Galra Appreciation

guys like am i tweakinf genuinely james is wearing a whole other uniform theres no way people r still mistaking him for lance

From @auroura101

Heya, i desperately need rent, please consider donating, commissioning, or sharing. Thank you!

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Have a wonderful day, lovelies!

Credit: the text in the insert-image box comes from this video, and the text for the top three lines (intense, complex, fruity) comes from this post. The actual image was made with the free NBOS character sheet creator, which is a sort of dated but free and solid text-layout sheet maker intended for ttrpg style character sheet creation.

A pace or two ahead of the paver, the ground rippled. With a faint sigh and a shudder in the Weave, the cobbles of the alleyway seemed to sink into the ground, revealing a narrow stair that descended below the level of the street. Manshoon smiled, satisfied, and rose, shaking the dust of the road from the hem of his robes. Then he descended, taking the steps two at a time in his haste. His boots struck the floor of the passage, and he reached out to graze his fingers across a particular spot on the wall and murmured the corresponding invocation. The alleyway above— ceiling, now— melted back into existence in a ripple of power and plunged him into darkness. It lasted only a moment, of course. Dim red light flared from sconces that held torches of continual flame up and down the length of the corridor, enough to illuminate without being immediately obvious to those dwelling above if the entryway opened while they were lit. A convenience, nothing more; even among the priests of the Lord of Darkness, very few had eyes with which to penetrate it. Manshoon set off down the long hall in the direction of the Black Altar, his soft-soled boots hardly a whisper on the stone despite his haste, cloak swirling about him like wings. Like the streets above, the priests’ hidden passage wound; Zhentil Keep was old, and more lay below than soared above even in this city of spires. Manshoon’s youth had spun with tales of Zhentar’s foolish apprentices, retreating below into undeath and years later boiling to the surface in a necromantic plague that had taken much sorcery and priestly magic to quell, and could not entirely be banished; his long adulthood had taught him some of those tales’ veracity, and more useful things besides— the thieves’ routes through the sewers, smugglers’ tunnels, hidden chambers and secret meeting halls, the hidden paths to the Underdark. Other doors gaped from the main passage, but Manshoon ignored them, following a memory of Fzoul’s guidance, the priest’s warm hand holding his, his low voice murmuring directions in Manshoon’s ear.

jeith in 2025 png

[ALT ID: A digital painting of a man in a tuxedo covering his smile with his hand.]

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 9 Days till S8

Happy birthday Keith! May you always be happy!!