Mywolfhat's Writing and Art

Hypno vs flying ravager

yeah . that's how it goes I think

[A series of three images depicting a digitally sketched comic between Tango Tek, Goodtimeswithscar, and Hypnotizd from Hermitcraft.

Image 1: Tango is on the left with his hands up, looking like he's making a joke to Scar and Hypno on the right.

Image 2: Tango's eyes and mouth are emitting blasts of turquoise flames and smoke respectively with turquoise hastily written text on top reading "THE DUNGEON IS READY FOR ITS NEXT VICTIM". He is also in a dramatic pose leaning slightly back as if he is possessed. Scar and Hypno have startled expressions as their clothes and hair are blown away by the blast, with Hypno jumping back slightly.

Image 3: The same as image 1, but Tango is back to normal and tying his robe back up. Scar and Hypno continue to look startled.

Since I drew the baby ravager in yesterday’s painting I wanted to see what it’d look like all grown up! My interpretation what one might look like is a sort of moose/bison/tapir with lots of teeth—and a nice glossy coat since Tango feeds it so well 😉

The goal was to maintain the big ginormous head and protruding nose but also keep it at least somewhat grounded in reality, so when started out I sketched out a rough skeleton so I could figure out the anatomy in a way that made sense to me [decked out voice playing in my head at all times: BEAST SENSE] Plus a Tango for scale!

Day 5: Fog

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But the stories do not speak of the true enemy of the floor, imprisoned in the depths of the dungeon by a curse that binds him to the darkness in which he resides.

has audio (the audio aint anything special but an attempt was made and it took time so xD)

the gif was so heavy had to resize it multiple times waaaaaaa

Imagine the scene:

Your hearts banging against your chest, pleading to escape. Everytime you go to look at your compass, your hands tremble. Making it impossibe to read.

Your sides ache from the ravenger taking a bite at you, the darkness from the wardens still wraps around your vision.

Your footsteps ring in your ears, breathe fast and labourious.

Finally, you have made it to the final door. You don't think about the jounrey back, just get the artifcat and get out. Two simple steps.

Just as the door opens, your visions widens again. Though the darkness still reaches out, longing to add you to the horrors it has collected.

Taking a step forward, excitement fights against the terror. The feeling of discovery that you crave.

You wander, taking in the twists and turns. It is silent. There are no sniffs from wardens or tinny cackles from hidden evokers. The only sounds are the footsteps you make as you traverse the cold stone and the metallic rattling of your compass in hand.

The rattles begin to echo, grating against your ears. You go still, but the screeching of metal continues.

Breath pounding against your skull, you hold your breath. Whistles fill the space.

Metal clanks against itself. Heavy fabric rustles. Iron screeches against the stone.

You turn around.

That figure is familiar. There's the plume of feathers atop the helmet that you accidentally plucked a few of. There's the chestplate that had jumped across seasons, no matter how much time has passed or the fact that better gear was available. The sword that has struck you through multiple times over, only for both parties to laugh and smile.

You know those eyes, that mouth, that face.

You have not seen him in years.

He is wrong. There's a heavy cape wrapped around his armour, clasped together with a chain around his throught. His eyes and feathers are a frosty blue, similair to Tango's.

Wels cocks his head.

The Waiting Room; a mutual effort, with the queue itself being redstone by Impulse and Grian, and everyone adding touches to the room itself

GeminiSlay's advice booth, which has at least one customer so far (Impulse coming to her after one of his runs)

The Saturation Station, Xisuma's machine at which you can buy soup to fill up your saturation before the run better than the provided berries

The upcoming Cage of Shame that Rendog has planned

At this point, there is going to be a thriving marketplace within Deepfrost Citadel itself. I wouldn't be surprised if there is genuinely a miniature shopping district within the building, which means that people might be leaving it only to restock their Decked Out shop. Which is hilarious to me.

This building wants to eat you whole. You build an item frame shop to sell people convenient ways to display their artifakes. Your neighbor trades you for a hand-drawn map someone made of where they THINK all the hazard spots in the Caves of Carnage are. Xisuma is leaning over a big pot of soup. You hear noteblocks from above - the active queue is playing Guess the Number again. Someone dies in the dungeon, eaten alive by the Citadel. They get greeted at the exit with community, support, and someone trying to sell them tips.

Still he keeps to his tasks, repairing what is broken and tinkering with what is not. And when he takes extra time to clean out the long empty great hall, and carves out recesses into the thick stone, the dungeon lets him. It sees the way the dungeon master tries to make space for more than just himself. The dungeon may not be lonely for the same reasons, hungry perhaps is a better word, but it knows from its long long existence, that humans are not often seen alone. After all it still holds echoes of long gone laughter in its halls.

When the first proper group of adventures arrive the dungeon master is elated. The dungeon itself is happy of course, able to enjoy those that so readily throw themselves into the depths.

But these are not so deterred by failure, they linger, waiting patiently for their next chance to enter the dungeon proper. Lingering turns into staying, for some, and slowly the places that were carved out are changed. Each adventurer leaving their touches and personality on the cold stone. Signs that say ‘we are here’ ‘we are happy’ ‘we are home’

And as the dungeon feasts on the terror or those below, it enjoys the laughter echoing through the halls above. None more precious than of course the dungeon master, but his laughter and joy is so much more frequent now it is mixed with the mirth of others.

Places to rest extend into places to live. Adventurers set up hearths to recount their runs around, fill the halls with the smell of cooking soup, play games with no stakes. Currency is exchanged and secrets are whispered and music is played.

Every now and again an adventurer leaves. At first the dungeon had mourned, expecting others to follow suit. Yet eventually their voices rejoin the many, and the dungeon realizes that they were simply bringing gifts. Bright colors and things with which to make the great hall more homely. The dungeon cannot find any reason to deny them this, not when they have brought so much good into the dark halls.

The dungeon master still works tirelessly at repairing what is broken, and tinkering with what is not. But he also crafts gifts, replicas of what the dungeon cannot relinquish. Prizes for the outstanding amongst the adventurers, and invitations to keep playing, keep trying harder.

Yea no I got a bit carried away (original concept & speedpaint below)

Have fun finding the amogus :}