#fated: sylvana

[welcometomeloxia]

[magumachan]

I made 2 things canon in my universe today...

The first is that Jaina loves to plop herself in Sylvanas' lap via blink or portal, and Sylvanas definitely enjoys it (A Recurring theme hngggg >\\\\<)

The second is that Sylvanas accidentally dies at the hands of our very own Archmage (A freshly mana bomb charged archmage is a deadly partner in bed apparently xDDD)

UPDATE:

Yisss you are correct and with the addition of Jaina overwhelming Sylvanas' whole being with her mana. (since Jaina was still "freshly bombed" xD)... so yep, death by orgasm xD

[bansheeys]

Sylvanas bakes something for Jaina. It either ends up miraculously tasting incredible, or being a complete disaster from start to finish.

This prompt occurs sometime in my Tangled Fates fic, where Jaina travels to another timeline where she and Sylvanas are married.

Thanks for the idea! Hope you enjoy it!

Now I want donuts...

----------------

With the final stroke of Sylvanas’ elegant, elvish signature, the office door swung open. She looked up to see her very pregnant wife walking toward her with determination.

“You know you’re banned from coming in here, right, Dalah��surfal?” Sylvanas said, her tone only half-joking.

Jaina was just days away from giving birth and had been forbidden from entering the office. The healers had prescribed bed rest to reduce her stress, which meant no paperwork or overseeing the kingdom.

As much as Sylvanas detested paperwork, she was willing to shoulder Jaina’s responsibilities. Her wife, however, was not pleased. Jaina had tried to sneak into the office many times, like an elf addicted to mana, twitching to tend to the paperwork. Sylvanas had ultimately prohibited her from entering the office.

“I’m not here for paperwork,” Jaina said. She lowered herself into the chair in front of the desk, resting her hand on her stomach and looking uncomfortable. “I have a favor to ask.”

Sylvanas set down her pen and tilted her head. “Luckily, I’m done for the day. What does your heart desire?”

Jaina looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the fabric of her dress. “I have a craving...”

Throughout the pregnancy, it wasn’t unusual for Jaina to crave something sweet. She once woke in the middle of the night wanting rice pudding. Now, all she wanted was rice pudding. 

“I think there’s one serving of the pudding left,” Sylvanas said.

“No!” Jaina practically shouted, causing Sylvanas to raise her eyebrows. “I’m craving something unusual. It requires a bit of effort.”

Now, Sylvanas was curious about what Jaina wanted. So far, her wife’s cravings had been fairly ordinary. Vereesa had warned her about this—she’d craved cherry pie topped with cheese when she was pregnant with the twins.

“You know I’ll get you anything, Jaina.”

“Okay... this is very specific, and I understand if you don’t want to go through the trouble of getting it...”

“Jaina, just tell me what you want.”

“In Dalaran, a high elf with a bakery stall sells the most delicious glazed donuts!”

Sylvanas stared at her, confused. The request didn’t seem unreasonable or odd, and she couldn’t understand why Jaina was nervous. There was nothing unusual about this craving.

“Let me tidy up here, and then I’ll head out,” Sylvanas said, rising from the desk.

“Wait, there’s more…”

“Do I need to make a list?” 

Jaina squeezed her eyes shut. “I want pickles, too. But the pickles have to be on top of the donut.”

Sylvanas curled her lip in disgust. “That... is an interesting choice.”

“I told you it was a strange craving.”

----------------

The kitchen was in chaos. Mixing bowls were scattered everywhere, their rims dripping with batter residue onto the counter. A bag of sugar had spilled onto the floor beside broken eggshells, leaving the floor sticky.

Sylvanas had never been much of a baker. She loathed when her father dragged her into the kitchen, insisting she learn to cook. Sylvanas preferred spending her time on archery and trap skills. Eventually, her father gave up on her ever mastering the culinary arts. 

Her hair was pinned up in a messy bun, and flour was splattered across her face. If Sylvanas were alive, she imagined she’d be a sweaty mess from kneading the dough. 

She hadn’t realized how challenging baking could be. Had she known it was this difficult, she would have asked Aimee, the bakery stall owner, for recommendations on other places that sold glazed donuts.

When Sylvanas arrived in Dalaran, she realized the high elf had started closing shop early. She recalled the surprised look Aimee had given her when Sylvanas approached the stall.

Aimee relaxed at the mention of Jaina’s name, revealing that Jaina had been a daily visitor to the stall during her time in Dalaran.

When Sylvanas requested a glazed donut, Aimee frowned. The baker had run out of them—Khadgar had ordered the last dozen for a so-called secret meeting.

Perhaps it was the oversized pickle jar Sylvanas was carrying or the crushing blow clear across her face, but Aimee took pity on her. The baker quickly scribbled down the recipe for the famous donuts.

Sylvanas darted around Dalaran, collecting the ingredients without regard for their cost. She was eager to get back home and begin making the donuts.

Sylvanas sighed as the dough started to become soft and slightly sticky. The shopkeeper had assured her that the flour had magical properties, eliminating the need for the dough to rise. Sylvanas was grateful for that convenience.

When Sylvanas returned home, Jaina was at the door, eager to snatch the items from her hands. Sylvanas quickly devised an excuse to keep her wife occupied while she made the donuts.

“It’s a surprise,” Sylvanas told Jaina.

Jaina eyed her with curiosity. Before she could bombard Sylvanas with questions about the surprise, Sylvanas gently nudged her toward the office. She suggested that Jaina handle the more mundane paperwork, though, to be fair, Jaina found all paperwork exciting.

Sylvanas moved swiftly around the kitchen, grabbing a rolling pin and the bag of flour. She dusted the counter with flour before rolling the dough into large balls.

Once Sylvanas was finished, she arranged the donuts on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper and set them aside while she prepared the glaze.

The glaze was a blend of powdered sugar and vanilla extract, promising sweet goodness. Sylvanas was tempted to taste it but knew it would likely taste like ash in her mouth. With a sigh, she stirred the sugar, water, and vanilla extract until the sugar dissolved.

Sylvanas moved to the stove, where a Dutch oven was heating up. She checked the thermometer to gauge the oil’s temperature and smiled when it was precisely where she wanted it.

Sylvanas picked up the baking sheet of donuts, lifted the Dutch oven lid, and carefully lowered two donuts into the hot oil. She let them fry until they were golden brown on each side.

Once golden, Sylvanas quickly removed the donuts, dipping each into the glaze one by one, and then placed them on a wire rack to put the pickles on top. She repeated the process until all the donuts were finished.

As the donuts cooled and the glaze set, Sylvanas beamed with pride. She had never baked anything so intricate before. Though she knew these donuts probably wouldn’t match the ones from Aimee’s stall, she hoped Jaina would enjoy them.

“Sylvanas, what are you doing?” a voice called behind her. 

Sylvanas turned to see Jaina standing in the doorway with a hint of annoyance. Jaina glanced around the kitchen, taking in the mess scattered across the floor and counters.

Sylvanas gently walked over, took Jaina’s arm, and guided her to a stool. “Come sit,” she said. “I want you to try something.”

Jaina narrowed her eyes as she sat down, her gaze sweeping over the kitchen’s disarray. “Sylvanas, you had me go into the office after you returned, and now you’ve made a mess of our kitchen.”

Sylvanas ignored Jaina’s complaints. Instead, she grabbed a small plate from the cabinet and placed a cooled donut on it. Then, Sylvanas set the plate in front of Jaina, stopping her mid-sentence.

Jaina glanced at the plate and then looked up at Sylvanas. “What’s this?”

“I went to the stall, but it turns out Khadgar had taken the last of the donuts,” Sylvanas explained.

“That bastard,” Jaina muttered under her breath.

“So, Aimee gave me the recipe, and I made my own,” Sylvanas said, her nerves surfacing as she worried Jaina might not like her baking.

“You made this? For me?” Jaina asked. Sylvanas nodded with a coy smile.

Jaina grinned as she picked up the donut and examined it closely. Sylvanas held her breath while Jaina took a bite. Jaina closed her eyes as she chewed, then moaned in delight.

As Jaina finished the donut and licked the glaze from her fingers, Sylvanas let out a relieved sigh. “Was it okay?” she asked.

“Sylvanas, it was amazing! If I’m not careful, I’ll eat three more!” Jaina laughed. Sylvanas joined in the laughter, pleased that Jaina enjoyed the donut. “Come here,” Jaina said, inviting her closer.

Sylvanas leaned over the counter as Jaina had asked. Jaina kissed her, her lips still smeared with the sweet glaze. Sylvanas was surprised to taste the sweetness lingering on Jaina’s lips.

“Who would have thought pickles and donuts would make such a great combination?” Jaina joked as she reached for 

another donut.

“Our daughter has quite the interesting palate,” Sylvanas said with a grimace at the unusual combination of flavors. 

“Let’s hope she doesn’t decide to become a chef.”

[skymagpie]

People should worry less about Khadgar, whose fate is sealed and done with, and more at how badly Xal'atath is written and how she is literally The Jailer mcdonalds toy For Girls because in some 10 cuntscenes she appears in, she sounds like written by generative AI 5 years ago and has absolutely no charm aside from I am a smirking bad girlie. They shelved Sylvanas for this

[run2thesky]

Make a poll of your favorite female characters ( no limits - as many or as little as you want ) and see which your followers like the most !

Tagged by @the-sera

I tag @mokacheer, @torterragarden, @solarsunhae, @pink-vacancy, @nakanotamu only if you want to of course!

[in-memoriam-tgwk]

The Colony

Identities & Pronouns

|

|

|

The Colony

———

Glowstar; Male, He/Him

Amberfuzz; Female, She/Her

Oaktrail; Trans Male, He/Him

Emma; Gender Fluid, She/He/They

Ferretsnap; Female, She/Her

Mottledwhisker; Male, He/Him

Heatherdash; Male, He/Him

Hollyspeckle; Male, He/Him

Rainpool; Female, She/Her

Sageblossom; Female, She/Her

Almondlight; Male, He/Him

Needlemaw; Male, He/Him

Mumblesight; Male, He/Him

Sylvana; Female, She/Her

Stoatfoot; Male, He/Him

Sabledust; Male, He/Him

Fawnheart; Female, She/Her

Bonepaw; Female, She/Her

Marshpaw; Male, He/Him

Bloomkit; Male, He/Him

Crocuskit; Female, She/Her

Whisperkit; Male, He/Him

Dashkit; Female, She/Her

Leafkit; Male, He/Him

Hailkit; Male, He/Him

Creekkit; Female, She/Her

Swallowfleck; Female, She/Her

Cats with Fate

———

Cliffclaw; Male, He/Him

Shinefreckle; Female, She/Her

Mousetuft; Male, He/Him

Frozentuft; Female, She/Her

Iciclestalk; Male, He/Him

Hailkit; Female, She/Her

Palekit; Female, She/Her

Foggythorn; Female, She/Her

Poppykit; Male, He/Him

Lost/Outside the Colony

———

[blue-eyed-banshee]

Sylvanas memories (Sylvaina edition)

There she was, laying on a bench in Oribos. Around her were members of the horde, including Uther and Bolvar Fordragon

"Sylvanas' soul... has been fractured. From the moment of her death... until now." A calm yet sorrowful voice spoke, and Jaina could only focus on the woman in front of her with worry etched on her face.

His hand hovered over the scar on her chest before he began to see what had happened.

Banshee queen and ranger general having an argument of what had happened to them and... Teldrassil.

"Uther, can you do anything?"

"I will see what I can do, Jaina. But I'm not sure if it will work." Uther stated with a frown to which Jaina nodded slowly.

"I understand, Uther. But please... try to bring her back. She means a lot to me more than you know."

Uther was told about her prior relationship with Sylvanas when she was alive, and he loved how she grinned when she spoke about her.

"You have my word, Jaina. I will try everything in my power."

Uther glanced back at the still form of the now former banshee queen, examining her wound she had gotten from Arthas.

"Her wound... runs so much deeper.. than mine." He stated. His eyes widened before he slowly took off his chest peice and slowly took hold of Sylvanas arm and brought it towards his own wound from Frostmourne.

A flash, and he was in his armor from when he was a paladin of the light. He knew he was in Westfall, a location he knew well. He headed in the direction of Goldshire, where he was an elf with armor from what he had seen in her mind prior.

The Ranger-General's ear twitched slightly as Uther made his way over to her, his armor clanking.

"Well met... Ranger-General."

Sylvanas turned, and her brow furrowed in confusion. Who was this human? She recognized the location around her, Goldshire.

"Wh- what is this? Who are you?"

"Someone who shared your fate... felled by the blade of the very same prince."

The ranger-general's blue eyes closed before opening,

"Arthas..." She whispered before paving back and forth.

"I died trying to stop that monster, only to wake up haunted by one with my face!" She raised her voice as she gestured to her own face.

Uther's brow furrowed as he tried to think of how to tell her.

"That banshee... is you."

The ranger-general's blue eyes widened before she slowly shook her head.

"No.. I can not accept that."

Uther transported her to a burning tree and decayed land.

"Her path began where yours ended, and you've seen the decisions she made."

The ranger-general's armor clanked as she moved.

"Never... in a thousand life times, would I betray everything I stood for!" She slowly waved her hand and scoffed.

"You couldn't possibly understand..."

The paladin sighed deeply and closed his eyes as a second half stepped out before standing at his side. This one was blue with white wings and different armor.

"The jailer is deceptively cunning. When I realized I had become his pawn... it nearly destroyed me. He had no doubts it would destroy you as well, was he right?"

Uther waved his hand, and they were standing in front of a burning tree.. Teldrassil.

"Or will you accept her shattered legacy and tell us how to stop him?"

The ranger-general slowly turned to look at him, once again her armor making a slight clanking noise.

"Her crimes... are unforgivable.." She had such sorrow in her tone and her eyes were opened to what she was told.

"Yes..."

"And she... I must accept the consequences." Her brows rose in disbelief, and her blue eyes softened with shock. The ranger-general was indeed overwhelmed by everything that was put in her face in such a short amount of time, but She had felt this before; when she was informed, Ronin had died to the mana bomb.

Uther felt conflicted. If she can even handle everything she had done.. but it was necessary to show her.

The banshee half of Sylvanas walked over to them and glanced at the ranger general.

"What he says is true.. we were manipulated by the Jailer. Azeroth is in danger... again." Her voice sounded tired. Tired from the never-ending battles, tired of arguing over something that the ranger general could never see and come to terms with.

"We sought to protect Lirath from the dangers of Azeroth.. but even we couldn't do that.. and we have always fought for our world and what's the right path."

Banshee and Ranger-General had solemn glances at one another when Lirath was mentioned, but now wasn't the time for mourning. No, now was the time for action.

"We faced darkness once before. And we can both find the right path if we accept his offer..."

Both women turned to Uther.

"Time is short. Make your choice. Know that Jaina Proudmoore still carries love in her heart for you despite what happened to her. I can be sure she will be happy to see you two finally whole."

With that, Uther placed Sylvanas' arm down onto the bench, and immediately he felt all that energy he had fade.

"I've done all I can." He turned to everyone still standing where they were.

"I do not know how long it will take, but we should give her time to decide." Uther's eyes landed on Jaina, who tightened her grip on her staff, and she was in thought.

It wasn't hard to know what the lord admiral was thinking about; Sylvanas.

One by one, everyone left to give Sylvanas some space. All except Jaina, who was sitting on the ground with her back against the wall to be near Sylvanas. She wanted to be there for her when she woke.

"You're getting your robes dirty.."

Jaina's head shot up, and she released a breath she didn't know she was holding onto. Her sea blue eyes began to water at the sight of Sylvanas sitting upright and was making her way to her.

Jaina's breath was stolen just like all those years ago at Kael'thas' welcoming banquet for her; where she met Sylvanas. Her eyes were no longer burning embers.. but blue? It almost pulled her in, hypnotizing her.

She hadn't realized she was sitting sitting on the floor until Sylvanas mentioned it, and she quickly got to her feet. She desperately wanted to grab her by the straps of her now tunic she wore. She was stripped of her armor, bow, and quiver, yet she still looked elegant as always.

She reached out but curled her fingers back and recoiled her hand and back down to the side. She had to be sure, she needed be sure her heart wasn't playing tricks on her.

"I-.."

Sylvanas smirked and it wasn't just any smirk. It was that smirk where her Elven fangs showed. The same smirk she made at the gathering all those years ago when Jaina's words died in her throat when she asked for a dance.

"I thought we were past being shy, Jaina. Or do you want me to ask for a dance with Uther and the others around?"

That was all it took, and she curled her fingers around the leather strap and pulled her in for a passionate kiss. She didn't worry about anyone else seeing them, not anymore.

Tears wet her eyes, and she reluctantly pulled back, much to Sylvanas' yearning for it to never end.

"I... thought you'd be angry with me, Jaina." She spoke in thalassian softly before gently wiping the other woman's tears from her eyes with such care.

"I was. But it doesn't matter. You're back with me." She replied before she hugged her again, and this time, she began to sob

She had endured so much, and this was the one time she was able to remember how happy she felt before everything happened.

Sylvanas rubbed her back in gently circles, gently reassuring her she's here and never leaving. More eyes were gazing in their direction from the Horde and alliance leaders, and she saw some angry faces while others were in disbelief she was truly back.

The undead elf felt Jaina take her hand. "I missed you."

Elven ears twitched slightly at the whisper, which made her smile even more.

"I missed you too, but we have all the time in the world once we save Anduin." She said before Bolvar walked up to them with Thrall.

"Sylvanas."

"Bolvar."

Bolvar's body language was difficult for anyone to understand, but she suspected he wanted the same thing she did.

Revenge and save Anduin.

[canonmisogynyvictimstournament]

PROPAGANDA

KENDRA YOUNG (BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER/ANGEL THE SERIES) (CW: Racism)

1.) Kendra was shafted due to a combination of misogyny and racism. She is a Jamaican young woman who enters the narrative to serve as a foil for Buffy, the main character. Her backstory is one-dimensional and her personality is one-note. (Rather than exploring what it might be like to be a teenager growing up in Jamaica, facing the same Chosen One fate as Buffy in a different setting, they just made her robotically devoted to the idea of being a slayer with no other traits.) She exists purely as a comparison for one issue that Buffy is encountering during this time in the story. As soon as Buffy worked through this issue to the writer's satisfaction, Kendra was removed from the story (i.e., was killed by being outsmarted, hypnotized, and then executed by a villain). During her brief life, she was subjected to the trope that when two women are in the same story they have to hate each other and see each other as rivals, despite the fact that this makes so sense with either of their characterization. She is MUCH less fleshed out than the vast majority of other characters in the story and her narrative role is eventually replaced with a far more complexly written white woman (proving that they could have done all this interesting stuff with Kendra in the first place??? but chose to kill her off instead.)

2.) She was introduced as a foil to the protagonist and set up as being an important new addition to the cast whose very existence in the show completely altered the status quo and she had a really interesting dynamic with the protagonist and a compelling backstory and a lot of potential for some great character development and to provide a new point of view and there was just generally so much potential there AND THEN THEY KILLED HER OFF AFTER LIKE THREE EPISODES AND NEVER MENTIONED HER AGAIN. FUMING. (also she was like. the only major woman of colour on the show at least for the majority of the show's run. so y'know that fucking sucks)

anyway I think this post really sums up how badly she got screwed over:

3.) Okay, so I had more been considering her a victim of racism, but let's call it misogynoir. Aside from the sexist origin she shares with all the slayers - some men got together to imbue Woman with power against her will which they would then oversee and manage for their own purposes and according to their own interests- she has been trained for slaying from childhood and yet she is killed pretty quickly after entering the story for the purposes of a white girl's angst and character development (and in fact her character only exists for this purpose)… by a fingernail. A powerful, well-trained, competent and bad-ass girl is killed because she didn't lean back one inch further fast enough. IIRC there's also sexism and racism in the way she is portrayed as kind of naive about the normal world and Buffy has to show her how to be a normal teenager.

SYLVANAS WINDRUNNER (WARCRAFT) (CW: Suicide, Violation of Autonomy, Genocide)

1.) (cw: suicide, violation of autonomy, genocide) holy SHIT bro where do I even start. first she got brutally killed by a guy for?? getting in his way I guess?? defending her homeland???? and was raised into undeath as a banshee by him because apparently her crimes were so great that she had to suffer for eternity as a mindless slave instead of being allowed to die quickly. so. that's fun. she later regained her autonomy which was almost cool—almost. after they finally killed that guy she committed suicide by jumping off the side of a mountain only to find that what awaited her on the other side was, guess what? MORE SUFFERING. so her besties the valkyr brought her back from the dead and then she decided she wanted to? turn everyone undead? for reasons that are still beyond me? and they had her commit genocide for I don't even fucking know any more look I played world of warcraft for like half a decade and the writing doesn't make much more sense to me now than it did then I am just like. this entire series is agony it is "when women have trauma it makes them CUH-RAZY and EVIL" central it is a wonder to me that they managed to get ANYTHING right. god she deserved so much better for all the shit the narrative put her through and that's before even talking about how badly she was sexualised. I'm so tired

[silverdragon128]

Anyways, Jaina X Sylvanas but it ends tragically in a fight to the death in the middle of Orgrimmar deciding the fate of Azeroth at the end of BfA

[slopy6]

Nightmare

Half of the capital of the plague lands is under our control, the Dreadlords Detheroc (green fat idiot), Balnazzar (purple smart scum) and the leader of the people Garithos (Dumbass) are killed, there is only one problem left - Kel'thuzad. Kel'thuzad is the loyal dog of the Lich King and that bastard, Arthas. But we'll figure it out later, we need to gather all the forces of the fallen to recapture the rest of the plague lands and create a new power against the scourge army. But for now, it's best to rest. We need to gain strength. After turning into a banshee, I never went to bed, but today I tried to do it... That was my mistake.. I had a nightmare. Not just a nightmare, but... the worst. That terrible event in my life. The fall of Silvermoon. It wasn't just a nightmare, it was a cycle of all the action! Undead attacks on the city, death of the elves, my death, summoning the Lich, Undead attacks on the city, death of the elves, my death, summoning the Lich. Undead attacks on the city, the death of elves... my death... The summoning of the Lich...Undead attacks.... death...Elves? My death? a call... The summoning of the Lich. I woke up from a nightmare in full (No, I'm dead, I don't have feelings like mortals) Now you won't be able to rest either. Damn Arthas! Someday, I'll finally see your corpse lying on my feet, you bastard. I'll kill you quickly, just like you killed me... You will find out what the pain of every dead person is. ....... Sylvanas came out of the tent and saw the moon standing in the middle of the night sky. - Night. So the dream passed quickly... - Lady Sylvanas? Sylvanas turned and saw the third Dreadlord - Varimathras? What are you doing here? - I saw you, my lady, it looks like... You didn't have a restful night - and a respectful mockery - Don't you dare mock me, demon, or do you want to feel the fate of your brothers, huh? - Of course not, lady, what you've done to them is terrible. - Only your faces are more terrible. Okay, I went to the table and looked at the map - what do the scouts say? - Nothing yet - I see... listen Varimathras, do you demons know how to sleep? - Sleep? Excuse me, but what? Sleep? Hey, are you seriously telling me this right now? Oh my God... Although Detheroc... Okay, that's it... This is complete nonsense! - Yes, can you sleep? - Lady Sylvanas, have you forgotten my brother Detheroc? - Detheroc? - after thinking about it, she gave out - oh, yes, I remember of course - a minute of silence - Varimathras. - Yes? - Follow me. - Okay - what's wrong with her? Either she came up with a plan or... The undead can't sleep. Must be - And where are we going, lady? - You'll find out - as the dreadlord, I don't like the fact that this elf is commanding mine. They went into the tent. - Varimathras, I just tried to fall asleep, but... listen here. Right now, you're just following my orders as a servant and nothing more, okay? - Of course it's clear, but... You want to now... Fall asleep? - Yes, maybe I'll be able to regain my strength in the end. - Oh, well, I understand you - Dreadlord lay down on the floor spreading his wing like a sheet. Sylvanas lay down on her wing and asked suddenly - Have you ever loved? - Loved what? Kill, torture, manipulate, cheat or what? - Someone, so, romantic feelings.. Love, romance. - Never, my lady. I am a nathrezim, a pure demon, why should I be able to love? - I just asked... so they were lying, and Varimathras decided to just use "sleep", but he decided with it... Correct it. Sylvanas felt weak at first, then began to fall asleep, muttering to herself - Soon Arthas will get for everything.. - You're talking about your Arthas again, Lady Sylvanas. - Soon..time... He recognizes mine... - I fell asleep without finishing my words. - Arthas, Arthas, is your thirst for revenge really that strong? Or do you love him? Mm... No, that couldn't be. he hoped so

[welcometomeloxia]

[magumachan]

Late night stuff while am writing down what I want to draw T^T.

I got lucky and got some free time at the moment.

[thetantiger]

Character Insight #13: Cronia

Full Name: Cronia Dolores Wiltflower Gender: Female (she/her) Race: Forsaken Class: Druid Specialization: Death Orientation: Pansexual Relatives: No Known Relatives Age: 47 (26 at death) Height: 5'4 Voice reference: In-game female Forsaken player Theme: Angry Too - Lola Blanc

[BACKSTORY]

Cronia Wiltflower was born in Lordaeron four years before the opening of the Dark Portal. To those knowledgeable, they would understand that this is a very poor timeframe to be born into Azeroth. Cronia was exposed to the horrors of war very early into her life, as the orcs came charging through and clashed with those of her own kind. She was only ten when the Alliance Internment Act was passed, beginning to force orcs into internment camps in which they were abused, mistreated and starved. Cronia was always a rather empathetic soul and did not see the necessity in such acts, and as she grew into a teenager, her anger against these camps began to blossom. The orcish people were just that; a people. People, like her and everyone around her, though there was little she could do. As she grew into a young woman her spite against the Alliance only festered further, and she frequently left the city and her family to spend time in the woods instead, discovering a land her fellow Humans had grown unattached to. She planted flowers here and tended to nature to calm her nerves before returning to her city, where she'd spend any evening free time roaming the streets and spray-painting her disdain for the active internment camps on any surface she could get away with. She was disinterested in most of her society, only really becoming close with a friend that would be later known as the Ringmaster. Regardless, the first two and a half decades of Cronia's life were rather uneventful, except for the orcs escaping and creating a New Horde. She kept her sympathizing sentiments to herself, but truthfully, she was happy they had found a home for themselves outside of the internment camps.

Twenty-two years after the opening of the dark portal, however, is when Cronia's life--or unlife--changed forever. Arthas Menethil and his scourged forces attacked Lordaeron, plaguing the city and its citizens forever. Cronia's parents were not raised into undeath and remained dead under the rubble of the forgotten city. However, their daughter shared a different fate, and awoke as a Forsaken.

The Forsaken united under Dark Lady and former Ranger General Sylvanas Windrunner and took up their home in the sewers of their old city, now dubbed "Undercity." Their former Alliance brethren in neighboring kingdoms of Humans rejected them, calling them hideous monsters of the Scourge. So, they joined the Horde. Cronia admittedly quite liked the Horde much better than the Alliance--they were a collection of misfit races, brought together by their will to survive on this planet, and they were much less uptight, too. The other Forsaken, though.. Cronia still held disdain for from their time as Lordaeronians. So, again, she took to the woods to take breathers from her society, and, even in undeath, rediscovered her deep love for nature.

So, she studied. She studied and studied and worked and worked, and for ten years she sought to overcome her condition's separation from the natural order. What naysayers said was true. One overcome by such a plagued magic, in such a rotten state, could not make flowers bloom. She saw plants wilt before her and wither in her grasp. But she was determined.

And then she heard the news. That an old society deep in the lands of Kul Tiras named the Drust had been rediscovered. Their druidic ways focused on the end of the life cycle. Truly, death was just as essential to an ecosystem as life. So Cronia stopped trying to make flowers bloom. She stopped trying to grow the earth before her, and instead, she reoriented her vision, and surely enough the land responded to her touch. Trees cracked and groaned with age. Shrubs shriveled and died. She accomplished animalistic forms, however they were all decayed and rotting. Her rot would serve to feed the plants that would come after, and she mastered the art of death druidism.

[THOUGHTS]

Cronia is another one of those characters that actually has yet to be on-screen but I super love her concept! She's my rebellious death druid gal and I love her lmao. Hope it was a fun read! <3

[wolf-of-stormwind]

Finally did art of the Sylvaina'thel kids. They call Jaina Mom, Lyndra'thel mim'da (mama), and Sylvanas minn'da (mother)

The oldest is Kinndy Proudmoore-Darksong, or simply Dark-moore. She is the biological daughter of Jaina and Lyndra'thel. Her and her siblings were geneticly combined by Jaina with arcane magic, and then Jaina (as the only living one in the relationship) carried them. For Kinndy, she accidentally overloaded her with her mana, and created less of a child, and more of a combination of them. Kinndy, like her mom, is a very powerful mage. She becomes a member of the Kirin Tor, and a part of the council of six. She is very quiet like Lyndra'thel, but enjoys singing to her sister's music.

The middle child, Lira Windrunner-Darksong, or simply Wind-song, is the biological daughter of Lyndra'thel and Sylvanas. As the second child, Jaina was able to make sure she didn't overload her with mana, and was able to create more of a child. However, she is still marked by the way she was created, with permanent arcane purple eyes. Lira becomes the Ranger-General of Quel'thalas after Halduron Brightwing, one of her mentors. Inspired by her namesake, Lirath, Windrunner, she learned some instruments in her free time. Her favorites are the harp and the flute.

The youngest and only boy, Kanath Proudmoore-Windrunner, the biological son of Sylvanas and Jaina. Kanath is a serious and dutiful about his studies, always putting them first. When he was young, he heard the call of the Tidemother, and reluctantly his mothers sent him to hone his connection to her. Kanath loves his family, but wouldn't trade his fate as a Tidecaller for anything.

[moxi-koshki]

In the shadows of Lordaeron's ruin, a figure emerged, shrouded in beauty and darkness - the Dark Ranger, Eve Shadowblade. Once a valiant protector of her homeland, she succumbed to the blight's grasp during the scourge's relentless advance. Yet, from the abyss of despair, Sylvanas Windrunner extended her hand, offering salvation in undeath.

Eve embraced her new existence with a haunting elegance, her spirit bridging the realms of the living and the dead. Drawing strength from the whispers of the void and the embrace of a mysterious goddess of death, she became a formidable force on the battlefield.

By her side stood Dyezsha, a resilient and cunning Deathstalker. Bound by a bond forged in the crucible of hardship, the two undead women journeyed through realms, their missions cloaked in shadows and whispered secrets. Together, they waged an unyielding war against the forces of the living, their blades carving a path of vengeance through Ashenvale's moonlit groves and the forsaken depths of the Undercity.

As allies of the Forsaken, they sought to reclaim what was lost, their destinies intertwined with the fate of their fallen kingdom. With each triumph, they whispered invocations to their dark goddess, their souls forever entwined in the eternal dance of death and rebirth.

(chatgpt driven)

[ridefourth]

@deathweaved​

Familiarity does not make a home (he knows: years had made him familiar with the lower levels of the Undercity, with the cage he was kept in like an animal - and like an animal his former Ranger-General and queen meant to train him, an obedient weapon loyal to her alone). His loyalty would have been hers, without it, though Koltira cannot argue with himself she had been wholly wrong. Sylvanas may have been his leader in life, but Thassarian was a comrade, treasured even before they had been free to treasure anything. If it came to a choice, how could he not choose the one who chose to save him repeatedly?

Acherus feels familiar, in a different manner — a home you had not visited in many summers, a place that held memories both good and bad. Known, but not quite the same; yours, still, in a way it will inevitably always be.

It would not feel like home without Thassarian. He knows with a certainty unspoken, and it makes him feel foolish to have tried to believe the Undercity could be where he belonged. Whatever they had been in life, death made it meaningless. Brotherhood, Thassarian had once called it, though the word makes it no justice. It is a different kind of companionship; how could it not be? Death had forged it, rather than done it part.  

Others would have abandoned him to his luck, to rely on his strength alone, perhaps deservedly, in face of his repeated failure and display of weakness. Still, the elf knew that would never be true for Thassarian. He had saved him before, when it went against everything they were. The year had not abated the certainty Koltira possessed that he would be saved again, no matter how long the wait would be.

It had been long, indeed, and hard on him as well. His body no longer heals as it did in life, and though there had been enough care to keep him whole, plenty of marks were left behind. They are old things by now; he had been of little interest to the Banshee Queen after a while. They are new in the eyes of his companion, likely. But the words denounce his captivity left marks in Thassarian as well, less obvious at a glance. It is not your fault, he almost replies, though the words are less direct dismissal of the implication, more directly resolute in that there is nothing to absolve. "You were there in the end," He replies, gaze meeting the other undaunted, but never unforgiving. "As I always knew you would be."

"It is enough for me." He will not offer forgiveness where there is no cause for it to be requested, and regret is faced with similar denial. Koltira will have none of it; none, except for the very ending. How foolish indeed, to seek the path that put them at odds once more, when easily they could have remained together from the start. Softness has no place in his speech anymore, nor even his demeanor; yet there is undeniable fondness, that he can't quite care to hide after so long apart. "Yet I wouldn't be opposed to having you by my side once more, instead of across the field again."

At Andorhal Thassarian had still recognized every wound on Koltira’s form, at least those which were visible — familiar to him like his own. An old notch in his ear; the cut of a runeblade in his hand; innumerable others that he could count one by one all the same. They had not been parted long then. Maybe at the time he’d thought it to be, still unaccustomed to the absence of his friend at his side. He would learn. He would learn about absence. About how he would never grow accustomed to it, and the black gulf of guilt that settled in it, a gluttonous animal filling the space where Koltira should have been. It was not the first loss he had known, but from it there was no recourse, because he was not there, his eternal companion, Koltira, whose fate matched his own. Their names are Death, and so Death could not take him away.

But something else could. Did.

And as he looks upon him now, he sees innumerable wounds he cannot count, that he does not know. A strange pressure bears down on the inside of his ribs. It is an old friend: sorrow. Her twin, remorse, finds a home crawling up his throat. It was not in a death knight’s nature to become so mournful, so vulnerable, not when anger was far more becoming and just as potent in their hands. But he had been angry. Angry at Koltira’s captors, angry at every obstacle and political caveat and collar around his neck that kept him from taking his own action. Angry at himself. Now, laid bare to him, it all unwinds. There was no revenge to take, no will or justice to enact, none of any consequence above having Koltira here now, reaching out to him. Shame keeps him silent, if only for a few moments, but the shadows on his face (still so young, beneath the brands, beneath the rough beard — as young as the day he died, as gentle) say enough. What terrible things you have known. What I would not give to shoulder them for you.

But Koltira had always seen him. Had always known him, could strip away the steel. Even silence could not conceal his grief. It was something he had named in him the very day they met, in the bloodied woodland of Quel’thalas. Even when it had killed him. Because Koltira is a sentimental fool. Just like Thassarian.

So he knows, too, that he needn’t seek forgiveness. That doing so would violate what Koltira was already telling him, his voice tinged with something like affection: there is nothing to forgive. There never has been. We are bonded. Brotherhood… but not quite. Not really. He felt that for all the Ebon Blade. Koltira is something else. He wonders if he will get to know the new wounds. To count them, innumerable though they might be. Another thing you have overcome, Koltira.

“…I have no interest in leaving the Ebon Blade again, Koltira.” He wished he’d never had. What little good it had done. What paltry things he had gained, starker compared to what he had lost. The Alliance did not bring him his sister, and it certainly didn’t bring him camaraderie or fulfillment. And still…

“In leaving your side. If you will truly have me there once more.”

That was the important part.