Haven't posted anything in forever, and felt like drawing something to combat this most recent valley in my depression cycle. This is the opening scene of one of my stories, which I've been rewriting as practice. The drawing isn't as detailed as the scene is written, nor is it at the right scale, but I'm a fair bit better as a storyteller than artist. I've still got a ways to go, before I'm confident enough to try getting anything published, but compared to previous versions of various stories, which were almost entirely dialogue, with no details or actions, I've gotten MUCH better. Anyway... in case anyone's interested, here's the first snippet of the story. Feel free to let me know what you think.

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The voices of the dead surrounding me silence themselves, and as my attention returns to the living world, the image of their spirits fade from my view. Nearly all my sight fades alongside the specters, returning to only what my old, glazed over, mostly blind eyes can make out from the ambient lighting in this dark cavern shrine. I can hear the wind blowing outside, the thunder booming whenever the sky lashes out at the land, and the drops of a torrent bearing down upon the mountain. The rain has such a relaxing smell to it, and nature's chorus has always soothed me in a way man-made music lacks the power to. Among the scent of the rain and wet earth, however, I detect something else. A woman, traversing my mountain in this storm, a Kilek bearing the ethereal scent of magic, but more pressingly, a familiar scent... . How long has it been, since my solitude was last interrupted? I wonder to myself, for a moment, until I find an answer. Not in several thousand years have I had a visitor, not since the shrine crafted around me by some religious Zyaguul was left abandoned. Not that it matters... time has become inconsequential in my restless, agonizing immortality.
The woman struggles against the storm, until she finds the entrance to my cavern, and upon entering, breathes a sigh of relief. The magic in the air stirs for a moment as she dries herself, before creating a small light, faint compared to the size of the shrine she has stumbled upon. “Come to speak with the beast?” I ask with a hollow laugh, speaking loudly enough that my vocal chords ache with the same fervor they held when they tore ages ago. My deep, scratchy voice resonates through the shrine, twisted with each echo as it intermingles with the bitter laughter, becoming a demonic cacophony by the time it settles down. The woman's footsteps stop and her light focuses itself, looking around for the source of the unholy sound she heard. “Or are you lost, seeking shelter from the storm?” I ponder aloud, my voice carrying without the same malicious, spiraling echo.
The woman turns her light towards me, able to tell my general location this time, before the walls repeat my words enough to disguise it. It seems Kilek still have sharp ears, after all this time. I'm not certain if she is able to see me for what I am at that distance, though. Looking at the emerald flames of her soul, I detect a measure of confusion, but a greater sense of unease, perhaps even fear. “I-I'm looking for something,” she states, before looking around again. It seems I was mistaken for a decoration. Remaining motionless for thousands of years has left me covered in the same amount of dust as the statues of my likeness around the hall. I imagine I've been mistaken for stone before, if others have wandered by without the dead showing them the same courtesy they have given her. “O-old records, a-and relics,” she explains, digging through her pack, and withdrawing some papers. “There are legends... old myths. I could only find one mention of this shrine, but it was in a worn carving, made ages ago. I-I thought it would be the best place to look... ,” she trails off.
“And just what are you looking for?” I demand, startling her, to hear papers flip about as they fall. The papers she held then flutter, blown about by a gust of wind reaching into the cavern before she can gather them, but she doesn't chase after them as they run deeper into the shrine, closer to me, the speaker hidden from her view. Her heart has increased its pace significantly, and she's breathing a bit heavily. A flash of lightning and roar of thunder nearly cause her to jump, but still, she remains.
“I... I want to know about the old legends. The Mists of Darkness, and the origins of the God's Flame. Be you god or demon, I also want to know about you -why this shrine was dedicated to you, and why you are not referenced in any form, modern or ancient, of the Zyaguul's religions. I apologize for trespassing upon your domain -there are no other heavenly beings who still interact with those in their shrines, and I will depart if it is your will,” she says, finding her voice and her courage. Standing her ground, she remains firm, though the wind gusts through the hall once more, and the thunder crackles throughout the sky.
Standing, I shake off the dust which had settled upon me, my movement drawing her light and her attention. “I am Sal. The Zyaguul built this shrine around me, for my actions long ago. I was the one who banished the Mists of Darkness and brought the God's Flame to the Great Altar in the east. I am neither god nor demon, but a man, cursed with immortality for my actions. The Zyaguul worshiped me as a god despite my insistence that I was not, but in time, realized I spoke the truth, and abandoned this place, as I had requested long before. See me as I am, know that I am flesh and blood as you are, and leave with your answers,” I dismiss her, giving her what she asked for as a reward for her courage to remain. Bravery, standing against a powerful foe, a great danger, or a fear that permeates your entire being, but refusing to back down, either for principals or duty, has always earned my respect.
The woman remains where she is, before speaking once more. “If I may... I'd like to know more -everything. I don't wish to be a bother, but you must have stories to tell, of days we have scant few records of, of times and events we have lost or forgotten. Please... ,” she implores, stepping forward slowly. “I wish to hear your tale, in its entirety.” The woman draws another item from her pack as she draws closer, offering the item up to me when she stands near enough. “I know there is little I can offer in compensation that may interest you, but from the armor you wear, I believe you will recognize this.”
Gently, I take the item from her. Feeling it over, I recognize the engravings upon it. Upon the silver disk are three circles, one inside the other, with a familiar castle sitting upon the middle one. The circles are joined at a single point at the top, and in ancient Kilek, written around them, the words 'To the people, give truth. To the kingdom, bring honor. To the bloodline, reap glory. By this, I live.' The oath a prince or princess swears to their personal guardian, and before the royal guards stationed within the throne room, upon taking the crown. This is the hidden seal of the royal family, carried only upon emblems such as these to denote the truth of their holder's heritage, and protected by many powerful magical enchantments to prevent forgeries and false claims. Customs dictate that all children of the current ruler, legitimate or bastards, hold one, and furthermore, that all who take the throne have at least one rightful heir and illegitimate child, such that assassins may never truly know all the children with rightful claim to the throne.
Upon the back is a new engraving; however, one which wasn't on the emblem when I served a princess. Turning the disk over, I feel it in detail, slowing down as I realize what it is. “That was... long ago. Surely, you know that much, if you can recognize my armor... ,” I state slowly, running my fingers over the etched image of my Lady Catherine. “I shall tell you what you want to know, on one condition. The woman on this emblem was... important to me, as you will learn, but I am too blind to recreate it. Bring me an engraving of her, and I shall consider your debt paid at such a time. For now, My Lady, I advise you to get comfortable; it is a long tale.” As the storm continues to rage outside, the rumblings of thunder sounding both near and far, I begin to tell my tale.