Welcome to Gaia! ::

You obviously know who I am. Well anyway, this topic is for you to show off your skills in art, whether that be writing, drawing, or anything you can say is creative. I think it's wonderful to see other's minds at work and well, if you desire, please post it here ^^

Update: [Date? notta clue lol]
you've probably noticed that i deleted those random posts that were here. they kinda defered from this topic's purpose so here is a fresh start. if you wish to talk, go to the chatterbox place in this thread...i think we have one. >.>


Update: [1 Nov. 2007]
Jinkman, your story is awesome!! you are really talented. ^^ Halloween was yesterday, it was the first one i missed..no candy. darn. oh well.

here's the dragon from reign of fire. the head looks kinda weird, but i like the wings.

His heart beat softly under the bright almost glowing robes as he inhaled the sick, moist air. Standing up, and realizing that the stiffness in his legs were no dream, he stretched into an awkward kicking position, and then sat back down on the roof-top. Looking out into the west for the first time in what he assumed to be hours, he found a large ruby-red sun, almost yawing as it led over the mountains. Another, almost fascinated look to the east bore nothing more than the stone jungle of roof-tops, most of which he was even with, though, there were a few. Crossing up his legs into an Indian type position, and looking upwards in awe, he began to truly believe he felt what it was like to be…free. They twinkled softly in the black sky, that warmed to a pinkish red the farther west he looked. They were small shiny dots that reminded him of the time he had given a small boy just a training sword. The boys eyes filled with joyous flame, and then promptly slapped him in the head with it. Sadly, that boy is somewhere else now, he had soon wondered off after realizing that his “powers” as he liked to call them, should only be used to help people, instead of the selfish demons that taunted him on the practice field. After several years of training…they boy was powerful, and had to be punished often for random acts of terror that he would often inflict on the other students of the academy. And so, soon, he was banished. Who knew what he had done, or where we was. Stretching out his legs in a monumental effort to get comfortable left him realizing that his thoughts had strayed, and once again looked up, and spied upon a think purple nebula that filled most of the muffle of the view. And the rich, bluish moon left him wanted to be free for real, without the dreams, he was growing weary of simply dreaming. For, he longed to not be on this house top with orders to kill someone, something,( he was told he would know when he saw it) he longed to be far away, in a small field with a warm camp fire, and maybe a small companion, he wished for it to be a women, a nice looking one, one with little clothing, but how often does that happen? Though, he knew any companion would do for him, as long as he could talk to someone. And maybe he could have a tent, or, no, sleep under these same stars, maybe, slapping a bug from time to time until eventually just…falling away into dreamy unconsciousness. Who knew what kind of life that would be. So amazing, just as the stars were. Though, this longing, this dreaming at least left him with something, a small residue of hope that outlined his day to day life that he lived and breathed the fumes of life. Oh, to dream. And with all these thoughts that went blandly, almost, poetically through his mind, he forgot to take a breath in. Doing so, he knew. The time was here. Like a plague, the evil washed over him, his arms and legs begging to fold up and disappear. Dread ran down his body, his already grim face turning into a distraught frown, and cold, almost burning tears began to run down his withered features. Reaching back, he grabbed a silver tipped arrow, and bowed his head to pray as he knoched it onto the firm bowstring. His target was near, the standing hairs on the back of his neck said so, and, his right hand taking a break to wipe a burning tear from his grizzly face, he saw. The target was no more than fifty feet away, and, hunching down for some reason, hopefully in pain. The figure was messing with something that laid tucked deep under his pitch black robes, and after a while, he patted down his robes, once a again fiddled with the waist of this cloak, and began to move, and here is where he found his chance. Lifting up the bow to eye level, time began to go still, and, his heart began to race even faster under the fine silk of his robes. Setting the aim, and double checking as if he didn’t want to make the shot, fired, and waited. A tear formed, and his hand quickly moved to wipe it away, when the sound struck. It was loud and magnificent in every way, and a smile appeared on his face. The arrow had struck, but looking up, the figure was still there, and wooden remains laid in a pile next to a building that the figure danced in front of the figure. Cursing slightly, and noticing the figure begin to turn, he thrust out his arms, and small beads of bright energy emitted from them. Pulling his arms toward him, and taking in the energy, his mine went blank, and a slight fuzziness washed over him. As if his entire body had fallen asleep at once, his now fuzzy, almost drunk mind forced one of his hands down into the quiver than laid less than a foot from where he stood. Smiling slightly, and feeling nothing as he pulled out an arrow, he knew, the figure, it couldn’t see him. Blending in with his environment perfectly, he pulled back the newly knoched arrow, and took aim, though his mind couldn’t quite perceive as it once could, before the spell. Taking careful aim, he released the shot, and now relished the seeming stop of time, as the arrow moved un wavered by the force time had against it. Soaring perfectly once again, a new sound rang out, and a smile stretched across his face, as the figure jumped back as if to avoid the arrow. Assuming that this was what he had done the first time, he had aimed back a little, and as the figure jerked it’s legs into motion, and kicked him back, he found himself dead in the center of his aim. A bone splintering crack filled the night air, and he knew, he had hit his target. The figures knees buckled, and held tight to the arrow that protruded sickeningly from his arm. It reared back, a grimace tattooed on its face. It screeched the death call of some foreign creature that lived several countries away. Stepping back and nearly tripping on the small leather bag that laid heavily behind him. Food and the sorts. Balancing himself out and cursing slightly under his breath, the screech stopped, and stillness ruled the air for several breathless seconds. Suspension building up in his chest, and a deep depression washing over him, a voice rang out in the night air.
“Face me! Face…FACE ME! COME ON GOODIE BOY! COME GET ME IF YOU THINK YOUR GODS ARE SO POWERFUL! FACE ME LIKE THE MAN I KNOW YOUR NOT!”
Anger replacing suspension, he shifted around in his robes, and gasped, but soon sighed, the sword was there, hidden under several folds of bright green cloth. Looking to his right, a small pipe ran down the side of the building that he made a small camp on. That would be his way down. Taking a deep breath and pushing away the fear that he had been taught so well to ignore, he took a few nervous steps foreword, then broke out into a run when he heard the cackling laugher emerge from his apprehension.
“SCARED BOY?”
His frown morphing into what seemed to him to be an immortal scowl, he bent down, grabbed the pole hard, and held his breath. This wasn’t going to fun. Realizing a move, he let go, he eased his way down onto the ledge, hanging by his hands, he removed one from the wall, and placed it hard on the iron pipe. In one swift move, he took the other hand, and wrapped his fingers around the pole, and at that point, gravity kicked in. Wind screaming past his ears, he was in a state of constant fear, but as he pushed it back away, his feet hit the ground with too much impact, leaving him sprawled on the ground, and moaning slightly.
Dull pain running up his legs, and a mind numbing headache beginning to appear above his brow, he began the complex structure of standing. Placing his arms firmly on the ground, and pushing up, he hefted his weight to the standing position, the dull pain growing worse from the weight that had been put upon them.
Turning around, and facing the small corner that would lead to the ally that it stood at the end of, he took a step foreword, and a small thought went through his mind.
‘Is tonight a good night to die?’
‘Why sure it is, any night is a good night to die.’
Nodding in a agreement to the thought, he rounded the corner, and stopped, still pushing fear away. In a low grumble, an almost hoarse voice because of the absence of speaking.
“I don’t fear you mongrel.” The words came out dry, almost silent as it’s beady red eyes stared him down.
A grin appearing solemnly on its face, it spoke again. “You don’t eh? And why not? Because you and your gods think you can defeat mine and me? Heh, you little fly…you’ll learn what fear is, if it’s the last thing you do.”
And with that, a small blade emerged from its waist. Shinning and tainted, it flashed in the air, and was quickly concealed behind it as its legs clamped together, and its head bowed.
“Come fight me…”
Apprehension welled up inside of him, as the signals were sent to run, but no reaction followed. Beginning to sweat again, he tried, but his legs wouldn’t move, nothing was working. At last, after forever, he began a smooth trot towards his enemy, his own blade flashing in the air. And as he charged, he wondered.
‘When did he draw his blade?’
He didn’t know, and he was sure that it wouldn’t matter the least as his life was put on the line.
Feet pounding, and heard following the same beat, he made it out of the dark ally, and came into the stone path. The harder surface making a louder step, a sound that reverberated in his ears, and stole his attention away from the matter at hand. He knew he would probably die, though, he found comfort in this, and as he brought the hefty weight of silver down upon the foes left shoulder, he realized that the foe had not looked up from its daze at the ground, and as the dull thud of blade on down rang out, drowning the now silence steps, he looked down, and realized, the ground was falling away.