fantasy
Celebrating the fantastical. Let your imagination run wild.
Chapter 4 - Acquiescence
Chapter 4 - Malthen 1 The blood crusted pelt of a northern squirrel is not so rough as the hardened leather into which it will be fashioned. It is not so rough as the whip or shackle it may become. Most of the men meandering through Kitford’s sunset market have never felt the rasp and sting of either, but I remember both all too well. Only six short months have passed since I slipped the noose of bondage, and already I perpetuate the system - selling hide to the tanner. Ironic how fate reminds you of your place. The free world is marvelous, however, and I will not let fate keep me from tonight’s revelries. It is rumored that an official of house Carsus is visiting with this small town’s mayor today, and that means celebration. In all my time with Pa Grayson, the family never missed an opportunity to celebrate exotic company. For better or for worse, the expansive continent which lies outside the Grayson house is revealing itself to be much like what lies inside. Perhaps, people are the same all over the world. I have only begun my travels, but I intend to personally investigate this notion.
By Quinn Rocklinone5 years ago in Futurism
The Dragon King
Power meant everything in this world. The strong vilified the weak and the weak suffered under the strong. That has been the rules for the longest until one man changed them entirely. What people did not know is that being weak is not a weakness, but a strength. When you are weak they think less of you. They believe that you will never achieve anything in life. That you will be always at the bottom but that is not always the case. Basileus Draconian showed them that just because you are weak, does not mean you cannot become stronger. They said he was worthless and his response was for now. They said he was powerless and his response was for now. He did not have anyone to believe in him, so he believed in himself. He worked his ass off training to become the best. To be stronger than those who are strong. To become king. That was his goal and he has achieved that. He is known as the Dragon King and its time the rest of the world knew too.
By Malik Toppins5 years ago in Futurism
Chapter 3 - Vehemence
Chapter 3 - Aduren 1 In the days before I began my travels, I would often find myself gritting my teeth against torn and bloody hands - ripped apart by the rough hilt of a training blade. I would grimace and hold my tongue, swearing to Cog that one day the blood staining my clothes would not be mine, but that of my enemies. Today I can’t tell. The vibrant green leaves strewn about the forest floor are splashed with red, especially the stretch between myself and my enemy. Today the almighty Selune has tested my strength against the great Tapire that lies wheezing not three meters away. It’s head rests atop a gnarled root. The same one that nearly cost me my life minutes earlier. It will not look at me as it dies, but still I glare into its eyes. Daring it to challenge me further. I shudder with excitement when it does not.
By Quinn Rocklinone5 years ago in Futurism
Revenge
I was a killer, I would kill again if I was ordered to. The feeling was outstanding, my hands and feet tingled the moment their heads come off. But why do I feel terrible? I don't think I have ever felt guilt before, it really is an odd feeling. When I was younger my father told me that having feelings were irrelevant for werewolf's like us. No one in the town trusted us, and the humans would rather see us burn then give us the rights we deserve. After all we did not choose this life, nor did our ancestors. For a matter of fact, I don't think anyone knows why we are the way we are. My father used to tell me stories of the older wolfs, or lycanthropy if you prefer the traditional name. He said "Our ancestors used to only turn on the full moon" I remember thinking how lucky they were, it would be so easy to hide myself if that was the case. But over time I guess we got more angry at the humans, and now we turn whenever our blood starts to boil. As I got older I became the trouble to my father. I got into fights all the time, even punched a teacher of mine at one point, And that was only when I was in grade school. Going into high school was hard, at the beginning I was okay but teenagers annoy me, and I felt like I was much older then the rest. Sometimes my father was right when he told me I was just like him, But I have been around a lot of monsters, he is no different then the last. I don't know if I would consider myself a monster, not after my last kill. It was the guilt that changed myself, I used to wake up wanting it but now I feel like I'd rather die then hunt another down again.
By Dana Bergstrasser5 years ago in Futurism
3. Battle of the Bloodline
The rest of supper and dessert was practically quiet, then I returned to my room. Sitting on my bed lay a silk pink nightgown. It was cold and slippery to the touch. I searched the room for a bathroom or something with some privacy in case the witch maid came back. In the corner there was a tri-fold stand with thin parchment paper type material resembling Chinese rice paper. It stood about 6 feet tall and about 8 feet wide. I quickly grabbed the dress and ran on my tiptoes behind it. I don’t know why I ran like that, it’s not like I’m trying to sneak downstairs for a midnight snack after mom told me not to. I let my hair down from the braid Logan had so finely done to it. The wavy locks fell down the back of my neck. My body felt as if it sighed of great relief when the silkiness of the nightgown loosely hung on it. Behind the changing wall sat a bowl with warm water. The steam curled and wisped away as it rose, and the warmth felt good on my cold cheeks as I washed the sweat off. I rang out the towel and placed it on the table next to the bowl of water which was cold now, but not because it sat there too long, but there was a cold breeze which flew through the room. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of sudden insecurity, as if someone was watching or listening. However, no one was there. I tiptoed back into the bed and there was a note lying neatly on my pillow. The paper, an ivory shade of white, had wrinkles on every inch of it as though it was crumpled up to never be used again.
By Sara Aulds5 years ago in Futurism
Falling Sons (continued)
Previously...Delilah has survived her fall from the angelic world and due to her angelic heritage is slowly recovering, but a bounty has been placed on her head and forces her, Tatyana, Gus, Omar and a tag-along Gaven to live on the run...
By L. M. Williams5 years ago in Futurism
The Murder of the Unexpected Unicorn
In the middle of the sidewalk were shards of painted porcelain that had once been a unicorn. I only knew this because the horn was still intact and teetering on the edge of the gutter. Also, I had memorized the patterns of almost every unicorn in Moth's shop. This unicorn was one of the prettier ones. The hooves had been painted a delicate silver. The mane was white and tinged with the same silver. And there were dark purple ribbons in the mane that streamed out from it's head. It was positioned like it was galloping across some untold fairy land where unicorns still lived in peace. This one was third from the right. Meaning it was third that Moth had ever bought.
By Elsa Russo5 years ago in Futurism
