wanderingwolf

Penny's Pencils

I really like the eyes and skin tone on this piece. Great job! What tool do you use again?

Art by Wanderingwolf

Messing around with some 3d art converted to 2d with grease pencil. This is a Halloween theme that satisfies my love for coffee.



This is an early shot of the viewport in Blender, but I modeled all of it from scratch.


A variation:

Art by Wanderingwolf

Messing around with toonish shaders in blender.

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Episode 6 - Honest Work

STORY NOTE: After leaving Pelorum behind and heading to the Heaven system, the China Doll will spend a long seven days in the black before touching down on Urvasi, a terra-formed planet which has become largely depopulated by casualties in the war. The time enroute was spent largely in somber silence by the Captain and his crew, aside from subdued meals in the galley. In concert with Yuri, Cal went over the particulars of the next job with Henrietta Cornwall, and made plans to get the China Doll strutted up with extra fuel, air, and supplies, and generally prepared for the journey to AN-3872: an asteroid supposedly rich with jettisoned cargo crates from Earth-That-Was.

PLAYER NOTE: We will have one central plot driving this episode with opportunities for all characters to engage or disengage as their writers see fit. In this episode we will, to some degree, be requiring all players to take part in the plot that Sail and I have cooked up, but we won’t fence you in too much. While there is plenty planned out by your humble hosts, there will be ample opportunity for your own character’s aspirations to fit in. Please feel free to engineer your own character subplots within reason (Not sure? Just ask!) as we head from Urvasi to a skyplex, then on to our main destination of Asteroid AN-3872, which only reaches this side of the Verse once in a blue moon.

We begin Episode 6 with China Doll about 2 hours away from landing on Urvasi and picking up our new pilot, Boone, which the Captain has yet to announce to the crew at large. As we entered the Heaven system, the mood of the crew improved slightly when the Captain promised a short bit of leave on the skyplex before the coordinated effort that would be the trussing and stuffing of the China Doll for its three-month journey to their job site.

Now strap in, it’s time for us to get a proper pilot for this tub!

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Goodbye and Good Riddance, Pelorum

As the crew and passengers saddled up and strapped down for their journey, crates were lashed, the new-ish mule was clasped down, and passenger cargo was stowed. Abby was quick to her work, though the bounce in her step was decidedly not present in full force. Elias began his pre-flight checklist, wordless as ever, though the tone of the engineering bay was pointedly somber as lists were checked, cupplings were adjusted, and shore power was cut in favor of the China Doll's reactor. As conflicted as she was, Imani fastidiously locked away the former medic's tools and supplies in preparation for upthrust. Sister Lyen and Edina worked in tandem to clear away and strap closed the pantry and cupboards in the galley. When Edina came to clearing the table, Alana's urn stood undisturbed in the wake of their captain's eulogy. With careful hands, she picked it up, eyes glancing to Lyen full of questions as to what to do with it. With outstretched hands, the Sister accepted Edina's burden and carried her precious cargo to her quarters for safe storage until a better place could be chosen.

Yuri made his way to the bridge at a solemn pace, after delivering his orders. He could see Cal sitting at the pilot's chair; just sitting. His hands weren't busy with preflight checks, nor was he scanning equipment as Elias brought the ship's reactor to bear. The moons of Pelorum hung before the viewport of the China Doll and Cal appeared to be watching them. As Yuri entered, his boots sounded his ascent, which triggered the Captain to wipe his face with a quick hand. Leaning forward, Cal cleared his throat and began pre-flight checks. With a nod, he regarded his first mate and reached for the comm.

"This is your Captain speaking. We'll be buttoned up and leavin' Pelorum in a matter of minutes, so strap in and a member of crew will be by to check your belts. We have a pit-stop to make before we reach our destination, but our total travel time will be about eight days. Once we're in the black, feel free to move about the ship to the galley and your accommodations, but the rest is off limits 'less you're with a member of crew. Crew, situate our passengers then strap in. Upthrust in ten. Captain out."

Firefly - Second 'Verse

Happy Saturday from the cargo bay!

I know it's been quite a while since your humble mods have updated the game's trajectory, but it's finally time for Episode 5 to come to a close and for our motley crew to head into Episode 6!

Thank you all for staying tuned and for sticking with us as we head into an exciting episode with our brand new pilot, Boone! Shortly, we'll get a closing statement for Episode 5 up in IC as well as an intro post for Episode 6!

This last couple months have seen our chief mod, Sail, out of commission for a bit due to medical and lots of real life. All of your well-wishes have been appreciated as he re-acclimates to life as a cyborg.

Check back soon for closing and intro posts launching the China Doll into Episode 6.

WWIF,

Wolf

Firefly - Second 'Verse

A Captain's Eulogy - (Day 3, Evening)

The tropical breeze was thick and warm as the mule cut through to China Doll’s berth. Singing frogs had begun their nightly chorus, humming beetles joining in staccato. Humid air swallowed stale cool pockets as Imani wove her journey, and Cal, cropped hair pulsing in the wind, snaked a reassuring hand behind himself to touch the lid of the urn lashed to the mule’s cargo rack. Yes, it was still there. Yes, this was all really happening.

Boots hit the steel of the cargo bay, and Strand freed the urn from the mule. Without a word to his companion, the Captain strode to the comm on the wall and lifted the receiver.

“Crew, set aside what you’re doin’ and meet me in the galley in five. I got some news,” he killed the comm and inhaled sharply, urn under arm.

“Strap that down, we’re leavin’,” Cal eyed Imani and pointed to the mule. “And… thank you.” Turning, he made his way up the stairs.

Setting the urn at the head of the table, Cal stood, arms crossed, and waited for the crew to filter in. His hands were mighty steady, but empty. His jaw set, but he still craved a cigarette. The silver case flipped open, a smoke jumped into his hand, and he took in his first puff as the room began to fill. As the smoke curled to the ceiling view of the night sky, Cal’s mind played over the events of the evening one last time.

He’d gone to drink and forget Alana. The booze and music had started to do its job in that cliché tourist-trap, then, as a cruel twist of fate, she’d been there at the bar the whole time. She collapsed, he tried to revive her; he weren’t no medic. The doctor’s said it had been instant. She was gone before she hit the floor.

His smoke lay smoldering in the crux of his forefinger, hands planted on the table-top, eyes in a hundred yard stare.

Sister Lyen cleared her throat.

His gaze landed on her first, a patient smile, concern in her eyes. The rest of them were watching him with a cousin of her concern on their faces. He brought the cigarette to his lips.

“You all know Alana took off when we touched dirt. She sold some story or other about helpin’ clinics or gettin’ supplies, but that was la shi. She’d quit the ship, and it was my fault. We had our reasons–personal reasons. She packed her things and collected her share, and that was that.” His face went cold.

“Tonight, fate or coincidence, brought us to the same waterin’ hole, tryin’ to forget it all. She was at the bar when it happened; an aneurysm, the doc said, from a tumor.” Cal’s eyes were hard, “She didn’t suffer long, but there was nothin’ they could do for her when we got her to the hospital.” The Captain’s gaze fell on the urn in front of him.

“This here’s her ashes.” He took another pull on his cigarette, smoke weaving to the heavens like a soul seeking absolution.

In the moments that followed, the crew traded glances, but none broke the silence that had descended on the Captain and crew of the China Doll. Alana was gone, almost in the blink of an eye, and this simple urn held what was left of her.

Like awakening from a trance, Strand straightened and eyed each member of the crew in turn. Abby’s eyes had glazed over, her stare bore through his chest. Imani’s gaze had fallen to the floor before returning to his. Sister Lyen’s almond eyes were watching him with that same veiled concern. He shook his head.

“Sad as this is, I need y’all sharp. We got no medic–so don’t go doin’ anythin’ stupid. We keep flyin’, like we always have.”

He dropped his cigarette and ground it into the grate of the galley, “Now get back to work.”

Art by Wanderingwolf

Made it into a silly gif!

Art by Wanderingwolf

Firefly - Second 'Verse

When the Night Makes You Numb, Part 4 - (Day 3, Evening)

A collab between @Xandrya and @Wanderingwolf

The moon of Pelorum hung low in the sky, like a bird lazily carried by the tropical breeze. Cal's jaw was slack as he leaned against the mule; his silver case leapt into his hand. He watched far off as a couple of young folk carefully clutched a bundle of pink flesh to their chests in turn while waiting on the night bus. The lighter flipped on, he held out the cigarette. That yellow moon hung low and bright, he could almost see Alana's eyes there blinking back beneath those dark brows--"Da Shiong La Se La Ch’wohn Tian!" (trans. explosive diarrhea of an elephant)

Captain Strand's expletives played second fiddle to the show the man put on as he wildly beat out the fire that had engulfed the brim of his favorite hat. "Lio Coh Jwei Ji Neong Hur Ho Deh Yung Duh Buhn Jah J’wohn!" (trans. stupid son of a drooling whore and a monkey)

Eyes from the newly minted parents turned to the man who now held a smoldering hat and a defeated expression, "Shuh Muh?" He said, throwing up his hands at the pair who decided to forgo the bus in favor of walking. (trans. what?)

Cal leaned backward against the mule, before sliding to the ground. Propping his elbows on his knees, both hands held the still smoking hat by what remained of the brim. She was gone. She was really gone. He'd been trying to forget her--and now? He looked at the moon. And now he never could.

She waited, and then waited some more. Imani practically melted into her seat, finding herself being entertained by passerby and the occasional rush due to an emergency. But an undefined amount of time later, the doctor returned with a holyman in tow, the latter holding an urn with both hands. His expression was slightly apologetic, but mostly serious. Probably the very same face he presented whenever he dealt with a death, and given his profession, that must be quite often.

"Ms. Imani, I'm Father Francis. Here are Dr. Lysanger's ashes..." he stretched out his arms to offer her the urn. "If you're up to it, I can say a prayer from any faith you follow."

She took the urn, wanting to already be out of that place. "Mighty kind of you, and the effort is appreciated but I'm not too keen on religion." Imani then wished them a good day and turned on her heel, hoping to find Cal nearby and not be a stranded hitchhiker.

But as luck would have it, he was still in the area. Imani picked up the pace, settling in next to him once she was at his side. "I had her cremated...otherwise I believe her body would have been used for some students to poke around on, and I dunno, figured she deserved a better send-off than getting used as a lab rat." Imani waited for his reaction, whether that was an angry outburst or a simple acknowledgment devoid of emotion, he was completely within his right.

He let her words sink in while still staring at the skies. Not only was Alana gone, but she was dust. Breaking his brooding gaze for the simple, utilitarian urn in Imani’s hands, his mind cast backward–would she have wanted to be an experiment? As a medical professional, it weren’t out of the question. Selfishly, he didn’t want that for her. If he were in Imani’s boots, he probably would have done the same, and so he finally said, “I reckon you’re right.”

Cal stretched out a hand to touch the urn’s lid in Imani’s lap. The old adage was something like, ‘ashes to ashes and dust to dust.’ The saying had a finality to it, true, but what he got most from it was the insignificance of everything in between. One day you’re riding across the sky, the next, dust. He swallowed hard.

“It’s late,” he said, rising. Mounting the mule, he kicked it to life, tossing what was left of his hat into the gutter. He idled there a moment; waited for Imani to saddle up. Waited for something to touch him in the void he was swimming in. He’d had his anger already. When Alana left he was plenty furious. Now he was left with the hole left behind by anger, pain, and grief. The last words he said to her still tattooed his brain: ‘you do your gorram job and I’ll do mine.’ And now it’d keep playin’ for a spell, he wagered. Keep playin’ until he drowned it out with the usual suspects.

His face said it all; no words needed. Imani helped the captain secure the urn as they prepared for their return to the Doll. She could only ponder as to the many thoughts racing through his mind in that moment. Imani had never had a significant other whom she'd be devastated over losing, thus she didn't have many empathetic words of consolation to offer Cal, nothing really other than her company.

"Trade me?" she gently placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping he'd take her offer.

Cal didn’t have to think about it, feeling the tap on his shoulder. He threw his leg over the mule and stood, not making eye contact with Imani as she took the driver’s seat. Once she was settled, he saddled up behind her and placed one arm around her side for stability. Hours ago she had wrapped her hands around his waist to the beat of the music; sober yet sotted, and just plain sad, the Captain didn’t lose sight of the irony.

Imani glanced over her shoulder, confirming Cal had plopped down and readied up for the ride. She didn't further speak as she revved her up, and a moment later she welcomed the breeze making a slight mess of her hair.