#if not then whatever I'm still happy with the textures and that goddamn chainmail

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

"That's probably the most unsettling part of things; not the tadpole, not the memory loss, not the outbursts of nigh-insatiable bloodlust... I'm still favored by something, someone, and I have no idea who. The blessings feel strange in my hands; familiar to hold but the balance is all wrong, like swinging a real sword after using training weapons all your life. Or maybe the other way around, like being handed a blunted knife after doing something stupid with the real thing. No fucking idea who I swore my oath to. But I know that oath like my own heartbeat; blood for blood, justice for the weak, and vengeance where justice turned a blind eye. When I feel the divine burning through my hands, it never feels the same twice. A different hand on my shoulder every time, but it's always Death. Death as rebirth, death as rest, death as justice, death as dispassionate inevitability... And death as hunger.

Doing @catbatart's RPG Inktober challenge and knocking out a twofer with Days 1&2 - Dwarf and Paladin. I'm gonna be on and off on this one, this is the first thing I've drawn since mid august last year, so I figure that'll be safer for my wrist and/or sanity. But I'm planning to try and knock out 10-15 out of all 31, which is still pretty ambitious for me.

Folks who've been following me since the olden days of Fallout 4 might recognize Maya Acerbi under the beard and edgelord coat of paint she's gotten as my Dark Urge playthrough character for Baldur's Gate 3. Everyone else has their cool, mysterious, catlike Durge characters, and then there's me with a crusty old dwarf woman who by the end of every day looks like she got dragged backwards through a bush and then rolled in mud and/or blood that might even be hers.

[mypunkpansexualtwin]

HEY GUESS WHO DID THIS WITHOUT REALIZING REBELLE 5 IS IN FACT SUPPOSED TO RECOGNIZE PEN PRESSURE ON YOUR TABLET.

"That's probably the most unsettling part of things; not the tadpole, not the memory loss, not the outbursts of nigh-insatiable bloodlust... I'm still favored by something, someone, and I have no idea who. The blessings feel strange in my hands; familiar to hold but the balance is all wrong, like swinging a real sword after using training weapons all your life. Or maybe the other way around, like being handed a blunted knife after doing something stupid with the real thing. No fucking idea who I swore my oath to. But I know that oath like my own heartbeat; blood for blood, justice for the weak, and vengeance where justice turned a blind eye. When I feel the divine burning through my hands, it never feels the same twice. A different hand on my shoulder every time, but it's always Death. Death as rebirth, death as rest, death as justice, death as dispassionate inevitability... And death as hunger.

Doing @catbatart's RPG Inktober challenge and knocking out a twofer with Days 1&2 - Dwarf and Paladin. I'm gonna be on and off on this one, this is the first thing I've drawn since mid august last year, so I figure that'll be safer for my wrist and/or sanity. But I'm planning to try and knock out 10-15 out of all 31, which is still pretty ambitious for me.

Folks who've been following me since the olden days of Fallout 4 might recognize Maya Acerbi under the beard and edgelord coat of paint she's gotten as my Dark Urge playthrough character for Baldur's Gate 3. Everyone else has their cool, mysterious, catlike Durge characters, and then there's me with a crusty old dwarf woman who by the end of every day looks like she got dragged backwards through a bush and then rolled in mud and/or blood that might even be hers.