Old woman wizard yuri that I probably won’t finish rendering

thanks to the old man yaoi group for enabling this. you're all real ones. we decided if they were furries they'd be a gryphon and an indrik :3c

more:

psijic misfits!

Vestige.

What if Mannimarco was still a Psijic mage

Long awaited art for my friend @hightomtitty of my literal Psijic dads, Rivenar and Ritemaster Iachesis, being my dads, in love. Thank you for being patient and I love them... 💙

Hopped into ESO to get some outfit screenshots for fashion week and it reminded me of how much I love Tarahen and his ridiculous library lighthouse.

sar’jirra

I posted this on Twitter in March and I thought I’d start off my tumblr with the same in a much more sane format. So, from the top: I've never talked that much about my OCs or their stories. The two who have really developed stories are Llivion and Salaa. Llivion's is almost too long to go into, and it lives rent free in my head, constantly shifting. So let me introduce Lector Salaa Suran, of Clockwork City. Salaa was born and raised in Clockwork City, the son of Clockwork Apostles of rank, themselves. He was Redoran by heritage, as his family name would suggest. He showed an early aptitude for the mechanical, to the point of being a prodigy, to his parents' delight. He also had a head for math and magic, and being a tall boy, did well in athletics and martial training. He didn't apply himself at all in arts or social sciences, but he needed them little. He was largely quiet and introverted. More interested in his own pursuits. However, although polite to his superiors, he could quickly become stubborn and impatient when dealing with others. His frustrations dealing with people, largely caused by his own inflexibility and sense of superiority, only intensified his tendency to be withdrawn. As a young teen, people began to notice something interesting about Salaa. As he grew older, it became more apparent, and by the time he was a young man, there was no missing it. Young sera Salaa Suran was the absolute spitten image of Lord Sotha Sil. At first, this was fun. Just another thing that made Salaa special. But, in time, it began to wear on him. His considerable talents no longer stood on their own, but rather drew comparisons to someone who no mortal could live up to. Peers would ask his help on matters of artificing with comments like, "Well, you're the next best thing to Lord Seht, after all!" Worst of all were the rumors. The boldest went so far as to suggest to his face that his father (whom Salaa also resembled) wasn't his real father. He was even told that he should be proud to be the son of Sotha Sil, the speakers uncaring of what an insult the comment was to both his happily married parents and their Clockwork God. As Salaa rose through the ranks of the Apostles, he withdrew further, burying himself in his work. It was another point of comparison, but at least it was one he didn't have to listen to. As a Lector, a rank he achieved relatively young, he did have students. They comprised most of his social interaction, and he liked it just fine that way. They knew better than to trouble him about anything that might annoy him, and for the most part, he'd learned to temper his impatience and became a good teacher, well-liked by his pupils. In middle age, around the same age Sotha Sil had been at the time of his ascendancy, Salaa was occasionally outright mistaken for the Clockwork God. His habits kept these moments mercifully rare. However, he was unexpectedly called upon for a brief mission to the Mourning Hold. A prisoner needed to be escorted there and a Constable with whom Salaa was acquainted (Drados, it's Drados, of course it's Drados) requested his assistance as the magically powerful interloper in Clockwork City required ironclad magical restraint when removed. An imminent threat to the Clockwork City, the prisoner was to be taken to Mournhold to be dealt with by none other than Almalexia, herself, by request of Lord Seht, who said he'd trust no other far outside his realm to do what must be done. Salaa did as he was asked, of course. He'd never stepped foot outside of the City of Sotha Sil, and found himself overawed by the ancestral land of Morrowind, seeing for the first time the land he'd only ever seen illustrated. Even the business of escorting the prisoner couldn't dampen his wonder. And he got the opportunity he'd hoped to have. He met Lady Ayem, in the flesh. He was immediately convinced she was the most beautiful being who'd ever lived. He was in the grip of a childlike wonder he hadn't had even as a child. Morrowind and its Mother had him enraptured. Almalexia, in turn, spied him and immediately knew she'd found a new toy that she would have for her own. Salaa Suran looked like Seht, thought like Seht, was steeped in Seht. He even smelled of brass and oil. She would pick his brain for all he knew about Clockwork City. And she might do some other things with him, too. In the words of Naryu Virian, "I understand that Almalexia can be a little rough on her toys." It didn't take long to have Salaa alone, and once she did, she barely even had to charm him. He was clay in her hands. He never knew, nor asked, nor even wondered what happened to the prisoner until many years later. When the other Apostles went home, Salaa stayed, at Almalexia's request. She quickly made him a Hand. Her control over her Temple was so tight, there was very little grumbling about the immediate promotion from outside the ranks of the Ordination. Their relationship progressed quickly from one of goddess and supplicant to lovers. They were never, however, equals for a moment. Salaa never exactly agreed to being dominated by his goddess queen in every way, but saw little alterative if he was to have what he wanted most. She used and abused him at her whim, leaving him swinging wildly from the depths of shame and humiliation to the heights of ecstasy. Salaa often found himself on his knees, begging Mother Morrowind for release or relief, whatever device she was using to puppet him in a given moment. One minute he'd wonder how he'd ever lived without her, the next, he'd wonder how much longer he could live like this. Outside of the time he spent alone with Ayem, the formerly cloistered, reclusive Apostle was ill-equipped to navigate the political and violent world of the Ordinators. His orders began simply enough, but over time, they became more and more martial. While he excelled at martial arts, as he had in his youth, using them on real, living people proved catastrophic to the bookish, peaceful mer. He'd seek comfort in his lover and only confidant, even though she was the very one who'd burdened him with the trauma. Almalexia recognized these moments of vulnerability, and at these times more than any other, she would ask him all he knew about the Clockwork City. Its magic, its mechanisms, its people. Salaa, in his innocence, saw such questions as a kindness. A distraction from his pain. However, in time, a few short years, he could take it no longer. He fell to his knees before his queen, his goddess, his lover for the final time and begged her to set him free from this life. He'd seen heresy, and punishment, beyond what he'd once imagined possible. And the Mercy of Morrowind did just that. She relieved Salaa of his vestments and his enthrallment. He felt no pain, he was not broken hearted. Whatever had once enraptured him simply evaporated. She didn't toss him away but rather tossed him into the air to fly on his own wings. Whether this was a final act of kindness and mercy to someone who had worshipped her like few who'd come before, or whether she was simply done with him and gotten what she wanted is impossible to say. Either way, Salaa Suran had no title nor order for the first time in his life. For a time, he wandered Morrowind, untethered, living off the land or making money with his skills when he needed to. At times he felt ashamed and adrift. Other times, he felt as light and free and full of possibility as a dandelion seed on the wind. The people of Morrowind, for their part, took little notice of him. Very few Tribunal worshippers even recognized his resemblance to one of their gods. For the first time ever, Salaa was absolutely and completely unremarkable. Until a chance encounter. The Psijic Order have always maintained a few emissaries in Tamriel, storied mer like Asulo and Lilatha. This was in the days when the Isle of Artaeum was farm from Nirn, perhaps even the Mundus, when such members were critical ties to the world of mortals. This Psijic, whoever it might have been, was the first mer in years to recognize Salaa for who he looked like. Salaa, of course, was staggered to run into a magnificently robed Altmer in Morrowind who saw the resemblance that had so shaped his life. The two struck up a conversation and sat at the inn, ordering coffee after coffee, well into the wee hours, talking about their long lives and many experiences. It wasn't long before the Psijic had revealed their Order, which immediately told Salaa how he'd been recognized. His new friend had done something Salaa, himself, never had - seen Sotha Sil in the flesh. The Psijic, recognizing a brilliant and gifted mage, invited Salaa back to Artaeum. Just to visit, of course. But before the visit was over, he'd been offered a position within the Order. Unlike when he'd joined the Hands of Almalexia, this time, it took Salaa a few days to decide. Another monastic order, another place he'd rarely leave, another anchor. There was no one here he was madly in love with. Nothing here called irresistibly to him. But, the desire for a place to call home, his longing for scholarship, and the beautiful, even more deeply ancestral Summerset isle eventually wound their way into his mind and put down roots. He agreed, and for the third time in his life, wore the vestments of an order. He learned deep, old magics wildly different from what he'd known in Clockwork City or Mournhold. He was soon able to wield arcana as ancient as the stars, themselves. Among the Psijics, he was great again, but so was everyone around him. They all knew his face, but none changed their opinion about him because of it. Sotha Sil was their honored teacher, not their god. Slowly, so slowly he didn't even notice it happening, Artaeum became Salaa Suran's heart and home. He settled into a comfortable life. Only once was his peace interrupted, although briefly. The great powers of Tamriel - all of them - were called together in peace and diplomacy to address an existential daedric threat to Nirn, when one of the Princes of Oblivion bested Seht's own Coldharbour Compact. Which Prince it was is not know to this day, but the Princes who agreed to the Compact found themselves able to keep its benefits while defying its prohibitions. Most of them, of course, immediately took full advantage of this. And a few of them... well. The Psijics were forced to aid in the fight to help ensure the safety of both Nirn and Artaeum. Salaa, of course, joined his Order in this endeavor. And in a stroke of remarkable fortune - or perhaps providence? - Salaa's rare gifts finally found their use. Lord Seht needed to be in two places at once. As noted in Vivec's 36 Sermons, he was entirely capable of this feat. What he could not do, however, was completely hide his immense power from another so powerful as a Daedric Prince. And he needed to be in a second place quietly. The Psijic Ritemaster was able to offer a solution without hesitation, and finally, after centuries, Salaa Suran came face to face with Sotha Sil. "I see your qualifications were not overstated," were Seht's very first words to him, referring to both his visage and his power. But about their resemblance, Seht said no more. Salaa was overwhelmed to finally meet the Clockwork God, perhaps even more than he'd been when he met Almalexia, but this time, he was able to keep his emotions well in hand. Seht quickly devised a plan, and found Salaa more than up to the challenge. A little magic to change his proportions and simulate Sotha Sil's enhancements, and Salaa became indistinguishable from the Mystery of Morrowind. How exactly he carried out his role is unknown. What is known is that he was successful, and lived to tell the tale, although he told very few. Most versions of the story say he stared down one of the darkest Princes and comported himself exactly as Lord Seht would have. The Prince, convinced, did not dare to touch him. Seht rewarded him for his aid, although what he was given was never recorded. The memory of finally meeting the Clockwork God was a happy one. Although Salaa was eventually appointed Relicmaster of the Psijics, for the rest of his days, he used the title Lector. He would meet Sotha Sil one more time. In Salaa's advanced old age, Seht briefly returned to Artaeum. He had need of their magic, the threat which faced Morrowind is well recorded. Sotha Sil was now far more enhanced with clockwork of his own device, and Salaa was centuries old. The two no longer resembled each other. Some longing sparked in Seht's ancient heart, and the two sat and had a long, long conversation. They spoke of everything, from Sotha Sil's posthuman enhancements, to the Ghost Fence, to Salaa's time with Almalexia. Neither held back his secrets, but neither asked too much. For a brief moment, a few hours, they were as friends. Salaa took whatever secrets Seht might have told him to the grave a few short years later, not knowing that he'd met Sotha Sil during his very final visit to the Isle. His passing was peaceful, uneventful, and painless. He slept in his own bed in his one true home. The priesthood of the New Temple say Lector Salaa Suran's spirit can be contacted in the Provisional House, though rarely. He'll sometimes come if someone has a very intriguing question that only he can answer.

I'm just on a ship drawing kick lately XD. Just a Sabrina and Fennorian drawing. There were two backgrounds sketches I couldn't decide on, as cute as this would look in more of an outside setting, I went for the inside background as I wanted to go for a more private feel for this. I wanted to start using some of the CSP assets a bit more, whether it's a reference like the brick patterns that I used as a sort of base sketch and painted the pattern, using brushes so I don't painstakingly draw little details, like books or the window, or using 3D items I have, and turn it into 2D. (I completely forgot the process while working on this then I remembered it once I finished and I didn't wanted to do it

„No rush, Galerion.”

„Lessons can wait.”

damn truants

(taps mic) so a necromancer and a cultist walk into artaeum...

redirects my current atla brainrot back to TES

MWAHAHAHAHA

he's stronger than he looks!

based off of a post I CANT FIND ANYMORE by @mannimarcoiscool

Random casual Tarahen chillin’ in his lighthouse