Depicting the opening scene from team's Run On, found here: https://discord.com/channels/846214062571651154/1145106523912143019
Done on pencil and paper and then colored digitally. All effects/borders created. Please see here for full progress pics: https://imgur.com/a/uOkmmEf
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Scene transcribed below in case the link doesn't work when these threads all close since it's not the html export:
A giant fraking crystal bird-reptile motherfraker *thing* was trying to eat their fraking ship.
So great. Such a great time. Optimal mission conditions.
Yippie.
"STOP. RIDING. MY. REAR! You *shabuir!"* Minnow snarled in her seat like the Mandalorian she was as the assault vessel rocked precariously again, a scraping thud of impact from the stern. "Why would you bite a thruster?! It burns you! Go away!"
"Shake it off!" Vreva snapped from beside the tiny Nautolan pilot, clutching at the other seat of the cockpit by the very tips of her fingers and crouching in the seat more than sitting in it, like a barbarian. Every time Minnie moved, Vreva twitched, as though to grab the controls herself.
Poor choice, Vreva. Minnow was the superior pilot out of the whole squadron, nevermind their motley crew.
"Been shaking off the hater, babes, thanks," Minnie replied yet again with a forced, saccharine cheerfulness that matched her vicious expression and concentrated glare forward. She jerked the yoke, and the ship rotated 557° and descended at an approximate 11° angle.
It turned out Vreva could shut up, as long as stomach/esophagus were lodged against trachea.
Foxen himself merely braced, the abrupt shift in gravitational direction practically normal at this point. They had already encountered the strange polarity of the floating fraking islands. Because what did physics matter.
So great. Such a great mission. So much *actionable* intel. Oh, yes, spooky spirits and gravitational fluctuations and sudden *Force powers.* Just amazing. They could do so much to prepare for that.
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A gloved hand touched his, and the Nautolan-Chagrian hybrid's sanguine eyes knifed down, finding home. Flyndt looked only a little greener than his olive complexion normally did from all the extensive aerial acrobatics, and his sunset eyes were fixed on Foxen, the crest of his new feathers pressed firmly down; they had been nearly smashed flat to his skull in tension since they first stepped through the portal to this place.
*O.K.?* the Omwati asked him, making the sign. *You are making faces.*
*Agitated,* the older Mandalorian answered, the obsidian and slate slab of his features blank to most people. Flyndt knew better. *Hate this.*
Flyndt blew out a breath that ended in a hooting sound. *"Hoo,* me as well. Rather we be doing something." His bird was coiled, nearly vibrating with energy, beak clacking occasionally in a way that meant dread. It was a dread that had haunted Flyndt for weeks, months now, growing ever stronger. And not just him.
Red eyes juked over -- along with the stomach, as Minnow maneuver them around so that gun turrets could be aligned with the Whatever the Hell That Beast Was -- over towards the cockpit. Bril was silent, sitting with his back to Minnow's seat, allegedly meditating. The *jediit* had spoken of visions, of great danger and loss and fear, powerful in the Force. It was a concern Flyndt shared. It was part of the reason they were even in this literal actual other *realm* of terribleness and crystal animals and undead enemies, fighting *towards* an already deeply entrenched, more powerful enemy army to the enemy stronghold.
Oh and all the magic.
Just. So. Great.
As if sensing Foxen's glare, the Zabrak opened his eyes suddenly. Blue met red, not challenging but chill, and a second later it snapped as their vessel jolted with the slight recoil of blaster cannon fire.
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"Paum, big daddy dummy thicc, will you please, please SHOOT THAT MOTHERFRAKER," Minnie hollered into her headset.
From their position in the cabin, Foxen and Flyndt could both hear the Herglic man say something about never calling him that again and trying to indeed shoot the monster out of the sky.
The Nautolan hybrid huffed to himself and rechecked his weapons yet again. It was no longer for preparation or efficiency; he was prepared. It was merely frustration at this point. Beside him, Flyndt muttered mutinously.
"We could go," he began, tapping his kyuzo petar, one that matched Foxen's. "Out hatch, yes? I make jump. Like Drakor."
While the idea of Flyndt doing a mid-flight jump to their attacker's back and mounting it like he did his karadeek was as appealing as it was absolutely horrifying, it was not a practical suggestion. Should the Omwati succeed in slaying the creature, 87% chance he would only go down with it, unable to make the leap back onto the moving ship from descending animal in time, even if Foxen was standing out there to catch him. Too high risk. Denied.
He shook his head, but consoled, *Would be...cool. But deny.*
Flyndt offered him the barest, sickly smirk that fell in less than 2.3 seconds.
"Cool," he agreed, trying for the both of them, and Foxen slipped their hands together and squeezed carefully. Flyndt's talons sank into the back of his where their fingers meshed.
The cockpit was a storm of cursing, backseat piloting, and general malfunction. Minnow reached back and smacked at Bril's shoulder, getting his attention.
"Kitty, Kitty grab on to something, we're -- KARK! BRACE, COPY, BRACE!"
Suddenly the lightless sky in front of them was full of crystal maw and beating wings.