I've noticed people put things like this up, and, since almost all of my posts are hidden, I thought I'd make a sign like this, just for my own selfish amusement. Apologies for the fuzzy image - it was the best one I could find (and if I made my own, the character would be impossibly tiny.)



If you want to be included in the custom groups (though I can't fathom why anyone would), bug me about it here, in a comment, first!

As the title mentions, this post will always be at the top.

The link to the webpage I'm currently working on. I'm very pleased with my small success so far. . . .

This post will be later erased.

I promised art. I lied.

I bring . . . a preview! I couldn't resist putting up a little part of the current sketch-comic I'm I drawing (it's five printer-size pages long, at the moment.) I promise to put the rest of it up in a little bit. Anyway, here it is (click on it to see full size).


(Eeep! What did Shadow do?)

Sadly, this is actually quite the breakthrough, since I've always drawn the hedgehogs from the side. Well, things can take time, right?

. . . Is the one I present now. It's in the link below, and despite the fact that it has Warcraft character races, it is an independent business (which I find odd). Personally, my favorite character is Richard, due to the fact that he's the comic relief (big surprise) whom you see even on the first page. If you click this link, promise me that you'll read the entire story - just keep going from the first page and on! As the title of this post implies, the comics are made twice a week, the latest having been drawn today. I was kept entertained by the story for several hours. (This was also the reason that I came back to Warcraft five hours later instead of a half-an-hour later, which was the time I'd promised Eleanea. Apologies, Ele.)

Looking For Group, the best twice-a-week comic strip in existence.

. . .Make lemonade, right? But what if life gives you a basketball? You can't make 'basketballade' - and playing basketball with it would be far too predictable. So, what to do? See below.

Also, I hope you appreciate the pains I took to clear this picture out properly, making it roughly the same color and not covered in pencil smudges. (So click on it and see the larger version!) The color-clearing took ages to do, especially since I had to re-color one of Sonic's feet several times in a row. I may put up a colored version of this in a little while, as well.

I don't particularly like what happened to Sonic's back directly under his right back spike - the line curves in too far, while his back is supposed to be straighter, pointing up instead of in.



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Later addition. This sketch isn't supposed to be good, wasn't meant to be good, and isn't going to be good. It is nothing but a representation of my anger at mean people, as you can see. Tails is grinding his teeth. Mael'thas is a bloody jerk.

While trying to make an extra Livejournal account yesterday (March 13th), I was dismayed to find that the account I had created has automatically been set to 'Plus' mode (also known as the format that is neck deep in advertisements) - and that I couldn't find the previously existing button that allowed you to degrade your account back to Basic if it was set at a higher level. After over a half an hour after picking through Livejournal's site map - and not finding anything - I quit and sent a question to the Livejournal Support Team asking what to do.

Today, on March 14th (Pi Day* and Albert Einstein's birthday!) I received the reply in the form of an e-mail, and was told that, as of March 12th - exactly one day before I attempted to make my extra account - you can no longer create Basic accounts. Ever. The irony is heavy on this. Very, very heavy. It seems that I'm stuck with 'selkath', after all.

This is also a day to remember, because it is a day that Livejournal, like many other businesses, has fallen from being a journal area made for the people to being solely for profit, and nothing more. Depressing, isn't it.

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Also, on an absolutely unrelated topic:

A Chadra-Fan from the original Mos Eisley Cantina scenes, with no CGI animation, making it a bit blurry. However, ain't it cute?



* = It is Pi Day on account of it being 3/14 in the American date format and Pi being roughly 3.14. (If you didn't catch this reference the first time, welcome to the category labeled 'slow people'. Yes, I fall into that category.)

Alright, here it is. (Whee! An art post!)

This is a sketch of one of the characters that another Warcraft player that uses our account has. She has both a Mecha-chiken mount and an Epic Ram, has Mining and Herbalism as her professions (hence the bars, flowers, and mining pick) and, in my depiction, is a weapon-crazy, sugar-hyper, killing-happy gnome. That's what gnomes are, right? (And she's a Rogue, hence the bottles of poison.)

I only generally cleared the pencil smudges - I may clean it out farther better.

Alrighty. I promised you people a post, so here it is - BUT! I decided to put up a doodle sheet of mine (with horrific, scary things), to explain why it is that people should not allow me the use of writing utensils.

Also, regarding the mad colors: my scanner's gone haywire (also known as: feral) once again, so I'm stuck with the image below. I'll try to get it uploaded in normal colors soon. (And, in case you didn't gather, I was watching Attack of the Clones when I did this...)

In case anyone was wondering... I'm not dead. I'll be back and active on Livejournal very soon.

CERTAIN PEOPLE THAT MAY BE SEARCHING FOR THE RANDOMIZED ARTWORK WITHIN THIS LIVEJOURNAL: PLEASE IGNORE THE EXTRA POSTS AND SKIP TO ANY ENTRY THAT HOLDS AN IMAGE - THERE ARE NO LIVEJOURNAL CUTS IN USE. THANK YOU.

A birthday card that I created for my worthless friend, who doesn't deserve it - but, what the hey. As it is, the card is currently little more than a rough sketch, save for (certainly) Tails and possibly the other characters.

I may color this some, but I haven't decided yet (since it's the most boring process I know, save, perhaps, watching paint try, and possibly even more dull than that), and I have mainly cleaned out the smudging and blotting. Tails turned out fairly well, and Sonic and Amy turned out 'ish', since I haven't done Amy in months and I messed up on Sonic's position and shoe (I did some reference checking to work out some of the problems they had earlier, so I made several changes to Sonic, which caused me to pay less attention to how he was set on the page.) I didn't use reference for Shadow, since I didn't have it with me. In any case, 'Darth Revan', happy (late) and joyous (sadistic) birthday (doomsday)!

(And, yes, I am quite aware I can't draw fireworks or banners.)

As for the chaos*... They're... Sorta'... Dead. Yes. I know. I haven't looked at a reference for one for... Well... To say the least, ages.



* = Pronunciation: 'CHA-ou.' Plural - CHA-ou-S.

A sketch of Tails carrying two shopping bags. It started out with Tails standing in an odd position, and when it occurred to me to give him shopping bags to get rid of the awkwardness in the stance, I couldn't resist turning it into a joke... (Tragic comedic side?)

I cleaned the image out some - getting rid of the blots and such - but I did it on Paint instead of Photoshop (because it was having a text error), so it looks somewhat blotchy in places, due to the lousy tool set in Paint. Also, the foot that is behind the bag is turned slightly in the wrong direction, making his position seem strange all the same, but I'll try to edit that later.

A card I made for St. Valentine's Day. It appears somewhat empty because I cut the text at the sides, though I didn't do much color cleaning. I'll get that done later - clear out the blotting and such. Also, the pencils I used were disgusting - look at the lining! Ugh! (It looks like a five-year-old did it.) And you wonder why the card has such shudder-causing appearance...

Here's another random sketch... Once again, I didn't do it on good paper (there was a printed image on the back,) so I had to clean it out quite a bit on Photoshop. And, yes, it is supposed to be a sketch - I wasn't planning on finer lines. I didn't bother to finish cleaning all the pencil smudging, either; it would be an impossible task when using a mouse. However, I'm of an opinion that I cleaned out the smudging around the words fairly well.

Yes, yes it is! Ahem. And not only my rather scary sketches this time, either. Firstly, something I randomly drew for a friend in my spare time (which, at that point, was quite short) on a just as random piece of paper, hence the lines that show through it in several places... (Tsk!)



And, secondly, some very beautiful work that was not done by me. It was done for me, in turn, by the friend whom I made the picture above for. (It's Trell! Eee! Not quite accurate, due to the fact that she had no visual reference (Trell's more depressing), but beautiful all the same! Isn't she good? (I've never bothered to draw humanoids; they do not convey my impossible-to-satisfy need for comedy - but I am quite aware that the art she creates aught to be judged good!) Also, we decided to alter the original drawing very slightly, to get rid of a small error, and I believe it looks even nicer now. Hah! Trell has 'fans'! Even if it was created at my request. In any case, here it is. Disregard the drawings at the bottom... They're irrelevant! Irrelevant! ...Well, mostly.)



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And, also, you know that you're a World of Warcraft addict if you catch a less-than-a-second glimpse of a character wearing a Warcraft robe in a magazine and can notice it, define that you have, in fact, used said robe (it had +19 intellect bonus. Of course you'd use it), and shout, "Look! Look! That's a Warcraft character! SEE? 'Ooman!"

I have decided to write something about Trell, and Warcraft, and, after some thought, I thought that I'd explain something of her past in the process. So, here's the beginning, but I haven't edited the story yet, so it probably seems odd in places. Enjoy! (There's also a totally unrelated comic at the bottom.)

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Trell ran through the forest.

Every rustle caused by her feet touching the ground seemed to echo through the wood, loudly, as if there was no way, no way at all to avoid the notice of the great, mindless army swarming behind. As if there was no way to get back to the Rangers, to their army, in time to warn them that the army had decided to strike. She no longer wore the white silk robes slashed with blue that identified her as a healer: they were bothersome, and, with such small numbers left, anyone that could run was used as a scout. She had replaced them with a dark blue vest, with the sign of Quel'thalas in gold, though faded, displayed on the chest, and pants and boots of the same color, slashed with washed-out tones of gold, as well. The flashy, new, gilded armor that had been in use only months before was no longer in existance. The war had exhausted everything, decorative clothing included.

The lightest noise behind Trell, perhaps a small animal running across a stick, or a bird shifting in a tree, made her speed up. Not looking over her shoulder, she ran as hard as she could, pushing herself to her limit and over, her oddly black hair coming loose from being bound in the ponytail that she had hastily tied with a short piece of string earlier as it flopped from one of her shoulders to another. She had to get to the Ranger-General before the Scourge started from their outpost. She wanted to shout to the Rangers' outpost, in the vague hope that they would hear her, but that could be as dangerous as it could be helpful. If the flying members of the Scourge, the Scourge's scouts heard her, they would carry word back to their army, or kill her on the spot. And then, then it would be too late for the Rangers. Too late for Quel'thalas.

Another shuffle came from behind, a leathery sound, like the sound of a bat's wings folding came from behind her once more, and then again. A chill went through Trell: it had to be one of the Scourge's scouts, the bat-like, plague-carrying creatures that served no purpose but to hunt down the scouts of the opposing side, to kill them, to make them part of Arthas' army. Make them wandering, dead creatures like the rest of them.

Stealing a glance over her shoulder, Trell saw a dark shape swoop silently behind her through the trees, its silhouette obvious on the backdrop of a bright and ominous red sky, creating a mood full of terror even without the knowledge that a huge, ever-growing army was marching slowly towards the City of the Sun, to destroy it and decimate it entirely. Again the leathery sound came, and this time, Trell could clearly tell that it came from that creature. It was, indeed, the creature that she had feared, a Scourge scout that was on her trail. The channeling staff that Trell had slung over her back suddenly seemed heavy, the light blue crystal on its end glowing with a dim inner light. Still running as fast she could push herself, she pulled the staff from her back and swung it around, whirling it to her side. The leathery sound came louder from the Scourge scout, signaling that it was closing in.

Channeling Light into her staff until it began to glow, brightly as a beacon, Trell whirled, stopping dead and thrusting the staff into the air. The Scourge creature, which had been speeding up in its attempt to attack her, tried to stop as best as it could, but, with the extra momentum caused by its dive, could not pause. Trell let loose a smiting blast from the glowing staff as the creature rammed directly into it, bursting into flames and burning horridly. Trell had already turned and begun moving towards the Ranger outpost again as the creature fell into ashes. If there was one advantage to having a priest as a scout, then the powers that priests had to combat the Scourge were most certainly that.

The woods began to thin, and soon Trell was running through an open stretch of the startlingly beautiful Valley of Quel'thalas. On any normal day, the sight was enough to stop in their tracks even someone that had lived there all their lives. If it were not for the ominous red sky, the Valley would have been the perfect image of tranquility - the beautiful, flowering trees, the shining, ever visible river, the numerous waterfalls that crashed near-silently over cliffs, and the flowing, elegantly curving structures built by the High Elves. Those structures had been abandoned weeks before, with all of the elves fleeing towards Sivermoon, towards the only safety to be found, and the only direction it was possibly to run in - north, away from the Scourge Armies. Away from Arthas. Away from the Undead Plague. On any normal day, it would have certainly been a sight to cause a pause. Today, Trell was focused only on running, notifying the Silvermoon Army, the Rangers, that the Scourge were on the move, that they were coming, burning through the woods with their tainted dark magic and fires, coming towards the Sunwell.

Trell tried to not let her mind venture towards the topic of the Sunwell. As a High Elf herself, she should have been hopelessly in danger without the well of magic, but she had, from the time that magic had been taught to her, learned to meditate and avoid the deadly addiction that would consume the High Elves if they did not have their Sunwell. Trell knew that Arthas and the Scourge wanted that Sunwell, wanted the Sunwell to ressurect Kel'thuzad, the horrible man that had learned too late that power was gained for a price. A price of evil. If they got to it, they would ressurect the man, and they would then destroy the magical well that had, since the beginning of Quel'thalas, kept most of the High Elves - those that could not meditate - alive. And that was most of them. Those of the High Elves that were not slaughtered and turned into mindless slaves for Arthas would die simply from the magic addiction that would lure them into bad directions, make them Wretched, slaves to their addiction and nothing else.

In the distance, Trell saw the blue-and-gold flag, matching in color her outfit, but brighter, the only remotely new thing that there was in use in the war, flapping in the light wind above the Ranger outpost. Breathing heavily, Trell pushed herself even farther, running with even more quickness than she had before. Soon, she skid into the encampent, and a loud call, and imitation of a Dragonhawk call, passed through the area. It was a sign that the camp's watchers had seen her, and were signaling to the inner camp that the person approaching was of no danger. A young boy, his own long ears flopping limply as he dashed up to her, inquired, "Scout - eh, Healer - Trell! Do you bring news? Sylvanas was expecting something today. A gut feeling, she said... Come straight to her. She's in the big council tent." The boy nodded and gestured in the direction of the tent. Exhausted and breathing raggedly, Trell nodded and walked quickly in the direction of the Ranger-General's tent. It was time to tell Sylvanas what was coming - the end.

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It's roughly drawn (I didn't even bother to type in the caption), but it's a joke, so what did you expect?

And here's another neat thing! Click and head down to the Warcraft Music Player. It's got all your favorite Warcraft tunes!

I'll upload more work soon. Busy with other stuff.

Created a new character for someone earlier. This one's a British Exchange Student.

Also... The small message on the edge of my screen that absolutely refuses to remove itself (the result of some odd error) is getting annoying to the the point where I would enjoy bashing that part of the screen in... Or at least smashing the button. Someone, I beg of you, KILL this thing!

Really, I find it depressing that I can't do any work in color. (As a matter of fact, I started work on Photoshop properly - coloring my work and all - and it failed miserably. Because the program is depressingly glitchy! The orange color I was using transformed into bright yellow and stopped working entirely.) Well, no use wasting money on the computer-pad that would allow me to properly color the pictures.

And... Also, I'm going to - probably - start writing a detective story. However, the story isn't meant to be even remotely detectiv-ish - my goal is to make a story containing the - officially - most ridiculous detective to ever grace the face of the Earth. Wasshoi, wasshoi...

And, Ele, there's an entry from Trell for you!

Someone else used the scanner and it magically began to work again. Amazing phenomenon, isn't it? (See, I told you it hated me, and only me. However, it is still working this morning, so it can't be that bad... Still, it can't be normal to get a black-and-white scan in aqua-and-pink.) All the same, here is the finished result of the sketch page that gave me so much trouble while being transferred into the computer. (As for anyone who would like to point out that I would be able to scan not in 'grayscale' but in black and white if I worked in pen, let me tell you: pens smudge even worse than pencil, and, while I would love to work in one, I'd rather work in a medium that can be fixed if you screw up, even though I have the use of Photoshop.)



I also skillfully burned my tongue on coffee - again - today, then found out that I had successfully put down my coffee cup on a comic in the works. Oh, well, I didn't like that draft, anyway. (Though the next hardly turned out better...

I created a replica of the very, very first comic I had ever drawn, here, in a new style. It's just a rough draft, and I cut out two boxes, but in the boxes that are present, I kept the exact same wordings (even the idiotic ones) and the order of the lockers the same. The only difference from the original (other than the fact that I drew it again, so it looks different) is that the main character, instead of being Knuckles, as he first was, it is Sonic, since I haven't drawn Knuckles in a long time, and he wouldn't look good, even on this rough draft. Since I was using Sonic, I also used a different locker in an attempt to keep them in the same order. (In truth, using Sonic defeats the purpose of this comic, but that doesn't matter in the least.) There is only one person on the entire planet, in the entire universe, that knows the story behind this comic, the joke, and understands it. You know who you are (Oni!), so enjoy reading! (Also, there's several punctuation marks missing, but I didn't get the chance to upload a fixed comic. The host website refuses to work. Really, the art on this draft was horrible.)

Someone tell me WHAT is WRONG with my SCANNER! (Because, in my opinion, I think it's gone feral and is seriously woking against me. If you find an entry that I've been murdered by a blunt weapon, I should guess that it has actually attacked me directly.) It's in black in white: so why did it scan as hot pink/aqua?! (Yes, this was supposed to be something, but I'll post it WHEN and IF I get the scanner 'fixed'.)



Also, ever wondered where Warcraft Dances come from? Here.

My first ever (hastily drawn, too) caricature of someone.

I came up with a bit of an interesting sketch when annoyed at someone's actions. It's obviously quickly done, but there's something I find comical in it, all the same. I can't know what anyone thinks of it, but I'll hang it anyway for critique. The perfect picture of a programmer at his best!

You can tell it was hurried; I didn't even spell coffee correctly.


Also, I added a longer discription for the journal earlier today. Using the title of one of my previous comics... Would you call it happy, nice, twisted, or warped? Such interesting questions the world faces inside the pages of on-line journals across the internet, eh?