Yep, drew Shal Noctis again – my TTRPG character.

Shal is still very much around in Spooky Dice Bag, and a lot has emerged with the character over the past couple of months. Unfortunately I haven’t had the opportunity to update The Scrolls of Noctis in a bit, but once the semester is over I plan on catching up. Shal’s been through some shit and there has been a lot of wild stuff with the character I want to share his perspective on.

Shal has been a fun character to play, for sure. But he is also a fun character to draw. He is one of my favorite characters I’ve created in the past couple of years for sure.

It has been nice to have some time to do some illustrations over the Thanksgiving break. Drawing this character is a pretty nice way to wrap it all up. But anyway, back to the grindstone tomorrow.

Anyway, if you are interested in supporting what I do, you can do so through donations on Ko-Fi. I also take commissions.

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His Spooky Dicebag appearances begin next week, and I have something planned for that. It required a drawing of Shal, so here we are. Be sure to subscribe to Spooky Dicebag if you want to catch his debut. It’s been a ton of fun to join the campaign and I can’t wait for people to hear his wild story as he joins the Strixhaven crew.

And that’s about all I have to say about this TTRPG character at the moment. You’ll have a really interesting update next week. Stick around!

And yes, he is still part of Fang of Triseria. The idea is that this is his Dungeons and Dragons version, like one of his multiversal equivalents.

Anyway, if you are interested in supporting what I do, you can do so through donations on Ko-Fi. I also take commissions.

The post 2025 Sketchbook #025 – Shal Noctis appeared first on hpkomics.com.

Captain Edward Newton very much enjoyed his travels and Egypt had proven to be delightful. It was certainly a step up from India, in his learned opinion. Though he could not judge India too harshly, as he was sure he was still rattled from the rather short war in Bhutan. The treaty ultimately afforded him time to explore a little more of the various colonies in the Empire.

His wanderings had greatly worn him out, however. He had been considering his exit plan for months, since the start of the war, back home to England. Back to the countryside. By the time the war was over, the Captain had a rough idea of how he would retire. His father had been in ill health even before the trip to India, and it came as no surprise that Lord Newton ultimately passed. The estate, while fairly modest compared to some of the estates of officers he served with, was a blessing. Captain Newton was still not prepared to call himself the new Lord of Newton House. It seemed the travels were more than just a reward for service to the Empire. He had to make an impression. Time to wander and think. Time to ascend his personage.

The impending Lord’s plan was simple. He would deal in antiquities and turn his estate into a museum of his travels. Unorthodox to be sure, but as he was yet unmarried he needed something to occupy his time besides the bloodshed of heathenistic foreigners in India. As far as Egypt went, Cairo was a source of a great many antiquities for his eventual museum. No shortage of poor men willing to part with trinkets for his potential museum at a pittance of the Empire’s coin.

His travails through Cairo had led him to a particularly questionable alley of the brown men, dealing in all manner of plunder from ancient tombs. Tablets, jars, and small clay markers with picturesque carvings could be found resting on any number of rugs and crude wooden shelves in the alley. As he walked by, expectant brown eyes would cast their listless gaze upon him in hopes he would purchase wares. Captain Newton – or was it Lord? – no, that would wait until he was in the homeland – however, was disinterested in the standard trappings of foreign souvenirs. He wanted a genuine mummy.

Captain Burroughs, back at the Blue Jewel Hotel, had mentioned the mummy vendor over drinks, and after a little liquid coaxing finally gave Captain Newton a set of directions to find the vendor. The vendor was said to have fantastic mummies of great quality and character. Surely any of them would make a great exhibit at Newton House. It would be the centerpiece of his museum project.

Captain Newton reached the end of the alley and saw the ramshackle shed erected against one of the modest Cairo buildings. As was described by Burroughs, outside the shed sat a rather tired-looking Egyptian fellow, and next to him were several mummies on public display. Open to the elements, hastily wrapped in meager cloth to shield them from the sun. The unmistakable silhouette, however, was easily recognized.

Captain Newton approached the man.

“Are you Sherif?”

The man cast his eyes upward and did not respond immediately. He grunted as he rose to his feet.

“Yes, I am Sherif. What do you need?”

Captain Newton shuddered at the lack of respect he was being shown, but a genuine mummy would be worth the temporary embarrassment.

“Mr. Sherif, I am looking for a mummy, preferably one of the best quality and novelty you can provide.”

Sherif, again silent, simply stared at Captain Newton, as though he was audaciously determining Newton’s character. After a few painful moments, the vendor took a deep breath and trudged over to his makeshift shed. He pulled up a dingy key from a necklace just under his linen shirt. Inside the shed, Newton was surprised to see another ten mummies packed inside together so tightly, like a logger’s stack. There was an exception of one such mummy, however. At the back of the small shed, resting against the wall was a rather well-preserved, mummified corpse. The other mummies of the shed were propped against the she’ds walls, as though to give this specimen room, either through fear or awe.

It was one of the most impressive mummies Newton had ever seen and he needed to have it for Newton Hall.

“How much for the mummy in the back, Mr. Sherif? The central fellow?”

…

It had taken some haggling but Captain Newton had managed to procure the mummy for a little over a single pound. Mr. Sherif had turned out to be a rather shrewd negotiator and the whole affair had left the Captain exhausted. The heat, smells, and dust of Cairo had proven to be overwhelming. He had returned to his room to rest and await the packaged mummy. He would later have a porter ship the mummy back to England, on his behalf, as he continued his travels abroad. His work was not yet done, but with finds like this, he would make a strong showing in the coming season.

Sure enough, within a couple of hours, and several snifters of brandy, a rapping knock at the door confirmed the delivery of the mummy.

The porter wheeled the crate into the room and promptly exited. Captain Newton, entranced by his new prize, grabbed at his service knife and began to pry the crate open. The screech of heavy nails on wood made him wince, but with the lid pried off, he was able to view his hard-won prize.

Satisfied the deal was met with Mr. Sherif, Newton realized just how tired he really was and decided on an afternoon nap. He slid the lid of the crate in place and wandered over to the bed, opting to sleep in his current clothes. He’d never felt so tired before. Not since his return from the battle and leading his sepoys.

Sleep overtook Captain Newton.

…

It was early evening when Captain Newton woke up. His vision was blurry and he was still very much exhausted, yet something seemed off to him. He felt dirty as he had slept in his clothes, and the Cairo heat had made him sweat through, down to the bed linen. Even now in the early twilight, it was still warm and the air in the room was stuffy. It was getting darker by the moment and his eyes still struggled to adjust to the increasingly dimming lighting.

And yet, something felt off.

As the room came into focus, he saw a figure standing at the foot of his bed.

“Porter? Excuse me, is there something-”

His throat tightened and a cold sweat began to pour from his temples. The figure was not a hotel porter. It was thin and gnarled. Captain Edward Newton shifted nervously back toward the headboard and turned his gaze to the crate.

The lid was on the floor.

The Captain’s sweaty palms dug deep into the pliable bed as the shadowed figure placed its gnarled hand at the end of the dirty right boot. Leathery, thin fingers grasped at his toes.

The stench of sand, time, and rot was unmistakable.

…

It was early morning when Sherif arrived at the alley where he sold his mummies. The sun had not risen over the horizon and the alley was silent as he approached his shed.

At first, he was alarmed to see the figure of the man propped against the makeshift shop. Sherif pulled a small knife from his pants, ready to discourage any would-be thief. He had done it before and would do it again. As he stepped closer to the stall, however, he took a deep breath in relief. The door to his shed was still firmly locked, and the figure did not move.

Curiously, a quality white linen was draped over the figure. Though overnight it had been marred by dust and what appeared to be brownish-red flecks.

The mummy he had sold to the fussy British man was back. This did not shock Sherif.

He was just relieved that he had insisted on money upfront this time.

Thank you for reading. It’s been fun to revisit some earlier pieces I have written.

In the meantime, if you want to support me and my work, consider visiting my Ko-fi page or commissioning me.

Photo by Oussama Bergaoui on Pexels.com

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