From time to time, I feel as though I am just fabricating an intricate scope with which to view my world in a hue of constant fantasy.

Writing is the obvious outlet. So is art- it is all relevant. Not just to me, mind you.

Reality can be a harsh pill to take. Often, it’s taken as a suppository and forced into your life’s rectum with a cold, ungloved hand. I am well aware that reality also hurts, and can be boring at times. I think that’s why I write. Or at least that’s part of it. I write because I am bored of reality, and I want to create a new one to fuck around in. Last time I checked, I didn’t possess world-altering powers, so I guess writing and drawing will work. Perhaps there are others like me out there. I’d sure like to think so.

I finished the first novella in the Warrior Shaman series, and I’ve been anxious to continue on to the next chapter, but I find my mind disjointed and distracted. I feel like I have to scold my own brain like an unruly child. But no matter- sooner or later it all comes out. I drew a few weapon concepts for Thas, the Warrior Shaman. He utilizes a short sword and an axe, but they are no ordinary weapons. Here’s some art of his sword:

I wanted to create something simple, sharp, and easy to use- making it truly deadly in the hands of a master like Thas. It’s not just any sword, either. Of course it’s magic. This sword is made of singing steel; it’s a magic alloy made from iron, carbon, stone, and salt water. It’s created through gravity and intense fire magic, forged for decades in the most extreme heat and pressure, using complex alchemical powders and tars. Magic must also be used to shape the blade; mortal tools simply break, or catch fire. It is forever keen and unbreakable, and its tip is so sharp that it whistles through the air like a whip, but at a much higher pitch. Here’s a close up look of just the sword:

He holds this weapon in his left hand. The right wields a special axe, also made from singing steel. The handle, however is made from an unbreakable portion of wood from the massive Tree of Hope- which can be seen from almost anywhere on the entire planet of Melias. Here, take a look at some concepts:

Sorry it’s bleary…I forgot to draw larger so I could scan it. I kinda got caught up in the moment. Anyway, you’ll see three sharp lookin’ things attached to the side of the axe head. Both sides, actually. These ridges are collectively called a bone wedge. By use of strength and the might of singing steel, this axe will cleave directly through bone, much like a wedge and a piece of fresh splitting wood. If it gets stuck going in, the design always allows for it to be pulled it out with little effort, never letting it get paralyzed in a skull or breast bone. This axe is made to fight with, period. Here’s a detail piece:

Once again, I apologize for the shitty quality, but I’m not drawin’ this fuckin’ thing over again. Anyway, I wanted to give him two different weapons because they allow for more options in combat for Thas. He can parry with the blade,  hook and manipulate limbs with the axe’s lip, hack through limbs, or run people through. Thas deals death equally for all.

I don’t know what drove me to draw these two pieces to be honest. I haven’t posted art on my blog for some time now, but something just struck me to do it. Which brings me right back to the main concept of this entry- living in fantasy.

I draw because I can’t create. I tell stories because I cannot make another world. Without the outlet of writing and art, I fear all of my ideas (good and bad and neither) would simply blend together, and I wouldn’t be able to tell them apart anymore. In fact, my grip on reality is based on how long I can steep myself in fantasy per day. But don’t get me wrong- my life isn’t so shitty that I have to spend it all in a hopeless meandering daze, constantly in fantasy. No, it’s more like…free therapy. As much as I love telling/writing/whatever stories just because I find it really fun, it’s nice to get some of these fucking things outta my head and onto paper so I don’t obsess over them in my mind.

Perhaps writing is just my way of coping with a life that can be really boring on occasion.