#demon hunt

[stroider]

Playlists for ttrpg characters are a great excuse to make quick little album covers to go along with them. It’s been a really fun framework to practice on weak technique areas. Plus! Multitasking and feeding the Brainworms

[eve-nement]

Jace: Are you still mad?

Alec: I'm not mad.

Jace: Oh, yes you are.

Alec: I'm not. Just because you said dragon demons were extinct...

Jace: I said mostly extinct.

Alec: Mostly extinct, is not extinct enough.

Jace: I see. I'll just have them change the entry in the demonology textbook from "almost extinct" to "not extinct enough for Alec. He prefers his monsters really, really extinct."

[redvampirerose]

Art by  theDURRRRIAN

[lilenaart]

Couple warm up symmetry doodles of a few of my wow friends.

[mrtacothethird]

Every time Shane and Ryan go on a ghost hunt, Shane has to sing some ABBA song. Sorry I don’t make the rules.

[ofrunesandbloodmagic]

Demon Hunt

❤@modithorson​❤continued❤original open starter❤

Juliet didn’t agree that the guy was making it ‘too easy’. She believed it to be both annoying and frustrating. What kind of demon that didn’t like and wanted to kill humans, went out and partied with them? 

It simply made no sense to her. 

But, Modi seemed to be enjoying himself and immensely at that. It had her wondering if the man got out much?

She was thinking no. 

At least she wasn’t alone. 

That’s what she kept telling herself, anyway. As she watched him down shot after shot. He was having fun and she wasn’t drawing attention to herself. It also managed at least a few of the random guys from trying to hit on her. 

“Which human? And how is a human going to accomplish a feet like that?” 

[steelandslobber]

Demon Hunt.

@poiseandpatience

💀::

It was rare to hear of Cybertronian Succubi, normally only myths among the hunter communities. Demon hunters tried and tried to track them down to see if they could either be captured or killed, but in the end the hunters either came up empty servoed or never came back at all...

Sighing he headed for the last location that the succubi was last seen feeding, from there he would see where things would go. The start ended badly nothing to show which direction the demon could have run off to...though turning he spotted a small hole in the wall sort of bar tucked away in an alley to his right. It was known that they tended to lurk in bars to pull in mecha a feed on, and a drink sounded good anyways. 

Heading to the bar he ordered a strong high grade and sitting in a dim corner he glanced about trying to see if anything was out of the ordinary...a red and gold mech caught his optic and watching he could see those around him hanging onto his every word. Bingo. Now to wait and see if his guess is correct.

[alittlepieceofwarcraft]

Down By The Docks

Year 33

The midsummer sun beat down upon Silvermoon’s marble towers and soaked into the grandly sculptured buildings, reflecting in all directions from the top of the spires in a blinding dazzle. Most citizens sat outside or strolled around the gardens, cooling themselves with large, elaborate fans and sipping fine wine from goblets. Children chased one and other around the fountains, dipping their toes in the refreshing water and splashing their companions in jest. The Legion’s defeat had hailed much celebration: lavish feasts of the finest meats: tender boar, juicy deer, seasoned fish were served with piles of fresh vegetables and rich desserts were never ending among the party goers, and barrels expensive ale were constantly rolled out to pour toasts. Silvermoon had a full fortnight of festivities: with music and dancing accompanied by fireworks every evening well into the witching hour. Banjos, lutes and drums played merry tunes until the musicians’ fingers were stiff and Sin’dorei of every class danced until their feet were sore. Now was a time of limbo. Druids of both Horde and Alliance had been set the task of healing forests and fields from the demonic taint; priests held the responsibility of nursing the injured and consecrating land to bury the dead; warriors given the job of rallying and accounting for the remaining forces. Tradesmen across Azeroth worked to supply areas that had been deprived of resources and ensure old contracts for goods remained intact, coming in by horse, zeppelin and ship. Ronyl sat by the docks in peaceful solitude, watching the trade ships that had made their way from Booty Bay steady and tie up their ships to the pier.

 Her return to her birth city had been far more welcoming than anticipated. She feared her blindfold that hid scarred eyes and curved demon-like horns would cause uneasiness among her people, but to her surprise she was welcomed as a hero alike her comrades. Nevertheless, she adorned herself with a large hooded cloak to disguise her more unconventional attributes. “I want to feel normal”, she told herself as she swept the cape around her shoulders, “I want to be Sin’dorei, not a shadow of the illisar”. She clung to the edge of its material for comfort as she gazed out on the horizon. The glorious sun’s rays kissed the distant seascape, leaving a glistening glow along the waves. The giant ships had been docked up and Ronyl beheld the designs. Most were Horde: spikey metallic-like bodies and a scarlet red flag bearing its symbol boldly, but some ships came from neutral human and night elf parties; curved décor engraved in the oak or purple coated strips upon the side. Each and every one had vast sails flowing in the breeze, allowing the vessel to glide across waters with haste. One in particular had caught Ronyl’s eye. Maybe the biggest ship she’d seen aside from warships, it floated in place with a certain manner of majesty. She studied the intricate work that made to have been conducted by others labouring for hours upon hours to complete, from nailing the planks to create a gun port to polishing the finish of the bow and fixing the stern onto the deck. Alike the human ships, it also bore adornments of cravings in swirling designs and upon the front was a sculpture of a siren, flowing hair and tail curled to the side. “A piece of art”, Ronyl thought.

“Are you admiring my body?”

 Ronyl blinked, startled, and went a shade of pale red. She hadn’t noticed a figure leaning against the very front of the ship, tying a rope to the side. A Sin’dorei like her, the female was clad in dull leathers that brought out the autumn orange shade of her locks and gold glow of her eyes. Her hair reminded Ronyl of the gorgeous colour of the leaves that embellished the trees of Eversong Woods, and her irises seemed to be set with Deadly Amberblaze. She was taller than the demon hunter; Ronyl would probably be able to rest her chin on her shoulders perhaps. Two sizable blades hung from her belt, sharpened and glinting. She gave a small smirk as she stared back at Ronyl’s eyesthat were wide in surprise.

“My boat,” the elf gestured towards the ship she leant against, “Isn’t she a beauty?”

Ronyl breathed a sigh of relief and let the embarrassment release with the exhale. She gave a small nod in response. The elf slung the rope onto the deck and made her way to Ronyl, sitting beside her on the bank and reaching out an arm, initiating a handshake.

“Siggis,” She introduced herself. Ronyl returned the shake.

“Ronyl.” Siggis glanced down, the shake revealing the neon tattoos etched on Ronyl’s forearm.

“I don’t know many elves with tattoos,” She remarked. Ronyl shrugged, still a little flushed from her shy demeanour. “You were in the war,” Siggis continued. Ronyl turned to give her a confused expression. “I’ve seen many like you. They come our way for travel or trade. You all have a look.” Ronyl continued her silence, only replying with a few blinks and observing sailors from Siggis’ ship emerged from the cabin’s doors, rolling out more barrels, presumably headed to restock the city’s pantries after parties drained the food and drink. Siggis leaned forward to meet the direction of her gaze. “Chatty one, aren’t you?” Ronyl’s mouth turned into a small smile.

“I like to listen. I came to listen to the waves and the busy of trade.”

“That’s good,” Siggis laughed, “because I like to talk.”

 And talk Siggis did as she laid back and chatted to the quiet Ronyl about how she had come with her trade ship to Silvermoon from Booty Bay, where she resided. She told a tale or two that made Ronyl’s mouth drop: tales of pirate battles and sea monsters. Unsure of the truthfulness of the sagas, Ronyl was nevertheless entranced by her talent of retelling campfire-like stories. When she began, the noon sun was high in the sky, but now it was sinking lower and lower, gradually setting in the horizon and darkening Silvermoon. After a couple of epic adventures being relived, Siggis turned to Ronyl, curiosity lacing her eyes.

“You’re a little war hero aren’t you, must have quite a few tales.” Ronyl shifted with discomfort.

“I want to be normal. Staying as quiet as a mouse. Normal. Not a war hero.” Siggis studied her stern expression for a moment before shrugging.

“Each to their own, mouse girl.” A bellow rang out across the docks, instructing all tradesmen and sea dwellers to make their way back to their vessels for the nights journey home. Siggis got to her feet, brushing grass off her hides. “It seems my captain is calling.”

“Captain? Aren’t you the captain?” Siggis laughed.

“No, and that’s not my ship… but if I tell enough people then maybe one day I’ll have my own and captain it myself.”

“That sounds like a big adventure.”

“Perhaps I’ll come back with my own ship, and you could join me for that adventure, mouse girl.”

Ronyl continued to sit as Siggis leapt aboard the ship and let down the magnificent sails to flutter in the wind. As the crew disappeared into the sea’s limitless span, Ronyl wondered if and when she would see the mysterious elf aboard it again.

*Illisa: “Enemy”, a Darnassian word but I couldn’t find an Thalassian alternative.

Siggis belongs to @ratboy-sadboy.