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Fantasy Writers

Villains’ Character Castle

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  • #134589
    Erynne
    @erynne

    “Goose? What goose? Just pick a door and go. I’m tired of just standing here and watching your bad throwi- er, I mean, I don’t know what I mean. You just aren’t very good at throwing your spear. Your grip isn’t good enough.” He told Meira.

    “First guess?” Dominic heard from a strange voice-obviously from a woman. He whirled his head from around to see where it came from, but no one seemed to have spoke. The voice continued then the lights went out.

    Be weird. Be random. Be who you are. Because you ever know who would love the person you hide.

    #134725
    Cathy
    @this-is-not-an-alien

    Meira huffed at him. Bad throwing. He was just infuriatingly snobbish! For several seconds she contemplated konking him on the head with the butt of her spear, not hard enough to really hurt just kinda knock his brains back in place. But instead she checked her grip again, flushing invisible with fury.
    Then the lights went out.
    She blinked, a very faint silver light automatically catching her skin. Throwing her arms in the air she snickered contagiously.
    “I glow in the dark and humans ain’t do that!” she singsang.
    She sure hoped nobody tried to murder anybody. Now she better find everybody in her group and lead them down the first door she came to. That would decide that.

    Don't let the voices in your head drive you insane;only some of them can drive; most are underage

    #134772
    Rose
    @rose-colored-fancy

    Hi, y’all! Sorry for disappearing, I was distracted by actually writing. XD Crazy, I know!

    Umm, I kinda forgot, can the characters actually kill each other, or is everyone immortal? Because Chantara definitely has some villainous schemes up her sleeves. Literally XD

    Chantara

    The coldness started in my chest, and crackled over me, slowly, slowly. I forced myself to keep breathing, even as a freezing shiver pulsed through my nerves. It was always like this. It was better this way. Each time it came a little easier, stayed a little longer. One day it would be all that was left of me.

    I felt myself go numb. Automatic. Inhuman. My heart had melded into granite. I didn’t think, I didn’t feel. Not anymore.

    Get behind Þorunn. Slit her throat, and get out of the way. Who would I blame? Who was nearby? Connel. Last I had seen, he wasn’t far from her. Karayan wasn’t an option, he could probably see in the dark like a cat. Meira was too useless to be suspicious. I’d heard her squabbling with the older man, both of them bickering like five-year-olds.

    I glided along the walls, toward where I heard Þorunns breathing. I sensed, more than saw, her.

    My breathing was so silent I couldn’t even hear it myself. My heart wasn’t beating any faster than usual, and my hands weren’t trembling. That would come later. Afterward. All of it would come afterward, like a thunderstorm from clear skies.

    I was only a step behind her now, and I froze, my thoughts focused, every action painfully familiar.

    I couldn’t move too much now. The knives on my back were out of the question. I couldn’t even move the fabric of my tunic to reach the knives on my thighs. I gently shook my right hand, loosening the delicate, flexible blade hidden in the lining. It slid down, between my fingers. It was too fragile for anything but this and razor-sharp.

    I closed the gap between me and Þorunn in one single step. Without hesitating, my left hand reached around and grabbed her throat, silencing any scream she might have attempted. The tiny blade was between my fingers in an instant, hovering above her throat.

    _______

    Well, that escalated quickly. Umm, oops? LOL


    @skylarynn

    Umm, I think you may want to fix this XD

     

     

    "Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark." The Tale of Despereaux

    #134866
    Skylarynn
    @skylarynn

    Hey all, sorry for the absence.  Kinda no longer had a computer and just got a new one yesterday.

     

    Þorunn sensed a presence behind her, felt the faint breath at the back of her neck.  She was prepared when a hand clamped over her mouth and a knife came to her throat.
    Immediately Þorunn grabbed the arm wielding the dagger and jerked it away from her neck.  She spun on a heel, still clutching the offending wrist and twisting free of her assailant’s other hand.  Then in a single fluid movement the shieldmaiden hitched the arm over her shoulder, the assassin behind her, and hurled the attacker over her shoulder.  She could feel something give as she did so; a broken elbow, perhaps.  As Þorunn’s assailant collided loudly with the floor the shieldmaiden pressed a boot to their back and twisted the arm until they dropped the dagger.  Then, for good measure, she twisted and pulled further until she felt the shoulder dislocate.
    “Who are you?” the shieldmaiden hissed, tweaking the arm to cause further pain and discomfort.
    ________________________________________________________________________

    Karayan, whose eyes were naturally attuned to the dark and therefore could still see just fine, chuckled lightly as he watched Chantara get thrown.  “My dear Chantara,” he called to her in Kezbe, “It is probably unwise to attack the most battle-hardened of our lot, especially one of the Nors.  Besides, she is visible.  I don’t think she’s the one we’re supposed to be seeking.”

     


    @rose-colored-fancy
    Poor Chantara…too bad she didn’t know Karayan has nightvision and Þorunn became a barbarian queen by slaughtering anyone who opposed her in trial by combat…


    @this-is-not-an-alien

    "Remember, you go nowhere by accident. Wherever you go, God is sending you." - Rev. Peter R. Hale

    #134873
    Brian Stansell
    @obrian-of-the-surface-world

    So, I’ll just add one of my villains here too.  I really don’t know how many are present. Please let me know if there are already the 10 maximum, presently lurking here.


    @this-is-not-an-alien


    @erynne


    @skylarynn

    This character can pretty much speak for itself.

    Description:

    It is about 12 feet tall (3.65 meters).  Large woolly thighs, with a backward bend and shanked leg, the size of a stout tree. Its broad chest is blackened by soot and ash and matted with shaggy hair.  Its arms are muscular, and its forearms corded with tension and its hands are widened and powerful.  If it seizes a victim it can literally tear it apart with its brute strength and dismember it and crush its victim with those viselike hands.  This creature reeks of musk, oily unwashed hair, and rank sweat, and an oddly sweet pungency of decay from the gore that has been absorbed into its hair and flesh.  Its lower half is animal, most likely a mountain ram, but far more massive in size than any natural-born creature. Its upper torso and shaggy head are that of a giant man, though there is a wildness in its face that defies any traces of its former and ancient humanity.  Its eyes are glazed with cataracts that appear barely visible under a hazy blue film.  Its nostrils are wide and flaring, almost pig-like, but still human in shape.  It is unclear what its eyes are truly seeing because they move and shift erratically like they are trapped in the ice of its cataracts and searching for the sight of the place its body occupies.  Its ears are buried in its long mane of oil and gore matted hair, but they can pick up the slightest noises, and the pulse and throbbing noises of a living beings’ rapid heartbeat.  Its head might appear almost fully, though wildly, human if not for the arced and curled ram’s horns jutting out of its occipital boned forehead, blackened by dried blood and cracking with flecks of its ancient age.  Its voice is deep and resonant and seems to arise in vibrations from the ground below one’s feet as if in a rumble that reverberates through those within hearing it speak.  Its voice has the quality of quiet rage lurking underneath, and portents of peril for anyone daring to stand before it without trembling.  It can smell fear, and it is addicted to that scent as well as the smell of spilled blood.

    One never knows which side of this half-human half-beast monstrosity’s tormented mind one might be speaking to.  It loathes all humanity it encounters because it secretly misses its own, and the sanity it once possessed when it was only one thing and not the unholy combination of two. It longs for the human legs and feet it once had in its ancient dwelling in the Old World that is forever lost to it and has cursed it to bear this form.  It stands on two massive cloven hooves, that are splayed from age, and the hard bones of its inner heels have almost worn through the horned cleft of its feet.  It moves in constant pain, because of this, and that fuels its rage, and its frustration that it must ultimately rely on the sight of underlings to see the world in which it would subdue, crush, devour and conquer as it sovereign and god.  Only the mirrored waters allow it to see the world forever lost to it. But it can still whisper to the dreams of humankind in that ancient world. It can meddle in the lives of the unregenerate and willful as long as they seek power for themselves apart from the One True that bond he and his followers to this interworld prison of immortality except through violence as it ages along with the millennia passage of a world that once had hope in a promise of the One who would crush the serpent’s head once and for all.

    His name was once something different than it is now, when he’d been a man and built a forge to mold and shape bronze and iron.  His name meant “World Spear, World Ruler/Government” for he was destined to rule and take up the failure of his ancient grandfather and fight the great serpent that had crawled into the between world.  He had carried the ram in his strong hands, to offer in appeasement to the God who wanted blood.

    His old name was Tubal Cain, son of Lamech the manslayer. His mother’s name meant “buzzing shadow” for she was not of the old world when his father kidnapped her as his second wife from this world.  He was a man of both worlds, and the passage between them made a mockery of him. Now he would seek all power for himself and defy the Blood God and his new name meant that very word “All/Universal”: Pan.

    Brian Stansell (aka O'Brian of the Surface World)
    I was born in war.
    Fighting from my first breath.

    #134877
    Rose
    @rose-colored-fancy

    @obrian-of-the-surface-world

    That character is terrifying! Great job!

    Lemme see, right now there are: My character, Chantara (female), an assassin, who switches between false personas every few seconds.


    @skylarynn
    ‘s characters:  Þorunn (female) a shieldmaiden with serious anger issues, and Karayan (male) a feline vampire whose sole purpose is to eat cookies sarcastically and make sure nobody’s ego gets ahead of them.


    @this-is-not-an-alien
    ‘s characters: Meira (female) who is definitely not a villain and actually way too endearing for anyone to hate, and Connel (male) who owns a miniature dragon and– where is he? Well, he’s either moping or planning a murder. Odds are about 50/50.


    @erynne
    ‘s character: Dominic (male) a mad scientist who is currently trying to manipulate Meira, but I don’t think it’s working XD


    @hannahrenner
    ‘s character: Grimme (female) who is kinda all-knowing, and invisible. As you do.


    @kimlikesart
    ‘s character: Aadipta (male) who just arrived and hasn’t really interacted with the others yet. (Hey, Kimmi, are you still around? Haven’t seen you in a while.)

    Anyway, the current situation involves a goose with unknown powers (least if which is being exceptionally nippy), complete darkness, and trying to catch Grimme, who is currently angry and invisible, if I remember correctly.

    Oh, and Chantara is trying to kill Þorunn. Which is not going as planned. At all. XD

     

    Chantara

    Strong fingers clasped around my wrist, wrenching it away from her throat. Too late. Should have been quicker.

    Useless.

    Þorunn wheeled free of my grasp, so fast she must have been prepared. I leaned back, trying to wrench free, but she grabbed me and hurled me over her shoulder. My feet left the ground.

    Crack. Thud. My shoulderblades pounded the marble. Pulses of pain throbbed through me. My chest was empty, useless. I gasped for breath.

    Useless. Failure.

    My arm was throbbing. She hadn’t let go.

    Failure. Weapon.

    A boot dug into my back, twisting into my spine, the hard pressure driving the last breath out of my lungs. I had to breathe. I couldn’t.

    Weapon. Broken.

    A twist, further and further. The pain turned from throbbing to burning, from burning to shards of agony. I gave a small gasp. An explosion of bright pain crackled in front of my eyes. I barely recognized the sound I made. A soft whine, like a kicked kitten. That wasn’t me. It couldn’t be.

    Broken. Helpless.

    My dagger plummeted to the ground, but with a final wrench, I felt my shoulder dislocate. Red pain. Crackling pink and burning bright. White pain. Black pain.

    Far away. A distant echo.

    “Who are you?” A snarling hiss, filled with hatred.

    Helpless. Too weak.

    No matter what. Always too weak.

    Even further away. So quiet, like a waterfall in the mountains. Kezbe, my home tongue. No, not home. I don’t have a home.

    “My dear Chantara. It is probably unwise to attack the most battle-hardened of our lot, especially one of the Nors.  Besides, she is visible.  I don’t think she’s the one we’re supposed to be seeking.”

    I didn’t seek her. I had never thought it was her. I didn’t care. I needed her dead.

    My arm throbbed, begging me to give in. It would be so easy. Another whine, a stammered name, an apology. Whatever she decided to inflict on me, I had probably faced worse.

    No. I could never be weak. Weakness was disgrace and death.

    My left hand snatched at the knife on my thigh. The chill of metal pulsed up my skin.

    Not helpless. Never again.

    I curled up, the pain from my arm pulsing through me and settling in my stomach. My breath was only short, uneven gasps.

    I unleashed a kick, aiming at her one foot still on the ground. She swept off her feet, landing next to me with a heavy thud. Another wrench of my arm and darkness crumpled my vision. I pushed it back.

    My dagger jumped into my palm, then I plunged it down, where her hand met my wrist. Resistance, the heavy difficulty as it found its mark. A roar from Þorunn and another surge of pain as my arm fell down, helpless. I didn’t let go of the dagger but yanked it out of her wrist. If I was lucky, she’d bleed to death. If I wasn’t, she was still mad with pain and couldn’t use her right hand.

    Not broken. I wouldn’t be.

    To my knees, then standing. My arm still useless, but my left was as good as my right. My skill with both had never been more useful. (Note: Chantara is ambidextrous)

    I scrambled backward, in case Þorunn tried to attack again. I heard a scrabble as she raised herself to her knees. I drew my shoulders inward, my back arching like an angry cat. Now I made a sound. Not like the kicked kitten of earlier, but a whirring hiss of fury, like a lethal cobra.

    Not a failure. Always a weapon. Nothing more.

    My scraps of humanity whimpered, then whithered as I ground them down with my heel.

    I curled myself into a kick, aimed at her head. I braced myself for the impact, but the collision always caught me by surprise. I spun around, getting my balance. A sharp crack as Þorunn hit the ground again. I pounced.

    I ground my knee into her wounded arm, and placed the other on her chest, crushing her to the ground.

    I flipped my knife around and brought it down to her throat.

    Not useless. Usefulness was life. A sharp smile wrenched at me. What life? I had lost my life the day I agreed to join the Siya. I would never be more than this. A weapon to be wielded by others.

    Inhuman.

    Inhuman.

    Inhuman.

    _________


    @skylarynn

    Yay, glad you got a new one! Yeah, Chantara’s also had her share of hand-to-hand combat XD Can’t wait to see what you come up with!

    ______

    I kinda tried a new style with this (Mostly inspired by your Character Castle 2.0 ‘dream’ posts, @this-is-not-an-alien , and also a bit by @hannahrenner ‘s posts on here.) I don’t know that I’d ever really use this format, but it was fun to write!

    "Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark." The Tale of Despereaux

    #134884
    Brian Stansell
    @obrian-of-the-surface-world

    @rose-colored-fancy

    Thanks for the run-down, Rose.  Much appreciated. Still orienting a little…

    Okay, so if I do get into this character’s mind for the sake of this exercise, you all understand that this is not me, right?

    I know the Forum rules, and will shut this “being’s” mouth off in a nano-sec before it says “anything” that might violate the Castle decorum.

    I do that in my own WIP too, but this thing is more monster than man, and its wildness makes it unpredictable and it is given to instant rage without any provocation.

    I may need to wait to write just before taking a bath… [just thinking out loud]
    Let me pray about it, and will let this thing very briefly off its chain…
    Did I mention it hates mankind and anything that appears seminal and bipedal enough to resemble humanity?
    {You all were warned…}

    Brian Stansell (aka O'Brian of the Surface World)
    I was born in war.
    Fighting from my first breath.

    #134890
    Skylarynn
    @skylarynn

    As things escalated dangerously (and potentially lethally) between Chantara and Þorunn, Karayan bolted across the room and hauled Chantara off of the shieldmaiden.  He swiftly got between the two angry, injured women.
    “Now wait a moment,” Karayan hissed, his tone unusually harsh.  “This is insane.  If any of us are to survive this castle we should do as it says.  Not attempt to murder each other in the dark.”  The last statement was directed at Chantara with a furious, disapproving glare.  “Now cease this foolishness before I incapacitate you both myself.”

     


    @rose-colored-fancy
    Welp Chantara has now lost Karayan’s favor and he is much, much harder to kill than Þorunn…especially given the superspeed and superstrength…

    • This reply was modified 1 month, 1 week ago by Skylarynn.

    "Remember, you go nowhere by accident. Wherever you go, God is sending you." - Rev. Peter R. Hale

    #134905
    Rose
    @rose-colored-fancy

    @obrian-of-the-surface-world

    Thanks for the run-down, Rose.  Much appreciated. Still orienting a little…

    You’re welcome! I’ll add notes if there’s something that needs explaining.

    Okay, so if I do get into this character’s mind for the sake of this exercise, you all understand that this is not me, right?

    I know the Forum rules, and will shut this “being’s” mouth off in a nano-sec before it says “anything” that might violate the Castle decorum.

    I do that in my own WIP too, but this thing is more monster than man, and its wildness makes it unpredictable and it is given to instant rage without any provocation.

    Well, my character is currently trying to murder someone, for the second time, so who am I to judge? XD

    It is a tricky thing, writing about villains and monsters, especially since they have to do villainous things. Anyway, it’s tricky, but I would say all the characters here (except maybe Karayan and Meira) are either thoroughly evil or extremely morally gray (like Chantara) so that happens.

    Also, it’s going to be so interesting to release a somewhat monster-like character in here, especially now, with two characters wounded.


    @skylarynn

    Ooh, nice save! I like it!

    Chantara

    Anger and pain throbbed through me, competing to control me. I pressed my knee harder onto Þorunn and brought my left hand up to finally kill her. Good riddance. Any scum foul enough to harm a Pawn without a good reason deserved to die.

    (Context: Pawns are the servants hanging around. Everyone controls them equally, they’re like extras. Þorunn threw a glass at one earlier and it got Chantara riled.)

    An arm grabbed me from behind, yanking me off Þorunn with more force than I’d expected. I gripped the knife, barely managing to keep a hold of it. I flipped it around in my hand, preparing to stab backward. I wasn’t going to survive this, I’d just hope I could take my attacker and Þorunn with me.

    Instead, my attacker pushed me away, keeping a secure grip on my collar. I dragged backward, trying to yank myself free. The person didn’t budge, barely seemed to notice. He had gotten between me and Þorunn. I gritted my teeth, trying to push the flecks of red away from my vision. Pain throbbed through my shoulder, sharpened by my struggle.

    “Now wait a moment,” came a harsh whisper. It was Karayan. Who was he to interfere? I tried to shake myself loose with a snarl, but Karayan was entirely unimpressed. His grip didn’t even loosen.

    I tried to think around the throbbing mist of fury filling my mind. Should I try to kill him as well, or at least kick him away? He was far heavier and likely stronger than I was, and so far, he had shown me no ill will. There was no way I would win. Not yet. Perhaps later.

    “This is insane.  If any of us are to survive this castle we should do as it says. Not attempt to murder each other in the dark.” He hissed. I knew that remark was directed at me, even though I couldn’t actually see him.

    A low, sharp growl came out of me, an obvious threat directed at both of them. At that moment, I hated Karayan more than I ever had, and Þorunn even more than that.

    I had no interest in surviving the castle, and even less in obeying. I didn’t care whether I died today, or tomorrow, or a year from now.

    “Now cease this foolishness before I incapacitate you both myself,” Karayan snarled.

    I gave a laugh so sharp it grated my throat. Either the pain or the rage had taken my judgment. I could barely think through the red mist.

    “Was that a threat or an offer?” I hissed, under my breath. “Don’t make offers if you don’t want me to take you up on them.”

    Karayan squeezed my wounded shoulder, either by accident or to make his point. The pain flashed across my vision, red morphing into white, and white fading into black.

    My mind faded into nothingness, only to be brought back with a blaze of pain as Karayan let go. My knees buckled and I barely managed to stagger backward.

    I kept my fingers locked around my knife, but I faded back into the darkness, finally finding a wall. I leaned against it for support. My breath came in short rasps.

    It was always like this after an assignment. It would be worse soon. I needed to find somewhere safe, or at least private. If the lights came on now and the others saw how vulnerable I was, I wouldn’t have a chance.

    I inched along the wall, blindly searching for a door. Would the castle punish me for not participating in its challenges? I had tried. I had failed. I was in too much pain to care.

    I finally found a doorknob and pushed it open blindly. The other side was as dark, but smaller. I could barely walk a step inside before I bumped into a shelf. A linen closet, or something of the like. I shoved the door shut, and found a latch. Relieved, I slid it shut. Even if this was a trap, it couldn’t be more dangerous than outside.

    I crumpled to the floor, my arm a dull, unbearable ache. Nothing I could do. If my shoulder wasn’t set, it would grow back wrong. If it didn’t heal properly, if it left a noticeable deformity or in any way remained weak, I would be cast out of the Siya. Probably demoted to the lower spy group. I couldn’t let that happen.

    Nothing I could do.

    The adrenaline drained out of me and sickness settled in my stomach. My mind replayed everything I had done, each awful detail. I had stabbed someone, the blood was still all over my dagger. I tried so hard to kill her.

    Over, and

    Over, and

    Over.

    It never got better. No matter how many times I’d done this before, it never got easier.

    I buried my face in my uninjured arm, stifling my scream in the rough fabric, still warm with blood. It was so muffled that I only heard the barest sound, and it wouldn’t be audible beyond the door.

    I screamed until it felt my lungs would burst.

    ________

    That was extremely melodramatic but I don’t know what else to write, so we’re ending with Chantara being excessively dramatic in a linen closet. LOL

    "Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark." The Tale of Despereaux

    #134921
    Cathy
    @this-is-not-an-alien

    @obrian-of-the-surface-world
    Oh oh! He sounds kinda like the Minotaur! I can’t wait to “meet” him/it!

    I kinda tried a new style with this (Mostly inspired by your Character Castle 2.0 ‘dream’ posts, @this-is-not-an-alien , and also a bit by @hannahrenner ‘s posts on here.) I don’t know that I’d ever really use this format, but it was fun to write!

    Ooh that was fun to read!

    Meira swung her spear onto her shoulders and dashed across the room, reflecting silver light over the floor until her glowing skin reflected against a wall. With a cry of delight she pressed her hand against it and dashed until her hand broke into thin air.
    “Found a door! Ain’t yo coming before you get discombobulat–!” There was a loud scuffle on the other side of the room and Mr Vampire saying something cheeky again. She tilted her head and the spear on her shoulders to the side. “What in human quirkery–?”

    Connel drew his sword the moment the lights went out. He listened to Tatira’s padded steps to guide him, she was good at finding openings. In the dark anything could attack and that stupid glass girl was just running around screaming like a molting draekon and looking like a far too lively ghost.
    This really just wasn’t his day; all the girls here were completely ruthless and not in the cute, enticing sort of way. With the exception of the glass girl who was too dumb to count. He glared at the woman, or at least the noise of the them fighting. Wasting time and energy, this was the team he was supposed to work with?
    The catty vampire was yelling at them and the “delicate” girl had run off after hissing back at him.
    The bounty-hunter cursed, slamming his sword in his sheath half as a conciliatory sign half to not stab them both on the spot. Without an ability, Connel had had to work harder than any other trainee to claw to top, which was the only way to survive in his world. You didn’t just lash out at someone you hated or you died fast, and you most certainly never let yourself get caught in the act.
    “Just leave them to kill each other,” he grumbled to Karayan “they’re having so much fun, and if they die that makes two less competitors.”
    I don’t have time to babysit. I work better alone as it is. But it wouldn’t be bad to have a couple scapegoats if any problems arose as they undoubtedly would. He took the liberty of jostling the vampire’s shoulder as he walked past.
    “And if they’re ready to be big girls now maybe we can get to the more immediate problem of making it out of here. I’m keeping myself alive if anyone wants to join me, you can all follow that goosechase of your’s and fight invisible egos while you’re at it but there just might be some light down one of the doors so that’s where I’m going.”
    He yanked Meira out of the doorway by her hair causing her to swear at the top of her lungs and try to bite him. Automatically slammed her into the wall hard enough she gave a cry of pain and rubbed her chipped glass back with a little whimper. (Which is not going to end well when I get to Meira’s POV (: )

    I guess I have a “finished” picture of Meira if anyone wants a reference (finished is such a strong word tho most like escaped and I’m done lol!)

    Don't let the voices in your head drive you insane;only some of them can drive; most are underage

    #134928
    Rose
    @rose-colored-fancy

    @this-is-not-an-alien

    I guess I have a “finished” picture of Meira if anyone wants a reference (finished is such a strong word tho most like escaped and I’m done lol!)

    That. Is. Awesome!! I love it! She has so much life and movement! That’s basically exactly how I pictured her. The coloring is really good as well, I love all the different tones you use for her skin!

    "Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark." The Tale of Despereaux

    #134990
    Brian Stansell
    @obrian-of-the-surface-world

    The Pan in the Villain Castle.

    [Thinking aloud…]

    I cannot see you…but I CAN smell you.

    I smell and hear many among these walls of cold stone as I wait silently in a darkness I can feel.

    I am as cold as the dead stone…in many ways…a living death…

    My hooves drive spikes of beaten iron into the worn soles of my once human feet.  These hands once fashioned the burning stones into metal, and honed the edges into the first blades to ever cut flesh.

    As spikes of my once self pierce my lost human feet, I take satisfaction knowing that a blade of my first craft once pierced His side…

    But that is enough. His death ransomed His likeness creations and ransomed His newborn kindred…

    Constant pain is my kindred now, as I look so different from the brothers, I once knew in the Eretz when it was still new.  My line of sons and daughters are dead, and I am now Death to them.

    The One required blood…a sacrifice. Not the fruits of our labor, but life for life.  The life breathing through them, into them, calling them. [Lev. 17:11]

    Blood.  Blood is need…blood is wanted…blood is tasted…

    Blood is…hunger.

    I smell the pulsing blood of many. Can hear its susurrations as it flows through veins under the force of aggression–the ceaseless struggle between the living and the dying.

    The blood smells are tainted. Only the humans have the distinct flavor of The One’s Personal Breath, yet all others have a shadow of it. Hanokh wrote it using his mud marks. “Each according to its kind,” [Gen. 1:24-25, 1 Cor. 15:39] I believe The One said.

    But look at what I am… Look at this mix of human and animal that constantly stirs….

    [a rumble rises from within its bowels, echoing in its chest cavity, pushing a surge of rage upward into its thought, as the mind of The Pan descends…once again into…Animal…]

    Brian Stansell (aka O'Brian of the Surface World)
    I was born in war.
    Fighting from my first breath.

    #135005
    Brian Stansell
    @obrian-of-the-surface-world

    Forgot to include the Tags in my prior post regarding my villainous character.
    Wait…that doesn’t sound right.  I don’t have a — well, I guess in a way I do. 😉


    @this-is-not-an-alien


    @erynne


    @skylarynn


    @rose-colored-fancy


    @bclarke


    @writergirl101

    Brian Stansell (aka O'Brian of the Surface World)
    I was born in war.
    Fighting from my first breath.

    #135050
    Cathy
    @this-is-not-an-alien

    That. Is. Awesome!! I love it! She has so much life and movement! That’s basically exactly how I pictured her. The coloring is really good as well, I love all the different tones you use for her skin!

    Thank you! <3 It’s the first picture I’ve ‘finished’ on my fairly new drawing studio. The tones for the skin were actually…something I spent months on banging my head and writhing in despair lol. But the different colors blending to get that sorta-sheen is actually an overlay layer feature which I applied to the lips and eyes as well. I spent years thinking it was a particular technique! Turns out it’s a brush/layer thing! (There are a lot of layer features on my Corel Painter Essentials 5 program *happy sigh* my mom got it for me for Christmas)
    I murdered myself with it I’m totally never drawing like that again (lol I’ve already started another project).
    But your paints are pretty fantastic too ya’know! My favorite I think was the profile pic right before your’s now, the one with the silky white hair…well actually the one of Rosario you did was pretty epic…or Ehud. Nevermind I can’t decide on a favorite XD.
    Oh.
    I just found a picture of Meira and her OTP

    Forgot to include the Tags in my prior post regarding my villainous character. Wait…that doesn’t sound right.  I don’t have a — well, I guess in a way I do.

    bwahahahaha! Oh, is he in the same room with the rest of the characters or just entering it now? I’m just gonna assume it’s too dark for them to notice either way until he kills somebody I guess 😉

     

    Meira was angry, in fact, some might even say she was furious. And in fact she was. So furious she didn’t even feel the cracks in her back. And they certainly wouldn’t stop her. Meira glared so hard at Connel her eyes glowed in the dark like violet-pink explosives.
    “You devil gut-face, yella-liver snapper!” She growled with a war scream as she rammed after him with her spear. Without thinking he sidestepped and frowned at her.
    “Whatever, adorable.” he said “listen, doll, I am not in the mood so just–”
    “YOU JUST BAT TO CALL ME WHAT!?!” Skidding back before she hurls into a wall, she her eyes widened with indignation and flung herself and her spear at him again. So he caught her spear and twisted her out of the way. Not before she bit his arm.
    “I ain’t no doll nobody, yo hear! Smack off y–”
    He cursed, turning to her with a murderous look slow enough she faded off a little. She could feel sticky blood ooze down her back trying to firm between her skin and cloths. Most glass people were pain resistant because of how prone they were to injuring. But that throbbed with pain, and he hadn’t even been mad then.
    Now. He didn’t look like he’d have a problem stabbing her through.
    “Get. Out of my way.” His voice was very low growl and there wasn’t even a shadow of an easy-going persona left. The change was so palpable she forgot to be furious.
    “Wh-what?” Meira stammered, straightening as if ready to fight or flee in an instant. For reply he leveled a frigid stare at her, more feral than his draekon could’ve given.
    “Get.” His hand hovered over the hilt of his sword and the word sounds like her last chance to get out.
    “No way, neva!” She yelled instinctively, clutching the spear in her hands.

    [uhhh, yeah, Meira’s gonna die if nobody gets there XD Oh I forgot! @obrian-of-the-surface-world if character die they still reappear in the banquet hall cos inevitably someone was gonna be murdered in the Villains’ Castle and it doesn’t do to have your character die before you’ve figured him out :P]

    oh dear, does this mean I have to tag people? 😆 Ummmmm

    tagging @everybody! heehee Ima genius

    Don't let the voices in your head drive you insane;only some of them can drive; most are underage

    #135057
    Rose
    @rose-colored-fancy

    @this-is-not-an-alien

    Thank you! <3 It’s the first picture I’ve ‘finished’ on my fairly new drawing studio. The tones for the skin were actually…something I spent months on banging my head and writhing in despair lol. But the different colors blending to get that sorta-sheen is actually an overlay layer feature which I applied to the lips and eyes as well. I spent years thinking it was a particular technique! Turns out it’s a brush/layer thing! (There are a lot of layer features on my Corel Painter Essentials 5 program *happy sigh* my mom got it for me for Christmas)

    Yes!! Overlay is the awesomest! It’s soo much better than *shudders* multiply. Multiply leaves everything nasty and muddy. I often flip through the layers to try to figure out what will get me the effect I need.

    (Hint, if you put it to soft light and use an airbrush and a deep purple/indigo color, you can get lovely shadows.)

    Oh, quick tip, if you use pale pink for highlights and teal/aqua for the shadows, you get a lovely opalescent/pearly effect and it’s just so pretty and I’m using it on everything. 

    Generally, my thought process for picking colors is something like “ooh… shiny… sparkly… glowy… pretttyyy!” LOL

    I murdered myself with it I’m totally never drawing like that again (lol I’ve already started another project).
    But your paints are pretty fantastic too ya’know! My favorite I think was the profile pic right before your’s now, the one with the silky white hair…well actually the one of Rosario you did was pretty epic…or Ehud. Nevermind I can’t decide on a favorite XD.

    Thank you! <3 I’m still really happy with those! And the “I’m never doing that again, whoops, I already started another” is waayy too relatable XD

    Oh.
    I just found a picture of Meira and her OTP

    LOL! It’s so cute! I love how she’s just all happy and sparkly and the other one is like 0-0 XD

    Chantara

    I took a deep breath, then another, forcing myself to calm down. I had to breathe. I couldn’t cry now. I shouldn’t have screamed. Shouldn’t have.

    Breathe.

    It was so dark. My arm hurt. The hard leather holding my knives cut into me, enclosing me like I bore my own cage.

    Breathe.

    Think about something else. I couldn’t think about the warm, watery blood covering my fingertips or the slickness of my knife. The sound Þorunn had made when I drove my knife through her wrist.

    My stomach twisted.

    How could I have done that? The tenth time hurt as much as the first. When would it stop hurting?

    I hadn’t even had any good reason, I had just started strangling her. She couldn’t have deserved that, nobody deserved something this terrible. I loathed myself.

    I gritted my teeth, the burn of tears in my eyes. I rolled onto my wounded shoulder, crushing it into the floor. I barely stifled a sob as the pain flamed through me and scarlet swam before my eyes. I almost relished the pain.

    Something else. Anything.

    Aydin. Why did my mind jump to him first? I forced myself to picture him. I imagined him in his workshop, flipping through his notes, comparing the color of two viles, or extracting the poison from plants.

    It was easier to breathe now.

    I wiped away the few tears, disgust pulsing through me. I shouldn’t have cried. Crying was weak, and I couldn’t be weak.

    I let my breath slip into a rhythm, concentrating on my heartbeat. I hadn’t died. Now I needed to move on.

    If anyone attacked me now, I would die. I needed to fix this shoulder.

    I tried to remember what I’d been taught about injuries. Most of it circled around not dying for long enough to get help.

    Here, there wasn’t help. Unless you counted Karayan. He knew what he was doing but I wouldn’t crawl to him for help. I couldn’t need him.

    I knew how to tie up wounds, how to splint a bone until you could get it set, and how to stitch something that wouldn’t stop bleeding. I didn’t know how to fix a dislocated shoulder. I’d have to guess.

    I needed to figure out the damage first.

    I had heard a crack when Þorunn threw me. That might just have been a crack, or it might have been my elbow snapping.

    I gently touched it. No searing pain roared through me. That was good. I carefully bent it. There was a dim, dull ache, but it was nothing compared to the agony in my shoulder. It might be bruised or strained, but it didn’t seem broken.

    An involuntary sigh escaped me. At least I had a chance of remaining with the Siya.

    Now for the shoulder. The doorframe had a sharp, wide corner. I positioned myself against it and closed my eyes, brow creasing in concentration.

    I pushed my shoulder back against it, simultaneously pulling on my arm. The pain throbbed through my arm, tingling in my fingertips. It burned through each of my veins, tracing singed patterns along my skin, and bored into my marrow.

    More tears came to my eyes, and I couldn’t suppress a pathetic whine, like earlier. I finally let go, waiting for the blotches of light to fade.

    Help me. Someone, anyone. I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared.

    No.

    You’re alone. Pull yourself together. You don’t need them. You pick yourself up, wipe your own tears and move on. Nobody will help you.

    You grabbed your wrist, pulling and pushing with all your might, throwing your small frame into the battle against yourself. You’d win. You’re your most dangerous opponent, but you’d win.

    It slipped back. Fading pain. Finally. You couldn’t take more, could you? You know you’re smaller than you think.

    I know you’re small. I know you’re scared. You can’t be.

    You have to keep breathing. You have no choice.

    __________

    *Rereading this* Where the actual heck did that second-person part come from? That isn’t me! I actually think it’s Chantara’s inner critical voice.

    Anyway… so… that was weird. Chantara is seriously messed up. XD She’s immensely fun to write!

    "Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark." The Tale of Despereaux

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