[black water]

i've had so much fun making some adopts for the community <3 hope you guys like this one!

to enter for this kalon, please tell me what their signature item/d&d item is! what item do they have that means the most to them? did they get it from someone close to them, or did they just find it at a local merchant's shop? you can describe it through one art piece or 600 words maximum.

this comp will end on august 1st @ 12pm EST



Code: Select all

username:
kalon name:
signature item:



edits
[s] shine, hair
[c] tail, fur
[uc] ears, pupils

[Foxghost]

username: Rosemoon
kalon name: Dead Dawg Glenvale
signature item: Smiley Face Pin
Wip

[Davidfluff]

username: davidfluff1019283
kalon name: W.I.P.
signature item:
W.I.P

[roelian]

█████████████████

username: roelian 34199
kalon name: ryker
signature item: the keys

The iron keys clank together as Ryker walks along the cells of the prison. It isn’t a very large jailhouse, but he almost wishes that it was. It would allow him more,,, fun. The ability to test the true limits of the keys.

”Be careful with forces that you don’t understand.”

The words of the old man echo in his mind but he grins past the toothpick he’s got clenched in his teeth. He doesn’t care. He wants to push as far as he can. He wants to see the limits of these keys. Wants to see the way the cells walls shift when he uses that special silver key mixed between the black iron on the large ring buckled to his waist. ‘Demonic forces at play’ the old man had warned him while Ryker had robbed him just because he could. ‘You don’t know what you’re playing with’. Ryker almost laughs at the memory. Just old ramblings of an old man trying to scare Ryker away from robbing him. Pathetic, really.

But it never kills them, no, Ryker is always certain not to let things get too far - though he’s still not sure how much control he truly even has over the key. The way he’s able to warp and shape whatever cell he places that key into in order to bring about what he considers a “more fitting punishment” than simple solitary time behind bars. Perhaps a twist of the key to the left, and the cell will fill with snakes. A right twist and insects will line the wall like paper. Maybe, for the particularly worst of criminals; he’ll jiggle the lock just right such that the floor will set their feet aflame should they try to get out of bed. A twisted game of “the floor is made of lava”

“You’re corrupt” the old man had spat at him as Ryker had taken his possessions and his horse too. “A sorry excuse for a sheriff.”

“And you’re a sorry excuse for an old man.” He’d said back with a shrug as he rode off, the old man fading gently into the dust behind him.

Rykers boots clunk against the floor and the prisoners there slink back into the shadows, pretending to sleep lest they rouse Ryker’s attention. They’ve been through more than enough of his games and don’t want to entice him any further. Even the hardest of criminals has cracked under his smirk and the rattle of their lock. There is a new prisoner here, though, one rumored to have taken out half of the next town over. Not that the crime particularly matters to Ryker. He’s long since passed any sort of “justice” reasoning for his actions.

“Sleep tight.” He says, a wicked grin across his face as he turns the key within the lock, staring at the prisoner in the same way that a cat would watch a cornered mouse. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite~”


█████████████████

[Kyar]

Incredible - marking!

[deerbroken]

Username: deerbroken + 641378
kalon name: wylan
signature item: a penny

Four men sit around a table, in the midst of a game of poker. Wylan sits among them, his expression forced into something neutral, trying to read the eyes of the others sitting with him. The sound of a coin being flipped breaks the silence, and it’s him who’s tossing it, a question asked to the coin in his mind. Will I win this hand?

The coin lands on tails in his hand when he catches it. “Fold,” he mumbles, tipping his head down as he puts his cards on the table. The pot is big but he’s come to learn not to ignore the coin’s predictions. When the round is over, the man directly across from him has two queens and a big grin on his face as he scoops the winnings over to his side.

He can’t remember how he came about it, the penny. He’d always had a habit of flipping coins, mostly just for fun, to see what chance says and if it’ll play out. It’s usually fifty-fifty, but this coin was different. It’s a little copper thing, one side adorned with a native american man in a war bonnet, and the other side reading in large text “one cent” with a wreath beneath it. The date for it stated 1876, not too old of a coin but old enough for him to have kept it at first.

After the coin had reached well over a hundred correct predictions he’d started to suspect something of it. If he believed in magic, he’d call it enchanted. Or maybe it’s blessed by God or some other character from religion. He doesn’t believe in those kinds of things, though, but with time he’d come to trust it. He’d learned the tricks about it, and frustrating though it is, only yes or no questions work. An open ended question causes the coin to land perfectly on its side, a declaration of denial to the question.

The next hand comes, and Wylan’s cards are terrible. He grimaces for a moment before he looks up, flips his coins a few times to act casual before he asks his question again.

Will I win this hand?

The coin lands on heads. He’s incredulous, but he follows through. It’s down between him and just one other man, who’s sweating under the pressure. The pot is big again but he’s bet most of his pile. “All in,” Wylan says, pushing his stack forward. The man huffs, staring at his cards, the table, his winnings.

He seems convinced he’s beat and he sighs, dropping his cards on the table. “Fold,” the other man says, and Wylan can’t help but smirk a little, taking it all for himself.

“Thank you very much,” Wylan says, and his smirk goes a bit wider. He flips his coin again for good luck, and then stands up, pushing his earnings into a satchel slung over his shoulder. “Nice game tonight, fellas. I’m out for the night.”

[Cyrano]

Username: Cyrano + 887402
Kalon Name: Simba Bracken [alias: lucky devil]
Signature Item: a fork

07/07/18XX
Simba Esquire Bracken IX

To cheat ‘necessity’
To steal, ‘the usual’
To rob, ‘alright’
To get caught, ‘a lapse in judgement’
To get no trial, ‘less than ideal’
To get locked in, ‘demeaning’
To get the wrong cake, ‘it ain’t natural’

“Civility is learned son, don’t let your innate wildness ruin a good cake slice, take this fork son and enjoy.”

I've had three last meals, all eaten with the same fork. Some would call it luck that I’ve made it this far, but I know the next meal is coming; to be eaten with the same fork, always on the same date. I look forward to it now; the moment when I am declared "Innocent" or I make myself innocent by picking the lock. Always on the 27th second of the 5th hour and 49th minute. Always on the seventh month on the seventh day. I sit in the cell waiting for them to bring the cake, my last meal, and of course it's never what I ask for, not the slice of red velvet. Always devil’s food instead, milk chocolate icing with milk chocolate pieces. I always take two and a half bites, never three; with the same silver fork.

Three meals ago, I was offered a fork to eat my cake, the last bit of civility I was to receive that day. You may consider it a strangers final kindness. I consider it sympathy, but either way I kept it with me. The final sentiment before meeting my demise. In my hair, twisted a few curls away from sight using the fork(my Goodluck charm), and suddenly I was “innocent” and standing on the steps of the jailhouse a self proclaimed free man.

At least the lock thought I was innocent enough to become a free man when I got to picking it. Thank you Western Justice!

But no luck and certainly no fork can keep me from a jail cell, I assure you, but it sure as hell can get me out. This fork picked the lock at seventh street brokerage, busted the rusted joint over in the cell on sixteenth street penitentiary, and picked two and a half bites of cake from a chocolate slice all in one day. At this point, I stay for cake out of courtesy. To repay the courtesy given to me, and maybe the day, the sheriff gets me my red velvet slice, I’ll pass on the fork to the next sorry sop who needs to pick a lock.

Sincerely,
Simba

[SilentMelody]

username: SilentMelody
kalon name:
signature item: Mark!!

[Osskiar]

This is such a perfect design hhh

username: Osskiar + 110667
kalon name: Paige
signature item: Horseshoe

Lucky horseshoes might be a myth but on the outskirts of the city you need all the luck you can get.


Another day another heist gone wrong, and now, face down in the dust Paige is left wondering if he'll ever get it. Maybe it's time to admit defeat, try and make it in the busy city; the idea isn't a pleasent one but it beats drunken brawls that are.... less than favourable. To be a feared outlaw is a weird dream to have, sure, but life would be so much easier if things just went his way.
A glint catches his eye, it's only for a second as the sun moved but it was enough. A horseshoe, half buried and bent lies next to Paige, probably thrown by one of the carthorses. It's nothing special, they're everywhere by the end of the day but something compells Paige to pick this one up. As he does, he remembers the tale of the monkey's paw. That getting what you want isn't always a good thing. But this isn't a paw it's a horseshoe so of course it isn't the same.

The shoe sits heavy in his bag as he enters the bar and everyone turns to look at him. They know somethings changed, it's definitely not because he just got kicked out of here twenty minutes ago and they wonder how he has the gall to come back.
No one moves , not when he saunters up to the bar or when he sits down to join the poker game. They move when the power goes out though. A chaotic blur of tails and paws as everyone tries to take advantage of the dark. It takes a tail to the face that sends him falling into the table he's at to make him remeber the prize pool. That's now sat right next to his nose. It takes some fumbling before he can come away with something other than cards but soon he feels it. A heavy sack of coin. He backpeddles towards where he thinks the door is, nearly falling through it and ending up back where he started.

What a weird power cut, it's a clear afternoon but even the light from the windows dimmed. Must be Paige's lucky day.

[black water]

closed, judging shortly!