There has been a call to artists! There has been a call to builders! Now, there shall be a call to writers! Shamelessly taken from @Gabriel and @MrHappyTinkles threads, the Art Challenge and the Builder Challenge!
Each day of the week long challenge, you will be given something to inspire you to write. It may be a single word, a sentence, a picture or something else entirely! The only requirement is that whatever it is must tie into your story, it may be a big part or a small part but it must tie into what you write. Each work is whatever length you would like it to be but I personally recommend a maximum of 2 to 3 pages but if you really feel inspired, feel free to exceed my suggestion.
To summarize, one inspiration per day over a seven day period with a recommended max or 2-3 pages.
Rules
1. If you do write a story you think a bit more adult, then please be sure to put it into a spoiler and warn of it's possibly offending content within.
2. When the story is completed, simply post a link to it here on the thread so this won't be too cluttered. If in google drive, be sure to turn the sharing by link function on. If on another service, be sure you have the right link.
3. If the story is long, please put it in a spoiler.
4. Stories are preferably due the day of, but can be handed in throughout the challenge.
However, this challenge starts on Sunday and I'd love a few participants! So, here is the incredibly simple entry form! You can continue to join even if the challenge has started.
Application Form
Forum Name:
Time Zone:
The Roster:
The_Shadow_King3
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
Billy_Rage
Timezone: WAST
Works Written:
Mecharic
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
HucklebearE
Timezone: CT
Works Written:
Ben_2025
Timezone: GMT
Works Written:
Ampers07
Timezone: MST
Works Written:
Missmaggy2u
Timezone: PDST
Works Written:
Terence29
Timezone: GMT
Works Written:
CountSictor
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
Jadee
Timezone: AEST
Works Written:
Party_Penguin27
Timezone: CT
Works Written:
avemechanicus
Timezone: WST
Works Written:
Dracon448
Timezone: CST
Works Written:
Kammyboo
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
Warrior_Takao
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
Naerishi
Timezone: BST
Works Written:
SilentsAppeal
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
finners4444
Timezone: GMT
Works Written:
Rinus
Timezone: GMT
Works Written:
Each day of the week long challenge, you will be given something to inspire you to write. It may be a single word, a sentence, a picture or something else entirely! The only requirement is that whatever it is must tie into your story, it may be a big part or a small part but it must tie into what you write. Each work is whatever length you would like it to be but I personally recommend a maximum of 2 to 3 pages but if you really feel inspired, feel free to exceed my suggestion.
To summarize, one inspiration per day over a seven day period with a recommended max or 2-3 pages.
Rules
1. If you do write a story you think a bit more adult, then please be sure to put it into a spoiler and warn of it's possibly offending content within.
2. When the story is completed, simply post a link to it here on the thread so this won't be too cluttered. If in google drive, be sure to turn the sharing by link function on. If on another service, be sure you have the right link.
3. If the story is long, please put it in a spoiler.
4. Stories are preferably due the day of, but can be handed in throughout the challenge.
However, this challenge starts on Sunday and I'd love a few participants! So, here is the incredibly simple entry form! You can continue to join even if the challenge has started.
Application Form
Forum Name:
Time Zone:
================================================================================================
The Inspirations
Easter Sunday
Word: Egg
Easter Monday
Word: Rabbit
Bright Tuesday
Sentence: "My, the sun is bright today."
Sappy Saying Wednesday
Sentence: "One day, I shall go."
Royal Thursday
Image:
Boating Friday
Image:
Disaster Saturday
Image:
================================================================================================
The Inspirations
Easter Sunday
Word: Egg
Easter Monday
Word: Rabbit
Bright Tuesday
Sentence: "My, the sun is bright today."
Sappy Saying Wednesday
Sentence: "One day, I shall go."
Royal Thursday
Image:
Boating Friday
Image:
Disaster Saturday
Image:
================================================================================================
The Roster:
The_Shadow_King3
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
Billy_Rage
Timezone: WAST
Works Written:
Sunday
[/QUOTE]
thought, his regrets won't be carried onto his next life and will remain in his grave. The elf walks outside, his gait quickening and becoming a jog, a run, a sprint. He could feel his feet becoming weightless, allowing him to run much more efficiently, but he stops, turning back to the home he'd been sheltered in. Beside him, the hallucination of his lover nods, and he acknowledges this with tears falling from his eye. His throat tight, he turns, and in some act of bravery, an act of facing his death sentence, he disappears into the night.
"One day, I shall go too- master"
The echo rings, though unfortunately for Faolan, he couldn't convince Kiba otherwise... he was deaf to loyalty now.
My fingers brushed against the surface of it, so lightly, more gentle than a lover's kiss. I wouldn't dare by much rougher. Of course I didn't need to be careful, but the object held the aura that demanded such actions. The strange, not fully formed shape that quivered ever so faintly within the translucent egg seemed to radiate heat. Like a heart beat the waves of warmth brushed over me, tingled my fingers and making my heart flutter. I leant closer, closing my eyes; the hot pulsating, causing my skin to prickle and my breath to come quick. "Hmph"
The voice scared me, my breath was caught in my throat, and my fingers flew away from the egg; reaching for the blade. "How drawl, the young polovica krv is caught under the spell" The voice was like silk, heavy silk that somehow whipped at the psyche. As my breath slowed and my heart returned to a calmer rate I began to speak. My tone sounding rough and immature in comparison to here. "N, no. I, I just like the warmth" I stuttered, my hand still lingering on the dagger.
"I don't see why you lie, bezplameňové drak; you should know better" She drawled on, her tone dripping with discontent. She took a step forward into the tent, her blue and black (Or white and gold???????) silks flowing as she toured the space. She was a beautiful bezkřídlý víla, but as a polovica krv I couldn't hope to ever even think of anything between us. "I, I am not lying, it doesn't have a hold of me" I tried to argue, but I was greeted with a dismissive hand gesture.
"Look bezplameňové drak, what we have is an okrídlený jašter egg. It is in your simple nature to be drawn to the egg. You are like its lesser cousin; putting it in nice words." She explained moving towards me, using her elegant fingers to caresses my chin. "So easy to manipulate" She stated as she turned to leave, her silks bellowing behind her. "I, I. I am not easy" I squeaked, my voice breaking as I argued. All she did was laugh.
I was alone again, well not alone. The egg was there, almost mocking me with its beauty, its superiority. She was right; I was some lesser descendant to the egg. It shocked me, it filled me with anger, I was in many ways a Drak, but it could be questioned. The egg was the offspring of a Drak, it was a Drak. I hated its beautiful warmth, I hated its golden glow, and I hated it.
Why did I come on this venture? Because it was rumoured bezplameňové draci held sway other young Draci. I am just a tool, I though savagely as I looked around the tent; studying the red tinted light that came through the crimson material. They wanted me just to use me. "I will show them not use me" I snarled, a fire burning inside me.
I knew what I had to do; I had to kill the okrídlený jašter. I wanted to kill the Drak egg. And before I even noticed I was walking towards the egg, my hands glowing faintly as I channelled the limited magic a polovica krv could muster. A faint hum chimed in the air as sound magic buzzed in my fingers.
I laid my hands on the egg, the hum rising in the hair. I felt the egg quiver. "They say kin slayers are cursed by the bezduchý boh. They shall call me cursed then" I whispered as I unleased the magic into the egg. The hum rose and the air seemed to rumble, my ears popped then there was a crack.
"Grph" Growled a voice behind me, my magic ceased and I snapped around to see the bezsrsté medveď; his massive figure dwarfing the slim silhouette of the bezkřídlý víla. I tried to speak, but the words were caught in my throat. "I told you it would work" She said, as if I wasn't there. "I believed you" He said, his voice like the roll of thunder after a lightning strike.
"W, what do you mean?" I stuttered, my anger subsiding and being replaced with fear. "My sweet polovica krv, you did exactly what I wanted. You did not notice the emotion magic; you did not notice I wanted you to try harming the egg. You have the blood of the Drak, your magic is Drak magic. And it takes that magic to hatch an egg like this." She explained, her voice laced with superiority. "bezplameňové drak is dumb." Said the bezsrsté medveď, almost hypocritically.
I tried to answer, but a slight sound was heard behind me, a slight snarl. I turned in shock and my heart stopped. My magic broke the egg, but did not kill the Drak. The Drak was alive and squirming within the shell of the egg. "Your ignorance is endearing, you hatched the okrídlený jašter for us." She stated blatantly, raising her hand, her fingers glowing.
My limbs where stiff, unable to move; I was paralysed. I tried to yell, to protest, maybe even call for help. But it was in vain, my jaw was locked. "This is real magic bezplameňové drak, but do not fear. You served your purpose and I will not leave that deed unrewarded. You shall be my drak priateľ, and if you be a good polovica krv; you might even gain your freedom. bezsrsté medveď, the chains" She commanded as the man took some heavy chains from behind him.
It has been many years now, I do not own a name anymore. Only the title drak priateľ, sometimes polovica krv when I needed to be insulted. But it doesn't matter now; I am in chains, a servant to a zlatý opice, titled Kráľ svitania. In some ways, an upgrade from the žalobníček zlodej of žľab prístav. But at least then I was free, unbound from the okrídlený jašter. But I was blood of the Drak, I guess I was meant to serve the scaled beasts. But not like this.
The voice scared me, my breath was caught in my throat, and my fingers flew away from the egg; reaching for the blade. "How drawl, the young polovica krv is caught under the spell" The voice was like silk, heavy silk that somehow whipped at the psyche. As my breath slowed and my heart returned to a calmer rate I began to speak. My tone sounding rough and immature in comparison to here. "N, no. I, I just like the warmth" I stuttered, my hand still lingering on the dagger.
"I don't see why you lie, bezplameňové drak; you should know better" She drawled on, her tone dripping with discontent. She took a step forward into the tent, her blue and black (Or white and gold???????) silks flowing as she toured the space. She was a beautiful bezkřídlý víla, but as a polovica krv I couldn't hope to ever even think of anything between us. "I, I am not lying, it doesn't have a hold of me" I tried to argue, but I was greeted with a dismissive hand gesture.
"Look bezplameňové drak, what we have is an okrídlený jašter egg. It is in your simple nature to be drawn to the egg. You are like its lesser cousin; putting it in nice words." She explained moving towards me, using her elegant fingers to caresses my chin. "So easy to manipulate" She stated as she turned to leave, her silks bellowing behind her. "I, I. I am not easy" I squeaked, my voice breaking as I argued. All she did was laugh.
I was alone again, well not alone. The egg was there, almost mocking me with its beauty, its superiority. She was right; I was some lesser descendant to the egg. It shocked me, it filled me with anger, I was in many ways a Drak, but it could be questioned. The egg was the offspring of a Drak, it was a Drak. I hated its beautiful warmth, I hated its golden glow, and I hated it.
Why did I come on this venture? Because it was rumoured bezplameňové draci held sway other young Draci. I am just a tool, I though savagely as I looked around the tent; studying the red tinted light that came through the crimson material. They wanted me just to use me. "I will show them not use me" I snarled, a fire burning inside me.
I knew what I had to do; I had to kill the okrídlený jašter. I wanted to kill the Drak egg. And before I even noticed I was walking towards the egg, my hands glowing faintly as I channelled the limited magic a polovica krv could muster. A faint hum chimed in the air as sound magic buzzed in my fingers.
I laid my hands on the egg, the hum rising in the hair. I felt the egg quiver. "They say kin slayers are cursed by the bezduchý boh. They shall call me cursed then" I whispered as I unleased the magic into the egg. The hum rose and the air seemed to rumble, my ears popped then there was a crack.
"Grph" Growled a voice behind me, my magic ceased and I snapped around to see the bezsrsté medveď; his massive figure dwarfing the slim silhouette of the bezkřídlý víla. I tried to speak, but the words were caught in my throat. "I told you it would work" She said, as if I wasn't there. "I believed you" He said, his voice like the roll of thunder after a lightning strike.
"W, what do you mean?" I stuttered, my anger subsiding and being replaced with fear. "My sweet polovica krv, you did exactly what I wanted. You did not notice the emotion magic; you did not notice I wanted you to try harming the egg. You have the blood of the Drak, your magic is Drak magic. And it takes that magic to hatch an egg like this." She explained, her voice laced with superiority. "bezplameňové drak is dumb." Said the bezsrsté medveď, almost hypocritically.
I tried to answer, but a slight sound was heard behind me, a slight snarl. I turned in shock and my heart stopped. My magic broke the egg, but did not kill the Drak. The Drak was alive and squirming within the shell of the egg. "Your ignorance is endearing, you hatched the okrídlený jašter for us." She stated blatantly, raising her hand, her fingers glowing.
My limbs where stiff, unable to move; I was paralysed. I tried to yell, to protest, maybe even call for help. But it was in vain, my jaw was locked. "This is real magic bezplameňové drak, but do not fear. You served your purpose and I will not leave that deed unrewarded. You shall be my drak priateľ, and if you be a good polovica krv; you might even gain your freedom. bezsrsté medveď, the chains" She commanded as the man took some heavy chains from behind him.
It has been many years now, I do not own a name anymore. Only the title drak priateľ, sometimes polovica krv when I needed to be insulted. But it doesn't matter now; I am in chains, a servant to a zlatý opice, titled Kráľ svitania. In some ways, an upgrade from the žalobníček zlodej of žľab prístav. But at least then I was free, unbound from the okrídlený jašter. But I was blood of the Drak, I guess I was meant to serve the scaled beasts. But not like this.
thought, his regrets won't be carried onto his next life and will remain in his grave. The elf walks outside, his gait quickening and becoming a jog, a run, a sprint. He could feel his feet becoming weightless, allowing him to run much more efficiently, but he stops, turning back to the home he'd been sheltered in. Beside him, the hallucination of his lover nods, and he acknowledges this with tears falling from his eye. His throat tight, he turns, and in some act of bravery, an act of facing his death sentence, he disappears into the night.
"One day, I shall go too- master"
The echo rings, though unfortunately for Faolan, he couldn't convince Kiba otherwise... he was deaf to loyalty now.
Mecharic
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
None!
HucklebearE
Timezone: CT
Works Written:
None!
Ben_2025
Timezone: GMT
Works Written:
None!
Ampers07
Timezone: MST
Works Written:
None!
Missmaggy2u
Timezone: PDST
Works Written:
None!
Terence29
Timezone: GMT
Works Written:
None!
CountSictor
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
None!
Jadee
Timezone: AEST
Works Written:
None!
Party_Penguin27
Timezone: CT
Works Written:
None!
avemechanicus
Timezone: WST
Works Written:
None!
Dracon448
Timezone: CST
Works Written:
Sunday
The scent of an abused amount of rosemary, thyme and parsley crept up the staircase, shaking me awake from a slumber what felt hours too early, though the clock blinking hazy numbers begged to differ with my groans. Regardless, the main confusion was that awful scent-- who was cooking at this hour? Single dad, father of a fourteen year old and a six year old, both girls. Andrea was supposed to be at school by now, then..Oh. In a mass slip from my failed attempt to slide on the hardwood floor to the staircase, to where I more carefully- albeit, yes, hurriedly, stomped down the stairs with the equivalent grace to a stegosaurus at meal time.
Freezing the momentum I had picked up as I slid into the kitchen and gripping the archway frame, soon after darting my eyes all around me. Before glancing down to see- … A mess of horribly chopped {butchered, even,} herbs scattered across multiple cutting boards, a soon to be burning {based on the heat set to high and the lack of attention to it} goopy mess containing what looked to be a coma-inducing amount of salt scrambled eggs, and a six year old wearing my 'kiss the cook' apron whilst standing on the step stool and holding a chefs knife.
Needless to say, I turned off the heat as fast as I could, pushing it off the burner and taking the knife from Emilia's hand with an expression of mild anger and intense concern, sweat dripping from my brow already as I knelt to her level. "Emilia, honey, what were you thinking? You could've cut yourself! You could've burnt the house down!"
"Bu- buh Papa! It's your birthday! Y'supposed to get breakfast in bed on birthdays, y'huh?"
Pausing for a moment, Alexander stared at his six year old in mild astonishment and fought the mild urge to cry as his expression softened. How, even when he had forgotten his own birthday, his youngest daughter was trying her best to make sure it was as good as he made hers. As if she was supposed to care for him as he did to her. Parenting is supposed to be a one way agreement, but he couldn't help but kiss his little girl on the forehead with a smile that spoke as if such an agreement was nonexistent, and parents took just as much from their children as their children did from them. Maybe in some ways. Maybe in some families. Maybe just this one.
"Let me help."
Soon after a cleanup and a waste of lord knows how many herbs later, scrambled eggs with toast and bacon was on the menu. To be eaten in bed, of course, at the suggestion of watching Beauty and the Beast by the ever-brilliant Emilia herself. Maybe it was just a plate of scrambled eggs made with the help of a six year old, and most people would sure as hell be concerned by that sentence {or more so by the fact that I'm actually eating it}, but I don't think I've ever had a better meal in my life. Maybe meals are just better when you're with those who you care for. Pft, it was probably just the ball scene in Beauty in the Beast.
The scent of an abused amount of rosemary, thyme and parsley crept up the staircase, shaking me awake from a slumber what felt hours too early, though the clock blinking hazy numbers begged to differ with my groans. Regardless, the main confusion was that awful scent-- who was cooking at this hour? Single dad, father of a fourteen year old and a six year old, both girls. Andrea was supposed to be at school by now, then..Oh. In a mass slip from my failed attempt to slide on the hardwood floor to the staircase, to where I more carefully- albeit, yes, hurriedly, stomped down the stairs with the equivalent grace to a stegosaurus at meal time.
Freezing the momentum I had picked up as I slid into the kitchen and gripping the archway frame, soon after darting my eyes all around me. Before glancing down to see- … A mess of horribly chopped {butchered, even,} herbs scattered across multiple cutting boards, a soon to be burning {based on the heat set to high and the lack of attention to it} goopy mess containing what looked to be a coma-inducing amount of salt scrambled eggs, and a six year old wearing my 'kiss the cook' apron whilst standing on the step stool and holding a chefs knife.
Needless to say, I turned off the heat as fast as I could, pushing it off the burner and taking the knife from Emilia's hand with an expression of mild anger and intense concern, sweat dripping from my brow already as I knelt to her level. "Emilia, honey, what were you thinking? You could've cut yourself! You could've burnt the house down!"
"Bu- buh Papa! It's your birthday! Y'supposed to get breakfast in bed on birthdays, y'huh?"
Pausing for a moment, Alexander stared at his six year old in mild astonishment and fought the mild urge to cry as his expression softened. How, even when he had forgotten his own birthday, his youngest daughter was trying her best to make sure it was as good as he made hers. As if she was supposed to care for him as he did to her. Parenting is supposed to be a one way agreement, but he couldn't help but kiss his little girl on the forehead with a smile that spoke as if such an agreement was nonexistent, and parents took just as much from their children as their children did from them. Maybe in some ways. Maybe in some families. Maybe just this one.
"Let me help."
Soon after a cleanup and a waste of lord knows how many herbs later, scrambled eggs with toast and bacon was on the menu. To be eaten in bed, of course, at the suggestion of watching Beauty and the Beast by the ever-brilliant Emilia herself. Maybe it was just a plate of scrambled eggs made with the help of a six year old, and most people would sure as hell be concerned by that sentence {or more so by the fact that I'm actually eating it}, but I don't think I've ever had a better meal in my life. Maybe meals are just better when you're with those who you care for. Pft, it was probably just the ball scene in Beauty in the Beast.
Kammyboo
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
Sunday
The tiniest patters of rubble as they reverberated through the youngling's idle mind made him jerkingly recoil. His eyes started agape, only to settle back into an expression of normality combined with a mixture of surrealistic confusion. A vague precedent of rolling hills yonder had filled his previous countenance, a perspective that was now clearly outside of his current consciousness. Dreams were such fickle things, ripped away upon the sole calls of morning. It was a fleeting mollification, one filled with both somber and satisfactory repercussion. Even the specifics of his foregoing mental endeavors were now hazed behind the tinted curtains of verisimilitude, surely a product of his non-rudimentary task he now placed upon himself. The boy shifted in a whimsical flurry, rising from the dirt ground with an unorthodox elegance. Crimson stained the surroundings of his nose, a sniffle soon following in the presence of the frigid temperature the cavern he now resided in bestowed upon him. He had little, save for the tattered garbs he wore proudly and the knapsack he held religiously near to him. It was all that was necessary, and all that was desired at that.
Spoiler
Toggle Spoiler
Lingering fingers reached o'er to his satchel, flipping up the leather hamper that impeded vision of the aspired item as he quickly glanced about his contemporary environment once more. It was an oval, one not particularly large, but bold enough to harbor both hands as support. Along its outer rim was a collection of rough reptilian textures, as if the scalings of a saurian creature had been compressed into this idiosyncratic shape. Whatever it was that occupied the innards of his bag so contently, it exhibited an illuminessence that simply screamed 'I am important'. And so, with sullied hands the young man found it all but mandatory to take on the delicate procedure of securing the object for himself. Whether it was to be eaten, put on display, or sold for an undisclosed penny was all to be revealed. All that was left was to return to his village for that exact rationale. With that thought in mind, off the boy went in efforts to seize his small theorized prize.
Spoiler
Toggle Spoiler
Amidst the arrival of the lad at his hamlet entrance, he was greeted with mere sideward glances perhaps accompanied by muffled notions of concern. It was only when a misplaced pebble obstructed his path and the tumbling of said child ensued that few residents decided to even take note of the cherub's existence.
"Oof!"
Disgruntled echoes of over-emphasized pain emitted from the boy's lips, soon halted by the fatal realization of his rucksack innards. In a frenzy he grasped, throwing the container from around himself as he sloppily ripped open the bag. It was cracked. A small adjacent crack held at the bud of the item all but slapped the young boy who'd traveled so far across the face. A likelihood of tears swiftly spread over the child's features, scrunching in a distasteful physiognomy. However, his whimpers of defeat were somehow over beared by the sound of a different bairn. Soft coos came from the circlesque article, leaving a sense of overall bewilderment amongst the conflicted disdain. The entity continued to crack more and more exceedingly with each passing moment, causing the boy to inch away from his once desired premium in a vigorous motion.
And out of that little makeshift satchel emerged a winged lizard-like creature, eyes bulging yet barely in use. It was only then the child turned to see that the whole of the village had centered around him, mouths heavily gawking at the sight currently unraveled.
"Oi, 'e… 'ad a dragon egg!"
Spoiler
Toggle Spoiler
Lingering fingers reached o'er to his satchel, flipping up the leather hamper that impeded vision of the aspired item as he quickly glanced about his contemporary environment once more. It was an oval, one not particularly large, but bold enough to harbor both hands as support. Along its outer rim was a collection of rough reptilian textures, as if the scalings of a saurian creature had been compressed into this idiosyncratic shape. Whatever it was that occupied the innards of his bag so contently, it exhibited an illuminessence that simply screamed 'I am important'. And so, with sullied hands the young man found it all but mandatory to take on the delicate procedure of securing the object for himself. Whether it was to be eaten, put on display, or sold for an undisclosed penny was all to be revealed. All that was left was to return to his village for that exact rationale. With that thought in mind, off the boy went in efforts to seize his small theorized prize.
Spoiler
Toggle Spoiler
Amidst the arrival of the lad at his hamlet entrance, he was greeted with mere sideward glances perhaps accompanied by muffled notions of concern. It was only when a misplaced pebble obstructed his path and the tumbling of said child ensued that few residents decided to even take note of the cherub's existence.
"Oof!"
Disgruntled echoes of over-emphasized pain emitted from the boy's lips, soon halted by the fatal realization of his rucksack innards. In a frenzy he grasped, throwing the container from around himself as he sloppily ripped open the bag. It was cracked. A small adjacent crack held at the bud of the item all but slapped the young boy who'd traveled so far across the face. A likelihood of tears swiftly spread over the child's features, scrunching in a distasteful physiognomy. However, his whimpers of defeat were somehow over beared by the sound of a different bairn. Soft coos came from the circlesque article, leaving a sense of overall bewilderment amongst the conflicted disdain. The entity continued to crack more and more exceedingly with each passing moment, causing the boy to inch away from his once desired premium in a vigorous motion.
And out of that little makeshift satchel emerged a winged lizard-like creature, eyes bulging yet barely in use. It was only then the child turned to see that the whole of the village had centered around him, mouths heavily gawking at the sight currently unraveled.
"Oi, 'e… 'ad a dragon egg!"
Warrior_Takao
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
None!
Naerishi
Timezone: BST
Works Written:
None!
SilentsAppeal
Timezone: EST
Works Written:
Wednesday
A tall, wispy figure leans in towards the ground which exhibited an odd clot of soil, his fair, sleek, tow-colored hair blocking his field of view, causing the most powerful of saturnine facial expression to paint itself of the elves once jovial attitude. This was because he was missing an eye, and additional to his fading vision, this inconvenience did not bring much joy to the Guard known as Faolan. His back ached as it arched, not unlike a cat, in his effort to retrieve a pot from the repulsive moist soil, his fingers providing the unsatisfying sensation one may experience when digging through moist, fresh manure. He let out an audible sigh as he carried the closed pot, filled with cheese made by him, back to the small hut. He set it on the table, twisting the lid, which was practically half the pot itself, and pulling it off. The door shut, and rather loudly for that matter, and while Faolan tended to the cheese and not caring at all for the door, a spider-like humanoid would near him, pushing him- …itself from the door in a galvanized way. This odd creature, its name was Kiba, he had rescued long ago during the times of the Great War between the empires, then young, now nearly six feet in height.
Faolan's expression brightened.
"A rather epicurean meal you've brought back, master." The creature's raspy voice would vibrate through the air like a verbal poison, echoing, to put it mildly, in Faolan's pointed ears. The elf grinned, though not without any true emotion behind it other than pride; what was once a Sisyphean task to accomplish, the making of cheese, had now become second nature. He turned to Kiba, sliding a small, maybe hand-sized bowl filled with mashed carrots, its favorite food blended with a bit of honey, its viscosity very similar to slime. He remembered how endearing it was when Kiba had first tasted this mixture, the creature having slurped it into his system in an act of unintentional solecism. He could only admire the innocence behind his actions, and this made up for whatever cost the Pyrrhic victory their Empire had made known in taxes. "We must leave at first light, my friend." Faolan responded, though his voice was drowned out by the slurping of Kiba, a rather ironical occurrence given his thoughts. This, however, was not an act of disrespect. Kiba fetched the atlas just as any good servant would do, though oddly enough, it seemed like they both acted out of friendship and care for each other. Following the action, Faolan sent Kiba off to his sleeping quarters, shrugging in displeasure at what he had condemned him to do. He felt guilty of, though Kiba was unaware, becoming his nemesis, though this was far from his intentions. Faolan's wispy figure stared off in the direction Kiba had left, blinking several tears away from his healthy eye. "I do not abandon you, Kiba Araqnuibo. Friend, I try to protect you… where I'm going I will die, and I will not have your loyalty drag you to an earlier grave." He'd whisper, hoping that by some insane act of magic all will be well, and with this, he stands up, turning towards the door Kiba had shut so loudly.
And then his broken heart projected an image of a lover long lost, a hallucination, making death seem like a blessing rather than a disgraceful sentence made by the same organization, The Guards he defended with his life, a chance at redemption. Hopefully, Faolan thought, his regrets won't be carried onto his next life and will remain in his grave. The elf walks outside, his gait quickening and becoming a jog, a run, a sprint. He could feel his feet becoming weightless, allowing him to run much more efficiently, but he stops, turning back to the home he'd been sheltered in. Beside him, the hallucination of his lover nods, and he acknowledges this with tears falling from his eye. His throat tight, he turns, and in some act of bravery, an act of facing his death sentence, he disappears into the night.
"One day, I shall go too- master"
The echo rings, though unfortunately for Faolan, he couldn't convince Kiba otherwise... he was deaf to loyalty now.
Faolan's expression brightened.
"A rather epicurean meal you've brought back, master." The creature's raspy voice would vibrate through the air like a verbal poison, echoing, to put it mildly, in Faolan's pointed ears. The elf grinned, though not without any true emotion behind it other than pride; what was once a Sisyphean task to accomplish, the making of cheese, had now become second nature. He turned to Kiba, sliding a small, maybe hand-sized bowl filled with mashed carrots, its favorite food blended with a bit of honey, its viscosity very similar to slime. He remembered how endearing it was when Kiba had first tasted this mixture, the creature having slurped it into his system in an act of unintentional solecism. He could only admire the innocence behind his actions, and this made up for whatever cost the Pyrrhic victory their Empire had made known in taxes. "We must leave at first light, my friend." Faolan responded, though his voice was drowned out by the slurping of Kiba, a rather ironical occurrence given his thoughts. This, however, was not an act of disrespect. Kiba fetched the atlas just as any good servant would do, though oddly enough, it seemed like they both acted out of friendship and care for each other. Following the action, Faolan sent Kiba off to his sleeping quarters, shrugging in displeasure at what he had condemned him to do. He felt guilty of, though Kiba was unaware, becoming his nemesis, though this was far from his intentions. Faolan's wispy figure stared off in the direction Kiba had left, blinking several tears away from his healthy eye. "I do not abandon you, Kiba Araqnuibo. Friend, I try to protect you… where I'm going I will die, and I will not have your loyalty drag you to an earlier grave." He'd whisper, hoping that by some insane act of magic all will be well, and with this, he stands up, turning towards the door Kiba had shut so loudly.
And then his broken heart projected an image of a lover long lost, a hallucination, making death seem like a blessing rather than a disgraceful sentence made by the same organization, The Guards he defended with his life, a chance at redemption. Hopefully, Faolan thought, his regrets won't be carried onto his next life and will remain in his grave. The elf walks outside, his gait quickening and becoming a jog, a run, a sprint. He could feel his feet becoming weightless, allowing him to run much more efficiently, but he stops, turning back to the home he'd been sheltered in. Beside him, the hallucination of his lover nods, and he acknowledges this with tears falling from his eye. His throat tight, he turns, and in some act of bravery, an act of facing his death sentence, he disappears into the night.
"One day, I shall go too- master"
The echo rings, though unfortunately for Faolan, he couldn't convince Kiba otherwise... he was deaf to loyalty now.
finners4444
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Rinus
Timezone: GMT
Works Written:
Eggs are what bring life. Fitting, really, that the earth, the place where life began, should be shaped like one.
Sometimes, the egg may bring life at the expense of others, for example, the mother octopus will die of starvation after tending to her eggs non-stop for months on end. However, the egg brings life nonetheless. The egg sometimes takes time to break out of, the baby animal may have to crack the hard shell in many different places just to be able to leave it.
For the people of San Fransisco, the day began as any other day. People went to their jobs, played in the playgrounds and life went on as usual. As it was a warm day, manypeople were outside to here the sirens go off, warning of an earthquake. They immediately ran for cover as the ground began to shake, but only expected a small quake. Perhaps a building or two that was badly made might fall down, but all in all they did not expect much. However, as it progressed, the earthquake got worse and worse. Buildings fell down, cracks razed the city to the ground. Hundreds upon thousands of people died.
It ended as quickly as it had started. The remaining people of San Fransisco surveyed he damage and began to mourn for their loved ones. However, they did not have enough time for that. Another earthquake struck, even worse than the last one. A giant chunk of earth seemed to move out of place, as if a hand had grabbed it and was trying to lift it away. Their last moments before the cracks in the ground swallowed them were filled with terror.
The last hundred or so came to their final realisation.
The faultlines of the world were mearly cracks in an egg.
In horror, they watched the claw emerge.
Sometimes, the egg may bring life at the expense of others, for example, the mother octopus will die of starvation after tending to her eggs non-stop for months on end. However, the egg brings life nonetheless. The egg sometimes takes time to break out of, the baby animal may have to crack the hard shell in many different places just to be able to leave it.
For the people of San Fransisco, the day began as any other day. People went to their jobs, played in the playgrounds and life went on as usual. As it was a warm day, manypeople were outside to here the sirens go off, warning of an earthquake. They immediately ran for cover as the ground began to shake, but only expected a small quake. Perhaps a building or two that was badly made might fall down, but all in all they did not expect much. However, as it progressed, the earthquake got worse and worse. Buildings fell down, cracks razed the city to the ground. Hundreds upon thousands of people died.
It ended as quickly as it had started. The remaining people of San Fransisco surveyed he damage and began to mourn for their loved ones. However, they did not have enough time for that. Another earthquake struck, even worse than the last one. A giant chunk of earth seemed to move out of place, as if a hand had grabbed it and was trying to lift it away. Their last moments before the cracks in the ground swallowed them were filled with terror.
The last hundred or so came to their final realisation.
The faultlines of the world were mearly cracks in an egg.
In horror, they watched the claw emerge.
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