Tag: webcomic

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!

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.

#28 Dee

| November 28, 2010 | 0 Comments


Dee (short for Destine) is a casual wrestling fan who tends to criticize the absurdity of angles and storylines and so forth. But he totally marks out at times for wrestlers than none of the others can understand the appeal of.

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.

#27 Becca

| November 27, 2010 | 0 Comments

Becca is the only girl in the group (for now), but she hangs with the boys knowledge wise. Though she does watch it largely because of the cute, muscle bound guys, she does get into the stories as well.

#26 Drew

| November 26, 2010 | 0 Comments

Drew is a HUGE John Cena fan/mark. He rallies against the norm and supports Cena, even though most grown men hate the guy. When the women and children shout for Cena, Drew is right there along with them.  He’s got a temper, this one, but in general he roots for the faces, the good guys. He’s a bit of a know-it-all too, claiming to be a bigger and more knowledgeable fan than his contemporaries.

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 Goobley Gawker

| November 25, 2010 | 0 Comments

The Goobley Gawker is an indie wrestler saddled with one of the lamest gimmicks in wrestling history. He gobble gobbles and struts down to the ring, does the Funky Turkey, and then proceeds to bumble around the ring while his opponents usually pummel him into gravy.

===========================

Long time wrestling fans will no doubt see this for what it is, which is a parody of an old Survivor Series mascot from the late 80s or early 90s, the Goobledy Gooker. If you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about, Google it. 🙂

I wanted to do a Thanksgiving themed character for today, and this idea came to me that tied into the new thread of characters I’m doing now, starting with “yesterday’s” (quotes since I posted it just minutes before this one) “Joey” character.

So there you have it, a wrestling turkey… now there’s an oxymoron, right, right? lol

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

#24 Joey

| November 25, 2010 | 0 Comments

Joey is a wrestling fan, a smark (smart mark), and he usually roots for the indie guys or heels. He and his buddies get together after every televised wrestling show and dish on the previous night’s events.

========================

This is from a new idea about a bunch of wrestling fan buddies that talk about, well, wrestling, in comedic fashion. Some spoofage, some hi-jinks, and some good old fashioned strip humor.

The tentative name for this was “Smarks”, but I discovered that name is already in use for something similar. So it’s no an unnamed idea that I will explore further on down the line. 🙂

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!

#23 Brock

| November 23, 2010 | 0 Comments

Brock is, well, the jock of the group. He loves sports, and he likes to throw it around that he’s better at them than anybody. He messes with Cory all the time, though Monty shows him up sometimes. He’s a bit of a bully, but in a lovable way.

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!

Day# 22 Roadkill, Carrion Crow

| November 22, 2010 | 3 Comments
#22 Roadkill, Carrion Crow for Aedre's Firefly by Jande Rowe

#22 Roadkill, Carrion Crow for Aedre's Firefly by Jande Rowe

Not the Eyes! No! Not the Eyes!

#22 Roadkill the Carrion Crow, aka RK, funny little sentient bird that he is, often finds himself disgusted with his own natural appetites. He really has spent too much time roosting outside of that therapists upstairs office. He often wishes he was human so it would be easier to find something else to eat, but heck, on the other hand he is doing a service to the world, cleaning up the reckless by products of human excess, especially the by products of excessive speed in machines of immense mass.

So RK is in two minds about his place in the world. Either he is a disgusting inhumane pecker of mangled dead bodies, or he is a humane creature nobly going around cleaning up the messes that others leave behind. The one place where he draws the line, though is with the eyes. He can’t even bear to look at a dead creature’s eyes, and shudders with disgust bordering on illness at the very thought of eating them, as he knows his fellow carrion brothers do. This of course sets him up for a certain amount of teasing from his fellows. They will even jokingly set an eyeball or two right in front of him from time to time to see if he’ll throw up some sauce to go with the meal.

But, struggling with his dual view of his place in the universe, he has become somewhat philosophical. To the point where, if it is someone else who is having problems adjusting to the world, he will forget his own struggle while he offers sage advice that if he could hear himself, he might consider taking to his own heart.

Strange things happen when he and Aedre cross paths. By this time Aedre is getting used to the occasional talking animal, but RK is as individual as a snowflake. He has a somewhat changeable nature, sometimes easy going on himself and the world; sometimes belligerent and bellicose. He can be startling in his actions and words, but rarely violent, unless provoked or threatened. On the other hand he can also provide some comic relief. When one is on an epic journey every bit of comic relief is appreciated.

#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.

#22 Amy

| November 22, 2010 | 0 Comments

Amy is a little older than the rest of the gang, but she and Lena are really close. She’s smart and fun, but sometimes she does feel like she should be with older kids.

Day# 21 Sporkasaurus

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

#21 Sporkasuarus by Jande Rowe

Sporkasaurus

‘Nuff  said.

;`)

#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.

#21 Lena

| November 21, 2010 | 0 Comments

Lena is a sweet and beautiful girl, and Cory crushes on her a bit. She’s talented and friendly, but when she gets mad you know about it too.

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 Rooster

| November 20, 2010 | 0 Comments

Rooster is Cory’s little brother. He’s an exuberant little guy with an unfortunate haircut, resulting in the nickname he’s been given. Nobody knows his real name, and Cory and Rooster aren’t talking. The two brothers are inseparable, but as different as night and day. Rooster is outgoing, energetic, and a little cooler than his big bro. But he still looks up to Cory.

Day# 19 Sly Peter

| November 20, 2010 | 0 Comments
#19 SlyPeter for Aedre's Firefly by Jande Rowe

#19 SlyPeter for Aedre's Firefly by Jande Rowe

Sly Peter

Peter Vale (aka Sly Peter) was already established at Maple Public School when Aedre arrived on the scene, and was a couple of grades ahead of her. But since she was an outcast, basically friendless, she had time to notice things about people. And the things she noticed about Peter Vale was that he was a nasty sneaky boy who took pleasure in hurting things smaller than himself –specially if he didn’t get caught doing it.

He was the kind of boy who pulled the wings off live flies and watched them buzz around until either they died or he grew bored with the sport. But not only flies; butterflies too, and if he knew it bothered you (especially if you were a girl) he would follow you around with the poor wingless creatures, sticking them under your nose, so he could get double the enjoyment from the pain he was causing.

He was the kind of boy who tripped the weaker kids in the hall in such a way they didn’t see who it was, or who pinched the little ones he knew were afraid of him –pretty hard, too. Mean and mean-spirited, he was always on the lookout for nasty things he could do to the other kids and to small animals, and get away with it. And if he couldn’t find anything he would make up nasty stories and spread them around.

He would befriend any new kids until he found out everything he wanted to know about them and their family, find out their secrets, blackmail them, and gradually be meaner and meaner to them, until they finally broke away from him.

Aedre watched him, and seeing his methods determined to have nothing to do with him in spite of her need for friendship and the touch of another human being. Therefore when he got around to trying to befriend Aedre, who was as socially ungraceful as wild animal, she scorned him, telling him hotly that she was aware of his sneaky tricks. He denied this in the face of the truth, apparently hurt, for that was his last bastion of defense: no one could prove anything he did. Thus he swore that he would make her sorry for her accusations.

Day# 16 Thomas “Weeks” Kelsey

| November 19, 2010 | 0 Comments
#16 Thomas "Weeks" Kelsey, for Aedre's Firefly by Jande Rowe

#16 Thomas "Weeks" Kelsey, for Aedre's Firefly by Jande Rowe

Thomas J. Kelsey, dubbed “Weeks”, short for “Wee Kelsey”, which was what most of the other kids called him from the first day he attended Maple Public School. Snarky remarks during his first recess period about his diminutive size –about two thirds the height of the shortest of his peers– soon gave way to awe when he aptly demonstrated not only his aptitude and skill at most sports, but his well honed sportsmanship as well. He could take joke and a pounding on the sports field better than most boys twice his physical stature. He was built heavy for his height, yet he was agile, too.

He did well in his academic studies, got along well with other boys, and excelled on the sportsfield. The one thing he’s have no truck with was girls, and he held strong opinions as to their place in sports, mostly negative. Where girls were concerned he was implacable. If a girl wanted to play on his team, he would stare at them without a sound until they fled. Unless of course they fled to a teacher who forced him to comply, which he did readily, but gave no quarter to the girl, so that finally she had to give up in defeat.

Aedre, of course, didn’t know this until she smashed into his prejudice head-on. She had asked the recess teacher if she could play soccer, and he had agreed she could. Fully confident of himself and his view of the world, Weeks bested her simply by being himself. No hard feelings on his part. That’s just the way the world works. She never had a chance to even see the ball. She may as well have been invisible. For Aedre, who had hopes and dreams of a different world than the lost and lonely one in which she found herself, it was just another entry carved into her psyche on the very long list of grievances that would push her to the very edge of either going mad, or giving up completely.

Weeks didn’t know anything about Aedre of course, except what the other boys told him, that she was a cootie-bag and a witch besides, but whether or not he believed them didn’t matter. She was a girl and girls had no value in Week’s world.

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.

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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 Monty

| November 19, 2010 | 1 Comment

Monty is Cory’s best friend, though the two are different in many respects. Still, they do enjoy a lot of the same things and have fun playing video games, football, kool-aid (kind of like hide ‘n’ seek, but everyone has a color that the “it” person has to call out to catch them). Monty is into sports, but also likes comics, games and toys too. He’s much more outgoing than Cory, which leads to an interesting friendship.

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For those following my posts, I fell behind, but post-dated the last three, so just click on my name to see the latest.

#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?

#18 Kimmie

| November 18, 2010 | 0 Comments

Kimmie is one of Cory’s friends and has a little crush on Cory. He doesn’t seem interested, but she is persistent. Cory actually has a crush on Lena, but that doesn’t stop Kimmie from trying. A sweet girl who loves girlie things, but can hang with the boys. She’s sometimes shy and sometimes SO not, just depends on her mood. She’s a bird of a different feather, which is why she fits in perfectly in Cory’s Story.

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!

#17 Cory

| November 17, 2010 | 0 Comments

Cory is an average kid for the most part. A little on the quiet side, likes action figures, comics and cartoons, and food. But he has a wild imagination, which leads him and his friends on some crazy adventures. This is Cory’s Story, come along for the ride!

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Changing gears once again, an idea hit me, so the next few characters will be characters in Cory’s Story, which will someday be another webcomic project of mine. These are just rough sketches, but you get the gist. I was going for something akin to Charlie Brown and South Park in design.

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?

#16 Gabe

| November 16, 2010 | 0 Comments

Photobucket

Gabe is my main character for webcomic series I trying works on it and hopefully gets up going somewhere early 2011….