Greetings, and welcome to this humble submission! This is a commission I had done for me a while ago by the lovely  leftoverautopsyjuice. He’s left FurAffinity, but I would strongly recommend checking out his DeviantArt page, located here!

This upload has been a long time coming, but I never uploaded it to FA for a variety of reasons, one of which being that I wanted to rework the character as a whole - especially after seeing Autopsy’s work on it. It was inspiring. This was originally a character sheet of one character with the ability to transition into different forms, but I’ve reworked them into two separate characters.

For those curious about The Conquest: The story is technically complete, but needs editing. Expect it later today once I've gotten some sleep.

I put the most work into Azenyth’s backstory, so I hope you enjoy!

Wen, the Wendigo
Yes, not a very original name, I know - but he’s not a very original guy. Initially a human being kept captive by his own brother, he was one of the first of humanity’s attempts to actively take advantage of the curse of the Wendigo. He was force-fed human meat in a sick ritual, one that backfired horribly. Everyone involved were slaughtered, and the only trace left of Wen were reports of a Wendigo being spotted trailing to the south, spotted with blood.

Wen, however, eventually came back to himself. When faced with his monstrous self killing and eating an innocent, his humanity shone through, forcing back his control on the hungry beast. This one act changed the nature of his curse, as per the rules that gave him his form, giving him the ability to return to a human form at will. That human form, however, remains marked.

Azenyth, the Guardian
Hoo boy, this one’s a big one.

The Upper Planes were a cluster of realms, each one layered atop the other. They existed just a step the realm of the mortals - that which humanity refers to as the Universe. In the lowest of the Upper Planes there lay a sea of darkness, and in the middle of that sea…

Well, in the middle was a kingdom composed of pure light. Within it, the Astrals strode. They were creatures of light and purity, and never once had they had to worry about the darkness that surrounded them. They were safe, after all.

But alas, as all mythologies usually go, they were not.

Azenyth was born during a storm amidst the sea, a shuttering darkness causing a fluctuation in the magic involved in his creation. That day, for the first time, the Upper Planes saw the birth of a creature of darkness rather than a being of light. Within him, a storm raged - a thermonuclear reaction that created the dark matter that comprised his very form.

Before the Astrals’ very eyes, the floors and walls of their magnificent city began to break down around Azenyth, his very presence somehow destabilizing the matter that made their world. Fearing the unknown, they made no attempt to help or heal; his very presence was a risk to them, and so they threw him out into the sea and left him for dead.

A figure of darkness, however, could not be killed by such a thing. Azenyth did not die. He grew, as decades passed, then centuries - not only in strength, but also in hatred.

He remembered, and he hurt from being so cruelly abandoned. That hurt turned into anger as time passed. That anger twisted, turned slowly into hate, and so a man that might have been good resolved to pour all of his strength into destroying the ones who had wronged him.

And he did. The Astrals were unprepared for Azenyth’s sheer power; he had grown too much in his time alone. The residual energy rose from his body like smoke and formed into creatures of smoke and darkness, insubstantial yet corrupting the kingdom with their very touch. The Astrals stood no chance against him, and would have fallen like dust before the wind if not for a single little girl.

It was far easier to hate a concept than it was to hate a person. Azenyth hated the Astrals with all his heart, but in his hatred he had never considered that his enemy was more than a vague ideal, more than just the people who abandoned him.

When they caught up to him, they found that Azenyth had stopped his rampage. He had fallen to his knees in front of the little girl he’d seen, and made no attempt to resist his capture.

Nothing they did could kill Azenyth, so they banished him instead. Not to the sea of darkness, but outside of the Upper Planes themselves - into the Universe. He would protect the gates to the Upper Planes, they declared. The Astrals threw chains around him with spells more complex than could be imagined; with them, his very existence was locked to these gates. He would be bound to protect them, and he did so willingly, for he knew he deserved it for what he had wrought.

Over time, as the centuries passed, the Astrals forgot why Azenyth had been placed there, why he was serving his sentence. He became their protector, a figure to be revered rather than feared; they saw him as their guardian, a power that had been protecting them for an eternity. Azenyth did not have it in his heart to correct them, and for the first time, he saw companionship.

Astrals would project themselves out of the Upper Realms just to get the chance to talk to him and get his advice, and though his wisdom was not infinite, he had learned over the years. He gave the best he could, and the kingdom prospered under his guidance. Through this, Azenyth finally learned what it was to have companions, for there were many that returned to see him and speak with him - and it was in this way that the creature of darkness found his purpose.

Tragedy struck then, as it always does. A cosmic event shook everything that existed, tearing through the realms of existence. It rippled from above, tearing through each realm of the Upper Planes. By the time it reached the home of the Astrals, it was barely a speck, and they might have survived had it not touched the very center of their home.

The kingdom of light sank beneath the waves of darkness.

It was barely a whisper when it made it out of the gates that Azenyth guarded, but he understood what had happened nonetheless. The chains that held him fell away, and he caught them, staring for a moment. He knew what it meant - he would only have been released if the kingdom had been destroyed - but found he could not believe it.

Yet days turned into months, and months into years, and not a single visitor came.

For a long time, he stayed where he was. Azenyth guarded an empty ruin, not knowing what else to do. It was a lonely existence, but one he felt he deserved; he even kept the ruined chains on him as a memory of what he had defended.

One day, however, a shooting star passed. Azenyth glanced for one final time at the gates he had defended for millennia and let out a sigh, a cloud of astral smoke blowing out. Perhaps it was time to find something new.

With that, he left.