Art from Piratecat's story hour

Piratecat · Oct 31, 2003

I realized that it really wasn't all in one place, so I wanted to collect it. All this art is credited to its original creator, such as littlejohn or (contact) or Sialia.

Note that this doesn't include people like Malessa and Knightfall1972, who have contributed non-portrait art and maps to the web site. Thank you, you guys. You've made the game so very much cooler.

The latest part of the story hour can be found here; that link also includes a link to the previous writeups as well.

Let's see what we've got!

Piratecat · Oct 31, 2003

To start, some work by David Hendee (littlejohn) off of his web site.

A variant portrait of Mara Thornhill. Mara is a young paladin of Aeos the Sun god, one of the few who have ever become a radiant knight. Her troops worship her as fearless and would follow her anywhere; she may have never even noticed, but she has the bad habit of leaving many broken hearts in her wake. Wielding the mace Lightbinder, she shines like a flame on the battlefield.

Mentally, the Defenders hear Mara asking, “Where’s the half-orc?”

“In the far corner at the back right,” someone answers. “Why? Where are you?”

Mara doesn’t answer. Flying sixty feet above the deck of the ship, she lets herself fall, aiming her one ton iron body at what she hopes is the correct point. She smashes through the wooden planks of the poopdeck as if they were balsa wood and miraculously comes down directly on top of the half orc. The floor beams groan and bend but somehow hold, and Mara finds herself facing a number of surprised Defenders and one very horrified minotaur. “That went well,” she says, dusting her hands off with soft clanging noises, rain splashing down on her through the jagged hole above. Then she looks around for the half-orc.

She’s standing in his stomach.

Saint Aleax. Aleax was a famous paladin of Aeos some three hundred years ago, and was slain deep underground when trying to destroy a kingdom of ghouls. Now he has returned in skeletal form. Is it a trick of the ghoulish empire, or has he truly been sent to lead the Army of the Sun to victory?

“But who is this new Saint?” asks Mara. “I know he’s undead, I’ve heard that, but what is his name?” Father Tolliver opens his mouth to answer, but doesn’t get a chance, because a metallic and cold voice rasps out from behind Mara.

“Sir Aleax.”

Mara spins to see a… knight?... clad in gleaming golden armor, flashing in the mid-day sun coming from the skylight. The polished helm is clutched under one arm, a huge sword across his back. Nevertheless, Mara’s can’t drag her gaze away from the bone-white skull rising from the armor. The eyes are deep pits of shadow, the teeth gleam, and not a scrap of flesh remains on the old bones. ”I am he. I’ve heard reports about you. Come to my office.” The skeletal knight turns abruptly on his heel and strides away, as Mara gapes at Tolliver.

The marilith. Summoned in the Battle of Mridsgate by a ghoulish wizard, she faced the heroes twice - once in physical form, once in spiritual.

From the gate, out slithers a 12 foot tall rippling serpent with a woman’s body and a woman’s face. Coiled, hellish armor adorns her otherwise naked chest, and six scimitar sheaths line her sides. Her eyes catch Velendo’s, and they look like burning coals.

”Kill everyone in the fortress?” The demon’s voice sounds like dragon scales dragged across stone. She sounds amused. ”How fun.”

Piratecat · Oct 31, 2003

The necropede: a ghoulish abomination, part of a scouting force sent to establish an undead presence in the town of Hundle's Crossing.

Before he can do anything, the hillside under his feet erupts into a shower of dirt and a rising juggernaut of slimy, rotting gray flesh. At first the group thinks it’s an undead purple worm; as both Tao and Velendo disappear into its huge mouth, that’s certainly their first impressions. But as the creature engulfs them, they realize that they’re wrong. Like grasping cilia, the inside of the worm’s mouth is filled with ghoulish arms, clutching and tearing, and dozens of screaming heads that barely poke their way out of the fleshy wall and tongue.

Someone screams.

Nolin Benholm, the bard with a phoenix's soul. An unfortunate death early in his adventuring career (killed by inch-tall goblins) led to his soul being merged with that of a phoenix. Sarcastic and irreverant, his music could play the uneasy dead back down into their graves.

The group is packed and arrayed for travel when Nolin drags himself back to the tower early the next morning, after sleeping with the degenerate drow elf. He’s greeted by disapproving glances from half the group, amused snickers from the other half, and a steely glare from Malachite.

“Nolin?” asks Velendo in concern.

“Be there in a moment,” mumbles the bard hoarsely. “I need to wash.” With a steel brush, he thinks to himself.

Baendril, the psionic shadow. This creature acted as an assassin at the Battle of Mridsgate, and almost killed the entire party.

The group moves quickly along the low and narrow corridors past several intersections, emerging into a large, torch-lit great hall. Neither Malachite, Mara or Karthos detect anything, but Agar’s persistent arcane sight shows him something disturbing on the far side of the long room. He sees what looks like an elongated shadow stretching along the wall, in a place where no shadow should be. “Shadow!” the halfling snaps. “Back wall, right side, behind the table.” No one else can see it, but they take Agar at his word, and a flame strike from Tao slams down on the area, turning the old table into a blazing inferno.

Piratecat · Oct 31, 2003

The trillith: the ancestral monster of House Clearwater. A psionic cross between a troll and an illithid, it ruled from a demi-plane of reflected thought.

The smell here is terrible; week-old seafood and a hint of cinammon. Above them on a balcony - looking out and laughing - was a shrunken, slime-covered, bruise-purple troll-like abomination with huge, gnarled, webbed claws, a long fish-tail, and a pointed face sporting both troll features and four long, wiggling, illithid tentacles.

Well, that couldn't be good.

Velendo and the brick. Velendo is an elderly man who was reluctantly pulled into the priesthood, and who has been bewildered to discover that people are treating him as a living saint. He worships Calphas the Wallbuilder, God of protection. An ordinary man doing extraordinary things, Velendo's actions over the past decade have reinvigorated his church and changed the world.

"I am a brick in my God's wall. It matters not if I chip or crack, as long as I hold firm in my faith."

Velendo and the Damming Stone. On a previous quest, the group lugged a relic across the face of the continent. The relic was the Damming Stone, a rock that the Gods had once touched, and it could change the lines of force in things around it. Wind, gravity, energy - all these could be controlled. Velendo walked with it strapped to his back, always trying to resist the urge to call on its powers.

Piratecat · Oct 31, 2003

All of those are by David Hendee, which is just one of the many reasons I idolize him. The next batch are by (contact)!

Agar Smoketallow, halfling alienist, and his erstwhile familiar Proty the pseudonatural stirge.

“I told him Proty and I would be happy to help. I like that guy.” Agar strokes his tentacled familiar. “What’s that, Proty? You’re hungry? Okay, go feed on a flumph – but be careful!” The pseudonatural stirge takes to the air, and Agar smiles indulgently. “He’s so cute when he feeds,” he confides. Mara rolls her eyes.

Sir Malachite, Hunter of the Dead and Radiant Knight, Knight of the Emerald Chapel. Malachite is a bitter, toughened paladin who has seen the worst that life has to offer. His expertise with undead makes him a fantastic resource, but he doesn't suffer fools gladly - or anyone that he thinks is acting foolish.

Malachite smiles as he sheathes the sword. “Indeed. Commander, if there is anything else…?”

“There is. Malachite, former Knight of the Emerald Chapel, you are cast from the Church for insubordination. Heresy as well, perhaps. You may leave your tabard with a cleric below. I will not take the holy sword from you, though, as much good as it will do you now. I will pray for your soul, Malachite, that you are granted the wisdom to guide your soul to the true light.”

Malachite, headed for the door, looks back. “My faith is strong, Commander,” he says simply, and walks out.

(Temporarily missing due to downed website)

Palladio of House Roaringbrook. Clad in mindflayer-skin armor taken from the githyanki, Palladio is an old-fashioned two-fisted detective. He is beholden to a noble house in Eversink, and solves problems for them. Lately, many of those problems involved an adventuring group he was instructed to help.

"I like you. You're scum, but you're scum who stays bought, and I respect that."

Piratecat · Oct 31, 2003

Next, art from Sialia! She has more than just this; I'll edit in the others later, when I get the url.

Tao Camber, cleric/ranger and divine agent, Knight of the Horn. Tao has changed the most over the years, dedicating herself to her nature goddess and transforming to a living symbol of her Goddess' will. She's one of the group's best warriors, and she never goes anywhere without at least three swords.

“You want what?” he asked her mockingly. “This belt? MY belt?” He looked down at her with scorn; she was clearly a warrior but she was also a cleric of some pansy nature religion, and he outmassed her by a hundred pounds and a foot of height. Time for some fun, he thought.

“My belt,” Tao corrected him calmly. “Stolen from me. I’d like it back now, please.”

The merecenary shook his head. “Uh uh,” he said lasciviously. “You want it, we wrestle for it.” He looked her up and down rudely.

Tao smiled grimly, her solid green eyes flashing with undisguised anticipation as her divine aura suddenly rippled outwards to cut through the man’s self assurance like a sudden splash of ice water. “Absolutely.”

Dylrath Birdhouse, starting his adventuring career. Dylrath was originally a twelve year old inept apprentice to the group's rogue. One thing lead to another, and now he's retired to study Divination at the Academy Sorcere in Oursk. Best known for his spectacular crashes and screwups, it's often hard to tell when he's falling whether he's in control or out of it, or whether the fall is on purpose or not.

They catch up to her in one of the stone hallways of the classroom wing. Dylrath is standing there next to a matronly teacher. As they approach, the teacher is saying, “…clearly not ill, and you have class responsibilities. I simply don’t think that I….”

Tao loses her temper. Her solid green eyes flash, and the holy aura that surrounds her sweeps outwards, chilling the teacher’s blood. “I am Tao Camber,” she intones, “Knight of the Horn. Dylrath is needed for something much more important than schoolwork. A village is about to be destroyed, and Dylrath’s skills are needed.”

The teacher pales, and Dylrath looks at her with a cheery grin. “Extracurricular project?” he suggests. Backing away from Tao, the teacher nods dumbly until she backs into a classroom door. She slides behind it, using it like a shield, still staring at Tao.

“Well, that went well,” says Dylrath happily. “What’s up?”

Oni · Oct 31, 2003

Looks like you've had some talented people helping you out.

Piratecat · Oct 31, 2003

Ohhhhh, yes!

Another interpretation of Dylrath, this one by Dr. Midnight.

Fimmtiu · Nov 1, 2003

Piratecat said:
Agar Smoketallow, halfling alienist, and his erstwhile familiar Proty the pseudonatural stirge.

Whoah, whoah, whoah! Back up! Erstwhile familiar? What happened to Proty? Did I miss the memo, or is this referring to an event which hasn't come up on the Story Hour yet?