I bought a dragon with this gijinka a while back and I have no idea who did the art. I love this ginormous motherfucker, can y’all help me find the artist? I’d like to give proper credit!
Congratulations on your upcoming milestone! This is my incredibly perky Arcane ambassador Meadowsweet, who is sort of not even close to the sort of thing you usually draw but wow he is so happy for you!
(Psst, if anyone is not already following Koshkaah you should reconsider that decision, it’s gorgeous artwork for miles)
Hey friends! I’m currently in the market for Adult fodder to train for Arcane Dominance, so shoot me a crossroads if you have some you’d be willing to send me for 8k-10k!! I’m taking up to 15 at a time, so please be patient with me!
The much anticipated Great Aestival Feast has finally arrived! This week of May 29th to June 4th, Arcane will be having a conquest battle against Lightning doubling as the 2016 House Cup.
Here are some handy links to our events!
House Cup Hub | In-flight Raffle | CMC: AH Raids | Sprite Quests
Arcanart: Fodder for Art | Public Buy
Something’s up with either my computer or my mouse, and it keeps acting like I’m double-clicking. This makes it very hard to attach items to PMs on Flight Rising, because it’ll suddenly freeze or show a tiny bar that says “Attach an item Attachment” with no way of cancelling or going back to my message.
So it was probably kind of dumb of me to both volunteer for the Nature’s Grab Bag AND run a Dom Discount Shop. But I did. And I decided to use my tablet for doing attachments to cut down on the “argh why is the mouse/computer doing this” moments, and I decided to install Google’s swipe-y keyboard so that typing wouldn’t be so laborious.
I somehow forgot about the fact that the keyboard app would be memorizing what I type, and offering predictions based on that. Long story short: I have now taught my keyboard “Thank you and have a great Greenskeeper Gathering!” and can tap out that sentence in under 10 keystrokes.
It might not help much since your mouse is giving you trouble regardless, but there is actually a secret invisible "close this window" x in the top right of the little bar that appears when you accidentally double click. If you click around a little near where you'd expect it to be, you should find it.
When Ryvaal awoke, she was surprised to find herself inside on a mound of straw, covered with a wool blanket. Someone had inexpertly bandaged her wounds. She started to call out, intending to thank her benefactor, but something terrible happened in her throat and instead she was racked with heaving coughs. When she drew her hand away from her mouth, it was flecked with the same dark substance as before. She scrubbed it furiously on the straw bedding in a rising panic.
A Longneck rushed into the room with a cup of water, replacing fear with surprise. The beastclans usually kept their distance from dragons, and she’d never seen one quite so close. She drank the water in huge, greedy gulps. Some of it spilled out the sides of her mouth. The Longneck watched her, alert but obviously not hostile or frightened. Ryvaal tried to clear her throat to speak again, but again something went wrong. It felt like she’d swallowed a bucket of tar and washed it down with oil. She clamped her jaws shut instead, gritting her teeth against a wave of nausea. The Longneck gave her what might have been a sympathetic look and trotted briskly out of the room. He returned shortly with a simple clay pitcher and refilled the cup with fresh water. Ryvaal sipped it more civilly, still trying to wrap her reeling mind around exactly what had happened.
The next little while was spent trying to communicate. The Longneck apparently didn’t know common Draconian, and Ryvaal could make no sense of the half-bleated phrases he spoke to her. He stared blankly when she mimed writing with quill and ink. The long and frustrating conversation that followed was conducted mostly through actions, although the Longneck punctuated his parts by speaking loudly with exaggerated pronunciation.
She gathered that he was a medium (mainly by his manner of dress and the smell of incense clinging to him) and that he’d come across her by chance. He saw she was - well, he made motions around his mouth and head that fit uncomfortably well with what she’d been through - it got confusing after that, but he seemed to want to help, or at least study her. He’d seen the condition before, whatever it was. Ryvaal had so many questions, but the communication barrier was overwhelming. Everything was overwhelming. It was finally starting to sink in that she wouldn’t be able to sing, to share her love of the music, to do the one thing she’d used to support herself - for a long while, if ever. She sank back down into the straw and wept. The Longneck laid a hand gently on her shoulder. Eventually she would learn to appreciate his company, but right now she felt as alone as she'd ever been.
If you reblog this with a dragon I’ll make you a pixel bracelet like this, based off of your dragon’s colours:
You can use the finished bracelet as you wish, and a copy of it will be put into Mango’s bio. He’ll love you forever. You might even get a discount on his wares the next time he swings by!
I know I’ve been posting a lot of Lisbeth lately & I’m sorry [I’m not actually sorry], but please consider; Centaurs. Dragon.. taurs??
I had to elongate the front legs quite a bit because honestly I can’t imagine a centaur Noct with teeny tiny legs. Also, extra toes for better balance and all that, I figure. It’s not really my art if my characters don’t have weird chicken feet.
Once upon a time, there was a young dragon named Ryvaal who loved to sing. She had a lovely voice, and many nights it earned her supper. She would travel around Sornieth, eagerly learning the traditional songs of each place she visited. Life was not decadent, but she survived and was happy.
Eventually her travels took her near the Hewn City. As usual, she moved from clan to clan, trading her songs for food and shelter, learning the local ballads. But when she slept at night, her dreams were strange and uncomfortable. She dreamt of things in the dark watching, waiting, grasping. She woke with no memories except for a vague uneasiness, but the songs she was learning were complex and beautiful and she wanted to know more.
She stayed one night with a small, nervous clan. She tried to lift their spirits with her songs, from childhood favourites to bawdy tunes picked up in ill-reputed areas. No matter how sweet or funny the song, their smiles seemed almost pained. But they did allow her to stay, and so she slept indoors once more.
That night’s dreams were vivid. The things in the dark had claws and teeth and tendrils. Ryvaal ran and ran, but she could not outrun the terrible things, and they caught hold of her and would not let her go. The claws tore at her and she cried out in pain, yet she did not wake. The more the dragon struggled, the more the tendrils reached inside her ears and nose and throat and pulled, pulled, she was going to be torn apart-
She awoke alone. A dark, slick substance seeped from the wounds that now marred her hide and wings. Bile rose in her throat. She stumbled, dazed and sickened, through the now-empty lair. There were no signs of the dragons she had entertained only hours ago. In fact, it looked like the lair had been abandoned for months.
There had been a deep, still underground lake down one of the twisting corridors. Ryvaal sought it now, desperately needing to be clean. Shaking, heaving, she dragged her protesting body to the edge of the water. She did not hesitate before throwing herself into the shallows, a little afraid of what she would see staring back if she paused to check her reflection.
The cold water felt good on her feverish skin. It felt like maybe everything would be all right if she could just clean herself up. She scrubbed roughly at the oily substance, and it began to release from her skin. It came away in globs and strings, floating on the water’s surface. It was working! Her whole front side was clear. Her skin was stained, but the stuff was coming off of her.
She was leaning down to wet her face when something moved. An icy feeling gripped her in the pit of her stomach. She looked up and saw that the dark stuff had coagulated into a mass on the water’s surface. A head rose up out of it and stared at her with eyeless sockets, and it grinned horribly with white, white teeth.
Ryvaal ran from that place as fast as her legs would take her. She ran until she could see the borders of the Tangled Wood, and then she found she could run no more. Exhausted, alone, frightened, she collapsed into a deep sleep and dreamt of a wet, choking laugh and white, white teeth.
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