(4/4)
Then close to perfect had to suffice he thought, slipping the glasses back on.
“Come in”

(3/4)
Tonight, everything had to be perfect.

The knock at the door was sudden and so very brisk that the ancillas hand clenched quite without thought, his great strength causing cracks in the glasses lens; Archibold simply looked down at them and sighed.

(2/4)

Although he knew tonight’s meeting will put such a claim to the test. The old ventrue had made sure not a spec of lint was on his suit, nor a smudge of dirt on his shoes, nor, as the fabric between his fingertips continued to wipe nervously, a single bit of dust on his glasses.

(1/4)
Somewhere, far away and deep amongst a maze of corridors, sits an old man who by every definition was not meant to live this long, and yet here he was, admittedly not fully alive, but certainly not fully dead either.
Survival at least, was something he was becoming increasingly good at.

(4/4)
There were no words to be said between the witch and the demon, for what offers of clemency are to be given to creatures that truly revel in their cruelty?

(3/4)
Something far removed from divinity watched on as the witch finished their warding circle, its form drawing on all it can muster to become a faceless, clawed, and most importantly, tangible thing.

(2/4)
It was this strange little spark that watched on behind Friedrichs eyes as they plied their craft in the dead of night, drawing forth their magics and painting defensive sigils on their armour in preparation for the inevitable fight ahead.

(1/4)
It is known by vampires and those that hunt them that viatie, found within blood, carries the very essence of life itself. But those willing to delve deeper and ponder things of an arcane persuasion may learn that it carries something else, a small fireless spark of divinity.

🧵(3/3)
Kendra awoke in her bedroll drenched in a cold sweat before forcing herself to breathe slowly and turn onto her side.

It was just a dream, nothing to get worked up about.

Just a stupid dream.

🧵(2/3)
Then, as always, familiar chains snaked around her, one, two then ten and a hundred; each one slowing her thrashing bit by bit until the only thing she could move was her eyes as she watched the light fade and her mouth to let the water take her screams.

🧵(1/3)
The tiefling clawed upwards, so close to breaking the surface this time that her fingertips could feel sunlight tantalisingly above.

Aaa thank you so much, I love writing the storys! ❤️‍❤️‍

It's great fun to mull over while / after painting, I've come up with so much oc lore doing it!

🧵3/3
“No… its fine, really” he lied.

🧵2/3
“Aye?” he replied, wiping the sleep away,
“Are you ok?” asked the tiefling, “you started talking in your sleep again”
“Aye lad” He said as he rose up, dusting the ash from his uniform.
“If you want something for sleep…” the satyr added, but Cobbles raised his one good hand.

🧵1/3
“Cobbles?” there was a pause, then murmuring in the background, before a hand lightly shook their shoulder “Cobbles?”
The old lamplighter woke up to see a familiar tiefling, an older satyr and a woman far too sombre for one so young, each looking back at him with a mix of concern and sympathy.

🧵 3/3
Or it would be easy, if not for their well-meaning friend and unwitting partner in crime, a lampy hound by the name of Clannie, did not offer to help the marks find their “lost” coins.

Every.

Single.

Time.

🧵 2/3
It is here that a chicken mistakenly endowed with both a crude intelligence and an eldritch blessing is trying, and failing, to make a living.

Todays scam is the three cup trick. It’s easy, put a coin under a cup, shuffle it around, make the coin vanish with a little cantrip and boom, profit!

🧵 1/3
Let your mind pan away for a moment from tales of heroes and villains.
There is a place called Little Malatra, a cobbled together town within a city where awakened creatures and shapeshifters might finally feel safe.