Coming Down
  • Coming Down
  • Five Finger Death Punch
  • American Capitalist [Deluxe Edition]

It’s okay for you to hate me
For all the things I’ve done
I’ve made a few mistakes
But I’m not the only one

anonymous asked:

Imagine Dyr... as a /human/

After spending half an hour on google images, I just went ahead and dove into a really old notebook for the picture below the cut.

It’s basically a 1:1 reinterpretation of garran features into human ones, but… I just don’t like it that much. Somehow, it’s just not what I thought he’d look like..? Maybe my style is/was too toony. [shrug]

Fun fact! It comes from the same page as [DemonLord!Dyranygal]. qvq;;

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Huh, found a doodle of Dyr showing him with a splotchy tongue very much like this:


I think the idea must have to do with bloodflow?? or something, as the only other markings he has are red toe- and fingertips and some large diamond shaped stripes on his tail. And the stupid cheek triangles, can’t forget those.

Meh, just wanted to catalogue this.

anonymous asked:

What was proto-Dyr like? Before he became EVIL ALIEN ADONIS?

Dyr’s actually one of my newer Garrans. He was created after they settled into their current forms. [rummages through notebooks] He’s circa 2008

! Actually, he was a shadowy villain we didn’t know much about, since the story of Reverie was told from Alanal’s (and therefore, Niloein’s) perspective.

anonymous asked:

Dyranygal, the Insensible Slavemaster. Once a boy, he has turned into a indolent and bored monster who seeks carnal companionship in the very thing he eats. His mind is old, and he speaks names of lost loves who he himself destroyed. He no longer remembers their faces. He is governed by Apathy of Mind, and watches the world pass by with a small smile of amusement.

anonymous asked:

Dyr forgets to blink. So he's always staring. Just these two black marbles looking down at you with the same bemusement a of a man watching two animals fight for a scrap of food. Cold eyes, like all the warmth had long been drained from them.

                 Dyranygal stared at the apparition in front of him. It was too solid to be an apparition, dripping plum from the servants it had torn apart on its way there. The specter was slim; dark scaled and dark eyed and slowly walked towards him. He was so familiar, Dyr stood up from his seat, trying to remember his name.

                “Keijozegal?” He asked.

                The apparition paused, blinking once in disbelief and offense, before lunging at Dyranygal with a roar. Dyranygal found a cold hand clutched around his face, smashing him into a wall and tearing through his scalp before he managed to push the attacker away. He got up to his feet only for something hard to hit his side, flinging his body like a doll across the large room and flopping onto a table which cracked beneath his back, sharp splinters the size of fingers stabbing into his back.

                Dyranygal pulled himself back up, his left eye refusing to open as cold sludge ran down his face and back. Everything… felt… not right. He reached up and wiped the sludge off, looking down at his hand. It was covered in near black paste, it took Dyranygal far too long to realize it was his own blood. He wheezed, a cold rope drawing through his ribs and spine.

                For the first time in so long, Dyranygal remembered what pain was… and terror.