#zanarian

[pydoodles]

Some doodles I did last night of wow ocs

[kai-2124]

Commission for @stormandozone Thanks for your patience, and for commissioning me!

[naomimakesart]

These are some Warcraft commissions I’ve been working on for the past couple weeks! 

If you’re interested in commissions, check out my form!

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[curiouslich]

Letting Go

Ethereal fingers gripped at the back of his head. Closing into the white hair they pulled him back to his flaking scalp. The darkness flooded over him. With death coming to claim him Zanarian kept a tight grip on his soul.

Body broken beyond recovery he could feel his weakened pulse push out his life with each passing second. Willing his heart to stop he hoped to preserve his life a little longer. Just a few more minutes, enough time for his Seer to get to him. She was coming, he could feel her in his ever fleeting blood.

Clinging to his soul was the only thing he could manage. Shattered on the ground he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel… there was merely his resolve.

Too much left undone, too much he wanted to feel. He couldn’t fail the Black Heart like this. Wrenching his essence back into his body his heart beat again. Coughing out more blood he convulsed giving out a weakened gurgle.  

Another moment bought, another chance for Mara to return to him. If he failed to cling, if he let go his soul would return to the nether, he might not make it back.

The idea brought a sense of worry. He had never let himself become this injured. Nothing he had done previously had ever broken him so.

The thought crept in like a serpent, twisting around the coils of anything he had...Would it really be so bad? Venom corrupting his mind his heart dropped again, and his pulse plummeted.

What was the use in struggling?

If he returned his hunger would as well. Mana gone again and sources further ruined what was their left waiting for him?

In his pondering mind a pressure came to his chest. Something was tugging on him, and in a moment of curiosity Zanarian Felsunder let go.

@stormandozone

[teechew]

@curiouslich ‘s Zanarian is learning to Magelyn how to fly !

[pydoodles]

MY FAVORITE BOY

@curiouslich

[curiouslich]

Threatening Promises

Wiping a hand across the mirror Zanarian stared at the mirror with a hint of grimace on his face. Claws reaching up to probe the tender discolored flesh on his face. Met with a jolt and a hiss. The wound was fresh. The feeling of sore blood and throbbing heart beats echoed in pulsing waves of heat. The bath had done nothing to ease the pain, but that wasn’t his intention.

Without preamble, without warning one swift right hook had shattered his face. There was a great deal of indignation to it. The Overseer was a leader of the Cabal, a proud soldier that was adept at reading fights and coming out on top. He just didn’t see this one coming and paid the price for his growth of his contempt.

Hissing again as he stared through the mist at the set nose. Running his hand over the bruised eye, he had leaned in closer to get a look at the damage. The lesson was learned Baelisian was not to be trifled with. The scene still played in his thoughts.

"Oi." She jabbed her knuckle into the bruised and broken skin. "Keep yer claws off the girl. Orange curls. Freckles. F*** whoever else ye want in this pisspot world, but keep yerself off Elleynah." Her words were quiet at the end, the threat realer. "Don't touch her, or all your wantonness will be ended."

No one else had challenged him like that. No one else had dared, but here, without warning, without hesitation, she struck. Not even Kaltaia, No even Asteryn, or the rest of the realm of Demons caught him off guard like that.

The deal was simple, the threat even more so, keep his eyes and hands off her, and she’d look the other way, fail, and he’d be dead, or worse, mutilated. Pulling at the skin below his eye the swelling of pain boiled up around the wound. Bell was a rare woman, probably one of a handful that could manage it. Even more so Zanarian didn’t look forward to the idea of being on a ship with a woman eager to murder him.

And at the end of the day, why bother? It was no secret he liked pushing people, but trying to push someone into enjoying themselves to let go? Not when threatened, not when Bell offered herself to him? Waste of time, and there was other prey with less than half the peril

Bell offered a lot though, in exchange for the deal, for the threat, and the attack she gave him the most decadent night of his life. His muscles were still sore after returning to the Glave, after the bath. Everything ached, and it sent lightning down his spine thinking about it. She was a rare woman indeed. 

But there was more, a hint sweeter than any demon gave him. The scent of the of honey, and the hint of a promise to ensure he kept the deal even beyond the threat.

“Keep ya damn claws off her, and maybe, maybe, next time things get heated between us, I may invite a friend to help cool us off.”

@stormandozone

[curiouslich]

Verdant Phoenix

The act of becoming an Illidari, the final rite is one of consumption. Brutal training, sleep deprivation, hunger, sparing, pain, suffering… all lead up to the moment. Where the inner darkness of your soul is pulled forth and used to summon the foul creatures we hunt.

The strength of your soul dictates the enemy you face. Your soul then must dominate the monster, then devour them. Binding the essence to your own many Illidari lose themselves to madness.

Taking in the sheer amount of chaos and fel in one gulp is like trying to cradle an inferno. There will never be pain like that again. Your very soul is engulfed in their malice, and it seeks an outlet.

The adage that the eyes are the gateway to the soul is not wrong, this energy erupts in a torrent of fury, and in doing so, we go blind to the greater world around us. Fel seared eyes are the reminder of the pact with our inner darkness…

Through alliance, subjugation, or mutually assured destruction we hunters endure this ongoing struggle. If our resolve weakness, if our hunger grows, or in moments of extreme passion these demons may find their way through, claiming us, taking over, and in our own hatred we become the force of the Legion we seek to burn.

When my time came, and Arax-Barash was pulled from my anger there was only one option. To eat him first. The Wrathguard stood no chance and with his soul subsumed the true conflict began.

I would not allow this wretch to exist in my body, his power was mine, his strength, ferocity, rage… they belonged to me. My hatred for this creature, for this torture, for my past it overwhelmed him.

I tore the demon’s soul piece from piece. Breaking down, integrating, I became the demon I consumed. There would be no other presence in my soul, there would be no other force to keep at bay.

And in an endless ocean of my disdain I sundered the grasp of his very soul.

…. From this chaos comes my rebirth. In my glorious resurrection to Felsunder one sole truth echoed before everything else.

“Vengeance Before Annihilation.”

@stormandozone