#elu lore

[eluviannaa]

1. Mostly Ghostly—this story begins, again, in Eversong.

[slugbumm]

omg hidden lore omg

[eluviannaa]

YES Void is pure amazing BUT this is what is absolutely flooring me right now. What if the wild lore you dreamt up for your oc had legs. What. If.

(It does and I am FLIPPING out you guys)

[eluviannaa]

Fear of the Gods

Aged Kul Tiran rum, sea brine, sheen of Octopode ink (archival is fine, in theory), tangled with lime, and something a bit...sinister.

Grog more to Elu's taste than anything remotely civilized. The concoction boasts having made at least one immortal hesitate. Best served at midday dock temperatures. Lives in some bottom cupboard of her Boralus home.

[eluviannaa]

Netherlight Gardens

(wip build of an oc lore concept I had aaaages ago)

[eluviannaa]

Happy Pride 💖 throwback crop of Elu and Zevvie from last year's Love is in the Air sketch

[eluviannaa]

I wanted to do all the quests again before Midnight, so I made Dacian in-game ♡ I got to the Dead Scar and we had a moment for Sir Goldenknight

[eluviannaa]

Before the Sunwell

PART ONE

Andaura had not been quite herself for days. The gathering voidstorms over Quel'Danas grated a familiar edge. On some tongues, Oracle meant Scryer. Seer. But the Magistrix did not want to see. And truly, in a way, she had seen this before.

Many years had passed since the Timeless Nightseye sat upon her finger, its ghost still aching to twine. And what the ring had become, a pendant now pinned at the throat of House Everheart’s heir. The missive had been sent months ago, though she dared not hope for Eluvianna’s return. But today, the gem’s distant whispers told her more than the inescapable darkness gathering above the Isles.

She would come.

A story set in motion long before Tavora. Before Eluvianna.

Even in the shadow of youth, it was not in poor taste to say that Lady Andaura Brightspire was perfection. And perhaps, in knowing it, she had somehow carved her own flaw. Even so, an insidious curse lurked within the family’s legacy, patient for the day hubris would compromise inheritance.

Weighing her granddaughter’s return, Andaura watched as the storms carried a familiar tide ever closer. Cresting with unease. With a memory. Of a time when Eversong basked in its perpetual golden hour, still innocent to what gathered beneath the span of the southernmost Ban’dinoriel—a chill tangling with its seemingly untouchable magic, the territorial pride from which she herself was born.

Among the things misplaced by time lay answers as delicate as the intrigue of the Convocation’s scrying rings. Crafted by the Magisters of Silvermoon during the reign of Anasterian, their brilliance lay in nuance: each gem attuned to the threads of Arcane beneath the Isles. Yet for all their promise, they would come to prove…temperamental. Unpredictable.

One such ring had passed to this Oracle of Brightspire. Its phantom bound to her, even now.

To the momentum of what was coming.