Category Archives: The Chronicles of Urth: Blestemul

Lazgah Concept Art

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Almost a hundred and fifty pages into TCoU:B, and the characters are moving towards the dangerous swamplands of the Groar and Lazagah people.  This book is one of the slowest I’ve ever written. Although not boring, I will admit that it can be a little dry. But this is a large tale to tell, and as anyone who has read a 1000 page plus fantasy novel, it takes a good chunk of time before the fuckin’ wonder begins.

Anyway. Our heroes are leaving the canyon where the Creature was found. After a merciless slaughter of evil men and women by the demonic reach of Blestemul, they continue on into the bizarre volcanic swamps, headed towards a Groar capitol, and then beyond. We’ve already discussed Groars here, but not the Lazgah are sentinents, true, but are too savage to be included in any type of modern society. Intelligent, but mostly in an instinctual and predatory sense, they have a basic language but mostly operate in tightly knit and organized troops. They are semi-amphibious, but don’t breathe through their skin. Heavily muscled, they have a bizarre anatomy the defies nature. Here’s a picture of some rough concepts:

And a closeup of the type of head I chose:

 

 

A few more concepts of the actual anatomy of a Lazgah:

 

They are adept scavengers and can often reverse engineer, or re purpose scavenged materials or technology. They can make surprisingly sophisticated weapons, favoring a super compressed blowgun tailored to exploit the advantages of having massive and powerful lungs. These darts are tipped in lethal poisons collected from creatures dwelling in their natural habitat. They are fond of throwing weapons, using their profound strength to throw such projectiles with incredible speed and force, far more than some human schmuck with a throwing knife. They will often utilize umbracells as volatile grenades, and as devastating traps. Here’s some concept art detailing Lazgah weapons:

 

And finally, some more advanced weapons found in the hands of Lazgah soldiers:

 

 

Okay, I’ll leave you with that. Got any questions? Comments? You know what to do.

The Creature in the Mountain Pass

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I’ve reached a point in my story where I like to answer questions that the reader may have in an indirect way. I prefer to disguise these points in the ignorance of my characters. They ask the questions, and I find a way to answer them for everyone. It is annoying. It is not easy. And sometimes, it doesn’t work. But, when it does, it ties shit together nicely in a lil’ package I can call my own. Anyway, here’s the shit.

The characters of the story, Alistar, Jala, and Kone are all headed towards the next scene. And yes, I’m isolating those who read this by not explaining anything further on these characters, nor why they’re together, or what they’re doing. It’s on purpose. Anyway, they’re all headed towards the next scene, when Alistar gets separated from the group via a powerful and ancient being. The beast is never named, nor his species. He has fantastic powers and incredible stories to tell Alistar, many that validate humanity’s existence on the one in a billion shot we call Earth.

I wanted to create a being that didn’t make any sense. Creatures created out of the imagination are often based on things that we have seen before. Humanoid creatures, where eyes belong, head, tail, symmetry. You know. I thought in a different way. And I am not ashamed that I was inspired to break out of the way I normally create fictional beings because of Philip Pullman and his works.He created a species of creatures that defied symmetry and that’s what I sought out to do.

I tend to warp things. Twist them. The world is too normal, and it needs a dark slant, a sticky, sweaty mutation deep in the corners of the sane mind. So, I came out with this initially:

But that made too much sense. I decided to alter the creature more, and recently I came up with its final form. Take a look at this shit:

Much better. There is some symmetry, yes. But I mixed shit up in ways I had forgotten about. This being, this creature, is the link that provides a foundation for the rest of Alistar’s (the main character) motivations throughout the story. I had to make this fucker unique, and hopefully I didn’t fail.

What about you? Ever create somethingentirely out of your own head? Your own creature? Being? Race? I would love to know how you did it, and what it is. Don’t be shy. We’re all freaks here.

P.S.: This entry is short because I started to feel pompous when I was writing it. I wanted to stop my mind diarrhea before I started sounding like those I despise.

Deletion as a Freeing Edit Move

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I delete massive pieces of my work quite often.

I look back at what I wrote, and I find myself disgusted with my mediocrity. The way I remedy this is by removing myself from the piece and looking at it like I wasn’t its creator. I just wrote several pages of TCoU:B, and I realized they were all shit. I was bored reading them, and I was bored writing them. I was anxious to continue to the next part because I had set up the next part so well, but instead, I used a cheap cliffhanger trick that thousands of authors/writers (same?) use before me.

FUCK cliffhangers.

I deleted the shitty reading device and spat on its fuckin’ grave. I liquidated the filth from my body of work and watched it swirl the toilet bowl where shit belongs. I’m delving right back in where I want to be. Fuck, I figured if I as an author hated the cliffhanger I wrote, how would you feel if you read it? Undermined. Betrayed. Patronized. Belittled. Sometimes, delete. Don’t worry about rewriting, don’t worry about any of that shit. If something is garbage, throw it the FUCK out. Don’t give it a second chance. It’ll start to rot and stink, clouded and putrefying all the good writing you have done, and will do.

Anyway, the crew are headed to the story’s next scene, and they encounter a being that. Well. Why should I tell you?

I’ll post concept art of this being during the next post. As for plot details, I never reveal what I’m writing. I’ll always post concept art, how I arrived at certain conclusions or characters, but I don’t divulge anything else. I’m trying to decide if this practice is narcissistic, or ritualistic.

I’m tired of my own voice in my head so I’m gonna shut the fuck up now.

Progress on Kindle and Concept Art

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I’m back. Great vacation- got some good time with the lovely wife and some good times at a massive theme park. Enough of that, let’s get into the shit right away.

Before  post concept art, I want to tell you all something. I bit the progress bullet, stopped being a whiny bitch, and opened my Kindle account for selling my books. If you’re at this stage, you can click on this link. It was painless, and now? I can start uploading m’shit. And you’ll all be the first ones to know when I do. Setting up a Kindle publishing account is easy as fuck. It’s just like setting up an e-mail account. Also, make sure you have your social security card ready, too.

Alright, with that exciting (for me at least) announcement out of the way, I wanted to continue with the explanation of plasmatic weapons in TCoU:Blestemul. While I was forty thousand feet in the fuckin’ air, I came up with some pretty solid diagrams as to how actual rifle would look. The first picture (the one below) is an outdated version of what the weapon would look like. However, its parts are all current. You see, in Urth, there are bizarre new elements formed after the cataclysm. These elements allowed the technology for such energy weapons to exist (I will cover ALL the elements I “invented” in a later entry). Enough. Here’s the art:

These are the basic parts to what a standard E.A. rifle would look like. I didn’t think the look of the weapon felt right, though. It looked too…primitive. Too…fragile. Basic. I mean, pick an adjective it just don’look right. So, I tweaked it and came up with a final concept for a basic E.A. weapon found all over Urth. Take a look at this shit:

Much better. Here, I detailed the furniture of the weapon rather than the actual internal mechanisms n’ shit. A protruding barrel didn’t make any sense to me, along with a defined seating for the weapon’s guts. So, I made an all inclusive model that keeps everything contained, controlled, and monitored. I made it look more futuristic (for lack of a better term) to satisfy any sci-fi tech cravings I had at the time. I also included some specs on the weapon itself, like rate of fire, projectile effective range, and so-on.

Honestly? I’ve been trying to develop a competent weapon like this since I was 12. I am 26 now. Only recently did I find the real science and facts I needed to mutate and bend to my will. It ain’t easy being inside my head, and I don’t say that because I think I’m special or unique. I say that because I have O.C.D., or Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. Ideas, worries, thoughts, they are always smashing around in my skull, and the urge to constantly improve my fiction and make the ideas I present inside my work as plausible causes me to create something like this. Sometimes, I think talent is just another word for obsession. Do I consider myself talented? No. I’ve always seen myself as someone that loves the creative process so much, that I can’t stop doing it. Is that talent? Okay then. I’m talented. But I think a more appropriate term would be obsessed.

Alright then, another post down. I want FEEDBACK. You. Fucking. Tools. Speak up! Good and bad critique (as long as its constructive) will be read, considered, and responded to. Don’t be silent. Tell me I suck, or tell me I’m awesome, as long as you have an actual path of reasoning behind your opinion, I will not ignore it.

Inventing Plasma Weapons

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One of my favorite things to do is create fictional science.

I absolutely love it. I like to take real facts, introduce a fictional variable, and then speculate on what would happen to a very normal object in a very abnormal situation. Weaponry in my latest novel, TCoU:B ranges from the standard cartridge fired out of a pistol, or rifle, along with pure plasma energy. Imagine hurling a searing hot bolt of plasma at your enemy, and watching him collapse in a heap of burns, screams, and fire. Also, I invented E.A. weapons, which stand for Energy Assisted. This is a solid slug wrapped in a comet of searing hot plasma. I have concept art, for this of course, but right now, I’m not going to talk about that. I’m going to talk about utilizing plasma as a weapon in an overview sense. I’ll get into extreme details later, I promise.

There are a few things that stop us (humanity) from using plasma in a weaponized bolt form. First, energy. We simply don’t have the amount of juice necessary to convert matter into plasma in a small, hand-held weapons system. Second, the tremendous heat thrown out by the weapon would melt the internal components and furniture of any weapon. Third, and unexpected, is brightness. Plasma throws out an enormous amount of energy that is straight-up photon. The user would be blinded completely as the bolt left the barrel of the firearm, along with anyone around him. And last, plasma oozes heat into its surroundings, making the bolt fizzle out long before it reaches its target. I have address each of these problems by adding a fictional element.

1. Energy

I created something called Umbrashard. It’s a common purple salt crystal found all over Urth that converts simple sunlight into enormous amounts of energy when properly refined and placed into battery form. I don’t mean a few gigawatts. I mean, terrawatts. Petrawats. That kinda shit. Fuck, an umbracell (the refined crystal placed into battery form) squirts out a few dozen gigawatts on a bad day. So, if this umbracell was used in a weapon, all the power in the world would be right there, in the palm of your hand. AND because of the unique crystalline structure promotes stable energy flow within Umbrashards promotes energy flow, allowing umbracells to be engineered to deliver the appropriate amount of juice for the task at hand without overloading into a massive plasma explosion. So, the fuel source is ready.

2. Heat

Plasma generated within the weapon would melt it with real world science. I introduced two Urth elements that correct this problem. Within the chamber of any plasmatic weapon there is a sophisticated circulation system that pushes a special gas into the weapon where the plasma is generated. This gas alters its temperature according to the amount of current one pours through it. The more juice you pump through the gas, the colder it gets. The best part is, you only have to do it once. The gas will never change its temperature unless it receives another jolt of energy. The element rushes into the reactor area, where the plasma is formed nanoseconds after the plasma has left the weapon and is on its way to the target. This cools the weapon before it has a chance to get incredibly hot, which also prevents warping. I’ll get into what these weapons are made of and how they fire later.

3. Light

Plasma is fuckin’ bright. Period. So, I had to remedy this somehow, and one day while I was on the shitter, I came up with something. Inside the weapon, there is a man-made lens that absorbs surrounding photons and converts a portion of them into a magnetic confinement bottle (more on this later). The lens isn’t a tangible lens. It’s a thin sheen of Blinthium, an abundant new Urth element. It is held in place by creating an alloy within a rapidly constricting vacuum, literally creating a metallic gas alloy that is so dense,  it can be shaped and held into place WHILE still being a gas. Plasma heats up the particles of the gas, passes through, receives its magnetic confinement bottle via rapid heat reaction with the Blinthium lens, flies out the weapon, and the Blinthium lens snaps back into place just before the delivery of the coolant, ready for use again. The result it a 90% reduction in visible photon energy, having it all converted into a magnetic confinement bottle via the photons’ own electromagnetic radiation through the thermal reaction with the modified Blinthium atoms in the lens.

4. Range

Remember that whole magnetic confinement bottle shit? Well, without that, the immense heat and photon energy of a plasma bolt would bloom out into the atmosphere and never reach the target. However, safe within the bottle, the plasma stays tight and dense, hitting the target with pinpoint accuracy. The bottle ruptures upon impact after interacting with the atoms of a solid surface, delivering the plasma successfully to the target.

WHOO! You think it was tough readin’ this shit? I’ve been working on this fuckin’ crap for years. Being inside my head blows, man. Well, sometimes.

Anyway, I think I’ll stop here. This is the basic overview of how a plasma weapon works in the TCoU:B universe. I’ll post my concept art for plasma weapons, along with a detailed overview of how a plasma weapon works, and what they’re made of, in the near future. I’m going on vacation for awhile, so I’ll write when I get back. Leave comments! I’ll answer them.

Writer’s Block and Breaking through the Wall

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I hate it when I write myself in to a corner, and I do it way too often.

As I work on TCoU:B, I felt the story prodding along more and more. Eventually, I reached a point where it was becoming forced, and the pieces just didn’t fit. I wasn’t believing what I wrote, and if I don’t believe it, how can I expect others to? I can’t, you’re exactly right. I had my main characters taking a bus to their next location. A fuckin’ bus. What a lazy move on my part to push the story along. But, it was the only good thing that had come to mind.

I went to start writing today, and I stared at the last paragraph before trying to start a new one. I felt supreme frustration, and instead of punching my computer screen, I held Alt and pressed F4. Closed the fucker right away, and cursed the book. I said, “this shit stain will never get done,” and “fuck this stupid fuckin’ book,” and a whole host of other things. I literally just punched the wall to my left as I wrote this, remembering all the frustrated energy I had stored up. Just now, I slammed my fist on the desk.

I hate frustration. Nothing drives me to the point of no return like frustration. I don’t know how to handle it sometimes, so. Oh fuck this. You don’t wanna hear this shit.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand. I got up to take a shit and rearrange my balls (they’ve been bothering me all fuckin’ day) when inspiration suddenly struck me. I was missing another character. A character that was not only an integral part of the story, but a much needed plot device that would help move things along without cheating the reader. Suddenly, my story found its momentum again.

Fighting writer’s block is a strange thing. It’s like wrestling with something in the dark. It doesn’t feel, smell, or look familiar. All you know is that it’s there and you hate it just as much as it hates you. I picture it as a strange little fucker, laughing and pointing at me, begging me to lash out and strike it. But no matter how many times I try, I can’t hurt it with conventional means.

I’m getting pissed as I type just thinking about that little fuckin’ cunt. Instead, I delete shit. I had six pages of fluffy, reader-insulting mind garbage that I highlighted and deleted from my book. It was like puking up poison and watching it swirl down the toilet; I felt so much better. And the little cunt stopped laughing at me, knowing it was beaten.

So, my story is back on track because I stopped thinking about writing the story, and started thinking about how to move it forward. Writing a novel and moving the story forward are two very different things. Any putz and walk off the street and shove a novel up their ass and sneeze out a shit stained bag of crap on paperback. But it takes a true author (I’m not the only, nor the last one) to move the story along. That’s what works for me. I stop thinking, start acting, and enjoy deleting. And, I’ll have concept art for a new character soon! Yaaaaaay!

How do you deal with writer’s block? Artist’s block? Do you picture it as an entity, or keep it as a metaphor? Speak up motherfuckers, I’m tired of your silence.

TCoU: Blestemul Concept Art for a Demon

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How do?

TCoU: Blestemul, my next novel, is going along nicely so far. I’m at a little bit of a lull point in the story, you know where you have to build shit up before you bring the axe down? But hey. I’ll get through it, you’ll get through it, and then the good stuff will happen. Anyway, without revealing too much of the story, Blestemul is a very unique demon that shape shifts according to what instrument it can do the most damage with in conjunction with its chosen host (Alistar Crowne, the main character of TCoU:B in this case). It is a demon of pure rage and violence, but is surprisingly smart and sometimes supportive in times of need. Blestemul is what makes Alistar’s “quest” possible, which I will not reveal.

I went through a LOT of different concepts for this fuckin’ thing. I mean a lot. More than what you see here. I needed to get the perfect melding of beast and gun metal to make this thing look right. I wanted something sinister, but not completely without familiar qualities. I also wanted something that was much more than just an enchanted gun. If you’ve ever played the video games Shadowman, Devil May Cry, or Shadows of the Damned, I didn’t want this stylish weapon that looked cool and made a big racket. I wanted something that reflect a demon’s true form. Blestemul (which is Romanian forcurse) fit the bill. Also, if you played Shadows of the Damned, I didn’t copy the talking gun. In fact, I was quite pissed when I found my idea thrown out there already, but its my fault for not moving when I should have. Anyway, here’s one of three sketches I did for Blestemul:

I was having a little trouble with the overall form here. And Blestemul looked too…inorganic. So, I tried to change this up a bit and add more demon meat to the pistol’s furniture. I also removed the clip- it just didn’t fit into what I was trying to create. Here’s number two of three:

Now I have too much organic, and not enough metal. I was supremely frustrated at this point, and I’m pretty sure I took a break before I took another crack at it. If you’re an artist, there is nothing more frustrating when you’re trying to complete a piece than to watch it mutate into an image that was not in your head. Here’s the third and final picture, and Blestemul’s true form:

That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Here, I decided to add a gaping maw at the muzzle. Quite literally, this is where an odious and long tongue shoots out from under the weapon to grab, crush, and shove enemies and obstacles aside. If Blestemul really wants to get nasty, the demon reels in his victim, and the weapon’s mouth expands for a bone shattering chomp that is fatal and degrading. The tongue is not only a weapon. It is prehensile, meaning Alistar can using it like a grappling hook, and it can get “sniff” the air like a snake to see if there is anything of interest around. Also, it can be used to molest a target which saps the very life out of their bodies (if the abuse continues), reads their minds and memories, and makes them sick (Blestemul’s saliva is thick and yellowish green, like mucus) via slow poisoning. Symptoms include migraine, vomiting, fever, aches, severe hallucinations (auditory, visual, olfactory), and death if the dose is high enough.

Blestemul has a unique personality which is an ongoing development in progress. Many demons are stereotypically liars and deceivers. So is Blestemul, but he is also honest and supportive when he needs be. He is a tormentor, even to Alistar, as well as a valuable ally. He is a contradiction, constantly weaving all around him into a web of lies and truth, love and hate, anger and peace, that only he can read and understand. And let me tell you, it is FUN. To write as Blestemul.

Alright, that’s all for now I think. Comments? Questions? Lay em’ on me, you know I’ll answer. Got any characters you love to write for? Draw? Let me know.

Concept Art- Groar TCoU: Blestemul

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I saved one of the best for last. My favorite race in this book, the Groar. These massive walls of muscle look like mindless beasts, and some of them are. But what I like the most about them is their ability to channel their raw, unbridled power into almost any endeavor they choose. Behold the mighty Groar:

Now we’re talkin’.

Truth be told, I’ve always been drawn to beings of incredible strength, whether physical, mental, spiritual, etc. so this was a natural next step in character development for me and for TCoU: Blestemul. I’m not quite sure what I was thinking when I made this race, but…I can’t think of anything witty to say. Let’s just get into the descriptions n’ shit.

Groar Biology:

Groar males have pronounced manes that are often shaped into elaborate beards and hairstyles, while female manes are far less grandiose. It is difficult to tell between Groar males and females if it wasn’t for the species being mammals: female groars have breasts. Ranging in 7 to 9 feet tall, Groars range in 450-650 pounds sporting massive tusks and grand crowns of spines high on the forehead, where a singular, massive horn protrudes. You guessed it- the bigger and thicker the horn, the more the ladies love em’, the same going for Groar males when selecting a female mate. Skin color ranges to light olive, to a deep forest green with splotches of yellow, brown, and black flecks seen across the board.

Strict carnivores, Groars sport retractable claws and a tough hide to protect them when hunting prey many times their size. They are immensely strong and are almost indefatigable- they have deep reserves of stamina that pour forth when in combat, or stressful situations. Their brains are mostly medulla, stretching back down into the spinal column and along the spinal cord, protected by a case of dense bones.

Voracious eaters, Groars can easily consume half their weight in meat in one sitting. Everything from a kill is consumed, right down to the bone. They have a pair of stomachs to break down hard to digest foods (bone, hair, feathers) into useable energy. Groar hearts are also located on the right sides of their chest opposed to the left like most humanoid races in Urth. As for lifespans, Groar stay spry and powerful well into their senior years. An average Groar rarely exceeds 80 years in age. Groar females give live birth, and feed with milk like any other mammal.

Groar Psychology, Society, and Personality:

Violence is a way of life when it comes to being a Groar. They love confrontation and bloodshed, but not every fight has to be to the death. They relish combat of any kind, physical, mental, verbal, or sexual. They favor strength opposed to finesse, spite opposed to logic. Groars are not savage, however. They only appear so because violence is socially acceptable, along with nudity and sexual acts. An uneducated Groar is  shunned almost as badly as a weak or sickly one. They are slow to move and quick to learn, often studying opponents and daily obstacles with acute attention. They don’t mind getting hurt or humiliated it’s all a learning experience to a Groar. They have almost no concept of shame, or humility.

Groar personalities range just as much as human personalities do. One can encounter a Groar that loves to tell jokes while having sex and strangling an opponent, and in the same moment, meet one that is writing poetry while he masturbates and gnaws on a human skull to get at the brains. No matter how jovial, coarse, clam, excitable or elated they are, an undercurrent of incredible violence is present in everything they do. Most Groar societies revere high art and poetry, especially sculpture. They mix violence, war, and fighting with art, creating a piece that moves the soul and enrages the heart.In that same vein, Groars adore hair dyes, and use a variety of colors to distinguish themselves in society, whether it be rank, a particular profession they practice, or number of mates they’ve bedded. They also use tattoos and jewelry to the same effect, all to distinguish and identify themselves to themselves and other Groars.

cannibalism is common in Groar society, using it as a means of burying their dead. Family members, or close friends, will consume the dead Groar (if applicable) in a grand feast, celebrating the individual’s life and deeds. Groars are polygamous with both genders. Everyone that is of sexual maturity is fair game, including members of their own family, since Groar genes mutate to accommodate incestual reproduction to prevent deformities and deficiencies in the produced child. Groar families share everything without jealousy and are fiercely devoted to one another.

Every Groar has a “favored” mate, and no matter how many others they breed with, they will never leave the side of their one true love.  In all this chaos, Groars thrive, and have advanced modern societies of their own. They also integrate into other societies, but must mind their manners. Some Groars are tribal, and choose to live away from modern lands, but they are not secular. Most outside Groar tribes accept non-Groar visitors and outside Groars alike with open arms.

Most.

Groars believe in the perfect individual: very smart, AND very strong. These types of rare individuals lead Groar society, and “lower” Groars follow their instructions to a “T”. If a leader weakens, they have an alternative. Step down and be honored, or prove your strength against successors and be idolized. Both options are admirable, and retired Groars often are sources of obtuse wisdom that current leaders use in governing and improving Groar society.

See? These guys are much more than muscles, fangs, and rage. Stay tuned for more shit.

Concept Art- Calthag TCoU: Blestemul

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Hello once more.

It’s been awhile, but I haven’t’ forgotten. Or given up. Pick one, why not? Anyway, today’s entry is a description of yet another race in TCoU: Blestemul. These guys…are strange. I’m not really sure what I had in mind when I started to create them. I think I started drawing a shoulder, and then the Calthag appeared out of it. They are a strange race, strange but unique. Enough bullshit. Here’s a picture:

Weird lil’ bastard, huh? Well, time to explain myself and why I created such a thing.

Calthag Biology

Calthag look like weak husks of meat and hair. And in many aspects, they are. But there is a reason for this. Calthag don’t need bodies to exist. As you can see above, the Calthag’s body is withered and atrophied, but he is hovering above the ground. You guessed it- strong minds, weak bodies. Each Calthag has a unique psychic ability, typically only being gifted with one. Calthag leaders are individuals that are gifted with multiple psychic talents, or have extremely powerful mastery in a talent, like a psychic that borderlines on prophetic, or a telekinetic that can rip a house out of its very foundation. Strict herbivores, Calthag typically use individuals with telekinetic talents to manipulate the world around them. Others can directly influence plant growth and intelligence. Muscle and organ function exist on the most basic of levels. Often, Calthag jaws aren’t strong enough to open and close widely, so vegetable pastes are created with strong herbs, spices, and salts added to enhance flavor. Rarely over 4 feet tall, Calthag bodies are emaciated and sickly grey, but this has nothing to do with the health of the individual. They can live well past 100 years of age.

All Calthag are blind and deaf, using their powerful minds to feel the world around them, and generate pictures of their surroundings in their minds by taking bits and pieces from outside minds that “leak” into theirs. Calthag willpower and intelligence are so high, that they often “pull” thoughts, memories, sensations, etc. from other organisms, like a strong psychic magnet. All Calthag also have the ability to speak into the minds of others, along with reading them. Most Calthag are very polite, and learn to control this aspect of their mind early on. They have complete mastery of both left and right sides of the brain, allowing them to compose a masterful symphony, or crunch the numbers in a quantum physics equation with equal ease.

They are pseudo-amphibious, meaning they breathe through their skin and lay/fertilize eggs in water. Calthag do not need to keep their skin moist, however, and the water stage of life ends as soon as the Calthag can breathe outside of water. Calthag never take husbands or wives, believing that it breeds ignorance when individuals cannot share everything with one another.  They are closely connected to nature, and able to understand and communicate with all living organisms on a level that no other organism can ever attain.

Calthag Personality, Psychology, and Culture

Most Calthag are nature worshipers, and are very non-confrontational. Peaceful and empathetic, Calthag are powerful healers that can combine the unerring infinite logic of a genius brain with the deep nurturing instincts and empathy associated with healers. They are talented doctors and pharmacists, and can perform complex surgeries and procedures without ever using their hands.  They are also talents psychologists and therapists because they can dive into their patients’ minds and understand on a personal level what they are going thorough while still maintaining an objective view of the situation. Calthag doctors, healers, psychologists, etc are in high demand, and the greedy ones can often charge whatever they want for their services and medicines.

Calthag share almost everything, and are benevolent by nature. Fighting is extraordinarily rare, and often, a hostile person or creature is simply pinned down, or calmed via their powerful psychic abilities. Although Calthag have leaders, no-one is excluded from society save criminals and the gluttonous. Calthag build grand structures that twist and turn upon themselves which force the thoughts of others to be repelled, and help them amplify their own. Think of it like a psychic condom.

Calthag may seem naive to others because of their giving nature, but they know exactly what they, and what you, are going to do before you even do it. They don’t evne need to read your mind. Vessels of creation and benevolence, Calthag rarely, if ever, design weapons. They focus on the development of items to benefit Urth itself, such as powerful new medicines, equipment, and even works of art. They believe they were charged at the time of the Cataclsym to help rebuild and revitalize the population of Urth through the deletion of ignornace, using their incredible gifts to educate others whenever they can.

Okay, one down a few more to go. Stay tuned for more awesome shit. BYE BYE!

Concept Art- Bilks TCoU: Blestemul

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What, you thought I was a one trick pony? Naw, son I got more concept art. Lots more. Another race I created in The Chronicles of Urth: Blestemul was completely random: it was literally a stream of consciousness drawing that I ran wild with. When I draw characters, I keep a general idea in my mind of how I want them to look. Then, I draw a few lines, some basic anatomy, and HIYAH character time. The creature below this paragraph is a Bilk, and boy. They were a lot of fun to cook up:

Cool, huh? Looks like a cross between a mutant horse, a bodybuilder, and a rhinoceros. These fuckers are cool- they have. Well. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? Each time I describe a race in my book, I’ll have a similar layout. I’ll describe their biology, and then go into more about cutlure and interaction. With that said, here’s some more info on the Bilk.

Bilk Biology

Bilks stand roughly 5 feet to 6 and a half feet tall with main arms extended. Typically, their center torso and hoof are lifted about a foot off the ground when they lock their elbows. They are dense walls of muscle; Bilks range between 350lbs to 515lbs as an adult. Bilks are also psuedoreptilian, meaning that their body can utilize gathered heat in their metabolism and use calories to keep them warm and functional, but they will have to stop and warm themselves eventually, much like a snake. They cannot overheat however, but they can freeze to death if adequate warmth and food cannot be attained.

Their third arm is far from vestigial, and not only is it functional, it covers the Bilk’s cloachea, where it reproduces and releases waste. Often they’re spine pushes up large spiky plates out of the flesh around adulthood which is between 10 and 15 years old. They are short lived- most Bilks don’t make it past 60 and die of old age.  Skin color ranges from several shades of rich reds and ashy charcoal, all the way to black.

They lay eggs, but the fetus is alive inside before they are laid, incubated in the female Bilk’s womb before she lets them loose. When out of the womb, it takes roughly a week for the hatchlings to emerge. Coitus is achieved through temperature rather than friction. Two Bilks press their third arms together, entwining hands and locking their genitals together. Orgasm is achieved by both Bilks at roughly 104 degrees Fahrenheit.

Being voracious omnivores, they eat anything that they can fit into their mouths and crush with their jaws. They have two rows of teeth- the front are sharp and pointed, the second row is slightly shorter and completely blunt.

Bilk Culture and Society

Bilks are intense, aggressive, and very strict. But, they are extremely polite and jovial, their moods being dictated by their fervor. They are quick to anger, and quick to calm. They are extroverted, and very few Bilk individuals are sullen, or isolated. They mingle with other races easily, often using their powerful lightswitch personalities to win over via charisma, or intimidation. They are not savage however. Even with their incredible strength and fortitude, they are civilized and well-read. Ignorance is as despised as weakness in Bilk society, and Bilks that don’t measure up are ostracised.

Bilks have no concept of shame or honor, rather guided by an infallible moral code instilled in the them at birth. Bilks who do not follow the codes to a “T” are considered lazy, weak, and undisciplined. Bilk leaders and military commanders alike are calculating, ruthless, and absolutely obsessed with victory in battle, whether in politics, arguments, or war.

Not trusting the weaponry and technology of other races, Bilks are adept at creating powerful guns, vehicles, gadgets, and numerous other inventions to get the job done to their standard, which is always high. There is not written code for a Bilk, no tenets to follow. It is an internal moral compass that guides them, and they are unable to share this with other races simply because the concept is too alien to understand. Unless you’re a Bilk, of course.

Bilk pairs mate for life, and infidelity is often met with savage violence and infanticide. Pairs will stay each other until death, and it is not because of a traditional, easy to understand emotion like love. A favorite Bilk saying is, “anything worth achieving must be achieved without error or vacillation.” Basically, if you’re gonna do some shit, do it right and don’t fuck around.

Whadaya think? Let me know, I’d be happy to hear it.