[~IceFang~]

Am i allowed to say good luck?
Good luck

Trying not to get my hopes up, but heck theyre pretty XD

[QueenAxolotl]

Good luck everyone!

[Mint Chip]

I need to stop trying to judge competitions all at once pfft;;
so I actually read most of the forms before I closed the contest, but I did re-read all the forms.
And dudes, you guys are not only super creative but really great at quick story writing.
I love seeing creativity and passion in the forms I read through; which is why I ended up choosing the form I did.
All the forms were vastly different, which made this a hard competition to judge.

I did have one form that I just sort of liked above the others though,
and not even for the length of the form - but the legend created was beautiful.
It was told and written in a perfect folk tale legend style and really impressed me.

so congrats, _Alex_!

username;
_Alex_

name;
Curare

gender;
male

myth, legend, or theory on why their markings glow?
It is said that there once was a pack of Viscets so large and so strong that not one, but three Alphas were needed to lead. For centuries, this pack (known only as The Pack) thrived, hidden deep within the Amazon jungle. Everything changed though, when the white men invaded the land. Never before had The Pack seen humans with skin so pale. They were used to humans with skin as dark as the cocoa beans that grew on trees or no lighter than the bark of the great mangrove tree. And together, they lived peacefully. The viscets of the jungle and the dark skinned humans. But these humans, with their pale white skin and fair hair, were a different breed of human. Unlike the dark skinned, the pale faces were ruthless and viscous. They listened not to the song of the forest but rather to the song of their greed. Armed with sticks that shot lightning and blades sharper than a visclings claw, they rode beasts that were as fast as the fastest viscet and far stronger. For once, The Pack, was facing a threat they could not beat. So on the night of the blood moon, the Alphas meet under the light of the moon. The first Alpha, a large yellow male with red markings who could pull even the largest tree out of the ground, proposed his plan first. "I propose that we fight these pale faces head on. We have the numbers and the strength. We could kill them all before the night is over." The second Alpha, a small purple female with bright pink markings who could outrun the even the fastest wind, proposed her plan second. "I propose that we flee from these white ones. We are faster than them. We can be safely hidden by morning." The third Alpha, an old two gendered viscet with greying green fur and electric blue markings spoke last. "While both of your ideas are good, neither are what is best for our people. I propose that we make peace with the strange ones. If we run, they shall hunt us down and kill us. And with their weapons of fire and lightning, they shall slaughter us in a fight." They looked between they're fellow Alphas. "If we want our people to survive, peace is the only way." Together as one, the two young Alpha's shook their heads. "No, my people will not fight nor shall they make peace." the female said. "And my people shall not run or make peace." The male said. "Then we shall split The Pack into three." The oldest said. "And hope the gods are merciful upon us." The two younger Alphas locked eyes and shook their heads. Neither had faith in their gods. In their minds, there were no gods. The next morning, the Alphas gathered The Pack and explained the situation. Those who wished to fight would go with the male. Those who wished to flee would go with the female. And those who wished to make peace would stay and welcome the white ones with the eldest Alpha. The next morning when the white faces arrived, they were met with the sight of twenty viscets standing proud among their city. They were the few who had stayed. Who wished to make peace with those who could easily destroy them. Together, the twenty gave the pale humans many gifts. Berries of the sweetest caliber. The tenderest meat from the youngest of deer. Golden bracelets that had been polished so thoroughly they could be used as a mirror. Each of the white faces were measured, and each was given a piece of armor or jewelry. The viscets gifted the commanders with elaborate paintings. And, through a series of gestures, warned the humans of the viscet army that awaited them just miles ahead. One viscet, a black and green male, even pledged himself to the white men to serve as a mount for the small female healer that accompanied the warriors. So pleased were the white ones with these gifts, that they swore to never harm the members of this small pack. Each and every one of the twenty was given a collar to wear as a symbol of their peace. And the healer, so touched by the black and green one's servitude, blessed him through the power of her god. To the surprise of all the viscet's present, the viscet goddess of healing and peace appeared before all gathered. with a small smile, she gently headbutted the black and green one. With a flash of brilliant blue light, electric blue markings appeared all over his coat. "You have strove to make peace and create healing beyond all others." she said in a light airy voice. "So I gift to you the power of healing. For the rest of your days you shall be able to heal any wound that you lay your paws on. And so shall your descendants if they so happen to be born bearing my markings. The same markings that you now bare." Before he could thank her, the goddess was gone. From that day onward, the black, green, and blue viscet served his people and humans like as the greatest healer to touch the earth. There was no would he could not heal and no sickness that he could not cure. People came from far and wide to be healed in his presence. And so committed was he to his cause, that he charged not a single cent for his payment. And on the day he died peacefully in his sleep from old age, his great-granddaughter hatched out of her egg, bearing the same markings he had. And so the cycle continued. Healer after healer was born from the same bloodline. The only catch however, was that the next healer was hatched on the day the last healer died. And so Curare, the great-great-great-grandson of the original healer, who's name literally means to heal, the one who can heal any wound, proudly carries the glowing blue markings of his patron goddess. (1013 words)

[Fox,]

woah, nice! you totally deserve this, 1000+ words. congrats <3

[_Alex_]

ahh! thank you so much! i really enjoyed reading through everyone else's forms, you guys are just so creative.

[Placebo]

Hah, Congratulatles broham!~ .3.

[_Alex_]

do you think I could be added for forms and such? please? thank you!

[tenlittlesoldierboys]

Offspring:
Batch#286
Batch#225
Batch#379
Batch#1532