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Psionic Warrior by butterfrog Psionic Warrior by butterfrog
A Muse (a variant race... more info about it soon) PsiWarrior of Shelyn, goddess of beauty in the Pathfinder RPG.

The sword will be a crystal clade with a bluish flame coming upwards from it, which will be added in the color version.

A commission for Andrew Bigwood :iconabigwood:

Abhirath 'Knight of the Beauteous Rose', Muse Tactician
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:icontwinagatedragons:
TwinAgateDragons Featured By Owner Jan 24, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Absolutely fabulous!
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:iconroaring-w-fatalis:
Roaring-W-Fatalis Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Haha, its a great book ^^ and I havent played the games yet, but I really want to :)
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:iconbutterfrog:
butterfrog Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Now I'll have to google it and check it out :D
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:iconroaring-w-fatalis:
Roaring-W-Fatalis Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Reminds me of Isador Akios of the Blood Ravens from the game Dawn of War and the book series. Cool :)
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:iconbutterfrog:
butterfrog Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
:D
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:iconabigwood:
ABigwood Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2012
How good is he? Hugo you are a god!
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:iconvikking1:
vikking1 Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2012
Very Very Nice...:)
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:iconbutterfrog:
butterfrog Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
:D
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:iconbutterfrog:
butterfrog Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
loco! :D
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:iconenrisantana:
enrisantana Featured By Owner Jan 18, 2012
Warriors a FULLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!
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:iconashenbach:
ashenbach Featured By Owner Jan 18, 2012
Nice!!
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:iconangelicadonis:
AngelicAdonis Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
You're welcome, man!
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:iconabigwood:
ABigwood Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2012
No worries.
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:iconbutterfrog:
butterfrog Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
I listed the class on the description, thou I kept the psioic warrior title so that pleople would identify it easier :D
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:iconbutterfrog:
butterfrog Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
wow! :D
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:iconabigwood:
ABigwood Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2012
A Rose in the Darkness
I am peaceful. I come first with a rose. I act to prevent conflict before it blossoms.
I never strike first, unless it is the only way to protect the innocent.
I accept surrender if my opponent can be redeemed—and I never assume that they cannot be. All things that live love beauty, and I will show beauty’s answer to them.
I will never destroy a work of art, nor allow one to come to harm unless greater art arises from its loss.
I will only sacrifice art if doing so allows me to save a life, for untold beauty can arise from an awakened soul.
I see beauty in others. As a rough stone hides a diamond, a drab face may hide the heart of a saint.
I lead by example, not with my blade. Where my blade passes, a life is cut short, and the world's potential for beauty is lessened.
I live my life as art. I will choose an art and perfect it.
When I have mastered it, I will choose another.
The works I leave behind make life richer for those who follow.




The heady smell of incense and the sounds of a delicately plucked lyre filled the darkened tent as the perfectly-formed beauty of the young male muse drifted, dream-like, through the sea of animal skins and dark, velvet cushions. A silken curtain divided the wide space and a soft breeze caused the blood-red candles that provided the only illumination in the tent, to splutter momentarily. The faint sounds of a man in deep, blissful sleep wafted from behind the delicate veil. Abhirath crept towards the silk divide and gently slid the corner of the curtain open. He glared with malice at the sleeping form; a large, heavyset man with a crop of thick, dark hair and a similar hued moustache. The holy symbol of Asmodeus hung on a thick golden chain about the man’s thick neck and rested upon his bare chest, rising and falling rhythmically. Each time the man’s chest rose, the holy symbol caught the flickering candlelight and refracted golden upon the face of the young muse as he watched the man sleep. The wine-coloured, silken sheets contrasted markedly with the pale skin of the man and to Abhirath’s mind appeared a corpse amidst a sea of dark blood….




An immaculately painted and illuminated lute in the muse’s pale, unblemished hands appeared somewhat out of place alongside the polished armour and embroidered dark grey tabard. Images of green, thorny vines and vivid blue roses twisted about the dark cloth of the garment and appeared to entwine the legs of the lutist as he played. The iconography was mirrored upon the painted wooden shield at Abhirath’s feet, the enameling catching the candlelight of the cathedral and giving the impression of raindrops running down the bright blue petals of the delicate flowers. The sound that Abhirath’s long, delicate fingers were coaxing from the instrument was sublime. The lyrical, tragic chords swam about the beautiful cathedral, embracing the gathered Shelynite congregation in a beauteous melancholy that caused all present to weep openly at the beauty that Abhirath was bringing into the world. As the music reached its crescendo, Abhirath too began to weep. The muse’s gaze was fixed firmly upon the hand-painted altar and the massive, sweeping mural behind it detailing Shelyn bringing music and love into the world. Abhirath’s deep black eyes met the eyes of the goddess as the lute’s last note faded into silence. The cathedral was still for several long minutes, as the last notes of the performance gently caressed the senses of all present, before erupting in a joyous cacophony of praise for Abhirath’s composition. Abhirath’s gaze remained locked with that of his goddess despite the infectious applause and his hand moved slowly to the two velvet-lined pouches at his belt……




“I could have killed him today Mearrha,” Abhirath whispered. “He was just lying there, no guards, no servants, just him, lying there, sleeping the sleep of one completely at peace with himself. I could have killed him Mearrha”. At the sound of Abhirath’s trembling voice, the young female muse rolled over in the narrow cot the two shared and faced her partner.
“You know better than that my love,” she chided gently, “the imp is always somewhere. Always watching”.
“But I can’t……” Abhirath collapsed to the floor, weeping. Mearrha placed a gentle hand upon her lover’s forehead.
“Shhh. Do not let the beast’s ugliness infect your soul Abhi. We are the chosen of the Eternal Rose. We are luminous beings of love and hope”. Rising, Mearrha allowed the simple woolen blanket to fall from her naked form. The moonlight, shining a brilliant white through the tent’s makeshift opening, was diffused through the gossamer, vestigial wings upon the muse woman’s delicate shoulders and danced playfully about Abhirath’s dour features. “The beauty of the Eternal Rose cannot be eclipsed by Chelaxian cruelty and malice my love,” Mearrha breathed delicately. Abhirath rose and, hurriedly wiping his eyes, reached for his meager collection of watercolours.
“I will capture your beauty to honour Shelyn and atone for the ugliness of my thoughts,” Abhirath wept once more as his brush slowly caressed the hastily erected canvass upon the small easel.
“We must be compliant my love. Shelyn will guide us”. Mearrha reached into the small pouch that lay beside the tiny cot as Abhirath painted and, with the utmost care, opened her cupped hands before him. Four small crystalline orbs glittered in the moonlight. “Abhirath, you are to be a father…..”




The muse’s hands gently caressed the lute once more as he wandered slowly amidst the floral grandeur of the temple grounds. Abhirath was possessed of a considerable frame (enhanced further by the intricately engraved and polished armour) and he carried himself with a forceful, yet languid grace that spoke of someone accustomed to a life of battle but not consumed by it. Despite Abhirath’s unique appearance however, and even the skill with which he casually strummed his chosen instrument, it was not the muse but rather his companion that drew the attention of the attendant worshippers as they filed from the temple. The half-giant Daryx stood a full head and shoulders above the tall muse warrior. Clad in the piecemeal armour of the Taldan arenas, Daryx’s abundant musculature and scar-crossed frame eclipsed that of his companion. About the half-giant’s corded neck a golden amulet, the image of a flexed muscular arm grasping a shattered chain, swung slowly in time with Daryx’s long, loping gait. A similar tattoo dominated the exposed upper arm and broad chest of the warrior.
“We have shared battle and contest my friend,” Daryx’s voice was rough and forceful but strangely enthralling. “Will you not share with me this pain. Strength can be gained from the sharing. Kurgess teaches us that some contests require a unified front to be overcome. Let me help you Abhirath”.
“Your god is truly wise old friend,” Abhirath’s lyrical voice trembled ever so slightly as he spoke. Most would barely have noticed the slightly pained tone and the subtle change in the muse’s remarkable countenance. Daryx noticed.
“Let me help you,” he repeated softly.
“Yes, perhaps it is time,” Abhirath mused, “I have been composing a song my friend. Would you like to hear it?”
“Of course, Abhi,” Daryx replied despondently, clearing expecting yet another attempt by his friend to avoid the topic entirely through song. Looking up, the pair realized that, deep in conversation and completely absorbed with their thoughts, they had wandered far into the maze of the temple’s rose gardens. The narrow labyrinthine pathway they had been wandering had given way to a perfectly round clearing. Amidst a carpet of fallen flowers stood an ancient, gnarled and currently blossom-covered cherry tree.
“Shall we sit?” Abhirath asked.
“Sit? Why?” Daryx replied, somewhat annoyed.
“I will play for you the tragedy of my life’s journey old friend,” Abhirath smiled. Daryx appeared a little taken aback but sat, as instructed, beneath the falling cherry blossoms as Abhirath began to play…




“MEARRHA!” Abhirath screamed. About the muse the Chelaxian military camp was ablaze. The sounds of battle and the screams of the wounded and dying filled the smoke-filled air. Abhirath was sprinting determinedly through the devastation. The forms of Andoran freedom fighters and Chelaxian soldiery locked in battle, or still and unmoving upon the blood-soaked earth, sped by as he ran. The flames of burning tents and wagons filled his vision. Bright blue blood was flowing from numerous gashes and wounds upon Abhirath’s naked torso to mingle with the red blood of his former captors that coated his forearm and the longsword grasped firmly in his hand. In the centre of Abhirath’s vision stood the small tent he shared with his lover. Flames were slowly licking at the thick canvas and Abhirath quickened his already frantic pace…

“I had no idea my friend,” Daryx soothed. Rising, the half-giant hurriedly wiped an errant tear from his cheek. “Most, like myself, who came to fight for Andoren against the fiend-worshippers had their reasons, but you have more reason than most to hate Cheliax. Throughout our many battles together my friend I have oft wondered how you were so readily able to offer mercy to defeated Chelaxians (and that was before being aware of the depths of pain they have inflicted upon you). How do you not hate them with every fibre of your being Abhi?” Daryx seemed genuinely perplexed. “I guess that explains why every Asmodean priest we’ve ever come across has attacked you on sight though”.

“Where my blade passes, a life is cut short, and the world's potential for beauty is lessened,” Abhirath quoted in response. “Mearrha would not have had me succumb to bitterness and hate old friend,” he smiled, “and as Shelyn teaches, ‘untold beauty can arise from an awakened soul’. All deserve that chance, even those in whom hate and cruelty have taken firm root”.
“May I, may I see them?” Daryx stuttered. Abhirath nodded in reply and carefully untied the two velvet-lined pouches at his belt. With the utmost tenderness he removed the silken drawstrings that held them closed and unfolded them before his friend. The smooth blue velvet of the pouch linings appeared to form two silken roses in Abhirath’s delicate hands. Within the heart of each of the two roses nestled a small crystalline egg…




“You will always remember this day my little plaything,” the man’s voice veritably dripped with malice. “I have given you everything. Shown you my love and favour. And you repay my affections with betrayal. You lead that Andoran filth into the heart of my camp!” The thick, black moustache of the man quivered with barely contained rage.

Abhirath’s simple possessions lay strewn about the small tent. The lower portions of the tent were burning and smoke was slowly filling the small space. Abhirath gazed past the jet-black armour of his master to the crumpled female form on the detritus strewn floor. The tiny, winged form of the Asmodean priest’s favourite imp sat, grinning upon Mearrha’s broken body.
“Mearrha?” Abhirath whispered.
“Oh yes, she put up quite a fight. I must admit to being somewhat disappointed though. Her pain was nowhere near as delicious as yours, my love,” the priest grinned malevolently. “She was trying to protect these”. The priest held out a black-gauntleted hand containing three of the four crystal-like eggs that housed Abhirath’s unborn children. “There was another of these…..things, but Theatrixxus has such a voracious appetite.” The imp behind the big man sniggered conspiratorially. “Slaves are not permitted to….breed my pet and you know……” The sword in Abhirath’s blood-soaked hand flared with a shining blue light as it struck, robbing the priest of his words, his cruelty and his head.

In years to come Abhirath would struggle to recall the next few moments clearly. The Asmodean priest (Abhirath and Mearrha’s former owner) lay dead at the muse’s feet. A faint crackle of wispy blue flame lazily circled the blade in Abhirath’s bloodied hand.

Abhirath stood awestruck at the power he had just unleashed.

The imp seated upon Mearrha’s unmoving form hissed in fury at Abhirath’s insolent rage.

With a bestial snarl the creature swooped towards the fallen crystal eggs.

Slowly recovering his wits, Abhirath swung the still-glowing blade defensively before the crystalline orbs; his unborn children.

Already in motion, the imp was far quicker than the muse. The creature had grasped one of the fallen eggs and was out the burning tent flap before Abhirath’s protective stroke fell.

A scorching wind blasted through the burning tent flaps at the imp’s passing forcing Abhirath to close his eyes. “Asmodeus dislikes those who destroy his disciples whore,” the words echoed into Abhirath’s mind as he collapsed beside the crumpled, lifeless form of his partner. “You will suffer for your insolence….”.

The voice faded as Abhirath carefully gathered up his remaining unborn.

The tent was ablaze as the muse emerged carrying the bloodied corpse of his lover. Ignoring the inferno about him, Abhirath strode from the Chelaxian camp....
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:iconabigwood:
ABigwood Featured By Owner Jan 10, 2012
He is actually a 'Tactician' (a new psionic class from Dreamscarred Press). I was playtesting the class for them. I have a lengthy background story if people are interested.
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:iconbutterfrog:
butterfrog Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks!
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:iconangelicadonis:
AngelicAdonis Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Awesome detail on the shield! Very well done! :D
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:iconardashir:
ardashir Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012
Thanks. And yes, even though psionics were never much my thing, I LOVED the 3.5 soulknife!
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:iconbutterfrog:
butterfrog Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Flaming pig's head... Good one! :D
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:iconbutterfrog:
butterfrog Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
The wings are insect like, something I'll add in the color version :)

I'm in the process of repricing my commissions since its been quite a while on the same rate. I'll put up a journal with the prices once I'm open for moar work! :D
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:iconnecrotechno:
NecroTechno Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012
That would be Dreamscarred Press.

SOULKNIFE FOR THE WIN!!
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:iconnecrotechno:
NecroTechno Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012
If the little wings are supposed to be made out of energy, may I suggest making the edges a bit "fuzzier"?

Also, while I'm at it, how much would a color commission go for?
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:icontozetre:
Tozetre Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012
DAT ROSE. You have no idea how badly I want to paint a round shield like that now.

Sadly, I'm using heaters, if any, and my heraldry in the SCA is a flaming pig's head. So, uh... :T
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:iconvikking1:
vikking1 Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012
cant wait to see the colored version...:)
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:iconbutterfrog:
butterfrog Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Lets see if the owner of this commish mentions it :)
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:iconardashir:
ardashir Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2012
It's some fine work. But I forget, who's the 3rd party publisher who's got the current most widely-used psionics rules for Pathfinder?
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January 9, 2012
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