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Embala

Embala

Capricorn Pig
Posts : 11692
Join date : 2012-06-24
Age : 60
Location : Germany

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PostSubject: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptyWed Jul 01, 2020 7:20 pm

July 2020 Grab Bag is ready to be filled!

Stories, poetry, artwork, whatever your talent to share - must be ElfQuest themed - and may contain canon ElfQuest characters (Cutter, Leetah, Skywise, etc) or custom characters of your own (as long as it's in the "ElfQuest" universe).

Your submissions should include at least one of these things (for art), and at least 3 of the 5 for stories (but let's see you use all five!)

Stories can be as long as you want them to be.

The items for this month's grab bag are:

Independence
love
(in any possible respect)
Stars
Roses
Stink

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July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Lifebr10
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Kindredsoul

Kindredsoul

Posts : 1242
Join date : 2012-06-24

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PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptyThu Jul 09, 2020 12:38 pm

Thank you for posting for July's, Embala. I was completely swamped with work, etc, due to the holiday Hug

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July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Santa_10July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Downlo23July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Av_cut10July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  2020_k13
Compliments go to Embala for bringing a British cat and an American dog together via Photoshop!
chibi cutter compliments of katcombs!
Cutter egg 2018 from Embala
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Arill3.0

Arill3.0

Pisces Monkey
Posts : 79
Join date : 2020-07-08
Age : 28
Location : Frozen North

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PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptyThu Jul 09, 2020 2:59 pm

Vurdah was scolding the roses for being so unruly when a shadow fell across her, and she turned with a smile.

"I didn't expect you back so soon from the hunt, beloved--oh!"

It was  who Savah smiled down at her, graceful in her shimmering robes and outlined in gold by the noontide sun.

"Greetings, little granddaughter. Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, no! Just a little trimming, I was nearly ready to take a rest anyway. Will you join me?" she said, tipping back her sunhat and waving at her hut's welcoming interior. Savah's smile grew and she gently picked a stray leaf from Vurdah's hair, a quiet sort of fussing that reminded Vurdah of her earliest days.

"I would love to. I was hoping to sit and speak with you."

"Oh! What of?" Vurdah asked, leading the way past the clicking bead curtain and quickly scanning her hut for any mess. The most offensive thing about was her old sandcat Tyty, he of foul stench and even fouler disposition. He liked Savah, though, much more than any one else. Vurdah tossed aside her hat and gloves and went to the stairs of her cellar, wondering what she ought to serve the Mother of Memory. The evening before she and Winnowill had made the small savory buns that Winnowill's tribe favored, and perhaps Savah would like those along with the sunsweet juice leftover from the morning.

She wished she had had word of Savah's coming; she'd never hosted her ancestor in her own home before, only helped her mother prepare back when she lived with her. Not that Savah would ever mock the table laid before her, of course, but Vurdah wanted to make the afternoon lovely for her, especially after her long illness the year before.

She fetched up the juice and the buns, with a bowl of cactus fruit for good measure. She cleared her little table of the assorted clutter that Winnowill liked to bring home and laid out the food. Savah had swept Tyty up during Vurdah's absence and now brought him with her to the table, setting him beside her on a cushion and rubbing his ragged ears.

"Oh! Are those walking cakes?" Savah asked, picking up one of the buns and breaking it open. It smelled just as tempting at a day old as it had fresh from the oven,Vurdah was pleased to find.

"Is that what they're called? Winnowill just called them savory buns."

"Before we were Rootless, we lived together in a green growing place and made food such as this. Flour, fat, meat and wakeberries...with a little effort we had a meal that could be carried in the pocket and sustain us for hours. I'd almost forgotten the smell." Savah said, a little wistfully, and she took a careful bite of the pastry.

"I will have to tell Winnowill this--how lucky, to have a dish in common!" Vurdah smiled, wondering what her new lovemate would make of it. Perhaps the Gliders and the Rootless Ones had met once, long ago! It was an exciting thought. Across from her Savah hummed and took a drink of sunsweet juice, looking thoughtful.

"And how are you finding Winnowill, granddaughter? She is rather different from your usual companions."

Vurdah bit into her own cake and considered the question for a moment. Truth be told Winnowill was never far from her thoughts these days; she had a way of demanding your attention even when she wasn't with you. One minute she was as snappish as Rayek ever was, the next she was smiling and shyly asking if Vurdah would sing for her. She was the most beautiful elf Vurdah had ever seen, and the most fascinating.

"Tall." Vurdah said, and grinned when Savah chuckled into her cup.

"She is, certainly. All of her people are. What else?"

"She's...well, rather strange, actually, but I used to think the same of the Wolfriders years ago. Sometimes she acts as though she doesn't know what the most commonplace things are. I had to explain what an irrigation ditch was for!" Vurdah laughed, remembering the grave focus Winnowill fixed her with as she talked of the flow of water and the cycles of the earth. It was adorable, though she knew saying that would rankle Winnowill's pride.

"Her tribe lives apart from the earth, from what Lord Voll told me. I am not surprised that you had to teach her. But what of her behavior towards you, little heart? Are you happy?"

Something about the question made Vurdah blush, her skin suddenly too tight and tingling. Winnowill was very strange and not a little unsettling at times--her own people seemed to be afraid of her--but this morning she had taken the water jars for filling so Vurdah could sleep a little while longer, and Vurdah was running out of places to put the little posies of wildflowers her new lovemate brought her. Winnowill was sarcastic, moody, and not at all open about her past, but she held Vurdah like she was afraid she would break her, and her rare smiles made Vurdah's heart sing.

"She's very sweet. A little sharp-tongued, but I don't mind that."

Savah was looking at her very strangely now, her eyes very sharp.

"Sweet." she said at last, as though the word was new to her.

"Yes! Very, what's the word...gallant! She insists on carrying heavy things for me, even though I think I'm stronger than she is, and she is very patient with me."

And to prove the point, Vurdah closed her eyes and took a steadying breath to quiet her mind. She reached out to Savah, that bright calm presence that had been at the periphery of her life since the beginning, and sent.

~*She has been teaching me lately. She says I'm getting quite good at it!*~

She gave Savah a picture from a few nights ago, of Winnowill sitting across from her under the stars and smiling freely at her. Well done, she'd sent, and her mind's touch was as gentle as the touch of her hands. She really was such a sweet thing, under all the bluster.

Vurdah opened her eyes to find Savah looking at her with mingled pride and sadness. The Mother of Memory reached across the table and took Vurdah's hands in hers.

~*She has not harmed you, then.*~

Vurdah felt a cold ripple pass down her back, and frowned at her grandmother. Winnowill, harm her? Winnowill had almost thrown Vurdah over her shoulder and carried her off to Leetah when she turned her ankle last month; the idea of her hurting Vurdah was silly.

~*No, Savah, not at all. She's quite gentle with me.*~


~*I see.*~


Savah did not seem very happy, but she squeezed Vurdah's hands and sat back on her cushion. She broke open another walking cake with a sigh and fed a morsel of meat to Tyty.

"Well, dear one, tell me of what else you have been up to. I see your experiment with the tubers is paying off."

The rest of the visit passed happily enough, with her and Savah trading gardencraft and old memories over fresh platters of sweets, teasing and laughing together. Vurdah watched Savah on the sly, checking for any lingering signs of her wasting sickness. She was herself, though, calm and good and wonderfully there, and the solid fact of it warmed Vurdah to her bones.

Eventually, though, Savah's duties in the Village could not be put off any more, and she rose to leave. Vurdah went with her to the door, hand-in-hand, and insisted on wrapping up the last of the walking cakes for her.

"Enjoy them, Mother of Memory. I'll have Winnowill make more when she gets back."

"Thank you, granddaughter, for this little taste of my younger years. Shade and sweet water to you."

"And to you, thank you for visiting."

Savah suddenly leaned down and swept Vurdah into a hug, the sort that felt like being surrounded by friendly rockslide. In her mind, she heard Savah speak.

~*Be cautious, kitling. I know you are a woman grown, free to love where you will, but keep your eyes open. I am glad she is kind to you, but pay attention to how she behaves with others, too.*~

Before Vurdah could think of something to say, Savah ducked through the door of her home and was gone.
____________

The least realistic thing about EQ is the fact that they never show Savah being Ur Grandma to everyone in the Village. You know that she was gently, benevolently in everyone's business even after her office hours. When you're literally everyone's granny, it's impossible not to be. (Note that Savah is actually Vurdah's grandmother's grandmother, rather than her actual grandmother, but that's rather a mouthful.) So now Winnowill has to somehow explain to her new girlfriend that she was responsible for almost killing her beloved grandmother-figure/spiritual leader. And that she kidnapped her distant cousin Suntop. Winnowill is slowly starting to realize that Vurdah is related to virtually everyone in the Village one way or another, so she's fucked herself on multiple levels here.

(Also Winnowill is waiting for Savah's retaliation for keeping her soul captive. Savah is very aware of this and deliberately goes out of her way to treat Winnowill with kindness and respect--partly because it's the right thing to do, and partly because it's slowly driving Winnowill up the wall with paranoia.)


Last edited by Arill3.0 on Sat Jul 25, 2020 1:10 am; edited 1 time in total
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Tymber

Tymber

Posts : 846
Join date : 2015-05-06
Location : Location, Location!

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PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptyThu Jul 09, 2020 5:18 pm

Elements:
Independence
love (in any possible respect)
Stars
Roses
Stink
Stonehowl’s extensive history recap for all the previous grab bags can be found here:
http://www.tawmis.com/stonehowl/stonehowlrecap.html

“Will I ever be Chief?” Snowspring asked. As the daughter of Shadow and Foxhair, she was nine seasons old, and had Shadow’s dark hair, but in sharp contrast, her vibrant green eyes which both of her parents also had, peered out from the darkness and shadows of her hair, like beaming emerald stars.

“At one time, you would have had to compete with Windfetcher,” Foxhair said, looking from beneath her auburn curls at the daughter of Vineweaver and Stillbreeze, who had grown into a voluptuous, well rounded woman. She was just leaving Spearclaw’s cave, smiling contently. It had been unusual at first, since Spearclaw had shared a bed with Stillbreeze and Vineweaver, and was now enjoying the warm comforts of their daughter. “At one time,” Foxhair continued, now looking back at her daughter, “Windfetcher swore she would take your father’s place as Chief. But,” she smiled, “it seems that after your father, you will be next in line to be chief.”

“And will I get a wolf of my own?” Snowspring asked, leaning against Foxhair’s wolf.

“You will, when the time is right,” Foxhair explained.

“I wish the time was right,” Snowspring sighed, wistfully.

Snowspring looked down from her spot, lying on the wolf and saw Burn and Stream together, with their two year old son, Stonecutter. “I thought humans were evil?”

Foxhair shook her head. “The potential for good and evil is in each person, not their race. There was one of our own who pushed his lover from the top of the tree, to his death.” (She’s referring to Blackstar who pushed his lover Suncaller to his death – see: http://www.tawmis.com/stonehowl/feb2008.html). “Buren is a good man. He fought against his father and the ways of his people to save one of us. And there was even a troll, that had been infatuated with – and quite possibly, in love - your father’s sister, Purespring, and often made her many trinkets.” (She’s referring to Trollblade/Trollhammer/Trollforge – all the same troll, whose name I kept accidentally changing – see: http://www.tawmis.com/stonehowl/august2007.html and http://www.tawmis.com/stonehowl/dec2007.html for more about his infatuation with Purespring).

“You and father have seen so much,” Snowspring noted. “Will I see so much as well?”

“You have your father’s blood coursing through your veins,” Foxhair laughed as she ruffled Snowspring’s black mane of hair. “You will undoubtedly see many things. Like your father, you will undoubtedly be fiercely independent.”

Elsewhere, Windfetcher was picking roses, thankful for their sweet scent that often masked the nearby ocean’s stink.

“Are you sleeping with him?” a voice asked, startling her.

She turned to see her brother, Echo, leaning against a tree. “I can sense magic, but what I can’t sense is the motives of people. I’ve seen you go in Spearclaw’s den a few times, coming out, looking very smug. Is it not strange that he once laid with mother and father and now finds comfort with you?”

“You think I am sharing furs with him?” Windfetcher laughed. Her face made a disgusting look and she spat the words, “No!”

“Then what are you doing?” Echo asked.

“He wants to know more about us. Though he’s grown apart from mother and father, he’s wondered what has kept us together. So I have been spending time with him, lock-sending, and sharing some of the earliest memories I remember, and the stories we’ve shared on the Full Eyes Of The Twin Moons. He has been missing his tribe, and thinking about returning to them.” She looked at her brother, and shook her head. “Is that what everyone else thinks too?”

Echo smirked.

Windfetcher shook her head. “No! Since falling away from mother and father, he’s been sharing his furs with Snowcloud. Which is why I think he misses his tribe. They talk about how life out on the plains were. But before he leaves, he wants to take the memories I have of all we’ve endured – because the Plainswalkers have never encountered others. They’d seen Preservers, but trolls were not something they encountered much of. There was the occasional humans, but the humans gave them a wide range, because of their lion mounts.”

To Be Continued.



• Shadow (Male Soul Name: Tyru) – Black Hair, Tanned, Green Eyes (Elder brother to Purespring, Chief)
• Foxhair (Female Soul Name: Loun) – Red Hair, Green Eyes (Hunter)
• Snowspring (Female, Soul Name: Tylo – Black Hair, Green Eyes) – Nine years old. Daughter of Shadow and Foxhair.
• Spearclaw (Male, Soul name: Lren) – Brown Hair, Green Eyes (Scout) – Former lovemate of Stillbreeze (and Vineweaver)
• Vineweaver (Male Soul Name: Reyk) – Auburn Hair, Blue Eyes (Tree shaper, Soul Mate of Stillbreeze, Plant Shaper)
• Stillbreeze (Female Soul Name: Hewl) – Brown Hair, Brown Eyes (Soul Mate of Vineweaver, Tanner)
• Echo (Male Soul Name: Ayav) – Brown Hair, Green Eyes (Cub of Stillbreeze & Vineweaver, Magic)- About eighteen years old.
• Windfetcher (Female Soul Name: Burm) – Auburn Hair, Brown Eyes (Cub of Stillbreeze & Vineweaver) – About eighteen years old, formerly interested in being the next chief
• Snowcloud (Female, Soul Name: Mill) – White Hair, Green Eyes (based off white lions)
• Stream (Female Soul Name: Vree) – Red Hair, Green Eyes (Healer)
• Buren (Human, Brown hair, hazel eyes) – About 20 years old in human years
• Stonecutter (half elf/half human, son of Stream and Buren – brown hair, green eyes) – About two years old

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July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Ba_tym10
Signature image by Embala. <3
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Arill3.0

Arill3.0

Pisces Monkey
Posts : 79
Join date : 2020-07-08
Age : 28
Location : Frozen North

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PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptyThu Jul 09, 2020 5:28 pm

Really great characterization, Tymber!
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Tymber

Tymber

Posts : 846
Join date : 2015-05-06
Location : Location, Location!

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PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptyThu Jul 09, 2020 11:15 pm

@Arill3.0 wrote:
[left]Vurdah was scolding the roses for being so unruly when a shadow fell across her, and she turned with a smile.

"I didn't expect you back so soon from the hunt, beloved--oh!"

It was  who Savah smiled down at her, graceful in her shimmering robes and outlined in gold by the noontide sun.

"Greetings, little granddaughter. Am I interrupting anything?"

"No, no! Just a little trimming, I was nearly ready to take a rest anyway. Will you join me?" she said, tipping back her sunhat and waving at her hut's welcoming interior. Savah's smile grew and she gently picked a stray leaf from Vurdah's hair, a quiet sort of fussing that reminded Vurdah of her earliest days.

"I would love to. I was hoping to sit and speak with you."

I really enjoyed this one. The conversation flowed and felt very, very natural.

Quite enjoyable.

And Vurdah is another one I don't remember.

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July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Ba_tym10
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Arill3.0

Arill3.0

Pisces Monkey
Posts : 79
Join date : 2020-07-08
Age : 28
Location : Frozen North

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PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptyFri Jul 10, 2020 2:42 am

Thank you so much Tymber! I've written very little from Vurdah's perspective, and only one thing about Savah at all. I was worried that I didn't have their voices right. I'm so glad you enjoyed!

Vurdah is one of the lovely ladies that Skywise bonds with when the Wolfriders get to Sorrow's End; she's usually attached to Maleen and Ruffel. Vurdah has her own one shot tale (kind of) in The Heart's Way, I believe. This Grab-Bag is taken from a future part of my AU, where a barely-healed-and-still-very-mean Winnowill ends up in Sorrow's End and catches feelings for Vurdah, because Vurdah's adorable and I love her lol.
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Tymber

Tymber

Posts : 846
Join date : 2015-05-06
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PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptyFri Jul 10, 2020 9:08 pm

@Arill3.0 wrote:

Vurdah is one of the lovely ladies that Skywise bonds with when the Wolfriders get to Sorrow's End; she's usually attached to Maleen and Ruffel. Vurdah has her own one shot tale (kind of) in The Heart's Way, I believe. This Grab-Bag is taken from a future part of my AU, where a barely-healed-and-still-very-mean Winnowill ends up in Sorrow's End and catches feelings for Vurdah, because Vurdah's adorable and I love her lol.

I was able to look her up and find out more. Smile
https://elfquest.com/vurdah/

I wish ElfQuest.com had a "First Appearance" type thing, so we could see when these characters first appeared in the comics. Smile

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Redhead Ember

Redhead Ember

Aries Dragon
Posts : 4267
Join date : 2015-04-17
Age : 32
Location : Right here

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PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptySun Jul 12, 2020 12:30 pm

So... had a bit of a trouble finding something that would fit my "one line per theme" poetry. However, I decided that the "stink" element that I added myself could also be in the figurative sense.

Tearful Goodbyes

It stinks to know your sister is leaving,
for though you try to assert independence
you still love her all the same.
Then tear-stars alight in your eyes
when roses bring a smile to your face.

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"When you do what you love best, you shine where you love."

Come play the Who Am I game! Twisted Evil
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Tymber

Tymber

Posts : 846
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PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptyFri Jul 17, 2020 6:38 pm

Independence
love (in any possible respect)
Stars
Roses
Stink

“The Hate Breed”

Most are born out of a union of love. Most are born out of a union of compassion.

I was born out of a union of hatred, a union of violence, and a union of death.

Most see the world through beauty and love; I see the world through three things – Carnage, Death and Hatred.

Ingrained in my mind is the need to slaughter all that I see, to end the life I find, because there is hatred in every beat of my heart.

I see a palace – falling from the stars - crashing. I see someone tall, thin, beautiful. Fear. Running. Days. Weeks. Using magic to survive. Woods. Forest. Strange things. Others, like him – shorter, primitive, chasing. They find him hiding – he uses… magic… to defend himself… dies. Slaughtered by hatred. The others – the ones who killed him – cheer, laugh – spit on his body. Bring others to show that ‘the demons’ can be killed. How do I see this? Is it the magic? I see seasons change, the body decomposes, but the fury of the magic, the power, never dies. It thrives, furious; becoming a life of its own – ensnared by the vicious cycle of the world – animals killing one another, but more so – this ‘war’ that wages between his own ancestors and the ones called humans. Countless times, has an elf died here – or not far, or a human – endless blood, spilled in hatred, fueling the magic that now seems attached, thriving off of it.

Then came the serpent, large and black, which used its natural ability to hide in shadows, to snare an unsuspecting boar in its clutches. However, a long toothed feline hungry for food had wanted to easy kill and had hoped to drive off the black serpent – but the serpent would not so easily give up its kill. It reeled back and coiled around the kill. The long tooth feline, fearless and driven by hunger lunged forward, and the two entangled – both hungry, both vicious, neither relenting.

The magic surges, vines shaped by the relentless magic, nourished on blood, sprung like a trap ensnaring serpent and long tooth, together – wrapping ever so tightly, pulling them both, even as they fought one another, beneath the bushes, where it encased them like a cocoon. One season later, giving rebirth to something new – me – blooming from cocoon composed of black roses.

I am what I am. But I don’t know who or why I am.

I sense life around me and it sickens me to my core. The need to kill is not because I am hungry, but simply because it is alive. There is no joy, no thrill, when I kill the things around me. There is simply this need that is spurned inside of me to hate everything. Even myself.

There is nothing else like me. I am alone in what I am. This existence.

I killed birds and squirrels. Then boars. Then deer. As I grew larger, so did my prey. But that did not stop me from killing a fawn if I stumbled across one. I would leave it, gutted open, dying, the blood soiling the forest floor. Nothing was safe from me. There was no tree I could not climb, and I moved with the quickness of the serpent and struck with the weapons of a long tooth, with fang and claw.

The one thing I granted was a quick death.

Humans. Murderers. They killed me. Me? How? I am alive. Seething with hatred.

I find some hunting – and I show them the same mercy they showed me – those like me. I murder them, killing them, cut them down, rip them to pieces. I leave one mortally wounded – so that he can be found by others – let them know I have come.

For weeks, I continue to hunt, to grow.

Then I see them. They’re like me. I sense it in them. But they’ve changed. Shaped. Changed. More like me. In my veins, serpent and long tooth – in theirs – I sense – I smell wolf. Abominations, like myself. Impure.

I see one of them – short, stocky, with hair on his face – he sniffs at the air and wretches at the stink lingering in the air.

One of them. I sense magic. Powerful magic. He doesn’t know. Healing. So much more he could do. He must die first.

I slither in the shadows and find a wolf pup – and cut it wide open – but let it die slowly, so that it’s cries draw the attention of those like me. Those tainted by beasts of this world.

As they arrive and gather, distracted by the ferocity and brutality of the wolf pup’s death, I easily move behind the one who glows of magic – and as swiftly as the striking snake, my claws rip his back apart, snap his neck and kill him instantly. The others will fall quickly now.

I reach out with my mind – how much are they like me? Can they send?

And I touch not one – but all of their minds. With a quickness, I run through their souls, exposing every secret, every pain, every hurt they’ve ever felt – and they’re frozen in those moments allowing me to kill and destroy several of them, before the others manage to escape.

Even as I slither away, holding those who I will feast upon tonight, I hear their leader shouting – and I hear another standing up to him – his independence from his chief, shining bright. I would say I admire them, but they will just be food for me; there is nothing to admire, the same as a fisherman does not admire the fish he catches in a river.

They come after me – find one of my lairs, where I had just fed. They find the remains of their tribe, and those of humans and other animals I’ve fed upon. I sense it in them as they stand outside of the mouth of the cave – they will hunt me down. But I have no fear of them.

When the other falls asleep – I send to him. Beckon him to me. And like a fool, he comes – and in that moment, I show him my creation – how his own seething hatred for the humans – fed the energies that gave me life. I show him that the death of his mate and his tribe is all because of him.

But he is different.

He comes for me – something inside of him opens – and releases the animal. His hunger for vengeance overcomes everything about him – and he’s able to drive the cursed blade into my body, my jaw, even my claws that rake his flesh and make him bleed out, seem to do little to stop him – I am forced to bat him away, slam him against a tree and flee.

The other – I discover, just before I am killed – is his son. He lured me out, and his tribe threw a net on me, preventing me from lashing out. And I saw his father’s blade come down and strike my eye, and I slumped to the ground.

And yet, I am not dead. I can still feel. See. My spirit unable to venture to the Palace.

My head is brought before the humans, as a peace offering; but the humans, consumed with hatred, and in the end, burn the entire forest down.

And still, I lie there… my energy bound and trapped on the charred soil.

I can feel a squirrel nearby, it’s been years now. A serpent, hidden in the freshly grown bushes, strikes the squirrel and blood trickles down upon me.

I will be reborn.





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Arill3.0

Arill3.0

Pisces Monkey
Posts : 79
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PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptySat Jul 18, 2020 5:50 pm

Tymber this is both beautiful and terrifying...the birth of Madcoil, it's consciousness of its own need to kill and it's own rebirth, are wonderfully done. I don't think I've ever seen anyone explore Madcoil like this before!
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Tymber

Tymber

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Join date : 2015-05-06
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July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Empty
PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptySun Jul 19, 2020 9:13 pm

@Arill3.0 wrote:
Tymber this is both beautiful and terrifying...the birth of Madcoil, it's consciousness of its own need to kill and it's own rebirth, are wonderfully done. I don't think I've ever seen anyone explore Madcoil like this before!

Thank you. I am hoping that it's clear that the magic trapped the High One's soul there (who had fled from the Palace when it crashed, and was murdered there) - his soul trapped by the magic and hatred - growing to know only death and hatred - and when the lightning struck, it "freed" him to ensnare the longtooth and serpent and "reshape" their bodies to host his. Which is why he sees the Wolfriders as beings like himself - elves, tainted by animal - and that's why Madcoil can send. Because it's a resurrected High One.

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July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Ba_tym10
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Tymber

Tymber

Posts : 846
Join date : 2015-05-06
Location : Location, Location!

July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Empty
PostSubject: Re: July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....    July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  EmptySun Jul 19, 2020 11:34 pm

In honor of what Embala always does - I made this for my Madcoil story.

July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Image610

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July 2020 "Grab bag" stories/poetry/art/etc....  Ba_tym10
Signature image by Embala. <3
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