nigromante - Tumblr blog

[nigromante]

Young Jack wearing a flea collar because apparently with all the otherworldly power 'Krumbles' has, flea protection is not one of them.

[nigromante]

I enjoy the phrase "creature comforts" because I am a creature and I want to be comfortable.

Mannimarco, lounging on a throne of bones, probably

[nigromante]

dungeon crawl

[nigromante]

So paradox on paradox

the circumstances tell

of a hound who dwells in heaven

but lives his life in hell [x]

[nigromante]

I follow in the footsteps of those who walked this path before me:

strange symbols upon the trails seem like forgotten ideograms,

& as my boots stumble upon the dense soil, my mind wanders;

how many afflicted ones took their own lives as sanctification?

[nigromante]

@therelentless

[nigromante]

SHANE McCUTCHEON in THE L WORD ∟ 5.03 Lady of the Lake

[nigromante]

The fact Jack has been winging this shit since the events of her death is freaking hilarious to me. Like, NO ONE has explained anything to her, and she has just been flying by the seat of her pants this entire time attempting to find more knowledge of WHY any of this has happened to her. And 'Krumbles' is no help at all, the Crooked Monarch ain't telling her shit.

[nigromante]

Give my character a "character shaming" label

(i.e. ‘I ate all he cookies in the house and lied about it with crumbs over my face’)

[nigromante]

Kate Moennig as Shane McCutcheon in The L Word 1.01 “Pilot”

[nigromante]

"The sewers stink, but most aren't gonna chase, and if they do... just gotta deal with it, sweetie", light eyes wander around the dank basement. She'd be in worse situations. Willowy digits gripped the grate and pulled it back, peering down into the disgusting soup. The crouching necromancer patting her cheek and gave a glance back with a big smile, "Ya wanna go first?" Fuck knows she didn't.

@nigromante || sc

"Honestly, that seems like a bad idea. Are you sure you don't see another way of getting out of here?"

[nigromante]

[nigromante]

Make a assumption about my muse and see how they react! Anything goes!

[nigromante]

It was just like a really bad splinter.  Literally biting back the pain, teeth once again grasp at the obsidian arrow head and with a three count... One... two... PULL.  A stab of pain, a gush of red and the maw’s hold slipped with a harsh clack. The jackal licked its chops, attempting to rid the sharp taste of iron.  Okay, maybe not. 

A deep sigh left the pooch, nose raising to the air to give a cursory sniff.  Sniff. Sniff.  SNIFF?  The canid’s head whipped around  to stare at the treeline, ears coming attentively forward, staggering to stand, form coming to attention.  Sharp eyes search the dense foliage, wind picking up and aroma strengthening. The canid froze.  That’s not  fucking animal.  

Jack’s hackles raise and a warning growl sounds.  FUCK!

@passimtemere

Was it now time for her to question her life choices? Hurt and lost in the fucking backwaters of Honduras. Canine maw parts in heaving breath, pointed ears drawn back in an expression of exasperation, if a dog could make that expression.  The large, spindly pooch hobbled forward , hindered by a pretty sizable wound on a rear leg.  With a final heave of strength the canid finally fell, body coming to rest near a nicely babbling stream.  Well, it was the fucking little things.  

Being grave robber really was a hit or miss job, especially when said graves were filled with booby traps.  No, not traps shaped like boobies, more like shaped like arrows.. and pointy, but not in the fun way.  Liquid amber trails back to pulsing wound, head reaching round to probe the object once again, only to let out a harsh yelp that probably would have been a curse in any other circumstance.  

Fuck!

[nigromante]

@passimtemere

Was it now time for her to question her life choices? Hurt and lost in the fucking backwaters of Honduras. Canine maw parts in heaving breath, pointed ears drawn back in an expression of exasperation, if a dog could make that expression.  The large, spindly pooch hobbled forward , hindered by a pretty sizable wound on a rear leg.  With a final heave of strength the canid finally fell, body coming to rest near a nicely babbling stream.  Well, it was the fucking little things.  

Being grave robber really was a hit or miss job, especially when said graves were filled with booby traps.  No, not traps shaped like boobies, more like shaped like arrows.. and pointy, but not in the fun way.  Liquid amber trails back to pulsing wound, head reaching round to probe the object once again, only to let out a harsh yelp that probably would have been a curse in any other circumstance.  

Fuck!

[nigromante]

Crom Cruach

[nigromante]

Slowly bringing together more lore on Krummthaar who may or may not be based on Crom Cruach. Not sure if Imma make it very 'wyrm'-like or not.