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world where humans rule, the Underdark does not exist, strange gods lurk quietly in the background, and magic has been superseded by incredible science and technology.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
Literature DD's for SeptemberA look at literature and literature related DD's from the Month of September by gallery *Note all write ups are taken directly from the DD feature:Literature DD's for September by StJoan
Literature > Prose > Fiction > General Fiction
Of Death on Roosevelt Ave., the suggester says, "~Eilicea writes with the intensity, horror and morbid humor of a mad scientist or some sort of inexplicable, eccentric genius. Even with the characteristic whimsy and (perhaps nihilistic) carefreeness, each story explodes in your face, leaves you crushed and wanting by the end - this one being no exception."
Death of Death by =Squarix has a very interesting surreal quality of death being a physical character and for the plot of the story itself. The opening line is just incredible. "Death di