I'm so glad to be back, I've missed all of you. I tried making one when I got back but something was wrong with the Oekaki for me. >_< Oh, well... It seems to be fixed now. (:
So shall we get the show on the road now?
For this one I want you to actually put effort into, please. So I want to see unique names and creativity.
You are going to have the choice to either make art or write a poem. -Poem must be an original. Art must be made by you(Oekaki or paper).-
I'm also going to want to see a short story from you. It could be anything you want it to be; as long as it has to do with this Kilid.
[code]Username:
Kilid's Name:
Height: 18 hh
Gender: Male
Short Story:
Art/Poem:
[/code]
(You can change up the form and make it look all pretty and stuff If you wish. :B I actually courage you to do so; just don't change gender and height.)
[color=#FF0000][u]Don't:[/u][/color]
-Order art
-Use color ins
-Steal each others Ideas
[u][color=#008000]How to get extra points:[/color][/u]
-Multiple drawings
-Get creative with your form
-Do both poem and art
-Unique names
Now don't get all worried your not going to be able to get it done. I'm giving you at least in till March to get it done. Judgement day is uncertain at the moment, but I will give a two day notice.[/strike]
[size=140]Winner is: -3B-[/size]
[quote="-3B-"][list][i][b]Username:[/b][/i] -3B-
[i][b]Kilid's Name:[/b][/i] Duma
[list][i]Named after the angel prince of dreams, archangel of silence and the stillness of death.[/i][/list]
[i][b]Height:[/b][/i] 18 hh
[i][b]Gender:[/b][/i] Male[/list]
[i][b][size=125]Short Story:[/size][/b][/i]
[list]Duma stood at the edge of the cliff, his gaze distant as he stared out over the slightly greening valley below him. It was the height of spring's return, when the birds and insects dared to brave the tundra long enough to breed and gather food before another long, cold stretch of winter. The bears, too, would be out, if they had reached mainland before the ice melted. Duma preferred not to think of them.
It had been a rough winter; the flocks of birds were thinned to the bare bones of the birds' societies, and the few reindeer that had plucked themselves from the woods were shaking from hunger. Duma, too, felt the gnawing in his stomach, though he was not nearly as affected; he had survived mostly on stolen berries from squirrel and chipmunk hovels and hoards, gorging himself on anything he could find while the rodents themselves snoozed on - or lay frozen, already dead. He hated stealing, but what was a squirrel going to do with a stockpile that filled his own huge stomach three times over? It was a trick of the desperate, as his dam had always said. He'd held that lesson close to heart since she had fallen victim to a bear's trap.
He shook his great head, aware of the melting ice that had caught in his mane overnight. It was finally melting, meaning that the ground below would soon be soft and nearly impossible to trek over - and he would have to reach the pond on the other side before nightfall. With a heavy sigh, he trundled down, each hoof settling into the old, worn path without hesitation. Experience had brought him the apparent gift of flight, allowing him to glide down the rocky slope with barely a break in his step or jolt to jostle his posture. He held his head high - royally so; a habit since he had been a young colt, so sure of himself. He had since lost the attitude, but not the stature.
The grass was springy as it fell underhoof, perking back up almost immediately after he had passed by, leaving only the imprint of his passage in the slush that continued to melt under the warming glow of the sun. The snow would be gone before he reached the halfway point.
It was then that he heard the noise. He stopped mid-step, one hoof, raised and ready to move forward as another's tip brushed the ground, leaving the last step behind. There. That was it. Down. By the budding clover.
Bright eyes widened in horror, spying the little ball of black and yellow. Bees weren't common in the tundra, and the few hives that survived weren't the worst of the species, but Duma's heart pounded all the same as he backed away and reared, letting out a distressed cry. [i]Fear. Please, no. No, no, no. Get away. Get away.[/i] He bolted, thundering past the innocently confused insect.
Bees were one childish little fear that he had never escaped from.[/list]
[i][b][size=125]Art/Poem:[/size][/b][/i]
[list][img]http://i833.photobucket.com/albums/zz256/Triple-B-13/BEE.png[/img][/list][/quote]
sounds good to me. I appreciate artists that do that. I myself will often do one gender if the other is extremely high to balance it out.