I only have one. If you're good you'd know from my avatar.
Spice and Wolf.
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Member for 8 years, 10 months, and 26 days
Last active Wed, Aug, 28 2013 07:37:10
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Jun 23, 2012Hello, everyone. I've written something different for me, I'd really appreciate some input from you guys. I haven't edited it yet, but I will eventually. It's a love story. Just something short that I wrote on a whim. I hope you enjoy.Posted in: Culture, Media & Arts
Friday, June 22nd, 1942.
It was a warm, Summer day. I had been out for a stroll, taking the senses in. The freshly baked bread, the beautiful women, the cool breeze, it was a good day. Finally about to head back home, I notice one particularly fine woman. She had on a red and white sun dress, and her skin was golden such as the reflection on the sea. Maybe it was the hard day's work I'd had the day before, or maybe it was the summer air, but I'd fallen. I don't know how, and I don't know why, but she was different. When I noticed her, she was purchasing a baguette from the bakery, she had a handful of other foods in her hands as well. Approaching her, we make eye-contact. She grins at me, but walks away. Oh, how I wish I would've said something sooner.
Monday, June 25th, 1942.
Out for another stroll, I again see that same charming woman I mentioned in days previous. This time I tell myself I won't fail, I will talk to this woman, learn her story. Again approaching her, she notices me. This time however, she waits. She does not leave. I finally reach her, those 5-6 foot steps feeling like an eternity.
"Ciao, signora." 'Hello, madame', I say to her, she says nothing for a short time. Finally she looks up at me and smirks.
"Ciao, signore.", she replies.
I open my mouth to speak but the words do not come out, fumbling, she begins to walk away. In too much of a trance to do anything, I simply watch her as her silhouette fades into day.
Wednesday, July 30th, 1942.
Over a month has passed since I've seen the woman. I long to be in her presence, the sweet aromas of perfume filling my nostrils. Oh, how I fantasize. Just her and I, hand-in-hand, walking down the boardwalk, looking out over the great blue. Too much sorrow fills my heart to go on.
Thursday, July 9th, 1942.
Rejoice! I meet the mysterious woman once again! Oh how amazing it is, this time, I will succeed, I will talk to this woman, know her story. She is sitting idly by the water, I only catch a glimpse of her, such a large crowd is standing by the docks. What is this? Another man sitting alongside her, hand clasped over the shoulder opposite him. It can't be true... The shame, I walk away, feeling down, all I can think of is the image of him, with her. I keep my head down the whole way home, knocking into those around me. I hear them barking at me, but I simply go on, I cannot bear another moment of being on this road. The very same road I met her on. The freshly baked bread, the beautiful woman, and the cool breeze that once reminded me of someone I used to love. Now they only filled me with dread.
Friday, June 22nd, 1943.
Today marks the one year mark. Exactly one year ago, today, I met the woman. I will never know her name, but she will always hold a place in my heart. A nameless, cold place. I don't think about her anymore... But really, I don't think about her any less, either.
Jun 18, 2012I've been working on a story of sorts as of late, this is just a little snippet I went ahead and fixed up/edited. Please, let me know what you think! Constructive criticism welcome!Posted in: Culture, Media & Arts
Surrounded, the young boy unsheathed his blade and swung in a half-circular motion. There must have been thousands of them in the dim, musky room. The creatures moved as a mass, swiftly maneuvering just beyond the boy's reach. They didn't seem to mind his attempt of an attack, not a snarl came from their grotesque mouths. The boy was surprised by their response, he had expected an epic battle like the ones his village passed around, about the legendary warriors. The boy shrugged it off, and was about to sheathe his sword once again, when a ripple seemed to form in a straight line amongst the creatures. It appeared one of the beasts was making his way towards the boy, this one was a bit taller than the others in the room, standing at about 5.3ft. Perhaps they only looked so short because they were hunched over, or maybe they were just a shorter race. In the middle of these thoughts, a voice rang out from the crowd, it was the taller one.
"My name... Is Minsk. I am the leader of my people, the Mauness. And what is your name?"
Minsk's voice was rasp, old, but wise. The boy was hesitant to answer, but he finally cleared his throat and replied;
"A brute for your age, Orin. How old are you?"
"Why would you say that? I've never witnessed your people, until today, that is."
"Look at yourself, attacking with no cause."
Orin snarled, and lunged towards Minsk. The old man grabbed Orin's outstretched arms and swung him to the old, stone floor with seemingly no effort. The boy lay on the ground, obviously in pain, but trying to hide it. Minsk subtly laughed at him, and called to the other Mauness;
"Ah, the same mistake again." Minsk shook his head in disappointment. "Come on, he's not ready yet..."
One of the creatures laughed, and soon the others began laughing as well, until the whole crowd was just roaring. It was more of a cackle, they didn't sound human at all. Minsk beckoned for them, and they stopped laughing at once. A few giggles were still to be heard, but mostly, it was silent again. The Mauness were very blatantly loyal to Minsk, as if he were their God. Minsk pointed towards the rotten, wooden staircase, and they instantaneously marched on up in a newly-formed single file line. The old man stayed next to the stairs while the rest moved to the upper room. Once they were all out of sight, Minsk staggered back over to Orin, who was still lying on the ground. He looked directly down at Orin, and questioned;
Orin grunted, and spat on Minsk's shoes. Minsk pointed at the boy's forehead, and knitted his brows with an intense stare. Orin let out a little laugh, and raised his hands in a "What's that supposed to mean?" manner. The old man maintained his stance for over 15 seconds, when Orin suddenly let out a shriek. He held his hands to his temples and rolled over in pain. He attempted to curse at him, but only let out another cry of pain.
Minsk let his stance down and again looked at the boy. He shook his head, and repeated his question;
Orin was incapable of speech, the pain from Minsk's magic was far from describable. Orin let out a sigh, let his muscles limp, and closed his eyes. Minsk held his fingers to the boy's neck to check for a pulse, it was still there. The old man smirked, and staggered back to the staircase. Each foot up onto the stairs matched Orin's slow heartbeat. Once Minsk reached the top of the stairs, the Mauness greeted him, speaking in a foreign language. Minsk spoke back in the same tongue, they sounded cheerful.
The young boy hadn't really passed out, and he assumed Minsk knew as well. There was no way a seemingly wise man like him would fall for that trick. Orin opened his eyes and arose. He took a large pebble from the mortar between the cobbled stones on the floor. He placed this directly where his lower back had laid, so if he heard suspicious noise from the upper level, he would be able to return to his original limp position, as to delude from his movement. Orin had learned to slow his heartbeat like that in former training with his father, his village's leader.
He would've cringed at the thought of him... Orin and his father, Kaor, had been torn apart at the tender age of 11. He was 15 now, Orin was unsure of the current date, but he knew the original date of death was within the relative timespan. 4 years had passed since his father had been swept down the rapids by their home. Kaor had been fishing to supply for the village, when he lost his footing on a slippery outcropping of rocks. Orin had been beside him, his father was teaching him the trade, since one day he would be doing the same for the next generation of villagers. Orin always tried to alleviate these thoughts from his memory bank, they would go away, but then come back as soon as they were gone.
Orin proceeded to scope out the room. His face wore a brooding expression, tired and hungry, as he stumbled upon a bookshelf. He scanned the shelf top to bottom looking for something to peak his interests, he noticed one titled, "A Study of Warrior's Finesse", and reached out to grab it.
Orin thought to himself, "How cliche would it be if-".
He was interrupted by the noise of stones sliding across one another, as they rang throughout the cold, echoing basement. A few gears clicked, a latch latched, and the bookshelf slid towards Orin, and then to the left. His eyes burned as the sunlight pierced the dimly lit room, he wondered how long it'd been since he'd been outside in the daytime. Looking out, he saw a large grass field, there was a forested area just beyond that. Several men were hacking away at the large oaks. To the right, he saw a large uninhabited wheat field.
Orin cupped his ear and heard the loud chatter from above still going, this was his clear. He looked back, no one to be seen. Orin put his back foot on the left side of the wall for take-off, took a deep breath, and dashed as fast as he could towards the field. It was a lot farther away than he anticipated, and his body was still weak. Orin trembled and gasped for air, as if he was about to collapse, he took one more breath and dedicated all his strength towards the run.
Finally standing at the gate of the field, he hopped over and sat down once again. Luckily the gate was smack against the edge of the wheat, so he had some cover if Minsk were to discover he had escaped. He sighed and sat for awhile, trying to get used to the sunlight once again. He had no idea how he had ended up in that basement, or who those creatures were, but he did know they were not a friendly group. Orin made a mental note to avoid any others of these race at all costs. This may have been a bit harsh, seeing as they might not be very good representatives of their whole race. You can never be too careful, however, in the harshness of the New World. Orin finally got to his feet and began treading through the vast wheat fields, keeping a low altitude to ensure he wasn't captured once again.
Orin reached the end of the fields, it had been a good 1000m. Now a good distance away from the building, he finally looked back towards the Mauness' home, and saw a very grim, and dirty looking home, he hadn't turned around to look at it before now. It was quite large, larger than the underground room he had previously been in. Obviously not large enough for the immense amount of Mauness inside, but still quite large. Orin wondered where it was the other Mauness called home, but figured it was better left undecided. A swipe of sadness struck his emotions when he saw the grotesque looking home, feeling bad for Minsk, but he dismissed these thoughts instantly once he remembered the foul beings that inhabited this home had held him captive.
He turned back to the wide open valleys that lay beyond Minsk's home, and smiled. Almost laughing, he boasted to himself, thinking how ignorant Minsk was for thinking a boy like him would never find such an easy escape route. Orin took one last glance at the house, and never looked again.
May 19, 2012Things like that come with time. You don't just watch a tutorial and then "BAM!", you're a pro artist. For the time being, however, you could consider using some brushes to get that starburst-y look to it. The shading and overlapping fonts will be awhile. I don't mean to discourage you, though, just keep pushing with the skills you've got and go to school eventually if you're still interestedPosted in: Culture, Media & Arts
Mar 31, 2012I hate them. They're really obvious, and yet, people still download the damn attachments.Posted in: General Off Topic
The most recent one I've gotten was one that says;
"ØᾕŁIńḜ рȞἏRΜǟḉȲ CῌĚḉҚ ἎʈҬᾋċῊṁȇṋҬ " Do they really think people are that dumb?
Mar 4, 2012Posted in: Culture, Media & ArtsQuote from Tehleet
I'm looking for someone to make me a server banner. The servers name is ChaosCraft, and is an anarchy based server. I would like the color to be black, which is for the background. For the main GFX its self, try and put players running around, with tnt exploding in the background. Go ahead and do whatever you think will make it look nice.
Ah, sorry for the wait. I've been busy studying for March Madness xD
It will be done soon, like a day or two!
Feb 26, 2012Posted in: Culture, Media & ArtsQuote from Justgotreal
Hey, I really like your works. They're pro!
I was wondering if you'd like to join my forum, dedicated to graphic design? It's COMPLETELY non-profit, I don't gain from it; I just thought it would be a good idea, since there aren't really any good graphic design forums. If you'd like to sign up: http://graphicontent.enjin.com/forum. It's free :smile.gif:
Please, do not advertise here. Thank you.
Feb 26, 2012Posted in: Culture, Media & ArtsQuote from iFoundABaby
Can you make me a computer background that says I_FOUND_A_BABY? I don't know what I want it too look like but I would want the colors red. If you don't have time you don't have to. I am just tired of my cheap correct bg.
Sure, what size is your monitor? Resolution, not actual measurements.
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