Among the Nissri, who are so often wild, skittish, or mischievous to the point of chaos, Yarael is a rare exception. He carries himself with an ease that seems almost uncharacteristic of his kin—relaxed, cheerful, and utterly unbothered by the world around him. While others flinch at a snapping twig or vanish into the undergrowth at the first sign of strangers, Yarael simply leans back, grins, and waves as though greeting an old friend.

He is one of the few Nissri who chooses to wear more than the usual scraps of moss and bark. His simple but well-kept clothing, strung with beads, feathers, and trinkets, makes him stand out without boasting. He delights in small adornments, often collected from markets or gifted by wandering scholars, and wears them with pride as if each one tells a story.

Yarael has a quick wit and a silver tongue, capable of conversing with Vhalandir scholars as easily as he banters with his own kind. Though he has no wings, his words carry him farther than flight could: he is welcome at firesides and council porches alike, more for the warmth of his company than for any official role. Still, he listens well and remembers much, surprising even seasoned Elders with the clarity of his insight when he chooses to share it.

Despite his eloquence, Yarael has never lost the charm of a streetwise trickster. He can slip through the forest like a breeze, knows every shortcut between root and stream, and always seems to have food, drink, or a good story at hand. Yet there is no arrogance in him. He enjoys life as it comes, content with laughter, music, and companionship, leaving worries to those who feel burdened by them.

For the Nissri, Yarael is something of a puzzle—too refined to be wholly theirs, too free-spirited to belong anywhere else. For outsiders, he is a reminder that not all of Thalorien’s tricksters are to be feared: some simply wish to share a smile, a song, and perhaps a stolen berry or two.