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Description

Morgan and Khorrek crawled towards the crest of a small dune. The sun that shone during the day had made way for drizzle, making the sand stick to their clothes and skin. The group had decided that simply walking into Olde Ronne’s farm might not be the best of ideas. No one - even Khorrek - wanted to step right in the middle of a fight. The thief had volunteered to sneak to the place and make sure it was safe. Morgan had volunteered to check if Khorrek’s definition of ‘safe’ was not too far off from the word’s true meaning.

'I thought you said that wyvern was the size of a horse,’ Morgan told him while she peeked over the dune top. ‘You were chased away by that?'
'I swear, it was bigger the first time I saw it!'
The wyvern sat in an iron cage and hissed at everyone who came near. It was guarded by the men clad in dark clothing Khorrek had seen earlier - soldiers of the Holy Army indeed. They carried the cage away from the farm, probably without Olde Ronne’s approval. The drake was an ugly little thing, as large as scrawny goose. It disappointed Morgan. Khorrek's stories made it look much more... Well, more.
She sighed. 'It's clearly not big enough to be dangerous.'
'Puh. Wait until it breathes fire!'

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More info about Morgan and Khorrek:

Little Ugly is part of a fantasy world I am working on, called 'a State of Equilibrium'.

Here is where I will dump more art and info about my OCs and my world:
queenofeagles.deviantart.com/g…

And here is the prologue of my story:
Prologue - a State of Equilibrium
There was that feeling again. Despite suffering from it for years, he still hadn't found a way to ignore the sensation. It was terrible: as if thousands of needles were burning their way through his skin, flesh and bones. It was part of his 'gift', telling him he had to wake up. Luckily, the feeling lasted less than a second and formed only a fraction of the misery that already darkened him.
He rose. He stood in the middle of a sea of grass, blades forming ripples in the wind. The pieces of his plate armour clattered against each other. Dark blood stained the otherwise shining metal, but it wasn't his.
Why did he wear armour? He didn't need protection; a wound was something he didn't care about. Better leave it behind... He fumbled with the clasps while he became more familiar with the place his travels had brought him to. Only a few gnarled trees stood scattered amongst the flat landscape. Their dark, twisted branches clawed at the sky and made the place look even more desolate than i

Paper; around A5, normal Moleskine book.
Background: Texture

Description

Morgan and Khorrek crawled towards the crest of a small dune. The sun that shone during the day had made way for drizzle, making the sand stick to their clothes and skin. The group had decided that simply walking into Olde Ronne’s farm might not be the best of ideas. No one - even Khorrek - wanted to step right in the middle of a fight. The thief had volunteered to sneak to the place and make sure it was safe. Morgan had volunteered to check if Khorrek’s definition of ‘safe’ was not too far off from the word’s true meaning.

'I thought you said that wyvern was the size of a horse,’ Morgan told him while she peeked over the dune top. ‘You were chased away by that?'
'I swear, it was bigger the first time I saw it!'
The wyvern sat in an iron cage and hissed at everyone who came near. It was guarded by the men clad in dark clothing Khorrek had seen earlier - soldiers of the Holy Army indeed. They carried the cage away from the farm, probably without Olde Ronne’s approval. The drake was an ugly little thing, as large as scrawny goose. It disappointed Morgan. Khorrek's stories made it look much more... Well, more.
She sighed. 'It's clearly not big enough to be dangerous.'
'Puh. Wait until it breathes fire!'

-------------------------------------------------------
More info about Morgan and Khorrek:

Little Ugly is part of a fantasy world I am working on, called 'a State of Equilibrium'.

Here is where I will dump more art and info about my OCs and my world:
queenofeagles.deviantart.com/g…

And here is the prologue of my story:
Prologue - a State of Equilibrium
There was that feeling again. Despite suffering from it for years, he still hadn't found a way to ignore the sensation. It was terrible: as if thousands of needles were burning their way through his skin, flesh and bones. It was part of his 'gift', telling him he had to wake up. Luckily, the feeling lasted less than a second and formed only a fraction of the misery that already darkened him.
He rose. He stood in the middle of a sea of grass, blades forming ripples in the wind. The pieces of his plate armour clattered against each other. Dark blood stained the otherwise shining metal, but it wasn't his.
Why did he wear armour? He didn't need protection; a wound was something he didn't care about. Better leave it behind... He fumbled with the clasps while he became more familiar with the place his travels had brought him to. Only a few gnarled trees stood scattered amongst the flat landscape. Their dark, twisted branches clawed at the sky and made the place look even more desolate than i

Paper; around A5, normal Moleskine book.
Background: Texture