wolfandwild

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Lorewalker Cho told me this is what happened actually-

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all rpers when the 11.2 patch hits

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💀 The badass and ever-lovely kaldorei Death Knight, Ary, for Ana!

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Battle Pet Monday - on a Tuesday! Yesterday was super chaotic but don't you worry I didn't forget (okay I forgot a little). I've got this Crimson Mechasaur for you to colour. It's red because it like, killed so many bad guys! It's all their blood! And it's on fire too!

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Painted style for Hinn

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🔮⚔️🔮

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Elanor, my Arathi

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Suddenly, liquid rays brighter than a thousand suns burst from Anduin's fingertips, penetrating the king's body and painting everything in a brilliant yellow glow. The guards gasped and stepped back, shielding their eyes as Varian's entire being was rocked by an influx of pure light. And at the center of it all was Anduin, holding his father close while a vortex of infinite beauty danced between them.

— — Varian Wrynn: Blood of Our Fathers

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tarot commission for @stormandozone 🌟

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A troll and her Loa ♡ Wip/Sketch for Malkarii's annual St. Jude art auction charity event

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Oh yes 💀

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Gwendolyn Luxford for @ Extravagancexo (x) by @holykalamity 💜

Thank you so much!

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Humble Beginnings

Acrona visiting someplace special

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Entarr, my troll-druid

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Commission for Firaves

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The Smoldering Scholar: A Pyromancer’s Departure

Recently, a visual representation of Kron’s likeness has been recovered, created by the talented mortal artisan @scriosart. While our records are typically textual, this piece outstanding quality shall be shown upon the request of my very excited and mayhaps narcistic disciple.

I. The Shaping Beneath the Flame

“Our birthright was fire, not as warmth, but as judgment. And when the mountain grew cold, I left to seek truer embers.”

This record concerns the schism not merely of clans, but of conviction. It is a matter of dwarven history, but also of divergence , not between timelines, but between allegiances. This is the account of Zharrdor Kron, a Dark Iron dwarf who rejected peace with Ironforge, abandoned the Shadowforge regime, and became a principal archivist of the League of E.V.I.L.

I speak not only as a witness of histories forgotten, but as one who sanctioned his early studies in temporal arcana. I am Dremsulos, of the Infinite flight, and master of Zharrdor.

Let us begin where all dwarf-lore fractures: at the War of the Three Hammers.

II. The Fracture of the Hammer

I. Embered Divergence: The Departure of Zharrdor Kron

Long ago, the dwarves of Ironforge were one, a race born of Titan-forged Earthen, now made mortal by the Curse of Flesh. Yet mortality brought not only freedom, but fracture. A series of civil wars and conflicts rose between the three rival clans, and the death of Modimus Anvilmar caused the final conflict that led to these results :

The Bronzebeards won by sheer number and talent, retaining the mountain throne.

The Wildhammers turned skyward, embracing shamanic rites in the heights of Grim Batol.

And the Dark Iron fled in the peaceful Redridge Mountains to the south, led by the sorcerer-king Thaurissan, who sought dominion through arcane might.

Unable to live with his clan's defeat, and driven by ambition and bitter exclusion, Thaurissan launched an assault to claim the throne. His recklessness, however, awakened a force beyond dwarven reckoning, Ragnaros the Firelord, an elemental tyrant bound to primordial flame.

Thus, the Dark Irons traded ambition for servitude. Beneath the earth, Shadowforge City rose, a metropolis of obsidian and chained fire, carved to please a master who demanded only combustion.

It was here that Zharrdor Kron was born, not in freedom, but within ritual, ash, and command.

II. Moira’s Ascension and the Pyromancer in Chains

Zharrdor Kron displayed early aptitude in elemental incantation, particularly in structured pyromancy. His studies favored discipline over spectacle: precision glyphcraft, symmetrical combustion, and geomantic layering. According to his early journals (now archived in League Vault 7-C), he cast his first stable fire ward at age nine. His second spell immolated a cave salamander and required three stonepriests to unbind.

But he never swore to Ragnaros. Even in youth, he regarded the Firelord as a mistake, one made not by gods, but by dwarves reaching beyond their purpose.

Generations later, a curious twist of fate emerged. Moira Thaurissan, daughter of Ironforge’s king, bore a child with the Dark Iron bloodline. Through this union came a political convergence no flame could have predicted: the Dark Iron dwarves joined the Alliance.

To him, diplomacy was simply a colder form of chain, and he saw the capitulation of their people.

He then departed. Alone.

III. Kron of Ash: From Pyromancer to Loremaster

His exodus was not one of rage, but of seeking. Zharrdor wandered abandoned fortresses, collapsed vaults, and forbidden zones sealed by Keepers and kings alike. His aim was no longer elemental conquest, but chronotectonic study, understanding how history fractures, and how truth survives disintegration.

It was during this period that I encountered him. Despite being mortal, he treated time not as a power, but as a text, to be translated, annotated, and preserved. I granted him limited access to pre-collapse timelines, and in return, he organized significant documentation now used by the Infinite archives in filtering corrupted strands.

Eventually, he encountered the League of E.V.I.L., a coalition not of villains, but of archivists, artificers, and dissenters whose moral compass defies alignment. They offered him no throne, no temple, no servitude.

Only ink. Flame. And questions.

He accepted.

He is now the Loremaster of the League, and chief scribe of its deep archives.

III. Embered Legacy, Unshaped Destiny

The tale of the Dark Iron dwarves is a lesson in consequence. Pride breeds rebellion. Rebellion courts power. Power invites corruption.

But not all flames are extinguished by control.

Some, like his, slip through cracks in the mountain and light new fires in forgotten places.

His pen burns as hot as any spell. His records are not meant to comfort. They are meant to endure.

And when next the mountains tremble, the vaults crack, or the Firelord’s name is whispered again, it may be his scrolls that decide who remembers what, and why.

Until then, the fire smolders.

— Dremsulos, Timebinder of the Infinite Flight

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Today is my birthday, and the best present for artist is to reblog their arts!