Jam

Jam, the new Jam anyway. She isn't the cute little bardic half-elf from before, as adorable as she was, she had to grow up sometime and she grew up in a town the equivalent of Thay. A magically-powered, dark town of chaos, luckily it hadn't corrupted her too much. And again, its nearly 1am, I'm done typing.

Gladiators and Lovers

In this picture, all I can say is that Jam's aged to 16, still a kid but smart enough to be a great gladiator monk.

And this picture's just a warm up drawing of Orea and Acton, the only couple I've ever written.

Kicking and Dancing

Acton, now with beating gloves! As for her place this time around, thats hush hush and half done. Swapped her knives for fists on the grounds that it's more badass to beat someone to pulp than stab them to one.
And this chick? Well...Yeah, I got nothin'. Potential future Jam? Jam's sister? Jam's mother? Just an elf? Who knows.

Jammin'

In short, Orea chose Jam from a jar in The Dark Lady, Queen of Death's "Library of Restless Souls" so yes, Jam died before, but now shes back and Orea's sidekick. The Jam on the left, is the typical Jam, smart, wizardly and archer-esque always prepared and reading. The Jam on the right is the result of the resurrection. No one gets a "Get Out of Death Free" card. When Jam is overcome with anger, rage, fear, guilt or sorrow, she becomes Dark Jam, who becomes even more of an uncontrollable killer than Orea, but the good part is that Dark Jam is stronger, quicker and more agile than regular Jam.

First Portfolio Piece: WIP

Yes, college time is on its way and I still haven't started my portfolio, so I thank the gods for the ability to shit out quality art in a day. I'm still working on this one though, but I felt it's worth sharing, it's Jam in her new wardrobe, a peacoat, hoodie, flannel and t-shirt with lace-up boots, jeans, assorted trinkets and a new sitar to replace her old lute. I'm not sure about the background so far, so it's blank for the time being.

NYAAHHH

Very similar to the last Orea picture I drew, it's the newly stylized Jam. This is also just me playing with my prismacolors, for a dollar a pencil, I damn best be usin' 'em. But yeah, the only issue I have with this is that Jam is usually carrying a lot more equipment, so I just need to think of a way that she quickly drops it when its fight time without just dropping it. You'll also notice Jam isn't as sharply drawn as Orea, that was intentional, Jam's supposed to be the loveable sidekick, not the complete bad-ass.

Stylization Much

As of late I've noticed my art sort of losing it's luster and sense of life, which I've traced to the fact that I've been hung up on too many minor details and totally forgot about the stylization I once had. Now I've decided to change this.


Firstly, my pride and joy Orea. I've tried to take away all sense of roundness from Orea's figure and posture, in an attempt to show her as being a bit more jagged and not necessarily evil, but less caring than she looked before.
Jam on the other hand is designed to look sleeker and more agile, while still retaining her childishness. The Jam seen here is the Jam you'll see within 2 months of in-comic time.

A Preview For Y'all

This is just a little preview for my readers of page one of the comic, sans text. Spent around 5-6 hours on this and while digi-painting the backgrounds of the comic take a lot more time than just inking and coloring like usual, I much prefer it since it's a lot more fun and keeps my falcon punch away from the tablet.

Warm-Up Sketches

Just a warm-up drawing. If you don't say "d'awww" you have no soul.

Another warm-up sketch on the same page as the previous, since I have a larger sketchbook I can spend more time side-tracked doodling. But as to what this is, your guess is as good as mine, though, I can say what it was supposed to be: A masked chaos magic sorcerer who used glow sticks as implements. Then he became too buff and his clothes too spandexy, so at this point, it's anyone's say.

I really should be working on the comic, but now I'm just shitting out art.

Presenting: Jam Sharp-Ears!

Once a refugee gone street-thug, Jam has always had quite the adventurous spirit. A few winters back, some of the other children, mostly humans, were particularly cruel to Jam, constantly mocking her elven bloodline until she couldn't take it anymore and ran off into the woods for the night. Little did she know at the time, her retreat had saved her life. Around what most would call the late night, and others, the early morn, from her temporary treetop dwelling, Jam awoke to a smell that reminded her of the blacksmith and a sound resembling crushing a page of parchment. It didn't take long for this little lady to realize what was really going on. A fire. Not here, no. Back home. She skittered down the trunk of the large yew she slept in, and let her elven instincts guide her through the labyrinth of forests. When she finally reached her town, she couldn't believe what she saw. "It must be an illusion," She thought, "A foul, foul, prank!" but it was not. Her village was one large blaze at this point, and standing amidst the black, endless smoke, a group, not large by any means, they didn't need many. They were war-wizards. She would never forget their alliance, their crest, or any of their faces. Ever.

Fast forwarding a few years, Jam is now a city dweller, her heritage now accepted and barely noticed. She's in league with the local cutpurses and burglars. It's not a great living, but she has them and they all have each other. Fortunately and unfortunately, she stole from the wrong person one day. While she was giving her usual high-noon musical performance in the the town square, one on-looker caught her eye. A pale, slender woman, unusual facial markings, and a large, hefty sword. Big swords, big wallets. After the show, Jam quickly packed up and blended into the crowd, following the woman into a local tavern, "The Eighteenth Kobold". The woman drank heavily and seemed to be having a merry time, totally distracted. Now was Jam's time to act. She kept close to the shadowed wall, unbeknownst to her, the shadows themselves are what gave her away. But as her small hand wriggled it's nimble fingers in nervous anticipation of the reward her stealth would earn her. A few more inches. Just a few more. In the blink of an eye, maybe even half the blink of an eye, the woman's hand grabbed the little thief's wrist, she knew this was no ordinary woman, and this woman knew this was no ordinary thief.