damien-ward

[damien-ward]

[damien-ward]

Damien's New Look

With the new long coats being added I had to get it for Damien! It looks too good, I just had to add some Gilnean flair (the Worgen belt and a cloak on the back).

Damien helping carry some crates through the market.

As always Damien stopping some ruffians in a back alley.

[damien-ward]

Damien turns 40 today! It's crazy, i can't believe it.

[damien-ward]

[damien-ward]

Heartbeat

I have been in this place since time began. I have been in this place at least one hundred seconds. I know, I counted them. I cannot know if I counted them too fast, or too slow, but I am sure it was one hundred. Seconds. I think it was seconds.

This place is a confusion. There are trees, and there is grass. There are stones. There is no sky, or at least, there are no stars. I look up. Or, I perceive up, and it is black. There are easels and paintings here. They hang from the trees. There are faces on them. Human ones. Or places. Buildings with spires. A small house. A cliffside path and a river. I do not know what they are.

Time flows. I know that it must, but I cannot feel it. I cannot remember when I arrived. I cannot remember when the paintings arrived. I am aware of a sequence of events. I counted to one hundred. That preceded this thought. There is linearity, but there is no flow.

Events happen. 

Sometimes there is a mirror. Sometimes I look in the mirror. I see a pale face. This face has freckles. This face has hazel eyes. This face has red hair. This face has freckles. It must be my face, even though when I look down, I see nothing but grass, and rocks. I am not here, but I am here, the mirror tells me who I am.

Sometimes the trees creak and groan and part, and the grass moves and a path opens. I am in a clearing, but there is another clearing. When the trees move, I see the other one, and in it sits a swirling mass of black and white light in chaotic incohesion. When the mass arrives I enter that clearing. I place my hand, I perceive the idea of playing my hand, on its surface. In those moments a voice speaks to me. It is a woman’s voice.

“Fuck of a day.” It might say. “Damn it Alyssa.” It might say. “You did good work.” It might say. And I will reply to it. I will speak in a woman’s voice. “Are you sleeping?” I will ask. “Did you drink too much again?” I will ask. “How are you holding up?” I will ask.

“I’m fine.” The woman’s voice will always say. And sometimes it might say “No, I’m not.” Sometimes the woman’s voice will talk more. Usually less.

Rarer still, nights come where the trees part only the slightest bit. I think it is night. It has the texture of night. The sky is still black. On these nights I squeeze between the trees, it feels like I have physical form. I can feel the pressure of wood against my skin. I perceive the idea of wood against my skin. And in the other clearing the swirl of black and white is thin and distant but present.

And then I hear the woman’s voice. “I love you.” It will say. “I’m so sorry.” It will say. And I will reply to it. “I love you too.” I will say. “It is alright.” I will say. And I think it brings the voice comfort. I think it brings me comfort too. And then it rains in my woods from the black starless sky. 

So events happen. Another event has happened too.

I am sure it has been recent. When the woods open, when the swirling mass of black and white arrives and I place my hand upon it. Perceive placing a hand upon it. The sky opens up. The woman’s voice speaks to me still. I speak to her in return. But there is more. In the open sky I see a map. Twisting cables of red. Blood vessels and capillaries. Nerve endings and twisting muscles. It is the inner workings of the voice. Of the person who speaks to me. I reach into the sky and pluck at nerves and blood. They move and react. “What did you just do?” The voice might ask at a time like this. “I don’t know,” I might tell it.”Something’s different,” I might say.

The woman's voice in the black and white mass of energy, I have come to realize, lives in a house of meat and blood. The woman's voice drives this like a carriage. Trapped in the house of meat and blood, she sends it signals and it carries her, and it carries me. When she touches the woods, the woods thrum. They pulse. They pulse in time with the movement of the blood in her body. 

Thump. Thump. A dagger vibrates rhythmic and strong.

I could drive a carriage. If I had a carriage to drive.

I have found some clarity. I am a person. I was a person. I could be a person.

When the clearing opens again, I will speak to the voice. And I will make a request.

“Kat,” I will say. Because I believe the name of the voice is Kat. “It has been nine years. Or nine seconds. Or nine millennia. I cannot live in these woods. Take me to the house. Take me to the body. Take me to the vessel. It must have been preserved. Cut open its chest, throne, vault. And place me within it. I will touch its blood and meat and nerves and bones, and I will drive it like a carriage. And you will not have to be sorry anymore.”

I think the voice of the woman will like that. I hope I will like that. I am ready to find out if I am the woman with a pale face. And hazel eyes. And red hair. I will drive the woman with a pale face, and hazel eyes, and red hair. I will be her heart where her heart no longer beats. I will beat for her. And I will say my name is Alyssa.

[Mention to @kat-hawke]

[damien-ward]

Damien's new look for Undermine work. He can't be walking around in his normal Gilnean attire he will stick out like a sore thumb and look like a target to rob!

[damien-ward]

Me realizing I'm the same age as Damien when he found out he had a daughter

[damien-ward]

[damien-ward]

Simmy

Headshot Portrait Commission for @astralfox0893's OC! Thank you so much for your support! <3

Ko-Fi || Art Commission Info || Bluesky

[damien-ward]

A beautiful and stunningly vibrant gift from @darkspear-dancers of our OCsVanddoria and Santanamaria by SrLemon on Twitter. Still can't thank you enough for this stunning piece!

[damien-ward]

Wanted to do a lil collage of my 'main' OCs.

Art by Cozshedead & Frrrozi

[damien-ward]

A lovely commission from PlushPotato over on bluesky! Always be killroggmaxxing!

[damien-ward]

[damien-ward]

An Unexpected Summon

"Cavu!" it echoed through the cellar, a little friendly bark as it's fluffy ears perked, absolutely unphased by the warlock's attempt at banishment. "....what?" Safrona muttered back in abject confusion.

{ A commission for @nehku, featuring their OC Cavu and Safrona! Got carried away and decided to canonize the association, and wrote a story that pertains to it! Full story is below the line. }

Where the hours of a deepening night might settle into quiet comfort for the ground floor of the Elysian Sojourn, very few souls would be allowed to search the deep cellars a long walk below. Past winding stone cellar paths, past fortified stone walls, stacked casks and barrels in organized rows. Past mirrored doorways that only recognized those souls marked for entry by the Perished, a lowly-lit lair of forbidden art could be revealed, and altar walls dedicated to entities of dark necessity.

Safrona stepped back with an uncertainty from the summoning circle on the stone cellar floor, even as it's light began to dim, deeming the calling by the warlock a success. No doubt, it was a circle that had served the Harvester sufficiently before now, pulling minor demons and entities through the Nether by their name. But the one that walked from her circle now was unrecognized. It wore a skull of its own kind, seemingly on its own head, and a precious soul crystal in its paws in offering. To her?

It's tail was...wagging. Happily. Like a little dog, or something of the sort. It was too happy, for a demon. Immediately suspicious. But strangely...cute? It's appearance had caught Safrona so off guard she had delayed the banishment she had taken too long to impart. Her fingers snaked out to entrap the little demon in the quick invocation...and the banishment fizzled, useless.

"Cavu!" it echoed through the cellar, a little friendly bark as it's fluffy ears perked, absolutely unphased by the warlock's attempt at banishment.

"....what?" Safrona muttered back in abject confusion.

It's little skull face tilted one way, and then the other, much like a canine trying to understand the sound she made in turn. Was it some strange alteration of vulpera? Were there fox demons now? It hadn't been affected by banishment. It couldn't have been that powerful. But there it was, stalled in its approach, intelligent enough to gauge her uncertainty and await her to engage instead. It was an entire soul crystal in its soft little paws, not just a shard, and it was tempting her with it.

A particular mask shivered to life in the shadow of the altar wall, otherwordly light filing its empty ocular sockets. It laughed.

"Now, here y'are, Harvesta'. Ya be summonin one o' mine now," the Loa of the Dead's very amused voice flowed through the mask. "Don'cha be rude ta Cavu dere. He be helpin' ya."

With Bwonsamdi's vouching for it, the little 'demon' was urged to continue in its approach until it stood right at the warlock's feet. The creature came up to her waist, and by now it was lifting the crystal far above its ears for her to take.

"Think o' dis one as a gift. Or a reminda o' whatcha owe Ol' Bwondsamdi, eh? Ya been off track, girlie. Distracted wit' all de void t'ings. Mighty distracted. Y'have dat fear y'gonna lose y'self out dere - we know. But you trust y'frien' Cavu here, he remin' ya whatcha after! He gonna help ya collect!"

"Cavu," Safrona repeated, hesitantly. An annoyance flit through her reply. "I don't think I'll need this...gift."

"Ya will accept dis boon from me, girl," the Loa spoke now as the humor drained some from his voice, vaguely threatening. "We don't wanna be discussin' revisin' ya deal, eh?"

The Harvester paused, understanding the implication made. "I see." A short inhale was made, the void elf's reply on an accepting exhale. "A new summon then."

Cavu's tail wagged with a continuous vigor as he was addressed. The little demon turned to wave a furry paw at the glowing loa mask above the altar.

"Goood, good," Bwonsamdi crooned pleasantly, "y'summon dis one when de Voices get too much, deep in de bowels of de world. When de Void try t'take my Harvesta' from me, when de Harbinga' try n' slip in ya mind, y'have my lil helpa t'help ya t'rough. Keep ta de tithe, Harvesta. Ya got souls to take." The Loa's voice dissipated at that, his mask once again growing inert, and lifeless above the altar.

Safrona at last took the soul crystal from the little 'demon's paws, and Cavu pat her hands in the interim, as if to reassure the warlock.

[damien-ward]

[damien-ward]

Some lovely art of Zeehva done by @hettikovacs

[damien-ward]

How has Damien been these last few years? What's he up to?

Depends on what you mean by these last few years? How far back are we talking? LOL.

But on a more serious note, ICly Damien has been doing much of the same. During the time skip he was living in Stormwind working cases as a detective with a side of vigilante antics on the side (though less so than before) while he took care of his daughter Celina.

As of Dragonflight, Damien met his cousin and uncle via his father's side of the family who he had never met prior. They live in Dalaran and are members of the Kirin Tor. Damien's cousin, Lukas, ended up traveling with Celina and her mother to the Dragon Isles as the ship they live on was sent to give supplies to the Dragonscale Expedition. Meanwhile, Lukas accompanied them as he was heading there on business with the Kirin Tor anyways, and while he was new to the family and effectively a stranger Damien felt more comfortable knowing Lukas was there to protect her being a mage.

Some timey wimey stuff may have happened on accident where Celina and Lukas ended up in an alternate timeline temporarily where she saw Damien's life had Andrea and his mother survived... And Celina got to meet her grandma who she has heard about and seen pictures of.

Then obviously the Reclamation of Gilneas began, and since then Damien has moved back to Gilneas and reclaimed his old home. He has been slowly rebuilding it and dealing with the emotional baggage of being back home over a decade later without his mother or sister.

Thank you for the ask anon!