Notebook: "look like you could be possessed"

“I was instructed to bring you to the factory building,” Fell said.  “Turn around, look at me.” 

I did, leaning against the car door for support. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I don’t have to bring you if I have reason to believe you’re not you.  You look like you could be possessed.” 

“You’re fucking with me?” I asked. 

“If your head turned around three hundred and sixty degrees,” Fell said, his tone placid, “and you started spewing projectile vomit everywhere, I wouldn’t be particularly surprised.”

So this was a fun one. Didn't turn out the way I initially wanted it to... but I wanted to sort of capture what a very tired and fucked up Blake might look like when using the Sight. Which somehow includes flame-like hair? Maybe its the radiation.

I have no idea.

Moving on. 
More doodles.

I intend to come back and finish fleshing out this scene - drawing Fell with a gun is ever so fun :D

Personal update: injured my hand last week - its healed now and I've been an insomniac since then, churning doodles out left and right. Hoping I'll get lots of little goodies posted this week. 

3.x - Sandra and Hildr

"Dark skinned, white furred, Hildr was more wart and scar than clean flesh where flesh was visible, her hair and fur were long and tied into braids as thick around as Sandra’s arm, the longest braids locked into place with iron shackles that could be used to dash a man’s skull to pieces.  Her arms were disproportionately long, with lines and cords of muscle visible even beneath the long, brushed fur.  All in all, she was of a size and bulk that suggested she could catch a charging rhino and wrestle it to the ground."

From the initial description of Hildr, I knew I had to draw her.
I mean, its a Scandinavian TROLL. That's so badass.

Here is a quick Sandra sketch, from how she is initially described in her "histories" chapter... reluctantly wearing a corset, with her chalice, and little stoat around her shoulders. I did my best to draw something like an 80's fantasy gown haha.

I'm beginning work on the following scene, where she negotiating with the Faerie, in their realm. At first I was thrilled, but now... *sobs* the detail. OH GOD THE LEVEL OF DETAIL. WHY.


UPDATE: woke up with a swollen hand. Tendinitis flared up in my drawing hand's thumb and wrist overnight; it happens from time to time. Going to let off the drawing for a few days so this can heal. I still have to use my hands at work quite a bit, but hopefully that will be alright.

Preview: Art nouveau sneak peek

My friday deadline came and went.
Sigh.

Been working on this single piece for over 20 hours. Not straight, usually in 5 hour chunks, but the bottom line is, I'm losing my mind.

Here's all that I can give to you:

Blake's tired face and a preview of Rose in a stylized bike mirror surrounded by holly, as a minor piece of the Art Nouveau portrait. I can't share any more of this because I've repainted it about 5 times and frankly, its a mess. Going back and forth between traditional and digital media is merry hell.

(All will make sense when I finally upload the final piece)

If I just find time to pull another spare 15 hours or so this week, this will be complete and I can go back to doing chapter doodles.

I appreciate your patience.

5.6. - Urrrrr

Click to enlarge.

"It took only a second to get the diagram burning.  All of my surroundings were dimly illuminated, now, cast in faint yellow and orange.  The shapes on the walls seemed to move back and forth as the flame did. 

I saw it to my left.  It was barely visible in the shadow before it retreated to further darkness, vague and nebulous when I looked at it without really looking.  It moved like a hand without an accompanying body, of its own volition, using fingers to drag itself along the floor, perhaps.  A bulky, multi-limbed, asymmetrical body, with limbs that moved so quickly they might have been flickering.  Matte black.  It might have been a spider gone wrong ten times over with some full-body cancer, or a giant hunchbacked man with a dozen arms that were stretched long enough to reach over and under one another.  But it wasn’t.  It was a demon of the choir of darkness.  Something that had been given life in counterpoint to creation.  It was aged limbs, withered ones, from every species and no species in particular. 

It was nearly silent.  There was only a shuffling, the faintest scrape of body against floor.The front of the body disappeared, and some form of lower body or tail dragged behind it, like entrails trailing behind a man that had been bisected, a spine without the accompanying stomach, or a naked tail.  The trailing flesh was bent in places, as if it had been broken badly and bones had reset improperly.  A kind of detail that teased, invited me to look, as if it were a clue I could use.  But looking was a trap."

This one didn't quite come out the way I wanted it to. This particular demon is so nasty, so intriguing, so... Lovecraftian. It captured my heart instantly. I love drawing it and coming up with all the entrails, creepy hands, veins, and tentacles. Demons are so fun.

I will be revisiting this scene again, you can be sure of that.

1.1 - Hillsglade House in Technicolor

Click to enlarge.

Same ballpoint drawing as before, just throwing shit-tons of watercolor paint at it. This style is way more fun, I have to admit.

1.1 - In the beginning, there was a Blake.

" .... I looked down the length of the street.  The property was framed by a short stone wall, shoulder height, along with an elaborate iron fence of roughly the same height, shaped into curling vines with metal points at set intervals.  It had been covered in some black paint or coating, but rust and peeling paint made for a mottled texture.  ‘No parking’ signs, a good distance in every direction.  I was already regretting coming.  Damn me, I thought, not for the first or second time. 

Further down the street, a few of the locals had stopped on a corner to talk.  Odd, how they kept looking at me.

Their eyes on my back, I pushed my motorcycle, guiding it through the gap between car and fence.  I set it on the lawn, leaning against the inside of the fence. 

I wasn’t in a rush.  I had made promises to myself.  I wouldn’t get caught up in their tempo.  Taking my time, I removed my helmet, wiped the sweat from my forehead and scalp.  Putting my hands in my pockets to be sure I had my keys, I felt paper crumple.  I went through my pockets, sorting out the change, bills and receipts I’d hastily pocketed at a rest stop along the way.

Procrastinating.

Looking up at the namesake hill, I could see the house.  Not big, but it drew attention because of the way it looked down on the two-theater podunk town.  It wasn’t dark, and it wasn’t ominous.  Barring a slightly overgrown garden, trees that had grown well beyond the quaint, tidy little decorations they might have been when the house was built, and the railing, it was nothing more than a nice house.  I’d dated a wannabe-architect at one point, a brief-lived fling.  I didn’t remember much, but I didn’t feel confident labeling the place as Victorian...."

Fell view HERE


Opening scene, ladies and gentlemen.

Some ball-point pen doodles that I took into photoshop and played with. I don't know how I feel about this one. I'm still trying to figure out a certain style for Pact. I'm really leaning towards a watercolor feel. Might play around with that in a bit.

ONE THING IS FOR CERTAIN, though. Blake rides a beat up cafe-racer with club handlebars. Its never stated, and I have no idea what Wildbow envisions, but... this is what I think.

The kid has class.



Update:
defined some of the lines - made Jacob's Bell hills and houses in the far right side a little more prominent.

Its so hard for me to leave drawings alone!

Notebook: Back against the wall.

...is not smoke.
Just cold.

Because CANADA.


Thought for the day... if circles and triangles help to ward stuff off in this universe, man, FRACTALS must be the shit.