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Description
Commissioned Seityr _Art to draw Human Specter in a Halloween Costume inspired by his alternate universe self, Spectre, a Deathwalker Reaper that collects the souls of those that have passed. I absolutely love how it turned out!!! Check out Seityr's Art as well!~

I know it's super edgy but I decided to embrace it for a Halloween campaign that was going to happen in July but was delayed for a bit. X'D

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The warrior has lost everyone. His friends, his family, his hope. Now on the brink of madness, he does the unthinkable, a ritual to become a vengeful spirit, to finally attempt to avenge his fallen loved ones, to become a witch.

The Hexblade was a perfect conduit, one of the many spoils from the demonic dungeons he crawled through with his now deceased comrades, yet he was knew nothing of the rituals to become a witch. The warrior could not care any less. Death would also be as suitable as becoming a witch. He made the necessary preparations before doing the unthinkable. He sliced his own body open. The ronin could not help but cough out a mouthful of blood.

The swordsman failed yet again. He did not perform the ritual correctly, finally, he could rest and be reunited with the rest of his brethren...

Or so he thought.

Through the haze of blood loss, he could faintly see the his aura seep out from his abdomen, a wispy blue that slowly corrupted into a devilish glowing red before fading into a deathly purple aura. The ether within him slowly started to stitch up his wounds.

The ritual had worked, for the Goddess of Death has arrived, to enslave his dying soul. Yes, he became a witch, yes, he would have enough time to enact his vengeance, but bewitchery had come at what cost?

Gone was the noble swordsman, who wandered only to protect others, now, he would only wander to kill, forced to do the bidding of the Goddess of Death and take the souls of those who will depart from the many worlds. Maybe one day he would be able to rest with his comrades...but it would be a long time till then.

The heart that once burned with determination and passion now only had the ashes of what he once was.

On days where the moon would turn blood red, some can see him, wearing a conical hat, decorated with blood-red tassels hanging off it, a terrifying menpo that covered his face, the warding masks carved in the shape of a tengu and kitsune, armor made of bone plate and rusted iron, the surcoat made from the cloth of the reaper himself...and a cloak orange like the autumn leaves...the fall.

He is no longer the swordsman, now he is the Dreaded Reaper, the Harbinger of Death.

Posted using PostyBirb

Description
Commissioned Seityr _Art to draw Human Specter in a Halloween Costume inspired by his alternate universe self, Spectre, a Deathwalker Reaper that collects the souls of those that have passed. I absolutely love how it turned out!!! Check out Seityr's Art as well!~

I know it's super edgy but I decided to embrace it for a Halloween campaign that was going to happen in July but was delayed for a bit. X'D

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The warrior has lost everyone. His friends, his family, his hope. Now on the brink of madness, he does the unthinkable, a ritual to become a vengeful spirit, to finally attempt to avenge his fallen loved ones, to become a witch.

The Hexblade was a perfect conduit, one of the many spoils from the demonic dungeons he crawled through with his now deceased comrades, yet he was knew nothing of the rituals to become a witch. The warrior could not care any less. Death would also be as suitable as becoming a witch. He made the necessary preparations before doing the unthinkable. He sliced his own body open. The ronin could not help but cough out a mouthful of blood.

The swordsman failed yet again. He did not perform the ritual correctly, finally, he could rest and be reunited with the rest of his brethren...

Or so he thought.

Through the haze of blood loss, he could faintly see the his aura seep out from his abdomen, a wispy blue that slowly corrupted into a devilish glowing red before fading into a deathly purple aura. The ether within him slowly started to stitch up his wounds.

The ritual had worked, for the Goddess of Death has arrived, to enslave his dying soul. Yes, he became a witch, yes, he would have enough time to enact his vengeance, but bewitchery had come at what cost?

Gone was the noble swordsman, who wandered only to protect others, now, he would only wander to kill, forced to do the bidding of the Goddess of Death and take the souls of those who will depart from the many worlds. Maybe one day he would be able to rest with his comrades...but it would be a long time till then.

The heart that once burned with determination and passion now only had the ashes of what he once was.

On days where the moon would turn blood red, some can see him, wearing a conical hat, decorated with blood-red tassels hanging off it, a terrifying menpo that covered his face, the warding masks carved in the shape of a tengu and kitsune, armor made of bone plate and rusted iron, the surcoat made from the cloth of the reaper himself...and a cloak orange like the autumn leaves...the fall.

He is no longer the swordsman, now he is the Dreaded Reaper, the Harbinger of Death.

Posted using PostyBirb