#talbuk plushy

[mbat]

she hasnt smiled like that in a long time.

(background is a game screenshot, and this is a version of my OC koralei from when she was a child)

[vaard]

I see that Rue is a little girl of culture, loving my little talbuk. I hope she doesn’t have an alicorn talbuk OC though...

Don’t worry, she just has a normal my little Talbuk plush. Behold Mr. Buck Tall, best friend, partner in crime, shenanigan instigator and prized possession.

[sockmuffin]

Latest custom talbuk, Orobas!  Some turnaround pics of him, plus the sketch I originally did to give an idea of what his design would look like plushified (the colours of the sketch aren’t accurate).  He was a lot of fun to work on!

[ninamiart]

Draecember 11: As a child

Little Ankhe with her talbuk plushie.

[halforc-mercenary]

A small draenei girl would slowly toddle up to Mar, her small goat-like ears twitching slightly as she peered up at her with large white eyes "Do you know where my daddy is?" she murmured in a soft voice, she was clutching a stuffed talbuk under one arm and was wearing a seemingly loved purple polka dot dress. (So not a Mar child but how about meeting key's daughter?)

A frown draw a long line between the Halforcs thick eyebrows as she looked down at the little girl. For a moment the young woman did not knew what to do and felt like the last person the little girl should talk to, but when she looked around and found the street almost empty, she realized that she was the only person the girl could talk to. Warm afternoon light fell in a wave of gold on a street that was empty except for them, the Mercenary who was about to pepare her baggage to leave for another pace and the child who was lost. The Halforc felt a strange feeling turn in her guts like a broiling wire when she realized that the child had wandered the streets all on her own.Clearing her throat, quietly, too quietly to make the gesture sound natural, the Halforc knelt down before the little girl to be on eyelevel with her. It was not so hard, the girl was small but she was taller than a human child of the same age so the Halforc did not needed to lean her head down until her neck would hurt: “My apologize, young Miss. I think I do not know where your father is.”The frown became even heavier when she eyed the girl. Her eyes wandered over the stuffed talbuk- had she seen this plushie before? Maybe held by a hand much bigger than the little girls tiny arms?- and to the nervouse moving ears, that were  very                                 pretty                                 familiar ears. ”How does he looks like?”, the Halforc asked eventually and thought she knew the answer, even thought she also knew that this was impossible. But she knew she had been sitting by the table,  she knew she had stretched out a arm to comfort him and she knew she had not dared to touch him and had lay down her hand, her fingertips not even a inch away from his.

Suddenly the Haforc felt responsible for the child, like she had felt responsible for him in a strange unfitting protective way. Slowly, as if she was fearing to scare the girl she held up a hand for the child to take and said with another clearing of her throat:  “My name is Mar. Would you allow me to bring you the guardhouse? Maybe the guards can help you find your father.”

@keynelis

[rudra-writes]

Pellurin Date Night (Part 2)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. The pair journey to Embaari, where Pallas goes on a date with Telurin. They attend a beer and wine festival alongside a lake, and play carnival games.

Pallas mumbles in response, his tipsiness causing him to act sulkier than the situation truly calls for. Naturally, Telurin knocks over the bottles with minimal effort.

“If you had had more to drink, your aim would be as bad as mine.” What a meanie, asking to play accuracy-related games after Pallas had drank too much! Still, the priest readily takes a talbuk plushie. He clutches it, his drunken state causing him to forget his worry about how he might look holding such a thing.

Telurin thinks he looks adorable, and it has the added benefit of keeping the Anchorite from making too much of a scene by getting progressively more 'handsy’ with his death knight 'guardian’.

“I would rather one of us remain sober, Anchorite. Do you wish to go back to the tasting booths, or is there something else you had in mind?” Telurin lets his voice drop, subtly suggestive. “Your choice, Pallas.”

Pallas's brows furrow when Telurin suggests they might return to the tasting booths. Hadn't the death knight been warning him against drinking too much only a short time earlier? He peers tipsily up at Tel's face. "... I don't know that I should have more alcohol," he says slowly, as if forming sentences is challenging right now, "But, won’t you have some, too? You've hardly had any, and you're always so stiff."

Pallas shoves his hands pathetically against Telurin's breastplate, as if complaining about his guardian's 'stiffness'.

Telurin catches Pallas's wrists, and gently puts them back on his side of the death knight’s public personal space bubble.

"I will drink." He says. "But not here. If you wish, we'll take a bottle or two and go off back to our rooms or down by the lake." //Away from people.// is the end of that statement, unsaid but thought.

Pallas huffs softly. He had hoped Telurin might be able to have more fun, that he might smile a genuine smile. In his tipsiness, his mental state comes across as being like a cloud of cottony wool, any thought-forms directed at him only passing through with effort.

Still, the priest seems to understand, for he nods. //I'd like to see the lake,// he tries to communicate in his cottony, drunken brain. //And be away from the people and noise.// He clutches his talbuk plush, holding onto Telurin's elbow to steady himself as he follows the armored draenei away.

Telurin gets enough of that to understand, and he nods. Their path takes them past the alcohol booths, and Telurin stops long enough to pick up a bottle of the blackberry liqueur, as well as a lighter blackberry wine, before guiding his slightly-definitely tipsy Anchorite through the town and down to the lake, where there's a secluded little spot next to some willows along the shore.

"Better?" he asks, settling against a nearby rock outcropping and pulling Pallas to him.

Pallas is pulled close to Telurin's cool armor and mail. He lays his slender self against the death knight without any hesitation, his stuffed talbuk dropping lightly to the sand by accident. He's warm, but not holding himself up entirely soberly.

//It's very pretty here,// the priest comments mentally, gazing out at the pure aquamarine blue of the lake before turning his eyes up at Telurin's face. //Was it not enjoyable for you?//

"It was very enjoyable for me, Kechare." Telurin says, reaching for the stuffed talbuk and setting on a nearby rock, so that it doesn't get dirty. "I am not often one for crowds, but it was worth it to see you so relaxed."

Telurin is so attentive, he actually picks up Pallas's dropped plush. The priest smiles when he's reassured their little outing was enjoyed by the death knight after all.

He tries to stretch himself taller to meet Telurin's face, caressing the other man's sideburn in his thin fingers, and kissing along his jaw to his lips. The priest's mouth tastes sweet, flavored by the berry drinks he had sampled earlier. "I want to see you relaxed, too," Pallas murmurs, his eyes half-lidded.

Telurin helps him, lowering his head to catch Pallas's lips with his own, tasting the alcohol on his tongue as they meet.

"I am relaxed, Pallas." He chuckles when they part, and it's true, he is as relaxed as he'd ever be in the open, and his movements are easy and sure as he holds his Anchorite and looks out onto the water. "Though I think you mean you wish to see me intoxicated. Do you think that is wise, Pallas?"

Pallas smiles faintly, his eyes still dilated and unfocused. He presses forward for more light kisses, nibbling the death knight's chin tendrils. He strokes one of them with a hand, lightly trailing his fingers. "I don't know what you would be like drunk," he mumbles. "You might be a sad drunk."

"I am." He says with all the seriousness he can muster with his very tiny and cute Anchorite nibbling on his tendrils. They curl around Pallas's own, and he rests his crest against Pallas's horns.

"I am both relaxed and happy, little one." He says, reaching for the bottle of blackberry liqueur. "Though I do not think one bottle will be enough to make me maudlin." He cracks the seal on the neck of the bottle, removing the cork, and takes a swallow of the smooth and sweet liqueur, savoring the burn as it travels down his throat.  

Pallas hums against Telurin, joy percolating inside him when he hears the death knight tell him that he is relaxed and happy. He makes a surprised sound that transitions into a soft moan when the other man's tendrils wrap around his. He tended to forget Telurin could do that, being unable to move his tendrils in the same fashion himself.

Tel moves his face away to sample the drink. The priest smiles at him, then takes his other hand, trying to unfasten the gauntlet with a frown. He's too intoxicated to remove it easily.

Telurin lets him fumble with the catches for a moment, but takes it away to do it himself when Pallas looks to be getting frustrated, removing both the gauntlet he was working on and its twin and setting them aside.

"Already trying to get me out of this, hmm?" He chuckles, tapping his plate.

Pallas takes hold of one of Telurin's bare hands. He turns it around and kisses the other man's knuckles and the bones of his fingers. //I didn't get to touch you, that other time,// he sends, helpfully including a mental image of their last intimate session.

“Mm…” Telurin makes a pleased sound at the memory and at the feel of Pallas’s lips on his knuckles. “That was the point, my dear.”

The death knight uses his free hand to trace down the side of Pallas’s face and down one tendril, watching the other draenei for his reaction. It’s just now beginning to be evening, and there’s still enough light to see by in their little grotto, filtered through the new leaves of the willow tree above them. 

[nixxiansnow]

What does Rey'lari look like when she is vulnerable, when she doesn't have to be noble and in control?

Rey steps through the shelved halls of her enlarged storage room. Her bright eyes scan each shelf, looking for this piece or that. After all, she really needs to find a better method of cataloging these items.

The seemingly endless sea of items, shelves, and various floating crystal lights lay ahead of the woman. A deep scent of strange essence fills the air. This much did not bother her; as she spent so much time wandering through here it was a familiar smell. The blue glow illuminates her pathway. A custodian golem, smaller in stature, walks just ahead of her. The mechanical butler sounds with the occasional hoot or or chime upon each row of shelves they pass.

Finally, she arrives to a particular section. One that, in recent years might have seen more use, but now only receives visits from the custodian for occasional cleanings. She lifts her gaze towards the fragments, carefully encased in a glass box. Her eyes dim at the sight. “My dear, if you could see our home now…” She states. The custodian lingers nearby, keeping the tiny crystal in its hands for light. Slowly, she reaches to touch the glass. Her fingertips tentatively touch along the smooth, cool surface. Her face softens and the pain aches in her chest. Over the years it has dulled, but the sense of longing never truly fades. “I will keep my promise...I---”

The float crystal cascades light down along the rest of the shelf. A small, terribly-worn talbuk plushie. Her eyes swell and the heated tears sting at her cheeks. How has she forgotten so much? That most precious to her, now finally resurfacing. She draws her hand away from her late husband’s case and moves it to the plushie. She plucks it from the shelf carefully; not wishing to further damage it.

Her legs weaken under her, the gravity of her heart seeming to sink her to the ground. She takes the talbuk and draws it in close to her chest. She slumps to the floor with a harsh thump; she didn’t seem to care.

The custodian flashes brightly with an alert status. “Mistress! Are you alri--” A long tail whips around and slaps the small arcane-infused butler away; letting it skid across the floor several feet back. The crystal it held clacks across the ground; sounding sharply under each hit.

The woman’s eyes dim and shut. The closing does not stop her tears from flowing. Her regularly proud visage now distorted into a mess of tears and pain. Her arms drew close; keeping the talbuk much like she would a child. That same lengthy tail, now bruised from impact, slithers up and around her hooves and flank. She cries softly to herself.

What has she become? Has she not grown since then? Iluan’s words about her current pride reflecting the same person that got her here. The same person that cost her family’s--- The thoughts eat away at her mind; leaving her nothing but the dark and pain to reside in. The night was long, but the terrors linger in her heart.

[vaard]

Draecember day 4: Wait! I can explain!

And then Rue got a talking to about honesty and responsibility.

[vaard]

Some simple flats on the bedtime story lines from a few months ago!  Rue refuses to go to bed some evenings unless she gets a story. She’s a hyper little thing with too much energy sometimes.

[rudra-writes]

Pellurin Date Night (Part 1)

Part of a roleplay story with Telurin’s player. The pair journey to Embaari, where Pallas goes on a date with Telurin. They attend a beer and wine festival alongside a lake, and play carnival games.

The journey to Embaari passes without incident. As is becoming usual, Pallas passes the time by singing in his haunting falsetto, or making small talk about the old Draenor, and how this land is similar, but not the same. Embaari is a picturesque village, mostly untouched by the war. The local inn is the Wayfarer's Lantern, and the two of them spend the night, Pallas curled in the death knight's arms.

When morning dawns, Pallas insists to Telurin that they have their agreed-upon 'date' first, before trying to find and purchase a talbuk. The beer tasting festival is already underway and full of merriment, set up in a grassy field full of flowers and leafy trees. There is a crowd of draenei here: Farmers, fruit-growers, elekk and talbuk herders, wine grape growers, a few other Anchorites who either live here or are passing through, and of course brewers.

After paying a small fee to join the festival, Pallas and Telurin are able to taste test anything that they wish. Pallas stops curiously to look at a dark golden brew. "I wonder what this is?"

"Why don't you try some and see?" Telurin answers in probably the most unhelpful way. He's been in a good mood this morning, and it makes him humor Pallas in ways he otherwise might not. "Try them all, if you wish. That is the point of this festival, is it not?" He exchanges a few words with the brewer, and is handed two sample cups, one of which he hands to Pallas.

"All of them? Telurin, are you trying to get me drunk? That's very indecorous of you." Pallas smiles and tilts the cup he's been handed to his lips. His features scrunch up, but he continues drinking until he's finished it. "Ah, it's not bad! You try it."

Telurin snorts, the wrinkling of Pallas's nose says otherwise, but he does tip his head back and swallow his own sample.

"Decent." He shrugs. "And I may. This *is* a festival, is it not? You should enjoy yourself if you wish." He smirks, leading him on to the next stand, and offers Pallas another sample of beer. "It is not as if anyone will bother you while you are at my side." It's a statement that's said blandly, the threat to any potential 'troublemakers' well hidden in concern.

Pallas laughs, and drinks the next sample. He is able to down this one with less of a tight reaction. "No one will bother me, but I will continue to be handed cups of beer, I suppose? ... Um! I guess that one was okay. Oh, Telurin, look! There's fruit-flavored ones here!"

Possibly helped by the drinks, the little priest forgets decorum and takes Telurin by his gauntleted hand, pulling him over to a table stocked with berry liqueurs.

Telurin tenses as Pallas takes him by the hand, but he relents almost as quickly and lets the Anchorite tow him to the drinks.

The sweetened, berry-flavored alcoholic beverages prove to be more to the priest's taste than the relatively bitter beers. "Look, Telurin, this one is blackberry flavored. I've never had a drink like this." The blackberry drink is a deep indigo purple in color. Pallas drinks it deeply, as if it were not alcoholic, then tries a bright pink-red strawberry sample. This could become more than the Anchorite bargained for.

Telurin finds he actually likes the flavor of one or two of the berry liqueurs, though he makes sure they take one sample cup of each instead of two, letting Pallas try them first after cautioning him to taste only, not sip. Multiple shots of hard alcohol will have little effect on the death knight, but Pallas is still living and slight, on top of that.

"The blackberry is very good." he replies, "Though if you drink any more of it you will not be able to try the others."

Perhaps unwisely, Pallas raises his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "I will be fine. I'll know when to stop."

He wanders a short distance away to try a green apple variety. By the time Pallas has sampled a variety of the sweet drinks, he's looking more than a bit giddy. He leans on Telurin's arm to steady his balance, something he would not normally do so gratuitously as he does here.

Telurin keeps his formal posture as Pallas leans against him, and manages to keep his composure, though there's still a bit of a smirk around his lips.

"Do you wish to try the games?" He asks, already directing the Anchorite to the various carnival games that are set up along one edge of the pavilion. Most of them are accuracy games, because what else would be fun after a day, or in their case, a half hour, of drinking other than to see exactly how badly it's affected your aim.

"Games...?" Pallas questions, his brows drawing together as if this hadn't been something he had planned to do. He mumbles, "Not very good at games..."

He is brought up to a tent, in which there is a stack of ten bottles. If a draenei could knock over all of the bottles with one bean bag, the prize is a cute, soft, hand-sewn plush talbuk chosen out of a pile of them. Pallas looks at the soft, colorful things yearningly, and throws a bean bag. He manages to miss the entire stack, and his cheeks color in embarrassment.

Telurin smirks at this attempt, and places a gauntleted hand on Pallas's shoulder, the other held palm up for the Anchorite's other bean bag.

"Shall I win you a talbuk, Anchorite?" He asks, his amusement showing in the set of his tail and the way he looks at Pallas as he takes the bean bags from him.

Telurin hefts the bag experimentally a few times, and then knocks out two bottles from the bottom row, causing the rest to topple. He gestures to Pallas, indicating that he should be the one to pick which talbuk plushie the festival worker hands them.

Pallas mumbles in response, his tipsiness causing him to act sulkier than the situation truly calls for. Naturally, Telurin knocks over the bottles with minimal effort.

"If you had had more to drink, your aim would be as bad as mine." What a meanie, asking to play accuracy-related games after Pallas had drank too much! Still, the priest readily takes a talbuk plushie. He clutches it, his drunken state causing him to forget his worry about how he might look holding such a thing.

Telurin thinks he looks adorable, and it has the added benefit of keeping the Anchorite from making too much of a scene by getting progressively more 'handsy' with his death knight 'guardian'.

"I would rather one of us remain sober, Anchorite. Do you wish to go back to the tasting booths, or is there something else you had in mind?" Telurin lets his voice drop, subtly suggestive. "Your choice, Pallas."