#andauril draws

[anda-arts]

Commissions Open!

More Info on my Commission Carrd OR Commission me on VGen & help me get verified! Reblogs to signal boost would be GREATLY appreciated even if you don't plan to commission me yourself!

[andauril]

Ori & Astarion for @kittenintheden <3 Love your fic sm!

[shewhowas39]

ahhhhh!!!! the wonderful, beautiful, talented, amazing @andauril surprised me with this lovely art of my durge, June, from my fic, Juniper & Starlight!!!

LOOK AT HER HAIR!!!!!!

go check out andauril and her work! she's amazing!!!

[anda-arts]

I'm glad you like it <3 Your Tav is so gorgeous, and was a lot of fun to draw <3

I was lucky enough to win at an art raffle held by the wonderfully talented @anda-arts on a discord server and just look at this beautiful sketch she did of my darling idiot, Octavia ❤️❤️ Seriously, go check out her art, it's delicious! Thank you again, @andauril, I absolutely love it!

[shandoratheexplorer]

WIP Tag-along

I'll pick up your tag @strixamans!

Today I got possessed by the spirit of Galethara (18+!!!)

"On. Your. Knees. Wizard", Minthara commands, her voice sharp and dripping with authority. Before Gale's mind can process the order, his body obeys, dropping to his knees before her, his gaze lifting to meet hers with a mix of reverence and raw anticipation. A smirk curves Minthara's lips as she closes the distance between them, each step deliberate, her hips swaying with a calculated grace that speaks of control. She places one leg over his shoulder, her thigh pressing against him. His hands instinctively rise to her hips, steadying her as she balances effortlessly on a single foot. Yet, she doesn't falter—her stance remains unshaken, her dominance absolute. With a swift, possessive motion, her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. "Now, wizard", she commands, her tone both teasing and unyielding. "Put that eloquent tongue of yours to good use." There is no hesitation. Gale dives in, the edge of her demand igniting something primal within him. This isn't the ethereal dance he once shared with Mystra—otherworldly and intangible. This is visceral, consuming, grounding him in a way that strips away all artifice. It is life itself, burning and raw. Driven by hunger, he presses his tongue to the heart of her need, moving with a desperation that surprises even him. He laps at her like a man dying of thirst, drinking her in with an urgency that sets his blood alight. Her low, throaty moan is his reward, spurring him to delve deeper, to explore every inch of her. Her scent is intoxicating, a heady mix of arousal and power, filling his senses until there is nothing else. The taste of her lingers on his tongue, salty and electric, each stroke drawing more from her. Behind his eyelids a kaleidoscope of color explodes as his own need for her surges. Beneath his fingers, her skin feels impossibly soft, a contrast to the iron will she exudes. He tightens his grip on her hips, pulling her closer as her fingers curl tighter in his hair, urging him on. “Harder, wizard”, she breathes, the command punctuated by a sharp gasp. He glances up, catching sight of her—head tipped back, eyes closed, her face a portrait of ecstasy. Her hips buck against his mouth, seeking more, and he gives it without question. Every part of him—his focus, his mind, his very being—narrows to a single purpose: to make her call his name. Not just his occupation. His name. He adjusts, moving rougher, deeper, his tongue coaxing sounds from her that he commits to memory. Her breaths quicken, her moans becoming sharper until finally, it happens. “Gale!”, she cries out, her nails digging into his scalp as if to anchor herself against the tidal wave crashing over her. Her voice is raw, filled with an unrestrained pleasure that echoes in his ears like a symphony. Her climax is undeniable, the evidence of it pooling on his tongue, branding itself into his memory. For a moment, the world narrows to just this—her taste, her voice, the weight of her pleasure mingling with his own exhilaration. And he knows, even as her cries fade and her breathing steadies, that this moment is burned into him, even more irrevocable as the orb that simmers in his chest.

No pressure tags for @dramatiquechipmunk @fartasticdurge and @andauril

[schuldigkun]

WIP Monday

Thanks for the tag @strixamans this is a Snipped from Darthiir lueth Dhaerow Her hackles rose. "How chivalrous of you," she sneered. "What are you now expecting of me? My gratitude?"

His smile dipped a bit. "Well, no ..." He shifted slightly, his smile ramping up once more. "Maybe. Don't you think I deserve some thanks?"

Her irritation with him skyrocketed at the lousy attempt of deflecting her ire. Throwing her dagger at a nearby tree, the blade sinking into the bark with a heavy 'thwonk,' she whirled, grabbing up her scimitars, facing him and brandishing them.

"You asked me to trust you," she hissed, placing one careful foot down in front of her. "You repaid my trust by nearly killing me! And you think I should be grateful to you?" She took another predatory step toward him, glad to see him suddenly wary. Flourishing her swords, she feinted, before twisting and lunging back toward him, swearing in her mother language as he dodged her easily.

"Easy, darling, you lost a lot of blood yesterday. You may want to reconsider and have a little nap instead." He continued dodging her swings, always just out of range. How could he move so fluidly? It had to be his vampiric nature!

"Rest is for the weak!" she spat. "Draw your weapons!" He let out a high laugh at her demand.

"That wouldn't be wise, dear. Thanks to you, I'm feeling quite ... satiated. Strong. In fact, I think I could keep this up for hours," he dodged another blow. "You, on the other hand ... won't last another five minutes."

His words needled at her, making her even more determined to have him pick up his weapons and fight her! "Draw your weapons!" she barked at him, losing control of her emotions. Not good, and she could only blame the blood loss. "Where's this famous 'fighting better' you boasted about? All I've seen so far is a coward who refuses to battle me!"

Finally, at last, her words seemed to wipe the smirk from his lips. He lunged to the side, dropping & rolling to snatch up his daggers, coming up & twirling them in his hands as he faced her.

She didn't allow him time to get his balance before rushing in, the sound of metal on metal echoing loudly in the clearing.

His eyes met hers over the crossed blades, and they regarded each other solemnly, briefly, before both shoved away from the other, and they started the dance of blades in earnest.

But it seemed he may have been right. Within minutes, she was lagging badly, a bit too slow to lift her blade in time to ward off a blow effectively, overbalancing when thrusting at him.

Elementary, stupid mistakes that would have had her severely punished in training. Her lips lifted in a rictus. "Fight me!" she snarled. ---------- Tagging @alwaysmauria @fartasticdurge @andauril

[feyrianedoesart]

Sali Jelwyse Caoimhe Desrois, gnome barbarian, my character in my current DnD campaign - with @andauril and @nightingaletrash !

[feyriane]

Megan Shepard, part of an art trade with @andauril | Art trades open!

[ask-the-crystal-squad]

Spectrolite, the fusion of my Ammolite and @grincubus‘ Chrome-Diopside! I created this fusion for @gemsonaresources‘ fuse-a-palooza (where I entered with my main blog @andauril).

When I saw Chrome-Diopside’s design, I knew that I wanted to incorporate the dress in some form to create a fusion that looks kind of mysterious and elegant. 

Spectrolite draws her confidence from Coral, but her elegance and beauty and the air of mystery stem from Chrome-Diopside and Green Pearl. 

I hope you like it! 

[anda-arts]

Monochrome Sketch I made for the newest chapter of "Mosaic of Broken Chains"

[andauril]

Another greyscale sketch of Silaestra and Astarion bc I am posessed.

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Commission Info

[andauril]

<3 I'm so glad you like it!

my beautiful sad girl durge!

y'all - Y'ALL - look at this GORGEOUS art of June (my divination wizard, resist durge) that @andauril drew for me!!!!!! i'm SCREAMING!!!!

look at those eyes! look at that spell!! LOOK AT HER HAIR!!!

thank you so, so much, Andauril! you're the best!!!!

(for those who don't know, June is the durge in my durgestarion fic, Juniper & Starlight, as well as a few smutty oneshots that tie into it. so getting art of her as a gift is just...i'm floored and touched and SCREAMING.)

y'all go check out andauril! she's amazing and so kind and so talented!

[cobaltash]

andauril replied to your post: I am currently struggling to decide between buff...

WHY NOT BUFF CHUBBY MERMAIDS?

yes, but if you’re drawing established characters do you keep their cannon bodytype or do you add some chub so mermaid-them don’t freeze their asses off in mermaid-environment?

[nightingaletrash]

So I was chatting with @andauril about some of the revelations we had in Veilguard, particularly about how elves were spirits that made themselves bodies with lyrium, and it got me thinking about how Justice had such a strong fascination with physical lyrium, as he says that the stuff in the Fade just isn't the same, and that when given the lyrium ring, he says that it awoke an ache in him that he didn't know he had.

Given that the Fade and physical world used to be one in the same, it stands to reason that the Veil robbed spirits of direct access to raw lyrium, which is why Justice only becomes curious about it once he comes through to the real world. Something about lyrium is alluring to spirits, they just haven't had access to it since the Veil went up. When exposed to it, it draws them, they ache for it or an effect it causes them, and perhaps that allure is what gave rise to the Evanuris and the elves in general.

We also have Cole, a spirit that made himself a physical body after the real Cole died. We don't know for certain that he did the same thing the Evanuris did, but it stands to reason that there are some similarities in his situation based on the new information we have.

The question is why are spirits affected by lyrium this way? Is it the nature of the Titans, who in many ways represent the physical world, that makes lyrium such a draw to spirits? The prospect of becoming more than what they are, to become something different to how they are? Obviously not all spirits desire that change, as Solas would have happily stayed in the Fade if not for Mythal, but between the Evanuris and Justice, we know that there are those that do desire it to one extent or another.

[shandoratheexplorer]

WIP Whenever

Thank you @dramaticchimpmunk for the tag!

No pressure tag for @andauril @lindissi @nocryptographer

I worked on a fight scene for Symphony of Shadow and Light today :D

Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, no one notices a single, scrawny rat scurrying between stomping boots and the deadly arcs of claws and blades. Its beady eyes gleam with purpose, darting through the carnage with an awareness that belies its furry form. Aodhán, in his rodent guise, weaves through the chaos unnoticed. He passes Gale, who struggles to keep a salivating werewolf at bay, his quarterstaff braced against its snapping jaws. The Wizard grits his teeth, muttering a spell that sends a surge of arcane energy into the creature, forcing it back with a pained yelp. Ahead, Halsin, in his hulking bear form, roars and slashes through a horde of skeletons, their brittle bones shattering under the weight of his claws. Yet more press in, relentless in their pursuit of doing their master's bidding. Minsc and Jaheira fight back to back, their movements honed by years of similar endeavors. Minsc’s blade cleaves through a giant bat, its screech cut short, while Jaheira’s wields her twin scimitars in a deadly dance, taking off the wings of another mid-flight. Blood and ichor spray across the stone floor as Wyll unleashes an Eldritch Blast that sends a ghoul flying off the platform, its screech swallowed by the abyss below. Minthara’s greatsword cuts through the riff raff like a force of nature. Her swings are brutal and precise, her next strike carving deep into a werewolf’s hide. The creature howls in agony as she kicks it away, spinning to bring her blade down on another foe with relentless fury. Beside her, Karlach fights with wild hot anger blazing in her eyes, her flaming sword splitting the skull of a second werewolf in a shower of blood. Shadowheart stands at a distance, her hands glowing as she channels a searing beam of sunlight that incinerates a cluster of skeletons, leaving only charred remnants in its wake. Aodhán’s tiny heart pounds as he sprints past Octavian. Their Paladin locked in a brutal struggle, his greatsword slamming down again and again onto the glowing crimson shield that Cazador has conjured around himself. The shield pulses with malevolent energy, but Octavian’s radiant strikes leave fractures spreading like spiderwebs across its surface.

At last, Aodhán reaches their captive ally. Suspended mid-air, Astarion thrashes against invisible bonds, his pale face contorted with pain as he fights the unseen pull of his former master’s magic. Ignoring the chaos around him, Aodhán shifts back into his elven form, his breathing ragged and presses his palm against the glowing runes binding the vampire. “Contravenio”, he whispers, sending his magic into the rune, causing it to shatter under his touch, its power dissipating with a crack. Astarion drops like a fallen star, landing in a crouch with an audible thud that reverberates across the battlefield. His crimson eyes flash dangerously as he rises, baring his fangs. The sound draws Cazador’s attention, and the vampire lord turns with a feral snarl, his features twisted with rage. Octavian doesn’t miss the chance of having Cazador distracted. Without hesitation he brings his greatsword down in a radiant arc. The blade pierces through the fractured shield, shattering it with an explosion of light and sending a shockwave rippling outward. Cazador stumbles, his snarl replaced by a momentary flicker of shock.

 “Now!”, Octavian bellows, his voice cutting through the cacophony of blades and spells creating chaos on the battlefield. Aodhán doesn’t waste any time. In one fluid motion, Octavian steps aside, as Aodhán plants his feet, making sure Astarion is out of the spell’s range, his hands coming forward as he casts the spell. “Incende!”, he yells, sunlight erupting from his palms in a blinding torrent. The searing beam carves through the suffocating gloom, surging past Astarion’s still-recovering form and slamming directly into Cazador’s sneering face. The Vampire Lord reels, his expression twisting in a grotesque mix of fury and agony as his flesh begins to sizzle and burn. The stench of scorched skin fills the air and for a single, glorious moment, it seems as though this is it. But then, with an inhuman hiss, Cazador’s body dissolves into a thick crimson mist. The radiant energy slicing through the vapor uselessly, dispersing as the vampire lord retreats into the shadows. His mocking laughter echoes from all directions, a cruel reminder that the fight is far from over. And yet still, the tide begins to turn.

[anda-arts]

Astarion. With bedhead. Because it needed to be done.

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