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Sometimes we are struck by desperate times. So we strike desperate deals.
A big ol' commission for Xervous
Loved working on this, has been a while since I've done a nice big scene, so this was a pleasure to work on with a theme very much up my alley!
(Scroll down for some great writing by Xervous for this)
A big ol' commission for Xervous
Loved working on this, has been a while since I've done a nice big scene, so this was a pleasure to work on with a theme very much up my alley!
(Scroll down for some great writing by Xervous for this)
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1300 x 920px
File Size 1.19 MB
Listed in Folders
Here we recall a tale of gray times and grim measures. Many hands stained by the ash of purging fires, the only warmth what could scour away the lingering blood. Rarely is it that states go to war out of anything but desperation, a clash such as this holding no place for the innocent save shallow graves. Aggressor, the assaulted, what did it matter now how things had begun? His peoples' blood coursed in the streets, the ash of their departed belongings clawed at his throat, those distant cries rang out even after the alarms ceased their tolls.
He had promised them these days were not the last, they would not be rendered a dusty last chapter in history for scribes to recount in the coming ages. There had been fervor and talk of fighting to the last man... at the onset. They were to win this war.
Blasphemy and realms whose words are a blight upon the very air, he made certain of the arrangements for this Calling. Lives that would be lost served a different purpose, an offering, an enticement. There it blossomed, a gash in reality disgorging a monstrosity what might end this conflict in its entirety, drive the amassed forces to the sea, all opposition to lands end...
But 'lo, It spoke. Terms were presented. Inarguable, rigid, binding words laced in sorcery. It was to have him one way or another. Deny the pact and he was but a morsel, It would leave these lands to ruin. Accept this gift, and pen himself many new pages in history for this ascendant lineage.
Invite not darkness in, for It is crafty and of many shapes, coveting your every action to paint its dance upon the world.
He had promised them these days were not the last, they would not be rendered a dusty last chapter in history for scribes to recount in the coming ages. There had been fervor and talk of fighting to the last man... at the onset. They were to win this war.
Blasphemy and realms whose words are a blight upon the very air, he made certain of the arrangements for this Calling. Lives that would be lost served a different purpose, an offering, an enticement. There it blossomed, a gash in reality disgorging a monstrosity what might end this conflict in its entirety, drive the amassed forces to the sea, all opposition to lands end...
But 'lo, It spoke. Terms were presented. Inarguable, rigid, binding words laced in sorcery. It was to have him one way or another. Deny the pact and he was but a morsel, It would leave these lands to ruin. Accept this gift, and pen himself many new pages in history for this ascendant lineage.
Invite not darkness in, for It is crafty and of many shapes, coveting your every action to paint its dance upon the world.
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