#warcraft IC

[safrona-shadowsun]

Mar looked down to the tacup in her freckled hands that was warm, even hot, a piece f cole in her freezing hands. "I don´t think tht I will return to the Arathihighlands. In my mind that man who calls himnself a Trollbane is still a Usurpátor and not chosen by the Ting." She looked up, a frown drawing a long line between her thick eyebrows: "My apologize. I drink your tea and only talk about my own problems. You sure have your own thoughts more important, Milady."

Teatime Tuesday

Eyes fixed on the half orc's hands as she struggled to warm them with the tiny, clay-sculpted cup of tea, Safrona let a wry smile take her lips in understanding of the confession. Fingers toying with the lid of the sugar vessel, the void elf returned it gently to the accompanying teaset that dominated the booth table between them.

"I think home is best when you are carving it out on your own, and not at the whim of someone's war. Of course, someone somewhere likes to lay a claim to every piece of land." Safrona shrugged as she let her eyes light around her Sojourn, the well-loved Pandarian establishment that housed them now. "But I think I have done well for myself. Though it has taken some years to find my own place, and have it feel that it is mine."

Safrona smirked at the little teacup that Mar tried to evoke heat from. "But I also think that there are better ways to heat yourself than with flavored water. You might take a room here, yes? You can steep yourself in a private bath here for an hour or so, if you like."

{ @shuuhuu / @halforc-mercenary }

[groundrunner100]

I declare these Olympic Games OPENED!!!!

[druidonity2]

Jaina of the blue flight and Varian of the black flight

[celestialkiri]

People on Twitter simps hard for my ice troll Rapsora 😩

[daily-bipper-brainrot]

N-ICE TO MEET YOU AGAIN, SNOWFLAKE‼️

@daily-ice-finn-brainrot

OG image below!

[fruitfossil]

Tidied up character sketch-- ice trolls should be fat n hardy canonically, imo

[trippingtroll]

My old Drakkari troll, Ru’dak, and my new Dwarf shaman, Blaisy. They are in love.❤️

[elyfar]

this took most of the day to do, but here are the current members of Atal'Lwa on Argent Dawn EU!

[quelios-dawnsinger]

The journey back to Silvermoon had been a relieving one, though the sight of Dalaran's grand walls shattered into pieces at ground zero would stay with Quelios for weeks afterward. There had been an upside, though. For once, no critical gaze had been leveled at him or the other Sunreavers as they picked through the wreckage to help survivors, or flung themselves into the Nerubians that remained to try to end them. The enemy had been clear, and he felt a renewal of trust begin to form where it had been lacking so long in the Sunreavers.

The void elves had become a potential threat to all on Azeroth, and it was not hard to understand why. They could have easily orchestrated the sudden rise of the Nerubians through void portals after all. How many did this 'Xala'tath' have under her sway? Quelios relished the turning of the tide: as survivors flinched away from Ren'dorei, observing the wash of critical looks among their very own Alliance forces. A beautiful turn of events. A start to righting the wrongs.

Quelios eagerly did his due dilligence and informed of void elves that stared a little too long on the wreckage, or hesitated too long on joining the fight to beat back the Nerubians. He jumped on board the opportunity to track the movements of Void Betrayers that seemed to be suspicious. It had been satisfying to drive arrows into a couple that had suddenly seemed erratic, unable to control the dark instinct they'd cursed themselves to obey. Who couldn't be trusted now?

He'd hoped he sunk a few arrows into the rumored mother than had betrayed and abandoned them too, but he had no certainty on what she looked like in these times, only his sister's insistence that she had survived. It was a stupid, uninformed theory, really. The Sunreavers had declared their mother dead those years ago, and that should have been the end of it. But Serra's soft heart drew her to madness sometimes, he suspected, and he shook his head with the thought that he might have become mad enough to believe her. It did him well to be away from his sister and her fantasy notions, come back to sense, and duty. He would have gladly continued joining the rest of the Sunreavers in their campaign.

Yet House Dawnsinger called him home for some importance, and he had no outstanding reason to be on the field or investigating the new city when it would be clogged by so many new bodies. There was always some great importance his House was calling him to, really. He imagined the marriage of his sister would be commencing soon, and of course the Elders desired him to be present.

He took his moment to visit the Farstrider camp first, checking in with the old rangers and the animal companions that felt more like family than his own. Here, he was more than his House name, and more than what potential child could come from his loins. The very young had visited along with newer recruits, and they were full of questions and eager to learn, and Lio was content to take his time to advise.

It was nightfall by the time he ventured to the doors of House Dawnsinger, a little buzzed on a good amount of Suntouched Special Reserve. He'd often found he needed to be a little buzzed to deal with the vultures in their finery. Quelios found all five of them all seated around their opulent dining table of the gathering room, stacked with far too much food. All of their eyes were fixed on him.

"Bala'dash..." he trailed off, bowing faintly at the waist.

Belavia Dawnsinger, High Priestess and high crone in Quelios' thoughts rolled her eyes at him in with impatience. "You were expected much earlier than this, boy. Where have you been?," she snapped.

"Apologies, I've been...looking for my sweet sister, my lady," Lio wore the apologetic smile best he could, though he hardly felt it for the crone. "If she'd had heard me to be coming, you know she would have found me at the camp first. But there was no sign of her."

The table was silent, until at last one voice spoke up much too gravely: "Quelios, your sister is gone."

Lio's smile drained, body freezing in place. Gone. His sister's gentle face swept by in his mind with her kind smile, her contained laughs, trying to recall the last words she'd spoken to him. He didn't know if his heart was caving in at the blow of the grave announcement, or because he could not remember her last words to him.

"...gone?" Lio managed in the weakest turn, his eyes growing wet as he struggled with what equated to be his sister's loss. Stupid, sweet girl. She had always been there for him. He had not been there. He had not been there.

Inn'ethar Emberfall threw his hand up at Lio with an irritated snap, "Gone, not dead, you imbecile! Taken." The would be husband's eyes flashed away from Quelios as he tried to regain his composure, his father's hand on his shoulder.

"Please forgive my son," the elder Emberfall spoke for the younger Magister. "Your sister's to be married to Inne'thar in a week, and we are all distressed with this turn of events."

Quelios expelled a breath of a laugh, "Distressed? You'd about given me a heart attack just now. I'm glad I am not called in to plan my sister's funeral."

"This is no laughing matter, Lio," Verana Dawnsinger stood, conniving mistress and magistrix in one. Sothin Dawnsinger was a decorated veteran who grunted more than spoke. He simply let his mistress do all the talking for him as he filled his mouth with every food and drink available, and Verana preferred it this way.

"Someone has taken your sister, a week ago. Likely right from her bedroom window." She feigned concern. "The little bluebird must be so scared. She might even have been manipulated into leaving. Blackmailed."

"Both of our House's Arcane Guardians were tampered with, malfunctioned in a way we have yet to understand." Inne'thar explained. "Our guard was surpassed and thrown into chaos over the course of one night, allowing the opportunity for someone to reach Serenas."

"No ransom letters, no nothing either," the old crone shook her head. "It's preposterous. She is worth something."

"It is an attack on both our Houses, High Priestess," the elder Annomir Emberfall spoke up now. "Someone knew of the impending union of our Houses and sought to wound us."

Inne'thar nodded, incensed, "Someone fears us, and has acted rashly."

Verana slid her liquid gold eyes to Quelios now, and gave an indicating smile, coercing him into a corner. "But you are our sweet Serra's brother. I know how much this wounds you too. You have a talent for tracking, I know. It would do us all good to have you at the lead, to find your sister, bring her back safely."

"Oh, agreed," Crone Belavia joined, and the rest of the table was unanimous. "And put a few arrows into the ones that dared to touch the sister."

"Bring them back in chains, if you can, Quelios," Inne'thar spoke, quietly seething, "I will like to look in the eyes of the one who took my wife from me. And burn them out of their sockets."

Quelios glanced upward, bowed again, and turned on his heel to walk away from the dining hall. It quietly incensed him that he alone was burdened to bring Serenas home, but somewhere, he knew it was deserved. She was his responsibility until she became her husband's.

As he walked further from the dining room, he cursed his sister's name under his breath. He knew his sister more than the table of refined vultures ever could. There was no ransom letter, no struggle in her room for good reason. Serenas Dawnsinger had ran away. He knew in his heart that she had. She had been dying on the inside over the course of a year from the moment the House had told her where her duty to them lie. He thought he had been the only one to care to notice, but apparently his sweet sister had enough. The questions were more along the lines of who had helped her, and where she thought she could go.

Unless one of the vultures in the room were behind her disappearance. Perhaps the youngest of the Dawnsingers had become too much a burden, or had not fit to a certain usefulness. Perhaps they meant to be rid of him too by sending him on his sister's trail. He would find out.

Some part of him felt guilty to drag his sister back to this city, to these vultures. A guilt that quickly cut away from him as he plotted out what to investigate first.

If he had to deal with these damn vultures in House Dawnsinger, he sure as hell was not doing it alone.

[gay-disaster-tiefling]

I popped off on these ngl

[galderthefuzzy]

Protector of the Frozen Glade

While some of the dryads and frost nymphs are benevolent and good natured, others have devoted their lives to protecting the nature and their brethren at all costs.

Such is the fate of Verglas, the Ice Shaper. Her immense aptitude for frost and ice magic and the ability to seemingly call for the aid of elements at will has forged her into one of the most formidable defenders of Howling Fjord.

Her command of ice magic, conjuration and summoning has become something of a legend and her services were soon acquired by the Brigade, who helped defeat the Scourge in the area and aid with security.

I have finished this piece during the last days of winter (which was not so long ago here in Finland), in the anticipation of summer heat. I got this very particular idea about muted, snowstorm conditions for the piece, that wasn't easy to wrestle with - but I hope it worked out well. May it help you fight the rising temperatures (where it applies

[safrona-shadowsun]

Daily Writing Challenge 2024 November DWC, Day 2 Words: Deceit/Eternal @daily-writing-challenge

As the last breath of the summoning command left her lips, a shadow seemed to divide from her own figure, birthed from it to become its own identity. A vague surprise laced the void elf’s features in seeing the succubus greet her, taloned fingers threading the length of her long braid with learned affection.

“Hello, Pretty,” the demon breathed with silky sweetness, as if some returning lover from the annals of time.

“Elernia,” Safrona replied with a backward step away, none too impressed. “You have not been answering my calls. Should I be concerned?”

The Sayaad shrugged helplessly, holding out both hands now with a performative befuddlement. “Well, you do now have what, one, two, three of us now?” She counted off on her fingers with a showiness, referencing the other two demons of her species that the Warlock had newly brought into her service. Elernia wrinkled her perfectly sloped nose at her Mistress. “I think the calling gets a little lost in translation. Maybe it’s time to really personalize our spells, Sweetness.”

A skeptical glance came from the Warlock now. “So you have not been…untethered from me, then? I am surprised you came to me at all.”

Elernia pouted, drawing near once more to her Mistress. “I’ve been with you through this life and the others you have taken, my love.” The succubus gently took the Warlock’s hands into her own, lining their fingers together. “I know you like no other, as you know me. You have me eternally.”

A knowing, devilish grin spread. She preyed upon her mistress’ secret desire for the deepest devotion, for unyielding worship that spanned lifetimes. A desire that few mortals could fulfill. “Those two young ones, they’ll *never* compare to me. You know it.”

The succubus lifted her mistress’ arms apart, appraising her appearance as if admiring her fashion. “And here now, you have been growing in power as I’ve always hoped for you to! How many demons have you in your service now?”

Safrona sighed and slipped her hands from the Sayaadi’s fingers. “Not enough,” she muttered in a slip of dark honesty. “They are…servicable I suppose. An exciting discovery in their first contact, but just a scattering in the long run. Brief impact.”

“You want something new,” Elernia construed, purring at the confession as if it sated her with some perverse satisfaction.

“I want to make sure the deep insurgence of Void in the new areas isn’t going to make a damn puppet out of me.” Safrona explained. “If Xala’tath can turn ancient civilizations beneath the earth to her own ends, what do you think she can do to a surface dweller who is already in tune to her frequency?” Safrona sighed shakily to herself. “Sometimes…my thoughts drift to places and I don’t even know if they are my own anymore.”

“Then you need us to remind you of who you are, silly sweet girl,” Elernia spoke. “Besides, the real reason I’ve been so quiet is because I’ve been researching for you. You've been fretting over all this other silly business you've not been paying mind to the other threats around you.”

Elernia slipped her talons so carefully in the top of her own brazier, slipping a pulsating crystal from the alluring curves of her bosom. It was fit into the warlock’s hand, closing her fingers fondly over it. “Dreadlord Raetheron. He picked up on your aura again like the sweet meat you are, and he’d been watching you, calculating how to strike. Had to intercept, Sweetness. I only snatched a shard of the soul, but you'll be able to track him entirely, and end him. Or. Bind him to your service. For real this time. Prove it to yourself that you can. Another step in that domination you need.”

Lifting the crystal to hand, Safrona felt the familiar dread pulse of the demonic Lieutenant. The first to bind her to the blood of Tichondrious the Darkener, through him. The origin of her power, and a remnant of a tormentor for years. The Warlock was impressed, but the skeptic in her did not die. “And you snapped up this shard of an Elder Dreadlord’s soul all by yourself?”

“I have my ways,” Elernia retorted with a little grin, then a blow of a kiss before phasing out of her reality again.

Safrona sighed thoughtfully, examining the crystal with a slow turn. She knew Elernia kept truths from her. And yet in the grand scheme of things, that recognition seemed unimportant.

Little lies were every part of the Sayaad’s design as much as the same deceits were of her own.

[ludvigrim]

[anielina13]

[kissfortheelves]

Ah'lu from the Wakari tribe (headcanon tribe from Koipiroska)