#kelnari

sometimes self care is spending a stupid amount of time on dumb shit like this yknow

(left to right) Kelnari is mine, Yarrow belongs to @feelingkindawoozy, and Achoris is @krakendraken's

moments of weakness and comedic genius, hand in hand

(Left) My rendition of the god, Set. Ideally would like to finish this one day, maybe. ft a little Achoris who loves his daddy (Right) Ground work for a ref sheet for Nikotiemus and Arseni because they don't have scarcely any proper art (except for a commission I managed to get some years back of Arseni by the fantastic AlexCogganARTS on Twitter!)

@erinobaron shared this photo in a group chat and i got inspired because Val absolutely would (shown is Set's mortal aspect)

(Left) Kelnari on his wedding day, something like 90 years prior to him currently. blissfully unaware of the century of misery and torment that he was just starting to enter uwu (Right) Dakota and I were watching Our Flag Means Death and when a scene popped up where he audibly went "Okay Achoris" I obliged. ft Kel but also @feelingkindawoozy's Yarrow/Cha Cha and @decusworkshop's Niamh~ its not necessary realistic that yarrow would drunk drive the ship aground, but god gave me the ability to draw and i will use it how i please at everyone else's peril

Jaska Piotovich: Arrested for child endangerment (seen letting his young daughter carry and use lethal weapons) (she was extremely skilled with them but that’s besides the point)

Kelnari: Arrested for shoplifting extra genders

Arsast: Arrested for assaulting a guard (water balloon) while yelling “tag you’re it”

Yarrow: Arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct (drank a concerning amount of whiskey and then threw rocks at his own deity until it came over to engage in fisticuffs)

I have twink brainrot and its terminal

this isnt helping ngl

Kelnari, Marchailles

Balko-Garvari War

It was impossible to make it out of Marchailles without incident. After the pair of Balkos took a swim going across the Bour, the Capt. tried to keep distance from that frothy riverbeast. A’course that didn’t really help all that much. Trolley, as he came to be known, took a stray step on what was once a bustling trolley rail. He fell like a stack of bricks and that strange odor of ozone clung to the air, not even a cry of pain to give warning. The troop medic said he was lucky to be alive after those few thousand volts, though his leg was quite burned. A pair of Balkans drug him all of three days before he came too, fingers scorched black and mind fried.

By that third day the troop had made it to the flats that lay between them and the rally point of Delacroix. High Command had set it up while they dropped back into Barbuchaul’s vast haven. This hadn’t been Fohl's first time here, but three month prior he'd been chasing the Garvarvi all the way past Marchailles in the opposite direction. It had been flat, scarce, and dry when the troops rolled through, but not now. No, those few trickling streams now had turned to angry creeks cutting into the bare landscape. Those odd and numerous hills with the thin tall trees on them that many wondered over were now havens and isles. Water seeped from every pore, the savage rain was outpacing the whole force, never letting up, but to only give a constant misty drizzle. The fog and haze started to choke the land, High Command wouldn’t see a clear sun for the next few months. The land was turning into a murky marsh, and Fohl had to get out of it before the mud and the troop were underwater.

The hordes of dead tanks, carcasses of artillery, and husks of convoys soon became bastions in the quagmire. Fohl tromped on, marching not until sundown, but until someone found a mildly dry haven to. Sometimes the troop would go a whole day without such respite, wading and crawling to keep the pace. The Garvari hounded the invaders, sensing urgent weakness, seeing the crippled situation the army currently faced. At night, the horizon at Fohl's back was and endless lightshow as the big guns chased him down. He'd go sprawling face down into the mud with a plop when the came too close. It was better to eat muk than shrapnel.  When dawn came so did the rumbling waves of far-off explosions, as the armor of both sides faced off, and the guns able to see their targets in the light.

The troop's demoman blew himself up on a booby-trapped canoe. He spent a good half our trying to disarm it, before with a sudden surprised exclamation, flew a dozen feet upward and back. He didn’t have much left to dispose of, and the Gwarm from Verdunn had a canoe shard as long as a clip in his arm. Then the Balakana joined the injured ranks, when a co-gunner for the MG managed to break his leg. The Beartrap frog snapped shut with a terrific splash, and the Nova native to his credit killed the thing with a stray round as he tumbled into the puddle. The Dimeran Gwarm roared with laughter everytime he saw him limp after that, until the Tantian died.

His beasty was bigger than him, and had weapons to kill. That serpentine body and thin long jaws full of teeth didn’t go seen until the cry of pain, more surprise than anything. That gave way to a howl of horror and shock as the Lockjaw twisted what was left of his leg off, as a SMG burst tore it’s hindquarters asunder. Poor bastard bleed out just as the Garvi-Blako sawed through the hinge ligament of the jaw to release the limb. Dimerok shut up after that, and watched his step.