Andre Valias

I need to be stopped. Check out my other blogs for stuff I've written or painted, or enter the Andyverse!

[andrevalias]

The Andyverse

Fuck it. I am no longer asking.

Leave Kudos and Comments on my Works.

Ask and Reblog my TESblr and D&D minifics.

Bask in the full spectrum of my artistic obsessions.

Leaving this here on my Pinned while I decide how I want to format it. See the non-assertive version with descriptions below the cut.

If you're in the habit of sponsoring caffeine/boba addictions, I also have a Ko-fi now.

About Me

Learn about me, or some shit.

Linktree

I have one of these. Find me across the multiverse internet.

My Art and Writing

At the moment it's going to be a lot of reposting work from 2020 - Present, but I'll try to post more current stuff as well. Hit up my Cara if you want to quickly access my full portfolio of works!

Of Empires and Dragons

I try to keep all my TES content on this blog, which includes quotes, conversations, lore bits, or even short stories to do with my TES OCs. Cameos and collabs welcome, if it pleases you.

Legends of Vanasiel

I started a D&D 5E campaign with my friends and I've started collating all the lore bits and content I've made for them on this blog. As it's just D&D homebrew, I've stolen references from all over the shop. Feel free to nerd out about the origin of those references with me; in fact, I encourage it.

Featured Tags

No tags yet! Let me post more shit and I'll add some soon!

[gasteracanthacancriformis]

have i ever shown u people my hand sofa

[gasteracanthacancriformis]

my prized possession is this loveseat I bought from a divorced dad who couldn’t tell me anything about it and in the years i’ve owned it i’ve never been able to find out who made it or where it came from. it’s got nails and finger creases and palm lines but they’re all kinda hard to see in this pic.

[sepdet]

[emeraldwhale]

[kleefkruid]

[professionalchaoticdumbass]

[andrevalias]

[mrachniy]

"May Auri-El's light guide you in your darkest hours."

My piece for fan-made The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrime zine

[crynwr-drwg]

The Fifth of Midyear

Hircine’s Summoning Day

He awoke before the birds, in that pre-dawn black. The dressing was swift, even in the dark, by his memory alone, the weight of it both settling upon him and seeming insignificant against the crushing responsibility of the day. He let his hands brush the carving of Storihbeg on his sill as he passed, before clambering out the window out onto Aldous’s roof. The window itself gave no complaint, he had oiled the latch a fortnight past, and the hinges answered silent.

The air was mild, yet thick with yesterday’s rain. Morach could smell the river-rot on the wind from the Bjoulsae; he took it in before lowering himself from an eave to the stones below. With a final glance-check back at the Cobbler’s, he moved on down the alley.

Evermore slept poorly; drunks ambling around before joining their ordained rest in a doorway, a watch-pair laughing several streets away, cats howling and fighting on every other street. Mor threaded through them now with a well-practised ease. The postern gate on the eastern wall had a single guard, who always slept through half of his shift without fail, his chin on his chest and pike propped beside him like a steadfast hound. Mor had used the entrance a hundred times, and had left him untroubled each one.

Out the walls, the way ran south-east toward the Viridian, narrowing from road to path to trail before it dissolved into nothing but wild grass. Beyond it, he found the game trail he knew, one that wound up through juniper scrub toward the ridge line above the lake. He let his stride lengthen until the ache from yesterday’s work repairing Aldous’s roof bled out. By the time the sky began to grey in the east, his breath came hard and deep.

The trail crossed a stream, ankle-deep and fast, ice-cold even with the heat of summer. He knelt and drank from cupped hands, looking east. Not yet. The sun still hadn’t broken.

Mor pulled Daeghar’s knife and cut a sprig of juniper from the nearby bush, tucking it through his belt. He sat back on his heels and waited. It was far from a complex ritual, which his clan had *plenty* to boast of. It was made from a memory and a year of hunting in wilds more gentle but no less Hircine’s. You waited for dawn. You gave blood and asked nothing but a chance to prove your worth.

Gold broke over the crest of the mountain. He pressed his father’s blade to his left palm, and drew it swift and shallow. It welled and fell into the stream below as he turned his hand, watching as it feathered away in its current. He flexed his hand and rose. The blood dried as he climbed.

Dawn was an hour past when he found the elk-sign. A bull, grown fat and arrogant on the easy feed of the summer. His antlers would be up in velvet, soft and blood-warm. He had bedded down in the shade, after wallowing in a churn of mud by the boulders to keep cool. Morach crouched at the fringe of the clearing and searched. Deep prints from the heavy beast. The trail pointed down, towards the lake-shore. The droppings were hours old, rather than minutes.

It was quiet work, the tracking, slow and attentive. Every part of him narrowed to what lay afore him. A thread of quarry’s hair on a strip of bark. The depressed grass. The faint musk of a summer-bull. His father taught him how to read and breathe the forests and mountains for a hunt; after twelve years, it felt more natural to him than reading Evermore or its people ever could. He moved through the scrub without a noise. His weight kept low, and each footfall taken with the same care he’d give a marked floorboard on a job.

The bull was drinking when he found it. Knee-deep in the shallows, roughly a hundred paces away. His rack was broad in the velvet, no hard tines to mind; only the size and his foul temper to watch. A magnificent beast, all the same. The kind of elk his father would have made him wait for. To be sure the shot was earned, and not given as a fluke.

He hadn’t brought his bow today; it sat back in his room above Aldous’s shop. The night before, when he flitted between waking and sleep, he’d set his mind on only having Daeghar’s knife. The blade felt alive, the handle warm from his grip, the worn leather wrapping that was moulded to his father’s palm, and now his own.

He checked the wind and started down, watching the beast side-long every step. The bull was utterly serene, the chief of his own private lake-shore. Morach checked every step before he committed it, avoiding the leaf-litter for moss or stone. The elk looked up, away from him, and the water dripped from his muzzle like silver. Thirty paces.

Mor flew forward— the bull started, turned. Morach was on the elk, his thighs deep in the cold shallows. The knife went up, through the jaw. The elk let out a cry, violent and ugly, and thrashed. A fore-hoof came up and caught him across the shoulder, and tore through clothing and the skin beneath it. The blade stayed in, Morach twisted it. The blood ran hot from the wound over Mor’s arm, and the elk’s legs slowly began to buckle, before collapsing entirely as he took Morach down with him into the waters.

He held the elk as he went, both arms around his neck, skull pressed against Mor’s chest as his breath rattled out with a few wet bursts. His dark eyes rolled to find him, and he met them. Mor held him until the light went out.

“Og Pater Noch. Co lan, co noch.”

The coarse fur on the bull’s neck steadied him as he watched the water lap at them both. His own blood, from his shoulder, and the elk’s from the jaw. Two red-threads unwinding, before twisting about each other, until he could no longer say which belonged to him or the beast. His blood, the same he’d given alone at the stream at dawn. It was no longer his gift alone, but theirs together. The water thinned the two and drew them off to be lost in the greater lake. Mor stayed a while yet, in that frigid shallow with the elk cradled against him. Underneath it all, the press of a hand between his shoulder blades. The attention settled on him, weighing the work.

The butchering itself took roughly two hours. The amount he could take back was limited, both out of practicality and on purpose. He took the liver, back straps, and a hind-quarter. The rest would stay for the scavengers, back into the wild, Hircine’s share. The knife washed off in the stream easy enough, him less so. He scrubbed the blood off, and checked over his shoulder. The bleeding had stopped at some point, but left a gash that would scar without a doubt.

Morach coated, wrapped, and packed the meat; berries, salt, and juniper leaves, the process slow and almost ritualistic to him after so many years of practise. He took the long way back to Evermore, whilst his mind walked quiet, content to watch the road go by.

[blumineck]

How to work your Pole: tips for Sellsword Arts (and anyone else who’s having trouble)

Find out more about shows and events (and my armour project) here

[thedreadkeep-blog]

sometimes I see something that just totally affirms how much of a faggot I am.

[fishionthefooor]

[melonflavored]

[catthey]

im at the pond giving 0-4 gold pieces to the mudcrabs

[thedreadkeep-blog]

[darkandstormyranger]

finally some relatable content on ig

[swollenkiln]

Just drop to your knees at this place like:

[ryann-44]

Witherfang

[playthenpaint]

Every playable TES race - finished! (Damn awkward number for displaying them…)

Next up, the Daedric Princes. Going to try and be a little looser, more abstract with them rather than getting bogged down in minute details. So bigger brushes, more expressive application I think.

Hope you’re all well!

(Imperial 👇)

[renmoss]

even in arcadia

[yamikuruku]

Hey! No question, just a desire to say I love your art. The characters you draw come across as, like, people that exist within their respective worlds instead of props. I delight in them every time you post your art.

Ohh 🥺reading this made my day, thank you so much for the nice words!! I will feast on them to shoo away evil thoughts that my art or characters aren't good enough

[silly-little-diary]

Another TES Medical Headcanon :3

So I was thinking about how magically closing wounds would work in Tamriel and tied that in with my nursing knowledge on wound healing and also negative-pressure wound therapy :))

In order for this to make sense, you need to understand how wounds actually heal. This is very much the oversimplified version because it gets complicated. But anyway! Wounds heal in four stages. 1. The wound wound will bleed, and your platelets form a nice blood clot to stop the bleeding. 2. Your immune system goes in to help clean up the area and stimulate new tissue growth. 3. It starts to make new tissue to fill in the gap. This tissue is granulation tissue, and it fills in the wound from the bottom up. 4. After the granulation tissue has built up the base layer, your top layer of skin cells close in from the outside to cover up the wound with fresh new skin. Negative-pressure wound therapy (NPWT) is an awesome invention in the wound care world. IRL, NPWT gets used for non-healing wounds and ulcers, partial-thickness burns, complex surgical wounds and more things that my sleep deprived butt can't think of right now XD. NPWT works by maintaining the moisture balance of a wound, stimulating granulation tissue, closing wound edges and removing wound debris and exudate through continuous suction of the wound.

I imagine that the restoration spell close wounds would work like a superspeed, extra fast-forwarded version of NPWT. Much like how you can't start NPWT on an actively bleeding wound, you can't use close wounds on an actively bleeding wound as it will cause more bleeding. So, healers will apply pressure to the wound to stop bleeding, before casting close wounds. Once the bleeding has stopped, and the healer can clearly see the base of the wound, they give it a good clean with whatever tonic they are carrying in their satchel, and then, it is safe to cast close wounds! When casting close wounds on a wound, it draws the granulation tissue up from the bottom to fill in the wound, and helps to bring the edges closer together. However, it may not be able to fully close the wound depending on it's size. In that case, the wound needs to be properly dressed or sutured up so that it can finish healing.

I do think that because using the close wounds spell works so fast, the skin around the wound is less likely to become macerated, however, in compromised skin, maceration could occur. I also headcanon that if close wounds is cast poorly, (too strong, too fast, wrong area hit) it can cause hypergranulation, bleeding or just more damage to the wound in general, so healers need to do plenty of training to make sure that they can safely close a wound.

[andrevalias]

We made machines tonight

[andrevalias]

you vs the guy she told you not to worry about

[andrevalias]

We made machines tonight