A Fox Sketch in Chalk

A Cartoon. I have a lot to share but I haven't taken the time to scan things, so here's something I had lying around.

Cheers.

As I Beneath the Tree Limbs Lie

As I beneath the tree limbs lie
and look into the vaulted sky,
I am remind'd of heathen kings
who pass out glitt'ring golden rings,
which, forged by craft that they adore
to emulate their golden shores,
were fairer than all other things
which tales of old so often sing.
It is because of love of land
that they could craft by cunning hand
such wondrous works that men admire,
where flowers spring from fonts of fire,
but greater still their halls of praise
which they with piety did raise
amidst the glade with blooming tree,
for so to gods of wood they be.
And I can see the great appeal
to praise the woods and sky. To feel
the mighty force of nature there
and place myself within its care.
And yet I know of greater things
than ever dreamt those heather kings,
and when I see that woods and sky
I give not in to that old lie
The woods and sky are little worth,
compared to Him, of virgin birth.
So when I see the trees, the sky,
or beasts of land or birds that fly,
the trees become great pillars, tall
so that the sky will never fall.
Cathedral of His mighty hand
that covers far an distant lands.
For I'm remind'd the king of kings,
which all creation rightly sings,
as I beneath the tree limbs lie
and look into the vaulted sky.

Cheers.

Figure Study: Balrog

I was doing some figure studies and I had balrogs on my mind, so these happened.

I wanted to depict balrogs as far more human than is normally done. I do enjoy the demonic, bestial balrogs which are more common (John Howe's balrogs, for instance, are incredible and rather set the standard), but I thought this concept might be a fun one to explore. I believe that Tolkien does refer to Durin's Bane as man-shaped.

Cheers.

A Goblin Soldier

A goblin soldier, perhaps surprised by an assault on the column's flank. 

Cheers.

Westward

Westward course the ship goes sailing

With white waves that follow trailing.

Wind is blowing, sail is flowing,

Many sturdy men are rowing.

From safe home lands they quickly fly,

Beneath the boundless blue toned sky,

Sailors grinning, captain singing,

Under waves the fish are swimming.

To utter west they hope to sail

Against whatever fearsome gale

They are to meet, while other feat,

They will with biting iron greet.

To fair green isle soon they come

And from the ship they one by one

Approach the land, a merry band,

To see what treasures lie at hand.

Before their eyes the land abounds

With the fairest sights and sounds:

Waters falling, bird song calling.

On the hills white sheep are bawling.

Then the captain of the host cries,

"'Tis the fairest land that my eyes

Ever have seen should I have been

To every land, o'er every stream."

Cheers.

Dread Knight

This is a far cry from what I normally draw. I generally prefer to sketch low-fantasy style figures, which means the heaviest armor I usually depict is chainmail. However, I was browsing Turner Mohan's DeviantArt page when I saw his drawing, "Morgoth Victorious," and suddenly I had the uncontrollable urge to draw spikes. Turner Mohan is an incredible artist and I highly recommend you check out his work.

Cheers.

Map

As I prophesied when I first posted a picture of 'My World,' "such things are subject to change." Here is the new north-western coastline where my players are at. Since they haven't seen much of the world these changes wont really affect them. I still have the same lore, and the geography surrounding their town hasn't changed from what I've told them.

Cheers.

Sketches

Cheers.

A Warmer Home

A little, old mouse built a house of straw,

and she looked at the house and she thought, "Ah-ha!"

For a house of straw is well and good,

"But not so nice as a house of wood."

So a pile of sticks she brought together.

She ran under tree and down under heather,

'till at last she thought, "That'll do the trick,

there's nothing so nice as a house of stick."

That's as she said but deep inside,

she thought to herself, "Have I been unwise?

For a house of sticks can get quite cold,

and you know little mouse you are getting quite old."

So she thought to herself, "Well bless my bones,

no house is warmer than is built with stones."

But a house of stone she alone couldn't make,

and she feared that her ag'ed tale might break.

Now the little, old mouse thought by and by,

"I shall ask my own kin who lives under sky,

'Dearest son can you help a mouse so old,

and build her a house so she's safe from the cold?'"

Now her young son he had no home,

but he shared what he had and was never alone,

and no creeping cold reached his strong bones

although he never had a house of stone.

There he sat in a pleasant green field

and before him mirthful laughter peeled.

Twelve little children ran around,

and their shrill little cries made a joyful sound.

His young wife was a pretty, little thing,

and all around the field you could hear her sing.

The company laughed and clapped their hands

and together they made a little marching band.

Now the little, old mouse didn't like much noise,

especially in a family of excited little boys,

but she plucked up her courage and walked towards the mouse,

and asked if he could build her a nice, stone house.

So he set to work with a chisel and bit

and he measured the stones so they each would fit.

Yes the house he thought would be mighty grand

as he laid each brick with his swift, little hand.

And as it grew that house he made,

the little, old mouse squeezed fresh lemonade.

'Twas just the thing for tiny, young mice

and the children thought it was very nice.

They played together as the day grew long

and the children asked if she'd sing a song.

The little, old mouse played a little, old harp,

and told them a tale of a sweet, singing lark.

As each day passed under clear blue sky

her young son thought by and by,

"Upon the ground we have made our home,

but maybe 'twould be better in a house of stone."

And when at last the house was done,

and each little stone laid one by one,

the little, old mouse said, "That's my home!

Though a pity I should live there all alone."

Well the little, old mouse doesn't live alone,

for her family lives in that house of stone.

And though there are nights where the weather is freezing,

she's never felt cold with her family in the evening.

That little mouse lived a long, happy life,

and that is the tale,

                                    no more.

                                                            Good Night. 

Ol' Gob

A goblin of venerable age, and thus termed Ol' Gob (nicknamed the Hideous among friends).

Cheers.