Revoric: Steel Gargen Wearer

Since, Xzebo has moved up north he's been GMing for some friends. Being new to MOAG he made a cool campaign based on some of the ancient Coucil Era history and with Osidus and the creation of the Gargen.

Xzebo let me play a NPC-of-sorts, Revoric. He, unbeknownst to the players, was the Steel Gargen Wearer and served Osidus.

It was pretty fun playing a super powerful Will Power user even though I didn't get to play through the end of the campaign with the group.
Hope you all like the pics though!

-Juanito, over and out!

Juan - 1970’s: "Say Hello to My Little Friend"

Now there was a time, many years ago that I was depressed almost to the point of wanting to end my life. Due to my curse I was almost eighty years old at the time and still looked less than thirty. My wife was on her deathbed. My children looked like they could be my grandparents. I lived my life near them, watching them, but never part of them. To make a long story short I eventually fell in with some bad company. That bad company was the Columbian drug cartel. They had me transporting their “merchandise” across the border. Plane, truck, boat, motorcycle; Whatever it was, I was the best transporter they had. The problem was, I cared about other people and was just too nice.

One night, hidden by the darkness, I was returning to Miami with a full cargo from Cuba. Getting near U.S. shores I heard something out of the ordinary. I quickly shut off my boat and readied myself in the possibility I was confronted by the Coast Guard. Then I heard the sound again but more clearly. “Help, Help me.” It was the voice of someone nearby. I turned on my spotlight and not fifty feet away was a beautiful woman hanging on a little broken raft. I maneuvered my vessel over to the woman. I had heard stories about this happening all the time. The damn Coyotes get paid to bring people across the border and any hint of problem just ditch them, even if its in the middle of the ocean. I asked her in Spanish if she would like a ride, and she accepted.

As soon as I helped her up into my boat spotlights flashed in our eyes. “This is the United States Coast Guard. Prepare to be boarded!” Maybe being trapped in a small space shuttle for years going to Mars made me love my freedom and the openness too much, but I knew then that I would never let myself be put into a prison cell. I quickly grabbed my scuba tank, the girl, set timer on some C4, and dove into the warm ocean water. Being a trained astronaut I could hold my breath for over five minutes so I let the girl use the scuba oxygen.

It seemed like a long time swimming under water for the shore, especially no oxygen, but we made it to a smaller secluded dock. Once we got out of the water I counted out loud the last few seconds remaining on the C4 timer. “5... 4... 3... 2... Say hello to my little friend Mr. Coast Guard Guys!” And BOOM!

We quickly dried off and the woman said that she needed to get to an address written on a now wet piece of cloth, so I took her there. We made it to the address and were greeted by one of the kindest persons I have ever met. It was the woman’s aunt and she forced us to warm ourselves by a small heater while she fixed us something to eat. While standing there with the woman I had an epiphany. Perhaps there was something better I could be doing with my life. Perhaps I should stop being depressed and feeling bad for myself and help others. Perhaps I could help people like this woman I had just saved. That is what I decided to do and that is how I got into the transport business... Plus I don’t think I could ever go back into the drug business after blowing up a boatload of merchandise.

The End.

FOR HIRE!

Two awesome/talented/great/smart/cool twin brothers looking for work. Possible jobs may include: piloting things, stealing things, hijacking things, shooting things, exploding things, killing things... Actually the Butcher Brothers will do just about anything if you pay them enough!

Haha I hope you all like the advertisement poster I did for the Butcher Bros.

Juanito, over and out!

Juan and the Order of the Scythe

Here is an abridged story version of a campaign me and Xzebo played a long while back. I was just really wanting to draw some MOAG stuff and decided to write a story along with it. Sorry if there are spelling and grammatical errors. I kinda just cranked out the story, but I hope you all enjoy it.

Now there was a time, not too long ago that I thought I was going to die out in space. I am almost 150 years old and I have seen more than my fair share of war and death in life. I have seen 2 wives put to rest, I have long outlived my 3 children, but I have rarely felt near death’s embrace. Except this story is about one of those occasions.

After living through the Conar invasion and countless other mercenary missions as a pilot I was tired of all the fighting. So like any other halfway-decent pilot; I got into the transport business, and as a private taxi for Mo-Ti-Qee emissaries I lived a nice safe life and made A LOT of money.

I was living a good life trying to forget all the bad things that had happened in the past when on one particular trip ‘BAM!’ and then total loss of engine control. Immediately after a message on the screen, “Legendary Juan Casador you are now under Scythe control. Prepare to be boarded.” I did what any honorable captain might do to protect his clients. I grabbed my gun and ran to the airlock.

I could tell that they were having troubles hacking my airlock door so I decided to “help them.” I readied my gun and hit the open button. But before I could even fire a single shot a bright light and shock slammed into me knocking me to the floor and overloading my senses. I was unconscious.

Next thing I knew I was waking up in a room tied to a chair with seven other guys in the same situation as me. There was a weird one sitting right next to me. He seem to be a Nar-Eskan but had a tail and four arms, and looked as beat up as I felt. “Ey, my name’s Juan, how’s it going?” I said to him. “Yirsed Tulex, pleased to meet you Juan.” he replied.

Before I could say anything else in walked a unit of Conara lead by what looked like a Conara admiral except he wore an insignia that I had never seen before. He stopped in front of all us prisoner while the rest of the Conara put some kind collar around all of our necks. The Admiral then said, “My name is General Decok VaDesh and I have been sent here to explain to you that we, the Order of Scythe, have recruited you to fight for our cause against the corrupt Conara Government.

I immediately thought to myself, “Oh great another dumb ex-Conara-general who didn’t get something he wanted, got a few guys to follow him, and now is fighting the brute force of the Conara Military... Dumbass!” But luckily before I vocalized my thoughts, one of the other prisoners shouted, “Recruited us? More like captured us!”

Without any retort the General pulled out a device, clicked a few buttons. Instantly, the shouting prisoner went limp, his eyes rolled back in his head and then he was dead. The General then said, “Due to your remarkable piloting careers, each of you have been chosen to help us in our fight.” All the alarms blared but the General continued, “We are about to battle a starfleet occupying crucial location and expect you all to fight for our cause. If not the poison in your collars will be injected like you have just seen with your friend here.”

We were then led through the ship corridors into the hangar bay where we were outfitted and put into our fighter ships. Before they closed our cockpits I glanced over at Yirsed who looked very unpleased and yelled, “Hey! Killin’ Scythe Conara, or regular Conara. Either way it sounds good to me!” I think I saw him smile just as the shell went down.

Next thing I know we are out in space and Yirsed is radioing to me saying to me, “it would be an honor to follow the Legendary Juan’s lead.” I agreed but the rest is all a blur to me. Though if someone was watching us fly I think they would describe Yirsed and I as the angels of death weaving in and out of the enemys’ formations causing more destruction than we could even remember.

We were in ‘the zone’ more than I had ever been before my ship followed my every command. It was as if I just had to think it and my ship obey. Until, BOOM! Warning: internal combustion malfunction. “Damn second rate Dalkanowas!” I screamed as more warnings go off. But this time they said Warning: Incoming missile. I pulled the eject lever. Then I was out in space. I was floating a a peace came over me, the peace that only certain death can bring.

Less than a minute of oxygen and I just stared out into space admiring the stars. It got hard to breath then soon after the darkness started creeping in. I then lost consciousness.

…

…

…

Then I feel something. A sensation of coldness on my cheek. I slowly open my eyes to a crowded corridor. People all around me walking by; staring at me, the strange human, lying on the ground. I get up covered in mud and blood and oil. I ask the first person I see, “Hey, where am I.” He says, “Sir you are on Koje.”

Juan Casador

Ok so I just got a new Computer Art Tablet last week and have been very... extra busy because I have been using it to do lotsa art stuffs. Here's the first painting that I did with the Tablet.


So for those who have not played MOAG with me, you may not know, but this is one of my... well it IS my character that I think I am going to be playing the most. It is Juan Casador (aka Juanito el Bandito)
Anyway his general storyline is briefly explained in one of my previous posts. You can look it up in the "Wicked Weekend Art" label. Or I'll just briefly explain him again for those who don't want to search. Anyway he was in a privately contracted space program on Earth during the craze of the Space Race. Unknown to the public Juan was part of a team that actually made it to Mars just before the Apollo Program began, but due to disasters he was the only one from his team to return alive. On the trip, with the said disasters, Juan came in contact with insane amounts of radiation (or he as radioactified... that is totally a real word!) which have caused him to never age. He is not invincible but due to not aging he has an incredible knowledge especially in the area of spacecrafts, astrogation, and flying any ship.
As one of the few humans surviving the Conar Invasion he has become very resourceful and now has a Kasmuth Class Cargo Ship where he runs his Cargo and Transport Co.

Discovery Of Ormigites

OK this is totally not at all the story of the actual events of the discovery of Ormigites but its just a funny little movie I did for my Computer Animation Class (just want to make that clear)! Hope you all like it though!

A Warning from the Past

Bahtouri stood at the computer staring into a void that only he could see through. The steps he would be taking shortly would give his species more of a chance to continue on, but at a most wicked price.
His slender hands brushed the input display and it came to life.
The computer spoke to him almost instantly. "Good Evening Dr. Dorohn. How are you today?"
"Uh," he stuttered. "I've been better."
After a brief moment the computer spoke again. "Would you like to talk about what is troubling you?"
"No" Bahtouri blurted out, "I mean, yes... I mean, somewhat."
He took a deep breath and brushed along another portion of the display. The action brought up a diagram of the building he stood in. Little flashing red dots littered the corridors and rooms that were now on display.
"Computer, I need you to record something for me." His voice wavered for a moment. "I need you to record what I am about to say, encrypt the message with a variably omni-decimal code and play it for anyone that comes in here that has no trace of species four eight fifteen DNA, shut down all remaining systems on the grid and await further instructions from me and me alone. If at any time your security systems are breached, you then need to active self destruct per Dr. Bahtouri Se Dorohn access code Abarri eight two eight Mancharin seven Quinti. The timer will be set for exactly twenty two cycles. Is all of that understood? And give me an estimation on how long these instructions will take to perform and set up."
"All instructions were received. Estimated cycle rotation is ten point ten."
"Thank you computer. Please begin recording."
Several pages of data flickered into existence on the main screen of the computer and then minimized to the lower right secondary screen.
"This is Dr. Bahtouri Dorohn. I am one of very few surviving Utobiians." He took a moment to find the words that so suddenly had eluded him. "I... I didn't mean for this to happen, but it has. The Wargutters were mere pets, used for sport. Their tactical abilities were to be heightened... but I never imagined that they would become sentient."
A siren began to blare all around the large room. A page flew up from the upper left secondary screen into the main view. The diagram of the building with the red dots appeared again. Only, the dots had started to move towards each other.
"Computer, pause recording. What are they doing?" He asked.
"Species four eight fifteen appear to be coming together in groups as well as moving towards your location." The computer answered.
"They are forming packs."
Bahtouri did not believe the words that came out of his mouth. Yet, there the Wargutters were on screen, doing just what he had said.
"How much time is left?"
"Approximately two cycles."
"Good. Computer resume recording. I don't have much time. They are moving in packs now and I believe it will not take long for them to find me. To whomever hears this message. I do not know if we will be able to survive, but it is the only hope we have to cont--"
A noise that Bahtouri knew all to well came from the other side of the main door. The snarling, growling and cries for blood, of the Wargutters sent shivers up his spine. Claws pounded and scraped at the door.
"They are here. Know that this is the only chance that my species has to survive and it is a slim one. The others are asleep and I will join them soon. Only if the Wargutters are gone will we have a chance to survive. They have a lust for our blood. Although any biped that comes to this planet will be in grave danger."
The pounding on the door became more intense as more Wargutters moved in. The door began to shake and buckle under the new pressure.
"Corridor sixteen twenty three. Containers forty two through fifty one. Remember, only awaken us if the Wargutters are gone."
The computer interrupted. "Dr. Dorohn, the instructions are complete. Set up is also complete."
"Thank you computer. Finish the sequence and pray to Matatan that the Utobiians will survive."
Bahtouri ran towards a side door in the room. As it opened he bolted past, closed the door and locked it with a simple brush of the keypad.
The computer quickly closed pages, shut down the secondary screens one by one and then the main screen. A large heavy door slid around the entire computer as the room went dark.

The new face of evil...

6 months after the fall of the Empire of Order...

******URGENT******
Holographic Hypercomm Transmission
From: Ithany Nova, Grand Admiral, Kron II

Unknown alien fleet has exited Tel'Dabe wormhole two. Communications with the aliens have not been succesful. They outnumber us 3 to 1 and more ships arrive everyday. We require additional ships if we are to hold them here. The two Zol Weapons Platforms are being deployed now and General Cassius has given command over to me...wait a minute... (loss of visual, audio still recording) Deploy battle groups one through ten and alert the ZWP's... damn another 3,000 ships has jumped through the wormhole... signal starfighter command to launch all wings... bring the reserves into formation and activate all gravity well generators... send a hypercomm transmission to Nova Station, I wanted my battlestation here hours ago... prepare the Arcadia's main cannon... (visual restored) Send all available reinforcements but be warned a third of the alien fleet has jumped into hyperspace. I recommend a strategic withdrawl of all civillians in the core to our outer rim strongholds.

Another war has begun gentlemen... I hope to see you at the end of this one too. Nova out.

Transmission ends...

Transmission copyed and sent to all fleet command centers...
Lord Marshal Helos, Marshals Helos, Arkan, and Von Kellor, and Grand Admirals Trevan and Serras confirm transmission recieved.

Where is Anvale?

Secure Military Transmission Incoming...

Standby for confirmation of identity...

Security clearance recognized...

Good Morning Lord Marshal...

From: Jace Cassius, General, Kron IV

I have some good news and bad news.

The good news is the Zol Weapons Platform has completed all trials and is going into service soon. I am sending the schematics for all of our current technology including the ZWP to you. Our shipyards are completing the new Judicator Mk. IIs and our fleet now numbers in the thousands of ships. The cloning technology brought to us by Anvale has produced millions of troops in a very short time. Our current troop strength is over 10 million and we will have another 5 ready in a few more months. The space in the inner core around wormhole is secure.

The bad news is Anvale. He was acting very strange after he returned from the Emperor's palace. He wouldn't make alot of sense when he spoke to me and when he did speak clearly the only thing he said was we are going to need more men and ships. The next time I saw him was in his final transmission to the entire system. He told us we were in charge of defending the galaxy from what was to come. After that he took that massive ship of his and entered the second wormhole.

We still have no idea where Arcturus Anvale is, but our spies within the Order Remnant comfirm that he is not there. This could be the reason you are losing all the hypercomm relays.

I look forward to your response and so does Greken.

Respectfully,

Jace Cassius

The Fall of the Order

Hypercomm News Network

Emperor Setis Asheron was killed in a succesful coup d'etat led by revelutionary forces. Lord Marshal Helos declared Marshal Law until the new government could be stablized. At the same time Helos ordered all military forces under his command to stand down. General Arkan amazed all when, shortly after the Lord Marshal's order, he personally surrendered to Helos. The Lord Marshal then promptly pardoned all soldiers under Arkan's command including Arkan himself. They were given the choice of returning to civilian life or rejoining the armed forces. All of them rejoined. Arkan was reinstated as a General and then promoted to Marshal.

Within a week of the former Emperor's death, the reunification of all armed forces and the dissolution of the Empire of Order was complete. After a month of military rule, the Lord Marshal gave up his powers to the provisionary government. An hour later the elections for the canidency of the office of President were open. After a two month campaign, Sil Na'tur became the first President of the Tel'Dabe Republic.

During the month of military rule the people experienced some growing pains. The old system was gone and the new way was here. Lords became Governors, Counts became Regional Governors, and Dukes became Senators. Only a 1/4 of the original leaders continued on to become Governors and Senators. The rest were removed forcefully by mobs of angry citizens and by the military. More than 1/4 of the former leaders of Empire would not give up their positions. These Lords, Counts, and Dukes of the old Order had to be removed by force and many were killed. The remaining aristocracy grouped together with Grand Admiral Salane ,who had refused the Lord Marshal's order taking 3/4's of his entire command, and headed to the Far Reaches. This Remnant of Order has cut off communications with the rest of the galaxy.

The recap of the last few months will continue after these messages...

Are you tired of being small? Try the new and improv.......

***** Hypercomm Relay is offline *****

Chapter 1
A New Man

James Edward Thomas worked at the Pentagon. His job was simply to analyze computer data from satellites and turn it into something the government could use. He was not a particularly handsome individual. He didn’t live in a big house, or drive a nice car. James wasn’t married, nor had he dated for several years. James, or Jim, as he assumed his friends would have called him if he had had any, wasn’t good at any sport or did he know anyone famous. Once when he was a young college boy he was engaged to a farm girl from New Mexico. Their relationship ended before they were to wed. Shortly thereafter James joined the Marine Corps, and worked 20 long years of his life to the rank of Sergeant. James’ Mother died only weeks after he joined the military, however he decided not to attend the funeral. His father had left when James was too young to remember. James never tried to contact him. James retired from the military at age 39 and began pursuing a degree in physics at MIT.
Frank Borgam met James in an elevator in Chicago, IL. They were the only two in the elevator when a terrorist bomb on the 10th floor exploded, sending the elevator and its two passengers plummeting from the third floor to the basement. Both of James’ legs were broken and his neck fractured. James Performed CPR on Frank and saved his life. Impressed by James, and after an extensive background check, Frank offered James a place in the CIA.
At age 46 and after a short recovery, James began his employment at the Pentagon. Every morning James woke up at 5:30. He dressed in a dress shirt and some nice slacks, combed his hair, ate his oatmeal, and drove 14 miles from his home in the suburbs to the Pentagon. Day in and day out he performed the same routine. Sometimes he would drive a different route just for a change of scenery. No one came to visit him at home or at work. Every morning he would walk through the same checkpoints, and every morning he would say his name the same. “Thomas, James E.” The guard would let him in and he would perform his scheduled duties. On his way home at night, James would stop at a local grocery store or super market and collect the items he would require for the next few days, or he would stop at the local bar. Sometimes he would drive to a Park and eat fast food on a bench. On occasion he would rent a movie or walk through a mall. James limited his contact with others. He rarely spoke unless spoken to and was very even tempered. Some might say he was out of touch with reality, or just a loner, however no one knew him well enough to make even an educated guess on what might be going on in his head. Truth be told, James was a thoughtful individual. His ideas pushed him along and made him as good at his job as anyone ever is. He was an enigma, an oddity. No family, friends, acquaintances, or even pets. He never did anything out of the ordinary. He was as nobody as anyone working in the Pentagon could ever be. He was perfect.
James went to work that day and did the things that were natural to him. He hung up his jacket in the same spot he always had. He ate his lunch at noon. He drank his apple juice, and even went to the bathroom at what could have been his scheduled time. He left work at 5:00 and drove to the store. He bought just the necessities and traveled home.
James exited his Nissan Sentra with his plastic grocery bag and walked to the front door of his two bedroom one bath, half of the duplex he lived in. He inserted the key and turned the lock. To his amusement the door was ajar. He wondered if he had left it this way that morning. He doubted it. He stepped into the living room and closed the door behind him. The TV was still there, as were the few other things that he owned. He walked into the kitchen and placed the bag on the counter. He put his keys on a hook next to the fridge and continued to his computer room. A quick glance revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Next, to his bedroom he discovered the same. He removed his jacket and hung it on a hook in the closet. Just as he began to turn around James noticed that two hangers were in the wrong spot. A shirt and a pair of slacks were absent. “Strange items to steal” he thought. Further inspection showed that a pair of shoes were also gone. James didn’t own a gun. Even if he had, it probably wouldn’t have crossed his mind. He walked slowly to the bathroom, the door was closed and the light was on. Someone must be in here, he thought. Curiously he opened the door. He was right, there was someone there, and he was looking him straight in the eye. A five foot ten inch man with brown hair, brown eyes and a slender face stared back at him. The man looked to be 48 years old and at first James thought he was looking into a mirror. He was even wearing his clothes. Although this was not a normal occurrence, James was not surprised, he was however, quite perplexed.
“Who are you?” James finally stammered.
“Who do I look like you idiot.” The man more stated than asked. James’ mind raced. Who was this and why did he look just like him?

Obviously the Pic has nothing to do with the story, I just thought it was cool.