It's been Wildstar Month over on Patreon.
Myym and Rhilyn strike again! The genuine and generous gentlebeings graced me yet again with another gift, reuniting Lovall at long last with his true love, the Little Lost Larvae.
Tried a new colouring technique for this one, and while it was much quicker than my usual method, I'm not happy with the results either. But I desperately need to find a new approach if I hope to produce more comics and maintain my sanity at the same time.
Name: Lovall Malovitch
Age: 37-ish in human terms (it’s difficult to keep track when you’re dead)
Race: Mordesh
Class: Medic
Path: Scientist
Personal Quote: “Ours is a superior race … this is just a minor setback.”
((I’ve seen dour Mordesh, mopey Mordesh, grumpy Mordesh, and brilliant Mordesh … it’s time for some snooty space zombies. Presenting the crash-course to Lovall in the format of the ‘Meet The ____’ interviews from Wildstar Wednesdays. Enjoy))
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Q: Good afternoon Doctor Malovitch. May I just say it’s an honour to be speaking with you.
A: Of course it is. But you may address me as Lovall for simplicity’s sake. I do not wish to tolerate your voice any longer than necessary.
A: Truly, your powers of observation are astounding.
Q: —Ignoring that. And you’re a doctor to boot! Are all Mordesh so scientifically inclined?
A: A widely entertained stereotype, but largely accurate. Ours is an intellectually superior race; it is heartening to perceive lesser individuals acknowledging our enhanced evolution. I myself am a scientist, though I tend to specialize in more medical fields.
Q: Superior? Excuse you, but you’re a walking corpse! A hideous space zombie!
A: Hideous though I may be, I am still significantly visually advantageous than you. I believe the appropriate response here is: “Oh, snap”. In matters of alchemy, science, and medicine my people are intellectually unsurpassed, and once this slight snag has been dealt with I am confident we shall be restored to our former glory.
Q: Which snag might this be?
A: The side-effects of the Everlife potion, the resulting Contagion, the necessity of the Vitalus Serum … I realise this is difficult for your underdeveloped brain, but do try to keep up.
Q: Gosh, are you always so stuck up? It’s a miracle anyone puts up with you!
A: As if I could find my equals among the sprawl I find it necessary to interact with. Granok possess rocks for brains: if it cannot be crushed, detonated, or is not comprised of beer they dismiss an object as insignificant. Insignificant! We cannot yet begin to fathom the possible applications of the fauna and flora on Nexus, nor their importance in furthering the advancement of medicine and science! We might possibly cure the Contagion!
Q: Alright, so you don’t like humans, and you don’t like Granok. What about Aurin?
A: Pshh! Aurin, mere space-rats. They make more adequate paperweights than they do patients, but at least they cease spewing nonsense about trees and the scientific value of hugs once you shoot them up with tranquilisers.
Q: That’s horrible! You are a terrible person!
A: An in-bred peon like yourself could not possibly retain the capacity to fathom the significance of my existence, even if I were to artificially assist your evolution for another thousand years, so I will excuse your baseless accusations.
Q: That’s it, I’m sure I can find more nicer Mordesh to interview.
A: Also your grammar is flawed.
Q: Shut up! I’m out of here. Before I go, what’s in here?
A: That is my house, and no-one is allowed in there without my express permission, least of all you.
Q: Why not? What’s in there?
A: Nothing I am inclined to share. Now, be off before I take matters into my own hands.
Q: Woaahh! Check this place out! It’s so dark and creepy in here! Is that where you swap out your Vitalus? Oh man, that is so cool!
A: I am this close to acquiescing you as my newest test subject, now be gone at once or I will have too—
Q: Hey, what’s this thing over here? OH GOD. ARRGH!! What is that thing?! It’s disgusting!
A: It is a flesh-eating alien I acquired from a foreign asteroid. I would stay away if I were you.
Q: These things are dangerous! Are you even allowed to keep this?!
A: I’m warning you …
Q: I’m pretty sure this is illegal! Help, help! I’m going to call the authorities!!
A: What an idiot. Are you hungry, Little Larvae? That big stupid idiot over there is going to alert people to your existence! We can’t have that, can we? Nooo, not if we want to continue living peacefully with Daddy Lovall! You want to stay with Daddy Lovall, don’t you, little bug? That’s what I thought!
Q: Oh god, what’s going on?! Why are my ribs—AAAAAAGHH!!! *gurgle*
Eat well, my pretty! Daddy will stay right here until you’re done!
