JamesRPGArt | Animated Scenes

@jamesrpgart.com

🎲 Hand painted background atmospheric animations for your #TTRPGs 📌 Support me on Patreon - patreon.com/jamesrpgart 🖼️ 300+ scenes - jamesrpgart.com ⚔️ Get a FREE Scene Starter Kit - https://www.patreon.com/posts/155114920?pr=true

This week's sci-fi scene is a commissioned scene from a Patron member! The spaceship is an exploration vessel rebuilt by the ancient AI specifically for a tiny crew undertaking centuries-long voyages into unexplored regions of the galaxy.

A sturdy dwarven outpost stands at the base of a towering mountain, guarding the only safe path through the frozen peaks. Thick stone walls, watchtowers, and burning braziers protect the gate, while carved statues honour the warriors who came before.

The ruined town is silent, its crumbling stone buildings and abandoned market square left to the mercy of time. Broken streets, scattered debris, and creeping weeds suggest a place that was once full of life but has long since been forgotten.

He works amid a clutter of vials and bubbling flasks, goggles pushed up on his brow and a bandolier of half-labelled potions across his chest. She moves through the backstreets in the dark with a blade held low and a row of vials at her belt for the jobs a knife can't finish.

New Sci-Fi Scene Alert! A remote refueling station is one of the last dependable stops before the unexplored frontier, keeping countless ships fueled and operational. Traders, prospectors, and patrol crews pass through its industrial docks, knowing the next safe harbour may be light years away.

He wears his armour like a second skin, longsword in hand and the scars to prove he has earned every stripe of his rank. He runs the docks with a ledger in hand and a ring of keys at his belt, knowing every ship, every cargo, and every debt owed in his harbour. New characters every week on Patreon!

Cold rain falls over a quiet hamlet where worn homes huddle beneath dark, overcast skies. At the centre, a twisted tree holds dim lanterns that sway in the wind, casting faint light across the muddy streets as an uneasy silence hangs in the air.

He leans on a well-worn shovel with a ring of iron keys at his belt, the only living soul who knows every grave in the hamlet by name. She stands wrapped in tattered rags with a raven perched at her shoulder, her clouded eyes fixed on something just behind you.

A weathered harbour stretches before you as a large wooden ship creaks against the dock, its rigging shifting in the wind and gulls circling overhead. Dockworkers move between stacked crates and coils of rope as the ship is loaded and unloaded in steady, routine motion.

A rutted dirt road cuts through open rolling hills, marked by weathered wooden signposts and scattered stones. A small caravan of wagons moves along the trade route ahead, their wheels creaking as dust drifts behind them in the warm air.

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