#vahnatai

[mxadrian779]

Woohoo, I'm finally finished (??) with this fanart of my favourite nostalgic PC game series, #Avernum by Spiderweb Software  This is definitely something very different than I've done in the past, but it was a lot of fun.

[randallwallaceart]

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, Exile/Avernum are my favorite games ever and I was so dang happy to download the newest version of Crystal Souls and play through it. :D But you’d think for this quest being the TITLE OF THE GAME that it would get more attention, ha... I have been running around doing every quest EXCEPT tracking down the Crystal Souls with no ill consequence. My party is easily distractable. :P

[amethystsadachbia]

Outcasts 3

"A sword?" Loki asked quietly, as if afraid to raise his voice. "Where did it come from?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "It was here with us when we awakened."

"Where is mine?" he wondered, glancing about the stone cave-floor. A glint in the water caught his eye of a sudden, and he went to the water; feeling carefully in the shadows, he came upon two small knives, unadorned save for gems set in the handles. Each was inscribed with a symbol similar to the characters on Citlara's sword.

Loki peered at the jewels; the low light was not an impediment to his vision or to Citlara's, but he could not decipher the letters. "Do these…mean something?" he asked, holding the knives up where Citlara could see. She merely spread her hands in a shrug.

"There should be more here," he muttered. "But where…" He sat up straighter, shaking his head, and the gesture turned into a full-body frisson. Citlara put a hand under his elbow and hauled him back to his feet, surprisingly strong for a creature her size.

"We must go. As I told you, we have to move or we shall die of cold," she explained. "And there could be beasts on the hunt—or worse—nearby. We cannot remain in the open." A grunting howl, as if in assent, sounded from across the black lake.

The two amnesiacs picked their way down the riverbank, which sloped gently enough but was littered with loose stone shards and the budding beginnings of stalagmites. Their feet, bare and tender, found many a sharp edge before their eyes did, and it took little pain to slow their descent, forcing them to move cautiously and, to Citlara's mind, vulnerably.

"What is that?" Loki asked suddenly, pointing into the distance. Where the cold dark river widened and joined with the waters of the black lake, a tiny structure stood—little more than a hut, with faded bluish walls that seemed grown from the rock floor itself. Gaps in the walls were sheeted over with what seemed to be yellow crystal, and there was clearly light coming from within.

[amethystsadachbia]

Outcasts 2

Do you guys like my random writing chunks? No? Well too bad HAVE MORE ANYWAY.

Citlara crept to the edge of the stream; a little pool had formed from the eddies of the current, and she looked down at her reflection. Was this what she had always looked like? She couldn't remember. Long dark hair, dyed greenish in the cavelight, plastered across her face and down her back. Sharply peaked eyebrows over tilted brown eyes. Small dark beauty spots on her neck and shoulders. Citlara looked at her hands, and then got to her feet; the man on the ground nearby drew in a shuddering breath, and she went to him, taking one of his hands in hers. "Get up. It's cold. We cannot remain stationary." His eyes opened, wandered, focussed. He stared up at her face. Though they were obviously of a kind, he showed marked dissimilarities to Citlara, not the least of which was his greater height. His eyes slanted downward; his nose was straighter; his cheekbones stood out as starkly as if chiseled from stone. He was beautiful, and Citlara desperately hoped to recognise something familiar about his face: but it remained the face of a stranger. "What—what is this place?" he asked, in a voice hoarse from long silence. "Who are you?" "I don't know where we are. I don't know how we got here. I know only my name—Citlara—and that if we do not move around to get feeling back in our arms and legs, we will slowly die of the cold." He sat up, wiping the wet hair from his face with both hands. For a long moment, he stared out across the river into the dark distance; then he whispered, "I cannot remember ever having been so cold. I—don't think I ever have been." "It is why we must move around and dry off," Citlara insisted, taking his hand again and pulling. He slowly got to his feet, and then looked down at her, puzzled. "Who are you?" "I don't know." "How can you not know who you are?" "I know my name—Citlara. That's all. Who are you?" He was taken aback by that, and paused, glancing around. "I…I cannot remember." "Do you know your name?" He thought for a moment, then nodded. "I am Loki. But that is all I remember." Citlara turned round, sweeping her wet hair back over her shoulders. The waterfall-fed river—had it washed them up on the stone shore here?—flowed placidly on into a lake whose waters stretched away into blackness. The cave they were in was vaster than she had initially thought; more nebulae of the glowing fungus on the ceiling illumined deep blue patches of water, and what must be islands out in the lake. One such island appeared to hold the ruins of crystalline structures.