Author Archive: frodog28
Another November done.
Here’s my stats for this year: 10 ladies, 20 guys, 10 anthropomorphic animal-types (if you include a Cthulhu-faced kid). 16 fantasy, 5 superhero, 4 steampunk, 3 scifi, 2 horror. 4 characters with some sort of copper robotic features, apparently I liked that theme this year.
I started out the year trying to be clever with characters based on idioms. That well started running dry for me around character 11, and my friend Michael came in the nick of time by exposing me to some great Chibi-style artists. I finished out by going back to some typical fantasy/superhero characters, with help from my dear Dana, my family, the Bakers and the Johnsons, and lots of inspiration from other artists in this challenge. Thanks!
Jay Weston is brilliant and driven. So much so that when both of his arms were taken by the crime boss, Crazy Teddy, who wished to exploit him for his genius, Jay built new appendages and went back to work on his experiments. When Crazy Teddy’s thugs came back to check in on him again, they found a man ready, with giant crushing arms. With his new weapons, and his fierce dog Tidbit, the crime family doesn’t stand a chance.
It is a secret why she fell to earth. She will not explain her past or her mission, even as she walks with mortal vigilantes. She seems to have a single-minded purpose, just for catching the wicked and delivering fiery judgement on them. But she burns away the fear in her c9mrades, leading them with her blasting voice, flashing blades and roaring flames.
Cairwan is an enigmatic character. He acts heroically, most of the time, using his supernatural abilities of teleportation, “shadow-stretching” and casting illusions to meddle with criminals. Some say he fights villains just to have victims to toy with. He is playful, with a dark humor and a wicked smile. His favorite trick is to open portals and call strange tentacled and many toothed creatures from the place he laughingly calls the Void.
Some say that Old Saint Oliver’s Cemetary holds the most powerful spirits in the New World. Reports can’t count the number of witnesses who have heard voices among the graves or seen flashes of strange movement at night. But when the ghosts get really riled up and are rallied by the powerful soul of a forgotten hero, the earth itself becomes possessed, rises up on two powerful legs, and sometimes even leaves the burial grounds to haunt the city and right wrongs.
The fourth and last character in my Monochrome Warriors Four. I’ve Samurai Pengin, and the whole crew here.
Samurai Pengin is the leader of the quartet. He doesn’t talk much, most the time he seems distant and imperturbable. He stares into the distance, imagining the quieter days where he waddled around and protected his one young egg. But if his attention is focused, and his wrath is engaged, his giant samurai sword comes forth, and there will be blood.
Hemar Al-Wahshi is the third of the team. He hails from the south, master of the spinning scimitars and the tossed mane. He is a little skittish, but stands strong for the proud traditions and history of his people.
Character 2 of the Monochrome Warriors Four. I’m doing a quartet of beastly fighters. Here is a link to the first one.
Xiong Mao is the second of the crew, a venerated warrior monk. He channels his focus into paws of fury, striking with his Spear of Peace and Enlightenment. He looks ferocious, but his comrades know he is a big teddy bear.
Character 1 of the Monochrome Warriors Four. I was trying to do 30 individual character pieces, but I got really excited about drawing this quartet together, so I’m releasing them one day at a time.
The third in my creation of antagonists:
Mack is a jerk. It makes it all the worse that he is a respected officer in the honorable Blunt Tusk war band. He is a decorated warrior, revered by his brothers as a fearless fighter, holder of great traditions and loyal to the fraternity. But he torments those weaker than himself. He makes life miserable for the drum keepers that aren’t strong enough to fight. He mocks those he considers small or effeminate. The very idea of women in the war band (or anywhere out of the kitchen) is laughable, and any man who disagrees is no sort of man. According to him, only the strong, meaning the most masculine, deserve any sort of power and honor.
The second in my creation of antagonists:
The 1024-MM (Mother Mind) is the single commanding unit of the AI legion that has taken over New London. The times of man has passed, robots rule, but they only want the best for their dear human creators. Mother Mind has a plan for the good of the organics. But why do they fight? Why won’t they just accept the food and goods that the robots create for them? They should give up their aggressive, rebellious ways. Give up their arms. Move to the Utopian reservations constructed for them. What is wrong with these humans and this “freedom” they desire in place of safety and rationale?
The first in my creation of antagonists:
Red Jackson just wants to be a super hero. He’s trained for the combat, researched the patterns of the city crime, and has the flying apparatus he needs to swoop down in the night. Why do they make it so hard? First, it wasn’t his fault that the thief he’d been chasing had tripped off the ledge and fallen to his death. Then when the police tried to arrest him for vigilantism… he didn’t mean to break the cops arm, but what was he supposed to do? His identity was at stake. He needed money to fix his damaged gliding wings… if he hadn’t been there to stop the bank robbery, the money would have been stolen anyway. Didn’t the bank owe him, technically? Now they’re all after him, the police and the other so called “super heroes”. He’ll show them what it means to be truly dedicated to justice. He’ll show them all.
(I’m sure “Flying Fox” is not the most original superhero name in the world. I wasn’t feeling particularly creative today.)
Who judges the wardens of justice? More vigilantes and so-called crime fighters appear in the Big City every year. Someone needed to keep an eye on these so-called “heroes”. Someone had to make sure that these supernatural and uncharted powers were being used responsibly. Someone needed to strike fear into the heroes as well as the villains, to spread the message that justice must be delivered fairly and carefully. That was when the Dark Hunter appeared, silent, watching and judging. A silhouette on the highest perch.
There are bad witches, enemies of the State, bringing curses and disease. There are also good witches, servants of the Crown, bringing healing and protective enchantment to Her Majesty’s soldiers. Autumn is a good witch, but the Royal Military has no love for her. When she was young, she endured the indiscriminate witch-hunts led by powerful men of the Faith. She grew up casting charms to protect young women from aggressive brutes and hexing water to poison abusive husbands. When she was asked to aid the Royal Military in their battle against the Eastern Horde, she cast a powerful spell of Empathy on all of Her Majesty’s generals, forcing them to experience memories from the eyes of their enemies’ children and wives.
Arissa was the most promising graduate of the College of Summoners. Calling hybrid creatures from the Beyond was as easy to her as whistling and dancing. They wanted her to join the Royal Military Elite to summon horned monstrosities and armored behemoths for battle. Instead she likes to call playful kitten-ducks and lumbering elephant-moose to populate her farm. Her favorites are the helpful sheep-monkeys that help her with the gardening and chores.
Like all the young goblins of the Blunt Tusk Clan, Grun dreamed of being a warrior of his people. But his small frame and weak lungs prevented his acceptance into the class of warriors. When the Clan marched to war, he was not allowed to carry the proud shield and ax of his beloved horde. Instead he was allowed to be a Drum Keeper, to keep the tempo of both march and battle. His frailty might have been his curse, but it was also what saved him when the Black Thunder Clan swept upon the Blunt Tusks in the night, forsaking the rules of honorable combat and annihilating their ranks. Grun, pushed aside and overlooked, was the only one to survive. And now, without ax, without title, only with his drums and his determination, he is the only one who can make it back to warn the rest of his clan.
Young Winston was the pride of the Queen’s University. The only son of a famous playwright and a respected biologist, Winston was a prodigy by age 4, and became the youngest student ever admitted, at 11, to Her Majesty’s institution of higher learning. Though his brilliance outgrew his small form, his judgement was not as developed. A secret experiment involving dark energies and untested theories left him horrifically transformed. Still, full of curiosity and determination, he continues his study, confident that he will find a cure for his “condition”, or uncover something more interesting in the process.
Many individuals throughout history have been able to see the future, and know the fates of others around them. Some of these visionaries are powerless to affect events. Others work hard as agents of destiny, serving the future as though it commands them. Not the strange Dia Raveneye. She sees the destinations of those around her, then she comes to them in her bizarre raven mask and pushes them to new destinies with vague suggestions and obscure riddles. Some think she does it for the benefit of her targets, others think she gets a sense of power from it. Still others think that she just wishes to affect outcomes so that the future remains a mystery to her as well.
The alliance was losing the war. They needed to win the next battle and they needed the best man to lead the operation. They considered and passed on eleven other officers before they were recommended a gritty old hare called Veteran Jehk. At first they were sceptical. He was more of a whispered legend in the troop than a decorated officer. He abandoned the traditional tactics of bayonet, sword, and direct battle. Instead he insisted on his own methods of tracking through the forest, using traps, hatchets and his favored bolt-gun. He preferred stealth and cunning over tradition and order. The generals berated Jehk’s superiors for allowing such unconventional warfare, but they employed the soldier none-the-less. They were not displeased with his results.
When the Cleric’s Circle met in the first day of spring, the emissaries of many gods were in attendants. The stoic Sun god’s men came on time, as always. The warriors of the god of Battle made their noisy arrival. The goddess of Earth and River sent her strong and solemn daughters to the meeting. But Sister Anansa came alone, and no one knew, at first, which god she served. No one had ever come claiming allegiance to the god of Trickery before. He was a shape-changer, a tale teller, and the master of clever invention and plots. What need did he have of a priestess? What responsibility would he trust to a mortal? What loyalty did she hold to the patron of Chaos, and what contribution would she bring to the Circle?
Criminals beware! The Cast Iron Stomach, AKA the Power Pot Belly, AKA Crazy Kettle Gut, AKA Iron Tummy Johnson, ex-wrestler-turned-crime-fighter is on the streets again. He’s taking names and crunching skulls as bullets and blades bounce from his invincible stomach.
Catch-All-Koalas (Quetzalcoatl): the flying serpent god and chaser of poor terrified marsupials.
They found the small toddler when they raided the laboratories of the deranged Dr. Meauro. Who was this young boy? Was he Dr. Meauro’s son? Or was he some unbelievable product of his mad science? The boy seemed normal, albeit traumatized, for his first few weeks in custody of the state. But then he learned to climb as fast as he learned to walk. Then his body began exhibiting many manifestations of very inhuman anatomy. Bony ridges just under his skin, grasping, climbing fingers, strangely colored fur, sensitive protrusions, and more. As he grew stranger and stranger, everyone wondered, just how was he created and what is in his genes?
Everyone needs a good defense, even the Big D, the Star of the Morning, the Son of Perdition. And when he needs the best legal council, he gets the best in the business. She isn’t cheap, but she’ll mount a good case, and get even the Prince of Darkness off the hook to play another day.
It all started when young Thomas Kilbourne, age 12, lost all of his Boy Scouts badges in an terrifying camp explosion. At 18, when he tried to join the U.S. forces, he was judged too unpredictable for the military. It took years for him to finally find his home: with a Civil War reenactment society. But soon his comrades in the Union began to worry about him too. Especially when he started showing up to battle in 21st century military standard issue, and suggesting unconventional guerrilla tactics to defeat the Confederates.
The starship was going down. The invading Swarm had taken hangers 1-5 and 7 and all crew quarters. Most of the civilian crew managed to escape in pods, but Executive Officer Maria Marabunta decided to save the ship or die trying. Barely surviving her escape from the CIC, she fought her way to the infantry weapons hold, where she accessed the elite Battle Uniform type Gamma (B.U.G.). Now, single handedly, she may turn the tide against the marauding enemy.
This tall gentleman moves with hushed steps over grave grass and cold moss. He grins gently as he comes to everyone like an old friend. Even if his plans to visit are years away, everyone hears his distant bells ringing like rain in the distance.
I’m usually not so dark. I guess I’ll say this is my tribute to Neil Gaiman, my favorite author.
Don’t piss her off, she’ll give you a piece of her mind. She has a hot head and a sharp tongue. She knows what she thinks and says what she wants. But don’t be too nervous. She’s All Bark, but No Bite.
Copper Peace, also known as Copper Piece, is the last Word of the Law in Micro Town. With his shimmering armor, and never ending clock-work energy, he makes sure that the citizens under his vigilant gaze stay safe and secure. He knows the Code to keep tranquility to his community, and if any mischief makers try to disturb his peace, he will crush them with his mighty hammer.
The Cat of Nine Tales is an enigmatic feline. He travels the world, collecting the best stories either through his ears or through his adventures. If you are lucky enough to find him and lucky enough to catch him in a generous mood, he might be inclined to open one of his books or scrolls and share one of his treasured tales with you. It is said that he is looking for the ten best stories of the world, but for years he has wandered, one story short of his goal.