Born First

Scrottus tapped a crossbow bolt on the metal plate in his skull. His little tribe had been sharing stories of their youth. Though the goblin chose to process little more than the soft murmurs of their voices. His decrepit little mind had a difficult time with chronology and facts. More specifically he could never remember what it was he was supposed to remember about any given thing. The tapping intensified until each of his companions had shot him disapproving glares while trying to listen to Kaji. Scrottus wondered for a moment at what they had hoped to stir in him with those looks. A few dozen more taps and he decided keeping them pleased enough to continue defending him would be the goblin thing to do. A few dozen more taps and he stopped.

The murmurs shifted in pitch and he knew his turn was fast approaching. Memories of a goblin female whelping him flashed to his mind. Or was that his offspring. Would he remember seeing himself be born? The plate on his skull begin to feel hot. He remembered a fire or at least had the scars that told him so. He remembered the burnt flesh of his tribesblins filling him with a gnawing hunger. Did he set the fire or had it been an attempt on his life. He remembered worshippers and Maglubiyet. Had he been sacrificed to the flaming goblin or had the fire been Maglubiyet eradicating the cult of Scrottus. “…the scrottila…” He quietly whispered the name. Refusing to believe he was doing so out of fear of his god.They called him the firstborn, though he remembered less than usual about who “they” were. The voices paused and he saw that their eyes were on him. The goblin hopped to his feet making himself maybe an inch taller than he was when sitting on his stump.

“I come from the place all goblins do…” he said. His companions looked confused. Bowlt was about to speak when the goblin continued. “…but the comin’s and goin’s of goblins don’t make for exciting tellings. I wanna tell yous about why they” who were they? the globin pondered “call me the firstborn!” He could see intrigue wash across his tribes’ faces. Often had they wondered why this disfigured little murderer called himself the firstborn. “Many… long time… ago in a cave hidin’ behind water fallin’ a great big ol’ goblin tribe sat and whispered many no-tells. Layin’ on black stones were a tribesfem sick and dead…”

Kaji interrupted “How can you be sick and dead? Doesn’t the latter nullify the former?”

Idiot thought Scrottus to himself, of himself. Or did he. His evil little eyes looked to Carver.

Carver… he thought wrathfully. If the shade was reading his mind it gave no sign. Or maybe his mind was too disorienting to be read. This pleased the devious little wretch. Kaji continued “So? How was she sick and dead?”

“Yes, yes, blame the dark one! He distract Scrottus and waste time! umm… what had happened was… her soul caught a plague!” The others looked incredulous or perhaps impressed. Yes, yes, my tale enthralls them! the words echoed in the goblin’s skull. “Her soul needed healin’ but the chief said to send her to Maglubiyet. The shamans raised much fire and cooked her flesh to free her soul. As her fleshed cooked her womb was burst by my tiny, deadly claws! I crawled from her wounds to the floor of the cave. They named me Scrottus the firstborn… for I was born first and my fleshed look to them as the son-sack of our men.” His companions looked upset and aghast. And yet they seemed eager for more. “How did you survive?!” they all belched in unison.

Scrottus’ pupils overtook his eyes like a shark. He remembered something, clearly this time, he had seen the sheblin be burnt. And watched the child emerge but he was not the child. He had been compelled, somehow, to wade through the flames. To devour the child and take its dark blessings. He remembered many goblins screaming. His plate burned and now it felt like those dark flames.

The silence hung in the air for a while before Terios shifted and said “Well then, I suppose it’s my turn.” Scrottus stared at the dirt and tried to draw a timeline of his life. A few moments later, and more twists and turns than the arrow of time allows, he felt the futility of the endeavour. The minotaur no doubt would have harrowing exploits to distract his cursed mind.

猫セコ (Neko Seco)

After a sudden infatuation with Naomie Harris, I had the desire to draw a woman of African decent.

By mere chance I happened to have a few sanguine Conté Crayons in my box-o-things. Which lead to me play around with the coloring. In an odd twist of fate I actually like how this looks. Currently it is on sketch paper but I think I will make a final version of it at some point in the future.

If you’re wondering what “Neko Seco” is you should probably just stop. It is a dumb inside joke that I have decided to adhere to this and any other drawings like this I make.

 

The Preemptive Gritty Reboot

During another (voluntary) long night I have decided to revamp the setting and time period for Tales of Ayabar. While I do intend to use Ukik and its current division of states, I have changed the history and political climate. I am aware that as far as actual posts go I haven’t explained a single detail of anything I’m changing. Just take my word for it. In lieu of this decision I have made a new, rough sketch of the protagonist. Still no idea what to name him though….

The Nor Debut

I have decided to debut one of the main races that will be featured in Warp World. Their name is the Nor.

The Nor are a pseudo-reptilian race, with no visual distinction between males and females (they discern the sex of other Nor through smell). They are the smallest sentient race, standing at an average of 1m tall. Their skin displays a range of tones from green to blue to purple. They have large eyes with horizontal double pupils which helps them to see in the dark. Their skulls have a double lobed appearance. Norran mouths are wide and thin, filled with sharp dagger like teeth. The Nor also possess two large retractable fangs on their lower jaw. Original used to sever the arteries of larger prey animals. The Nor do not share human limb proportions. Their arms are much longer than their legs. They have four digits on their hands and only two on their feet.

While Nor are spread fairly evenly throughout Ernic-Staal, their “Home-land” is Norrea. Norrea is mainly composed of one vast desert sandwiched between the ocean to the east and a mountain range to the west. To the south is an enormous delta and the land of New Norrea, a country founded by Nor who disagreed with the isolationist policies of the Norrean (Norran when referring to the race and Norrean when referring to Norrea) government. The capitol of Norrea is the Colossus, the largest piece of functional “celestial technology” known in the world, a large bipedal automaton that carries the city on its back.

The Nor’s above average intelligence has given them an upper-hand in comparison to the other races but they are still not advanced enough to reproduce “celestial technology.” This intelligence has also lead to Norran outside of Norrea being pigeon-holed into jobs as inventors, scribes, and the like. Norran warriors are rare outside of Norrea, as the Norran opinion is that the other races are better suited for that kind of work. The typical Norran military role is as an engineer who specializes in the nuanced use of “celestial technology.”

I apologize for the vagueness prevalent throughout this post but a lot of the details are still gestating in my mind.

Here are some Images for your perusal. At the time of posting I was limited to the ones I had created through MS Paint on my laptop. This will be updated soon.

 A 16×16 Sprite of a Nor.

Simple Nor doodles in varying clothes.

Concept for Colossus.

 A 1366×768 Wallpaper (Unedited)

 A 1366×768 Wallpaper (Edited)

Warp World

After doom has been visited upon their world, four siblings take their chances by passing through an ancient portal from which no one has returned. The four must hide from Warp Guardians who seek to destroy them while making their living as soldiers of fortune. Each possessing the power to control an element they must forge a new destiny in a strange world.

Cat Scratch

A new story has festered its way through my head and out my hands. The title of said story would be “Cat Scratch.” Cat Scratch is the tale of a spoiled boy who gets ran over by a truck. During his stay in limbo he is given the ultimatum to defeat an evil spirit in order to avoid his fate of being reincarnated as a stray cat. A parole officer in the form of a sentient scarf is assigned to oversee his efforts. The story will chronicle the efforts of our young hero as he is forced to do battle with a mysterious group knows as “The End.”