New Month, New Art!

Today I bring you the Duchess of Milan, from the sort-of-story I told you about yesterday.

Her name is Haidee. And she is the most dangerous little girl in Europe.

This is the first version. I am particularly fond of the lolita gasmask, though it needs depth and texture.

Today, I decided I would try to shade it a slightly different way. All the base colors are the same though, so the differences will probably be subtle.



With this one, I was trying to go for a simpler shading, and also to more strongly indicate with direction light was coming from (in this case, from the upper left hand side). It sort of succeeded, though clearly needs work.

Thoughts?

Adventures in Azeroth: Chapter 1 (Till I come up with something clever)

~All the usual disclaimers~

The psychological rape of the troll priest Rezzirection was undoubtedly the most deliciously cruel thing Anaemus had ever attempted.
For her part, Zi was in a world of turmoil. She could be certain of the reality of nothing. What truly transpired and what was the result of Anaemus' clever suggestions (and outright dark magic) mixed into an indecipherable account so that Zi no longer trusted her memory for anything. She found herself questioning everything that had ever happened to her. Well, almost everything.
When she had first come to the Lich King's camp and then to the outpost that Anaemus had been assigned, she had been shackled by the neck to a wooden pole while the Death Knight went out to fight or spread her corruption. Zi was left alone, sometimes for days, with no one to speak to. While accustomed to loneliness, the lack of all forms of conversation, joined with being left with only her garbled thoughts and memories were slowly decaying her psyche. Then Anaemus would return and from the way her ice and incarnadine eyes shone, Rezzirection could see a mountain of corpses, bodies mutilated, faces twisted around in agony.
Anaemus kept her constantly off balance by not allowing her any sense of regularity. Sometimes when she returned, Zi would be ignored for a long time. Other times, Anaemus would regale her with bloody accounts of villages sacked, families burned alive, their screams filling the night air. Once, Anaemus had come back wounded and, bringing Zi into her tent, asked if she could help her. It had just been a bone fracture in her shoulder, and when Zi finished (because what else could she do?) Anaemus had stayed lying on her side, faced away and silent. It occurred to Zi to run away but she had no idea where she'd go or what she would do. While she considered, she became aware of a soft sound.
“Are you...are you crying?” she asked, incredulously. Anaemus didn't answer though her lithe body had started to tremble. Rezzirection was torn between opposing forces. Was this another trick? Part of her knew she had been played with before and perhaps this was all part of a larger game. On the other hand, hers was a soft heart, incapable of seeing another suffer without attempting some comfort. And certainly, Anaemus had been considerate to her on their short journey, had never harmed her so far and had even been surprisingly gentle on occasion. Hadn't she?
But then there had been the other times, the times that had made Zi afraid of the dark elf, the times filled with pain and guilt. Had both happened or neither? Unsure of everything, Zi put a hand on Anaemus' shoulder. There was a stiffening but still, no word. Compelled by a mix of compassion and some sense of dependence, Zi laid herself down behind the shivering elf. As she moved her arms around to cradle the much smaller form, Anaemus turned over and buried her face against Zi and cried out a story of forced warfare, a broken spirit and a wish for redemption.
Had that really happened? Zi's head spun as she tried to consider it all.

~~
Anaemus allowed herself to be seen well before she needed to, knowing her unnatural complexion and dark armor would declare her a knight of the scourge. Not her usual modus operandi, but the Lich King had been very clear. She glanced to the side. In her hand, besides the reins of Asmodeus, her hellsteed, she held a leather leash, attached to a magicked felt collar around Rezzirection's neck. The troll priestess hadn't said anything for hours, lost as she seemed to be in her own mind. Anaemus hoped she was overanalyzing her situation, tearing her mind to pieces which would inevitably lower her defense. She was close now, almost ready. Anaemus suppressed a shiver of delight.
A gentle kick and Asmodeus broke into a gallop, Rezzirection's own steed forced to pick upthe pace to keep up. They made an imposing sight, charging into the Eastern Camp. Anaemus ran over what she knew one last time. In the past, she had most frequently been sent to the North, while this former Commander was a strong force in the East. Never one to play well with others, she was most often assigned assassination and “corruption” missions of sabotage and torture. Her jaw clenched at being forced into an alternative role.
When she was certain the whole camp had eyes for her, she spoke in a clear, commanding voice.
“I seek Varog Bonegrendel, commander of the Eastern Forces of the Scourge.”
A burly orc emerged from a dark green tent. He held his head high and carried his monstrous armor well, moving with a steady pace that bespoke both strength and agility. His unnaturally light hair gave him an aura of distinguished disciplined, though he glowered at her, his tusks moving strangely as he talked. Inwardly, Anaemus groaned. Of course he's an orc...
“I am Varog,” he identified himself. Anaemus dismounted, pointedly ignoring Zi, who remained seated on her raptor.
“I am Anaemus, just come from the King's camp. I bear a message for you.”
The orc did a good job of covering his reaction to her previous location, though she noticed his eyes tighten a little at the corners. Something else seemed to surprise him more.
“Arthas sends a Death Knight as a messenger-girl?” He paused, then threw back his head and laughed, deeply, the sound greatly offending her elfin ears.
“You must have done something very wrong.”
Anaemus' eyes narrowed to dark slits, partially out of contempt and partially because he was technically right. Arthas had sent her, one of his warriors, on an errand worthy of a ghoul. “To test her” after her bout with the light. But it was a pretense of a pretense for she was sure that before long he would have an assignment that required her singular talents. Varog's eyes moved past her to Rezzirection.
“A prisoner?” he questioned, his shoulders heaving as he resettled his armor.
“A pet,” Anaemus smiled, tugging the leash just lightly enough to indicate Zi should come down. Varog peered at the troll who glared at him, defiantly, though she was clearly shaken.
“A zombie?” he glanced at Anaemus.
“Oh, no. Well, once, yes. But she retains her free will. She stays with me willingly, don't you, love?” Anaemus stroked Rezzirection's face. For her part, Zi did not believe she was there willingly and she flinched at Anaemus' cold touch.
“Hmph,” the orc grumbled, making it clear what his opinion of free will was. He motioned almost imperceptibly with his hand and the earth starting to rumble benath their feet. A hand shot out, dirt under crooked nails. Then another, both pushing up, until a being that was once a human male but now all but unrecognizable shambled up, limbs held akimbo and eyes lifeless.
“This is the only kind of “pet” I require, elfling. One that conforms to my orders. That's the only kind of soldier I want too.” He looked at her pointedly. She smiled, recognizing the difference in their approach. The sheer poetry of the way she was rewriting Rezzirection's soul was obviously lost on the brutish commander.
“And I'm sure they appreciate having a commander with so many,” she paused to make sure the barb stuck, “MANY years of experience.”
He glowered at her, his braids rustling.
“Age matters less when you're dead,” he pointed out, admittedly accurately.
“And from the looks of you, so does appearance.”
Varog gritted his teeth. He bent so that his face was close to hers, craning his neck because she was so much shorter than him.
“Listen to me, vampire,” he spit the word out like a blasphemy (which, again, was admittedly accurate), “I do not have time for word games played with twigs. Give me the Lich King's message or get out of my way.”
If Anaemus was intimidated, she didn't let it show. Instead, she inclined her head in a slight bow.
“As you say...Commander.” Her voice was a study in layered subtlety as she managed to grant him the victory while at the same time undermining him by ensuring he knew the formality was just that...a formality. He spun on his heels and stalked towards the tent, motioning her to follow. Anaemus smiled impishly at Rezzirection before disappearing into the dark command center.

Adventures in Azeroth: Homecoming

Author's Note: I apologize for the lack of a lot of description, I am basically running under the assumption you know what Arthas looks like. Just imagine a drow, and you know what Anaemus looks like.

~~
The tent was dark despite the size. A large pole in the center lifted it high, but save for when a bitter wind blew across the doorflap, there was almost no light. What light there was inside came from a single torch that burned blue and stopped halfway through the room as if hiding from the figure in the center. Anaemus hardened her eyes and refused to cower, though her ears were ringing from the tension in her head. Taking several determined steps forward, the dark elf dropped to one knee, her head drooped low. A dark throne, trimmed in human bones held a sitting figure which exuded raw power.
“My Lord,” she breathed, as much awe and reverence as she could fill two words with. Her eyes flitted up briefly and she found herself, as always, flinching before the mighty figure of the Lich King. The darkness itself wrapped around him like a cloak fringed in unadulterated malice. His heavy armor made no sound though Anaemus knew she could never lift a piece of it. He held the greatsword, Frostmourne in one hand, the point stuck in the ground as he twirled it with the top of the hilt. He said nothing and she could not make out any expression from his obscured features, though his eyes glowed malevolently within his helmet.
“I've returned, lord. After your, “betrayal, came to mind but she said, “withdrawal from the Knights of Ebon Hold-”
A snarl from the fallen paladin told her she was on thinning ice.
“...I was forced to perform the demeaning task of faux redemption, but now I wish to return to your rule. As always, I am bound to your will.”
She held her breath and had her heart still beat, it surely would have demolished her chest. A gloved finger reached out and touched her face.
“So,” a voice raspy and laced with frigid hate, “you fought through the forces of light to come back to me.”
She lifted her head slightly and smiled. Arthas' glove rested on top of her head and she felt joy swell within her.
“Tell me...,” he continued, his voice almost conversational, “...what possible interest do you think a single Death Knight holds for me?!” This last was roared as his arm came across her, sending her flying backwards across the room, her flight halted by a metal column. She screamed as her head snapped back and she fell to the ground, pain wracking her entire body. Her breath came in gasps and icy-blood poured from the side of her mouth, the blue fringes of her eyes glowing brighter. The Lich King remained seated, having used not a fraction of his power to almost destroy her in a single blow. She remained on her hands and knees, head swimming as she tried to process her next move. The wind picked up again, blowing the door to the tent open. From the corner of her eye, she saw the priest she had been “grooming”, held by manacles attached to a pole. The troll was kneeling and appeared to be praying. Arthas had apparently caught Anaemus' gaze and he too turned to the figure.
“Is that...yours?” he rasped. Anaemus pushed herself back onto her knees, one hand against her abdomen where she was certain she was bleeding internally.
“For the moment, my lord. I “acquired” her on my travels.”
“What is she?”
Anaemus managed a thin, empty smile.
“A pet, lord, among other things.”
Arthas sniffed, and Anaemus stiffened, frightened that her levity had gone too far.
“Priest...”he breathed out.
“One of the Shadow when I found her, lord, but since she has come into my service she has returned to the Light.”
Arthas turned again to Anaemus and seemed to be considering something. Then he chuckled, a sound all the more frightening for its lack of mirth.
“A twilight priest in service of a fallen knight, giving life to the bringers of death.” The notion seemed to amuse him greatly. Anaemus inclined her head.
“In service to the Dark Prince.”
Arthas laughed again.
“Good, Death Knight. Break her. When she is ready, she will be of great use to us in the coming battles.”
Anaemus bowed again.
“Yes, my lord, as you command.”
She stood as gracefully as possibly, though hindered by the pain in her side. She paused when she heard him speak again.
“And Death Knight.

Welcome home.”

Adventures in Azeroth: Cast of Characters

So you know that consistency I suck at? Like, how I haven't put up 'Wisdom of Kerbochaurd' in two weeks? Well we're going to ADD to that! YAY!

I used to have pages of storyline written regarding my WoW chars and those I played with but alas, most of them were lost in the Great BoB Purge of the Last Hardrive. So we're more or less starting from scratch, which has the benefit of thinking things through in a fresh way and the downside that if I were to just launch into what I have so far...you would be thoroughly confused.

Hence I provide here a small cast of characters that will surely grow as I bring in more or altogether different storylines, as the mood takes me.

Characters and the Story So Far:

In Alphabetical Order:

Anaemus: Blood Elf Death Knight, Frostpire (in case that's hard to figure out: frost-vampire). Assassin and "Corrupter" for the Lich King.
Appearance: Silver-white hair worn in a high ponytail; red eyes fringed in ice-blue, delicate features, obviously always fully armored.
How Anaemus came to be in service to the Scourge is still a mystery, perhaps even to herself. When she was Raised, she found the dark forces had twisted her soul and required her to consume the blood of the living in order to be at full strength. As a Corrupter, her duty is to turn others, frequently through torture, which makes her a brilliant manipulator, and violator of the mind and spirit.

Rezzirection: Troll Priestess (Holy, though previously Shadow). Former companion to the Penanced Born and currently captive of the Death Knight Anaemus.
Appearance: Straw-colored hair in two braids down the front, one in the back and an excess that falls to her waist. Green eyes, dark blue skin, a youthful face, extremely tall. Usually wears the robes of her office.
Rezzirection, of the Eight Arrows Tribe was raised to be the Priestess of her village, arguably the single most important position. When a strange Blood Elf with a marked face came through, however, Zi left it all behind to follow her. They were together for a long, though indeterminate amount of time, with a strong if someone difficult to define relationship. Rezzirection was pulled from her lover by a summons from her mother to return to her native village. Somewhere along the way she was lost and her brother Gaesekki, along with a huntress of the tribe, Cerastes were sent out to find her.

This is as far as Zi remembers. At some point along the way, she died. In exchange for a second chance at life, she allowed her soul to be poisoned and became a Shadow priest, one who called upon the sacred powers to destroy and agonize instead of healing and comforting them, as was her nature. She is unaware that she was also a zombie for a time and that Penanced found her in that state.

She was found/captured/enslaved by Anaemus, which is where our story picks up.