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Chapter Four: The Prophecy (or one hundred and one things to do with a magic eight ball)
After a rather leisurely breakfast and a quick jaunt around town for supplies the group was off. Though they were riding, they were making, in Cin's opinion at least, horrible time. Apparently Saeti, now in her wolf form, agreed; she kept racing ahead and disappearing for around fifteen minute intervals. Because she could not longer speak, however, they were all spared endless and mind numbingly boring reports from her every time they saw her again.
A single glance was enough to tell why they were moving so slowly. On the second horse in their little caravan, Parry was knitting. Now, mind you, this was not your ordinary old lady gathering dust knitting. The girl was going at a pace that would set any granny back in her rocker, and she was knitting with a pair of needles in each hand, literally doubling her speed!
When times are darkest
All hope already lost
There shall come heroes
That fight at any cost
To right the wrongs
And fight for truth
They shall be brave
Cunning, and aloof
But their mission
Shall be cut short
Until the time comes
When one of the court
One of the moon
One of the trees
One of the sword
And one of the cheese
Shall come forth
And save the world
From the abominable rule
Of a six year old girl
Chapter Three: The Replacement Chosen Ones (or the chapter in which we meet the second rate replacements that are going to try to revive the chosen ones.)
In the corner of the tavern a lone traveler sipped at his ale. He was not in a good mood this evening, and looking at how events around him seemed to be headed, it did not look like his mood would be getting better any time soon. He moved to the side as an empty pitcher sailed by his head, the ends of his shoulder length black hair. At least they still had the sense to throw empty things. Right now it only seemed to be some really drunk Scotsmen with the bright idea of tossing everything when they had emptied it. That was why all of the dishes were made out of metal, apparently, he mused as he gazed at the reflection of his dark grey eyes in the side of his tankard. He ducked another hurled object, no the real fighting had yet to start, but by the steady increase in fr
Chapter Two: Fallen Heroes (or, the chapter in which the chosen ones get their butts kicked by a little girl.)
As he flew under the gigantic subtitle, Dejwin knew that he had to hurry, for the first and foremost reason that subtitles never lie. Or they do not normally, in any case.
Dejwin glared around, trying to find the mysterious source of the disembodied voice. "So is it lying or not?"
No, it is not lying this time. Please, though, can you try not to be so..so, well obvious when you are talking to me? It generally does not work well when characters talk to the author.
"Well who am I supposed to talk to?" He questioned indignantly, "Mr. Clucky? He might be a mutant, but that does not mean he is a good conversationalist."
Well sorry, I am not just going to insert a random character so that you can have someone to talk to. I have this too well planned out for you to go and make a mess of things by making me d
Chapter One: Abdication (or, the chapter in which an old man decides to retire and hands his campaign off to his reluctant son)
Below lay the blue ocean and above spread the clear sky; the horizon was lightest of blue lines far out in the distance. But it was getting closer as the sky and sea passed rapidly by. Even in this paradoxal wonder there was perfection, only marred by a single black speck very close to the horizon. Larger and larger the spot grew until it was recognizable as an island. Blackened shores of old lava flows revealed the nature of the island's formation. If that was not enough of a clue, though, a large, solitary mountain with a caldera like opening where the tip of the mount should have been. Actually, the entire island could be considered part of this monstrosity's slopes.
Rich, black volcanic ash covered the place, all the way up to the peak of the central cone formation. If what was sa
You Were Not An Aquarium BoySea-glass became your bones,
brine your blood, and seashells
melded into your skin.
You were not quite an ocean
when you said "This is your sign to love me."
My body was like a building;
tall, cold, almost unbreakable.
I was metallic and sharp,
towering over your waters.
I remember taking your hand in mine,
conch and coral shells scrubbing
my skyscraper wrists, and laughing
about how one day you would
submerge every last bit of me.
Your lips, riddled with argonauts,
found my cheek and I cringed
at the coarseness.
You asked if they bothered me
and I finally told you "I
think I love you."
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More