βοΈ Dark fantasy graphic novel. The minotaur armada has woken. Ashvaren holds its breath. One centaur stands between the world and those who would devour it. π΄
The shores of Ashvaren keep their secrets close. Ancient cliffs. Distant sails. A world that has been watching the horizon for a millennia, waiting for something it cannot yet name.
Original sketch by @marcoturini#CentaurRiders#CataphractLegacy#Ashvaren#GraphicNovel
This is what the Bovine Wars left behind. Blood in the ground. Scars in the stone. Two civilisations tore the world apart β centaurs who sought peace and order, minotaurs full of chaotic brutality β and when the dust settled, nothing was resolved.
For a thousand years, the labyrinths of Ashvaren were silent. The minotaurs slept within them β a civilisation in hibernation, patient, dreaming of blood and unfinished business. Then something stirred. Then everything stirred. They did not wake rested. They woke hungry.
Every port has its price. Every ally, its cost. Zephyria glitters at the water's edge, beautiful and treacherous, full of people who know more than they should and charge accordingly.
Original sketch by @marcoturiniart
#CentaurRiders#CataphractLegacy#Ashvaren#Zephyria
In Ashvaren, magic is not a gift. It is a discipline β old as the stones, older than the wars, passed down through druid hands across a thousand years of careful keeping. Melanfyre knows this. He has spent a lifetime knowing it. Not all of what he knows has been shared.
Korthos. Commodore of the minotaur fleet, enforcer of Balthasar's will, and the last thing many have seen. He slept for a thousand years alongside his civilisation. He woke impatient.
Original sketch by @marcoturiniart
#CentaurRiders#CataphractLegacy#Korthos#Minotaur