[M] [DND] Det er ei Fantekjerring;
#1
[html]
WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.


<style type="text/css">
#vesle2 b{color:#000000; font-family:arial, tahoma, sans-serif;}
#vesle2 p, #vesle2 i {line-height:130%; font-family: arial, calibri, sans-serif; color:#1d1d1d;}
</style>

http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... prite2.png); background-position:top left; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
Location: north in Etheral Eclipse, in old DdM land (Demon's Trail)
Early morning
The creatures she speaks to and I reference are all imaginary
SSWM: 303


It was a new day of glorious reign. She had risen from her makeshift bed one day past, refreshed. When had she arrived here, in truth? She was uncertain, but she knew she had not slept for numerous days. But then, her purpose had been fulfilled, and she had slept like a puppy, curled up into a ball in a hollowed trunk she had found. Then a day and night was spent trying to find a more suitable place, and still she had not found anything. Was there not an abandoned house here? She would not return to Wolfville, for it was not for her. Instead, the little gray wolf trekked the area, zig-zagging her way across forest and less dense vegetation in pursuit of a suitable home. She wore a soft smile.


Her dress may be tattered, but she did not seem to mind, or even to know. Perhaps she did not know that it was not supposed to look like that - it was hard to tell. She was not bothered about her appearance, in truth, and her mane was not well-kept, either. A necklace of white lay around her neck, seemingly made from old, unwashed bones. Tiny gray paws carried her to a height where she could spy the whole landscape ahead, and she leaned on her walking stick as she studied the ground below her and plotted a path in her mind. For once, the forest was not teeming with life around her, and the creatures seemed to be still asleep. With fog creeping in and threatening to blanket the tree tops, to obscure her view, she decided to sit there and wait it out instead. From her crude leather bag she produced an old tattered boook - her book of fairy tales. Except this was all very real.


http://i692.photobucket.com/albums/vv28 ... prite3.png); background-position:bottom right; background-repeat: no-repeat;">
[/html]


Messages In This Thread

Forum Jump: