#Hergótha the Great

[dduane]

Some casual digital work, done in prep for character and prop "model sheets". (Full size image at the link.)

In foreground: two Oakeshott type XVIIIa swords. (L) A digital model of the sword (attributed) of Edward III. (R) A digital model of the Great War Sword (attributed) of Albrecht II. …In background: their users, snogging again. (eyeroll) ISTG, you cannot take these two anywhere.

(ETA for fellow Daz Studio users: the digital sword models come from this collection by Valandar.)

[transcribing-things]

Text is from an ebook, most likely, and reads:

"There's a song I've heard before…"

She followed his look. Up there on the eastern walls of the city, darkness poured and coiled gracefully down between two of the old watchtowers; vast draped wings, a sinuous glittering length of tail. From higher up, near the curve of upraised neck, faint light glowed down–the fire of Hasai's eyes, slightly more tinged with blue these days, reflecting from the great main black diamond spine of his face-shield where it jutted up and gleamed in the moonlight.

What was a bit strange was that something was slightly obscuring the front of the shield, over the eye-ridges, near where the main spine sprang up. Whatever the little dark shape was, it too glittered faintly. There was a scratch of silver at the front of it, and near one end of that a sudden unexpected spark of crimson, the light of the Moon catching cold in something too red for its color-draining pallor to defeat–

Abruptly Segnbora recognized the unique hue of a mantichore sapphire… and the only one of those anywhere near here was in the pommel of Hergótha the Great. Segnbora's mouth dropped open. "Is that–my Goddess, what is Lorn–what in the– Dusty, is he sitting on Hasai's head?"

Herewiss looked up over his shoulder. "Looks that way."

She was not merely astounded, but scandalized. "Dear Goddess about us, who sites on a Dragon?!"

Her spouse looked sideways at her, and those downturned eyes crinkled. "I seem to remember one morning some weeks ago–"

Segnbora blinked. "…Now wait just a moment."

"And somebody or other was sitting on a Dragon when he said, 'Surely that won't ever go in there –'"

"Dusty, that was different, he was in shapechange, he–"

"'–even if you did it this way, it would be ever so–'"

"Herewiss Hearn's son, will you be serious for a moment for once in your life?! You know perfectly well I meant when he's in his proper skin, when Hasai's wearing his lhhw'had it's completely undignified, not one in their right mind would ever dream of–"

"'Oh wait!'" And Herewiss dissolved in laughter.

After a moment, helpless, Segnbora followed him, and it took some while for her to stop again. An inability to breathe was mostly responsible.

"All right!" she said at last, when she could speak again. "All right. I daresay the Dragon-Chief can find some way to pass this off as some obscure kingly ritual if any of his people ever find out! …And how is it that our

George R.R. Martin: dragons are huge ferocious beasts who answer to a master  

Tolkien: dragons are annoying, talking assholes

[dduane]

Casual still life with Hergótha the Great. Because the books always wind up in the kitchen. And the professional librarians in rr'Virendir complain about it to Freelorn constantly, but he just ignores them because he's King. And as for Hergotha, it goes where he goes. It’s kind of a Thing with him.