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About Varied / Professional Core Member Arkady Rose GerardUnited Kingdom Recent Activity
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John and The Hound by IMarriedMyFandoms

Unfortunately this fic is very badly brought down by the obvious fact the writer is not British and has not had this story checked over...

by iE-ma

A very effective shot, combining a natural backlighting effect from the window behind with a soft chiaroscuro effect. A light smatterin...

by iE-ma

I feel the main issue with this picture is how you've framed the eye within the picture; the image doesn't follow the rule of thirds. T...


ArkadyRose's Profile Picture
Arkady Rose Gerard
Artist | Professional | Varied
United Kingdom
Professional artist working in both traditional and digital media, craftsman, doll customiser/costumer, jeweller, bookbinder.


SIZE: I generally work on a minimum canvas size of 4Kx4K at 300dpi - however this is open to negotiation depending on whether you want a high print-quality image or something for web work.

TIMESCALE: This depends on what you're after; simple sketches on a blank or parchment-textured background I can do on a 1-2 day turnaround; simple painting of a bust will take 2-3 days. Full-length character portraits will take longer depending on how complicated the outfit is. Full-length portrait with full painted background could easily take me up to a couple of weeks to do. It also depends on how busy I am. I will discuss and agree a timescale with you before any money changes hands.

SUBJECT MATERIAL: This is pretty much up to you with very few exceptions. I'm pretty versatile and can do pretty much almost any subject material; please browse my gallery for samples of my work. Animals are my real forte, but I also enjoy painting portraits. If you're not sure whether I can do justice to a particular subject, please ask!

* Simple sketch, blank or parchment background £30
* Simple portrait - head & shoulders/bust, blank/parchment background £50
* Full-length character portrait, minimal background £65
* Full painting with detailed background £80
* Pet portraits - blank/parchment background, fully-coloured, digitally painted, 300dpi suitable for printing £45
* Logos etc - POA, generally £15-£30 depending on complexity and size required.
* Tattoo designs - POA

PAYMENT: In the UK: Either Bank Transfer to my account or Paypal. Outside UK: Paypal only please. I require a 50% non-refundable down-payment upon agreement of the commission, the remainder to be paid upon completion of the commission. All pictures will be released with a Creative Commons license unless otherwise specified & negotiated. I reseve the right to display a copy of the work as part of my deviantART portfolio.

If you would like to commission me, please send me a Note or email me at arkadyDOTroseATgmailDOTcom with the subject heading of "Commission:DA".


A Bit of Silliness by ArkadyRose
A Bit of Silliness
So, I had an idea for a cosplay: Punk genderbent AU Anders from DA2. Got the shirt, grey scarf, feather pauldrons and the basic boots, and decided I'd stick the feathers on my leather jacket and just test how it's looking thus far. WHich led to silly posing, and then I may have gotten a little carried away with Photoshop.... ;-)
Celtic Cat by ArkadyRose
Celtic Cat
Black cat in silver knotwork. Available on t-shirts, mugs and bags from Cafepress:…
Mugs and laptop skins from Society6:…
Fenris was on watch when Anders suddenly curled upon his side and let out a piteous groan, clutching his stomach as his eyelids fluttered. The elf leapt to his feet as Anders rolled onto his back and began to babble.

Hawke and Varric were on their feet, Bethany sitting up and looking round in alarm as the blond apostate rolled onto his side with a hoarse scream and vomited a thin stream of bile. In an instant, Fenris was at his side, gently lifting him into his arms. Anders began to struggle to get away from him.

“No, no please, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me again, I didn’t do anything!” he wept.

“Anders, mi amatus - it’s alright, you are safe, no-one will hurt you!” exclaimed Fenris as the others clustered around him.

“Doesn’t look good, Broody,” remarked Varric as Bethany reached out a hand to touch Anders’ forehead.

“Maker, he’s burning up!” she exclaimed. She recoiled as Anders suddenly threw his head back and screamed, one hand clutching at his head. He twisted onto his side in Fenris’ arms, retching again as he drew his knees up to his stomach; abruptly he began to claw at his skin.

“Anders, stop! You’re hurting yourself!” exclaimed Hawke as he caught hold of the mage’s slender wrists and held his hands down and away from his face as Anders writhed, in obvious agony. He was babbling, pleading for someone to make the pain stop as tears rolled down his face, already streaked with sweat and vomit.

“Anders. Anders!” said Fenris, urgently.

“Fenris, it hurts, it hurts so much - sweet Andraste let me die,” sobbed Anders as his one good eye opened, seeking him out blindly.

“Easy, mi amatus,” rumbled Fenris softly. Beside him, Bethany poured water from her canteen onto a cloth then tried to clean Anders’ face as best she could - no easy task, as the delirious mage recoiled from her, trying to turn his face away. He gritted his teeth against the pain and shook his head.

“Make them stop - make it all stop!” he begged.

“Maker, this is bad,” said Hawke as Anders continued to writhe in pain, sweat beading his brow as he twisted in Fenris’ arms with a low moan that tailed off into a whimper. “What in blazes are we going to do? He needs help - but we’re still a long way from the surface!”

“He needs lyrium, Hawke,” said Fenris quietly. “I fear that giving him what little remains would only prolong his torment.”

“But we can’t just do nothing!” argued Bethany. “Look at him, he’s suffering!”

“Not to mention his screams will attract attention from darkspawn and worse,” said Hawke darkly.

“Then what do you suggest?” hissed Fenris, his anger flaring. He was distracted as Anders suddenly began frantically clawing at his skin again until Fenris wrapped both arms firmly around his chest, pinning his hands to his sides.

Anders seemed to panic worse than ever at this; he threw his head back and began to scream, over and over, his cries high-pitched and hysterical; Fenris thought he heard the word “broodmother” indistinctly between the screams. Anders appeared to be hallucinating every traumatic thing that had ever happened to him.

His fingers twitched, and then suddenly he went stiff in Fenris’ arms before abruptly he went into convulsions, his one good eye rolled back until all they could see was the white. He was frothing at the mouth as a strange, pained gurgling came from his mouth with was transfixed wide open in a desperate attempt to scream.

After long moments that felt like a lifetime but in truth could only have been a couple of minutes, the blond apostate went limp in the elven warrior’s arms. They stared at him, shocked into silence. After a few minutes, Hawke leaned forward and pressed two fingers to the side of Anders’ neck just under the line of his jaw.

“Is he....” began Bethany in a horrified whisper. Hawke shook his head.

“Just unconscious,” he said quietly. Fenris cradled the unconscious man in his arms and looked down at the still, pale face, still damp with sweat. After a moment he looked up at the others helplessly.

“I do not know what to do for him,” he whispered. “How do we help him?”

“We can’t,” said Varric gravely. “He’s just got to get it out of his system. All we can do is just try to make him as comfortable as possible as he rides it out.”

“He could die!” said Fenris, glancing to Varric. “I have seen it happen - it is a slow, agonising death, the body shutting down under the strain until finally the heart stops. I cannot - I will not tamely sit by to merely watch the man I love die by degrees before my very eyes!”

“And what do you propose to do about it then, Fenris?” asked Hawke in a reasonable tone of voice. “We’re none of us healers. Healing magic isn’t one of Beth’s areas of skill; she could maybe just about heal a cut or ease a headache, but there’s little she could do about lyrium withdrawal. You say he had one and a half vials of lyrium left - what would that do? Ease his discomfort for maybe a day? What then?”

Fenris stared aghast at Hawke, then dropped his gaze to the lyrium brands that swirled through his flesh. With an effort of will, they blazed into life with the old, familiar burn of pain. He laid a glowing hand gently upon Anders’ cheek; after a moment, the unconscious mage seemed to breathe easier.

“How long can you keep that up, Broody?” asked Varric quietly.

“As long as it takes,” answered the elf grimly.

“You have to sleep sometime, Fenris,” said Hawke slowly as he shook his head; Fenris’ only answer was a glare. After a moment he lowered his eyes to Anders’ pale face.

Hawke sighed. “Well, no point in trying to sleep now,” he said. “I’m going to make up the fire and brew tea.”

“I’ll give you a hand, Hawke - and check our food supplies.”

They moved away together towards the embers of the fire. Firewood was something else growing scarce; there was none to be had down here, and the glowing moss on the walls gave off thick smoke when burned. Eventually their dwindling supply would run out, and then it would be cold rations until they, too ran out.

Bethany remained sitting with Fenris and the unconscious apostate. After a while, Fenris frowned and looked up. “Do you feel that?” he asked softly.

Bethany frowned in answer. She closed her eyes and concentrated, cautiously feeling with her magic. Her eyes flew open. “Spirits! They’re all around us! Are they being drawn by your lyrium?”

“Perhaps,” said the elf. “Or perhaps they are drawn to Anders. He is, after all, a spirit healer. He has told me before that he is sometimes assisted by a spirit of healing. It is why he was Harrowed so young, he told me; all mages are irresistible to spirits and demons, none more so than a spirit healer. Something about them calls to such beings,” he added dourly.

“Anders has always resisted though. He’s the strongest mage I know.”

Fenris snorted. “Not enough; he took a demon into himself, did he not?”

“I wonder what happened to Justice,” said Bethany thoughtfully. “There’s been no sign of him since Anders lost his eye.”

“He told me he could no longer feel it,” replied Fenris. “Perhaps it was driven out when he lost his magic? No matter. He is free of it, however it happened; for which I can only be glad.”

Anders murmured something in his sleep, then grew still as they watched, holding their breath. But he said nothing further, remaining still and silent despite the touch of Fenris’ softly-glowing lyrium.

“How long do you think he’ll sleep?” Bethany asked quietly. Fenris shrugged.

“There is no way of telling. Perhaps a few hours; perhaps days. Perhaps he may never wake up; it is possible.” He lowered his head, falling silent.

“I’m sure your lyrium must be helping,” she said softly. She reached out a hand as if to touch his arm, then  drew it back again, thinking better of it. After a while, she quietly got to her feet.

“Bethany,” said Fenris as he glanced up at her. “I... Thank you. For sitting with me.”

She smiled sadly at him. She cast a last glance down at Anders, then made her way back towards the camp fire.

Fenris continued his silent vigil over the unconscious mage alone, ignoring the discomfort as he let the lyrium glow. It was a small price to pay if it meant Anders would live.


Fenris kept up the power of his brands through the rest of the day until exhaustion and the burning pain made him seek the surcease of a few hours’ rest. He had been asleep barely an hour when the hurlocks attacked.

A pack of perhaps fifteen, they were silent as they surrounded the camp. Hawke had barely time to yell a warning before they were upon the small group.

They fought them off, Fenris standing over his comatose mage to drive them away. There were several minutes of hard fighting and it was a close-run thing; but in the end they stood inside a ring of dead darkspawn, breathing hard but alive. Fenris had a nasty gash down one arm and Hawke was limping, but healing potions took care of the worst of their wounds. They decided to move camp after that, for fear of further packs of darkspawn being drawn to them. They cleaned off the dark blood as best they could then struck camp, moving on through the dark which was lit dimly by the light of Fenris’ brands as he carried Anders carefully, Bethany a step behind as she bore Anders’ staff as well as her own.

They travelled as far as they could before they had to call a halt. Though scrawny and far too light, Anders was still a dead weight in the elf’s arms; and he was still exhausted thanks to not enough rest and the exertion of fighting. They found a small side cave with, strangely, a couple of near-empty crates. Hawke and Varric briefly discussed how they came to be there as they ripped them apart for firewood.

They built a small campfire just inside the only entrance to the cave as Fenris lay Anders down upon a bedroll then stretched out alongside him. He kept his brands burning as long as he could until finally exhausted sleep claimed him once more.


He was awoken a few hours later when Anders began to thrash and moan again, tossing his head fitfully as he incoherently pleaded for someone, anyone to take away the pain and stop it hurting. Reluctantly, Fenris gave him one of the last remaining vials of lyrium. Anders settled soon after, and Fenris was able to sleep peacefully after that for several hours, thankful that Anders had not needed the last half-vial.

They stayed in the small cave for the rest of that day, and the one that followed. Anders was still and unresponsive, his face becoming even more gaunt with each passing day. With difficulty, Fenris and Bethany were able to coax a little water into him, dribbling it a little at a time between his slack lips and massaging his throat gently until he convulsively swallowed. He had two more episodes of fitting upon that first day, but only one in the second. Hawke and Varric took it in turns to go scouting the nearby passages, returning with deep mushrooms and some of the moss which Varric thought might be edible. Fenris had to give the last few drops of lyrium to Anders during the night; as the second night approached, Fenris felt dread creep over him along with the exhaustion. He knew he could not keep awake through the whole night, nor keep his brands lit for that long. Already his body was racked with pain from the effort of keeping them lit for several hours, three days in a row; and he knew he was reaching the end of his endurance.

Varric and Hawke grew grim. Though they said nothing to Fenris, it was clear that both men felt it was only a matter of time before Anders breathed his last. Bethany spent much of that third day in the cave red-eyed, though she shed her tears silently, her back to the others. She shook her head when Hawke tried to get her to eat a bowl of the stew Varric had made from the deep mushrooms, claiming a headache.

Fenris knew the spirits were still drawn to Anders; he could feel them all around. When Bethany tried her meagre healing skills on the sick mage that evening, she reported that she could feel something trying to help her.

“It’s like there’s something there, healing at the same time as as I am,” she said in a hushed whisper. “Like there’s another healer working on him, but - there’s no-one here but us!” She stared at Fenris wide-eyed.

“It is as I said; he is a spirit healer. Perhaps some spirit of healing has been drawn to him?” he guessed. “Though I pray that in his weakened state he does not fall prey to some opportunistic demon,” he added as his brows drew together in a frown. “It would not do for him to lose one spirit only to be claimed by another.”

Anders’ breathing grew more shallow and fainter as the evening wore on. By some unspoken agreement, no-one slept that night, certain that Anders would not live till morning.

It would be a long night.

PSAn- phishing scammers

Journal Entry: Sun Aug 23, 2015, 4:22 PM

Just to give folks a heads-up - there are scammers leaving notes directing you to an external URL for a "free" DA upgrade. Everything about it stinks of a phishing scam. If you get one of these notes, mark it as spam and do not follow the link. There is no such thing as a "free DA premium upgrade".

It was somewhere around the third cave the next day that he began to hear things.

It wasn’t much; just a strange, high-pitched twittering - like the calls of bats, but almost he thought there were words to it; not quite intelligible, but close enough that he found himself straining to try and make them out.

“D’you hear that?” he’d asked Bethany quietly. “Aren’t we rather far underground for bats?”

“I don’t hear anything,” she said, her voice sounding confused. “What can you hear?”

“It’s probably nothing,” he shrugged. “Maybe just my ears making something up to make up for the loss of my sight.” He swung his staff carefully before him in a small arc; it tapped a rock, and he carefully sidestepped around it. He was getting better at finding his way around now; he was learning to hear for the slight echoing of their voices that told him how wide the cavern must be, and with his staff he was getting the hang of walking without knocking into things. He could feel where the others were around him with just a little push of magic, which made it easier keeping up. They were making better time as a result.

He was still pretty much reliant on Bethany or Varric in a fight to guide him somewhere safe, and most of his concentration was taken up with healing and invigorate spells, cantrips to increase their speed, and shields to protect them - counting on the others in turn to protect him, though he got off plenty of offensive spells too, when he had a clear line of fire. Occasionally one of the others would call out a direction and how far away a target was, and he would trust to their shouted guides and lob a fireball in that direction; or Bethany would target something with a lightning bolt that he could sense with his own magic and see as a lighter patch of red against the perpetual darkness around him to home in his own spells; but it all demanded a lot of concentration, and as each day passed increasingly he would fall back into the role of healer as the constant concentration and the growing, racking pains in his body took a toll on his meagre energy.

And the pains were growing worse. One vial of lyrium a day wasn’t enough; and by the fourth day he was trying to eke it out a little further; that day he took only half a vial in the morning, and that evening he spent huddled beneath his blanket, alternately shivering and sweating, every joint in his body stabbing with pain when he tried to move. Fenris had tried to coax a little food into him; he had refused, certain it would come back up. Eventually he fell into an exhausted sleep, only to awaken the next morning feeling as though he had barely slept at all.

He lay there, his head pounding and his guts churning, listening dully as Hawke and the others discussed him. Their voices boomed through his skull, too loud for thought.

“He can’t go on, Hawke.” The low rumble like falling rocks; he knew that was Fenris. “He is in withdrawal.”

“We can’t stay here, Fenris.” Hawke, that one; a voice like the crack of thunder overhead, bright and loud and ringing painfully in Anders’ disoriented ears. “We’re running low on food. We have to press on. Beth - I hate to ask, but -”

“I gave him the last of my lyrium, Garrett.” Sweet Beth. Her voice was soft, but still it cascaded through his head like a raging torrent, sweeping away concentration until he thought he would drown in her voice. Blind though he was, her voice called up images in his mind of a swirling river, and he thought he might surrender to it. He couldn’t hear the bats when she spoke.

“How much has Blondie got left, Broody?” Varric, a voice like honey or treacle; Anders was caught in it, cloying yet soothing, weighing him down.

“Not enough. He took only half a vial yesterday, and you have seen the result. He had one and a half vials left. I do not know whether making him eke them out like this is not more cruel than letting him ride out withdrawal now.” Lost in the swirl of sound, the meaning of Fenris’ words was lost on the delirious mage; he was too transfixed by the swirling green patterns his mind made of the voice that followed him back down into sleep, distracting him from the burning pain in his guts.

He had no idea how long he slept, but the pain through his body and the churning nausea was so much worse when he woke again. Someone was calling his name.

He opened his eyes and Karl was smiling down at him, the red flaming sun brand upon his forehead still ugly and fresh and new, and he cried out. “I’m sorry, Maker, I’m so sorry!” he told him as he reached for Karl; but the Tranquil mage only shook his head then pulled open the front of his robes to reveal Anders’ dagger still embedded in his heart and the blood, still pumping out fresh and hot.

It was on his hands, in his hair; everywhere he looked he could see blood, smell it, taste it in his mouth. The taste of flesh, the stench of burning corpses, and they were all around him - Wardens, Templars, but Roland was still laughing at him, laughing and laughing as the blood ran from his mouth; and Anders screamed and vomited, his stomach twisting painfully, uselessly.

There were hands holding him and he could feel cold, sharp armour; he shrank away from the templar. “No, no please, don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me again, I didn’t do anything!” he wept.

A lance of pain stabbed through his head and he screamed again. He was vaguely aware of voices, but he couldn’t make sense of them. The bats were back, jabbering and chittering away in voices that should have been too high for human speech but there were words in there, he knew; and he could smell them now - smell the corruption, the taint; rank, vile and rotten, the stench clinging to the inside of his throat and choking him as his stomach twisted again. He’d felt the taint earlier but now it was all around him; it was upon him, inside him, in his very blood.

His skin burned and itched; he clawed at it desperately, feeling it grow slick under his hands until someone was restraining his wrists and all he could do was writhe helplessly and beg for mercy between screams until his throat was raw and he couldn’t scream any more. The pain was like knives jabbing into his stomach, pulsing with his heartbeat, with the blood he could feel rolling across his skin as it burned.

Dear Maker it hurt, it hurt and it wouldn’t stop and Maker please someone make it stop....

“Anders. Anders!” Slowly the voice penetrated the haze of pain.

“Fenris, it hurts, it hurts so much - sweet Andraste let me die,” he sobbed. He could feel Fenris’ arms around him; he opened his one remaining eye but could see nothing.

“Easy, mi amatus,” rumbled Fenris softly; gentle hands were brushing the wet hair away from his eyes before bathing his face with a soft cloth. He could feel the taint worse than ever and he weakly tried to pull away. The cool water was soothing but it reeked of corruption, of the bats that wheeled and chittered overhead with those foul voices that set his teeth on edge and made the pain in his head nigh unbearable.

“Make them stop - make it all stop!” he begged.

The buzz of voices; he couldn’t follow the conversation. Karl was whispering to him again, and he could feel the blood dripping on his skin from the wound in Karl’s chest. He tried to scrub it away frantically; he burned everywhere it touched. Karl’s face was melting, the flesh running off like hot wax - just like the faces of the dead templars who were taking him back to the tower only they never saw the darkspawn, and though he hated the templars he hated the darkspawn more and they were burning, everything was burning, Maker he was burning - a fire in his veins, his guts, his skin.

He couldn’t move his arms. Something was holding him down. He glanced down and out of the darkness he could see glistening wet coils, black and sinuous, winding around his body and pinning his arms to his sides. His eyes widened in terror and he began to scream. He tried to call upon his magic, lightning dancing from his fingers, but suddenly he felt it arc, out of control, and he jerked as it raced through his body. His spine snapped backwards and he tried to scream as the shock raced through him, his body twitching and jerking spasmodically. He couldn’t breathe.

He thought he would die, but suddenly the pain stopped.

He blinked, looking around slowly. The cavern was lit by a dim green light; as he got to his feet and stared around himself, he suddenly realised he could see. His eyes widened and he stared down at himself, then around again wildly.

The cavern was empty. The lyrium veins in the walls glowed softly, their silvery blue light radiant and lovely yet cold and chilling. He felt drawn towards it, but stayed where he was.

What are you doing here?

He whirled round, alarmed. A pale golden figure was regarding him curiously. It seemed vaguely female - or at least, it seemed to have long hair that drifted slowly in a breeze he could not feel, it seemed to be wearing some form of floating gown, and what he could see of its figure seemed to have shapely curves approximating those of a woman. He couldn’t make out the facial features, if indeed there were any.

“I... I don’t know,” he answered.

Hmm... a mortal. And aware. We don’t get many like you here. Usually your kind are dreamers.” It drifted closer, tilting its head on one side.

“You’re a spirit,” Anders said. “But... what are you a spirit of?”

A second spirit appeared next to the first and peered at him curiously.

We know you,” the newcomer said softly.

“Y-you do?” asked Anders, stumbling backwards.

Oh yes. We have seen you before,” chimed a third voice; pale golden hands came to gently rest upon his shoulders and he cried out in alarm.

Don’t be afraid,” said a fourth, drifting close to him.

We only want to help,” said a fifth.

We always come to help,” agreed a sixth.

“Who are you?” he breathed.

Don’t you recognise us, Spirit Healer?” asked the first spirit, drifting towards him. It smiled gently, then lifted impossibly slender arms as it drifted closer still. He stared into the glowing light where he still could not make out eyes, or any other features. Soft, warm fingers cradled his face and he felt a gentle breeze upon his skin.

You are the one who calls us,” said the spirit; and though it had no mouth, Anders knew it was smiling. “You are the Healer.”


Simple sketches
Generally 2-3 hours' work. Simple illustration sketches - animals, children's story illustrations etc. Supplied as PNG at 72dpi, suitable for online display. Sample:
Custom art piece (portraits, Celtic knotwork)
Generally minimum 6-8 hours' work upwards. Knotwork animal or creature of your specifications in a celtic knotwork design, supplied as PNGs both against a transparent background and coloured, minimum 300dpi, suitable for printing. Sample:
Portraits: Supplied as full-colour digitally painted PNG, 300dpi, at a size suitable for printing. Samples:,,,
Logo design
Generally 2-3 hours' work, PNG file supplied on both transparent background and on sample coloured background, minimum 300dpi suitable for printing, t-shirts etc. e.g.


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PSAn- phishing scammers

Journal Entry: Sun Aug 23, 2015, 4:22 PM

Just to give folks a heads-up - there are scammers leaving notes directing you to an external URL for a "free" DA upgrade. Everything about it stinks of a phishing scam. If you get one of these notes, mark it as spam and do not follow the link. There is no such thing as a "free DA premium upgrade".



Add a Comment:
Kulibrnda Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks fot :+fav: :hug:
ArkadyRose Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2013  Professional General Artist
My pleasure. It's a lovely piece. :)
BlackKiba Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
thanks for the fav! :3
ArkadyRose Featured By Owner Oct 25, 2013  Professional General Artist
My pleasure. :-)
AdmiralDeMoy Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2013  Professional Digital Artist
Thanks for the Loki fave. :hug:
ArkadyRose Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2013  Professional General Artist
My pleasure. :)
AdmiralDeMoy Featured By Owner Jul 5, 2013  Professional Digital Artist
imlindy Featured By Owner May 2, 2013
Hi Arkady,

How are you?

My name is Lindy Fu. Our company ZQGame is looking for good artwork from talented artists. We have seen this work from your artwork site: [link]. We wonder if we can use it for our game promotional marketing. If so, is the IP yours or somebody else? What the price range would be? Please let us know. We can work on the details later. You can reach me at

Thank you very much,

Lindy Fu

Executive Assistant
ZQGame, Inc.
ArkadyRose Featured By Owner May 2, 2013  Professional General Artist
Unfortunately the IP of that particular subject belongs to Bioware; it is a piece of fanart depicting the character Anders from Dragon Age 2. However I would be willing to accept a commission for a similar piece featuring an original character of either your or my own specifications.

A sample list of my commissions prices is available here, together with contact details.
hyperwolfy Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2013
Thank you for the fav ^^
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