Ah, I'm rather infamous for starting things only to never finish so, I came up with the idea of just putting up what I have to be critiqued or at least read for what it is. :3
Now, I'm more of a common face in the roleplay section but, I also lurk around here as well, although I don't comment as much. At any rate, I'm hoping that some quality can be seen in my silly stories. So, don't be afraid to criticize, comment, etc. Even if no one does as much, I'll still be writing.
Now, I'm more of a common face in the roleplay section but, I also lurk around here as well, although I don't comment as much. At any rate, I'm hoping that some quality can be seen in my silly stories. So, don't be afraid to criticize, comment, etc. Even if no one does as much, I'll still be writing.
Unfinished Short Tales and Full Stories
[A majority of my works will be going here, and each subsequent tale will be spoilered for the sanctity of the page]
[A majority of my works will be going here, and each subsequent tale will be spoilered for the sanctity of the page]
Spoiler Show
Out in a forest, one would expect to see normal looking animals. What one would get instead would seem more like a joke. Out here, animals look like people in fur clothing [or feathers/scales whatever they’re supposed to be]. There are packs of wolves, herds of sheep, flocks of birds, and silver tongued reptiles, all with the grins and intelligence of humans while not being human. It’s improbable. It’s unthinkable. And yet it’s here. This is a forest of immensely immeasurable possibility, or im-probability for short.
Some butterflies fluttered past, muttering something about going off to the rose-bowl for a game. How they could stand the thorns in that garden, no creature ever knew. A white rabbit went running past with a black tabby quick on his heel shouting about how they were late for a very important meeting with a fox and wished it to stay that way. A few finches, rather mischevious fellows, sat up in the tree twittering [a new fangled invention of theirs] about what they planned on doing next that day instead of just doing it.
And walking below the fliers and by the runners was a rather colorful looking bird, violet and blue tail a good length for his age. His arms were lightly plumed in like colors, shimmering pleasantly. Oh yes, he was a handsome bird but, he was flightless. That was his one major problem. One would expect a bird to fly about instead of walking as he did, but with such small flight feathers, he couldn’t even glide five feet if he wanted to. He dealt with it anyhow, and enjoyed as bird-like a life he could. Kicking some stones that were in his way, he whistled a pleasant little tune down the path, not caring that he had several carnivores staring at him [some herbivores too, but they’re used to this sort of thing].
A ways beyond where the flightless bird was walking, a young wolf ran about collecting a myriad of objects. Golden tail and ears perked to the wind, she had a smile on her face. Although she was the only member of her ‘pack’, she lived a good life and in her spare time, gathered most any object of interest and stored it in her den. Her den was a cozy burrow she’d been living in since her parents moved on that spring to leave her to making her own pack. The she-wolf had yet to do that, however. You see, all the other wolves in the area were far too rough or mean for her tastes. Battle scars were far from attractive to her and the fact that most males had an attitude that was sure to earn them more, she stayed away from them. Grabbing a red ribbon that had come drifting along on a breeze, she finished her scavenging and went to put all her things away into a pile. Moving day was going smoothly thus far.
The she-wolf’s neighbor was a fox. The two were often rivals, the fox always trying to outsmart the wolf but normally failing, ending up even more embaressed as the she-wolf chuckled and played as if it were a game. Perched on top of a stump, comfily laying upon his stomach, he wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted his neighbor to move. What would he compete with now? Certainly not that chameleon that always drops by. The most she could harm was a fly. No, he needed to keep up his rivalry with this wolf. One of these days, they would finally decide who is superior and in order to do that, he must follow. Fluffing his tail, he planned on how he would explain his following…
Just a few meadows down from where the she-wolf was, a little sheep slept dozing the day away. Although it was fall and winter was getting closer and closer, with his thick coat the lamb could care less if it snowed on him right now. Sheep have a very easy going attitude in the chillier months, only fretting during the Spring and Summer for the loss of their precious cotton and the impending hunger of late-waking carnivors. Turning onto his back, the lamb snored softly as a leaf drifted down onto his nose, black curly hair mingling with the grass.
In a spruce tree, a young reptile was trying to figure out her day’s color. Switching between blues and reds, she finally settled on a very natural looking Green. With a happy little giggle, she bounced down on to the ground and started prancing about, thinking of what to do for the day. Her friend the sheep was dead asleep and the fox didn’t always have time for her. He was always too busy messing with that wolf or picking on little rabbits. What’s that sound? Why, it’s a bird’s whistle. A bird sounds like fun today! The way they startle when you go running for them. Stifling laughs, she got down onto all fours and slowly crept towards the bird…
The flightless-bird saw a creeping shadow just within his peripheral vision. When the creature came rushing out at him, he chuckled and jumped right up and over the predator’s head. The lizard, having missed it’s target, hit the ground with a mighty thud. Landing on the reptile’s back, the bird-boy leapt off and climbed up a tree in a walking motion. This was just child’s play to him. The lizard was fuming, growling and then charging at the bird once again, only to have face meet bark. With a little salute from a near-by tree, the bird mocked the lizard. “Hey, that was a pretty good try. How about next time, you aim for the feathers instead of the tree?” Laughing, he walked from branch to branch, enjoying his arboreal skills. The lizard, crumpled up on the ground clutching her reddening nose, was doing a chant of, “OwowowowowowOUCHIE!”
Meanwhile, the she-wolf was now trying to find a way to move all her accumulated belongings from this one den to her new one, just a little ways down river. She really did have way too many things. Most of it was useless yet, being a pack-rat at heart, she couldn’t just throw it away. It was her stuff. Well… She could just take what she needed now and come back for everything else later. Yeah, that could work. Clapping her hands together, she now had to work out what she needed. Er… Does a collection of last year’s fall leaves count as necessary?
The fox, trying to keep up a smooth appearance, slid up to the wolf, watching as she tossed a myriad of junk over his head into a pile. “What are you doing?”
“Hello, Lucifer. I am-,” She stood up with a box and flumped it onto the ground in front of the other canine. “Moving. I thought you’d knew already?”
He only waved his tail in a happy knowing way. “Of course I know, I wanted to hear you say it though.”
“Why? Think I plan on keeping this place even if I leave? Nah… I don’t really care if a badger comes to take it. Got a new home just a ways do-Wait… You aren’t going to follow me are you?” The she-wolf gave the fox a suspicious glare.
Found out, the fox edged around the wolf, tail flicking in a purposefully annoying way towards her. “Maybe~. You don’t think I’d just let you off from our little bout that easily, do you?” He didn’t really hate the wolf just… Had fun picking on her. Kicking up the box, he nabbed it in his teeth and went running off, ready for some kind of reaction on her part but, very much enjoying having successfully taken something. Foxes are theives at heart.
The minute her mind had caught up and found out what had happened, the she-wolf was shouting at the fox but then ceased. “Idiot… He just stole some of my favorite junk.” Waving a hand in the air she circled and got back to packing and sorting. “I’ll give him a nip next time I see him, that’s for certain.”
The sheep was still, well, counting sheep. The leaf upon his nose now floating on his breath. A cracking noise caught his attention. The river being close to his home meant that he and the rest of his herd shared some property with the beavers. They were a really strange bunch. Lately, they’d begun ‘farming’ their preferred food, Oak, in the place of old pine trees that they used to build their own lodges. A new saying was formed because of it that went, “Up goes the Oak, down goes the Pine.” Meaning, here comes the new while the old is just a memory. Well, for the sheep everything was caught in the middle of that saying. Couldn’t there be Cherrywood somewhere inbetween? Ah, why should he care? The lamb flopped back in the grass and went back to snoring. He was just far too lazy today to do much of anything.
Back with the wolf, her new den wasn’t exactly what she’d expected. It was old and hadn’t been used in ages, meaning that it had to be thoroughly cleaned out and even then, it would be a long while before it could reach that cozy temperature she’d had her last den at. It was somewhat annoying, roots dangling down from the ceiling due to lack of care and trimming. Having found out what was needed from her pile of scavanged goodies, she had taken with her her pile of furs that she’d gotten from her mother as a pup, some firefly jars so that she could light up the place, a few of her passed down trinkets to make the place more cozy feeling, and a few other homely things.
Getting everything right where she wanted it, she sat on her bed of furs. It had taken her all day just to find out what she’d wanted to bring and now it was night. The time when wolves are supposed to be most active. Hm, since she wasn’t tired yet, the she-wolf venture outside for some fresh air and to do her nightly call out to the pale moon. Using her tail, she brushed away some leaves that were too close to her den’s entrance, just to keep it from looking too messy. Finishing that, she trotted off to find the perfect moongazing spot. Such a boring day, actually. And she still needed to get back at that fox for stealing her things.
Off somewhere else, taking his nightly walk, the flightless bird moved along a path. Not really expecting to see anything in particular. Where he lived, nobody else did. In other words, his neck of the woods was normally pretty empty. Literally. Tonight was different though. He could hear someone walking nearby. Not sure what they were yet, he climbed up into a tree and looked down. It was a golden she wolf, loping along at an easy pace. She looked like she was comfy here.
Now, the bird wasn’t a big fan of neighbors. They often prodded at the way he couldn’t fly, which was something he could barely stand even at the best of times. He didn’t like being rude either. Annoying maybe, but never rude on purpose. It just wasn’t in his nature. If anything, his rudeness was more accidental. The ways of other species was often barely understood by him which led to very uneasy conversations. Seeing that the wolf was getting further along, he followed after at a quick enough rate to just get ahead of her. To get some attention whilst staying away from any danger, he did a shrill whistle.
Ears ringing, the wolf bristled in surprise and looked up into the tree, glaring at the bird. “What was that for?!”
Seeing that the wolf didn’t seem hungry [and was rather deaf at the moment], the bird leapt down onto the ground and faced his new neighbor. “What do you think you’re doing in my woods?” Eh… He has a way to make the simplest thoughts of his come out rude.
“I live here now.” Rubbing her ears, the she-wolf gave the bird a measuring look. He was certainly colorful, not as painfully bright as those macaws though. Mainly the colors you’d expect to see on a rainy day, purples and blues and pine greens. “And was just about to go do my nightly duties as a wolf.”
“Kill a deer?”
“What?! No! Howl at the moon. I do it every night. It relaxes me. Now, if you excuse me,” She made to slip past the bird. “I want to finish that and head off to bed.”
The bird had never dealt with wolves of the friendly, non-hunting, nature before, thus felt it necessary to pry a little bit with this one. Blocking the wolf’s path, he held up a hand in front of her face. “Name.” The wolf only replied with an angrily confused look. Shaking his head, the bird continued. “Your name. What is it?”
“Aurora. Like the Northern Lights. Can I go now, weird canary?” Her tail was flicking in a dangerous manner. Getting the hint, the bird jumped up and easily swung up into a tree, quickly disappearing in the dark. Feeling somewhat odd about being left alone so quickly, the she-wolf shouted after him. “It’s very rude to have me answer your questions and you none of mine!”
“Call me Dusk!”
Surprised by the prompt reply, the wolf cocked an eyebrow. “Alrighty then… Off to howl now.” Trying to look more proud then she felt, her tail curled upwards and she pointed her nose to the sky. The place she was looking for was a hill that looked out to the stars. There was a fallen log there that made an excellent seat and the sound of the river was comforting, it’s shimmering water just barely blocked by the ditch that led into it. She’d kept it in her mind when she was moving all her stuff in.
Circling around the glade a few times, Aurora settled and looked up to the sky. Lucifer, the red fox, had known that the wolf often came to places like this to do her nightly call. Never saying it, he enjoyed the songs. A deep instinct of the time when wolves and foxes were the same lingering in his subconscious. Silly, he knew, but, it was how he felt, and there was no way he could change that.
Taking a deep breath, the wolf looked up to the sky to do her first and most impactual note. “ha-AWOOOOOOOooooo….” The fox was just climbing over the ditch when her voice rang out, startling him and sending him rolling into the river. The splash didn’t even bother the wolf, carrying out the rest of the song. The symphony would taking uplifting tones only to sink, and then, like a pheonix, they’d rise once more with new strength. By the time she finished, she was far too tired now to care about anything else around as she walked back to her den.
Sputtering and coughing with water, the fox got back to land and wrung his severely dampened tail. He just wanted to hear a song, not get soaked! Growling, he trudged off to find a burrow for the night. His singer was now gone, giving him no more reason to be out here.
"Where is that roast? I've been waiting on it for almost three hours now!" A harsh voice barked into the air, reflective and narrowed eyes glaring about the busy kitchen. Bodies rushed by, some stumbling as they blindly rushed into the tails of others before them, almost all carrying something. A majority of the colors in the kitchen were grays, some more ashen, while a couple of the reptilian shapes were a deep black.
The source of the voice came from a large, well muscled, brown raptor, green slash-marks across the bridge of his nose and a cape of pine down his back. His front left-arm pointed in accusation at one of the cooks, whipping his tail into one of the walls, clattering the pottery that hung above. "Why do you not answer? This should be simple for you, slave!"
The gray raptor could only dip its head lower into its work, stirring nervously at a boiling pot and clicking its overgrown talons on the floor. Others left a wide birth between them and the poor chef, glancing up with tawny and ashy eyes at the angered tan-skin. The brown stepped forward, arm raised as if to strike, when a shrill voice spoke up quickly, "It's not his fault!"
All heads and eyes flashed to one direction, staring with mixed measures of surprise, anger, and absolute disappointment. The voice had come from another raptor, smaller than all the rest by a full head and much skinnier by far. Its skin was a deep midnight hue, only broken by a white patch beneath its tail and splashes of a similar color on its face and legs. A couple clucking voices from the other servants rose ever so gently up, warning the little one to run or shut its maw while it still had a chance.
Chance, it had none. The Warden stepped forward with purpose, ignoring the yelps of those he stepped upon, a snarl of distaste clear on his face. The small black attempted to shrink back into the crowd, only to find itself left on its own and cornered. Growling with a deep rumble, the brown spoke, inches from the other's face, "You again, Zensta? How many times have I had to cuff you this past week?"
"Far too many, Esten, sir." She spoke as if her tongue was being forced.
Esten scowled and rose up until he was looking down at the female slave, arms still dangerously poised to strike, "More like far too few, Zensta, if you still have the lip to speak back." One of the talons swiped, leaving a well-sized cut on her cheek. But, unlike the many who gasped around her, she remained silent, yellow eyes looking only at the ground.
Esten paced around the slave, twice switching his attention to the surrounding kitchen to stave off any watchers, and then halted just behind her, speaking in the same harsh snarl, "Well then, that cut was not for the roast. Where is it, slave? You have my permission to speak." He said it as if he would slice more then just her cheek if she answered wrongly and as if speech was a privelage rather then a right. But, Zensta knew all too well that she was going to be punished, one way or another.
"It is almost out of the ovens, sir. There had to be gatherers for wood for a fire and-"
"So it's late?" There was danger in that tone.
"Yes, Esten, sir."
To her surprise, he ended the confrontation with only a whip of his scaled tail to her side. He'd probably had to punish a great many that day and didn't wish to waste much more energy on a whelp. Still, the action would leave aches in her ribs for days as it still left her breathless and on the ground. Flooded with a sad sort of relief, Zensta watched the Warden leave the kitchens, growling to himself and giving a few prolonged glares in the direction of anyone foolish enough to still be around. It was only after the male was long gone she finally decided to stand up, stumbling a bit as she tried to make her way back out the door. She wasn't even supposed to be on duty at the moment but, one of the Watchers had decided it was a requirement all black-skinned slaves serve an extra two hours that evening on top of their already long and gruelling shifts.
The gray she'd aided earlier now payed her no more heed then he would a mayfly, eyes fully set on the pot in front of him. Un-marked raptors were always somewhat odd, a little obsessive even, with their work. Then again, they got off easier then most marked ones, the colors of their bands giving the Wardens, Watchers, and Weyrs more reason to discriminate and punish at little mishaps. It was sad but, it was the way it was.
Scrambling out the rounded doorway, the white-spotted girl made her way not to the sleep dens, where the Watchers were sure to be waiting, but to the far left of it where a scarce bit of forestry had creeped its way in to the yard unchecked. Damp grasses brushed at her feet and the smell of monkey-puzzle trees filled her nose, a welcome relief after the stressful day. When she was deep into the crawling isle of trees, she was greeted by a slow chirp that was quickly interrupted by a broken whine, "Ah, there you are. I thought you-... Hm, I guess you did get punished again today."
Laying down in a fairly unnatural way, legs stretched out and on his side, was another midnight black raptor, only this one had splashes of violets and blues instead of white, similarly spotted and striped. With the arrival of his friend, the male stood up to his feet with only a small amount of work, walking gently over until he was resting a hand on her shoulder. Like many of the others, he was taller than Zenstra. But, then again, he was taller then many raptors which made her feel a bit better. Unlike many, he was also naturally skinny, with a chest that seemed half the diameter it should be and legs that could fold themselves in ways most could not. Holding a three fingered hand to the other's gash, he winced, "What was it for this time? Breathing? Really, it's as if we don't deserve to even share the same space as them."
Zensta shook her head, a little bit cautiously with the cut, and replied, "Esten was on shift tonight. I tried to keep low like you said, Rykes, but when he-"
Rykes cut her off with a gentle pat, guiding her over to a soft spot and sitting her down. "Of course, I understand. If I'd been the one in there, I'd have done more then just speak out, and probably lost some more feathers for it." You see, Rykes, against his normally soft nature, had the most wry tongue of any of the enslaved raptors. He snuck books from the library without anyone noticing and had a higher speech pattern then most could claim to have. He used this to his advantage For this, he oft had to pay in his plumage, crowns of feathers on his shoulders, hips, and head tattered and places near them scarred.
He laid himself back down on the ground where he'd sat before, legs sprawled out and head resting on his hands like some odd mammalian creature, eyes complacent with thought. He always meant well, even when he verbally lashed out. It still didn't take away any of Zensta's worries, the scars on the right side of his jaw a constant reminder of what happens when he helps.
The cool grass sapping from her any mental worries and a fair portion of the ache in her side, the small raptorin crouched on her haunches and allowed a small rest from her daily life in slavery.
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Busy, boistful, biggots. Bah, how he hated these classes. It truly seemed as if everyone in the entire estate was too much in the movement to pause and ponder the probability that, maybe, just maybe, there was actually a raptor that didn't want to learn of alliteration or speak in it.
A ruler rapped the table where the raptor was sitting, head dipping down out of sleepiness now up in attention. The teacher, a creamy colored female with bright green plumes, held her head high with a sharp look of disappointment in her eyes. "Thak'nil, what is the third rule of Royalty?"
"Never bow down ones head in the presence of another, it shows weakness." The white, red marked, male droned it back. He had been through this countless times. And he had purposefully fumbled just as many, testing to see his mentors' reactions. Always, they smacked the desk in place of him, as if it were the reason for his disrespect rather then he himself. Thak'nil didn't understand any of this useless drivel. What was the point? Why have him learn things he'd need not use in the near future? Oh, dear lord, they even had him thinking in alliteration now.
Still, it was required of him by his all-seeing mother. That female would stop at nothing to shove him into every pretentious class in existence. Some things Thak'nil understood and deemed worthy of learning, like Writing, Battle, and Self-Preservation. But, others like History, Mannerisms, Speech Patterns... By the shell, even Politics was being shoved into his brain. Was this really what a Prince of Torren needed to learn? How to walk with as little bend in his back as possible, head high? How to speak with a series of similar sounds? The fool stories of old, long-dead, raptors and some great hunts that are being done fifty times over every month?
He was beginning to get unsettled. Thak'nil contemplated a way to get out often. A way to get out of his blood. But, it came in handy at times. If he needed something, people would often just give it to him. Negatively, they'd also fling trinkets he didn't deem necassary in his direction as well. Gold, Silver, shining rocks, all of that was useless. Oh so useless and frighteningly common where he stood. And given so easily just because of his markings.
"Good, very good." The green-marked instructor, named something like N'mian or Naym'n, twirled the stick in her hands and walked back to the board at the front, polished talons clacking on the tiled floor. Written in some chalk, a powdery white rock that was mined just to be used and wiped away, was a series of patterns called 'scratches'. It was an old form of writing, different than the commoners' writing called 'scripts' for the fact it was more fine-lined and stricter in display. These ones read, from bottom to top as customary, Proper Pronunciation; Lessons in learning Language. It was followed by a lengthy list of translations, how much of a growl is to be given to that vowel compared to this, when to chirp when saying this, how high pitched or low pitched your tone should be when conveying a proper idea. Everything prim, everything polite, everything proper.
Thankfully. Ny'main pulled a board over the chalk, wiping it away, signalling the end of the day's final lesson. Thak'nil almost immediately stood up from his perch, tail precariously close to whipping into a stack of books, when he stopped himself. Remembering Rule Six, he slowed. Patience leads to politeness and preservation. If he'd fussed that one up, the class would've been consequently extended, and the teacher had done it many a time before. Thak'nil, now slowed to a calm pace, made his way gently past the teacher, trying to keep his eyes from glittering too much with the glee he held inside.
Only after making it a third of the way down the hall did Thak'nil allow himself the pleasure of slouching, front limbs dangling out of the right angles that were so constantly demanded of him and his step gaining a more pronounced, sluggish, bounce. The halls were curved almost naturally, as were the doors, and oft had skylights allowing in light from outside to soften the harshness of the torch-lights alone. Fire was something he found odd as well. The way it glinted was hypnotizing and, from what he'd actually listened to in his classes, a great many raptors burned in flames after being affected by what Dyik-ma, or Healers, called "Heat-blindness". It was probably why it was deemed needed to have holes in the ceiling, to keep a raptorin's eyes from straying to the torches alone, hazardously walking straight for the embers.
Speaking of hazardously walking towards something, Thak'nil was now going at a bit of a lope for the downstairs working areas. A place often frowned upon by Cream, Ivory, and White raptorins for the fact that it housed Gray, Ashen, and Ebony skinned slaves. Thak'nil knew that his mother would be down upon him like a Sky-Terror if she knew of his ventures down there. He knew also that none dare touch him wherever he went in this kingdom, Slave nor Commonor nor Commander, and that he was immune to any lashings a normal resident would get for being there.
Besides, he had a purpose. There was a single soul there he'd known well when he was a hatchling, a chick destined to be a slave for its color that had, by happenstance, been near the nest he'd been reared in. Older, he'd seen that raptor hatch, though it was only by a few days and the marvel baffled his mind. Older, he'd thought himself a funny guardian of sorts, putting the little one through paces he was still learning. Older, Thak'nil had been first to be moved away from the black, white-marked, hatchling who had grown on him. Because he was older, and mainly because of his blood.
Still, he had to slip past a series of sentinals that stood silent and stoic against the slate stone of the slaves' stalls. They often creeped Thak'nil out, their unmoving lips ever frozen in an expressionless stare as bland as the gaze from their eyes. It was as if all they knew of were the doors, and all the doors knew of was them. To stare at the wall in front of them, growl if any trespassers came and chirp in required reply if guests arrived. So bland, odd, and all around depressing. Thak'nil often mused on whether or not such raptorins held aspirations, dreams of chasing away say, a rabid Tri-horn or even a big-headed cousin.
Finished Works
[Not so many things will go here but, I hope a few will over time]
[Not so many things will go here but, I hope a few will over time]