#arakhs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strange-house-art · 5 months

Text

𝕻𝖆𝖑𝖊 𝖘𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘𝖒𝖆𝖓

#dark art #dark fantasy art #fantasy art #black metal #black metal art #kekht arakh #pale swordsman #dark illustration #gothic art #gothic #horror #horror art #macabre art

5K notes · View notes

camogore · 5 months

Text

Këkht Aräkh - Wanderer

#camogore #kekht arakh #këkht aräkh #black metal #dsbm #raw black metal #pale swordsman

465 notes · View notes

altar-ov-plagues · 1 month

Text

Këkht Aräkh

#kekht arakh #Këkht Aräkh #pale swordsman #black metal #gif

177 notes · View notes

blutmond-archives · 5 months

Text

Këkht Aräkh

#kekht arakh #këkht aräkh #black metal #raw black metal #blutsnap

278 notes · View notes

metalheadmilkmaid · 3 months

Text

#nicole dollanganger #ethel cain #midwest #morute #southern gothic #black metal #mayhem #pelle ohlin #goth #gothic #dsbm #kekht arakh #pale swordsman #crying orc

148 notes · View notes

mariajoseignacia666 · 1 year

Text

Këkht Aräkh

#ambient #black metal #medieval #kekht arakh

988 notes · View notes

machinefetishist · 8 months

Text

#kekht arakh #he’s so beautiful. <3<3 #black metal #crying orc #pale swordsman #dungeon synth

369 notes · View notes

asoiafreadthru · 4 months

Text

A Game of Thrones, Daenerys II

The sun was only a quarter of the way up the sky when she saw her first man die.

Drums were beating as some of the women danced for the khal. Drogo watched without expression, but his eyes followed their movements, and from time to time he would toss down a bronze medallion for the women to fight over.

The warriors were watching too. One of them finally stepped into the circle, grabbed a dancer by the arm, pushed her down to the ground, and mounted her right there, as a stallion mounts a mare.

Illyrio had told her that might happen. “There is no privacy in a khalasar, and they do not understand sin or shame as we do.”

Dany looked away from the coupling, frightened when she realized what was happening, but a second warrior stepped forward, and a third, and soon there was no way to avert her eyes.

Then two men seized the same woman. She heard a shout, saw a shove, and in the blink of an eye the arakhs were out, long razor-sharp blades, half sword and half scythe.

A dance of death began as the warriors circled and slashed, leaping toward each other, whirling the blades around their heads, shrieking insults at each clash. No one made a move to interfere.

It ended as quickly as it began.

The arakhs shivered together faster than Dany could follow, one man missed a step, the other swung his blade in a flat arc.

Steel bit into flesh just above the Dothraki’s waist and opened him from backbone to belly button, spilling his entrails into the dust.

As the loser died, the winner took hold of the nearest woman—not even the one they had been quarreling over—and had here there and then.

Slaves carried off the body, and dancing resumed.

Magister Illyrio had warned Dany about this too. “A Dothraki wedding without at least three deaths is deemed a dull affair,” he had said.

Her wedding must have been especially blessed; before the day was over, a dozen men had died.