Playmobil Knights for Sale

If you're interested, drop me a line.

Cheers.

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.

Dwarven Fighter

Here is a dwarven fighter in the armor I drew up a little while ago.

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Helm of Agir

Agir, lord of the sea.

Cheers.

More on Dwarves

I tried sketching some lower-class dwarf clothing. I like the east-west mix style of clothing found in Avatar: The Legend of Korra, so I tried recreating that.

Of-course, all dwarves need hoods. ;)

Cheers.

Dwarves and Armor

It's been a while. I haven't had a lot to present, although I draw as often as I can. Today is special, though. My players are just about to set off on a quest that will bring them into contact with the dwarves of the western mountains. As such, I've had dwarves on the mind and I've been sketching them out quite a bit.

In my world the dwarves were introduced to the world quite late, later even that humans, although their race is much older than the race of men. They lived underground for centuries, thriving, building vast kingdoms beneath the earth. It was not until the Black Tyrant began digging his great mines that dwarves at last beheld the outside world. Their culture had plenty of time to develop independently, which is why I decided a while ago that I wanted the dwarves' culture to be quite different from the cultures of the regions their mountains inhabit.

Tolkien created a lot of staples in fantasy. One of them is dwarven masked helmets. I'll probably be breaking a lot of traditional dwarven staples, but this is not one of them. For one thing, I think masked helmets are super awesome. For another, it fits with my conception of dwarven warfare (fighting in tunnels with no light means not a lot of reason for having open faced helmets). Originally I went for a "tribal" look. While I rather like it, I wasn't completely satisfied.

I tried a lot of different ideas. I had decided I really liked the lamellar plates, so I was sticking to eastern looks, but didn't like any of the results. I decided, "Whatever, I'll try it with a viking ocular helmet."  Which pretty much became the basis for the final design. I tried incorporating Central Asian elements into the final look of the helmet.

Overall, I'm really happy with the way it turned out.

Cheers.

India Diary

A children's story I've written. There may be more of them in the future. Also, that story about the boy and the gnome is being worked on. I've made a lot of edits so it's pretty slow going, but I am making some progress.

***

Today I met a boy unlike anyone else in this godforsaken country. Ever since I arrived, this place has been a special hell for me. The constant, muggy heat makes me sweat gallons so that I am always thirsty. The city is hardly a city; it resembles more a country town with dirt roads and filthy, stinking animals everywhere I turn. And outside this city? A jungle. The canopy of which rises higher than the largest buildings in town, and is so dense you can't even see the sun if you wander in. Nothing like back home. And the people? They are the worst! Savages, really. It's true everything they say about them. The other children are the meanest little roaches on the face of this earth. They'll tease me, and sometimes hit me with sticks, but I can never give them what for as they always run off scuttling across stalls and scurrying under carts and I lose them before I've even begun to chase them.

My only consolation is that my parents have taken much pity on me, so that I am never in need of sweets should I wish them. Indeed it was because of my parents coddling that I met that boy. I was on the outskirts of town, flirting with the line between the city and the jungle. I am under strict orders to never venture into the trees, but outside the city palisade is the only place I ever get any peace. I had a lovely bagful of sweet round candies that I was very much in the process of enjoying, when I got this weird sensation. It was like a prickling on the back of my neck, like someone was watching me. I looked around, but could spy no one.  Unconcerned I turned back to my walk. I had not gone but a few steps when I thought I heard the rustling of leaves. I whirled around and there, right before my eyes was a most unusual boy. He was right behind me, and I had not even heard him coming. He grinned a big Cheshire cat grin, then grabbed a candy from my bag and ran off into the jungle.

Well I wasn't about to leave it at that, so I took off after him. I could see him just up ahead, weaving through the trees, grabbing branches and swinging himself along like those monkeys one sometimes sees playing amidst the old town ruins. I soon lost sight of him, and assuming he had run well off, stopped to take a break, wheezing from the exertion as I was. As it turns out, it was quite lucky I was wrong in assuming he had run off. As soon as I got my breath back I realized that I was quite lost. I couldn't see the sky for the canopy, and the foliage around me was far too thick to see the palisade. I figured, however, that I had not run too far off, and with some careful guesswork I chose a direction back towards the town. Well, it was not back towards the town I am sure. I saw neither head nor tail of the town after much walking and I was becoming tired again.

I laid down with my back against a large tree and popped another candy in my mouth. I was beginning to dread my predicament and my nerves were on edge when I heard a sound off to my right. "You again!" I cried, leaping to my feet, preparing to really show the boy what for. But it was not the boy. Out of the brush came a large cat. Immediately I recalled the stories my father had told me of man-eating tigers and I admit I froze to the spot, too terrified to either fight or flee. I cursed my ill fate and that boy who had lead me into this wretched jungle. The cat stalked towards me, its feet padding along silently. I could see its eyes watching me intently; I could hear its breathing; I knew in that moment I was a goner. When out of the blue came a screech so loud the cat gave a start and sprung back several feet, looking up as he did. Out of the canopy above came that boy, flying to the ground at an alarming velocity. He leapt from the lowest branch (some fifteen or twenty feet from the ground!) and landed between the cat and myself. He wielded a large stick and, hitting the ground in front of him, gave another ear splitting screech that sent the cat running into the bush. I learnt later it was, in fact, not a tiger, and that if it had been, neither he nor I would be around to speak of it. But it was plenty big enough, with teeth and claws, and that is all I have to say on it. I stood there, shaking like a leaf. The boy turned back to look at me, gave me another of those Cheshire cat grins, and grabbed a second candy from my bag. I did not resist. Apparently that was all the currency he required to be my bodyguard, for after that encounter he stuck with me as we made our way back to the village.

He is a very odd boy. He has dark skin, made darker by the layer of dirt which covers him. His hair is a bird's nest if ever there was one, with twigs and leaves sticking out of it. He wears no clothes, save a cloth diaper, and in this he seems to keep various things he finds as he walks. Twice I saw him hide rocks in there, for what purpose I have yet to discover. He doesn't speak a lick of English, though I'm not sure he speaks much of anything as he never said a single word during our trip, which took maybe an hour. He left me at the city gate and bid adieu with a wave of his hand, then disappeared once more amidst the trees. I made my way straight home to write down everything that transpired, and here it is, the whole tale. I don't think I shall go back into that jungle any time soon, but if I should see the boy around town I'll not hesitate to offer him a candy. 

Ancient Men

I've been fleshing out the history of my world, including armor from different periods.

This is the armor of the ancient men as they arrived to the world from their ships of many sails. I began with the armor on the left, but decided to stick to the armor on the right.

The finished version.

These are from when I first began looking at the armor after the ancient men landed, during the Troll War. I tried chainmail, but I thought it looked too... plain I guess. Additionally, I think chainmail might be a later invention. So I tried a more fantastic idea, articulated arms. They look alright, but I'm glad I experimented more...

...Because I tried scalemail next. I got rid of the under layer on the leg protection so you could see the scale hauberk better. I'll try a larger version later.

Cheers.

Creating Fafnir

I think of Fafnir as a great wingless wyrm. In some adaptation of the tale Sigurd and Regin find Fafnir's trail because he drags himself along the ground and creates a furrow in the earth. In Penn State's translated Volsunga Saga Sigurd claims that Fafnir is not just some ordinary wyrm but perhaps the greatest of dragons. 

So with this in mind, and the sketches of the Komodo Dragon and crocodiles, I began sketching. This was the first conception of Fafnir. 

I like it, but something about him isn't very draconic. I decided to test out this look some more.

The first one looks way too much like a dinosaur to me. The second one is something I could begin to sketch out a little more. He also follows along the same sort of tract as I've seen with other conceptions of Fafnir. Neither of these looks like "iconic dragon" to me, though. I decided it was the neck that needed work, so I produced this guy next.

I lifted the head and curved his neck back on itself. (The spikes were later when I began experimenting with those.) I think he looks much more dragon like. I decided I would look at exactly what spoke to me as an iconic dragon so I began doodling.

I paid close attention to the nose. Curving it back, pointing it, and working at the curve. I also focused on the neck. I don't think I want a Fafnir with horns, I only drew these to help discover what an iconic dragon was to me. However, all things are subject to change here.

It was soon after drawing these I decided I would explore a more snake like figure and fiddle again with the nose. This line of thinking produced these.

Currently I'm looking at combining aspects of image 3 and these guys somehow. I may have a long way to go. Feedback is welcome.

Cheers.

San Diego Zoo

I had the chance to sketch some animals at the San Diego Zoo. Since I am on a mission to create a Fafnir dragon I was interested in drawing crocodiles and the Komodo Dragon (if you're gonna draw a fantasy dragon, why not start with the real one?). However, there were some others that I took the opportunity to draw. 

Here there is a hippo at the top left and an otter at the bottom right. I don't remember what kind of bird that is, but it was fun to draw. The building in the bottom left was something I saw above the tree line while in the zoo. 

The Komodo Dragon. Part of the reason I have so many was that he wouldn't come out from hiding, so I would sketch what I could see and start a new one when I got a better view. I was really hoping he would be the easiest one to draw since lizards don't tend to move around a lot, but this guy was really active.

You may be able to tell but I had already started experimenting with creature designs on this page, thus the combo monitor head with crocodile snout.

A Chinese Crocodile. He was really good, he stood very still.

Cheers.

Summer Trip Sketchbook

I had lots of chances to draw while on the trip. Here are a few things.

An Elven Soldier. Just felt like doodling a few ideas I had. This is what came out. 

A marmot. These are cute little squirrel-cousins which we saw a lot of in the rocky mountains.

I got to listen to the Percy Jackson novels while driving. These little guys are from the second series where Percy looses his memory. This line made us all crack up laughing and for the rest of the trip a conversation could not be had without this line being quoted at least once.
For those who haven't read the books, this is what the little wheat daemon is willing to give if our heroes would only let themselves be killed.

I read 'Prometheus Bound' while on the trip. This was a lot more promising in the early stages of development. I think I may tinker with it more. We'll see how that goes.

Cheers.