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EyeOfSemicolon — The Age of Want ignites
#blues #color #red #warm #partial_nudity #axe #colored #deltan #fantasy #fighter #halberd #kronos #moon #night #painting #warrior #weapon #digital_painting #science_fiction #digital_illustration #clip_studio_paint #fire
Published: 2018-10-20 22:36:02 +0000 UTC; Views: 606; Favourites: 21; Downloads: 5
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Description
Finally done with this painting, and I am absolutely pleased with it. This was definitely a massive project, but overall I can't be more proud with how I've finally managed to finish it with such quality. I hope to then surpass this one quite soon.--------------------
The Deltan kind has always known war, for that is the nature of the world. Elders tell of how red the world of Aurora is, and how the ground prepped itself for the endless bloodshed; for the Deltans are warriors at heart, and so long as two Deltans occupy the same land will they fight to prove their worth. United in their love of the craft and of battle, but forever they are separated in countless clans. That is the only reality every living Deltan has known, and most Elders will tell the same. Yet the oldest and most hardened of their kind, barely holding on to life as their bodies shut down, can remember the briefest moment when there was peace. It wasn't just a regular Deltan peace, when clans gave temporary pause between the war ended and the war yet to begun. There was once a peace, enforced by a champion; a god, unmatched in battle and dwarfing in skill over all other Deltan gods, once did the unthinkable and indeed end the warring. His name has been forgotten, but some believe that he never possessed one. He simply was, and forever shall be, Deltan absolute: a man born for war and glory, and a shining example of what every warrior hopes to reach closely in legend.
Through the example of his feats, and the threat to impose his might upon the clans of his time, the champion laid down peace upon the world. No other god ever dared to challenge him, not just for risk of angering their lord, but for fear that the others may strike as well for the champion's favor. From that fear did the peace last, and the clans kept to their mountains. Then, from the greater mount that held his throne, the champion sat and watched over his people.
A hundred years would pass, and the peace lasted just as long. The day came to an end like any other, and so the night rolled over as it should. Yet, word spread throughout the clans faster than the moon could pass. From the throne lay the champion, dead in his sleep and with his body made brittle by age. He had no child to best him, and thus none were worthy to claim the throne. The gods were momentarily shocked, yet soon after were varied in their emotions. Grief, worry, confusion, doubt, hope, then altogether fear to follow; then they united in one feeling spread throughout: envy and excitement. From every mountain and hill, down to the deepened canyons and holes that littered Aurora, the torches lit and the drums echoed. The gods, numerous in the dozens, knew deep down that such a day would come when war would erupt once more. They stood before their armies, proclaiming each their own rightful claim to the mountain-top throne; they will prove their rite through conquest by might, and with the countless dead of their enemies will they claim sole ruler-ship to all Deltan-kind. With the death of the champion came the Age of Want: a period of Deltan history when war was at its most destructive, and where many heroes and gods fought to take the throne.
