Curled comfortably on the throe-rug before the fire place, black nose twitching under a tail of long wisping fur, ears slightly twitching in the emanating heat, Kam slept. The thick white strip of fur running from her nose up to stop between her long lashed eyes. The black fur on the ridge of her back bristled as she snarled in her sleep.
A rocking chair creaked as a large, finely built man shifted. The newspaper sheets in his hands rustled, causing another growl to rumble in Kam's chest.
"Heh! Think she chasin' t'croaws oot o' t'corn pautch. Heheheh." the man chuckled, shacking his head before turning his attention back to his paper. He was a middle aged man, tall, broad shouldered and heavily muscled, do to the hard labour that is required to run a farm. His face, lean and high cheek-boned, was weathered. He had thin lips and a straight nose with a faintly detectable boyish band of freckles across the bridge.
Allowing a ghost of a smile to spread across his lips, blinked his hazel eyes as he read The Daily News, Farm and Stock articles.
The clanking of cups in the kitchen could be heard loudly as the farmer's wife made the afternoon tea. A moment later footsteps were heard as Annie entered the living room. She was a small woman, but nicely covered, her small jovial round face beamed as she took pride in doing even the most menial things, like preparing afternoon tea. Her raven-black hair was pulled back in a loose bun which exposed her beautiful blue-gray eyes.
"Tea! Come on Tom! Up an' oot! That's moi chair. Sit'n yer own!" she admonished playfully. At the sound of her voice, Kam snapped to attention. Tea time was always the best. Annie was a well known woman in the community, one liked by all. Her cooking skills were also known clear over the Yorkshire Dales.
Kam scurried over to Tom; despite being so rough and strong, Tom, deep down, was a softy, and she knew it, however, the only problem was, so did Annie.

Curled comfortably on the throe-rug before the fire place, black nose twitching under a tail of long wisping fur, ears slightly twitching in the emanating heat, Kam slept. The thick white strip of fur running from his nose up to stop between his long lashed eyes. The black fur on the ridge of his back bristled as he snarled in his sleep.
A rocking chair creaked as a large, finely built man shifted. The newspaper sheets in his hands rustled, causing another growl to rumble in Kam's chest.
"Heh! Think 'e chasin' t'croaws oot o' t'corn pautch. Heheheh." the man chuckled, shacking his head before turning his attention back to his paper.

A digital drawing/sketch or painting of my Wild Thing.

He is a TEF deer from head to toe, wearing the Dark Real Deer Pelt. His antlers are normal, everything about him looks EXACTLY like it does in-game.

Link to his bio is in my signature, but I will post it here as well.

Please? Anyone? I'll give you cookies... and maybe a return request of art or writing

i'm going slowly towards the end of my drawing blockage so i'll make a little request.

the only thing you have to do is:
Post a bio/picture reffrence

and say if i should make a smaller version of the drawing as a sig.

i can do multible deers i one picture

remember to credit me- or you don't need to just don't say that you maked it yourself then i will become really sad

when the name of the eer turns into a link it's done

1)Akemi for Riia-Chan - Done - Sig

2)LightBringer for Gruffen - Done - Sig


3)

She was in an area hardest hit by Hurricane Irene and I just want to know if she's okay.

((I should pretty this up, but I can't be bothered. I'm posting it before I loose my nerve. So self concious of my writing!))

Under the Lotus

Chapter 1

Light footfalls made not a sound on the cool tiles, carrying the young woman silently through the palace, her bare feet moving gracefully under the translucent linen shift she wore. Hair coiffed with a minimum of fuss that morning, her unnaturally scarlet hued eyes outlined in black, drawn to a point along the curve of her face in the Egyptian way, the woman wore hardly any jewelry, only the minimum accouterments for a princess. She was not seeking to be seen that morning, quite the contrary she sought solitude, escaping the watchful eyes of her guards and the hovering of her maids, she’d slipped out from her rooms in the early hours of the morning. The sun crept over the horizon, the garden faintly lit as she descended the stairs to her favorite spot there. A far off corner, shaded by large palms, the heady scent of hibiscus blossoms filling the air. Here was her fountain, the space filled by the sound of the falling water, the spray hanging in the warm air, a green place full of life, a sanctuary from the dry desert air. It was cool in the early morning with the promise of the day’s oppressive heat already apparent, the sun’s creeping light blossoming around her as she reached her sanctuary. She settled on the richly decorated rugs there, pillows with gold thread in their weave, costing a small fortune to make, merely upon which to lay her head. She closed her eyes and listened to the slowly fading night sounds be replaced by those of the day. She drowsed there, the air heating up as the sun rose. A voice awoke her.

“Dreaming child? That’s all you ever do. Dream. Sneaking off, the guards all in a fuss. I know your ways though. I know where to find you,” said a woman’s voice. Not unkindly. Doting. The young woman wrinkled her nose at the voice. Followed.

WIP


A B A D D O N
the devourer
±

I've been sleeping inside a mushroom ring for about 10 mins now- will I be able to shift more than one stag?

"...he is tortured..."

(For my writing challenge, please feel free to participate!)

The infection is too much for him. His body cannot take any more pain, and collapsing, he gasps for one last time.

The blackbuck's vision fades. His body slowly stops moving. His head rests, and he draws his last breath.

And just like that, he is dead.

He opens his eyes, but cannot move.

His body still covered in her infection, he feels extremely heavy.

Then he sees it. He is being held down.






The infection now appears more like black ropes, binding him to the ground.

He tries to move, but the more he does, the more the infection digs into his skin.

He cries out, but there's no one to hear him.

He is alone in a place that seems much like a flat, barren land.

The sky is dark, the ground...oddly white.

And then his brown eyes catch a glimpse of her...

Iugulare is here, even after death...he is tortured...

[=darkgrey]"Hero...you'll never be rid of me.