Artisanals Winners View

The rustic form of an old urn floats here waving about in the air. Sparking from its base, tentacles dart about in an electric fury. Acidic blood runs from its brim, and drips freely from its base. Occasional drops of blood fall on the metallic tentacles and eat holes through their surface.  The constant grinding of tentacles laces the air with sparks of electricity. A floating urn almost glows with nearly god-like power.  - By Ciaran

This month, I created each of the known nexus in the Basin of Life out of paper, using a technique called quilling. Essentially, it's rolling dyed or colored paper to make designs and patterns.From upper left it is as follows: The Master Ravenwood, The Eternal Flame, The Moonhart Mother Tree. Lower row: The Pool of Stars, The Megalith of Doom and The Matrix.Here's the Imgur album for up close photos of each.   - By Sylvanas

The Lady Drocilla arrayed in all Her Beauteous Ruin contemplates Her mask here... even as its frozen touch turns her fingers blue while Her taloned fingers gleam deadly around it. She mourns its use, pondering, wondering again whether to don the accessory despite the Dread it brings. Flowing from her skirts is a bed of black dahlias while Her redolence trails behind at the end of Her skirts. Her eerie effulgence pierces through even the sanguine shadows and tenebrous pall …

Mixed media: mechanical pencil, ink, watercolour pencils. - By Cen

Through the shadows we stalk, Mother Night's mighty fangs in the darkness. - By Ulalah

Nifilhema is counted among the ranks of the Demon Lords of Nil. Known alternately as the Queen of Insufferable Cruelty and Lady of the Weeping Amaranth, she is ravishingly beautiful with lily white skin and a fall of straight black hair. Her lips are perpetually wet and shiny, coated in blood, and her teeth are bright white with her two incisors sharpened to needle-like fangs. Dressed in a black leather corset tied so tightly that her waist is impossibly thin, …

 Cast from their home, they wander with none willing to accept them. They cast a once last glance over their retreating shoulders as they disappear into the sunset, they are.. forsaken. A new home lies ahead of them, tomorrow. - By Arimisia

Conductress of the Cacophony Yarou n'Lochli

I learned how to do fancy glowy lightning just for you, don't look so grumpy, bird.

In the Glomdoring forest, Mother Night holds sway. The shadows obscure the light of Moon, a welcome solace to many which call them home.