Total Carnage ...

Yes, we have the entire comic featured in our comics section of this blog, but it's not really the same as owning it. The feel of smooth paper in you hands, the smell of ink, the shiny metallic staples gingerly impaling the book's spine ... uhm, too far? Besides, don't you want to own the book that will have a sequel so huge it's taken us over a year and a half to plot the stupid thing? Of course you do.

It's been a while, I know-know-know, but we're here, so let's go-go-go...

This is a well known saying coined by the famous Dwarvish therapist, Lord Hari Hullfire. Lord Hari was much in demand during the Hydrid War. The shock of seeing such hideous creatures threw many a warrior into instant gag reflexes.  Oh wait, we have'nt delved into that little bit of Bistran history yet, have we?

                     

---------------------------------------------------CHEW

The year spills forth like buckets of rain

Whiskeytown

Well, hello friends! It really has been too long. Is the year going well for you so far?
Jeff and I have been busy over the holidays. That's why you have'nt heard from us in a while. But like all things, it's time to get rolling again.
For my part, I have been on break from the end of November, almost all of December, and the beginning of January. First, I spent about half a week in the studio, several days dogsitting, and then ended up out in California. There, I stayed and traveled with friends. I went to Sacramento, Redding, Chico, San Francisco, Berkeley, and even up to Oregon! I rode on planes, trains, vans, and cars. Did a fair amount of walking in the cold, cold rain as well (Berkeley was in a downpour).  I saw many wonderful and horrible sights. Really, too much to detail in one sitting. It was definitely a great way to end the year.
Since coming back, I have been busy working on The Black Worm. I also managed to acquire a lousy sinus infection which knocked me out of the studio and into the bed for a spell.
Jeff and I will be getting back to our opus soon enough. Lots of plans for the new year means lots of work! So, we will be seeing you all very soon....

chew

A Knot of Scabs

This is Dewclaw. He's a Maublet from the Peliotes. Specifically, he is from the island of Iola located deep within the archipelago.
For those of you who have seen Carnage Cream, he's the guy you hardly ever see who is wearing  the big helmet with horns.
For this new comic, he is the medic/cleric of the group. Too bad his religion is alien to his comrades. Sometimes they simply do'nt understand his analogies. But, they do appreciate him for this widely known fact: Maublets are medicinal.
You see, since they have descended from toads, many of these people have exciting chemical properties. Some are psychoactive, some are poisonous, and some make you drowsy. This is why a lot of Maublets are hired out as mercenaries, medics, apothecaries, and/or assassins.
Most folks think that licking a Maublet is the way to procure the venom. In actuality, one has to pop a wart to suck the juices, ingest several of the scabs, or drink form the parotoid glands (which reside in place of nipples).
So...why are all of the Maublets letting people lick them??? They're perverts. It's also a good way to assassinate someone. Plus, human saliva is a natural moisturizer.


As you can probably infer from the text above, a common slur thrown at a Maublet is "scab". Most people just do'nt understand what it means to live with dry skin all of the time.

Chewisdope

Bring forth your toad riders!

Throughout the Peliotes, toads have been harnessed as the primary source of transportation. Maublets use giant toads for travel, hauling wagons and coaches, as well as plowing farmlands. They also have a cavalry of toads ready for war.
The ride can be a little jolting, but it has been effective enough for the Maublet civilization to thrive...

Chew

The Peliotes

Two Maublets, or Peliotians, in traditional clothing.

Out beyond the western shores of Natamer, just past Imbernia (or part of, depending on where you're standing), right in the middle of the Peliottan Sea, lies the Peliotian Archipelago....or more commonly, the Peliotes.
This island chain is made up of thousands of islands, islets, and rocky outcroppings. Each island is unique in its own way. There are a great variety of flora and fauna to be found here! But despite all of its differences, toads of varying sizes and shapes can be found throughout most of the Peliotes.
Along with the toads are the local inhabitants. A society of human-like creatures that descended from the long line of toads. So, they are often called the Toad People. Or the Peliotians or....
Well, truth be told, due to the Peliotians being spread out across a lot of islands, you find that each clan has its own personality and variation based off of the general society that can be found throughout the entire archipelago. Because of this, there is an ongoing disagreement about what to call the walking/talking folks that live there. They actually had several wars in the past over what to call themselves. Never really solved.
Usually, a Peliotian will insist on themselves and all other Peliotians (except those which they do'nt like, who get special distinction) as being from the island of their birth. For instance, someone from Faralon will insist that all Peliotians are actually called Faralonians. Except for the scum from Pawpaw. THEY are merely Pawpawians. And who does'nt hate them???
But really, most of these beings are called Maublets by the outside world (except by outsiders who are married to Peliotians). This is because the island of Maub is considered to be the birthplace of all of the Toad People. It is from there that they rose. It is that island which is sacred to them.
Plus they never stop talking about the place. It comes up at least once in every conversation with a mainlander. So, it stuck.
Maublets, ya'll.


Chew

Just in time for Halloween! It's the Hargon Special Pin up!

Hargon the Boor and the Mighty Aphrodite

Chew me up into very little pieces, spit me up and Chew me again

Creamy Goodness

A giant slime mold cultivated and grown over a century in old Zwieback's castle. No one can remember exactly why the project was started or what it was for. When the slime mold was accidentally rediscovered by Kaweezel, a young wizard-in-training, it was locked away in the lower levels of the catacombs, trapped and left to rot for all eternity. But rotting is something mold seems to thrive on ...


Beware the secret door. Beware!


- Jeff Tuffenstuff

                                                     

"Beneath the bones of shattered homes
The Whiskers lie in wait,
For the Fusty hordes who do adore
A Whisker on a stake..."


from the Whisker Poems

....CHEW....

Born under a Bad Sign

Grizzlebeard, practicing with his favorite
throwing axe: Cleaver III

It's no big secret that Rootbeard the Ranger is my favorite character in the Carnage Cream-verse so far. I have a special place for Flik and Hippalonia in my heart, but Rootbeard ... that dude is just fun to draw. And because I loooove him so much ... I'm going to bore you with his family history! You're welcome!


All real rangers trace their family roots (ha! get it?) to Lonebeard, the Ranger. He explored, kicked butt and tamed wild beasts. And decided his sons and their sons should do it too. A few centuries later and a little procreation ... and the Ranger Rules were born:


1. You must be able to trace your lineage to Lonebeard, the First.
2. You must explore and gain dominance over a harsh and unexplored land.
3. He who proves worthiest, will become keeper of the Lonebeard Shrine and become Master of Lonebeard Mountain.
4. You have to grow a beard. A long one. And you can't cut or wash it. Ever.


So who is the guy in the picture? It's Grizzlebeard. Rootbeard's father and keeper of Lonebeard Shrine. He's dead now. And his three sons are trying to get control of the grand prize (see rules above). The oldest brother, Shroombeard the Stiff, is looking for a Monacraton (a mythical, giant-sized insect) in the Rasadian Desert. The second oldest, Thistlebeard the Seaman, is on a sailboat headed toward Ichanthia. And Rootbeard the younger has decided to stay close by and make a name for himself and explore Darkwood.


And before anybody thinks I've run out of "creamy" titles ... 


"Born under a Bad Sign" was a song written by Booker T. Jones and William Bell, and later covered by ... (wait for it) ... Cream! On their album Wheels of Fire.


- Jeff Tuffenstuff

Lutria, my land o' tis of thee, how I long to look upon your lovely fishing industry...

Eoardic of Gludheim

At last! Finally we come to to that little place on the far side of the world....LUTRIA!
Sitting next to the Styrian Ocean, Lutria is made up of streams, creeks, burns, kills, licks, brooks, rivers, rills, rivulets, lakes, ponds, pools,swamps, bogs, marshes, lagoons, inlets, estuaries, coves, bays, sounds, fjords, canals, & ephemeral waterbodies in the west. It is the very definition of a wetland.
The primary inhabitants of this land are a race of four foot tall talking otters.
Not unlike the Vikings in our past, the Lutrians are noted explorers, boatmen, and fierce warriors.
Although highly adept and frivolous in the water, they often use boats to get around. This is mostly for practicality. There are many occasions, at home or abroad, that require the transport of passengers or cargo. Another reason is for safety...especially when travelling the waters of the Styrian Ocean. Many dangers lurk within those waters. One of the most feared creatures is that of the megalodon. It is a giant shark, reputed to be around 70 feet in length. That's a mighty big appetite.
The Lutrians have come into contact with the various peoples that live in and around Messpit. This is mostly for trading (although, there are some Lutrian pirates out there), as well as joining up with the Fellowship Industry in order to achieve wealth, fame, glory, and to legally cut people up.

I came up with the Lutrians for a roleplaying game that Jeff developed several years back. In it, the action revolved around a place called Darkwood. I went a little overboard whilst creating my character, and ended up creating his whole world....right down to maps, food, politics, religion, and the sects that were breaking off from the main church. Sadly, my little guy did'nt really make it that far into the field of action. But he left behind a legacy, one which I continued to develop.
Alas, poor Eoardic...I knew him well....

...And one more thing. The writing you see in the image is obviously futhark (old runic alphabet). Over the years, I decided that they should have their own writing style, no matter how viking-like they were. So I began the long process of language development...which is still under way.

Ogres, Ogres, we all scream for Ogres...

Due to their unusual parentage, ogres come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes. The race of the mother will often determine the size of the ogre. For example, if the mother is human, the creature will be smaller. If the mother is trollish, it will be larger. Add diet and exercise and you've got yourselves an ogric smörgåsbord.

........chew

Yum...Ogres

There are many dangerous creatures on the world of Secunda Terra. Trolls, chitterlings, Narcissians, redcaps, and things that I dare not speak of in this blog. Perhaps the most foul, the most odious, and the lowest form of monster is... the Ogre.
Ogres are the spawn of humans and trolls. Both races consider an ogre to be an abomination.
When a male troll takes a female human, the chances of that mother surviving the birth are rare. However, when a troll female takes a male human (the reports seem to indicate that this is an extremely high number), the mothers often survive. The human males do'nt always make it, though.
The offspring are either immediately destroyed or, as is often the case, thrown out into the wild where they are expected to die. Most will perish, but some manage to survive. There, in the wilderness, they scratch out a living amongst the sticks and weeds searching for  meat...fresh or dead.
Due to a ravenous hunger, ogres will often attack almost anything that moves...including each other. For this reason, they are mostly solitary creatures. There have been, on a few occasions, large hunting parties of ogres spotted wiping out entire villages (the "Crimstock Massacre" is reputed to be one such happening). It should not be assumed that these creatures can formulate complex thought patterns. The majority of them are not able to communicate except through a series of shrill, ear-piercing screams, barks, grunts, and howls. When you hear one...you run!
Female ogres enter estrus every 3 to 5 years. Because of this, and cannibalism, there is generally a low birth count amongst the population (not that anyone could really count! Ogres have not been very receptive to captivity. Many will continually beat their heads into bars or walls until they die. Restraints are just impossible! Plus all of the screeching makes people want to kill them outright. Really, really annoying). Somehow, they eke out an existence in the peripheries of the world. This has led some to speculate that troll women must have some kind of fetish for human males. Maybe it's because they're more docile and easy to push around. Who knows???
In trollish mythology/religion, it is believed that the "line" of ogres was created when Ogrellico the Missing, one of the heads removed from the troll god Imbrd Druw during its civil war, Da'a Wahr'r utj da'a Ea'hrtatz, went off and spied a human female, with whom he fell in love with for her long golden hair. He took her to be his consort, and using his avatar (Ogra-Mink), was able to mate with her. Unfortunately, she died in childbirth. In anger, he cast the child off into the forests. This was the first ogre, named so after its father: Ogrellico. After this, the godhead vanished. It is said that he will return in a thousand years.

He's late.


P.S. It has been noted, and very rarely, that there have been several successful human/troll marriages. Their offspring have been, although somewhat wild and not too intelligent, ogres of a relatively mild nature.

Chew

A Hair in Yer Bog

A-ha! Deep within the confines of Darkwood, along with many of the other foresty areas in our fabled world of Secunda Terra, resides the WOODWOSE. These wily creatures are none other than feral humans who have long gone off the track of civilization. For far too many reasons too go into, these poor saps have coagulated deep in the wilderness...away from those who have shunned them. Surviving on  flora, fauna, and the odd enchanted critter has turned these previously domesticated folks into wild men and women!
Then they mated and made little beasts.
Fear of outsiders as well as predatory creatures have made the Woodwose, or Woodies, a mite violent towards anything they consider threatening or strange. Extra care needs to be taken when entering a forest. One must have a vigilant set of eyes opened at all hours. Especially at night! There have been more than a few wanderers who have been silently dragged off into the dark.
Generally, these creatures can either be found alone or in small bands called  "manus pilosum" 
or "pilbants", which is a Messpitian colloquialism.

In this image we see a Woodwose attacking the gallant woodsman,  Root Beard the Ranger.

Chew

Kernlhutz Da'a Agrta'ar

The twelfth century is best remembered as a time of the Trollish incursions and eventual capture of the territories of the ununified peoples of the Western Lands. The Trolls swept down from their refuge in the Carapace Mountains to conquer the Lands Below (or the Low Countries). They quickly established "The Protectorate", or "Da'a Bkrudk'akdk'urhrdka". In many places, it is still known as "The Curse".
The Trollish Incursions were part of a holy war known as a Grahrnryanrgh. The Trolls raided and pillaged, turned many people into slaves, and imposed their own religion on the remaining populace.
Trollish artists were in high demand due to a re-education campaign put upon the new subjects.
The best known of these artists was Kernlhutz the Elder. Already advanced in age, Kernlhutz was an expert printmaker. His usual mode of expression was found through the use of stone engravings. He was also known as a devout follower of Imbrdism, the Trollish religion. Prolific throughout his life, his engravings glorified the life of Imbrd Druw (as well as explored the facets of his many heads).
His images were used in pamphlets that were widely distributed amongst the conquered peoples. These pamphlets were also the first to burn in massive bonfires after the fall of the Protectorate. Within fifty years of it having been established, civil wars broke out within the Trollish Empire.
By that time, old Kernlhutz had already died. He was blessed to have passed on before the downfall--and spared the indignity of seeing his creations destroyed by a hostile, ignorant and unsympathetic population of cretins.
Except...it was widely rumored that Kernlhutz was poisoned with red lead by one of his jealous, younger competitors: Cuspinian, the Master of Tzwaya'dk'kepkhrk.
Now, he is all but forgotten. The Trolls have vanished and with them the memory of a once talented artist.

Tchew The Other

The Eater of Stones

This is a depiction of the Troll God Imbrd Druw created by the famous 12th century Trollish artist Kernlhutz the Elder.
Originally, Imbrd Druw consisted of a variety of 27 heads. Constantly bickering, the heads plunged into a civil war. At the end of the conflict, 8 heads were removed, 2 were devoured, and 1 went missing.
These are called: Da'a Ayaghedk
Da'a Ahrdkanr-Unratz
Ogrellico, Da'a Mgyatzanr
The remaining heads are known as Da'a Tzyach'dka'anr.
The heads have the ability to create an avatar, a physical representation of themselves removed from the Godhead. Oddly, their combined forces are not strong enough to make the body move wherever they want it to. So, the body moves on its own accord, the heads continually bicker with each other (Trolls love a good argument...not a debate), and the avatars go off and perform whatever functions the heads wish them to.
It should be noted that "Druw", from Imbrd's name, is pronounced as "tarowa". This has been misinterpreted as "Troll" (there is no 'L' sound in the Trollish language. There is only a 'W' sound). Due to the fact that Trolls are religious zealots, people picked up on the commonality of the word 'tarowa', and eventually turned it into their name for the race of foul, militaristic creatures: "Trolls".
Instead, Trolls call themselves Da'a Tzdkunratj'okartz. Their language is called Tzdkunratj'okartz Dkonrgh.


Da'a Chewa

Creme de la Cream

Mage-Mites. Pesky little critters that eat magic. They're teeny, tiny and voracious. But something strange has happened to the species ... a growth spurt. Intelligence. Language. Tribal and complex social behavior. In just three generations! And they are all led by this guy: Shrew Khan, the Uniter. He's a direct descendent of the Receivers (The first Mage-Mites to get bigger and smarter). He's mean and ruthless. He's paranoid. And he will stop at nothing to destroy the legend and the myth of the Darkmis'th Giver. He will not stop until he is made god-king. All hail Shrew Khan! Titan among the small. Conquerer of the tall.

Did I mention that all of this happened in just under two months?

– Jeff Tuffenstuff

Leeches and Cream

Zwieback had a fortress. He was a king (self proclaimed, that is) and a conquerer. He employed mercenaries, alchemists, inventors, wizards and all sorts of nasties to protect what was his and what would soon be his. He created a mystical think tank to create new and unstoppable siege weapons. The Leech King is such a weapon. The theory is simple: Castles have moats as a defensive measure. Leeches live and thrive in moats. Create a magical device that can summon and command those leeches to infiltrate a castle and fight (and destroy) any resistance within.

Now, what are the chances that our new fellowship will run into the early Leech King prototype whilst trying to rescue Fandalf? If I where a betting man I'd say ... well, I don't know what I would say, but it would be something really cool and it would let everyone know that I held held the winning hand, or number, or chip, or ... whatever. And then everyone would cry, because the win was so awesome ... sorry. I believe that was a tangent. Focus. Fellowship. Right.

Fellowship meets Leech King. Bloodsucking and death follow.

I hope someone remembered to bring some salt ...

Jeff Tuffenstuff

Hrrgus

...Hrnrta eara ea tjoch'yanr yatz. Hrrgus, da'a Eya Mg'uonrdk'hryanr Tzdkunratj'okar, pkyaketz! Ia!

The updated version of Hrrgus...

C.

Death a la creme

He skulks in the shadows, relentless and wild
in his search for a tender, delectable child.
With his steely sharp claws and his slavering jaws
oh he's waiting ... just waiting ... to get you

From the Bogeyman by Jack Prelutsky

The legend of the Bogeyman has been around the villages and towns of Messpit for hundreds of years and has been used by parents to scare their children into behaving properly. Tragically, infant death has skyrocketed in recent weeks in the village of Swineford. Is the legend of the Bogeyman true?

The Bogeyman is actually a pack of Bugbears that make their home deep inside Darkwood and venture out for a "snack" every so often. They normally hibernate for most of the year and hunt during the late summer months. Due to an abnormally warm winter, the bugbears have started hunting and feasting early. Easy pickings, until Hippalonia, Warrior Amazon of Nilbrest, is hired by the villagers of Swineford to protect them.

Just because there's a new fellowship with a new mission, doesn't mean former fellowship members have been slacking.

–Jeff Tuffenstuff