Oh hey, I never mentioned how the end of Whalefall went down, did I? It was fun, very fun, Mia tried to mercy kill an undead failed god and only managed to piss it off. Fun times for everybody, lead to some pretty fun drama between sessions.
And after that, she got kidnapped by the shapeshifting big bad in the middle of a fraught battle! Hurray, more trauma! Long story short, in the intervening, what, seven years? between Acts 3 and 4, Mialynthe was held captive by the shapeshifter Poe and was given a choice — join Poe in divinity, or resist her, and force Poe to take what she wants the hard way. Mia might have fallen to the dark side if she was offered any assurance that her friends wouldn't be harmed, but... well, Poe wasn't about that.
And so it was that Mialynthe Theotheron had a dead goddess painfully ripped out of her mortal body.
Point of order, Protigone's growing strength, while bolstering Mia's sorcerous powers, was very much threatening her life. If she had held on to the Aura Arcane, the goddess may well have resurrected herself and destroyed her host in the process. Our DM had been steadily replacing sections of Mia's Wild Magic rolling table with “protigone manifests and takes over Mia," so the loss of the Aura Arcane may well have saved Mialynthe's life.
Something, however, remained of the dead goddess. A hollow echo of divinity, a Spirit of Resilience, in the form of a shattered crystal blade. Mia was rescued from Poe's clutches, but not before the damage had been done. She was almost entirely non-verbal once again. And she was filled with rage. She was able to channel that in the final battle, with the heroes of Chambridge empowered to Level 20, as they faced down the Ascended Poe, now the divine abomination known as the God of No Face and Every Face.
I didn't quite get the chance to finish Mia's Lvl 20 art, things were moving fast and life stuff was being, well, life stuff. The shattered blade was able to reform in the days before the final battle, as Mia's mind slowly, shakily returned to her. The Resilient Blade (a reflavored, slightly retooled Sword of Zariel) allowed her to take on a celestial aspect of the Aura Arcane, empowering her with an indominable will to live, to thrive, and to take back the years of life that were stolen from her. That which is broken can only be forged again stronger.
It was a nice thought, at least.
For all her resilience and passion, Mialynthe's burning vengeance undid her — she rushed headlong into battle against a god-entity that knew her and despised her. She was struck down in that battle, and worse, her fractured soul was taken from her, one more thing stolen by the creature once known as Poe. Mia did not simply die that day — she ceased to exist.
I took it pretty rough, all things considered.
It was not the end of Mia's story, not completely. With a jar of legendary Reincarnation Dust and a successful Divine Intervention, Mia rose again. Or rather, her hollow shell. Mialynthe Theotheron's soul was never again to be. Only the newly awoken aasimar Resilience remained, an echo and reflection of a woman once loved.
So, uh, yeah. Probably gonna do more art of her some day. Not entirely over that ending. It was incredible, one of the most compelling and engaging TTRPG experiences I've ever had the pleasure of participating in. And, well, it also hurt. That's what happens when you get attached to a doomed protagonist, isn't it?
Ah, the things we do for love. I felt so bad reaching the end of my first playthrough, because despite everything, in the peace that follows the fall of the Netherbrain, Shadowheart wishes her parents had lived to be a part of her happy ending.
And I just couldn't take it. I went back to my old save from the House of Grief and refused to let them sacrifice themselves. I'm now having to repeat most of Act 3 to get back to Morgaine and Shadowheart's happy ending. I'm back in the Iron Throne now, it's just as awful as it was the first time. But oh, it is so, so very worth it.
And hey, we broke into the House of Hope and stole back our contract from Raphael, right? How hard can it be to snatch a soul binding pact from Mizora. Sure, she can call on Zariel for aid, but I've been meaning to beat the brimstone out of that archdevil for what she did to Karlach anyway. All's well that ends well.
Some doodles of Mialynthe Theotheron, my elven wild magic sorcerer from a fun mini campaign my usual D&D group has been running, seen here at level 3 and 16 years of age.
Due to a traumatic and fragmented childhood, Mialynthe began our story small, skittish, and almost entirely non-verbal. Thanks to the power of friendship (and this gun we found), she was remedied of most of this.
Except the short part. She only grew up to about 5'3" by age 23. Smol.
This very self-indulgent fan comic has been a literal labor in love for me over the past two months. I'm not sure entirely how I can explain it, but Shadowheart somehow makes me feel more like... me, I guess?
Shadowheart makes me feel like someone worth loving, if that makes any sense. I guess this is what people are referring to when they talk about "comfort characters?" It certainly doesn't hurt that her childhood best friend is a trans woman.
For all the uncertainty and pain and loss she faces, Shadowheart's narrative is defined by her search for identity. Getting to be with her along that journey, helping her define herself... I guess I just find it inspiring in my own struggle to solidify my own identity. Shadowheart helps me feel more like a woman.
I'm really excited to be taking part in this mini-campaign, Whalefall. The basic conceit of the setting is that mortal civilization lives and thrives on the corpses of the deities that once ruled their world.
Each of our PCs would be crafted on a two-part prompt combining an archetype and a deity, with the former shaping our characters' motivations and narrative arcs, the latter informing our characters' lineage and the way they interact with magic in their world.
Here was my initial write-up for Mia's backstory:
Mialynthe was a "child of ill fortune" in her household, or so her parents said.
House Theotheron, or what remains of it, claims descent from a glorious dynasty of the Old Imperium. While the family remain wealthy aristocrats by all accounts, their unchecked vainglory and greed have all but ruined their house in reputation.
Naturally, they pinned the blame on their youngest child.
When she was fourteen years old (practically a toddler by elven standards), House Theotheron was in dire straits. Laucian Theotheron's ambitions finally got the better of him in an ill-fated power grab within the Stouthouse, a fool’s gambit that cost him everything. Leveraging her connections within the Distillery, Galeia Theotheron came up with a desperate plan to preserve her house — selling their daughter.
With the promise of a generous sponsorship, Mialynthe's parents handed her over to IngeniCorp, with little concern for just what fate would await their daughter. The span of time that followed, be it days, weeks, was a blurr for the little elf. After a week of poking and prodding in Chaff, she was moved to an undocumented research facility in far off Chambridge, kept in a little cell like some sort of stray dog.
Mialynthe was kept well fed and healthy, and the scary people in the long coats even gave her a few meager playthings. These were old mementos from home, which her family had uncaringly handed over upon request. Hateful things. The only comfort she found in her old possessions was a raggedy little plush cat, something her sisters had made for her, grey with big yellow button eyes. Mialynthe held onto her "Mr. Bax" for dear life, one meager comfort in her miserable little locked room.
There were experiments done on her almost every day. At first, she was tested individually, safely in the hands of Dr. Hugo Senft. Hugo had joined the initiative for the sake of curing Ingenium poisoning, but would not give up his morals for the task. While the tests were not pleasant, Dr. Hugo ensured his methods were painless, harmless. Controlled exposures, nothing dangerous. He always had a piece of candy for Mia when the tests were over — little allowances, the best he could do for the child.
If not for the Incident, Hugo might well have found a way to get Mia and the other children out of that nightmarish prison. He was not afforded the time.
When Dr. Senft's results were deemed inadequate, Mialynthe was handed over to the main test chamber, into the hands of far less gentle researchers. She remembers searing light, a burning within, a fog drifting through her head. She remembers the pain. Unbearable, unrelenting pain.
As the days turned to weeks and the agony became apathy, over the course of an entire year, Mialynthe had been kept as the Initiative's most promising test subject. The voice in her heart whispered phantom reassurances to her in the quiet moments. The voice told her she would survive this. The voice told her she could end it all.
One day, she decided to finally listen.
This is by far one of the most out of pocket things I've ever drawn. I'm still not sure what exactly compelled me to make this, or why I poured so much effort into it, but here we are.
Back at the very beginning of the pandemic, when my family were all stuck in one house together, I offered to run a home D&D campaign for my folks. While the campaign itself didn't go too far, I have a lot of fond memories of our sessions.
I had picked up the Explorer's Guide to Wildemount recently, and though my family had little-to-no familiarity with Critical Role, they were more than happy to run the Tides of Retribution adventure from that book. Piracy and swashbuckling were a big draw for them.
One of my favorite parts of that campaign was the recurring cast of NPCs making up the crew of the Wavechaser, the Revelry ship that our heroes had joined up with. Most of these characters were taken from brief snippets within the EgtW and expanded upon in my notes, and it was fun getting to depict them in a proper piece of art.
And here, marking the beginning of my BG3 art hyperfixation, is a portrait of my Tav, Morgaine, along with some doodles of her various relationships with the main companions for funsies.
As the twitter post indicates, I didn't actually start working on this portrait until after I had completed a campaign. Morgaine herself actually spent the majority of the game with minimal make up, no scars, no tattoos, and a big floofy ponytail.
When Act 3 rolled around, I decided it would only be appropriate to give my gal the glow up that I generally associate her with, belying a bit more confidence and determination in her quest to destroy the Absolute.
My most recent artwork of my undead Bard, Bones Malone, AKA: Ser Rybalt Witt, AKA: "The Dirge," AKA: ???? While Bones is his preferred moniker in pleasant company, he goes under many pseudonyms and is a consummate liar.
And here I thought Halycon was untrustworthy! The party won't let the wizard's replacement out of their sight for even a moment! And that's probably for the best, as who knows what Bones gets up to in his free time.
Bringing Bones back from the grave was a lot of fun, especially getting to craft entire Dark Souls-esque setting around him. I had originally created Bones as a College of Whispers Bard, but that was a time before Tal'dorei Reborn had been released, and College of Tragedy was simply too good to pass up.
Additionally, Bones now has a 3 level Warlock dip, Fiend patron, Pact of the Chain. In addition to the VERY helpful Mask of Many Faces invocation (for less undead-friendly locales), Investment of the Chain Master allowed me to create a fun little familiar for Bones – Mancino, his right hand man! Or rather, his left hand... hand?
Having a familiar in the form a detachable skeletal hand (mechanically speaking, a reskinned quasit) is very fun for flavor and can lead to any number of shenanigans in combat. If there's anything you should know of the Dirge, it is that he is very, very fond of shenanigans.
The world I created for Bones came to be known as Sepulcher, a dead realm that demonstrated to the Wayfarers just what would become of a world where they failed to protect a Vault. This land had been ravaged centuries ago by a worldwide curse known as "the Mana Plague," unleashed by the Crimson Banshee, a horrific arch-lich whose rise to power brought her world to ruin.
The Banshee was slain by an unknown group of heroes, and her essence was split into two phylacteries, one for her body, one for her mind. Our party of Wayfarers delved into the Varicosum, the grand theater where the Banshee performed her first and final opera, and slayed a vestige of the arch lich to obtain the former phylactery.
At the bequest of the sorcerous lich Sindel, and with Bones' humble recommendation, the party opted to destroy the phylactery, which landed them in serious hot water with the other lich, the roguish Beliok, who they had promised to delivery the artefact to. Even Bones was surprised they took his suggestion.
As to the whereabouts of the second phylactery of the Banshee, well, let's just say that secret is one Bones holds close to his(?) chest.
Loooove me some dark subversion magical girls! Unfortunately, I was only able to play this character for a single Masks one shot. I might have to bring her back one of these days.
I should rewatch Madoka Magica at some point in the near future.
This is very silly, but also kind of sad because I made this a little while after Halcyon bit the proverbial (and literal, they disintegrated) dust. The broody guy in the trench coat is Edra, our party's Earth Genasi Rogue (Soulknife).
Edra was a professional assassin from a dystopian battle royale world of sorts, fittingly dubbed "the Omen" upon becoming a Wayfarer. He is grouchy, immoral, and violently protective of his lunch meats for some reason.
He and Halcyon got on like oil and water and probably would have had a great enemies-to-lovers arc if Halcyon didn't get Power Word: Kill'd while heroically saving their companions from the wrath of a corrupt Architect. But, to be fair, in Edra's words, "[he] hated that bitch," so he wasn't too broken up about it.
Still you can't deny there was something there, even if it was very toxic. On one of our previous quests, after Halycon had staggering existential crisis about their identity, they didn't take kindly to Edra using telepathy on them, for fear of what might lurk in their fractured mind. Haly addressed the issue that night in camp by putting a GUN to the back of Edra's head and issuing an ultimatum: "Stay out of my head, or you're gonna lose yours."
Cut to a session later in a fight with a dragon, when Halcyon and Edra both attempt to teleport each other out of danger at the exact same time, after which both of them got pissy with one another over it for no good reason.
Despite his apparent hatred of the Drifter, Edra ended up taking a sentimental token following Halycon's demise, the very same magitek revolver that Halcyon had threatened him with weeks prior. Edra has a habit of collecting knives to add to his collection, and decided the best way to remember that shitty wizard was to reforge their firearm into a dagger.
He rolled REALLY badly, and it ended up being a really, really shitty dagger. But, uh, hey, thought that counts, right?
I mean, if anyone in this party is gonna get arrested, it's probably these two goons.
Makaria is a yuan-ti pureblood Ancestral Guardians Barbarian who hails from a world called Kytos, which is a lot like Theros with the exception that the entire realm has been twisted into a nightmarish netherrealm for reasons yet to be uncovered.
She and Halcyon both have a lot of baggage from their respective dystopian hometowns, and they're both exceedingly good at covering it up with flippancy and chaos. They were very much enablers for one another's mischief.
Hmm... come to think of it, I never actually got around to seeing the Barbie movie. I should fix that, I feel like I missed a cultural milestone of some sort.
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