Illyrias Silversun

WoW RP Blog for Illyrias (WRA-H) | Himbo Extraordinaire | Ex-Arbiter | The Fury

[illyrias-silversun]

Illyrias Silversun (Sha'auvrea)

|- Basics -|

Name: Illyrias Silversun (Sha’auvrea)

Age: Physically appears to be in his mid-30’s

Birthdate: January 30th

Race: Quel’dorei

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship Status: Dating @varment-fao

|- Physical Appearance -|

Hair: Blonde with some highlighted strands of silver and some darker shades of gold mixed in. It's wavy and long, falling to his mid back, but he often keeps it up and tied into a man bun (and he rocks it).

Eyes: Silver and gold

Height: 6’7”

Build: Muscular, lorge, built like a brick shit house.

Distinguishing Marks: A scar that runs through his right eyebrow and towards his cheek and a small scar, on the left side of his mouth, that cuts through his lips.

Common Accessories: A pair of hot pink, heart shaped sunglasses that he wears at almost all times.

Face Claim: Brock O'hurn

Piercings: Several! He has his septum pierced, his bridge, his right eyebrow and his labret (under his lower lip). He has a few in his ears as well that he switches up as he sees fit. He only keeps these in while not engaged in physical activities. If he knows he's going to be fighting, he takes all of them out.

|- Personal -|

Profession: He used to be a professional soldier, but that was in another life. Now he mostly offers his services to mercenary crews or as a personal body guard. He's good at taking a hit and good at ensuring whomever he is protecting does not.

Hobbies: He makes things out of metal, mostly little trinkets. He used to make weapons and armor but he no longer has the desire to do that anymore.

Fears: He's faced most of them and is fairly numb to the rest. He's probably scared of everything, to be honest. He just doesn't let people know.

Residence: A small, recently renovated clinic that was given to him by a friend. ( @varment-fao )

Birthplace: Quel’danas

|- Relationships -|

Spouse: None

Dating: @varment-fao

Children: None

Parents: He pretends they never existed.

Siblings: Izlynn - deceased

Pets: A small, mutt dog named ‘Dirt’, whom he loves very much.

(art by @murder-me-with-ink !)

|- RP Hooks -|

He has recently come back into society and is trying to get his bearings again. He's been gone a long time and has missed quite a bit in his absence. He's interested in hearing people's stories, learning about what he's missed, and trying to catch up to the present.

Alcohol! This man can drink a dwarf under the table and (maybe has a drinking problem) enjoys finding new drinking buddies. Is this healthy? No! Does he really care? Also no!

He's learned he kind of enjoys the whole ‘concert’ thing. If you see him at one, feel free to say hello! He's great at being a shield in a mosh pit or pretending to dance (terribly) to good music!

Contact: Here or in game is best! Character is on WRA (Horde) and working on an Alliance alt as well for (MG).

[mournfulroses]

Izzy Ravas, from her novel titled Disarm: A Forbidden Romance (What We Don't Say,)

[evanyellsartblog]

Colored version of a B/W com special for lukelf on Bsky. Two handsome blood elf fellows ♥ B/W version can be seen here.

[illyrias-silversun]

Baby

Art by: @maddiebiscuits

[theoasiswinds]

Commission for the very lovely @lukelxiv

[anasabdin]

Melancholy

[illyrias-silversun]

February DWC Day 6: Useful

The letter had been sent days ago, and Illyrias was still uncertain if it had ever arrived to its intended recipient. He had hoped, but as more days passed without contact he thought maybe it was for the best. It had been a wild hair to send it in the first place - what the fuck has he been thinking, really? To ask more from someone who had already gifted him more than he ever could have asked for? It was selfish. Or egotistical of him to have even considered himself up to the challenge. Temporary insanity, maybe. 

A knock sounded on the apartment’s front door, and he stood up from the couch to answer. Faolan was off at practice, so it was just Dirt and him. He didn't know who it was but maybe Lukel had decided to come visit…? Which would still be entirely weird. 

He opened the door and was momentarily frozen by who stood there. She was shockingly gorgeous - every single time - and despite him being happily in a relationship, she always seemed to strike him a little stupid. “Uh…hey?” 

The woman held up a letter between her two fingers, unsettling golden eyes affixed on his face. They always appeared to be molten, swirling inside her irises like something alive. Something trapped. “You meant what you said here?” Was her greeting, her smokey voice not gentle but nor was it unkind. It simply was, and he had to swallow at the no nonsense look on her face. 

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “I did. Every word.”

She brushed past him and moved right into the overly pink living room, planting her hands on her hips as she watched him shut the door before leaning back against it. “I have never taken on an apprentice,” she began, still pinning him with that molten gaze. “I have never had the desire to and I have never met someone with the correct disposition or intelligence to keep up with my work.”

He didn't take it as a barb - her voice never wavered into unfriendly territory. Just factual information being relayed. “I don't really doubt that, ma’am-”

She cut him off, holding up a hand traced with golden ink, her perfectly shaped nails polished in the same hue. She was a living sunbeam standing here in his living room. “No. That's gross. Yeven. You don't call me ma’am. Ew.”

Illyrias smirked a little, dipping his chin in her direction. “Can I call you Eve? I mean, that's kind of like Yeven?”

Her eyes narrowed at him and he was given the impression of a large cat sizing up their prey. He was the prey in this situation and he wasn't certain he enjoyed that. “You can call me Eve if you last longer than a week.”

“So…that's a yes, then?” He asked her hesitantly. He'd sent the letter because in all his life, he'd never met someone like Yeven. Her engineering prowess and how she approached both magic and technology - it was amazing, the way she blended them together into something wholly different was unique. It was intriguing and kind of scary to see in person, but he'd never been able to forget it. It called to that part of him that wanted to make things that helped people - that were useful and good. To be more than what he was told he could be.

She considered him for another moment, fingers drumming against her hip as she narrowed those living embers on his face. “You built war machines, yes? Things meant for destruction and death?”

He swallowed hard at that question, nodding his head once. “Yes, I did.” To his eternal shame.

“Did you enjoy it?” 

“No ma-...Yeven. No, I did not.”

“But you did it anyways?” Her head tilted to the side curiously, pale golden strands falling against her cheek.

“I wasn't really asked for my opinion or preferences. I was told. And at the time, I did what I was told believing that the benefit outweighed the cost on my conscience.” Truth. All of it was the truth. 

Yeven took a few steps closer, the golden lines on her skin reflecting light that was not at all present inside the apartment, as if they were shimmering under some other sun, some forgotten memory flickering through the living ink. “Do you still do as you are told, Illyrias Sha’auvrea Silversun?”

He hated that name, but he stood up straight, towering over her in height and still…still he felt like she was somehow looking down her regal nose at him. “Only if I agree with the instructions. Only if it doesn't hurt people. Only if it's the right thing to do.”

“And if it is not? If I instruct you to do otherwise?”

“Then, respectfully, you can fuck right off.”

This retort brought a bright, glowing smile to her face, warmth suffusing those golden eyes. “Good boy.” She patted his chest, and despite her slender frame, her hand was solid against him. “We start next week.” She reached for the doorknob and Illyrias stepped to the side, maybe a little surprised by her acceptance.

Her feet paused on the threshold as she looked out towards the street, the people passing by, the life that surrounded them despite everything that had been thrown at this world. “I was built for things other than what I wished to be, too.” She looked over her shoulder at him, that warm smile on her face. “So I'll give you a chance to prove the people who created you wrong, Illyrias.”

@daily-writing-challenge

[dspressed]

I highly recommend a clingy, lovey-dovey partner. Life’s too short to be with someone who acts like showing love is a chore

[dailyclassicart]

Stephen Remick - "Winter Moonlight"

[illyrias-silversun]

February DWC Day 4: Failure/Unravel

The Elfgates had fallen. The city was under siege and they just. Kept. Coming. Wave after wave after wave. Illyrias’s arms were exhausted, the shield and sword he held dented and dirty, his face covered with black and red blood - some his own, some from the abominations he had cut down - and still…there was no end in sight.

He was tiring and it showed, every movement was flagging in both speed and accuracy. He couldn't get in enough breath, the hammering of his heart a macabre drum beating out its rhythm to accompany the screaming and the snarling and the unearthly noises coming from the horde before him. It was never ending. It was worse than any hell he had ever imagined. To see those defending the gates get cut down…only to stand back up to attack their own family, friends… it was decimating in a way he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. This was a nightmare that he would never escape from.

There had been others with him at first, but there were far less now than there had been hours ago. A lifetime ago. So few to face down so many…and Light he thought this might be the end for him. He couldn't keep it up. Every wound he'd suffered was pulling at him, taxing him, and he no longer has the strength to try to heal himself - or anyone else for that matter. It was down to brute strength and determination and he was losing that battle on both fronts.

They were losing the battle on all fronts.

They had been pushed back inside the city and the fires that had been set turned the sky overhead into an angry orange haze. And still, people were running and being cut down and he couldn't stop any of it. He could just keep focusing on what came for him next, defending those with ranged weapons behind him, swinging the sword arm that was turning numb.

A hand touched his shoulder from behind and he knew it was no undead that reached for him. He could only spare a moment to look into the blue eyes of the mage he'd come to call friend over the past few years. Sometimes more than a friend. Kalion’s face was pale, deep bruises under his eyes that spoke of his own exhaustion and the depletion of his magical resources. “The Bazaar,” he choked out, gesturing behind them. “Get everyone you can to the Bazaar.” Illyrias didn't question him, knowing Kalion could still sense magic even if he was close to burning himself out trying to use it to shield their small group. Others had to have pulled back, put shields up for Kalion to be telling him to retreat there. It had to have some modicum of security.

Illyrias nodded as slapped his sword against his shield, letting it ring out, his voice booming. “Fall back to the Bazaar! Take as many as you can find and pull back!” His voice rose over the noise and soldiers and civilians began moving that way, even as he and those few who remained with him held the line, cutting down anything that came near.

Kalion shook his head. “Illyrias, you need to go now. All of you need to go immediately.” A shimmer of blue light surrounded them, walling off the advancing undead for a few heartbeats. The mage stepped past Illyrias, brushing his lips against his dirty cheek as he passed. “Go. Now. I'll hold the line.”

Uncertainty warred within him, but there were people behind them - not warriors - but artists and musicians and children. People who needed whatever safety the Bazaar could offer. Illyrias’s jaw clenched as he turned with the rest of their little squad, picked up a child, and began to run. They all began to run.

He looked back only once and would forever regret that he did. If he hadn't looked back he could have told himself Kalion made it out - that he had somehow escaped to somewhere else. That he lived. He could have told himself so many lies - but the hard truth lay there on the filthy marble street, etched into the lines of his broken body as the undead swarmed over him. The truth was, Kalion would stand back up and those lovely blue eyes would no longer see him as they once did. Kalion was gone and what remained was now but a spectre and a horror that wore the face of someone Illyrias had cared for.

But that wasn't the truth he would focus on as he ran, as he and the small band of warriors got those children and citizens to safety behind the shields in the Bazaar. The truth was that his friend had saved his life and the life of so many others.

That was the only truth that mattered.

@daily-writing-challenge

[illyrias-silversun]

February DWC Day 2: The Ashen Wolf

The first came out of nowhere, connecting with the back of the Knight’s head in an explosion of stars, blots of darkness quickly following. He went sprawling into the snow face first, not quick enough to get his hands down to catch himself. Unforgiving ice scraped his face as he lay there, trying to gather himself, before struggling to rise on shaking arms. “What the fuck?” He hissed, turning to see who had dared strike him, the son of Lord Ambermist.

His face quickly lost its rageful countenance when he beheld who stood there in his silver and gold plate mail, a cloak made from a dire wargs pelt slung around his shoulders. The white fur brushed against the helmet fashioned into a wolf’s head, the iron teeth barely shielding eyes that matched his armor. Eyes that were alight with seething anger. 

Oh, shit.

A plated fist came down again, hard, directly over his armored shoulder and despite the padding, the quality craftsmanship that had gone into it, he felt something disconnect. A shrill cry left his lips as he was slammed back into the ground. 

“Where were you, Thaelen?” The wolf's voice was laced with the promise of pain as the armored hand came down again, this time to grip him by the back of his red cloak, dragging him to his feet with little effort, shoving him back into a siege weapon that was being worked on, its wheels dug deep to the cold, unforgiving plains of Ice Crown. He felt the pain in his shoulder turn into fire and barely managed to hold back another shrill cry as the Ashen Wolf bore down on him.

“We thought the field was lost! Th-there were so many of them!” 

A muscle twitched in the Wolf's jaw and Thaelen flinched as the front of his armor was grabbed, as he was once again maneuvered like a rag doll under the full, terrifying weight of that golden glare. “You ran and you hid as soldiers of the Argent Dawn fought and died to secure our rear flank - like you were supposed to be doing.” Like the Wolf himself had been doing if the black and green ichor on his tabard was any indication of where he'd come from. What he'd survived.

“I don't want to die here,” he said with a false sense of bravado. “I thought it was a lost cause, so I sounded the retreat.” He had, though only a few had followed. A backwards glance as they ran had told him most had flocked to the Commander in the Wolf's helmet. He hadn't waited to see them die.

Another hit came, this time to the armor that protected his chest. But it didn't protect him from the fury of that blow and he swore he heard something crack, plate or bone he couldn't tell. He collided with the side of the siege weapon again as his breath was knocked from his lungs. “I don't give a shit what you want, Thaelen. Your cowardice cost good soldiers their lives because they were depending on you to have their backs. And you left them," he snarled. 

Thaelen felt like his knees might give out as the Wolf drew his sword, the pommel decorated with a ruby so dark it looked like frozen blood. And he knew…he knew he had truly fucked up. “Commander, please--” but he didn't have time to say more as the sword came down, severing the cloak from his shoulders and cutting through the Argent Crusade tabard he wore. His stainless, pristine tabard. 

“You're dismissed. You don't want to die here? Fine. Go die out there,” he gestured with his sword back towards the way they'd come. A path that was clear - for now - but wouldn't be for long. “Start walking, Thaelen. It's a long way home.” There was no forgiveness in that tone, no room for argument as the Wolf sheathed his sword and left Thaelen to the snow and the horrors of Ice Crown.

@daily-writing-challenge

[illyrias-silversun]

February DWC Day 1: Yearn/Couple

It was the simple, daily things that he had come to love the most. A giggle down the hallway, the flash of an impish grin, the genuine excitement for life that radiated from the little elf who had entirely taken him by surprise. Illyrias had been many things in his life, most of them weren't things he was proud of, but being this? Being loved and appreciated and having someone who just saw him, all his flaws, and loved him anyways? That was something new and something he truly treasured.

In the past there had never been the simple things - or even joy, really. There had been a lot of yearning to be noticed, to be given the time of day. Pretending he wasn't in love with someone, having to sneak in kisses where no one could see had become what he associated with love - with a relationship. He didn't dare ask for more because he already knew the answer. He was a Knight. He had nothing to offer but his protection, the blood on his hands and the ability to make more. He wasn't going to claim the title he didn't want, he wasn't going to have the wealth and stability to offer the woman he'd been so sure wouldn't care about any of that.

But she had. And he simply hasn't stacked up, in the grand scheme of things. He was disposable - a fling, a dalliance, a distraction. To be anything more than that would have ruined him in ways he hadn't been ready to commit to.

But the golden-eyed elf who was currently giggling on the couch while a small, overly excited little mutt of a dog was licking his face and eyebrows had never asked him to be anything other than what he was. And he found that he wanted to be so much more for Faolan than he'd wanted to be for anyone else. A protector, yes, but more than that. He wanted to show him new things and bring him new places. Illyrias wanted to experience life with him - all of it - and it didn't even scare him to admit that to himself.

He didn't want to leave. He didn't want to be away from him. He just wanted this easy, happy life, full of laughter and hugs and warmth. It wasn't really something he'd considered he'd been missing out on, but he got it now.

He'd been missing Faolan for a long, long time.

@daily-writing-challenge (mentions: @varment-fao )

[mspencerillustration]

Had some oil paint leftover on my palette at work today and yesterday so I painted these!

[evanyellsartblog]

Happy Valentines day, have a finished b/w com special for lukelf on Bsky. Two handsome blood elf fellows ♥

[line-and-ink]

New painting - ‘howl’ acrylic on canvas

[moondusttown]

[tsalala]

“A wolf paw print in bison blood from this morning in Yellowstone. From one of the members of the Junction Butte pack.”

Taken in Yellowstone National Park Photographed by Scott Brovsky