Hmm practicing is hard and it varies from one person to the other! For me, I just try different shapes and pens. Maybe I wanna draw a dragon’s head as round! Blocky! Oval! Or make try drawing my dragon with a bearded dragon as a model! Maybe I feel like using a mechanical pencil to draw, or maybe a gel pen (which is very fun!). I personally try to have models or examples in mind, but to try not to trace as much as possible. When drawing humans and dragons, I experiment with the type of eyes I want: wide anime eyes, small realistic eyes, etc. For humans, look at pictures and fan art to see which hairstyle seems fun and easy for you to draw
Hmm Im highly learning towards assassin! Lets make this crazy: Cobra sent in to possibly kill Essence’s assassin, as the assassin was a threat to the IceWings and SandWings somehow. And perhaps Essence knows about Cobra and sent in her’s to stop Cobra
Inception at its finest. An assassin and assassin meant to kill each other. Or not
(Sorry if Im destroying your part of the story making. Feel free to share your ideas! :0)
No no, it’s fine. This is honestly my favorite part of RPing, having the ability to actually build off ideas. I think that actually would work! Do you want me to start with Cobra’s journey to Sanctuary, because Cobra mainly works out of Possibility.
Marble Stone was quite normal for a Sanctuary dragon. Or at least, what he thinks
Going through the quiet streets of Sanctuary, he felt almost tensed because he wasnt sure when his potential enemy could strike. There were so many times when an assassin would be sent for him, only for him to stop them in time before his untimely fate. The streets were so quiet, even one of the many scavenger pets’ noises would have startled him. But Marble reminded himself to not be worried
After all, the buildings in Sanctuary were quite tall and large for regular dragon houses. The city itself was big like Possibility, making it quite hard to find certain dragons if you were new. And Marble Stone hoped his colored scales would cause confusion for who is who; most palace staff of the Sanctuary Leader polished their scales in white and blue, to mimic IceWings and to all look like a set army
As Cobra looked around, she realized how quite lost she was in this city. Sure, it was the same size as Possibility, but that hardly counted towards anything if she were to hunt down her new target. She kept her hood up, making sure to blend with crowds looking for any dragons who stood out.
Marble Stone walked around his homeplace, as empty-handed as ever and without wielding any sort of weapon. The only item on him was a cheap replica of Essence’s own necklace — silver chain with a large, rectangular amethyst stone — which most of Sanctuary had anyway. As much as it was a knockoff to him, he cherished it just as he cherished Sanctuary’s savior
Outside that, he should be thinking where to go. Outside Sanctuary and flee before someone mysterious can get him? Or go inside a shop or bazaar, hoping whoever wanted him was public-shy and wouldnt dare to attack him
Or he coukd go back to Essence’s main building. That could work too
Cobra noticed some light reflecting in her eyes, and saw a dragon, walking with an obvious knockoff of some other necklace. She smiled with some glee as she might of potentially found her target. She quickly swiped a pearl necklace off a dragon in the crowd, and a feathery scarf from a random Skywing walking next to her. She pulled her hood off, and stuffed it into one of her bags. She purposefully walked into the dragon, than said with a haughty high class celebrity tone,
“Watch where you’re going, peasant! You almost ruined my beautiful scarf!”
Marble Stone flinched a little, but then stood straight up. The white MudWing then looked at the dragon, and thought, Peasant? Hah! I would crack that dragon’s skull with my strong tail for such insult. he boasted in his head, but instead said, “Sorry about that.” he pranced away, his green eyes looking slightly back to make sure that dragon doesnt come near again
Cobra said, but silently was grinning like mad. That’s my target she thought without a doubt. That necklace proves it, I’ve seen an exact one on Essence, his supposed employer. She thought, as she ditched her disguise, and again dived into the crowds and followed Marble Stone, mildly enjoying the cat and mouse game.
The crowds in Sanctuary were usually bustling, but no place was more bustling than Sanctuary’s own bazaar. It had a plethora of stalls that attracted dragons, as well as stages for dragons presenting their scavenger friends — from boasting talented agility to showing off their scavenger’s crafting skills. Entertainment and goods here seemed to have attracted a greater crowd than never before!
Marble Stone weaved past the civilians despite his larger than usual size. Occasionally there would be an authorized guard — with the same uniform of white scales — guarding the area and he would smile at them
Cobra was in the bazaar. As much as she wanted to stop and marvel at all the variety of goods, especially observe the scavengers, she had a job to do first. More guards were in this area, and she instantly calculated that she would be heavily outnumbered. Unless... she thought, and quickly lit a stall on fire. It was an unoccupied stall, so she was sure no dragon would get severely injured. That should attract the guards.
Many of the guards perked their head up, and automatically headed straight to the area on fire. A couple others escorted nearby shoppers to safer areas, while the IceWing guards used their frostbreath to battle the flames
Marble Stone swung his head back as he stopped in his tracks. A fire? At the bazaar? Odd
(thanks! my friend drew my OC as apart of our art trade)
“I honestly have no clue. Usually I try to get rid of threats who come for me, but you are just a kid so I guess not this time,” Marble Stone sighed our, looking back at the open wounds. Maybe he should shuffle away and go to a stall for an antidote. “Whatever”
The burly dragon nodded. After all, his name was a mouthful. “Sure thing.” Guess we somewhat know each other then. Briiiilliant
Up above, just as the dragons of Sanctuary were talking to one another, the sunny skies of the dragon world got darker and darker. From afar — and getting closer — the blue and bright sky was slowly turning dark and shadowy, as if blanketed by a oil pollution from above. Or, in the most ordinary way to describe it, as if it was getting nighttime early...
“Cool. So, we should probably get out of here so nobody suspects we started the fire, even though I started it.”
She said, as she turned to watch what was happening. The fire was almost out and contained, and guards were plentiful. That’s when the sky caught her eyes. It turned dark quickly, and unnaturally at that.
“Um, do you guys regularly experience black skies?”
Marble Stone, though attacked by such unlikely dragob minutes ago, nodded. “Sure. Lets leave before anyone finds out anything.” And then we can discuss about our unfortunate situation! Or I can present Cobra to our leader and show her that the SandWing is really friendly!
Upon hearing the dragon’s concerns, Marble Stone tilted his head. “Dark... skies? Not that I know anything weird here. The only thing strangely weird is our leader herself”
Thats when he looked up. The skies were turning dark, blotting out sunlight and allowing the stars to twinkle. The moons shone even brighter now thanks to the darkness
Cobra said, as she turned to leave. Whatever was happening, she didn’t want to get particularly involved in. But plenty of dragons would help you and your town. The sympathetic part of her head said to her.
I understand that! Dont worry about it; similar things happen to me when I cringe at my art from like, when I was ten or twelve. Eek!!
Awww thanks! Honestly, though everyone’s art may be shabby at first, we all grow and get better later on. Gosh, the old days when I remember most of us having art pieces that werent as great as today! The memories aaa
yep! I think whenever I improved a bit, my old art suddenly looked terrible,,, I'll get around to making the page soon, it's also a bit of a retrospect thing where i'm trying to redo one of my oldest characters.
Its okay to feel that way! A couple of us may become mods in the future. Once we are like, college-aged like most of our current moddos. Its a long way, but most of us will be ready by then! In the meantime, we all should know that we are important to those who care about us :)
Im making a new MudWing OC! Theres no set appearance, but can you make a MudWing of any color, but also has thistle/lavender colors somewhere on him (not main color!!)? Maybe with an earring or wing guards, idk. Depends on if you can do either!
Nope! No need to put that on my ref! I plan on making the appearance public and for others to copy, so no need. Im chill with people who want to use the same design for an OC who doesnt exist in my universe :)
Hate to admit it, but yeah you did it wrong. But no biggie!! Dang, probably my wording or the example image probably didnt load or wasnt clear enough. Are you able to erase the attempted wing guard and send the ref to me afterwards?
Hmm may you do a fullbody MudWing with the color of #2A2A2A (Im looking for a rock-colored MudWing) and #369D69 eyes? You can choose similar colors as long as they arent contrasting or unfitting to the colors i chose
Thanks for stopping by my wall! And yes, puberty sucks and can complicate a lot of things. Still, I wouldnt call it an excuse for crappy behavior at times. Same goes for depression and mental state, etc. but thats okay!! Growing up is hard, and I get that
Nothing happening right now. Its night time and Im just chilling on my devices
Oh? How so? Id like to hear why!! I cant judge them myself, since I never had a dire survival situation. I never suffered from war or a plane crash or apocalypse, so I cant really judge how “unrealistic” they are. Have you ever been in a survival situation?
Id say most survival stories just vary, you know? Kinda in the same sense as school life; its different for everyone and everyone reacts to it a different way. Sometimes people’s lives are changed; sometimes they arent. Ill respect anyone who gets bitten by a shark, because honestly, I too scared to be in the same waters even though sharks are cool animals
Ah, I get it now. And yeah, fiction! Fiction is fun but the best when written by someone know experiences survival beforehand. Im not saying ALL of them should be like that; even someone super safe can pull off survival fiction! It just depends how creative and down-to-earth one can be
I love fantasy and ghost stories, even though Im bad at supernatural. Urban fantasy is the greatest type of fantasy — its fun to write imaginary stuff in a modern setting! Ghost stories arent my strong spot, but the closest I can get with “ghost” in it are shadow people. Im really interested in shadow people
By ghost I mean... oh well, read this. Its not dystopian, but...
(it was made in word, some of the italics didn't transfer)
An old man sits on his porch, rocking gently as the wind tears through the trees, and the sunset fades. He said he would tell a story, now here he is, telling one to his grandchildren. He smiles wistfully, wishing he could get away without one.
“You want a story, hmm... I have one about the owls?”
A chorus ensues, as his audience jostles for proximity to his weathered chair.
So, it begins...
This is not that kind of ghost story. There are no haunted mansions, no “dark and stormy” nights. It does not end with a valiant hero. It ends without a moral. Without a meaning, really. Of course, if you stray into the woods too often, perhaps it does.
True, there is a night. True, it is raining. However, the waning moon shone bright, and it was the kind of rain that gave hope to a little town, smothered by drought.
In the nameless town that stood at the edge of the woods, at the edge of the ocean, there lived a boy. A completely ordinary boy. There is no past haunting him, no terrible deeds unspoken at the edge of other folks’ vision. He owned a cat. His tanned skin and brown hair never talked to the observant. The only thing remotely interesting about him was the look on his face when people talked about the great sea that was swallowing the land.
He was angry. The sea took away money, which took away farmland, which took away money, so he had no money to buy medicine for his sister,
He was certainly not the proper subject for a story”
The storyteller pauses. He asks if he should go on. The avid listeners around him refute this decision. They want to hear a story, and a story they will get.
The boy was also mad at the woods, but for a different reason. The woods were haunted, and liked to trap innocent souls, it was told. He knew, with a grim certainty, his sister would die, yet never to escape the pines and the ancient oaks.
Others had similar stories.
‘I once saw the ghost of the shipwreck, the great captain with his bad eye,’ some would tell, yet others spoke of more halting things.
Ira Shan spoke of monsters. Great things that chased her from the woods as a child.
‘The Kraken, almost certainly. If not, the goblins. There’s something in those woods, children, best you remember.’
The boy believed none of this. He was unfettered by their stories. No doubt crossed his mind. He wanted to find the treasure of the dead captain, to get enough money for medicine, and then move far, far away.
Late Sunday, as the sun dipped low over the rocky, mountainous horizon, the sky a vibrant blood red, his sister took a turn for the worse. Her fever unbearable, her breathing raspy and labored. So, he ran into the woods, a desperate hope.
He ran away from the town at the edge of the woods slowly getting swallowed by the sea. He jogged into the massive, foreboding woods.
He ran, though the branches appeared as sabers, posed to strike. He ran, though is began to rain, grey on blue on brown. He ran, even though the ebony tide of the night was rushing towards him. He ran, even though the owls hooted at his back.
He needed the treasure. That is what he told himself.
What he really wanted, though, was to escape the house at the time of his sister’s death. He knew it would come, and he wanted to be far away when it did, kept away by guilt he could not save ger.
Maybe, but he was in the woods, lost and alone. Dreadfully lonely, he at last stopped, in a clearing lit by the moon.
As his feet slowed to a trembling patter, something in the woods started to sing. High, lilting, and unearthly. He fell back involuntarily, thinking of the soul-snatching oaks.
‘Oh, lonely traveler, seek not what you find
The woods will keep you away
As you anxiously check your behind
From the path you do stray
So, sail in your mind to other places
Beyond this dying shore
As we wrap you in sweet embraces
You’ll rise, nevermore’
He realized, with sudden horror, that it was not the forest chanting this morbid story, as he had expected.
It was the owls.
They flocked to the trees, hundreds of them. Elegant black beasts, others colored like the forest floor, yet others golden or white, but all with great shining eyes like headlights.
It was a Gathering of Owls, the boy knew, deep inside him.
Fear filled the boys head, but he was rooted to the spot. He could not run. The owls had foretold his death, yet he could not walk away from the avian prophets, no matter how he strained. Beads of sweat broke on his forehead.
‘Join us now in a Gathering
Like the days of old
As we take you upon our wings
Your story shall be told’
The largest owl landed merely inches away from him and hooted into the clouded sky. His grey wings pierced the cold air, menacing and eerily beautiful.
It grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hoisted him far above the trees, in what seemed an eternity, though in truth a few seconds. The cold night air stung his cheeks and frostbitten lips. His fingers began to turn blue from the cold. Still, the owls carried him higher. The rain fell on his head, drenching his fair brown hair. It began to pour. Lightning pierced the cold. Still, he went higher. To where, he did not know.
Above the clouds they went. His legs went numb, his face was vapid and pale. A haze of unconsciousness fell upon his mind.
As the sky began to darken further, as the air went cold, a look of unutterable, glorious joy filled his slack expression. It was only then he weakened enough to fall from the mighty talons of the largest owl.
His sisters name was Sophia. She lived. The owls wanted a sacrifice, and they got one, just not the one they wanted. In a way, the boy saved his sister. His story was told, at last.
To you. Appreciate the gift of being the ones to satisfy such a prophecy.”
The old storyteller rocked in his squeaky antique maple chair, the sounds of rain against his shiny aluminum roof unbearably loud. His audience, his grandchildren, listened raptly to the tale, hoping for more.
“And so, it ends. Never venture into the woods. Never. Remember, the story doesn’t end where the book does.”
The children shuffle anxiously to their feet. One of them stares into the woods, not with fear, but curiosity, as if wondering about the story. The others give her a wide berth, the ones that aren’t looking at the old photograph titled, “Love, Sophia.”
The old man sits back and smiles lucidly, just barely awake, listening to the rain fall.
Thanks for being happy! Sometimes Im afraid someone might yell at me for making it public, since I know how some people can be quite picky and introverted about their refs. I thought itll be useful for those who love the designs when I eventually outgrow them :P
Its alright! No ref needed as of now! Thanks for dropping by my message wall :)
Go ahead! Though, I feel like no one might be able to see my blog often :P That blog just makes me feel safe (along with making others feel safe) so that no one gets angry if people randomly use the refs :)
Can you make a white NightWing with #590000 (maroon) scleras, #EA603C (dark orange) eyes + wings (with yellow firescales veins; he isnt firescales tho; and tints of orange (anywhere on white scales)? Its okay if you cannot use exact colors!