*/F - Retropost - Dark Fantasy!

[Kalamos]

More retroposts of mine.

First picture is vintage art of mine, dating back to December 2003.
Among the earliest pieces of art I did under my current screen-name.
Original title: Zombies tickled my neighbour.
A reference to the arcade game, inspired by Dragonlance art, portraying Dragonlady Kitiara, crossing the Shoikan Grove, while undead grope her.

Second piece of art dates back to Jan 2004.
Tickle Tortured on the Elven Tree.
A bit newer, more crowded with characters, I tried a more complex re-colour work, reflecting how I originally envisioned the scene.
Background story revolved around a foiled coup.
Dark Elven assassins try to eliminate a powerful High Elven sorceress.
Foiled and captured, the Dark Elven spy finds out High Elven torture can be equally effective, without shedding a single drop of blood...

...

Stay tuned for more.
Next week, a few sneak peeks to forthcoming seasonal video updates!

 

[Kalamos]

When old "friends" come back for a laugh or two...



More for my Dark Fantasy series.
Really old sketch of mine - 1998-era - originally portraying a dark elven witch, being tickled by a rather harmless crudely stylised mist.
Redone with a few twists - including my earlier "Skullamos" avatar.

Visually more effective - and vaguely eerie too.

 

[Kalamos]

Oubliette is a foray in Bondage Art.
Originally drawn for Tickle Theater forumites, I extensively tweaked these pictures up into something different.
And tied them together into a coherent whole with a short story.

...

Oubliette - the Forgotten Prisoner.

...

Resignation.
Her captive limbs spoke of resignation.
Wrought into her role.
Her body language moulded by repetition.
She stood in silent wait.

Under the flickering torchlight her skin glistened.
Smooth like polished copper.
As fine as the chiselled collar she wore around her neck.
Keeping her tied to the stone wall.

Her saviours cut through her chains.
The soft rings yielding easily.
She slumped into a lifeless heap.

Caring hands held her delicate frame.
It was cold.
The torn garment offered little modesty to her forms.
A pungent smell surrounded her.

The embrace became lust.
Eyes flared with desire.
Trembling fingers freed her from the bonds.
Metal rang on the ground.
Bloodless lips curled into a smile.
Full of... scorn?

The first one fell without a cry.
Disbelief on his face.
The rest followed, shortly after.
Sudden realisation struck.
Too late.
Silver chains.

No prey had they freed that day.
But the predator herself, indeed.

...

With many thanks to C.A.B. for his priceless insight and inspiration.