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End of an Era Writing Contest

30 Nov 2019, 9:29 pm (Edited 30 Nov 2019, 9:32 pm)
This thread is for the End of an Era Writing Contest entries only, please do not reserve posts or submit incomplete entries 8)

If you have any questions, suggestions, concerns, or comments, please post them in the End of an Era Writing Contest Discussion Thread!

The decade is coming to an end, and so is the sanity of everyone on staff. We have absolutely no excuse for the themes we chose and NONE of us are sorry. You WILL suffer with us. Welcome to the End of an Era writing contest, Furvillains.


Entries must follow one or more of these given prompts,

-Celebrating the birthday, or creation, of a person, place, or thing.
-Flu season, someone gets sick, someone takes care of the sick, or tries desperately to avoid getting sick... or perhaps all of the above?
-The end of an era is upon them, some may even call it an 'apocalypse.'

These more specific prompts are made to provide some inspiration for you intrepid writers, but are meant to be vague to not stifle creativity. If you have an idea but are unsure if it fits the prompt, you are free to post it in the discussion thread, or PM MOD-Pseudonym directly if you feel it needs to be kept confidential.


1. Any entries must be written by you. Plagiarism of any kind is against contest and site rules.
2. Using other people's characters is permitted as long as you have permission. Furvilla’s mayors are allowed in entries!
3. Entries must be situated in the Furvilla universe, but may take place outside of designated/specified villages. This includes any villager which would pass on any of our three Shifty colors.
4. All Furvilla rules regarding content allowed on site must be followed, no exceptions. No shocking or disturbing content, sexual situations, etc.
5. Entries must be at least 500 - 2000 words in length to qualify, word count can reach, but not exceed 3000 words in length.
6. Unlimited entries are allowed but each player can only win once.

Once you have your entry ready to go, either post it in this thread directly or post a link to a Google Doc! Make sure you have the sharing options set to “anyone with this link may view” if you use a Google Doc, or we won't be able to view and judge it!


3 Winners will receive the prizes listed below,

- Entry will be featured in a special section of the Knowledge Base
- Contributor Trophy
- 1000 FD
- Any 3 FDE Pet Boxes

In addition... the First Place Winner will also receive this very special prize to go with the general prizes listed above!

End Date: 11:59 PM on December 31st.

3 Dec 2019, 6:25 am
Prompt(s): All three (though "apocalypse" may be a bit of a stretch)
Word count: 994

Ferrous carefully picked his way across the rubble of what had once been the heart of a flourishing village. The sun was setting and dust motes dancing in the last rays of reddish sunlight were the only thing that moved around him. Crumbling buildings creaked ominously in the surrounding quiet, settling with the dropping temperatures.

He hated coming to this dead place. No one really knew how it had happened. A devastating sickness had hit villages seemingly at random, where ever it cropped up there were no survivors, whole villages erased in the span of days. In the beginning healers had tried to help and made their way to the afflicted areas but every single one of them had died right along the people they had tried to help. In the end, with so many brilliant minds gone, all that was left to do was to quarantine the villages and leave them to their fate. Thankfully the outbreaks had slowed and stopped after that but like grisly monuments to their failure the villages remained that still no one dared to enter, leaving them to be reclaimed by nature.

Ferrous sighed and adjusted the mask covering his whole face – hopefully – protecting him if any of the sickness still lingered. It was steeped in light magic, same as his gloves and other protective gear. It had not helped the healers during the outbreak but with so much time having passed he dared hope. He would know soon enough after all and this mission was more important than him.
Walking across the cracked pavement of the old market square, past a crumbling, long dry fountain and unconsciously adjusting and readjusting his mask yet again, he finally reached his goal. Like the ones surrounding it, the building had seen better days. Once sturdy timber and brick were crumbling, eaten away by the elements and plants slowly but inexorably spread their roots throughout the house´s very foundations.

With a worried look at the partially caved-in roof Ferrous carefully pushed open what remained of the door. It got stuck halfway but it was enough for him to squeeze through. The interior was even more disheartening. Evidence of the former inhabitants was everywhere and when he closed his eyes he could still see what this house had looked like, feel the warmth of the forge, hear the steady rhythm of hammer meeting anvil, the casual banter between … He opened his eyes again, his heart giving a painful lurch. The room was cold and quiet again, dust and debris and death. Reaching to wipe his eyes his hand collided with his mask, adjusted it again with nothing better to do.
Picking his way through the remains of the workshop he lifted some half-finished projects and fallen items but as much as it pained him to leave all of them behind, they were not what he had come here for. He did not have much time left, the light was fading fast and he had no desire to spend the night in this place to continue his search in the morning.

Ten minutes of careful searching later he finally spotted his prize. Stooping down and letting out a quiet sigh he cradled the object to his chest for a minute before putting it in a satchel, treated with even stronger spells than his other gear to hopefully cleanse it. He squeezed back through the door and with a last look back and a final adjustment of his mask he turned his back on the house and started on his long trek back into the world of the living.

Reaching the edge of the quarantine zone had been nerve wracking. Shedding his protective gear and burning it. Waiting agonisingly long days to see if he would show signs of the sickness. Carefully taking the item he had brought from its satchel, more waiting. After ten days the guards at the edge of the zone were finally satisfied that his gear had done its job, that it was safe to let him leave.

Another two days later found Ferrous at the end of this arduous journey. He knocked on the door of a house just after nightfall. Bright light spilled through a window and laughter could be heard from inside. The door was opened, by a young dragon whose green scales gained a golden tint from the light. Their eyes widened and with an excited “Uncle Ferrous!” she threw herself at the wanderer. Ferrous caught her with a laugh and hugged her tightly. More joyous greetings followed, more hugs and laughter as he was ushered inside.

Once everyone had calmed down and was seated in front of the fire once more Ferrous cleared his throat. He held a cloth wrapped bundle out to the young dragon who had opened the door. She looked up at him with confusion as she unwrapped it to find an old, worn hammer. “First of all, happy birthday Iria!” he said with a smile. “Your father told me that now you are old enough you have decided to follow the family tradition and become a blacksmith. That hammer, it has been in our family for generations. Every blacksmith in our family used it when they started their apprenticeship. When…when the sickness hit our home village…” he trailed off and cleared his throat and looked at his brother who had tears in his eyes. “I know you never met your grandparents. But they would have wanted you to have this, they would have been so proud. And you would have loved their workshop, it was a place where metal came to life! And while that era is forever gone, I hope with this you will carry their memory on into this new one.”

While everyone fought their tears with varying degrees of success Iria looked down at the hammer in her hands with newfound awe. After a minute she looked at Ferrous with determination in her eyes.
“I will.”
4 Dec 2019, 4:30 pm
Prompt: Sickness
Word count: 509

Pip loved snowy days. She loved the feeling of snowflakes on her tongue. She loved diving into that soft, white, blanket. She loved building snowmen and making snow angels and being able to truly enjoy the beauty that was Tigereye Peak.

Of course, she wasn't thinking about any of that now.

The dust-colored mouse sat on the couch of her little cottage, wrapped in blankets, wishing this awful cold would go away.

But that wasn't the only thing she was waiting for.
Pip sat by the blazing fireplace, silently waiting for Sherrie to come home.
Of course, Sherrie probably had training to do.
Definitely more important than sitting around the house with Pip.
After all, the only thing that would make this cold better was resting, and Pip could do that by herself.
(Even if it was more enjoyable with her girlfriend)

Pip sighed, followed by a long fit of sneezing.

There was silence for a few seconds.
Followed by that laugh that Pip loved so much.


She turned around, only to see the form of a big, muscular hyena standing in the doorway.

In an instant, Pip was filled with strength. She launched the blankets off of her body, jumping off the couch to greet her favorite girl in all of Furvilla.

Sherrie grinned.
"Sick again?"

Pip simply nodded, blushing.
Sherrie had come home.
Just to see her.

"Well, I guess I'll have to take care of that."

Pip squealed as the warrior lifted her up onto her shoulders and walked into the kitchen.
Sherrie began to fill a pot with water, placing it on the stove as the grabbed the tea from the cupboards.



"..... Did you leave training early again?"

The Hyena took a deep breath, placing Pip back down on the ground as she began to steep the tea.


"Sherrie!", the little mouse cried out, "You can't keep doing this! Furvilla needs you!"

Sherrie snorted, both loving the attention, and mildly annoyed by her girlfriend's worrisome nature.

"Furvilla will be fine for a day, and so will I. What matters-" She paused as she began to walk back to the living room. "- Is that you're okay."

"But- I-"

Pip's words were cut short as Sherrie pulled her into a hug.
Sherrie never did that.

"I'll be fine, baby. What matters is that you're happy."
Sherrie began to dry the tears from her girlfriend's eyes.
Pip didn't respond.
She sat there,
Leaning closer into the other's embrace.
Sherrie brought the tea over to the coffee table,
pausing to let Pip bundle herself back into the blankets.

The hyena turned on the television, then let herself fall back and join Pip on the couch
And Pip just couldn't contain herself.
So she began to cuddle with Sherrie.
And Sherrie didn't resist.
So they sat
and watched the sunset.

The mouse could already feel herself getting better.

Two girls sat on a couch.

Sipping their tea.
Wrapped in blankets.
Leaning into each other.

And for once,

Everything was going to be okay.
~The End ~

Willow "that's gay" The Wolf
Need some chibis?
My Toyhouse: https://toyhou.se/Extensive_Grapes
6 Dec 2019, 9:33 pm (Edited 6 Dec 2019, 9:35 pm)
717 words. Prompt: Someone gets sick. Could potentially fall under 'Apocalypse' depending on how you see it?

Once, you could have remembered who you once were. But the time spent in these stained white walls and flickering lights has dulled your mind. Each time you drag your feet one step forward, your whole body aches, but there is no rest. The Hunger has taken you. It has taken all of you. There is nothing left.
Outside the storm continues. The sky, dark and foreboding, rumbles deeply and it feels as if the earth itself shakes around you. Occasionally, there is a quick flash of light - you can dimly remember it as lightning.
You had blindly followed your mayor. As usual, there were promises: promises of riches, new land, new allies. But now, you are stuck here, wallowing in your fear. Fear keeps you trapped in your own body. How ironic it must be to have your mind work against you. For every small noise threaten to be the final sound it takes to make you snap into insanity.
How long has it been? How long since you had talked? When you open your twisted maw all that comes out is a long, sorrowful wail. Yes, you grieve, you grieve your own loss, and the others. You are all the same, lost. No, follow me.
Who was that? Who was that voice? In your gut grows a feeling: a light, jubilant feeling, that of hope. Has someone come to retrieve you and the rest of the fallen? Is the Hunger no more? Has it been conquered by the vigilant warriors and determined doctors, who would suffer sleepless nights simply for the village’s sake?
You stumble through the halls, following the flickering lantern light and the paw that beckons. It is dark, shadowy, whispy, as if it was the smoke that danced upwards into the night sky from your warm campfire. But these memories do not serve you well. They only remind you of a time long gone, a time you can no longer retrieve.
Here the paw swoops elegantly around the room, ushering the world into a peaceful silence. “Come, come,” the voice sings, and you follow, for this is the only thing you have left. The others, you know, are long gone.
“Step here, right this way,” they say, and you briefly remember a time when you had entered a circus. What joy you experienced inside the tent, seeing clowns, dancers, and the tight-ropers.
When you step here - where is here, anyway? You suppose there’s no point in asking anymore. Here is wherever you are, and pain overtakes you.
A sharp feeling through your torso. You lurch forward, feeling dizzy. Your head pounds, but even with this, you feel the most relieved that you have ever felt since the Hunger.
Your last breath reminds you of when you had reached the summit of Tiger Eye Peak: refreshing. It made you happy. How you felt when the bitter breeze whipped against your face. It was cold, but the cold had embraced you in a way that made you feel free when you looked down upon the world, everything seeming so small.
For the last time, you soar.


Chester retrieves his bloody blade from the corpse at his feet. Your features are mangled, corrupted, and barely resemble the villager you once were. It saddened him to see his fellow villagers reduced to zombies. The wandering, groaning type that had a particular hunger for flesh. He could have been amused, if the disease - The Hunger - wasn’t as fatal as it was. He’d heard they could still remember some things. But they could never quite put everything together. It wasn’t like Zombipathy. It was different. Worse.
The battle was over, wasn’t it? They had won, but they had lost. This was the sacrifice for their greed.
For once, he feels he empathizes with the other mayors. It was all truly tragic. To have it come to this: to slay his fellow peers like mere monsters, it felt wrong. But he knew it would help in the long run. If he was like any of those afflicted with the Hunger, he would want to die himself.
Chester reminds himself to meet up with the others later. He brushes off his sleeves and with a surprisingly melancholic glance to the limp body behind him, he continues onward through the abandoned building.
7 Dec 2019, 11:33 pm
Prompts: Sickness (though I’m not completely sure if it counts)

Word Count: 1,754 (although that number is a bit off)

These symbols (‘’) around some of the text represents a thought, since typing out thinking with my font is a bit painful, and I’m not gonna change my font just so my contest entry can be a bit prettier.

Part 1

Once again, it was time for the annual Mayoral meeting at the edge of Oceandome’s territory. Since Mayor Octavia always had a rather tough time getting out of the water, they had to be at the edge of the shore every year, although thankfully, Oceandome’s border was rather huge, so there was a large variety of places to go.
And, here, at the shore, once again, was where Mayor Chester had to stand. In front of his colleagues. Talking about politics, their villages, and so on. Nothing interesting. Nothing unusual.
But, as it turned out, Mayor Minstrel had, in fact, brought up an interesting topic.
“Well, it’s almost the end of the decade,” they squeaked. “What are you guys planning on doing to celebrate this occasion?”
“Heh,” Mayor Ana laughed. “Well, I’m planning on making Quetzal Palace the best village this world has ever seen!”
‘Oh,’ Chester thought, a hint of a snicker on his tongue, ‘there’s definitely nothing new happening with Ana.’ Such a thought brought a wicked smile to his face, but he quickly had to hide it, in case Ana saw. After all, Ana wasn’t fun to be around, especially when she saw you potentially laugh at her. Chester worked hard to surpress a shudder at that thought. ‘Now, that’s a scary thought. I sure won’t make that mistake again.’
“Well, how about you, Polaria?” Mayor Minstrel asked.
“Oh, dear, I don’t know,” she sighed. “I would try to do something, but my village has been hit with a rather hard bout of winter sickness this year. I don’t think I’ll have the funds to do too much about this special occasion, sadly enough.”
‘Well, that’s depressing,’ Chester thought. ‘I hope her village can get better soon. Who knows how far that sickness could spread? I sure don’t want it in Dragonsmaw! I hope that sickness stays in that frozen wonderland of icy torture.’
But, of course, Mayor Ana was always happy to jump on the chance to brag.
“At least my village can’t get sick! See, we really are the best,” Ana scoffed.
Oh, here it was, his favorite part. The annual “argue-with-the-other-mayors” session.
“Shut your mouth, Ana,” Chester snarled. “This isn’t the time for petty showboating. Besides, just because you’re in the sky doesn’t mean one of your citizens couldn’t come down from your dear old “Heaven on Earth” and get sick!”
“Don’t start this again, Chester,” Mayor Octavia warned him. “We’re sick of it. Why do you have to do this every year?”
“That’s how the meeting ended prematurely last time,” Mayor Polaria stepped in. “And the year before that, and the year before that one as well-“
And that’s how every one of the annual arguments started. Ana bragged, Chester got mad, Octavia and Polaria tried to stop it, and Minstrel cowered away from them. If he was to be honest, it brought him a sense of sadistic joy to not only start the argument, but to partake in it.
But, alas, after the 30-or-so minutes of actual entertainment from that meeting, it was over, and it happened to end how it always ended.
“You’d better not say anything like that again, Chester!”
“Oh, don’t count on it, Ana!”

Part 2

After the all-too-frequent annual disaster, Chester sauntered back to his village, a wicked grin plastered onto his face. ‘Ah, yes,’ he thought. ‘It’s time to get back to doing what I was doing!’ Which, in fact, happened to be nothing productive, but he never really bothered with productivity anyway.
But, an interesting sight happened to catch his eye, and he could only stop to observe it, out of his natural morbid curiosity. Mayor Polaria happened to be here, visiting her children, and he happened to be in her way as she left her son’s house.
With his usual wicked grin, he greeted her.
“So, what brings you to Dragonsmaw?” he asked.
“I had to check on my children,” she sighed. “I want to make sure they’re not sick.”
“Oh, you and me both,” he agreed. “I wouldn’t want such a horrid plague to spread throughout my village and disrupt my business.”
Polaria just sighed to that statement. “When will you focus on your village’s well-being, and not yourself?” she asked kindly.
“When I happen to feel like it, which doesn’t happen to be now, I do think,” he replied.
Once again, Polaria sighed. “Well, I’ll just be on my way, then. If you see them, would you mind telling them that I said hello?”
“Ah, sure, Polaria, but it’s not in my top interest to visit your kids.”
And, for the last time that day, Polaria sighed at his attempt at a joke. ‘Well, if she won’t laugh at my jokes, then I’ll just have to myself!’ he mentally snickered.
He turned away and continued his sauntering, all the while in deep thought. Finally, he reached his home. He turned the key in the lock, and let himself in. His house was a mess of half-finished ideas and half cleaned up projects, as usual. ‘Ah, sweet home.’ He began to sift through the mess in his house, looking for a potential project that interested him. At last, after a few minutes, he didn’t find one that was interesting, but one that was useful. ‘Oh... I remember this one.’
It was a medicine. One that could cure any and all illnesses. At least… that was the idea. It was one of his biggest failures, if he remembered right. He’d thrown the papers to the ground in rage, stomping them to little crumples and ripping them to pieces. But, apparently, one tiny scrap of paper still remained under the clutter, albeit in rather poor condition.
Then, he got an idea.
‘Maybe my thinking was just off that time. Maybe I just didn’t go about it the right way. Maybe I could use some… help, per se?’ he snickered.

Part 3

Oh god, he hated the cold. There was nothing worse than freezing cold paw pads. ‘How can Polaria deal with this weather? I mean, I get she’s a polar bear, but there must be some point when cold becomes too cold, right? It’s nothing like Olde Foxbury.’ He rather enjoyed Olde Foxbury’s climate, and he supposed he should be rather thankful that Polaria’s house was close to the border (and that Minstrel’s house was, too). Not close enough, though.
He trudged on through the snow, a heavy sack over his back, wishing to dear god that he wouldn’t become an icy stalagmite. After way, way too long, he made it to Polaria’s home. He could tell it was hers by the warm smell of baking cookies and hot chocolate that filled the air. ‘Oh, imagine being warm right now,’ he thought sarcastically.
He stepped up to the door and knocked on it. He could hear her footsteps inside her house, and her voice muttering, “It better not be more bad news this time.”
Polaria opened the door, and he tipped his hat to her, his classic Cheshire smile on his face.
“Well, how are you today, Polaria?”
“Chester?” she exclaimed in shock. “Oh, dear, I can’t leave you in the cold like this! Come inside, quick, before you freeze more!”
He gratefully stepped inside, lugging his giant sack behind him painstakingly through the doorframe. Polaria closed the door behind him, and led him to a very nice couch, made of the finest silk in the region. He plopped himself down onto it gratefully, and set his waterlogged sack near the arm of the couch. Polaria went to the kitchen, handed him some hot chocolate and fresh cookies, then sat down next to him.
“Now, what brings you here, Chester?” she asked. “You couldn’t have walked such a long way for no reason.”
Once again, his wicked grin shown upon his face.
“I come bringing… well, let’s just say it’s a little gift.” He took the sack and split it open, revealing thousands of shiny coins, made all the shinier from their watery treatment.
“This is for you, Polaria. I thought you might need a bit of help with your village’s sickness.”
Polaria simply stared at the coins in shock.
“Ch-Chester… What do I say to this?” she stuttered. “Thank you so much!” she cried.
She came up to him and gave him a big hug.
“Oh, it’s nothing, dear!” he exclaimed, his voice muffled. “Now, may I tell you about my little project?”
“Oh, of course, Chester! Since you gave me such a generous gift, I’m at least obligated to let you stay a little while longer, aren’t I?”
He couldn’t help but crack a smile to that statement.
“Well, I do suppose so! And, let’s just say,” he chuckled, “this project is interesting…”

Part 4

He opened the door, a bag full of papers in his hand, and stepped out into the frosty, horrendous coldness once more.
“Oh, by the way, Chester, you can return any time!” Polaria called out to him as he walked carefully down the icy steps. “I’d always love to see you again!”
“Oh, that’s sweet of you, Polaria,” he replied, an odd tone of warmth in his voice, “but I have my own village to run, as do you. Besides, I’m usually very busy, what with all my projects and all, and I don’t think I’d have much time to visit, let alone stay too long. But, now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, in his usual snarky tone, “I have to see Mayor Ana. Wish me luck, will you? I don’t think she and I get along very well. Oh, and, uh,” he stuttered, “thanks again for helping me with my project.”
Polaria laughed softly. “Oh yes, good luck, Chester! And it’s always a pleasure to help a friend in need!”
‘Oh, yes,’ he thought, ‘it sure does seem to be.’ He felt a little spark of an unfamiliar feeling in his chest. He felt happy that he’d helped someone out.
‘I think I could get used to that,’ he thought. ‘But I think I’ll start after my visit with Mayor Ana.’ He definitely wanted to get that over with, not only because he and Ana had a poor relationship, but also, just a tiny bit, because he wanted to try to help someone out again.
‘But hey, I suppose that after this, I have the whole world to help out. Especially if my experiment is successful.’
He turned back to Polaria and, waving goodbye, started his long trek back to his home.
Hi! I'm thisperson10, but you can call me 10, Person, or This. I probably won't be on much, and I have some bad social anxiety, so if I don't respond, that might be why. I'm hoping that FurVilla can help change that, though.

Also, I don't want any random friend requests. So, please, if you want to get to know me, start a conversation before I become your friend.

Also, if you have any unwanted Phoenix Fire Hotwings, just send them my way and I’ll gladly take ‘em off ya.
21 Dec 2019, 1:58 pm
Theme: Flu Season
Word Count: 1,517

Pride or Soup

Kicking through the freshly fallen snow covering the ground in a light shimmery layer as delicate flakes danced through the air drifting downwards Aria, the vixen, smiled a wide and toothy grin. She let out a soft huff to watch the white puff from her hot breath. She could stay out all day unfazed by the cold snow thanks to her thick plush winter coat, and she intended to by getting into some snowy shenanigans today.

From the corner of her eye she spotted a figure slumped over a cobblestone fence. Narrowing her eyes realizing it was none other than Elska the wolf. She perked up, now would be a great time to pay back all those mischievous tackles. Sneaking towards the wolf Aria hunched over, and before she pounced she noticed the strained expression on the panting wolf's face .

“Hm?” Straightening herself out the vixen noticed a wheelbarrow full of straw and a pitchfork nearby. “What's wrong?”

Gritting her teeth Elska managed to lift her head. Catching Aria's gaze she looked away holding back a cough. “Nothing is wrong, why would you ask that?”

Staring down at her Aria noticed the wolf's soft trembles, and the usually pristine fur was pressed into flat clumps. Gasping the fox took a step back, “Ohmygosh you can actually get sick? That's kinda freaky, freaky deaky stuff.” She gave herself a chuckle. “Anyways really though you look just awful, why aren't you sleeping or something?”

“Do not be so ridiculous-” Elska coughed through gritted teeth, “-of course I am not sick.” She shuddered. “I am merely tired,”

“Uh huh, and that wasn't the biggest lie I've heard today, right?” Tilting her head the vixen crossed her arms.

“I am fine, truely,”

“You're really not, can you even stand up?”

“Oh Aria, I appreciate your concern-” Elska inched herself off of the fence. “-but I have many things to do at the moment.” Keeping a straight face she stared at the pitchfork longer than she intended to.

“Hmm?” Aria tapped the top of the cobblestone.

Glaring at the pitchfork the wolf struggled to even reach it. Growling she couldn't find the strength to pick it up. Just dragging it into the wheelbarrow caused her to huff and puff in exhaustion. Her heavy panting creating a big white puff in the air. “I-I can do it.” Her tone an almost desperate whine. Every part of her starting from the point of her ears to the tip of her tail all drooped weakly. She couldn't even lift the handles of the wheelbarrow.

“Are you serious? Let's go.” Aria hopped over the fence to get to the wolf.

“Leave me alone, I cannot be sick. I am not sick.”

Shaking her head Aria pulled Elska's arm over her own shoulders, and dragged the feeble squirming wolf across the snowy field. “If you weren't sick it'd probably be easy to get away, huh,”


Snickering the vixen reached the back door of Elska's home and stepped inside. The decor a blend of rustic and frill. Thick wooden beams ran the length of the home supporting the roof above them. Curtains hung at the sides of the windows lining the walls letting in the small specks light of the day. Leading the wolf to wooden wool cushioned chaise lounge in front of the fireplace, and ordering her to stay.

“Now where do you keep the extra blankets and pillows?”

“I said that I was fine did I not?” Elska's tone irked and flimsy.

Arching a brow Aria went in search of spare linen in a small closet off to the side. “And where's the thermometer?” She got a weak growl in response. 'Ah it's gonna be the hard way the whole time,' She could get irritated, but she would take the challenge in stride. Holding her head high she went to dig through all cabinets and drawers. ”Ah ha,”

Making her way back to the grumbling wolf the vixen threw the mismatched blankets of fleece, fur and flannel, and pillows of down at Elska. “You're probably running a fever.” She offered the thermometer.

“HMPH.” Turning her snout away, and crossing her arms the wolf refused.

“Open up.” She whipped the thermometer from side to side trying to catch the clamped shut jaws.


“Open up, or we're doing this the traditional way,”

Glaring up at her Elska hesitated to stick her tongue out, but relented to the fussing fox.

“I'll make you some tea, now lay down,”

“I do not wish to,”

“Lay down sickie,”

“I am fine,”

“Oh yeah?” Aria forced Elska down on to her back with ease, and then stretched the blankets over her before shoving the pillows behind her head. “Oh yeah I see it now, oh so fine, you put up one hell of a fight, eh?”

Huffing the wolf adjusted the thermometer to sit at the side of her mouth. She eyed the wooden beams above her trying to will herself to sit up, but the blankets seem to weight a ton. She couldn't even shift onto her side. 'But I-I do not get sick,' She let out a weak whine of self pity.

Returning with a hot steamy mug of tea on a small plate Aria set the tea down by the nearby table. “It has honey.” She reached to the thermometer, and brought it to her face. “This, this kinda high. You really shouldn't have been outside. Seriously, what were you thinking? Uh okay okay.” She set the thermometer down beside the tea. “Um I'm going to go pick up some medicine, and then I'll come back to make you a soup,”

“There is no time for that, I have so many chores to do,”

“I'll get someone to do them,”


Catching Elska's eyes the two stared each other down either not want to be the first to look away. Aria motioned with her paw pointing back and forth between each other. “You're as prideful as you are stubborn, so you better stay put.” She flashed one last glare before stepping outside.

Grumbling she mockingly repeated Aria's last sentence before giving a frustrated sigh. She didn't get sick. She couldn't even remember the last time she got sick. How did this happen? She managed to breeze through all her chores yesterday, so what went wrong today? She pouted. 'How unreliable of me,' She let out a pitiful whine shutting her eyes to hide from her own shame, but drowsiness set in and despite her resistance she fell asleep.

Letting out a soft huff Elska shifted around, but it didn't take long for her to relent to the suffocating heat around her. Looking around she spotted the fireplace ablaze with a stack of chopped wood feeding the flames while a nonchalant humming filled the room. After taking a moment to come to her senses she tried to sit up, and a damp folded towel fell from her forehead and groan escaped her.

“Oh, are you feeling a bit better?” Aria asked from the kitchen.

Looking away she didn't have it in her to face the vixen. “I was not that sick,”

“Ah of course, you were just perfectly fine, eh? Anyways take your temperature, and I'll bring you some soup 'kay,”

Glaring down at the thermometer where they left it, and with repugnance she laid it on her tongue. Crossing her arms she listened the to the clinking and pouring behind her. Contorting her face, food was her weakness. She'd hate to give in, and for a bowl of soup no less. What a pushover she'd be. A feverish gluttonous pushover. Grumbling, would it really be alright? Burying her face in her paws, was this what Aria meant by being prideful?

“If you're hiding, it's not working-” The vixen placed a lap tray in front of the wolf with a small assortment. “-there's your medicine in that bottle, take it now or after, and then you got your soup, some crackers, more tea, and if you want something a little sweet I can make you some oatmeal real quick. AH.” Aria snatched the thermometer from Elska's mouth, “Mmm I guess it went down a little bit, but not good enough,”

Staring down at the steaming ceramic bowl. Small bits of herbs peppered the top of the opaque broth. “Thank you.” She couldn't find the courage to look the vixen in the eyes knowing what a bratty shameful hassle she'd been.

Reaching over the scratch the wolf behind the ears and laughed. “You gotta have a little more faith in us, and let us take care of you once in a while,”

Elska scoffed, “Hmm well, do not get used to it,”

“Huh? Isn't that...What I'm suppose to tell you?” Aria watched Elska crumble the crackers into the soup before gulping down spoonful after spoonful. Smiling she eyed the pot of soup sitting in the kitchen hoping she made enough to satisfy the insatiable appetite of her's. Still she'd be glad to see her back on her paws, and to her usual non pain in the tail self.

I'm a little wolf inside a girl

24 Dec 2019, 1:55 am
My entry is complete! Decided on entirely apocalyptic.
The End as We Know It
What’s this? A new Unpopular Opinions thread!?
30 Dec 2019, 8:09 pm
Prompt: Celebration
Festive Rolls
Word Count: 797
·.¸¸.·♩♪♫ Andy | He/Him | INTP | DA | Slytherin | TH| Born Oct 16 ♫♪♩·.¸¸.·
31 Dec 2019, 11:07 am (Edited 31 Dec 2019, 1:33 pm)
Theme: Celebration
Characters: Godiva, Hakka, and Tweedle
Word Count: 2338
Synopsis: Godiva visits her reclusive friends for a quaint birthday celebration.

"A Gift Fit for a Dragon"

Winter had once again returned, bringing with it the sort of cold that could only be found in Tigereye Peak at any other point in the year. The snowfall hadn’t ceased since the beginning of the month, only slightly letting up at some points. A harsh, bitter wind scoured the landscape, nipping at exposed fur, feathers or scales and covering everything it touched with a fine layer of frost. Some forests had a bit of protection from the snowfall, with branches rich with pine needles climbing high into the sky to catch the snowflakes as they fell, but at some point the tree would no longer be able to hold the weight and dump the frigid snow onto unsuspecting passerby.

On the night of a particularly harsh snowstorm, Rain had advised her villagers that it would be in their best interests to stay inside for the night. Seek refuge and shelter, and protect themselves from the cold. But Godiva was having none of it.

The saggitari moved with a purpose, trudging through the snow which reached higher than her knees. The wind was something fierce, but with narrowed eyes and a determined snort, Godiva tightened her scarf around her muzzle and pressed on. Not only was she weighed down by the snow and the various winter adornments she had donned to stay warm, there were also a few packages on her back which Godiva considered of utmost importance. She would protect the packages no matter what. She had been warned against travelling in the forest at night, due to the dangerous monsters coupled with the freezing cold, but Godiva would defend herself if it came to that.

Fortunately, there was no need to defend herself from any unsatisfactory creatures, as Godiva soon arrived at her destination. Despite the horrid conditions and darkness that came with nightfall, she hadn’t gotten lost. Letting out a sigh of relief, Godiva stepped into the cave.

Stepping down into the rocky fortress, Godiva immediately felt warmer. Not only was she protected from the wind, but the saggitari could also spot a dim glow emanating from deeper within the cave. A wide smile grew across Godiva’s snout. After taking a few more steps into the cave, Godiva called out into the darkness.

“Hakka!” she yelled, voice bouncing off of the cave walls. There was a brief silence, until someone answered back.

“Godiva?” a deep voice rumbled, sounding rather surprised. There was a fwoom, and the dim glow became a roaring fire. Godiva approached it, and was met with the sight of Hakka the hydra laying on a bed of old sheets next to a fire of his own making.

“Hello Hakka,” Godiva chuckled, nodding her head in greeting. All three heads smiled, then the middle head sneezed and took on a playfully angry look. “You know I hate that cutesy nickname,” he growled, lowering his heads to the ground to stare at the fire. “You should just call me Hydra, like everyone else.”

Godiva giggled, sitting down and settling in. “I think the name suits you,” she sighed. “It means mint, you know. Your favorite flavor.” A wide grin soon grew across her face. “And speaking of mint…”

Godiva untied the packages that been strapped to her back. Hakka stared in interest as Godiva opened a cardboard box to reveal a large, mint chocolate cake. Hakka gaped in awe at the sight.

“Godiva!” he exclaimed. “You didn’t!” Godiva laughed, clapping her paws together. “How could I not?” she smiled. Hakka shook his head in exasperation, but continued to stare eagerly at the cake. “I really don’t know why you insist on visiting me every Snow Festival,” he sighed. “You should be staying in your village, where it’s warm and safe! I really don’t need you to get me a cake every year.”

Godiva rolled her eyes. “Yeah. And if I didn’t bring you a cake to celebrate your birthday, then who would?”

“I don’t know when my birthday is,” Hakka deadpanned.

“But you like winter!” Godiva pointed out. “So why not celebrate your birthday during your favorite time of the year?”

This time, it was Hakka who rolled his eyes. However, he could resist the allure of Godiva’s famous cake no longer. After licking his pointed teeth, Hakka procured a knife from somewhere in his blanket pile and made a sloppy cut down the middle of the cake. With the two “halves” separate, he extended his middle head and took a large bite out of the cake. Godiva had to cover her snout to keep from snickering-- the sight of an otherwise ferocious creature enjoying a piece of cake in the same fashion that a toddler might was amusing to the saggitari.

“And what about your bakery?” Hakka continued once he had swallowed the cake. “Doesn’t it get busy around this time of the year?”

“Oh, hush!” Godiva laughed. She gave Hakka a boop on all three of his noses. “Freya can handle the bakery while I’m gone. Now enjoy your cake instead of fruitlessly trying to get me to leave.”

Godiva took out a fork, and plucked a small piece of cake from the half that Hakka had allowed her. The two ate in silence for a bit, pushing back their light-hearted bickering in favor of enjoying Godiva’s baking. Godiva knew that Hakka really didn’t mean it when he said that she should leave. He may have been a recluse who kept to himself, but he really did enjoy Godiva’s company.

After a while, Godiva’s ear flicked. She turned her head to stare into the abyss that was the deeper part of the cave. Her ear flicked again-- she had heard a noise. From the thresholds of the light that the fire cast out, a purple and white snout appeared. It twitched, sniffing the air curiously. Then, two large eyes appeared.

“Godiva!!!” the creature exclaimed in joy.

Barely able to contain his excitement, Tweedle began barreling towards his saggitari friend. Almost skipping as he ran, it appeared as if Tweedle would crash into Godiva by the time he reached the fire. Not about to let his friends get hurt, Hakka slammed down a paw unto the ground and growled ferociously at Tweedle, all three heads bearing their impressive sets of teeth. Tweedle got the message and slowed down just enough to safely skid to a halt right in front of the fire. His fur was puffed up, and he appeared a bit shaken, but he was otherwise alright.

Godiva laughed, shaking her head. “It’s good to see you too Tweedle,” she sighed. “Why don’t you sit down and have a slice of cake? I made sure to save some just for you.” With that, Godiva handed Tweedle a fork of his own. Leave no friend behind when cake was involved. Nodding eagerly, Tweedle set in to enjoying the cake as well.

After all the remained of the delectable dish were a few pitiful crumbs, Godiva turned her attention to the rest of the packages that she had carried with her.

“Oooh, what are those?” Tweedle inquired curiously, large tail wagging slightly. Hakka, although feigning disinterest, also observed the packages with wide eyes. Godiva beamed happily. “Now, it wouldn’t be a birthday celebration without gifts, now would it?” she grinned. Tweedle let out an excited squeak, clapping his hooves together. Hakka cocked his heads to the side.

The first package Godiva presented was heavy, the top of it covered in holes. Hakka also noticed that it was blessed with magic to keep it warm. “The first one is for you, Tweedle,” Godiva announced, handing the box to the purple creature that was struggling to keep still. “Be careful with it!”

Tweedle nodded impatiently, and slowly lifted the top off of the box. Just as quickly, he gasped, dropping the lid in astonishment. “Godiva! You shouldn’t have!” he exclaimed, lifting the kitten out and staring at it in wonder. Godiva affirmed his excitement with a nod. “It’s a himalayan mountain cat, of the tuxedo variety,” she clarified. “I know how cold it gets out here, and the local fauna aren’t as fluffy as I know you’d like them to be, so I got something from a colder place.” Tweedle hugged the kitten to his chest gently, beaming as it purred in his arms. “I promise I’ll take good care of her!” he said.

The second box was longer, and wrapped up in colorful paper dotted with balloons and slices of cake. This was Hakka’s gift. Godiva’s paws shook ever so slightly as she outstretched her arms to hand the box to her friend, and the slightest traces of hesitation lingered on her face. What reason had she to be worried?

Hakka looked at the box silently. Slowly, carefully, he began to open it. Inside the present was a handcrafted viola.

“I, well, you’ve always said how much you like listening to the music that comes from the village, and um, since you want to stay in the woods, I thought I might bring some music to you…” Godiva trailed off when she realized that Hakka hadn’t spoken a word. “I mean, I can teach you how to play-- I used to play the viola myself when I had a child. And I had it handcrafted by one of the village woodcarvers, and I made sure that they used the strongest wood, so that there’s no chance of it breaking on accident. Do-- do you like it?”

It was obvious that Godiva was nervous, as she was wringing her paws and shifting her weight uneasily. Hakka hadn’t noticed, being so enraptured in the gift that he was given. Gingerly, he picked up the bow in his claws and rubbed it up against the strings of the viola. The resulting sound was unpleasant at first, but after Hakka got used to gliding the bow across the strings, the music slowly progressed. Tweedle’s ears fell against his head, but he didn’t dare cover them in both respect and fear for his hydra friend. Godiva didn’t stop staring at Hakka.

Finally, once Hakka was satisfied with the progress he had made, he set the viola down. Staring at Godiva with all three heads, the fire was reflected in his now shining eyes. “Thank you,” he said, gratitude sincere. “I… I love it.”

Godiva let out a sigh, visibly much more comfortable. “I’m glad you like it,” she chuckled.

“As if I could hate any gift that you give me,” Hakka laughed, puffing out his chest a little bit. “Not even Tweedle deigns to get me a present for my birthday, so I might as well be happy with what I can get!”

“Hey!” Tweedle protested. The purple-furred creature crossed his arms in indignation. “I caught you some prey today in the freezing cold! Isn’t that a good enough gift?”

All three creatures laughed, once again reviving the jovial mood of the cave. Quips and insults were hurled at one another with great enthusiasm, the normally bashful Godiva now a spitfire as she took part in the jeers that Hakka and Tweedle normally kept themselves entertained with.

Eventually, winter itself put an end to their antics. A harsh whirl of snow-filled wind lashed into the cave, raking its freezing cold across its denizens and nearly putting out the fire that Hakka had made. Although she had trekked in the snowy nightmare before, Godiva couldn’t suppress her shiver. Hakka looked at her worriedly.

“I think it might have gotten colder out there,” he mumbled, turning his attention to the entrance of the cave. It was now partially filled with snow, the raging storm ensuring that a walk home would not be pleasant.

“You should stay here!” Tweedle chimed, which got both Hakka’s and Godiva’s attention. “I’m sure Hakka wouldn’t mind lending you a few of his blankets, and I can bring my own bedding up here! It could be like a slumber party!”

Although the demeanor of Tweedle was childish, he meant well. Godiva looked to her friends, pondering the idea. “Well… I’m sure it couldn’t hurt,” she mused. Hakka stepped off of the pile of cloth and blankets he had made for himself, allowing Godiva to take refuge there for the night. Tweedle eagerly brought his own bedding around the fire, and soon the three entertained each other with stories of cryptids, ghosts, and past memories.

Godiva fell asleep first, lulled to rest by the warmth of the dying fire. Tweedle was almost comatose, but Hakka was still wide awake. He stared at the embers of his fire, deep in thought.

“You really should tell her how you feel some day,” Tweedle sighed. Hakka jolted upwards, staring at Tweedle with three pairs of shock-filled eyes. In return, Tweedle stared at him with his bleary gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hakka growled, tone of voice quiet as to not disturb the saggitari.

Tweedle only shook his head. “Whatever you say,” he yawned. “But she obviously cares for you. I don’t know if you noticed, but she was shaking like a leaf while you opened her present. Maybe she likes you back, maybe she doesn’t, but I don’t think that she’d be one to end you guys’ friendship if you told her how you feel.” Tweedle shifted in his blanket, snuggling close to his new kitten, closing his eyes and sighing deeply. “But, I mean, it’s your choice on whether or not you tell her.”

Hakka remained awake long after Tweedle became unresponsive. He didn’t take his eyes off of the fire. “I tell her tomorrow,” he resolved. “After she leaves, I’ll get her a gift, and I’ll march right down to the village and give it to her. And… and then I’ll tell her.”

The next morning, Godiva said her goodbyes and thanked her friends for their hospitality. The weather was much better, a perfect day to celebrate in the village.

Hakka didn’t leave his cave at all.
31 Dec 2019, 1:24 pm (Edited 31 Dec 2019, 1:46 pm)
Theme: (Dragon) Flu Season
Characters: Rain, Blue, Silver, Fern, Chester, Cassie, Snowy, and Slash.
Word Count: 1592
Synopsis: Rain, the leader of Silverflecked Village, refuses to stop working even after catching a nasty bought of Dragon Flu. Of course, that means that her best friends are going to step in to make sure that the workaholic gets some rest for once.

"Rest for the Wicked"

“Go away!”

“I’m only trying to help you!”

“I am in no need of assistance, now would you kindly exit my office before I shove you out the window!”

There was another crash and a yelp, then the scrabbling of claws upon the wooden walls. Cassie could have sworn that they heard a hiss. They sighed worriedly, leaning back and removing their ear from where it had been pressed against the door.

“What’d you hear?” Fern grumbled, as if they all couldn’t hear the ruckus coming from inside the office. The fennec fox looked dully uncomfortable, as the bowl of soup in her paws was more than a little warm. Rain preferred her food burning hot, scalding when it came to liquids, and the heat-resistant bowl couldn’t fully protect Fern’s paws from the simmering soup. But Fern had refused to let anyone else take the bowl, afraid that they might spill it, and so in her paws it remained.

“Oh, I hope she doesn’t wear herself out too much,” Snowy worried aloud. “From the sounds of it, Rain is literally climbing on the walls. Oh, I hope she doesn’t get too exhausted.”

“Hey, maybe that would make things easier for us,” Silver quipped, patting the large blanket hoisted over her shoulders. “The more tired she is, the easier it will be for us to care for her!”

“Th-that is if sh-she doesn’t wear us a-all out f-first,” Chester sighed.

“Let go of my tail!”

“Rain, get off of the cabinet! You are going to get yourself hurt!”

“Now listen here Blue, I’m gonna-a-a-aCHOO!”

There was a fwoom, a yipe, and an orange light that shone through the door. Everyone outside of the room cringed. “That’s going to lead to some singed fur,” Silver sighed, blowing air through her teeth. “Oh dear,” Snowy shook her head. “Shouldn’t Slash be helping us out with this? He’s heat resistant, and fairly strong as well.”

Silver shook her head. “Slash said that he didn’t want to take a chance at catching Dragon Flu, since apparently it’s quite nasty this time of year. He does send his regards and this blanket though,” the hyena explained, patting the blanket once more. “Where’s Wolfgang, anyways?”

“My dearest Wolfie came down with a bit of the sniffles,” Snowy responded. “I made sure he was nice and tucked in before I headed here. Oh, he just looks so adorable while he’s in dreamland!”

There were more crashes from inside the room, then a panicked howl.

“Watch out, she’s headed for the!--”

Cassie only had seconds to jump out of the way from the door before it crashed open, almost flying off its hinges. Rain sailed through the opening, determination on her snout despite the evidence of sickness and fatigue. Blue appeared in the doorway a second later, looking quite disheveled and tired. “After her!” he called out.

The rest of Rain’s friends had already started the chase, pursuing their leader as the dragon made a mad dash for freedom. All except for Fern, who didn’t want to spill her soup.

It appeared that Rain might escape her determined caretakers, bounding down the hallway of the village town hall in record time. But the cursed Dragon Flu had greatly lowered her stamina, and it was only a matter of time before the reaper dragon tripped on her own tail. With a cry of alarm, Rain rolled a little further before she finally ended up on her back. The world was spinning, Rain was out of breath, and her friends had caught up to her at last.


“This is treason, or insubordination, of whatever other word for betrayal that I can’t think of right now,” Rain growled.

The seven were holed up in Blue’s house, as the wolf had the most comfortable living quarters. After Rain had finished vomiting, induced by the strenuous amount of work that she had put her body under, her friends had managed to drag her to Blue’s house. Now, they were all lounging on his couch and various chairs, watching an old horror movie on his TV set.

“This isn’t betrayal, this is us caring for you, now shut up and eat your soup,” Fern growled, sitting to the right of the dragon. Begrudgingly, Rain dropped open her mouth, allowing Fern to feed her another spoonful of soup. The dragon couldn’t exactly do it herself at the moment, since she was wrapped up in the blanket that Slash had made. Silver also had Rain embraced in a hug, and was resting her head on top of the dragon’s head.

“You know, this could have been a lot easier,” Blue sighed, relaxing in his favorite chair. The fur on the top of his head was properly singed, courtesy to one of Rain’s fire-powered sneezes. “Heck, if you didn’t work so much in the first place, your sickness might not have come on so strong.”

“I need to work!” Rain protested. “I can’t trust anyone else to get the paperwork done exactly how I do it, and I need to guard the village to make sure that it’s one hundred percent safe, and I also need to oversee the village trading to make sure we’re not being scammed, and I also need ta-a-aCHOO!”

A plume of fire rocketed in front of the dragon, lighting up the whole room and brilliant orange but thankfully not burning anything. “I mean, that’s fair enough, but maaaybe you shouldn’t do paperwork when just one of your sneezes is enough to turn all your hard work to ashes,” Cassie chuckled, patting Rain’s left shoulder. Rain glared at her friend, while Cassie continued to grin smugly. “Eat,” Fern commanded once more, and the dragon groaned. Everyone else in the room laughed.

“You really should get yourself an assistant,” Snowy mused, looking up from where she had been knitting Rain a brand new hat. “I know you’re a willing workaholic, but that lifestyle isn’t healthy! You should put some faith in others instead of trying to do everything yourself, I’m sure you’d be less stressed all the time too.”

“I-I can help w-with organization!” Chester chimed in, looking back to stare at the rest of his friends. Despite not typically liking horror movies, this particular movie Chester had a soft spot for, so he had parked himself in front of the TV the moment it started. “I’m s-surprisingly g-good with paperwork. I can t-take orders, I h-have an a-amazing memory, and I-I’m sure that p-paperwork isn’t as s-s-scary as e-exploring is, h-haha…” Rain rolled her eyes, but didn’t seem annoyed. “I’ll think about it,” she grumbled. Chester let out a happy squee before turning his attention back to the television.

Sometime during the night, there was a knock on the door. Snowy volunteered to answer it, and was greeted by none other than Slash standing at the door. He looked rather silly, sporting goggles, a surgical mask, two sets of gloves, and smelling of all sorts of disinfectant. “Hi guys!” Slash chirped, voice muffled by his mask. In his claws he held a tray of fresh cookies.

Stepping inside, Slash handed the cookies to Snowy, who was trying hard to conceal her snickers with little progress. Everyone else who got an eyeful of Slash’s appearance had more or less the same reaction. The brightly-colored dragon rolled his eyes. “Dragon Flu is very contagious!” he chastised in an exasperated tone. “You guys should feel lucky that you’re not dragons, or else you’d be feeling downright horrible! Pacifica told me where you guys were hanging out though, so I decided to bring you some cookies!”

Everyone gave various words of gratitude as Snowy passed the cookies around to the group. “Aren’t ya gonna stay and have a bite, Slash,” Cassie asked, mouth full of chocolate chip cookies. Slash vehemently shook his head, slight panic in the movement. “No thank you! I’ve exposed myself enough just by being here, I think it’s time I showed myself out the door! By guys!” With that, Slash quickly exited the house, the rest sharing a chuckle at his expense. Rain picked up a cookie and stared at it. “Well, at least it’s not soup,” she sighed.

“Hey! My soup is great and you know it!” Fern cried out in mock hurt. Rain shrugged, grinning as she avoided eye contact. Fern smiled in return, false anger quickly forgotten, happy to see her leader smile for the first time that night.

Eventually, the movie came to a close. Both the cookies and the soup had been finished, and everyone was fighting back yawns. “I th-think it’s t-time that we g-g-go to sleep,” Chester muttered, turning off the TV. Everyone nodded in agreement.

“And how will you guys make sure that I don’t run away while you’re all asleep?” Rain chuckled. “Because if you try, we’ll wake up, and we’ll have to chase you again,” Silver sighed, still hugging Rain from behind. Snowy and Chester hopped on the couch alongside their friends, while Blue stayed put in his chair. Somehow, there was room for all six of them on the couch, and they all settled in as they drifted asleep cuddled up next to one another.

Rain was the last to fall asleep, the snoring and breathing of her friends soon lulling her into a deep slumber. “Maybe being sick isn’t so bad after all,” the tired dragon yawned, closing her eyes and letting the darkness overtake her, feeling completely secure in the warm embrace of her friends.
31 Dec 2019, 10:32 pm
theme: creation
words: 778

enjoy some serpent times

The Serpent Egg
31 Dec 2019, 11:37 pm
Theme: Apocalypse
Characters: Tricky, Tropicana, Pyromancer Cedric, and Anubis
Word Count: 2255
Synopsis: Three idiots collectively sharing one braincell decide to hunt for buried treasure in a barren wasteland jam-packed with horrendous monsters. Someone who actually knows what they're doing tags along to make sure no one dies. As expected, things go horribly wrong. It has an ambiguous ending because I am tired.

"Hunting for Buried Treasure"

“Alright, listen up because I’m only going to say it once,” Anubis growled, laying out the map on the table. Tropicana and Cedric leaned over the table, staring daggers into the unrolled parchment. Various arrows, landmarks, and hastily scribbled paragraphs of instructions covered the yellowing paper.

“We leave at new moon, tomorrow, during the storm,” the wolf taur rasped. “We sneak past the guards, using Cedric’s fire as a distraction. Tropicana can use his sense of smell to find any treasures or jewelry in buried in the ground. Remember, stay alert at all times— we don’t know what inhabits these lands.”

“And what will you do?” Tropicana pressed on. Anubis sniffed, shaking his head in exasperation. “Why, I have the most important job!” he proclaimed, fur fluffing up. “I’m the leader. I make sure you don’t get lost, I make sure we have enough supplies, and I keep you too buffoons in check!”

“Yeah, and by keep them in check, you mean lead them to their deaths,” came a voice from the shadows of the basement. All three animals looked over to see their fourth compatriot, Tricky, leering at them through the darkness. Tricky was the most intelligent and well-thought of the group, and perhaps the only one who knew just how bad an idea this was. The neolite stalked out of the shadows, prowling over to the table and slamming her paw on to the map.

“You see this?” she snarled. “This is a deathtrap. There’s a reason nobody goes here— it’s uncharted territory. Anyone who goes there never comes back. And you want to just waltz in on the impulsive whim for treasure, and what? You have no plan. It’ll be a miracle if you guys get out alive.”

Tropicana rested his head on the table, staring up at Tricky indignantly. “So why are you coming if it’s such a bad idea?” he rebuked. Tricky rolled her eyes. “To save whoever I can carry,” she grumbled with an impressive flap of her large wings.

“Get your appendages off of my map!” Anubis growled, pushing Tropicana’s head and Tricky’s paw off of the now smudged map. “Everything will be fine if we just stick to the plan.” Tricky snorted. Anubis flashed her an uncouth paw gesture. “We’re leaving tomorrow. If you chicken out, then don’t come crawling back to me when we come home, loaded with riches.”


They should have listened to Tricky.

Getting past the guards was the unprecedented easiest part of their escapade. The moment they stepped on to the fire-scorched lands, the group knew that they were in trouble. But Anubis was too prideful to turn back, choosing to press on through impending doom.

The land was filled with savage creatures, werebeasts and bloodsuckers and poltergeists abound, ghouls and crazed flesheaters making up most of the local fauna. There wasn’t an animal in sight, leading to the correct presumption that most of the food that the creatures subsisted on each other. They had even witnessed the savage battle of the beasts, a manic werecat tearing into a rabies-infected deer. Terror infested the lands, and yet the group pressed on.

Cedric rode upon the back of Tropicana, while Anubis made up the front of the group. Tricky preferred to scout from the skies, as she could deliver an impressive aerial attack.

On the dawn of the fourth day, the sky was mostly comprised of dark, foreboding clouds that let minimal light through, casting the lands in a dim light.

“Got anything yet, skinny?” Anubis huffed. Skinny was his name for Tropicana, although the green creature didn’t seem to mind. Nose pressed to the ground, Tropicana shrugged. “I dunno,” he said, trying not to sneeze. “I mean, I think I got something, but I’m not sure yet.”

So far, they hadn’t found much. Some spare jewelry, a few old weapons, lots of dented, bloodstained armor filled with bones. Anubis had promised unimaginable riches, yet their procured loot was far from that. It seemed as if the wolf taur had another motive on his mind, yet it was something that he refused to share.

Cedric sighed, curling up on Tropicana’s back. The overgrown pyromancer was rather tired— he had been using his fire-wielding capabilities as a distraction for the duration of their visit. He was all worn out now, despite his staff and gems providing him with extra magic.

“Wait, I got something!” Tropicana called out, long tail wagging. He ran ahead of Anubis, causing Cedric to hold on for dear life. Eventually, the light green creature stopped and began to dig, determination written across his features. Anubis ran to catch up, huffing and puffing as he came to a stop, and even Tricky circled lower in the sky to see what Tropicana had found.

Eventually, the creature unearthed their prize. A pile of glittering jewels awaited them. Among the glimmering gold and gems were two items of interest— a shiny new blade, and a small pouch of herbs. “It can’t be,” Anubis muttered, gingerly picking up the herbs. He seemed enraptured by them, unmoved by the riches that had lain beside them. They had an inyriquising scent, carrying a fragrance that fit the earth it had been buried in. At first it was fruity, then it almost seemed meaty. One could even describe it as ethereal. Cedric and Tropicana eagerly began pocketing the jewels, curious as to why Anubis wasn’t, but not bothering to ask why.

Suddenly, Tricky landed next to the group, nudging them away from the hole. “Hey, what gives?” Cedric protested. Tricky glared at him in return. “You need to run,” she growled. That got their attention immediately. “Savage beasts are headed this way. They were just meandering about before, but as soon as you disturbed that hole, they all started making a beeline towards here. Something you dug up is making them go manic, and I don’t think you want to find out why.”

Tricky picked up the sword in her jaws, staring at the three’s horrified expressions. “What did I just say?” Tricky snarled, wheeling around on her heels to face the oncoming monsters. “Run!

After that, it was a mad dash for safety. While the sounds of clashing and battle echoed behind them, the group now down a member tore across the rotting landscape to get back to their last rendezvous point. “They’re gaining on us!” Cedric called out in a panic. No less than five monsters were chasing them— three zombies, one demon, and the largest and most frightening monster being a werewolf.

“Well then do something to stop them!” Tropicana called out, almost running out of breath. Cedric dug his claws into the green creature’s back, screwing his eyes shut and concentrating on what remained of his powers. His paws began to warm up, which only spurred on Tropicana faster. Finally, Cedric unleashed a torrent of flames, which raked over the land and caused a few of the beasts to cry out in pain as the flames claimed their bloodsoaked forms. Tropicana glanced back to assess the damage. Two of the zombies had collapsed, their remains burning an ugly orange, but the rest seemed undeterred. It wasn’t enough.

“Cedric, try to hop onto Anubis,” Tropicana panted, earning a shocked look from his feline friend. “But—!” “There’s no time!” Tropicana wheezed. “You and I both know that I’m not the best at speed, and I’d rather you two live instead of us all going down. Now when you get the chance, jump!” Tropicana grit his teeth and increased his speed, soon pulling up right next to Anubis. The wolf taur seemed almost apathetic of the situation, clutching the bag of herbs to his chest as if his life depended on it. He only noticed what Tropicana was doing after Cedric leapt on to his back, and he shot Tropicana an unbelieving look. “Skinny, what in the blazes are you doing?” he yelped. Tropicana didn’t answer, and he suddenly whirled around and leapt at their pursuers.

The demon hadn’t expected the change. Being the fastest of the monsters, it had almost caught up to the fleeing group. A quick swipe from Tropicana caused its head to spin and spin, finally falling onto the ground a few yards away from where the body collapsed. The werewolf and the zombie began to circle Tropicana, who bared his teeth despite knowing that he was far from threatening in such an environment.

The zombie attacked first, barreling over Tropicana as it attempted to end the battle quickly with a devastating bite. Tropicana was far from immune to such a disease, and let out cries of pain and fear as claws raked across his skin, desperately using the last of his strength to keep those deadly fangs away from him. The werewolf circled the two combating creatures, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It seemed to hold some remnants of sentience from its past life, the scraps of intelligence something that gave it an advantage in battle. It sneered when it saw its opportunity to end the fight, launching itself towards the two as it prepared to add another kill to its glorious record.

It never got the chance. Letting out a battle cry, Anubis crashed into the larger werewolf. It snarled in hate, wheeling around to face this new adversary. It roared, flashing bloodstained teeth. Anubis growled back, ready to defend his friend. They met in a fury of claws and snapping teeth, each fighting with a savageness that could frighten even the most hardened of warriors. Anubis gave scratches that were lost amongst the many other scars that scoured the werewolf’s pelt, while fresh new lines of red disheveled his own clean and neat fur.

It seemed as if Anubis had the upper hand for a while, having the advantage of a surprise attack and more endurance than the werewolf. But such a creature had not survived for so long only to be taken down by a mere outsider. Ducking down and kicking out its legs, it managed to knock Anubis off his feet with a devastating kick to the taur’s midsection. Howling, it sank its teeth into one of Anubis’s hind legs. The wolf taur screamed as the cracking of his own bones filled his ears, knowing very well that his neck and life were next.

With a sudden flash of silver, Tricky hit both of her targets. The werewolf collapsed as it’s midsection had been opened up in one clean blow.


Anubis woke with a start, aware of two things immediately. They were back at their designated rendezvous point, and small hole dug into the ground, with a fire roaring in the middle of it. Anubis was also aware of a dull ache in his hind leg, but upon wiggling it and wincing at the flare of searing pain, he realized that he no longer had a foot there.

Anubis made a somewhat choked sound, causing Tricky to look over from where she had been guarding the entrance of the cave. “Ah, you’re awake,” she sighed. “Sorry about the foot— didn’t want you catching lycanthropy. I tried to make it as clean a cut as possible though, so I’m sure it’ll heal fine.” With that, Tricky turned back to stare at the horizon, quietly humming a tune to herself. Tricky was also covered in cuts and bruises, but seemed rather fine despite the danger that she had thrust herself in. Out of all of them, Tricky was definitely the best warrior.

“Tricky really isn’t one for small talk, is she,” a voice chuckled. Anubis looked over to see a beaming Tropicana staring back at him. When their gazes met, Tropicana’s fur puffed up and he averted his gaze, ducking his head down as he shifted his feet. The creature seemed almost bashful. Anubis flashed his own dry smile in return. “You can say that again,” he chuckled, wincing at the pain in his hind leg. It would be a while before he could walk without pain again-- Tricky and Tropicana would probably have to help him walk before they left the desolate wastelands.

“How’s your leg feeling? I bet it hurts really bad. I… I’m sorry about that.”

“It… it’ll heal. Maybe I can even get it replaced with a prosthetic. It was far too damaged anyways, before Tricky cut it off. And no lycanthropy infection is an added bonus.

“I’m… I’m really glad you’re alright. Thank you for coming back for me.”

“Ah, don’t get all choked up about it skinny. Who else will I have to unearth my buried treasures?”

The two shared a laugh at that, then sat in silence. Searching for something to say, Tropicana’s gaze eventually landed on the bag of herbs.

“So, what are those for? We notice that you didn’t seem too interested in the jewelry, despite that being your goal for coming here.”

Anubis sighed. “I knew that would come up. Well… I wasn’t exactly truthful to you guys. I was looking for riches, but not the golden kind. I had a hunch that what I wanted would be buried alongside them.”

“Which was?”

“Well, from what my parents told me, quite a few merchants used to pass through here before it all went to ruin. They had gold and jewels, sure, but they also had… ingredients. Ingredients for the sacred golden apple.”

“You don’t mean…?”

“Yep. They had ingredients for a cure.”
31 Dec 2019, 11:58 pm (Edited 31 Dec 2019, 11:58 pm)
Theme: Creation
Character: Starscape Child
Word Count: 678


All it knew before was darkness. Darkness was its entire being, the essence of its soul. It was a mind swimming in the void, free from the chains of life and the bounds of reality. It could not see, but it knew of color and blooming life. It could not hear, but laughter echoed in its mind. It was not a spirit, nor an unborn life. Perhaps it was a mere concept, or something else entirely. But it was content with its existence, knowing everything and yet nothing all at once. Everything was new, a surprise meant to be enjoyed over and over again. It did not crave anything, loving everything. In its world of darkness, it was complete.

Then came the lightning. It shook the being straight to its very nonexistent core. The entity felt something other than completeness for once in what it assumed to be its existence, now something other than content. It did not know what it was feeling, could not put a word to the emotion for it knew no language, but it was confused. It was scared. Lightning flashed and lit up the darkness, filling its world with booming and crashing. The entity did not like this, it wanted the scary things to go away. It knew what lightning was, and yet it didn’t.

Suddenly, the entity was no longer this formless, boundless thing. It could feel. It felt itself being formed, limbs created out of mere nothingness. It did not hurt, but it wasn’t a pleasant feeling either. What is the sense of touch to something that had never felt before? It is alien, and odd. The entity did not like it.

The lightning became so bright, the entity shut its eyes. It did not want to see any more. It flattened its ears against its head, curling into a ball. It smelled rain and fire, life and death. The taste of copper was in its mouth. Wind so strong raked over its fur, and the entity shivered.

Suddenly it was falling. Its stomach dropped, the wind became harsher and colder. Rain pelted its form, soaking into its fur. The light grew harsher, brighter, and then was replaced with the darkness of a rainy night. The creature was softly placed upon the ground, looking up just in time to see the circle of infinite black shrivel up and disappear forever.

Out of nothingness, a new life had been created.

It knew many things all at once, so it was confused. When it knew and yet didn’t know all of these things before, it was quite disorienting to look at something and have the name for it ring so clearly in its mind. It was surrounded by “trees”. It’s pelt shimmered like the “sky”. The “stars” upon it seemed to “shine”. The “ground” was “cold” and “wet”.

The creature was still confused, but gradually the fear began to ebb away, leaving only raw curiosity. Surely it had been brought into this world for a reason. It knew that things like this didn’t just happen. Some divine entity had conjured it into this world, and now it must find its own place among a familiar and unfamiliar plane of existence. The creature turned its head, looking for a way out of the darkness.

Lights. Music. Warmth. Food. Soft. Flowers. Friends. Such things were alien to the creature, but it knew that it wanted them. It wanted to feel nice and warm and complete, and these things would help it feel that way. Seeing with its eyes closed, the creature turned its head to its destiny. It did not care if it took until the end of time to reach this land of wonder, it would journey until there was nothing left of it. It would not let this glorious gift go to waste.

Creation was a beautiful thing, and the creature was glad to have witnessed and experienced it. Now it was time for a different creation, a new fulfilment-- it had a vessel, and now it would create its soul.