#poliel

[lazy-indigo]

I thought of just posting this on YT, but I’ll be nice and put it here too :3 This pic felt very fitting for this trio. And ya know I’ll take any excuse to draw them together. Also felt like putting them in a modern au cause why not.

Bonus doodles:

[malazansapper]

Poliel, Grey Goddess of pestilence, of disease and suffering, was trapped in her own tortured nightmare. All strength gone, all will bled away. The shard of deadly otataral impaling her hand, she sat on her throne, convulsions racking her.

Betrayals, too many betrayals - the Crippled God’s power had fled, abandoning her - and that unknown mortal, that cold-eyed murderer, who had understood nothing. In whose name? For whose liberation was this war being fought? The damned fool.

What curse was it, in the end, to see flaws unveiled, to see the twisted malice of mortals dragged to the surface, exposed to day’s light? Who among these followers did not ever seek, wilful or mindless, the purity of self-destruction? In obsession they took death into themselves, but that was but a paltry reflection of the death they delivered upon the land, the water, the very air. Self-destruction making victim the entire world.

Apocalypse is rarely sudden; no, among these mortals, it creeps slow, yet inevitable, relentless in its thorough obliteration of life, of health, of beauty.

Diseased minds and foul souls had drawn her into this world; for the sake of the land, for the chance that it might heal in the absence of its cruellest inflicters of pain and degradation, she sought to expunge them in the breath of plague - no more deserving a fate was imaginable - for all that, she would now die.

She railed. Betrayal!

Five Hounds of Shadow entered the chamber.

Her death. Shadowthrone, you fool.

A Hound flung something from its mouth, something that skidded, spitting and writhing, up against the first step of the dais.

Even in her agony, a core of clarity remained within Poliel. She looked down, seeking to comprehend - even as the Hounds fled the room, round the dais, into the priest-hole - comprehend this cowering, scaled panther, one limb swollen with infection, its back legs and hips crushed - it could not flee. The Hounds had abandoned it here - why?

Ah, to share my fate.

A final thought, meekly satisfying in itself, as the Deragoth arrived, bristling with rage and hunger, Elder as any god, deprived of one quarry, but content to kill what remained.

A broken T’rolbarahl, shrieking its terror and fury.

A broken goddess, who had sought to heal Burn. For such was the true purpose of fever, such was the cold arbiter of disease. Only humans, she reminded herself - her last thought - only humans centre salvation solely upon themselves.

And then the Deragoth, the first enslavers of humanity, were upon her.

The Bonehunters by Steven Erikson

[cthonicsyzygies]

diversity win! the goddess of plague is bi or pan or something!