#mokole

used my warm up sketch to draw the sheriff of Adelaide in my VTM game

!!! :D Psykarion is one of my ttrpg characters; the game is Werewolf: the Apocalypse, but in a historical setting (specifically centered in Roman-occupied Britannia during the Hadrian era 130 CE). Psykarion is a mokolé, which is basically a were-lizard/dragon. The mokole are basically living cloud servers because they have access to Mnesis, which is a combination of the memories of every other mokole that ever lived, as well as the "memory" of old places with high spiritual impact, which is how he is a 20 year old that also basically lived through the sacking of Carthage. Lots of emotional issues from that and other things, haha

His name means "little breath" or "little soul" in Greek. He has several aliases though, and spends a lot of time crossdressing and changing identities while traveling from place to place. One of the (now-dead) npcs called him a word that basically meant gender-witch lmao, and he loved it, much to her dismay

I've posted art of him before in my draws tag but fuck it here's a comp of Game Doodles i did ages ago

I can't go into too much detail about his past because some of the other players might see his Backstory Secrets but: he is a freedman who used to be an actor, and believes he might be the last were-dragon left in the world after the Wars of Rage (basically the werewolves attempted genocide of all the other shapeshifters and succeeded at wiping out a few, like were-bats)

So he's been searching for others like him to confirm whether or not that's true; for a while he would shift into his suchid form (which is a long-extinct Greek monitor lizard, abt 3 ft long, unlike his 20ft archid "were-dragon" form which is actually still smallish for a mokolé) and hide in semi-hibernation amid boat cargo to avoid paying for transport, but he got discovered after leaving Gaul while in Lizard Torpor and was captured by these dudes who thought he was a land crocodile and tried to sell him as a cure for blindness (he went along with this because hey free travel and food, even if it's just raw rats and eggs or whatever, and he could go unnoticed by other turnskins...though that does mean he had his eyes gouged out a few times, he healed, which just cemented their belief in his value and got him better food for a while...which he decided was worth it, oof). So yeah. This was fine until he found out these new people who were buying him outright were werewolves planning to burn him alive in the hopes of restoring sight to a metis werewolf baby (that was born blind) for Sacrificial Curse reasons

Which means he was already plotting his escape when he overheard the other player characters investigating, and recognized the voice of someone he knew from his acting days (another actor named Pallas)...then escaped and went to find him and beg him for help before the horrible british winter killed his cold-blooded and mediterranean-born ass lmao

Which he got, after an interrogation by their kindly pack-totem, Mammoth (and oh how he wept for joy at that meeting!! Both of these creatures who have witnessed ages long past, now alone in a world moving on without them, but trying to endure all the same...!!!) Then he ended up going with these werewolves and their were-raven packmate (that he affectionately refers to as sun-sister) to stop the curse... and also to escape all the other werewolves who decided they were honor-bound to kill and dissect him lol. They managed to save the metis baby (though it still probably won't have a good end) and escaped to Cyrenaica because he was able to help their totem make a moon-bridge there via mnesis.

He and Pallas had a sort of weird mutual obsession at the time they met, and it turns out they still do, though their relationship is pretty fraught now since he found out Pallas is a Fancy Boy werewolf (high-purebreed silver fang, though he rejected his heritage and got cut the fuck up as a result)

Every other pic ive drawn of them together is a violation of tumblr tos so:

He's also short and full of rage, which means he fits right in with the werewolves for the most part, and that galls him a little. Still, they saved his life, and he theirs, and despite everything he sorta loves them all...

Alas he's going to say goodbye soon, and live basically a hermit life in what remains of the garden of the hesperides (which in our game is an ancient mokole wallow), and sometimes work with a small pack of sympathetic werewolves and a were-lion in Cyrene...also probably trying to hunt down kinfolk to breed more mokole with lol

Gonna just end this with more old shitpost doodles:

In the earliest of days, there was nothing — only the potential for everything that would ever come to be.

As rumors do, the tales grew ever darker with the retelling.

There is a drawback to having will this strong, however.

Regardless of the season, enough of the required plants or herbs may be found, even if they are buried under deep snow or growing in the most unlikely of places.

These dreams and visions act as both a summons and a directional guide.

You cannot protect anything when all you do is destroy.

Sanctimonious creatures who do not deserve our support.

You know much, but you value secrets for the sake of secrets.

They do everything with such immense gravitas. In anyone else it would be tiresome, but they have such wonderful secrets.

If we had stood together, we might have saved the others. But they divided us, and we each stood alone.

I’m glad that I was wrong.

I command you to keep your duty first in your heart, and to listen for my teachings

I forbid you to exterminate the humans.

I forbid you to make war on your brothers and sisters

I forbid you to break your word.

I forbid you to commit suicide for reasons of honor.

I free you to do anything else necessary to achieve our goals.

The world is in a terrible state

But what am I to do?

Only by purging those who refused to abide by the holy Laws, could the right path be regained once more.

Most are raised by extended family members, due to the loss of one or both parents at birth.

Evil itself can be a powerful weapon against evil

This solitude, along with the fact that they are sometimes looked down on by the rest of their kind, often leads the sorcerers toward cynicism and inhumanity.

There is no success without risk and no victory without the possibility of defeat.

They are not ravening beasts

In general, they like to keep in shape and pride themselves on being good-looking.

The illusion is perfectly detailed with color, light, and motion.

The actual divination is performed by reading entrails, interpreting the smoke of a burnt offering, casting bones, or in some other way using the resulting body as an oracular tool.

She can’t precisely duplicate the appearance of another, however, or perfectly replicate complex patterns or garments (such as military uniforms).

The rite does not have to be repeated if attendees arrive late; any latecomers remain bound by the rules as long as they remain among the gathering.

They think nobody knows that they kill some leaders to promote their favorites.

We will not be so easily swayed.

You do what must be done, and bear your burden with grace.

They think they’re so clever, working behind the scenes and playing at being heroes with the others.

When the time comes, they’ll fall like the others.

You’re single-minded and incredibly powerful, but you also have your negative aspects.

We should do something about that.

Maybe they would help me.

Before Man walked, Things roamed the Earth.

This time and place and all that exists here is but a flicker in the bonfire of what has come before.

Countless creatures lived, evolved — and eventually died. All with no more fanfare or legacy than humanity will leave behind when it is gone.

Man is not the first. He is not the only. He is not even the best.

Time passes, and in time this cacophony of human “civilization” will exist no more.

There will be no record left behind of this self-important sour note in the symphony of time.

But nothing lasts forever, and with the changing of ages, even the greatest empires can crumble.

Bits of the asteroid and the impact crater ricocheted out into space, and were pulled back to earth in a rain of molten burning stone that baked the land and started wildfires across the globe.

The sky filled with toxic fumes.

Acid rain fell around the world.

Wherever intelligent living things gather, communities emerge.

Between the reddening of the eastern sky and noon, sunlight strikes at the heavens.

At high noon, the sun reigns supreme over the Earth, seeing all.

As the sun sets, the wise ward against evil hidden in the growing darkness.

When the sun is obscured, unseen forces scheme against those who live in the light.

When creatures of the sun are born at night, strange and contradictory events occur.

In moments of astronomical wonder, fantastic events can occur.

This respect is not without a cost, however.

This form is indistinguishable from an ordinary human.

The foe is transformed into a lower form of life.

Some of you talk of forgiveness, of sorrow. I remember you showing neither when you slaughtered my people.

I care that they realise that we are not their greatest enemies.

We remember what happened. The others do not.

For now, I will remain quiet.

But remember this; you will aid us now, or the world will know of your treachery.

They did what we needed of them once. They will do it again.