Enkaharal

Flowering beauty. Withers at darkness' touch. Leaving naught but ash.

Nick was laying on the cliff near his home. It overlooked a large lake surrounded by trees on all sides. It was here that he and Sai lived as well as some of their friends. It was February and the air was cool, although they were too far south for snow. The border collie scratched idly at his fur as he stared out over the lake. "Feeling lazzzy today Nick?" Came the familiar hissing sound of the dog's friend Enk, a viper visiting from up north in order to escape the cold. "Yeah, I don't really feel like doing anything. Besides somethings been on my mind so I can't really concentrate." Nick answered with a sigh. "Care to ssshare?" Enk asked coi

Character Profiles: Mokk Age: 42 Height: 7'8" Gender: Male Race: Orc. Mokk is an orc-in-exile though that is mostly because of his tribe being completely wiped out by the Harkonnan empire. Sadly even before that Mokk was alienated by his tribe for his unusual behaviour. Orcs found in the Harkonnan are known for being especially brutal in their raids Mokk on the other hand is unusually pacafistic...for a Harkonnan orc that is. Mokk only fights in self defense and will often go out of his way to avoid conflict in the first place. When a fight can't be avoided Mokk has shown that he will spare any life he can afford to spare. For an orc tribe

Character profiles: Conya Smythe Age: 22 Height: 5'7" Gender: Female Race: Human Conya is a survivor by nature. Conya was driven out of society because of the fear generated by her ability to manipulate crows. Although things started with just avoidance it slowly escalated into an unwritten exile which eventually turned into a full blown man hunt. Because of this irrational fear that has gripped the people Conya is forced to survive on whatever she can scrape together. Though widely seen as a criminal by the country at large there are still some places to which Conya can retreat, one of which is the Angry Pumpkin Pub known for it's unorthodo

All the words I speak are distorted, like the light seen through clear glass walls. My emotions are shaded by tinted windows and made to feel false. Imprisoned within a cold, clear, little glass box. Here for all to see, and none to comprehend.

Tales of the Wandering Merchant: Luke and the Frosty Fairy. It was another cold winter night, an old man wearing red cloths and cape sat by the fireplace of a family's house. The family had allowed the strange old man to stay the night since a storm was brewing. The family's three young boys approached the stool on which the old man sat. "Excuse me." The youngest of the boys said shyly and the old man turned to face him. The old man had a long brown beard that was shot through with hairs of shimmering silver and his face was wrinkled and weathered. The old man's deep brown eyes gave one the sense that he was peering at their soul and it was