O’er golden leaves and fair white boughs
Through quiet groves, a dark wind blows
Carried on high, stone wings cloud the sky
Majesty fading as the fallen prince draws nigh
Magisters selling secrets, the fall of Ban’dinoriel
Massacres testament to that grand betrayal
Countless lay still upon defiled land
One a symbol of hope, left wailing by his hand.
Unholy marches, webbed fiends and bone
Seeking conquest greater than our ancient throne
To ravage our birthright with remains most vile
The restoration of a foe so fierce and guile
Shadowed ambitions had won
A frayed tapestry spun
The dreaded and dead scar lay there
In memoriam of o
Fear not the thunder
Fear not the rain
Fear not threats made in vain
Hold close to shackles
Hold close to pain
Hold close every breath you gain
Recall lost moments
Recall lost strain
Recall lost life before the bane
Fear the Headsman
Forsake his reign
Forget by he, life will wane
Die under the blade
Remember his grin
The laughing hood he hides within
There are stories of a boy from Darkshire, in a time before the 1st war. Stories used by mothers to keep their rambunctious children in bed during the twilight hours of the night to instill in them a fear of the dark. The story of a boy born to a peculiar family, given a peculiar name and raised in a very peculiar manner. A boy who never got along with the other children due to his peculiar nature. A boy who spent his days in the graveyards and dark forests of Duskwood to sate his peculiar curiosities. A boy who disappeared without a trace, along with his family, leaving the peculiar house empty. Until one day they were discovered in a most p
Snow flurried in the dark and windy sky, devoid of all light save for a pale blue glow. It was as if the sun itself had been swallowed whole by the scourge that crept across the desolate land. As if all of the life had been drained away, what was once green is now grey and colourless. Rushing rivers and running brooks held in stasis, trapped as unmoving lengths of twisted ice. Where trees grew, only rot and decay remained.
He made sure of that.
The delicate flakes fell upon ruined tatch and cut timber, blood stained stone and earth. Fences and crops trampled to dust. Not a soul remained to haunt the forsaken place. Not a single corpse. Thro
It was a midsummer’s eve, three years ago when I first saw this. Now, why I did not write down and publish my encounter earlier, was a lack of foresight with just how much this affected the world. Before I begin, allow me to set the scene. It must have been about 4 o’clock in the afternoon, a mere guess on my part though adequately fueled by the parts of my memory that recollect the ladies of the town bustling home after a day of shopping. I was just walking along, minding my own business, going home after a spot of shopping myself, when I heard a rather loud sound echoing out from a few streets over. Me, being the inquisitive man
How can one even begin to describe
All of the maddening things inside?
Every thought, carrying a whisper
For my ears alone, the only listener.
A constant bombardment upon my psyche
At first I thought it most frightening.
Seeding and nurturing sinful urges
Vile plots and acts among other scourges
Never ceasing
Always relenting.
At first I never wanted them to come to fruition
Yet as the days dragged on they beat me into submission.
Oh such a fool I had been
Staving them off and locking them away
Acting to their will brought me much exhilaration
Now they were out, and they’ll stay.
With each dawn, a new life I took
Watched and followed u
The ever warm rays of the sun beat down on the land, slowly melting away the winter’s plentiful snow and ice. It never took long, only a short week for the thick ice taking residence on the surface of fjords, rivers and streams to melt, allowing the water to flow once more. The snow on the other hand, that takes about twice as long, mainly because of the sheer amount of it. As far as the eye could see, the world was blanketed in a thick sheet of the white fluff, stretching over mountaintops and pastures, weighing down the boughs of great pines and firs. Yet little by little, it recedes and it’s water returns to the earth beneath,
Aquamarine waves gently crashed against an ever withering Mediterranean cliffside, slowly wearing down the jagged rocks. Seagulls flew about, their stark white feathers and yellow bills contrasting with the vibrant Tuscan countryside and the clear blue sky, filling the air with songs of the sea. Resting above the cliff, surrounded by lush, tall grasses and the occasional wild cyprus tree, lays a rather large, traditionally styled villa. Its walls were built from light grey, tan and brown bricks, making it easy on the eye as well as radiating an aura of relaxation. Rust red, curved shingles made up the slightly angled roofs of the villa̵
O’er golden leaves and fair white boughs
Through quiet groves, a dark wind blows
Carried on high, stone wings cloud the sky
Majesty fading as the fallen prince draws nigh
Magisters selling secrets, the fall of Ban’dinoriel
Massacres testament to that grand betrayal
Countless lay still upon defiled land
One a symbol of hope, left wailing by his hand.
Unholy marches, webbed fiends and bone
Seeking conquest greater than our ancient throne
To ravage our birthright with remains most vile
The restoration of a foe so fierce and guile
Shadowed ambitions had won
A frayed tapestry spun
The dreaded and dead scar lay there
In memoriam of o
Fear not the thunder
Fear not the rain
Fear not threats made in vain
Hold close to shackles
Hold close to pain
Hold close every breath you gain
Recall lost moments
Recall lost strain
Recall lost life before the bane
Fear the Headsman
Forsake his reign
Forget by he, life will wane
Die under the blade
Remember his grin
The laughing hood he hides within
There are stories of a boy from Darkshire, in a time before the 1st war. Stories used by mothers to keep their rambunctious children in bed during the twilight hours of the night to instill in them a fear of the dark. The story of a boy born to a peculiar family, given a peculiar name and raised in a very peculiar manner. A boy who never got along with the other children due to his peculiar nature. A boy who spent his days in the graveyards and dark forests of Duskwood to sate his peculiar curiosities. A boy who disappeared without a trace, along with his family, leaving the peculiar house empty. Until one day they were discovered in a most p
Snow flurried in the dark and windy sky, devoid of all light save for a pale blue glow. It was as if the sun itself had been swallowed whole by the scourge that crept across the desolate land. As if all of the life had been drained away, what was once green is now grey and colourless. Rushing rivers and running brooks held in stasis, trapped as unmoving lengths of twisted ice. Where trees grew, only rot and decay remained.
He made sure of that.
The delicate flakes fell upon ruined tatch and cut timber, blood stained stone and earth. Fences and crops trampled to dust. Not a soul remained to haunt the forsaken place. Not a single corpse. Thro
It was a midsummer’s eve, three years ago when I first saw this. Now, why I did not write down and publish my encounter earlier, was a lack of foresight with just how much this affected the world. Before I begin, allow me to set the scene. It must have been about 4 o’clock in the afternoon, a mere guess on my part though adequately fueled by the parts of my memory that recollect the ladies of the town bustling home after a day of shopping. I was just walking along, minding my own business, going home after a spot of shopping myself, when I heard a rather loud sound echoing out from a few streets over. Me, being the inquisitive man
How can one even begin to describe
All of the maddening things inside?
Every thought, carrying a whisper
For my ears alone, the only listener.
A constant bombardment upon my psyche
At first I thought it most frightening.
Seeding and nurturing sinful urges
Vile plots and acts among other scourges
Never ceasing
Always relenting.
At first I never wanted them to come to fruition
Yet as the days dragged on they beat me into submission.
Oh such a fool I had been
Staving them off and locking them away
Acting to their will brought me much exhilaration
Now they were out, and they’ll stay.
With each dawn, a new life I took
Watched and followed u
The ever warm rays of the sun beat down on the land, slowly melting away the winter’s plentiful snow and ice. It never took long, only a short week for the thick ice taking residence on the surface of fjords, rivers and streams to melt, allowing the water to flow once more. The snow on the other hand, that takes about twice as long, mainly because of the sheer amount of it. As far as the eye could see, the world was blanketed in a thick sheet of the white fluff, stretching over mountaintops and pastures, weighing down the boughs of great pines and firs. Yet little by little, it recedes and it’s water returns to the earth beneath,
Greetings and salutations!
Now, I'm tired and not extremely awake so I'll keep this short and sweet. I know that many people have been trying to get the timeline for the DSC universe straight and set in stone, along with many other things in this wondrous universe that we've all helped create. So I thought that I'd like to help contribute with one of the things that interests me and quite frankly needs to be worked on. That is the nature of magics and related energies, how they work and rules pertaining to them. I've already talked to osmiumdragon (https://www.deviantart.com/osmiumdragon) about a few things, cooking up some ideas and such in my head. So come on, lets discuss this!
Yes, that's right! You read that correctly!
So, what I'm pretty much asking is that if you have a prompt of some sort, post it as a comment. I just want to really try and broaden what I can write and I hope that you guys can help with that. Plus, with those down there, I'll be posting a lot more while I work on bigger stuffs.
Thank y'all kindly for stopping by ^-^
I know, I know, I haven't posted much as it is, but just hear me out. This is not a break from deviant art (I love this site and everyone I've met on it waaaaaaay too much to quit), but more of a break from a specific genre of my writing. All of it including the DSC, the very group that got me on here in the first place. Don't get me wrong, I love the Council very much... But I've just not been contributing to it as much as I'd like. I just have too much going on in my head at once and I find it hard to focus on just writing stories about my characters in odd scenarios. I feel like after I've given my mind a clean flush and gotten some of thi