Saw This On My Sketch Book When I Was Going Through It. I Had Made This Years Ago When Things Were A

Hey, I wanted to refrence your lamb in a post i'm making, cus they're so different from the others. I also want to tag you with it, so people can come over and check your story out. is that cool?

Of course!

By the way I am happy you think my Lamb is different, thank you :)

The true horseman of the apocalypse, or perhaps I should say ostrichman of the apocalypse?

I really love the Bishops in cult of the lamb. At the start I didn't (I even called Kallamar "Pussy mouth" when i encounterd him in his area) SO since the 4 are kinda the horseriders, they need horses.  My boyfriend said they should have those inflatable emu outfits, were your legs are the emus legs. So yeah, terrorfying... I will draw more of them.

Trully, most highest honour one can receive.

I need to draw my lamb boy more, heres some doodles

Over abundance of fluff,

Perfection.

... Or I won't play

This is Pan, a character that belongs to @pioripan!

I wanted to draw her a looot earlier but I didn't have any time to do so

So, here it is... A little sketch of this truly beautiful sheep

Froglet

Hey People, firstly sorry for the delay. As you might have heard, my country (Turkey) ain't doing so hot at the moment. Between the storms and more importantly the earthquake it has been a little hard here. luckily we weren't hit by the earthquake where I live, but we got our fair share of unpleasantness from the storm. Anyway other than that there is not much I want to say, I hope you all enjoy this one. More regular uploads will continue when I can manage. Trying work without a stable internet and cold fingers is kind of hard sadly and there is only so much a candle can heat up.

She drummed her fingers against the arm of her throne. Each tap trying to rise above the cacophony that has overtaken her temple. Each tap trying and failing to silence the clattering steel and shouts of warriors getting ready for what was to come. Tap, tap, tap, tap her four fingers went with her thumb pushing against the side of the throne, digging into the wood. She was calm, really she was. She was so calm indeed that she was barely even thinking of what was to come, it was simply off from her mind as she calmly waited… and waited… waited. Her eyes were closed, all four shut against the world and the temple she called her own. To the cut stone beneath her throne to the rustic walls that kept her cult sheltered. To the ones she used to call her patrons, now divisions and warriors that were meant to march. Really calm, really, truly calm… No, she wasn’t. She was not calm, not in the slightest. She couldn’t do this to herself. She was many things, a Goddess, a Bishop of the old faith, a sister and not a liar. Besides, she was not really someone to believe in her own lies. Though was she? Was she really not a liar? Even in that sentence there were lies if not some half truths at least. It was true she was a Goddess, Lady of Famine, the one over the domain of sate and hunger in their dance that only ended with the release of death. Then again, if she were the Lady famine then why were her patrons armed in weapons instead of scythes and buckets? Why were they getting ready for what was to come, instead of fasting in their homes? She knew the answer, but really it was better that she kept the answer away from herself. It was also true that she was a bishop of the old faith, she was the new right hand of Shamura, the first one to establish the faith. Then again, was she really? She did not really feel like she was a bishop as much as a commander for her armies now or some odd figurehead at times. She was not really preaching the perseverance that came with the abstinence of what was most vital to life and the release and euphoria that came with the feast. The dance of gorge and the fast. No, these days she was preaching the righteousness of what was to come. Of how one can only find themselves true in war and not by the release of a hot meal after a long day of work toiling in one's lot. It was true, she was a sister. Sister to Leshy, the fifth in the roster of the old faith. God of Chaos that stood over the realms of green and brown. The one that has been with them the least. The hardest to contain amongst the old faith. The one that had brought nothing but a headache to her since his lowly beginnings as a mewling worm. From the days he saw fit to set ablaze her temple in his many ‘pranks’ to his inability to listen to her heeds and warnings. Choosing to ignore where she tried to reason, to use his domain against the criticism he needed to improve. A child she could never see sitting on a throne. Sister to Kalamar, The fourth to come to their coven of Gods. God of Pestilence that stood over the blue and yellow. The one that had done nothing but cower behind her, never setting right where he erred. The one that threw the blame when her honest words came too much. The leach that took all love and gave but disloyalty, a snake she had to trust in what was to come. A coward she never wanted to see ruling. Sister to Shamura, her oldest sibling who was the leader of their quartet. The one that has given her the weapons and arms to wage the war they assured her was necessary. The sibling that has taken the honest work of her patrons in her tavern and has transformed them all to warrior kin only they could assemble. The one that has only taken when her dance was of gift and forfeit. A dance she came to break with their steel and bronze where once there was only wood and clay. A mad tyrant with a vision that may as well have been for their ruin rather than salvation. She was lastly, the sister to Narinder. The second to come in the pantheon of the old faith. The one she was to meet soon, in what was to come. The pompous prick that dared to defile the word of the old faith, dare go against Shamura’s wishes, dared to take his lot away… dared to leave her alone, dare to leave her in charge where he was meant to stay and lead with Shamura, dare to push this responsibility to her. The one that caused all of this… did he though? The traitorous thought snaked its way into her mind. Did he truly cause this all? No, well yes but… half truth she supposed, it could only be called that. He was the one that left, the one that took his followers with him away from them. Into lands they were to march in what's to come. He was the one that made his temple there, on the misty mountains where white met against white with the snow and clouds. A temple he built of marble and stone of the unforgiving silver mountains where his realm was closest to. But, she knew he didn’t want to. She knew he didn’t mean to defile a faith he helped to create in its infancy, if it hadn’t forgotten his name. He was the one that went against the creator of the old faith, their eldest sibling, Master of War, Shamura. To fight against their gospel when it stopped suiting him instead of accepting them as law as must all in the lands of the old faith, be they mortal or God. But she knew. She knew he wouldn’t have went against Shamura’s wishes if they weren’t so unreasonable as to demand him to reduce his own cult to nothing. To waste his days away from them in solitude. Though she supposed, that part did come to be eventually. He was the one that took what was left of his lot away. The pitiful bunch that stuck with him even after what had happened… She knew they had no other choice as much as he. He was the one to leave her alone. To fend for herself in this complicated dance of politics she was thrusted into from her humble patrons and tavern, to the halls of the spider. To the insolent and egotistical court of lies. To make her a moth to the webs of affairs and intrigue, she had to learn from. She knew a lot, but she still didn’t know how he could have done such a thing when he was the one that embraced her for the first time when she was but a tadpole, swimming in the unknown depths of her soon to be realm. Again came the taps; tap, tap, tap, tap as she remembered the faithful day. She was alone on those days. So long ago she could barely remember the way stars have shone when she came crashing down from the heavens above. Alone and with no purpose, wading through the swamps of her now land. She was fierce, she was strong, she was the second inevitability of the world. Hunger. She hunted as she jumped from pond to pond, letting her hunger guide her in the murky waters. Alas, she was not the strongest nor the fiercest for she met one mightier. A dark God she could best in but a moment now, but back then a foe she withered against. However, even with the odds against her, she did not meet death that day. At least not in the way she thought she would while struggling in the dark God’s grasp. A slice and a broken body in the pond where she thought she would see the last of the stars. Finding herself in the arms of the cat clad in black black with three kind eyes and a mouth full of gentle but sharp teeth. She met him then, God of Death, her second eldest. The one they would slaughter soon.   Her eyes opened, slowly as she drummed her fingers faster and faster. Tap, tap, tap, tap they went as she accepted the truth, she was a liar. A true liar. Truth was, she was none of those things. She failed in all of those or at least she was about to. With  the blood of her brother spilled over the marble of his temple, her fate would forever be sealed as a liar. In those misty towering behemoths of white would he be waiting, for what was to come. So what was to come, came. Here she was, waiting for her fate just as much as the cat clad in white with three eyes and a not so kind sharp teeth had. Tap, tap, tap, tap came the noise out her axe as her claws met the handle. She waited, she waited for something she knew was not going to happen. She waited for him to give up, to let them take him back, to let them exact punishment against him and his ilk. A miracle. But she knew, he would never give up. He would fight, now and always as he had all those faithful years ago against the Dark God. With vain hope she looked around, to see her own ilk. All discarded like toy soldiers, strewn about like mere dolls. Their sorrowful faces drowned amidst the warriors of Shamura with their proud eyes. Another thing she was to blame him for, but she knew she couldn’t. From seeing her ilk to seeing her kin. She saw Kalmar first, terrified as ever. He wore a face of nervousness, his ears hung low as his eyes peered around as if he looked all as an enemy to fear. His followers did not share their master’s fear however, all brave faces. Not proud, but brave. All holding their heads high even if their very Lord couldn’t. She held off her sneer as she looked to see Leshy. Bored eyes met hers, he looked all around lazily like it was just a game. Just some sightseeing tour he was barely paying attention to as he twirled his hammer. Unmoved by the soulless eyes that gazed back at him from the ground. His own followers now gone and dust, looking at them with emotions even she didn’t know. She held her tongue as she gazed once more which landed on them, the one that brought them here, Master of War that looked sorrowful where they were to be in delight. The crest of their brow low, hiding all that was going on behind that old decrepit mind of theirs. Looking straight at the one they came to slaughter with eyes that spoke of only regret. She felt the blood in her veins boil as her fingers went TAP, TAP, TAP, TAP. She held her venom as she looked to see him. He held himself high, ears following afoot. His brow high and eyes that shone with purpose and commitment. There wasn’t much left of his followers, but they held the same look as their master even in the end, and most likely beyond. Waiting for him to join them in his rightful domain. ‘So he is the whom I am to slaughter, one that stayed one with his ilk when the rest of his kin had not’ she thought. One that looked not apart from the bodies that once fought against the invader in his name. Shame, she thought. Shame to the ones on the ground, the ones who are about to meet it and to the rest who are still above it. So it began, after a couple of pretty words uttered by their sibling. First tap, she swung first and true. If she was to be damned, it was to be done with grace to match the one that dodged her attack. He fought with elegance she had only seen from their eldest, one that had not fought for long years even before this. He would vault over the haphazard attacks of Leshy that at times felt like they were meant for her. Just as he would vault he would dodge the opportunistic attacks of Kalamar in the same breath. He would complete the dance with a counter to her own attack that would have hit if he had waited but a moment more. Second tap, she changed tactics. Now she would try to push him instead of hitting him, trying to force him into the attacks of Leshy who lacked the cohesion to understand her idea or just didn’t care. Just as she would push him off Kalamar would be there to give him back the space she so hardly fought to take. Running and dodging where he was meant to stay and deliver. After the third tap of the scythe against the axe she realized she was not just outmatched but she was also very much alone. It didn’t matter what she did, what tactic she implored. All it did was to give her a fool's hope that would be dashed into pieces when put into practice. Her tactics were like the speeches she delivered in court, ignored without the input of their sibling who still hadn’t joined them. Before the fourth tap she saw her brother, this time fully. His brother stood above the three, like the dark God that was to take her to his realm from all those years ago. For one terrible moment she realized, she was going to die. Maybe not a liar like she thought but dead nonetheless for his brother was death, the killer of Gods fore and now. At the fifth tap that she sounded with the drop of her knee she could see. She saw the still figure of Shamura who watched the slaughter. She saw the sibling that brought them here, to the place where his kind brother became the nightmare from her long lost nightmares. The one that watched with pity as they were cut down. The one that still looked from above as their brother breathed death against them. She saw her enemy. She saw the real traitor. There was no sixth tap, it was more of a clang that reverbated across the halls of the temple. The clang that came to be by her axe which saw the claw of Shamura. At that moment as all of her family looked at her, she knew she was dead. For a moment silence and in the next ‘’Traitors’’ came the hiss of Shamura, then came her claw that with grace that could only be matched by their second eldest. Proven with his scythe came between her and the cold claw of their eldest. She didn’t know what compelled her to block the hit that came from Kalamar that was meant for Narinder. She didn’t know and would most likely never know, but at the moment she couldn’t think much about that. So they continued, a froglet and a kitten against three dark Gods. Scythe and axe matching claw, sword and hammer. It was a dance now, one that somehow felt comforting as she sliced the ears of their cowardly brother. It felt like the ones they shared when it was just the two of them when the traitor had gone to tend to their court. When the cold of the night and the mist of the temple reminded her of the day she met the monster that almost made her its prey. So when he took the eyes of Leshy she couldn’t help but tap, tap, tap, tap. Then came tap, tap, tap, tap from his scythe to the ground as they were pushed back by the enraged Master of War, who now only saw red as their two siblings met the stone of the temple. Slice to cut, out came the ichor that danced in the air. For a moment she had a lip barring no scar that sang away those awful nights with his brother’s kind eyes watching. Now scarred they were, with a split that came from the claws of the traitor. The kind eyes looked at her once more as she lost her footing. Shining with determination she wished she could match before the three were now two as the traitor took more off of them. She found herself on the ground as his brother found himself pushed to the ground as the traitor took him apart, slice after slice as they cursed him. His weapon broken and away where he could not reach. For as many things she knew she didn’t know many yet. But she knew one thing, the traitor had to meet their end. She didn’t know how she matched the grace of the spider for that moment, but for a moment she truly felt like she danced maybe for the first time with Shamura before she met the cold claws once more. This time she would gain not a scar but lose a tooth and maybe two. But there came no more slice nor cut for the Traitor met his end with the sharper claws of their brother. With the same claws that gently took her up from the pond to a home, he took apart the brow that hid many and the mind that was behind this terribleness. Tap, tap, tap, tap. She heard, against her palm as she lay. She held his gaze as her four met the last two eyes of a cat clad in white and much red, with a mouth full of kind razor sharp teeth that gave her a smile. She closed her eyes as she heard ‘’Tap, tap, tap, tap froglet of mine’’ His hand found her lip as she felt his soothing cold claws, healing the damage of the traitor. ‘’Tap, tap, tap, tap cry not for I am here. Forever and more, with you.’’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44580424/chapters/112140313

Alright Folk, new chapter. I have one more chapter before I have to return to writing once more. Well at the very least I am almost done with my midterms so that will aliviate some of the stuff. Anyway I am thinking doing more with this whole AU in the future, I do not have all the details at the moment and it will take some time but I feel like it will end up being pretty good in the end, Hopefully. (:

Alright, so I made this. This Alternate universe is fairly new, I have been thinking about it for a while and decided to write it finally. I plan on finishing this Story but we shall see if I survive my midterms first. If you have questions on the AU or otherwise please ask them away, I will try to answer them.

He should make a youtube channel

Looks like Narinder is making pranks on followers…

Absolutely incredible as usual, I genuinely love how you have portrayed Lambert. This is the exact way I thought she would have looked like. Also the shadows and the lighttttttt in her eyessss they are sooooo pretty.

I am simply out of words to describe how beautiful it truly is. Thank you for your incredible work as usual. If you have anymore asks I will gladly do them to the best of my ability.

I FINALLY DID IT ( it looks too dark but I still love it)

This is a sketch for @t-inbound! I want to thank you again for answering my questions in your blog and writing such amazing stories!

The idea if this doodle came out when I was reading "Paper Crown". It's the part where Aym sees Lambert in the lamplight.

Mhm angst, yummy

Another doodle of my Lamb

She remembers all of them. Every night she hears their screams, feel their pain.

She remembers red. The whole town was smeared with red blood.