Another quick sketch I made on the first day of summer.

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@inthebamboogrove
Another quick sketch I made on the first day of summer.
I keep training. It's like a artist also japan geiko trains her entire career dabce to maintain her skills. I don't know why I do it. Probably because it's the only thing I can do.
Warmth
...Jaswant stopped and took a deep breath. He could no longer feel his body from the cold. His booted feet crunched through the crust, dusted with freshly fallen snow. They left the only traces in this world, where smooth snowy hills shone silver in the icy moonlight and a clear, starless sky shone black.
Nothing disturbed the silence of this glittering world, where even the air seemed as wounding as a sword blade. Nothing but a stubborn, lost living creature.
This warrior from a warm land, where such cold was only heard of in scary tales, was completely alone. How long had he been wandering here? Time dragged painfully slowly, or perhaps time didn't exist here at all.
Jaswant stopped and looked back at his own trail of footprints, which, before disappearing completely into this unknown, had been the size of dots in a letter. This was the only thing that indicated that time did exist, that he had been going on for an eternity, and that the world throughout this eternity had been unchanged. Only a snowy wasteland, glittering under a blinding round moon in the black sky. Not a star, not a tree, not the ghostly outlines of a frozen wall of forest or mountains. That was behind him, and the same was ahead.
His heart began to beat heavily and slowly. He would soon be unable to race this frozen world.
The black, deathly silence that reigned all around drew the most incredible thoughts from the depths of his mind.
Jaswant quickened his pace again, and the crisp, prickly air burned his lungs.
He could barely remember how this journey had begun and how he had ended up in such an absurdly hopeless situation. The snowy wasteland he had to cross had already inspired mistrust, but the Shindura king was even more so.
He recalled the dim light of His Majesty's opulent tent. He recalled the subtle, yet so familiar scent of incense. Of course, there wasn't any here, but the aroma seemed to permeate everything here. In his homeland, the scent of sandalwood was often mingled with the scent of food or dry earth; now, it carried the icy breath of a storm.
Rajendra ordered the guards to leave the tent, and they were left alone. How foolish. Or was he planning something?
They were silent for a while, listening to the howling wind outside.
Rajendra looked serious. The flickering lamplights illuminated his face from the gloom, penetrating the depths of his dark eyes, making them flush red, like wine in the light. Now, the man Jaswant had known almost since birth no longer displayed his usual ostentatious carelessness.
-Stay in camp today. As soon as the storm subsides, you'll go to Prince Arslan.
- I can't delay, - Jaswant responded quickly.
The walls of the tent shook with every gust, silently threatening anyone who dared leave them.
It was like a separate world here, immersed in semi-darkness. The lamps on tall stands flickered and flickered, sending black shadows darting across the patterned walls, seemingly alive.
-What are you talking about!- Rajendra exclaimed. The flames flickered across his massive gold hoop earrings and the tiny gold lip ring, which gave him a strange, mischievous look. -Outside in this weather, one could only freeze to death.
Jaswant's body tensed, as if about to attack. No one ever trusted Rajendra. This man, who fancied himself a great trickster, was capable of anything. Jaswant knew him well. That's why he, and not Giewe or Narsas, was sent here to the border with Turan, where Shindura's army was encamped.
Even when all was calm, the Shindra king could try to unexpectedly twist the situation to his advantage, without distinguishing between ally and foe.
They had to think of something. A blunt and outright refusal was impossible; they both understood that perfectly well. To stay would be to fall into a trap. Delay meant giving Rajendra the chance to plan something. He loved such opportunities and sometimes, to everyone's misfortune, he used them unwisely.
-Yes, Your Majesty, it is dangerous outside,-Jaswant agreed. Not even an eyebrow twitched on his swarthy face.
Rajendra nodded slightly. He's listening intently. Excellent.
-That's precisely why I must hurry. His Highness Arslan is counting on your response and should receive it soon. He relies on you as his closest ally.-Jaswant's voice was calm, not betraying how vulnerable he felt. A barely perceptible draft felt like a blade pressing into his back. His heart pounded slowly and dully, and the cozy gloom suddenly became unbearably stuffy. The situation was slowly tightening, like the nooses of a snare.
-How stubborn you are!-Rajendra slapped his knee so hard that Jaswant almost winced. -You don't want to stay, warm up, and be with your fellow countrymen, then?-So Rajendra had given himself away. He was cunning and quite intelligent, but Jaswant had spent too much time dealing with people who were wiser.
-Please forgive me, but I must return as soon as possible. We mustn't give the enemy of Pars and Shindura any more chances to develop a new strategy,- Jaswant replied, sincerely hoping that Rajendra wouldn't be so short-sighted as to order the guards to seize him right here or do something similar. Anything was possible.
It wasn't as if Rajendra's words hadn't resonated with him. Jaswant had truly not seen the people of his own country or heard his native language for a long time.
However, he immediately dismissed this illusion. In his entire life in Shindura, he hadn't dared to call people he considered family. Those people weren't here. Some of them could no more be brought back than the past.
-If you must hurry, then I'll let you go.- Rajendra replied quietly and casually, smiling. It was barely noticeable, without guile or mockery. -But remember, if you freeze to death, Salima will definitely kill me.
Something burning ran through his body. Jaswant was definitely unprepared for such an attack. The look fixed on Rajendra gave him away before Arslan's envoy could even process it.
-The last time I returned on your horse, she simply burned me with her gaze,- the shiduran king continued, taking a sip from his goblet and gazing thoughtfully into space, as if into an irrevocable past. -I don't think I'll get off so easily this time. She always worried about you like a brother, well, well...
Rajendra smiled, and the gold ring gleamed dully. Jaswant had known him all his life, but he'd never learned to tell when he was joking and when he was serious. It seemed as if he was about to burst into a loud laugh at the end of his speech, but it never happened.
Familiar images, disturbed by Rajendra's words, instantly appeared in Jaswant's memory. It all seemed like it had happened in another life. A life where he had been called son and brother.
-What happened was predetermined. My late brother and I were destined to fight each other.
Yes, Rajendra is right. This confrontation lasted their entire lives. They were always together, one way or another. Gadevi, Rajendra, Salima, and Jaswant.
All of them had grown up under the watchful eye of the nobility, who were deciding whose side to take.
Some were destined to support the eldest prince, Gadevi; others decided to take a risk and side with the younger, brighter and more unpredictable Rajendra, who possessed a more flexible mind. Childhood games, rivalries, and fights turned into bloody battles. While fighting each other, each was a vital driving force in this confrontation. Even Jaswant, a former servant in his childhood, accompanying the princely brothers, learning the ways of war with them, and serving them, had over the years become a dangerous shadow lurking in Rajendra's army, serving Prince Gadevi,
-We trained throughout our childhood, remember?
-Yes, Your Majesty, -Jaswant said. In the past, young Prince Rajendra had always sent for him to practice with blunt swords, at any time. That the boy servant was exhausted after training with Prince Gadevi didn't bother him.
-If Gadevi and I weren't brothers, maybe we would have gotten along... - Rajendra's voice was quiet and calm, with a hint of longing. Perhaps for the old days, when bloody clashes were still a long way off and none of them knew what role they would be destined for. -Sometimes I even begin to miss the past.
Jaswant sat across from Rajendra and listened to this torrent of words, unable to stop it.
-And yet you're the only one left with whom I can talk about this like this...-Rajendra said unexpectedly, thoughtfully scratching his stubbled chin. -You can't talk like that with Salima.
Yes, Lady Salima was born with power, grew up surrounded by it, and knew how to wield it. She also knew how to deal with those with greater power. Therefore, she was able to politely and unobtrusively avoid conversations that didn't suit her. It was like a fighting technique used to escape an opponent's grip.
And yet, the scent of sandalwood in the frosty air, the patterns on the walls, and the events of the past seemed to momentarily transport Jaswant back to the time of Shindrua, ruled by Karikala II, where there was a light-stone house with carved arches, pavilions, and gardens, where the vizier Mahendra lived.
There were also two princely brothers, locked in a rivalry, and the vizier's daughter, who had inherited not only her father's kind heart but also her intelligence. The future then seemed so uncertain; no one could have imagined how things would turn out. That Pars would burst into this conflict, turning everything upside down for each of them...
Rajendra brought Jaswant back to the present. Suddenly, the shindura king rose to his feet, placed his cup on the low table, and approached him.
Jaswant barely had time to stand, as required by etiquette.
The gaze of his dark eyes was clear and piercing. So, the cup isn't wine, and he's not drunk. On the other hand, Rajendra doesn't need to be drunk to do something crazy.
-Return to Shindura, Jaswant. And serve me.
The air seemed to be knocked from his lungs, and Jaswant felt the dim light of the tent cease to be real, turning into something as shaky and unreliable as a shadow.
A whirlwind of memories, a disturbed longing for the past with the people who remained there forever, and a sense of danger mingled, spreading through his numb body like a burning poison.
What? Did Rajendra really say that to him?
His light turquoise eyes gazed into his brown, wine-red ones and didn't drop. Now Jaswant felt he could look him in the eyes.
-Your Majesty, I cannot accept your offer.-I have sworn allegiance to Prince Arslan and will accompany him until I fulfill my duty.
As he spoke, Jaswant wished this time would never come.
A smile still played on Rajendra's lips, but the spark of that impulse was already fading in his dark eyes.
-Is that so?- The clear, drawling voice became cheerful again, but it sounded different. -So you will not join my service?
-No, Your Majesty,- the parsian prince's envoy replied, his expression unchanged. Events were taking an unpredictable and dangerous turn, and Jaswant felt defenseless. On the battlefield, everything was much simpler. There, luck, strength, and weapons decided fate. What was happening here?
-And you chose to swear allegiance to Prince Arslan!-Laughter cut through the searing darkness, lashing painfully at Jaswant's strained hearing. -However, there's nothing surprising about that; oaths are not broken. That's just you...
Jaswant suppressed the urge to step back with an effort of will.
The nooses of the trap were about to tighten. It was impossible to escape this snare.
-Very well!- Rajendra finally said, his tone still casual. "In the end, everyone has their own path. Go to your master, Jaswant. He awaits you."
-Thank you, Your Majesty.-Jaswant bowed in gratitude, as formality demanded, bracing himself for anything. However, no blow from behind followed; instead, Rajendra took a few steps forward, walked around Jaswant, and threw back the tent flap, letting in a gust of frosty wind. Jaswant, unprepared, shuddered as the cold hit his face and slid down his back, finding a gap in his warm clothing like a skillfully aimed arrow in armor.
-Warm?
Rajendra's voice was as clear as ever, but a glint of a blade flickered in his eyes.
The events no longer seemed insane to Jaswant when he had to walk to the other end of the camp. After he didn't find his horse at the hitching post, everything finally fell into place.
The frozen soldiers, trying to warm themselves by the fire, stamping and beating their thighs, as if performing some strange dance, merely threw up their hands.
-She jumped, broke away, and ran away...
These soldiers were entertained only by watching the spittle freeze with a crackling sound before it reached the snow.
Strangely, Jaswant felt remarkably calm. Reality, momentarily disturbed by his conversation with Rajendra, regained its solidity. Life became secure and understandable again. Even the echoes of past pain dulled. Of course. This was Rajendra. The Rajendra Jaswant had known all his life, the one he would never serve...
A faint smile even appeared on his cracked lips. Everything had fallen into place, and he needed to return to his place...
However, the next moment, this certainty was swept away by a searing wave of realization.
How will I make this entire journey without a horse?!
Thoughts fluttered like frightened birds, Jaswant quickly recovered. Among them, he even briefly considered stealing a poorly looked after horse. Perhaps Master Giv would succeed...
No, Rajendra would turn this against them, too. Staying meant giving Rajendra another chance to turn everything to his advantage, and that advantage didn't always coincide with Arslan's plans... There was no turning back, and there couldn't be. All he could do was move forward. Thankfully, the wind had died down. But it didn't get any warmer.
***
The wind no longer howled, but the cold still nipped and pricked his fingers and toes like invisible needles. Even his mittens and boots offered no relief.
The longer Jaswant gazed into the moonlit wasteland, the more clearly he felt that there had been no choice from the start, and that he had to do something. He knew nothing about the cold and hadn't heard of seasoned travelers preferring not to venture into such frost, yet he continued on his way. That's how he ended up here.
The Shindran had never made such a long trek alone in such cold, but he would make it and deliver the answer, a carefully rolled scroll resting beneath the folds of his heavy clothing. The cold no longer stabbed like needles; now it had replaced the needles with dagger blades, slicing through his legs and arms with every movement. Who would have thought the cold could cause such genuine pain?
In such weather, it was best to light a fire. Everything he needed, including the dried bark, remained in his bag. The bag was strapped to the saddle, the saddle was on the horse, but the horse was gone. There were no weapons, not even any supplies. No trees around. And beneath the snow lay only frozen ground.
Jaswant was completely alone. What if he froze here and His Highness received no answer?
These thoughts were dizzying, like frost. Gradually, what was happening ceased to seem real, and he felt as if he was no longer himself, bearing less and less of a connection to this awkward, constrained body, whose only open lid was a narrow slit where the eyes were, framed by frost-white eyelashes.
The storm that had raged while he was in Rajendra's tent had died down as if it had never happened, as if mockingly erasing all traces.
He could have relied on his horse's scent, but the horse remained there, in the Shinduran camp...
Something burning rose in his throat. No, now was not the time for this!
Jaswant strode faster across the soft, sparkling snow, breaking through the crust beneath, sinking in above his knees and feeling the blades of frost that continued to prick and cut with every step. Pain urged him on, letting him know that his body was still capable of feeling. Yes, his body was still capable.
What was happening was absurdly hopeless.
His Highness Arslan would not receive a valuable answer from Rajendra because his envoy...
Then his thoughts trailed off, refusing to go any further.
...because his messenger was lost in these snows...
His blood, warmed by the run, rushed faster through his body. Jaswant ran forward as fast as his thick layers of warm clothing would allow. It was even getting hot, but this heat was disgusting and sticky.
Arslan's messenger tripped over something and fell into the snow. This time, the cold burned him. Jumping up, he ran on. The clinging snow instantly melted on his hot skin and slid under his clothes. He no longer heard his breath wheezing from his lungs. He fell into the hated snow, jumped up, and ran forward again, and the moon floated with him in the clear black sky.
What does it feel like to lose? What does it feel like to suffer defeat, despite all his efforts?
Familiar images and faces flashed through his mind... who would have thought that before his end, he would remember them? Desperate to see them one last time?..
Your Highness... Arslan...
The cold no longer stabbed or cut. Now the heat tore at his heart and lungs. There was no longer any silence; his blood roared desperately in his ears. Alive, seething, unyielding.
But it wouldn't help. Nothing would help. Jaswant wasn't naive enough to hope for anything. He collapsed again in the smooth, soft snow. The accelerated blood burned. It hurt... how it hurt...
His body could no longer rise. So even despair has its limits.
Jaswant lay motionless, gazing at the black, distant sky. The moisture on his face had already begun to turn into a fragile, shimmering crust. He didn't know they were tears.
Frost settled on his eyelashes, making it difficult to open his eyes. Through the roar of his own blood, Jaswant caught a soft, barely audible crackling sound. What was that? The crackling of the cold…
Suddenly, Rajendra's voice rang out, so genuine, as if he were leaning toward his ear. Just like that time, standing before him, throwing back the tent flap.
-Warmth?
-Warmth.- Jaswant answered, not hearing his own voice, or perhaps he only imagined he'd spoken it aloud.
Warmth, because he longed to be there, to those people and those faces. Because it was warm there, but that warmth required a journey…
Slowly, pushing his hands into the compacted snow, breaking the frozen crust with a dull crack, Jaswant rose to his feet.
He seemed to float slowly above the glittering snowfield, effortlessly and unaware. Or perhaps he only imagined that he had managed to rise and remained there, in the snow.
Jaswant considered looking back. The uneven line of loosened snow and the absence of his own body behind him indicated that this was all real. And he had to rely on his vision to understand his actions.
Good…
His cracked, bloodshot lips stretched into a smile. If he could stand, then he could walk; if he could walk, then there was hope… for him and for His Highness Arslan…
He thought about the report, securely tucked away in his bosom. Like a small living creature, which he strove to protect and deliver to the people who brought him warmth.
He only had to walk... walk... run...
But no matter how far the Shindra warrior walked, no matter how much he broke into a desperate run that kept the blood pumping, the world around him remained unchanged. No camp lights. No human presence in this world.
Suddenly, Jaswant stopped and forgot about the cold. An even more searing feeling consumed everything, squeezed the back of his head, and crashed down on him.
I won't reach the camp. I won't deliver the answer. I won't see His Highness again.
What was happening became real again, not a dizzying, frosty dream. Jaswant fought with all his might. He fought with Rajendra, evading his verbal trap, with his memories, with the distance separating him from the warm parsian camp, with his own freezing body, but why was he bound to win? Why do people assume that by trying their hardest, they will surely win and their hopes will come true? As if hope owes people anything?
The snowy plain showed no sign of ending, nor the parsian lights of a glimmer. Human strength is finite, and it had come to an end, but the snowy eternity will not change.
Sometimes a man's hope is his own misfortune.
Jaswant walked slowly forward, or so he thought, hearing the ringing cry of a hawk in the distance…
Unfortunately, I don't get jokes. I can't distinguish what's truly significant in the canon of a work and what's just fan desire, their interpretations, or just jokes. The only good thing is that I almost finished my work. I stopped understanding the difference because I've experienced too many disappointments and disappointments have come true too often. . I simply stopped trusting my instincts and common sense.
I have an unusual question. To study languages, I created an account on HiNative, but after confirming the account, a HiNative Premium popup constantly appears. I cannot remove this popup and use the site! I don't need this, how can I get rid of it? Please, if you have been in this situation, reply. Thank you in advance!
sketch The Long Ballad 2021
Happy New Year! Following my New Year's tradition, I once again drew a small, quick sketch on a New Year's theme, related to the work I am currently working on. Nothing bad happened here; it's just that His Highness had a very challenging year and only had the energy to hug the gifts given by friends.
Note: When creating the shinduran costumes, particularly for Arslan, I tried to deviate as much as possible from the design presented in the OVA episode "Friendship Feast."
Beast Hunt. Overview. Part 4 Rajendra decided to send off his allies from Pars with a grand feast and a performance that was supposed to feature something interesting. Arslan and his friends are waiting for it all to be over. They are all dressed in exquisite shinduran attire. Arslan's silver hair was combed back under a white turban, like the locals. His long, stiff suit, embroidered with small pearls, restricted his movement. Narasas was equally exquisitely dressed. They could have been mistaken for brothers. Arslan's entire squad was gripped by anxiety. And they weren't alone. In the cages prepared for the performance, trained bears, tigers, and red dogs whined and lay on the floor. They refused to listen to their mentors, and no whip could calm them. Narsus and Daryun discussed Rajendra's plot. And so it happened. Soon, Rajendra's men called for Arslan and his troop. The young king Shindura asked for their help again, hinting that they could not refuse. The monster they had captured in the jungle had broken free from its cage and had already killed two guards. It had to be captured. A glimmer of almost triumph flashed in his wine-red eyes. Rajendra said he had already spread the word that his valiant allies from Pars had helped his people defeat the monster. This time, Rajendra had caught them, just as they had caught him… He was a quick learner. An unpleasant burning sensation spread through Arslan's body, but his face remained calm. They would help. In the lower city, in the slums, the old man's dog continued to bark. He went to get a stick but froze, seeing an unusual sight. Something was dragging itself through the darkness. Enormous and unlike anything else, it crawled like a half-crushed insect. It raised its ugly head, ready to attack any living creature, when suddenly it was called. A man emerged from the shadows. Young, wearing a long, light turquoise caftan embroidered with a fine silver pattern, with a white turban. He was clearly from the palace. The stranger whispered something to the monster, and it obediently, like a tamed warhorse, lowered its head. When the stranger touched its palm, the sleeve immediately darkened with blood, and the silver pattern on the fabric grew even brighter. They stood like that for a while, and then together they disappeared into the darkness of the slums. The poor old man had never seen anything like it in his life.
The monster's trail led Arslan's party into the filthy labyrinth of the Shindra bazaar. Giew, whose magnificent purple caftan, the color of his hair, was ruined by piles of rotting garbage and cow dung, was in despair. How could he appear before Farangis like this!? All was silent. They were forced to follow one another through this dark labyrinth of covered passages and stalls. Jaswant stopped again. The monster took a step and sank heavily onto the trash-strewn ground. It was wounded after a fight with a cobra and the hunters. Jaswant, hearing of the monster's escape, went in search of it. He managed to calm it, perhaps for a while. Jaswant attempted to lead it beyond the city walls so it could end its days in freedom. He felt something akin to pity for this strange creature. It shouldn't have to die in a cage for the amusement of humans. People shouldn't suffer because Rajendra failed to secure his trophy. If only Rajendra had listened to him! None of this would have happened… Rajendra will never listen to him. Slowly, step by step, Jaswant dragged him forward like a reluctant horse, hoping they wouldn't be discovered. His heart pounded hard and painfully. If Arslan's men caught up with him, they would kill him. If they clashed in battle, Arslan's men might be hurt, or worse... He didn't want anyone to get hurt. Walking in the pitch-black, fetid darkness, through the narrow rows of stalls, was almost impossible.
They were already waiting on the city wall. Arslan's squad had planned to lure the creature onto the city wall, away from the people.
It was all over quickly. Who, if not Daryun, could defeat it?
But this time, something went wrong. Instead of attacking Daryun, it lunged at Arslan… Could this creature really be that smart? Suddenly, a bright bolt of lightning flashed between him and Arslan. Where had Jaswant come from?
In an instant, they both disappeared over the edge of the city wall.
Nothing separated them from the fall. Jaswant felt himself being jerked up the wall. Very close, he saw a misshapen head and small, fading eyes. The monster's fingers loosened, and its body slowly, twisting in the air, fell downward.
People were already rushing toward the misshapen, broken body far below. From here, they looked like insects swarming over their prey. He hadn't succeeded… Jaswant rose to his feet and was surprised to find that the quietly creeping dawn was already gilding the clouds. It was as if he saw all this for the first time. He saw everything: the silvery ribbon of the river Kaveri, the palace tinged pink by the dawn, and the endless forest cloaked in mist. He had once looked at his homeland like this, but from the edge of a cliff, amidst a boundless sea of jungle. Now he looked at it from the edge of the city wall.
He looked back and met Arslan's gaze. He was here too. The prince of Pars with his amazing retinue. Their ideas and strategies worked because they were heard by their master. Jaswant felt that he had made his decision a long time ago. Now he just realized it clearly. He slowly stepped off the parapet, so as not to fall, and strode away. A new warrior had joined His Highness Arslan's retinue. He was from Shindura, and it so happened that they both accidentally touched upon one of the secrets of this country, hidden deep in the impenetrable jungle…
THE END
Jaswant's outfit design here is almost identical to his outfit in the second season of the anime. I can't imagine it any other way!
Beast Hunt . Overview. Part 3
After the events in the abandoned city, Rajendra began to think about returning here with an army. How about forcing these people to serve him? They were so strong and crushed everything in their path. And then Rajendra suddenly remembered Bahadur and how he came to be. One day, a boy named Bahadur was found in the dense jungle. He grew into a true monster and became uncontrollable. What if these people were the same? Rajendra stopped thinking about it. Arslan is making progress in hunting. Now hunting is a means of survival. With the help of Alfred and Elam, he tames a deer. If not for the need for food, he would not have killed such a beautiful creature. Jaswant was thrown from the wall by these mysterious savages. Fortunately, his body was trained, and he was unharmed. He was not killed. For some reason, he was thrown here. Darkness slowly descended on the jungle. The savages standing on the wall began to whisper and scream. They were clearly frightened. The shadows thickened. They stretched from the jungle wall, as if enveloping everything around. Jaswant braced himself for the worst. The trees creaked and rustled in the darkness. And then everything became clear. Jaswant had never experienced such terror in his life. It was a primal, gut-wrenching horror. He wanted to hide, to disappear, if only it would stop. From the dark forest emerged an incredible creature, the likes of which had never existed. The savages howled. The battle must begin now. This battle always begins when a warrior remains at the wall to fight this monster, which regularly approaches it, waiting for an opponent. Usually these were local warriors, but today unknown people had wandered into their city... The numbness passed, and the battle began. Clutching a stone, Jaswant alternately dodged and attacked. Flexible and light as a panther, he broke free from the unknown enemy's grip. Despair drowned out the pain and gave him strength. He was cornered. The savages saw no end to this fight. The creature, having seized the man it was fighting, rushed off into the darkness of the forest. No one saw the monster again.
Jaswant found himself amid ruins almost swallowed by the forest. These ruins were different from the city the hunting party had stumbled upon. It had once been a palace. The patterns on the huge marble slabs, carved by tree roots, were still visible. Wild, twisting trees intertwined with graceful garden trees. It was undoubtedly a garden. A winding path led to an ornate white gazebo. The ivory lace was broken and missing. The fountain now resembled a well with murky green water. This must have once been a magnificent palace, rivaling Shindura's in grandeur. Broken ornaments and shards of pottery crunched underfoot. Jaswant was not allowed to leave this place. Every time he tried to escape, he was immediately overtaken and thrown back by powerful blows. His entire body ached. Jaswant no longer felt fear of the unknown creature guarding him. Fear can be acquired. This went on for two days. Realizing that escape was not so easy, Jaswant lay down on the stone slabs and fell asleep. The creature also fell asleep. In his sleep, this mysterious creature began to remember. Once upon a time, a mighty and majestic city stood here. It served its strong and cruel prince. The prince would mount it and crush its enemies. Everyone feared it, but the monster was happy, tearing its master's enemies to pieces. It was kept in a cage behind delicate bars. Then the people left. They simply abandoned the city and the monster. The monster remained in the cage until the bars rotted away. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of years passed. Shindra also has its legends, its unknown creatures. That night, while the monster slept soundly, Jaswant managed to escape. Traveling through the jungle at night was mortally dangerous, but he had no choice. He descended into the old city, where he was captured. He accidentally disturbed a huge cobra. Beautiful, white, and ancient, with a golden pattern on its hood. In the darkness and with his wounds, evading its attacks was difficult. The monster suddenly appeared and, after a short but brutal struggle, killed the cobra. Jaswant felt as if he had destroyed an ancient treasure. The cobra had lived for hundreds of years and died only because he disturbed it. Then the monster climbed onto Jaswant's back, and the man noticed a golden stirrup embedded in his skin. This creature lived among people. They returned to the palace.
The monster saved Jaswant's life. Jaswant found the treasure in a cave among the roots. The ground was strewn with shimmering gold coins, decayed jewelry, tarnished pearls, and rotted, expensive fabrics. And amidst all this, the black eye sockets of a skull stared back at Jaswant. It seemed he wasn't the only one this creature had dragged here. Suddenly, the marble road ended, and the jungle appeared. Far below, a green sea, and beyond... even further, the silvery ribbon of the Kaveri River meanders, and beyond it, the city walls of Shindur... So he wasn't so far from home. Home? Suddenly, Jaswant realized he had never belonged in this country. His origins were a mystery. Perhaps the Grand Vizier Mahendra was his father... Mahendra was gone, and Jaswant had never truly belonged here. Prince Arslan called him to serve... Jaswant sat on the edge of the cliff and watched as darkness descended upon the world. His country, beyond the forest wall, began to flicker in the distance with tiny lights. Beside him sat this creature, who simply wanted to bring life back to his dead city. Calm, old, and alone.
The hunting party continues to roam the jungle. Elam, who had gone to the shindurian cooks for spices, brought Arslan good news. Jaswant has been found! He's alive. Only he's weak and wounded. Arslan is overjoyed.
Rajendra was disgraced. His first royal hunt had ended like this! He had disgraced himself in front of his new parsian allies! But the young Shindura' king was lucky…
An unknown creature attacked the camp, and with the help of Daryun and Narsus, Rajendra managed to capture it! Failure turned into glory, and now he won't have to return in disgrace! King Rajendra had caught something incredible on his first royal hunt!
He didn't care about Jaswant's desperate pleas to release the creature. He had warned him of disaster.
Rajendra was anticipating triumph and wasn't about to miss this chance. He will throw an incredible feast for himself and his parsian friends! He will surprise everyone!
Beast Hunt. Overview. Part 2 Arslan and his retinue set out on a royal hunt. A procession of majestic elephants and horsemen invades the impenetrable jungle of Shindra. The thicket is immersed in a green twilight, pierced by the slanting rays of the sun. Even the air here is thick, and it seems impossible to breathe without inhaling the buzzing midges that are everywhere. A constant chirping and booming roar can be heard in this thicket. You can't take a single step without falling into a crevice between roots or into a swamp. Daryun, Narsus, and the others are displeased. Arslan watches the hunters, who were commoners. That same evening, Rajendra comes to their campfire. He seems genuinely grateful to Arslan and his friends for helping restore peace to Shindra. Arslan almost believes him, but then Rajendra suddenly says he will send a man to help them. This man, dressed in black hunting clothes, turns out to be Jaswant. Arslan is uneasy. He doesn't know what to do. Could Jaswant now serve Rajendra? Had Rajendra set a trap for them again with Jaswant's help?
Arslan can't know. Rajendra constantly calls Jaswant to look after the horse or run other errands. When Arslan finally asks Jaswant what he's decided, Jaswant is about to answer when Rajendra appears. Arslan doesn't answer. A thick winter fog has fallen over the jungle. The hunting camp is lost in the thicket. The trackers are helpless. Arslan, Daryun, Narsus Elam, Jaswant, and Rajendra pursue the tiger. They leave the camp and spend the night alone in the jungle. Thick, roaring blackness, where every shadow flashes with eyes. Where poisonous snakes and scorpions lurk under every leaf.
The next foggy morning, the lost group stumbles upon a white stone. The white stone turns out to be a fragment of a marble staircase descending into murky brown water!
Suddenly, the forest opens, and the group finds themselves on a marble road. The slabs had long since cracked and risen, entwined with creeping vines. The black openings of hut entrances peered out at them from all sides. The collapsed walls were entangled with linana and tree roots. Tiled pottery crunched underfoot. They found themselves in the middle of an abandoned city. The jungle city of Shinudra. This city had been abandoned long ago. Rajendra lets out a victorious cry and turns around. The others ask him to be quiet. Arslan is mesmerized by this discovery. The street abruptly ends in a smooth earthen wall, dropping steeply downwards. Beneath it lay a smooth, packed strip, as if purpose-made. And below, the dark green sea of jungle stretched out again. The edge was just a step from Arslan's boot. The party decided to leave this place. Suddenly, they noticed shifting shadows watching them. People began to appear here and there. Broad-shouldered, strong, and stocky. Their faces were rough. Their skin resembled stone. Their jewelry was made of stone and shells. They attacked silently. The horsemen immediately took up a defensive stance. Even Daryun had a hard time. Arslan felt ashamed that he couldn't help. But then an opportunity presented itself. Arslan lost consciousness from the blow, but managed to notice an arrow whistling past. The others rushed to their aid! When Arslan came to, everyone except Jaswant had already fled. Arslan's friends noticed this after they had already left the city. Rajendra tells Arslan that Jaswant pulled him onto his horse, but didn't have time to dismount and remained there. Arslan is shocked. How could Rajendra leave him there?! Rajendra replies that it was Jaswant's duty. Arslan wonders if this is right for a ruler. He can't agree. He's upset.
This quick sketch is based on the plot of one of my stories about Arslan. This time I drew very quickly, without using any drawings, images of characters, or photographs. There was no basis. In my opinion, it turned out not so bad. Perhaps I should trust myself and my skill more? I even decided to make a small review of this story. This sketch is an illustration of its plot. You could say it is an alternative to the episode "Banquet of Friendship".
Beast Hunt. Overview. Part 1
The action takes place immediately after Rajendra's victory. Arslan is preparing to return to Pars. He admires the dark skies and sparkling stardust. He thinks about what happened in this country. He remembers Jaswant. Will he agree to follow him? Early on a foggy morning, a messenger from Rajendra arrives at the Parsi camp. The king of Shindura invites Arslan and his detachment to shikar (hunting in the jungle with elephants). It would be impolite to refuse. Arslan is forced to agree. What is this wily leopard, bringing misfortune on his tail, planning?
I've been working on this picture for a long time, since last summer. It's the same watercolor paper with cotton. They were supposed to be Persian roses, but they turned into peonies along the way. I taped this picture to the balcony to take a photo, but I left it there because it looks beautiful on the wall.
After a long silence, I'm finally publishing the art here.
This sketch is just a rough draft for a larger work. This larger work requires a lot of time and effort, which I don't have much of. So, I'm first posting these linear sketches, and then, when the work is finished, the final result.
This depicts a scene from my work (my final volume of the novella " Arslan Senki"). Here, Jaswant demonstrates the martial arts of his country to Arslan. In the story, there was no stick, but I added it here because without it, the composition wouldn't have been possible, and this movement would have been impossible. I (like Arakawa) took elements of this fighting style from the real Indian martial art of Kalaripayattu.
Hello! I want to warn you that soon I will appear here less often than usual, but I will!
The second part of this work. The first can be viewed at the link
💬 0 🔁 0 ❤️ 0 · This is the first part of this work. I worked on these drawings for a long time and it coincided that on this work I fini
I've wanted to design a dress like this for a long time. The design of this outfit is based on a dress from a famous movie. The main color combination here is sanphire blue on the ribbons and belt and frosty blue on the patterns, also stylized as a frost pattern. The decorations are made of transparent rock crystal, sparkling like ice. I also couldn't resist and depicted this dress in the plot I'm working on now!
It might not be the right combination, but I just wanted to draw him that way, among familiar characters with outfits that I also thought about.
This is the first part of this work. I worked on these drawings for a long time and it coincided that on this work I finished one sketchbook and started a new one.
I recently purchased a new album of cotton-based watercolor paper. I had never had such paper before and I didn't know what to draw. What to draw? That's right, Shabrang! Shabrang waiting in the field for his master Daryun. I have already depicted this scene in pencil graphics, now I have depicted it in color.