[starfred24]

Username: starfred24
Name: Diamond Fire, Fire for short
Gender: female
Story: told from Diamond Fire's perspective

When I woke up for the first time, everything around me was black and as cold as stone. There was no one else around, just me and the darkness. Creeping forwards I started to see the light of day, dragonflies and flowers, waterfalls a cliffs. My fur was a beautiful white with some yellow diamonds on it. I paced around this sort of bowl place when suddenly I heard voices. I pricked my ears and looked around, then some hands clasped around my neck, I tried to fight back but they had put a steel collar around my neck with a chain on the end. They used the chain to yank me into a box and then everything went all dark again.
I lay down, listening to what they were saying, things like "I guess we got us a fearsome beast!" and "he'll do well in any war!" idiots I thought, I am a girl and there was no way they were sending me to war. By the time I had stopped moving I was hungry, very hungry. They stuffed me in this arena thing that had fake humans with swords and armour. They wanted me to attack those peices of card board but, I just sat in the middle. Then they threw some meat in, I was of like a lighning bolt to eat it.
Three months later they did send me to war. Fighting and snarling I permenantly got my beautiful white fur blood stained.
Extra: She is soooooo adorable! But if you mean extra like aceories to add then the steel collar and chain

[SpartanAmethyst]

Sorry about that, I forgot to post the rest of my story. I'll post it as soon as I get home :B I can post art tomorrow

[PPr:Kut]

Username:

KyuubiHiro

Name:

Wicker the Bloodrage

Gender:

Male

Story:

Let me begin with a small fact that may or may not surprise you daring readers. I'm not really.....alive. And I'm not your typical depressed kid who writes in diaries with the metaphoric saying of "feeling dead". No no no. I am quite literally dead. Well, undead is a bit more appealing. Why aren't I rotting, brainless, and acting all zombie like? First off, brains give me stomach aches. I much prefer more tender organs like hearts or lungs. Secondly, you could say I carry a bit of a curse. I don't know if I've been granted eternal life or something, but I know I have died and seen the light, yet I walk about as if I never did die. I still breathe, I still feel hunger and thirst, as well as emotions like happiness and confusion. So, maybe I'm undead and cursed, or I hallucinated about the entire death ordeal. Either way, I'm infamous. And quite frankly, it's way too enjoyable to give up.

If there's anything that fills me with so much joy that I would squeal like a piglet, it's the screams and terror of people who know of me. Wicker the Bloodrage I'm called. They fear me for being a mass murderer, and it's a well known fact that I enjoy it with all of my heart and....nope, not sure if I have a soul. Wicker isn't even my real name. My actual real name? I'd rather kill you with spite then tell you; and I've only ever killed somebody out of spite once. I have other nicknames, and I know I have a bit of a fan-club. Honestly it's group of three young Terror Weavers that think they could pull up to my standards. Honestly, they look tasty if anything. But with my luck, they'd probably smile with joy if I ate them. Where's the fun in that? None at all. So I keep the alive, and slip away from them. They aren't the brightest beavers I've met, but then again, I've met their parents, and they really take a "chip" off the old block. Get it? Because I called them beavers?......I thought it was funny.

Anyways, I guess you all probably want to know how I got this name and why I'm "undead". Long story short, I enjoy creating terrors for anybody with enough fear filling their hearts, and I don't know about the undead part. But if I really have to tell you, prepare for some boring history. My life began with a horrible prologue chapter to find out my mother was killed because of me. That being said, I lived with my father who only kept me around because of some dying will baloney that my mother said. Otherwise, my Dad was a really spiteful of me. I'd get the common hit or beating every now and then because i deserved it something. Back when i was younger, it hurt. Nowadays, I laugh about it. Speaking of my younger days, I did run away one time to avoid my old man's claw, and I ran into this beautiful female. She had blue flowing fur, like the ocean. Her eyes were a golden stardust, and her touch was softer than a pillow. One could say I was in love. Others would, and still, call me insane.

But I have always been problematic. Back then, I was afraid of love because I didn't really know how to comprehend it. I tried to get away from her, but she always had this alluring sensation about her. I always kept looking at her from a distance, admiring her, yet still afraid of what love is. But on a sunny morning, she showed me that love was safe, it was alright. So I accepted her love, and she accepted my novice love skills. For once in life, I thought I was happy. But this is where it gets good. I had been with her for nearly a full circle of the seasons, and my old fart finally snapped. He said to me he missed his wife. So he was going to deliver me to the underworld, then he would take his own life and join my mother, where they'd never be able to see me. Back then, it was a fearful response, and I killed him. It was then that I discovered true happiness. With a toothy smirk, I went off to find something to kill. I found a little bunny. And let me tell you. when I hunted, I just did a grab and bite. This time, I went a little overboard. But it made me realize my passion. I wanted things to die. But not all things, just those that I feared, those I knew I could manipulate, or those that ticked me off.

I didn't want her to be my victim, so I ran away to find a pack of wolves. I tested my new-found hobby on them, and those that survived were those that surrendered. I became the alpha pack leader. After the pack grew a bit, and they grew over their fear, I simply helped their lost family and friends by delivering the rest of the pack to them. Time after time, I became fearless, and i became a complete psycho. The name "Wicker the Bloodrage" began spreading like wildfire. Time after time after time, I would seek out, instill fear, and wipe out those out of raw amusement. Fun and games came to an end when I met back up with the female I fell in love with. And what did she do? Well, let's say she turned the tables on me, and pulled a Bloodrage move. She manipulated me into loving her, and when we were ready to mate, she grasped my neck with his sharp fangs and pulled the plug.

My mind went blank with a bright white light. I saw images of my life and the lives of those I've met and killed, streaming by as fast as rain would fall from the sky. I felt like I was spinning, round and round. For the first time in a long time, I was truly afraid. If I could scream, I would have been yelling "I'm not ready to die yet!" over and over. And suddenly, it vanished, and I was back to looking at a tree, with my "mate's" paws near my head. She said some gibberish about hoping I would return one day, reincarnated into a better being. She started to walk off, but I stood up. I wasn't sure if I felt rage or amusement. But I laughed. She was shocked to see me still alive. I was too, but it made me think of what I could do. I padded towards her, my toothy grin out like a jagged danger. I could see fear in her eyes, as if she was sure she had slain me. She closed her eyes, as if ready to accept the pain. But i simply gave her a nuzzle and a lick. Further shocked, she stared at me with a gaping mouth. I truly still love her, and I told her that. But I wasn't the one for her. She needed a mate that would commit his life to hers. But I also thanked her for allowing me to look at life differently. I never told her what I would do, but I knew that whatever the heck happened, her wishes came true.

Nowadays, I don't manipulate others. I don't torment. I simply kill when bored. I even found a song that suited my needs; that I sing when in the killing mood. I wouldn't ever laugh at a death again. A smile at most, but I lost my obsession with murder and I simply do it as a hobby. It's more fun than marbles I can tell you! My life isn't in shambles, it's in ashes I like to make mountains with. An optimistic murderer, how about them apples? This is only the juicy parts of the steak of my tale. For now, I will continue to pass my thanks to all that I slay, and maybe one day, I'll retire and find someone like her. A mate. Until then....Wicker the Bloodrage, about to kill some beavers, out.

Extra:

Excitement abounds
I almost can't wait
Relax, I don't want your baby
I already ate
Though I do tend to generally kill
Kill things that don't fight back

I see this village
What does it hold?
What shall I butcher them with
Fire or cold?
Running from me sure you'd think
'He's a pathological bloodthirsty homicidal maniac!'

I'd kill kittens and puppies and bunnies
I'd maim toddlers and teens and then more
You see a wife? I see a widow
But what then?
Can't you see?
What I'd kill for!

I want to incinerate and decapitate
I want to melt
Want to melt some faces
Watching the peasants...what do they call it?
Ahh...grieve!

I suppose that being undead there's not much to life
A soul is needed for loving...feeling...
How does this all not make me...what's that word again?
Heave!

You've nowhere to hide
Nowhere to run
Your village will burn like the heart of the sun!
With infinite glee
It's going to be me
That slaughters the world!

How could I glare into these eyes
And then not stab them?
How could I stare at their loss
And then not laugh?

I'd cut him in half
Then I'd graft
His head back onto his shoulders
Or after I'd lop it
I'd make a puppet
On top of a staff!

I am a lord that is sometimes bored
Have some urges and need to fulfill them
After my mayhem I simply don't...what's the word?
Care!

The stench in the air
The smell of the gore
The carnage far greater than any war
My legacy
Death becomes...me!
I'll slaughter the world

((Credit of this song "Slaughter Your World" goes to BlindFerret of Youtube, and to the creators of the Internet Comic "Looking For Group". I do not own this, nor have I had any affiliation with it's creation aside from being a die-hard fan.))

[rax]

Deadline extended to March 5.