Trashcan Overlord

This piece has been rotting in my art folder for months now and I finally figured out how I Wanted to color/render Dinraal.

artistsuniversum: “Kathin Marchenko is a textile artist and designer known for her expressive embroidery on delicate tulle fabric.

Using a "painting with thread" technique, she creates portraits, anatomical forms, and ethereal figures that seem to float within wooden hoops, blending craft with fine art.”

Artist: @kathrin_marchenko

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They catch enough game in the sparce woods not just for a feast, but for Ealdor to have meat for the next week and beyond when they salt and dry it.

Arthur still doesn't understand why the Camelot knights are lingering, but they're polite enough. Besides, by the time they get back Morgana and Elyan are long gone so he's able to relax. Him improving a border time probably won't actually rouse Uther's ire no matter what Morgana thinks, but harboring two of his people just might, especially since one of them is a noble. Granted, she's also a sorceress, but since none of them want her drowned or burned, they're obviously never telling anyone from Camelot that.

Merlin mostly sticks to his mother's side and he figures that has more to do with Hunith's death grip than any real desire on his part. He doesn't understand Hunith's concern, but he doesn't want to dismiss it either.

"You're bunking with us?" Merlin asks incredulously.

"I'll take the floor," he says, amused. He's camped enough times that it's not a problem.

"But the blacksmith has an actual bed for you," he points out.

"I'll sleep by the door," he says, speaking more to Hunith than Merlin. He lays his hand on his sword in a way that he hopes looks casual even though it isn't at all. "If anyone tries to barge in, they'll have to deal with me first."

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The logical course of action is to enact preservation of all available, undiseased food and implement as much hunting and gathering as possible. There had been strict agricultural guidelines to ensure the preservation of local flora and fauna, but in the face of people's lives, that must be discarded. They should then restrict everyone's food intake as much as possible without endangering their lives while attempting to get out a distress signal through the ion storms. It's the only course of action that makes sense.

Governor Kodos does not take this course of action.

Jim and Sybok present the problem to him along with the obvious response. At first, there's denial, but even when Jim wants to howl in frustration, Sybok is calm and focused and unrelenting, using cold hard fact after cold hard fact to force Kodos to face the truth of the situation.

At first, they don't know what's happening.

A couple families disappear and Kodos says he's sent them to gather further from the colony. Jim doesn't like it because the only thing the disease doesn't seem to affect is roots, which are difficult to excavate by hand on this planet even with modern technology. The earth is dense and sandy and rough to the touch in most places. Still, if they can find something to help them last through the ion storms, it's probably worth it.

Another family leaves, Kodos saying they've gone off to join the others, and Jim's gut twists uncomfortably. They had two kids under five. Who would take kids that young on something like this? It doesn't make any sense.

This time it's Sybok who comes to him, sneaking past his sort of aunt and into his house in the middle of the night and gently shaking him awake. Jim blinks up at him, almost tells him that he can stop and he's up now, but he realizes that all of Sybok is shaking, it's just that it's only his hand on his shoulder.

Sybok leads him out of the house and takes him out of the village and the further they leave, the more uneasy Jim becomes. The more that the fear that's been pulsing under his skin turns into something hard and terrible.

They go to the fields, now rotten and useless, and Sybok brings him to freshly tilled earth.

Nothing can grow now. There's no reason to till.

"Sybok," Jim says quietly.

"I'm sorry," he says, pressing his hands to his eyes. "Jimmy, I'm so fucking sorry, but you're the only one I can trust."

Two kids under five. Older parents who couldn't work as hard. The other families had a set of elderly parents each. But it's not that, because everyone on Tarsus IV works, including these people. They work harder than Jim and Sybok do.

Because they're poor and alone and this planet was supposed to be their shot at a new life.

There's no one to miss them.

"He can't just - the amount he'd have to - if he's planning to get through the storming season," he shakes his head, not even wanting to think it. If they all eat the daily recommended amount of calories, they won't make it through the season. If they live off half that, which almost all of them can manage, they might make it long enough to get a signal out.

If instead of cutting the caloric consumption in half, they cut the caloric need in half -

Jim turns and presses his forehead into Sybok's clothed arm, breathing deeply for several long minutes that feel like an eternity.

If they don't do something, these fields will become graveyards long before starvation can kill anyone.

He's not going to let that happen.

Jim lifts his head and finds Sybok already looking at him. "I have an idea."

My fave part of this tweet is that even though a lot of people are assuming this was an AI thing or whatever

this is the actual lede of their review of the Super Mario movie