Not sure about the colours, bah.
<strong>Big daddy Blue-Cock!</strong>
This is a more appropriate profile image of him. It didn’t come out exactly how I wanted, but it’s a good reference. The horns suck because seriously, fuck horns, and double-fuck horns on a 3/4 profile.
As you can tell by the discrepancy between his horns and BlueCock-Builder’s horns, I am not yet completely sold on a style and colour. Initially I wanted something like antlers without any branching; not sure what I want anymore, though.
Big-Daddy Blue Cock/Azuelcok is daddy to Oboro (Azuelcok). He is big and manly and an awesome fighter and also friends with Beof. After losing his eyes in a fight he took to patrolling, instead of fighting in the killing fields, which brings great dishonour. He uses bells and stuff to keep track of his surroundings, and is extremely adept at picking up on vibrations in the air. Azuelcok has small pointy teeth and gold plating in his eye socket; or, a fake ‘gold’ eye. Either way the socket is completely dried out and calcified.
Azuelcok’s nickname is ‘Blue Cock’. This lovely conversation sparked the picture you now see;
MineSweeperAddict(7:33:18 PM): also, no lie, i almost typed Blue Bob for some reason
// WOLF (7:33:23 PM): LOL
// WOLF (7:33:31 PM): BOB, THE BLUE COCK
// WOLF (7:33:34 PM): CAN HE FUCK IT
MineSweeperAddict (7:33:37 PM): omfg
MineSweeperAddict (7:33:42 PM): YES HE CAN
Right, so, I really really wanted to write something with Oboro and Vanik working together. The ‘canon’ is that Oboro was never fond of Beof’s kids, but ended up working towards the same goal as Vanik. For their mutual benefit, they decided to team up. (Also, Oboro can still plot to kill Jovan, which is cool by him.)
Uh, this is pretty bad, though. I didn’t do Vanik any justice at all, for one, and Oboro comes across a lot dumber than he is. It’s like PWP without the porn.
I’ll write something better with these two in the future. xD
She set out alone into the bleary expanse, pebbles rolling beneath her feet, spraying down the rugged hillside as she strained her eyes to the broken light of the first smatterings of dawn. Her body readied itself to feel the sun’s warmth, skin itching within thin layers of pelts, swaddled around her in the manner of the season. The fields were silent around her, scrub brush swaying softly amongst sweet and bitter gales that carried licks of chill and tastes of faraway bloodshed and the pall of life departing, far on the other side where the cliffs dropped more steeply, down in those craters and valleys where the broken lines on her face were carved.
She closed her dark eyes to take in the air. She was truly alone.