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#fantasy dream
imthebeesknee · 4 months
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If I got another recreation of a sword (like a real sword) it would probably have to be Conan's sword from Arnold Schwarzenegger's 1982 and 1984 classics Conan the Barbarian (1982) and Conan the Destoryer (1984).
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Guinevere's wedding dress and chainmail veil in Excalibur 1981
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24kmedia · 8 months
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Fantasy Lab’s Dream Is A Multi-Sensory Experience In Las Vegas, at the Fashion Show Mall. The art and visuals 🤩 inside are next level! They also have a fun, retro yet modern arcade, lots of neon and RGB lighting to enjoy.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cweb3IZs7_b/
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one-1-eye · 1 month
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watching emily play fig play wanda childa feels like i’m watching michaelangelo paint the sistine chapel
at a bus stop with an old ipod? listening to the complicated women podcast: lucy frostblade?? she just got back from breaking up with her boyfriend??? a genius at work
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mumblingviking-blog · 11 months
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Short: Inventing Siege Fireball
A man's three dimensional thinking combined with a skill or his nature as a caustic beast, carves out an unreasonably large model for fire magic. The magic's surface area determines the intentions and on such a scale no living being had the potential of execution even with this crutch. The man is chased to the caldera of a mountain spring, a dent like mount fuji, but singular and certainly not at the peak. A reverse frack. Magic fracking, that's not an anime idea I've seen yet. Oh wait, that's final fantasy's worldbuilding cardinal sin after Sephiroth came down.
The exposed and pooling magical liquid magic fantasy bullshit you want to name it, water in a magical place or otherwise an ambiguous liquid. It's valuable because it does stuff in artifacts that are essential to everyday use, it's literally oil. People don't have to deforest and the dryad population can declare peace between the two people, even if the relationship has become humans fawning over the dryad groves and ways. It's pathetic and if you can't have fun you should be trying and failing. Fawning is just the failure to engage and is pathetic and you're dumb.
The materials that are no longer needed in the workplaces has been gathered to repair the gear, trimming a bit from each piece of leather and leaving that with the church of health and forgiveness. If everything you had was lost in tragic accident, even your life ends. You need help. The church reported to the duke, who requested to take action from the kingdom's council. It was a jury of peers, the dukes of the dire lands. The man shows up at the church and pretends to be a town recluse whose equipment was designed for traversing the battlefield of an earth magic.
There is a land where no one lives comfortably at night even after surviving. Think the trenches of Arkfallen and the endless tides of remorse. No one lives in the ruins of that battle, it's just a bad idea. There is a small depression outside the clearing that was used to push waves of topsoil and ten other types of rock, all in rows of roughly cracked stone. It's low enough you only risk slipping in the rain but never flat. There is a magic pool that had been exposed there, the man is going there with his teaching tool for the true siege fireball structure of magic.
The battle was instigated when an unnamed group of men interfered with safeties and without communication they sent nine trains to their deaths. A tragedy led to a group of earth mages working in unison to bury the house of the man and all of his 'favored'. A landlord anarchist, now terrorist. The man brought his entire neighborhood, part farmland and part paradise, into a landslide that had happened to stone. An avalanche that rolls up the mountain and churned the area to nothing more that the now 'native' fauna. The trenches of Arkfallen formed from the removal of ten spans deep.
The were roughly parallel but the evidence of individuals in action served as a rekindling of suspicion to the Duke of their power in tandem. The thirty seven men shared an ideology that guided them in purpose, that wasn't the thought in the Duke's mind. The practiced hand could repeat. These earth mages were miners that travelled from land to land robbing the earth of metal ores, now proven when a knight paid for dinner in silver only to receive copper in the same denomination. The knight slew three earth mages and died clenching two silver and one copper. They had trusted.
After executing all but fifteen men for their actions, now investigated by the knights and auditors of the land. Taxes came due and heads rolled. That fifteen brought the knights to fifteen stashes, concentrated wealth for only their people. One for every head. They were given robes of thorns by the church of healing and forgiveness, identical and grown from a fragment of an artistic sadist's masterwork. Tailored in her window to skeletons. A spell from the church and the stripped men would make the clipping of the robes grow to surround and bind into the men. The vines touched bone.
Greed can be found everywhere but no one spread rumors of earth magicians carrying wealth. They were far to dangerous to invoke, akin to gods on earth.
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mienar · 19 days
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from us it begins
instagram | shop | commission info
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iohym · 7 months
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꧁༺ A Midsummer Night's Dream ༻꧂
🦋 Twitter | 🕸️ Instagram | ✨ Shop
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caemidraws · 2 months
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Incubus...?
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turndecassette2 · 3 months
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villiedoom · 1 year
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“Goliath” (temporary name until I come up with a new one) - a fantasy creature resembling a mix of a vaeraf (my main original species), a hyena and a bear. I saw them in a dream about two years ago and decided to make them part of my world (most of my beings and stories come from my dreams in one way or another), and also I made a base model. In the past, I already had ideas about hyena-like creatures and I still like this idea!
They are large (about like bears), have a long neck with a mane, short tail and long legs with huge paws.
Model and renders are made in Blender ~
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aestheticallyaway · 1 year
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rosieandthemoon · 8 months
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by Cathy Inaba
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acquired-stardust · 2 months
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Ehrgeiz: God Bless the Ring Playstation 1998
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juleteon · 2 months
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Washing starlight
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mumblingviking-blog · 11 months
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Short: The Beating Winds
There was once a tree that was heralded as the fount of all life in the world, reaching across the sky and filled with the light of a thousand shining stars. That tree gathered within its branches so much starlight that one day it would collapse into the earth, buried under the weight of its own majesty. This was the first day of this tree, the end of the world.
On the second day, it sank so far into the ground that it became the bones of the world and the blood of creation gushed through the exposed canopy and into the open skies, drowning the world for long enough to let the third and fourth day to pass unnoticed.
There came a time, a long time later, when the branches ran dry and the bones of the world withered and cracked. This was the fifth day and these cracks forced the world apart as the tree began to grow anew and reforge itself. Only on the dusk of this day did the roots stop.
The bones of the world were forged into the seed of creation at the very center of the burning wood, revealing that within the char and burning wood was a green seedling that would sprout on the final day. At dawn, the branches had reached the edges of everything.
As the sixth sunset passed, a bird that once perched on the world tree returned, drinking starlight from the boughs as it had before. This pale bird was not alone on the fifth day, but the final day drove every living thing to the brink of insanity over and over, aside from him.
The crow that perched on the tree had never known anything but silence from the world, he had never drunk the sap of the tree nor made his nest there. The crow had been scattered to the winds and ignored by the passage of time for too long. Too long for silence to harm him.
In this silence, the air was heavy and the crow drank in the starlight. Soon enough everything not on the tree came to a shuddering and screaming halt. Even the wind that carried the crow ceased to exist, dead with every untold secret in a final unheard whisper. The crow wept.
The silence was heavy that night as the crow drank in the starlight. The tree had withered beneath his claws and the sap had run dry within the eternal boughs. Time had ended for the first time in the crow's life, bringing even the starlight to a shuddering halt. Time had ended.
The crow was unhappy on that bough, angry with the tree for withering away and the silence for calming the winds. The crow waved his wings once for each indignant caw. The silence vanished and time began anew. New buds formed from the old branches and new roots.
The crow had never meant for this to happen but was happy nonetheless. The stars were back in the sky and the silence was no longer holding him still. The wind carried him from the branches and into the sky where nothing but the beating sound of his own life was heard.
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