beetcart.bsky.social

@beetcart.bsky.social

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______Editor for Echelons of Eydenghar______ Wanted by the Compendium and Bokoriate Currently in hiding within the Underwake Submissions accepted at your own risk: GoblinInitiate@proton.me

titled The Strident Reach, features a behemoth in the background and a man made from stone holding a great axe missing a left arm
a script cover for a play titled Decks Below by Renat and Wathon. a historical play of eydenghar.
cover for the third issue of the Idle Drifter. The Stills edition. features a skeleton holding a magazine and a mug of ale as a root gator sniffs their bones. in the background are two members of the Last Drink Legion
picture of a monster. a metallic construct avian in nature with four arms and two legs, all completely with talons.
picture of a page from the magazine titled, Neverending Trust a Man Named Steve. article words: Yeah, we're talking about you, Steve Caulthous. With your tax collector eyes, voice like it would drive a Chronal past the Mantle, and the personality of a drift jelly. You Gerv-licking sewer toast of a man. Which is an absolute shame because, other than Steve, the Necro-Zoa Spa, Massage, and Rejuvenation Resort, is absolutely to die for. Intended for the living and undead alike, their facilities host some of the most relaxing activities there are. There's the Ooze Facility, run by Ralph, the coolest gelatinous cube we've ever come across. His pseudopods released a knot in Halor's shoulders that had been there since before he left Terrish. And we just want to say, there's no shame in crying. There's the Spore Emporium run by a Myconoid named Ed Setter, that will balance even the most unstable person, and ground them into reality. You feel as if you've traveled the entirety of the Drifts without leaving your chair. There's the Mincery run by a Bladvorn named Villy Tan Kartid, that will have you sampling the best gourmet food has to offer. Villy's natural bladed spurs easily slice off serving after serving. There's even a sauna in the Infernal Infirmary that will have you sweating out every toxin and tonic you've ever ingested. The facilitator, a fire elemental name Karnithe, will set the flames to the perfect temperature no matter your physical makeup. The beds, by deevie the beds. Threaded together by none other than the lamballo, Dallianna Erital, from her own fleece. Each cover, pillow, and mattress has her special touch that just seems to embrace you completely. We have never slept so soundly. Which was almost to our detriment. Now, we come to the worst part of the entire establishment. Steve. Deevi-charred Steve. As soon as you walk in, Steve is there. Small journal in hand, a little too close, asking way too many questions, breath reeking of spoiled eel. And the
Note from the Editor Well, as always in Eydenghar, there's good news, bad news, and worse news. The good news, a great number of peoples read our issue on Anchorage. The bad, most of them hated it. The worse, there are now a few prices upon my head. Apparently, using my real name and not a pseudonym, like the rest of our staff, made me the primary target of ire. The Compendium has expressed multiple "concerns" through writs and other mediums. Tal Hagreeb has become increasingly "interested" in the inner workings of our humble operation. Several Fleet members have expressed a strong desire to see my ribs adorning their ship bows. And, as it turns out, publishing my location and the date i would be there was a poor editorial choice. Thank Lyndt for friends in the Underwake. To the sparse few who enjoy the Idle Drifter, thank you and don't worry, I'm safe for now. Even if they discover my location, it would take more than a few wax seals, stacks of silver, and vials of Nektor to reach me. To the vast majority who loathe our publication, and to those many that wish us harm, get charred. We now intend to delve deeper, scrutinize closer, and double down until we fester within the darkest chambers of your soul. It's flattering, really. Back to the matter at hand. Another Divine Cycle, another slushpile. This time our reporters actually left Anchorage, though that may have been for their protection rather than curiosity. Their scribbles reach me through channels I dare not describe as we haven't met since that unfortunate incident in the Tap. Apologies Haswin, but at least we now know you can, in fact, walk. As this current slush is rife with articles on Lichburg, I have retained a liaison, S'Rila. Their knowledge of the inner workings of this realm will prove promising, and hopefully quell any backlash. So, read on. Enjoy. Or rage and let us take residence within your heart. - Beetcart
House Grace and house synn meet at the border between the Ferric Waste and Swirling Swamp. a female vampire and female dread succubus hybrid stand face to face, hands almost touching. in the background are the dunes and swamps meeting and a barge
A picture of S'Rilla, Third daughter of the Dying Sisters. she is veiled, covered by a dark cloak, and wrapped in mummy like cloth. the background is a necrotech Gothic city.
A Bokoriate female and skeletal lich woman discuss their relationship on a bed as a male dwarf, underneath the bed, reads a copy of the Idle Drifter magazine. Details of note, skeleton motif accents on bed, lavender light glow from Lichburg necrotech.