The Legend of Falconheart, Chapter Three

                Cooper sits in the night, alone with his thoughts despite the Southbound sky elf walking beside him.  He is cross-legged, his chin hovering over his steepled fingers, elbows resting upon his knees.

                If she were going to kill us, she could have done it already – and easily at that.  She might not have killed me so swiftly, as an ape magus is of unknown social standing to her.  Yet she would not have hesitated, had she known I am exiled:  an exile and a lone wandering goblin are unlikely to be missed.  Yet there is the goblin again – whether her aims were malicious or merely mischievous, she’d be best-served eliminating us as soon as possible.  I cannot guess at why she might not do so, except that she is telling the truth when she says she aims for redemption.

                In any event, she has not yet killed us, and I need sleep to be alert as I am able.  We are headed South into the crescent of the blighted desert, and unlikely to run into anyone overnight.  Tomorrow we turn Eastward, and by nightfall we shall be upon the scrub plain, making either for the Southern jungle or the central plains.  From there, we are much more likely to be in either ape or goblin territory – and if not, we shall enter the gods-forsaken warzone between.  Whatever the glyphed knight’s aims, the danger shall only increase down the road, and I shall need rest upon our journey together.

                “Our” journey.  So it is.  Whatever she’s up to, I had better keep an eye on her.  If her aims are noble, I must aid her; if her aims are foul, I must – what?  Stop her?  I could no more stop the world from turning.  Unless I could persuade her, somehow.  Or at least warn others of her coming – and if so, I must know where she is coming from, and would be better served knowing whatever it was that tipped the scales toward disaster.  No, it’s settled:  my place is here.

                And so I must sleep.

                “Will you walk on through the night, then,” Cooper asks, turning his head up to the silent soldier.

                “I shall,” she says with a nod.

                “I can tell my carpet to follow you while I sleep.  Will that be all right?”

                She nods.

                “Thank you,” he says, after a pause.

                She walks on.  Cooper lays back on his carpet, legs still crossed, the young goblin curled up at his knees.  He falls asleep under the sparkling stars. 

The Legend of Falconheart, Chapter Two

                The elf and the goblin walk East into the desert, back from where they have come.  The Sun is retreating across the Western sky, racing for the sea past the badlands.  Hackard considers the soldier’s plan:  if they are heading to the Northern Wastes (as the Northern Tundra has been called since flying Sagacia was dragged down across it), then the quickest route would be to travel through the forest past the desert, cut through the ape farmlands, skirt around the shore of Lake Mountainsroot, and then pass along the foothills between the mountains and the great plains.  It is a journey of perhaps two weeks on foot, but her new “bodyguard” does not stop for food, water, or rest – that should cut the travel time at least in half.  Somewhere along the way, she may find a way to bend the glyphed knight to her own will (if the legends were true, then this soldier was some manner of undead, created to be a servant and now without a master); and wouldn’t that be something to bring back to the Southern Jungle!  She would be the toast of all Santuji, and this ancient war machine might be able to put an end to the foolish border skirmishes between the apes and the goblins for good.

                That was all very far down the road, though.  In the meantime, she had to traverse deep into ape territory with a glyphed knight.  Hackard herself was small, and one goblin could easily slip unnoticed through large and sparsely-populated areas; the glyphed knight, for her part, would probably pass for one of the Blackened Guard.  Indeed, her order was the very inspiration for the elite soldiers’ uniforms.  While the apes didn’t get it quite right, the resemblance was probably good enough to fool any country bumpkins they’d be likely to meet.

                The soldier pauses:  she senses something, and draws up her hood to cover her elfin ears.  A few tufts of hair poke out over her forehead, mostly black, except for one bit of white over her right eye where a long scar crosses her face from jaw to scalp.  Even this, though, is normal for a soldier – she looks like any ape, albeit an unusually tall and slender one.  Hackard stares out over the horizon for some seconds, and then sees it:  something coming out of the sky from the East. 

The Legend of Falconheart, Chapter One

Well, it turns out that I really suck at drawing after being years out of practice.  Who could have guessed?  So since my drawings aren't up to the task, I'll use my words instead.  I really wanted to do this as a graphic novel, since I can show one story while telling another in that medium.  But whatever.  Here's this, and I'll have another up over the weekend, and then we'll see where it goes.  Cheers!

Chapter One

                The ape farmer runs through his cornfield, bending the weak stalks aside as gently as he can.  Meager as it is, it is almost time to harvest, and the last thing he needs is a thief stealing what precious little is leftover once he’s set aside enough for taxes and next season’s seed corn.

                “Oi!  You there!”  He shouts as he gains ground on the red hood in the distance.  Something next to the hood is shining – the glare was what alerted him to the intruder’s presence in the first place.

                “Hey!  You can’t just – ” he stops short at the sight of black armor.  The intruder has also stopped, standing in full view with a single row of bent and yellow-green cornstalks between them.  A simple X-frame holds a poleaxe crossed against a pair of short-swords, overlaid with the tattered remains of a red cape that flutters beneath the intruder’s shoulder blades in the breeze.  “Ho!  Sorry, sir knight.  I did not – ”

                The farmer is brought up short again – the intruder has turned to face him, and now he can see that he is a she.  The farmer falls to a knee, head bowed in genuflection.  “My apologies again, battlemaiden.  I did not see  your blackened steel.  Most passing soldiers stick to the road.”

Page one

Nothing like simple shapes and artsy-fartsy effects to work out the kinks.  If all goes well, this should auto-post just short of 1pm (GMT -6).

Clicky-clicky for the whole page.

(You can also click that page for full resolution.)

Now I have to draw a freakin' cornfield.  (I secretly hate drawing scenery...)  Whatevs.  References make everything easier.