to protect their last hope. Burning debris rained down. It barely missed some of the pack, hitting the enemy just enough to make him falter.

“YOU SICK MOTHERFUCKER!” The scream came from the edge of the house. A

black, ash-covered form stalked forward from the remnants. Its body looked cracked as red heat showed through like lava.

“Parrish,” Eli whispered, burning heat washing over him as the form moved to attack.

Flames grew, surrounding the form’s body. “You set our home on fire! You threw me in the fucking fire,” it yelled, flames burning bigger and brighter.

“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice not much more than a whisper.

“You scared us into sending away the pups!”

Satomi took the sign to call her pack off, moving them out of the way.

“You insulted our alpha! And, worst of all, You hurt my family. My pack,” he spat, his eyes burned with the fires of Hell itself.

“And now what? You’ve come to fight me to the death yourself?”

“No. To the pain,” Stiles quoted. He had been waiting for this opportunity. “To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose.”

“Are you… are you quoting the Princess Bride?”

“I wasn't finished. The next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right. Your ears you keep and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, "Dear God! What is that thing," will echo in your perfect ears.” Stiles grinned an evil smirk. “Then I will kill you.”

“Fight, you coward! Or can you only talk,” he asked. ��Fight me or I’ll finish what I started with your little ‘family’.”

The growl that ripped from Stiles's throat was a shock to everyone. It was sick and animalistic and angry. One fact has always held true about Stiles, one rule that was unanimously agreed upon: Don’t. Touch. His. Family.

It could have been quick, easy. A Hellhound fighting a psychotic darach lusting after werewolf alpha powers instead of making the normal sacrifices. It would have been if he hadn’t hurt what mattered most to Stiles.

It wasn’t quick, it wasn’t easy, and it sure as hell wasn’t painless. Stiles kept his promise. He ripped the darach limb from limb. The fire cauterized each of the wounds seconds after they were made. It was a sick smell– burning flesh and seared blood.

When the darach was reduced to nothing but a torso and head under Stiles’s foot, he asked “do you yield?”

“Never,” the darach said through gritted teeth.

Stiles's foot crushed his skull like it was made of chalk. A low growl still vibrated against his chest, glaring down at the lifeless body. Stiles closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

He relaxed. The fire faded slowly, leaving Stiles’s bare and tired body. He looked up at the sky and smiled.

The smoke had cleared enough to see the moon. The full moon that ruled their world. He sighed. The sky was still dark and tainted with smoke but it was clearing. Just like them, it had a long way to go before it was normal again but it was healing. The sky was returning to normal just like they would.

“Stiles!”

He didn’t know who reached him first. Satomi was quick to cover him with a shall. Eli was hugging him tightly. Lydia was grabbing onto him to stay standing. Scott was holding onto them.

“You’re okay,” Eli mumbled, the sorrow thick in his voice.

“Takes more than that to keep me down,” Stiles said, wrapping an arm around Eli. The bundle walked back toward the brick stairs of the Hale house. “Can someone call Corey or Ethan,” he asked, his voice hoarse from the ash and smoke he’d breathed in.

Stiles looked down at Derek, meeting his eyes. Stiles smirked.

“How… how did you control it,” Eli asked, looking Stiles over for any sign of the Hellhound.

Stiles shrugged, holding a hand out to help Derek stand. “Not the first time I’ve been possessed by a so-called neutral spirit that only exists for one purpose,” he joked. “Kinda nice that this one is trying to protect the world instead of sending it into chaos.”

Scott stared at the bloodbath Stiles had created, still holding Lydia up. “You killed him…”

“Man, nothing gets past those werewolf senses, huh Scott,” Stiles scoffed, earning a disturbed look from his friend. “Did you miss the part where the dude tried to kill all of you? And did kill me?”

“We don’t… Stiles, we can’t—”

“Scott, He literally burned me alive,” Stiles yelled. “By the way, team, ixnay on the burning people to death. That shit sucked. I might actually feel bad for Peter now…”

*Brief mention of the movie that could spoil something*

I so dearly wanted Stiles to say “I feel like an honorary Hale, now. Burnt to death because a psycho lost it going after Derek” to reference the original Hale fire, Peter’s first death, and the new movie.

[saccharinerose]

Trying to get more comfy w/ posting rougher artwork so here's a furry

[bespectacled-bookwyrm]

Ooohh, I have an IDEAAAA~!

Colress got the Princess Yue treatment!

As in, when he was born, he was very frail and weak, and it was feared he wouldn't survive. He was so pale, like snow, that the only colour present on his tiny body was the pale gold of his hair.

His parents were effectively praying for a miracle. . .

And Life answered.

It's why Colress has a blue lock of hair, like how Princess Yue has white hair.

The lock should've been black, like most of Darach's hair or the darker streaks in Lusamine's (they’re his siblings), but Life's intervention left its mark.

Colress is naturally drawn to flora, is capable of reviving plants that have long died, is often accompanied by wild Pokémon when he wanders, can survive damage that would've killed most others, and he only begins to understand why when Lusamine explains the circumstances surrounding his near-fatal birth.

He had received a gift from Life itself.

(I hope this all makes sense, by the way. I wanted to write this down before I forget. XD)

(Maybe I'll try and make this a comic or a fic? Or at least draw art of it? I dunno.)

[quillsparkle]

AKA Derek believes Scott and Stiles over Jennifer when they reveal she tried to kill Lydia, took Noah and that she poisoned Cora and could hurt more people.

Fav. Episode: 3x10 - The Overlooked

What I like About this scene: Derek believes Stiles and Scott over his crazy girlfriend. When he sees her as the Darach, he realizes Scott and Stiles were right. Keep in mind this is before he learns that Jennifer poisoned Cora. So ha. Score 1 for Sterek/Sciles and 0 for Jennifer

[euryale-tales]

Oh what a coincidence ! I also have a sylvari named Darach,but luckily their "last name" is nothing like Ciardha so no confusion possible aha

Tell me more about Darach,whats his deal ? When i see him hes giving me teacher vibes lol

Darach is, in short, a big weirdo. He's a secondborn that wandered off as a sapling and found himself in the hands of the Inquest, but thankfully wasn't experimented on by the time Caithe and Faolan had them freed.

Despite that, however, the things he saw there gave him lasting trauma- and lasting fascination. He became an engineer, obsessed with inventing and innovation, trying to 'recreate' what he saw during his time with the Inquest.

He even replaced his own left forearm with a prosthetic, having a sort of morbid fascination with his own physiology. Although he'd never experiment on his fellow sylvari (so he says), what's stopping him from experimenting on himself?

[voidof-all]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61961035

Void of all Doubt, Teen Wolf

Summary:

When the only chance at saving his and his friends' parents from Jennifer's ritual is to get through a mountain ash barrier, Scott has to let go of all the doubts and fears he has surrounding his future as a werewolf and what becoming a true alpha could mean for it.

Basically, what's going through Scott's mind in the moment he accepts his place and power and becomes a true alpha.

[castlevalet]

everyone give it up for staggeringly-blond beta darach!!!

[shadowlessdeath]

[maria021015]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTER 38!

“I just had a huge braingasm!” Stiles ran after Zaida in the school hallway as soon as the bell for the end of English rang.

“A what?” The girl wrinkled her nose at the term.

“A braingasm - you know like a brain orgasm. It’s a portmanteau.” He explained.

“Yeah, no, I gathered that much. Just never say that word again.” She shook her head at him and continued walking to her locker, putting in the combination and opening the door to deposit her books inside. It was moments like these that reminded her that despite her crush on him, he was still just Stiles. It was a refreshing experience. “What is it you want?”

“You said after lunch. It’s now after lunch, so you’re coming with me to see Deaton.” The boy demanded, leaving no room for any other option.

“Lydia and I were supposed to leave early and have a girls' night.” She pouted in disappointment, overplaying it because she knew it would piss him off.

“And you think that’s more important than figuring out who the murdering, people-sacrificing psycho running around town is?” The boy’s eyes widened in frustration, looking as if he wanted to strangle her.

“God, I’m joking, Stilinski. Of course, I’m coming. You didn’t think I was going to let you go snooping without me, right?” She rolled her eyes at him, shutting her locker with a slam and slinging her backpack up over her shoulder.

“We’ve been over this like a hundred times, it's not snooping. It’s investigating!” He groaned loudly and followed after her towards the Jeep.

“Same thing,” She shrugged and brushed it off dismissively with a wave of her hand, knowing it would only infuriate him further. For some reason doing so always gave her a thrill of sorts.

“You're out of school early…” Deaton looked at Stiles and Zaida with a raised brow as they arrived at the animal clinic. She wiggled her fingers at him in a wave of greeting.

“Yeah, free period, actually.” Stiles explained. “Um, I was just headed home to see my dad. He's, uh...You know, I guess you probably heard people are kind of getting murdered again. It's his job to figure it out.”

“I gathered as much from the 'Sheriff' title.” Deaton gave them a small smile and opened the mountain ash gate to allow them both to walk through to the back room.

“Yeah, um...You know, it gets kind of hard for him to do his job when he doesn't have all the information. And we all know he's missing pretty much half the story here, right?” Stiles continued, his voice shot with nerves. Zaida frowned at hearing it, wondering why. “So then, I started thinking, and I remembered someone else who does have a lot of information. Someone who always seems to know more than anyone else around here.”

“You.” Zaida finished his sentence, starting to put the pieces together to figure out what Stiles already had. Peter had told them that the emissaries that gave wolf packs advice were usually Druids. She’d read about them from Celtic history and folklore, and they were particularly fond of sacrifices. Sacrifices just like the ones occurring around town. And what did Deaton do but provide them - a wolf pack - with advice?

“All these symbols and things - the triskeles, the bank logo, the mountain ash - all of it is from the Celtic Druids. And anyone who has ever looked up ‘human sacrifice’ before knows that the Druids had a pretty big hard-on when it came to giving one up to the gods.” The boy continued, and whilst Zaida wrinkled her nose at his choice of words, she was listening intently. “You ever hear of the Lindow man? Two-thousand-year-old body found in England? He was found strangled, head bashed in, throat cut - three-fold death. They also found pollen grains in his stomach. Guess what favourite Druid plant that was?”

“Mistletoe.” Deaton let out a heavy sigh. Zaida stood back, watching the interaction with keen eyes. This side of Stiles was incredibly attractive. She could watch him stand there and speak about information he’d put together and links he’d made until the cows came home and then some. But this feeling was new. She’d always thought Stiles was beautiful, but when he was like this? God, he was hot.

“I'm just telling you everything you already know, aren't I?” Stiles asked, though it seemed like it had been exactly what he’d expected from the man. Did he seriously suspect it was Deaton going around committing these murders? Deaton? The calm-spoken man who had helped them so much? “Then why aren't you telling us???”

“Maybe because when you've spent every moment of the last ten years trying to push something away - denying it, lying about it - it becomes a pretty powerful habit,” Deaton admitted that he was what they now both suspected him to be. A Druid. But was he the Druid they were looking for? Zaida truly didn’t think so. She trusted this man.

“All right, so this guy...is he a Druid?” Stiles questioned.

“We don’t know that it is a guy,” Zaida interjected, not wanting to cut off any demographic of suspects just yet.

“To answer your question, no. It's someone copying a centuries-old practice of a people who should have known better. Do you know what the word ‘Druid’ means in Gaelic?” Deaton leaned forward, looking at them closely. “‘Wise oak’. The Celtic Druids were close to nature. They believed they kept it in balance. They were philosophers and scholars - they weren't serial killers.”

“Yeah, well, this one is.” Stiles insisted, but their conversation was abruptly interrupted by the ringtone of Zaida’s phone. The opening lines to Keri Hilson’s ‘ Pretty Girl Rock ’ blared from the tiny phone speakers as she pulled the device out of her pocket and held it up to her ear, answering Lydia’s call.

“Hey, I can’t really talk right now. Can I call you back later?” She smiled apologetically at Deaton, then paused when she heard what the girl on the other end of the line was saying. “Wait, what ? Yeah, are you sure he's missing? Okay, we’ll meet you there.”

“What happened?” Stiles’ brows furrowed curiously.

“The music teacher’s been taken,” Zaida explained with worry in her hazel eyes.

“Oh, we gotta go.” Stiles nodded with an urgency in his tone.

“I’ll come with you. I’d like to see this for myself.” The doctor’s typically serene features even morphed into a concerned expression at this news, and Zaida knew it meant they were in deep shit.

[merakicharm]

the bestest scene EveRrRrr.

i mean the thrill? the goosebumps? the pure chills? i swear the hair on my arm were standing up and watching it.

[saccharinerose]

Darach

[cutekittenlady]

Best Male Pokemon Character Poll Bracket 9 Round 1

Round 1

Charon VS Eusine

Clavell VS Steven

Juan VS Darach

Cedric VS Marlon

Ryuki VS Kofu

Mr. Fuji VS Atticus

[bespectacled-bookwyrm]

The shot their big sister needed (but not the one she wanted)

Darach: *filling a shot glass in the sink* Hey, Lulu. You want another shot?

Lusamine: Yes, I doooo!

Darach: C'mon. Get up.

Lusamine: *drunk excited face as she takes the shot*

Colress: How was it?

Lusamine: Divine!

Darach: And that's how you know Lulu is-

Colress and Darach: *just able to contain their laughter* -how you know-

Colress: That’s how you know you're drunk as shit because that was fucking water!

Lusamine: *drunk gasp* You bitch!

Colress and Darach: *both crack up laughing*

[scruffypegasus]

AF Darach A' Seladh

Art Fight 2023 attack for AndromedasWitchery

[lorspolairepeluche]

The Darach grove's history is...a wild one. It's a fairly young grove, founded a little over a century ago by the man who is still its archdruid: Daieran Darach.

Daieran (wood elf druid, Circle of the Land, he/any), was about 250 and having something of a quarter- to mid-life crisis when he struck out from his home grove to sate his restlessness. He was (and still is) a deeply emotional person who falls in love easily. It became, in a way, his downfall, after he met his two companions: Riona Darach and Yazdiin.

Yazdiin (drow monk of Eilistraee, Way of Shadow, he/they) was once a follower of Vhaeraun. Born to surface drow who worshiped Vhaeraun, Yaz discovered that he preferred his god's twin sister and turned his back on the conflict and machinations of most drow. He could still be haughty and standoffish, of course, and it got him into many tiffs with both Daieran and Riona.

Riona Darach (half-elf barbarian/fighter, Wolf Heart, she/her) was the original carrier of the Darach name, and, for a time, its only carrier, thanks to the massacre of her family. (When she was trying to be flippant about it, she called it "a classic story," common among the culture she came from.) Despite her predilection toward rage, she was most often the peacemaker of the three of them.

The three of them adventured together for years, and despite their clashing personalities, found love with each other. They talked of settling down together, perhaps founding their own place: a grove for Daieran, a home for Riona, and a base from which Yazdiin could flit as it pleased him. During these daydreaming discussions, Yazdiin promised with a smile that he would always return.

An omniscient being would have made bets on whose past would bring the three of them ultimately down: Yazdiin's or Riona's. Yazdiin's won. Followers of Vhaeraun, determined to either bring defectors back into the fold or kill them, tracked Yaz down and gave him their ultimatum: return to Vhaeraun or bring the god's wrath down on him and his companions. Yazdiin, still a touch arrogant, refused, believing Vhaeraun could do nothing to a devotee of Eilistraee. Since Yazdiin's devotion to Eilistraee did indeed give him a measure of protection and Riona would have bitten off chunks of anyone who laid unwelcome hands on her, it was Daieran they targeted first.

The Vhaeraunites came for Daieran in the night, as Vhaeraunites do, and brought him before, of all people, Yazdiin's mother. Defiance won over fear, and Daieran declared that her son would never return to Vhaeraun, that he had something better than a promise whispered by a backstabbing, hateful god -- he had love, right here in the mortal realm. His mouth got him punished, and not only physically. Yazdiin's mother, with the power of her god, placed a curse on Daieran that wherever he found love, it would be taken from him. And she released him -- back to the son she hated and who Daieran loved.

Her curse came true when the Time of Troubles came -- and Vhaeraun saw his opportunity to take his revenge. With Eilistraee occupied guiding refugees to her temple, he hunted down Yazdiin, among other defectors, and killed him. Still, Yazdiin did not die in vain or in agony -- he and Riona and Daieran managed to wound Vhaeraun. The (former) god retreated, which allowed Yaz a little peace before he died -- a little time in which to tell Daieran and Riona he loved them, that he would have stayed, and to found that grove and raise their child there.

They did exactly that, growing the grove's first tree on Yaz's grave, and there they married, and there Riona gave birth to a grey-skinned baby.

Still, Daieran's curse remained, and Riona's own past caught up to her in the form of the Bhaalspawn crisis. She found out during their adventures that her family was slaughtered for Riona's own parentage -- that she was, like many others around her age, Bhaalspawn. Though she thought herself safe after her father's death during the Time of Troubles, her heritage doomed her. When her older child was ten (and her younger one with Daieran around seven), the armies of the Five found her and lay in wait for her to leave Darach grove and to murder her. And so Daieran lost a second love.