On the wings of a dragon - Dekafox's excuse to post art

"Hmmph."
Speaks-With-Bones narrowed her eyes as she examined the skull and its aura further, the eerie green light reflecting off her black scales. This was turning out to be a very unpleasant turn of events for this death-speaker.
Among her tribe, once the spirit returned to the Hist(or whatever the dryskin equivalent was) their bones would often be fashioned into weapons and tools, to allow them to continue to help the tribe long after the death, until they could be reborn anew. The spirit, however, was sacrosanct. To interrupt its journey to the Hist was sacrilege, and many a time she had been called upon as death-speaker to help a spirit move on. Sometimes this simply involved speaking to the spirit within the remains; other times, she spoke for the deceased, to pass on messages so important to the fallen that they would linger until it was done.
Now it seems some dryskin mage(please let it be a dryskin) was forcing the souls of dead Argonians to their service. She could feel the trapped spirit within this skull writhing as it tried to pull free against the magics holding it there.
Speaks was no stranger to animating bones - but this was not how you do it. An animal's soul, or even a willing daedra were enough for her purposes, and seldom were they needed for long. In the event an actual spirit was needed for some magical purpose, she even had a few 'friends' among those who refused to move on who would answer her call. But this? This was the same kind of slavery she had heard of among the dark elves. This was a travesty, and once this poor soul was free, whomever did this was going to get to meet Sithis. Personally.

A portrait of my Argonain necromancer from the 2nd Era(ESO), Speaks-With-Bones, as she contemplates a possessed Argonian skull. Perfect for that spooky Halloween feel.

Art is by Virensere!

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The deck spoke to me one final time: The Moon. Fear. Anxiety. Illusion. Yet, the shimmering glyph tells me to trust myself and my instincts. As if I had any choice at this point.

If I only look with my mortal eyes, all I see is darkness. His doing. Some part of me always knew that it was going to be him; the one who set me on this path, so many years ago. He took much from me, but I did not give in to the despair. Forbidden knowledge and Things That Should Not Be assaulted my mind, but now I am the one in control. I am becoming one with the Other, but it is a price I will gladly pay.

There was no one for me, but I will be there for them. I will be their final hope.

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"You have undoubtedly felt the rage in the Change, have you not? The urge to throw everything away and hunt until blood drips form your maw, and your claws tear the flesh open for your meal. Some fight it. Some succumb to it, and become another horror, no different that the others we have fought. I too, once felt these things, but rather than fight it or give in, I accepted it as a part of myself, and -used- it. Rather than speak of human and beast, of We, there is only I, and I am in charge of myself. As proof of this, I have not been able to Change, to return to my birth form since before your father was born. I find myself forever bound to the form you see before you. Yet it is still Me and in that I am satisfied.

Now don't misunderstand me, cub. We are indeed monsters, but that doesn't mean we have to be Monsters. There are far more of those among the humans that they will ever know. And that is why the highest calling is to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Both from the horrors outside, as well as the darkness within. The Light is purity of purpose, of emotion. The Light did not forsake me then, and it does not do so now, as long as I remain true to myself and our cause. The urge to hunt is part and parcel of who we are, but rather than mindless slaughter, we can turn this to the betterment of all. Hunt the Monsters, and bring them to justice. Good is not all roses and wine, and sometimes the best choice to fight a Monster, is with a monster.

Now, our kind's bond with the Green Man does have its price. I've guided your pack for a long time, but I am still His creature and one day He will claim me for his Hunting Grounds. I feel that time drawing closer, even now. But I still remember my promise to your grandfather's grandfathers, and if you or your kin need me, simply return here, to our enclave on the borders of his Realm. I will be here, if any of you need me.

Now, let us speak of better things! I have not been into town for some time. Does old Cranjo still make those delicious cookies? And what about that silver-furred grandaughter of his? Don't think I didn't see the glances you two were giving each other at the last Hunter's Feast... I'm old, not blind!"

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Another snapshot from the life of Lunaria Valeris, werewolf paladin, shortly after she gave up her ability to return to her former human body...

While in harmony with her bestial aspects and already having come to terms with losing her human form, the early years of Lunaria's adjustments to her new status quo were still quite troublesome. Though she usually had little need for clothes, her handpaws were initially quite clumsier than her human hands had been, and it took some time for her to adjust to the size and strength difference in her daily life.
Hearkening back to her youth, Lunaria found herself turning her crafting hobbies into a way to adjust to her new reality and regain that lost dexterity.

While not requiring a large amount of finesse, blacksmithing quickly became one of her favorite past-times, as simply beating the metal into shape gave her a outlet for her anger and frustration when things went poorly. Additionally, the rhythmic clanging reminded her of her days as a young girl, helping her papa at the forge.

While she lacked protective equipment properly sized for her lupine form, she managed to improvise a solution with the same stubbornness that got her this far. Her old blacksmithing apron barely fit, thankfully, but lacking a large enough glove, she found simply wrapping her hand with leather strips would allow her to hold the metal in place. While she could easily heal from any burns with her own supernatural recovery, hot metal still hurt, after all!

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