#shandril

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Spellfire Cover Art by Clyde Caldwell

[kanobarlowe]

OCkiss23 Day 1 - Dance

This is an excerpt from my fantasy WIP Psalms from the Mountaintop - in which Linn joins Shandril in an ancient elven ruin to witness the god's old memories from long ago, leading to a dance and more.

Shandril’s smile warmed. He pressed his forehead against Linn’s — Linn blushed, but he closed his eyes. Shandril’s breath steamed against his face. He swallowed.

“Would you like to dance?” Shandril whispered.

Linn’s eyes opened; he looked into the dark pools of Shandril’s eyes, watching the ethereal shapes and colors mixing and swirling within the blackness — the closest he’d ever been. He opened his mouth but found no words. He nodded instead.

Shandril took his hand, then moved away so their arms outstretched. “We will do a simple dance,” he said, “follow my lead.”

Linn watched Shandril’s movements and attempted to match his pace. They stepped around each other in a wide circle; their fingers no longer interlocked, but palms pressed together as they turned. Each step echoed the dance of flame — heat burned in his chest as he moved with light, lithe steps around Shandril. They slid in broad sweeps faster as the whoop and thrum of the music picked up speed.

Shandril broke away suddenly, their palms sliding apart. The god spun, and his braid encircled him. It floated through the air, ribboning upward in its wide spiral. Linn awed the god’s grace, bronze skin glowing in the dimming sunlight — his muscles, taut with life, sent waves of heat through Linn. He mimicked Shandril’s twirls, spinning to the melodious fifes.

The pair reconnected, palms pressed tightly together. Swirling in synchronicity, they leaped, legs kicking. Sweat trickled down Linn’s brow as he pushed to keep pace with his ancient elven dance partner. The beat of the drums, the whistling flutes, and the singing of ghostly elves from centuries past flooded his ears. Amidst the mystic sea of faceless history and ancestral memory, Linn and Shandril danced. Braids flew, and robes swished. As the music kicked into a near-frantic pace, Linn found himself laughing and crying — he wasn’t sure what to make of the emotions permeating his chest.

Even across the ages, the songs of his people stirred his soul.

Shandril’s smile was a fiery sun. His ears perked, long and slender, to Linn’s laugh. He laughed his deep, rumbling bellow that echoed across the mountain peaks. Sweat beaded across his golden muscles and looked incandescent as the most sacred of spirits. His braid soared, a flying serpent mid-dance.

The two embraced as the song ended with the resounding beats of the drum. The phantom elves clapped and cheered around them, yelling praise in a language Linn couldn’t understand. Pressed together, Linn panted as he looked up into Shandril’s face. Shandril looked back.

Their lips collided in fiery sparks. Shandril’s arms tangled around Linn’s waist, picking him up off his feet as they kissed. Linn’s heart hammered in his chest as his hands explored Shandril’s chest and arms. The thick, heavy muscle and smooth, tattooed skin sent shivers down his spine. He kissed Shandril passionately as he admired Shandril’s firm pectorals.

The pair fell back onto the plaza’s stone floor. Ghostly figures danced around them, flashing pictures of Shandril’s memory as their minds connected. Shandril’s hands pushed Linn’s robes up his legs. They kissed fiercely, desperately, to the trilling flutes.

Two became one. Linn’s legs locked around Shandril’s waist. A pleasure so magical, so serene spread through him. Lulled into the rocking waves, he fell into himself, embracing the intoxicating sensations in his body and Shandril’s heavy, hot breaths in his ear.

And then it bloomed. Somewhere in the air around them and deep within him, his magic called out to Shandril. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at his own face, lying back against the stone, mouth agape, eyelids heavy — from Shandril’s eyes. When he blinked, his vision changed. A vast universe rose before him, filled with colors and impossible shapes. Fire, water, earth, and air flowed around him. A thundering storm embraced him. His mind cleared, and a heavy weight lifted off his chest. Words and sensations rushed through him — a heat that began in his hips, then ran toward his mind: ancient words, whispering spirits. Overhead, the moon and sun collided, entangled in an embrace of their own. In their love-making, the sky burst forth. Spirits in all shapes and sizes erupted in waves. He turned and saw Patience, a pinkish glowing reflection of himself, in the lap of another spirit. Hips rocking, mouths pressed together, Patience consummated with an ancient spirit carved with markings across its body in supernal radiance.

Two bodies, two magics, now one. Linn understood the world and his role in it all at once, even if only for a moment.

[kanobarlowe]

Mythic Monday

Makian elves worship the Four Directions, called the Irru faith. Each direction belongs to one of the four elven gods. For this Monday, I'll cover everything Irruns believe about the Northern Direction.

Shandril - the Northern Direction

Also known as the All-Father, the God of Life, the Bringer of Existence, Shandril is the Northern Direction and represents the struggles of Reality, Focus, and Honor.

In addition to the Northern direction, Shandril's symbols of worship are the Crown, the Staff, the Mountain, and the Owl.

He is a benevolent god to his children, but he is not without anger - he is capable of both great goods and great evils, though many believe the evils he commits are righteous punishment to the wicked or operate as a mode of learning for his children.

Shandril's spiritual servants who prowl the world to perform his works are falcons, owls, and wolves. These creatures are meant to be worshiped and honored - it is forbidden to consume falcon or owl meat. Wolves are permitted to be killed and eaten, but must ensure not only the standard "meat cleansing" rituals for consumption, but also a ritual to honor Shandril's gift.

Shandril is thought to have created all things. In the end times, it is said that his punishment against his son Thor, the Western Direction, will cause the Unshackling that brings about final destruction.

[sapphireangelbunny]

“Don’t worry...it’ll be alright..“

A drawing of one of my DnD couples, Shandril (mine on the right) and Adren (my bf’s character on the left). 

Right now their world is going to hell and Shandril being leader of the planet is stressed about everything. Sadly she will lose Adren soon when he passes on his power to the next grand cleric to take his place.

[sapphireangelbunny]

For every “★” I get, I will post a fact about my characters.

[sapphireangelbunny]

It's a day late but for Mother's day I drew my DND oc, Shandril with Wynn (my other oc) when she was a baby <3