COMMUNITY - FORUMS - FAN MEDIA
A Bard's Sketchbook
+0

A small, leather-bound journal belonging to a traveling bard. It contains snippets of stories and rough sketches, and the exterior is scuffed, as though it's been dropped on the road a number of times already.


I'll be posting my COE related art here, usually accompanied by blurbs of stories. I'm definitely still just learning when it comes to art, but I'm using the menn and places of Elyria as inspiration and practice.


8/13/2019 3:38:52 AM #1
+6

When travelers passed through her little tavern at the crossroads, they often expressed their surprise to find a Kypiq running things behind the bar. Raweth didn't seem to mind the cold; she often pattered across the stones barefoot, and her attire was light, but as thick and green as her homeland. Of course, the roaring fire she kept in her hearth didn't hurt.

So out of place was she in this snowy Reach that some of the regulars often joked that she must have some Brudvir in her blood. At such times, the Kypiq would twist her face as though offered grave insult. "Of course I ain't!" she'd huff. "I can hold my damn drink."


8/17/2019 10:59:23 PM #2
+4

A wise wolf knew better than to strike out alone in the snow, but Dagny never claimed to be wise. Her yellow gaze swept over the white-blanketed mountains, and the woodland realm only a short hike to her right. The tracks led straight into the thick tangle of trees, and a sharp-toothed grin spread across the Brudvir's face.

Shouldering her bow, she let her boots fall into the thick prints marring the fresh snow, deepening them further as she continued the hunt. The prey was no broad-antlered elk or scampering fox, no... today, she was bringing down a Mann, and the brigand was a fool to think he was the only predator roaming in these woods.


9/6/2019 6:25:18 AM #3
+3

The Waerd woman hooked her thumbs in her belt as she surveyed the distant shore opposite where their small boat was anchored, the lights of the port town dancing like fireflies in the horizon. She was far from her desert home, far from other minds with which she might share her thoughts; most of the men and women aboard this ship were Neran.

An intimate understanding of anatomy afforded her great skill as a ship's surgeon, but that was not her job tonight. As she followed the captain's motion towards the bobbing torchlight of a guard patrol making their way down the path, soon to stumble upon the small crew, she inclined her head in understanding. "We will handle it." Two thin daggers flashed into her hands, and alone she stepped into the night, like a shadow following the path.

Her hands gave life often. Tonight, she would take some of it back.


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