Author Archive: Gregory

Hello, everyone.

My name is Gregory Gibbons, and I've been drawing for a long, long time. Check out my website to see some of my gallery stuff, and my little flash games, too.

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#23 – The Endless Guardian

| November 26, 2011 | 4 Comments

 

Her task had been to guard the Vale of The Silent, until she had no faith left in her King. Her comrades all took the task as well. He was such a great man, such a noble leader, selfless, and he gave all he could to keep his people safe. Their charge was the least they could do for his Grace, as he slept in the grand halls deep in the stone.

No one beyond the Guardians has entered the Vale since their task was set.

She has forgotten her own name…

#22 – The Lost One

| November 26, 2011 | 0 Comments

The Lost Ones that invaded the cold wastes of the Jarl were abominations- experiments made by the terrors that were the true Lost Ones, which called themselves the Outcasts Of Nul- completely inhuman arachnidians that nonetheless possessed preternatural cunning, intellect, and speed- and the power to bend the will of the weak with a mere thought. In the one communication they engaged in, they made it clear that in times past they had attempted to trade with the ancestors of the Jarl and this fiefdom. They had been attacked and destroyed, skinned and used for parts. The Outcasts bore no direct malice, so they claimed. They were simply now aware of how humanity wished to deal with them, and would reciprocate.

Parts and meat.

#21 – The Golden Succubus

| November 24, 2011 | 1 Comment

The Golden Succubus, Aurinna, is the favoured concubine of one of the great Demon Princes. Her skin is said to be real gold- a cold metal that shines bright, but gives no warmth. She is a vain and imperious fiend, simultaneously supremely arrogant, and deathly afraid that her lord will someday fall or otherwise leave her, and expose her to those fiends she has slighted, or just the greedy, who would flay her hide for it’s value.

#20 – Half- Arachnidian Dreamwalker

| November 22, 2011 | 2 Comments

A half- arachnidian is seen as an abomination by most human tribes, but can live in the shadow of it’s terrifying inhuman parent only if brought up by a slave- a proposal that would put the already endangered prisoner in even more trouble. The only saving grace is that, as the half- arachnidian devellops, it gives off no mamillian scent, making it invisible to casual searches from the monsters. The sad part is that most slaves, unless they possess demonstrable value in a trade or craft, are also food.

A half- arachnidian that can survive to puberty gains the enhanced mental powers of it’s human parent, combined with the superior senses, blinding speed and strength of the arachnidian.

This one, and it can be surmised that for now he is the only of his kind, has escaped from the deep barrows of the arachnidians, and through it’s foster parent’s inclinations and tutelage turned to mysticism, and now wanders the edges of the wastes, where it can sense people’s dreams with it’s incomprehensibly enhanced sense of smell.

#19 – The Sacrificed

| November 21, 2011 | 2 Comments

The old man had worked this humble patch of soil for all of his life. His family all grew here with him, close- knit and loving. With Mitra’s blessing, he had prospered. But none of that mattered now, as he watched, stunned, from the far road, his homestead well ablaze, and bodies- oh, please, not this- bodies laying in the dust.

Out of the darkness and smoke of the night galloped a figure, a mockery man and beast, a hellspawn dressed in his own stolen garb. But what truly froze his blood to the core was the goat- like visage and countenance the monster bore, the contempt in the inhuman golden eyes as they swiveled onto his position… eyes that he remembered looking back into his, innocent and trusting, as he had slashed the dagger across it’s throat… and had praised Mitras for all that was to come.

#18 – The Masked Guardian

| November 20, 2011 | 4 Comments

A spirit given flesh, to guard the secrets of an ancient way of magic.

#17 – Wendigos

| November 18, 2011 | 1 Comment

To say that the undead are merely reanimated corpses is to deny the dark, warping power that animates them. The Wendigo is a good example of the distorting powers of darkness. The legends say that there is one, original, inhuman entity, called The Wendigo. What happens to it’s victims is not readily known, although they begin to change and corrupt in painfull ways well before they die. These Wendigos pictured here are the end results of the unholy metamorphosis- bestial, inhuman forms filled with the frozen rage of the north. They will come out of the squalls, from the whiteness of the storm, to tear victims limb from limb, to drag them screaming up into the skies. And the unlucky ones, they are taken away… to The Wendigo.

#16 – Jade Cinnamon

| November 16, 2011 | 1 Comment

Skilled with elven blades and gifted as an apprentice mage, Janith Dunharrow has used her wiles and beauty to better her standing in the merchant caste of Tyldown. And why not? Coin rules the town, and whoever controls it has true power. Let the craftsmen craft, and the venders haggle. If Janith has her way, she will soon stand above them all. For now, she’s content to terrorize the merchants trade routes, building up a reputation as an honourable despot, and wealth besides. They all know who she is, but already her hold on the town is tightening. Because she has the local millitia under her control, those few traders and nobles who can see the danger have already left… or are gone, at any rate.

#15 – Gnoll hunter

| November 15, 2011 | 4 Comments

“You call us primitive, you forest people, you elves. Sadly it is true, most of my people have forgotten their past, we have faded. But there are some of us, who remember.” Slowly removing it’s headdress, the old gnoll shifted in the dark, it’s one good eye fixed on me as it then continued to sharpen the flint knife it had used to skin my comrade. My binds strained as I tried to fight the ropes, but I was trussed, neatly and brutally, my broken arm given no quarter, lashed to my back mercilessly. Blood filled my eyes, and the buzzing in my head almost drowned out the screams, which I vaguely realized were coming from me. Grinning, it’s fangs bared, it raised the flint blade, and lightning quick it’s taloned hand shot out to grip my jaw like a vice. “We were here before you. Before your people. Oh, you have delved into the mysteries of magic, and worked great sorceries, built wonders. You claim to be one with the forest, to be unequaled with the bow. But this shaft here,” and with a violent shake it rattled my neck, the arrow lodged in my collar shooting agony through me, “was from me, from my bow, gnoll- made, like in the old times. You know the forest. Pah.” As it shifted my neck , I could see the medallions, the bracelets. They were not elven made, dor were they human- With a horrid realization, I could see that they were wrought by taloned hands in forges fueled by blood in dim ages before we came down from the trees. I was washed with despair. And with a mighty lunge, the knife caught a glint of moonlight before it plunged below my neck.

“The forest says otherwise.”

#14 – Elauna of Eld

| November 14, 2011 | 1 Comment

Elauna is the daughter of a tiefling albino conjurer and a night- adept murderess- one part fiend, one part shadow, and one part elf. Her heritage and inclinations have made her extremely cautious, and her summoned moon snake is partly ethereal, and can sense on a supernatural level, keeping her aware of both magical and mundane approach.

She wishes to find her father. And when she finds out that he has been destroyed, she will continue his proud traditions- genocidal purging and conjuring beings said to once roam the world naturally, but are seen as abominations now by humanity. All fueled by her inherited sense of vengeance and zeal.

#13 – Ghilanna Ghanta-Sidhe

| November 12, 2011 | 4 Comments

The Liche is more of a process than an end result of magical immersion taken to supernatural lengths. Ghilanna was so far into her studies and mysteries that her physical form has mostly turned to dust, as centuries passed. But something has pulled her back to the reality of her former lands and life- a calling- and her anger at the intrusion cannot be measured by either man nor elf.

#12 – Giavanni of Brahl

| November 11, 2011 | 1 Comment

 

The youngest daughter of Loreal, the mysterious and missing elven captain of the Star Viper. Gia has begun to hone her sorcerous talents, focusing on beguiling and enchantment, and divinations. Her roses are white, but no one living knows if this is rare, as the feature itself marks her as one of the last of the Ghanto- Sidhe, a pure strain of when the elves were true fey.

She is flirtatious and sultry, with a dusky voice, quick to laugh. Meeting new people and attending parties of the wealthy are her favourite passtimes, acting as an unofficial embassador for Brahl, but she is very afraid of commitments- her older sister, the maiden known as the Saviour of Brahl, finds her lazy.

I’m still toying around with this visual, trying to work out the best way to draw the desired effect. Although I like some of the elements in this image, I’ll probably be making up another sister.

#11 – The Fall Of Brahl

| November 10, 2011 | 2 Comments

Her mother was one of the priveliged crew of the H.R.M.S Star Viper, and plied the spaces between the stars for trade and exploration. Her mother was a special elf, some said the last of her kind, and great, red roses bloomed in her hair, like she was part plant- only the oldest of elven lines, unbroken since the first leaves fell, undiluted by the corruptions and urges of lesser kin, have this rarest of features.

She lost her mother to spellshock, so they say- an affliction that siezes the mind of those who try to control the vessels that travel the void. No one knows what fate befell her mother, or the Star Viper… but she came to us just as the City of Vice, the great and ancient Rock of Brahl, began to fall into Suhmiss’s gravity well. She was courage in the face of opportunistic pirates, and the panic of a city that needed leadership after the corrupt officials had fled long before.

We were saved, and at the height of the sojourn from the city, her hair, too, blossomed in great red blooms…

#10 – Wasp-kin

| November 8, 2011 | 6 Comments

“Is that a fire alarm?” Reynold barked to the oblivious team of programmers and bio- engineers. A soft whirring sound, hardly an alarm at all- but to shock someone badly in this facility, while handling certain materials and causing a spill, would be worse than any fire. “I believe it is,” Kelly Anne said slowly, as the rest of the team began to raise faces from the soft glowing monitors, a soft and stunned look on all of their faces.

Reynold hated this place, these people. Not because he was a capable millitary man, a veteran of several, special missions, and undeserving of such a tedious posting, but because these people were weak. not just physically, but everything about them was soft. It was hard for him to imagine that these people would eventually help change the way wars were fought. How could people who were on the cutting edge of gene manipulation look so… useless, as they do now, staggering to their feet, unused to movement?

“Where is the fire?” one of the chemists, Charles Walton, mumbled, as Reynold looked to the computer surveillances for answers. ” Looks like it’s over by the, what do you call them, K- Class levels? Yeah, over there. No problem, my men are already on the scene”, Reynold preened, satisfied that the few millitary men he did have under his command were in control. Patterson and MacMillan. Thankfully, these men were a seperate, autonomous unit.

Of a sudden, Col. Frances Patterson’s EKG and Bio- reader flatlined. These scanners glitched all of the time, but the Bio reader stayed dead- the sound much more startling than the fire alarm. Reynold frowned, grabbed a headset. “No joking around, Ace. What is happening there, over?” Suddenly, the line was full of voices- scientists and workers from that section all crowded the com systems. Bedlam. Chaos.

“Dammit, it’s just a fire, what the hell is going on down there?!” Reynold growled as several scientists gathered around the communications array. Suddenly, with a horrid shriek of pain abruptly cut off, MacMillan’s EKG flatlined, making all of the scientists jump, and sending tendrils of worried mumbling among the rest. Reynolds turned to the others. “Stay here, I’m going to see what is going on down there. It’s just the fire has damaged something, that’s all.” None of them looked like they believed that, they all looked like they had seen a ghost- or were already dead. “Don’t go down there, sir”, Mary Anne softly said. Slowly, Reynolds turned to her. She gestured weakly to one of the surveillance camera feeds, a small monitor. All eyes went to it in mute horror.

The experiment was supposed to be the beginning of a genetic manipulation of insect life to create modified signal carriers, incorporate the latest in nano computers as well as genetics to help reduce collateral damage in major combat operations, by designing animals that could home in on a mobile target’s position and leave special bio signals to allow for pinpoint eliminations. The animals, insects, were decades away from the final stages of development, the target generation from being born.  But what was swarming out of the lower levels of the research compound was a horror, monsters- a shadow the size of a man, bigger, and laden with talons.

These things were made to do the eliminating themselves.

In the final moments, as the steel doors buckled to the labs and the screams rose higher, as the shapes blurred into the room, Reynolds wondered, with a detached sense of betrayal, at what the lower labs had been making, all these years…

#9 – Glaistig warrior

| November 7, 2011 | 1 Comment

A Glaistig maiden, caught unawares- a rare sight indeed.

#8 – Farewell to an old friend

| November 7, 2011 | 3 Comments

“It has been a while,” he whispered casually. In the cold vacuum of space, the sound was inaudible, and yet there, hovering in the darkness before him, was a presence, just beyond the barrier of nearly indestructible diamond and corundum that he had called many things- tomb, womb, refuge, prison- but was really one thing. Home.

From the void, a whisper that should not have been heard responded.

He sighed to hear even an echo of another being’s thoughts, this close, for it had been an eternity since anyone had spoken to him directly- oh, his dreams were freeing, his travels of the mind were limitless and far, far from the dying star that now swallowed the rest of his homeworld piece by piece. That would swallow him, eventually. He had lived in it’s welcoming glow for most of it’s life. To outlive one’s children is a sad fate. To outlive one’s people is a curse. But to outlive one’s race? One’s sun?

Why, only the visitor knew of such a sense of loss, in all of his vast experience, he had never known another with the same memory.

What they spoke of, there in the last aeons of that doomed place, were secrets and truths that are beyond our ken. But ultimately, it was a somber countenance from the visitor, who with his own powers would leave the inescapable gravity well, but only after asking, just once.

Just one moment of …mercy? … weakness? Or just compassion?

Smiling deep within his inpregnable, unassailable and doomed fortress, he sighed, and smiled.” No, old friend, I have seen and done all I wished to in this wrealm. It is time for me to depart. I am sorry for you, to be alone at the end of All Things. Perhaps we shall meet again…”

The light that should not have been seen from deep within the diamond colossus faded to azure, to twilight, to darkness.

And the visitor faded away as well.

Just wanted to add a tip of the hat to rdouek- his excellent image the Warden moved me to make my own cosmic imagery.

#7 – Shallia

| November 7, 2011 | 1 Comment

“Follow me, if you would see the Ruins,” She breathed to me, her body glistening in the blinding light of the hazed skies above. I had never before seen such a beauty. Slowly she strode into the water, heading out into the grey lake.

“Will… will He be there?” I asked, knowing that those ancient standing stones were supposedly at the base of the greatest mountains of old, the ColdThrones- mountains said to be guarded by an entity since the mountains were first spoken of. The water was freezing, but I tried my best to follow the bronze- skinned woman who had led me this far. Shallia, so enigmatic, had claimed that she had met the being. Being entranced by her voluptuous physique, I believed her, but now found myself doubting.

“How came you to see what it is said cannot be seen?” I asked. She laughed over her shoulder as a cold breeze rippled the lake’s waters. “I think that it wanted to see me, young mage,” She sighed, the waters seeming to hold her close to the surface, as if her sacrifice of allowing them to lap at her legs was a favour rewarded by defying it’s own nature. I began to realize that I was in to my waist now, and having trouble with my footing in the numbing depths. ” I can suppose why,” I said wryly, but suddenly found her stopped, looking back at me, a faint smile on her face, the first of the ruins beckoning from just beyond her shadow.

With a gesture, an eldrich flourish of witchlight sprung from her hand, catching in the depths of her eyes. My breath rushed out in a gasp.

“Indeed,” she murmured. “He could sense great potential in me, could see the power in me, when I made this trek, three hundred years ago. Now, it is your turn, as I too was guided, so I guide you, and He shall judge for Himself.”

The rest of the journey found me much more… humble.

#6 – BloodFire’s Return

| November 6, 2011 | 8 Comments

Said to be the oldest of the dragons of Mystara, the giant red dragon known as ‘BloodFire’ by the common folk has ruled the steppes of the Auld Cruth above the lands of the Iron Crown for decades, ever since people dared move their flocks into the midlands. Even after the great walls were erected during the reign of Duncan I, the lands at the base of a certain cluster of jagged peaks has borne the name of Dedmin, a name whispered by captured, crippled giants fleeing that dark, stony land. BloodFire’s deadly arcs of dragonbreath were said to be hotter than any normal fire, that he could char and melt even that which resisted normal fires, and the fire giant tribes lived beneath the Cruth in abject terror of a dragon said to be so big that it plucked them as easily as they could a halfling.

His absence has been noted in the current events, the Blue Fire, and the fall of the Gods.

His return can only be seen as the most dire of omens.

#5 – Black Metal

| November 5, 2011 | 2 Comments

I hated taking a smoke break with Kenneth. Dude was always going on about heavy head banging or fairy tales- a weird guy- made me want to quit, to be honest.

“I like Black Metal best… the Norwegians and the Viking stuff, like screaming fucking northmen, you know? Warriors. The heart of rage, and all that shit.”

The shadows coughed, and I caught a whiff of something burning. A haunted, angry face, half hidden by a mop of unruly hair, a curl of smoke, a grey ghost in the night. Something barely suppressed, a tension, hung in the air. Something was different about him, that’s for sure. His eyes…

“In the old days, there were wyrms, man. Dragons. They could do all sorts of mean, really mean shit to, like, common folks. Change shape, to look like a regular dude, play mean pranks, stuff like that. Or burn’em all with, like, fiery breath. Most of ’em, they, like got destroyed by righteous kings, Templars or vikings like, I think, Eric or Beowulf or something.”

There is alot of smoke billowing around us now, and I wonder if the idiot has messed up something back in the refinery, something that could get us both canned. It’s usually right cold outside of the refinery here, frosty, but I break out in a cold sweat at the, I dunno, the whole wrongness of everything. And Kenneth, even in the sub- arctic freeze, he emerges from the shadows in a goddamn tee and hoodie, like it’s a balmy spring eve, and that’s when I see that the smoke seems to be envelloping him, like he’s on fire.

“But, not all of them big lizards got killed”, he says, as his orangy- colored eyes lock feverishly onto mine as he shakes in some sort of spasm, and I realize at long last just how messed up Kenny is, and once more, how deep in trouble I might be in.

“Not me.”

And then he began to grow.

#4 – Quel-Kannan

| November 4, 2011 | 4 Comments

From the Vinlands has come a dour warrior of androgynous beauty and grace, Quel-Kannan. Trained to fight humans on the seemingly endless battlefields of Apollosia, Quel-Kannan has a deep hatred of man… but also a deep sense of right and wrong. His coming to the Broken Lands must be noted, for his cunning and skills could be used to hunt down pitiful human escaped slaves to the north… or the bigoted elven nation that owned them.

#3 – Aurgiliax Goodwill

| November 3, 2011 | 3 Comments

Aurgiliax is a dragon youth of a most unique background- part golden dragon, the beacon of all that is good and strong, and part vile black dragon. Thankfully, his mother saw to it that he was raised in Celestia, where years of enlightened perspectives and ideal role models have made sure that Aurgiliax is favouring his good tendencies.

Aurgiliax is still young and small enough to be able to masquerade as a humanoid with only a need to cover his still- growing wings with a robe and cloak. Though possessed of mighty fiery breath and great strength, his mettle is to be tested soon enough, now that the Reckoning of the Blue Fire is at hand.

# 2 Jaluria Silwyn

| November 2, 2011 | 2 Comments

Jaluria Silwyn is a LightBringer from the Broken Lands. The LightBringers were a special organization that were hard pressed to stem the almost endless flow of the living dead that gushed uncontested from the Necropolis. With the sudden miraculous removal of the curse of the Necropolis, returning all of the lost souls to life, the LightBringers are almost entirely freed of the need to watch the once- haunted forests. Jaluria is now turning her attention to the lands to the east, rumored to be the seat of power for still greater guilds… and greater threats.

#1 Koro’Dile the Scourge

| November 1, 2011 | 3 Comments

Koro’Dile the Scourge is an opportunist to the Fell Lands. Having made a unique deal with a defeated Red Wizard, the lizard man’s natural weapons are slowly becoming larger and more efficient- his mighty jaws are capable of terrible wounds, and his senses are becoming honed to terrifying preternatural levels. Soon, he may set his sights on more than just survival…

30 Characters Challenge 2011: Gregory Gibbons

| November 1, 2011 | 0 Comments

Hello. I was a contestant last year, and I had a blast. I’m keen to see if I can properly finish this year.

I like drawing concept art but most of the time I end up compositing, flash work,and 3d modelling to make ends meet. I really enjoy making my own small games- some of the experimental ones are on my website, www.theserpentsage.com.

#11-30 – The Whole SheBang, Colored

| December 1, 2010 | 5 Comments

Here is the group of characters from our D@D session colored, as Matthew Goodmanson mentioned would be coming. This might indeed be merely a stage in this picture, but for now I’m calling it done- 40 or so characters, played by around 8 players, each character with a story, and hopefully a pleased owner.

Here’s some fun- I’d like to encourage the owners of the characters to tell their backgrounds and a bit of their concepts in the comments section- nothing crazy, just a blurb, to give an idea of what the character is about. Matthew and I were originally going to write these ourselves, but this image took alot out of us, and now we don’t want to.

This was a blast, drawing characters and fleshing out new ideas, while giving shape to some characters that merited imagery. Thanks for a great month!

#10 KithaelDovan

| November 22, 2010 | 1 Comment

All manner of demiurge and diety are now walking among the mortals, both god and man brought low under the blue fires. But some beings among the aether have blossomed into what they were always meant to be, triggered by the chaos from the skies.

While the King Rahal of Mylund was under the sway of the Red God, in a time before the madness of the Blue Fires, he was given to mighty and sometimes base urges and desires. Eventually he was brought to his senses, and the demiurge was exorcised, leaving the good king to deal with the aftermath of his possessed reign.

But perhaps there was something that the Red God hid from even the King’s knowing, during the time the king had been possessed, his memory blurred and clouded by foul sorceries.

Perhaps the Red God had known he would eventually fall to the king and his companions.

And so he had prepared for his legacy…

#9 Ghlask

| November 19, 2010 | 4 Comments

Ghlask came about in a very inventive D@D game my group began last night. The idea was that you make a character for the player to your left, bearing in mind their likes and dislikes, but also adding some of your own personal flair to the concept. So, technically, this is Matthew Goodmanson’s character concept that he thought would suit me, and I drew it.

Ghlask is a Bugbear that bears umbral blood- he is a shadow sorceror. Someday, his umbral heritage will make him into a being of shadow, but his unusual position politically has him favouring helping the forces of light. How long this tenuous loyalty can last is uncertain, but sooner or later, light gives in to darkness…

#8 Ormus The Patient

| November 16, 2010 | 1 Comment

Not all is doom and gloom as the Blue Fire falls.

Deep within the Queronn’s glistening clear waters, a swift change of power has occured. Corrupt forces have aquiesced to reason and justice, and Ormus, the ancient and sorcerous keeper of Queronn’s fallen lore, has succeeded in making a bid for control of the waves from the stubborn but politically weakened Titans that once held it. This shift will have consequences as far reaching as the tides, and will not go unchallenged…

Tyrant Xor

| November 14, 2010 | 6 Comments

The minds of the sorcerous, of those that hold truck with the known paths of magic, have been sundered by, or with, the coming of the Blue Fires. But there are races not possessed of  wizardly nor sorcerous magical minds, but inherent abilities and skills that somehow render them immune to the chaos and loss.

Sadly, one of the fortunate races is the Eye Tyrant.

Xor is an exceptionally calm beholder, and through this new imbalance of power, seeks to launch a timely and devastating assault on the surface folk near the caverns he haunts.

#6 The Eidolon King

| November 9, 2010 | 5 Comments

“The lands of Oberonn are cursed. I have seen water running a deathly green in the northern holds. I have smelt the death, a carrion stink, and charnel ash that wafts on the winds from the Greendale. The valleys in the Cruth shudder and moan, wreathed in anathemic rose light, and the sky weeps tears of blue fire. Sorcery is sundered, and the Weave is rent.  Gods have fallen, archmagi have gone mad, and the idols that represented both, that take in the love for the represented, are grown full of  hellish resent… “

-Alin Ta’al of GoldKeep

#5 Sin’Dana

| November 6, 2010 | 6 Comments

The second of the three Demiurges called the First Sisters, Sin’Dana is a more aloof entity that dwells in the Cold, the first Vale beyond sleep. There, her sorcerous battles with doubts and fears can ease troubled minds in the living, and project a confidence into mortal dreamers- she represents descision, law, and a path in an otherwise vast and forbidding world.