Artisanals Winners View

A pearl to deceive, the face of Lady Carakhan was worn to mask Her own. What guile the Enchantress Drocilla possesses, Her cunning matched only by a famed beauty and allure. {She is a radiant immortal and is breathtaking to behold, radiating a painfully sublime and gentle beauty that inexplicably drains the vibrancy and colour from all else in the room. Her almond-shaped lavender eyes seem to shimmer with an eerie effulgence, deceptively captivating and seeming to draw the onlooker with …

Turnus and his fairer half, Zyphora, share a moment in the Golden Serenity Treehouse. Doubtless it was her idea.  - By Feyrll

"In that moment, She lets out a dark chuckle as Her form suddenly ripples, Her features melting and reforming into Someone else entirely. Her body still shifting upon billowing winds, the visage of utter perfection floats in a fiery halo of golden tresses.\" -Drocilla's return event

WrAcK AnD rOlL! Feel the PAIN!Death and metal, blood and rage, a cacophony of twisted notes in power, screams and hate. Her music is claws ripping down their throats,  her voice pestilence and strife. A tainted muse to maim all hope and the remnants of your sorry life.     - By Persayis

Like that's going to stop me. - By Karakern

Her Children ran barefoot in the streets of a City in another Realm, their footprints begrimed and black, their laughter lifting with the mocking shriek of a crier bird stained in graffiti and lost dreams. She is the Harlot, wise and jaded, mysterious and fierce, in Her arms the worlds they dare to unlock are endless.   { Mysrai, Harlot of Revolution She is a radiant immortal and is golden of skin and lithe, Her form alien and lovely, strangely so, given the …

Khalida learns a valuable lesson in falling with an Ur'Guard named Asarian. She has yet to find it as amusing as he does. - By Khalida

 Cherry blossoms swirl in eddies and currents from the mountain winds that dip into the court, flailing the twisted and pruned trees around at whim, punctuating their passing with the sickly sweet fragrance of the blossoms. - By Arimisia

"Vestiphobia. Nil!" The illuminatus swore to herself. She'd recovered her senses but not her robes, torn off under the thrall of the affliction. Without the illusionary magics sealed into the fabric, her true form was revealed. Leathery skin to absorb blows, giant hands to crush and smite, and a nose full of viscous slime, among other modifications. Her enemy was not worthy of the glorious sight."No matter," she thought as she stalked across the dunes, "the dead tell no tales".  …

   High above the unaware masses, there lives  the guardians of air, the masters of the skies.  With the crystalline spires of the city in the clouds within sight this warrior gazes out over the horizon in silent contemplation.  Wind whipping at his face and hair, he stands steadfast, nothing will waive his resolve for he is none other than Entrias, the Minister of Peace.   - By Arimisia