Meet Ash Skarslard

When Ash Skarslard ran away to join the circus in Chicago, he knew it would change his life forever. What he didn't know was how much it would. Realizing he was deathly afraid of tigers was only the beginning.
When an accident on the main track sends the Tyrus Bros circus train on a five hour detour, they are forced to stop in Arskone to refill their coal. But the train will never leave. As the train slows to a stop at the sleepy station, hell itself erupts around them, swallowing performers and animals alike. And the creatures of darkness have plans for all of them.

Twisted and warped into his own greatest fear, Ash became one of them, no longer alive, not quite dead, eaten and hollowed out by his terror and anger. Terror at what he had become, anger at the ones who had done it to him. Terror at their retaliation, anger at the ones who had caused it all in the first place; those praying folk across the tracks.

Light fades, sundown comes; the time to strike is now

Slip across the battlelines; assassin on the prowl

Darkness will reign, chaos clutches deep

The price for life is steep

Meet Chase Forthen

*First of all, let me apologize for the apparent youth of the characters in the drawings. Apparently I can't draw age very well yet. Assume, for the present, that these were vignettes taken when they were a few years younger.

Meet Chase Forthen, a young man who had to grow up far too quickly when his hometown of Arskone became a battleground overnight. The son of the town's preacher, both his parents were killed in the first attacks, leaving Chase with the responsibility of caring for the hundred or so souls who had come to his father's chapel every Sunday. And doing so meant taking the fight to the enemy. 

For these attackers were not men of flesh and blood, but far darker things of the night and of death; foul things sent from the very bowels of hell. 

Against this undead menace Chase and the men of Arskone rose up, quickly learning the ways of a war where a blade might give more protection than a gun, and a prayer more power than a calvary charge. They became shadehunters, warriors against the night, and very real defenders of their faith and homes.

As the war drew on, quickly turning into a stalemate along the front lines of the old railroad tracks, Chase became known for his skill, fortitude, and unshaken trust in his God. But something was coming, something that would shake the already upside down Arskone to its very core, and Chase along with it. For God never forsakes His children, yet never stops teaching them. And the son of the preacher still has much to learn.

Night falls, the specters rise; the war beings once again

Hope fades, darkness sighs; who can see the end?

Stand fast, hold your ground; let them not win this night!

Be strong, listen to the sound; dawn will bring the light!

Deep Red

A picture can say a thousand words, or so the saying goes. But is it true? You decide.

Cordan left the old man snoring and made his down down through the clutteryard, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Piles of scrap metal lined the path, rusting ships, smashed towers, bits of cranes and buggies; anything metal you could think of came here to die. Cordan kicked a hub cap off the path absently and listened to the ensuing crash of whatever it had hit falling over.

The antennae towers loomed ahead, twisting spires of metal rearing high up over the surrounding piles. Lines draped from one to another, ladders hung here and there, and everything seemed connected to something else, so that the final effect was of a giant spiderweb of rusting metal suspended over the clutteryard. And if the antennas made a spiderweb, then Reese was the spider, a tiny body hanging upside down from a ladder, his shock of dirty blonde hair ruffled by the breeze.

It's always fun to try to paint the image in your mind across a canvas, be the medium what it may. 

But out of curiosity, do any of you use strange or interesting mediums to paint what's in your mind's eye? Or am I just a wierdo? :)

Fullscreen Writing and other

Well, I guess this post needs no explanation; the title says it all: I have (re)discovered fullscreen writing. I had dabbled with this amazing idea back during NaNoWriMo 2010, but hadn't really been hooked.

Then, last week, while forcing myself to write, I remembered. A few google searches and disappointing tries later, I found one that worked.

And let me tell you; getting your desktop to disappear is amazing. When it's just you and the words, they come SO much easier. I started writing, and before I knew it, I had written a thousand.





This is a really lame post, if you hadn't noticed. Oh well. Maybe a beautiful picture of a far-away, imaginary place will help with the lameness.

 Maybe not. My brain's fried right now. Finals are next week, I just got back from a visit to the college I'm transferring to in the fall, and I've got a fair bit of homework to do.

Oi.

Until my brains become Un-fried,

Farjag

Sometimes...

Sometimes you just need to escape.

Sometimes you need to lose yourself.

Sometimes you need to find yourself somewhere else.

And since escape destinations aren't exactly commonplace in Smalltown USA,

Sometimes you need a beautiful picture.

Or a beautiful painting.

Then, after a sigh and a deep breath of that adventuresome air, you're ready to dive back into the real world and all it's chaotic depths.

May your paths be blessed.


(All pictures copyright their respective owners, taken from a wallpapers app)

What I've Been Working On

Hey everyone, I'm not dead yet!  And I'm back. Well, temporarily. See, for the entirety of the last two weeks I've been working on this baby: 

Remember that Dune Crossover project I was brainstorming for in Architectural Design a while back? Well, this is it! All done, finally! And if anyone remembers that far back, I was struggling to come up with a concept that I could represent in a non-literal fashion. (I.e. no giant fishes to represent... fish) So, I finally found a concept I liked, and that was Time. And this is my representation of time.

Now, it's a bit abstract, so it isn't as good a solution as I'd like. In other words, looking at that doesn't necessarily remind you of time unless I told you that was what it was. The first five rings (smaller ones), would actually rotate completely around if this was built for real, and be marked in minutes, hours, days, months and years. So the first part is actually a clock. But as you pass under the clock, and head down to the beach, the rings get farther apart and time stops. Because who wants to be reminded of what time it is while they're on the beach? So that's my explanation, though I'm not sure if it passes muster. Hopefully I get an A. :)

But, hey! It looks good, functions well, and came out nice! In case anyone's interested, I used balsa and basswood for most of the structure, and poplar for the rings (sturdier for cutting with a bandsaw).

So, now that that's done, I get to come back, right? Wrong! And that's a good thing. Why? Because Holy Week starts today, and as a way of preparing my heart and mind for Resurrection Sunday, I am going to cut down on all unnecessary computer time, which, of course, includes blogging. So, I'll be gone till after Easter, when hopefully blogging life will return to normal. Well, as normal as blogging life gets, that is :)

Until then, my friends, fare well!

 Oh, and I'll be answering all those messages on my phone when I come back for real!

The World of Quartorlen

Ladies and gentlemen,

I give you....

Quartorlen

To the northwest is Thunderfell of the chalk cliffs and blue downs while to the northeast liesWhitefall, with its soaring white peaks and icy seas. To the east the Sinkfells, that misty land where the very ground has sunk into itself, divides Whitefall from Deepdale, whose green forests and grassy plains stand tall against the turquoise of Jadewater Sound. In the southeast, Flamehope's volcanos spew lava even during the snows of winter, and the land grows ever more rocky until it reaches Taeltongue peninsula. And in the center of this colorful lands lies what was once Brightdown. But now it has been renamed Darkdell and is enclosed with a stone wall known as the Stonesunder. Here the shieldsfell reign paramount, centered around the Arcpeak and the tyrant who rules from within. 

But no mortal, even a tyrant such as the Titan-mage, has an arm long enough or eyes quick enough to scour the land of all his enemies. For deep in the Tanglethorn lies a small glade covered with small white flowers. Paelglade is its name, and the name of the freeborn who dwells there is Farjag, Tiger-claw. Soon the time will come when he is forced from his hiding to do what must be done. For not until the Titan-mage is slain will he stop his forward-marching tide of conquest, and soon not only Quartorlen, but the entirety of Primorlen and even worlds beyond may fall beneath his vengeful iron fist. 

Imagination stimuli

When I'm writing, I get these wonderful pictures in my head of the locations I place my characters. Epic, sweeping, unique places that leave an permanent imprint in my mind. Even if I haven't written that part of a particular story yet, I can remember the location months later as clearly as when I first imagined it. (This is why I tend to over-describe; I want the reader to imagine it exactly like I do). But sometimes, just describing the location in prose isn't enough.

That's when the little gnome artist that lives in my mind pops up his wee little capped head, a impish grin spread across his wrinkled features. And straightaway he's off to find another medium to express the wonderful idea I've had.

Often it's paper and pencil, but it shapes itself into a drawing. Usually merely a hasty sketch or roughed out background around the key centerpiece, these drawings may not be the most wonderful works of art, but they speak volumes more than even words ever could. One morning at work when nothing was going on I grabbed a sheet of parchment paper and a pen and roughed out a cutaway of a Silverwind tent from Silver and Sable. It's nothing fancy, and the lack of any sort of line hierarchy makes it somewhat difficult to read, but it gave me the clearest picture of the Silverwind landscape I've come up with yet.

(It was a bit slow that day :P)

Other times, it's 3D modeling. I've built inns, gates, towers, and started countless other studies in the wonderful world of 3D modeling. My latest creation was a tavern with rooms above for travelers.

(Notice the unfinished back wing... still working on this one)

And one my little gnome's favorites; Legos! Yes, these surprisingly versatile and totally epic plastic blocks  have been fashioned into some of my most epic landscapes and scenes.

(Me and my little sister did this the other day;

I did the rocks and grass, she did the snow and guy)

So, what do you use to help your imagination out?