Attempting to move the project along at a quicker and more efficient pace whilst also attempting to resolve issues found within previous iterations of the cognitive disorder creatures and documenting images that are completed into an InDesign document to start filling out pages for the completed concept art book have been the main goals for my week by week process.
Going back to my Dermatillomania creature as a starting point in ensuring the creatures look monstrous and sinister to best represent the torment and daily battles an individual must endure when diagnosed with a cognitive disorder I began to produce more finalised visuals on pages that could be scanned in to photoshop for editing before being able to be placed into a suitable composition on a page within InDesign to allow for the images to 'breathe' as well as allow for notes to be taken by the imagined artist/author of the concept art book to give more depth to the product for readers to feel more immersed into this world.
Using all the previous research into the symptoms as well as exploratory iterative sketches to determine how knowledge of these symptoms could be best represented through functional forms of already existing creatures led toward the combination of velociraptors, lizards (in particular the chameleons' unique eyes as well as the reptilian ability to shed skin), and birds of prey such as falcons and eagles. Understanding the skeletal anatomy of the creature helped with the manipulation of the form to best fit the creature's look in terms of realism adding to a more immersive experience but also allowing for the development of knowledge for the author on this journey. It also helped in the design process after I had decided on the path of having the creatures' exposed anatomy due to the affliction of picking skin being so severe that it led to a more monstrous appearance like this.
I had already discussed including other world-building elements into the book as a way of understanding the author's travels through this world and interacting with other citizens to gain a further understanding of the creatures before being able to make finalised observational drawings of them and the surrounding habitat. One of the features of this was to incorporate groups of individuals who coexisted within the environments of the creature and how they impacted each other, from materials gathered from the hunting of these creatures that could be utilised into apparel, tools, and weapons. As I started to sketch out ideas for this particular 'tribal' group, started with the basic sort of equipment you may find in any standard RPG or exploratory game with swords and shields, etc, however, this developed into understanding more of the sort of people these were and what level of technology they had and how they lived should also be visible in the choice of tools they would craft. An interesting serendipitous moment occurred looking into African tribes and learning about ritualistic scarification processes that they undertook which created a juxtaposition between them and those who suffer from the Dermatillomania disorder who try to intentionally 'smooth' their skin. Thus these tribesmen would be in direct conflict with the symptoms of this disorder. This formed the directives of more low-skill and material production of weapons and tools so clubs over swords etc, as well as shamanistic apparel and embellishments. Looking into scavenging the ripped-off skin of the creature to form the robes of these individuals similar to African tribesmen wear.
- Prolonged exposure to extreme environmental conditions (e.g., continuous light to simulate sleep deprivation).
- Overloading the creature with sensory or stress-based stimuli.
- A build-up of micro-triggers over multiple encounters rather than a single battle.
Foreword by Elias Corvayn
"To observe is to understand, to understand is to endure."
When I first set quill to parchment, I did so not as a scholar, nor as a hunter, but as a witness. The creatures documented within these pages are not mere beasts to be slain or trophies to be mounted—they are living reflections of the world that shaped them, much as we are shaped by forces unseen. Their existence is not a mistake, nor an aberration, but a testament to survival in a world that often does not comprehend them.
I have wandered from the drowned depths of the Abyssal Reaches to the scorched plateaus of the Titan’s Maw, through civilizations ancient and thriving, each with their own legends, customs, and burdens. In every corner of this land, I have seen how these creatures are revered, feared, and misunderstood. Some whisper of their origins in hushed voices, as if uttering their names might summon them forth. Others carve their likenesses into stone and bone, preserving their forms long after their bodies have faded into dust.
And yet, what I have found—what I wish for you to find in these pages—is not fear, nor pity, but understanding. These creatures, strange and formidable as they may be, are bound to the same cycle of existence as we are. Their behaviors, their adaptations, even their struggles—they are mirrors of the mind, echoing the unseen afflictions that shape those who walk upon two legs.
My path is not that of my predecessors in the Scholarium of Vauris. While others buried themselves in archives, content to study only the remnants left by those who dared venture beyond the walls of academia, I found myself restless—haunted by the knowledge that what we recorded was incomplete. The scholars of Vauris spoke of these creatures in terms of myth and superstition, relying on secondhand accounts and the remnants of long-dead hunters. Their theories were intricate, their treatises exhaustive, but they lacked the weight of truth. How could one claim to understand the nature of something they had never seen with their own eyes? I knew that to truly grasp the reality of these beings, I could not remain in the Scholarium’s ivory halls. I had to go where others dared not.
Convincing the Scholarium to sanction my journey was no small feat. My superiors saw little merit in risking a learned mind on what they deemed a fool’s errand. I spent seasons gathering accounts, cross-referencing old texts with the fragmented testimonies of wanderers and hunters, constructing a thesis so thorough that they could not ignore it. I argued that our knowledge was stagnating, that we had become too comfortable accepting conjecture as fact. Knowledge without experience is a house of cards, and I would not let our understanding of these creatures crumble under the weight of assumption. I proposed my expedition not as an act of defiance, but as a necessity—to preserve what little true knowledge remained before time and fear erased it entirely.
Some called my pursuit reckless, others arrogant, but in the end, the Scholarium could not deny the logic of my words. They granted me the right to embark on this journey, though with little more than a meager stipend and a warning that they would not intervene should my fate turn grim. And so, I set forth alone, guided by curiosity and a quiet defiance of the limits others had placed upon me.
This journal is no mere collection of sketches and observations. It is a chronicle of my journey into the unknown, of my attempts to bridge the gap between myth and reality. It is a record of the knowledge I have gathered, not to wield as a weapon, but to wield as wisdom. May these pages serve as both guide and warning, as invitation and caution.
For those who would take up the hunt, I ask only this—look beyond the surface. In understanding these creatures, we may yet learn to understand ourselves.
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—Elias Corvayn, Scholarium of Vauris |