I think I'll name her Amaralise (Ah-mara-lease).
Day 2 of the work in progress. Big giant leap from yesterday but I'm loving the way this process works. It's simple to do, and even though I screwed up on how to do this. I learnt this flow by watching a youtube video over and over again and just trying out the different commands. So here is Amaralise in some form of colour :D
Started this 5:48 PM last night, left it over night and here I am 10:04 the next day finished with it as much as I can be for now :)
This was original a design sketch for a Lux skin I wanted to make up however over reworking and reworking I began to change the style of the drawing and during that process met Sparrow4 who I started a role play with.So far our two chracters, Amaralise Princess of the South Kingdom Trevelle and Luka the Prince of the North Kingdom have been having a rough patch. We kinda already know this is going to turn into some love story and we're having so much fun with it. My best drawings always come from when I write; there's a lot more thought that generates from it :)
This was a lot of fun for me to experiment a new workflow/style/technique, since I was having an art block. I've even neglected to do my exercises to crank this baby out. I hope you enjoy it :)
Here are our first two posts from the story we're writing as a pass time:
It was a chilly night for a ball with rather inclement weather. Outside of the luxurious ballroom, rain pounded against the windows like a million tiny fingers tapping against the glass panes. The horses were restless in the stables as were the hunting hounds, a sure sign that a storm was on the horizon. But the nobles that had been gathered from the South kingdom and North kingdom cared little for the problems that more rain would bring for the farmers. All that mattered to them were the lovely dresses, overflowing wine cups, and extravagant trays of food.
Luka stood in the corner of the room, doing his best to avoid the woman he was to be courting. Tonight was their first meeting, something arranged by both sets of parents. Despite being the younger of two brothers, he was still to be married off at only 23. He hadn’t even wanted to come to the party. Long fingers brushed away waves of feathery black hair, pushing the stray strands back behind his ear. His eyes—a stormy shade of blue – scanned the crowd as if trying to pick out the woman he’d never before met but was trying to avoid. Luka was tall for his age, a half a head taller than his peers but thin, reedy, and most definitely not built for wrestling.
“There you are my dear, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. Don’t you want to meet Amaralise?” cooed his mother. The gray-haired woman had all but materialized out of the crowd like a specter, successfully surprising Luka in the process. Irritation flashed across his face for a moment before the emotion disappeared beneath the courtier’s mask. Smoothing down the front of his emerald tunic, the prince gave a curt nod. “Of course I do mother. I was simply checking on the weather and then I was going to look for her,” he lied through a smile. Craning his head a bit Luka strained to see behind his mother where his future-wife was no doubt waiting with a vapid smile and blank eyes.
Rotting, oozing fish smell. The carriage rocked by the uneven cobblestone road alongside the harbor; still it was more refreshing than the smell of the pompous, wine filled gouts of the “upper” class she was off to meet with. Amaralise had no taste, no fondness for the world of gold and glitter. It had its charms once upon a time, when she was younger. She would love the Trevelle ball, celebration of he great city’s coming into existence. Streets littered with children, people equal, there were no kings or queens, just the people who built the marble city. Its beauty had lost itself over the years. Years that her brother came into rule as he beloved father sweated in cold fever in his chambers.
Amaralise flinched at the reminder of her journey here. She was the elder of the two but had no power to be the rightful rule of her kingdom. Were she to wed with the North she would have a man at her side; a man to rule her precious life. Blond locks tumbled and bounced as they continued down the road, passing dim candle lit lanterns, lighting the sleepy homes of the working class. The glow softened her harsh expression, a bead of sweat forming on her temple as the palace came into view.
It looked like a cake. Glittering white, light blue flags dancing in the heated nice. It all screamed of a royal paradise but nothing worth of a home. The call of the hearth nor the polished fences done by loving subjects. It all seemed contrite. She closed her eyes and wished for the smell of the sea but it was gone now, nothing but the odor of fat bellied politicians and cake faced <i>ladies</i> confined to their bodices.
As they drew nearer, Amaralise noted their fine garden, the wealth of life found in the flora. She held her face rigid; she would not let herself like anything about the South. She knew her brother was running her kingdom to the ground with the frivolous spending and conveyor belt of women but it was such a big punch in the stomach to have to believe she would have to marry a man to save her land.
The door swung open, a gentlemen with too large of a nose but kind smile opened the door and extended his arm out to help Amaralise down. “Mistress, we have arrived.” Soft words escaped his mouth as Amaralise took his hand and stepped onto solid ground. She signed, heaved herself to straighten her back and smiled back, “Thank you Bronwyn,” she said releasing her grasp from his. Before her fingers entirely left his gloved hand she stopped without turning, “You have the change of clothes yes?” A nod, “Yes, Miss.” A smile played on her face. “Prepare those to be ready as I wish to have Carnese ready for a ride.” Bronwyn smiled as he patted the horses behind and gave one final nod. “I pray you not lose your heart tonight.”
Amaralise was halfway up the steps when she turned and looked at him cooly with grayish blue eyes, “To a man?” she laughed haughtily. He looked back gravely, “To your country.” Replacing his cap Bronwyn jumped back onto the driver’s seat and stole away in the shadows of the navy night.
Left to face the gates of hell Amaralise picked up her skirt slightly and drove her heel into the ground. “I will not lose to a man.” She turned her attention to the plump man to her left, “Princess Amaralise Don Grenzhaut of the Trevelle Kingdom”. The name’s master nodded and lead her as he shuffled several scrolls in his arms. Trumpets flew as he cleared his throat. “Presenting…” The words began to drown out as she absorbed the entire scene, focusing on the one face she knew. The last word spun off the names master’s tongue and she flew down the steps with radiant eyes to a tall man with dirty blond hair and a glass of wine in his hand, “Vaughn!” she gasped as she stopped before him, out of breath, her chest heaving. The undeniable smile of joy spread across her face, and certainly not the man she was to marry.
I used a texture from this deviant: http://requiemstock.deviantart.com/
and gathered inspiration to attempt this from this youtube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8MN89-Fsxc&list=LL8RMzhXmHnupZXTeETU9gmQ&feature=mh_lolz
Day 2 of the work in progress. Big giant leap from yesterday but I'm loving the way this process works. It's simple to do, and even though I screwed up on how to do this. I learnt this flow by watching a youtube video over and over again and just trying out the different commands. So here is Amaralise in some form of colour :D
Started this 5:48 PM last night, left it over night and here I am 10:04 the next day finished with it as much as I can be for now :)
This was original a design sketch for a Lux skin I wanted to make up however over reworking and reworking I began to change the style of the drawing and during that process met Sparrow4 who I started a role play with.So far our two chracters, Amaralise Princess of the South Kingdom Trevelle and Luka the Prince of the North Kingdom have been having a rough patch. We kinda already know this is going to turn into some love story and we're having so much fun with it. My best drawings always come from when I write; there's a lot more thought that generates from it :)
This was a lot of fun for me to experiment a new workflow/style/technique, since I was having an art block. I've even neglected to do my exercises to crank this baby out. I hope you enjoy it :)
Here are our first two posts from the story we're writing as a pass time:
It was a chilly night for a ball with rather inclement weather. Outside of the luxurious ballroom, rain pounded against the windows like a million tiny fingers tapping against the glass panes. The horses were restless in the stables as were the hunting hounds, a sure sign that a storm was on the horizon. But the nobles that had been gathered from the South kingdom and North kingdom cared little for the problems that more rain would bring for the farmers. All that mattered to them were the lovely dresses, overflowing wine cups, and extravagant trays of food.
Luka stood in the corner of the room, doing his best to avoid the woman he was to be courting. Tonight was their first meeting, something arranged by both sets of parents. Despite being the younger of two brothers, he was still to be married off at only 23. He hadn’t even wanted to come to the party. Long fingers brushed away waves of feathery black hair, pushing the stray strands back behind his ear. His eyes—a stormy shade of blue – scanned the crowd as if trying to pick out the woman he’d never before met but was trying to avoid. Luka was tall for his age, a half a head taller than his peers but thin, reedy, and most definitely not built for wrestling.
“There you are my dear, we’ve been looking everywhere for you. Don’t you want to meet Amaralise?” cooed his mother. The gray-haired woman had all but materialized out of the crowd like a specter, successfully surprising Luka in the process. Irritation flashed across his face for a moment before the emotion disappeared beneath the courtier’s mask. Smoothing down the front of his emerald tunic, the prince gave a curt nod. “Of course I do mother. I was simply checking on the weather and then I was going to look for her,” he lied through a smile. Craning his head a bit Luka strained to see behind his mother where his future-wife was no doubt waiting with a vapid smile and blank eyes.
Rotting, oozing fish smell. The carriage rocked by the uneven cobblestone road alongside the harbor; still it was more refreshing than the smell of the pompous, wine filled gouts of the “upper” class she was off to meet with. Amaralise had no taste, no fondness for the world of gold and glitter. It had its charms once upon a time, when she was younger. She would love the Trevelle ball, celebration of he great city’s coming into existence. Streets littered with children, people equal, there were no kings or queens, just the people who built the marble city. Its beauty had lost itself over the years. Years that her brother came into rule as he beloved father sweated in cold fever in his chambers.
Amaralise flinched at the reminder of her journey here. She was the elder of the two but had no power to be the rightful rule of her kingdom. Were she to wed with the North she would have a man at her side; a man to rule her precious life. Blond locks tumbled and bounced as they continued down the road, passing dim candle lit lanterns, lighting the sleepy homes of the working class. The glow softened her harsh expression, a bead of sweat forming on her temple as the palace came into view.
It looked like a cake. Glittering white, light blue flags dancing in the heated nice. It all screamed of a royal paradise but nothing worth of a home. The call of the hearth nor the polished fences done by loving subjects. It all seemed contrite. She closed her eyes and wished for the smell of the sea but it was gone now, nothing but the odor of fat bellied politicians and cake faced <i>ladies</i> confined to their bodices.
As they drew nearer, Amaralise noted their fine garden, the wealth of life found in the flora. She held her face rigid; she would not let herself like anything about the South. She knew her brother was running her kingdom to the ground with the frivolous spending and conveyor belt of women but it was such a big punch in the stomach to have to believe she would have to marry a man to save her land.
The door swung open, a gentlemen with too large of a nose but kind smile opened the door and extended his arm out to help Amaralise down. “Mistress, we have arrived.” Soft words escaped his mouth as Amaralise took his hand and stepped onto solid ground. She signed, heaved herself to straighten her back and smiled back, “Thank you Bronwyn,” she said releasing her grasp from his. Before her fingers entirely left his gloved hand she stopped without turning, “You have the change of clothes yes?” A nod, “Yes, Miss.” A smile played on her face. “Prepare those to be ready as I wish to have Carnese ready for a ride.” Bronwyn smiled as he patted the horses behind and gave one final nod. “I pray you not lose your heart tonight.”
Amaralise was halfway up the steps when she turned and looked at him cooly with grayish blue eyes, “To a man?” she laughed haughtily. He looked back gravely, “To your country.” Replacing his cap Bronwyn jumped back onto the driver’s seat and stole away in the shadows of the navy night.
Left to face the gates of hell Amaralise picked up her skirt slightly and drove her heel into the ground. “I will not lose to a man.” She turned her attention to the plump man to her left, “Princess Amaralise Don Grenzhaut of the Trevelle Kingdom”. The name’s master nodded and lead her as he shuffled several scrolls in his arms. Trumpets flew as he cleared his throat. “Presenting…” The words began to drown out as she absorbed the entire scene, focusing on the one face she knew. The last word spun off the names master’s tongue and she flew down the steps with radiant eyes to a tall man with dirty blond hair and a glass of wine in his hand, “Vaughn!” she gasped as she stopped before him, out of breath, her chest heaving. The undeniable smile of joy spread across her face, and certainly not the man she was to marry.
I used a texture from this deviant: http://requiemstock.deviantart.com/
and gathered inspiration to attempt this from this youtube video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8MN89-Fsxc&list=LL8RMzhXmHnupZXTeETU9gmQ&feature=mh_lolz
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