A Young Boy's Tale

I'm writing a short children's story. Here is the first part. It hasn't been edited very much so please excuse any grammatical errors.

***

Back when the world was young and bright and the air was clear and fresh, there abode a small house settled in a rich, green valley. The valley was filled with tall golden pines that swayed gently in the breeze and straight through ran a quick running river that sang playfully as it passed by. The house was a cottage of simple design. It was made from the pines of the valley, save for the stone chimney which often had pretty, white smoke flowing lazily from its top. Around the house the trees had been cleared to allow for a garden which was bursting with vegetables. 

Among the greenery of the garden sat a boy with fresh tear stains on his face who was puzzling over what was to be done. For, you see, the boy's mother was very ill. A few nights before his mother had gone out to gather fire wood from around the back of the cottage. While she was outside she fell and badly injured her ankle and had to come back inside without getting the wood. The night had been very cold, and while the boy had escaped the clammy hand of sickness because he slept so close to the hearth, his mother had not been so fortunate. What was worse, they had no medicine. This was part of the reason the boy's father was not there for the incident, nor for the past several days. He had left for the village market to sell his wares (he was a trapper who sold beautiful furs) and was meant to return the day before but he was running very late.

Thus the boy sat and thought hard upon what he should do. He feared what could have waylaid his father, and if his father would return soon, and if he would return soon enough. Certainly this last fear was not unfounded, for his mother was only getting sicker. 

The boy was just beginning to think that having another good cry might be the best solution when he had a sudden idea. Quickly he got up and rushed into the house. Inside were two rooms. The first was the bedroom where slept the family. The second was the room into which the boy now stepped. It was a kitchen with a large wooden table in the center and a cupboard along the far wall. But to the left there was nestled an iron stove with a large, black pot sitting on top. To the stove the boy hurried. He excitedly climbed a stool and looked into the pot. There was the porridge his mother had made before she had been struck ill. With this and the salted food in the cupboard the boy had been feeding his mother and himself for the past several days. He eagerly scooped the remaining porridge out of the pot and dumped it into a bowl. Then he ran to the cupboard and opened it up. There wasn't much food in here either, but there was still a small slab of butter left. He cut himself a square and plopped it into the porridge. With his bowl in hand he went back outside and around the house to the woodpile. He tapped on the side of the house and from inside the large pile of wood he heard the sound of something stirring. 

"Hello," he called softly. There was no response. He placed the bowl of porridge down and backed away. There was a strong breeze which came then and blew some dust into the boys eyes. He rubbed the dust out and when he opened his eyes again the bowl was gone. 

"The porridge's cold," said a voice from inside the woodpile. The boy smiled with relief, if the gnome was willing to talk then he may be willing to help. 

"Some like it hot, some like it cold," said the boy, reciting a line his mother had always told him when he complained about his cold porridge. He knew a clever joke could put any gnome in a much better mood.

"And some have to eat it when it's nine days old," retorted the gnome. This became such a popular line when the boy told his friends of the encounter later that they all began using it themselves, and you may have even hear something like it today. 

"I don't know how to cook anything on my own yet," said the boy, "and my mother is frightfully ill so that she can not make any herself." 

"Ah, so you have come about that have you?" inquired the gnome. The little boy remained silent. He knew he could not rush the gnome into helping him lest he anger the little sprite instead. The gnome grunted and the little boy felt a bump against his foot. There sat the bowl, emptied of the porridge. 

"She is very sick, your mother," came the voice from the woodpile. "One of the giants to the north was stirring up a great storm that evening, that's why it was so cold. It was too cold even for me, else I would have brought the fire wood in myself."

"That's why I've come to you," replied the boy, "I know you take care of us. Won't you help my mother?"

There was silence in the woodpile for a while.

"She's too sick for me to cure," at last came the response, but it was not one the boy was happy to hear. 

"But can't you use your magic?" asked the boy. The tears were building up in his eyes again.

"Just 'cause I have magic doesn't mean I can do everything," came the curt reply. The boy sniffed and the voice softened a bit. "I can't heal her with my magic. Wait until your father comes home he'll bring medicine."

"But my father is late coming home and my mother is getting worse," cried the boy, "If there is nothing done now it may be too late when done later!"

"Hush, hush boy," chided the gnome, "That is all that can be done."

"There must be something else!"

"Not for you, no my boy. You are too young still and so you must stay home."

"Too young? I will never grow old if I do not have my mother!"

"You have your father, he will..."

"He has yet to return, and what will I do until then? After he returns he often needs go out for many days to check his traps. With out my mother I shall die!"

"Tut, tut now. Drama such as this does not suit a man. All else fail you will have me to look out for you while your father is away." 

"As you looked out for my mother?" And soon as he said it the boy wished he could swallow those words back up, but it was too late. The words ran off his tongue with the swiftness of a dart, and there returned only silence from the woodpile.

"I... I..."

"Leave," said the gnome, and that was all that the boy could get out of him.

The next morning was the coldest morning there had been since the night of the incident. The boy rose from his bed and shivered. He grabbed a scarf and wrapped it around himself, then set to his chores. He went to the cupboard and took stock of what they had left. There were a few slices of bread, some cheese, salted meats, and one shiny, red apple. He grabbed the bread and some cheese and then walked over to the stove. The boy climbed onto the stool and grabbed the ladle in the pot, but the pot was empty. The sudden realization hit him that he had given the last of his porridge to the gnome that refused to help him.

The boy sank back down to the stool and sat in silence for a while. Then he heard a moan from the bedroom and the boy remembered his duties. He brought his mother the food they had and placed it beside her bed. She looked worse that day then the last.

"It's the cold, it is. Today is freezing," the boy thought to himself. He grabbed the blankets from his bed and added them to the pile on top of his mother.

He busied himself with other work such as sweeping and gardening, but mostly he spent the morning at the front of the house looking down the river way towards the village hoping to spot his father. When the sun had climbed high into the sky the boy went back into the house and readied lunch. He took the plate into the bedroom, but most of the food he had brought for his mother that morning was still there. He sighed, hoping she would at least finish the plate by the end of the day, then turned to leave. But something troubling caught his eye. There was no longer a flickering flame left in the fireplace, only dying embers. He needed to bring in more fire wood. 

The boy returned to the kitchen with the plate of food. He opened the cupboard and was putting away the bread when he spied that apple sitting on the shelf. He though for a moment, then grabbed it and, taking a deep breath, headed out. 

As he stepped out of his house the boy was met with a gust of wind that lifted his scarf up and very nearly away, but he caught it just in time and pulled it back down around his neck. He then set off through the garden checking the plants as he went along. He listened to the crunch of his feet as they met the dirt of the path, and felt the rough pebbles through the souls of his shoes. When he reached the corner of the house he paused once more, looking down at the apple in his hand. He didn't know it, but his face was just as red as that apple, and not entirely because of the cold. The boy gritted his teeth and rounded the corner.

Before him sat the woodpile. Once again he glanced at the apple in his hand. He shook his head, grabbed some wood and turned to leave. He didn't leave, however. Instead, without turning to face it, the boy rolled the apple towards the woodpile and waited.

"No porridge?" came the voice.

"None left," replied the boy.

"Humph." There came a snort from the woodpile, then the definite sound of the crunch of an apple. The boy turned around. The woodpile stood before him just as before but the apple had disappeared. 

"Your father has yet to return?"

"He's not come back, no."

"Humph."

There came another crunch of an apple from deep inside the woodpile.

"What is this?" asked the gnome.

"An apple."

"Why haven't I been given these before?"

"We had porridge before."

There was a brief moment of silence before the voice returned, quieter than before. "You should bring me apples more often."

"When my father comes home from his trips to the market," said the boy, "he brings a bag of apples and oats for the porridge. That first night after he returns, my mother always cooks apples into the porridge."

"That... sounds very good." 

"It is very good."

"Hmm." Some more crunching.

The boy waited, but it seemed the gnome wasn't going to speak any more. The only sounds coming from the woodpile were the sounds of crunching and chewing. The boy sighed and began walking back towards the house.

"You're very young."

And that was it. The boy turned, puzzled.

"I am young. Young boys need their mothers," he returned.

"But young boys," said the gnome, "should not leave the home to seek out more dangerous places."

"What are you saying?" asked the boy.

"Hmm..." the gnome muttered, and the boy waited. "There is... I know of... That is to say..." A heavy sigh. "Your father has traveled west along the river, he has tracked east over the mountain, and to the south he is well known among the men that live there. But to the north? There have I stricktly cautioned your father not to go, as I cautioned his father and his grandfather since your ancestors first built this house and called me from my place in the forest many years ago. There to the north can you go to save your mother, but there to the north can you meet more dark a fate than I feel willing to send you to."

"But, if I can save my mother..."

"And if you fail?" the gnome's tone was darker. "Not only will your father loose his wife, but his own son."

"Then if not I, could not you travel into the north in my stead?" pleaded the boy.

"I am bound to this house, boy, from here I cannot go."

"Then there is no hope for me." And once again, the great pain the boy felt weighed heavily on him and he felt the stinging tears return to his eyes.

"But there is a hope," replied the gnome, "And that is indeed my dilemma. For if you were to travel from here into the north you may return with your mother's cure, or you may meet her fate. But if you do not leave there is no medicine of man which will cure her now. I can guess your answer, but you will need my consent or never will you find the cure even were you to search a hundred years. That is the situation into which we are placed."

"Give me your permission! Let me save my mother."

There was silence as the boy stared at the woodpile. Deep inside he though he could see a glimmer, like that of a curious eye peering out, studying him.

"I will need some more time to consider this," said the gnome. "Come back at the rising of the moon and I will give you my answer."

The boy nodded, grabbed the wood, and hurried back inside.

When the time of the gnome's decision came the boy was bristling with excitement. He had busied himself the rest of the day with taking care of his mother and paid her such special attention that some of her color returned, and her face glowed with the happy glow he so joyfully remembered. The boy was out of the house and through the garden the moment the first rays of moonshine shone between the mountains. He rounded the corner of the house and walked swiftly towards the woodpile, each step accompanied with that excited skip children will often get when eager for news. Now was the time for the gnome's answer, and he hoped beyond hope the gnome would answer positively. The boy knocked swiftly against the side of the house.

"I know you're there," came a slightly irritated voice.

"I have come for your decision," said the boy and it would have been impossible not to hear the tremor in his reply.

"I know why you're here as well. It has not been so long since I last spoke with you. Are you sure the moon is even up?"

"Positive."

"Humph," the gnome sighed. He only paused for a moment, but to the boy it seemed like the night would pass before he received his answer.

Finally, "I cannot let you travel into the north, child that you are."

The boy felt crushed, his last chance to save his mother was gone. Just when she was beginning to look better, just when he thought the gnome would agree, just when... But no. None of that mattered now. It was the end for the poor boy.

He sank to the ground and wept as no child had wept before. When later his tale was told, many were the songs sung in memory of this boy's mourning and few events have sparked the despair of the poet such as the reply of the gnome.

"I thought you would let me go," cried the boy.

"Hush, child! Hush! You'll wake your mother!" hissed the gnome.

"I will never wake her again!" and still the boy wept.

"Boy," said the gnome, "I didn't say I wouldn't let you go entirely, but I can't let you go as you are!"

The boy paused at that. The tears still came regularly and he still wheezed and sniffled, but he had stopped wailing. "You -didn't- say I couldn't go?" he asked.

"Well, yes and no," replied the gnome, obviously ruffled by the loud outburst of the child. "I can't send a child alone into the north, not now while the giants are composing storms and the wolves are out on the hunt. I would not loose you as well as your mother. But if you had help, could travel this rode with my aide, then might it be much safer."

"But you cannot leave the house," replied the boy, "You said so."

"I know what I said, and I know what I can't do," was the irritated reply, "Don't interrupt me and we may get you away and on your journey before the night ends."

"Sorry," mumbled the boy.

"Now," said the gnome, "You are quite right, I cannot travel with you into the north and leave the house... But my magic can."

"Your? Your..."

"No interruptions." 

"Sorry."

"Yes, my magic." There was the sound of rustling from in the woodpile and suddenly the boy felt something fall on his foot. Looking down he beheld three items.

"First is my hat," said the gnome, and the boy picked it up. It looked like a nightcap, with a long tail the length of the boy's arm. It was a deep red with golden stitching along the hem and a small gold tassel at the end of the tail. "My hat can turn you invisible when you put it on," said the gnome, "but that wont save you against wolves who will sniff you out without much problem, invisible or not. So the second item is for them."

The boy picked up a small brown pouch made of thick wool. It did not seem particularly remarkable, and when the boy looked inside, it was empty. "What is this for?" he asked.

"That," said the gnome, "you must fiercely guard and make sure not to drop. Where you are going there are those who would very much like to get a hold of this bag, but they mustn't. When we are done speaking you must go out to the water's edge. Dip the bag into the river where the moonlight has landed and scoop up some of the water. If the wolves come after you, the moonlight will send them off your trail."

The boy nodded solemnly. He had been told fairy stories by his parents when he was younger, and knew he could not err in his duty lest the results turn disastrous. He looked down at the next item and picked them up.

"Those are my shoes," said the gnome, and they were very fine shoes indeed. They were small blue boots made of a very soft hide with brass buckles and wooden soles. They were embossed with intricate floral patterns from their pointed toes to the flared tops. The boy held them in his hands marveling at them while the gnome explained, "These will bear you quickly out of harms way should the other two methods fail. Be warned, they are indeed quick, but long strides can outmatch sprinting children's legs." The boy nodded. 

"Well, there you are," said the gnome. The boy could hear shifting in the woodpile as the gnome settled back down. "Even with these I would caution against your going, but if you cannot be dissuaded then I shall help you as I can."

"Thank you," gasped the boy.

"Do not thank me," returned the gnome sharply, "I don't feel right about this, magic gifts or no. But I have given them to you now, and there is no turning back if I had to guess. Lastly I must tell you where you are to go, so get on my shoes while you listen.

"Look to the north. Do you see that mountain with the ring of dark clouds above it? That is Stormburg, most dreaded of the mountains in this region. You must scale its great slopes until you reach the Vedir pass. Take the pass around the mountain. There is a fork in the path towards the end, continue along the higher path. This is the first danger of your trip, a simple one to avoid, but dangerous if not followed, don't go down the lower path!

"Once you have passed the mountain you will need to be very careful. The Great Red Forest truly lives up to its name in its vastness. You will never come back out if you don't follow my guidance. There are a series of stones that form a chain through the forest. They would lead you all the way to the utter north if you so chose. You must mark them once you enter the forest, they are easy to spot. Follow them and don't loose sight of them. 

"They eventually lead to a large clearing with a slight rise to the far side. There is a stone house situated on the rise. The clearing floor is coated with what looks like a thick, dark moss. That plant is what will save your mother. Pull up the plant, root and all, and with it return here in haste. Beware the tenant that resides in the house, and don't step into the light of the windows."

"Who is the tenant?" asked the boy.

"Never you mind," was the curt reply. "Just listen to what I say and come back quickly. Can you do that?"

"Yes," said the boy.

"Good." The gnome's tone lightened. If the boy could have seen the gnome then he would have perceived a small, sad smile on his face. "You're very brave for a boy of such young age," said the gnome, "Your mother is lucky to have you as a son."

The boy blushed at the compliment and looked at his feet. "I just want her to be all right."

"I know," said the gnome, "Keep that in mind as you travel north. Now you must depart. Hurry to the water and fill the bag, then follow my instructions carefully. I will see you when you return."

"Yes," said the boy, then: "I still wish to thank you for your help, but if you don't want me to, I won't. At the very least, however, I will thank you for giving my mother a chance." And while he was not very practiced at it, he bowed as low as he could go and as gracefully as he could. Many before have bowed more skillfully, and many since have thrilled their lords with elegant flourishes, but few lords remember these with as much fondness as our gnome remembers that awkward and clumsy bow by the young boy.

"Humph," the gnome grunted, and the boy ran off into the night with a smile.

Muscle Study 3

Wow, this one was hard to scan. The others I could get in one scan, but this? No... It is actually quite a bit larger than the other two. So if you're wondering why the scan is broken up, that's why. I had to paste the separate scans together once I got them uploaded.

Well anyway, here is the work.

As I said in my other post, this is the last muscle drawing I have right now. Don't worry, I have something else to show you, and I will be working on more drawings soon! (Hopefully.)

Cheers.

Muscle Study 2

Ok, here is another sketch I did of a dynamic pose.

I have one more sketch like this in my queue before I need to draw some more. Sorry about the images, I drew them on very large sheets of paper so sometimes they cannot fit on my scanner, or cannot be centered.

I hope you like it.

Cheers.

Muscle Study

I'm working on drawing figures so I thought I would draw a few with the muscles specifically in mind, to see how our muscles work to form our figures and the ways we bend. Here is one of the results, I will post more when I can.

I did not try and draw all the muscles, only the outlines, so to speak. I took some time to see where each muscle fit to create the outline, but also what creases were made when we bend. I hope that makes sense. I also chose "dynamic" poses rather than a back and front drawing because the purpose was to see how our muscles make us bend.

And, for those wondering, these muscle studies were not done with live people. I used pictures online to study from.

Cheers.

Goblin Village

As I mentioned in my last post, "Holy Explorer," Daegon headed the development of a small goblin village. This is that village. I was given some details on the geography by my DM. He said the town is situated among some hills near a river, and that there were some old ruins nearby. Since ruins are the building blocks for future civilizations, I decided the goblins could use the stone from the ruined structures to construct some of their own buildings. (Yes, I okay-ed everything with the DM.) So the east wall, closest to the ruins, is made of stone. The temple of Pelor and community hall is also build with some stone, although since it is difficult to stack stone higher than yourself the upper sections of the building's walls are made of wood. The remainder of the buildings are made of wood, and all buildings have thatched roofs.

Perception was not a big issue while drawing this obviously. Also, since it is supposed to be a goblin map I feel justified in picturing it a little wonky. This is also before my "Study in Green," which is why the goblin in the compass does not look like the goblins I now draw. I had pretty big plans for this village before it joined with the human village. I really didn't see that coming and it has thrown an impressive wrench in my plans for goblin domination.

Those of you wondering if I mistyped temple of Pelor, or if I had gone crazy, I assure you I meant what I wrote. After all, Daegon is a missionary cleric, so what goblins he convinces to join he also converts.

Cheers.

Holy Explorer

Another older piece of artwork. I drew this for my first Dungeons and Dragons character, Daegon. As the name suggests he is a Cleric. Daegon quickly became famous in our group as a skilled negotiator and was instrumental in bringing about an alliance between a large group of goblins and a nearby town of humans. He then went on to develop a town for the goblins and when the human town was destroyed the refugees fled to the goblin village. Now the goblins and humans coexist peacefully together in a large town. (Come on, if goblins and humans can do it, can't we all?)

This was fun to draw, I haven't drawn retreating shadows like this before so I liked the result. I also liked the shading. I don't do too much shading usually, but for this it really needed it.

I hope you all like it am much as I do.

Cheers.

Angel of Rock

So it may have been a while. I promise I tried to keep up... but stuff kept getting in the way. It's a stupid excuse, but it's also true for the most part. I just got back from a trip up the East coast of the United States and into Canada to visit my family. I started University a week ago and that's going well.
Unfortunately I cannot say that I have been practicing this whole time. In fact, I have done almost no drawing since my last post. (In which I got annoyed by my quality of work and resolved to practice more...)
Anyway, I want to get back into it, so here is something I drew a long time ago. I'll post other things I have done more recently later, but for now you all get old stuff.

Cheers.

Some Sketches

Just trying to draw characters from my favorite Manga. I like how they've turned out, they are much better then my original drawings and I think I am picking up stuff.

 

 I love the art from Hiyokoi, but I will never draw these eyes again! >.<

More to come later.

Cheers.

Drawing

Recently I have been annoyed with the level of my artwork. I haven’t been practicing enough and it’s evident. When I do draw it doesn’t seem to improve much, so recently I have been frustrated. Also stressed since I may end up writing a Doujin with someone from Anime club, but I really feel that if I did, my art would not be up to snuff.

This may sound like whining but I would prefer if you looked at it as getting things off my chest. Plus, I have a solution I’m working on.

I decided to take some advice: “He that is taught only be himself has a fool for a master.” Sure, it is impossible to say I really taught myself, I had lots of help along the way! For which I am eternally grateful. But I rarely studied Manga for the purpose of drawing it later. I have (finally) begun using Manga as a real reference. For those who draw Manga, this is probably not new so please ignore my ignorance.

As part of my new training I am drawing characters from Manga I am particularly inspired by. I am trying to pick up ideas from drawing pieces by my favorite artists whose work I would like to emulate. This is rather hard for me. The copying is not what I am talking about (although, as I said, I am not very good so please do not think I am acting cocky) but it is the act itself I find issue with.
I am never one for doing things by the book. I prefer to use my own imagination in everything I do. So copying another person’s character is… like brushing my hair the wrong way…  I feel awkward while doing it, and a little embarrassed.

But, I can see improvements made. I am happy about what I am learning. I can also see the gap between professional work and my own. I don’t see that as a bad thing though, rather I would like to see it more positively as a goal I wish to reach.

I guess this was a nice place to unload my feelings. *phew* It’s tiring trying to do everything yourself and keep it all in. Anyway, I originally made this post to tell you I’ll be posting some of the stuff I have been working on. I really want to keep improving! ^__^

Cheers.

A Rouge

It has been a while, school seems to be getting in the way of me drawing as much as I would like. Although I am taking a drawing class so maybe I will post things from that.

Here is a Rouge I drew as commissioned by another player in my D&D group. I showed her Kilic and she asked me if I would draw her character. So here it is! The best part? In payment, I get a cake. I finished a little early, I still have another fortnight before it needs to be done (at our next D&D session), but I had the time and the inspiration so I just went at it.

I always like including a story behind my pictures. Her character is a little money driven, (by that I mean she decided to raid the basement of a haunted house with demon dolls to try and get 10gp that somebody owed her) so I tried showing her love... or addiction... of gold.

Cheers.

A Study in Green (Final)

I was on the right track, I really liked my Goblin design! But looking back at the Troll I had sketched for the concept, and the goblin I now had, they did not look very similar at all. Plus, I didn't like that troll a whole lot. So I decided to go backwards, sketch my troll, based off my goblin. I liked the goblin nose, so I made it bigger and rounded it, I kept the pointed ears, and his head shape is actually quite close (I made it by styling it off of my goblin head- in the pencil sketch he still had an oval for a lower head). I made him hunched-back, gave him clawed hands, and he still has those teeth. To show how clever he is, I gave him better clothes than the MM gives their trolls, but the clothes are tarnished because he doesn't get many opportunities for sewing new ones.

A very drastic change from the D&D troll indeed, but I think he looks good. He certainly reminds me of the trolls from when I was younger. As for magic, I think D&D covers it really well with the regeneration. Although my troll caves are likely to have some dangerous magic in them to reflect that aspect not really covered in combat.

And then there were ogres. This guy was very simple. Take the toll, give it a more human head, add a bit more neck, and make it look a little dim. Voila.

The fact that he looks like a polka player is purely by chance. I had the individual pieces of clothes in mind, but didn't look at it as a whole until I had already drawn it down. Then I fell over laughing. It's probably why this guy is so mad, maybe somebody just insulted his sense of style. I gave the ogre tattered clothes and a dinky piece of armor, since that is what people tend to give ogres.

Final thoughts? Well I really like how they turned out, it's what I was aiming for when I set out to draw these monsters. However, I have... a nagging doubt playing in the back of my head about the troll. I love how he turned out, and he really does look like the trolls I had always pictured while growing up and listening to those stories, but does that make him a good troll for D&D? I still don't like the D&D trolls however. They're too big and stupid, and not related to the mythology which they are supposed to come from. There may have to be more work done on this in the future... probably when our party actually faces a troll.

These are actually to scale with each another. The ogre should maybe be a bit smaller, but I figure he is just a large ogre, and the troll is on the short side. As for the goblin, I made him slightly larger on purpose, so you could see him in better detail, and so he would be less pixelated.

Cheers.

A Study in Green (Part 2)

These were my first concept drawings. Not great, but hey, they're not supposed to be yet. You may be able to tell where I was going/coming from with these. I was still looking at the MM for ideas, so I tried giving the Troll a pointed chin, I kept the big nose which is a staple, and I tried a little scrawnier look with the arms. I then made the Ogre. I gave him a more rounded head, higher up on the shoulders, I checked his nose, and made his eyes a little smaller and dimwitted. The Goblin I modeled off of the troll, I gave the goblin a chin like the troll's, made the nose a little smaller and pointed it, and made the ears a little bigger. I liked the end result on this one, but it just didn't seem very... goblin-y. Again, I went to mythology for an assessment. Goblins are small household spirits with a tendency towards mischievous, and sometimes wicked tricks. Goblins should be witty and impish, and my goblin sketch didn't look particularly witty or impish. Much to serious. I really like these kind of goblins:

But they just aren't quite right for D&D. This is a household spirit, not a wondering monster who likes to stir up trouble. For me, the pathfinder goblins really fit the bill, plus they are a special kind of adorable-evil. If you look at my finished goblin you can clearly see some similarities, while at the same time there are some differences. The teeth are not like the Pathfinder goblins, and my goblin's ears are not as over the top. Also, my goblins have a pointed nose, which I personally think is a staple, and a hunched back like their troll relatives.

And that was my next issue: If my goblins looked like this, what should I do with trolls?

Cheers.

A Study in Green (Part 1)

For a while I have been wondering what certain creatures look like. Specifically Trolls and Ogres, but also how Goblins fit into the picture, and how the different types of goblins work/look. I flipped through the Monster Manual to find some pictures, but the trolls did not fit the trolls I knew as a kid. (When I was growing up I was told many stories from Norse Mythology- albeit rewritten for children.) So I went to refresh my memory and googled trolls. I read the wiki article, but I also went on to read more stories from Scandinavian Mythology featuring these creatures. What I found was that trolls were not the brutes which the MM seems to show them as. Most stories depict them as rather human. Sometimes they weren't even much bigger than humans. Most interestingly I found that many were adept magic users.

Ok, sounds a lot more like the trolls I knew as a kid, and far more interesting than trolls described in the MM. But how do they look? And what is the difference between a troll and an ogre? So I googled ogre. I was surprised to find that ogres do not refer to a particular mythology, rather, they are a type of role. Wikipedia describes them as being featured in myths across the world, which would mean that a troll is really a type of ogre. Which leaves me in a bit of a jam. After all, if they are the same creature then I cannot use both in games. So I decide that rather than ogres and trolls being the same creatures, an ogre would just be a sort of, lesser troll. Like a troll, but not quite. That sat well with me, but it still left me with a the problem of drawing the beasties. I pondered how the two would differ for some time, and kept coming back to the same idea: that ogres were a lesser being of sorts. Which would mean that there must be some sort of tree, like a family tree, but for species. I remembered that the Wikipedia article said ogres and giants were very close, almost interchangeable, so I decided that ogres were a mix of trolls and giants. Which accounts for why they are a little slower than trolls mentally. The rest of this tree sprang from that. Why do orcs and ogres often appear in groups (according to the MM)? What the heck is a Hobgoblin? Where do bugbears fit in? Well, I have my answers.

Which just leaves drawing them...

Cheers.

My World

As it is. Of course, such things are subject to change. I have in mind another lake or two to add. I am working on the lore for this world, although I already have a good deal of it. I want to make it seem truly real to my players, so I am going region by region and working out the different cultures present there. Luckily that isn't as difficult as it seems. There are not many cultures present in this world, yet. It is quite new (as worlds go) so there are still few enough people that mankind largely sticks together. Since the world is so new, that also means there is not as much history that I have to write.

If I had to pick a time period from our history which corresponds with this world, then I would say that this world is most like our world at the time of the decline of ancient Egypt and the rise of ancient Greece, about 600BC during the early Iron Age. However, the technology in this world has been accelerated to early Dark Ages technology where people are beginning to use steel weapons. There is also some difference in technology between races. Dwarfs can make better armor than humans, but eladrin can make better armor than dwarfs. Some races don't have metal smithing technology at all.

Without diving into the details too much, the world is definitely in a dark age. The central power of the world has collapsed, famine is spreading, and trade is at an all time low. While there used to be great trading networks connecting the west and east, these are nearly vanished. With growing hunger, small villages cannot support themselves and are fleeing to larger towns for protection. Only the largest towns have survived, leaving large expanses of wasteland between small pockets of civilization. I have specifically prepared this world as a perilous wilderness, ready for exploration and adventure.

I will post more updates about this world soon.

Cheers.

Its The Truth, It's Natural...

I have two posts for today because I saw this! I haven't laughed so hard in a good long while.

Cheers!

Yorric Torrkson

A dwarf of royal blood. His father was a champion among his people, known for his greatest deed of slaying a dragon. Yorric was going to be one of my characters for a game, but unfortunately the game was never started. He was a very interesting character, vastly different from my first D&D character (who was a pacifist cleric). His helmet was that of his father's, as was a very special ability he had. At the time I did not have the 4e books, so I went online to find my feats. I found a home-brew website and thought that one particular feat made sense for my character (I could provide a decent back-story as to why he would have such an ability), then showed my DM. The person who was going to DM that campaign was a friend of mine and knew from experience I didn't like to break the game. I am mostly there for the role-playing. So he agreed to let me have the power.

After Yorric's father, Torrk, slew the fell dragon which had laid waste to a small army of dwarfs, and destroyed vast portions of the great dwarfen city, he made ready to burn the corpse. He was stopped, however, by his uncle, a very old dwarf who had seen much and knew much. His uncle, Rouric Whitebelt, instructed Torrk to take out the heart of the dragon and bade him eat it. Next, he filled a golden goblet with the beast's blood and instructed Torrk to drink of it. When this was done, Torrk's stomach filled with heat, his skin grew harder, and his eyes blazed with light. He found he could understand the speech of dragons, and of their kin, but most of all, he could breath fire! When his son was born, he too had some of these traits. Yorric therefore was granted a special ability in combat, that once per encounter he could breath upon his foes the dragons' breath.

I was very proud of this back-story, and not only because I had a fire breathing dwarf. I borrowed this idea from an old Norse tale which I had heard of as a little kid. I cannot believe I remembered it but when I saw the ability on the home-brew site I immediately thought of that story. It's a shame I never got to play him.

Cheers.

Concerning Dragons

 
D&D stands for Dungeons and Dragons, so naturally dragons are an important part of the D&D game. So it sucks when I really do not like how D&D portraits dragons. Different color dragons, each with different powers, sounds less like an epic fantasy setting and more like a children's show. Maybe it is just me? But I think it's very cheesy.

However... dragons are AWESOME! They are by far one of my favorite monsters in any game, story, or film. Dragons are why if someone asked me whether I liked The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings better I would never be able to answer them. So when I create a world in which to set my players, you can bet there are going to be dragons. Even if I were to create a world devoid of any magic or magical creatures, it would still have dragons in it. Still, I do not want to use D&D dragons.

So I changed them to fit my tastes. Here is the dragon lore for my D&D world:

Dragons are born from eggs about the size of a dinner plate. The dragon will usually lay many hundreds of eggs, but few young ones will ever survive long enough to hatch. Of those that do, very few survive their time in the nest. When born a dragon's scales are green, much like any other lizard. He will have small, boney bumps on his back: extensions of his shoulder blade which will become his wings. The young dragon grows at an extraordinary rate over a two week period. At the end of this two week period the young dragon will be about the size of a small elephant. At this point two things happen. One,  the dragon's wings will have matured to a point at which the dragon can now fly with them. Two, the growing process for the dragon will come nearly to a stand still. From this point on, the young dragon will grow very slowly, but continue growing the rest of his life. Once a dragon reaches adulthood his scales will change color very quickly. They will go from green to yellow (for a very short while) and then from yellow to red. His scales will remain red until he is much older, at which point they will begin to darken until finally, when he is very old, his scales will become black. Dragons only breath fire, although once they attain their black scales, the fire reaches a new fierceness and gains acidic like properties.

 

If you have dragon lore which differs from the D&D manual then please share! If anyone would like to use this lore for their own games then by all means go ahead.

 

Cheers.