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About Other / Professional Randall Fitzgerald33/Male/United States Recent Activity
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Literature
In Unknown Woods
Her foot slipped off the beam and she dropped with a dull thud onto the warm wood. Below, the sound of a shifting body nearly pushed the liquid out of her body into the borrowed black leather pants she was wearing. If the sound hadn’t woken the snoring old man, the hot, wet drip of fear would do the job. Her parents had never been particularly proud of her, this would likely be too much. Maybe the old man would be kind enough to leave out that she’d pissed on his head when he found her, she thought.
The shuffling stopped and Era decided she ought to hazard a look down. A bald head poked out of the plush covers, facing the opposite way it had before, but eyes still closed tight. The snoring that had been an annoyance before resumed and she finally let herself breath. The courage to push herself back up to a crouch was slow in coming and pangs of regret began to fire all at once.
The cloaked men had been a curiosity to her from the moment they walked into her parent’s t
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Problems and Blizzards by digiwombat Problems and Blizzards :icondigiwombat:digiwombat 7 0
Literature
The Siuil: Oraithe (Part 2)
Óraithe pulled on a tattered dress over some old trousers. It was certainly out of step with the fashion of the day but it was all she could do to keep her legs protected when she might have to run through Sisters knows what to avoid the guards. She’d have taped her breasts down as well, she thought, if they were substantial enough to warrant it. She had pulled the neck of the dress out and was staring down at them when Cosain entered the store room.
He was carrying a small crate of some herb or other and almost didn’t seem to notice her at all. At least that’s what she’d hoped. He placed the crate on a workbench and turned to address her. “You’re headed out, then? Even after yesterday?”
"Oh, you mean to make me a prisoner, old man?" She hadn’t meant to snap at him, in truth. She felt bad about it but her pride demanded it.
The alchemist didn’t rise to the jab, “The guards do,” he said plainly. “You ought no
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Literature
The Siuil: Socair (Part 2)
Socair looked down at the ill-fitting finery she had been stuffed into. Rún was a nice enough host, but formal dinners were… well they were foreign to Socair. She didn’t know anything of polite society. It hadn’t been her way. Raised among boys in a family whose sole pride was their martial prowess. Still, they were insular and strict. She’d lived in the hand-me-downs of three older brothers until she outgrew the lot of them, standing half a foot taller than any elf she’d ever met.
Now here she was. In some keep or other, in some hold she’d not known existed until she was told to march there. Socair was anything but cultured. At the very least, she’d avoided frillery and gowns and the like. She’d never so much as held a dress up to look at and to her great relief the keep’s servants couldn’t find anything close enough to her size to alter in time for the dinner. As it was, she wore basic tan trousers, a white shirt, an
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Literature
The Siuil: Aile (Part 1)
Aile had been sitting in the rafters for the better part of half a day. Waiting was often a part of the job for her, but the smell was another thing entirely. Her mind rarely wandered but she wondered what it must be like for the elf girls the hippocamp horde took when they sacked a city. The rapes were one thing, she figured, but by the Goddess, how could you ever get used to the smell?
Night had fallen some hours ago, it wouldn’t be long now. And indeed it wasn’t. She’d only just finished what was to be her final check of her supplies when the thudding sound of a large centaur approached the expansive burgundy marquee. She could just make out the harsh tongue of the hippocamps followed by roaring laughter that crescendoed as the flaps parted.
The other voices quickly fell away, retreating into the distance, as he entered the marquee. He was easily the largest centaur she’d ever seen. Warlord Ke’Laak it had said on the papers, hirsute and muscular even by
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Literature
The Siuil: Rianaire (Part 1)
Rianaire drummed her fingers impatiently on the large table which took up the bulk of the drab stone meeting hall. While there were ornate main doors and a few posterns, the rear of the room was an open colonnade leading to a large balcony. It had originally been more extravagant, with stained glass and banners, but Rianaire had insisted it be stripped down and opened to the square, that the Binse and Treorai alike might remember their purpose.
The air in the room was cold in spite of the season. It made her slightly nostalgic but before she could slip into daydreams, as she so often wished to do, a member of her Binse spoke up. “Treorai, the fighting in the south has escalated again.”
"And what of it?" She made no attempt to hide the boredom in her voice, "Has Fásachbaile slid down the mountain and joined the rabble?"
"I…" the Binse member wanted to protest but thought better of it, "No, your excellence."
"Then why do I care what happens in the south?" The un
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Literature
The Siuil: Oraithe (Part 1)
Óraithe nearly lost her footing as she rounded the corner. The guards couldn't be far behind. Stupid as they were, they were quick. Still, they didn't know the streets as she did. The bastard lot spent their time standing idly by the fronts of brothels and whatever eatery they happened be favoring that week. The backstreets Óraithe called home were no place for law enforcement, no matter how ineffective.
She rounded the next corner, more deftly this time, and heard crashing and swearing in the alley she’d just left. Still, she didn't slow up. Not yet. A few more bends and she saw it, stained red and as welcome a sight as it ever was.
The curtain hung with as much dignity as any could in the slums of Spéirbaile and bore the telltale sigil of an alchemist, the silhouette of a lush tree with an upward facing crescent moon cut out of what would have been the leaves. The shop was quite before Óraithe burst through the curtain, knocking several tinctures off
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Literature
The Siuil: Socair (Part 1)
It was the 11th week of Saol and the heat was nigh unbearable even without the fighting. Socair sat on the crumbling ruin of what had been the wall of a house, her brigandine, doublet, and vambraces on the ground in a smelly heap. They weren't impressive pieces by any means. Dull brown with a solemn green stripe down the left breast and subjected more patchings and repairs than the most tried warship. Sweat had long since soiled her underclothes and now all she cared about was finding some relief from the heat.
Still, she’d been among the first through the gates and the heat had taken its toll on near as many as of her people as the centaur. She’d been cut shallow along the cheek in the initial push with the vanguard and at the time she’d thanked the Sisters that the blood somehow felt cool against the skin of her neck. In the heat of the day the blood had turned to a thin, irritating paste and Socair found herself cursing the centaur and the heat as much as her lack
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Literature
The Slam Decision
She just sort of sat down at my table. Now, normally I’m the sort of guy to go for that not-so-indie movie girl bullshit. Great, right? An adventure tinted the color of Mumford and Sons and socially acceptable quirks and wacky hair dye and swimming in a pool after hours or whatever bullshit passes for endearingly free spirited this year. Normally.
She was bleeding. From the face. Not like a nose bleed or busted lip or even a cut. It’d just… just sort of well up and run down from a spot on her cheek. It’d form a line and drip like there was supposed to be a cut there but I never saw one. She wiped it away with a rag she was carrying. The rag wasn’t covered with blood, just a few spots here and there.
"Are you—?"
"Yeah, shut up please. Eat your grand slam."
"It’s a lumber—"
"I said please shut up."
Okay, so not a great start. She was staring a fucking hole through me. If I’m honest, it took everything I had not to flip out. The stupi
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Literature
I Took A Walk
I woke up feeling no way in particular. Just… you know… not good, not bad. It’s always a weird way to start the day. It’s so middle-of-the-road it makes it hard to muster any sort of mood for the day.
But whatever, I went to work, played back the pleasantry recordings everyone has to put through the speakers when they’re in a crowd of quasi-strangers. I always found it hard to believe people actually liked their co-workers. Maybe that’s why I hate most every job I’ve ever worked. I don’t give myself over to the whole “one big happy family” thing. Team building exercises just seem like reasons for me to have to talk to people I share a room with for eight hours a day.
I guess it worked in school. I read some book or story or comic or bullshit internet image— hell, maybe it was a video or something, I don’t know—, but it stuck with me. There were these two kids and one was beating the shit out of the other on
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Husks Issue 2 Cover by digiwombat Husks Issue 2 Cover :icondigiwombat:digiwombat 3 0 Husks Issue 1 Cover by digiwombat Husks Issue 1 Cover :icondigiwombat:digiwombat 3 0 Transfer-Page6 by digiwombat Transfer-Page6 :icondigiwombat:digiwombat 1 0 Transfer. Page 5 by digiwombat Transfer. Page 5 :icondigiwombat:digiwombat 1 0 Transfer. Page 4 by digiwombat Transfer. Page 4 :icondigiwombat:digiwombat 3 0 Transfer. Page3 by digiwombat Transfer. Page3 :icondigiwombat:digiwombat 2 0

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Randall Fitzgerald
Artist | Professional | Other
United States
I write comics. Stuff like that. Not much to say since I don't really do the whole talk about myself thing.
Interests
Hey!

Guys... srrsly, it's hard to remember to ever post a thing over here. Certainly I log into dA every day to check stuff but I forget to upload the myriad things I'm working on.

I just slapped up the covers for Husks, so hopefully you guys will check out the comic over at husks.us annnnd that's about it. I guess I will go back to waiting three years between journals. My proper blog craps are up at my main site linked above. I also post the comic there.

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:iconmannixfrancisco:
MannixFrancisco Featured By Owner Nov 27, 2017  Professional Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave!
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:iconbrandon6451:
Brandon6451 Featured By Owner Nov 26, 2016  Professional Digital Artist
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:icontyrelliot:
Tyrelliot Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2016
I believe we met before in 1938. Remember we went to the strip club together?
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:icondigiwombat:
digiwombat Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2016  Professional Artist
Those were heady days, friend. Before the war took us from our homes and put us in a world we could never understand.

I feigned patriotism when I volunteered and said it was my duty but there was a terrible, violent truth beneath that gentle lie. He didn't deserve what he got, but it was dark and I thought he meant to show me my end.
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:icontyrelliot:
Tyrelliot Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2016
:(
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:icondigiwombat:
digiwombat Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2016  Professional Artist
It's okay. He was just a dirty hobo.


thatswhatitellmyself.
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(1 Reply)
:iconcrowstitch:
Crowstitch Featured By Owner Jul 2, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Cashew by PizzaPretzelYou just got cashewd! Rules:
Tiny Cashew by PizzaPretzel You must cashew at least five other deviants
Tiny Cashew by PizzaPretzel Copy and paste this message on their profile
Tiny Cashew by PizzaPretzel Spread the cashew on DeviantART!
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:iconbftu:
BFTU Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
Awesome art!
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:iconsir-fakemon:
Sir-Fakemon Featured By Owner Feb 3, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
I popped by your page with the random deviant button, and would like to say hi!
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:iconcrowstitch:
Crowstitch Featured By Owner Jul 2, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Me too, same scenario.
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