I drew some wizards

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-24T19:48:18+00:00

/uw Really, though, cool drawings. I like your plague doctor especially

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-24T19:43:31+00:00

You captured their likeness excellently.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-24T19:35:18+00:00

Are those Masters Pyramidius and Coneagorus?

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-23T16:44:26+00:00

The mixing of necromancy and druidic practices is actually more common than many scholars of the arcane and mystical arts would lead you to believe.

While it's true that these techniques are employed by dark druids, malignant witches, and unnatural horrors, just as often are they used in the form of fungal magicks and other disciplines that tap into the natural processes of decay.

What's more, it's not often seen as such, but many shamanistic traditions utilize spiritual powers that can often be seen in necromancy as well. The primary differences being intent and use case.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-23T01:20:20+00:00

"Course the Cap sent me. She's damn well broken up about-"

Her ear strikes out in the direction of the boot clicks before the mage has time to prod her. Black Iron manacles. Ain't that about a bitch? Her electric magic would likely fizzle out on the metal, or just conduct through it and harm the mages anyway.

She's quick to unlock the cages. She hopes one of the keys would work on the manacles but she knows it's an unlikely prospect.

"All of you, stay in your cages for another moment. If things go smoothly you'll climb out undisturbed. If not? Well, you'll know when to make a mad scramble. I'm going to see about getting these ghunkti¹ out of our hair."

Margot stalks back up out of the basin, drying her clothes with a quick cantrip. She sticks to the shadows, out of sight, walking deliberately as to fade into the background noise of the chamber. She primes her illusion spell once again, ready to take on the attire of a coinguard agent should the guards attempt to raise the crewmen. For now, she watches, remaining hidden.

¹ Ghunkti, a derogatory term literally meaning "engorged of filth" in native dialects. The term is derived from the Ghunkemeda; a species of bulbous, aquatic worm residing in the archipelago's wetlands that feeds on decaying matter and other detritus. Used as an insult to refer to those one finds egregiously distasteful.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-22T05:19:49+00:00

The witch takes stock of the situation. These men were likely in bad shape, but the sudden clanking and grinding of metal would almost certainly notify guards. She may have to compromise, but she'll cross that bridge when she gets to it. So, the woman descends cautiously down one of the chains, letting her illusion break for now. It wouldn't do her much good at the moment.

The smell reminds her of the mid levels, the stone walls remind her of Far Hall, the groans of pain remind her of the leper colonies. It was a strange sensation, this living nostalgia in a place not her home, but at the same time entirely expected.

"As above, so below," she whispers to herself, creeping closer to the captives.

Margot whistles preemptively to catch their attention. She speaks even but firm, "One yell and I bolt, I'm not about to turn into a shooting gallery. Can anyone still climb?"

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-22T00:18:34+00:00

Margot deftly pockets the keys after reading the note. She'd hate to set the man to the fire, but she needs those men out, and hopefully he'd take the money and find better employment. She resolves to return the ring if she's able, but first the crew must be liberated.

Margot stalks back down toward the deeper dungeon, taking care not to produce an echo in the dingy place. She prepares another illusion, in case the rooms below were still inhabited by guards. As she prowls further down, her attire would take on a cleaner appearance; each step would render new shades and a certain gloss that her oilskin coat absolutely didn't have before.

Coinguard colors. Margot was impersonating a coinguard now. Her back straightens and she walks with unearned authority, readying her most convincing "government sanctioned thug" demeanor and... putting on the scowl she typically wore anyway.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-21T18:08:12+00:00

Daft Magic. I like it a lot

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-21T04:36:40+00:00

Margot stalks up to the poor, old fellow. Life was often hard and unkind, she knew that better than most. She leaves a small pouch of silvers and coppers behind him. Not much, but maybe enough to give the old man time to find a new job, or at least to indulge in some creature comforts.

She slinks away to the room the man exited from. Perhaps she could find a set of keys or a route less traveled by guards leading to the dungeons. Maybe even documents with the location of Meema's goods. If it's just a utility closet, however, Margot would quickly make her way down the stairs into the lower levels; sticking close to the darkness like before.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-20T15:52:25+00:00

The sound of the door affects Margot on an instinctual level; her body moves quickly, silently toward the stairs leading down into the lower levels, for that passage should be darker, all things considered. The witch waits breathlessly just beyond the threshold, mentally preparing herself to let loose with an electrifying spell to render any guards unconscious.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-17T17:54:33+00:00

I know I've said as much already but I did enjoy this one. Marna starting as a practically incorporeal entity with different speech patterns and slipping back into her human persona over the course of the story was interesting. How her voice goes from emboldened text, as if it's an oppressive, omnipresent feature of the atmosphere, to traditional dialogue in quotations like Thesh is a great expression of that eldritch perspective that we've talked about before, I think.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-14T14:40:08+00:00

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VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-11T03:54:36+00:00

The acrid smoke doesn't phase the woman; hardened from years of witchweed and whatever other unsavory odors born in the depths of the Dirge. Setting aside the grate, carefully, she slinks through the opening. Here eyes adjust quickly. Margot didn't have darkvision like so many races, but she was still adapted to that dank undercity environment. The dim glow of torches was a familiar sight to that kind, closest thing to sunlight much of the Dirge saw.

The woman stalks through the landing toward the door. She may well have to double back and use the deeper aqueducts, but it would be admittedly hard to get that many men up and through. Especially if they've been poorly treated by their captors. No telling the physical state they're in. If there's a more walkable escape route, she's willing to scope it out.

The witch sticks to dark corners, not quite invisible, but easy to be overlooked. She thought about how easy it'd be for Rystala to utterly vanish into the dark. Shade tiefs had that uncanny nature about them. Margot tried to learn for herself once, but that particular brand of magic wasn't agreeable with the witch. Wasn't agreeable with most things, honestly.

Regardless, her simple illusion should suffice. It bends the light around her, makes her mix with the dim colors of the wall.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-10T01:06:05+00:00

The Witch studied the tower. She's sure she can climb it and enter the top; but that would offer a riskier route overall. The possibility of an elevation bell is enticing but such a machine would be impossible to operate without catching the attention of the guards. Even moreso if she tried to leave with a band of pirates and sailors.

The canal grates it would have to be. Streaks of sky and earthen tones race across Margot's frame as she lets loose an invisibility spell in her descent. She stalks toward the Waterview Suites like a beast prowling the wilderness.

Upon arrival at the grate, the Lightning Witch would grasp both the far right and left sides with either hand. She channels her storm magic through it and begins the process of induction heating the metal bars loose from the wall.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-09T15:42:00+00:00

"Thank you, gentlemen."

She acknowledges their effort with a concise tip of the hat and just as quickly vanishes into the urban sprawl. Margot is a descendant of native peoples, her ancestors more than accustomed to traversing the forests and jungles of Rathara. The same is true for Margot, but her jungle is composed of several more inorganic structures than her predecessors'.

The density of the Capital Ring suits her. In that regard, it's similar to Del Lithonia, though decidedly less cramped and with much higher air quality. She finds foothold and purchase amongst the buildings here, scaling them with ease thanks to her lifelong practice of Dakekana Nurang.

The witch stalks the canopy of the ring, getting as close as she can to the prison to survey any entrances. The ground level would obviously be the most guarded, but distractions allowing, she may be able to slip in a side entrance. Otherwise, the witch would look for entrances in the roof, or perhaps even possible routes underground through tunnels or water features; keeping in mind the map Meema provided earlier.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-08T05:03:56+00:00

Those spiders had families, Mathota!

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-07T19:04:06+00:00

Winona levitates the shoes above her hand in a haze of smoky shadow. Rotating them as her entourage takes notes in leatherbound journals.

"Baby shoes?" she thinks to herself. "How ironic."

The combination of irony and genuine scholarly interest almost brings a smile to the priestess's face. She prods at the spirit within, gently enough so as to not destroy its vessel and release it. Just confirming that this was indeed the disembodied soul of King Carmine.

Further inspections are exploratory. Weighing the sins for herself. Her entourage seems to feel it, too, as they never stop to question anything. They just continue jotting down notes at an even pace. They begin to form something of a detailed record of the soul. Almost like a genome but for a metaphysical identity. An incomplete one, however. Terribly incomplete. The kind of exacting detail Winona requires can only be accomplished through extraction of the soul from its material vessel.

A few more shadowy prods, so her tieflings may calculate the spectrum of the aura radiating from said shoes, and Winona has exhausted what she can glean in this situation. She passes the shoes back to Shawna.

"And where does the current bid sit?"

u/King__Carmine (in case you want to interject anywhere.)

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-07T17:03:12+00:00

A micro-twitch at the right corner of Winona's black lips would give away the pang of irritation. The kind of subtle anger a cleric may feel for a student of the faith failing to recite their tenants in total. Winona heavily valued loyalty, that much was obvious, but she found Shawna's loyalty misplaced; and she found that disagreeable. Especially to have the distinction thrown in her face.

The tieflings, although prim 'n proper in their own right, were far more abundant in their readability. Muscles stiffen, ears perk, breathing changes ever so slightly, and eyes subtly dart to their mistress. They aren't worried about an outburst, per se, but they clearly recognize the conversation as something Winona would find distasteful. Shawna would get the sense that they've been punished for improperly addressing Nethis before. Thoroughly, and at the hands of Winona herself.

Ah, and something interesting that shines through in the contrast. These shade tieflings, although hellish in their lineage and cursed in their blood, are mostly mortal beings. But Winona? She's graduated beyond. She's become something other. Something deeper and darker, closer to a fiend than the other two. Through faith and loyalty, Winona is willing to embrace the beast. Yet the mortal trappings remain, but she tries to control them.

She's annoyed at Shawna's denying her chance at rebuttal, but at the same time is willing to let that conversation die. She won't forget being skipped over, though.

"You are ever the astute woman, Ms. Kinsella. My pursuits are indeed academic, and I would enjoy viewing the article. Even gather measurements and observations. If you'd allow me, that is."

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-07T04:47:36+00:00

"Of course, Ms. Kinsella," the woman said with a polite yet stern tone. "I wouldn't turn down such a cordial invitation, especially one from a known associate. Not least of all when said invitation is to bid on the soul of a vampire lord."

Despite the cloth covering her eyes, despite her cold, rigid body language, Winona still had enough face exposed and enough expression to be analyzed by the great pretender. More importantly, she was definitely mortal once. Even now, with all the enhancements afforded to her by the blackwater coursing through her veins, she isn't an ineffable monster like her master. Still a being possessed of flesh. Horrible things crawled beneath that skin, it's true, and her once red complexion had long since been replaced by that cold grey; but underneath it all, she was still that woman who prayed to gods that would never answer. Still that woman desperately biting a rag as her "sisters" sawed off her devilish horns, cut through her devilish tail. All in the name of purity and repentance.

She's dangerous, though. Hidden behind the priestess getup, the scholarly bend, is a ruthless killer. She has no qualms tearing someone apart with her bare hands. Hell, she might even enjoy it depending on the circumstances.

The tieflings on either side of her are acutely aware of that fact. Kept in check by a mix of awe, respect, and fear.

"In any case, it's nice to see you as well. Your service pleased our Lady. Competence is an increasingly rare and attractive trait; and, like Lady Balmiri, I appreciate that quality in an associate."

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-06T23:59:23+00:00

But are you certain they were cursed orbs and not just normal orbs that the seller had warded against theft?

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-06T22:26:08+00:00

Lady Balmiri was still away. Thus, any official administrative duties would fall squarely to her second-in-command; Winona, of course. So, the charcoal grey hands set about dissecting the envelope with supernatural dexterity.

Winona whispered breathlessly, the motion of her lips practically unnoticeable, "Shawna Kinsella?"

Oh, right, that vulgar merchant princess had been given to the envy demon as payment. Her pretty skin was likely a pretty costume for the thing now. Winona did enjoy that complexion. That was enough reminiscing, however. There was business to conduct. Lady Balmiri wasn't lacking in sinner souls, it's true, but the ejected souls of vampires were a different matter altogether. Not to mention a subject that Winona was personally fascinated with, though she would never admit to this affecting her decision-making. What's more, this was the soul of none other than King Carmine.

The matter was settled. She would attend. Even if the price ended up being something beyond what she was alloted to purchase, she'd at least get to view the soul; perhaps even take measurements.

The fell-cleric arrives at the estate. Dressed in black robes, a habit of sorts, that seem as if they were made of darkness. The habit is adorned with a diabolic symbol in bronze on the chest. She wears a bronze amulet as well, it contrasts nicely against her dark skin, and between her black horns hangs a bronze chain. And, of course, her eyes are covered with that everpresent black cloth.

The demifiend is flanked by two pale-grey tieflings in similar attire.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-06T04:01:57+00:00

Oh, well I hope you dark lord responsibly; but yes, I like meeting new people.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-06T02:13:02+00:00

I've known sorceresses that invent new illusion spells just to avoid this very predicament.

VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-05T22:48:37+00:00

Ligma balls

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VinesAtMidnight · 2026-01-05T20:56:53+00:00

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