I really really like it when the character hates her old self so much like yes girl!!!! I love the way you want the old version of you dead and how you don't want to think about how she shaped you as the person you are now🥰🥰🥰
Love writing characters like this who harbor tons of rage at their past selves and try to escape it, the whole scenario feels so emotionally poignant even if it's also brutal in a multitude of ways.
I will continue to say that this is SO damn badass and that I absolutely adore getting to see his gruff side (even with the shine of the uniform considered). The World War is such a critical moment in Larian history and it's great seeing more scenes from that period. He may have tried to be a diplomat more often than not, but there's a damned good reason he always made sure to be armed just in case he'd be caught off guard. Though it seems like he might have bit off a lil more than he could chew, getting stuck hiding up in a rickety place like this...
My boi Rashini! Though he likes to carry himself like a knight, given his part-shark boi status, he's found himself more commonly working in the coast guard or a life guard instead. Regardless, he enjoys practicing sword play with two handed weapons, and likes to go to medieval conventions where he can really show off his skills.
They have quite the history, and Silac's definitely been Fenriss's most loyal friend over the years. Though he's oblivious as hell to her advances more often than not, she doesn't take it *too* personally. Though, she would definitely nip him for doing something so cute while he dares claim ignorance about the significance of being held XD
It's the year of the snake after all, and even though Drayven is more of a chimera, he would absolutely love to put on some extra special shows for the occasion. Though right now he only looks rather pleased from the extra attention, the scoundrel~
Outside the bounds of where any mortal could see, there was still a chance at redemption Saree was determined to find. The cost? The dissociation of her soul from home and a binding contract with a force of nature that most rightfully feared.
Pylin has got a lot of tumblr sexyman energy to me and on top of that he's a conniving bastard with a smug aura, but he's *my* smug bastard dammit. Such a fun character to write, too.
I first saw the face of this thing in my nightmares as this embodiment of looming dread. It said nothing, but I could feel it looking into my soul and showing me the fear I had tried to run from during one of my darkest times. That image has stuck with me for years, and I'd wanted to somehow bring it to life, but I hadn't known how. Now that I've gained some experience with art, I was ready to try my hand, and I feel like this captures the energy I wanted.
Destruction, decay, and the uncertainty of a new creation are all embodied within the great cycle of life and death. We may fear what it heralds, but can anyone call a force of nature malicious?
Just don't listen when its voices start calling you to oblivion.
In the wastes between worlds, the kreket species manages a meager existence marred by constant loss and uncertainty for the future. This story follows Zellek, a high-ranking kreket in the Jaspen Clan, who is struggling with the recent failure of a mission. This is a low-key horror story which is meant to lend itself to interpretation, but it isn't written to be confusing (hopefully).
2816 words, or about 9 pages long
Themes: Death, Inevitability, Dread
Kreket species ref by @alphagodith is here
You can also find the original PDF for this story on my FA here
Under the endless dark of the space between universes, lit only by the light of the Infinite River, Zellek cursed as one of his obelisks of depleted ley crystal abruptly half-exploded into a sea of dust that cascaded down into the Abyss. Left behind was what looked now to be some kind of half-eaten bone, and the name once carefully inscribed onto its surface in blackened blood was barely legible.
B A _ L _ _ N E | J A _ P _ _
On one hand, it would be foolish to rebuild it. The multiverse had claimed sovereignty over what was rightfully its own; and, clearly, this was a less stable spot than Zellek anticipated. On the other hand, while the rest of the obelisks stood, it would be of the utmost disrespect to not attempt to rebuild a shattered comrade.
It took another two pulses of the River for the three spires to stand strong together again.
Zellek knelt in front of them all with quaking muscles. Whatever words he could say would be for his own fleeting benefit, and whatever words he could write upon this crystal would not be enough. This would need to suffice.
“I’m sorry,” he could not help but whisper as he hauled himself to his feet. A quake shook the platform. The sound of more crystal tinkling into space rang in Zellek’s ears. Even as he tried to ready himself to leap to another blasted floating platform, a violent rumble made him stumble and recalibrate before making the jump. He did not look back. He did not stop when a boom from behind rattled through his plated scales, and he forced himself not to blink as he threw himself onto a huge shining pillar. His back spines and talons stabbed into it with a criiiik, but it held firm, and he did not hesitate to scuttle upward, ascending ever higher toward the Infinite River and the upper layers of the floating isles.
Gods damn it all. It was selfish of him to want to keep their monuments separate from the rest. Even if he had scouted that lonely abode countless times for exactly this purpose, even if trying to set the obelisks up at the current resting grounds would come with a wretched, inquisitive audience, and even if he had told himself the last time that he would never add more names to that list, those reservations were all excuses to not do what had to be done.
“I know this must be your doing,” Zellek growled to himself as he climbed farther and farther up the towering pillar. Even not considering the lesson the multiverse seemed to be telling him, the feeling, too, was unmistakable; a twisted, cold hand grabbing and wrenching his heart, all while his muscles still shuddered from the strain of doing their job. If he wanted, he could shift his cells and cut off the neurons to shut up their incessant firing, but he did not. He wasn’t a coward.
With a grunt, Zellek leapt onto a towering mesa supported only by scraggly strands of fading ley-energy which stretched into the abyss far below. Even after cycles and cycles, gravity still remained the same here: weak and pathetic, as if it had given up on grasping anything worthwhile that passed it by. No wonder all the old towers the Jaspen clan had built were long gone. Did they sink into the collective, endlessly flat mass? Did they simply drift away? Did they disperse into particles so fine, no trace of them could be sensed? Nobody would ever know, because there were no living witnesses of the catastrophe, nor was there any remaining evidence. Still, there was a place Zellek wanted to stop by, if only to take a moment to rest and delay his responsibilities further. There was time. Too much of it, in fact, but, regardless, Zellek shifted the form of his legs to layer them with more muscle so he could propel himself far into the distance with each bounding leap and hurry up the mindless commune. Plus, each bound had the added benefit of telling him just how deep into the wastes he threw himself. It was one of the only consistent ways to not become lost.
It took approximately fifty six and a quarter leaps to arrive at his first nesting ground; but, while he was sailing through the forty ninth leap, he spied a glint of bright cyan among the endless dark purples and blue-blacks. The glow of another life form. Thus, another kreket. They were tall, lithe, and they were here, a place only the eldest would have reason to care about.
It had to be Lathriss. Visiting this place was not something Zellek had seen her do before, but Tarren, the only other option, was not a sentimental type of beast. Her head was facing away from him, and she didn’t move even as Zellek came to a skidding stop almost an entire leap away from her. Had something happened back with the rest of the Jaspen clan in the Spires? No, otherwise she would be with them. The only reason she would be so far removed was if she expected to not be sought out for a moment. The thought made Zellek smile as he got on all fours to crawl quickly across the field toward her. What delicious justice for him to be the one to suddenly hop in on her moment of isolated peace for a change.
“I can hear your scuttling,” she growled as he came close. “Speak.”
“My first monuments, which I attempted to build on the outer rims, erupted, so I will be rebuilding in the resting grounds shortly.”
“You were foolish for attempting to build anything in an unmarked space, Zellek.”
“Maybe, but this place is proof enough that nobody can ever predict what is stable and what is not.”
Her low and lengthy chitter was one of displeasure, and when she turned to see him getting up onto his hind legs, he half expected to be kicked back down. Now that would be reminiscent of younger days. Instead, she stepped forward and grabbed one of his back spines to look it over.
“You’re nearly out of room to paint additional rings of remembrance. If I didn’t know better, I would say that, as the common denominator, it is your fault that so many teams do not return.”
“I’m better at running away than the rest.”
“And,” she growls, pushing him away, “you’re our closest mouthpiece to XeXa. Perhaps, before It grows bored of you, helping others gain Its favor is where you would be better served.”
“Noted.” Great. As if he knew why XeXa entertained his quest and so quickly came to his rescue during times of crisis. If she started asking him those questions again, they would be trapped in a loop for ages. There are real answers to be found elsewhere. “If allowed: a question about your motives here.”
“Go ahead.”
“Nostalgia, to pay respects, or as a place of comfort and silence to think?”
“You’re bold for suggesting the first option.” Lathriss’ tone is as cold and dry as the Abyss. “It should be obvious that it’s the third.”
“There are plenty of other places which would serve that purpose better.”
“And?”
Of course she would make him admit his insinuation, even though she knows damned well what his answer will be. “I’m saying I’m not satisfied with your answer.”
“And I’m not satisfied with the three options.” Lathriss stepped up to tower over him, her fangs showing through her deep frown as her back spines twitched. Her tone grew shaky. “You’re better than those types of suggestions, Zellek. Black and white. Either or. Why do you come here? The answers you say you’re looking for won’t be found in an unmarked graveyard. Or is this where you meet XeXa Itself?”
Turning the question on him struck Zellek as a natural avoidance strategy, but there was no reason he shouldn’t answer. As long as they remained on topic, he could circle back around to what he wanted, and more effectively so. “To pay my respects and to remind myself of what came before us.”
“There was nothing that came before us. It was always “us”, and I do not understand why you would treat them as others. We still bear their name and we still carry on their work. I know how you feel about that, but as long as I remain”—she patted the stylized number one painted onto her leg as proof of rank—“then we will continue our defiance. At least you appreciate their legacy enough to not let their names fall entirely into the Abyss.”
Zellek bowed his head and emitted a two-toned affirmative chitter, but she still grabbed his snout and neck to upturn his gaze and squeeze him into submission. They locked eyes. He didn’t make a sound, nor did he move. Her claws dug into the plates on his neck, leaving lasting puncture marks over the three slashes of leadership they both had painted onto their necks. Such defilement was a show of power, nothing more. More concerning was when her hand slipped from his neck to his back, pushing him into her chest.
“You’re lucky I’m so patient,” she whispered, leaning her face down close to his. “But after cycles of toying around with each other—such as when these nests were still standing, or during all that time we spent building the new home, and now, when you leave me to govern while you run around trying to find the secrets of life— I’m growing to expect something more. Our clan needs the guidance of our union, or our ranks will endlessly dwindle. You know this, but you run, because you don’t like obvious paths. You never did. Consider this your only warning.”
Finally, release. When she stepped away from him, Zellek’s muscles still remained tense. Here he came to rest, not to stand vigil against somebody who he should be able to trust. As he brushed his hand over his neck and reformed his three slashes, a light heat alighted his chest. “If you saw my point of view and put more resources into my vision for the kreket, they could already be under the guidance of “our union”. Instead, we continue leading doomed missions into the universes for the sole long-standing purpose of “defying the gods”, just as our ancestors did, as if displays of defiance have ever done our species any enduring good. Your own stubbornness to not recognize that failing holds you back.”
“I could say the same thing about you, Zellek.” Her mandibles clacked together in frustration as she lowered herself onto all fours. A combative stance? It could be, so he swiftly followed suit; but the next chitter that left her was a long, low one while her back spines wilted. “Everyone, including myself, would better understand your vision if you could decide on what it is. Last I heard, you were still looking. And I, still waiting. I won’t apologize for being restless, nor will I apologize for doing my duty.”
The heat which had stormed Zellek’s heart shifted into something that made his abdomen ache. He couldn’t look her in the eyes any longer, his face twisting into a snarl while his own mandibles also clacked together. “The wait frustrates me almost as much as it does you, but I can’t let myself die without knowing what we are here for. As I currently understand, that is the reason why I have XeXa’s favor. It’s not easily passed on.”
“Clearly not.”
Lathriss turned, her whiplike tail still close enough to whap Zellek’s snout. Petty, but justified. When she moved to leave, prowling in the direction he had just spent all that time leaping away from, he chittered for her attention and fell in line by her side. “I already have plans of something to do before I rebuild the monuments, but I would not be opposed to discussing an effective strategy of approaching the enemy if that’s what you think is necessary. We have plenty of time before we return.”
A relieved smile crossed her face, but she swiftly shoved it away to don her “stern leader” look. Even when they were alone, in the middle of the remnants of nests they once matured in, she still thought she needed to mask. A deep cold pinched Zellek’s heart again, taunting him with its unease while he and Lathriss had their age-old conversation about tactics on the trek back to the Spires.
There, they split paths with a promise that whatever Zellek had planned wouldn’t take long. Weaving through the nesting district was a slog of constantly telling the others that he would explain what happened on his last mission in the upcoming pulses and to leave him be. To their credit, they stood aside quickly, and he was allowed to ascend up to one of the many takeoff pads without further harassment. There, where the culmination of work from hundreds of cycles of kreket runic scribes was written, he crawled on all fours into the center and dug in his claws. Heat first surged through his plates, then his skin, then his blood, before it all was sucked away by the lines drawn into the crystal. The platform cracked and rumbled, alight with new shimmers of blue life, while a familiar chill slipped into the place where heat once surged through Zellek’s body.
DOUBLING BACK FOR A SINGLE ACT OF DEFIANCE IS A MOVE THEY WILL NOT EXPECT OF YOU, BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN YOU WILL HAVE A COPIOUS AMOUNT OF TIME.
The platform’s surge of movement upward pushed Zellek further into the ground as he looked up to the shining universes surrounding the Infinite River far above. His eyes burned from the strain, but he didn’t stop his scan until…there it was. The shining surface of the universe his strike team had been expelled from.
YOU HAVE OFTEN ARGUED THE FUTILITY OF LEAVING A MARK UPON THE UNIVERSES, YET THOSE THREE DEATHS PUSH YOU TO THIS LEVEL OF ACTION. YOU ARE GROWING DESPERATE, BECAUSE YOU DO NOT WISH TO ACCEPT THE ANSWER STARING YOU DOWN.
“Entertain me,” Zellek growled before he was propelled into the light. As requested, he was whisked away to the only world supporting life, and according to the whim of XeXa, he was thrown into the savannahs during dry season. Anticipating a chase, small critters immediately yelped and skittered away from the new hulking beast that had entered their midst, but Zellek only sleepily pulled himself to his feet with blurry vision and scowled at the scenery. Scattered, gnarled trees. Low lying plants that blew according to the constant winds. There would be no isolated mountain cliff face or safeguarded cavern here for him to make his mark. No settlement was in sight to vandalize. No roads to deface.
It was ludicrous that the kreket were ever jealous of the way the inhabitants of this world lived. An easier life was still a life. A beginning and an end, whether short or long. Meanwhile, the creatures of this world constantly lied to themselves, while the kreket experienced the depths of what the multiverse had to offer so completely that there could be no denying it. What was better, living a luxurious lie or living a nightmarish reality?
TRUTH IS WORTH ANY COST.
Fungal growths, glowing with intense magic no other nearby living organism could handle, were already beginning to spread across the low lying plants; a clear mark of XeXa’s presence and impatience. The wind had grown ever stronger, and with it an odd, eerily familiar scent. The scurrying of the animals had grown louder, as if they, too, were trying to run from some ill fate.
“Fine.” Zellek slammed his claw into the closest tree and began carving into its toughened skin. First, a semi-circle. Then, four dots beneath it. Left, middle-left, middle-right, right. Three lines filled the empty space between the dots, converging onto a central point in the space below the semi-circle. Finally, he added the final line extending down from that point.
THAT’S ALL? THE SYMBOL OF YOUR CLAN AND NOTHING MORE?
“They’ll get the message regardless.” Zellek stepped back from the tree and tried to take a moment to admire the clean lines left behind, but the air was growing hotter and hotter. Fungi continued to spread, and their glow nearly blinded him. Though Zellek did not dare to turn around, he felt XeXa’s hollow eyes staring through his back. Better It than the protector of this universe, who would be eager for a second helping of kreket. Either way, his time was up. “Enough. Take me home.”
A wave of nausea shook through Zellek’s abdomen as he came face-to-face with unyielding, consuming light, then the stagnant dark of the Abyss, then the dull light of the crystals that made up the Spires the Jaspen clan now called home. It was time to get back to work.
HE NEVER SAW THE WILDFIRE THAT HAD BEEN BEARING DOWN SO QUICKLY MOMENTS BEFORE.
I first saw the face of this thing in my nightmares as this embodiment of looming dread. It said nothing, but I could feel it looking into my soul and showing me the fear I had tried to run from during one of my darkest times. That image has stuck with me for years, and I'd wanted to somehow bring it to life, but I hadn't known how. Now that I've gained some experience with art, I was ready to try my hand, and I feel like this captures the energy I wanted.
Destruction, decay, and the uncertainty of a new creation are all embodied within the great cycle of life and death. We may fear what it heralds, but can anyone call a force of nature malicious?
Just don't listen when its voices start calling you to oblivion.
Though Lylin is an academic and diplomat first and foremost, all that study of old magicks definitely pays off whenever his family is threatened. The dark, forboding purple waves and the magic racing up the spear gives off a really nice sense of danger here, and I love how he looks pissed, but still controlled. Very lovely piece~
I've only drawn Gahalla as a soft lil dragon boi thus far, but they are a shapeshifter after all and I love seeing them presented in a more angelic light. This piece was for a custom magic card of mine as well and it fits perfectly. I was very much thoroughly excited to see this come out, and I think the more black/white with the golden accents paint a very stark picture that suits the presentation of some kind of divine beast.
vaporwave
kaledo-art
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titsay
dededos
dailybridgerton
janainaart
