Drew Some Kids Today At The Stream!  as Usual, I Am Apparently Only Interested In STRONG ORANGE LIGHTING.

Chain OC idea (again)

Fetter

Vanirman Monk (subclass tbd)

She’s on the taller side (not for a Vanirman but sure compared to the rest of the world), and fit af. Honestly though, she’s pretty average for a Vanirman, the only variation being her somewhat darker hair.

A woman of few words, she almost exclusively uses Chain Sign - theories vary as to why: can’t speak common, doesn’t have a tongue, is just fucking with everyone, etc. Nonetheless she manages to be plenty expressive and get her point across. 

She is a very big fan of the general adage: better to ask for forgiveness than permission. Independent by her own nature and her upbringing in the north, she respects rules that come from a place of strength and wisdom, but doesn’t care for authority for the sake of authority.

While no stranger to a fight, she’s slow to provoke with a generally easy-going attitude. She prefers to prove herself against forces far beyond her - nature itself.

Along with her general martial prowess, she’s well known for being an adept mountain climber and spelunker, having learned on the harsh glaciers of the north. She can often be found free climbing whatever happens to be around: cliffs, chasms, castles, and whatnot.

Unusual for a Vanirman, she favors fighting with her fists and improvised weapons. She’s particularly fond of using chains and pitons (which she has on her for scaling particularly intense slopes), and has frequently been known to use the chains as wraps to make her strikes that much more devastating.

She also doesn’t wear armor, but exclusively wears long sleeves (but you still see hella muscle definition tho). Rumor is that she has intense tattoos twisting up her arms that she’s hiding, but most people think that’s ridiculous.

Joined the Chain to see more of the world. She particularly respects the variety of skills the various members of the Chain display.

(Probably an Advancer/Green Boot cause I think she’d make for a good scout in addition to assailant).

A5, C4, C5, F1, Q1, Z1

what is their most impressive talent? Climbing buildings and other acrobatics

what is their major comfort food? why? Probably some Khoursirian food but I wouldn’t know what to be honest.

who is the best at comforting them when down? I think he would look to a big sibling type person, esp a big sisterly person.

what do they do for fun? Sketching and going along with Mint and Paisley’s hair-brained ideas.

do they ask for help? Yeah, I think they have no problem asking for help.

why are star wars planets more boring than earth and our solar system like sure we’ve seen desert, snow, diff types of forest, beach, lava, rain, but like… 

rainbow mountains (peru)

red soil (canada/PEI)

rings (saturn’s if they were on earth) 

bioluminescent waves

northern lights (canada)

salt flats (bolivia, where they filmed crait but did NOTHING COOL WITH IT except red dust?? like??? come ON)

and cool fauna like the touch me not or like, you know, the venus flytrap.. and don’t get me started on BUGS like… we have bugs cooler than sw aliens

BASICALLY like???? come on star wars you had one (1) job where are the cool alien species

I dont wanna get a job or have real life responsibilities I wanna be an overpowered gay x-men character

The Adventure Zone but with Percy Jackson style episode titles

Merle Studies His Cantrips

We Have Tea With a Bugbear

Taako Steals Some Shoes

We Meet Magic Brian

Taako Tries to Eat a Robe

We Hide in a Well

We Drink Magic Jellyfish Shit

Magnus Takes up Arms

We Shop At Fantasy Costco

Magnus Gets Naked

We Get Hosed By Tom Bodett

Jenkins Saves a Spell Slot

We Get Crabs

Merle Plays Diarrhea Cop

Magnus Gains a Lot of Weight

Taako Steals Some Silverware

Magnus Eats Unicorn Dick

Merle Seduces a Plant

Magnus Chops a Treant’s Butt Off

We Fight Weeds on Floor Twenty

Merle Finds Some Extreme Teens

Can You Nonlethally Cleave an NPC in Twain?

We Create Our Fursonas

Merle Swims With the Fishes

We Meet Garyl, the Phantom Binicorn

Taako Enlarges a Motorcycle

Hurley Drives Off a Cliff

Johann and the Voidfish Have a Jam Session

Lucretia’s Necklace Ruins Candlenights

We Are Serenaded By a Rock

Taako Eats a Sandwich

We Quiz a Robot

We Meet the Hugbears

God Lies

Merle Gets Wood

Taako Invents Hentai

Merle Unmakes Some Souls

Magnus Eats the Philosopher’s Stone

We Create a Spiral Mantube

Magnus Goes Rogue

We Get a Shopping Montage

We Die

Taako Meets a Fan

We Blow Up a Locker Room

We Have a Talk With a Skeleton

We Rob a Bank

We Receive a Ball, a Sack, and a Tool

We Chat With the Dishware of Christmas Past

We Flee the Worm

Taako Accessorizes

Magnus Packs a Box of Shrunken Boys

We Play Monster Factory

We Find a Severed Head

We Try to Date a Mannequin

Merle Does Some Healing

Magnus is Skinjacked by the Marketing Department

We Discover Some Very Familiar Pants

We Visit Garfield’s Secret Evil Lab

Merle and Taako Trip Balls

Magnus Wrassles the Power Bear

Griffin Breaks Travis’s Universe

We Get a Beach Episode

Merle Plays Chess With the Final Boss

Taako Does Inspirational Plagiarism

Lup Burns Down the DMV

We Create the Seven McGuffins of Doom

We Have a Family Reunion

Taako Gets in a Foodtruck Explosion

We Found the Cult of Jeffandrew

Epilogue: Magnus Gets a Dog

Part 2: The Adventure Zone: Amnesty but with Magnus Chase style chapter titles

☠️ Disney & Dragons  3 ☠️

Took a walk on the dark side for my latest ‘Disney & Dragons’ speedpaint by putting a DnD twist on some classic villains~! I swear, these redesigns get more fun every time! >:3c

(As per usual I went into detail in the video about what class I made each character into and why, but if you haven’t seen it yet then feel free to make your own guesses based on these artworks!)

(DON’T EDIT OR REPOST TO OTHER SITES)  //  FULL SIZE VERSIONS ON MY DA (<-link in my blog header)

my arch nemesis cynthia is, of course, at the bank, because we both were sent like clockwork to pick up the checks of our husbands. she is wearing a lovely long green gown, which i know was on behalf of me, because, as my husband will tell you, our house abhors green and glamour. already the tellers look at each other under their little hats, for they love our tirades, i’m sure, although not more than i hate them. 

“oh, is that your knitting?” my arch nemesis cynthia peers her eyes at my hands. “is it some kind of… sock?” everyone knows she and i used to be close before we were married and our husbands, smartly so, have introduced us to the idea of true vengeance.

“it is a scarf,” i say. i want to tell her that when the time comes and the world gets cold it will go over my mouth and i will breathe warm air and it will fill my lungs and i will be able to run around with my love even in the dark night. “it is not,” i say, “over surprising that you should be caught unawares of a scarf,” i say, “as i’m sure enjoying winter festivities are too beneath the handsome qualities your husband prefers.” pompous ass.

the tellers pass each other eyes for now it has started and they are delighted.

my arch nemesis cynthia thrusts out her hand. a white bottle. “rat poison,” she says. “i would expect the whole town knows about your little problem.” stage whisper. “such a shame, my dear.” then she rustles her long green skirts - which i know she wore on behalf of me - and she shimmies herself out of the room like royalty. oh, she floats everywhere she goes, beautiful black hair behind her. the bottle in my palm is cold. i will devise how to get her back starting first thing tomorrow.

the week, as always, is a long week, for there is much to make and do and knit and be. my husband comes home and i love him for who he is; for he never comes home without checking the state of the house up and down. he is the kind who loves his home so completely and sets each room like a stage for a great band to come playing. i am too ashamed to tell him why so many of the rats go missing, only make him a stew the next morning to celebrate. his favorite, although not mine, i’m afraid. plenty left over.

my arch nemesis today - of course - in a green the color of rotting. a bruise is uncarefully covered on her cheekbone, so striking against all of her dainty. her husband would say it was for her ungraceful nature, and i know mine would agree. i strike first, already delighted by my master plan, shoving over our best picnic basket tied with a bow. “i made you and yours a stew,” i say, “for beneath all that you carry” all that horrible wealth of your husband  “it seems you’re getting rather skinny.” i can’t resist one last comment. “i am worried you’re about to waste to nothing.”

She plucks it out of my hand. “yes, if it weren’t for you and your husband’s dwindling wealth,” her sarcasm is biting, “i’m sure i will be nothing in, oh, 5 weeks time.” she arches a brow. “so long from now.”

“i am counting the days,” i tell her. her lips purse. the tellers behind me make a choked titter. perhaps, by their estimation, i have won this round quite completely. i go home to my husband smiling. he asks where i have been and i tell him i’ve been at the bank, but he checks anyway because i like to get up to tricks and he doesn’t like to fall for it. it is a good game we play. at night, when he is asleep, i am so in love that i must convince myself to pull the covers over my nose and practice breathing. how silly to wake him up for a young girl’s feelings. 

the first week of five: she gives me a solid, ugly ring that requires three knuckles to hold. “i feel so badly for your status, and i must remember to practice charity,” she says. “it such a small thing, but do be careful amongst all that thin pine furnishing of your house, which dents so easily.” my husband appears at the bank’s front door. just checking. so lovely to be picked up by him. at night, in a rage, i try it - beneath the table bends easily. i scuff out the scratch with walnut before my husband can see. i pull the covers over my face in bed and breathe.

the second week: i wear her ugly ring and give her more stew, this time hearty with meat. her dress is a meadow. my heart each time it sees her collapses on itself. she hands me clothes for my husband, since his wealth continues to go missing, and the charity of her heart is so loving. i am so ashamed i bury them far by the old tree, where all my shames go hiding. again, the covers. it, by now, helps me sleep. i have gotten so good at it that i can simply shimmy my shoulders to be perfectly toasty and buried.

the third week: she asks how comes my knitting. i tell her it’s nearly complete. she asks how comes my husband, whom she must know has been ill recently, and who is doing quite badly. i go home to him, shaking. even sick he is a good housekeeper, who comes home examining for dust and dinge so i do not fall behind on my chores. who checks to be sure i spoke to only him and no one more, for fear a man might snatch me. tell me, who else has a man so involved, in this day and age?

the fourth week she is envy green. i shove a whole heaping of stew at her, for now her husband has gotten it. i say it will return him to spirits, she laughs, a sudden, beautiful sound, even in the quiet of a bank. everyone stares. maybe it is the stress that is making her quite improper. i feel the same way. so much is happening and it always seems she knows. she says she heard he has left me nothing in the will, which everyone already knows. she says she doubts either of us can dig upwards from the hole we’re both in. i look at the bruise on her nose. i tell her to mind her own husband, and be careful where she goes.

the fifth week: so final. her, garishly lime green. and i in black, to pick up a check that hardly seems the effort. it will be enough to cover my husband’s funeral. she smiles at me and hands me a silver bottle. she says quietly: now that i am destitute, there is one thing for it all, and everyone would understand quite completely. it would be quiet, and quick, and complete.

it is the night of the new moon, so dark no man can see in it. i receive notice her husband has died, and i am sorry to say i find a terrible joy in it. the air has changed cold. i have left a note asking to be buried in my scarf, the last thing i have made on this earth. i go through each perfect room, but there is nothing else to take with me, for the house has always been his and his alone, and now aches to be gone of him. i would not serve as a good tender for it. having spent so many nights watched carefully, the silly girlish freedom i’d gain would surely set the house ablaze.

i follow her instructions. quick, quiet, complete.

the horrible rustling is what does it. like a million green skirts. and then it is dark, and i am in my own coffin, eerie with pine. my head hurts but i must be quick and quiet. they have listened and buried me with my scarf. i shimmy my shoulders just-so and get it over my face. bring my arms up, ugly ring heavy, and begin to hit as hard as i can, over and over, the thin wood of my husband’s favorite furniture, the cretin. it would be pine, of course - he left me no money to be buried in any nicer recourse.

the wood splits so horribly, and then it is very hard to breathe, harder than under the covers, and i have to remind myself to be patient and continue to dig upwards, while my throat closes and my heart beats so loudly and the whole thing is so heavy it is a universe. the shifting of gravedirt is loud, and loud, and i feel i will be turned into a worm, and i fear everyone has forgotten about me, or i have gotten the timing wrong, or i will really die down here in the dirt and the cold

but then her hand, and my hand, and we are both digging towards each other, and she lifts me so easily from the ground like a plucked turnip and holds me against her, us both panting and muddied. we can only stay like this for so long, here in my pauper grave, and then we are both running to the old tree where we met, and unburying a second thing; my lovely box of shame, and men’s clothes, and all of my husband’s dwindling fortune i have slowly been squirrelling away.

my love and angel cynthia, who has black hair like a curtain and a mind so fast i sometimes am in frank awe at it, who is, even now and dirty and raw: even now the only sun in my life.

like this, i a man in an almost-dawn, and us cleaned by the river, and her smiling so widely, and only a faint bruise on her, and our pasts behind us in ugly garish colors. and her delicate hand and beautiful nose and when i finally get to kiss her it feels like green feels; my favorite color, all warm and nature and sunny grace and grass and lying awake so filled with love it makes you shake.

i hold her, and she holds me, and our future is a love like a dream unburied.

Chain of Acheron, Helltrooper Granddad. “Yet here I am.” Vanirman Dwarf Barbarian (Ancestral Guardian). LN. Exiled skald from Vanigar. Joined the Chain to see the world in his later years. A grouch with a sailor’s vocabulary: truly a heart of morale for the lads he serves with. Rallied a few Helltroopers as Blackbottom fell. He would have been content with a good death at Blackbottom, but that didn’t happen. Now he’s responsible for getting these formidable boys and girls back to the company. In the past week, he has taken to writing down the deeds of his solemn band of Helltroopers. The others see it as sentimental, he believes it to be a priority that their story isn’t lost. Sings the epics of Vanirmen heroes of old. Jokingly sings of the mundane deeds of his fellow Helltroopers. Built like a brick shithouse. An oldboy. He’s been around for a while, and though everyone knows how long he’s been with the Chain, he’ll joke to recruits that he is the longest serving member. This one’s for you @krunk-mcdunk please don’t slay me now.

universe swapsies

✨ Disney & Dragons ✨

Turned a bunch of Disney Heroes into DnD characters for this week’s speedpaint! Real fun concept to play around with :D

(I went into detail in the video about what class I made each character and why, but if you haven’t seen it yet then feel free to make your guesses based on the final artworks!)

(DON’T EDIT OR REPOST TO OTHER SITES)  //  FULL SIZE VERSIONS ON MY DA (<-link in my blog header)