mad-salesman

[mad-salesman]

One shudders to think what in-sheep-ish thoughts lie behind those eyes. What dreams of chronic and sustained cruelty...

I may be on hiatus but that won't stop me from drawing demonic little critters from the depths of hell, look at it's evilness, what foul things go through its mind I wonder

[mad-salesman]

Oh look, it's me

that ‘pakige?’ post but me, a couple hours after posting a fic, like ‘comints?’

[mad-salesman]

Gave Forneus what I thought was a half-solid intro, and turned around 5 minutes later and wrote Narinder the cringiest line I've ever written lol

...before quirking one corner of her mouth up into something more mischievous accompanied by a quick wink. Fortunately, the opening of Narinder's third eye took enough of the missionaries' attention that they failed to wonder what had caught his interest in the first place. Speaker's head pulled back enough that his features became slightly visible within the hood. Some sort of dog, anything more than that was too difficult to decipher. His surprise, though, that was evident in his voice. "You! You're... you're dead!" "So very close," Narinder purred, his mouth slowly curling into a grin and his right hand sliding Marsh's hand axe from his belt. "But no, I am not 'dead'." He tensed one leg for a leap. "I am death."

I wasn't 100% sure how to introduce one of the leading ladies of Mirrors of the Ancients, but I think this isn't too bad.

An interesting take on the story, thought the former god of death. He scanned an impassive look over the other five individuals behind Speaker. Five? Standing behind the missionaries was a dark shape, short and broad. A female cat, black as a moonless night, clad in a blood red tunic. Around her neck was an ornate golden skull pendant. Her right hand gripped the haft of a twin-bladed axe that looked as ancient as Narinder felt, strong muscles standing out in readiness to fight. She looked at him with a gentle smile that made pain nothing but a background sensation, before quirking one corner of her mouth up into something more mischievous accompanied by a quick wink.

[mad-salesman]

I wasn't 100% sure how to introduce one of the leading ladies of Mirrors of the Ancients, but I think this isn't too bad.

An interesting take on the story, thought the former god of death. He scanned an impassive look over the other five individuals behind Speaker. Five? Standing behind the missionaries was a dark shape, short and broad. A female cat, black as a moonless night, clad in a blood red tunic. Around her neck was an ornate golden skull pendant. Her right hand gripped the haft of a twin-bladed axe that looked as ancient as Narinder felt, strong muscles standing out in readiness to fight. She looked at him with a gentle smile that made pain nothing but a background sensation, before quirking one corner of her mouth up into something more mischievous accompanied by a quick wink.

[mad-salesman]

Wanted to share this on it's own. Check the previous RB for @dogiperson's lovely half of the heart! ❣️

[mad-salesman]

Narinder ensuring his dinner is warmed up nicely.

Sharing my references/inspiration! :)

[mad-salesman]

Working on a set of cotl illustrations because i am Ill (metaphorically now) and I really like how the color comps came out

[mad-salesman]

I wonder where the spies come from in the game miau miau mi miau

Part 1 - part 2 - part ???

[mad-salesman]

HAPPY NEW YEAR🎉🎊 HERE'S YOUR CAT IN PAIN

I got a lot of asks about Narinder's resurrection. At first I planned to do only one page, maybe two, and put the rest in the description. But as I said a few times, I'm not good at writing, I feel much more comfortable in making comics. And there'll be more parts for sure, because I couldn't sleep one night so I was thinking and planning the rest of the plot

I HOPE YOU LIKE IT because it took me some time FVFHNDFB

[mad-salesman]

A while back, I got obsessed with a few different analog horror series, and started writing randomly with a bit of a plan. I've got a love of found footage series, so I settled on a "found documents" format for the story. Each chapter is a short document or snippet. There's just a few so far. I figured I should put them up somewhere.

Better Left Buried (3959 words) by mad_salesman Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Original Work Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Original Characters, Historical Character(s) Additional Tags: Alternate History, Document Collection Summary:

A group of people, scattered over decades, work to uncover a series of events set in motion by the nuclear testing of Project Plowshare in 1962.

[mad-salesman]

"Come closer. Fear not, for though you are already dead, I still have need of you."

[mad-salesman]

took a little more than five minutes but ok i got it out of my system

[mad-salesman]

A quick new year's story to try breaking the writer's block.

AO3 link: Musings, Chapter 05: New Year, New Narinder?

1st day of spring, year 98

Ayna left the temple at first light, finding the new year's first dawn cool, but promising warmth and new growth. They set their sights on the lone cabin across the farmland and smiled. The first day of spring seemed like a perfect time to annoy a certain cat at the earliest opportunity.

As they reached the near edge of Majul's farms, a rhythmic thunk, thunk, thunk, caught their ear. It seemed to be coming from behind Narinder's house. Squinting, Ayna crouched a bit and moved as quietly as they were able toward the cabin's front door. The lamb was just congratulating themself on their improved sneaking, when a glance through the front window revealed Aym and Baal staring out at them. Ayna froze in place and raised a single finger in front of their mouth, eliciting a smirk and raised eyebrow from Baal, and an obvious eye roll from Aym.

Moving around the cabin, the lamb eased their head past the corner to see the back yard. Their least favorite cat had worked hard to update the back yard. Narinder stood in a sand pit eight long strides across, ringed by eight posts, each about a hand's span thick and wrapped with rope. Training sword in hand, he moved randomly from one post to another, striking it once, then practicing a block or parry before stepping across to another post. Every ten strikes or so, he would spit, "Faster!", in a voice deeper and more gravelly than his own, then pick up the pace for the next set of targets. Soon, he was flying back and forth across the central space, landing only long enough to strike before darting away again.

Narinder was halfway through a set of strikes when he chose to let Ayna know they'd been spotted. He jumped away, struck the furthest post from their hiding spot. He flew to the left side from the lamb's point of view, but instead of striking, he pivoted as soon as his paw hit the dirt and lunged toward them, wooden sword held high for a hard swing upon landing. His face was locked into a murderous smile. Ayna jumped sideways to get out of range and summoned the Red Crown to their hand, only to hear the damn cat start cackling as his paws touched earth.

Their was a short standoff while the god of death glared at their predecessor before releasing the Crown. "Really? Just couldn't help yourself, huh?"

"Oh hells, no," the cat sighed as he brought his laughter under control. "I am sorry, you just always look so surprised when you get caught."

Ayna glared at him. "Well, I keep thinking I'm getting better. But you just continue picking increasingly violent ways to tell me I'm wrong."

"You are getting better," Narinder said as he fell back into his typical glower, "but you're a long way from having enough practice to sneak up on me. Not that the hooves help." He glanced pointedly down, and Ayna followed his gaze to see that their right hoof had kicked a small stone and rolled it over. The cat recaptured their attention. "Anyway, I was hoping you'd wander over today."

That brought Ayna's head snapping back up, and the lamb gave him their most suspicious look. "You do know how to make a sheep feel threatened. Why were you hoping I'd show up?"

Narinder bared all his fangs in the quick grin that elicited, but it was gone a second later. He waved his hand to the circle of posts. "You have been asking me to teach you to fight properly for two seasons now. Consider me willing to teach, if you are willing to learn." All three eyes bored into their own. "Are you?"

***

"Enough. Time for lunch." Ayna staggered to a halt in the center of the training ring as fast as they could process Narinder's words. He'd been calling out a mix of compass directions and commands for four hours, giving them just a few breaks for a quick drink. Every compass direction meant one of the posts they had to run to and strike, and any command that followed was what to do afterwards. Sometimes he had them return to the middle and spin, checking all directions for threats. Other times, they'd have to practice blocking, reacting to whatever direction the cat called out at the last second. Water breaks had been a blessing and a curse, since every time they were allowed to drink, they also had to listen to him explain a new exercise he would be adding.

The lamb found a seat on the sand. "Hooray."

Narinder gave them a wide grin. "That was, without a doubt, the single most dejected 'hooray' I have ever heard." Ayna decided laying was better than sitting. "It's all you're getting. So what's for lunch?"

"Roast goat," Aym answered. Ayna raised their head to glare at him. "Number one, I'm very glad your voice recovered after resurrection, or that would have been even creepier. Number two, you're taking lessons in comedy from the absolute worst teacher." The young cat winked as he placed a tray with tea, bread, and preserved fruits next to them. "What makes you think he's taught me anything?"

"Indeed, I was never known as The One Who Laughs. I expect it to have been at least three millennia since my last moment of joy." Narinder's reply was so deadpan and miserable that Ayna felt a tug at their heartstrings, before remembering his greeting from a few hours ago. Aym walked back to the cabin laughing as the lamb made a series of the rudest gestures they could manage in the elder cat's general direction.

Several quiet minutes passed as the two deities ate. Ayna broke the silence as they neared the end of their food. "I admit, I was expecting your training to involve a lot more beating the hell out of me." He gave them the barest hint of a smile. "Not that the thought did not occur to me, but I am supposed to be teaching you, not punishing you."

"Fair enough. Hey, question. Who were you imitating this morning?" Narinder raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "When I first got here, you'd say 'faster' every time you sped up. It wasn't your voice, too low and too growly. So I figured you were imitating someone else."

The cat's face fell to something gloomier than usual. "The one who taught me to fight. Chorel was his name. I did not realize I was using his voice." He stood up suddenly, and started carrying his plate and cup back to the cabin, the Green Crown floating after him to catch up. "We are done for today."

Ayna watched him go, knowing better than to try combating his sudden mood swing. They'd take the day as the new year miracle it had been. Narinder had actually revealed a whole two sentences about his past, and he'd spent the morning being... nice?

"Maybe it's just the season."

[mad-salesman]

Old Troubles character profile: Narinder

Art by: @parememi (thank you so much!)

Calm under pressure in the moment, but highly emotional and a bit unstable under a constant mask of competence and a consummate resting bitch face, Narinder remained the most mortal of the Bishops.

Biological age: 32

Actual age: 8,834

Height: 7' 3" (221 cm)

Weight: 265 lbs (120 kg)

Coat style: Short fur, consistent mix of 95% dark gray / 3% black / 2% light gray

Vocal style: Baritone, lightly raspy/growly, mixture of British and Egyptian accents

Favorite weapon: long knife (preferably curved, single-edged)

Born far to the southeast of the Lands of the Old Faith, Narinder was a hot-headed wanderer who left his home to see the outside world as a teenager. Captured by slavers in his mid-twenties, he was eventually taken to the city of Kolo Mala and purchased by a human to be trained as a gladiator.

Two years of constant training and fighting in the arena, along with compulsory service to the city military, left Narinder scarred physically and mentally, but turned him into a patient force of nature in combat. He had a single friend, and later lover, who kept his violent temper contained during this time. Her death during the later escape from Kolo Mala sent Narinder down a millennia long mental spiral, hidden beneath his carefully constructed outer shell.

As part of maintaining his self-control, Narinder continued the strict gladiator training regimen, extending it with constant practice with curses and magic. Thousands of years of grueling work led to him being more than a match for the other four Bishops when their confrontation came. While Shamura had intended his death, she was forced to settle for chaining him in the afterlife.

Following his downfall and resurrection, the former god of death is having a problem maintaining that shell. He's finding himself prone to sudden, violent mood swings and bouts of near-insanity. And he just can't decide yet whether to blame himself, or that damned lamb.

[mad-salesman]

Hey bro just a heads up because someone gave me one ages ago when I first joined Tumblr;

I just wanted to say that you should get a profile picture. Literally just anything so it's not the default Tumblr thingy because a lot of people just see that and assume it's a bot account. Just so people know you're a person and don't discard the things you make or say :)

That's all, take care! <3

Hey, thanks Joffy. Let's not talk about it taking me a month to break out my shitey art abilities and make something lol.

The first time I saw the sprite for the Mystic Seller, I didn't see an angel, but a being made of darkness in a deep hooded cloak.

So that's what they've become in my AU, a race of elder beings that control the Crowns and their powers, largely for their own amusement.

[mad-salesman]

Sabrinder the Teenage Reaper... Heheh

Thanks to everyone who likes saber Narinder it makes me happy

[mad-salesman]

Joffy with the 1 minute reblog, sheepus

A lil redraw of one of my first cotl comics, can't believe these satanic sillies have kept me drawing them for a year, praise the Lamb

Original comic---> Warning old art