❧ 𝔗𝔴𝔬 𝔬𝔣 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 (...) ❣

→ Click here to see my Art Fight profile! ←

Updated my fursona's reference sheet, with the intention of including more unique design nuances and detail than the previous reference sheet I made adequately communicated. I find I'm gradually improving at drawing anthro characters again, after having long since done so in a manner I found satisfying. 🐾

Cilas-Galorn indulging in some much-deserved downtime at his residence in Whiterun, after... you know, saving the world, and all.

Born to two well-off noble folk in the Cyrodiilic Imperial City, from birth Nerys was rarely, if ever, left or made to want; having had every essential and non-essential at her disposal long before she could so much as string words together, developing into an irrefutable vanity by early adulthood, born not of insecurity but of self-regard. Between fine Elsweyran jewelry and finer imported silks, Nerys at one point was by no means a stranger to even the most delicate splendor. However, Nerys's own desire for finery would lead to be her undoing, as she's discovered lifting a particular item right from beneath a tailor's nose, promptly pursued by Imperial guards and subject to one hundred days in the slammer. Having swiftly been disowned and shamed by her parents and having lost access to her amenities throughout the duration of her sentence, Nerys felt as though her life had been forfeit, despite knowing she'd inevitably serve her sentence. Though, one fateful night in her cell, approached by none other than Emperor Uriel Septim VII himself, she is informed of her fate, and furthermore, is provided a new lease on life dissimilar to that which she was thrust out of. Between the incumbent death of the Emperor, the threat beyond the gates of Oblivion, and locating the late Emperor's bastard heir, Nerys slowly comes to discover that perhaps her perspective was long ill-intended.

The devout son of a religious family of Russian nationals, who sought immigration to the United States as a means to escape their homeland's state atheism and the Iron Wall which had erected at the time, Viktor remained able to maintain both his culture and his faith despite being raised in a country dissimilar to that of his ancestors. But, what was once a stress-free life of priesthood soon turned to chaos and tragedy, as his home — as well as the rest of the world — turned to ash at the height of the Great War of 2077, leaving his family in a state of disarray. In a state of increased distress, and after having lost track of his family in the midst of the chaos, Viktor flees to a nearby holy temple for physical and emotional security; praying for God to grant him with a swift, painless death, unlike the many who had perished from radioactive fallout or succumbed to their wounds. But, in his attempts to stave away the desire to take matters into his own hands, Viktor finds that God has different plans for him...

Awakening with the effigies of their likeness and a cryptic ceremonial wedding beneath the unforgiving crust of Red Mountain, a starry-eyed Dunmer finding themselves traversing across the Pryai River is not proferred even the slightest context as to their existence upon gaining consciousness deep within the hull of a prison barge, which has set out for the humble city of Seyda Neen on Vvardenfell; as unfamiliar to them as their very presence on Nirn. With not even a mere Septim in their possession, equally as such they find themselves struggling to parse what exactly had been the name to which such scarce wealth would have belonged. Only upon propositioned as to their identity do they wrestle together a coherent response: Neht, the Daedric pronunciation of the letter N. Naught had they known their attachment to the consonant, but little had Neht known they were bound to become bound up within a bizarre prophecy that would give more stock to their name than they could possibly imagine.

Born to a Wood Elf/Bosmer mother and a High Elf/Altmer father in Thalmor-occupied Valenwood, Cilas-Galorn was forced to reckon with the heavy absence of his patriarch since his youth; the weight of which bore more adamantly upon him than the fear and paranoia the concurrent coup surrounding every facet of his life did. Later in life, at the insistence of his mother, he left Valenwood to travel northwards to the province of Skyrim, but unfortunately was accosted by Imperials on his way through Cyrodiil. After promptly being beaten and tortured at the hands of the Thalmor, he is abducted and taken via horse-drawn carriage to the small, wartorn town of Helgen to be executed. But before anyone else's heads could roll, Cilas-Galorn's unlawful execution was interrupted by none other than the World Eater. Now having escaped the brush of death by a mere hair, a frazzled Cilas-Galorn is now tasked to find his place within the foreign, unfamiliar landscape of Skyrim, and to navigate the unstable political climate the region boasts.

Originating out of a remote islandic village off the coast of Sheogorad, Merynd's world is abruptly turned inside-out as he, alongside other innocent mortals, are promptly round up to be sacrificed to the Daedric Prince, Molag Bal, at the hands of Mannimarco's Worm Cult. However, upon meeting the elusive man known simply as the Prophet deep in the bowels of the Wailing Prison, Merynd is offered a new, albeit esoteric lease on life... if only to put an end to Mannimarco's thrall with the aid of his to-be companions.

Little self-indulgent Teldryn blurb, along with an unpublished sketch I made of him earlier this year. 🍄🔥💜 He's smoldering...