#Osyras

[mineral-vulture]

Attack for ChaosTeeth featuring Osyras!

[rrr-nightingale]

Aurellio's portrait [digital sketch]

Aurellio is one my favourite Discovery characters. His trust in Osyra was maybe naive but definitely not ill-intentioned. When he realised how far she was ready to go, he felt betrayed. Sometimes people are unable to see the whole picture, and I think it's plausible and relatable. I'm very glad Aurellio got hired by Starfleet after S3 finale and I'm sure he's going to have a splendid career and do a lot of good for the Federation :)

It's also my favourite role of Kenneth Mitchell in Discovery, he's done an amazing job!

Made for @startrekdiscoverycelebration Sept. 20: season 3.

[thrymma]

Osyra - First of Autumn - 1241

   Dartura is to be named our Revered Lady in three days time. After finding her so deep in her misery, I had lost all hope of her taking the coveted seat. The very next morning she had surprised me. She had risen and dressed in her finest gowns before I had even awakened. She had ordered me to call for her transport right away, as we were to set out on a campaign like no other. I asked only once about the child and she had simply stated it was none of my concern, and it was the business of no one outside of her chambers. There had been no bitterness in her voice, but her gaze had seemed to fall far away from where we stood. 

    We silently agreed to put it aside for the time being and had put ourselves to work to put together this campaign. Many oxen were packed with home goods, clothing, books, foods, and much of Dartura's own wealth to share with her peoples in need. She spoke with every soul that would want for her attention. She had tasked two chroniclers from the Living Library to join in our travels, much to their annoyance, to record all the complaints given by the peoples. Both had their own complaints about the waste of paper and ink for such irrelevant whining, believing history to be the only matter of importance. But do they not see? History was being made before their very eyes. 

   Dartura captured the heart of every elf she encountered. Her voice rang out over every crossroads, village, and market center. She spoke of a new era and openly condemned the previous administration for their neglect. She had personally handed out dozens and dozens of care packages and coin purses, She had shared her feasts at every tavern as we traveled across the expanse of the Kaelymno borders. My admiration for her grew with every passing day. Never before had any person of import set themselves among the common and the laborers and offered their undivided attention and also backed it up with support. She was magnificent, holding the audience of every packed inn and market center, where she sat promising a better future.

   All the while she had cleverly hidden the swelling of her belly. Dully colored, flowing gowns and long shawls and cloaks did the trick. She never once mentioned it to me or her chambermaids. I can only hope beyond hope that no one had noticed. I have been ill at ease, despite the wonderment of this successful campaigning. I wish she would share with me even an inkling of her plans to deal with the coming of a bastard child just as she is to be coronated and sat in the seat of the most renown. I sit and plan her celebrations and worry it will all be for nothing.

[michellerakar]

Here’s my digital sketchbook page from May! It was a super busy month but I managed to get some digital drawings done regardless.

[candyheartdoe]

Okay but idk if I’ll be able to take it if Paul hates Michael forever. Like I get it but that’s gonna fuck me up

But side note!!!! I really liked s3 that was super good, so so good. sorry unpopular opinion but I really love this show but anyway OHH MY GOODNESS I have so much to say!!

The Georgiou arc!!! I already yelled about that a lot but it was incredible. Just amazing. I still can’t believe I’m gonna say I’ll miss her- but I will!- but I’m real satisfied with that “end”. a mirrorverse spinoff with her would be fucking rad though.

Saru!!! had so much character development which was so neat!! The interactions he had with the Kelpian Elder holo- god I cried when he listened to the lullaby, when the holo Elder pet his head like a child, when he in turn sang the lullaby to Su’Kal. I melted. They both deserve good things.

Adira!!! Gray!!! And Paul and Hugh’s adopting Adira!!! And Hugh getting to meet Gray in the holo program!!!! And Gray crying when Hugh hugged him omg. Yes physical contact yes being seen. Yes being terrified to return to being invisible and non-corporeal 🥲. And Adira making their pronouns known with Paul!! But only when Paul was the only one in the room! And Paul smiling and saying “Okay.” How freaking cute and kind and Real was that?? I can only assume Paul communicated this in some way to the rest of the Discovery family because they all refer to Adira as they/them from that point forward. Anyway these two characters—— these FOUR characters are everything to me (please don’t hate Michael forever I can’t take it)

On that note- MICHAEL’S ARC!!!!!!! God how do I even put that in words? Idk!! Help!!! Honestly I almost want to rewatch the whole show before diving into s4 with her as Captain. She fucking deserves it and I want to see it all over again. But that year!! That missing year of no crew no starfleet no guidelines- just no attachments? That was major for her growth. And yea, yea! She grew back into starfleet but she was better for it. I think I yelled about that a bunch more as I watched it so that’s all I got. Also can I just say? That entire last two episodes? Hoooooooly shit she’s the most badass character I’ve ever ever seen probably. Like holy cow she gets shit done and she is so goddamn clever and quick (did you see her jump that first Regulator? No you didn’t! Neither did he! She was a fucking BLUR and hit that man like A WALL)

Speaking of badasses, SYLVIA TILLY OH ACTING CAPTAIN MY CAPTAIN she deserves the fucking world and a starship of her own. Oh my goodness I almost wish she hadn’t been so quick to hand command over to Michael when they all retook the ship. She was awesome, she was so badass in communications with Osyra and don’t get me started on her own plans even before they were able to communicate with/hear Michael. Also- the morse code bit? The fake argument to overtake the Regulators? “What were you saying?” “I was telling him to keep tapping” slayed me.

I’m out of steam here and this is long. I’ll probably add more later since I didn’t even mention Book yet. Book!!!!!!! And his Queen Grudge!! (Okay but really he’s great and not just because of his giant cat Queen Grudge —also I want you to know that my phone capitalized that on it’s own. Respect Her.)

[milaswriting]

Not exactly related to your blog, so I hope this is okay to ask - Do you know of any good blogs for Black photography and such (like the hands post)?

It’s completely okay! I like seeing black photography myself, here are a few — I hope these blogs fit what you’re looking for (just take out the ‘/‘ when you search the blogs):

@/angelxessentials (<- some posts are nsfw), @/oasiswanderer, @/the-sky-loves-you, @/hydrangeasandtattoos, @/thecoloursofcolour & @/osyra

[darkspear-dancers]

Troll babe aesthetic on point.

[ I don’t think I can emphasize this enough - I live for the troll babe aesthetic. (Art by MrRockadopolis and Osyra respectively!) ]

[ampleappleamble]

---

"...Did I fuck this up?"

Edér looked up from his whittling, focusing his good eye on the little woman. The other eye was still swollen shut, shiny and painful from their fight against his late Lord, but with some rest and the help of Raedric's priests-- Kolsc's priests, now-- he and the rest of his friends would be good as new for the trek back to Caed Nua tomorrow.

"Ain't too many ways I can think of to fuck up killin' a terrible murderin' bastard like Raedric," he mumbled around his mouthful of smoke, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Unless y' think we didn't kill him enough, or somethin'."

Axa's lips smiled, but the rest of her face did not follow suit. Her party was spending the night in a corner of the Berathian priests' sleeping quarters in Raedric's sanctuary, and she sat on her borrowed bed gently rocking to and fro, her knees drawn up to her chest, her sharp little nails worrying tiny holes in her trousers.

"The Legacy makes men mad. Perhaps it does worse to women. I do not know." Raedric had looked Axa over, then, had glanced toward his bedchamber where his own wife lay dead in their marital bed--

"No, we killed him exactly the right amount, I think." The smile was already gone, soundly quashed by the memory. "I just... feel like I may have acted in haste here. Like there's something I'm missing about all this that's going to bite me in the ass later, when I least expect it." She pressed her chin into her knees, curling up as tightly into herself as she could.

--if i make myself small enough i can just hide away from all this and no one will see me--

Kana chuckled, idly leafing through a massive tome that dwarfed even his sizable lap as he reclined in the worn armchair next to Axa's bed. "Yes, it is a rough sea, the world of the ruling class! So many nerve-wracking social calculations to make, always looking over one's shoulder... The political alliances to take into account, then the family alliances... But even the Ranga Nui himself and his own son are at ideological odds! And if you're discovered as a fair-weather friend, paying lip service to either or both--"

"I think," Aloth interrupted, "perhaps, that you've made your point, Kana." The elf was just as irritable now as he had been the morning that old drunk had showed up at Caed Nua, and his half-healed broken rib was not helping to improve his mood.

And now the in-fighting begins in the Lady of Caed Nua's inner circle. Axa felt her guts redouble their efforts to destroy themselves, anxiety churning inside her like acid. "Gods, I'm ill-suited for this politicking horseshit. Why did I think I could do this? I'm Ixamitli, we don't... nobody 'owns' the land, that's not how--"

"Oh, don't get me wrong!" Kana pressed on, seemingly oblivious to Aloth's peevish attitude. "Just as hard lands forge strong people, rough seas often yield great rewards. For instance, when we return to Caed Nua on the morrow, we can look forward to seeing your Brighthollow manse restored to its former beauty and prestige! Well, in part, anyway. All because of your actions here today and Kolsc's gratitude!"

"And even if you weren't gettin' somethin' out of it," Edér added, "you're the kinda lady can't rest without knowing you did the best thing y' could. Point being, y' had to do something, long-term consequences be damned. And like I said earlier, if y' have to do something, it's hard to go wrong with killing a mass-murdering shitheel like Raedric. No matter how bad Kolsc might turn out to be, better him than what we had goin' on before." He casually brushed the wood shavings from his lap, either ignoring or unaware of the annoyed glares and whispers from the priests in the room.

Axa glanced across the room at Aloth, who simply lay on his back in his bed in the corner, eyes screwed shut, his grimoire too heavy to hold in his lap without irritating his wounds. "Maybe," she sighed, lifting her head from her knees, "I should just hire on an advisor. Someone who actually knows what they're doing, to help me navigate these choppy waters." Her gaze flicked to Kana, a wicked little grin popping up on her face. "You know anyone who needs a job?"

The aumaua laughed, a thunderous noise that filled the small room. "Everyone I know is either in this room or in Rauatai, my friend! But I take your meaning. However, my own experience with the gentry is limited to the court of the Ranga Nui, a profoundly different environment from the one in which you find yourself, so I'm afraid I'd be more of a hindrance than a boon. And--" He glanced over at Edér, his smile half apologetic and half cheeky-- "I hope he'll forgive me for saying so, but our Edér doesn't seem like the sort to hobnob with the nobility."

The folk man snorted. "What tipped y' off?"

"That leaves you, Aloth," Kana continued, smiling in the elf's direction. "If I recall, you were raised among the gentry in Aedyr, were you not? That's a bit closer to the political system and aristocratic power structure here; any insight you have into that world would surely be invaluable to our Watcher. You're qualified, intelligent, you're clearly quite learned, you're... capable in battle. Why, you even came to the Dyrwood with the express purpose of finding a patron!" He was getting excited now, leaning forward in his seat, gesticulating passionately. "And here she is! What marvelous serendipity!"

Axa couldn't help but be charmed by Kana's enthusiasm, and she appreciated his effort to lift the wizard's spirits. "That's not a bad idea, actually. What say, Aloth?" She couldn't see his face from where he lay, but she could see his ears were bright red.

Not a fan of being the center of attention, I see. She felt a sudden surge of sympathy and warmth towards the man, and found her own ears reddening soon thereafter.

"I wouldn't take the gig 'f I were you. She can't even pay you, 's what I heard." Edér winked at her, taking his attention away from his whittling for just a second, then hissed with pain and surprise as his knife slipped.

Kana shook his head, his grin as wide as ever as he regarded the farmer with pity. "O, poor man! He who thinks coin is the sole and lone benefit of working for a prestigious, powerful woman like our Watcher! The true rewards of such a vocation are not in material wealth, my friend, but in the challenge! Rebuilding the glorious Caed Nua from the crumbling ruins... The intrigue of the political world of the Dyrwood... the tension, the drama... not to mention the treasure trove of ancient Engwithan secrets just waiting to be discovered in the Endless Paths!" He sighed like a lovestruck maiden telling her friends of her handsome beau. "Ah! I'm so envious. Were I more well-suited to the position, I'd have accepted her first offer in an instant! As it is, it seems I'll have to settle for hired muscle. Either way, I couldn't ask for a finer directress!" Now Axa's entire face was getting warm, and she found herself unable to look at Kana, although she could feel his eyes on her, his smile, warming her like gentle spring sunlight.

"Aye, I wager ye'd leap at a position 'neath 'er, slick-a-britches."

Aloth very quickly clapped a hand over his open mouth-- the loud pop! filling the little room-- and then came the long, shuddering groan of pain muffled behind his fingers, the sudden movement having yanked at his sore ribs.

Axa immediately flopped over onto her side, laughing like Hel, unable to stop herself. Edér's eyebrows leapt up his forehead, surprise and delight clear on his face, his wounded thumb stuck firmly in his mouth.

"...She seems impressed. I think you've got the job, my friend!" Kana chuckled, flipping to a new page in his gigantic book. He paused, considering, and then leaned forward in his seat, cocking his head with curiosity. "...Did you say 'slick-a-britches'?"

"No. I didn't. I said nothing." The elf's voice was quiet and short and clipped. "I'm in immense pain and I'm speaking complete and utter idiotic meaningless nonsense. ...Can we please talk about anything else." Axa was still giggling, tip of her tongue sticking out between her front teeth. He squirmed with embarrassment, and it hurt.

"As you say. How about this animancy research?" The scholar lifted the huge tome on his lap, tilting it up to show Edér as he crossed the room to wash and wrap his thumb. "I'm no animancer, to be sure, but from what little I've managed to decipher from Osyra's records, she may have been onto something!"

Aloth bristled, his breath hitching as he exhaled a bit too sharply. He had said 'anything else,' hadn't he. "All any animancer has accomplished, at the very best, is to swell their own ego and their own coinpurse. In particular, Osrya was a dangerous, insane monster who mutated kith into abominations. I have no interest whatsoever in reading anything that woman may have seen fit to record."

Anyone else would take the man's curt tone and disparaging language as the opposite of an invitation to continue. Kana continued with renewed gusto, "But if what Osrya posits is true-- and as far as I can tell, her methods are logically sound, if not morally-- why, then this may just provide the solution to the Legacy that the Dyrwood has been searching for these 15 long years!"

Axa had stopped laughing a while back, but only now did she sit back up. She remembered the animancer's words, recited them aloud with an accuracy she would not ordinarily expect from herself--

"It must be a localized effect. Something which strips the soul from a body, as the bîaŵacs are known to do. I have detected, even so, lingering traces of essence upon the bodies of so-called Hollowborn. This suggests that the soul itself has not been wholly destroyed. It remains, I think, intact somewhere."

Everyone-- even Aloth, lifting his head from his pillows-- looked at her, dumbstruck. The few priests remaining in the room hurriedly shuffled out, angrily whispering prayers to ward their souls against blasphemers.

"Um." She coughed, suddenly uncomfortably self-conscious. "That was... what she had to say, anyway. Before we killed her. ...If I'm remembering correctly."

"That's... what's in here, more or less, yes," Kana blurted, his ever-present grin tinged with nervousness as he shut the enormous book.

"So, what," Edér drawled, squinting at his half-finished carving as he turned it this way and that, "Hollowborn got a soul, but... somethin' or, or someone takes it from 'em soon as they're born?" He furrowed his brow, frowned at a blotch of red on the misshapen wooden thing in his hand. "And... what, hides 'em somewhere? Eats 'em? Why?"

"That would depend, it seems, on who or what is manipulating the souls, I would think." Kana actually frowned, now, staring blankly into the book. "Although I'd be hard-pressed to identify a creature capable of manipulating souls on this grand a scale, for this long, with this much apparent ease and consistency... short of, perhaps, a god." He glanced furtively at Edér, holding up his huge hands in deference. "Not that I'm attempting to implicate any particular deity..."

The farmer shook his head slowly, eyes shut tight with conviction. "Don't worry about me thinkin' that. Like I said before-- I can't and won't believe that Eothas was the kinda god would do somethin' like this."

"Do you believe, then, as some in your country do, that the recent prevalence of animancy is to blame?" The scholar was fumbling for a bit of charcoal, now, eager to take notes. "Keep in mind, the Vailian Republics has not suffered a similar Hollowing despite being the leading animancy practitioners on Eora--"

"Whether the recent uptick in animancy has caused the Legacy by inviting the ire of the gods is nigh impossible to know, and thus pointless to discuss," Aloth interjected, "although I certainly wouldn't put it past many of the gods to come up with a bizarre, horrific punishment like the Legacy in retribution for any slight from us kith, real or perceived.” He glanced balefully at the door the Berathians had shut behind them as they’d left. “What can be meritoriously discussed is what to do about the unbridled, barely educated charlatans taking advantage of a terrified and exhausted populace, using the Hollowborn crisis to feed their sick curiosity and their pocketbooks both. That is the everyday reality of animancy that must be dealt with in the Dyrwood." He winced in pain, his impassioned argument a bit too much for his battered body. "...Ahem. In my opinion."

"I don't think I know enough about any of it to have much of an opinion about it, bein' honest." Edér scratched the back of his neck, squinting in confusion as Kana eagerly copied down the conversation, his attention ping-ponging excitedly between each successive speaker. "I feel like that whole world is way, way beyond my ken." He smiled over at the orlan, glad to see her relaxing and engaging with other kith instead of clutching her knees and staring into the middle distance. He'd seen enough of that during the Saint's War. "...Although some of 'em are tryin' to do somethin' about the Legacy, at least. I guess. This animancer was a crazy piece of shit, but she's also the only animancer I ever met, 's far's I know. So I don't really got a lot to go on. Y'know?"

"Caldara was sweet, and extremely helpful." Axa felt an odd little tug of nostalgia at the memory of the dwarf, her warm, motherly smile. "Of course, she was also dead when I met her. So you'll kind of have to take my word for it. That said, ultimately I have to agree with you: I don't know enough about animancy to pass any sort of judgment on it just yet. It seems potentially useful, perhaps even miraculously so, but also extremely volatile and dangerous." The little woman paused, stretching her sore limbs, and then laid back down on the bed with a long, cathartic sigh. "Perhaps once we reach Defiance Bay, we can get a clearer picture of what the day-to-day animancy trade is really like. Until then, I must, in good conscience, reserve all judgment on the subject."

"A wise choice, but a laborious one. Never let it be said that our Watcher takes the easy way out!" Kana rose from his seat as he spoke, seeing that the orlan was getting ready to settle in for the night, and crossed the room to his loaner bed. "Speaking of hardships, I've heard tell that the poor weather over the last few days may have delayed the work on Caed Nua's eastern barbican. If, once we return, we find that to be the case... and if you're amenable to a bit of dungeon crawling after all this fresh air and sunshine..."

Axa half-groaned and half-laughed, like a good-natured mother finally losing patience with her annoying toddler. "Yes, Kana, I promise we will explore the Endless Paths. I already promised you before, too, remember?"

"Forgive me!" Kana chuckled as he reclined, his feet dangling over the edge of the too-small bed. "I don't mean to wheedle you, rest assured. But once I get an idea in my head, I tend to focus on it so intently as to neglect politesse!"

"We've noticed," Aloth grumbled.

The massive aumaua turned to Aloth in the bed next to his, smiling still. "That reminds me-- I've never heard that one before, 'slick-a-britches'. Did you mean to say I slicken others' breeches-- or britches, as you say-- or did you mean my own breeches are slick? As in, ah, lubricated for easier removal? I didn't even know you spoke Hylspeak! You must teach me some!" He wore no malice on his face, only open, honest wonder, and for some reason that bothered Aloth more than if the aumaua had been outwardly hostile.

Axa cackled maniacally in her bed, thrashing her limbs and rolling about. Aloth slowly, deliberately pulled his coverlet up over his chin, then his nose, then his brow. His facial expression did not change.

---

[space-wives]

#8 Failsafe and the attack on osyra. These are only the scenes of them both, where Detmer is still unsure of her flying capabilities after crashlanding into the future. (They weren't in episode 7 together)

[motionoftheocean]

Osyra I don’t like you hun.

[womenlovingworms]

S3E11,12,13 (Su’Kal, There Is A Tide...,That Hope Is You Part II)

i am generally Loving the soundtrack

grey?? grey i want to see my boy

ohh the queer found family...

GRAY

even knowing about gray i would have a very hard time not reacting to adira talking to air

tilly's hair going all over my beloved

DILITHIUM!

"the life sign" is ??

GRUDGE

i guess these doctors also have to be vets

i dont WANT them to have to make a hard call

tilly and michael i love them

humans are still superstitious in the future and im so glad

bajoran culber and trill micheal...

THATS A HUMANMAN

oh thank GOD they gave culber the earring I am pleasently surprised

that's saru again I swear

michael will see a chance to play hero...

now that's a monster

also michael with the spots... pretty...

creecher :)

nooooo

i like that everyone is clever

i take that back did yall not realise what was happening

The Tune?

everone needs to stop being mean to my girlfriend

PLEASE skip freud

did He cause the burn

sing the lullaby sing the lullaby

YES

oh he did

poor thing

idiots

reno and adira going rogue fuck yeah

i love them all

i like osyra

There is a tide

tilly!!

what is the computer up to with the charlie chaplin

grudge secure :)

damn that's one way of doing it!

dont like this man

james corden?? /j

save your breath

why is everyone into opera n the future

disabled villain?? really??

book and michael are really good

DONT TAKE THE KNIFE OUT YOU FOOL DID STARFLEET TEACH YOU NOTHING!!!

i Want to believe that she she is truly here to talk

dont understand how coms work but okay

im so glad they know morse

I dont even trust future lie detectors

eli asfddg

this would be great if it happens...

thats not how OH COOL antennae work?

adira child!!!

this doesnt seem tenable she’d suffocate and freeze

forgot the andorian was still here

ds253

What is she planning!

15 years? hh i guess that makes sense... feels empty

paul is Very Good

neck pinch

Zimmerman part seven

sceince man

oh andoriaan? please use they

no it cant be made right

RYN

NO

bamf tilly

two pistols?

robit??? oh! fren! ahhhh 🥺

ROCK ON

that hope is you pt 2:

ignominious? words man

oh theyre not lookin so hot!

oh this hurts my entire heart

adira?? where is my partner...

ADIRA!

oh that's quite the alien!

vulcan grey!

who they can see!!!!

meet the parents (well, parent)

voyager j!

the looping camera angles are mildly confusing

this man sucks

full on fuck this fuck you transformation

barely convincing stage slap

jj abrams aesthetic here

oh teamwork :)

?

they don't even know that his child is in that nebula!

this did not make sense why did micheal ask that maybe i’m just not tracking

robots in the theme song !

why are star trek evil so touchy

sure can rule over the dead!

no no win situations they say to a kirk era fleet officer

oh this poor poor kid

gratuitous torture scenes my most hated

Quarantine activated

popsicle my beloved. this is unrelated.

tilly and michael :)

grey pointie :)

trauma metaphor

where are they in the ship??? its very cool though

owie!

owo.... gowo!!

yes robot save her! is she even a real robot ora hallucination

damn

no insulting grudge!

gotta clean guts from inside the ship?

i miss the cramped jeffries tube feel

michael??

yess girl!

where are the regulators being beamed to??

owo!!!! she's alive!!!!!! thank gd

oh the poor robot oh no

ooooeeeoo

go book go!

leap of faith and the musci

culber

oh... ow...

who is booker

we deserve a soft ending my love

how does he know what the burn is??

all here!

star trek is beautiful actualy

ROBOT ALIVE AGAIN

oh! trill!

sahill!! i like him

CAPTAIN burnham

oh these uniforms Suck but thank goodness that adira gets to wear one

gelato

rebuilding... hope again

LETS! FLY!

[zu-daba]

“I am Shadowtusk.”

His first, and last, words as Chief were his most core truth. His very being lain within those words was spoken with such resolve that his whole body quaked from a mere spoken word. Bloodied and battered without a hope in the world, the rumble of thunder that pierced the silence of death and ash around him was deafening - Cacophonous. The bright light descended from the sky with a great crash of force that sent ripples through the air and through the wilted grass; spilling out in every direction as it curled as a serpent about his arm. Even the massive C’thraxxi before him was taken aback by such power - Staggered as the Shadow Hunter nearly collapsed. It took all of his strength to even hold this power, let alone direct it to his own whims.

He drank in that moment for an eternity - A second stretched well beyond reason and well beyond logic. This was the death he had foreseen, even if he could not have anticipated it would happen so soon.The smell of atmosphere filled his nostrils alongside acrid smoke and blood. Coarse sands trickled beneath his toes as he curled them into the ground beneath him, while the numb stinging of his missing arm caused his entire body to ache. His tongue swelled in his mouth, and his throat clenched in anticipation. His ears heard naught but silence, but in the distance he could see them.. 

His clan. Those he had fought for. Bled for. Those he had led through strife and victory, watching, waiting - Hoping with heavy hearts that he would live. A hot tear streamed down his face as, for the first time, they saw not the perfection of carved and painted wood... But flesh. Imperfect, scarred and worn. He did not fear death, but he did not wish to go. He did not regret his life, but wished that he had more to live. He did not want to say goodbye, but the clan needed to survive and flourish. That was his duty as Chief. It always was. It was greater than him.

All of it faded as the lightning jumped from hair to hair, fiber to fiber, pore to pore. His fur was singed and stood on end as he hissed in pain; the electricity cloaking his entire form in blue luminescence. With only one path to channel it, he was forced to pass the energy through his own chest - His heart screaming in his chest and slowing to a stand-still; already damaged by using his left-handed blade to slice off his arm earlier that night. Still, he fought through the pain, and with a roaring thrust of his palm he sent the blast directly for the oil rig.

No sooner than did it leave Zu’Daba’s fingertips did he collapse onto his hand and knees; panting heavily and clutching his chest as the dull roar of flames bursting forth from the brimming rig touched his ears. He furtively pulled the ramshackle totem from his side and ran his calloused fingers over the visage of Venomclaw; turning to stare vengefully at Garax as the seemingly indomitable creature - for the first time - looked to be retreating.

He looked upon the clan - He heard the howling cries of Malashae, and the shock in the voices over the skull. This was his last act as Chief - To assure that all they had worked towards would not be in vain. The rig groaned behind him and burst open as the fires washed forth like a titanic tidal wave of heat and force; bursting through the nearby structures and showering him with shrapnel. As he clasped his arms and curled protectively around Venomclaw’s totem, he spoke one last phrase:

“H-hoowah...”

His entire form was jolted as the explosion drifted over him; flames licking over his skin as the air was sucked from his lungs. He coughed, he choked - His eyes closed as he tightened his grip around the totem and dug his knees into the dirt underneath him; never letting go, even for a moment. The flames, by some intervention, were not incinerating him... But the rest could not be averted.

Thump thump...

(For my loa...)

Thump.. Thump..

(For my clan...)

Thump... Thump...

(For my friends, my family...)

Thump.... Thump....

(For Malashae, for Mai’jani, for Mozu, Tanaji and Zazuli...)

Thump..... Thump.....

(For Tezuli, for my students...)

Thump...... Thump......

Zu’Daba felt his throat cracking - Blood spilling from within it as his entire body screamed with pain; his strength leaving him as his heart ceased to beat. His eyes were forced shut as tears opened all along his body and his lungs were drained of their air. His fingertips, jagged and torn, dug deeply into the soil to hold himself still as darkness ebbed in from all sides. Cold... Nothingness. Sleep. He could no longer feel himself, or the pain around him.

T h u m p.............. T h u m p..............

(For me, I offer my life...)

(Please, Dark Six, I beg of you - Do not let it be in vain.)

.....................................................................................................................

((Art by Osyra-Art, Song by Les Friction))

[hoxadrine-art]

Some fanart of my babies I hold very close to my heart ♥ ♥ ♥ 

Mylenne and Silgryn Stareye, by the lovelies and sooooo talented @oniyen, @elrondd and @osyra

[thrymma]

Osyra - Midsummer - 1241

I worry for Dartura. Her temperament as of late has been very erratic. She speaks as if her path to winning the seat of Revered Lady is as secure as it ever was, but I am not so confident. The passing of Lae'mon has the Council on edge. Her untimely death leaves everyone feeling frantic and a bit desperate. The peoples of Kaelymno have been uneasy enough without proper leadership in place. If the seat stays empty too long there may be panic. Already I hear whispers at market and in the palace halls. Elves from under each different banner are weary and anxious. Some are calling for a democratic vote, stating their annoyance with Council over the years. They wish to put someone in administration that would understand them and listen to their complaints.     

Dartura's isolation has done nothing to abate their fears. The people only feel more ignored and misunderstood.  After our travels to meet with the Tindory trade masters she is even more withdrawn. I will go to her and try to plant the idea that she should try personal campaigning. She cannot stay hidden in her chambers, her nose in a book, and expect the people to continue to support her. The Council may hold all power to appoint, but the people could have the final say. There has been revolt before, law and order completely upended, when all elven kin had to band together for survival, but neither banner wanted to swear fealty to the other. I wish for there never again to be need for elven kin to harm one another for the chance to rule.

[risrielthron]

Okay. Now I need to know. Where did those sketches of Risri and Selise come from

The Risri one was done by @thepalewolfhowls and Selise’s was done by an artist named Osyra that I snagged with Selise’s permission from her Art page

[fennel-sylvanus]

Fennel backstory

Hey folks! I know I don’t post that often, but I wrote a backstory for my favorite DnD character, Fennel, and I thought I’d post it here. Those of you who are part of the Lux Codex crew out there, don’t read this! Major spoilers for the campaign! I’m talking to you, @starrywlw!

We must clear up a rather big misconception if we are to move forwards. Fennel’s name isn’t Fennel. His real name is Vin Carpenter. There are reasons for this rather drastic change, but we will get to them in time. Vin grew up in a small village just outside the Neverglades. His birth parents had been taken by a plague when he was young, so he lived with his grandfather in a small apothecary, a rickety shack on the outskirts of the village. Old Man Carpenter had always been an oddball in his family. The Carpenters had been just that- carpenters- for generations, but along comes a man mystified by the strange arcane powers of the plants in the world around him. Imagine how the family would react. Old Man Carpenter, or Opa to Vin, was a bit of an outsider in his family. Oma had been gone for a long time- she didn’t have as strong a constitution as Opa- so Opa was forced to raise Vin on his own, without help from the family, with only the funds from his apothecary, with very little space or time to raise a chaotic, woodsy kid who kept coming into the house with frogs in his pockets and mud on his boots. Despite this, Vin absolutely adored his grandpa. His Opa called him “nightshade” and “mint” and “ginger” instead of dear and sweetie, and far more importantly to Vin, he could breathe fire and grow to double his own size with the potions that he made. Most apothecaries were content to make brown sludge that healed cuts and charge exorbitant prices for it, but Old Man Carpenter had greater aspirations. His potions could bring dying men back from the brink and heal people on death’s door. He once gave Vin a liquid that acted like it was reversed by gravity and made Vin float a foot off of the ground for an hour. It isn’t hard to become the hero of a child that you taught how to fly, after all. Old Man Carpenter was indispensable to the town he lived in, so despite their reluctance to buy potions from the oddball who lived in a shack on stilts on the edge of town, they went to him when Telwin had the cough and it didn’t look like he would pull through, or when Magda’s dog had broken its leg and it had gotten infected. And he would say in his heavily accented voice, “Hold on, hold on, let me see what I can do,” and hobble to the back of his shop and make miracles.

Which is why everyone was knocking on his door when the Plague came.

People said they saw Lady Osyra, Goddess of the Long Slumber herself walking through the forest. They said she turned to look at the village and uttered words behind mortal comprehension. They say- they swear- they saw a figure made out of cloth fly over and away from the village. But people say a lot of things. Vin was a woodsy kid, and spent a lot of time away from the village, so when he came back with pocketfuls of frogs just primed to be dropped into beakers and saw corpses on every street corner… it didn’t feel real. It felt like a nightmare. For a while, he just wandered, one hand covering his mouth, staying far away from the still bodies that were gathering flies, just… looking.

Eventually, he made his way to his Opa’s house and found it surrounded by moaning ill- bodies of mothers, of children, of animals, of the dead. Deaf and blind to him, he made his way up to the steps and entered. In a quavering voice, he called out, “Opa?”

He heard, “Nightshade. We must be quick. We have lots of work to do.”

And everything was fine. It was okay, Opa was alive, they could save everybody. Opa was a genius. He could do it.

For twelve hours, they worked as if the whole world had fallen away. And they got sick too. Towards the end, Opa was too sick to move, so Vin had to do it for him, pouring amounts and crushing things in a mortar and pestle as Opa’s weak voice dictated. By the end, they had made enough for one dose. With quavering, feverish hands, Vin passed the little bead that he had rolled with his small, nimble fingers over to Opa.

And Opa closed Vin’s fingers around it, saying, “I’m so sorry, my chickweed, but there isn’t enough time. My dear, sweet chamomile, you have to take it. I’ve been running on borrowed time for so long, you are my legacy now. Take care of them for me, sweet fennel, keep going. Make me proud.”

And, tears streaming down his face, Vin swallowed the pill, watching his grandfather’s body go quiet.

The human brain has many faculties that it uses to cope with pain. Immediately, one might fall asleep, for in sleep there is distance and solace. It might forget, to isolate the mind from the pain of remembrance. It might bring one to insanity, for sometimes, living whole with pain can be worse than living broken without. Greatest of all, it might die, for in death, nothing can harm us- or so we are told. Vin, broken little bird, chose to forget. Now nameless, he forgot his grandfather, forgot his village, forgot the plague and magic potions and dreams of Arkhos’ Eye, a panacea that could cure even death. For the next decade or so, the child lived like an animal in the wilderness, ignorant of the pain that had been given to him.

Until Syl, of course.

Sylvanus Bevan was a gnomish priest of Osyra who was passing through the Neverglades in transit to the Great Northern Ridge in order to work with some of the villages there. Sylvanus was a plague doctor- a man who traveled around healing the sick and praying for the dead. He expected to find a little village at the border, with maybe some colds and sore throats that he could cure for a couple of coppers and a meal on his way to Tal.

When all he saw were ruins, skeletons, and encroaching wildlife, he was more than a little concerned.

He made his way around, looking for any signs of life. A group of survivors who quarantined themself, maybe? No, nothing. Just bodies. Stray dogs, roaming free from their masters, eating from the woods, gone feral? Not a living domesticated animal in sight. A houseplant? Nothing. A child’s toy, left intact? No.

Anything?

Nothing remained.

Osyra, he thought, what misfortune had these people to invoke such wrath of yours?

A little stunned, Sylvanus wandered into the forest. He felt filthy, diseased. He wanted a bath to clear his head. He made his way to the sound of a river, walking through the high tree trunks of the Neverglades.

And when he found a feral-looking 18 (19? Something like that)- year- old eating a raw rabbit and crouching at the river like a wild thing, he knew Osyra and Aster had some...interesting plans for him today.

He approached the boy like he would approach a wounded animal, arms out, crouched low to appear smaller. “It’s okay,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. You look hungry.” Indeed, the boy’s ribs were showing, and Sylvanus could make out every vertebra in his spine. “Would you like to come with me? I can make you a shelter, and a fire, if you want. What’s your name?”

The boy, after not having seen or talked to a human being in years, was honestly stunned. He strained and pondered, but for the life of him, all he could remember was a pet name that held an ache around it like a cloak.

“Fennel,” said the boy, coming up from his crouch like a skittish deer.

“Fennel.” Sylvanus smiled. “That’s a nice name. No last name?” Sylvanus saw Fennel’s expression shift to that of a mourner, and instantly understood. One wild man alone in the woods. Doesn’t know how to cook, so he’s been eating food raw. Rail-thin. Wracked by illness. Plague survivor. Syl had seen it dozens of times before, just never with a lone survivor. What illness had this been, anyway?

“No last name is fine, Fennel. Come with me. Let’s get you some clothes! I don’t think any of mine will fit- I’m a bit short for your size, heh- but I’ll see what I can do. I finally have the chance to sew again!”

That night, Syl held Fennel’s head in his lap as Fennel shook and wept.

And so, like a candle shining at the grave of a loved one, Syl pierced through the shroud of darkness around Fennel. Fennel rapidly changed, like a flower unfurling. He began to talk, single words at first, then lone sentences, finally holding full conversations with Syl on the road. Every time he talked, Syl treated it like a gift. He learned to sew from Syl, and Fennel taught Syl what he remembered of apothecary and healing. Syl was there when Fennel cast his first spell, and they made that day into Fennel’s birthday because Fennel couldn’t remember his real one. They became a little team, a tiny man and a giant in priest’s robes, sweeping through towns and changing lives, making the sick into the well and the hurt into the hearty. Fennel soon understood that in many ways, Syl desperately needed Fennel as much as Fennel needed Syl. Syl had been traveling alone for a long, long time, ankle-deep in shit and bile, trying to cure a sick world on his own. And so, Fennel brightened Syl’s world too, and they fell deeply, deeply in love.

And then, Fennel’s heart got broken again.

They were traveling up the cobbled roads, making the rounds. They heard that there had been an epidemic among crops in Dor Kuprasiin, and they were going up to see what they could do. Traveling north to south, they walked and Fennel whistled, arm in arm with Syl. It was a clear blue day, no clouds in the sky. Fen and Syl could see for miles. Their feet impacted on rocky soil and though the path was desolate, they were together. If they were together, the world could go black and they would still be happy.

Eventually, they came to the World Womb, a great chasm filled with rocky pillars. Their footsteps echoed into the chasm as they stepped, looking cautiously around, for despite themselves they were nervous. Then, up ahead, Fennel spotted a figure. He was confused- they would probably be the only people here, right? People didn’t often come to the World Womb.

What happened next happened very quickly.

The man turned to face them and smiled. His face was grey and his tongue was yellow, and his eyes were obscured by a helmet. He slowly raised his arm, and suddenly, a wave of darkness exploded out of the chasm behind him, sending the rope bridge they were standing on rippling. Fennel saw thousands of shapes in it- it was like a single liquid, or a million tiny creatures clamoring, or a thousand screaming faces or prisms, or a single, perfect mass. It stretched up, blocking out the moon, stretching up to meet it, to dance with it in the sky. It was a beautiful waltz, and for a moment, Fennel was entranced.

Syl’s scream broke his trance, and Fennel snapped to attention, stretched out his hands to hurl a Guiding Bolt, a Spiritual Weapon, anything at their new foe, but in his moment of hesitation it was too late. The bridge underneath them evaporated, turning into a fine powder that they fell through, tumbling down and down and down. Fennel stretched his hand out to catch Syl as they fell through the air. Their hands met, but Fennel’s fingers slipped. He tried again, reaching out and-

Fennel woke up covered in dust and rubble at the edge of the World Womb. He slowly stood to his feet. He looked around, and for a second, he could see the bodies, the moaning ill, the shit and the bile and the dead plants once again. He called out for Syl, his light, to please, come, save him, where are you, help, I miss you. But his voice was met with no answer.

That was how Fennel’s heart was taken from him twice.

Fennel once again returned to the sweet, gentle doors of forgettance. Today, he wanders around, bearing the name Fennel and Sylvanus Bevan for reasons that he is unsure of but that hurt him all the same. He wishes for the answers and the loss that lie in the World Womb and the Neverglades, but only time will tell if he likes the jagged edges and cruel truths that will rise to meet him.

Fennel Sylvanus Bevan. Healer. Savior. Interloper. Walking corpse.