Hello there ladies and (mostly) gentlemen! It is that time of year again - the time for Intkober! Apologies for the slight delay in getting these out, I’ve been a bit busy lately. Thankfully, I have some more time on my hands now though, so I can write up some cool little descriptions and get these bad boys posted!

This first one is a bit of a mixed bag for me. While I’m happy with it overall now, it’s a little rough in some places. It reminds me a lot of what I drew when I was younger and deeply obsessed with World of Warcraft - alright, I’ll admit it, I’m still deeply obsessed haha, but I haven’t drawn zany crystal landscapes in a while. This is mostly inspired by the Crystalsong Forest zone in WoW, one of the most tragically overlooked zones in the game. I added my unique spin, and it’s not exactly the same, but I still feel like I should give credit to the artists who came up with that beautiful zone for inspiring this.

More drawings will be coming shortly!

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A clinking noise echoed across the great, shimmering monoliths of the stony, vibrant plane. The gentle pattering of the deer’s hooves rang out melodically through the land, as the great, arcane creature trod towards the pink lake in front of it. It calmly plodded forward, the light of the Esliboughs shining down from it on high - even the nearby stump of a tree still had its Heartcrystal hovering over it. It was dimmer now, but still, its luster was there, illuminating the many glassy points of the angular stag.

It bent its head towards the liquid, gentle snapping echoing as its form adjusted to the feeling of its moving joints. It had no need to open its mouth to drink anymore - in fact, it could just dip a hoof in the arcane waters to get its fill. But, the stag was a nostalgic beast, and it liked to be reminded of the days when its powerful lungs still drew breath.

It dipped its nose into the water, the crystalline tip’s color rapidly shifting, glowing with the vibrancy of the entire spectrum as the power flowed through it. The creature felt refreshed. As it drank, it pondered itself. When it was but a wild beast, it could not ponder much of anything - but now, it could hardly stop itself from indulging in this delightful new experience.

It wondered about the night it died, fleeing from those strange, upright dog… no, hyena-men, their spears landing around it. One already pierced its hide. It winced at the memory, its purple eye crinkling as it darted back to the spot on its front leg where it had been pierced. A small nick in its fine stone coat was all that remained of the wound.

Panicked, its bestial mind had driven it further away from its home, with only pain and fear keeping it one step ahead of the cackling creatures. They barked with words it didn’t know - couldn’t know. Blindly, it charged through the woods, going up a hill - further, further, further, into a place where wild, old things walked. It yipped in terror as it reached a cliff, overlooking a vast, strange-looking lake, shimmering with the color of not water, but a brilliant, strange purple, reflecting far more stars than the sky above did hold.

It let out a rattling, pained scream as another spear pierced it. The memory caused a wound on its chest, close to its heart, to flare with a dull red light. That was the killing blow. It staggered forward, barely alive, engulfed by the knowledge that it ought to just bend over and die. There was no hope.

Its eyes fluttered as it looked back to the cackling party, a strange sense of determination keeping it on its feet as they approached. It stumbled back, as the slavering mutts drew nearer. A warm feeling surrounded its hooves, as a deep cold settled over its heart. Another step. The barks grew nearer. Another step. A final, black-tipped spear came hurtling out of the bush. Another step!

And it fell, and fell, and fell, into the violet depths, as its life faded away. Its eyes fluttered closed as it landed in the water all that way below - its last sensation being not of water splashing… but of glass breaking.

And then, the beast found itself here. In a new body. With a new mind. Without hunger, thirst, blood, or air - but with a new need instead. It had a new life in this strange place, where the crystalline landscape shimmered with power and light, and harmony reigned supreme. It raised its head from the pool, shaking it, feeling refreshed and enlightened. Every time it drank, it felt like it gained a new insight - a new piece of the puzzle - a new part of its mind.

It heard a familiar noise in the distance - a strange, nervous cackle, far, far away. Perhaps from one of the hunters. Perhaps from one of their young. Or, perhaps a member of their pack that they no longer desired. It did not matter to the beast. Its eyes glowed a darker, deeper purple as it listened to the sound ring off the ancient pillars around it, pinpointing where it was coming from. The beast’s color darkened and shimmered as it hurtled towards the sound, its coat becoming almost invisible with the arcane speed it possessed. It was time to hunt.

This being was a threat to the harmony here. This being was of a kind that would see the deer killed. The deer had to act fast - the deer had to act first. The cackling turned to whining as the confused creature cried out, panicked frightened by the place it found itself in. The deer had learned to recognize fear in these beings. The deer knew how to use it. Energy rushed throughout the deer’s being as it drew nearer - it could not be far now. The cackling calmed and then ended. It was silent. Almost.

The deer swiveled its head in a way it could never in life, looking straight behind it, towards a crystal it had passed. Through the cloudy spire, its eyes saw its prey. Hiding. Cowering. Trying to be as quiet as possible. But the creature was not quiet enough. The deer heard one thing that gave it away - one of the last sounds it had ever heard. The racing, terrified heartbeat of a lost, lonely beast.

Without a sound, without a bleat, without any noise of fear, anger, hunger, or hate, it charged towards the hyena-creature, the beast letting out a short, trembling cry of terror as it saw the otherworldly deer’s charge, unable to even run in its shock.

It was no longer nostalgic for what it had lost. It no longer missed the feeble bones and flesh that once made up its body. It felt blessed to be what it was now. It was thankful. Thankful for dying. Thankful for falling. And, above all, thankful for being remade by this paradise.

As it bore down on the young, screeching hyena-thing, it showed its thanks to the world in which it lived, for it removed that which dared to threaten the harmony of this blessed place.