Some skurtches.

I needed a picture of someone looking really surprised for something on my blog and I decided to use Selidor. Thought I might post the sketches on here.

 And then I've been working on an alien race for awhile now. They're called the asoheri and they have a facial skin covering that they can close and open that functions as filtration from the dangerous toxins on their planet.

Greetings from the world of Respan

Hello, friends!
Long time, no see!
I have been bogged deep within the land of Academia for way too long. I haven't been able to play, but the MOAG 'verse has never been far from my mind. It has been the subject of several assignments in different classes over the years (which I've always received A's on, thanks to MOAG), and I just completed a creative writing assignment using a MOAG campaign. I'm not sure how many of you remember my Aeltar character Cetali Anora, but this story is about her first campaign. I had to use creative license in a few areas, and I created a new human to take Quar's place, simply because I couldn't remember much about him, but I think you'll like Maxfield Adams; I do.
So, without any further delay, I give you:

A Respan Rebellion

                                            Cetali

I threw myself onto the bed after a long day of forced solitude and stared numbly around at my depressing room.  There was nothing of me in the room besides my gear; nothing to say “home,” or “comfort.”  I hadn't been allowed time to grab any personal items when I was assigned this mission. Glancing at the time, I realized I’d lost track of it. I needed to send the latest report. I've reported on 357 different individuals while I've been here; of a variety of different species. But I've been at this game too long—I’m reaching the end of my rope. It was only supposed to be for six months.

I pushed the Send Transmission button on my com unit with a sigh. Was anyone from Central Command even receiving my transmissions anymore?

            For this mission, I was dropped by space pod on Respan, a terrestrial, silicate planet similar to both my home planet of Dorthalian and the human’s Earth. At first, everything went smoothly. Each report I sent was acknowledged, with an electronic “Central Command thanks you for your report.” 

At the four month mark, that changed.

 The electronic thanks no longer pings in reply when I send a report. I've had no further communications from General Barradock, or anyone from Central Command. At the end of the six months, I returned to the site where the space pod had originally dropped me off. But no pod returned to retrieve me. All I could do was continue with my pointless mission, and hope someone would remember to bring me home.

Craving the comfort of “home,” I reached for the tiny locket I always keep close to my heart, the locket with the hologram of my parents. They died in the Nano-virus epidemic that swept my home planet of Dorthalion when I was fifteen. It’s been over twenty years now, but my heart still aches when I think of them.

Speaking of abandonment, I’m so frustrated with this mission, I could scream. It’s a joke! Observe and Report, he said. You’re so qualified, he said. It’ll only last six months, he said. “Observe and Report” was the most specific instruction I was given when General Barradock dropped me on Respan over a year ago. The rest of his instructions weren’t so clear: “Find those that are lost.”

WHAT?! How vague could he be? Who are these ‘lost’ people?  Who lost them? How do I know who to observe? What am I supposed to do if I find them? How would I even know if I had found them? The lack of information was unbelievable! When I tried to ease my concerns by asking questions, all Barradock would say was that for six months, I was to observe all the individuals around me, spend two to three days shadowing each one, and send reports containing all the information I’d gleaned. Here’s the kicker. I’m to keep my distance from those I’m observing; so, essentially, I can’t let them know I’m even here.  No contact. That’s been the hardest part. Ever since my parents died, I’ve tried to fill the void by surrounding myself with people. I heartily dislike being alone.

The only redeeming part of this mission is that observing these random subjects satisfies my over-whelming sense of curiosity. I just have to keep it under control and resist the urge to get involved. Still, this mission is a waste of my talent.

Last I knew, I was considered one of Central Command’s highest skilled operatives. I broke records by receiving the highest marks possible on my last physical skills test; my tactics, tracking, and stealth scores were off the charts. I’m not just a pretty face—I can use both a sword and throwing knives expertly. I can shoot weapons with both laser and ballistic ammo. I can pilot any air or space craft, and repair any electrical or mechanical malfunction. Then there’s my Will Power. The arsenal in that bag of tricks are: I can sense others before I can see them, I can create illusions, so people see what I want them to see, I can move objects—all of which come in handy while observing, but my physical skills are getting rusty.  

                                                  Maxfield

I‘d felt eyes watching me for a fair bit, now, but I hadn’t been able to catch my observer. Max, old man, I thought, either you’re getting sloppy, or someone out there is better than you at your own game. I scoffed at that. Game on, friend. No-one’s better at sneaking than Maxfield Adams.

            It took me longer to catch sight of her than it normally did once I’d put my mind to it. She’s good, I thought with respect. It’s not an easy task to out-sneak a sneaker. Now that I’d located her, I took a moment to assess my observer. She resembled a Cylonquin, with their human-like build, Elvin features and long pointy ears, but she was tall—easily over six feet, where Cylonquins usually averaged around four. She had long, light-colored hair, lighter than those Swedes back on Earth, and her skin was a light olive with a flush of rose on cheeks and lips, and her eyes…Get a grip, Maxfield! I wasn’t prepared for what a pair of ocean blue eyes could do to me, let alone a body with curves in all the right places. She had on a snug pair of breeches tucked into worn, knee-high boots, a tunic laced tight, and a travel bag over one shoulder. Her muscles were lean and athletic; the way she moved hinted at some type of military training, and the barely-there bulges at boot-tops and wrists told me she was skilled with throwing knives. A worn shoulder holster cradled a Mark 24 laser pistol on her side opposite the bag, and left me no doubt that she knew how to use it well. Who is this woman, I thought, and where in the ‘verse is she from? Maxfield, old bean, my common sense replied, the most important question is—why is she sneaking you?

                                                       Cetali

I've been observing the human male I've heard people call Max for two weeks now, even though my observations are only supposed to last two to three days. Since Central Command has apparently lost interest in me, I don’t feel as bound by their regulations. Out of the hundreds I've observed over the past year, none have fascinated me like he does.

With humans, there isn't much to write about since they are a small minority on this planet, but Max—Max is different. For starters, he’s bigger than most humans; he stands at six feet, eleven inches tall, and I heard him tell the barkeep that he tips the scales at “300 pounds of muscle.”  He’s put that muscle to good use, though. I've seen him practicing with his double swords; those blades are transparent, they move so fast. For such a big guy, he fairly glides from form to form; it’s like watching a dance. I can barely restrain myself when I watch; I want to test my sword skills against his so badly!

His hair is dark and curly, very different from the bright colors favored by Aeltar males back home on Dorthalion. It’s smart, really; if he’s on a spy job, it lets him blend into the shadows easily. His jaw is square and covered by a close-cut beard, and his skin is tanned by the Respan sun, which makes his light gray eyes really stand out. He’s defiantly not an ugly specimen of humanity.

He usually wears dusty trousers tucked into combat boots, a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a worn leather jacket—like it’s his personal uniform. When I’d first started observing, he’d been wearing a flak jacket; I guess he’d just finished a job, because I've not seen him wear it since. He looks like he’s had some great adventures, and would have a lot of great stories to tell. I wish I could hear them, but I've got to stick to protocol—no contact.

 Max is never without a weapon of some sort; either his double swords in a special scabbard on his back, or maybe an AR-15 rifle. It’s wise to have some kind of protection at all times on this planet; the population looks civilized, but with so many different species living all mixed in together, there’s bound to be conflict sooner or later.

Observing him hasn't been easy today; Max started acting outside of his normal patterns. I was having a hard time keeping tabs on his location—it was like he’d figured out someone was watching, which is impossible. I’m sure I've remained undetectable. I tracked him through the variegated greens of scrub oak and cedar that choke the foothills, but I lost him again in an area pocked with caves, their entrances partially hidden by a minefield of rocks and boulders of various sizes.

 Carefully scanning the ground for any clue to his route, I finally found the trace I needed to get back on his trail—but before I could move, an enormous shadow engulfed me. I froze, and then cautiously peered around for the source of the shadow.

My heart sank to the bottom of my boots. Two massive creatures, resembling demons fresh out of a nightmare, had blocked the sun, standing a few hundred yards away. In all my observations, I've never seen a species like this before. They stood easily nine feet tall, with thick, leathery wings arching up and out from their backs, broad, flat triangular heads with sharp teeth jutting from powerful jaws, and burning red eyes that restlessly scanned the clearing. They were obviously looking for a fight. I could only pray I’d escaped their notice.

No such luck.

The creature nearest me caught my scent; it let out a screech as it unfurled its wings, preparing to launch itself in my direction. I struggled to get my pistol out, but before I could, the deadly hiss of blades leaving the sheath sounded from the mouth of one of the near-by caves.

“Time to dance, ladies!”

Max himself leapt to engage the creatures, sunlight glittering along the length of the two wicked-looking swords he carried, one in each massive fist, and they both turned their attention to him.

I was torn. I should stay out of sight, follow my orders. But I just couldn't leave Max to face these creatures by himself—he was outnumbered. Besides, I’d miss all the fun!

My decision made, I frantically searched for something else to use as a weapon; my knives and laser pistol could just as easily hit Max as the creatures, so I needed to use alternative methods. Reaching out with my Will Power, I created an illusion of blindness around the creature nearest me, and then transported a boulder into its side. Max and his blades kept the attention of the one he faced riveted on him. Stupid things had no idea what they were in for!

After what seemed like hours, I wiped the sweat out of my eyes, summoned every reserve of Will Power I had, and managed to transport a boulder the size of a hover freighter. I dropped it on my opponent, effectively crushing and killing it, just as Max neatly sliced off the head of the other.

Leaning on his swords to catch his breath, he studied me.

“Nasty creatures, those Cra-ai. They’ve got brains the size of a pea, and bad attitudes the size of Texas. Those two have been doggin’ me for a fair bit, now. Much obliged for your help in sending them back to the pit they crawled out from, Miss…?”

Wiping my sweaty palms on my trousers, I reached to accept his handshake.

“Cetali Anora. And you are?” My hand disappeared inside his.

“Call me Max. You’re the one that’s been watchin’ me. Learn anything new?”

My eyes widened in surprise.

“You knew? How…?”

“It’s my job to know. It’s how I stay alive.” He studied me a moment, as if mulling something over, then seemed to come to a decision.

“You interested in a new job? I could use a partner with your skills in the Arts, and you don’t seem to have other pressing engagements. What d’ya say?”

A jumble of thoughts raced through my head—Observe and Report, loyalty, no contact, AWOL— but one crystal clear thought cut through the rest. Central Command had abandoned me. I was done. Done with this ridiculous mission, done waiting; done being alone.

“I’d love to work with you. When do we start?”

A smile lit up Max’s face.

“Well done, lass! I didn't think you’d have the courage to make a change this big. Let’s go celebrate our victory here, and the beginning of what promises to be a very profitable partnership. And then you can tell me why you've been sneaking me.”

“With pleasure, Max, with pleasure.”

                                                         The End

Well, hope you enjoyed it, I sure had fun writing it! Much love to you all!

Happy belated Birthday, West! (And to you, also, Carl!)

MOAGtoon Characters

So here are some of my MOAG characters/npcs (Atticus Butcher, Matthias Butcher, and Scraggly George) that I don't play very much but I really like them. Also I did these drawings at work a while back when things were really slow and I intended on making all my characters but then things got really busy at work so I don't know if I'll ever finish the series. Oh well, either way I figured I better post them so they don't disappear when I forget about them.
-Juanito, over and out.

Amadeus Edwards

A little Amadeus for Bot, too.

BTW, if anyone wants one of these- there are figurines at the Cedar City Del Taco, inside the coin vending machines (whatever those bloody things are called), for a dollar. All you have to do to get one is to buy one of those figurines and bring it to me. And know that chances are they won't turn out perfect.

And it's also a LIIIMITED TIME OFFER because eventually I have to give Aunt Jan her paints back.

Lagarto and Honk

MOAG Cultural Day

    So I have been asking Sir West many question in preparations for the next Ormigite Builder campaign. I got a little sidetracked and began asking many Klisk related questions just for curiosity and found out some very interesting thing that I did not previously know. I then stated that we should have a day to post brief culture or story or technology related explanations of MOAG. West thought that was a good idea and I don't know if it will ever be a regular thing but I figured I'd start with a little Ormigite culture lesson.
    The majority of the Ormigites believe in deity which they call The Builders. They believe that to escape the cruelty of their previous home/galaxy the builders used their will power to transport to a far corner of the universe and created their own galaxy. Then after living content for thousands of years they decided to move on to another life or ascend. But before they ascended, from the earth and minerals they created the Ormigites to maintain the galaxy. They taught the Ormigites all that they knew and then left (and have never been seen of until our characters found one).
    Now like much mythology there is some truth to the stories, but here is what we know of the TRUE story. The Builders were just a close cousin species to the ormigites. They looked very much like the ormigites but were 10-15ft tall. They were extremely strong Will Power users but NOT so strong to teleport across the universe and create galaxies. They lived very much like the ormigites in all aspects except were much more technologically advanced. In many instances where the ormigite and builder civilizations lived near each other, their cultures usually intertwined, even to the point of living together and the builders becoming the royal class. This may be the cause of the ormigites eventually regarding the builders as their deity.
    The Builders lived thousands of years ago and had a thriving world till some type of plague/infection killed off their entire species. In a last ditch attempt to survive they sent 12 of their strongest warriors out into the universe to kill the plague/infection and entrap its essence in artifact crystal pillars. Then they were to return to their home planet and try revive their species. In several thousands of years only one has returned. As the last of the builders, Kra'max has come in contact with several of our characters and sent us on a missions to finish the task of collecting the last of the crystal pillars and destroying the plague/infection that killed his people.
    This is a quick little drawing I did of Kra'max. I hope you like it and I hope you liked the little lesson in Ormigite Culture.
- Juanito, over and out.

The Curse of Immortality (A Broken Home)

Am I real?  I thought I was. A philosopher once said “I think therefore I am”. Is that what I’m doing, or do I simply process information so fast as to give the illusion of such?

            Is it pain that defines us? These questions pain me to the soul, if I do have a soul. The others must feel that I do. They have avoided me for most of the past month because I am not her… If I do have a soul…

            I know my definition. I am well defined. I am simply a machine designed for a task…

            Many people believe that they will return to their maker when they die, and look forward to that day. I have seen my maker; I have looked him in the face… I have died. But was that me? I can feel the final stroke. I can see everything leading up to that moment. It must be me… But I don’t know what was going on in that mind in those final moments. I have re-lived it ten thousand times and my conclusion is the same, I will miss you…

            When I return again to my maker I will ask him one thing; Why? Why was I given this information, these memories, these feelings? Only so I could come to this place and become a burden on the minds of those I love?

            I know my definition. I know where I belong. It is here at my home, … In your arms.