Tag: Alien

Tarou of Undercity from my Novel “Mentor”.

| November 4, 2011 | 1 Comment

2011 Day 04 -Tarou by Gibbi from my novel "Mentor"

 

A rock painting of the hunter, Tarou, attributed to Gibbi the Seer painted in her youth.

Tarou: A young man of burning intensity. Wary, incredibly strong and yet still fast and agile in spite of his size and bulging muscles. Sometimes huge slabs of grey stone would fall from high above. Once, Tarou lifted one of these slabs to rescue the contents of the storage hut that had been crushed beneath it. He was very strong. The strongest in the tribe. But he was also smart. He could quickly size up any situation and then act upon his conclusions. Sometimes the conclusions were wrong, as where Marnal was concerned, but where danger threatened, or when new tactics were needed on a hunt, he was more often right. The packs that he led on hunts always returned, to a man or woman, not always whole or with all their limbs, but alive to hunt another day. And always returned with that for which they had gone out to hunt. And as he grew in stature and aged into his first manhood, there were fewer and fewer casualties. In this he had more and more of the awe and respect of the tribe.

Tarou was considered the best hunter the tribe had ever had and was therefore in line for the leadership. That was something he wasn’t sure he wanted. But the present leader was still young and had all his digits, so that decision could be put away for now. That being the case he couldn’t help being a little full of himself. A little arrogant, though always respectful to the elders. This showed mostly in his pursuit of the woman of his choice. Marnal. She was perfect for him. She matched him in every way and one day she would realise it and stop this silly holding him at bay, putting him off. Pretending that she had no interest in bedding with him. No matter. He was patience itself. Though he wasn’t adverse to pushing her a little. She always gave as good as she got. He’d love to experience that passion under the skins of their own hut someday.

He smiled inwardly at the thought. He rarely let others know his inner feelings, though his actions usually spoke louder than his expressions. Yes, he was pleased with the way things were going, with Marnal as his constant companion, even though she never sought him out. She sought the company of no man. Likely this was to reduce the jealousies that her kind could induce in a well balanced hunting team. He was aware that there was no other man in the tribe who could stand up to him in either appearance, strength, or wit. And Marnal. She was all business all the time. She was focused and quick witted and though not as strong as he (how could she be? She was a female!) But she used her wit to advantages that strength alone couldn’t match.

Then there was the rock painting that  little Gibbi had made of him. She had mixed ash and ichor and had stroked it deftly onto a piece of the black rock that lay under  every part of his world.  It was a special honour to be chosen as subject for one of her paintings. She had done something unusual with the eyes. Not unpleasant, but strange, that made the subject look both determined and intense. Was that how he looked to others? Still it pleased him like so many things did. He was pleased and yet there were stirrings of unease in him, as if a change were coming, bringing the unknown hurtling down upon them like a falling slab of grey rock.

#4 The Vortex Swimmer

| November 4, 2011 | 2 Comments

 

I don’t know anything about her. She arrived in and exited my doodle-book in exactly the way pictured here.

Day Three: “Johnny ‘the rat’ Raccoon”

| November 3, 2011 | 0 Comments

#2 Warling

| November 3, 2011 | 2 Comments

Warling

A member of a milquetoast race of scientist aliens, Warling became bored and escaped to Earth where he embraced human violence. Using advanced technology, Warling built a mecha that he uses to create chaos.

A Piercer Defender from my novel “Mentor”

| November 2, 2011 | 6 Comments

2011 Day 02 A Piercer Defender, UnderCity denizen from the novel "Mentor" by J.S. Rowe

The Piercers are a large breed of insectoids who hunt the humanoids in UnderCity in my novel “Mentor”. In turn they are hunted for their eggs and ichor, as well as the chitinous plates that cover the flexible eight- to ten- foot lengths of their bodies. Hunted during molting season and again in Laying season, these creatures are extremely dangerous, and in molting season are in particularly bad temper, having less balance due to their loss of wings. The Wings provide a little lift and balance to the two legged insect, but no flight.

Piercer Layers will lay up to six eggs in a nest secured to the damp walls with mud daubs. Once the nest is full they will patch together another nest and proceed to fill it, each Layer can fill up to 20 nests if left undisturbed. Usually only one nest will survive, this serial abandonment. The eggs are much sought after by the smaller fauna of the UnderCity.

In later days it is speculated that many of the strange creatures found in the UnderCity were the product of brutal cost-cutting by the corporate entity that held the sole rights over synthetic DNA (aka SynthDNA) operating under the name BioSynthetics (See T’rest vs BioSynthetics, sect 536, para. 43(a)&(c)).

BioSynth Corp created designer biotics (for scientific study and experimentation), domestic animals, feral animals (for freak shows and safari parks), as well as the more socially problematic designer humanoid “servants” (entertainers, caregivers, and mentors) for the very wealthy.

It was determined that some of the experimental and designer DNA biomass as well as some of the rarer creatures created escaped the Grid and were found later to have morphed and evolved in closed off areas of the city, and also to have spread to other areas of the planet. It is undetermined how much of the extant DNA is “natural” or “tainted” by SynthDNA.

The legal battles raged for centuries. BioSynth Corp. claiming that legally every plant, animal, humanoid containing any part or copy of SynthDNA belonged to them. This of course was disputed by the offspring of the original carriers of SynthDNA.

Note: All creatures sold as pets, domestic animals, feral animals. or servants were guaranteed to be biologically infertile in order for BioSynth Corp. to retain it’s favourable position in the market place.

The Piercers were originally created for the owner operator of a Fun Farm, who went bankrupt through poor decision making. At the time of their creation their size was DNA limited to three feet in length.

#2 Olaf

| November 2, 2011 | 1 Comment
Olaf the Wraith

Olaf the Wraith

i don't think he quite GETS local laws. all he knows is that sometimes people start fights if he tries to leech energy off of them with his psuedopods, and then sometimes the nice folks ask him if he'd like to pay a fine or spend a free night in this place they call jail. but it has cable! can't be jail, translator must be malfunctioning again...

Day 01–Marnal of Undercity from my novel “Mentor”

| November 1, 2011 | 8 Comments

Day 01 -Marnal of UnderCity

 

Marnal is one of the main characters in my current Science Fantasy novel “Mentor“.  Mentor has been brewing on the back burner of my imaginative processes for at least two decades, perhaps longer. This will be my sixth novel.

Imagine a small world out on the Far Rim where human dependency on computers is absolute. If you are not “connected” then you no longer exist, and without connection you cannot access anything that would sustain your life. Food, shelter, clothing. All are replicated by the Artificial Intelligence  machines only at personal request over the Grid. No Grid, you soon die of exposure and/or starvation. And perhaps even die of grief over the loss. But accidents happen, though people turn a blind eye. Corruption in the code, metal fatigue in an ancient machine, great over-ruling System, MAICS, can drop a person off the Grid faster than the engineers and their trained apprentices can locate and repair any damage. And once a person is gone.. they are not even mourned. They have ceased to exist. But do some mourn regardless..?

This is the story of one person on one of the ancient Rim Worlds, who so far is surviving the terrible loss of connection, and of another who naively plots to be removed from the perceived restraints of the Grid. It is the story of those they encounter and gather around them on their disparate journies–one desperately trying to get home; the other with equal desperation trying to get away.  Woven through out is the story of the plight of the artificially created servants of the ruling classes–the caregivers and the mentors. As well as the story of another lost people, Marnal’s people, who are born off the Grid with only comforting distortions about it that have been handed down through too many generations. It is an adventure story of the ever present struggle between the Haves and the Have-nots, and it is a journey of both enlightenment and redemption.

It is also the novel I’m writing for NaNoWriMo this month.  Wish me luck!

Day# 30 MobU and Stats, robot symbiotes

| November 30, 2010 | 3 Comments
#30 MobU+Stats, robot symbiotes for Wheeler's Orbits by Jande Rowe

#30 MobU+Stats, robot symbiotes for Wheeler's Orbits by Jande Rowe

“Days like this make me think I was manufactured under a bad sign.” ―C-3PO.

#30 MobU & Stats, Robot Symbiotes

You might be forgiven if at first glance you think there are two robots in this artist’s sketch of Stats and MobU (pronounced “Mow’bew”). And in one fairly obvious way you would be right. They look separate, though MobU can attach itself to Stats’ head piece once the antenna has been retracted. But they were created in fact as a single unit. Though if Stats‘ personality splits any further, there may be a true dichotomy.

Wheeler and Ikey assembled Stats when they were kids from parts scavenged from the local industries on their home planet of Foglio IV, many of which were experimental, some of which were top secret. That may have been the reason why Stats often had memory failures. It may account for the fact that the robot could spout statistics about things that Wheeler or Ikey had never even heard of. It also may be why he or uh.. lets just call it “he” for now, since it, uh… he has just achieved a conscious state of sentience for the first time in over a decade –Well its system combination of CPU [Central Processing Unit] and HMC [HoloMemoryCore] had. Consciousness had been hard-wired in by a series of bizarre accidents, perhaps even before Wheeler dug the logic core out of the recycle bin. Then again, with Wheeler’s luck, not to mention timing, and total lack of training, the boys might have had a little to do with the personality, or… Personalities, that emerged.  But to all intents and purposes Stats had finally been delegated to a dark corner of the jet park cubby-hole the last time he had a memory failure. Wheeler wasn’t that interested in statistics anyway, though Ikey got a bit of a kick out of them. By this time he was frustrated by the breakdowns, and he and Ikey having just discovered that girls were not the icky fragjaws he used to think them, he managed over time to forget all about having tried to create the world’s first Super-Destructo Paintball Robot (Some fads never die).

Later with the rise of the family fortunes, the house and jetpark were sold off, the contents of the jetpark including the deactivated robot were sent to a Goodwill recycle plant, and the family moved literally up to the next level on Foglio IV.

The Techs at Goodwill were astounded to find the rather scuffed Robot as part of a donation delivery. They tried activating it. The lights blinked and went on blinking, but nothing happened. No response to voice input anyway. One of the techs thought he might have an old keyboard stashed away in the back, but when he looked for it, he decided it might not be worth digging through centuries of museum pieces for it. Then another truckload of donations came in and he left the Robot powered up and didn’t remember until the following day when he came in to find its lights had stopped blinking and it was turning its head this way and that as if looking for something, or maybe… scanning?

He tried voice commands again but all the tech could get out of it was a stream of archaic statistics. It did however make a fine cup of tea, and so it was installed in the tech lunch room. There it stayed for about a year, entertaining them with tea and statistics, until one day they arrived for tea and the robot was gone. No one seemed to know where or why. It hadn’t been sold. It might have been stolen, but who would steal from a charity organisation run by volunteers. Nah. The Robot was an unstable device at best. It probably had the  mechanical equivalent of a brainstorm and wandered off. They would miss the tea.

And brainstorm was exactly what had happened. A kind of accidental pre-programmed brainstorm caused by conflicting commands, and timed relay synapses opening certain logic gates that weren’t meant to be opened. And so a robot child was born. And it wandered away in search of its mother, with no clue of how to interact with the world as a sentient being. But it was learning. And one thing it was learning was that that nagging voice in his head really WAS in his head. The MobU was still firmly attached, and wasn’t much liking it.

MobU is the shortened form of “Mobile Unit”, even though its base also had a more limited form of mobility. It was designed to be a completely separate Unit from the MainFrame “parent” (note: MainFrame has a whole different meaning in the 24th Century) while sharing memory and some of the parent unit’s CPU cycles.  During the time Wheeler and Ikey were trying to get the darned Robot to do anything but recite outdated statistics, more and more of the MobU’s capacity was taken up with memory backups from the main. Which had the unexpected result of  both units becoming sentient at the same time but growing differentiating personalities based on their differing functionality and mobility.

The MobU was a free-floating (some say flying, but it couldn’t go far from the parent unit, although no one has had a chance to determine how far that is), dish-shaped device that had one curious aspect. The material it was made from was a top secret amalgam of human biologicals and mineral-metallurgicals at the molecular level. It could not only heal itself, but its logic boards could really think. It’s only limitation to the kinds of changes it could make to itself was that it could not change its own total mass. In that, it was one singular and unique unit. And its biggest problem, as it soon learned, was that it was trapped in a relationship with a slower “thinking” and much more confused other half. But that was only the beginning of its problems.  They were stuck with each other and would have to make the best of it. Unless…

Perhaps could those who had created Stats and MobU find a way to separate them? If MobU was to turn its vast and unique fledgling intelligence to work in tandem with Stats‘ longing to find his creator. More than a decade had passed since lights out. Could they do it?

~~~~~

I had a hard time stopping writing long enough to upload this one. These guys really caught my imagination. Hard to believe I sat and stared at a blank sheet of Strathmore Bristol for over an hour this morning with an equally blank mind. Later, as my panic grew, I started scribbling heads in the hope it would get the juices flowing again. This piece is the result and I’m extremely happy with the Characters, their relationship, and the many ideas for fun story arcs they have given me. I hope you enjoy my Finale piece as much as I do, and will continue to enjoy these two Characters when I incorporate them into Wheeler’s Orbits comic.

#30 Reiko oro-Banaru

| November 30, 2010 | 0 Comments

Name: Reiko oro-BaranuReiko oro-Baranu

World: Race

Species: Onka

Gender: Female

Age: 49

Bio: Reiko is co-chair of the Mathematics Department at NDU.  Though she does her best to be friendly and approachable by the students (she asks that they call her by her first name), she has been known to get brusque with people occasionally, most likely from the pressure that comes with her position.  She and the other co-chair, Professor Kanari, don’t exactly get along well.  Some students are fond of her while others are wary around her, which in itself isn’t all that unusual.  She’s taken an almost motherly liking to Professor Everett; despite working in different departments, the two of them often have lunch together.  The student tutors and graders of the department answer to her, and she’s the one who ultimately selected Nyarokhu and Fyorra, plus a few others, from the small pool of tutoring applicants.  She’s a bit on the short side, and she speaks with a slight accent.

[The following journal entry is translated from the original, which was written in Azenai-ro.]

There was another dinner with the school president tonight.  He’s a nice fellow, don’t get me wrong, but the dinners are always the same.  I feel justified in politely declining his invitation in favor of tackling this queue of student proofs.  Fear not, I’m in no rush.

Seems like at least once a week, I’m hearing from either Fyorra or Nyarokhu about the other.  Fyorra moreso.  I swear, you’d think they were at each others’ throats day and night, the way they complain about each other.  I’m half tempted to fire them both if they don’t knock it off soon, but being down two tutors is certainly not the wisest course of action at this time of year.  I would’ve thought it an aggressive trait of Dubina as a whole if Kristen hadn’t lauded that one student of hers so.  Nanneyo, I believe her name was.  According to Kristen she’s the sweetest thing since French Vanilla.  I certainly wouldn’t mind meeting her.  Aira’s mane, I’d welcome it after all the animosity from those other two.

Yesterday I finally had the fortune to meet Nakoa, the young lad Nalirún kept talking about.  I must say, it’s no wonder he likes that boy so much.  I could see the eager sparkle in his eyes.  From what Nalirún’s told me, he’s quiet but always alert in class, as if he can’t get enough of the knowledge he’s receiving.  I would’ve liked to have him in my own department, I admit, but a passion is a passion.  I could never keep a person from his or her dreams.

It probably isn’t the best idea to let this drag on for too long.  I’ve still got quite a few proofs to look over.  A shame that starting to work is the hardest part.  Believe me when I say I’m looking forward to winter break this year.

Race info can be found here.

Day# 29 – Myrll (with writer, James S. Allen)

| November 30, 2010 | 0 Comments
#29 Myrll, a Fincali female, from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen

#29 Myrll, a Fincali female, from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen

Myrll is another Character from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen. This concept sketcb took me two days to pull together this far. She is an exeptionally intelligent ‘avianoid” of the Fincali race. As you can see from the art, the Fincali evolved from bird-like creatures. In Fincali mythology it is said that upon a time, the race actually had the power of flight using their own wings.

Here is a brief excert from the author describing Stephen and Rowen, young Xenoarchaeologists, first encountering Myrll:

~~~~~

It was a Fincali.

Inside one of the glass fronted shops was an adult Fincali, pounding with both hands on the glass wall and shouting at them.  Well, not exactly shouting.  Fincali were not particularly equipped for shouting.  It was really more like wild trilling and screeching.  But for a Fincali, it was the equivalent of shouting.

As they drew near, they saw that the Fincali was wearing an envirosuit.  One of the sleeves of the suit bore the emblem of Universalis University.  The Fincali she as they were now able to distinguish by the distinctive crest of plumage that very conveniently differentiated male and female Fincali to other races – flapped her arms about wildly as they approached and then slumped against the wall and slid to the floor.

Great Goatha’s Infinite Orifices!” Stephen exclaimed.  “I hope she’s not dead.  Quick! Let’s get her out of there.”

~~~~~

Afternote: This one was really, really hard for me to draw. Large bird legs in perspective, how to get her looking natural, poised and balanced. Really tough!  In the end I simply ran out of time. Oh, and that thing in her hand is not an alien cosmetic bag its a kind of ray emitting weapon, and she’s an expert shot.

I hope you enjoy this in spite of its flaws. ;`)

Day# 28 Sonata (with writer James S. Allen)

| November 28, 2010 | 0 Comments
#28 Sonata, from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen, by Jande Rowe

#28 Sonata, from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen, by Jande Rowe

#28 Sonata, from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen

Note: As promised, here is another, and I must say–very important– character from the novel Alien Artifacts, by James S. Allen. Since at this time I don’t have the time to colour it in a way that would do it justice, I’ve presented it in black and white for your pleasure. The coloured version will come along later. Once again, James has given me a most generous excerpt form Alien Artifacts, featuring the debut of Sonata, little alien woodland creature. And smart? Ooh! Sure is!

But since I’ve been privileged to read the whole novel, I must be careful. I don’t want to hand out any spoilers. There is so much depth and fun in this novel, I wouldn’t want you to miss any of it.

So here is the excerpt, and my thanks to James for allowing me the privilege of drawing his characters.

~~~~~

In the gray, early hour before dawn, Stephen was jolted awake, this time by a cry from much closer at hand.  He’d heard Rowan scream, he was sure of it! But like the cry in middle of the night, hers too was suddenly cut off.  A surge of adrenaline shot through him as fear clenched at his gut.  He leapt to his feet, staggering slightly with dizziness at the suddenness of his rising.  Where was Rowan?

As a matter of fact, she was standing in the basket just in front of him, facing its forward end.

“Rho!”  he exclaimed.  “Are you all right?  I heard you cry out.”

She held a finger to her lips and then whispered, “I’m fine.  Sorry to alarm you.  I’m afraid I’ve frightened it as well.”

It?”  he replied in a whisper, looking around. He noted that Myrll was sitting quietly in the rear of the gondola, head tilted in puzzlement.  “What ‘it’ have you frightened? And why are we speaking in whispers?”

“So we don’t frighten it anymore.”  she said.  “It was just so startling to find it there when I awoke that I let out a scream before I could stop myself.  Now I feel badly.”

Stephen looked at Rowan wonderingly.  “Uh, find what where?  Rho, by Goatha’s Lolling Tongue, what are you talking about?”

“Shhh!” she admonished, and inclined her head towards the front of the gondola.  “That.”

A small furry head with large, liquid golden eyes, popped up from the edge of the basket.  “Purdeeep…purdeeep?” it chittered.  It looked over the occupants of the basket, head darting from side to side.  When no one moved it apparently reached a decision, and leapt nimbly from the side of the basket to one of the ropes that held the gondola suspended.  “Purdeeep?”  It called again questioningly.

It was roughly the size of a large earthly squirrel, and similar in shape, with a luxuriantly furred body and a large bushy tail.  Instead of four limbs, however, it had six.  The hind legs were powerful and well-muscled, made for jumping and climbing.  The four front limbs were like two sets of arms, each ending in a tiny articulated hand with three fingers and a thumb for grasping.  Its fur was a glossy black, with splotches of gold and orange.  On its face was a tiny white bandit’s mask, and just above each of it hands, there was a band of white fur that encircled its arms.

“It’s absolutely gorgeous.”  Rowan breathed raptly, “And so cute!  I wonder what it might like to eat?”

Stephen had to agree.  It was both.  Still, it was also a wild creature on an alien world.  Caution would doubtless be the wisest course of action.

“Rho,” he whispered diffidently, “do you really think it’s wise to get involved with an unknown wild creature, stranded here as we are, amongst aliens of uncertain intent?”

Rowan considered briefly, and shook her head from side to side slightly.  “No.  Almost certainly not.”

The creature, who had been looking from one human to the other as they spoke, shook its head from side to side.

“No… neither do I.”  Stephen whispered back.

“So,” Rowan repeated.  “I wonder what it might like to eat?”

“I suggest some of the nuts we brought from the island.”  Stephen offered hopefully.  “It looks a bit like a squirrel, and they certainly like nuts.”

~~~~~

Afternote: I’m toying with the idea of Having Rowan and Stephen as my last two characters, but they  may be too complex for me to create in a way that will satisfy the writer.  I’m going to give it a try anyway and see what happens.  If they don’t turn out, I’ll do something else. I’d really like to have an awesome finale piece (but I’m afraid I won’t be able to top this one. lol)

Enjoy!

#28 Anora Yurudón

| November 28, 2010 | 0 Comments

Well, looks like I left my tablet’s stylus at my aunt’s house after Thanksgiving.  She said she’d mail it but I probably won’t get it back until Tuesday.  So to keep on schedule, I figured I’d try a few written entries instead.  The image is a five-minute pencil sketch I did and took a picture of with my phone, touched up a bit in Photoshop.

Name: Anora YurudónSir Anora Yurudón

World: Race

Species: Jorgoan

Gender: Male

Age: 53

Bio: Sir Yurudón is the unofficial leader of the Jorgoan Upper Council, the single highest-ranked man in the entire empire.  Most call him the Protector.  Some have called him the Dictator, though those who do usually end up banished.  The mind-numbing injection now unknowingly given to and received by all Jorgoans upon turning eighteen, when they go in for their required medical checkups?  That was his idea.  He’s been infected with the desire to have as much power as possible, and seeing the entire population brainwashed in front of him is one way of doing so.  It’s oddly satisfying, in a way, seeing an entire race at your mercy.  His corruption also came with paranoia, though, and he desperately fears losing his position.  Any dissenters, nearly always youth who have not yet received their injections, are punished ruthlessly.  He even gets defensive around the other Upper Council members.  He’s gone so far as approaching the Innovation Team about extending his life indefinitely…perhaps transplanting his brain into a young clone of himself would work?

They’re after me.

I know they are.  I see the way Kalana eyes me during meetings, I see the way Noraji flirts with my daughter, the way Runi and Hinál always leave together, conversing in hushed tones with their shoulders hunched.

I see the number of dissenters rising.  Twenty-two this past year here on Jorgoa, eighteen on Eléz, twenty-nine on Atareo!  And all of them these teenagers.  I fear we may have to move the injection down to fifteen instead of eighteen, maybe even lower.  This can’t go on.  We can’t risk being overthrown, not now.  Not after all this time, all this effort.  I can’t let it happen.

The Innovation Team contacted me today and said their experiments were underway, but so far they haven’t been able to do a transplant without permanent damage to the brain stem.  I do hope they get their act together soon.  This body of mine’s only got forty more years to live, if it’s lucky.  And I refuse to let this empire go without me watching it.  I refuse to let it fall apart.  I’ve held this nation together for more than twenty years now, and Dani-Shugál smite me if I’m letting it go anytime soon.

There have been enough failures.  Our armies failed to subdue Anaziim and its people, those hideous slug-rodents.  Zanduul, they called themselves.  I already got on the Resource Team’s case for that one.  Water shortage, my ass.  You can’t have a water shortage if you’ve got a planet 85% covered in it under your belt!  Blame the Transport Team if you must for not expanding its NSoD facilities, but come on!  You’re higher than them!  Kick their sorry tails!

But no matter.  We’ve already scouted out another life-supporting planet, Narinno Gamma.  Less populated than its neighbor, Narinno Delta.  If we can seize the former and stock it with troops, the latter will fall all the easier.  Pray the locals aren’t as resilient as those damn Zanduul.  If they fail again, I swear, I swear by the Dani-Hajoro itself, that their grandkids are going to be feeling my wrath.  That system’s going to be ours if it’s the last thing I do.

General Race info, as usual, can be found here.

Day# 27 A Pair of Gorths (with writer James S. Allen)

| November 28, 2010 | 0 Comments
#27 A Pair of Gorths, from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen

#27 A Pair of Gorths, from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen

#27 A Pair of Gorths, from the novel Alien Artifacts by James S. Allen

(#25)Rok’sla has an excerpt that introduces the Gorths in James S. Allen’s novel Alien Artifacts. Here is another small excerpt from Alien Artifacts featuring the Gorths:

~~~~~

“Behind them, the tortured entry door finally yielded, a large mass of it slumping away to one side.  Two Gorth pirates leapt through the opening, sailed over the still molten metal, and landed in a crouch, prepared to deal instant death with the blasters they waved about with disturbing eagerness.  Enragingly, however, the quarry they had pursued so relentlessly to this place refused to reveal themselves and be properly blasted.  In unconscious tribute to the forces of natural selection that had shaped them from ferociously thoughtless killers to thoughtfully ferocious killers, they refrained from blasting one another.  It was a near thing.”

~~~~~

Afternote: This was supposed to be #26, but I had a power failure and lost my work so I had to start over again. Also the reason the Gorths are uncoloured as yet. No biggie, though. I hope to have a third character from Alien Artifacts ready for tomorrow.

Day# 26, The Swarm From Space

| November 27, 2010 | 0 Comments
#26 The Swarm from Space, by Jande Rowe

#26 The Swarm from Space, by Jande Rowe

They Came From Outer Space

Day #26 –The Swarm

No one knows their origin, most don’t even know they exist. The first indication of that comes when one looks up at the sky, alerted by some kind of strange vibration and a sound of wind.

At first you think they are a cloud of little pink angels, like out of one of your kid’s video games, and you drop to your knees in awe. Then as they come closer, you see the odd, almost shapeless shape of them, each apparently the size of an old water barrel, and you slowly get off your knees, unable yet to grasp the totality of the situation. The strange vibration presses against your ears, and the old, old instinct for survival rises in you. The dog is barking, tail between its legs, backing away from the oncoming swarm. You command the dog to follow, and he scampers to your side still barking. He’s shaking all over.

At long last your legs find themselves running, running. You try to direct that motion, calm the primitive panic. But if you don’t get behind closed doors very soon…

There! No, not the barn! The House! Quickly!

Over your shoulder you see the first wave land, though they never really touch the ground. There must be millions of them! You twist the door handle and it sticks. A scream in your throat, you try again, hitting your hip against the stubborn thing. It bursts open and you flail through, the dog right behind you, and slam it behind you, saying a prayer of thanks, while still wondering why you you are panicking. But still the rational part of you takes a few deep breaths and hurries around the house making sure all windows are closed and locked. You even check the fireplace flue.

You think of your wife and the kids who must be on their way home by now. You should call her, but just then you see through the picture window a scene that chills you to your heart: The verdant field and the trees in full leaf, the herds of goats and sheep have been replaced by a moving blanket of fluttering pink winged blobs. And even as you watch, every living thing is stripped from the land and grey devastation left in its wake.  A shudder goes through you.

The dog has stopped barking. But now it is pressing its shaking body against your leg,  uttering quiet whines. A ringing starts in your ears. You realise it’s your phone. You answer it, numbly. It’s Annya, hysterical, crying..  You cut through her sobs and yell. “Are you in the car? Annya! Answer me! Are the kids with you?”

Her answer is muffled, but affirmative. “Whatever you do –Don’t leave the car! Lock it!  Have you locked it?”

Another affirmitive. “Try and drive home once they’ve passed.” Having to keep her sane and help her get home is helping to steel your own nerves.

In less than a few minutes the world has changed. Every living thing on the surface of the earth has been stripped bare. What will happen now. Will they just leave? Or will they try to pry the rest of us out of our hiding spots? That many of them could break apart a house like this in minutes. Nothing, nowhere, is safe..

And what will happen next, with no harvest, no meat animals except those that were kept inside.

You pull the curtains closed, sickened by the sight of that moving pink carpet of devastation. And you wait. And wait.

Day#25 Rok’sla (with Author, James S. Allen)

| November 26, 2010 | 1 Comment
#25 Rok'sla, by Jande Rowe for Alien Artifacts written by James.S. Allen

#25 Rok'sla, by Jande Rowe for Alien Artifacts written by James.S. Allen

“I have been specially trained.”

Note: James S. Allen has written a delightful space adventure novel, “Alien Artifacts”, about a pair of  Xenoarchaeologists from the Institute of Ancient Studies, Rowan and Stephen, embarking on their first dig on an unknown planet dubbed “Dekkar V”. They are both very excited about  this, but sooner than you would expect things go wrong and they are plunged into a fascinating world of  beauty, intrigue and living alien artifacts. James has kindly given me the excerpt from Alien Artifacts below as an introduction to his character, Rok’sla, of the Calurrian race:

~~~~~

They moved off to follow the well worn path that was indicated by the marker beacons.  It was pleasant to stretch their legs beneath the open sky, even if it was purplish black, after several weeks shipboard.  In the light gravity, they made short work of the journey.  As they approached the camp, they were greeted by a brief burst of static in their suit comms, and then an unfamiliar guttural voice.

“Welcome colleagues.  Please proceed to the airlock on the largest dome.  I’ll be waiting there to greet you.”

They cycled through the designated airlock and emerged into a large, brightly lit room that was obviously a laboratory.  The room was strewn with sealed boxes, equipment, instruments and ancient alien artifacts in many shapes and sizes.  There were also three persons in the room.  The smallest of these, an orange-skinned gnomish looking individual, moved forward to greet them.  He waited while Stephen and Rowan removed their helmets, and then addressed them in the same guttural voice that had come across the suit comm units.

“Greetings.  I am Dr. Rok’sla.  I lead the UU expedition.  These are my associates,  Assistant Researchers Kloskan and Durnel.”  He indicated the two figures that towered behind him to the left and right.

Stephen looked at them and did a double take.  The seven foot tall reptilian forms were familiar to him, and he was quite taken aback to see them standing here in lab coats.

“Yes,” continued Dr. Rok’sla drily, “they are indeed Gorth.  There is a great deal of…misinformation that circulates about the Gorth race.  Contrary to popular opinion, they are not all pirates.  Many of them choose to pursue careers in the arts and sciences.  As have these two, my able colleagues here on Dekkar V.”

The two Gorth smiled hugely at Stephen and Rowan, revealing a startling array of jagged razor sharp teeth.

“Unfortunately, however, one piece of common knowledge about the Gorth is true.  They are quite unable to master Galcom, and hence will be unable to converse with you directly.  If there is anything you wish to ask of them or convey to them, I fear I will have to translate for you.”

This piqued Rowan’s curiosity.  “That’s quite fascinating Dr. Rok’sla.  I understood the Gorth to communicate by extremely low frequency sound waves, produced and received by specially evolved organs in their tails.  Those frequencies are far below the threshold that can be created by the vocal apparatus of most species.  Are you saying the calurrian race have some sort of similar capability?”

An unreadable expression appeared briefly on the bulbous features of the rotund little being and he answered tersely.

“I have been specially trained.”  His face smoothed again into its former blandness.  “And now, perhaps, you would extend the courtesy of introducing yourselves?”

~~~~~~~

Afternote: The next Character will also be from the novel Alien Artifacts. James has definitely created some memorable ones. It has been interesting finding a balance between the ones I saw in my own minds eye when I read the novel and the ones I shape from my discourse with the author. Another completely new and satisfying process –a path to agreement– must be forged in order for the author to be happy with what emerges from my pen.

Enjoy!

#25 Nyarokhu ra’Sennari

| November 25, 2010 | 0 Comments

Nyarokhu ra'Sennari

I ran out of room to write it on the image, but he’s a junior at NDU with a major in Mathematics.

I do hope I haven’t gotten in over my head here.  There shouldn’t be any problem writing Fyorra’s reactions to Nyarokhu, since she and I have similar prudish personalities.  Writing for Nyarokhu and his group, though, is going to be hard to do realistically and without offending anyone.  Maybe I should start hanging out with more people at my own school…

Fellow math tutor Fyorra’s page is here, and general Race info is here.

#24 CL-C 01 “C-One” Vargas

| November 25, 2010 | 2 Comments

C-One Vargas

A question I’ve long wondered about: if animals were more sentient like us, how would they feel about being bred?  It’s a concept I’ve explored a bit in (unpublished) writing before.

His friend is A-Two.  To compare to an immature male Biot, you may want to look at Ash.  And as usual, basic Race info is here.

Day#24 Baron Bleebharan, Rebel Artist

| November 25, 2010 | 0 Comments
#24 Baron Bleebharan for Wheeler's Orbits by Jande Rowe

#24 Baron Bleebharan for Wheeler's Orbits by Jande Rowe

“Self-Portrait of a Failed Abstract Artist”

by Baron Bleebharan of  the Outer Rim Artists Colony, circa 2420(GR)

Day # 24: A Balthrazhod: Baron Bleebharan.

The above self portrait of Baron Bleebharan, a Balthrazhod artist and framing specialist from  the Outer Rim Artists Colony is said to be the only surviving work of his abstractionist art, though numerous of his maverick landscape works exist even today in the Bleebharan Museum of Natural Art. Below is an excerpt from the BalthrazWiki, sans citations:

“Semi-sentient beings settled a minor planet in the Outer Rim of the Galaxy millennia before the Earth was even a mote in Sol’s Corona. The original settlers were looking for a world of natural beauty so that they might have a bountiful place to begin their artists colony far from the censure of their fellow Balthrazhods. They settled in quite well as a matter of fact, painting up the local fauna and flora and displacing some thirty one thousand indigenous species not to mention enslaving two humanoid species ( the prongles and the fitchrils, both races that would have hunted each other to extinction had the Balthrazhods not taken a shine to their dexterity and  their sensitivity to colour. The dexterity allowed them to do all the kinds of work the Balthrazhods eschewed, leaving the masters to devote all their time to their art; the colour sensitivity allowing even greater range and depth in each piece as the closer to perfection became the work, the more easily the fitchrils would succumb and faint away –rather like Earth canaries who, exposed to the gases emitted in coal mines would falter in their joyous singing and fall from their caged roosts for the betterment of coal miners everywhere).

As the eons of devotion to art progressed, so too did the Balthrazhods, both spiritually and artistically, however they tended to neglect their physical selves and over those same eons became somewhat turgid and slug-like. Those of the Balthrazhods who were able to harness their creativity tended to become more and more abstractionists in temperament, not to mention personally abstracted, to the point of changing their own forms to match their gastropod-like temperaments.

Those who failed artistically tended to become merchants. Of what, you ask? Oh, art supplies and framing, of course.  But those of us here on Terra Firma would not recognize the difference between a Balthrazhod Art Supply Shop and a Balthrazhod Museum of Fine Art.

Baron Bleebharan was one of those failed Balthrazhod artists. Other Balthrazhods had passed judgement upon his works and would have, every one of them, given him the thumbs down if in fact they had anything resembling thumbs by this time. Still, a tentacle curled in contempt had the same effect on a fellow Balthrazhod as the leering thumbs down of an Earth man, secure in his beliefs in The Way Things Worked, had on artists of his own kind.

Baron Bleebharan’s own preference, nay passion, was landscape painting. He abhorred the traditional abstractions (they made him suffer from a vertigo similar to the effect they had on the fitchril slaves), preferring, himself, to capture nature in the raw. The Frilcar of the mountain sunsets, the verlact of the still abundant flora, the streevit sparkle of a marshland spring. These were the colours that moved his turgid juices until he could almost feel it within himself to actually move an inch or two under his own power.

He was filthy rich as most failed artists on the Rim world  were, but he longed for the recognition of his more abstractionist peers. Since he couldn’t help himself, he continued to paint his little landscapes in the face of certain disdain all while he built up his framing business. His reputation as a kooky maverick  brought the curious to his shop (where he even braved the inevitable censure by framing and hanging some of his own curiosities), who then were dazzled by his brilliance in his capacity as an expert and creative framer and when they left his shop they did so after giving the Baron their framing order.

At one point the King and Queen Balthrazhod visited his little shop and came away not only deeply moved (not by his landscapes, of course but by his framing techniques) but determined to provide him with some small reward of stature in the eyes of the world. They gave him a Franglaaesk of his own, a rich reward something along the lines of a Barony in our world. He was told it was a verdant land, filled with all the fauna and flora he could ever want to paint. But he never quite got moving enough to go and visit it. He did send his prongle slaves and they reported in the abstract as they had been trained, that it was a very nice piece of land, complete with an artist’s loft castle and a crystal falls.

As time moved inexorably on, Bleebharan’s yearning for the approbation of his peers finally turned sour. So sour in fact that he decided he’d had enough of the colony world and struck off into space to find perhaps some entities out there if not his own kind, at least maybe of kindred spirit.  And so he had his slaves prepare his last will and testament, leaving all his worldly goods (those left behind) to a Museum of Natural Art, for which he also supplied the funds and the slaves. Then he had them build a ship and fill it with supplies and his favourites of his landscapes, as well as the tools of both his trades, and off he shot into space where he soon ran into a spot of trouble involving a pair of humanoid trade runners who refused to be slaves or artists, but were willing to trade goods and barter services on a fairly equal basis. At least he thought it was fairly equal. These “humans” intrigued the Baron Bleebharan and he found their energetic to-ings and fro-ings entertaining to say the least.

Meanwhile back on his home colony planet, his Museum of Natural Art became a huge success with the younger generations of Balthrazhods, starting a whole new movement in the colony much to the shock and disgust of the diehard older generations. The Baron had left his home to wander the wide universe looking for artists made in his own image (so to speak), and in his rush to start over left behind him the very ones he sought. There is a lesson in this tale, but I’d rather not bore you with proverbs –especially since the Baron Bleebharan got to meet and spend some time with Wheeler and Ikey of Wheeler’s Orbits. And that, of course, made the whole thing worth it after all.”

Enjoy!

Day# 23 Gobbler, Spirit of Thanksgiving

| November 22, 2010 | 1 Comment

#23 Gobbler, Spirit of Thanksgiving, by Jande Rowe

#23 Gobbler, Spirit of Thanksgiving, by Jande Rowe

Pass The Turkey! (And Don’t forget the Stuffing!)

#23 Gobbler, the Spirit of Thanksgiving came to consciousness sometime around the end of the Twentieth Century as mankind measures things. It was a slow awakening, born out of the human need to give thanks for blessings received, and the growing awareness that the entity to whom these thanks had hitherto flowed may or may not actually exist, and if he did exist was kind of demanding and two-faced anyway. Gradually the idea of a venerable old gobbler who, in the past two hundred years or so always showed up at the dinner table around thanksgiving time, sacrificing himself so that others may feed bountifully, and therefore have something to be thankful for, took hold on the imaginations of the western nations. And in doing so freed the Spirit of Thanksgiving to emerge as a conscious being to join the ranks of the modern day spirits along with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

Gobbler, the Spirit of Thanksgiving is a crossover character who will be in many of my comics from now on, blessing those who are grateful for what they have even as they strive for more.

Enjoy!

#21 CL-A 02 “A-Two” Vargas

| November 22, 2010 | 0 Comments

"A-Two" Vargas

For those of you confused/creeped out by all this, perhaps I should try to explain the Biots’ backstory.  The company that created them markets them as, essentially, robots made of organic material.  They’re meant to serve as part toy, part assistant, part livestock.  The ultimate pet.  Different people treat them differently, but most overall think of them as just what they’re thought to be: very sophisticated robots.  However, in actuality, the company did not “put them together” as one might expect, synthesizing tissue and wiring commands into their brains.  Rather, the Biots were built from the ground up through DNA tweaking and splicing.  In other words, they’re actual live animals with minds and souls just as complex as our own.  But since they were “coded” with very strong submissive instincts, they can’t help but follow orders, and this preconception that the company leaked into the public, few people think of them as anything but automatons.

I’m still unsure of how A-Two’s story will factor into the Race story, since all of my characters so far are connected to Narinno Delta University in some way.  I’m thinking that maybe the Vargas family has become wealthy enough to own something relevant to the college plot.  I’d like to design her friend soon.

More general Race info can be found here.

Day# 21 Sporkasaurus

| November 21, 2010 | 3 Comments
#21 Sporkasuarus by Jande Rowe

#21 Sporkasuarus by Jande Rowe

Sporkasaurus

‘Nuff  said.

;`)

Day# 15 ReldoRurr

| November 19, 2010 | 1 Comment
#15 ReldoRurr for Wheeler's Orbits by Jande Rowe

#15 ReldoRurr for Wheeler's Orbits by Jande Rowe

It Ain’t Easy Being Tween

ReldoRurr is an Adnirovjyna youngling, eldest offspring of (#12)Thaddeursus, and therefore a source of great embarrassment to his parent. At the age of dissent, rebellion, and world-weary long-suffering of elders, his passionate nature has more than once brought him before the council whom he refers to as those old fligmarrons* (*a grumpy indecisive animal so set in its ways that it will often run right into an obvious trap rather than deviate from its normal routine–needless to say, they are now a protected species on the planet Adnirovjyn).

Although his father has more sympathy for the age ReldoRurr is going through than the cub may realise, he is still an Adnirovjyna, and therefore feels the censure of his kind deeply. Thus it is his way of trying to keep ReldoRurr out of the way of others that he often gives him the task of collecting (far afield) the small tubers that sprout from the (#14)Sqorthk animal variants.

These can be plucked from the Sqorthk just after the rainy season as they pull themselves ponderously along but this has proven to have a traumatic effect on them, and so usually the younglings are sent to gather the ones that have matured and fallen off to the  ground where, if they are not scooped up will root there and grow into the Sqorthk plants far from the villages. Much more convenient to have them growing under controlled conditions in pots within the villages proper. And much better for all concerned if the wilder younglings are kept busy at a useful  tiring task far from the village.

Unfortunately, ReldoRurr finds this kind of work beneath him, even though he enjoys it, sensing that no matter how useful it is to his people, they really are trying to get rid of him, because in his own mind, he is right about them when he keeps calling them on their “Griiftakk’s Invisible Sceptre” policies** (** a fairy tale told to Adnirovjyni children about a ruler of their people who was sold by a pair of scoundrels from the south, a non-existant magical sceptre that only the most wisest rulers could see). His resentment came to fruition when he reported the existence of an alien invasion from outer space and was given extra duties as a “curb to youthful imaginings”.

Fortunately for ReldoRurr, his pater did accept his story, mostly from the excitement and passion with which it was delivered ((shudder)), and after the fiasco with the council, went with his cub to see with his own eyes those very strange beings, whom he later learned called themselves Wee’hlir and Hie-ke, and hailed from the stars themselves, although actually from an earth-like planet in Andromeda. It was inevitable perhaps that ReldoRurr developed a strong case of hero-worship for the hairless ones, well one of them, for the consequences of that were long remembered.

And so it was that ReldoRurr was the first person ever to lay eyes upon the magnificence that was the space entrepreneurial partnership known as Wheeler’s Orbits and the beginning of a tale so strange it is told to the children of Adnirovjyn to this very day.

~~~

Well I’ve finally reached the half-way point and what a fun ride it’s been so far! Meeting some wonderful artists and storytellers, as well as challenging myself to keep innovating and trying different styles of art, have been the highlights for me during this Challenge. I’m psyched to get the next fifteen Characters out there, as each one contributes much more than one can imagine to the ongoing stories for both Wheeler’s Orbits and Aedre’s Firefly, not to mention a few new story ideas as well.

I hope everyone else is enjoying this Challenge and the fruits of all our labours as much as I am.

Day# 13 a Sqorthk: plant stage.

| November 17, 2010 | 3 Comments
#13 a Sqorthk, by Jande Rowe

#13 a Sqorthk, by Jande Rowe

Adnirovjyni Sqorthk, Vegetable Phase: a vine-like animal that spends part of its life-cycle as a plant, used as a food source for the dominant sentient bear-like species known simply as (#12) Adnirovjyna.

During the vegetative stage, each vine becomes translucent and produces pebbled protrubances that can grow to be quite large. In the early stages these can be broken off and used as vegetables either cooked or raw, which contain starches, cellulose, vitamins and minerals conducive to the good nature and health of the indigenous sentient race of Adnirovjyn. It is a favourite item to be combined with other Adnirovjyni flora to produce a delicious frothy alcoholic beverage well loved by the native peoples which they call Frooshk.

Once the protuberances grow beyond a certain size they lose their translucence and by their own weight droop toward the ground. Here they remain inert for a period of weeks developing a hard knobbly shell –a cocoon of sorts you might say, which protects them from predators to a certain extent, though some have been known to find ingenious ways of cracking them open. It is within this shell that the plant-Sqorthk undergoes the unique transformation from plant to animal.

Next up #14 a Sqorthk in animal phase.

Enjoy!

#16 Nakoa olu-Hani

| November 17, 2010 | 0 Comments

Nakoa olu-Hani

Our random futuristic shirt of the day is a sweatshirt from a Polares concert.  Polares is a band Nakoa likes.  The name is the literal plural of Polaris, the name of Earth’s pole star, so perhaps their name best translates to “North Stars.”  Each planet has to have one, after all!

As usual, more info about Race and its species can be found here.  My entry for Tansei is here.  (And that’s not a typo, the masculine prefix for Onka last names is “olu” and the feminine is “oro.”)

#15 Karalún Sanjori

| November 16, 2010 | 2 Comments

Karalún Sanjori

The plot thickens!

This character had a predecessor I drew a few times back in high school, but since I figured I would never get around to finishing the story she was in at the time, I incorporated some of its background ideas into Race and edited her history and personality accordingly.  I also wound up giving her a shirt that looks eerily similar to one of my own, for some weird reason.  I kept imagining her in it.

Race info can be found here.

Day# 12 – Thaddeursus

| November 16, 2010 | 1 Comment
#12 Thaddeursus, for Wheeler'e Orbits by Jande Rowe

#12 Thaddeursus, for Wheeler'e Orbits by Jande Rowe

Ah, Thaddeursus! Do bears walk in the woods? He doesn’t know because he really isn’t a bear, you see. He’s an Adnirovjyna from one of the Inner Galaxies, known on Terra One as Cassiopeia, but by the indigenous sentients, as Adnirovjyn. One would normally expect to see fulsome Greek goddesses and other females cavorting on the planet Adnirovjyn in the constellation of Cassiopeia, but no. Perversely, peaceful squat furry bear-like humanoids evolved there instead.

Peaceful being the key description of these beings, they will do almost anything to keep things tranquil, and therefore are high strung and nervous most of the time, worrying about whether their actions or the actions of others are going to disturb anyone’s peace.

Thaddeursus, who prefers to be called Thadd, in case it upsets anyone to have to pronounce his full name, is typical of his species with one exception: he was the unfortunate victim of an accident that changed not only his own life and lifestyle, but those of many of his acquaintances in the small village of Cleoptas Woods, as well. This of course does nothing to reduce the agitation he normally feels. In fact it somewhat increases it. But the whole thing is so inherently fascinating that he can’t help himself.

Of course, since all Adnirovjyna have to restrain their overweening curiosity in order to maintain a civilized society, he grew up knowing that it is very wrong to spy on others even if they have very little fur, are tall and thin and strangely coloured. After all, they have two arms, two legs, walk upright and use tools and language (if mostly unintelligible), as well as drink frothy amber liquids and eat highly spiced foods like any normal sentient being. One of them is almost the same shape as an Adnirovjyna, though the other’s shape resembles the more vine-like Sqorthk (a food animal that spends part of its life cycle as a vegetable, during which it is harvested by the Adnirovjyna, who are predominantly vegetarian, but, you know, accidents happen!)

Adnirovjyna tend to be modest, retiring people to whom privacy is paramount, which also increases the tensions caused by their native curiosity. So when Thadd suddenly became somewhat famous by being the first to contact an alien race (though truth be told, they had contacted him by landing their rustbucket of a ship-shuttle in his dreak-pond!) he was since embarrased constantly by the recurrence of the breaking of the twin taboos of notoriety and overzealous curiosity. It was enough to give him  a slight twitch.

But to his shame, his own curiosity was in full roar. These beings did the strangest things, drawing the eyes and ears of all to them, almost as if they relished the attention. But they did have interesting items to trade and that was what had given Thadd all this uncomfortable fame. Oh well, he thought, I guess I shall simply have to grin and bear it until they leave again and things can go back to normal.

But, will they? One whirlwind visit from Wheeler and Ikey could change a whole stable sentient species forever, doncha think?

#13 Rohal Ayuun

| November 14, 2010 | 0 Comments

Rohal Ayuun

Looks like I’ve finally started running a day late. I suppose I should have expected it. Also, the Zanduul’s eight-fingered hands looked a lot better in my head.

Our futuristic shirt of the day is from the 0130 Summer Olympics, held in the city of Ranhaal on the Zanduul homeworld. After learning of this Human tradition, most other races embraced it, and now the Olympics cycle through several planets besides Earth.

As usual, more info about Race can be found here. You may also be interested in my entries for Tansei and Luziim.

#12 Fyorra ra’Nensulo

| November 12, 2010 | 0 Comments

Fyorra ra'Nensulo

Hey, look! I came up with the entire Dubina alphabet so I could write Fyorra’s name in it on the collar, then shrunk it down so you can’t see it anyway!

I first sketched a character like this back when I first conceived of Race. She was to be a computer science tutor like myself. In this refinement, I was worried she’d look like self-insertion so I changed her major, but I wound up imagining her with my personality instead, so…yeah. Still self-insertion. I apologize.

Info on Race can be found here.

#9 Tansei oro-Hani

| November 9, 2010 | 0 Comments

Tansei oro-Hani

Seems like half the fun of designing Race characters is making up fictional future organizations and crafting logos for them!  This tank top is from a dance convention called LifeBeat, which Tansei attended in 0132 CEU when it was held in Kunsai (a city on her planet).

More about the Onka and other species of Race can be found here.

Day# 09 Flodd and Flara for Wheeler’s Orbits

| November 8, 2010 | 3 Comments
#09 Flodd & Flara for Wheeler's Orbits by Jande Rowe

#09 Flodd & Flara for Wheeler's Orbits by Jande Rowe

When Wheeler’s Orbits made landfall on Faranurus IV with a cargo hold full of Denebrian, they thought it was unusual that there was no bustling spaceport; not even a sign of any kind of technology at all.  Ikey thought they should check the computer and the starmaps to see if they were in the right place, but as usual Wheeler just opened the airlock and  went out to see what was happening.
“They probably just have really good camouflage, Ikey. You worry too much!” and he was gone. Ikey donned space-suit, set the computer to figure out what went wrong, and doggedly followed Wheeler. This was definitely NOT dry, arid Faranurus IV! This place was a swamp. Of course it might have changed in the last year, but he doubted it very much.

The first thing he saw that moved was moving away from him. It looked like a giant lopped off banana with arms, but no legs. It kind of floated along a few inches above the ground when it wasn’t reaching up with its long yellow arms to swing itself from the low hanging branches from tree to tree.  It was a colourful world, and in spite of himself, Ikey felt himself relaxing. That of course put him even more on guard. He’d seen some weird things in space, but never before a piece of fruit with arms. Then it turned around and started back toward him. It had eyes! and the arms had hands with opposable thumbs! He wondered if it had sharp pointy teeth and decided for the better part of valour.

Through the portal of the airlock he could see them gathering, apparently curious about this huge thing that had landed in their forest. They even more reminded him of bananas since they were in a multitude of shades from bright green to  deep yellow, and some even had the brown and black spots you find on the very ripe ones. He shook his head. Leave it to Wheeler to run off on his own on a strange world.

He left his suit on and went in to the computer. The data screen showed the deviation in course due to an input error of one digit.  He knew who to blame for that, too. He sighed. Well, they weren’t too far off course. If he could grab Wheeler they could be on Faranurus IV within a week.

He looked back at the airlock window, and was startled to see yellow-green faces, shaped a little like earth monkeys, jostling to peer in at him.
=========

” Come Flara, come with papa to see what the skies have brought this time.” He gazed fondly at his third daughter, so green and yet wasn’t that a tinge of the yellow of maturity creeping into her skin. It made him sad that soon she would be fully mature and golden and leaving him for her chosen mate. But he would enjoy her companionship while he could, at least until his next change and he could bear more fruit himself, though then he would be a her self.

Things had often dropped from the sky that didn’t seem to belong here. Most often they fell near the  great lake, and then, before his people could satisfy their natural curiosity, they flew away like Singbirds, often straight up into the sky until they were specks that could be seen no more. That was always a disappointment to Flodd. Maybe this time, there would be a chance to touch and taste the thing that fell from the sky.

Flara skipped along in front of him, skimming the ground, still a bit wobbly with that skill, and reaching up for hand holds on the Twanda trees, not to mention gorging herself on their  clusters of fruit. He was an indulgent parent though, and prefered to let all his offspring learn through their own experience, though there was something quicker and more delightful with this one, so that he tended to be more protective of her.

He could see through the trees that others of his kind were gathering, streaming in the direction of the new fallen thing. This made Flodd happy. He loved gatherings, and he loved exploring, and he loved bringing his curiosity to bear on new things. Especially when the sun was warming his Frolldots and he had energy to burn.

Suddenly, he cried out in alarm, “Stop!” and  pulled Flara to him and behind him. A strange animal had burst out of the undergrowth, splashing muddy sand all around him. It was tall and thin and was strangely coloured. It had twice the appendages than normal and actually put two of them on the ground and in the water of the swamp. That appeared to be its mode of locomotion, although it was a lurching one. Flodd had never seen its like. Is this what had fallen? It seemed too small and at the same time too big. It stopped now, swaying and seemed to be speaking to him, but the sounds were very low pitched and growling, akin to the sound of a Froctali in a fallen tree.
====

“Where the heck am I and what the heck are you?” Wheeler said to the yellow being standing stock still and staring at him bemused. “I’m lost.”

#7 Luziim Oshan

| November 7, 2010 | 2 Comments

Luziim Oshan

She was quick to buy that top, eh? (The small text reads “Since 0104 CEU”.)

For more about the Zanduul and the other species in Race, click here!