BattleWraith

5.

For lack of a better idea, they walked down the center of the street in the direction of the scout, which Tate could sense was close...maybe a couple blocks away. He thought about warping the fabric of spacetime and jumping the distance instantly, but opted not to. Cheryl's nerves were obviously on edge and the experience would most likely fray them further. Plus the aliens had given him knowledge of a range of abilities possible with his reconstructed form, but with no firsthand experience with most of them he hesitated to rush into things.

Cheryl chewed her nails as she clutched her religious items and anxiously scanned the houses on either side of the street.

"Look there.." The passed a home on the left, all the lights out yet the door wide open.
"Yeah there's another." As they moved closer to the location of the scout, more and more of the homes were left open. As if the occupants had suddenly decided to leave and had no concern for there houses or belongings.

"How old is your daughter?"
"20. She came home this weekend to visit me from college."
"And where is your husband?"
"He passed away a few years ago. Cancer."
"Oh I'm sorry to hear--"
"Wait!"

Cheryl took a couple steps forward, cocking her head to the side. "Did you hear that?"

They stood there silently for a moment, concentrating. Then they heard it-- a young woman. Sobbing. Calling out.

"It's her! Up there on the left!" She started to run towards the doorway up ahead on the left.
"Cheryl wait! Me first."
"O-okay. Okay. Please get her out of there. Please."

A light flickered through the draw curtains of the large picture window in the front. Tate slowly made his way up the front steps and gently pushed the door open wider. The woman was inside. She was seated on a chair in the center of a den. All the other furniture had been shoved to the side against the walls. An immense flatscreen television flickered behind her, the static casting everything in a cold blue haze. On the ground, a group of bodies was placed head to toe in a circle around her. Young people, old people.....the neighbors from the housed they'd passed. Now dead, or in something like death.

The woman appeared unharmed, sitting there clutching a cellphone in her lap. She gaped at him in barely restrained panic.

"Who are you? Is my mom here?"
"My name is Alan. I'm here to help, you're mom is here too. I'm going to get you out of here, Sheila."

As he stepped forward, Sheila cringed, rubbing her nose against the back of her hand.

"Wait! You can't come in here...she told me if anyone came in..or if I got up from the chair..they'd kill me.."
"Who?"
"These people! They're like her. They came in..they walked into the house and laid here she told them...she killed them but they...they can still move..they're her slaves.."
"What did she tell you to do?"
"She wants me to sit here until morning and then call the police."
"Hmmm..ok well I'm gonna do something. It'll be a little weird but you don't have to move. Just relax ok?"
"Um..ok what..what are you going to do?"
"Just hold on Sheila, I'll be right back." He turned and walked out, rejoining Cheryl at the sidewalk in front of the house.

"What's going on? Is she alright?"
"Yes, she'll be fine. Just back up and give me some space."

Cheryl moved away and Tate focused, extending his thoughts into the house. He concentrated on the woman and the chair, perceiving all the molecular motion...all the extra dimensional substrates of that cross section of earthly reality. Then when he had a firm grasp of the overall composition, he shifted it. There was a soft "pop" as Sheila appeared, still seated, between him and Cheryl.

"Sheila!"
"Oh my god..Mom..what happened?" She got up and staggered a bit as a wave of vertigo passed through her. Alan took her by the arm for stability as Cheryl hugged her and choked back tears.
"You're alive..you're ok.."

Suddenly movement could be heard inside the house. Scraping, snarling...the sounds of the bodies coming to life now that the hostage had been removed. Tate rushed forward and shut the door. He placed the palms of his hands on the wood and then a layer of stoney material started spreading over the surface. First covering the doorway then engulfing the picture window and eventually the entire front of the house. He sensed the movement inside for a moment then turned back.

"They're actually pretty weak. I don't think they'll be able to get out."
"What was that?" Sheila lifted the cell phone in front of her. "Why did that thing make me sit there...why...call for help after the sun came up?" Tate rubbed his jaw and smiled, which he realized was inappropriate given the circumstances.

"You know..as a kid..before this happened to me.. I was into all kinds of monsters and weird creatures. Used to love watching all those old B horror movies and reading about the myths behind things like vampires. I know this is horrible for you guys..and for those poor people in there..but it is..thrilling to actual meet up with one..."

He paused as the two women glared at him in politely restrained fury.

"Yeah, anyways I think maybe these people are kind of...temporary vampires. They're just infected, maybe. Maybe they need to be buried to fully pass over. That's my guess. I think she wanted you to call the police--have them come and claim these bodies and bury them so that they could get that connection with the earth or whatever in order to become full-fledged vampires."

Sheila tossed the cell phone away and planted her hands on her hips. "Well what are we going to do about it? We can't let it spread--she has to be stopped!"

"Well I have an idea. I need one of you to get me a bag. Like a large, paper grocery bag...but a thick one. Double bag it if you have to. Or even a really big purse or a book bag or something. Oh and find out where the nearest church is.."
"What are you going to put in the bag?"

Tate lifted his hand and fluttered his fingers to and fro as particles began to spin and coalesce above his palm, until they turned and hardened into a perfectly round, shiny black marble.
He laughed as it floated there, reflections of the streetlight glinting on its surface.

"A bunch of these."

Yeah? You sure you don't mean 2 years ago or something? I play in RV almost daily on Freedom, don't recall seeing that toon around in recent memory. Thanks for the random assessment though.

I play a crab spider (3holepunch). It doesn't do great dmg but it's very effective on a team. To deal with stalkers all you really need to do is knock them out of hide and then you're dealing with a sub-par scrapper. If they don't have phase up it's pretty easy to web and then ts them long enough for the team to get a kill.

I wouldn't play one as a solo damage dealer, but on a team they offer good disruption and debuffs and are good at shutting down stalkers.

Is there a trailer Chris?

4.

Movement. The first sensation he experienced, his thoughts distracted by a strange sense of flow. Then pressure. The movement taking him somewhere, through something...like some kind of aperture. He was being squeezed and contorted. The intensity of the pressure building as he felt a hardening. All around closing in on him from..everywhere. Now a sense of space..depth.. squeezing all at once from all sides. He felt his body jerk and stumble forward. His fingers fluttered and then clenched into fists as he regained control of a physical form. He grunted and gurgled as he tried to breathe, tried to recover the sense of the human being

"Well, now I know what the toothpaste feels like as it squeezed through the tube." He smiled and looked at the back of his hand, shimmering like metal dust and shavings forced into the shape of a human body. He still had his business suit, now also transformed. The shape and consistency of cloth but now composed of minerals, extra-dimensional particles, and glowing energized points of light--manifestations of his consciousness projected into this earth dimension through alien power.

He could sense the scout. It was very close, but moving away. He turned to look over in his shoulder, in time to see a sedan moving off in the distance. The ******* was making a move on some other sucker no doubt. He turned back to look at his feet, rocking his weight back and forth. He wanted to make sure he didn't fall on his face before he got his footing back. Then he noticed the woman cowering in front of him....middle aged...blond hair...eyes wide with horror. Clutching a bible and a crucifix with white knuckles as she gaped at him.

"Oh..this is awkward.." He stepped back a bit and heard his heel crack the pavement behind him. Too much mass...he concentrated on shunting some of it to a pocket dimension while smiling at the distraught lady.

She raised her hand. "You just appeared there. Out of nowhere. Right in the middle of the street!"

"Yeah..um I guess I did. Sorry to alarm you ma'am."
"What the hell are you?"
"Well you see...it's sort of a long story.. I was taken by-"
"Are you a super hero?"
"Uh..yeah. Sure. Why no? Yep that's exactly what I am..a super hero." He was joking. He wanted to calm her down, make light of the absurdity of the situation. But he felt a chill...anxiety. How was he going to get back to his normal life? What was going to happen. Joking had somehow made the issue more pressing.

"You have to help me.."
"Oh...Alan, Alan Tate." She took his hand and smiled wanly.
"Cheryl....Tierney. Cheryl Tierney..."
"What's wrong Cheryl?"
"I was home. My daughter Sheila was visiting. I heard a noise at the front door...like someone was unlocking the door. So I went to take a look and the door was open. And there was this strange boy standing there in the doorway. When he saw me he stepped inside the house and then turned and called to someone, inviting them in." Cheryl looked away for a moment, bubbling. Choking on her words. Alan heard her mumble "excuse me" then she turned back to him and continued.

"This..woman..came into the house. She rushed in and grabbed me. It was horrible..she...her hands were cold I could feel them through my sweater. Her skin was so grey. She had these burning yellow eyes..I screamed and tried to move away but she was so strong. She shoved me against the wall, but I had this--" She held up the crucifix. "It was on the wall in the hallway. She saw it and she moved away. But then my daughter came in to help me and..this thing grabbed her and took her out of the house. It took her and pushed her into a car and they took off. I ran after and that's when I saw you."

Tate rubbed his jaw out of habit. "This thing.."

The woman looked side to side around her then leaned in towards him hissing. "It was a vampire! I know it! I don't know who to tell...I don't think anyone will believe me. Even at the church..I don't know.." She buried the lower part of her face in her hands.

"A vampire...ha ha...vampire..Hahahahahahaha...of course...a vampire Hahahahahahahahahaha..."
"What IS FUNNY?!?"
"No no..it's not...no it's not funny. It just explains...something strange that happened to me.."
"Can you help me? Please?!?"
"Yeah. Sure I'm a super hero right? That's what we do. I should be able to do something about it."

You must be playing against some bad VEATs.

You don't pvp, you just hang out in rv trolling people and leeching kills. If you fail in these endeavors you whine in broadcast that you're bored. The worst thing about it is you're so tediously repetitive and so blandly fake. I don't consider myself a badger. I don't hang out in whatever section of the forums badgers frequent and try to convince them that I don't care about it --"mah corp would laugh at mee!"

Thanks DJ

Here's my entry. It's based on a story I posted on the forums a couple years ago:



The character in the poster are identified in the comments on my DA page.
http://battlewraith.deviantart.com/a...ster-243887921

Trailer:

1. Ominous music. Fade in view of Paragon City at night. Cut to fade in to view of the exterior of an arachnos base at dawn.
2. Medium closeup of Arbiter Clarke (male) seated in a room. Holographic projections of data floating in the air in the center. Arbiter Murakami (female) visible in background.

Clarke begins to speak, becomes voice over: "In a group of five, just five, you have two--possibly three non-human entities. One of the five is a villain, an actual criminal.

[After he says "group of five" scene changes to a conference table, Hypercube in background to the left and Supercreep visible on right--space in between. Mere Mal Faire materializes in the empty spot as the others turn to look at her. On "one of the five" closeup of Purple Twilight smiling]

3. Motion graphic of the camera flying along the edge of a war wall. Suspense music.

VO: A city of heroes.

4. Cut to closeup of SuperCreep catching a knife blade between his palms.
5. Cut to medium shot of Hypercube blasting a group of zombies away with a force beam.
6. Cut to long view of Mere Mal Faire at the bottom of a giant arena space looking up at an army of robots clamoring down the sides towards her.

4. Continued motion graphic from #3 above. The camera starts to move faster, the shape of the wall curving.

VO: A city of evil.

5. Shot of a young woman from the rear as she stumbles upon a group of Vahzilok surgeons huddling over a body.
6. Medium closeup of lead Vahzilok rising and shouting "Get her!"
7. Cut to undead woman with glowing eyes beckoning in a hallway and moving backwards into shadow out of sight.
8. Cut to Arbiter Murakami in night widow armor swinging a whip-like weapon in the mist. Purple twilight suddenly emerges from the mist, spinning through the air as she dodges the whip.

9. Continued motion graphics from #4. Several war wall lines converging as the camera flies over them.

VO: A truth concealed.

10. Cut to establishing shot of Purple Twilight's safe house, a victorian mansion, floating in a blue void.

11. Cut to distant view of the main characters standing over a person on the ground. In the distance a massive bronze colored metal sphere approaches. The camera shakes as it lowers to the ground and begins rolling towards them, looming over them as it approaches.

Clarke's Voice in VO: We've got to either get these people immersed or break them apart somehow. If they pull back the curtain, the whole thing could unravel.

12. Cut to closeup of Van Vogt smoking and saying: Which of those will I have to kill?"
13. [aggressive music] Downward View of Mere Mal Faire, charged with crackling energy, pulling herself out of a heap of twisted metal.
14. Close out of Mere yelling "YOU WILL DIE!!!"
15. Quick long shot of Mere Mal Faire's tiny form launching a huge bolt of lightning towards an immense robot.
16. Motion Graphics continued from #9. The Camere pulls back and the war wall lines turn to form the title: Demon at the Gate.

VO: Demon at the Gate [ominous/mysterious music]

17. Cut to medium shot of Purple Twilight standing in front of a wall of energy. She says "Mere, don't look at it." Fade to black.

Mere Mal Faire VO: "Purple what are you going to do?"
Purple Twilight VO: "I'm going to write your name in the book of heaven."

18. Screen remains black. End credits in white text.

3.

Hey I'm Alan Tate. I'm aware. I mean...I'm conscious. I can sense my own thoughts. I don't know where I am--I can't feel my body at all. I don't even feel like I'm floating. I just don't feel anything. Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?

There was a change, a movement around him. A shape took form. A square with edges. Light and dark as it stretched and grew becoming a room. Concrete floor. Large mirror on the back wall, flourescent light overhead. It was a police interrogation room. A table took form in the middle. Behind the table a deskchair. Then in the deskchair...his friend and coworker Jake O'Reilly. Alan felt humor. He would've laughed if he had lungs--the first person he ends up meeting is Jake.

"I am not Jake O' Reilly, Mr. Tate. I have created this visualization for the purpose of questioning you."
"Oh, am I dead?"
"No, but your body has been destroyed. We've have preserved your consciousness for informational purposes."
"Oh. Why, who are you?"
"We are a collective of beings from another universe. We are non-corporeal. Pure thought and form."
"Why are you here? Why did you destroy my body?"
"We have transitioned to your reality in order to become embodied in your world and conquer your race. Your physical form was disassembled in the course of our research."
"Oh..wonderful."
"We studied you lifeform and how to replicate thoughts and perception. Though the entropic nature of your universe was confusing, we also mastered techniques for physical projection and manipulation of matter. The scout you encountered was to do some final testing before we launched our invasion of the human world. But we have encountered a problem."

The fake Jake leaned back and turned towards the corner of the room over his left shoulder. A figure took shape there. A woman. Slight, medium height...disheveled. Pale with medium length black hair that was clumpy. Dirty maybe. Yes dirty..there was even a small twig or something poking out near her neck.

"What is this creature?" Alan's thought perceived here further. She had a weird gettup on. Dingy long-sleeved blouse beneath some sort of thin sweater or pullover. Old fashioned long skirt. The ensemble looked outdated, costumey. Like a 1950's librarian. Everything was ill-kept, faded and soiled from use. The woman wasn't old, maybe late twenties. Her skin was very pale with dark circles around the eyes. Was she following some sort of retro fashion trend? Another thought occured to him: a homeless person. Maybe she got all that stuff from goodwill or was wearing hand-me-downs from an older relative. The disheveled, malnourished look would fit with someone living on the streets as well.

"That is a woman."
"We judged her to be a female of your species...is she exceptional?"
"Um..no. Judging by her looks I'd say she was a weaker example of a human being. She looks like a homeless person to me. Why?"
"This woman overpowered our scout. We have lost contact with it."
"Really? Wow don't know what to tell you."
"How many of these women populate your world?"
"Well..assuming about half the human race is female..billions I guess. Tens or hundreds of billions.."
"Billions?!?!"
"Yeah I think so."

A ripple went through the figure of Jake. The room shimmered while the projection of the homeless women dissolved into a blur of desaturated colors. Alan sensed a strange pressure on his thoughts, almost like heat. Then he realized it was anger. The aliens were pissed and the were having a little hissy fit over their ruined invasion.

Everything faded from perception except the figure of Jake O'Reilly, which floated in a colorless void as it addressed Alan.

"We cannot contend with billions of this lifeform. We must indefinitely postpone our invasion until this threat is understood and a solution is found."
"Oh yeah? Bummer."
"However we desire the return of our scout. You, Alan Tate will do this for us. We will build you a new corporeal form, superior to the original, and send you back to your Earthly realm to find the scout and return it to us. You will use your new powers and your understanding of human behavior to wrest it out of the control of the woman."

It's hilarious when someone cries nerf about a power and people explain that it's not a big deal for reasons taken out of context. Barrier is a big deal, which is evident in how many people are rocking it.

By itself, it's no biggie. Combined with all the other escape powers it's a part of a chain of "oh crap" powers that people use as crutches so that they can play stupidly for short periods of time before running back into the base. In the unlikely scenario that a team showed up and staggered their usage of barrier, they could have it up most of the time.

Incarnate buffs seem like the culmination of the development team's long dedication to making this game easy for soloists. Which means propping up bad players in pvp. My solution is not to nerf it, just get rid of the bases. Eliminate safe zones so that whack-a-mole players can't use it indiscriminately and then just hop back to safety when it wears out. Get on it Posi.

2.

The wipers started dragging over the surface of the windshield, slowly at first then swishing briskly as the woman fumbled with the controls. She turned them off then pawed the buttons for the radio, blasting static from the rear speakers before slamming her fist against the volume dial to shut it off. The child could see her her head turning side to side searching for something, then the vehicle's headlight came on and she turned the keys in the ignition and started them rolling slowly down the street.

"Momma...is this your car?"
"No darling, it isn't."

The car sped up, turning down a main road and awkwardly merging with traffic. The woman cut in front of a large truck and the child could hear the angry driver honking his horn and shouting at her from out of his window. She ignored him as they veered into the next lane and increased speed.

"Momma where are we going?"
"Ha ha ha... Momma. You know I'm not your mother."
"What do you mean Momma?"

The car jerked to a halt behind another stopped car. The child leaned over to see the cause of the interruption: a metal signal device suspended over the road halting the flow of traffic. A primitive optical signaling device. The child could see the edge of the woman's dress, her right hand on the steering wheel. It leaned back in its seat, shocked to look up and see the woman's eyes staring down at it from above the edge of the front seat. It could hear her low rumbling laughter as it leaned over again to look: the body was still facing forward. Still seated. Hands still on the stearing wheel. Feet still on the pedals. Yet the head was turned back to face it.

"Look at me."
"Momma?"
"You're a strange little faker. Look at me."

The eyes were glowing. Pale yellow disks that burned, gathering up the light all around them. Expanding, getting nearer. The darkness pressing in all around. The child felt it's thoughts..thinning. Floating.

Honking. A cacaphony. A row of vehicles behind them. The signal had changed and the other row had moved on but the woman remained still, halting the line of cars. The eyes abruptly turned away and the car started moving again.

"We need some gasoline." The car rolled into a gas station and stopped beside a pump. The woman leaned over and opened the glove box, fishing around inside while dumping assorted papers into the footwell.

"Do you have a credit card?"
"No Momma."

On the other side of the pump a man in a pickup truck pulled up and opened his car door to get out.

"Stay here."

The child watched the woman go to him, saw him lean over to listen to her. He was larger, very tall and heavy. There was a commotion and the woman was dragging him back to her side of the pump. He was pleading: okay lady..okay okay..easy. He slid a card in the machine. The child saw her put her hands on his head..twisting it at an angle..the man slumping to the ground before she dragged his body back to his vehicle and shoved it inside before slamming the door.

She came back and placed the pump's nozzel in the car's gas tank. She left it there in the car, turning and heading off towards the building. She emerged two minutes and 35 seconds later holding a long piece of wood, to which a small key had been bound. The lower part of her face was dripping with a reddish liquid. He hands as well, dripping with the stuff as she held then in front, apparently trying not to stain her clothing. She disappeared through a doorway to the rear of the building. When she re-emerged the liquid was gone. She grinned at the child through the window and pulled the pump from the car, dropping it on the ground before climbing back into the car.

"I hate to go anywhere without a full tank of gas."

Incident

"Damn this traffic..we should've left a little earlier." Alan Tate quietly mumbled obscenities and squinted as the turn brought the morning sun into the windshield. He glanced at the round face in the rearview mirror, his kid's head bobbing slightly as it stared out the window at the construction vehicles passing by. "Hey, we might be a bit late this morning ok? It's not your fault...if I have to go in and tell them at the office I will. I'll explain it to your teacher or the principal or whatever."

"Ok."

The dashboard clock said 8:05, still some time to get there before the bell rang. Maybe they'd make it. The road looked like hell up ahead, everything down to one lane and large patches of concrete cut out along the other side of the cones. But then traffic was lighter. Tate turned down a side street towards the school, leaving the congestion behind. Yeah, maybe they'd make it. He shrugged his shoulders and adjusted his tie reflexively. Time enough to drop of his kid and hustle into the office.

"Daddy.."
"Yeah?"
"What is entropy?"
"What?"
"Entropy. What is it?"

The car eased to a stop as a woman pushing a stroller passed by on the crosswalk.

"Ha ha..well..that's a funny question for a seven year old...um...I think that....scientifically...entropy is that state where things are at the maximum state of disorder. Like at the end of the universe, everything will be uniformly...spent. Everything will have run down. Um...I'm not a scientist. I think it's something like that."
"What about life and death? What is entropy with respect to life and death?"
"Uh well all living things go through a life cycle where they mature and then decline and eventually die. I guess getting older and dieing is entropy."

The school was coming up on the left but Tate slowed the vehicle and stopped on the right hand side of the street.

"Holy crap." There was an enormous sinkhole in the street. It was the width of both lanes, perfectly round as if a drill bit had lowered from the sky and bored into the pavement. "Stay here I need to take a look at this."

He got out of the car and cautiously made his way to the front, the fingertips of his right hand sliding along the surface of the Mustang's hood. At the edge he peered down at the depression the dirt and the gravel in the hole so dark and fine, like discolored sand. Off to his right he noted a section of curb, perfectly cut with the arc of the circular shape. Was anyone else seeing this thing? No one in front of him. He raised his hand to block the sun from his eyes and turned back to look the way they came.

Then his cell buzzed angrily in his pocket. He lifted it in disbelief. 5 missed calls...what happened?

"Hello?"
"Alan where the hell are you I've been calling..
"Yeah Jake, hey man I'm just running a little.."
"They are here Alan. We are waiting on you. You were supposed to be here twenty minutes.."
"Jake, Jake yeah I'm just...just dropping off my kid then.."
"WHAT? Alan..what?!"
"Hey Jake..just--"
"Are you trying to be funny or something? So help me god Alan if we lose this deal because of some crap you you.."
"Woah! Hey what's wrong man, why are you blowing up?"
"Alan....YOU DON'T HAVE A KID. You don't have a wife. You don't have a girlfriend. You don't even have a dog...WHAT THE HELL are you doing?!"
"But I..."

Tate leaned on the hood with his free hand, peering around at the passenger side of the car. It had gotten out. A shape. Dully grey, vaguely human. Sort of like a child. Shimmering slightly like the surface of an oil slick. Small round, black depressions for the eyes and mouth. Tim Burton's idea of the Pillsbury Doughboy. He felt it tugging at his thoughts, the vision of a real child flickering in front of him. He backed away in swelling panic, raising the cell.

"Jake..Jake I.."

Then the ground gave way below his feet, the concrete rolling away like water. His upper torso fell forward on to the hood of the car as his hands squeaked over the hot surface of the hood, the cell phone clattering away behind him.

"Hey! Wait! Wha--"

He clutched the hood ornament and the passenger side wiper blade lurching up, trying to pull his feet out of the expanding muck. His forehead clunked against the windshield as he slid himself all the way up on the car, but then there was a tremor. Motion. He felt the Mustang dipping, falling forward. He slid off, his gut slamming into the bumper as it pressed him down.

"NO! NO! God, hey..wait! Stop!"
--

The dirt and sand and gravel rose. The sinkhole filled, the pavement reformed smooth and unblemished. The child perched on the newly shaped curb as a van turned down the sidestreet and passed by it.

[Human and vehicle samples deposited in transdimensional core. Scout unit disembarking from corporeal manifestation to replenish energy reserves. Will reincorporate in 12 of the human "hours".]

--

"Well hello there little girl, are you lost?" The woman smiled, her skin pale in the fading light. She brushed her jet black hair to the side, cocking her head a bit as she waited for a response.
"Yes, can you help me." The child went to her, fingering the pale worn fabric of the woman's long skirt.
"Of course sweetie, my car's parked right over there. I'll drive you home....you know your address right?"
"Yes ma'am."
"What are you doing out here by yourself? Your parents must be worried."
"I was just out playing and I just lost track of time."
"I see." The woman smiled broadly, patting the child on the back and gesturing towards a four door sedan parked near the end of the block.

Maybe you expected everyone to feel the same way you do?
*hugglepounce*

Meh, didn't really get what I was looking for working on Livestream last night. The general approach I decided to use didn't really pay off. Anyway here's where I left off, when I have some more time I'll pick it up from here:

Hola,

I've been meaning to start up a new art thread since the book project is done. Here are some commissions I did recently of CoH character's:

2 for Caemgen--

Cold Flake


NOWAB


And one for KersedAssassin--

Malice


I'm thinking of doing a Livestream tomorrow (Tuesday) night at 10:30 EST to put some color on the Cold Flake piece. If anyone wants to drop in the check it out, the address is
livestream.com/bwbabble Of course if anyone can't make it on that short notice, the recording will stay up for people to view at their leisure.

Ok, so this month is going to be a writing and visual arts challenge? People are supposed to evaluate the description as well as the picture when casting their vote?

Also, a 1-2 minute trailer isn't actually a trivial amount of time. A paragraph seems short to explain what the trailer is supposed to represent.