r/AICampaignArt

Lord of the End of Everything. Scribe of the Doomed. Jergal was once the lord of the dead, the godhood now held by Myrkul, but apparently relinquished it willingly and now serves as the scribe of the dead, ensuring all is in order and recorded properly. He serves Myrkul, but does not take part in his schemes. He is, essentially, a fatalistic undertaker who strives for order in death. Myth says that he once held the combined godly duties now held by Myrkul, Bane and Bhaal.

These guys are HUNGRY. Seriously, they are like a cleaning system for a dungeon. They pick up coins, debris, skeletons, even the odd adventurer now and then. To me, these are one of the truly iconic DnD monsters. One coming at you in the dark, when all you can see is the skeleton inside, can be an eerie way to introduce them.

When I first saw the original Dungeon Masters Guide for AD&D as a kid, I thought for sure that the red guy on the front was a demon of some sort. My mom did too, hence her displeasure at my playing the game 😅 But I learned it was actually an Efreet, a type of elemental jinn, and he just LOOKED demonic. He was, you know, still evil and red and fiery, but not a demon!

After the bestiary of the ram-men and centaurs, it is the turn of the elves—the greatest threat to humanity's hegemony.

Did you knew that the supreme god Ra, battled every single night against Apophis, a snake that is the incarnation of chaos it self?

The Frostmaiden. Lady Frostkiss. Auril is the god of cold and winter. She is one of the Gods of Fury, at least in theory serving Talos but in practice, they rarely cooperate, as Talos has betrayed each of them many times and only cares about increasing his own power - at the expense of his allies.

Auril is a cold, malicious power. She is fickle, vain, with an icy heart untouched by empathy or mercy. She loves toying with those trapped in a snowstorm - taunting them with visions of home and warmth before freezing them to death.

Auril has two primary avatar forms - The Icedawn, and the Frostmaiden. The Icedawn is the more enigmatic of the two forms, never speaking or casting spells, just a silent, gliding apparition of cold and death. The Frostmaiden is more vocal, malicious, and teasing, and has ultimate mastery over any cold-based spell.

Aside from the Lords of the Nine Hells, these guys are at the absolute apex of the rigid, unyielding Devilish hierarchy. They are counterparts, in some ways to the Balor Demons, but they are a very different type of monster. Balors are combat machines. These guys are deadly in combat too, but it's their ability to summon allies which makes them really dangerous. Summon another CR19 devil, summon undead, and shape lemures into new, more powerful devils, and in short order a Pit Fiend will have a little army at it's command.

Pictured here is a Pit Fiend shaping a Lemure into a brand new Bone Devil.

An order of Paladins and Warpriests dedicated to Helm, the God of Guardians, The Vigilant Eyes of the God are the protectors of the helpless, the downtrodden, those who are preyed upon by either man or beast. Some serve to protect holy sites and the pilgrims who visit them, others join adventuring parties who seek to combat great evils. Still others serve as knights errant, seeking to aid others in the name of their god.

Pictured here is Sir Janos of the order, protecting the villagers of Willowmere from the soldiers of Ernest Gallowglass, as the common folk rose up against his tyranny.

Daughter of the Night Skies. The Lady of Dreams. Sehanine is one of the "big three" goddesses of the Seldarine and along with Hanali Celanil and Aerdrie Faenya, she forms the greater goddess (and ruler of the pantheon) Angharradh.

Sehanine is the goddess of mysticism, dreams, death, journeys, transcendence, the moon, the stars, the heavens, and moon elves. She watches over the dreams of the elves, sending omens in their reveries, and is the protector of the dead. A powerful goddess, she is the guardian of the spirits of the elven people, and works with human gods as needed when facing a common foe.

16 feet of power and disciplined might, Fire Giants are definitely the most militaristic and organized of the evil giants. They often bully smaller giants, such as hill giants and ettins, into serving them and weakening foes before they launch their own attack.

Tsukuyomi was banished miles away by Amaterasu and this created the cicle of the day and night.

The cigar burned slowly between Barou's lips, the thick smoke mingling with the damp mist that choked the tropical archipelago. Beneath the rustic brim of his straw hat, the eyes of the man who had once been a peaceful fisherman now burned with the predatory coldness of an executioner. Known to terrified survivors as the Black Count, he rested his heavy sword on his shoulder with the familiarity of someone who had chopped more rotting flesh than palm trees. Sweat, dirt, and dried blood stained his skin and his tattered clothes, but his posture was unshakable; every tense muscle awaited the next movement in the jungle shadows. He was a man forged in the furnace of a sudden apocalypse, walking through an island paradise that had drowned in its own putrefying blood.

Barou's soul had died long before the world succumbed, slaughtered on the day the plague crawled into his seaside cabin. The crushing weight of his tragedy lay not in the unknown dead he now faced, but in the ones he was forced to leave behind. With trembling hands and a shattered heart, the simple man had to raise his steel against the only two anchors of his humanity: his beloved wife and his five-year-old daughter, whose familiar faces had been twisted by the cadaverous hunger of the infection. The muffled sound of his blade severing the child's head was a ghostly echo that haunted him every night, an emotional scar so deep and barbaric that it had cauterized any shred of fear, hope, or mercy in his spirit.

When the rustling of leaves announced the approach of a horde, Barou's lethargic melancholy gave way to a fluid, relentless fury. He moved with terrifying agility, a dance of death orchestrated with surgical precision. His sword sliced the air in silver arcs, decapitating two reanimated corpses before they could even snarl. He spun on his heel, dodging blackened claws with feline fluidity, and used his own momentum to bury the weapon's guard into a third attacker's skull, crushing bone and withered tissue. There was no wasted energy, only the measured brutality of a perfect predator. Each strike was a physical retaliation, a whirlwind of blade and black blood that reduced the threat to inert pieces on the jungle floor.

Yet, those mutilated bodies were not his true target; they were mere obstacles on the long trail of viscera he had carved toward the edge of the archipelago. The dark legends of his people, whispered around dying campfires, spoke of D'rauram, the ancient demon and creator of the plague, who lurked on his throne on the furthest and most isolated island in the tropical sea. Barou took one last drag of his cigar, spitting the smoke over the cracked skulls at his feet. He did not walk in search of redemption or a new home. The Black Count marched into the bowels of a verdant hell driven by a single, inexorable desire: to find D'rauram and exact the price, in pain and ashes, for every tear and drop of blood spilled on the floor of his home.

My players ran into a few of these when they were taking on some Moander cultists. Of course they LOOK like zombies, but when they weren't affected by channeling positive energy, and they couldn't be turned, there was a lot of confusion. It's a trick that is only likely to work once, but it was fun to see them scramble!

The princess Ammadil looked out over the beautiful city that had been her home for 75 winters. Leuthilspar was a place of splendor; the capital of Evermeet, there was no Elven city like it in Faerun any longer. Alive with magic, with laughter, with music.

Five days ago her mother, Queen Amlaruil, had summoned her to inform that she had been betrothed. It had been a formal summons, and one held before the Council of Matrons. It had been decided that her hand was to be given in a marriage of political necessity.

Her heart stilled for a moment when she had been told it was a Drow princess she was to be wed to. While the princess knew well of the recent rapprochement between their people, she was not aware that things were so far along. And in three days she was to meet her betrothed for the first time.

"Yes, My Queen." was all she could say in the meeting. But when she saw her mother later, at their evening repast, she had so many questions.

The princess Laeliira, she was named. Almost fifty years older than Ammadil. Was she beautiful? Yes, said her mother, smiling, she was exquisite. She was trained in both magic and sword, as Ammadil herself had been. Mother said the Drow princess was very excited to meet her. Her entourage would be arriving tomorrow and the princess herself two days after. The decision was final. Mother knew her darling daughter would do as commanded, do what was best for her people.

And so Ammadil looked out over the city she loved, knowing her life was about to change, irrevocably. She prayed to Hanali Celanil that that match was a good one. In just a few days, she would know.

Hola a todos. Como saben, he estado creando cómics ambientados en un universo fantástico inspirado en la Edad de Bronce Tardía. Bueno, se me ocurrió crear un juego de mesa basado en ese mismo mundo; se juega con piezas de ajedrez y es bastante dinámico y entretenido. Quería saber qué les parece; es solo un borrador. Saludos.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1QUZw5MWz5TZYF6-6V6HXMyJfwu0yYAEz/view?usp=drivesdk