The Lioness of Silvermooon

Gold angel aesthetic

Commission slots are still open this month! I'd really love to try something I've not done in a while, like a couple! I'm flexible with posing, ocs, simple background gradients or decoration. I usually keep it from the waist up, though if you have a particular pose in mind I can give it a shot! Not open to nsfw work at this time.

Couple commissions are $85, taken through Paypal, and I typically finish them within 2 weeks after a preliminary sketch is accepted. Your references are very helpful.

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Talonoa  Thursday, Pre-battle

“Commander Dal’shula.” The Sin’dorei Argent immediately straightened and saluted.

Talon returned the salute, offering a rare, warm smile towards the younger man; one he had trained himself what felt like a lifetime ago. “At ease, Lieutenant Nor’thus. It’s been years, you can just call me Talon now.” 

The Lieutenant eyed Talon over, looking both concerned and curious at the same time but didn’t voice his obvious thoughts.  Talonoa knew he looked much different now than he did when he was a part of the Argent Crusade. Back then he had a strong connection to the Light.  But now? Things had vastly changed in his life.  

After the loss of his family, he had lost his faith in the Light and it left him. Then after making a deal with quite possibly the literal devil, Talon had become something else, someone else. Someone much more powerful than he ever used to be. The pros were stacking: He no longer had the need to eat, drink, or even sleep. Then there was his most recent discovery; the undead completely ignored his presence, as if he were one of their own.  He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he wasn’t going to complain. The cons would come eventually.

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She couldn’t sleep. 

Was that any wonder, though? The Scourge had returned — if it was the Scourge. They didn’t seem controlled, more mindless than anything, different than the last time. That tracked with the intelligence report she’d gotten when the heads of the current noble houses had been summoned to the Court of the Sun. Windrunner had shattered the world as they knew it, it seemed. 

Not that that was surprising. She hadn’t been quite right since she’d been turned, anyone could see that. Those that disagreed had been delusional or desperate for hope that Sylvanas would be what they needed. 

It had been odd hearing that the Sunreaver command had not wanted her to join them — not disappointing, not really. Fiorenze knew her appointment there had been purely political; strings had been pulled, because Rommath wanted someone to keep an eye on Aethas after the Bell fiasco. Who could blame him, really? Not that any of that mattered anymore. Apparently she was difficult, and didn’t listen to orders — too dangerous to have in the field.

Meanwhile the Magistry had called on Pyraelia to choose where she would fight. She’d always been the better Sunmote, had she not? Never stepped out of bounds, always did what she was told. The goody-goody. They’d embraced before she’d left — off to Icecrown to support the Crusade. As much as Fiorenze had tried to persuade her, she’d held fast to her supposed duty to the world and its people. 

It bothered her to think she may never see her sister again. 

But her birthday had come and gone — extremely unlike she had planned. Her fury had been made manifest through her magic, the fire slung from her hands nearly white hot as it impacted zealots and ghouls in the Crossroads. The Sunreavers didn’t have her loyalty, but her friends did. 

The men and women who made up Stellan’s mercenary camp had still tried to make the best of the day once they heard. They drank, Lady Ravenmourn made her a woven crown of reedy amber grass, Madame Emberdawn had suggested a game of two truths and a lie. Frankly, it was more people than she had expected to spend the end of the day with, and that had been nice in and of itself in a small way. 

Her fingers carded through Xylaes’ blonde hair as he slept, his breathing slow and even. This was an unusual reversal of their typical situation. He was a different person out here, having a genuine purpose was something he wore as well as his armor. There had been an exhausted, frenetic pace to the crush of their lips and the fumbling of their fingers at the leather straps to get him out of it all — she’d wanted to enjoy him. When was the next time they’d be able to? 

What if everything changed tomorrow? 

He was an exceptional fighter, one of the best she’d seen, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t vulnerable. She was, herself, a glass cannon. All her previous plans had been fragmented, the past week had shattered them further. Was it worth holding on to the shards? Wasn’t it better to take what was, here in the now?

Perhaps. Tomorrow certainly wasn’t promised.

(( @xylaes​ // @inistellan​ // @laceandhalos​ // @themadamelioness​ ))

“That was a SHARK!” Tinnaire couldn’t help it, she simply dropped her arms from the half-cast spell and gaped. She could have sworn that she saw a shark fly through the air and latch onto one of the massive frostwyrms. SHE HAD. The vulpera, Kou, and Nova were engaged and bringing one of the massive dragons down. In all her years in battle, she couldn’t recall a shark-as-weapon before.

Another time, the split second distraction would have been enough to have completely opened her to attack from the ghoul that had lurched in the elven woman’s direction. However, she had friends and fellows nearby to watch her back–just as she had watched theirs. Seven slunk up into the space and dispatched the undead monster with a grimace that hardened even as the monster’s jaw loosened. He pulled his blades free and before the beast even hit the ground he seemed to evaporate before Tinnaire’s eyes. She stepped to the side and back into the perimeter more easily covered by Jencir’s bow and got back to business. Tinnaire finished her interrupted incantation and fire reigned down in whistling missiles across the dirt-packed road, lighting up the dark and opponents at once. The fire splashed across cultists and monsters, licking deep shadows and bright flames over their scraps of clothing. Two of the enormous undead dragons were down and Tinnaire let them fall from her mental map of the battle, focusing her own efforts on the clumping of cultists bearing down on the battered buildings of the village. Jencir had stayed fairly close to her since arrival, and they had worked well together, each learning something new about the other. Tinnaire had not been used to an archer as back up, and he was used to working alone. It took adaptation, but didn’t all battle? They were both good at thinking on their feet and their dancing partnership only grew smoother as the fight went on. Fiorenze slung another hurtling comet of fire up into the magical belly of a frostwyrm and the heat and light from the attack illuminated the entire village. The roar from the monstrosity was swallowed in the challenging roar of the flame. Tin had to squint in the light for the moment, but so did the cultists.  The cultists weren’t all ready for this assault. Clearly some of them were less battle-hardened than others, they fully shielded their eyes. And again Seven melted out of the shadows and dispatched those unlucky recruits so blinded. Tinnaire didn’t give Jen time to look further, continuing to push him toward the back of a hut. He took the hint and in a moment the nightborne was stalking a retreating cultist who was pulling runes to open a portal for reinforcements. Another arrow neatly ended that.

Tinnaire turned back to the main intersection of the village, confident Jen was following. Her eyes narrowed against another kind of Light that flared around Lady Ravenmourn. Tinnaire smiled to see the pack of ghouls around the statuesque woman glow, then rupture with Light resonance disrupting the magics that held them together. Protecting her back was the brick wall of a warrior, Dicenne, his shield slamming against decaying flesh. Melted by Light or mashed by a shield, the end result was effective.

From inside the largest building in the village a pair of knights emerged. Heavily armored but otherwise the partners balanced each other. Dark and Light. Their steps in time with each other, weapons and spells hefted in yin to yang. Evidence of their work inside mirrored in golden purpose and dark intent. Naralinthe and Talonoa looked toward the single Shadowed caster that had retreated to the building’s threshold. The human screamed to see justice appear so perfectly balanced. She tried to run.

The shrieking of the battle dulled, momentary quiet broken by the booming impact of one of the explosive rounds Inistellan was using. Tinnaire ignored it to release a gout of concentrated flame from her hands, over a ghoul she’d purposely let approach. Behind it, the scrappy young woman, Pheonix, seemed to dance between cultists, disrupting their casting with efficient use of her glaive and her own bursts of flame. Someone dashing around the crash of battle trailed bandages like a tail. Maybe it was a tail? Tinnaire couldn’t afford to look back, she and Jen had reached for each other, shoving the other into stuttering lunges that passed for retreat as the third of five frostwryms came crashing down close enough to spit dust over their feet as they dodged. The ground shuddered as the bones of the creature bounced like flung boulders. Tinnaire sucked in a breath hastily, adrenaline surging through her veins. She didn’t even try to stop smiling. Three down. Two more to go.

mentions: @koukikai​ @jackarychaoti​ (Nova) @sevensolar​ @wildswalk-the-stars​ @fio-renze​ @laceandhalos​ @dicenne​ @talonoa​ @themadamelioness​ @straightouttatheashes​ 

Saturday, November 14th

He had missed this.

Being among skilled fighters, defending the innocent,  the thrill of the kill.

It had been a long time since he felt this way, and being in the middle of a war was where he felt most alive. Maybe some would pity him for that, but the military had been Xy’s life for centuries.  He felt useful there, he was useful there, and now he felt useful again.  It was different now; without his magic he had to acquire new skills, but he soon learned that he still felt just as effective.  With that loss came an unexpected advantage: Magic couldn’t hurt him. Unfortunately magic couldn’t heal him either, but that would mean he just couldn’t get hurt.

The fighting had been nearly non-stop since Tuesday and it was obviously beginning to wear down some of the crew.  He could see the exhaustion and unease, especially in those not accustomed to being in this type of setting. So when there was a sudden lull in fighting Saturday evening, many took advantage to catch up on their rest.

Xylaes had been the first to volunteer to go out and scout the area and keep a lookout. He knew this trick all too well and had experienced it many times. The constant attacks were not successful in overrunning the Crossroads, so it was more than likely they would group up and try to make one big push. It was just a matter of figuring out the when and the where. They had scouts fan out in every direction, and he had chosen west.  He had a gut feeling, and learned long ago to follow those.

Even though hours had passed, he remained vigilant and methodical in his search. Squinting through his goggles, he blinked a few times to refocus his gaze before looking once more. Not once did he tear his gaze away as he picked up his comm, “Stellan, come to my coordinates now.” He never used the word ‘now’ lightly, so in a few minutes Stellan was by his side and looking down the road through his own goggles. “There’s one out front, more further behind. Can’t see how many yet. Guessing there are ground troops too.”

“The one is going to be here soon, you got those explosive rounds I gave you?”  Stellan was already loading up his rifle. Xylaes nodded, and followed suit. “Let’s get it out of the sky. On your count.” The two men aimed their rifles up towards the sky in unison and waited.  It was odd how in sync they were, many could assume they had been fighting together for decades, yet this was the first time. It was all too easy to fall back into military mode for the both of them.

The frostwyrm barrelled towards the town at top speed and both men adjusted their aim before Xy began his countdown: “3…2…1…” Two gunshots rang out in unison and blasted their target simultaneously.  Both bones connecting the wings to the back of the frostwyrm were shattered in a fiery explosion, immediately sending the beast hurtling to the ground and landing with a clatter and crunch of breaking bones. Stellan fired another explosive round right into the beast’s skull just to ensure it wouldn’t be getting back up; while Xylaes already had his goggles pointed back towards the remainder of the enemy. “I see…five now. At least. Cultists, scourge…”  

Xy clapped Stellan on the shoulder before sprinting back towards camp while speaking hastily into his comm.  Soon enough he arrived, barging into Talonoa and Naralinthe’s tent to continue delivering the news; moments later the older man’s gruff voice sounded out to everyone that had answered the call to arms:

“Multiple frostwyrms incoming from the west, at least 5 spotted, accompanied by scourge and cultist ground troops - ETA 15 minutes.  Everyone to arms, we’re going to intercept them just outside the Crossroads. Work together, have each other’s backs, and don’t die. Booze is on me afterwards.”

@inistellan​ @talonoa​ @themadamelioness​

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@laceandhalos @fio-renze @wildswalk-the-stars @themadamelioness @novarin @straightouttatheashes @safrona-shadowsun @xylaes

Finished Commission for @themadamelioness. Thank you so much for letting me work on your lovely lady. Again. ;)