You brush away the mud that cakes this journal, your fingers running along its cracked leather surface. The carefully bound tome is not meant for a marsh like this. On its cover is a sigil, you recognize it because you were once an acolyte of the Callers, a group of magi solely devoted to the elemental arts. This one in particular stirs your memory. Maybe it was because a scroll sealed with it happened to pass across your vision. Or maybe you saw it in your dreams. Regardless, it strikes you with foreboding, for the symbol echoes of a terrible doom.With trembling fingers you yield to temptation and open the journal. Inside are mystical drawings – runes of an aquamancer. Some pages are torn, others viciously defaced. In stark contrast are the entries, written in a crisp, precise hand. They alone are untouched. The last entry catches your eye.The text ends abruptly, and the bottom edge of the page seems torn out, speckled with mud. As you look down, you see marks in the soil, marks of a body being dragged out into the marsh, and reeds flattened as if by a torrential rush of water from the edge. The blood drains from your face as you drop the journal and run. You run and you run and you never look back…-------This is a redraw of [link] by Baxa. I loved the idea of using bones in the swamp water for this elemental, but I wanted to get more of a raw edge to this monstrosity so I added gorse and bracken and all sorts of disgusting sludge to it. ouoDone during lectures and commutes, my colleagues can attest to this.Media: Polychromos Coloured Pencils on 11x8.5 inch paperPortfolio Piece no.2Cheers, guys!