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CrowfeetAt first sight the bulky figure hobbling through the cloudy harvest evening would not appear as unhuman to any observer. Any citizen that saw the figure would just assume that it was some old, misshapen beggar in his dirty ropes. Only on a closer look someone could see the strange feet the person was walking on and maybe if he turned his head, become aware of something that looked like and unaturally long nose.
They called him Crowfeet, although he had an actual name, he still used Crowfeet because he learned that the people in this city weren't able to pronounce his name correctly anyway.
Crowfeet was a stranger to this city, he came from about half a world away, but his people abandoned him or he did abandon his people, depending on the point of view.
Crowfeet was a Tengu, the tengu were a people of humanoid ravens, living in the far east. Crowfeet's kin loved soaring the skies abouve the dragonspine mountains and practice the art of the sword. He himself however never was that much
A Job"I have a job for you."
Joffry opened his eyes. He had been sleeping on the ground in the "establishment" in the Rhinestreet. Now he looked up.
Lucretia was standing over him, she gazed down on him. She was expecting a reaction.
"Am I getting payed.", yawned the young man without much interest.
"I was expecting you to do this as part of our agreement." answered the women that was called "Lady" or "Mother" by the other women or girls of the house.
"Ah yeah our agreement.", he knew that she wanted him to do it as part of the agreement, but he nevertheless wanted to double-check and see if he can get any money out of it.
The "Agreement" was that he could get shelter in the house whenever he needed it and in return "scare" off any men that would threaten the integrity of the establishment.
Actually he did not need to do anything so far - most of the time dropping his name was enough.
"So what is it?", mumbled Joffry, still lying on the ground.
"I want you to punish someone." - now he looke
Written with BloodPlease do not ask me
'Bout Dark Poetry
Have no need for it
It doesn't touch me
These are little Words
Of Pain, Hate and Fear
But they have no Sense
If you haven't felt such
If you have not seen
And you have not felt
They are just three Words
Like You, Me and Thee
These are puny Words
For those who felt it
Burning Pain in you
Roaring Hate for you
And the Fear of you
Of what thing you are
The beast you might be
The Darkness you crave
These are just Words
If you have never
Heard the fearful shouts
And seen the shed Blood
Do not talk to me
About Fear and Loath
If you have not seen
MistHe stepped out into a cloudy october night.
It was allways cloudy, or misty or both in the little town at the edge of the swamp.
The people of the town carefully avoided the swamp, allthough nobody really knew why. It was just a creepy place that no one wanted to visit especially not during the night.
He was on the way home from the towns pup to his house on the other side of the town.
Lost in lought he walked the streets untill he saw infront of him a huge, black dog sitting on the street.
Strange...he had never seen such an animal around here before. As he came closer the dog set up and started growling at him. He wanted to sneak past the dog, but the animal was blocking the way. He wanted to step back and try another way around, but another dog was sitting in the adjecting alley. He turned around just to see that there was another dog coming from the opposing alley.
"What the fuck is going on here...?!"
He started to walk the way back and realized that they were following him, so he
A true StoryThis is a true story.
A story about my grandfather and about the second world war.
When my grandfather was at my age he was a communist and gave speeches in collogne.
Communists were bitter rivals of the Fascists and their favored country was russia, because it was the only country at that time that had a communist system.
Maybe that was the reason why he was send there in the war.
My grandfather was send to siberia. In case you don't know what that means a small anecdote: Soldiers that were honored for fighting in siberia recieved a medal, that was called "Frozen-Meat-Medal" among the people. The russian winter on his own was deadly enough.
As far as I know my grandfathers group was on the march when they met a naitive that tried to defend himself. The officer of the group decided that the man had to die and ordered my grandfather:"Shoot him."
My grandfather refused, I don't know if out of compassion or simple stubbornness, but I do know that the Officer and my grandfather strated to
Raven's FlightHe looked at the coat of arms - with a frowend forehead.
"Interesting, isn't it?", said a voice behind him and he turned around.
He saw a man, with grayish-blond hair, a blond, stubbly beard and a black eyepatch over his right eye. The man beared the same coat of arms.
"Greetings, Milord.", the sentence was pure rutine, he had said it a hundred times before and will say it another hundred times, before the end of his duty.
The man with the eyepatch nodded as a response. He stepped forward and looked at the coat of arms on the wall.
It showed a raven carrying an olive branche in it's beak. A raven as an emblem wasn't unusual, also a bird carrying an olive brach wasn't an unusual symbol, but he had never seen a raven carry an olive branch. Well...he had never actually seen a dove that carried an olive brach either, but the combination of raven and olive brach seemed like a twist in the myth.
"You ask yourself: Why a raven. Don't you?", aksed the lord.
"I would never dare to question a lo
Pride of the Dark Ones 2Look at this man, you might remember him as an old scholar. He had the pleasure to explain to a young boy, whos father had been slain in battle, why "Darkelves" didn't equal "Evilelves".
As most scholars do he left out some details to make his statement sound more believeble. In fact it was a number of detials, in onther words he just told the boy a half of the actual truth. The other half...
It was true that the soldiers, nobles and even the King of the dark elves were bound by a strict code of honor. But these aren't all of the dark elves and no we are not talking about the females here, the women of the dark elves are as much warriors as their male counterparts.
But in a world were a large part of influence is in the hands of people that study things that aren't visible to normal people, we have do ask ourselves how do "they" do it.
What are the mages of the dark elves.
First, they aren't called mages the are Warlocks, which indicates that they work with dark energies. Some of them
Suicide is no joke.Suicide is no joke. There is no coming back from it. Once you have done it, you are gone. Your pain may be over, but the pain to your family and loved ones will never be over. They will be left with countless questions that will forever be unanswered. If you're in pain, you need to let somebody know. There is no use suffering in silence. If you are suffering through depression, the worst thing you can try to do is beat it on your own. Just remember that there are people out there who love you and care for you. Even if you only have one person in your life who cares, that is still one person that would be devastated if you were no longer here.
Suicide is a very final way to deal with life's issues. It is a dark and permanent solution to potentially short term problems. All I ask is for you to stop and think. There is always a solution to your problems. There is always someone out there who can help you. Never think that you're alone because you are not. Some people may understand a lot
It's Too Late When We DieIf you want to die then fine, go die
But before you go, think
Think about every dream you've dreamed
Think about every star you've wished upon
Think about every desire that has ever coursed through your veins
Everyone of those things could become true
Everyone of those things could become a reality
If you go pack you bags now
You will be packing nothing but pain
You will leave this place with nothing but your suffering
So fight, fight everyday
Pour fire into your heart
Harness the hurt
Control the memories
And leave this world old and grey
And leave this world carrying happiness
Don't ever give up because,
It's too late when we die..
TendernessHer name was Tenderness. Blue used to call her this way because she was very cute, very lovely, and when Blue saw her the first time, the first emotion he felt was Tenderness. Tenderness was a young paintress, very very talented. Her art was different: she didn't paint with a brush, she painted with her heart! Her colours were her emotions, and her canvas was her soul. Every painting made by her was a masterpiece, a piece of herself consacreted in an eternal work of art. Her paintings were the mirror of herself: soft, delicate...and beautiful!
Tenderness is a very talented paintress! Tenderness paints with heart and soul! Tenderness probably is looking for perfection in this imperfect world! Tenderness is Artist and Muse at the same time!
Someone SpecialHe sat alone at the train station. Every day, he remained... At the same time, in the same seat, with the same book. His hands never tried to turn to the next page, not even once...
I asked what he was reading. There was no answer. Only the same cold, stoic gaze... Creeping through my retinas. Locked together. No hellos, no goodbyes. Just dark eyes, regarding me with mirthful disdain.
I wanted dearly to break him from his painful reverie... But I eventually realized, no one could do that for him. He had to do it himself... And the timing wasn't right. I could wait for him forever, it wouldn't make the slightest difference...
All of the trains were late... That day, and every day.
I whispered... "I tried."
He whispered back... "It doesn't matter..."
Those three words; each of them a dagger, forever slicing. And I walked away, immortal wounds dripping crimson from my chest...
Discovery of Titanic On this day in Nineteen-Hundred and Eighty-Five, the great black seas of the North Atlantic were parted by crafts never before seen in this realm. They plunged beneath the surface of the waves, beneath the rolling tide, and as they descended, the sea became dimmer, and dimmer....and dimmer still until all grew black and infinite. The lights from the craft shone upon the strangest of fishes, and many waves of small plankton-creatures glazed past the windows, and on to their way in this strange and ethereal world.
Down, down, down....farther still. Then, with a soft 'plunk', the craft lands upon the sea floor. The white Atlantic sand drifts up in waves, floating in the water like smoke. Drifting around and away. The lights shine on this world, but they do not show much. The ocean is too vast, to immense for them to illumine much. The fishes dart back and forth, curious as to who this intruder really is. They have never seen anything like it in all th
In This SpaceMy favorite space in the entire world is the space between my window and my bed, only separated by the brown Chester Drawer that was painted canvas white and now chips away to show tidbits of the chestnut brown. This is my favorite space. A cage between the pages of my sketchbook; torn out. Here, it’s just far enough from you. I can see the smile on your face. And the emptiness in your eyes. I can see how they’ll never match one another again. And it makes me wonder if you can hear me breathing too heavy in order to make myself faint.
This space in between my bed and my window is as big as the space in between your eyes. And I wonder if you can see right through me. Or do you just not pay attention to the sundry voices in my head. In this space, I sat down and watched the rain break the glass. This space is where I watched the ants trail in through the hole in the window’s net. I fed them bread crumbs from my sandwich. Until they infested the spot and expected a yard
DreamHer name was Dream! Well, to be honest that wasn't her real name: Blue used to call her this way because she was like a Dream. Blue never met such an amzing, intelligent, talented and deep person! Too good to be true...a Dream. But Dream was real!! Dream was one of the greatest poetess of our times. She was a sort of source of inspiration! She was sweet, she was polite...she was a beautiful human being. I'm sure her smile was a sort of shining sun, warm and beautiful! Her face was the representation of sweetness, and her soul was, how to say, the reflection of humanity! Dream was suffering, but despite the suffering, she always comforted the others! Dream was an extraordinary girl! Dream is a living dream!
Dream is a great artist! Dream is an extraordinary girl! Dream is a living beautiful dream! Dream is all the good in this world!!!
FelicityHer name was Felicity! They used to call her this way because she seemed to be always happy. Felicity was a nice girl, very funny and always ready to make you laugh. But Felicity hasn't been always happy. In the past she suffered, we don't know why, we don't know how, but she suffered. Fortunately Felicity doesn't suffer anymore. She's better than she thinks! Felicity loves to watch tv series, probably because she likes to get lost in a world of fantasy, where all the sorrows of the life don't exist. Felicity is a good friend. I think that Felicity is a dreamer too!
Felicity is a young girl who suffered. Felicity is happy now! Felicity loves tv series! Felicity is the need to escape from this world, but also the life that goes on!
Stranger Season 02 - part 1(9)SEASON 2
Anyways before you read in this story,there can be with sexual or/and violence parts.And include Gay parts.
He were gone…
for 3 months
i didn’t seen Fabian anywhere,he was skipping the school.
I was getting worried…maybe something happened to my weird new….friend..?
Where is he..? Is he okay..?
so many questions in my mind.
My test..? haha i failed…of course....And teacher was forced to call my parents..now i can’t go hang on anywhere…
No friends.school problems...everything usual…
i was missing Fabi,these black eyes,silly sounds,and each new thing i was learning about him.
When my parents didn’t seen,i was walking out again…the sea,the forest ..everything was almos
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More