#Shadow Shaman

[maidot]

Have you seen "the Bride and the ugly ass groom" that's been going around tumblr, Imagine that but with Shaman and Medusa.

the bride and the ugly ass groom

ASGFDHGJNHKJ I LOVE THAT MEME, and yes I was planning to do it but I had been distracted by other drawings x,d, your ask finally encouraged me to do it xD.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Felt like drawing a Shaman with some Dust Sprites.

They live in extremely different environments but I'm sure they've crossed paths at some point 🤷‍♂️

[aditublog]

Rhasta took the kids outside with him to the garden. He knew he’d not get much work done with the three of them running around but the night had been difficult and Medusa had been awake during most of it. She deserved some rest now.

Besides, it was fun to have the kids with him, just not productive. The smaller of the twins was tied to Rhasta’s back with a wide cloth and sleeping.

The eldest rushed towards the garden, not bothering to wait while her sibling toddled along, clutching onto Rhasta’s hand. The skirt of her dark blue dress fluttered around her tail, a speck of colour in the otherwise plain steppes.

It was hot, though it was still early in the morning and the troll carried several flasks filled with water in his free hand. They’d need it.

The sand was warm underneath his feet, it had stored the heat from the previous weeks. The troll shaman smiled as he turned his face into the sunshine, he was sure it would be a wonderful day.

As soon as he had opened the gate to the garden, his two kids vanished between some of the taller plants. He could hear them laughing as he put the flasks down in a shady spot. He’d get to work immediately, as long as he could. The kids would want to play with him sooner rather than later.

To keep animals out, the garden was completely fenced in. The kids were able to climb over the fence if they put their mind to it, but since there was nothing of interest in the steppes, they wouldn’t. They also knew that it was dangerous out there, it was one of the first things they had learned in their young lives.

Rhasta began to pull weeds, listening for his kids to be sure they were close by. Just because they knew the rules didn’t mean they would stick to them. At least he didn’t have to worry about them eating poisonous plants in the garden, he had taken care of that after the first kid had began to crawl and to eat everything in reach.

If they wanted to, they could munch on every leaf and flower here. Some wouldn’t taste very good but nothing would harm them.

With the sleeping twin on his back, Rhasta was sweating almost immediately. It couldn’t be comfortable for his kid, either, but he knew that as soon as he put the little one down, sleep-time would be over. No matter how warm or sweaty, Rhasta’s back was obviously the best place to take a nap. Or his stomach. It didn’t matter, as long as it was on him.

After a while, the two others reappeared. Both were laughing and the smaller was already covered by a thin layer of dust and sand. His slightly green skin and hair was rather brown now, the two small snakes he had inherited as hair from his mother dangling next to his face the only clean spot on his body because the dirt didn’t stick to the smooth scales.

“Da, we are thirsty.” The hair of his eldest kid, long wavy strands so unlike her mother’s, bounced around her face.

“Honey, the bottles are over there.” It could’ve been that easy, the two got the flasks, drank and then played again. It wasn’t and that was fine. Rhasta needed a break from pulling weeds anyway, with a kid on his back it was straining.

So he sat down in an open patch. He took one of the sticks lying nearby and started to draw into the sand. “Now, look at this raptor. Who wants to draw a baby raptor?”

Small hands grabbed sticks and within seconds the formerly even sand was a chaos of lines. Rhasta’s raptor hadn’t particularly looked like a raptor but now there was nothing of it left. The game was over, there was no discernible drawing on the sand and two sets of eyes looked at the shaman expectantly.

“Okay. Should I tell you a story?”

“Can we cuddle while you tell it?”

“Of course. Just let me get your little sibling from my back.” A few minutes of shuffling around, and then the three kids were cuddled against the shaman. A bit of wind had picked up and Rhasta’s sweat dried quickly.

For a few seconds, it was quiet. Then Rhasta began, his voice carrying over the steppes.

@maidot

[puggernautt]

My dota enamel pins

[gamma-mesarthim]

trading is fun. right, @maidot? 😌 soon Rhasta will be among these tough guys

[fridka]

Dota

Why of all my dota posts is this one getting attention, guys please believe me when I say I can draw better than this

[lasanha-do-lidl]

Wow ok tumblr, nice horrible layout that copies Twitter, jesus cristo.

Anyway, haven't been drawing much because my work at present requires me to be up at 7am. If you know me, you know that used to be closer to my go to bed time, than waking up time lol. BUT NO MORE ;____;

[muttamu]

old sketches (like 2022)

Medusa x Chaman fellas (Dota 2) 💛

[tonyshape]

Dota 2 - Shackles

[fobosfear]

I was lucky to be commissioned by cool guys, Barcraft United, to draw illustrations for their Viewing Party Organizer's Guide.

Honestly, I'm very happy. Also had a lot of fun drawing all of the heroes (and one creep)!

[muzelure]

[maidot]

RAINBOW SCREAM >:3 🏳️‍🌈

[anx1oustig3r]

Fictober 2023

Prompt: Day One “It's not too late, let's go!”

Fanfiction Fandom: DotA 2

Rating: T

Warnings: None Apply

“It's not too late, let's go!” The words echoed over and over and over and over.

Rhasta studied the crowd, remaining still from his post perched atop a barrel. The taste of mutton and cheap alcohol lingered on his tongue as well as the phrase he had eagerly uttered not one hour before he landed himself in this predicament. One thing his father had always been adamant to remind him of, was the downfall of any self respecting con man who gave in to the temptations of haste.

He remembered it, it became like a mantra to the self proclaimed Shadow Shaman. He would repeat it to himself like a damned ritual. Yet here he was, cramped in a storage alleyway and hiding from furious marks.

Now this wasn't the first time Rhasta found himself fleeing from a raging sea except instead of drowning in ironically cool and calm waters he would be drowning under flying fists and stomping boots. About a year or so ago it was a similar situation, although in that case he wasn't about to take responsibilty for the mishaps of other people – and especially not some arrogant, reckless faerie who almost seemed to derive a sadomasochistic pleasure from pure bedlam. Although he had some responsibility in the fact that he trusted her like a complete moron.

There was also that snowy hairball of a kobold who promised – no – who SWORE he would back him up in the ancient ruins they had been exploring, only to run with his ratty tail between his legs when the “tourists” they had been tailing for a fast scam turned out to be maniacal cultists looking to ressurect an eldritch god via a gory and very convenient sacrifice. Did they manage their feat? Rhasta didn't know, and honestly Rhasta didn't care. He turned and got his own ass out of there and managed to overtake his rodent companion on the way out. No, he didn't stop to assist him so they would escape together. It was every man for himself.

Both of those were characters that quite frankly he'd be delighted if he never saw them again.

It's not too late, let's go!

The words made his stomach churn. Even more so when he heard the patter of angry footsteps and he had to throw himself from his perch and curl up behind the crates and barrels.

“I could've sworn I saw something here!”

“Maybe you need to lay off the drink!”

“Ah shuddup!”

Rhasta let out a silent sigh. Great. Cornered. This was exactly what he needed on his weekend. Under normal circumstances a little bit of drumming his sticks against whatever object was sitting in front of him would give him the ample rhythm to think of a plan, but how was one meant to drum when the entire point of hiding was to stay silent? He was caught here, he was certain of it. Gently he rested his head against the stone wall as the footsteps grew closer. The sky seemed to reflect his burning rage.

Spirits! He hissed inside his head. I know you and I have had a difficult relationship, but surely you can't have decided this fate for me! Is it too late for escape?

Weak clucks caught his attention. Even better. Caged chickens. It had already been an ordeal and a half attempting to shed his reputation as the “Chicken Man” - he only did that for spectacle when his father was still alive for Gods' sakes! Now the only time he dabbled in hexing was turning anyone who ticked him off enough into next week's dinner and blowing them up with-

With ... with lightning ...

Rhasta looked back up at the sky. Again the words echoed in his mind, but now instead of defeat, they sang with hope.

It's not too late, let's go!

The bandages tightened around his bound chest as he took a deep breath in. Channeling the electric energy that he had no right to use, but he stole it anyway. The footsteps grew louder as each spark and crackle rushed through his veins. His sticks were glowing. It was time.

The troll leapt from his hiding spot, his attackers yelping with fright but Rhasta wasted no time in tossing the crates to his front and – with a cackle loud enough to rival a clap of thunder – he bashed the cage, letting out a deafening boom. Feathers flew, his pursuers shrieked and the Shadow Shaman made a mad dash for the city gate, ducking and diving between crowds screaming at the lightning emitting from his weapons.

He ran. He ran fast. His feet pounded hard against the cobble road. His heart thumped and threatened to explode until he rested against a looming tree. He could still hear the city guard on his trail but the lightning had long faded and Rhasta was nothing if not at home in the darkness that night provided. There would be no finding him. Fate may have been tempting him one way, but he found another, as he always had. In the corner of his eyes he saw a flicker of a shadow, but he knew once he turned it would be gone.

“You were so proud of me once, father,” he whispered into the cold air. “I hope you still are.”

[aditublog]

Medusa leaned against the fence around the garden and watched Rhasta. She loved to watch him when he was occupied and didn’t notice her, like now.

The sun shone hot and bright, no cloud in sight, warming Medusa's skin. Her hair moved slowly around her head, the snakes enjoying the warmth of the steppes.

From where she was standing, Medusa could hear the shaman humming softly as he dug through the earth, pulling weeds from between his herbs and flowers.

Considering the constant heat, they were astonishingly green, the flowers bringing colour to the yellow and brown all around them. It was pretty.

As Rhasta stood up to refill the watering can, he swayed slightly, maybe he had gotten up too fast and was dizzy. Or he simply moved to the music in his head.

As soon as he saw Medusa, he put the can down and sauntered over. “Hello my beautiful.”

From anyone else, these words would have sounded mocking, but when Rhasta said them, Medusa had learned he meant it and she almost blushed. She answered his happy smile with one of her own.

“I apologise for not noticing you. Did you want something?” Rhasta leaned against the fence from the other side. His skin, where it was visible, glistened from sweat and dirt streaked one cheek. It had the colour of dried grass and sand, as if he had been marked as part of the steppes.

One of Medusa’s snakes moved towards him and he raised a hand, running a finger over the cool scales.

Rhasta’s hands were soft, even after digging through soil all morning and Medusa stilled, savouring the contact and waiting for the snake to retreat before answering. “No, I have nothing to do and wanted to watch you for a bit.”

Rhasta’s smile widened into a grin. He rested more heavily against the fence, his hip jutting out. “Because i am sexy as fuck.”

That wasn’t arrogance (or maybe just a bit), it was the truth and Medusa leaned over the fence until she could kiss the cocky shaman. Even with such a short brush of lips, she could taste the salt from his sweat and smell the sun on his skin, the earth clinging to his hands, the crushed leaves of weeds.

Her hair brushed against Rhasta, liking him no matter if he was dirty or clean. She could relate to that.

“Since you are here to watch, I assume it is fine for me to finish my work.”

“Go on little shaman.”

With a wink, Rhasta pushed away and retrieved the watering can. Humming filled the air a moment later.

About an hour later, Rhasta straightened. When he came over to Medusa, who hadn’t moved away from her spot, he carried a hand full of flowers. “Pretty flowers for my pretty girlfriend.”

That was one reason why Medusa loved the shaman. He treated her like she was precious. Like she deserved pretty things. It was wonderful and this time she definitely blushed.

@maidot a littly shippy fic :)

[puggernautt]

Dota2 mini comics

[gamma-mesarthim]

i mean i draw quite rarely so why not post some random sketches?

also i'm sure a lot of people here like this hero sooo...