New Header

Some of you may be wondering why I changed the header on my blog. The answer is, I was just tired of the old one, and I was in a Lord of the Rings-y mood.

Yes, I designed and made the new header myself. Good, no?

Yes, I may change the header again in future.

Yes, I will always choose epic artwork for my headers.

No, I will not answer any more questions…

Just kidding! 😛

God bless! Have a great day!

Bound to the Flame, Part I

Tags

artwork, bound to the flame, stories in progress, story dynamics

Well, I got the first part of Bound to the Flame that I’m going to post written. And to you long-term readers of my blog who absolutely loved The Hero’s Dream and were following Battlefield of the Soul, no, I have not given up on the Shifting Tides series. It’s just that I’ve encountered technical difficulties, Jango Fett, and a headache. Sorry!!! (I was in a fantasy mood, all right? And while the THD incarnation of His Royal Highness [Kenobi, I mean] is nothing short of wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiicked awesome, I still wanted fantasy. Besides, Rowan started life as the same character, half-crippled and transplanted to the Scottish highlands… Please forgive me? @_@)

Also, I have some concept artwork for Bound to the Flame done, and there is more to come. But you have to read the chapter first. ;-P

Enjoy!

Bound to the Flame

Part I

                Adyn giggled as he hid from his guardian. “Adyn! Adyn, where are you?” Rowan’s frustrated voice rang out, quickly accompanied by unsteady-sounding, one-sided footsteps. Adyn stuffed one hand into his mouth to stop another fit of giggles as Rowan’s irritated tirade continued, aimed at a non-existent audience. “Special, my foot! Royal pain in the backside, more like it.” Suddenly, he switched from sotto voce to a startlingly resounding stentorian shout. “Adyn, get out here this instant, or else!” Adyn giggled again, and folded himself even deeper into his hiding spot, if that were even possible. Suddenly, a long, slender, sinewy, elegant hand darted in through the opening between the two slats and dragged Adyn bodily out. Adyn was too startled to kick and scream for the first few seconds. “Gotcha, you little scalawag!” a voice grated close by his ear.

“No fair!” Adyn screeched, half-incapacitated by giggles, struggling futilely in his captor’s iron grip. However, the young man was far stronger than the five-year-old; all the child’s struggles were in vain.

“Yes, fair,” Rowan Jaentyr Caerlen, Prince of Ertraia, growled in a dangerously velvety tone. “You can fit into spaces I can’t; you can move faster than me. Therefore, I am permitted to practice deception, simply in the interest of evening up the playing field.” The five-year-old stuck his tongue out at his caretaker.

“Can I use de—dewhatsit on you?” he asked impudently. Rowan kept a firm hold on the miscreant.

“Yes, provided you ever gain the subtlety to do so,” he said, smiling to himself. “Whether I am actually deceived is another matter entirely.”

“Will you pretend to be deceived, even if I don’t man-gage to do it?” Adyn asked, giving Rowan the benefit of a melting glance from his enormous blue eyes. However, Rowan had been dealing with Adyn since he was three, and as such was proof against such innocent looks.

“Hmmm…” Rowan said, pretending to mull over the proposal. “No.” He grinned at Adyn’s disappointed look. He had his charge firmly by the shoulder now; there would be no escape for the young rascal. “Come. It’s time we worked on honing your skills—and your control—my recalcitrant young friend.”

This is my first concept art for Rowan. (I used to have a similar scar on my right cheek, not the left… it faded though. I got it by falling on my face on a dog collar…) The length of his face was not a mistake, jsyk.

Late that afternoon, Rowan was making his way along the Hall of Images with the aid of a staff. He slowly walked along one wall, fingers brushing lightly against its surface, pausing beside the various images of his ancestors. The frames of the pictures and robes of the statues proclaimed their life stories—red for a warrior, green for a scholar, deepest blue for a healer: the robes spoke in silence. Gold for a ruler, silver for a spouse, opalescent white for a prince or princess, jet black for an heir who had died young; so the robes were trimmed, and the paintings framed.

The hall was arranged as two long wings located on either side of a rotunda; as Rowan reached the rotunda, he paused on the far side of the rotunda, the place that marked the exact center of the gallery. Rising from the center of the floor before him was a tall, shapely, slender silver-white pillar; toward the top, it branched out into a flowering tree, with silver leaves and gold flowers; hanging from the lower branches were many small, gilded lanterns, each with a candle set therein. Rowan flicked his fingers quickly outward, kindling the air currents to momentary fire around the candles’ wicks, instantly igniting them. Quietly, he turned to face the wall beyond. From floor to ceiling of the rotunda, wrapping around every inch of the walls, was emblazoned a single, enormous mural, made up of thousands of smaller scenes. Much of the kingdom’s history was here depicted, but only one section caught Rowan’s eye. For an enormous expanse, there were rows upon rows of the scenes portraying battles, peace, great deeds of arms, noble works, great causes, extraordinary works of skillful healing; the latter predominated; layered and interwoven, but Rowan was not interested in any of these small panels. All around the room, these scenes from Ertraia’s history were drawn out as fresh as the days they had occurred, but not at the back of the rotunda. Here, spanning a huge stretch from floor to ceiling, pillar to pillar, there was one gigantic painting of a single action. A huge iridescent veil, shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow, rent with a single monstrous, dark tear. In the darkness beyond waited some vile, atrocious creature of evil, its unseen body blacker than pitch, blacker than the deepest night, with two hard eyes of blazing flame. Holding the fell beast back, there stood in the riven gap in the veil a small figure, robed in white, tiny, yet wielding a great and terrible yet beautiful power, pure as ice, hard as conviction, radiant with a luminance that, though it did not pierce the blackness beyond, seemed to be by some mystical hope drawing the torn veil back together, mending the rift.

Softly, Rowan exhaled, then swept a hand through the air in a wide arc. A sickly-colored dust suddenly became visible, covering the painting with a pallid shroud. As if exhausted, Rowan slumped forward, but he caught himself again with one long, slim hand laid directly over the white-robed figure. He straightened up again; his hand slid down over the mural, leaving a bright trail. Rowan sighed.

“The dark is gathering again, then,” a soft, kindly baritone intoned from behind him. The boy wiped a tear off the curved-T scar on his cheek. He turned slightly to face Halbryn Jaentyr and sighed.

“I guess so, Father,” he murmured. Halbryn cupped his son’s face in one large, strong, calloused hand and turned the boy’s face up to look at him.

“Speaking to the Guardian again, Rowan?” he asked gently. Rowan half-smiled, though his large, tawny dark eyes—his mother’s eyes—betrayed his inner worry.

“Well, not exactly. I guess he—she—whatever—well, it’s almost like… he’s in here, too.” Rowan tapped his forehead lightly. The big man smiled.

“In a way, I suppose he is,” Halbryn said quietly. “It’s almost time you knew…” The king broke off before he had finished his thought. “Well, you’re growing up quickly, son.” he amended. Rowan looked down at his bad leg. Halbryn followed his son’s gaze downward and sighed. He put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We did it to protect you, you know,” he said softly.

“I know,” Rowan replied.

“All life is not in feats of arms, son,” Halbryn said. “You are already the best healer in all the known lands. And your mother and I are very proud of you, even if you can’t be a warrior.” Rowan smiled ruefully and limped quietly away. Halbryn stayed for a while longer, staring at the still-faintly glowing, ugly dust, and the one clean, bright shimmering smear, and suddenly he wondered if it was a sign.

My first attempt at symbolic artwork. Rowan has prophetic dreams; I attempted to convey that here…

Did you enjoy the post? I hope so. 😉 Thanks for reading, and God Bless!

A Different Perspective

Tags

artwork, completely random posts, nature, silver carp, sir arthur conan doyle

Hello to all my readers! 😀

Today, I downloaded a few pictures from my camera (I was cleaning off my memory card in preparation for the March for Life next week–YAY! :-D), and I found a few pictures that offer a slightly different perspective on the world.

Enjoy!

A beaver chew; namely, a tree which has been (gasp!) chewed on by a beaver.

This is the enormous silver carp that jumped into Iris’s sister’s canoe when we were canoeing this fall. I’ll have to tell the rest of this story some time; it needs a post all its own!!!

This time, the beaver didn’t bite off more than he could chew. Maybe more than he could pull… ;-P

Two Fungi growing in a half-sawn tree. A different way of looking at things. 🙂

These next photos are all of the same book; one volume of my complete Sherlock Holmes collection.

Wow, I’ve been reading this book a lot… Those are all the bookmarks on my favorite stories. 😉

I’ve been reading this book too much, no? It should not look like this, methinks. 😛 Hey, at least we know it’s well-loved… 😛

This needs no explanation, I think.

I hope you enjoyed this post. Thanks for reading, and God Bless! 🙂

Redwall Art: The Tapestry of Martin the Warrior

Tags

artwork, brian jacques, completely random posts, redwall

This gallery contains 2 photos.

Hello, fellow Redwall fans and others who may or may not have read the books! Today I’m going to bring …

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Awed Beside His Ancestors

Tags

artwork, completely random posts, rambling musings, star wars

On with the show.

He stands at the feet of his spiritual ancestors.

An unnamed Jedi stands at the feet of his ancestors in spirit. The person in the stained-glass window is Erin Kenobi (the first Erin Kenobi,) a former outlander Jedi who joined the Jedi Order when it was first formed and fought in the first war against the Sith, before the Republic was even created. She could be considered either Obi-Wan’s spiritual ancestor or his great-aunt, a thousand generations removed. Take your pick.

And… is that Obi-Wan in the corner, dwarfed by the image? I don’t know. It COULD be. 😉 I apologize for the comparatively poor quality… I didn’t take as much time over this sketch as I usually do.

Media: Pencil on sketch paper.

Erin Kenobi is one of my characters (as well as being my username). There are actually two Jedi named Erin Kenobi– the second lived post-Return of the Jedi and was a grandniece of Obi-Wan Kenobi. She’s the character I most often act as. Thanks for checking in, and God Bless!

A Long, Long Way To Coruscant

Tags

artwork, completely random posts, rambling musings, star wars

All right, so my last drawing was Obi being naughty and getting in trouble. It’s time for some cuteness and cuddles… so to speak. Never fear, though, oh ye who do not hug. It’s very subdued, if very cute. 😉

Just some sweetness… never mind me…

Oh, darn it. It cut off their boots!

Never mind… *mutters* I worked hard at getting those just right, too…

So this picture has basically no backstory, except that Obi-Wan was very tired one day, and fell asleep on his master’s shoulder. Incidentally, this picture is older and I had less time to perfect my technique, so no flames, please. It’s still cute… I hope.

Media: Started with pencil on sketch paper, then outlined in pen.

Thanks for checking in! God Bless!

He Doesnae Doodle!

Tags

artwork, brave, brian jacques, completely random posts, disney, merida, redwall, star wars

“A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind.” — Jedi Grand Master Yoda, The Empire Strikes Back

Hey! It’s me again, with some more of that mysterious artwork I promised. Hmm… I should start posting some of my Redwall stuff as well, should I not? ;-P

Anyway, moving on, here we go with the next piece of snarkiness, a la Erin Kenobi…

Obi-Wan can’t be an angel all the time…

In this little masterpiece, we have a young (very young!) Obi-Wan who still has much to learn, and who isn’t moving very fast toward learning it.

In a word, he’s daydreaming–and doodling–when he should be paying attention to his Master.

Naughty Obi.

Er, ahem. ;-P

Anyway, I suppose that piece of ridiculousness needs some explanation. And I suppose that it’s also not quite good enough to demur that Ewan McGregor is a Scotsman. Soooooo… basically, the kid decided to act up and draw art not in art class, just like a certain princess of Dun Broch in Brave. I don’t know if he was in Geography or not, but still. He was doodling around, so to speak. And Qui-Gon caught him.

“A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind. HE DOESNAE DOODLE!” Yoda AND Elinor ;-P

Media used: Started with pencil on sketch paper, outlined in pen.

And, Obi-Wan…

I want a desk like that.

A New Hope (For The Hero’s Dream)

Tags

artwork, battlefield of the soul, completely random posts, nanowrimo 2013, national novel writing month, rambling musings, shifting tides series, star wars, the hero's dream

I’m sorry about the delay in posting the first part of Battlefield of the Soul. The clips and snatches I wrote it in have been uncommonly gnarly, and it’s becoming a character sketch for multiple of its enactors, so unfortunately it may take me a while to finish it. Apologies, once again.

However, on the bright side, now that National Novel Writing Month is over, I have taken up drawing once again. Still haven’t figured how to use that thingummybobbin (what a luscious word! I almost wish I was British at this rate. ;-P) that some Internet entities use to color their drawings on the computer, without struggling with colored pencils. So for now, I’m limited to line and shade, sadly… My drawing pad likes to smear, so when I do a sketch in pencil I have to either a) scan it in a hurry or b) ink the lines and erase the pencil. And that’s the same reason why I can’t color in these drawings by hand. (Sigh…)

And now, for you lovers of the Shifting Tides series, I have a special treat.

Obi-Wan’s appearance in “The Hero’s Dream” and sequels.

This is intended to be concept art, and I’m afraid… *cough* that in my opinion, it doesn’t look very much like Ewan McGregor at all… but it’s better than my former attempts. Sorry.

The tattoos are supposed to be blue, but since this was a bi-color sketch I wound up drawing them in black. The one that circles around under his left eye is the famed “Flame of Deriaka,” mark of the Royal House. The one on the forehead is a black orchid, meant to evoke the fleur-de-lis. It’s sort of the Sith version of it. (No apologies to any modern organization. The French monarchy copyrighted this first. Heehee.) And the one on the lower cheek is a bramble… rose among thorns… get it? ;-P

Anyway, so that’s my drawing of Obi-Wan as he appears in The Hero’s Dream. And my dad is kicking me off the computer to clean up.

Media: Pencil on sketch paper. I used my mechanical pencil with .5 mm leads. Believe it or not, art can be made from something mundane! 😉

Thanks for reading and/or browsing, and God Bless!

The Sidewalk Exhibition

Tags

artwork, completely random posts, lord of the rings, star wars, the hobbit, the scarlet pimpernel

This gallery contains 28 photos.

Hello, everyone! Just for a change of pace, I thought I would bring you something interesting, from our sidewalk to …

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