duskblight-chronicles

[duskblight-chronicles]

Commission info

Just a heads up i’ll probably open commissions up again sometime near the end of next week. I’ll also be adding another option which will be Character creation. An example of what to expect with it design wise will be like the image below. Ive been getting a few messages about commissions like this so i’ll trail this one out. 

[duskblight-chronicles]

‘A Cursed Man in a Cursed Land...’

Navaroth finished wrapping himself in his typical attire: linen wrap that covered him from the chest down, covering his frail and pale flesh that almost held some sheen in the moonlight that cloaked him in the cool air. Bumps rose upon the nape of his neck as he turned, wispy white hair dancing along his shoulders and back as it graced his skin like a feather. After tightening the black cloth off and putting it in place, he reached for his leather pieces that lie across his bed and began strapping them against his slender form in a methodical fashion, head canting and tracing their ancient yet still intricate design. He was one to impress in more than one way, after all. As his thinly nailed digits moved across the risen edges of his family’s lost sigil his lips twisted into a scowl before he thrust himself upright. Just then, his reflection was caught in the mirror off to the side and his dormant, cyan gems locked with themselves. For a moment the images that recently invaded his most private of moments seemed to flash before his very eyes, but for no longer than necessary as he shook himself free. It was time to reach for the silver breastplate that he most often adorned: a beautiful piece of craftsmanship developed by one of his undead smiths. It was silver, tarnished, but still held some undying beauty within the numerous crevasses that outlined a ribcage along each side. At its center was perhaps the most astonishing graphic: a deathly skull with hollow eyes like the master which wore it. It held some mystery within its black sockets, as if it’d seen far more than any mortal would dare. It knew as many stories as Navaroth himself. Its mouth held pointed rows of teeth left agape with a stone at its center, one of dark cyan make that churned a dimly sick light. As he fashioned the breastplate against his torso, Navaroth swiveled on his tattered leather boots and reached for his equally torn cloak that licked the floor as he quickened his pace.

The echo of his footfalls resounded in the black hallway, his reflection bouncing off the sheen of the marble floor and it too was black. There was a theme that Navaroth sought to instill within his citadel, a man- or thing- of class and a taste for aesthetic. Braziers stood upon their own pedestals down the hallway, lit by the same light that churned within his hollow sockets and the skull at his chest. Step by step he quickened until rounding the corner towards an elevator that’d take him swiftly to the bottom of his quarters of the spire. Stepping once more into an enormous corridor, Navaroth eventually found himself within the vast keep fashioned with a raised throne at its center. Lining the bottom of the steps were four armored knights in total, though no flesh peered from behind the wicked plate that hid them. The warlock positioned himself between the four and almost on command their eyes became enflamed by the same sickly light which shone throughout, their plated gauntlets rising against their torso and thudding against it loudly.

“Ensure the citadel is locked down until my return. If anyone- or anything for that matter- should approach, destroy it without hesitation,” his words were cold and precise, as if dwelling on the matter at hand and its possible threat to not only himself but his home. It was not often that Navaroth was drawn to such a power as what the serpentine woman had commanded, but he was sure it could be a disaster. Before his mind could taunt him further, the plated guards pounded their chest again and one broke rank to head off into an adjacent hallway, his terrifying halberd raised and resting against his shoulder. Before Navaroth could prepare his exit, a Shade materialized into view before the elf, his torso bent into a crude bow with an arm over its incorporeal chest.

“Not that it’s my place, my lord, but- “

“You’re right, it’s not,” his words were like a cold knife that cut through both the frigid air that settled between them and the words the creature attempted to utter. “Watch over the citadel until my return.” The Shadow merely watched with its dimly lit amber orbs which peered from its smoky body and made some gesture like a nod, though broken up by his flickering form. Before any poorer dialogue could interrupt Navaroth, he lowered his head and his eyes churned violently. A hum took to the air as magic began seeping from the warlock’s very being, surrounding him like a vortex that began at his feet before rising and rotating with a speed that threatened to swallow even the Shade. Before long, Navaroth’s entire form was swallowed and in a rather intense fashion exploded to reveal he’d final vanished.

As his physical body drifted through the world his consciousness focused on the one place that stuck out in the darkest depths of his mind that was slowly brought forward into clear view. He focused long and hard on the land he moved to visit which oddly enough reminded him of home. Closer and closer he drifted and could feel himself being pulled now as if not by his own hand. For the briefest of moments he felt… terror? And before long he was thrust into being once more, the space he now occupied being surrounded by a flurry of what looked like ash and dust with specks of broken cyan light. And there, in a scorched clearing within what he presumed to be Duskwood, he stood. Twisted and dark leaved trees rose up all around him and seemed to claw at the sky, or at the very least consume the darkened skies he felt some comfort in. As his eyes lingered on what moon was left behind dark clouds, his gaze finally fell upon the path that’d been cleared before him. And up ahead? The mansion he’d seen in his dream- or nightmare- though he couldn’t decipher that part yet.

Slowly he strode, cautious of what it was that awaited him. He could feel eyes upon himself but from where he could not tell. Even the mansion ahead seemed devoid of life, though it teemed with some unnatural and otherwise hidden power. With one careful foot leading ahead of him, he pulled himself closer ever so slightly. His pointed boot swept away at the slithering creatures that writhed, awakened by the rustling of dead leaves beneath a stranger’s foot. By the time he’d reached the gate which protruded from what appeared to be dead and cold earth, it was clear that something would prevent further entry. Even with just an extension of his clawed digit it raked against something that was unseen, at least for the time being. A smirk found its way upon his pale lips and slowly he let his palm rest against the protected iron bars.

[duskblight-chronicles]

‘A Cursed Man in a Cursed Land...’

Navaroth finished wrapping himself in his typical attire: linen wrap that covered him from the chest down, covering his frail and pale flesh that almost held some sheen in the moonlight that cloaked him in the cool air. Bumps rose upon the nape of his neck as he turned, wispy white hair dancing along his shoulders and back as it graced his skin like a feather. After tightening the black cloth off and putting it in place, he reached for his leather pieces that lie across his bed and began strapping them against his slender form in a methodical fashion, head canting and tracing their ancient yet still intricate design. He was one to impress in more than one way, after all. As his thinly nailed digits moved across the risen edges of his family’s lost sigil his lips twisted into a scowl before he thrust himself upright. Just then, his reflection was caught in the mirror off to the side and his dormant, cyan gems locked with themselves. For a moment the images that recently invaded his most private of moments seemed to flash before his very eyes, but for no longer than necessary as he shook himself free. It was time to reach for the silver breastplate that he most often adorned: a beautiful piece of craftsmanship developed by one of his undead smiths. It was silver, tarnished, but still held some undying beauty within the numerous crevasses that outlined a ribcage along each side. At its center was perhaps the most astonishing graphic: a deathly skull with hollow eyes like the master which wore it. It held some mystery within its black sockets, as if it’d seen far more than any mortal would dare. It knew as many stories as Navaroth himself. Its mouth held pointed rows of teeth left agape with a stone at its center, one of dark cyan make that churned a dimly sick light. As he fashioned the breastplate against his torso, Navaroth swiveled on his tattered leather boots and reached for his equally torn cloak that licked the floor as he quickened his pace.

The echo of his footfalls resounded in the black hallway, his reflection bouncing off the sheen of the marble floor and it too was black. There was a theme that Navaroth sought to instill within his citadel, a man- or thing- of class and a taste for aesthetic. Braziers stood upon their own pedestals down the hallway, lit by the same light that churned within his hollow sockets and the skull at his chest. Step by step he quickened until rounding the corner towards an elevator that’d take him swiftly to the bottom of his quarters of the spire. Stepping once more into an enormous corridor, Navaroth eventually found himself within the vast keep fashioned with a raised throne at its center. Lining the bottom of the steps were four armored knights in total, though no flesh peered from behind the wicked plate that hid them. The warlock positioned himself between the four and almost on command their eyes became enflamed by the same sickly light which shone throughout, their plated gauntlets rising against their torso and thudding against it loudly.

“Ensure the citadel is locked down until my return. If anyone- or anything for that matter- should approach, destroy it without hesitation,” his words were cold and precise, as if dwelling on the matter at hand and its possible threat to not only himself but his home. It was not often that Navaroth was drawn to such a power as what the serpentine woman had commanded, but he was sure it could be a disaster. Before his mind could taunt him further, the plated guards pounded their chest again and one broke rank to head off into an adjacent hallway, his terrifying halberd raised and resting against his shoulder. Before Navaroth could prepare his exit, a Shade materialized into view before the elf, his torso bent into a crude bow with an arm over its incorporeal chest.

“Not that it’s my place, my lord, but- “

“You’re right, it’s not,” his words were like a cold knife that cut through both the frigid air that settled between them and the words the creature attempted to utter. “Watch over the citadel until my return.” The Shadow merely watched with its dimly lit amber orbs which peered from its smoky body and made some gesture like a nod, though broken up by his flickering form. Before any poorer dialogue could interrupt Navaroth, he lowered his head and his eyes churned violently. A hum took to the air as magic began seeping from the warlock’s very being, surrounding him like a vortex that began at his feet before rising and rotating with a speed that threatened to swallow even the Shade. Before long, Navaroth’s entire form was swallowed and in a rather intense fashion exploded to reveal he’d final vanished.

As his physical body drifted through the world his consciousness focused on the one place that stuck out in the darkest depths of his mind that was slowly brought forward into clear view. He focused long and hard on the land he moved to visit which oddly enough reminded him of home. Closer and closer he drifted and could feel himself being pulled now as if not by his own hand. For the briefest of moments he felt… terror? And before long he was thrust into being once more, the space he now occupied being surrounded by a flurry of what looked like ash and dust with specks of broken cyan light. And there, in a scorched clearing within what he presumed to be Duskwood, he stood. Twisted and dark leaved trees rose up all around him and seemed to claw at the sky, or at the very least consume the darkened skies he felt some comfort in. As his eyes lingered on what moon was left behind dark clouds, his gaze finally fell upon the path that’d been cleared before him. And up ahead? The mansion he’d seen in his dream- or nightmare- though he couldn’t decipher that part yet.

Slowly he strode, cautious of what it was that awaited him. He could feel eyes upon himself but from where he could not tell. Even the mansion ahead seemed devoid of life, though it teemed with some unnatural and otherwise hidden power. With one careful foot leading ahead of him, he pulled himself closer ever so slightly. His pointed boot swept away at the slithering creatures that writhed, awakened by the rustling of dead leaves beneath a stranger’s foot. By the time he’d reached the gate which protruded from what appeared to be dead and cold earth, it was clear that something would prevent further entry. Even with just an extension of his clawed digit it raked against something that was unseen, at least for the time being. A smirk found its way upon his pale lips and slowly he let his palm rest against the protected iron bars.

[duskblight-chronicles]

Feel free to message if you have any questions, however, all commission orders will be conducted through email at cloodart@gmail.com!

>>Please read through this first!!>>

   When emailing me about commissions please include references of your character (collages are fine! other artwork is preferred), and bear in mind that any face claim will be used as a loose reference, as I am interested in drawing your character, not your face claim. ♥  Please also include a short blurb about your character (1-2 sentences) along with the email I should send the Paypal invoice to!

- • - I require payment for commissions up front! This is nonnegotiable - • -

D E T A I L S: •  I accept NSFW commissions. These will not be posted on Tumblr on account of their TOS change.   •  I accept pin-up commissions. These will be posted on Tumblr! •  Additional bodies in any piece are $25.00 ! •  I accept most commissions. Please send any questions to my e-mail or feel free to pop me off a message here so that we can chat! (I don’t bite!) 

•  I have the right the refuse any commission I don’t feel comfortable doing. 

[duskblight-chronicles]

♦ What was a mildly annoying thing that has happened to you rp wise?

Keyword being mild

I think it’s the utter lack of fear I come across most of the time I’m doing something evil.

@nadia-summerset is I think the only person I’ve RP’d with who actually showed genuine, real fear in her RP during conflict with me.

Everyone else is apparently the hardest mother fucker on the planet. Tear off their fingernails and sew them onto a whip before flogging their beloved with it?

“Fuck you, is that the best you got? Punk ass Warlock. If you hadn’t beaten me senseless earlier I’d fuck you up; you’re nothing. You just get your demons to do everything for you. Your curses and fire aren’t even that hot I drink magma and shit diamonds.”

Like... I get everyone wants to be the resolute hero. But if I can swallow my pride and “lose” over and over again for the sake of a story, the least people can do is show a little fear.

[duskblight-chronicles]

I CAST FUCK YOU

[duskblight-chronicles]

Summons and Request

The following public service announcement is posted to message boards in every major city. In far reaches and hovels less savory, the vouchers exchange hands via hooded figures whose bar tabs are high and whose credibilities are low.  So, you think you’re a fit for the High Home’s premier school for defensive practice of dark magics, the Sungrasp Academy? Excellent! Splendid, really. No, really. We’ll just have to make sure that you fit the bill, as they say. Initiation is a simple two-step process, and you can complete one of those steps right now! Just take our short survey: 

1) Are you driven by objective truth regarding magic and its practice?

2) In your eyes, is morality subjective? Moreover, is a person’s character defined by the magic they practice in defense of their values or the values of others?

3) Are you literally, physically, or philosophically a pansy?

 Have your answers to these questions in mind when you seek an administrator of the Academy. As of now, all applications funnel through its Headmaster, the Magister Kai Sungrasp. You may venture to the Academy’s site on the Highblood Estate or seek an audience with the Lord Sungrasp via post to his office. Once vetted by administration and given the go-ahead, the second half of the application consists of a practical exam: you will take a test in traditional Academy format and, if successful, you will complete enrollment on-site. We look forward to your applications! 

(( The High Home is a heavy RP guild whose IC purpose is to serve the elven populace with its best interest at heart. Jointly led by Kai Sungrasp and Phaeith Ven’torum, the guild is multifaceted and features a military aspect, an Academy aspect, House dynamics, political intrigue and espionage/subterfuge. If your character would fit with the Academy feel free to message me directly here on Tumblr or on Discord at Zach#3388; alternatively, you can PM in game H-Wyrmrest Accord on my character, Grasp. Ifyour character doesn’t fit with the Academy but is still seeking a cause to champion, talk to me! We’ll figure something out! ))

[duskblight-chronicles]

a necromancer is just a really late healer

[duskblight-chronicles]

Necromancer.

From thefirstangel.deviantart.com

[duskblight-chronicles]

necromancer

hyun lee

[duskblight-chronicles]

necromancer – fantasy character concept by ika metreveli

[duskblight-chronicles]

Necromancer – horror character concept by Jens Kuczwara

[duskblight-chronicles]

Strahd – Dungeons & Dragons fan art by Mike “Daarken” Lim

[duskblight-chronicles]

Recent commission; a necromancer becoming a lich.

[duskblight-chronicles]

Night King – Game of Thrones fan art by Lewis Jones

[duskblight-chronicles]

Princess of Ghouls, regular by Livia Prima

[duskblight-chronicles]

“sketchy scene” commissions from August!