Tag: Aubraan

Child of Light

digital art portrait of Mirum, blood elf paladin, holding Aubraan, her infant son, upfront of a light-filled window

Here is Mirium and her infant son, Aubraan. This image was inspired by my writing a scene in which Aubraan was nomming on Mirium’s pauldron. Someone said I should draw it, so I did!

Getting the color balance on this one correct made me want to pull out my hair. The background started out as blue, then green, and now purple. I also had to over-saturate the characters’ skin tones so they would pop out properly among the rest of the busy picture.

This is one of the first pictures I attempted adding sun glow and reverse shadows to, too. If you see purple shadows on an object instead of a darker shadow of its normal color, that’s the reverse shadow effect.

If the future, I should probably remind myself to smooth out the shading.

Art-Making Streams!

I have finally figured out how to use OBS Studio! Prepare to see more art streams making their way to the Locals and YouTube FoxFireFiction communities in the near future!

For now, have a partial stream of the clean-up phase of the Mirium Sketch (better title to be determined). Fuller-length streams I plan to include on Locals in the future, for the price of $2 a month. You will also get access to an exclusive fans-and-devs community besides just supporting me to continue more work like this. I hope to see you there!

Locals link: https://foxfirefiction.locals.com/post/1139119/lines-clean-up-mirium-sketch

YouTube link: https://youtu.be/lre60dMZxBA

A Knight’s Purpose

“Are we just both naive?” asked Keelath, a note of forlornity in his voice.
“I suppose you have to be, to want to keep living,” said Mirium. “When we stop striving for something, for anything at all, we die.”

Yes, I looked it up. Forlornity is indeed a word.

Author’s Note

“Sylvanas was sighted in Ardenweald.”

Mirium looked up slowly at his words. Keelath stood in the doorway. There was something about his stance that in a living man would have suggested having run a marathon. A living man would be panting however, holding onto the doorframe like it was the only thing holding him up. Keelath, being undead, didn’t tire, and he didn’t breathe. Still, she could imagine him gripping the doorframe so tight he would have ripped it from the wall if he took a step forwards. Continue reading “A Knight’s Purpose”