Colby

Here's a new fan character! His name is Colby which is an Anglo-Saxon name for "from the dark village" because of the fact he came from a village that was rumored to have witches. Alastar was on a "crusade" against the village and found Colby as a baby there and took him in. But because of the fact about his heritage of witches, he was looked down upon by Alastar. This made Colby unsure of everything he does, questioning whether or not he is a good person. However, when Faolán arrived as an apprentice, he cheered him up and helped him stand up to Alastar after all of this time.

The Secret of Kells (c) Tomm Moore

Pre-SOK Character Aesthetics

Well, here's something I don't normally do, making character aesthetics. But hey, it was fun to make :). Of course, I don't own the images except the drawings in the center of each one. There will be more on the way, being Rowan's, Alastar's, and the Fae of No-Name's aesthetics.

The Secret of Kells (c) Tomm Moore

I Heard of an Island Somewhere...

 The clouds were nowhere in sight, and stars pin-pricked the cloak of the night. The waves gently lapped on the shore and the new moon was shy of revealing its light. A cool breeze flew by, yet letting itself be humid. Everything was at rest.

 Odhrán shielded himself in his dark cloak in the wind, walking along the sand. He took note of the sky above him, and every step in the cool sand. It has been two months since he joined the monastery. Two months since being saved from the streets.

 "But please, I haven't eaten in days," Odhrán murmered.

 "Tell that to your mother," a rugged beggar snapped back, biting into a leg of lamb.

 "I was only-" Odhrán said before being interrupted.

 "Listen, scrap. Scram before I turn you into my next morsel to eat," the beggar threatened, his mouth full.

 Odhrán dashed off, frightened by the beggar's empty threat. For all of his life after his parents died, he relied on jumping from village to village for food and shelter. In doing that, he landed himself in danger with gangs, resorted to theft, was rejected by many, and no real love was given to him. Odhrán sat alongside the road, gazing off into the distance. 

 "Psst! Hey!" A raspy voice called.

 Odhrán looked to see who could be calling him. A short, elderly man was calling for Odhrán's attention. His white hair didn't care which direction it went, and neither did his beard. He had one of his moss-colored eyes clouded, and his clothes were blue, yet somewhat grayed with age.

 "You alright?" the old man asked.

 Odhrán looked up, and said nothing. He had already begun to lose hope, and questioned whether or not he should trust anyone again, for during the times in which he did, they'd only turn their back on him.

 "Oh, I see. You're shy," the old man said, noticing Odhrán's inability to speak so easily, "Here, come along. I can't stand to see anyone down on their luck."

 Odhrán noticed the old man's clothing. They were neither of the ordinary clothes of a peasant or a serf, nor of the elaborate clothes of a noble, but the robes of a monk. A man of God.

 "Are you... really a monk?" Odhrán asked.

 The old man jerked his head towards Odhrán, making eye contact, and started to chuckle. The chuckle then turned into a small laugh. And then he couldn't contain it anymore and roared with laughter. His eyes revealed a state of ecstasy, yet madness, as though he came to a brilliant realization as he cackled ever so long.

 "Why, yes I am, boy!" the old man exclaimed, catching his breath, "And you may have noticed that I am also... Oh, how the visions... how they have made me wise, yet drove me to madness."

 "Visions...?" Odhrán muttered, catching at the monk's eccentricities.

 "Yes, boy. How they fill up my being, yet drain my being," the old man added, "Oh! How rude of me! In my delirium, I neglected to introduce myself. My name's Llewelyn. Come on, I'll fetch you something to eat."

 The two left the glum streets, Odhrán having seen that he's finally found a home. Albeit with an odd man, but an odd man who has shown compassion to him.

 Odhrán looked out to the sea, gazing into the horizon. The stars reflected on the ocean, making it seem as though he stood at the edge of the world, and the rest was the universe. Odhrán sat down, absorbed by the sight. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift by, and savored the taste of being alone for the first time in years.

 Footsteps followed behind Odhrán. Yet, at the time of night, no-one would be up and around. The footsteps came closer as Odhrán picked up on the sound, but returned to his state of contemplation. He turned around, noticing the steps having come to a stop. A tall figure stood over. His hair were like clouds, his robes were a vivid yellow and orange, with blue being his cloak.

 "Abbot Aidan! I didn't mean to- I mean- I'm sorry!" Odhrán stammered, having jumped at seeing the abbot. He cowered, waiting for the abbot to give him a punishment.

 "No need to be sorry," Abbot Aidan replied, smiling.

 Odhrán felt relief as the abbot sat down next to him. A pause went by, but neither of the two felt compelled to say anything. The silence was theirs to share. That's all they needed.

 "You know, I've heard of an island somewhere far away from here," Abbot Aidan said, noticing how Odhrán savored being alone.

 "An island?" Odhrán asked, intrigued by what the abbot mentioned.

 "Yes, it was discovered by one of the saints a long time ago," Abbot Aidan continued, "I hear it's north of here, and many hermits have stayed there for years in caves, but to be at that island takes courage. Courage to face your own blocked thoughts and fears."

 Odhrán gasped, amazed at the idea. The thought came that he would go. Of course, he needed to finish his training, and gain a sense of discipline. But the idea certainly appealed to him, being able to find peace.

 "Come now, Odhrán," the abbot said, "It's getting late, and you should be getting a proper rest."

 Odhrán nodded and followed behind. Though for a minute, he turned around to take one last look at the ocean. He smiled, thinking of the possibility of going. Perhaps one day, he will venture out to see for himself.


-Welp, here's another written piece. Abbot Aidan is St. Aidan, I just had him referred to that since saints aren't recognized as such until after they die. Had a lot of fun writing the scene with Llewelyn being his crazy hippie self meeting Odhrán :). But yeah, writing mellow scenes are always good.

The Secret of Kells (c) Tomm Moore

Mega Sketchdump!

Some anatomy practice, so here's Llewelyn being a chicken.

How it feels to chew 5 gum (the camera shook ahah).

"Shh! I'm catching some serious vibes right now."

Been a while since I drew Aidan.

So here's Llewelyn as a young'un seeing the Fae of No-Name for the first time. Had a lot of fun with the watercolor brush pens.

Detail on the Fae of No-Name's face.

Skithei bein' a hippie, that's all.

So, I've been working on a side project where falsks (now known as jaeks, pronounced "yaw-ikes") are reliant on plants for nutrition (the ones that have trees on them are huge, while the ones that have grass and flowers are quite small), and some of them are angry for the environment being polluted. I don't know, it's a work in process, but it's fun drawing giant creatures with tusks :).

Skithei bein' a crazy person ahah.

So yeah, another sketchdump. Some of them are Pre-SOK/SOK related, and some of them are more original stuff.

The Secret of Kells (c) Tomm Moore

tRIppY

Knocked out a sketch of Llewelyn being a crazy old man and turned it into a 60's looking gif.

The Secret of Kells (c) Tomm Moore