#myconids

[tamvmat]

Mushroom folks! Three cute little shrooms. The first attempt got ruined by spilled coffee but no worries, I drew another

Ink art 🍄🍄🍄

[gambitman]

Myconid family. I painted them to look a bit like the kindred of rot - I’m not sure how well it turned out but they are finished now and stand happily on my shelf.

Generally enjoyable to paint - lots of washes and wet blending to try and create a suitably weepy appearance. Like they are seeping rot from the orange fungus that grows on them.

[shallanzah]

Myconids studies

[galedekarios]

Myconid Colony

Myconids, also known as fungus ones, and fungus folk, were a race of ambulatory fungus creatures. They were known for their peacefulness and appreciation of quiet, making their homes in the darker corners of the world.

[dhournswisdom]

In Meeting The Myconids 🍄🔮✨️

In the good news, absolutely stunning character design. In the bad news, very philosophically troubling implications regarding how they reproduce and colonize corpses like a post-brunch nibble. However, despite that sounding horrifying, crazily enough, they are the least morally objectionable route for my chaotic good drow-hailing ass, so we're buddies rn. ✨️

Shadowheart, my pro-choice queen. 🥰🫶💕

[lumendelmari]

Chapter Seven

Exodus

1485 D.R. / Day 57 Neverlight Grove

The final syllables of the restoration ritual lingered. Sloopidoop’s webbed hands hovered over Sarith’s still form, shimmering with a faint glow that matched the blue light thrumming beneath the ground. The six companions remained in a tight ring around the fallen drow warrior, hands touching his shoulders, arms, and armor, each a thread in the fragile web anchoring him to the material plane. Silence followed. It stretched, thick and unbearable, each second dragging out like an eternity.

Then—

Sarith’s chest heaved upward like a man pulled from drowning. His eyes shot open wide—wild, dilated, frantic—muscles tense as if he might strike or bolt. He flailed instinctively, but something caught his wrist.

“Sarith?!”

“He’s breathing!”

Zelyra let out a choked gasp of relief, half a laugh, half a sob. Beside her, Fraeya exhaled sharply, blinking fast and wiping her cheek. The two women threw an arm around each other in a tight, brief side-hug.

“You absolute bastard!”

Sarith blinked rapidly, his vision sharpening. The grove swam into view—blurry faces and familiar voices. A strange dampness clung to his skin. He shivered, not from cold, but from something he couldn’t name. His body ached, his head throbbed, but he was alive. His eyes locked onto Fraeya’s, and the rogue pressed something into his hands before he could fully register what had happened. Cold metal, worn smooth by time. He looked down. It was two small emblems. He knew them.

“You are innocent.”

Sarith swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat as he stared at them. “How—?”

“You escaped that day,” Fraeya continued, her voice softer now, but no less resolute. “Imbros Mizzrym did not.”

His breath hitched. He had assumed— 

No. He hadn’t allowed himself to assume.

Sarith had let the memory of that doomed mission rot in his mind, convinced that he had failed. He lost more than just a fellow guard that day. He lost his station, his dignity, everything. He had lived with the weight of that sin for what felt like a lifetime. And now, Fraeya had undone it with the simple truth laid bare in his hands.

You escaped that day.

He did not.

His lips parted, but before he could voice the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind, Fraeya’s relief turned to fury. “What were you thinking!?” she burst, rounding on Sarith so fast he recoiled on instinct. “Running into the fight like that?! You were already on the brink of—of whatever the Abyss was happening to you, and then you go sliding down the ravine to distract Yestabrod like a damned martyr?!”

Sarith blinked, then let out a tired, long-suffering sigh. He rolled his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face as the rogue continued her tirade.

“You could’ve died! You almost did die! Gods, you are so reckless, I—”

“I did die,” the drow warrior corrected dryly.

“Apparently, you need someone to remind you that you are not expendable!”

“I had it under control.”

“You liar!”

Sarith groaned, but there was no real venom behind it.

“I was already infected,” he insisted. “It seemed efficient.”

A vein in Fraeya’s forehead bulged as she pulled her lips back in a snarl. The drow looked like she was two seconds away from sending Sarith straight back to his grave.

Kazimir chuckled lowly before stepping forward, extending a hand to the drow warrior.

“Okay, okay. Let him breathe, Fraeya.”

Sarith eyed the outstretched hand for a long moment before clasping Kazimir’s forearm, allowing the wizard to help pull him to his feet. His limbs still felt strange, like they weren’t entirely his own. He felt different. Not weak. Not broken. Just... different. . . . To read more: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61549729/chapters/168784804

[sialiasnest]

Some myconids

Whatcha doing?

I know what we're going to do today

"You know what I hate about the Unclimbable Mountain of Unclimbableness? Just to get there, you have to cross the Uncrossable River of Uncrossableness!"

You guys are so busted

[aeoniumgarnet]

Denizens of the Ebonlake Grotto 🍄

Just some more NPC appreciation

Posted using PostyBirb