Today’s post is Rowlet from the Darkness Ablaze set! We love how this one turned out 😊 What do you think? 🤔 What card do you want to see next? 👀 Any card games you think we should visit? 🃏Check out our Etsy or other social medias via:
“Look at what’s happened to us Julek, we’ve become such a sorry state that even in war we are afraid.” It was clear disgust in the other’s eyes as Jaskier wiped the blood and gore from his eyes to view the man before him.
It was his face, his voice, but the eyes were not the eyes he had seen for a very, very long time.
“This is what I am now,” He chokes back, trying to keep the bile down.
The man - Julian - scoffed. “You. Yes, it is you Jaskier who is a feeble-minded man that allows those he loves to walk all over us, who flees when those he calls friends be slaughtered around him. It was our job to slaughter, to protect…”
“WELL I GOT TIRED OF IT!” Jaskier screamed, the power of his words ripping from the very depths of his soul. "I got tired of the scorn, the hate and the violence! It made me sick, sick to my stomach with how I was… how we were.”
A snarl tore from Julian’s throat as he stormed forward and grabbed Jaskier by the lapels of the coat, wilted buttercups being left in his wake, fanning out like fingers towards the frozen soldiers around them. “We were made for war, to fight!”
“But we were born from love… there is no love in death and violence.” Jaskier whispered back viciously, flinching as Julian laughed and dropped him, his slitted eyes glinting in the firelight.
The laugh continued as he sneered. “You forgot then.”
“What did I forget?”
A sharp smile tugged at Julian’s lips. “We fight because we love. Now get up Jaskier and Fight… our friends don’t need you… our friends need Julian of Kerack, the Fae Witcher of the Bears. NOW GET UP!”
In a blink Jaskier’s world trembled, the words piercing through him and shaking away the curse that held his human form. Memories upon memories pouring upon him like a tidal wave that left him immobilized and invigorated… Julian was right… here he can no longer be Jaskier the Humble Bard… no…
A feral snarl ripped free from his throat, the war raging around him unhindered again as he dodge the sword going for his throat, his hand and body moving on instinct, snapping the human’s arm with ease and twisting to toss it away to move to the next.