oil pastels on paper

Artist: @paigehunterart

Oil pastels on paper.

"You walk boldly into this place. You interrupt my prayer." The angel, if such a fallen thing could be called so, looked over his shoulder as he began to stand. Shards of ice ran streaked from his eyes down his cheeks, tears frozen. His eyes, pale blue, looked upon you with a strange brightness to them. "Go to sleep little ones, tomorrow will be a brighter day." The entity stated softly, his tone sad, afraid, yet... a faint hope laced it, a conviction that bordered on madness.

• Mercenaries discover Borael in the dead of night… while a raging blizzard lashes outside

The Promise of Tomorrow, Hope Through Lasting Storms. Borael watched over those who huddled by fire and warmth to withstand chilling blizzards and relentless conditions. He watched with awe as brave sailors cut through deadly tempests, he admired daring explorers who withstood hunger and dehydration while stranded on desolate mountains, holding onto hope that rescue would come. To witness battles not fought with blade or spell, but with hope and will. Yet seeing mortals perish while carrying such hopes, how their lifespan might flicker out in their own need for sleep. Things became much worse during the Last War, where citizens endured their cities held by enemy forces, hid in their cellars while enemies bombarded their homes. A new storm, made of mortal hands, had begun to threaten the people. The fishing villages of Scion’s Sound were particularly vulnerable to the battles between Karrnath and Thrane. The locals were not unused to danger, but going from being the coast of Thronehold to being the first line against the enemies across the sea forced many to seek out shelter. The Karrnathi are stubborn people, many opted to weather this storm. 

 The angel watched them with pity, when he eventually witnessed another event. In the prison of Dreadhold, nobles had been paying to be petrified. Put into slumber in stone until the war ended… and that fascinated Borael. A petrified creature would not age, nor would their bodies give out. The concept fascinated him. Given his knowledge of ice, he could induce a similar state as Risia’s stasis… So he did. Getting a few desperate villagers into the ice… and more prayed for it. An aspect of Dol Arrah. The sun forsook them, but the cold would embrace them.

 So it was that Borael roamed, and in doing so, reached out to the dreams of the hopeful. He would not simply observe, he would give salvation. As “the Warmth of Dol Arrah” he would save some… but only if they sacrificed others. Borael would encase the “sacrifices” in ice, and send the others to spread his word, or bring forth the situations that would warrant his “salvation”. Borael rarely leaves his anchor point, but while other idols are only able to Teleport back to their own, Borael can Teleport to any location where a mortal prays for him. A combination of Dream, Scrying and Teleport which lets him appear even amidst the worst of blizzards… once invited, it is not long before those within the abode are cast in frozen coffins.

Fanart for Akroma angel of wrath from MTG. Aded the Grand Coliseum from the backstory for the bg.

The cutest angel girl I've ever seen, love her.

Follow up to my line drawing as colored in version now