Current Residence: Baltimore, Maryland|
Favourite genre of music: Country, 90s Rock
Favourite style of art: Vector
Operating System: Win7
Favourite cartoon character: Dirk Daring
Personal Quote: Words are magic -- Frank Herbert
The Prophecy of The ForbiddenPrologue
A scream pierced the night air. A young man growled and turned, looking around. "Carol!" His voice was deep and held only a slight hint of worry. "Where are you?" He heard a muffled cry as Carol tried to say something, but her voice was cut off. It made it harder for him to locate her.
"Damn it." He strode off in the direction he believed the scream to have come from.
His worry wasn't for Carol, not at all. The minor amount of concern he felt was for his child; Carol was merely a tool. She was almost due, the reason for his uneasiness and focus on finding her. If anything were to happen, it would not be good.
Another scream pierced the silence, followed by a cry for help. His eyes narrowed and he looked around, more urgently than before. It was Carol; he could easily recognize her voice. He had learned to do so after spending much time with her, to earn her trust. However, the fool hadn't known what she was getting into.
"Damien," she cried from a distance. "P-Please help!"
Fitting Right In
A male. I still can't believe it.
Ironic, really. Personally I think I've adapted fairly well to this new world where humans rule, the Underdark does not exist, strange gods lurk quietly in the background, and magic has been superseded by incredible science and technology. Hells above, I'm even using a PC to type these musings up.
And yet I simply cannot believe that the most powerful person in this world and the bearer of my goddess' mark is... a man. Who thought one could be so capable?
Poor old Priestess Allythus. She simply wouldn't be able to comprehend this place. Just the thought of a world where Lolth held no sway would make her tie someone down and whip them until she was damp in the leggings before she calmed down.
I almost miss the sadistic old bitch. Almost.
The hag always thought I was her pet, her trained attack lizard to be kept chained up until it was time to unleash it on the bitch's enemies. A loyal slave...
She forgot something: I am drow. We do not submit. We
140. ShadeThe bar was, as usual, relatively busy. Through the minimal light, clusters of Lyrs most disreputable people had gathered in a common gloom to drink, gamble, and relax. This was a frequent haunt, so the amount of people within the dark establishment didnt really bother him. It was reputed to be a bad spot, a cliché dark refuge where murderers, thieves, and dealers dwelt. Whores punctuated the hazed room, passing through the cloud of weed smoke as though it were nothing. Considering where they lived, it was doubtful theyd even manage a contact buzz from the faintly blue smoke.140. Shade by Artheeria
Everyone here made no effort to hide their darker selves. There was no need. In the flicker of yellowed lights and the dim neon glow of alcohol advertisements, shadows stretched next to their originators. Physical manifestations of all their evil, malicious, petty, depraved minds. Some were larger than others. Some were the size of children, and leaned against their source with arms crossed
City of the DeadThere were no lights in New York at night. Power was at a premium, and the government stopped all support to the region on order of the new President. New York was dangerous at night. She knew that, as she crept from one doorway to the next, heading west through Brooklyn. It was hard to walk the streets at night, even though they were all but deserted. And you had to walk; there was no gas for cars any more.City of the Dead by Nicephorus
No one would make the journey without a good reason. She had one, although she wished she hadn't. Insulin. Type-1 Diabetes is a wicked master, and she was running low on shots.
From dirty doorway to untended alley, she threaded carefully, trying to keep noise to a minimum, checking the streets were clear before crossing. Once or twice she heard male voices in the distance and huddled into the shadow of a shop's awning. You never knew who you were going to meet.
It was three hours walk before she reached Red Hook, and stared across the bay to the military port in Bayonne. A couple o
Summer's GoneI found a shoebox full of mixtapes you made for me over the summer. There were song titles listed on them in neon magic marker, and the tapes with cases had childish stickers all over them, mostly cartoon characters and smiling flowers. On each, there was a strip of masking tape across the front that told me the themes associated with the music held inside the delicate rectangle of plastic.Summer's Gone by FlyingAntelopes
That was only months ago, but I cant help but treat the moments like they are memories from my early childhood, precious foggy images and pieces of conversation. Except these memories constantly throb in my mind, and I spend my time laying in bed trying to relive them through dreams. I have another despondent attempt at finding meaning to it: music made up your soul, and you were giving that to me. Maybe you just thought it was fun.
Summer ended quickly, all the pretty colors blurred with tears in August. The dry weather hardened your skin and itched