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Under the extravagance of the never-sleeping city, the fungi rested their milky roots in the still water of the swamp. The calm of this place could have been nearly disquieting, if not for the poetry of the landscape, and the soothing gurgles of the mushrooms. Jarleen appreciated to hang around those millenia-old elders, listening to their absurd wisdom, as he herded his master's pack of netches. Sometimes, a quick shadow, a small boat or a flickering light would catch the Argonian's attention, but the sapling knew better than to ask the unfathomable black waters what secrets they helped to smuggle. Their oily surface shone brightly, reflecting light like a mirror, and returning questions all the same. Jarleen smiled whenever he found himself contemplating his own image so. The swamp was very much alike to the Telvanni dwelling over it: mysterious, dark, and yet capable of reflecting all the colors of the rainbow, like mother-of-pearl in the sun; but the swamp didn't care about surfacing marvels... It only wished to be left still and silent, feeding on its own corruption.
This is my vision of Port Telvanni's underskirts. I have tried to paint the city but so far my attempts weren't doing justice to this incredible place.
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Comments8
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The way this is organized it kind of looks like the bull netch is a floating alien brain and the betty netch are eyes. All with tentacles.