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Topics - Evilhumour

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Writer's Guild / Gürê the Beautiful
« on: August 29, 2012, 09:18:24 PM »
This is simply a side point of history in a world I am creating in my head at the moment. This means it will be short and subject to change

Gürê the Beautiful is an interesting note of adoptive children’s story and fate in the realm. Gürê was born of unknown parents as his father and mother did not wish to be known as the dwarfs that had given birth to such a deformed child. Leaving the safety of their tunnels and land, they went to their then allies the elves. They chose a couple of elves that were traveling the land, as the simple fact that any couple that dared to leave their lands had to be brave of body and spirit to survive. Pleading, the dwarfs handed their newborn son to the elves, and fate smiled on the youngling as they were good elves and took the youth with them. They did not even take any of the gold offered from the dwarfs, saying that they would raise Gürê as their own.

Going back  to their home, the couple was worried for how Gürê would cope in the elfin lands. Gürê would need crutches to walk as his right leg was twisted and long, his left foot wide and misshapen. He would need to help to write as his fingers were larger and stiff, his arms weak in strength. He would need time to catch his breath as his chest was weak. He would need special glasses to see as his left eye was hidden from a lump on his face and his right eye strained to the point it would never be properly closed. Gürê would need this all as he was a dwarf, one of the few creatures that magic did not flow naturally. Dwarfs could not summon the spark of magic that many races could, and it was hard to find magic that stuck to them.

Yet, Gürê, with sky blue eyes and black hair, seemed very happy in the elfin village that was home to him, his adoptive parents and the little village of elves. He was never able or willing as it seemed to speak, but his parents knew how happy he was and how much they were a reason for it. His parents gave him magic sung crutches that grew with him, magic sung glasses that helped him see and all the love one could ask for.

The village elders were not happy with an adoptive child of another race in their village, with one being so deformed. They showed their disapproval subtly while the youths were more direct. Yet the teasing and harassing did not put off the dwarf from living a happy life.

On his thirty year of life,  a pack of troll raiders from the south attacked the village, targeting the school first as it would prove to be a strong building for a defensive front  as well as a chance to demoralize the elves. When they had slaughter the ten elf youth and the leader was posing to strike down the eleventh, he found himself stabbing his blade into Gürê. The deformed dwarf had placed himself in front of the child, and stared down the troll despite being shorter. 

Yet, it was not a stare of hatred or anger but one of content. Gürê then open his mouth and started to perform song magic. Song magic was the second most powerful magic in all of the realm, second to soul magic. Song magic required the magic user to reach out to nature and the realm and hope to convince the realm to bend to their will. Soul magic, on the other hand, required the mage to open his soul to magic of the realm and hope to direct the magic of realm to their wishes. It usually required years of training as a novice could end his life if he tried to fight against the will of the realm.

The song magic that Gürê preformed was the most beautiful sound ever to be heard in the village. It was largely due to the fact he used the song magic to simply the raiders to spell instead of killing them. It was also due to his kind nature that the realm’s magic listened to him so well.

Then Gürê did something wonderful and forbidden. He opened his soul to heal the ten slain youths, sing notes so pure that flowers of flawless beauty grew around his feet. He knew that he went too far as using soul magic to heal the recently dead was a certain way to loose one’s life. Instead of following the root of mages that try to pull back after going too far, he continued to sing out the magic of his soul. He changed the flat forest lands into a grand mountain with mighty trees growing near the sky. He continued to sing, turning the grass and trees to into priceless jewels.

After singing for seven days, Gürê’s body fell to the emerald grass. The elves that had been watching their home change with other elves, dwarfs and even a dragon went into the land. It was soon discovered that Gürê had changed all of the village into a single, yet complex, jewel. The dragon and dwarfs claimed that the land would never chip nor change, and any attempt would be a front to nature and beauty itself. The dwarfs and dragon spent many months studying the land and still some come to look at the jewel village.

But before any came, the elves of the village went to where Gürê had fallen. They sung a monument of the deformed dwarf to house his body with his crying parents at the front, with a plaque telling the story of Gürê the Beautiful.

Writer's Guild / An amulet
« on: August 13, 2012, 07:47:09 PM »
   Of all things the young mage has done in his life, this would be the grandest of them all. It had taken so many months to get the item, so many deals he had to make to secure it. Of course, he had finished each one in a manner that no one would bother to ever concern him again. Until it was too late. Making sure the lock on the cabin door was secure again he started to prepare himself for the magic transfer. Clearing the living room of all the furniture was a pain in the ass, but the mage was weighing on the side of caution. He had heard stories where objects like the amulet on the floor would cause other reactions then what they were suppose to and a lot of destruction as well. He had no doubt that he had the right one, he had made sure of it, but he still had to be sure. It would do no good if the amulet caused him to grow into a fifty feet tall dragon instead of giving him the power of a dragon. He’d be spotted so fast by magic users and normal people that he’d be dead before he could do a single thing.

   Sighing, he started to undress himself to his boxers. The only reason he did this was because of amulet’s nature as a transferring device. No matter what kind of magical transferring device it was, all magical objects caused the body of the magician to shift to the point were their clothing would be destroyed and he had no desire to clean up torn clothing instead of using his new powers right away. He placed his shirt and pants on the side.

   Taking the time to breath in and out, he rested his hand on his chest. He was of average build, no real muscle mass with messy brown hair on his head. He had blue eyes that did little to hide his desire for power. Standing in the middle of the room, he activated the amulet.

   Instantly, he felt the surge of power course throughout his body and tingling sensations instantly told him that he got the amulet’s power wrong. It would not give him the power of a dragon; he could tell it was changing his body. He felt his organs change around inside him and suddenly he lost his footing and fell onto his back. His feet had stretched out angularly, with his heel growing out to a point. His outer two toes on both sides of both his feet fused into a single toe that grew a large claw. His middle toes also grew thicker and grew a claw as well. His human skin started to flake off revealing scales, black and blue with the latter forming starting on the inside of his ankles racing up his legs. Besides the scales, he also felt and saw his legs grow outwards in size as the changes decided to go from bottom up. He watched as the magic spread past the top of his boxers, with blue scales near center of it. He felt his stomach also stretch and grow outwards as the rest of his torso did.

   Letting out a groan, he rolled over onto his stomach, as he felt three things pushing outwards. Turning his head to look backwards, he saw that he was growing a longish black tail with a blue center on both sides of it. The long tail ended in a spade that was all blue in colour. It seemed that it was done growing in length and now grew in size. His eyes widen as a bone-like object came into view, growing from his shoulder blades. With little time, folds of skin grew and formed a wing that was about the size of his arm. Turning his head, he saw that there was another wing on his other shoulder, both of them with the same blue colour that was on the center of his body. Blinking, he felt the tingle go down his arms, growing out a bit. Moving back onto his ass to stare at his arms, he unconsciously moved his tail to the side and watched his fingers began to change. They grew a bit, but not to the same length as his toes did. His finger nails grew out into claws like his toes had done and his fingers moved a bit a part.

   Then the change went up his neck, causing it to stretch and grow out. Then came his head. His head become angular, his nose moving down to his longer mouth, with the skin on his face shedding away with scales underneath like the rest of his body had done. His felt his ears fold inwards and became little holes and suddenly notice his hair had vanished at some point. He then felt two things come out the side of the top of his head and raised a hand to feel what it was. He felt a surge of the magic in his mouth that made him pause, with his teeth changing around as well as his tongue. Blinking, he felt the magic at his eyes and then nothing.

   The change took all of a minute to finish.

   Placing a hand on the floor, he unsteadily lifted himself up to his feet. He then fell back to the floor as his new wings gave a gust of air. Trying again, but using the wall, he pulled himself up and took a step to his bedroom as it had a full-length mirror on the back of his door and he could see what exactly happened.  Once again, he nearly fell over again. Looking at his feet, he lifted one up to look at the sole. It had changed more then what he thought it had. He’d need to learn how to walk all over again. Placing the weight on his toes, he took a tentative step with his right foot and almost fell over. Waving his arms and wings, he took another step and this time he felt his tail swished over to his right side. Smiling to himself, he took another step and his tail swished to the left. With confidence, managed to walk to his bedroom without needing to hold the wall, swishing his tail as he walked. Closing the door, he turned around and got a good look at himself.

   He had become a dragon. Of sorts. His face was covered in black scales with a strip of blue scales going between his now oval eyes and to the tip of his mou-er, snout and under his chin. Opening his mouth, he saw that his teeth were much sharper now and his tongue was forked. Stepping backwards, he looked up to see what grew on his head and saw two slightly curved horns.

   Stepping back again, he took in his new body. He had an impressive body now, with a much slimmer and muscular look- frowning, he felt his arm and let out a curse. While he was taller and slimmer now, the magic of the amulet didn’t give him any new muscles, just building up on the ones he already had.

   Giving out a chuckle of relief, he nearly fell back again as a bit of smoke came out. Blinking, he breathed out again and felt something switch inside his mouth and air came out. Reaching in again, he switched the thing in mouth and this time a bit of flame came out. Smirking, he switched again and again his mouth, getting used to switching between breathing out air and breathing out fire.

   Forcing his mind to focus, he took stock of his situation. He was now a humanoid dragon and he was able to breath fire. He could still access his magic, and his wings might be strong enough to fly. He would need to do more tests to what all the changes were and he needed to change his clothing for his new bod-he placed a hand on his stomach. He felt very hungry all of a sudden and realized that while the magic caused all of the changes, it had drained him. Opening the door, he took a step towards the kitchen.

“First food, then deal with the other stuff.”

Writer's Guild / Vot's story, ongoing
« on: January 12, 2012, 10:42:47 PM »
Chapter One

In a grand kingdom, that centered around an entire continent. In it boundaries; existed several dozen forest –most protected in the future- , a number of mountains containing all sorts of metals and minerals, a nice costal border that offered protection and access to plenty of fishes, plenty fields for farming and the likes, and of course plenty of towns, villages and cities with all three Races living in this kingdom.

…What? You don't know about the Races? How can cub not know about… Anyways, the three Races are the Creatures, -which you are, you dumb little piece of- -coughs twice . Sorry about that, my throat,  needed to clear it, Ah-em,  ahh-hem.

Where was I? … Ah yes, the classes. The Creatures are the most common, including every type of fur there is on our dear planet. ….Do not tell me you do not know the name because you do, I will tan your damn hide!

…Thank you, once again we off topic. One more time and I will not you any more stories!

Now. If you let me finish for once, thank you!

Now where was I…oh yes. The second Race is Taurains, Creatures that have the lower body of a giant form of their feral cousins.

Actually, that is somewhat true, only if their feral cousin is smaller than a horse. Bigger than that and it pretty much the same.

And last being the Angels, Creat- Yes, yes I know that they do not like that term now but that is how I knew it when I was young and to the infernos to all those complainers-. 

The Angels are Creatures, and I believe there are some claims that  Taurains as well, that were born with wings. There is no really explanation for it except for people claiming it was the work of the people up there. Bunch of morons, all of them.

Some of the damn Angels can -coughing sounds Not today boy, next time I will you more next time. -coughing again Yes, yes I will tell the story of Vot if you please to leave me be!

Writer's Guild / The twelve days of Christmas, CF style
« on: November 04, 2011, 04:25:26 PM »
♫ On the twelfth day of Christmas, Virmir gave the chat
Twelve 2dogsandaDJs-a-nomming
Eleven Trubbols-a-inking
Ten Davidspyros-a-pouncing
Nine KaiAdins eating salads
Eight Fizzies-a-tailwaging
Seven Trasks-a-swimming
Six TechtheWolf-a-squishing
Five Donnie’s-a-drawing
Four Tallyns flying
Three Gearies-a-linking
Two Kenkus-a-potioning

That mistake was never there

Random Topics / A superhero comic idea
« on: October 30, 2011, 05:20:08 PM »
() means the lead character’s thoughts
Newspaper headline: (The Mighty) Furball, the latest possible supervillain, henchman, or even sidekick(a blasted Superhero!) to come to City Name.

Powers: Werewolf, with minor skills in day transformation. It is due to being very recently infected.

Issues: Being called a villain whenever someone new meets him, the fact he was unable to choose his superhero name as the media already took to calling him Furball, dealing with sound based heroes/villains and his general bad luck dealing with his new powers

Personality/name:  to be announced

Sorry for the roughness, will fix up later.

Writer's Guild / Giving up
« on: August 09, 2011, 12:25:41 PM »
(First person setting)
I sit in my chair, staring at a blank word document. After a few minutes, I sigh and roll back
That’s it, that’s all. I truly give up.” I rise from my chair. “My drawings are never good and my stories are never done.”
I sit back down and look over my notes and stories. “My ideas are always unfinished and my drawings never improve.” I place my paws over my face.
That’s it, that’s all. I truly give up.” I sit in my chair for a few minutes before…
Well I never intended for all this madness and n understood,
well, how could they?” I stand up, my voice rising. “ That all I ever wanted
was to bring them something great to read.
Why does nothing ever turn out like it should?
I stand tall in my room, tail slashing around.
Well, what the blast, I went and did my best. And by George, I really wrote swell stories. And for a moment, why, I even touched the word and at least I left some stories they can really enjoy. And for the first time since I don't remember when, I felt just like my old wolfy self again. And I, Evilhumour, the Dragon of Cuteness.” I pause in my singing voice.
 “That’s right, I am the Dragon of Cuteness!” I grip my left side and pulls off my fur to reveal my dragon body.
And I just can't wait until my next update ‘cause I've got some new ideas that will really make them cheer
and, by gosh, I'm really gonna give it all my might!” I spot Jonas coming in with a pair of clean glasses. 
“Uh-oh, I hope there's still time to abuse Virmir.”

“Gah!” I scream, waking up. Looking from my bed, I grumble. “I need to get that blasted song out of my head.”


A parody song, in writing form, from A Nightmare before Christmas that has been in my head for a while. I hope you all enjoyed it!

Art Gallery / Drawing request
« on: June 23, 2011, 09:25:31 PM »
Ok, I did Medik and Kenku. Does anyone else want me to draw them? Just give me a good reference picture(s).

List of to do.

I am closing it off until all four are done

Writer's Guild / Desert Feran, information
« on: June 22, 2011, 03:28:18 PM »
Edited version

The Desert Ferans are a particular group of creatures. They solely inhabit the large desert, which they commonly call the Eternal Desert or the Great Eternal Desert, as the mountains range that surrounded the desert proves to be inhabitable and seemingly endless, where they gain the name of Endless Mountains. No Desert Feran has ever managed to reach the other side of the mountain range, due to several factors. The three factors is the lack of available water to mount a successful expedition, the number of dangerous animals that lives in mountains in a stronger and greater quantity and the physiological feeling of being forbidden to do so.  

The Desert Ferans are primarily warriors by both nature and customs, and they are completely capable to fight off any threats, either animals or other Desert Ferans. The Desert Ferans themselves are made of different tribes that are nomadic in their search for water and food, primarily the former. Some tribes do go to war with other tribes and some tribes do trade with other tribes, depending on the tribe in question. Despite the fact they do fight and go to war with others tribes, the tribe leaders do have a pact with one another to come to the aid if a serious enough threat, I.E. one enough to threaten all of the Desert Ferans, be it a drought of water, a dramatic increase of dangerous animal raids, etc arises. Whether or not this still applies to the newly founded kingdom has yet to be shown as many tribes are still very uncomfortable with this break away from customs from the Duel Spear tribe.

The simple fact that they have not taken their old tribe name for the kingdom has prevented all out war against them from the other tribes. Despite the fact names are held in serious regards for the Desert Ferans,  which will be discussed further down, they have named their tribes after their type of spear and is fully allowed to be discuss without risk of insult.
The issue of names is interesting to say the very least.  A Desert Feran will never say their name out loud as they considered it to be the only thing that can never be lost to the Desert. Therefore, they see it that other Desert Ferans using their name as a loss to their only hold over the desert. It is the second worse insult a Desert Feran can give to another, save for shorting of their name. In that case, a battle to the death is nearly the only reaction, with one exception.

However, this is not to say they never share their names. Whenever two Desert Ferans of mature age, which will be discussed further down, wish to become husband and wife, they will need to share each other name in the front of a Desert Feran of elder age, which again will be discussed further down. They consider it a sign of true love when they allow the other to say their name shorten and not an insult.

The Desert Ferans have a concept of time, but it does not extend before identifying days as a separate thing events. There has been some notions of the moon showings several things as becoming bigger and smaller, but such talk is ludicrous… As such, the Ferans of the Eternal Desert uses four stages of age to determine growth. First is kithood, which ends when the Desert Feran becomes old enough to walk and talk. The next age is youthhood, which begins from when they can walk and talk  to when they have finished maturing. During that time, they would have found their craft and begun their apprenticeship. After that is the  maturehood, which last until they have begun to show signs of slowing down. After this is the last stage, elderhood, where the Desert Feran usually leaves his craft and tends to the kits of the tribe.

Due to their nomadic style, all Desert Ferans have duties and will look down on any that tries to shirk their duties. The duties are the same with each other tribe,  excluding the special one tribe that does believes in a deity. As a side note, nearly of all of the Desert Ferans do not hold to any religious beliefs, after a long passage of 'sameness' that has brought nothing for them caused them to be disinterested. However, as mentioned, there is a single tribe that holds to a deity. This tribe is know as the Faith Tribe, made of ferans that have kept to the old ways of belief. Unlike other tribes, this tribe is mostly grown by deserters of other tribes instead of being born into the tribe. Another aspect of this tribe is that they have no weapons, but have are protected by other tribes that pass by. Usually in times of war, they are the hosts to talks between the warring tribes. While being the hosts, almost all the tribes try to ignore or brush aside their advice as it does involve their old deity', Xu, teachings . 

The Desert Ferans themselves differ from tribe to tribe, but they have a usual body type of slender, tall and long, bushy like tails. They have grown used to not needing much water, a single drink a day would suffice for most, if not all. They are capable of quick speeds and quite durable in combat due to their hostile environment. The Desert Ferans has no written language, only telling their history orally.

Writer's Guild / The story of an adventurer named Quas
« on: June 15, 2011, 10:37:35 AM »
It was a dark and stormy night. But then again, it seemed all adventures began on dark and stormy nights. All adventurers left in the middle of night to slay the evil monster in their lair. Of course, the hero was smart enough to be in disguise to avoid the evil monster’s henchmen, but always arrived very theatrically.

Quas really hated his current situation. The weather was terrible –he was sure that he was going to have a cold tomorrow- and despite being inside the carriage, he was still getting soaked by the rain. Still wondering if it would be easier to have walked, the carriage went over another bump, sending him upwards again. Muttering in a little pain, he rubbed his head.

“Coachman,” Quas muttered loudly. “How much farther is the village?”

The coachman, a rather old man, grunted from the weather and the youth he had picked up. Oh he had known why the youth wanted to go the village. He had to deal with impulsive youths seeking the same thing. He often joked to repay in full if they managed to do the impossible task. Not a single one had, for glaring reasons.

“Almost there lad.” He spat, forcing his horse to go faster. The faster he got to the village, the faster he got his coins and he got somewhere warm with enough ale to take away the chill of the night. “I also know what you plan lad.” He heard the lad gulp and shook his head. “I had to deal with lads seeking the same thing. They wish to become famous.” 

“Ye-yes, I know the stories.” The lad sighed, but not for the reason the coachman thought. “I was told them as I was to go asleep as a youth.”

“You’re a fool then lad.” He coughed. “I’ve seen enough boys seeking the same thing and fail.”

“I know what I seek and get what I want.” The lad said in anger, trying to prove he was not a fool. The coachman had head the same before.

“If you get what you seek lad, I’ll repay your coins.” He shivered, forcing his horse to reach the village at last. "I'll take you wherever you wish afterwards lad."

“Nay, I will be travelling on my own path afterwards.” The lad spoke harshly, stepping out. The lad was definitely an arrogant one. He was dressed in a long coat, with a hint of a blade sticking out from the side. He was also wearing a long farmer’s hat, which was very odd as the lads always wanted to show off their face to young women in the village. “But I will be taking my coins back once I am done.” He said, walking past the coachman, the horse acting up again.

“Whatever you say lad.” The coachman spoke to the lad for the last time.

Art Gallery / Growing world
« on: June 11, 2011, 11:31:53 PM »
I plan to add a little of each person to a world I am building.

This is what I have so far.

The tree is obviously's Virmirs and the airship is Trask.
I have an floating island request for Draykin.
The ballista is for Donnie. Shout out a reasonable idea and I will try it. By reasonable, do not ask for an army or yourself. I'm not that good yet to insert people.
 One per person, save Virmir as he never really chose.

If anyone want's to redraw this, by all means go ahead. Please alert me first though.
A link to the grown world

Art Gallery / Gift
« on: June 09, 2011, 10:41:14 PM »

Art Gallery / Nun-chucks upgrade!
« on: May 26, 2011, 10:38:25 PM »
Dagger chucks!

For Tirien?



Anyone one else want one ?

Art Gallery / My doodles
« on: May 23, 2011, 12:39:36 PM »

Just a few little doodles. Might add more later on.

Writer's Guild / The Desert Feran, ongoing
« on: March 10, 2011, 09:40:24 PM »
Chapter one

A long time ago, when the Desert Ferans were nomads, traveling through the harsh lands of the Great Eternal Desert for food and water, there was a clan that had broke away from old customs. This clan, known as the duel edge tribe, had used a small stream along the foothills of the Endless Mountains to establish a kingdom. This is a story, but not our story. Our story belongs to the grandson of the chief that made the first kingdom of the Eternal Desert.

It was not a different morning in the Great Eternal Desert. The sun was bright as it rose and the ever-present lack of clouds made the many wandering tribes and the only kingdom wish for the night to come back. In the only kingdom of the Great Eternal Desert and in the only town of the kingdom, many used the rising sun as an indicter to awake and meet the needs of the their town. For some, it was to go the forges and tend to their work, building whatever was needed. For some, it was to go out and gather food. For some, it meant that they were needed to relieve the lucky guards who had to the duty to protect the town at night, with the sun lighting the night.  For whatever the person, they knew that they had a task to complete and if they rose early, they could finish early. Perhaps even finish before midday and get near the front of the water line. Yes, they all knew that the earlier they arose, the better the day would be.

In this kingdom, only having two kings so far, all had a duty to do. No one was free from work or else they would not have any value. The king would always take an active role in all decisions of what his kingdom next move should be to grow and stabilize as if he was a tribe leader. The queen had gone out on a scouting mission to discover if there was something beyond the mountains that gave them their stream of water. Even the prince was expected to give his hand in whatever there was needed to be done in the kingdom.
The Royal Attendant, who’s job was to aid and mentor the prince’s growth into becoming the king one day, was storming through the royal palace. The royal palace, like the rest of the town, was in constant stage of having improvements added. They moved to have the stones the miners gathered smoothed down to be soft on the feet of the people. He glanced at the builders who were making large stones –pillars as the king had come to call them- for a high roof. Definitely a wonder and would improve the palace appearance.

He sighed. Twisting a whisker, he had the feeling that one day that a king would have this place as a quaint relic of his forefathers. He and every else with a mind knew that what they were doing was not going to last or be a glorious moment that would last in their kingdom history. They were simply building the path for future kings and making sure that the rest of the people stayed with the kingdom until the future kings were able to do it themselves without worrying about desertion.

Shaking his head, he knew that will not matter if he did not find out why the royal prince had not gone to help in the town. As he turned another corner, he was brought upon a set of doors that had several guards, two visible and the rest hidden, that would bar almost all from entering. The men’s ears twitched as they heard the clicking of toe claws clicking on the floor.

They wore soft cloths underneath their metal clothing, armor as the smiths were calling it, that covered the torso, arms, legs and the top of their feet. The Royal Attendant had his doubt about this metal clothing as most were poorly made and dragged down the warrior. He knew that he could easily take down several guards because their armor had faults that would be easy to exploit.  But they liked it and they felt that over time it would improve. Just like the kingdom they would say to annoy him when he voiced his thoughts on the armor. His dust colored tail flicked out of agitation as the thoughts passed through his head.

As soon as they saw who he was, they released their tight hold on their spears, but their hands did not stay far from their blades. Even he was to be watched, despite his undoubted loyalty. 
“Is he still in there?” He gave the command as a question he already knew the answer.

“Unless he has managed to find yet another hole, yes.” The guard on the right answered with a groan following. The prince was known for finding ways out of places that he did not wish to be stuck in. It was interesting as at times he left through rooms that people believe held only a single exit by one that no one noticed. It did make guarding the prince when he was suppose to be asleep and then finding he had left for the bars a difficult challenge.

“If he is, then he better have a good reason for being asleep this late.” The Royal Attendant muttered under his muzzle. The guard on the left, a man that still had some youth on his face, was suddenly smirking and trying to hold in laughter.

“Will you administer one of your treatments?” He asked, laughter beginning to sneak out.

“If I have to.” The aging man glared at the man. “Although, I am a bit worried about that sound coming out of your mouth. It does not seem right.” With the threat laid out, the man snapped upright and held the spear tightly. Knowing of the Attendant’s infamous medical style, he had no desire to be cured or thought needing a cure from the man in front of him.

“N-no need, Royal Attendant! I am perfectly well!” He nearly shouted, showing fear all over his body. He did not try to bring his ears up from his head nor did he try to stop his sandy tail from shaking. He did force it out between his legs though.

The aging man glared at the guard on the left, signaling that this was not over, moved to enter the room.

Immediately, he understood why the royal prince has not awaken yet. Storming the dark room to the window, he shook his head. A great number of people have begun to hang cloth over the holes in the wall. There was not a name for it yet, but he disliked them greatly enough to curse them whenever he saw them. People from before the start of the kingdom were always able to awaken with the light of the sun, but slowly the youths born after kingdom began losing this ability. The royal prince was thankfully not like the lazy youths that needed another to wake them in good time, but there were times that he had, as he called it, overslept.

Oversleeping.” He growled under his breath. “Another word for being lazy or hiding the fact you are awaking from a night of drinking.” He grab the cloths covering the window and pulled it wide open. The light of the sun lit the room instantly and the Royal Attendant growled as the light temporally blinded him. Turning around, he stormed to the bed where the prince should be. Reaching downwards, he pulled the sleeping cloth off the bed.

What he saw just angered him more. The bed was empty. Again.

“When I get my hands on that damn prince.” He grumbled loudly, ready to sound the alarm when he turned his head.

“Ah, there you are.” Satisfied at finding the prince, he walked over the meal table where the prince was sleeping on. Or more precise, his torso, arms and head were on the table and he was guessing that the princes legs were still cross underneath the table. Standing over the sleeping prince, he wondered how he would wake the young man. He saw that the prince had spent some time as a nearly burned down candle stood to his left and-

“What’s this?” He leaned down to see some cloth that had some ash markings on it. Picking it up it, he could see it was a drawing of a crate of some sort and then a rough drawing of a leg guard with an arrow pointing to the crate. He then saw that were more drawings, a number of rough images of a typical head of a Feran from different views and then something a strange covering in the next picture. There were more of these strange images concerning things he could not always decipher. The further it went from the first image, they were getting sloppier. It was clear here that the prince was falling asleep. He saw that the last one was when the prince realized he was falling asleep and was attempting to do a good image. He had drawn a hand and next to it was another hand, but it was bulkier with lines going across it. 

“These are ideas to improve the armor.” He muttered under his breath in slight awe. He never thought that the prince had such a flare for forging to come up these ideas. Some of theses were good to his untrained eye and some needed the prince to explain, especially the first one.

That reminded him of why he was here. Carefully placing the cloth on the bed, he turned back to the still slumbering Feran. He glared, and then walked around the table to give the prince a proper awaking.

“Your highness.” His voice triggered the prince ear to twitch, showing he was stirring. This is what he wanted, so he then moved to his second part of his wake up plan. He then slammed his hand down right near the prince’s head. The prince, who’s legs were still under the table, jumped upwards. But since his legs were trapped, his motion brought his upper body back down.

After a stammering of curses, the prince looked up at the man in front of him. Holding his bruised muzzle, he glared upwards as he sought to free his tangled legs.

“How nice it is that you decided to wake after a fourth of the day has passed.” The Royal Attendant said peacefully looking down at the young man.

Still tired and angry, the prince glared upwards. “So you call slamming your hand-wait, a forth of the day!?” He spoke out of fear, never dared to sleep this late. Only the sick would be allowed this and he was unfortunately well at the moment. Uncaring of his state of dress, he forced himself to his feet and began to walk as fast his numb legs would allow him. He was halfway to his clothing trunk when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see the Royal Attendant glaring at him to calm down. His eyes shifted away, feeling like a kit that was being scolded, his tail began to flicker back and forth.

“Once you have stopped acting like a frighten little kit, get dressed. You and I will be seeing the king to discuses your drawings.” He commanded the young man dressed only in his fur.

“What? No, they’re just ideas that I had.” He raised his hands upwards. “I do not see how they could ever be something useful.”

“Do not lie. If they were useless, you would not have spent the whole night here and would have gone off to find something to drink.” He glared at the prince, who was looking away.

“Yessir.” He answered, feeling embarrassed.

“Do not rush your words and look at the person you are talking to!” He snapped, drilling in a old lesson.

“Sorry si-” The prince was cut off as the other man had grabbed his ear and forced him to turn around.

 “Do not call me that! My title is Royal Attendant to the Royal Family, not sir!” The aging man voice was rising. After glaring at the winching person in front of him, he let go.

“Yes Royal Attendant. My apologizes for how I misspoke.” The prince bowed from the waist, acting as sincere as possible.

“Good. Now I will be heading towards the King’s waiting chamber. I expect you to meet me there before I enter.” The older man went to gather the drawings as the prince began to dress. Deciding not to risk rolling it and realizing that walking was the only safe method of carrying, he took to a brisk walk heading to the room where the king would be.

Writer's Guild / A night at the circus
« on: March 09, 2011, 10:22:14 AM »
Hey all, this is another story of mine. I feel this one is the best I ever did.

It was a dark and cold night, especially in the mostly barren rim of the city limits. It would be expected that people would stay in this cold autumn night, where their homes were nice and toasty warm. A few, due to temporary unofficial curfew which was brought on by the victorious army marching past the city to the capital, were in the taverns drinking to celebrate the victory of their men in uniform.

Even the soldiers not posted on the base on the far end of the city limits would be expected to be at the taverns. There was some anger from their fellow solders that were posted inside the city and saw their fellow solider walking around. This intensified patrol was due to the General’s presence and abnormally large amount of ‘personal’ guards. In fact, they were the men that he lead throughout the latest war and were very protective of their young leader, in some cases acting as surrogate father for him. It had increased in the latter years, due to how their General unfortunately officially gained his title.

However, despite what the higher ups army wished for, most of the citizens were out of their homes and attending the circus that was near the military base. It was one of the travelling circus that had many standard performers with the jugglers, the tightrope walkers, the loin tamers, the strong man, the ring master, the clowns and the rest. Of course, there was those that did not get any real acknowledgement despite their necessary roles in making the circus a success.

The circus was enjoying the extra influx of people attending, especially all the military officials that were there off duty, and enjoying themselves for the first time since the war. They stood out easily as they were the only ones that celebrated with guns attached to their uniform heavy coats.

The crowd, citizens and soldiers, clapped and cheered when the jugglers juggled their juggling balls and pin, knifes and swords, dangerous and dangerouser. Some laughed when the clowns came out, and they all cheered when ‘bodily harm’ came to them. They roared with approval with the lion tamers did their lion taming, held their breath when the fire eaters ate the fire. The crowd let out sigh of relief and awe when the fire eaters blew out the fire and sent it flying in the air.

Then came the famous part of this particular circus. The tightrope-walker, or tightrope walktress as she was so often called, was very famous for doing very amazing stunts on the high rope without the aid of a net. A common act of hers was walking on her feet before she walked across the rope with her hands midway. She then usually pushed herself off the rope only to land on her feet. It always causes the crowd to gasp and lean inwards for someone odd reaction to the chance of her falling. She has never fallen since her early days of mastering it and her constant practicing of her tightrope walking.

This time, however, was different. Instead of landing smoothly on the rope, this time she shuffled a small bit as she got up,  a red flag to her friends in the circus. It was due to something she saw in the audience, a certain someone that had a lot of nerve to be here. Glaring, she moved to the end of tightrope and instead of finishing her routine, she went done the ladder.

This caused a large amount of confusion in both the crowd and the stage. It caused some of the audience to get up and leave as most thought it was over now and they had duties to attend to. This led some of the circus workers to try and corral them back to their seats.

The ring master tried to talk to the Tightrope-Walktress, but she told him that something came up and she needed to go to her wagon. It was done in a tone of voice that give him had no choice, but to agree and try to keep the show moving in an inventive way. It would turn out to be a very interesting event involving a drunken elephant, a scared larger woman and a bottle of fuzzy water that would be forever know as the single most interesting event that if you missed, you really lucked out.

The more interesting story, however hard it is to top that as many would aruge, went on somewhere else. This somewhere else would start at a wagon. The Tightrope-Walktress’s wagon.

She was very angry, something that her friends and family never saw in her. She was considered usually a very happy woman, and was therefore a dangerous woman for anyone to get in her way and so they decided to get away.

Apparently one man, a solider by the looks of it, was not caring of this danger. No, it seemed that he was waiting for her and this was very likely as he was waiting inside her wagon.

Of course, she saw a glint of metal in her window as he hid himself very poorly, so she went backwards to the tent to get someone to get him out of there. As she turned around, she walked into the one person, with the his usual cheerful personality, that she did not want to see at all. He was grinning that damnable grin of his, and his right hand went to scratch his damnable beautiful blond hair in his damnable cute way with damnable beautiful blue eyes. How she hated this damnable handsome bastard!

“YOU!” The Tightrope-Walktress shouted, slapping the damnable perfect face hard as she could with her dark skin hand. “How dare you come here!” She pressed her accusing finger in his damn perfect chest that was covered by a citizen jacket. “After what yo-”

“Please, keep your voice down.” He asked, in his damn soft, caring voice that he only used for those he cared about. “I can see that someone is hiding in your wagon and is armed.” She glared at his strong, but gentle hand that covered her mouth. “I do have my gun, but I don’t want to start something tonight.”

She glared at him, and nodded to make him let go. “Why are you here?” It was a demand that any would find funny, as the General would never have a  common soldier, let alone a civilian, demand a question from him.

“To see the lights, see the hubbub of the circus and all the wonders it has!” He said it in his damnable adoring sarcastic tone that made her roll her eyes at this. “I came here tonight to see you.” He grabbed her again, holding her hands in his strong hands that were covered in proper military grade gloves. “Look, I know we never had a good relationship in our youths,-” Before he could finish this sentence with “hell, we never had the chance to get a good relationship with us moving around so much,” he was interrupted by the Tightrope-Walktress.

Never had a chance?!” She shouted, stabbing the same finger into his perfect chest. “What about when we were younger! Did that mean nothing to you!?” She shouted, clenching her hand into a fist. She did not care that striking the General could result in her death, as her anger overtook her.

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