New Fantasy writing/modelling comp
It was going to be a mid-October launch, but have decided to launch now as it may take some time for people to decide to join and to get judges etc sorted. https://i.imgur.com/6m0241E.png ...
Forum Discussion
I'm the biggest slackerofferer to ever slack off.
Watch me get started on the writing. like right now.... yeah, haven't actually started on that part. :p
my pic:
Gonna get to work on this last minute essay. :p
Edit:
Extract from
The Very Secret Diary of Seth Magnus
Watch me get started on the writing. like right now.... yeah, haven't actually started on that part. :p
my pic:
Spoiler
https://78.media.tumblr.com/aa12ccc4dc5ab5356d974315c91c3d56/tumblr_ozge2fsGT11v2n804o1_1280.png
I cropped it badly.
This is Seth in his travelling outfit, it's less vibrant than his schooling outfit.
The village is rural. It has pigs, chickens and ducks.
Seth is sitting awkwardly on a bench. It took me ages to find a pose that worked for him holding the book, with it open so the viewer could see it. Sometimes the limitations of what poses you can find forces you to be more creative.
I cropped it badly.
This is Seth in his travelling outfit, it's less vibrant than his schooling outfit.
The village is rural. It has pigs, chickens and ducks.
Seth is sitting awkwardly on a bench. It took me ages to find a pose that worked for him holding the book, with it open so the viewer could see it. Sometimes the limitations of what poses you can find forces you to be more creative.
Gonna get to work on this last minute essay. :p
Edit:
Extract from
Spoiler
The headmage finally allowing me to re-enter the world, to help it's people, has turned out to be more wearing on my body and mind than I had imagined possible. The sole of my right boot is wearing thin. My pack grows heavier with every step, and my bedroll appears to have a patch of mould growing on it. But these are not the greatest of concerns.
The group the headmage sent me to join are an unusual bunch. I am yet to understand their motives for joining in this mission of aid, though they seem friendly enough.
We entered into the Shadow Mountains of Oberron, and met with the druid Beargrim. His people are being not only threatened by evil, but transformed into something... else. He spoke of a false face in a cavern, and the few who escaped bearing the symbol of an eye. Even his own son has been touched by this evil.
Beargrim sent us to the village of Wolfwater, to meet with a Gnomish merchant going by the name of Murbil Kilmir. This may or may not be her true name, being a Gnome, it is likely that it is a false name. Beargrim said that he had not heard from her in some time. Gnomes are not known for their bravery, so considering the evil danger in the region, I am not surprised that she may be out of contact.
We arrived in the village of Wolfwater as the day was nearing its end. The villagers were not well dressed, and the buildings were not in the best state of repair. The people seemed uncertain of our approach. Only one turned to greet us, though I feel he may be untrustworthy. Being a half orc perhaps is part of the cause, though dressed as a peasant, and with no weapons obvious upon him, something about his bearing makes me suspicious that he is something more than a simple villager.
He told us his name is Gnaabak Orgoth, and claims to be a forest reeve. This might be the truth. Orcs are not typically intelligent enough to make up a lie, but being a half orc means that he might be smart enough to tell some false tales.
“We have no inn, no tavern and no time for strangers. I suggest you move on,” Were the exact words that he used in an attempt to dismiss us, and encourage us to leave the village.
This is suspicious.
A village such as this would normally be more welcoming. The overall feel of the place is tense.
We explained to him that we are seeking the trader Murbil Kilmir, and hoped to purchase some supplies. He grunted at this. He actually grunted. Like a boar. I have never heard anyone make a noise quite like it.
He waved his arm in the direction of a run down looking cottage.
“Left in the night, they did. Murbil talked of better trading in Mythville. Made her family pack up and move. Stay there if you must, they left nothing of value. Be gone by morning, we don't want strangers nosing about our village. The pigs do that enough.”
The cottage was mostly empty, and what remained had clearly been riffled through. We searched through the remnants, and compared our findings.
Our friendly barbarian, in typical barbarian fashion, was violently hungry, and in the search for a snack, hit a shelf with his head, dislodging an otherwise hidden tome. Flipping through it's pages, I spotted a drawing which eerily resembles a pendant Markus found trampled into the dirt of the floor.
Between our group, we conclude that something here is very wrong. The trader and her family are unlikely to have simply packed up as we were told. Between the book, the pendant and the eye that Beargrim spoke of. It would seem that we are dealing with someone using a Providence Eye.
Outside, it seemed that the villagers were watching us, though they appeared to be going about their business.
With all of us feeling uneasy, we decided that it would be best if someone kept watch throughout the night.
I am thankful that not one of us is simple minded, nor too trusting.
The headmage finally allowing me to re-enter the world, to help it's people, has turned out to be more wearing on my body and mind than I had imagined possible. The sole of my right boot is wearing thin. My pack grows heavier with every step, and my bedroll appears to have a patch of mould growing on it. But these are not the greatest of concerns.
The group the headmage sent me to join are an unusual bunch. I am yet to understand their motives for joining in this mission of aid, though they seem friendly enough.
We entered into the Shadow Mountains of Oberron, and met with the druid Beargrim. His people are being not only threatened by evil, but transformed into something... else. He spoke of a false face in a cavern, and the few who escaped bearing the symbol of an eye. Even his own son has been touched by this evil.
Beargrim sent us to the village of Wolfwater, to meet with a Gnomish merchant going by the name of Murbil Kilmir. This may or may not be her true name, being a Gnome, it is likely that it is a false name. Beargrim said that he had not heard from her in some time. Gnomes are not known for their bravery, so considering the evil danger in the region, I am not surprised that she may be out of contact.
We arrived in the village of Wolfwater as the day was nearing its end. The villagers were not well dressed, and the buildings were not in the best state of repair. The people seemed uncertain of our approach. Only one turned to greet us, though I feel he may be untrustworthy. Being a half orc perhaps is part of the cause, though dressed as a peasant, and with no weapons obvious upon him, something about his bearing makes me suspicious that he is something more than a simple villager.
He told us his name is Gnaabak Orgoth, and claims to be a forest reeve. This might be the truth. Orcs are not typically intelligent enough to make up a lie, but being a half orc means that he might be smart enough to tell some false tales.
“We have no inn, no tavern and no time for strangers. I suggest you move on,” Were the exact words that he used in an attempt to dismiss us, and encourage us to leave the village.
This is suspicious.
A village such as this would normally be more welcoming. The overall feel of the place is tense.
We explained to him that we are seeking the trader Murbil Kilmir, and hoped to purchase some supplies. He grunted at this. He actually grunted. Like a boar. I have never heard anyone make a noise quite like it.
He waved his arm in the direction of a run down looking cottage.
“Left in the night, they did. Murbil talked of better trading in Mythville. Made her family pack up and move. Stay there if you must, they left nothing of value. Be gone by morning, we don't want strangers nosing about our village. The pigs do that enough.”
The cottage was mostly empty, and what remained had clearly been riffled through. We searched through the remnants, and compared our findings.
Our friendly barbarian, in typical barbarian fashion, was violently hungry, and in the search for a snack, hit a shelf with his head, dislodging an otherwise hidden tome. Flipping through it's pages, I spotted a drawing which eerily resembles a pendant Markus found trampled into the dirt of the floor.
Between our group, we conclude that something here is very wrong. The trader and her family are unlikely to have simply packed up as we were told. Between the book, the pendant and the eye that Beargrim spoke of. It would seem that we are dealing with someone using a Providence Eye.
Outside, it seemed that the villagers were watching us, though they appeared to be going about their business.
With all of us feeling uneasy, we decided that it would be best if someone kept watch throughout the night.
I am thankful that not one of us is simple minded, nor too trusting.
