Tag: SciFi

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!

#1 Templar of Steel

| November 1, 2011 | 1 Comment

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#1 Gorillanaut

| November 1, 2011 | 8 Comments

Gorillanaut Champion of the Cosmos!

This is the story of the first Gorilla launched into outer space in the American space program.

He was born on June 17th, 1956  in  Uganda’s Bwindi Impenetrable National Park. He was captured by animal trappers and sent to a sideshow in Coney Island New York.  Three years later he was purchased by the United States Air Force and brought to the   Holloman Air Force Base Aeronautical Research Facility or H.A.F.B.A.R.F  in Alamogordo, New Mexico.

Researchers started with a group of 29 chimps and 1 Gorilla as primate flight candidates at H.A.F.B.A.R.F After a series of intensive tests the gorilla beat out the chimps and began training for his space mission.

Beginning in July 1959, the three-year-old Gorilla was trained at  H.A.F.B.A.R.F to do  timed tasks in response to electric lights. In his pre-flight training, Gorillanaut was taught to push a button within two seconds of seeing a flashing red light; failure to do so would result in  punishment in the form of a mild electric shock to his testicles. A correct response earned him a chocolate covered frozen banana from a hi-tech dispenser.

On January 31, 1961, Gorillanaut secured a position in Project Mercury Mission X-2 and was launched from Cape Canaveral, Florida on a  flight beyond the Van Ellen Belt to test radiation levels. The capsule was bombarded with massive doses of gamma rays and suffered a partial loss of the life support system and a fried  communication panel during the flight. Luckily Gorillanaut’s space suit prevented him from suffering any harm.

The gamma rays broke the banana dispenser causing the entire stock of now gamma radiated frozen bananas to fall out.  Sadly, Gorillanaut was so busy gobbling up six cases of bananas that he didn’t  notice the flashing red light and missed his cue to push the control button.  The space capsule bounced off the Earth’s atmosphere upon attempting re-entry and was hurled off into space.

Gorillanaut passed out after gorging himself with bananas. The damaged life support system put him into a state of suspended animation and for the next 50 years he drifted through deep space until his capsule finally orbited back to Earth in 2011 and crashed into the Kardashian’s house killing everyone inside.

As a result of eating gamma radiated frozen bananas Gorillanaut woke up with super intelligence and the ability to speak. He was hailed a hero and has since returned to adventuring in space as….

Gorillanaut Champion of the Cosmos!

2011 Challenger: Ralph Contreras

| October 24, 2011 | 0 Comments

SHAZAM! Hey everyone!
My name’s Ralph Contreras, I’m an alumni of the awesome 30 Character Challenge. This will be my 3rd time around. The first year I completed the challenge, but last year I didn’t. I’m determined to see the whole thing through this year. It’s a great challenge and I’m really looking forward to it. In past years I’ve made some great online friendships with fellow creators.  I’m looking forward to seeing all the amazing characters everyone will create this year.

I’m a huge comic nerd with aspiration of working in the comic field professionally. Comics have always been a part of my life. I even owned and ran my own comic book shop. For the past few years I’ve really been trying to make the dream a reality. I setup a personal blog Comic Book Graphic Design, where I combine my comic artwork with my graphic design skills. I post all my sketches, character designs and comic book resources to help other aspiring comic artists in this journey too. I’ve very excited to announce my first self created comic project will be seeing print in early 2012, Amazing Hero Adventures (website under construction). Several characters in the comic were created during the 2009 & 2010 Character Challenge.

For this challenge I’m planning on getting some characters fleshed out for several comic stories bouncing around in my mind. I’ll be using this as my starting point, the challenge always sends my mind to all sorts of directions during the month. This year my goal is to pencil, ink and digitally color all character designs.

Check out my characters for the last challenges: 2009 Challenge, 2010 Challenge

Samples of some Character Designs.

Let’s be Friends!  Connect with me on my Blog & other sites!

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.

#23 The Nebula Sirens

| November 30, 2010 | 3 Comments

Co-character designed by Ian Struckhoff: Bio Here

(Bug Nebulae courtesy NASA)

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. ;`)

#28 Tarantula

| November 29, 2010 | 0 Comments


Ah, high octane nightmare fuel. Here we go.

To call this thing a droid is somewhat of a misnomer because it’s not necessarily a discrete inorganic organism so much as a fortress with legs. Standing at about 30 feet tall, seeing one of these on the field is enough to make any Valkyrie or Odin weak in the knees. It’s nigh invulnerable to traditional weapons, has enough turrets on its sides to rival any battleship, has anti-air defense missles and can house a number of droids inside, such as Spiders, Scorpions, or even a few Dragonflies.

Really, only heavy duty bombs are the main course of neutralizing this thing.

#27 Hornet Droid

| November 29, 2010 | 0 Comments

For this particular droid, I drew inspiration from Item #1 in this little slice of nightmare fuel, the Giant Japanese Hornet. I needed a droid that was bigger than a dragonfly, but not too big. So, the resultant is the Hornet.

The Hornet is bigger and more heavily armed than a dragonfly and designed to be a fear factor like the scorpion. While not quite as agile as the dragonfly, the Hornet is rarely used to engage fighters. Much more often, these guys are used as bombers, laying waste to anything below it.

#24 Mosquito Droid

| November 29, 2010 | 0 Comments


The mosquito is a surveillance droid. It only measures about 1 ft tall, but these little guys are capable of sensing many different kinds of radio waves, light waves, infrared, ultra violet light, and even EMF imaging.

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!

#20 Samsonite Stevens, Marine

| November 28, 2010 | 0 Comments

Sam Stevens is one of the few aboard the Vega 7 who joined the colonial marines of his own accord. Desperate to get out of becoming a water farmer in the outer colonies like most of his family, Sam wanted a little adventure in his life. What Sam didn’t realize is that the new colonial marine corps goes everywhere and does everything – while flying. Sam is not fond of flying and failed jetpack training a record thirty-six times before finally being passed out of frustration by a sergeant who retired the following day.

Sam is tough as nails and quick on his feet, and it’s a good thing: Due to his being flying-challenged, Sam tends to meet most of the larger forms of wildlife and dangers up-close and personal.

Sam’s favorite phrase: “Hell yeah! Breathable atmosphere!”

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.

#19 Z70, Medi-droid

| November 27, 2010 | 8 Comments

Z70 is a standard issue medical droid, equipped with the latest procedures and remedies for most ailments and injuries a human can endure.  Z70 happens to be more advanced than the Vega 7 and her medical unit – something that Z70 constantly runs into with every medical issue that arises onboard the vessel.

Z70 prides itself in being a cure-all, and to-date, has only lost one patient while aboard the Vega 7.

Z70 has been aboard the Vega 7 for one week.

Roy the Abstract Zombie

| November 27, 2010 | 0 Comments

Roy likes brains. Roy is also made from stained glass, so he has to be doubly careful during the zombie apocalypse because he could shatter at any time.

Zip

| November 27, 2010 | 0 Comments

Zip JohnsonZip is one third of the Time Freaks; criminals who escaped from a maximum security prison using a makeshift time machine constructed from an old bathtub. After discovering his new ability to travel through time on a series of wacky capers, Zip’s took part in a “renaming ritual” to take on a new “space name”.

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!

#17 Amber X, Marine Scout

| November 25, 2010 | 0 Comments

Even Amber isn’t sure what her last name is. When she was given the choice of incarceration or service in the colonial marines, she chose the later, having spent her formative years in and out of mental institutions (only slightly better than prison).

Amber is the loner of the Vega 7 platoon, headed by Gavin Laurent, something ideal for her role as scout. Often spending long stretches of time in a solo craft or space-walking, Amber has the tendency to unnerve those around her, for she rarely speaks.

“No question about it, the girl’s batshit crazy. No better scout around, though, and in a fight, my money’s on her nine out of ten times. ” –Gavin Laurent

Yip

| November 25, 2010 | 0 Comments

Yip, a common thug who can travel through time in a bathtubYip is one third of the Time Freaks; criminals who escaped from a maximum security prison using a makeshift time machine constructed from an old bathtub. After discovering his new ability to travel through time on a series of wacky capers, Yip decided it was a good idea to take on a new “space name”.

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!

#12 – Searcher

| November 24, 2010 | 0 Comments

These strange floating steel globes seem to always be around, watching the survivors of the Solar Labs accident. It’s uncertain what they are doing, but they seem to be searching for something (hence the name), always looking, moving things and inspecting. No one is sure what it inside the domes, which have a diameter of about a foot, but through their small port holes crackling energy distorts what vaguely look like a pair of eyes.

They move around by releasing some sort of energy from the underside of the globe. There are two metal tentacle like appendages on either side. The ends of the tentacles have the ability to unravel into several prehensile strands which, when divided down to a single strand, is thinner than a human hair and yet still strong enough to lift and manipulate objects.  Searchers have also been known to emit a blast of energy from it’s view port, though this seems to weaken them.

#16 Amanda Davenshaw, scientist

| November 24, 2010 | 4 Comments

 

Being assigned to the exploratory vessel Vega 7 was both a dream and a curse for Amanda. Her life as a Sol scientist had been rather uneventful, after all, what was there left to explore in our solar system? So she leapt at the chance to be lead scientist on a marine charting vessel.

When her first outer system jump landed her and the marines assigned to her vessel in a Lovecraftian nightmare, she quickly understood why the marine brass insisted on all personnel carrying lasers, and emergency flight suit training…

********************
Some might call this one cheating as it was a con commission sketch, but the gent had me do a “retro space girl”. I had a backstory already planned for something of the sort and with a few modificatons she fit the bill perfectly.

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!

#22 Mel aka Firefly Droid

| November 22, 2010 | 0 Comments

And now things are going to get interesting.  The next few characters are going to be droid models.

This is Mel.  Mel is an AI that primarily lives on “the net,” that connects all droids.  Its particular model is called “Firefly” as its primary function is to “enlighten.”

What, you didn’t think droids had a sense of humor?

In seriousness, the firefly model of droid is mostly AI.  It serves little to no combat purpose.  They are responsible for maintaining code, monitoring the functions of the droid plants, and providing reprogramming to any errant droids.  They’re definitely the “thinkers” of the droid world.

Mel, in particular, has the very specific purpose of indoctrinating other droids with instructions, training programs, and the like.  While the machines primarily call it by its serial number TXN750018, it goes by Mel to better serve the purposes of its job function.

After all, Mel doesn’t just indoctrinate droids.

#21 The Maintenance Worker

| November 21, 2010 | 0 Comments


There are many maintenance workers on Valhalla station, but this one is special.  He weaves in and out of people’s notice, calmly cleaning or fixing things on the station, but keep your eye on him.  Keep your eye on him.

Day# 20 Flykk, Dragon Hatchling

| November 21, 2010 | 0 Comments
#20 Flykk, Dragon Hatchling by Jande Rowe

#20 Flykk, Dragon Hatchling by Jande Rowe

Hunter or  Prey?

#20 Flykk, Dragon Hatchling: Due to the unfortunate accident of a premature hatching while the Dame Dragon was away on an emergency, Flykk found himself alone, exhausted and very, very hungry when he had finally burst himself through the leathery hide of his containing egg. If there had been any others there they would have remarked on his very large size, and the sharpness of his hatching horn.

There were many other eggs in the lair, and the place was warmer than an oven, so it didn’t take Flykk long to recover a bit of strength and pull himself along in search of food. He opened his eyes but the world was a fog of colour to him, in which he could discern only vague shapes that as yet held for him no meaning.  He found a few bits and pieces of meat near the lair entrance, that the Dame had dropped when she flew off. But his hunger was gargantuan

There are few predators that will attempt violence against a full grown dragon, but will try to feed on the eggs or any unattended hatchlings if they can get away with it.  Gnarwolves for instance, much prefer a hearty meal of hatchling to its usual sparse pickings of hares and other small fast animals. Hatchlings instinctively hunker down and hold perfectly still so that their protective colouring blends them into the landscape around them. But Flykk’s battle with his shell and the absence of the Dame’s restraining hands and wings made his hunger so acute he had to move.

So it was that Flykk found his first meal and his first enemy simultaneously. Making plaintive cries he dragged himself, staggering toward the hot smell of blood and flesh somewhere before him. Though he felt weak with hunger, he was actually gaining in strength as he moved. His wings drying and filling out, began almost to lift him as he gained ground toward that maddening odour. He scrabbled out of the lair and across the rocky terrain, his nose leading the way, his eyes barely opening, mewling for the food he so badly needed.

It was close by now, and there was another smell near it, one that would have spelled instant danger to any animal other than a dragon, hatchling or not. This smell was also food, though less compelling. Flykk was becoming angry now, his frustrated animal need forced him to flap his wings and claw at the ground with his hind claws while he roared his disgust  with the world as best he could.

Unfortunately, that was the moment the Gnarwolf chose to attack. –unfortunately for the wolf, that is. For Flykk was larger that he expected, and heavier, and was in the middle of the instinctive dragon dance of bloodrage, clawing with hands and feet, and buffeting with wings, and striking his blind head back and forth jerking upward the gleaming horn on his nose. By the time the Gnarwolf realised his mistake, it was too late. Flykk gored him with his horn, knocked him senseless with his wings and brought down his sharp teeth and claws in a frenzy spurred by the sweet acrid smell of fresh blood.

The hatchling Flykk fed well that first day on Gnarwolf and it’s half-eaten hare. Then he crawled father into the thicket in search of more.

#20 Admiral “Slade” Chavez

| November 20, 2010 | 0 Comments


I love Battlestar Galactica (new series, not the disco glitter catastrophe from the 70’s). Let’s get that out of the way. I love Battlestar Galactica and it should be no secret that it was a major influence on me in developing Valkyrie Squadron. There’s a lot to love about the show: intense writing, amazing performances, really hard-hitting themes, sweet ass battles; but for all there is to love about BSG, there were parts of that show I didn’t love.

Namely, the familial DRAMAAAAA. From the get-go, we find Commander Adama and his pansy crybaby son, Lee, entwined in some serious DRAAMAAAA following the death of Lee’s brother and the Commander’s Son, Zak. Now, don’t get me wrong. Deaths in the family can fragment the whole crew, but their griping was just OVER THE TOP. Everything AND I MEAN EVERYTHING was a big blowout, usually ending with Lee storming off in a huff and the commander gritting his teeth. It bordered hilarity and merits parody.

So here we are.

Admiral Chavez is the commander of the space forces overall, his power trumps even that of Commander Duri, highest ranking officer on Valhalla station. He is a “good ol’ boy” and macho almost to a fault. He sets the standard for hard-nosed leadership in the upper echelons of the United Space Forces.  He’s an aging meathead. He’s basically Lt. Leon Zantha plus 30 years.

Speaking of Zantha, Chavez hand-picked him to make a man out of his “sissy boy” son, Aidan, by assigning his son to Odin Squadron 4. He doesn’t get along with his son at all, because the Admiral would love nothing more than to have his son follow in his footsteps and that’s not likely to happen. We’ve already established Aidan is a cowardly drama queen, not exactly military bad ass material. What’s so frustrating to the admiral is that his ongoing battle with his son is the one battle he can’t settle with a sidearm.

Damn sensitive sissy boys.

You’ll notice the Admiral has a prosthetic eye. Officially, he lost his eye in a key victory against the droids ten years prior, though unofficially, the injury might’ve had more to do with this…

For the record, CMO Bastion does not approve of playing with fireworks while drunk.

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.

#19 Reverend Celia Dalton

| November 19, 2010 | 2 Comments


Reverend Dalton is the head of the Valhalla station chapel. She tries her best to keep up faith and warmth in times of war and inspire parishioners but her job is an uphill battle. The chapel itself is actually a converted storage compartment that makes a funny crackling sound near the crucifix and in times of war, much of her time is spent consoling victims of tragedy.

Not the most cheerful gig, but it’s a necessary one.

Day# 14 Sqorthk, Animal Phase

| November 18, 2010 | 2 Comments
a Sqorthk in animal stage for Wheeler's Orbits, by Jande Rowe

a Sqorthk in animal stage for Wheeler's Orbits, by Jande Rowe

Tastes Like Chicken!

Adnirovjyna Sqorthk, Animal Phase: During the rainy season the shell becomes leathery, then soft and peels off to reveal the third phase of this fascinating creature: it is now an animal, capable of pulling itself along the ground in a kind of inch-worm motion, digging its front fin-arms into the soil an hauling itself forward, then stopping to let its long back legs catch up. then it hunches its back and repeats this activity until it is far from the plant of its origin. That is, if carnivorous predators don’t eat it first.

The animal-Squorth gives off a honey-like odour from it’s pebbly skin that carnivores find strangely attractive, and many have learned that the meat under that skin is deliciously sweet and satisfying (As Wheeler soon learns). In the animal stage the Sqorthk is easy prey. It cannot move quickly and has no natural defenses.

In the animal stage it neither eats nor drinks, its main purpose seems apparently to be to move itself as far as possible from the parent plant  so to drop its developing tubers to begin the cycle again. In this regard the Sqorthk has allies in the native peoples as they will protect them from predators, often keeping them as pets, and regularly harvesting their tubers for planting once the rainy season has passed.

Since the Adnirovjyna have a strong taboo against eating the Sqorthk during their animal stage, would it be any wonder that Wheeler’s appetites could bring them to the very brink of interplanetary war? Or at least, very bad feelings?