Open For Commissions Here Be Words

http://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthycasual/works

[filthycasualfanfic]

Fiddled with animating an old art work :3

[filthycasualfanfic]

Just messing around with Ai on an old art work.

[filthycasualfanfic]

Concept art. Colored doodle

[filthycasualfanfic]

Framed a print of a piece done by my daughter.

[filthycasualfanfic]

Art assignment with the lovely @owlettica

[owlettica]

Uh… I FAHNALLY finished my art assignment, FC! 😂😂😂

[filthycasualfanfic]

🥰

[filthycasualfanfic]

Art assignment with the lovely @owlettica

[filthycasualfanfic]

A recent painting . 🐈

[filthycasualfanfic]

What the fleeing vampire didn’t know was that witches can fly as well.

[filthycasualfanfic]

OC for a story ☠️🖤

Serenade

[filthycasualfanfic]

Oc characters to a story I’m writing.

[filthycasualfanfic]

My version of PB and Marceline

[filthycasualfanfic]

Sometime sketchy messy lines are the best ❤️🥰

[toneelspeelster]

exeunt. macbeth by william shakespeare

[filthycasualfanfic]

Long ago when the lands of Eltheroth were once one, a great tree existed. The tree reached higher than the Vessarand Mountains and within it Goddess Flor’illia awakened every morning to provide for those that sought her blessings. She helped those in need for thousands of years until one day her kindness became her downfall.

She extended her blessing to a dark elf mage named Zhaell Illeran. The elf had been cast from his homeland which lies miles deep in the caverns of the mountain ranges. His kind are a violent and unpredictable race of dark elves who relentlessly wage war on the surface races. Their only weakness is the light of day that dampens their powers and scorches their bodies. Flor’illia held no contempt and blessed the elf with the ability to walk under the brilliance of the sun.

The elf came to covet the goddess and her powers. He begged for her favor and heart, thinking only of possessing her for himself. Flor’illia, unable to facilitate his desires, did not grant this wish. He came every morning for tens of seasons, to Heartwood where her lifeblood ran deep. He lavished her with gifts and begged at the base of her tree. At a loss of how to help Zhaell, she eventually stopped appearing to the elf when he called to her. He watched enviously as she bestowed her kindness to the surface races that made a pilgrimage to her woods. Wrought with jealousy, he plotted against her.

His kind are naturally gifted with certain magical abilities, but required the dark for their powers to be potent. By the new moon, when the night reigned supreme, he invoked The God of War, Kelzera Fel. His race worshiped the bloodthirsty god and held him above all else. Zhaell vowed to end Flor’illia in his honor. The war god granted the dark elf a powerful spell to split the great tree and steal for him the prize of her golden heart. He promised Zhaell that he would be welcomed back to his homeland as a hero.

Zhaell used the war god’s blessing to split her wood. He trekked deep into the magical tree and found her heart. The tree goddess watched as he ripped her essence from her mortal form, but before fading from existence she bestowed her final gift. The gift of empathy.

The dark elf was suddenly stricken by the weight of what he had done. Remorse, despair, and guilt were all foreign emotions to his kind. The feelings were terrible beyond anything he has ever experienced in all his elvish life; it defied his understanding. He wailed in agony for Flor’illia and for his treachery while the great tree died all around him. Upon sunrise he clawed his way out of the dead wood to an army of high elves waiting for him. He fell to his knees and presented them her lifeless heart and his own life to do with as they wished. The high elf king, Lefeniel Gillerand, spared the dark elf and sentenced him as Heartwood’s protector for all his remaining days. Thus began the legend of Zhaell Illeran, Mage of Heartwood.

And as for Flor’illia’s heart, it was entrusted to the king which he laid to rest in his ancestral home. To this day her resting place remains under the protection of his kin.

[filthycasualfanfic]

The great wood called Gandeirl, divides the realm of man and elves. Its expanse reaches past the Vessarand mountain ranges and towards the high cliffs of Elder’s Reach. The deep forest is situated north of Bessel Kalavi, lands once inhabited by the Evening Sky Elves and the Erudites of Evelor. The two proud races have since left the material world behind in pursuit of vaster horizons.

Many have traveled south to trek through Gandeirl in hopes of finding their fortune in those lost lands. It was wildly rumored that those empty elvish strongholds are burgeoning with treasures.

A once brave king who led a powerful nation of men set his sights on the unclaimed lands of Bessel Kalavi. He was adamant in cutting through Gandeirl for the voyage by sea was too dangerous and the passage east was blocked by the smooth, rocky faces of the mountains.

This was met with pushback. It was told for many generations that the dark forest was alive and unwelcoming. Those that dare to trek beyond the edges to forage or explore fall prey to the fae that reside there. The king ignored the counsel of his advisors and ordered every able-bodied man to his ranks. Once the army, ten thousand strong, disappeared into Gandeirl, the forest spirits attacked.

The men chopped their wood, ate their fruit, and trampled their saplings. Gandeirl fae exacted a terrible revenge upon the trespassers. As they slept, each man was cut, just a sliver, on their chest above their hearts. Seeds were placed under the skin and within seconds they sprouted. The men’s screams echoed in the valley as roots pierced their hearts and eagerly sought downward for rich soil.

The woods have since been left unmolested for many generations. Travelers who passed close to the forest’s edge claimed to have witnessed apparitions of men wandering the mists. Symbols could be seen glowing in an eerie light under the dark forest canopy. Many speculate that the fae put them there as warning never to enter Gandeirl.

[filthycasualfanfic]

The Gift of Innith

During the first age, warlocks and the zealots of Innith, The Spider Goddess, pledged their souls for her favor. However, the ancient arachnid’s blessing comes at a horrendous price. The worshippers’ bodies were ripped asunder and reformed into her image. Each demonic creature were two, if not three souls, in one body. Their flesh melded together in some perverse amalgamation of spider demon and men. Their limbs are many and each set of appendages are capable of casting separately or in tandem for a powerful spell.

The spider demons, called Innocs, Messengers of Innith, keep to the crags and caves of the lower mountain ranges of Vesserand. Since the first age, and up to the fifth, these messengers have raided settlements under the cover of night. Their human bounties are whisked away back to the darkness of the deep world, never to be seen again.

[twobabkas]

hank x isiah anyone