Cross-Faction

Lorith just didn't get it.

For the fourth week in a row, her meat and cheese platter rested before her nearly untouched.  Sure, a draenei had ordered a slice of kimchi pie earlier.  But no one had come in looking for a tender slice of roast raptor, a juicy bear steak, or a carefully-sliced selection of cheeses. The breads were growing stale with every passing moment. She didn't even want to get the donuts out of their protective wrappings if they were just going to sit unasked-for on her dessert plate.

With a sigh, Lorith shifted her weight to her other foot, balancing on her footstool with her elbows on the bar. She stared out at the empty tables, picturing the many customers who had all come in to enjoy food and drink and company for over a year. Some still came in, usually for a quick bite before leaving again.  But otherwise business had slowed to a crawl. It wasn't helping Colin, and it wasn't very satisfying for her.

(( Vocal reading of this piece available here.

Original Challenge

I guess I'll post first today instead of right before midnight.

Okay, so this is really personal, maybe too personal, but I'm excited, and I don't know which of my old buds are still around and what names they go under now, so here we go!

WARNING: Boring Teng personal stuff. Which is like boring Teng story stuff, but minus most of the Teng (and some of the angst).

I'll repost what I sent out to people the other night.  I feel it communicates my feelings on the matter fairly well.

Ah HA! For now I get to post first :O (and only because there was no parking on campus so I missed class) 

Original Challenge

The sandstorm swept through Silithus. Winds uncommonly strong kicked up a curtain of sand, obscuring all sight and sound. The inhabitants of the crystal dotted wasteland buckled down, huddled within their buildings and tents, waiting, unwilling to face the elements.  It was not as bad as it had been though, the Cataclysm was over, and the continued torture of Azeroth’s very soul by Deathwing was over. These winds were but the healing pains as the world righted itself once more. It was vicious weather, weather that the Twilight Cultists and Cenarion Circle had no desire to confront unless there was dire need.

The same was not said for Xannivard and his Creations.

"I am too young to die, too old for a lullaby... too tired for life on the edge..."

She scuffed quietly back towards the Row, looking slightly thicker than usual due to the day old bread loaves and slightly moldy cheese stuffed into her pockets. She made her way, feet barely making a whisper of a sound, towards one of the oldest and most run-down brothels in a the battered and run-down Row.

Past blissed-out 'nobility' and nouveau riche who enjoyed the more potent smokes brewed up by dubious den mistresses. Smoke twisted and curled from pipes and hookahs, caressing and binding the patrons who imbibed. The smoke was thick and choking, and Mouse held her breath as she slipped through the Thistle Den like a shadow.

Day, n. A period of twenty-four hours, mostly misspent.
~ Ambrose Bierce

     Oh, you've been told. Everyone has the same number of hours within their day...

to do whatever it is that they need to do. I'm quite sure you've been told, rather.

Wether it is by your parents, a guardian, a boss... or even myself. Who am I, exactly?

Nobody, really. Nobody

      Just a simple man that likes his old things, especially stories.

You knew that, though.

Hey all! Today's drawing Challege was Favorite Pet!  So get out those drawing sticks and doodle pads, and make something up :)  

The Challenge was posted by Castien here.

These are from last year, but I realized I never put them in the gallery! It's ~that time~ again, so send these out to your favorite druids, or just your favorite people!

These are from last year, but I realized I never put them in the gallery! It's ~that time~ again, so send these out to your favorite druids, or just your favorite people!

These are from last year, but I realized I never put them in the gallery! It's ~that time~ again, so send these out to your favorite druids, or just your favorite people!

These are from last year, but I realized I never put them in the gallery! It's ~that time~ again, so send these out to your favorite druids, or just your favorite people!

These are from last year, but I realized I never put them in the gallery! It's ~that time~ again, so send these out to your favorite druids, or just your favorite people!

These are from last year, but I realized I never put them in the gallery! It's ~that time~ again, so send these out to your favorite druids, or just your favorite people!

These are from last year, but I realized I never put them in the gallery! It's ~that time~ again, so send these out to your favorite druids, or just your favorite people!

A gift I did for two very dear friends of mine before they got married. There's a big long story but I won't put it all here... the gist is that they met in game on our humble little server, where I met them as well, and they both wound up moving to my town and were in love and now they're married.

<3

Alright, not to steal Castien's thunder- but I've got limited time to post this up before I go. :)

I like Moriurya's suggestion of starting a new blog daily to help folks post. So, even if you don't make something up today, and want to share! If you want to spam the front page, by all means- share the art! 

((A commission from the ever-talented Donut Mod! I couldn't resist. Thanks so much! <3 ))

Her feet hurt.

Her feet hurt, and her belly ached, and sometimes, just sometimes, if she stood up too quickly, the brightly colored world of Silvermoon would spin like a child's toy.

Not that she ever had toys, as a child... Precious few, anyway. Sticks and stones may break your bones, but they're awfully fun to play with.

The world swam and reeled like drunken dancers at a ball, and she pressed herself up against the wall, seeking both solidity and shelter. The night was quiet, and even the shady corners of Murder's Row held no flash of silver, no sudden flash of light caught off a copper coin.

The acrid haze of smoke and booze and sex was only making the dizziness worse, so she scurried, carefully now, oh-so-carefully, towards the bright (bright bright too bright!) Spire. Shielding her eyes, ducking her head so that her hair curtained her face, she skittered like her namesake, no more than a little brown mouse, ducking from shadow to crevice.

She'd packed her things and left for the Northpass tower that night, after her feast.

He was at Light's Hope.

"Mmm. I forget whether I told you so...but...I am very proud of you."

Why did his confidence in her both terrify, and thrill her?

~ ~

“This card represents your hopes and fears.”

The young warlock flipped another card, “The Demon, reversed.” Here sat a winged, horned creature on a throne – with a man and woman chained to his pedestal. Though, it was upside down.

So many of these cards spoke of being bound by something.

“Upright, the Demon is all about addictions - about the temptations or obsessions that lure us...capture us - which we, ourselves, refuse to escape even though we have the key to our chains.”

"If I must fall from high,

may my fall be gentle."

His beard brushed across her face, as the human pressed his lips to her cheek.

"And yet, I would like to recover my innocence -

but nothing makes sense anymore, and nothing's fine."

She'd  quivered like a frightened hare.

"I'm looking for a soul who will be able to help me." 

Confessed, as a sinner to the priest.

~

((Okay, yes, I've been inspired lately. I blame frustrations with Open office. As before, I messed with the setting, but the characters and moment remain as they were during a recent rp. Thoughts on colour scheme chosen and better tactics to have taken are always welcome!

 This is also the first piece for which I've used a photo reference from a google stock image to get the heads right in a loooong time. I'm really happy with how it went!

Lorieni lay on the smooth, cold floor, rough rope binding her hands and ankles tightly. Her chest rises and falls slowly while her mind drifts through unsettling dreamscapes. Time streams through her mind in non-linear fashion replaying the memories in the deepest recesses of her mind. Trolls, Orcs, Humans. A dying planet, poisoned and rife, razed of all but the hardiest flora and fauna. Her eyes had beheld that enchanted sky with wonder. In the middle of a blood-drenched battle field, she had lay dying upon the red earth; her eyes tilted upward to behold a smiling face with bright blue eyes rimmed in gold, long soft golden locks and an outstretched hand. Offering a new beginning, a way back to the Light. She'd grasped the slim delicate hand and had never turned on her rescuer.