#arelith
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boblin the goblin: a portrait
(my husband's Arelith character😄)
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Jaris, still sitting on the sewer floor, turns his focus back to his wound and quickly finishes dressing it. Amaro Carnelian, the Red Wizard of Thay. He only just met this man but he did not like the way his blood changed to flow in Amaro's direction. Still, Jaris knows not to make enemies of Red Wizards. And so he answers Amaro politely.
"I am Jaris Colt." He stands up. "A monk of the Order of the Yellow Rose, hailing from our monastery in the Earthspur Mountains. Some might say that's a long ways away, but you're from even more distant lands."
Thay exists further east than Damara, the country Jaris's monastery is in. Its society is ruled by wizards.
"A monk?" Amaro looks Jaris up and down, and sure enough, he sees the middle-aged man in only cloth robes wielding nothing but his fists. "That is unusual to see. Is taking contracts with The Registry your way of training?"
Jaris had no idea what Amaro was talking about. "What registry? I saw a man walk out of these sewers with a pile of things to sell. I have almost nothing to my name. I thought I should try to do as others do to make my life here."
Amaro looked at the nearby sewer beast corpses. "But you can fight, can't you?"
"I have training."
Amaro reaches into his robes and pulls out a rolled up sheet of paper. "If you're going to waste your time killing the monsters of Cordor's sewers then at the very least get paid for it."
The paper unrolls, and written in large letters at the top Jaris could see "Trackless Sea Adventurer's Registry & Contracting Agency" and a rough sketch of one of the sewer beasts Jaris had killed.
"You have no idea what this is do you? Enough, follow me." Amaro suddenly turns around and begins walking back the way he came, in the direction leading out of the sewer.
Jaris hesitates but decides to follow him.
The rain ceased by now but the sky remained overcast. Out of the slums and to the opposite side of the city's cultural district, they enter a tavern known as "The Nomad".
The tavern is only slightly busy. Still a noisy place but not enough to be disturbing to Jaris's peace. They approach a man standing near a wall by a table of dwarves.
But it's the man who takes the initiative, walking out from his spot and towards Jaris. "I haven't seen you before sir! I am Registry Agent Paxton, Trackless Sea Adventurer's Registry and Contracting. Connecting intrepid adventurers to reliable clients since 1212 DR. You look capable enough, shall I sign you up?"
Registry agent Paxton. Being a middle-aged man with a balding head, he looked a bit similar to Jaris but he had yet to lose all the brown color in his hair. He also possessed a constant smile that could appear wry.
"He will be." said Amaro. Jaris, finding this all awfully pushy, corrected him: "I might be."
Paxton remained firmly focused on Jaris. "It's honest work! You sign up, you receive contracts. Patrol sewers, clear caves, put the undead back to rest, all The Registry cares about is cause and effect. Get the job done and get paid." The man is already taking out a folder. He holds it towards Jaris and opens it, revealing the required contract to sign up.
Amaro turned to Jaris. "It's as he says. I reviewed the contract myself. I came here as a merchant, I know about these things. And if it weren't for my incompetent enclave's ship sinking I might have been signing Cordor into a trade agreement with Thay right this very moment."
Jaris thought it was unusually cruel for someone to care more about the loss of a trading opportunity than for the loss of life.
Jaris read through the contract himself before signing his name on the papers
"Excellent. You just earned me a small bit of coin sir." Paxton had a wry smile as he took the signed documents and handed Jaris the rest of the folder. He then stuffed a few contracts inside it as Jaris held it. "Those are the same contracts Amaro took. Now go get to work, that folder has the answers to any questions you might try to ask me."
And like that, Paxton returned to where he was standing in the walls of The Nomad and began looking for anyone else he's yet to meet.
"There, finally. Maybe you can use the money you earn to buy some goods off of me when I set up my storefront. I am not foolish enough to return to Thay empty-handed."
Hearing Amaro talk about returning home made Jaris wonder if he himself would ever return to his home monastery.
Jaris closed the folder and looked up. "Let's go back to the sewers." This time, Jaris lead the way.
#arelith#d&d#dnd#dungeons and dragons#jaris colt#monk#neverwinter nights#soulhavencel#dnd stories#dnd story#jaris colt stories#forgotten realms#dnd stuff#xianxia#amaro carnelian#as long as i have one fan i'll keep writing#not the most interesting part of the story but i'm doing my best not to be a bore#i'll write another part soon since this one didnt get any action#also i should probably start putting images at the very top of the post so people know these have images
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Zachan Gald from Arelith, a kickass Neverwinter Nights server. He likes to mislabel wine as healing drought and peddle them off to careless adventurers, posing as an apothecary.
Don’t be like Zachan.
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Who wants to play a twenty year old video game? I do! And maybe you would as well!
Neverwinter Nights (Enhanced Edition) is on sale for SIX DOLLARS ($5.99) on Steam until June13th (2022).
I’m sure the built-in adventures or whatever are nice too, but the part I actually play is where people make servers and then everybody plays together.
Servers I know about:
Arelith - a long-running server with a decent population, more prestige classes than I care about, and FASHION
Haze: Saltborne - HARDCORE (permadeath, slow advancement), smaller population, hasn’t been running that long even though its original version is pretty old
Ravenloft - IDK I’ve never played it but I see it at the top with a fairly large population all the time
I have a drow on Arelith and a halfling on Haze, hit me up if you actually take the plunge.
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ATTENTION LOYAL JAMESFELICIA FOLLOWERS. I HAVE STARTED A SIDE BLOG FOR POSTING ABOUT MY MONK FROM NEVERWINTER NIGHTS ARELITH. IF YOU WOULD LIKE SOME DND STORIES, GO THERE AND CONSIDER FOLLOWING THANK YOU.
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Neverwinter nights enhanced edition switch
#Neverwinter nights enhanced edition switch mod#
More details about the game will likely be revealed leading up to launch. Combines all the content of Neverwinter Nights Diamond Edition with all-new enhanced features. The game is set to release on December 3, with multiplayer support ready at launch. Return to the Forgotten Realms in this bestselling Dungeons & Dragons roleplaying game. The advantage of online role-playing speaks for itself, as anyone who has ever tried to coordinate hosting an in-person D&D session will know. For players looking to go on pre-made adventures with friends, the Nintendo Switch version will do just fine. You’ll be able to join the following player-run campaigns as adventurers: Arelith and Ravenloft: Prisoners of the Mist. These game worlds can host up to 250+ players at a time. Given the restrictions, potential dungeon masters will probably want to stick with the PC version of the game. These are long-running Neverwinter Nights: Enhanced Edition campaigns designed hosted and DM’d by fellow players.
#Neverwinter nights enhanced edition switch mod#
They are the only ones who can DM cross-platform games using the Dungeon Master Client and they have expansive mod customization tools to create the modules that Switch players can download. The PC players retain the most power, however. Gameplay for Neverwinter Nights: Enhanced Edition on Nintendo Switch.(from )Price: 49.99Platform: Nintendo SwitchRelease Date: Dec 03, 2019No. Switch users can download popular modules and join campaigns alongside players on Xbox, PC, and mobile. Neverwinter Nights had massive online hangouts for custom adventures, and the enhanced edition aims to bring that to the Nintendo Switch.
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One of a kind Matron..
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The Dilemma of Honor: A Treatise on Weakness in Andunor
Forward
This one has not always lived in the Dark. Before her arrival in the trade city of Andunor, known to be beneath the Arelithian Archipelago, her tribe resided in the mountain territory of the Red, Rosephelia. And even before then, before her hatching, they had carved out warrens in desert caverns, eking out their survival where most perished.
She would not name herself as one particularly fond or experienced in the ways of the Above. Her nest-cycles were spent in the extensive tribe warrens, and she was only taken to the Surface a scant few times to teach her about the sky and weather, preparing her for any potential raids.
But those tunnels and caverns hardly qualified enough as Underdark, for what she knows it to truly be. Indeed, when this one first arrived in Andunor to seek out the White-scales, she had no idea the danger that lurked. She was naive and, she would admit it even, trusting, of others.
That is the true dichotomy of the Above and Below.
It is necessary to have that difference between the two, for the survival and strength of their denizens. One cannot survive in the Dark like they can on the Surface. And likewise, while one experienced in the Dark would be able to physically survive Above, societies have much more of a social and communicative sway than most warriors of the Below would be able to handle.
Is it possible to pass through both? Most certainly, though that requires knowledge of the differences between them, as well as the capability to switch one’s representation of their self to match the expectations of others. For some, that is seamless. For others, it will never truly be possible out of virtue of their race, no matter how much they prove themselves.
Indeed, rather, this one has observed that it is far easier to be accepted in the Dark, the home to so many cast out from the Above, than it is to be from the Dark trying to live in the lighted world.
The Original Dichotomy
For those without the fortune to know basic necessary words, dichotomy is defined as the stark contrast between two opposing or otherwise rigidly different things.
Light and Shadow. Fiends and Celestials. Gnomes and Kobolds. Ilythiiri and Elves. Surface and Underdark. All these are known to be opposites, and if one thought long enough about it, they would be able to discuss what exactly marks the differences, if they were able to look past their initial hatred and prejudice.
This is not to say that most prejudice has no place; after all what one finds valuable may be worthless or insulting to another, or vice versa. And those are based in experiences and personal knowledges. There is, however, a truth in what makes one suitable for the Surface versus the Underdark, and it is a product of the types of dangers and societies each hold.
What this one wishes to focus upon in her writings, however, is the qualities that separate the most visibly relevant. The Surface and the Underdark, or rather the Surface and Andunor, as how she has seen it told, are portrayed as opposing forces in a war of their own making. For the most part. Within this, she speaks only of the larger island of Arelith and the surroundings, for it is those that she believes directly impact the other side. The Below.
Which, of course, brings her to the dichotomy herself. She imagines some might be able to guess, but she writes not for the quick-witted, but for all that are in need of such lessons.
Honor. Mercy. Trust. Kindness. Glory. Patience. Humility.
She would ask her reader, can they name where one should be able to find these traits?
One would call them virtues, suitable for the Lighted Lands.
They would be correct. Such things, quirks of emotion, are very prominent among the humans, the elves, halflings, dwarves, those that follow the Triad, those of the sunshine, those of the Surface.
And, before continuing, she would emphasize that one should also ponder of what traits are found in the Dark.
To Define Honor
Before this one would make her true point of these writings, she will inform of her studies and conclusions about the essence of fact. Her concern is with the matter of honor, and thus, she will start there.
What is honor?
Honor.
Noun.
A place or position that is earned through respect or esteem. Given due to actions, or a history. It is recognized, but not demanded.
Honor.
Noun.
The ability of knowing or doing what is morally right. A code of some sort, often linked with the concept of chivalry.
Now, this one would digress briefly. Can her reader see what is inherently Surface-like about the second definition? She will tell them of course; it is that “morally right” has been included within. And what, she has asked, is morally right? That is something that changes as one passes between Above and Below, even from culture to culture. House to House. Denizen to denizen.
Honor.
Verb.
To regard with respect. Again, it is something earned; that is a privilege and not a right.
Honor.
Verb.
To keep to an obligation. An expectation of fulfillment, agreements, pacts, bindings, unspoken trust to act in a way that is already agreed upon.
Once more, she will point out the surfaceness. To honor an agreement implies some level of trust in the motives of the one doing the honoring. Without geas, without threat, and occasionally, without even profit.
But, despite her own misgivings, and how out of place certain definitions are in certain places, the words exist for a reason. This one is not saying they are wrong or misguided, not at all. Merely that they have their places, and one should not mix the rights of one society with the other.
Had the meanings of honor, all of them, not been so tainted with the weakness inherent in surfacers, this one would use them more to make a point. However, due to recent past, and she would daresay further, meanings and interpretation have been mingled and confused.
The Weakness Inherent
To reference dichotomy once more, this one ponders a simple theory. Are surfacers weaker than those of the Underdark? It is hardly a question, with such a clear answer. Yes, they are. One cannot help but be tempered by the dangers of the Below, and the weak are soon enough culled and used as meat for the strong.
On the Surface, cities are filled with the weak. They are protected and guided, even allowed to lead or given voice. It is not even through remarkable cunning, for this one does not number the wise or smart among the weak, but even a dull-minded and dull-bodied denizen is able to gain a modicum of power through luck.
And why is this? One might ask, but they need only think back to the dichotomy she wrote of before.
Kindness. Mercy. Trust. And once again, it all leads to honor.
Honor! Why, she ponders, do denizens of both continue to crow and preach about such a thing? Honor, honor, all they speak of and dream of and cry about, is this word, this concept that means so much to so many.
It is simple.
Misinterpretation.
That is why this one took care to detail the definitions. A simple fool thinks of the respect they believe they are deserved, and for some reason shrouded, they assume the way to earn that is through being trusted, being known to act with some form of “rightness” in the moral sense.
That is all well enough for the Surface. Such concepts are rooted deep into the cores of their societies, for is that not what they pride themselves on? This one would not blame others for doing what is expected and the most common way to rise up for where they live.
The true problem is when those of the Underdark start to think that is appropriate for them as well.
Trust is not the way of the dark. Mercy is not the way. Favoring the weak over the strong is not the way. And to expect others to act with the surfacer concept of honor is so horribly not the way.
Predictability is not the way.
For that allows the weakness to seep in.
Cultures With Honor
Is honor itself weak?
To answer that, this one would go into the tongues of those that she has known to speak of it.
In this one’s own tongue, the High Form, not the bastardized mangling that the rest of her kin speak until educated, there is the word “throtominarr”, if written phonetically. The definition itself is about respect; to carry on what the bloodline achieved, and improving for the future. Can one see the difference? Earned respect. Lineage.
The ilythiiri, in their cries of “Lolth tlu Malla”, speak of the Spider and praising Its name, but once more, it is out of respect, fear, adoration, and whatever else It has earned with the mastery over that race. The ilythiiri themselves are known far and wide to be treacherous, and if one is so foolish to trust them, they certainly deserve the consequences.
The orcblooded do, in fact, have an understanding of some sort of code or binding in their actions. Their saying “dam ul dam”, or rather, blood for blood, is at the very least an expectation of pain returned for every wound given. They have oathbreakers and thus they have oaths, and those oaths are bound in blood.
But, she would make an important point. That is not to say that orcs are honorable in the definition that would require trust. They would honor an oath solely because of the consequences for doing otherwise. If one expected an orc to keep their word because they trusted them, then, once more, that is their own fault.
Surfacers speak cowardice, as if it is an opposite of being honorable. Something to be scorned.
And yes, for their definitions, that is so.
However, for a goblin, for a kobold, for many many races and tribes and individuals within the Dark, one that does not know how to save their own hide is one that is quickly dead. The cunning know when to flee, and the foolish and predictable do not.
But on the Surface, such cunning is oft rewarded with death anyway.
Reputation
And now, for reputation to come into play. She would admit that the way in how one is perceived is a similarity between Above and Below. But even so, that is how the weakness finds the cracks in one’s common sense, and turns them to act poorly and foolishly.
This one would speak of three examples in the Dark.
There is a warrior. He has walked the city for many years, and gained experience, strength, and allies. When he is attacked, he kills. And when he moves to attack, all in his way fall to his blade. He does not hide his intentions, and he is known to keep his word.
There is a warrior. He slinks through the shadows and gains and loses allies as quickly as the cycles turn. Hardly any know his name, and through this, he rarely makes enemies. He is forgettable. He adjusts his skills and tactics to fit the cycle. He rarely tells the truth, and is cautious about everyone in his path.
There is a warrior. He leads many devoted to him, and he brags about his strength. He demands others keep their word to him, and when they break it, he grows furious and accuses them of being traitors. When he starts fight, it is often that he falls, to be dragged away by his band. His enemies are many, and his allies reluctant.
Can one notice the difference between them?
The first is an honorable warrior, recognized as such on both Surface and the Dark. He fits many definitions of the word, but is not weakened by it. If one tries to abuse his predictability, they find themselves dead, for it is not the honor that makes him strong, but his strength that allows him to be honorable.
The next one is not honorable at all, and yet is alive and thriving. He has adapted to the ways of the Dark with cunning.
The last seeks to be respected, to be honored, and thinks that the way to do so is through trusting others and demanding they be trustworthy. He is blindsided by betrayal, and offended by the concept that one would take advantage of such an open weakness when it is presented.
The Dilemma
Honor is a weakness.
It breeds predictability and expectations that lead to foolish behavior and softening of ideals.
There is a point, however, to this one writing of the first warrior. She will repeat herself.
It is not the honor that makes him strong, but his strength that allows him to be honorable. He, through his own actions and proving of his strength, is able to move past the handicap. And thus, his renown is even more earned, for one can clearly not when such a weakness is no longer a weakness.
The true dilemma, however, is that this warrior is an exceptional one out of hundreds or even thousands of others that are unable to fight past this weakness. And furthermore, these thousands believe that honor is something that will make them strong.
For those that supposedly despise the Surface and all that dwell Above, it is a concerning belief. This one is not even sure that these believers are aware of how this pervasive weakness has taken hold. And even more concerning is that these weakened fools have risen up into positions of “power” over others that have fallen into the same trap of belief.
Hypocrisy is rampant in Andunor.
Pure and utter hypocrisy.
Why is that, in a city with denizens that falsely believe they as a whole are waging a war against the entire Surface, those that claim to hate everything that makes a Sunlander, honor is such a goal? Why is such rage and spurning directed to those that act with cunning and to the best of their nature?
Why is chattel allowed to speak without consequence against their owners? Why are paladins allowed to roam freely and protected? Why does such a thing as mercy without gain exist? Why, why, why, this one asks, and she will ask why again.
Why has the city become so weak?
And why has this weakness been allowed to spread and infect others that arrive new rather than being purged at the first signs?
Will Andunor ever recover?
She would leave one here with that question unanswered.
To Cure A Disease
Honor has no place in the Dark.
Trust has no place in the Dark.
If one wants respect and power, they must prove themselves worthy and strong to be given it.
To feebly bark and whine about not being good enough, only shows more weakness and opens one to ridicule.
To trust, and then be betrayed, is even more a betrayal of one’s own self, for no proper Underdarker should allow themselves to be taken in by pretty words.
If one wishes to be pitied. If one wishes to delude themself. If one wishes to act like a surfacer…
Then they are welcome to live on the Surface.
And they will die.
There is a reason these ones are in Andunor, after all. Despite the covens and clans and warrens in other parts of the Surface, the Archipelago is no place for the beastbloods, the ilythiiri, grey ones, the others that have been cast deep from the Lighted Lands.
These ones are hunted for their hides and riches, to carry on the eternal battle of Above and Below, for the lot of the lives shared is hatred and blood shedding blood shedding blood.
Cull the weakness. Cure the disease. Take one’s rightful place as a denizen of the Dark. Act as befits one’s own race and culture.
And by the Fivefold’s Flame, stop whining about honor.
It has no place here.
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Balor Showdown
Painting for Arelith.
#nwn#arelith#dnd#dungeons & dragons#nine hells#baator#tiamat#demon#devil#demons#hell#infernal#rpg#dark fantasy#fantasy art#fantasy#fantasy illustration#dungeons and dragons#5e#pathfinder#mtg#magic#wizard#sorcerer#witch#witchcraft#necromancer#necromancy#dark magic#black magic
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quick portrait of my character for Arelith in NWN, Rhiain. Drow rogue.
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Brother Jaris looks out over the ship deck towards the city in the distance as light daytime rain pours from sparse gray clouds above. Most immediately he could see the large port with several ships and the nearby port buildings. But there was also the towering presence of the city's castle and coliseum.
The boat drawing closer only diminished the view Jaris could get of the city. So Jaris does as he had done several times over the course of his sea journey. Jaris climbs up the rigging. A simple task for any experienced and agile monk, but even easier for him, having become routine for Brother Jaris with all of his recent practice. It was difficult to make out too many details of the more distant lands. But he could see the outskirts on the northern side of the city, with its interspersed clusters of buildings and farmlands. He could not see far beyond the walls in the west, but he could make out wetlands and marshes that the present rain was no doubt flooding and nourishing.
This was the kingdom of Cordor and its city. Jaris had not familiarized himself greatly with the politics of the city located on the southeastern part of the island of Arelith, but the place is a long-recognized hub for trade on the island.
The ship finishes docking and Jaris exits onto the pier. Though it is raining, he is not worried about becoming cold. The Earthspur Mountains he survived a decade in with his monastery brothers and sisters would not let him be so weak. The lack of crowding on the rainy day makes it easier to learn the streets. He walks around the city, familiarizing himself with its layout. Between the trade hall, the temple, the magic shoppe, and the local theater, he couldn't help but also notice the slums.
Jaris stops. Around him he sees the invisible people of the city sheltering from rain in the abandoned properties. And in the center, by the smell, a gate to the sewers. A rough looking man in rags walks out that gate carrying a burlap sack and dumps its contents in front of a man on the street. That man begins to eagerly ruffle through the various scraps, before handing over an equally varied pile of regional currencies.
Jaris thinks.
Right now, I am much like the people surrounding me. I have no money, no connections, and near nothing to my name here. So many of the enlightened started their lives in places exactly like this. This is one of the first things I have seen of the usual life here, and I should learn it. If I cannot even know life as one of the little people, what hope do I have for anything else on this island?
Jaris stares briefly at the sewer gates. He walks down the ramp leading to it and its vertical metal bars. The lock is long broken. He places his hands on the bottom bar and begins to lift it up until it is fully open. Still holding up the gate, he steps under and inside. When he lets go, the gate falls back down but gradually, making a distinctive noise as it slides along inner bumps.
The sewers have a horrible smell, but it doesn't take too much time for the nose to get used to its unpleasantness. Sparse torches inside the sewer and light from grates above provide just barely sufficient lighting. There are small streams forming from the incoming rainwater.
Some of the city's litter should wash into the sewer from the grates above. If I follow the direction of the water then I might be able to find things caught along the way.
Following a stream to its source, Jaris turns into a side passage and looks down a long sewer tunnel. It's darker, so his eyes take a moment to adjust. But before they can, there's the sound of something approaching. Something with… six, no, eight legs. Now it sounds like two of them. Jaris's instincts activate and he enters a defensive stance.
And then, a highly deformed rat jumps at him. Once a rat. Now with twice as many legs. A sewer beast. Jaris has no idea what could create such a creature.
Jaris knocks the jumping sewer beast away from him and to the side with his fist and prepares himself in case the other one, still incoming, attempts the same. But instead, it stops short. The one knocked away places itself just behind Jaris to now surround him.
Jaris focuses entirely on maintaining his defense as he considers the situation.
To think I would already encounter something this aggressive. Arelith lives up to its reputation for danger. I am facing my first trial here and I cannot remain on defense forever.
Jaris takes a breath and directs his Ki into the meridian pathways all around his skull, fortifying the bones.
"Stance of the Remorhaz."
The sewer beast in front of him jumps at Brother Jaris's face. Jaris does not dodge. He throws himself headfirst at the enemy. They slam into each other. Jaris can't see it, but the crushing noise tells him all he needs to know. The sewer beast now lies curled up on the ground, its face concave from the headbutt. Alive, but stunned out of the fight.
Brother Jaris balances himself after, and turns around. The other sewer beast, once behind him, bites at his legs, and this Jaris cannot avoid. Blood pools from two nearby points on the left thigh of his cloth robes. Minimal concern, but he shouldn't allow for more of that. Jaris attempts to grab the sewer beast but it avoids his grasp.
If that isn't working…
Avoiding another further bite, Jaris delivers a punch, plain and unsophisticated, focused on nothing except the accuracy of the strike. Next he delivers an upwards kick, in the process sweeping up droplets of sewer water that would then fall to cover his clothes. With the force behind that kick the beast hits the ceiling and falls, lifeless. Jaris finishes off the sewer beast he stunned earlier with a punch focused purely on force.
Covered in sewer water and now a bit of his own blood, Jaris sits to tend to his own wounds using herbs and bandages from a small healer's kit designed for adventurers. But as he works, Jaris hears the familiar sound of the sewer entrance gate closing.
A similarly bald, but brown-bearded man in red academic wizarding robes appears and looks at Jaris then at the defeated sewer beasts. "Ah. I didn't realize they gave this same contract to someone else as well."
Jaris had an eerie feeling about him. Had he imagined that just now? Or from the moment that man rounded the corner had the blood bleeding from his thigh abruptly changed direction of flow? If he was right, it angled ever so slightly more in the direction of this man.
"I am Amaro Carnelian, a Red Wizard of Thay. And you are?"
#arelith#d&d#dnd#dungeons and dragons#jaris colt#monk#neverwinter nights#soulhavencel#jaris colt stories#dnd story#dnd stories#forgotten realms#dnd stuff#xianxia#amaro carnelian#from now on i will try to include screenshots from arelith with my stories
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All credit to @matheusgraef for this wonderful peace of art! Posted here on my blog with permission.
This is a portrait of my main character on the Neverwinter Nights server Arelith, Ezekiel Klennald, cleric (and rogue) of Tyr. Prophet, warrior, massive nerd, part time smart ass.
#Neverwinter Nights#NWN#Forgotten Realms#Tyr#Ezekiel#Player Character#Cleric#Rogue#Arelith#War Nerd#Art#Character Art#Original Character#OC#I guess
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Hey, tumblr user/NWN player Glup Stinko... I just want to talk.
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second drawing of two commissions I got from Royal Blood over on Arelith, of her Elven character, Clea.This being the full colored one she payed for! tried something a little different with the shading, and so far it looks good~
Can see the first Commission sketch here:
fav.me/dd2p9ef
Clea (Sara'fael) Stormheart © Royal Blood
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My Commissions |My Deviantart | My Patreon | My Redbubble | TeePublic
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