#veluart

[rajakaen]

Got inspired by a certain person doing monochrome stuff recently. The drawing ended up a little off from how Ahuska looks character-wise, but it’s close enough and I like how this turned out. I guess that counts, no?

Coolest Bothan Girl on Tumblr belongs to @dingoat

[rajakaen]

After all.... why not? Why shouldn't I draw him topless? (insert Bilbo Ring Meme here)

Will I ever be able to draw these old chemical burn marks? Probably not—especially not with lineart. But what I’ve learned is that his scar didn’t turn into contractures like typical burns might. The substance and the way the area was treated more than two decades ago, altered the color and texture of the epithelialized tissue. It’s kinda stiff, not smooth at all. Like a thick, leathery layer that won't move right and isn’t as stretchy—way more rigid. Hard to explain. It affects his movements, yes. And he has to take care of it daily, thoroughly.

[rajakaen]

Sketch concept of a Dragon Age Desire Demon

[rajakaen]

Neve and Verinius are heading home after a meal at the Cobbled Swan. Veryl is rambling, while Neve listens with amused scepticism, already sensing something is off.

V: (gesturing with his hand, voice full of enthusiasm) "You know, uh, apples from the region around Marothius near the Hundred Pillars are excellent for cider! That’s because the acidic old apple varieties thrive best in the loess soil of the local orchards there. They’re a bit—"

N: (side-eyes him, smirking knowingly) "You’re trying to hide something from me."

Verinius hesitates for half a second—just long enough to be noticeable—then immediately doubles down, talking faster, as if speed will save him.

V: (rushed, waving his hand like this is a completely normal conversation) "—more irregular than table apples, but they’re considered pure and contain special nutrients."

Neve, already enjoying this too much, tilts her head slightly, her smirk widening.

N: (mock-curious, voice laced with amusement) "Verinius, what did you do?"

Verinius laughs nervously, a bit too high-pitched, before quickly waving his hand as if dismissing the absurdity of this question.

V: (still grinning, eyes darting away) "What? Me? Nothing. There is absolutely no connection between cider and… uh… that localized atmospheric implosion from yesterday."

Neve raises an eyebrow, her expression practically daring him to keep going. The silence stretches just long enough for Verinius to realize he's in danger.

N: (mock-patiently, waiting for him to dig his own grave) "If there's blood splattered on the walls I'm not helping you clean it up. I'll make sure 'Fred doesn't help you either."

Verinius clears his throat, suddenly very interested in adjusting his belt, before launching back into his apple monologue with desperation.

V: (talking way too fast) "Well, uh—Malcarnis Red, you know, they already start getting sweet early, around Parvulis, right? But then there’s Virdanthe Aurelis, which—um—needs more time to fully, you know, build up the right sugar levels. Which is crucial, obviously, because you can’t just pick them too early, otherwise the flavour profile is—"

Mid-sentence, he notices Neve has stopped walking, arms crossed, weight shifted onto one hip, staring at him with an all-too-knowing smile. His fingers fidget at his collar, resisting the urge to pull at it as his brain scrambles for an escape plan.

N: (slowly, savouring every second of his obvious panic) "I’m going to find out what you did, believe me."

Verinius swallows hard. He knows she will...

Big thank you goes to Jukkari for helping me sort the dialogue, make the text work and reassuring me to not give in to anxiety - finally posting this project

Heavy Disney Art Style Relapse lol

[rajakaen]

Have some concept sketches of Sith T; a year before he reached his breaking point, yet at the peak of his career as a Sith. Not a Darth, just another NOC assassin serving under the Sphere of Mysteries.

Think of him like a classic Barghest. Once he gets an assignment, he won’t let go. Pushing his targets to the brink of sanity before facing them in combat or driving them to suicide. He’s not much of a fighter, just effectively wearing them down and waiting patiently.

I’ve got plenty of terrible habits, including getting way too frustrated when pushing past my comfort zone 🙈 I don’t think I’ll finish these, still they’re in that weird spot—too good to drop completely, but also giving me a headache with problems I can’t seem to solve. However, the base concept idea of how he might have looked during this time is nailed. These represent hours and hours of tinkering until I gave up.

[rajakaen]

Let me introduce my notRook Veilguard OC Verinius Sabelis Phalban. He goes by many names and is a byproduct of @jukkaricity's recent dive into Thedas and can usually be found alongside her also notRook OC Alectris Mercar. Jukkari gave him a voice, the game gave us the looks while I gave him his personality and so V has ended up as a full-fledged character over time. A & V are Blorbos by Proxy ❤️

TLDR Intro Version

Verinius is a brilliant, socially inept mage who exists in his own world of books, Minrathous fantasies and blood magic experiments. He has the talent of a prodigy and the social instincts of a brick, managing to alienate everyone around him except his cat, Andoralis, whom he insists is the only living creature worthy of his full attention.

He is utterly convinced that Minrathous represents the pinnacle of civilization, despite barely engaging with its people beyond what is strictly necessary. His mind moves too fast for most and when people fail to keep up, he either ignores them entirely or offends them without meaning to.

He has no regard for the legal or ethical concerns of magic, specializing in blood magic (purely for research, of course, tho his own blood is another matter entirely) and storm magic (which builds up when left unused for too long, resulting in frizzed hair and sparks discharging at inconvenient moments).

Alectris is the only person who comes close to truly understanding him, though her return to his life comes with a sharp reminder: she is not going to let him get away with talking to his cat more than actual people.

Background & Introduction (before the Veilguard)

To an unknowing observer, Verinius might appear to be the most Tevinter mage among Tevinter mages—at least slightly snobbish, accustomed to comfort and absolutely in love with Minrathous, or rather, the idea of the city he has cultivated in his imagination for years. The truth, however, is quite different. He comes from a small village near Marothius, deep within the Hundred Pillars, far from the empire’s beating heart. His family has owned an apple orchard for generations and while his magical talent may have elevated their status to Laetans, little has changed for them since he left for the Circle. Not that they mind—his parents and siblings take great pride in their work and are content with their peaceful life.

Veryl’s magic surfaced early—wild, untamed and far beyond what his family could hope to manage. With no other mages among them and little understanding of such power, they had few options when the inevitable summons arrived. A Tevinter child, especially one crackling with barely contained lightning, was never going to stay in a remote village. The decision was out of his parents' hands and by the time he was five, Verinius had already been sent to the Circle at Carastes. There, he trained for several years before being transferred to Minrathous at twelve, where his potential was deemed better suited to the capital. The move, however, came at a cost—Minrathous was far from home and distance meant that visits became rare, his connection to his family reduced to letters and memories.

And so Veryl spent most of his early life within the Circles, his world shaped not just by their walls but by what it meant to be a mage in Tevinter. Yet the structured pace of learning tested his patience; too slow, too rigid, never deep enough and constantly disrupted by the distractions of his peers. Carastes was more than happy to send him to Minrathous, where both his potential and his troublesome nature would become someone else’s concern. Lacking natural social graces, his background was working against him. While others fit in with ease, he often felt like he was speaking a language no one else understood—quite literally, in some cases, as his tendency to over-explain resulted in more than one awkward silence. It never stopped him from trying, much to everyone's dismay.

During his years in the Circles, few things had ever gotten under his skin, but meeting Alectris in his late teens proved to be an exception. Unfazed by his unpolished personality, she quickly became a constant thorn in his side—one he was surprised to find himself growing fond of. Eventually, a Magister recognized Verinius’ potential and claimed him as an apprentice. Verixsus brought him to his estate, pulling him into a far larger world. The rigid life of the Circle gave way to a more demanding, fluid apprenticeship, but with it came a privilege: four visits home each year instead of one. And no matter how much Minrathous holds his heart, it never truly dulled the pull of home—not that he ever spoke of it much.

Like him, Alectris left the Circle, though she chose the army instead. Over the years, their friendship became quieter; distance and duty dulling what had once been constant. He never quite stopped missing her, but life in Minrathous had a way of swallowing time and before he knew it, years had slipped away. He got along well with his master, but a mentor was no substitute for a best friend—Alec had been the only one who could truly keep up with him and he missed her. The void she left was filled by a stray cat he found on his master’s estate. Or rather, the cat found him and decided she would adopt him. From that day on, Andoralis became his ever-present shadow, named after the day she entered his life.

Eight years passed before Alectris finally left the army and returned from her deployment in Seheron. She could hardly believe what she saw. Verinius had grown utterly fixated on his cat, perhaps too much for her liking—holding entire conversations with Andoralis as if expecting her to reply and acting as if her approval was of the utmost importance. Alectris had always known he was eccentric, but this was a new level of absurd. Worse, he had begun experimenting with volatile magic and had become adept at blood magic, making no effort to hide it. His methods, however, are unusual. While others wield blood without hesitation, he could never quite bear the sight of his own. If asked, he’d simply say fresh blood gives him headaches. Instead, he collects samples with eerie calm, studying ways to preserve their potency—never considering how unnerving this might be. To him, spilt blood holds no more weight than splattered ink.

Still, his time with Magister Verixsus had done him some good—his temper had evened out, he no longer openly insulted people for their lack of magical understanding as often and he carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who had long since stopped caring whether or not people found him strange. But beneath the polish, Alectris could still see flashes of her old friend—the insufferable know-it-all, the stubborn streak a mile wide, the way he lit up when talking about something that truly fascinated him. And despite years of silence, their friendship fell back into place with ease. As if no time had passed, Alectris slipped into her old role as a constant bother and Veryl, to her great satisfaction, responded exactly as he always had—overly dramatic, easily excitable and entirely unable to get rid of her.

Veryl can most often be found surrounded by books and vials, either studying magic (the less commonly available, the better—legality is not a concern) or completing his daily tasks as a scribe and Magister’s apprentice. He has an unfortunate talent for saying precisely the wrong thing at the worst possible moment, whether through tactlessness, sheer obliviousness or a total lack of concern for social norms. His magical expertise is undeniable, specializing in practical and constructive applications of blood magic, as well as a highly destructive form of storm magic for those rare moments when force becomes necessary. He can go from zero to vaporization in less than 0.3 seconds. He's eccentric and peculiar in both his interests and his mannerisms, somehow managing to offend whoever he speaks with or embarrass himself—often at the same time. The fact that his main conversation partner is Andoralis certainly does not help his predicament.

Verinius should, by all rights, be quietly buried in books somewhere, bothering no one but his cat. Instead, thanks to Alectris and a dragon with extreme renovation ideas for Minrathous, he’s now neck-deep in the Veilguard’s chaos. Meanwhile, our poor Rook (a dwarven Warden) is left juggling world-ending threats, blighted nightmares and—because the universe clearly hates him—two more walking disasters. At this rate, Wolfram Thorne will have to save Thedas by next Tuesday or risk losing the last shreds of his sanity.

For those interested in the BG, it's a paraphrase of the codex entry art on 'Dock Town Intel: The Place Itself'. It was solely created for practice and to give V and his cat a thematically fitting bg to stand on.

[rajakaen]

Spellblade, Soldier, Shadow Dragon - Alectris Mercar

She's @jukkariart's standalone companion for Rook and is coming with a lot of backstory and lore, fitting seamlessly into the game itself.

Sketch concept based on provided screenshots :>

[rajakaen]

First of Many >.> Jumped into PTS with @jukkariart as heal and @myrddinvonnebelstein as dps to try our luck with the lair boss that seems to have 180% more health than it supposedly should in SM—18 minutes of pure joy. Mr. T was getting splattered with 'biomatter' nonstop while kiting this so-called fleshdroid. He's not happy about how he acquired his new chievo.

[rajakaen]

More thoughts on T - just quick scribbles, not even sketches who needs face consistency anyway? What? You say that the height isn't consistent either? Thanks, I know but I don't care here.

Most of Tahr'rys' story has already been worked out, but there are still many things in the works. His overall timeline of events is fixed tho. The version I usually draw or refer to is about 42 years old (29ATC). Everything else is left to your speculation ;)

[rajakaen]

Spellblade, Soldier, Shadow Dragon - Alectris Mercar

I really enjoyed getting back to traditional media, tho it seems I don't bring the skills to tackle human portraits with ink, pencils and markers. I fucked up hard and wasn't fully able to salvage this drawing. Alec belongs to @jukkariart and she's her standalone companion for Rook. This Lady comes with a ton of story revolving around her and the Veilguard crew. Go check out Jukkari's blog to get more content :)

[rajakaen]

Reflection Rtuesday

Help, last week I got tagged by @jukkaricity to participate at @thedissonantverses' share the shit you're holding back Reflection Ruesday

Yeah, I've got way too much stuff lying around or never post finished work 'cause I get super anxious about negative feedback or getting none at all >.> That's why I don’t stress about how long things take, whether I finish them or scrap hours of work if the result fails my expectations. Same with turning drafts into actual stories—I know how they should look and feel and what they're about, but… yeah. A Bad habit? Probably some low-key social anxiety I've picked up over the years. Uploading anything regarding my own thought processes (including OC's) just stresses me TF out ^^; ──────────────────────────────

Anyway… I've been poking at this one drawing of Tahr’rys for over a year now, but I can't bring myself to finish it 'cause I suck at rendering in general; especially faces… ──────────────────────────────

Then there's the ref sheet of Relah—his, uh… she's a good friend of his. Don't ask them about it. They're way beyond complicated lol. I'll finish the sheet one day. There's still so much work to do... (Yes, she's loosely based on Ashara Zavros) ────────────────────────────── Also, tossing in a text prompt I'll probably never write out, but I like it. It's kinda key to Tahr'rys and Relah's dynamic and how their story unfolds. The draft is heavy and moody, as most related to this character. It's a private scene in T's quarter aboard Neo's Freighter, en route from the Outer Rim to the Unknown Regions. Taking place around 32826 TYA / 26 ATC. 3627 Doomsday Calendar

Content Warning: themes related to trauma & mental health

Tahr’rys lived with Neongard for nearly a decade after being captured by the Dar’Manda bounty hunter—three years after his Jōhatsu from the Sith, in the wake of Zakuul’s conquest of the known galaxy's major powers. Over time, their relationship shifted from captor and captive to a working partnership, though not an entirely friendly one. The men spent a considerable amount of time in the cramped confines of Neo’s freighter, the Prancing Anvil, travelling through the galaxy, always on the lookout for a rewarding job. Eventually, the former Sith began helping Neo with his contracts, having nowhere else to go and no idea how to move on—or where to begin.

As fate would have it, Tahr’rys and Relah crossed paths during one of those missions—long after their fallout during their days with the Sith. This time, circumstances between them are different and they have managed to reconnect over the past few months. His years with Neo and everything T has endured since have changed him. Not exactly for the better, but she recognizes that he is less hostile, less agitated. Relah, by contrast, had escaped the Sith and returned to the Jedi, while T was burying himself in the Sphere’s demands. Last time she’d seen him, he had lashed out without warning, how one wrong word had set him off. Still unsure whether this new version of T is truly different, R somehow managed to get him to open up for the first time. 

The two are seated on his L-shaped couch, separated by a small table but maintaining a noticeable distance. The quarter is cool, austere—sparsely furnished and seemingly barely lived in. Nothing lies around; only Tahr’rys’ leather jacket hangs loosely over a chair, while a few scattered items and his saberstaff rest on the desk. On the bed across the room lies a closed holobook. The overall lighting is subdued, with T’s vivarium on the wall casting a soft glow across their faces and the space around them. The air carries the scent of plants and damp earth, laced with a metallic tang and the faint smell of ageing machinery. It is quiet, aside from the occasional creak of the ship’s frame as it travels through hyperspace. Neo is in the cockpit. T sits with his back to us, only part of his profile visible. Opposite him sits Relah, hands folded on her legs, listening intently to his words. Her posture isn’t entirely relaxed and betrays a touch of nervousness. Expressions shift across R’s face—concern, disbelief, sorrow and, occasionally, a faint smile. Her green eyes remain fixed on him. Throughout the scene, T sits motionless, talking with a low, even voice; neither gesturing nor shifting. His posture is stooped, head slightly lowered with his eyes fixed on the ground as if he’s directing his monologue to the floor beneath R, tho his words are undoubtedly meant for her. He speaks about his past, what happened to him, what he participated and what led him here. We can’t hear their conversation. They remain like this for a long while; the former Sith talking and the Jedi listening. Then something he says causes an abrupt change. Relah’s face stills. The colour drains slightly as she blinks once, then again, trying to process what she’s heard. Without a word, she rises, prompting the first visible reaction from T. He lifts his head, eyes catching the light with an uncanny reflectiveness—an orange hue, like dull embers in a dying fire. R says nothing, but the following silence is louder than anything she could’ve said. As she turns away and steps aside, T shifts to follow her with his gaze. Raising a hand in a weak, imploring gesture, but letting it fall almost immediately. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move as she walks past him, leaving the room. Once he’s alone, the man lowers his gaze and folds in on himself, burying his face in his hands and closing his eyes. He doesn’t cry; he simply sits there, silent and unmoving. Whatever he had been processing comes to a halt, his conscious self shutting down entirely. Still, time moves on, and the old freighter hums steadily around him. Metal beams creak and a faint vibration runs through the floor as the Prancing Anvil shifts in hyperspace. The lights dim noticeably as the vivarium adjusts to a new cycle. Somewhere, a system resets with a soft mechanical chime—but Tahr’rys remains unaffected by it all, present only in form. Some time passes before the bulkhead to T’s quarters slides open. Relah enters, carrying two cups of steaming tea. She sets them down on the table in front of him, speaking briefly but not looking at him directly. Then she pauses—something seems off. Her gaze shifts to the man on the couch and her lips form his name. No response. Her brows furrow. She repeats, but still, he doesn’t react. After a moment of hesitation, she reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. Nothing. She’s never seen anyone—least of all this impossible person—in a state like this. For a few seconds, she just stands there, uncertain. Then she begins pacing the confined space, gesturing as she moves, before finally settling beside him. Even then, he doesn’t react.

Relah exhaled, frustrated, her eyes drifting toward the cooling tea on the table. After a while, she straightens to reach for one and takes a sip, then shifts slightly, sliding a little away from T to get a clearer look at him. He remains hunched forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands—his body slack but not fully collapsed, still holding enough tension to keep from completely sinking in on himself. Her gaze lingers, lips tightening slightly as a realization takes shape. This had happened after she walked out. That much is clear. But whatever line she crossed, she couldn’t quite grasp it. There’s no way to reach him and nothing within her abilities might bring him back. Setting the cup back on the table, she leans in again—this time, resting her head against his shoulder, waiting for him to return.

[rajakaen]

Two war criminals… no, wait—two ex-Sith… uh… A Gremlin and a Murderer walking down the street, minding their business, I guess? Yeah, they're both totally normal in their heads >.> Just messing around with those two Blorbos. Wanted to figure out how tall they'd be next to each other and what they'd wear in private. Tahr'rys wouldn't be caught dead in public with bare arms, though. Erin's tiny, around 157cm / 5'2". T (for German standards) isn't really that tall, but he's rather thin—he's something around 189cm / 6'2".

E belongs to Jukkari; T obviously to me

[rajakaen]

Got myself some proper references aaaaaaaaand Ashara starts to resemble herself 👀 personal design choice tweaks included :3

This WIP is so much better than my last attempt 🙈

[rajakaen]

Have T's reference sheet WIP in low quality (w/out armour plating)

for those who want to read the written notes >> click here << for higher-quality Link is offline

I'm still trying to figure out how to press his character, personality & background into this single sheet for quick reference. Still, to fully understand T (if that's even possible) his character profile is needed.

SGFyZGx5IGFueW9uZSBpcyBpbnRlcmVzdGVkIGluIGhpcyBwZXJzb27igJRtYW55IGp1c3QgY2FyZSBhYm91dCB0aGUgdmlzdWFscyBvciB0aGUgbW9uZXksIG5vdCB0aGUgaW5kaXZpZHVhbCBhbmQgdGhlIGludmVzdGVkIHdvcmsgYmVoaW5kIHN1Y2ggYSBjaGFyYWN0ZXIu

[rajakaen]

Just some thoughts and explo stuff - nothing serious. Just scribbles <3

[rajakaen]

While cleaning out old files I found these Logos 🙊

They're handmade. Think about this like a challenge to see how close I can recreate the source images >.>