Opening Image: The Kings Guardian group leads him away from the others who are distracted mourning the loss of He’h.
Theme Stated: Reconstruction: “Do we have a medical synthesizer back at camp?” Asks the King. “Of course responds,” the nearest trooper.
Set-up: They get back to camp and he asks for the man who answered him to come into his tent with the synthesizer. As he enters, a laser beam flashes out and he cuts him down at the ankle. He screams, clutching his stumped legs. “Crawl over here and bring those to me. I need them more than you do. I’ll build you a golden chariot for your sacrifice,” offers the King.
Catalyst: The trooper quickly weighs his options and does as he is told. Once done, the king says “Get out of my sight.” As he turns to leave the King shoots him through the heart. “Fool, as though anyone else deserves a great chariot than I,” says the King to himself. He begins working his new legs onto his body.
Debate: Outside the remaining troops see the two flashes and hear the body of their friend Jonas drop to the floor. They begin to talk of what to do with their predicament.
Break into Two: Half the group chooses to abandon the king while he is unwell. Those loyal to the King begin firing wildly into those that are fleeing taking down some but not all of them. The kings numbers dwindle.
B Story: Homnie plants (slams) his Cane into the center of the field and the flowers being to sway towards the center of where the cane is located, only to start wishing away as He’h is reformed as a new form calling himself “He’thol. “It must be some form of ‘Tol accepting my obstruction of him,”
Fun and Games: The king walks out of their tent and finds the group half missing and the bodies laying on the floor.
Midpoint: “Let’s go round us up some traitors,” They yell. And the group cheers.
Bad Guys Close in: The ones that were able to escape hide in a cave not far from the camp, but as far as they could get on foot. Only one or two were able to make it away in vehicles and they were blown up as they attempted to escape.
All is Lost: Laughing echoes into the cave. All too familiar.
Dark Night of the Soul: Those that hear the laughing begin to scream, as the armed troopers close in. Looks of terror blanket their eyes.
Break into Three: Rapid laser fire is seen lighting a dark cave. But not showing contact with the bodies.
Finale: The troopers that cleared the cave come out and let the Tunnel King that they were successful. “That was all of them,” says the trooper.
Final Image: “Good. Let’s get to the citadel. The council have much to answer for,” says the King, holding a radioactive canister.
So I learned years ago you can base almost anything on any object and get a sci-fi look.
So I chose the M.U.T. Multitool that I was given by a friend of my fathers after he died. It had been used to defuse I.E.D.s in Afghanistan so I though I would base the pilot’s ship around it. This is just a basic idea so revisions will come but I’ve been aching to try Clip Studio Paint all day.
Then I tried a pen out in the application and of course had to try animating it in flight. I’m still a beginner animator but figuring that out was a lot of fun.
I know it’s moving too quickly and jaggedly so four out of eight frames should have been for smoothing it’s motion or perhaps all eight in one loop but I got excited.
So we know that the acolyte goes to the statue and offers their vigil to the memory of the man the statue represents. Then she goes to the ships bar, if only to blend in as she doesn’t drink herself, where behind them a massive dead planet (Trantor?–the center of the universe) is pulled to it’s demise and she says to her glass “It all ends at Trantor ( or something similar about the center of the universe.).
She makes her way back to her bunk bed/ sleeping quarters which happens to be a large wall of rooms which are opened by keycards which she swipes to gain entry to her own suite. She’s masquarading as an artist and her art hangs from the walls of the suite and is mathematical in nature.
As she comes to the table there is a letter left on the “faux wooden” table which she opens. The note reads something menacing about people knowing who she is. A cold sweat breaks across her body as the corners of the letter smolder and ignite and she’s left holding a fistful of ash.
“So they’re not entirely outdated in their approach.” She takes the ash and pours it down the toilet of the and flushes it. Above shot of it swirling away.
[Creators note] I feel that Asimov’s characters on the whole are, while not passive as they believe in a the greater plan, are not actively aggressive. I want to change that a little bit to give my character a bit of a bite/edge to her.
She rests against her bed, sitting. Not lying down, and falls into a semi sleep state.
The next day: We see a shot of the ship and how truly massive it is compared to their objects in space. They are semi planet sized to carry enough terra forming materials and peoples around the galaxies. They use photon entanglement to send transmissions to each other across vast distances.
The ship is broken up into townships that will each be their own colony town upon landing. Most are made up of different economic classes, but some are of mixed castes so that there is a more diverse perspective during the initial phases of building. “It takes all kinds isn’t a motto most ignore when doing this work.”
Each township has a governing board and mayor that have varying level of corrupt nature as most politicians would do on any planet. Some are not above trading goods or services to the lower castes to move them up in the ships ranking so they get a better domicile or what have you.
Our protagonist decides to meet up with the other town ships local acolytes and see what they think she should do. The nearest is a female sculptor who was the one responsible for placing the statue in the forest of each of the townships parks in the first place.
“Handy work there Abigail” which is of course not her real name. In fact she didn’t know her true name, as she assumed Abigail didn’t know hers. It just wasn’t done to save lives of those collected by the galactic governmental police.
Abby stops what she is doing, working with a laser to etch a plaque for the mayor who may have warranted his own statue for his town ship. The corruption was deeply rooted and you either played with it or were destroyed by it, at least until the great plan was taken into action and the corruption could be weeded out.
Abby’s suggestion is to go to the third district and see the mayor there, one of the governing boards members able to allocate funding for the Asmovian needs discretely, as most assumed the bribes he took went into his own coffers and not for altruistic matters. “Go see Mayor Stevens, he’ll have a broader view than I do on how to handle the situation. It is not part of my plan’s allowance to help you with much, I’m afraid to say.” Says Abbey. The protagonist thanks her, smiles warmly, and heads out. She turns back at the door as it opens, resting her arm on the door frame: No you’ve done more than I could have hoped for. I just hope there’s something that can be done to root them out before we land, or I’ll be worrying about them the entire time I’m setting up my part of the plan.” Abbey nods gruffly, while lowering a blast shield over her eyes and going back to the laser etching she was working before.
Upon gathering up the needed money to bribe the receptionist, everyone gets their cut, she moves up to the third district—much the same as the others yet imperceptively cleaner than some others, as though the metal walls repelled dust on their own.
She makes it to the mayors office and meets the receptionist. She hands her a voucher for 250 credits and asks for a meeting with Mayor Stevens. “What is this about?” asks the receptionist. “I need to ask him about if he wants shipments of my paintings for his domiciles. Something soothing yet enjoyable.” She says. The receptionist nods, as many come looking to have their wares in his stead. “Go have a seat and I’ll buzz you through once he’s available.” Says the receptionist. She thanks her and goes and sits under a large painting, one that just happens to be hers from a early time period.
The light over his office door flickers and goes out and a buzzer goes off faintly. “You can go in now.” Says the receptionist. She thanks her and heads into the spacious office. Gleaming metal from most angles meet her, and a desk of real wood and metal separate her from Stevens and herself.
He’s a man in his late 40’s, jolly. Reddish cheeks, not from drinking, but from living through his life as directed by the second foundations wishes work load. A hard life, but enjoyable enough.
How may I help you? He asks with a knowing look. The protagonist grimaces. “Someone knows about us. I don’t know who yet, but I fear for our movements down below once we get planetside.” He waves her away, motioning to a leather seat formed likely by one of his connections, as leathers of most types were quite rare of a commodity in the outer reaches. She sat. The seat made no effort to stop her, enveloping her comfortably as she rested within it’s hold.
There is always someone trying to break up the plan dear, says Mayor Stevens. It is best to lie in wait and let them make a mistake than to alert them that you know you’re being watched and fumble. Go about your business and if you get more messages let me know, and I will sort them out for you, put out my feelers as such—which little resources I have. Until then act as though nothing is wrong or you’re going to draw suspicion to yourself and others. “That’s it?” She asked. Stevens nodded and smiled. That’s the best we can do with the current amount of information we have.
He bid her farewell and shuffled her out the door. I have much to do, I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more on this. The door buzzed and closed behind her leaving our protagonist rather dumbstruck.
“Did you get what you needed?” Asked the receptionist? After a momentary lapse she nodded. “More than I could have hoped for.” The receptionist smiled and the protagonist left the office, heading once again to her domicile.
Inside Mayor Stevens office an eyeless recording device blinked twice, signaling that it required responding to. “You see that?” She’s starting to trust in us over other people. A good sign I think. Keep an eye on her and we’ll see how well she does with this test before we land, shall we?” He shuffled some papers, and the staring eye blinked twice, slid into the wall, and what was once something barely noticeable became smooth metal.
So I think my detail brushes are still too big to get the definition I want. I know that I’ll be shrinking them down to one fourth their size for webtoons and the website but I need to be working harder to get better faster.
I did do some basic sketches last night and today for fun. Also not great but they’ll get there.
Anyone once this page is done I’ll upload it to the main comic page. Still have to tie a url to it so Asimovcomic goes to the comic itself and not some rando front page dealie.
Made it to page 100! That’s my first milestone for the year. When I saw Kesh’s challenge to do 100 days of making comics on youtube I thought I would try it too, and I’ve been successful. I’m just shy of one third of the way through the year and I couldn’t be happier.
I’ll keep going until I get to the next hundred pages. I hope you’ll join me.