#greybor

[misty-seashore]

Yesterday was the Pathfinder WOTR birthday. What could be better than art with all the companions. Some of the best characters in any game I've ever played. If not the best. Thanks to the writers.

[kutkhart]

A big meme collaboration for Ask! Thank you all for participating.

Maegar Varn @boggubozakatochnihmashinok

Octavia, Yaker, Daeran, Wenduag, Ulbrig @magnezia

Jubilost, Regongar, Linzi, Harrim, Nyrissa, Regill, Greybor @kutkhart

Rayndotr, Sendri, Rekarth @rezoeline

Baron Rowan https://t.me/sofyunalt

Lann https://t.me/chaekvanlav0

Tristian @laurelindis

Arueshalae @aryaashen

Aivu @katykeith

Valerie @kasartiss

Zacharius https://vk.com/crablair

Storyteller https://t.me/ramalakeven_png

Vordakai https://vk.com/carmanci

[zyuu-fusil]

Light & Shadow ⚔️

(art credits: 铁皮罐头 on mihuashi)

[criticallybad]

theoretically, who would you want to see a pine up of?

Seelah

Arueshalae

Camellia

Daeran

Sosiel

Woljif

Lann

Wenduag

Nenio(human)

Nenio(kitsune)

Regill

Greybor

Voting ended onFeb 10

but i remember Sosiel this time, still no promises

[elavoria]

owlcatober 2025 prompt 17: chase

“You will regret this! I will remember you, and we will meet again, I promise!”

Devarra leading the party on a merry chase across the Worldwound.

[sketchblognko]

Bargain (day 7-9)

[blighted-elf]

Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous - A Dance of Masks party

[paraparadigm]

WIP Whenever

Trying to be a little bit more active than I've been, and tagged by the delightful @saltymaplesyrup and @mareenavee. I'm out of the Skyrim bucket for now, so I'm sorry this won't make much sense unless you're familiar with Pathfinder, but writing is writing, right? Still on Pathfinder WOTR here, with this fic that was going to be short, self-indulgent one-off, but I am incapable of doing short (though can do self-indulgent plenty). Tagging both back, and also @gilgamish and @archangelsunited and whoever would like self-tag. I am quietly writing into the back drawer until this is done, whenever that might be.

“About time,” Daeran proclaims from where he’s perched on what appears to be a crate of root vegetables in one of the citadel’s subterranean store rooms, this one in charge of supplying the kitchens. “What took so long?” The other denizens of the store room include one assassin, one succubus, and one Hellknight, also perched on various repurposed surfaces, except for the Hellknight who stands with his back to them, hands clasped behind him, and is apparently admiring logistics’ way of keeping track of supplies by pinning various dire messages to a notice board on the wall. Such as “LOW ON PEAS,” in all capitals, which Lem can read from as far as the storeroom’s entrance Seelah convoys her through. “Seelah. Commander,” Greybor greets them, with a quick glance diverted from stuffing his pipe. “Shut the door behind you.” “Is there a supply crisis of some sort?” Lem tries, and points her chin at the notice board. As soon as she was able to walk after tripping over Areelu’s lexical paradoxing—which outfitted her with a curse, judging by Ember’s witchy fix—Seelah mercilessly dragged her all the way down to the citadel’s basement with a “later, just hurry.” So here the two of them stand in the doorway, later or some such, amidst root vegetables and a dire deficit of peas. “My dearest muse, is this some kind of new dramatic fashion?” Daeran asks instead of answering, and cants his head to scrutinize her face. “What is that? Paint?” He cants his head the other way and squints, then his brows angle into a frown. “Were you crying blood?” Trouble takes this as his cue to give “LOW ON PEAS” his back and examine the other dire situation. His expression promptly monumentalizes to its granite aspect as he assays her. If he has a tell, it’s that he doesn’t have one, except where his eyes tighten a little, but other than that he evinces no evident alarm whatsoever. “Are you functional, Knight-Commander?” he queries in his dry workaday tone. Define functional, she doesn’t say, but since now is probably not the time to consider which specific functions he’s holding in mind, she shrugs. “I appear to be functioning as intended, yes,” she offers, then adds, just in case it needs disambiguating, “whatever that was. Why are we communing with root vegetables?”