Archive for November 27th, 2011

#27 Phil the Double-Jointed Flamingo

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

A quick return to the bird category, but a much more modern species!  Not only does this tropical bird have excellent balance, he’s flexible too! Imagine the possibilities of a double-jointed fowl!

#27: The Eldest Child

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

She cut her long hair so that she can fight.

She ran with her siblings through dead, quiet night.

She rescued her sisters, she says she’s done well.

She can hunt, she can fish, in Nature’s cold hell.

She did what she had to so they would survive.

And nightly she weeps for the things left behind.

But when the day breaks and she feels dawn’s breath,

She knows now’s the time for looking ahead.

 

#23 – Norvus Napheem

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

doodlesheep

#27 Quiche

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Quiche is a neurotic mess.  He spends most of his time worrying.  He is extremely awkward.

#24 – Sylph Conjurer

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Nyallah is a sylph- an entity closely tied to the fae. Her beauty is otherworldly, her form dictated by her mood and the winds as much as by any laws that bind true flesh. As such, she is able to readily allow magic to flow through her, making her an amazing channeler of sorcery.

#27 – King

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

#26 – Skinny Barbarian

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Planethead

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

#27 Corey Calihan

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Corey is the oldest Calihan Brother. He’s worked hard and has done well for himself. He means well but often gives Jace and Rex a hard time with his false interest in their “Karate” School (which makes Rex batty because they don’t teach “Karate”) He’s not a bad guy but he’s passive aggressive and frustrates his younger brothers to no end… he knows nothing about the business of running a martial arts school but often offers unsolicited advice on how to do it. What makes Corey the most frustrating though is that he is a good man and he loves his family and can be very generous, they’d just all be happier if he didn’t always have the last word.

#25 – Surfer

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

 

Wait! You’re going the wrong way!

#27: The Serpent

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Real Name: Norman Young

Age: 29

Height: 6’1

Weight: 210 lbs.

Powers: mutated with lizard and snake DNA, razor sharp claws, enhanced strength and speed

Character info: Serpent was a villain that I put in my comics I drew as a kid, around 12 or 13 years old. I had a crazed villain named The Inventor who would convince people to take part in his animal mutation experiments. Serpent was one of the last he created (I can think of about 10 different heroes and villains I made up who were the result of these experiments). Serpent is extremely powerful and intimidating, causing trouble for any hero that crosses his path!

#22 – Mother Webb

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Jamie Gambell, author of The Hero Code and Omnitarium, put out a call for his 30 Characters in 30 Days effort and this was my response. Providing just a name, I created the character. Jamie then drew up the character sheet.

You can see all of Jamie’s 30 Characters here.

#24 – Cowboy

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

A quick cowboy. 

 

#27 The Nightmarenauts

| November 27, 2011 | 4 Comments

 

The heroic trio had been in a lot of strange situations.

 

The Nightmarenauts © and TM  Mike Dubisch 2011

Visit me on the web @ DUBISCH.COM and on FaceBook!

#26 Revenir and the Wizard of Endor

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

I am not a necromancer.  I have always done white magic. The skull at my side is my companion, my adviser and my closest friend.  It is his mission I am on:  To banish the monsters from this world-  Rid this plain of these creatures before the great evil rises. Revenir has been to the other side, he has seen the future, and I, the Wizard of Endor have sworn to him I will prevent the Dregvant Army from ever forming.

Revenir and the Wizard of Endor © and TM Mike Dubisch

Visit me at www.dubisch.com and on Facebook!

#27: Joe, the Kiss fan

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

He’s just this guy who really like the band Kiss a lot!

Thanks, Xavier

#15 Qulloitis

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Qulloitis, “the white crowned prince”.  He’s got a malevolent parasitic organism attached to the base of his skull which controls him and keeps him alive.
Part of an RPG project a group of  friends and I are working on.

#25 SylkWyrm

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

The strange pupa hung from the branch, longer and thinner then any Raejean had ever seen.

It’s green and violet surface shimmered in the afternoon sun, and she was immediately attracted to it.

An independent girl, Raejean was known for taking long treks in the woods when her chores were complete.  The sun was low in the sky, splashing the clouds with red and orange and casting long shadows in deep blue before she was missed.

Her father found her in the fading light-  He tore open the wheat white cocoon and lifted her out, never noticing that she gripped something in her hand, hidden still in her cloak.

She awoke when they placed her before the fire, and she since she seemed no worse for wear, she was sent to bed with a bowl of broth.  There were questions to be answered, but for now it was sufficient that she was alright-  The thing to do was to let her sleep while the men stayed up late and told other strange tales of the wood around the fire.

When they had gone from her chamber, Raejean sat up.  She sat at her small table, which her father had crafted for her to practice her letters, and finally pulled her hand from the folds of her cloak.  She placed the long, thin object on the table-  it was a touch duller in sheen now, it’s thin outer surface had flaked off-   Gradually, the insect unfolded itself and stood-  A tall stick insect of unusual form, surprisingly upright when standing, it’s appendages appeared dexterous, it’s eyes clever.

“Hello Raejean,” cooed the warm humming voice only she would ever hear.
“Hello….. Wand.”  She smiled, held out her palm, and the creature stepped into it.

 

Sylkwyrm is © and TM 2011 Mike Dubisch

Visit me at Dubisch.com and Facebook!

 

#22 Pierre

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

He never quite knew how to answer when people asked him if he was French.  Maybe, somewhere along the line, he guessed he must have had some in the gumbo that was his swapland bloodline.  A little French, a little Seneca, a little African, and yeah, maybe eve a little Anglo for good measure.  Who knew?  His people weren’t exactly the type to keep tidy records, anyway.  His name, well, apparently one of his grandpaps carried it- and on up the line to who knows what unlucky frenchie got hisself stranded with the gators and the spanish moss, knee deep in the muck that was his family legacy.

Not that he should speak so ill of his roots.  His granmama would tan his hide, she heard him talikn’ that way, but he was miles from swamp, and planned on being so for the rest of his natural life.  Blame the teaspoon of Anglo in him, but he’d had about all he could handle of the hot and humid.  He liked winters, places that had weather, land that was dry enough to track on easy as you please, with predators you could hear walking up to you.

But there were times when his past caught up with him, when he could hear his grams talking in his ear like she was standing right there beside him.  Like every time he laid eyes on little Mouse.  I spite of that, or maybe even because of that, he hadn’t been able to stay away from here ever since she set up her little table across the street from the club he worked at evenings.

He’d scoffed the first time she set up, with her little palm reader’s sign and trinkets laid out over tattered a tattered velvet cloth that did little to hide the wheeled trunk under it.  He had been prepared to walk right past her, maybe even told her to take a hike on personal principle, but then he did walk up to her.  Walked up to her, smelled the cheap liquor on her breath, and was about to lay down some hard local law on her when he looked in her eye.  And picked up one of the little square cloths tied to a string, and was frozen dead still for the space of a couple heartbeats.

“That’s for love,” she said, words softened but not slurred.  “Not what you need.”

She shuffled trough some of the little scraps and picked up a different one, trading it for the other.  Pierre hoped she didn’t see his hands shaking.

She didn’t seem to when she answered.  “Here- this is what you need.  Makes you hard to spot in a crowd.  Won’t hide you in a room less than three, or if someone knows you and is looking, but even then it can fuck up their aim.”

He’d taken it, swallowing, not saying a word, and handed her the five she asked for in return.  He wasn’t that surprised when it had come in damn handy.  He’d rolled in on and broken up a shakedown in a corner of the club that night, the fuckers acting like they never seen him coming, one bastard swinging wide and loose with a broken bottle that should have by all rights ended up in his gut.

He knew it was more than just luck for a variety of reasons.  He’d known she was for real the minute he made contact, grams had passed at least that much of her skills down into his blood.  And the little scrap disintegrated like ash right after his men had dragged the bastards in question out back for some serious talking.

The next day, he showed up with a bottle of something quality, as was proper, but the girl wouldn’t drink it alone.  She held on to it, uncorked, until he got done with his night, and they shared a drink, watching the sun come up cold and bright in the steel blue sky.  From then on they had an arrangement.  She gave him the heads-up when she had what she called an inkling, handing off trinkets like they were baseball cards, and he kept her in cheap liquor, since she refused to drink the good stuff without him.

Even though he might have thought it, he never told her she seemed awful young to be a drunk.  And even though sometimes he could feel the questions on the tip of her tongue, she never asked him how he knew what she was at.  She never even asked him if he was French.

#26 Mr. Ogden (next-door neighbor)

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Everyone has a Mr. Ogden, he’s the cranky old neighbor of Tank-Monkey. He’s never having a good day, what’s so good about it?! Someone is always stealing his daily newspaper, and someone’s dog is always in his yard. And living next door to a tank driving monkey? Don’t even get him started on THAT!

No 27

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

#21& 22- Ed and Arwyn

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

I have to apologize. I had no intention of going 7 days without doing a character. I literally hit a wall and just…poof. Nothing. Around Day 4 of that break, I had an idea for a group of urban terrorists called The Terra 5, but I just couldn’t realize them properly (I did do designs, but I just couldn’t Photoshop them properly since I have no Pshop skills at all). So, I decided to post this.

A few weeks ago, artist Jamie McKelvie posted this image and I fell in love with it. I started writing a story based on these two characters, and it just started to grow from there. They’re not my characters, in the image, but the story I created, based on that image, is all mine, so I figured I’d post it here.

*****

The Party You Left

I woke up in the alley in a pool of blood. My hands were shaking, my body was shaking. I don’t remember how I got here. I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I’m not in pain. Why am I not in pain? All this blood and I feel fine, other than the shaking.

I remember the party. I remember it was…is Halloween. My face…I still have the mask on. So, the party…a few hours ago? Yesterday? I was sitting on Arwyn’s couch. She changed her name after seeing the Lord of the Rings movies. She used to be Sara. Sari. Sori. Whatever. She had some dumb idea about a costume party; “Come as you are. I’ll provide the masks.”

I look around. There’s someone over there, barely moving. I reach out to him and my arm shakes like nothing I’ve ever experienced. It’s like my heart is beating so hard, it’s vibrating my entire body. I keep thinking that we’re having an earthquake, but I remember the last earthquake I was in, six years ago, in Seattle. The ground moved like water, and I felt like I was riding a wave. There’s no wave. It’s just me. I’m the earthquake. I’m the only thing moving in this alley.

They all bounded into the alley, cackling like witches on Samhain. Sara Arwyn and the rest of the party. She asks if I’m ok. I try to speak, but no words come out. I clear my throat and I say, “Whose blood is this?” but no one understands because I’m still shaking. I force myself to stand and funny enough, my legs are steady. The ground is steady. I say it again and all Sara can say is, “Not yours.”

They start to pull me away and I can’t help but look back at that other person in the alley. I can see now that he or she wasn’t moving at all. It was the shaking. I know this because the person, he or she, no longer has a head. Sara Arwyn takes my hand, and she says something that once I heard, I know I must commit it to memory.

“Welcome to the wonderful world of superheroes, baby.”

GODSPEED

| November 27, 2011 | 2 Comments

#21 Mouse

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Mouse was certain that at some point in her life she must have had another name, but this was the one that Bear and the Old Lady gave her, so that was the one she figured she’d stick with.  The Old Lady liked to argue that it was the name she had given herself, as she had been found nibbling away at their larder for weeks before they finally took her in, daring those fuckwit parents of hers to go ahead and try taking her back.  They didn’t try, just as happy to keep collecting welfare on her and not even have to see her little face.

Mouse had been four at the time.  She didn’t remember much of that, but when she was old enough to ask questions answered, the Old Lady gave her the honest truth.  What mouse did remember of the time before was Cold and Hungry, so as far as she was concerned it had always been the Old Lady and Bear.  They kept her warm and never hungry.  They shoved so much love into to her that she had no choice but get to know it, and in time, get to loving back.

But that was before, and Mouse was a full-grown woman now, by anybody’s reckoning, although for the past year or so, Bear would probably argue that she wasn’t acting in any way like one.  But they weren’t here, were they?  And that was the problem.  They had sent her off on her own after a lead on some top-dollar truffles that had turned out to be a gold mine, worth the shitty weather that holed her up in a cave for a few days.  And by the time she got back home, they were gone.

Well, not completely gone, they’d left their bodies there for her to find.  But the parts that mattered they had taken away, both holding cups half-full of overkill whose bitterness she could smell from across the room, even over the odor of rot.  She left that minute, locking up the beautiful hand built home they called the shack tight enough to serve as their mausoleum.  Safe enough that no hungry critters could come in and tear them apart from each other’s arms, but easy access for all the bugs that would come in to send them back to mama earth, as they would have wanted, as was right and proper.

That they took their own lives didn’t burn- that was their right, she believed that as much as they both did.  That they didn’t let her know it was going down, well, that’s what had her grabbing the gallon of cheap whisky the Old Lady kept for making tinctures.  It was the only thing she took with her.  She was good and drunk by the time she hit the town road, and she stayed that way, not quite drunk enough to be mortally stupid, but drunk enough not to give a fuck about much of anything.

Bear would be frowning at her something fierce, she could almost see it out of the corner of her eye, telling her to get her head out of her ass.  But why, she figured?  Not like he was really there anyway.  Not like he was really there at all, she thought, drowning it out with another deep swig.  Burning out the tears before they had a chance to fall.

#27 – Irma Grese – Dark Hunter

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

I actually waffled back and forth quite a bit on whether or not to include this particular nutjob in the project, buuuuut… Well, for a start, she’s a Nazi, and by all accounts, a rather sadistic one. But she was sadistic in such a stereotypical, almost comically Nazi way. Y’see, Irma was an officer stationed at a concentration camp, and apparently liked to wander around the place wearing heavy boots and carrying a whip. Throw in a bass-heavy soundtrack and she could’ve been a BDSM film, albeit a particularly tasteless one. I mean, her nickname was “the Beautiful Beast,” which is one step away from being a professional wrestler.

Although I normally try to pick broadly used classes, in this case, the Dark Hunter was just such a perfect fit that I couldn’t help but choose it. Dark Hunters are unique to the Etrian Odyssey series, where they perform the role of status mage and debuffer, using swords and whips to inflict status effects and restrict the enemy’s movements. They have a very serious BDSM vibe, being clad in mostly leather; heck, their strongest attack — which can only be used when the enemy is completely restricted — is called Ecstasy. I guess that’s why it’s such a good fit for Irma here; they’re both a bit on the nose. ^^;

#27 – Hunny

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

#15 – The Clockmaker

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

What time is it? Here’s the clock maker, stressing the importance of time, and urging you not miss a second.

Another quick one with Sketchbook Mobile Pro on an iPod (yes, tiny screen) and using a Pogo Sketch stylus. This is becoming a quick way to produce in trying to catch up with the 30 Characters… I believe I’ll make it. This is the halfway point, and I’ve got 4 days, counting today, to come up with the rest. I have some roughs waiting, but its time to step up.

 

#29 – White Shade

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Two versions on this design – above is version one, below, version two. Which do you prefer?

 

Interesting that the two artists both went for white hair… I think it works, so will have to update the character sheet at some point… or maybe her hair turns white when she is using her powers?

 

#27 Leto Kinaro

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

#9 Magno

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Art by Michael Powell (@mpowelljr)
Words by Rolando Garcia (@roshow)

The Magnos family has been in show business for centuries. Literally. The family name “Magnos” dates back to the middle ages, when they were part of a band of traveling performers. Their speciality has always been magnet and metal themed tricks.

With the proliferation of meta-humans in Ultra City and the rest of the world, Mark Magnos, also known as “The Magnificient Magno” when performing at Silver’s Circus, was the first of his family to come forward with the truth about his magnetic powers: they were no trick, they were real and powerful. In his later years, he had a brief but successful masked vigilante career alongside The Scorpion.

His grandaughter wasn’t old enough to remember his hero stint first-hand but she inhereted the family gift and chose to follow his example, becoming a crime fighter herself.

#25 Reel 2 Reel

| November 27, 2011 | 0 Comments

Movie Fanatics are some of the most obsessive of the collectors lot. That’s one reason that Collect-o sought out  Reel 2 Reel. In his regular life R2R refused to distinguish reality and fiction. Always annoying people with his need to bring everything back to movies always using phrases like “I couldn’t have scripted that better” and asking questions like “who would play you in the movie of your life?” and then arguing the answer. He is one of the most fearsome members of the Collection Agency because he can physically back up his mania training many years to become a Hollywood stunt man he is trained in multiple martial arts styles. No one can fake a death (or death scene as he likes to call it) like Reel 2 Reel. It’s uncertain why he’s allied himself against Tank-Monkey as Tank-Monkey doesn’t have anything he wants.