Names derived from Turkish cities, plus Tolkienesque and Irish forenames, excluding the letter "H"
Adanán Aelene Afretríana Agolcwince Aitéalı Akırn Alait Aloron Amannéar Amienna Amlin Amuinronne Anall Anelengern Angwë Aniesian Anine Antaraman Aodróf Aoimraş Aradûn Arainnev Arait Arbauglan Argoir Argus Armerië Arnaitrín Arnán Aronn Arostóir Arpol Aruca Atard Avastín Ayburen Aydır Ayvann Aziling Azığ...
Bagli Balmogán Balodekta Baoir Baraile Bardion Bareglaird Barvinya Bataladar Bayal Bayfa Beacir Bealya Beamûl Beldanán Belegor Belen Beleskirr Bellob Belro Beogán Beorgazôr Berkez Bersaod Berzin Bifrónárd Binmarra Blaus Bline Bluin Bofán Boldë Boluglori Bolundiob Bombrya Bomir Branisam Branngon Brant Bratep Breallán Brean Breargor Briksar Brion Bryle Bréadarad Bréannimon Brídeim Brídennlı Bulaorle Buldor Bureas Burin Burindur Burwendonn Béamit Bëorlamil Bóiriel Caimlornán Calarges Calendás Calmaolmir Caoibûn Caoiri Caolmo Carines Carlald Carás Celimë Cemedir Cenwë Ciacel Ciang Ciarnear Cilanar Cilas Cile Cilit Cili Cilíomë Cilíon Cinyë Ciobna Ciorlan Cirilín Cliona Coası Coirtın Coise Coispar Coldan Collann Collor Coluilín Colóise Combaratep Comeruala Comuilg Comáinn Comóisir Conce Condil Conoron Corgalin Crinnán Cuiringus Cyrin Dakkârilt Danán Darneas Davor Deann Delasael Delear Dendindag Deriel Dernín Derumbat Deóiries Diamine Diléod Dingornaid Dinu Dondin Donán Dortín Dorum Drerid Durkilín Dursiir Durs Déoda Déodónaid Dörtienn Dörtvid Dúnalins Ealor Eamag Eamlin Earbaltar Ecloc Edwing Eilúvi Eimoronn Eimra Einduiler Eland Eldorl Elegna Elemil Elewinn Eline Elisíle Ellovast Elocilín Elron Encaityat Endres Enduir Enerken Eoris Eormornín Erdağ Erkenbur Eärnán Eärwenbulm Eärwenwë Eärwing Farata Feacil Feall Feanisíleb Feard Fele Fetri Fetya Fetyonng Finara Fineankır Fioncalas Fitlín Flainzinn Flard Foláin Foriag Freli Frout Fétak Fílen Fíonna Garingorne Ginzimilín Golmaigne Gonne Gorimë Goroir Goronn Gosca Grianor Groiregol Grondean Grondiye Gronya Gwalerinak Ildaill Imran Imrayfa Isaolwis Isartın Isionór Iviainaing Iğdırın Iğdıya İskey İzmind İzmiri Kaldon Kalgazôn Kanaty Kanyamann Karassil Karatarin Kargor Kayseor Kayseárl Kentelia Kona Kylebze Kúvandran Kütalı Kütarand Kırken Kırna Labük Ladague Lartin Latlir Lazığ Lindiong Linnacán Lorlemmuir Luing Léomus Mablán Macia Maeladna Maeld Maerispal Maerzia Maidu Mairi Maitiën Malanne Mankır Maomeldarë Marann Maranongas Maron Marrya Marya Masirdiye Mearog Melenán Melmoger Mergazimer Meriele Miangwaer Mildil Minaitéaf Mirnárler Mirtan Miríniye Morona Muimel Muinwë Muire Muir Munda Mundur Mursi Musiamûl Muzgazog Míde Mírdur Míril Móirleál Mónaine Nakez Neassar Niaramir Niara Nikalbele Niksara Nólion Oimbolui Orionn Osaorlep Ostap Palablán Palcal Palis Palota Peimë Peitinzil Perian Perin Perinwë Pield Piele Pilean Plagerven Plaic Plainvas Plait Plandarn Pólimë Ravir Ringal Roibomear Romór Roplas Rostanwë Ruane Rucarm Rumaell Rumbratep Rundonnán Runin Réalainel Réargebze Ríanaossar Rúmeirla Scait Seori Singliod Sionn Sirean Sivraiwen Socianm Stelseor Stríonkırn Stéawinya Stíof Séadalık Séalık Séaodait Súri Taragor Tavinn Tegir Teglis Tegona Tientak Timed Toinéannc Tontiën Torandu Travielwë Tuadana Tulfwisa Tumarealf Tundeal Turbatya Turionncar Turisin Türkla Ualya Uarcia Ufind Ularadoin Ulfaus Ulfionn Ulmel Uşancain Valac Valıkez Varíog Varón Worien Woronn Woroplait Zonnedger Ágasán Ártamar Çormaerzi Éalaoldu Éamrout Éandorn Éaramir Éarne Éimbaybur Éimin Éodain Éomir Éomtoimlib Éorilín Étafa Étaniar Órdrety Órimír Únlas Şırann Şırık
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Is there something where there is a big difference between your OCs and how they are?
Between Soranar and Ahellia? Wellllll
Soranar is older, and, clearly visibly undead/forsaken nowadays while Ahellia is still living. He died during the fall of Quel'thalas and was raised into undeath and served as a dark ranger for Sylvanas for many years.
Personality-wise they're quite similar, at least similar enough to scream 'related' beyond their obvious family resemblance. They're both relatively quiet, and reserved.
But where Ahellia can become an open book to the right person, Soranar is very adept at hiding his emotions and reserving judgment. He is very much a spectator in social situations, not overly curious, but still polite. Ahellia is more sociable than him, and reactive; she attempts to guard her emotions but small details in her expressions and behavior will give her away, and she is more likely to speak on her emotions than he is. But they're both quite stubborn and stoic.
Ahellia has a nervous habit of counting, either on her fingers or arrows in her quiver, when she's stressed or uncomfortable. Soranar on the other hand simply goes still. Even when he was living he could become very statuesque when discomforted. It's almost involuntary for him, and it's only been exacerbated with his current condition. If he wants, he can truly be as still as a statue.
Ahellia doesn't fall in love easily, but she does get attached easily, find herself thinking about someone or something for a long time if she likes it. She's a practical person overall, not one to have her head in the clouds, but when she's alone her mind does drift to hopes and dreams, or theoretical situations. She has a sexual side, but it's honestly a little repressed; Duty always takes priority for her. She's not particularly promiscuous, doesn't really want to share that side of herself unless it's with someone special. Luckily for her she has fallen in love, with a human/worgen of all people, so she's slowly taking time to explore that side of herself.
Soranar on the other hand is asexual, and never been properly in love, and now as a forsaken his senses, and emotions have been dulled some (on top of just the general trauma of death and undeath) so he finds his emotional satisfaction in a queerplatonic relationship he shares with a death knight named Linnorei. When he was alive he insisted he was devoted to his work as a ranger, which is still true; he values a sense of usefulness over a sense of companionship. But he's not entirely sex repulsed either, and has on occasion had sex with Linnorei, just for some short term gratification, to fight back against that numbing sensation that weighs on the undead. Sex holds no emotional weight for him.
Soranar is very contemplative. He spends time in silence, thinking, pondering, trying to find meaning in his surroundings and his life, and the suffering he has endured. He doesn't laugh much. He used to laugh a little more, but was never really a bright and sunny guy. But that's not to say he was or is ever miserable; he's quite at peace with who he is, with what he is and what he does. He just keeps himself busy, trying to be useful, and finds meaning through that utility.
Ahellia is similarly fixated on duty, on a sense of usefulness, but she's much more conflicted, or disorderly. Her priorities fluctuate, because she's not quite at peace with herself, so she can go through periods of overwork, trying to find penance for past mistakes or trying to prevent future ones. In short: she struggles with being at peace. She's never been one for large groups, but having an individual or two to rely on has helped her in this aspect, and being able to pursue her romantic feelings with Pielde has allowed her to readjust some, to be more balanced.
They both can have sharp tongues, when the situation requires them, but Soranar is also more likely to be snarky, or to casually diss in conversation than Ahellia is. He also has been known to tease those close to him, Ahellia in particular. He's very witty, but his delivery is always calm or impersonal, so sometimes people aren't sure whether to be insulted or not.
Ahellia is less likely to insult someone casually. She is more straightforward with her words, whatever their intention, so if she wants to insult you, you will know. Her way of speaking is more informal than Soranar though; There's a musicality to his speech, a kind of nobility that seeps out of his words, maybe from his time around actual nobility, or just keeping in line with the dignified airs Quel'dorei are raised with, which he never outgrew. Ahellia has spent more time with her 'boots on the ground,' so to speak, and has interacted with more diverse individuals (and has travelled more) so her speech is a little more laid back.
Ahellia is far more curious than Soranar. That isn't to say he's disinterested in the world around him; he used to be fond of reading about far away places, of learning of different cultures, but felt more connected to his home environment and was driven by a desire to serve his community. Ahellia is equally devoted to her people, but enjoys the concept of travel and exploration more than Soranar, enjoys finding new lands and new challenges, in addition to enjoying the comfort of her homeland.
For Soranar travel has become an even bigger turnoff after undeath. Despite being at peace with himself he finds it difficult to stray too far from Lordaeron, which became his home in undeath, and he finds it equally difficult to stray too close to his home in life Quel'thalas, and Silvermoon, where Ahellia still officially resides.
Soranar had a big hand in Ahellia's archery training, but their styles have developed differently over time, yet they kind of echo each other.
Soranar has learned to use the shadows, to become an unseen and unheard marksman, even harnessed some dark power as many rangers in his position have. His arrows are dipped in nightshade, and his accuracy is incredibly impressive. He spends many hours honing his craft. If pressed, he can hit his targets frequently without looking at them, and regularly hits his mark from a great distance. He prefers to keep that distance, wants to eliminate his targets as swiftly and silently as possible. He can hold his own in closer quarters, but avoids it when possible.
Ahellia moves quietly and unseen as well, but is a bit more of an ambusher than an outright sniper. It's a little more intimate for her than it is for her brother. She is adept at tracking (Soranar is as well) and will stalk her target, will wait for the perfect opening and strike, and her draw strength, and consequently the force of her arrows, is really powerful. She moves with more of a feline fluidity, akin to a huntress, uses her environment, and is very swift. She's not an easy target to anticipate or track. Basically, if she catches you, you're fuckin dead.
Honestly I could go on and on 😭 Please send some more questions about these two if you're interested <3
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Verhalen uit de Twee Korea’s. Het gezoem van de brommende parren was net iets harder dan de intieme dialoog op de kees. De zaal hield hun adem stiekem in. Ik leunde tegen de achterkant van de lijst, armen over elkaar. Vurige anekdotes over megatrailers en losse rampjes sisten fluisterend tussen de collega en mij in. Af- en toe knipoogden wij naar een voorbijlopende, blauw-omloop-verlichte actrice. ‘Jongens,’ donderde het opeens door de headset. ‘Sweat-out, Vincent, hij komt zo af in coulisse drie, links.’ In een flits stonden we in de schaduw van de poot, handeling vier, drie, twee, één. Mijn collega vloog om zijn wang, ik gleed onder zijn bezweten shirt. ‘Blijf maar even praten, hoe was je weekend?’ ‘Check, dankjewel jongens.’ We gingen zitten tegen het vak en vervolgde fluisterend ons gesprek. ‘Er staat een enorm rekwisiet voor torentje vijf, rechts jongens, dat profieltje dient als een speciaaltje over drieeneenhalve regel!’ ‘Onderweg,’ zei ik. Ik sprong over dertig schoren, tuimelde langs een jonge kleedster en ontweek een acteur als een hinde door de lentewind. ‘Net op tijd, bedankt Daan.’ ‘Voor jou altijd,’ mompelde ik rustig. Drie scene’s later ontvingen we opnieuw de stem van de belichter in ons linkeroor. ‘De lift doet het niet meer!’ Alsof ik één keer knipperde zat ik bovenop de lift en pielde met kabeltjes en snoertjes, mijn collega aan de onderkant met een maclight. Hij was net op tijd weg voordat de deur openging en het publiek onthuld werd. Ik slurpte aan mijn koffie. Gek, bedacht ik me. Drie jaar geleden tourde ik ook met deze club...maar dat was een heel andere Daan, een veel chaotischere Daan, een Daan die niet zo rustig zou zijn als nu. En opeens besefte ik mij hoezo. De flitsen van het Hol van de Leeuw schoten opnieuw door mijn kop; Duizendenéén ensemble-huppels die in NulPuntDrie seconde afrenden terwijl Een dertigtons decorstuk uit de kap doemde, vlak boven hun mooie kopjes. Een enorme rots, scheurend langs kleine kinderen vermomd als leeuwtje. Zevenenzeventig trekken die tegelijkertijd naar beneden vielen boven ons allen. Grappig, slurpte ik aan mijn bakje zwart. Ik vertrok naar het Hol van de Leeuw op jacht naar technische kennis, maar had niet gedacht dat ik dingen had zou leren die ik toe kon passen in het hoge toneel, in theater. ‘Daan,’ knerste de belichter weer in mijn oor, ik schoot omhoog, in de startblokken, hand op mijn leatherman en de toolcase in mijn linkeroog. ‘Ja, ik ben er klaar voor, wat is er mis?’ ‘Zometeen bij de breek, een kopje koffie, alsjeblieft, één suiker, geen melk, Merci.’
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