|I'm testing the willingness of total strangers to give me imaginary Internet points.|
After dinner, the townsfolk invited me to Sunday mass. Though not especially religious myself, honoring God for my survival and rescue seemed prudent.
I will admit that I never paid much attention in church as a child, but I do not remember God being a bizarre amalgamation of sea beasts.
The chapel had no clear symbols of Protestant or Papist allegiance, with nary a cross or Virgin Mary in sight. Instead, the main decorations were unsettling marine features- carved tentacles wrapped around the pillars in exquisite detail as colossal ribs formed vaulted arches.
The service never dwelt on love or mercy for very long- the Sea has no moral compass, for good or ill, and all the offerings in the world could not save the town from a cataclysmic storm. Nonetheless, the Sea deserves respect, and I gathered that I should not blaspheme it.
The hymns were solemn dirges sung by the town’s oldest men, with only the barest hint of joy or triumph. Despite the language barrier, I understood the message- the Sea does not care if we live or die, but that is not an excuse to forsake responsibility.
It is a call to create something meaningful despite the Sea.---
The Styborski Twins, done in a much more interesting pose!
I liked the original premise because I’m a fan of goblins and extremely Eastern European names and twins completely in sync with each other, but damn it was a boring, static pose.
I like working in this kind of thick-line Saturday-morning-cartoon style, it’s just such a blast to go wild with stylization and coloring.
On my fourth day in the desert, I came across a colossal elephant that paid no mind to the square-cube law. On its back was a small city, mostly in the Byzantine or Mohammedan style. I was hailed and welcomed- the residents are clearly used to meeting strange travelers.
The people were very welcoming and hospitable, inviting me to worship with them. The temple had the trappings and imagery of Islam, but the service bore no relation to anything Abrahamic- as far as I could tell, it centered around nature spirits whose names I was not allowed to transcribe.
The buildings in the inner sections had architecture at least seven centuries old, remarkably well-preserved by the desert air. I couldn’t investigate very much since I needed a guide with me, and the guide refused to take me to the city’s heart.
This theme was constant through the visit: I was accepted as a guest, but I received hostile glares if I asked too many questions or dug too deep. I suppose they have experience dealing with spies and saboteurs.
For my own self-preservation, I left after spending one night. Before I left I was inspected for any artifacts I may have stolen, after which I received a hearty goodbye and a free canteen.
I have never seen this elephant since my visit, and I cannot find any records of it in local histories; the only proof I have of my visit is a small beaded trinket and the canteen. The attached sketch was created from memory; I do not claim that it perfectly captures the true scale or style of the city.
If anyone can corroborate my story, please send me a letter. Ironclad proof that I have not gone mad is always appreciated.
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Fugue is the warden of everything humanity doesn’t or shouldn’t know. He grows stronger whenever a secret is forgotten, and weaker when it’s discovered again. All the glyphs on his body are just decoys, plausible-sounding but nonsensical.
Enlightenment is the sum of all knowledge and wisdom condensed into an unfathomably dense point, hellbent on spreading what she knows without considering if should be known at all.
They’re bound together to keep each other in check: Enlightenment compulsively spreads both beautiful and horrifying truth, and Fugue hoards both useful and dangerous knowledge.
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I drew Wrath as he’s described in the play Faustus for a school assignment!
"I am Wrath. I had neither father nor mother: I
leapt out of a lion’s mouth when I was scarce an hour old;
and ever since have run up and down the world with this
case of rapiers, wounding myself when I could get none to
fight withal. I was born in hell; and look to it, for some of
you shall be my father.”
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Some of my favorite artists are Jen Zee, Nils Hamm, Igor Kieryluk, and Ai Weiwei.|
I am a self-taught digital artist who, in retrospect, probably should have gotten Photoshop instead of Flash. Whatever, it's a moot point now.