Lately I've been spending more time on them as I've noticed I can, with some effort, put out some alright drawings. Take that as you will.
I've rounded up the other drawings and
Most pictures aren't here in the OP - go to the latest page if you're interested in seeing my latest work.
Original Characters/Constructed World
Classical Era
Urrrrg not really satisfied with this one. Accompanying poem because I feel that's a good thing to include with every picture from now on.
Caesar's Legions marched
Across the plains of Gaul
No senator may retrieve them
No general will recall
The death of the Suebi no man may forestall
Against the mighty Germans
No Gaul will raise a hand
The Germans plunder and pillage
And rape their native land
Yet there is no king who will challenge this mighty band
Caesar tried to speak
To let words soften steel
But when Procillus is taken captive
Caesar makes no deal
He will not rest until the mighty Germans kneel
Caesar fought the barbaric horde
Upon Gaul he forced his will
He captured Vercingetorix
He brought Gallic works to nil
He returned to Rome in triumph upon Capitoline Hill
Caesar sits back and smiles
His conquests have begun
He will subdue a thousand nations
With his loyal men, Legion
He looks upon his works and is pleased with what he's done
-Vincent Gambino
Vercingetorix rides out, free men at his back
We've sworn to fight off the Roman attack
They claim to bring peace, but offer a blade
Point first to the man who's not swayed
By offers of gold, or offers of chains
A horse in a proverb - Rome has the reigns
But the steel of the Legions cannot best our will
We're ready to die, and we're ready to kill
Freedom's our price - we cannot be bought
For less than our due, it's liberty that's sought
We are not dogs, not slaves to Rome
Here we will stand, for here is our home
Caesar claims that training can make
A coward to heel, and a brave man to break
His tongue is silver, gilded with gold
But mere rhetoric cannot make men bold
We'll meet on a field, settle this like men
And we'll win - not if, only when. - Vincent Gambino
In far lands of Roma sits Augustus on his throne
Through guile, strength, and bravery, it remains his and his alone
But for every shout of 'Hail Caesar' comes a quiet and distant cry
"Quinctilius Varus my Legions! What did you do, and why?"
-Vincent Gambino
A drawing of Caesar Augustus. Complete with an excerpt of a poem I wrote.
No comments here. Except maybe "I have no idea about Roman Iudea period dress."
Alright, now for the poem.
In far lands of Roma sits Augustus on his throne
Through guile, strength and bravery, it remains his and his alone.
But for every shout of 'Hail Caesar' comes a quiet and distant cry;
"Quinctilius Varus, my Legions! What did you do, and why?"
Varus lies dead, killed by German Steel
His Legions broken, backs bent against the wheel
A thousand men nailed to trees, a mockery of the cross
Rome sits upon her glory but will never recover from her loss
A hundred years hence lays Vespasian becoming a god
His sons sit beside him, his advisers stand and nod
He clasps the hand of his favored son, whispers in his ear
"Romans hold no threat to me but there is one thing you must fear"
Against Jews, rebels and traitors - "Vae Victis" the Romans cry!
But against Germania, those dark woods, Vespasian can only sigh
Varus in a century, like the hundred that he lost
For his folly Rome, not he, will be the one to pay the cost.
Marcus Aurelius looks to the North, here he has made his stand.
Though he holds all of Rome he has not this brutal land.
Through anger, shame and fear he wants to let out a mighty cry
But as he is a stoic, he allows himself only a sigh.
There is a briar in his path and he cannot turn away
Varus' mistake he will regret until his dying day
As he looks upon his son, he claims to feel no pain
But even this stoic feels Rome's glory begin to wain
Septimius Severus holds his wife, he has all that he has sought
Against the Parthians he made war, and beat the Parthian shot.
He looks upon all of Rome, it is his and his native land
But against Germania, those dark woods, here he stays his hand
Germania he looks upon with centuries of unease
There is no other land he wants yet fears to seize
Severus fights for all of Rome, he holds it's borders true
But as Rome continues it's long decline, Varus is given his due.
Constantine, the Christian apostate, seeks all of Rome
But it is in the East, in Byzantinum, there he makes his home
For towards the North he does not look; he turns a blinded eye
Because in Germania, those dark woods, Romans go only to die
Constantine kneels to Jewish Prophets, not a Roman god
But even he knows when to strike and when to spare the rod
For though of Varus he may not know, still he feels the cost
For in his heart he does know that Germania is lost.
The Empire now split in two by barbarians from the North
No longer content in their own lands, now they sally forth
"Woe to Italia!" The Romans mourn, now a feeble shout
For strength or arms and gifts of gold no longer drive the barbarians out
As Roma lies in ruins, the heavens begin to cry
And Augustus, Caesar, now a god, can only let out a sigh
"Though a god I be, deified I am -
There is only one man, friend not foe, that I find that I must damn."
As Vandal, Hun, and Visigoth all come to take their share
Legions, barbarians, even citizens of Rome, they all no longer care
All Rome's glory has finally faded away
For all Germania, those dark woods, were lost that fateful day.
-Vincent Gambino
I actually had wrote this a while ago, when I made my Augustus drawing, but my original intention was to draw one picture for each stanza. As is natural for me, I ran out of steam around #1.
Medieval Era
May 20th, yo.
The Emperor of the Romans found himself betrayed
At the loyalty of his men, Basil II was dismayed
As Bulgars and Arabs closed around him, he cried in vain
"Damnation and folly, my own men are my bane!"
Stout traders from Kiev sailed to the South
Their existence was simple, from hand unto mouth
But the bandits along the Volga these men did not fear
These men were Rus, Norse, men of the frontier
Of wars and raids there were few
The Rus, though brave, gave the Byzantines their due
And when presented with gold and silver, coin in their hand
The walls and parapets of the Byzantines they manned
Of honor and loyalty Basil's troops knew not
When coin or favor turned, the Byzantines could be bought
But through all conditions the Varangian stood
For if a Norseman stood not by his word, who would?
Basil saw these men, saw they had honor and valiance both
He brought them to Constantinople, swore them to oath
He found his loyal men, the Emperor's bodyguard
All men but Rus and Norse from his service were barred
Even as the Empire fell they swore to fight and die
Their bodies atop the walls of Constantinople now lie
They fought not because it is easy, but because it was hard
The brave, the true, the strength of the Varangian guard
-Vincent Gambino
A picture of a German Crusader.
"One Knight
One Way
One God
As God wills
'God Wills It'"
The 'One knight' bit got cut out by the scanner.
The mighty Templars beat a bloody path
"You have refused God's mercy" They said
"Now you shall face his wrath!"
God had no mercy upon the Muslim horde
His soldiers fought 'til their surcoats turned red
The knights cried for victory, for Christ, their Lord
Upon that field Saladin turned away
But victory was not worth the blood shed
Their fears their victory did not allay
They realized it was not God's wrath but theirs
Which filled the rivers red
No matter their pleading, no matter their prayers
The truth of their deeds filled them with dread
The Templars, knights, not God, were responsible for the dead
In only their own name and honor, blood they shed
It was them and only them that stained the grounds red
-Vincent Gambino
So, a Templar, a Hospitaller, and a Teutonic Knight walk into a bar...
A portrait of a man-at-arms I did for a game I'm working on.
A Knight I drew. Drawing is so much easier when you don't have to deal with a human face.
Rennesaince Era
A watchful guardian... And a dangerous foe.
19th Century/Turn of the 20th
WW1
This one was a quick sketch I wasn't really satisfied with, but that I've drawn too many times to simply throw away.
Ah, well.
The Twenty Year Armistice
And a drawing of Mussolini. I'm a little more pleased with this one, though I toned down the detail a bit.
Il Duce rose to power
Upon a Fascist tide
He preached loyalty to the fatherland
He preached national pride
To give Italy an Empire
Upon Il Duce they relied
The Fascisti violence he could not contain
They swore they'd kill his foes
Murder, beatings, stabbings abound
But this Italy did outgrow
Mussolini could only think
That this was Italy's greatest woe
Italy now sworn to glory
Would not let go her dream
Race, religion mattered not
When they saw that Imperial gleam
"Il Duce!" They said as one
"We hold you in high esteem!"
The League of Nations was helpless
Against the Italian Wave
"Tut tut" They whined and groaned
"If only you'd behave!"
But it was not in the Fascists
To forgive or to save
But within time he became a pawn;
Il Duce betrayed his ideals
He looked upon the Nazi strings and said
"There are wheels within these wheels!"
But it was too late for him, he became a joke, no power did he wield
The King did naught but let him go despite his many appeals
He sat up North, a Nazi slave
He watched his country die
When he would inspect his youthful troops
He could not look them in the eye
As the unmarked graves piled up
He knew his end was nigh
A group of men ran him down
He told a coward's lie
No longer brave, a madman's tool
He knew he was going to die
The partisans took him to a nearby house to spend his final night
Mussolini could not sleep but did only stare at the sky
It was regret not fear that night
Which refused to give him rest
When the time came to face his fate
He pointed at his breast
He cried "For God's sake, let me die like a man:
SHOOT ME IN THE CHEST!"
-Vincent Gambino
Cold War/Modern Era
Let's show the Reds!
From the awesome game Freedom Fighters, which I had for PC.
Such a beautiful game. I think I'll reinstall it tonight.
I've been having drawing military style uniforms as of late for a reason I can't quite figure out, and I made Tito a little older than I was planning to. Also, an attempt at an odd perspective. Poem's inconsistent again too, and a bit shorter. Ah well, just not my day I suppose.
Tito was a man without compare
No others had his drive
When Russia's power he did impair
Stalin would not stand him alive
Stalin's assassin's did not fill him with dread;
Rather he grabbed some paper and raised his pen
"You have sent a thousand killers" He said
"When I decide to send a man, I need not send him again."
Uncle Joe met his match, he knew
Here he would find no thrill
For Tito was a leader he could not outdo
Tito was a man he could not kill
To Soviet Arms he would not bow
To Moscow he would not kneel
To Yugoslavs he made this vow:
"Against all foes will I be your shield!"
-Vincent Gambino
Mohammad Mosaddegh, one-time Prime Minister of Iran and a great man. Also drawn for Medi.
Drawn for Mediterrania
Jimmy Wales, co-founder of Wikipedia.
Self-portrait, only drawn once instead of dozens of frustrated times.
I think the frustrated repetition is a better choice.
Me again!
A drawing of The Nuclear Fist, NS's favorite Uncle.
An Ode to Uncle Vlad
I may be odd
Awesome and weird
I may be God
And have a mustache and not a beard
I may have a tentacle or three
And a bag of brown-brown by the door
But above all things I am free
For that is my essence, at the core
My naked puzzle basement will astound and amuse
Me, at least, I don't know about you
As I sit around, shirtless, and muse
Whether tears are supposed to be a red hue
A little scotch, some vodka and whiskey
Is the best medicine for a Romany Jew
For all who meet me it's risky
(But those who survive say it's worth the due)
Happily, above all things one can be said
For of my mistakes, I am free of one sin
I can shout until I'm dead
"At least I'm not Albanian!"
NSG's favorite Capitalist, Sibirsky.
From Red Steel 2
Undefined or mixed
They make such a cute couple
Got into something of a Lovecraftian mood, so I did a quick sketch of Cthulhu and made a poem to go with it.
From the depths of my mind comes a sorrowful song
A tale of woe, beyond mere right and mere wrong
A story borne of madness and sin
A story that starts with: 'Cthulhu Fhtagn'
A cult of mystery, of sinister appeal
Drew me into it's dark veil
A cult of depravity, of sin and glee
A cult whose seductions gripped and took me
I performed dark rituals that filled me with fear
I gave obesiance to our leader, the seer
I sacrificed soul, body and mind
I sacrificed myself so the truth I could find
Alas, there are things man was not meant to know
A great beast, a dragon, a dangerous foe
A thing beyond comprehension, the mountain that walks
A thing that it's very shape, sanity it mocks
I gazed upon it's loathsome form
I felt my mind, my soul reformed
I cursed my follies, my mistakes to rue
I cursed it's name - Dread Lord Cthulhu
My sacrifice to it was of no consequence
A thousands years and worlds have passed me since
My mind - not fragile - but a foulness' toy
In my twisted duty I find limitless joy
My mind, as my body, has reverted to a timeless form
As so my master's will may be borne
Into the fragile world of man does He go
The seeds of madness and servitude I sow
Did you think in my tale I would win?
Nay, I say to you: Cthulhu Fthagn!
So, a few more.
Some of my favorite historical figures, all in the same place. Drawing smaller than I'm used to is more difficult than I thought it would be.
Some of my favorite historical figures, all in the same place. Drawing smaller than I'm used to is more difficult than I thought it would be.
Early Drawings
My Masterpiece, a wonderful rendition of Ataturk.
Ne Mutlu Türküm Diyene.
A picture of a younger Ataturk.
"Men, I am not ordering you to attack. I am ordering you to die. In the time that it takes us to die, other forces and commanders can come and take our place. "
L'Empereur.
It is only with prudence, sagacity, and much dexterity that great aims are accomplished, and all obstacles surmounted. Otherwise nothing is accomplished.
Napoelon came out of exile
When he thought that he might win
His cunning, strength, tongue and guile
He thought would shield him from his sin
Von Blucher marshalled his forces quick
Arthur Wellesley turned to fight
A world with Napoleon would be sick;
Hostile to British Might
The Duke of Wellington marshalled at last
Unto Waterloo
His darling troops he drilled and massed
To give Napoleon his due
Across the road the Frenchmen stood
To let the wet ground dry
The British, they understood
Many of them soon would die
The redcoats withstood the mighty force
Of Napoleon's chosen men
For Von Blucher, they need stay the course
For the question was not 'if 'but 'when'
Against the Guard that day many would breathe their last
Thousands of men would die
But for Wellington, they held fast
They needed not question why
The Prussians appeared as a mighty host
They turned the Frenchmens' flank
The men that Napoleon valued most
Were now proven little more than rank*
The Guard did not run they say
They died in droves upon the ground
But Napoleon's army broke that fateful day;
L'Empereur was uncrowned
No stronger foe could be found
No challenge was too great
For there was no man who could tear him down
Only glory was Wellesley's fate
For he was Wellington, true and brave
Defender of the crown
To his country, his life he gave
Such another man cannot be found
-Vincent Gambino
Written/Drawn for Oterro.
Our chances of finding Osama seemed dim
Ten years we searched the land
A simple mistake allowed us to find him
President Obama gave the Command
We sent in SEAL team six, best of the best
The mission went as planned, without a hitch
They put a bullet in his head, laid him to rest
And said "RIP you son of a bitch."
-Vincent Gambino
What is this I don't even-
God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?
A random man from the late 1800s. Something odd is going on with his neck and head.
Over there! Over there! Sent the word, send the word, over there!
The Yanks are coming! The Yanks are coming! And they won't stop coming 'till it's over over there!
Couldn't get the black surcoat right, sadly. Of course, it was just a quick drawing.
Holy crap, a horrifying picture from a couple of months ago.
Another drawing of Kaiser Wilhelm II.
Keep Cool... And keep Coolidge.
Just a random Turkish Politician.
For those who wonder, it says 'Fez of Authority' on his head.
Because the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.
I swear, there is something wrong with me.
Mussolini sure loved his trains. I love my puns.
We're doomed.
Peace in our time! I, for one, believe Chamberlain entirely.
Real men wear dresses. Or keep their quotations straight.
Not a Biased View at all.
For King and Country! He doesn't look too enthusiastic.
Gott Mit Uns!
I was feeling WW1y today, so...
Also, I'm not sure if one can actually tell that's Churchill.
Oh, and I forgot that it was 'First Lord of the Admiralty'. So sue me.
Because I was never a fan of him, Wilson is now a vampire.
Fear my terrible German.
Because I enjoy games as much as the next guy.
