#warchief

and take my among us show slop too please

oh and my oc rose ( please be kind to them 🥹 )

[ DAY 38 OF POSTING MY ART TO TUMBLR ]

HEY GOODIE GANG!! Got bored so I decided to doodle some Vs. Impostor stuff… This time I gave Jorsawsee’s Jams (more specifically Red Mungus cuz I luv him) some attention! It was really fun just drawing these guys, and I might do more doodles like this…

… Ooooooh, guess we have another Vol’jin but with a bigger size, hmmm?

Always a pleasure to draw my beloved warchief!!! ❤️

How do you stand against despair? ⚔️

Warchief Ghaavrek clawed his way up from filth to dominance among the Scaled Legion Orc clans. Mighty, aggressive, hard of skin and heart, the most numerous tribes of orcs serve the Dragon Broodmother of the Scaled Spires. Warring orc clans all vie for her temporary favor by making offerings of treasures and the heads of kings pillaged from their continual raids across the lands. Those few brave orcs that escape the tyrannical grip of the Broodmother have created lives for themselves in cities across the land and lament the days they were locked in servitude to a force darker than their gray skin. Might Ghaavrek's suffering only create more pain for others?

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Sylvanas Windrunner: Reign Over the Undercity by Jade Gretz

The moon hung low in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the darkened landscape of the Ghostlands. The dense forest of Eversong Woods was shrouded in an unnatural silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. This was Sylvanas Windrunner's domain, a land she had fought tirelessly to protect and rule. But tonight, something felt different. There was a sense of treachery in the air, a whisper of betrayal that gnawed at her mind.

Sylvanas stood on the balcony of Windrunner Spire, her piercing red eyes scanning the horizon. The former Ranger-General of Silvermoon and now the Banshee Queen of the Forsaken, she was a figure of both beauty and terror. Her flowing black cloak billowed in the wind, and her pale skin glowed faintly in the moonlight. She had faced countless enemies and overcome insurmountable odds, but the threat she felt now was one that came from within.

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Sylvanas turned, her expression hardening. "Enter," she commanded.

A dark ranger stepped into the room, her eyes downcast. "My Queen, we have discovered something troubling. A plot against you, orchestrated by someone within our ranks."

Sylvanas's eyes narrowed. "Tell me everything," she demanded, her voice a cold whisper.

The dark ranger bowed her head. "It seems that a faction of the Forsaken, led by a high-ranking officer, has been conspiring to overthrow you. They believe you have led us down a path of destruction and that a new leader is needed to guide our people."

Sylvanas's grip on the balcony railing tightened. Betrayal from her own people was a wound that cut deeper than any enemy's blade. "Who leads this faction?" she asked, her voice deadly calm.

The dark ranger hesitated. "It is Varimathras, my Queen. He has been sowing seeds of dissent among the Forsaken, convincing them that you are unfit to rule."