#man'ari

[lemongrace]

Commission - Nehiri

[tim-official]

my beautiful red goat wearing pants that took months to get and his lumpy friend thuckphog

[rynies]

Another piece from 2019.

[rashkah]

🍈🍈

[zarin-mimik]

somehow ended up with a manari variation for this piece <3 >-<

also worked with lots of layers so theres a saucy option without the cloth any jewelry, but I wanna keep this blog sfw.. maybe I'll make a separate blog soon for it?

[wowtalesofadventurers]

Monster March 2026 day 20 alien

A World of Warcraft fanfiction for @monstermarchevent event Monster March 2026 day 20 alien featuring my ocs.

As they deal with a void invasion, the Void Elf Bith'rodan ask the female Man'ari Draenei Phehri, "I know we are trying to save our world, but I'm curious about any life that you meet among the stars." and Phehri said to Bith'rodan, "Well, there are those that humanoid animals, lifeforms that look similar to humans with some different features such as the color of their skin or have things on their forehead, and even lifeforms that don't wear clothes. The universe is a weird place to see."

[musee-de-muse]

The Great Lie

DWC November 2024

Day 2: Eternal/Deceit

OC: Calinirra, Man'ari Eredar

@daily-writing-challenge

A beautiful lie is still that – a lie.

And one might think that after years unknowable... that the shame of once having believed in such a beautiful lie would fade – and it does!

Or so I had thought.

One can adapt to anything, with time – one can forget hearth and home, and grow accustomed to chaos, and hate and destruction. It was all for a greater purpose, after all. We were a chosen people, were we not? So adept in our craft, that we should be considered to serve alongside one such as Sargeras in his laborious duty.

And our most respected elders – the wisest among us, the most revered? They saw the wisdom in it – or at least two-thirds of them did, and that was enough for most of us, in the end... or rather, in the beginning. They told us that the Prophet was a fool – he didn't see what was right before us. Opportunity does not knock twice. His cowardice would only hold us back - such were the reassurances.

How could we not embrace what was to come?

But millennia of victory meant nothing, now. All that life lost. All those planets desecrated. All those souls consumed, or twisted, or sent to the Nether, or the Shadowlands... all those planets full of peoples slain, or converted or consumed – for what, now?

I don't know what I feel. I am a demon – that much is true, and always will be. And while that's not quite what we were told would happen to us... the vast swathes of time I've spent as what I am? Have not always been terrible. I delighted in what I became, in time – that is the very nature of what I became. How could I not indulge in destruction - would you reprimand a fire for burning?

But now... after a time unknowable in the Nether – after countless worlds have been sundered – the grand Crusade was over. Their leader gone, the lies proven false. The cost sunk – one would have thought.

But opportunity does not knock twice, so when the Alliance came calling... well, my work in the Legion had begun to chafe, with my loss of rank, and subsequent re-assignment. Little more than an attack dog for another, my skills wasted and my power chained – why wouldn't I trade that hateful existence on another's leash for some sort of fresh start... any fresh start?

It had all been a grand, eternal lie – and in the end, I didn't even have the power, or the clout I once held... so why not? I'm a creature of chaos, and opportunity, after all – and wouldn't it be a bit... funny?

Wouldn't it be a gas – to walk among them, to watch them whisper feverishly, and quiver with repressed fear, or loathing... or a little something else... and be able to do nothing about it? To know that their precious Alliance had welcomed her – she, one of the Legion's elite – to roam their cobbled streets. She, who - with the very blades at her hips – had perhaps even taken the lives of friends and loved ones of the very people in this city. I - who so excelled at my craft as to become a Faithbreaker of such skill and renown that even when I 'stepped on the wrong hoof'... they hadn't killed me – I'd been, instead, assigned to the ill-fated “Damned Cohort” to suffer.

I answered to a cruel master with this assignment, and became little more than a tool for the Legion... an attack dog on a short leash; I became a part of a squad of those who had earned the ire of their betters, and were now forced to take the harshest of assignments. And if permanent death met them during as much? So be it.

But not anymore. Now... the attack dog was free – and had no idea what that actually meant, as her new 'home' was the one place she'd been trying to destroy for years beyond counting.

[zwierzodudle]

it's keeping an eye out

desnine (he/they, cuddling the lizard) belongs to @tokidokifish

kelundos (they/them) belongs to @dagumcryptid