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Description
A thousand-thousand years ago the Gods flooded the world to push back the hordes of Chaos that had invaded. It was a brutal way to save us though, for despite the masses of demons that were slain, man was killed in greater numbers. The flooding decimated continents and broke the world into hundreds of islands, scattered through the seas.

Ages have past since the flood and the world has grown angry and violent. Kings and lords squabble in endless bloody battle over the largest and most fertile of the islands while the poor and weak cling to the rocky shores.

My people have tamed the sea, made it our way of life, and we sail the coastlines, conquering those too weak to stand against us, taking their supplies, and their lives. They call us Reavers, but we call ourselves the Dominari. So it has been for hundreds of years.

Magic has been forbidden among the Dominari since the dawn of our first tribe. Those born with the gift are slain at birth, for magic is treachery, a target for the demonic servants of chaos still roaming the world, and no spell can be cast without paying the price of its power. But the seas have grown harsher in recent years, the waves swelling into angry fists as storms rage across the waters.

We would not abandon our way of life, for we have always been masters of the sea, never slaves to it, and yet the oceans betrayed us, taking our ships and our lives without mercy. Finally, my people turned to magic, and so chose me, a mage-born babe, the first of the Domnari allowed to live. They forged me, trained me, and raised me into a god, master of the waves, able to quell or call them at my whim. Since I was a child I have sailed at the head of our fleet, calming the storms that threaten us, crushing those that challenge us.

They call me the Wavereaper, though my given name is Raena. I am their god and their beacon, a sign of the might of the Dominari, of we Reavers, a warning to all the petty lords of the lands.

No spell can be cast without paying the price of it's power. Yet, I have never paid this price. It is known to my people that the weak are worthless, and so the lives of our enemies pay this price for me. This is how I have lived as few mages have, retaining my sanity and my life, paying for my magic with the blood of my lessers, raised to the heights of the gods by my peers and feared by all who lay eyes upon the ocean.

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time: ~20 hours
tools: Photoshop CS5, wacom tablet

Description
A thousand-thousand years ago the Gods flooded the world to push back the hordes of Chaos that had invaded. It was a brutal way to save us though, for despite the masses of demons that were slain, man was killed in greater numbers. The flooding decimated continents and broke the world into hundreds of islands, scattered through the seas.

Ages have past since the flood and the world has grown angry and violent. Kings and lords squabble in endless bloody battle over the largest and most fertile of the islands while the poor and weak cling to the rocky shores.

My people have tamed the sea, made it our way of life, and we sail the coastlines, conquering those too weak to stand against us, taking their supplies, and their lives. They call us Reavers, but we call ourselves the Dominari. So it has been for hundreds of years.

Magic has been forbidden among the Dominari since the dawn of our first tribe. Those born with the gift are slain at birth, for magic is treachery, a target for the demonic servants of chaos still roaming the world, and no spell can be cast without paying the price of its power. But the seas have grown harsher in recent years, the waves swelling into angry fists as storms rage across the waters.

We would not abandon our way of life, for we have always been masters of the sea, never slaves to it, and yet the oceans betrayed us, taking our ships and our lives without mercy. Finally, my people turned to magic, and so chose me, a mage-born babe, the first of the Domnari allowed to live. They forged me, trained me, and raised me into a god, master of the waves, able to quell or call them at my whim. Since I was a child I have sailed at the head of our fleet, calming the storms that threaten us, crushing those that challenge us.

They call me the Wavereaper, though my given name is Raena. I am their god and their beacon, a sign of the might of the Dominari, of we Reavers, a warning to all the petty lords of the lands.

No spell can be cast without paying the price of it's power. Yet, I have never paid this price. It is known to my people that the weak are worthless, and so the lives of our enemies pay this price for me. This is how I have lived as few mages have, retaining my sanity and my life, paying for my magic with the blood of my lessers, raised to the heights of the gods by my peers and feared by all who lay eyes upon the ocean.

---

time: ~20 hours
tools: Photoshop CS5, wacom tablet