[Jendalie]

Serca

Owner: ~Bast~
Gender: Female
Breedable: Yes, but very picky.
Type: Pictish Beast Rune

"The Story of the Pictish Rune"
Story Written By: Benathorn

It seems my sister has dragged us all to explore the Celtlands of Eldemore. She seemed to be ecstatic about some Celtic Wolf legend while I went in search of the ancient art of the Pictish Beast. An image carved into stone of a mysterious creature of legend. I had to travel the moors for days till a came across some ruins shrouded in mists. Though the sun was indeed out, the mists veil cast an eerie gray glow about me, and all sounds were quietly muffled. I stepped forward slowly till I was able to see the large stones rise up from the fog in an imposing reach for the sky. Carved into the grey stone were intricate images of creatures and delicate knots. They seemed to entwine themselves and lead back around endlessly while also appearing to move? That could not be right, since when do pictures move all on their own? But indeed the stone did seem to shudder and the images I saw took a life of their own! Green emerald eyes lit up through the mist and seemed to glare at me. It took me a few moments to realize that the form was actually that of a Rune! The dragon's hide was littered with delicate designs and blended in perfectly with the stone canvas. The creature was indeed just as surprised to see me as it fluttered about with it's melodious coos.

The Pictish Rune is a species as old as the stone carvings that it calls home. Mysterious like the moors yet interested in them as well. This Rune is known for it's secrecy and holds many tales written among it's hide as a beautiful golden rune design knots itself upon it's wings. It seems these lands were indeed filled with legends like it's people, and I hope the others are doing ok with their findings. My sibling said something about a giant wolf? Well I'm sure she would be fascinated with what I just found, and I can not wait to share this finding with others back home.

Congratulations ~Bast~!

Rules
~Those with the best form will earn the right to claim this dragon.
~You are allowed to add more to the form till the final date when the winner will be chosen.
~Please do not argue or whine if you do not get this dragon. There will be MORE in the future but it takes time to make these dragons so patience is the key.
~Please do not take any of my ideas without permission. I now have to state this in all my rules do to other users doing this.
~Have fun and only talk about the other runes on the main page.
~If there are any question be sure to ask me or the mods for this thread.
~The forms are just skeletons to build on. You are allowed to add any effects you believe will make it more appealing and there are no limits on how much you can write.
~Enjoy, and if you do not win simply congratulate the ones who did and look forward to the next release.

[nio]

Owner Name:
i8chichi
Name:
Aonghus
Possibly meaning "one strength" derived from Irish óen "one" and gus "force, strength, energy". Aonghus (sometimes surnamed Mac Og meaning "young son") was the Irish god of love and youth. The name was also borne by an 8th-century Pictish king and several Irish kings.
Gender:
male
Personality:
(What is the dragon's personality like?)
Why do you wish to have him/her:
(State what drew you to the dragon or why you would want it.)
Where will you keep him/her:
(Will you keep it in your sig, character thread, etc...)
Would you like to breed him/her in the feature:
(This is just general info for me to use. State if you would like to breed it later on or not)
Any Quirks:
(Quirks are funny habits or odd things the dragon may do.)
Other:
(Writing a small story or showing artwork may give you a better chance!)

WIP

[Bast-et]

Owner Name:
~Bast~


Serca- A name I think suits her, and also the title of one of the chief tales of Celtic Mythology.


Her soft earthy colors, bright green eyes, wavy/curly tail, and personality suggests Female to me ^^


Serca is a collecter, especially of stories. She is usually a bit reserved around people, until they begin telling a tale. Then she is surprisingly cuddly. She acts like a bit of a big housecat, and loves curling up in a lap for a story. When it is over, she stores her new tale away in an orb, and resumes her customary position on Bast or Aludra's shoulder. As with most people that value knowledge, Serca is intelligent and self-aware. She finds other people's character traits and flaws funny, and she sees life like it's own story. Brave and fearless, Serka backs down from no one, be they a person, rune, or ancient. Try as she may, Serca cannot stay out of trouble for very long. Somehow a storm is always brewing around her; she seems to get caught up in exciting or unpredictable happenings not of her own doing. Opposing points of view is her specialty and she often presents them with biting wit. Not only is she a fine debater but she serves equally well as a mediator, arbitrator and peacemaker, as her love of playing devil’s advocate trains her to see both sides of an issue. Since she are well accustomed to conflict, she is right at home in stressful situations that would easily upset others; Serca has a fine sense of humor that usually sees her through. She can remain remarkably calm and unaffected by emotional disturbances in others. Nonetheless, explosive situations does attract her and holds her interest. All of which makes her a great bard and historian.




As always, it was first the visual attraction. Her colors are so soft and fade so smooth. Her rune is one of the most intricate and stunning, and I love how shiny it is. I find her truly unique, and I especially adore her "horns" and they remind me of tree limbs and my habit of reading outside in my magnolia tree. Much of my reading centers around mythology, including Serca's theme of Celtic mythology. I've done lots of reading on the pictish beast since seeing Serca, and it is frankly fasinating. It will be interesting to see if any more solid theories arise about the pictish beast's origins.
Since beginning Serca's story, I have fallen in love with her personality, habits, and job, as well as the world she lives in. I hope to win her so that I can deepen her relationships with me and Aludra and continue to develop her world and write the rich people and stories. It's a joy to incorporate mythological figures from the Celtic myths in Serca's story, and this has been one of my favorite forms I have ever had the pleasure to make. I only wish I had more time to add more to it. (And that the Olympic opening ceromony wasn't tonight haha).
And it's definately important to be able to enjoy drawing her. Have to say, I've certainly enjoyed thinking up dynamic poses for her and illustrating them. She has been a challenge and a joy. Thank you for the opportunity to try for this gorgeous rune!


All of my characters spend time in my signature, and they rotate through about every week or so. She would also have a post in my character thread for her story, and all of the art I do for her. And I'm also planning on joining the RP soon, so she would be used there as well and kept active.


She would be extremely picky about mates. Maybe one of the other Celtic runes because they relate to her on a personal level.


Serka collects stories in her little green bubbles. She often plays with the bubbles and when bored will swirl them around herself. She loves meeting strangers and hearing their tales...which she then spins into a new bubble.
She also really likes fish. And she plays with laser points like a cat.


Aludra and I had been wandering the forest for awhile now. Several days at least, and it looked like another would soon pass us by. Trees hung over us, moss woven through their branches like thick hair, and knots in the trunks like faces that watched us. As we wandered, the sun sank lower, and the temperature dropped. Shivering I turned to Aludra.
"Think it might be time to settle down for the night? Get a fire going?"
She laughed, throwing her arms out and spinning, her long hair flying around her.
"You know I'm not cold! But the sun is leaving us behind for now, so we might as well rest" she added.

Later with the camp set and the fire going, I huddled next to Aludra back in her more natural dragon form. We both stared into the fire, watching it's dance.
It's your turn tonight Aludra reminded me, I told you the Story of the Seasons yesterday.
I smiled remembering her story- she may have over-emphasized her own part of the story. "I enjoyed it very much" I told her trying-and failing to keep my amusement out of my voice. Aludra sniffed and lowered her glowing blue eye to stare at me.
"Yeah, yeah, let me think of one you would like."
After a moment, I thought of a perfect tale, opened my mouth, and began.

When I finished my tale of adventure and intrigue, a soft blanket of silence settled over the campsite, save for the fire's crackle. But the relative quiet was interrupted by a soft chirrup. I twisted to see around Aludra's leg, but because I'd been staring into the fire, I couldn't make out anything outside it's ring besides a soft green glow. The happy chirrups continued, and soon my eyesight adjusted to reveal a rune dragon. A beautiful soft brown color, she spun and twisted a shining strand of green magic around her lithe body. Small orbs floated around her as she moved.

"What is she doing?" I asked Aludra
I'd imagine she is storing your story in one of her little orbs. Aludra replied. Or perhaps as one of her pretty body-marks? she said eyeing the little rune as she spun.
After a few more minutes of the rune's thread-weaving, the glow faded and all that was left were her little floating orbs. Her settled down and became still. I had to squint to tell that she was alive and not the statue she appeared. Beside me, Aludra stretched her neck out towards the smaller rune. I sent several questioning thoughts to her, but got no reply. After several minutes, Aludra opened up to me once more.
I like her quite a bit. She has a good mind. And she liked your story as well.
Will she let me come closer? I asked.
Yes.
I eased closer to the new rune.
"Hello new friend" I greeted her, "It seems you are a lover of stories like Aludra and I. They warm up unfamiliar lands, pass on information, and connect generations. A worthy passion." I smile at her. Aludra regards the rune.
I see you share this land's reverence for life and rebirth. Quite important part of life. She arched her neck a bit, primping. The rune beside her let out a laughing coo that made Aludra frown until I began to laugh as well.
"She's too smart for you, Aludra. I think she knows who you are already." Aludra hmmphed, but I could feel her amusement.
Little one, would you like to share our camp for the night?
We took her happy chirrup as she settled in beside Aludra and me as a 'yes'.

In the morning, I woke beside Aluda with the rune nowhere to be seen.
Perhaps you should look where your eyes don't see? suggested Aludra
"Where my eyes don't see?" I asked spinning to look behind me. But the only thing behind me was Aludra and beyond her, more trees. The ancient laughed and looked up. I followed her gaze to the overhanging branches. There, still fast asleep, was the brown rune we had met the night before.
"When I woke up I half thought she would have disappeared like a waif."
She never would have appeared at all had you not been telling a story Aludra told me, Her purpose centers around recording stories and histories. I'm sure she could tell you a thing or two about the woods we spent the night in.
"I'm sure she could" I said quietly.

Later with breakfast made, eaten, and bags packed the rune awoke with quite a bit of crooning and swaying.
"What is she doing?" I asked Aludra in a whisper.
Welcoming the new day with song. It's a tradition she keeps faithfully from days long past. She sings a note for each story collected, and so her song grows longer every time her life grows richer.
...and then the rune's song shattered into a screech.
My bonded's head and mine jerked upward at the same time in shock. Above us the rune had begun pacing, her feathers ruffled, and her noises worried like a mother hen's. Abruptly she stopped and the tiny green orbs that followed behind lined up neatly before her. There was a gap. I drew in my breathe,
"Aludra- she's missing an orb!"
So she is... the Spring ancient stretched her head out to the upset rune. After several moments, the rune stepped onto Aludra's head and clung between her biggest horns.



I have offered her our help while she searches for her story.
"Great," I smiled to my new companion, "With us helping, you are sure to find your orb again."
"Well dahrlin', I ain't so sure 'bout that." an oily voice drawled from behind me. Spinning, I saw an old hag with stringy gray hair that could only be compared to the clumps of moss in the trees, and a tattered gray robe. "I su'pose I should intrah'duce me-self. Me name is Morrígan."

“And why would you doubt our success?” I questioned the hag, careful to keep my voice light. Aludra’s deep growl from behind me belied any friendliness I may have imparted however.
“Calm down me Spring pretty. ‘Tain’t your season now, and ye be in me realm.”
The rune began chattering angrily from atop Aludra’s head, scolding the hag for her irreverent treatment of her new helper and friend.
“Hush Serca. Did ye know ye be the most annoying picktic rune I’ve had to deal wit yet?” The hag snapped. “Hardest to get rid ‘a too. Yer predecessor died so much quicker than ye.”
“You killed a rune?” I breathed.
“Juss these picktish runes. There is only ever one, but dey git in the way like there is a thousand of them. Can’t have er’one knowin’ me secrets, now can I? It T’ain’t right havin’ er’one knowin a goddesses secrets.”
“A goddess?” I said at the same time Aludra let out an unbelieving snort. But Serca nodded her head, and we gave our full attention back to the hag- er, goddess.
“Don’t believe me, eh?” The old lady raised her hands and her face dissolved to reveal a women of stunning beauty, rich red robes, and long raven black hair.
“Oh yes.” The goddess said, “Morrigan, goddess of Plight and Destruction, at your service. Well, not really.” Her eyes slid to where Serca rested atop Aludra’s head.
“No, I suppose not.” I replied coldly.
“Well you see, she had a story that had too much information about me. I can’t be having that.”
“So, what, you destroyed her story-orb?” I asked angrily.
“No. It is impossible to destroy pictish rune orbs. It’s why they are such a pain. I’ve simply hidden the orb with a friend of mine. Good luck stealing it from him” she laughed. And then vanished.

The instant Morrigan left, Aludra and Serca began scheming. After a moment they both turned to look at me.
Do you have any imput? Aludra asked.
“I can’t understand half the conversation.” I reminded her.
I’ll meld our minds while we plan.
Serca’s voice was strong and clear. It held a lilting accent, and she was currently running through the list of people who might be considered “friends” of Morrigan.
She is close to her sisters, Badb and Macha. But Morrigan did say we would never steal it from him. So I’m assuming she wasn’t talking about them. It might be her Dagda. He has had a few dealings with Morrigan in exchange for war plans. He is the only male I can think of. A goddess of Plight has few friends.
True, Aludra agreed, Luckily for us.
“We should start with a visit to Dagda then. It seems to be our only lead right now.”

We spent the next day walking, following Serca’s directions to find the High King of the Tuatha De Danann.
There, Serca said, Ahead of us. That clearing is where Dagda makes his home. To enter the castle, you must answer a riddle. We will help you. She hopped off of Aludra and onto my shoulder.



“Sounds good.” I told her.
I will stay here in case anything goes wrong during your trip. Aludra said. Call me if you should need me help.
“I will do that. See you soon Aludra.“ Then I squared my shoulders and strode towards the castle with Serca on my shoulder for guidance.

The guard at the door of the castle was a massive man with an equally massive broadsword which he leveled at my neck at my approach.
"Greetings Madame Rune and rune-bearer. To enter this abode, you must answer a riddle."
"Fire away." I tell the guard. Without lowering his sword he says,
"What is darkest in the light, one for every creature and thing, and doesn't weigh an ounce?"
That threw me a bit. Why would anything be darker in light? But then I heard Serca's whisper in my mind.
Look below you... she ordered me. I felt her pride as I caught her meaning.
"A shadow." I answered the guard with a mental thank you to Serca.
No, thank you. she replied.

Inside the castle were two pigs; One stood inside a pen. Huge with rolls of skin, I could almost see it growing before my eyes. The other pig roasted on a spit above a bonfire.
There is Dagda warned Serca, Beware his club- it can kill nine men with one blow. Although it's also rumored to bring the slain back to life with a touch from the hilt. she added thoughtfully.
"I think I'll just do my best to avoid it." I told her. She chuckled a little at my apprehensiveness.
"You arn't scared of anything, huh?"
Not at all. I'm scared of everything, but petrified of missing out on life. You must look past your fear to live the life you want.
"Wise." And then we were before the High King. I knelt.
"What brings you here Rune Bearer?" his booming voice asked me. I looked up at him. Most of his face was covered in a bright red beard, and his mouth was set in a firm line; however, his eyes watched me kindly.
"The Pictish Rune" I began gesturing towards Serca "Has had a story stolen from her by the Morrigan. We were lead to believe that you, the High King might be in possession of it." The King's eyes grew colder, and his mouth settled into a grimace.
"I would not wish to keep the Rune from her orb... but one does not cross a Goddess of War lightly. Should the Pictish Rune wish to stay with me, she could have the orb without breaking my agreement with Morrigan." At this offer, his eyes gleamed with greed.
This was the agreement he made with Morrigan I told Serca silently, He would keep the orb from other's sights for the opportunity to trap you here with him. Your stories are a wealth of information he as King could use to gain advantage over his enemies.
I agree. And I cannot stay here. It would be suffocating.
"Is there another trade or service we might make in order to trade for the orb?" I inquired the King. He scratched his beard as he furrowed his brow in thought.
"The Morrigan on occasion takes the form of a crow. When she returns to human form, the honey from a sun-flower helps revive her- such a gift might stay her anger should she discover the orb returned. But such a flower grows only in the heart of the Fearie lands, and then only in Spring. And of course, that season has long passed us."
"But if we returned with a vial of sun-flower honey you would return the orb back to the Pictish Rune?"
"Yes Rune Bearer."
I nodded my head and rose from my kneel.
"Then you may expect us again."

Back out in the forest with Aludra, we put our heads together in hopes of thinking of an entry to Faerie.
This is a waste of time. Aludra finally snapped. Spring was not a patient season. I will ask the old trees if they might know a pass to Faerie. Several hours later, and many slow conversations later, we learned of a magic cave that might connect to Faerie deep beneath the earth- and arise back to light in the exact center of Faerie; the only passageway which never moved and time remained constant.
It seems to be the best bet Aludra said, and I mounted above her shoulders and Serca resumed her position on her head. Then we were off, and blue streak through the trees and Aludra raced the wind and won. We arrived at the cave the trees had whispered of, and dismounted a steaming Spring. From within the cave drifted a haunting music.
"Do you hear that?" I asked the runes, "The music is beautiful." Then Aludra had me pinned to the ground inside the mouth of the cave. Serca sat on my chest and regarded me.
Faerie calls to you strongly. I don't think you can make this trip.
"What? I'm fine. How did I get over here though?" I asked indignantely.
You walked like a druid in a trance. Aludra answered dryly.
"Oh."
We will go on without you. The beauty of Faerie will be your death should to travel. Serca told me. It has been the siren song to countless travelers in my stories. You will be safer should you remain here.
Reluctantly I agreed to let them leave, and I stood well clear of the cave entrance to avoid it's draw. Hours after they had left, a crow landed before me while I paced. It changed before my eyes to Morrigan.
"So you hope to deal with Dagda? I have heard of his quest, and you and your companions cannot hope to succeed. The flowers are jealously guarded by the Faerie Queen's guards, and besides do not bloom in this late summer season." She announced.
"Then why do you come? Why not leave them to fail alone?" I asked.
"Hmmm, I suppose I just enjoy the gloating, dah'ling." She flashed into a crow and departed.
It was later that night before the dragons returned, tired but in possession of a golden vial they said contained sun-flower honey. They quickly relayed the tale to me. Upon arrival in Faerie, they were surrounded by Faerie guards and escorted before the Faerie Queen, a peerless beauty of raven-black skin and shining golden hair. After hearing of the orb, she granted that they might have a vial of honey should they be able to coax the flowers to bloom- and give her a snip of hair should she need a boon from them in the future. This they agreed to, and Aludra had brought the flowers to peak condition easily. Then they had returned to our world. I told them of my encounter with Morrigan, and both runes seemed to view it as ominous. But our return to the King the next morning went smoothly. Again, Aludra stayed out of sight in the forest and let Serca and I enter the castle along.
I will come if you should call. She told us once more.

At our approach the guard again stopped us with his sword.
"A riddle's answer for entrance." He announced. "Give me food and I will live, but give me water and I will die." I knew from Serca's smugness she already knew.
Think back to the night you met me she suggested. I thought back to that night, three days ago. The creepy trees, Serca's green story thread, and the fires crackle- fire!
"A fire grows with fuel and lives," I answered, "But dies when watered."
The guard's sword dropped and we were allowed entrance. The castles interior remained the same; albeit the pig in the pen had grown even larger. Dagda once again approached us.
"You return so soon? Have you accepted this task as impossible?"
"No." I informed him, "We return with your vial of sun-flower honey."
"That is the impossible." He boomed. I looked to Serca who drew the vial from beneath her wing. In the presence of the King, the golden vial glowed, and then floated to his hand. He withdrew the stopper and took a deep sniff. His eyes widened in amazement as he regarded Serca and I.
"But- this is sun-flower honey! You were not intended to win!" he exclaimed.
Serca let out a satisfied coo as the King bowed his head and waved a hand at a servant who soon returned with a jar. Inside the jar floated one glowing green orb.
"Here." The King thrust it at us. "Take your story. But good luck leaving." He turned and vanished within the castle's interior, taking his bad humor with him. Serca and I turned to see the exit, and were shocked to see the rows of warriors blocking our way.
ALUDRA! I shouted for my Ancient bonded. A roar sounded from outside the wall, and then the warriors flew into the air in a wave as Aludra raced through them. While the warriors lay groaning on the ground Serca and I raced towards her. Then we flew out the gate and to freedom.

That night in our camp Serca freed her stolen story. As it floated back to her, the rune on her chest, the Pictish Rune, shifted and spun across her body to watch the orb. And I realized the stolen story was Serca's story herself, and the story of every Pictish Rune before her. Slowly the blue-gray beast returned to it's spot over her heart and slowed again as if in sleep. And I wondered at the story of the Pictish Rune and how she and her ancestors came to be. And Serca cuddled her orb to her chest as it's green glow lit her up with it's bright green glow.

Thank you again for the chance for this lovely and lively rune Jendalie <3 She is beautiful, and the thought behind her makes her extremely special. I had much more I wanted to add to my form, but I am happy with what I got done for her in this week, and hope to have the opportunity to write and draw more for her in the future.

[momoply45]

Owner Name:
momoply45.
Name:
Bestia de madera
Bestia for short.
Gender:
Female
Personality:
WIP
Why do you wish to have him/her:
WIP
Where will you keep him/her:
WIP
Would you like to breed him/her in the feature:
Yes.
Any Quirks:
WIP
Poem:
Deep in the mist,
the mist known for doom,
comes out a creature,
of mystical runes,
eyes emerald green,
with bright and beauty,
a wonderful wing,
and a beautiful blink.
Art:
WIP
Story:
WIP
WIP

[Azure23]

[This one is gorgeous! Good job Jendalie. :3 I see why you wanted to through your computer at the wall. I'm glad you didn't though. Good luck all that applies for him!]

[Jackie.]

Are we aloud to order art?

~Reservered for my form~


I'm dropping out, there are clearly other people here who's have put probably hours into their forms already for this lovely rune. I'll wait for anthoner one. :3
Good lucky everybody!~<3

[perros1234]

Owner Name:
perros1234
Name:
Fera
Fera means "beast" in latin, since Fera is the Pictish Beast Rune, I thought it might be a good name, though I do call him "Feral" because he thinks Fera is a girl's name, I do it to please him. So I will be usaully callling him Feral. He likes it better, I just thought I'd explain the reason.
Gender:
Fera seems more like a male like me
Personality:
I mention in the "Why do you wish to have him/her:" I said that he displayd a unique personality. When I see most Rune Dragons I see a cute funny little personality. Though when I saw Feral(his nickname, Fera sounds like a girl name to him, I'll be using Feral most of the time, as he does preffer it) I didn't see that cute little personality, though I didn't see a horrible, pain loving rune. I saw a rune that is a bit more on the irrated side. If you know what I mean . So thats just a little summmary on his personality. Now for the detail.
Feral gets easily irrated. Put the music on, open the widow, turn on the TV can cause a living time bomb to explode. Though not in the way that he is running aorund screeching in complaint, tearing up and howling like a newborn. you will most likely get a growl and a dirty look, then he will most likely fix the problem. Close the window, turn down the music, rip the satilate off, this rune has a soulution for everything. Feral is the sarcastic type rune, often using sarcasam in his speach(with other runes). Feral is a loner, he is most comfortable with himself. Though if you have touched him in some way,(not the litreal way like a poke) and you have shown loyalty to him, you might just have an ally. Maybe. Though if some one has shown him loyalty he will repay the debt. Another thing about feral is that he listens to nobody. Unless he wants to. He is so stubborn. Another thing that I adore about Fera's personality is that he only answers exactly what you want, keep the chit chat to a mimum. Here I have a example.
Random Rune: Hey! Do you know where ____is?
Fera: Yes
Random Rune: Well could you tell me where it is?
Fera: Yes
Random Rune: Would you tell me where it is?
Fera: Yes
So that is a example on how he answers exactly what you ask for. Feral is also a secret keeper, very secretive and mysterious, don't worry your secrets are safe with him. Though that doesn't mean that he doesn't irrate. A example!
Random Rune: You know that secret? Spill the beans
Fera: Can you keep a secret
Random Rune nodds eargly and says: Yes!
Fera: So can I
Fera loves doing that.
Now I'm going to go onto a quite funny little thing that scares Fera. I think it's worth mentioning, he is totally freaked out by stuffed animales. They terrify him.
Now I'll be writting Feral's likes and dislikes, since I do count them as personality. Bolded letters, means Feral is speaking or interupping, giving his point of view, now for the likes and dislikes!
~Likes~
- Silence, seriously too much noise gets me annoyed and you really don't want to see me annoyed
- Books with the subject of mythology, ledgends, myths, adventure, fantasy and science fiction isn´t half bad. Mythology, Ledgends and myths, I can´t get enough of these books. I just adore these books, it´s impossible to tear me away for them, I remebered the first time I set eyes on a book on mythology. I was just a chick, after that day, my passion for books grew, my hunger for knowledge and books will never be satisfied. I also like adventure, books on that get me excited and I can´t put them down. Oh and I adore fantasy, what I love about fantasy is that anything can happen, anything. Thats what I love, there is never a true answer. I am often particilar to ones with magic. I like reading about possible futures, it´s intersting to see the so many interperattions, of the future world.
~Dislikes~
- The TV, blah blah blah! That's all I hear, it's just a waste of space
- Music, this world has no musical talent, so why bother listen to it? I preffer silence
- Open windows, the make a draft and irrate me, I get cold. When I'm cold I'm crabby and me being crabby and cold isn't a nice combo
- Stuffies, first of all they are a waste of space and they never blink, like that not creepy in any way!(I'm using sarcasm)
- Dolls, [b] same thing with stuffies, they never blink! Isn´t that creepy?!
- Books with the subject of romance, mystery, history and cooking. [b] I usaully adore books, though these topics seriously annoy me, first of all romance, uggg....I HATE books with super sappy moments, uggg..I just hate them! As for mystery, just get to the point! I don´t really have no care for books that drag on about the most pointless things, seriously. Don´t even get me on history, it´s so boring! Hey! What are you looking at, just because I know how to hold a grudge, doesn´t mean I love history. And cooking, I´m not going to go on about that.
- Those two pesky dogs, Arrow and Hereshy, Those dogs are such a nusiance, those dogs drive me nuts[size]
Why do you wish to have him/her:
[size=85] Okay, this will be my thrid entry for a rune dragon, and hopefully my first win. After losing two rune dragons, I kinda gave up on Rune Dragons, I didn't check this thread in a while, so I decided it wouldn't hurt to check it out. Okay well I saw this Rune Dragon and had to go for him. This is the Rune dragon that made me change my mind, out of all the 5 rune dragons for adoption, this is the one that changed my mind. Even if I don't win, I'd like to thank you for making him, I don't think any other rune could do the same thing. I'm serious. Even if I don't win thank you, thank you so much. Another even if I don't win is I'm not going to give up on Rune dragons again. This rune dragon made such a big differance, thank you. Okay now lets go onto him. He has the most gorgeous markings and the second I saw him he instantly showed off a unique personality. I abesoutely adore his personality, even if he isn´t the easiest to get along with. His personality brings me joy, and I will have so much fun writting about him, after characters like him are the best to write about. If I do win him, (which I would totally freak out, in a good way) I would defaintly try and find him a friend, a little friend. I think he would like that. A super cute friend. Plus his markings are the most gorgeous thing I have seen. I think my favourite marking would be the one on his wing, and the dragon-like(I think it looks like a dragon). Those are the most gorgeous markings.
[size=85] Where will you keep him/her:
If I won Fera, I would first freak out, after finishing that I´d instantly rush to find him a good spot in my signature. After all Fera desevers all the attention. I´ll try and use Fera everywhere I can. For most adoptables, they'd go to my character thread, though this guy, I will make a special thread just for him(okay, if I get more rune dragons they'll share that thread). So Fera will have a thread just for himself for now. I will love him forever
Would you like to breed him in the feature:
I think so, though I will admit and warn you, that Fera is quite a picky rune when it comes to friends, after not all rune dragons can get along with him, so he will need a female and can take his difficult personality on.
Any Quirks:
[size=85] One little thing I have noticed is that whenever I let Feral loose, a sickening amount of my books dissapear, and at an alarming rate. Out of all things Fera chooses to hoard books. It may seem like a odd choice, though I have found that Fera has a special prefferance of books. Recently I bring him books from our local library, to satisfay his craves for books. Fera may adore books though there is no way I have leaving him unatended with libaray books, or any books. If the book doesn´t live up to Fera´s dislikes, the book no longer is a book once he is done with it. The book is reduced to a lump of shredded paper. Fera usally rejects books about the topics of romance, mystery, history and cooking. Though Fera can´t keep away from books about mythology, myths and legends(seriously, it´s impossible to tear him away from those books), he does also like fantasy, adventure and science ficition is too bad. /size]
Other:
[size=85]
-Book Hunting-
Fera peered out from behind his bed, it was late in the night, and he had a mission to accomplish. Simple, it was a simple mission. Though he wanted to make sure that perros would never found out. If the books were misplaced or laying around, she´d defaintly get suspicious. A suspicious perros was not good. His dark eyes flickered back and forth. Though this late, perros would not be a problem, he was more worried about those annoying dogs of her´s, Arrow and Hereshy(two of my characters would it be okay if I included them?). They were a complete nusiance. Feral flicked his tail in complete annoyance. He hated them, though right now, he made them like flies buzzing around him. He crawled out of bed, his sharp eyes taking every inch of the floor, he had memorized all the places that it creaked. He shouldn´t make a sound. A silent, devious theif. Yes that was what he was, a book theif. Back to the present, shaking his head, he danced his way through the creaking floor boards, flapping when he had too. Sometimes flying a meter or two if a non-creak spot was to small for him to land. Now we was flying, as quiet as a owl, over the floor, maybe only hovering thirty centermeters above the floor. His eyes darted around, searching. When Fera´s eyes caught sight of the two dogs, Arrow and Hereshy sleeping soundly, he stifled a hiss. Feral had to fight the urge to kick them. Those dogs drove him completey nuts. Tearing his gaze away from them, as quick as possible, he didn´t want to lose control and kick them. That would no doubt give him away. His eyes soon accusomed to the darkness. There was the bookcase.....there should be a good amount of books their. A cheshire grin, soon dominated over Fera´s usally sour face. This was it, the moment he had been waiting for, banking a turn. He landed on the bookcase, letting out a soft chrip, he couldn´t help himself, nothing gave him joy like books. He almost screamed when their was nothing in the book case, scrambling in he fumbled in the darkness trying to find a book, any book! He was desparte. The libaray was closed and perros had returned all the books. And her books were stirctly off limits, not for long though. His heart dropped to his stomach as he found nothing, he growled. He hated it when his plans didn´t go the way they were supposed to go. Fluttering out, he stood dumfounded on the couch, fuming about his failure. Then the plan seemed to poke him, reminding him he still had a job to do. The plan slipped into his head. Why hadn´t he though of it sooner? All he needed to do was slip into perros room, there she´d keep all her books. It would be risky, what happended if perros woke up? If he was caught red-handed(more like red-winged but, you get my point) holding one of her books. She would not be too happy. Still, he had to get his claws on those books. He loved books, they were one of the few things that brought him joy. He quickly launched himself into the air, off the comfy couch and hovered over one of the non-creak spots. He alighted down quickly, prancing around, he made his way to the door. He frowned, and let out a soft growl. One to rival a dog. He´d never opended a door nob, though there was a first for everthing. Scowling, Fera jumped up claws groping for the door knob, he almost sqwaked out , when he flipped upside down, the door swung open. He growled, he was glad no one had seen this ridiclious way of opening the door. Now what? He was hanging upside down like a bat, now what was he supposed to do? Scowling he gripped his claws on it, and swung, he continued swinging and fly up, he almost brained himself on the floor, but at the last second he manged to swivel up. Avoiding braining himself. He peeked through the door. Perros sleep in the middle of the room, next to the bed was a huge shelf, filled with books. Feral had to get there. He had too. Feral(remeber his nickname?) cocked his head, and his flaring emerald green eyes narrowed as he devised a plan to snab the books. His eyes suddenly grew bright, a small smile crept up his face, soon the ghost smile turned into a cheshire cat grin. He fluttered over and snatched the books. Mission accomplished.
/size]
I have ordered some art, and I have made some, I just need to upload my art and I am waiting for my ordered art to come.

[Jendalie]

Are we aloud to order art?

~Reservered for my form~

Yes you may order art, but I prefer it if you make your own. It's the thought and hard work that counts. (:

[Flowerdust]

Owner Name
Flowerdust
Name
Aine pronounced awn + ye. Her nickname is Nie or Nim, but she prefers to be called Nie
Why I Choose This Name
I choose this name beacause it is an ancient Irish name that comes from the noun aine that means “splendor, radiance, brilliance.” Aine is also connected with fruitfulness and prosperity. The queen of the Munster fairies was called Aine as was one of the wives of Fionn Mac Cool (read the legend). Aine appears in folktales as “the best-hearted woman who ever lived – lucky in love and in money.”
Gender
Female, beacause her soft colors I thought leaned a little more twords the female gender
Personality
| Kind Hearted | Mysterious | Story Teller | Adventurous | Sharp Toungued | Hot Tempered |

"The Kind Hearted Rune"- Nie just like the fairy queen is good hearted. She loves to help others and share her talents with them. If someone is feeling down she will comfort them with a tale of adventure. Nie is known by many many as a good and trustworthy freind. Nie takes pride on that fact beacause she believes a good freind can help you through anything.

"The Foggy Rune"- Just like the fog that fills the hills of her native land Nie is mysterious and sneaky. She loves the fog and wakes up early just so she can fly through it. She loves to revisit the ruins where Jendalie found her. She loves to scare me as I try to admire the beauty. Nie's favorite game has to be hide and seek. Let's just say she's pretty good.

"The Rune of Many Stories"- Nie has heard and made many great stories over the years. She loves to save them as markings or as the little green orbs that surround her so she can resell them whenever she pleases. Nie's favorite stories are the ones filled with adventure, romance and mystery.

"The Adventurous Rune"- Adventourous is one of the many words you could use to describe Nie. She loves to explore the moorlands and well actually all of Eldemore's celtlands. She loves when she finds a ruin that depicts of ancient rune dragons like herself. One day she hopes to learn about all of the past runes.

"The Rune With A Sharp Tounge"- Nie may be kind, but if you anger her she has a sharp tounge. She tries not to be rude, but she has hurt many runes feelings with her sharp tounge. Nie often feels bad about her outburst afterwards and goes and apologizes.

"The Rune With A Hot Temper"- Nie also has that dreaded Irish temper. She gets mad very easily and it's not usually pretty. Her sharp tounge and her temper can make for a nasty rune when mad. I have a song actually that if I hum or sing it to her it calms her down.
Why do you wish to have her:
Well I was updating my form on a rune dragon i was trying for and then I decided to see if there were any new ones for adoption. Then I saw her! I knew she was perfect for me in every way. Her soft colrs and the twists of her wing and tail. Then I noiticed her rune and how it was celtic and I knew I had to try for her. It was her stunning eyes, line edits and colors that drew me to try for her. I just love the shape anhtness her little green eyes. They remind me of green freinds surrounded by fog. Overall she is the perfect rune for me and I really hope to win her.
Where will you keep her
Nie would pretty much take over my CS account and I would constantly draw and make sculptures of her. I would make animations and also write her and my story of adventure and trust. I already have a holder designed and she fits Nie perfectly.
Would you like to breed him/her in the feature
Well I think that it would be a possiblity beacause I think it would be interesting to see what kind of babies she would have with her beauty and temper. I would also be interested in breeding her with other Celtic based Runes.
Any Quirks:
Nie is in LOVE with peanut butter weirdly enough. One day I was eating a peanut butter sandwich when Nie took a bite. After that she loved peanut butter. The only thing she hates about it is how it makes her jaws stick together. She also loves to collect stories.
Story:
The mist was like a damp blanket on the moore as I traveled across it. I was heading twords some some ruins, well particular ruins. I had been hearing rumors there was a beast living there and I was going to prove them wrong. The wind picked up and my long red hair whipped against my face. I pulled up my hood as I neared the ruins. The loomed in the fog and even seemed to have an eerie glow to it.
I thought I saw green light flash past my face. I dismissed it as a trick of the mist. The ruins now loomed in front out me as I stator in front of them. Feeling a bit nervous I put my hand on my small dager. I knew the stories were just myths, but many creatures could lurk in the fog.
I started into the runes admiring the ancient paintings of a beautiful rune. I wondered if that rune was possibly what the locals were mistaking as a beast, but I figured this rune was long gone. The mist swirled as me as I ran hand over the cource rock. I admired the dragon and her beauty. I was in awe of the glowing green orbs that surrounded her and the soft markings.
I entered a stone ring with three green circles overlaying it. I felt a sence of unimportantance as I stood in the circle looking around in awe. I felt like I shouldn't be in this place, like it was sacred. I was about to step out of the circle when a flash of green knocked me over. I fumbled for my dagger, but the creature quickly grabbed the small knive out of my hand.
The small creature was covered in shadows and green lights swirled around it. I was frozen in fear of my life ending as the creature stepped into the light. I let out a small sigh as I realized it was a small a rune dragon. I blinked thinking I was seeing things. It was the dragon from the painting.
The small rune growlled softly. I cooed softly, " It's okay little one. I am a freind and I won't hurt you." I held out my hand and the rune cooed softly. She warily inched forward before rushing forward and rubbing her head aginst my hand. I laughed softly as she cooed a wee little ditty. I sat up slowly and she hoped up onto my shoulder. I laughed as crawled into my hood and nibbled on my ear. " You know if you come home with me you won't be able to protect your ruins," I whispered softly. She nodded and her little green lights swirling around her. I knew her answer was final as I heade into the mist humming with my new rune.[ /size]
Song
[size=85]An Irish Lullabye by JR Shannon xXx

I am sorry that I got no art in, but I was sick and I'm going on vacation soon. Also the song above my mother sang that to me when I was little.

[Silverhart]

Glaine ár gcroí * Neart ár ngéag * Beart de réir ár mbriathar
(Purity in Our Hearts * Strength in Our Limbs * Truth in Our Words)

Owner Name:
Silverhart
Name:
Donnchadh
Pronounced 'Dunn-a-kha' (The 'ch' is soft as in 'loch') Gaelic name from the words 'donn' (brown) and 'chadh' (warrior/nobleman). Donnchadh was the name of several Irish and Scottish kings.
Gender:
Male
Personality:

Ƭhe Ѡarrior Ƥoet

Donnchadh is a great and mighty warrior Rune. His heart is strong, stalwart and true, and sings with the music and poetry of his beloved homeland. As a hatchling, he was always very precocious and reckless. He loved rough housing with other hatchlings, and pinning them to the ground. With time he mellowed into a mature, confident adult. He is usually quiet and contemplative, but be warned, as this Rune is in possession of a wild, indomitable spirit.

A prince among Runes, this Rune likes to be dominant and in control of himself at all times. For by being in control of himself, he can control any situation to his liking. Donnchadh is a diplomatic Dragon, skilled in smoothing the feathers of two warring Runes. But when what he treasures is threatened, this Rune turns dangerous. With a wit as sharp as any sword, and a spirit as fiery as the wild boar's, this is not a Rune to be tangled with. He is a warrior through and through; a noble, dignified creature, skilled in the art of war, and with a strong sense of right and wrong. He can be filled with battle-fury and attack with ruthlessness, or be the gentle, fatherly sort, telling tales of adventure to gathered hatchings. This Rune's philosophy is that life and freedom must be fought for, and defended, and Donnchadh will always fight for what he believes in. Donnchadh is a strategist and commander, although he is very comfortable following another, usually a human. His bond with the human he chooses is like the knotted roots of two entwined trees; deep and ever-growing, endlessly twisting with no beginning or end.

But this dragon isn't all seriousness. As a poet, he's told a windy tale or two in his time. And a magnificent poet he is. He can calm a horde of angry dragons with a sweet song, or a story. Donnchadh is highly regarded for his story-weaving skills. He has a vice-like memory when it comes to stories, and can recall every tale and ballad he's ever heard. His melodious chirping is even pleasant to human ears. But Donnchadh is also creative, and enjoys creating new poems and tales and modifying old ones. Donnchadh is a good listener too, as all great storytellers must be, reading his audience, and picking up new stories, new ideas, and new songs, from the lips of humans, or throats of Runes. But he is also very stubborn, so he sometimes refuses to listen to reason, and goes his own way, even if in his heart he knows he's wrong. Being stubborn becomes a virtue when you call it tenacity, which this Rune also has bucketfuls of. He'd never give up, even in the most hopeless of situations. Donnchadh likes to have fun, like any Rune, and enjoys hunting, singing, play fighting, and flying at high speeds across the landscape.

Donnchadh loves his homeland, and would never leave it given the choice. He would fight to the death to defend his beloved land. He hates change, even fears it in some cases. He wants the world to slow down, to stop and think before they pursue progress that threatens the culture and ideals he holds dear. Donnchadh would much rather live in the ancient, simpler days. A Rune born late, as it were. He is much more at home among his carved stones and ancient trees, then in a city. This Rune loves the outdoors. Rain or shine or snow, he'd rather be out flying all over the different landscapes of Celtland, from the rugged coasts, to the foggy moors, to the damp lowlands, to the rocky highlands. He loves traveling over the familiar landscapes.

Donnchadh's one failing is his pride. His pride can make him blind to what is staring him in the face. While he is anything but vain, he is proud of his heritage, and when he makes up his mind about something, he is very unlikely to change it, even when he is proven wrong. He can sometimes come off as withdrawn, or indifferent to the feeling of others. This is because he is very cautious of who he chooses as friends, and is afraid of showing any emotion to a potential enemy. He is also just naturally a very quiet dragon. But that disappears when he is among humans and dragons he knows, where he becomes friendly and cheerful. Likewise this standoffishness evaporates when he tells a story or sings a ballad in front of a receptive audience. He certainly doesn't mind being the center ofa attention. Though you wouldn't know it to look at him, this Rune dragon had quite the flair for the dramatic, which he uses to great effect in his storytelling.

This is not a Rune one can tame. You must either love him or hate him for who he is, as a stubborn, unchangeable, untamable dragon, not unlike the rough countryside that bore him. He dwells in mystery and magic, and fights for his beliefs. He loves and hates with his whole being. Donnchadh's heart embodies the motto of the Fianna, the legendary warrior band of the Celts: “Glaine ár gcroí, Neart ár ngéag, Beart de réir ár mbriathar”; Purity in our hearts, Strength in our limbs, Truth in our words. The Pictish Rune is the noble and introspective warrior poet of the Highlands.

Why do you wish to have him/her:
Oh! What a question! I was ecstatic to learn this month's theme was Celtic mythology, something I have studied for years! The Celts, the Scots, the Gaels, the Picts and the rest; what we today collectively call 'Celtic', that entire culture has always fascinated me. In part, because my heritage is Celtic, but mythology in general has always fascinated me. When I received a book on Celtic mythology several years ago, I was enthralled by the stories of the Tuatha De Dannan, Fionn and his Fianna, Culwch and Olwen, and the monsters like kelpies, and giants. Yup. I was hooked. I delved even more into the history of the people and culture. I read more legends, myths and fairy tales searching for the symbolism and meaning in each story, and sharing them with my friends and family. I developed a love for folk songs, and began to write my own Celtic legends and historical fantasies, featuring shapeshifters, and magic, and adventure.

The Pictish Rune immediately caught my eye. I mean look how handsome he is with his beautiful faded brown coloring, and the bright golden knot which stands out so magnificently! I relish the challenge of drawing this Rune, as I love the intricate design of the knots. The Pictish Rune is quiet the fortune beast to chance upon, considering I've been doing research these past two months on the Picts for a new story I'm writing. When I saw this Rune I knew immediately that he must be a poet. He just has a wisdom about him, a brilliancy hidden beneath his “dull” exterior. And it's obvious he has a warrior's heart as well! (Although aren't all poets warriors in their hearts?) We know the Picts were a warrior race, but they were also an amazingly creative and innovative people, who were able to resist the mighty Roman Empire and fend off the Vikings, as well as establish a successful kingdom. The warrior poet is a popular theme in Celtic mythology, as both physical strength, wisdom, and artistic talent were admired by the Celtic peoples, which is why I think this Rune dragon would be a great warrior poet.

It would mean a lot to me to win this Rune, because I do love Celtic mythology so much. I just fell in love with him, and I loved writing about him, and incorporating my knowledge of mythology and the Picts in to it. Just seeing that the theme of the month was Celtic Mythology, and seeing all the beautiful Celtic inspired Runes, made my whole week! I think it's important for people to learn the old stories from all over the world, and I'm so happy you guys did this theme, even if it was difficult to do. All the work everyone did is really appreciated. If I don't win this Rune, yes, I'll be disappointed, but just seeing such a big interest of mine as a whole month's theme on these wonderful dragons is very exciting. And hey, it forced me to get writing this summer, which is good! For some reason I never seem able to get much writing done in summer, so sitting down and getting those creative juices flowing again felt great. I guess you could say this Rune inspired me. I really fell in love with him, as soon as I started writing. I found myself just drawing him whenever I had some time to myself, because it was fun and relaxing and challenging, like a wonderful, old puzzle. Coming up with my story also proved a bit of a puzzle, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

I think this Rune would be good match for me, because he combines my love of nature, history, and mythology. I love everything about him; his design, what he represents, his personality, his stories. To have such a brave and clever creature by my side on the trek through those dark forests and dusty manuscripts would be a great boon!

Where will you keep him/her:
In my signature, of course! That is when Mariana feels like sharing it... I'm going to have to find him a dolmen or some sort of stone for him to have. In the meantime, I know of a lovely little yew tree where Donnchadh can roost in peace. Mariana's been a bit jealous of all the attention I've been giving the Pictish Rune, but I think these two Runes are really going to get along swimmingly.

Would you like to breed him/her in the feature:
Yes. I'd love to see more Celtic Runes running around, but it has to be with the right Rune.

Any Quirks:
I suspect this Rune has a sort of accent, not Scottish or Irish, but a distinctively lilting Pictish brogue. This might explain why some of the other Runes tilt their heads when they listen to his unique growls and chortles. He also has a quite colorful vocabulary, and likes to play around with metaphors and symbolism in his tales.

The Pictish Rune has a penchant for rocks and stones. He feels most comfortable stalking among the crags, and ancient standing stones. He admires their strength and staidness.

This Rune is very deft with his claws. He likes to grip and manipulate things, such as twigs and rocks, as well as human tools, weapons, and musical instruments. This trait is exaggerated when he is agitated, and he will dig his toes into the ground if there is nothing for him to grab when this occurs. He likes to keep his claws busy.

This Rune dragon loves music and song. If he hears a new song or poem he likes, he will become rigid, cock his head, and listen very closely, committing the words and notes to memory. If he knows the song sometimes he'll join in the singing, adding his voice to the singer's. He loves traditional folk songs, especially. He also enjoys the sound of musical instruments, particularly the strong, primitive beat of the drums.

He may be quiet, but this Rune forms very strong opinions, and he's not afraid to voice them if need be. Or, as is more often the case, act upon them. Do not mistake his silence for shyness. There is nothing shy and retiring about this fiery-hearted Rune.

This particular Rune is completely fearless; willing to take on a wild boar or an entire Roman Legion without a second thought. If, you know, there happened to be a Roman Legion lying around in Eldemore...

A meat and potatoes type of Rune, he enjoys the simpler things in life, and scoffs at extravagance. Give him some meat, a piece of bread, and a swig of cold water and he'll be happy. But he does have a liking for shortbread and anything with lots of butter. He likes vanilla a lot too, more then chocolate.

This dragon is a very old soul. He doesn't like modern technology or thinking, and would rather be roaming the countryside, and stalking all the ancient places. He lives by an ancient warrior code, one that he will never go against no matter what era it is.

He is a very independent Rune, and can be quite content all by himself. But, of course he would much rather be in the company of humans or other Runes, swapping tall tales, and telling jokes, or just enjoying each others company.

Other:

Ƭhe Ƥictish Γune Cycle

Gather 'round ye humble folks, gather 'round the hearth and lend an ear. For a story I've to tell, so harken, and hear. Stories are magic, and this tale is of the oldest sort. It is the story of how the old stories came to be known. No one knew these tales existed, afore the Pictish Rune told them to me. And I tell them to ye, so that ye can tell the rest o' the world, and give 'em a bit o' magic they may be needing. So still thy tongues and heed these words...

"A mile frae Pentcaitland, on the road to the Sea,

Stands a Yew Tree A Thousand Years Old

And the old women swear by the grey o' their hair,

That it knows what the future will hold...

For the Shadows of Scotland Stand 'round it,

'mid the kail, and the corn, and the kye

All the Hopes and the Fears of A Thousand Long Years under the Lothian Sky...

My Bonny Yew Tree,
Tell Me, What Did You See? “

Once upon a time filled with magic, there was a salmon who swallowed a seed. The salmon was caught and eaten by an eagle, and the eagle was caught and eaten by a wolf, and the wolf was caught and killed by a boar, and the boar was caught and killed by a man, and the man was caught and killed by a bear, and when the bear had grown old and died, a yew tree grew from it's remains. Legend tells us this yew tree was home to the Pictish Beast.

The Pictish Beast was not originally as he is now. His hide was solid brown, perfect for hiding in the dark forests of the Highlands. And his eyes glowed with leaf-green fire. He was king of the beasts, sovereign of the land. A proud, noble creature who prized freedom above all else.

When people came to the Highlands of Alba*, they chopped down trees, and cleared forests, and built mighty hill forts. They moved the stones and carved funny symbols in them. The wild Rune Dragon was not pleased with this. These invaders had no right to chop down his trees and deface his rocks. He was a king; a warrior, and he would handle this unwelcome invader in the warrior way.

The wild Rune was cunning. He watched the fortress for months, the coming and going of the people. And he learned many things.

There was a king of the people, just as he was king of the beasts. And this king had a son, a most beautiful lad. Every day this youth would take his favorite hunting dog and go hiking in the hills, strutting about like he owned the place and shooting down birds with bow and arrow. The wild Rune noticed this, and he decided that was where he would make his first strike at the meddling humans. In his home turf.

The day started out clear and bright, when the young prince set off. He had with him, as always, his favorite hound, and his trusty bow. The wild Rune waited for him atop a great carved stone which he always passed, his hide blending into the rock. His eye tracked the lad's progress as he approached. He watched the youth closely from his vantage point, as the fog rolled in from the sea. The sky grew dark, and the boy, unaware of his stalker walked briskly under the stone. The wild Rune paddled his feet, and resettled his feathers, preparing to launch himself at the youth. When the lad was directly below him, the Rune rocked back on his haunches, and made to spring....

...when the lad, still oblivious, lifted his head and began... to sing.

He sang of his people, of their arduous journey, of the might of their warriors and the cleverness of their women. The Rune caught himself with his wings, teetering on the edge of the stone; hesitating for just a moment. As the Beast listened, deciding whether or not to take the youth, the boy sang of the trees, and the mountains, and the giggling stream, of the beasts; the fearless boar, the proud ram, and the glorious eagle, the cunning wolf, and the loving deer. The Rune relaxed his tense muscles, and opened his ears. The sound was beautiful; wonderful, like the song of the lark in the early morning, or the wind through the highland crags. And the fire in the warrior's heart guttered and softened. He sat transfixed as the youth sang, falling in love with the music of man's voice.

The Rune slowly crawled down the stone's face, overcome with curiosity, and trundled toward the youth. The hound barked frantically, and the young man grabbed his bow, drew an arrow, and raised it up....

For a brief second he hesitated, little knowing a similar hesitation had just spared his life. The Rune snatched the opportunity and took wing. He flew up and fixed his brilliant gaze on the lad, gently touching the arrow point with his nose. The boy slowly lowered his weapon. The dog cocked it's head in confusion, and gave a concerned wuff, but he wasn't heard.

Now according to the legend, a great change overtook the Rune dragon at this moment. His decision to spare the boy invoked some great magic within him, or perhaps in the land itself. His plumage was transformed, and his simple Rune mark was changed into a golden circlet. A symbol of a noble heart. Of an unending bond.

And from that day, the Rune was friend to the Prince, and to the people.

~Enjoy my Horrible Attempt at the Human Figure~

“ Did you ask them the price o' their glory
When you heard the great slaughter begin?
For the dust o' their bones would rise up from the stones
To bring tears to the eyes o' the wind ”

Many years passed, and the yew tree grew old, and died. So the Prince's Rune passed on too. But like the yew seed eaten by the salmon, the Prince's Rune left part of himself behind too, to be born in the form of a new dragon. And so, the beasts were passed from father to son. King to Prince, and Prince to King.**

When invader's came, they called the painted warriors 'Picts', and fought them for control of the land. They had greater weapons and armor, and any man would be right to fear an enemy more powerful then yourself. But not the Picts. They had the one thing the invaders lacked; spirit. And also, a very spirited Pictish Rune.

Being as wild as the lands that bore him, the Pictish Rune was a force to be reckoned with. His feathers stained with blue woad, he charged into the battle alongside his human friends, unleashing a terrible fury on his enemies. The battles and raids lasted for years.

The fights were always hard and bloody, and the Rune despaired to see his friends perish at the hands of invaders, to see his own claws stained red with the blood of young enemy soldiers. So much violence and sorrow had the potential to drive any creature mad. But the songs and poems of his people comforted the Pictish Rune.

One day, while taking water at a cold stream, the Pictish Rune heard a most melodious sound. He looked up and saw a young woman washing clothing. He cocked his head, as the sweet words of her singing drifted through his ears. Her voice sang of her beloved, who had gone off to do battle for his king. Yes, the song was sad, but as the Rune listened he heard another note come into play near the end. One of hope. And when he waded a little way into the stream to get a better look at the woman, he saw tears on her eyes, but her lips were drawn up in laughter as her song finally ended with the lovers being united.

The Rune dragon, curious, went to the women. She was startled at first, but having heard that the Pictish Runes liked to hear music, she sang him another song, this one happy and light. The Beast closed his eyes, and bopped his head. He was swept up in the music, his mind twisting and swirling to the swaying notes, until suddenly a cry came from his mouth, and the cry turned into a chortle, and the chortle became a song.

And so the Rune learned that he could make his own songs. This revelation filled him with new purpose. He discovered a harp and would ward off evil thoughts by learning to play it. The men found this immensely funny; their daring warrior Rune trying to make sweet music with his knobbly claws, but the Rune persisted. He started to sing songs of his own composition to the other dragons, who would listen attentively, and curiously. The act of creation; of thinking up songs and poems about the sky, and the trees, of the glory and sorrow of battle, helped the Rune to find peace and meaning in a world so full of horrors.

~Warrior~

“ But you saw the smiles o' the gentry
And the laughter of lords at their gains
When the poor hunt the poor across mountain and moor
The rich man can keep them in chains "

More time passed, and the generations of Runes became mighty warrior poets, as skilled in battle as they were in song. They were renowned far and wide for their wisdom and strength. The magic of the land slowly changed the Runes, painting their plumage with beautiful designs.

The people changed too. The invaders from the South withdrew and new invaders came from the Sea. But the Picts were a strong kingdom by now, united in the protection of their homeland.

During this time the only people allowed the privilege of bonding with the Painted Runes, were kings, princes, warrior chiefs, and storytellers. They were highly prized as both hunters, warriors, and companions. The King of the Picts at this time had many Pictish Runes. One in particular was his favorite. This Rune was pampered, and fussed over by the king, and he enjoyed an easy life. The Rune was sat on his golden perch by the king's chair in the great hall, where he could watch all the goings on, and be fed the best morsels.

Almost every week the king would go hunting with his warriors and his favorite Rune dragons, hunting them like falcons. The feisty Pictish Runes would boldly tackle prey much larger then themselves. Their cleverness and agility were skills valuable when hunting even the biggest game. And so a stag hunt was nothing to them.

The hunting party set off, bristling with spears and swords. Strained sunlight filtered through the heavy clouds, like whey running out a cheesecloth, as the group made their way across the hills. A scout Rune flew ahead of the party, looking for their quarry. When the Rune came back, squealing in triumph, the men knew it had spotted deer. The hounds jumped up as they were loosed, and went tearing across the heather, seeking out hart and hind.

The hunting party spurred their horses onward at the baying of the dogs. The Rune dragons were released, and they went winging after the dogs. The king's favorite pulled ahead of the others, flapping his mighty wings as excitement coursed through him. He dove after the hounds into the deep forest, dodging branches and logs nimbly, while the dogs were left to stumble through the underbrush. He quickly left the baying dogs behind, relying on his sense of smell to keep track of the deer.

The flashing white tails of the deer came into view for the Rune, and he sped toward them. Eight hinds, and at the forefront, a magnificent old stag, frosted with wisdom and bearing seven tines. The Rune flapped his wings, rising above the herd, then dove into the heart of the deer. They scattered in an attempt to escape the Rune dragon. Again the king's favorite rose up. He saw the old stag streaking away into the forest. He gave a cry, to alert the hunters, not realizing the hounds' baying had faded away.

The Pictish Rune raced after the white stag, easily overtaking it. He dove at it's legs in an attempt to tumble the beast. But the stag simply leaped over the darting form of the Rune, and continued running, eyes rolling, and slaver running out it's open mouth.

The Rune dove this time at the stag's heaving rump, slashing with his claws in an attempt to weaken it. But his claws made no mark. He huffed in frustration. His wings were growing leaden, and no help seemed to be arriving. He had to slow or stop the hart or the hunt would be a failure. The Rune dragon pulled back, readying to deliver a powerful strike. Claws flexed and curled sharp, mouth open in a silent roar, the dragon fell on the stag. But his claws fell on empty air, and he went plummeting to the ground with a crash.

The forest was quiet. There was no sign of the stag. The Rune tried to rise again, but his wing was hurt. He flapped around uselessly on the ground, screeching for someone to come help him. But the fog muffled his cries. Full of indignation he gave another cry. Suddenly, a light apeared ,then another and another. Specks of light filled his vision, and the rune saw fairy people appear before him. He was startled. The Rune had somehow found his way into Fairy.

The Rune thought the fair folk might help him, but the creatures just laughed and poked fun at the Rune, until he felt very poorly. He curled up in a ball and tried to ignore the pain in his wing and the teasing little imps.

The fairies lost interest in him after a while, and the Pictish Rune fell asleep. He was found by a young boy, who took the Rune dragon home and nursed him to health. It seemed to be only two days before the magic spells the boy worked on him had healed the Rune's wing completely. As everyone knows, in Fairy, Runes can talk, so the king's old favorite told his tale to the lad. The boy felt sorry for the Rune, but there was no way to get back. Passages into and out of Fairy are hard to find, and only powerful magicians can open them.

Annoyed with the boy, the dragon demanded to be taken to one of them. The boy told the Pictish Rune that that was impossible as there was a war going on in Fairy. Invaders had taken over Fairy and the people were fighting to win it back. As such, all the powerful magicians were far too occupied to help the little Rune, even if he was the king's favorite.

The Pictish Rune realized that the only way to get home would be if the Fairy War ended, so he took up arms and fought with the people against the oppressing invaders. Although he had joined the war for selfish reasons, as the Rune continued to fight, he noticed the bravery and nobility of the people, and he began to fight for more then just himself. He began to fight for the freedom of Fairy, and in a way for the freedom of his own people. This was their land too, albeit on a different plane.

When the final battle arrived, the Rune took a magic sword and challenged the dark Rune of the invaders. They did glorious battle, scratching and clawing and ripping and slashing each other to bits. Black crows watched with anticipation of a feast. The duel raged on for what seemed like forever, and indeed, it might have been forever. Exhausted, the two dragons faced off for the final time. The Pictish Rune took his sword and slashed at his enemy. The other dragon dodged, saw an opening and slapped him with a wing, and the Pictish Rune went tumbling through the air. The invader squealed in triumph and fell on the defeated. Pinning the Pictish Rune beneath a clawed foot, he crowed out his victory. For a brief moment the Pictish Beast wanted to give up. He didn't have the strength left to fight, nor did he want to anymore. Let the invaders win, it wouldn't be so bad.

But even as he thought this, he remembered all the wonderful creatures in Fairy. How brave and strong and noble they were. How they would keep on fighting, no matter what happened today. Keep on fighting, and keep on losing lives, until they either won or perished. The Rune knew he couldn't let that happen. He was filled with sudden strength, and he kicked upwards with all his might, sending the other dragon flying. He took up his wings and streaked at his opponent, and with his sword dealt a mortal blow.

As soon as the sword struck the soft flesh, the Pictish Rune found himself in an empty green field. His sword was gone, as were the crows, and the enemy Rune. Startled at first, the Rune then felt a deep knowing within himself. He knew he was home, and that his people had won the long war. When he looked up, there was a white stag of seven tines at the edge of the field. It bowed it's head and disappeared, just as the golden circle on the Rune's wing twisted and swirled and knotted it self. A thank you gift, and a reminder, that history is not a simple circle repeating itself, but built on the backs of many, all entwined into the twisty path of one's fate.

~Battle~

" But you knew the bargain he sold them
And freedom was only one part
For the price o' their souls was a gospel sae cold
It would freeze up the joy in their hearts "

The Picts with their Runes were a mighty people for many years. But even the gods cannot escape Grandmother Time. For the Picts, after centuries of war and struggle, their end was gentle. As the years rolled by, the Gaels pushed deeper into Pictland, their culture gradually assimilating the Pictish way of life. The Pictish Runes watched as the years went by, as their language was lost, replaced with Gaelic and Latin; as the great hill forts and standing stones fell, and castles and monasteries sprang up in their place; as more wars were fought, lost, and won.

The Pictish Runes were no longer needed. There were soon less and less of them. The remaining dragons retreated to the Ancient places of standing stones and dolmens, the sacred sites their people. They lived out their time there, telling themselves, and any Rune that chanced upon them the story of the good old days; tales of the glorious battles and mad adventures and unending love that had been passed down through the generations. Their stories were what kept them going, every dragon feeling as though he had lived each story that had made their race. They survived in the last great wildernesses of Alba for hundreds more years, occasionally bonding with a human, but mainly staying far away from them, preferring to remain wild and free. They well remembered all the pain and sorrow of their hundred of years with the Picts, and with their culture gone, they had no desire to form another alliance with humans.

At this time, a castle had been built on the scared grounds of a ring of stones, which was home to a Rune Dragon. Infuriated by this, the Rune did all he could to sabotage the building of the castle. He would cut ropes and break wooden beams, and cause much mischief which delayed the work. Both the king and the architect grew increasingly annoyed at these mysterious accidents, and worked even harder to finish the fortress.

The homeless Pictish Rune was ruthless in his destruction. When his little mischief making had no effect on the progress of the castle, he set his goals higher. When the men were hard at work, the Rune cut through the supports and caused the scaffolding to collapse, taking out a good chunk of the castle wall.

The king had had enough at this point, and he set a reward for anyone who could find the source of the trouble. One day someone found the Rune while he was gnawing through some ropes, and the men jumped on him and tried to subdue him, but the Rune escaped and fled into the wilderness. The king and his men saddled their horses and rode after the Rune. When he heard the cries of the dogs and realized he was being followed, the Pictish Beast flew into the bog lands in a bid to outwit his pursuers. It was simple enough for him to fly over the bog, but they would have to tread carefully to avoid getting stuck.

The king stopped his men at the edge of the mist-heavy bog, whose entrance was flanked by birch and hawthorn. The men and the horses were too fearful to enter the wetland. These lands belonged to the sith, the fairies, who belonged to an older time. They might very well rise up out the bog and pull a man and horse down into the earth. The king demanded if no man was brave enough to go after the wee dragon. The architect rode forward. He was a foreigner, and had little stomach for these superstitions. He wanted to catch this pest who was ruining all his hard work and planning, and he knew his faith would protect him from the devils said to inhabit the bog lands.

The king was hesitant at sending his architect into the wetlands. He spied a blackthorn tree, and cut a branch and gave it to his architect for protection. Then the man set off into the foreboding bog.

The architect carefully picked his way through the swamp. Several meters in, his horse stopped, and refused to go on, so the architect continued on foot, using the hawthorn branch as a cane to check the solidity of the ground where he would put his next step. He was determined to find the impish Rune and stop the destruction of his beautiful castle.

So consumed was he in his thought of what he would do to the dragon, he didn't realize where he was stepping and fell into the bog. He began to sink, and struggled mightily, before realizing that was only making things worse. The Rune dragon heard his cries, and flew back to see what had befallen his chasers. He landed on a rock in view of the man, and laughed at him.

The architect grimaced at the idea of the Rune laughing at him as he died. Then he had an idea. He recalled having heard long ago that Pictish Runes liked stories. He would have to talk fast if he wanted to get out of this.

The man told the dragon that he would tell him a story if he helped him escape. The Beast scoffed, and was about to fly away, when the man said it was a story with no ending. This caught the dragon's attention. He'd never heard of a story with no end. As the man continued to plead, the dragon relented and took up the blackthorn branch the man had dropped and held it out to him.

When the architect had solid ground beneath his feet, he began to shiver. He told the dragon he would need to warm up before he could tell his story. Annoyed, the Rune led him back through the bog to his compatriots.

The architect told the king and his men to make a fire, and fetch him a blanket, which they did. Once he felt warmth return to his limbs, he sprang up and grabbed the Rune, and they threw him in a sack and took him back to the castle. They locked him in a cage where the Rune went mad, screeching and screaming until everyone thought their ears would bleed.

The king went to the dragon and tried to bargain with him, which was no easy feat. He told the dragon he would let him go if he promised never to return. The dragon thought it over, then shook his head. Then the architect spoke up, and asked if the dragon would not leave if he told him the story he promised. The Pictish Rune was still annoyed with the architect, but seeing no other means of freeing himself agreed.

The architect sat down and began to tell the story. It started off similar to this one, with a Rune who was wrecking a castle, and a king who set out to catch it, and an architect who volunteered to go into the bog to catch the dragon. Suspicion filled the Pictish Rune but he listened the whole way through. The story concluded with the Beast being captured, and the architect telling his story... about a Rune who was wrecking a castle and a king who had set out to catch it, and an architect who volunteered to go into the bog to catch the dragon. Suspicion filled the Pictish Rune but he listened the whole way through. The story concluded with the Beast being captured, and the architect telling his story... about a Rune who was wrecking a castle and a king who-

The Rune puffed himself up and screeched. Yes, he had heard enough. The architect calmly asked if that was not what he promised. The Rune grumbled to himself. It was indeed a story that had no end. He refused, however to admit that the architect had cleverly outwitted him and greatly impressed him. He held up his promise and never bothered the castle or it's inhabitants again, but instead wandered around the countryside, telling the story of the Rune who had been tricked, the story that had no end.

~Donnchadh Tells the Story of the Pictish Beast Rune ~

" And I thought as I stood and laid hands on your wood
That it might be a kindness to fell you
One kiss o' the axe and you're freed frae the racks
O' the sad bloody tales that men tell you... "

All things must come to an end. And no one knew this better then the Old Pictish Rune. He had lived a very long time, and now all his friends were gone. He was the last of the Pictish Runes. He knew his time was coming, and he decided he wanted to die at the sacred ring of stones.

The journey the Rune took was long and arduous, across the rough and wild land that had borne his ancestors. He persisted, putting off the inevitable by his amazing courage and spirit. He would die no where else but that sacred site.

After a long pilgrimage the last Pictish Rune saw the great stones rising out of the moss, looking as if they had grown out of the very earth. The old dragon sighed, and made his way to the circle. The richly carved stones depicted his ancestors in all their glory. The symbols of individual tribes were etched into the rock, their true meaning long since forgotten.

The old Rune felt at peace here, and as the clouds moved over the sun and it grew dark, the old Rune climbed onto one of the fallen stones, and curled up in the center of a carved disc. He remembered all he had seen over the years. More than that, he remembered all he had been told. The stories of his mighty race, and the proud people they worked with. He held those stories close to his fading heart, even now stubbornly holding onto them. It sickened him to think some of those stories would be lost.

Time passed, and it grew darker. The old Rune retold himself all the stories he knew, agonizing over every detail. He would go over each one in his head, before wishing it well and sending it away. Story after story, and with each story, the Rune felt himself growing weaker. A small part of himself left his body as each story ended. Finally, he came to the last story, his story. He told it. He wished it well. Then he sent it away and hoped that someone, somewhere would find it. It felt as if a great burden had been lifted off of him, and as the mist pressed closer around him the old Rune let himself go.

~Donnchadh in the Old Yew Tree~

" ..but a wee bird flew out from your branches
And sang out as never before
And the words o' the song were a thousand years long
And to learn them's a long thousand more. "

All stories must come to an end. This we know. But no story ever dies. Not really. It warps and changes and gets tangled in itself, and sometimes becomes something completely different. But it never dies. Somewhere a salmon has swallowed a seed from a yew tree.

It grew darker around the standing stones. The monoliths seemed to lean inward in mourning for the last Pictish Rune. The fog gathered around them. At least, it seemed to be fog. It grew denser and thicker, hugging each stone, whispering to it. The carvings seemed to glow as the mist touched them. With the fog swirling around them it seemed almost as if they had come alive, moving, dancing across the rock faces. No, not across. It was clawing it's way off the stone surface, a jewel glowing green at it's knotted center. Spreading new wings, and stretching new claws, and blinking old eyes, it took off with a cry, singing a new-old song that filled it's warrior heart.

~ Donnchadh~
with Ogham and Double Disc with Z-rod Shield

~ * ~ ~ * ~

~ * Additional Sketches* ~
* ~ Quick Sketch ~ Donnchadh and the Boar ~ Pictish Rune Knot II ~ Royal Pictish Rune ~ And Because by Now You Probably Need A Laugh ~
I did most of these sketches when I was away from my computer and without a reference, so some of the markings might not be in the right place. Sorry about that.

*Alba = Ancient name for Scotland
** It is a common misconception that Pictish kingship passed down through the mother's line. Except in rare circumstances it passed through the father's line. Irish kingship passed through the female line. And we'll ignore the fact that it was usually passed from brother to brother or other relatives instead of to sons, in lieu of a good story. This is also why I made all the Runes in the story male, to show the 'line' continuing through the years.


The lyrics are from a traditional Scottish song called 'The Yew Tree'. You can hear a version of it here: The Yew Tree – Battlefield Band
If you're curious about the song, it basically retells two thousand years of Scottish history from the viewpoint of a yew tree. The yew tree was a sacred tree to the Celts. It was revered as a magical wood, one of three woods that the druids would make their wands from, and a symbol of immortality. The history in the song is different from the one I related in the story. The story of the Pictish Rune takes place in a much older time, and of course in Eldemore, not Earth. ^^ The Rune's 'horns' look sort of tree-like, so it put me in mind of the song, which is among one of my favorites.

Sorry for getting a little deep there, near the end. I just got swept up in the music and the writing, and things. It wasn't easy to condense a few hundred years of history into a short story using a song as a framework. XP What ever made me think that was a good idea? Oh well, I still like the concept. Oh, and I hope no one minds that most of the Celtic themes and other references are not actually 'Pictish'. They left behind very few written records. Basically all we know about them comes from Roman accounts and artifacts. So, none of their legends have been found/translated, at least none I was able to find. But the Rune is a general Celtic Rune as well as a Pictish Rune, so I figure it works okay. It's entirely possible that the Picts and the Celts/Gaels/Scots shared many similar beliefs considering the surviving Irish and Scottish mythologies cross over in many places. Just wanted to clear that up, so people don't get confused.

P.S. Yes, I also drew the Pictish Rune's Knot which is used as a break in the story, and the Knotted Runes at the top of the page. Oh and a quick note about the picture 'Battle'. The layers got all messed up so it doesn't look that great. Don't really have time to redo the whole thing. Lastly the hood in the first picture is based on an actual garment that was found in a peat bog in Orkney. I hated drawing that prince. I didn't have enough time to finish it. I'm almost glad I didn't because his proportions are so messed up. XP

Thanks so much for making such an amazing Rune Jendalie! I'm so happy to have a chance to try out for him! I really enjoyed the challenge of writing the stories, and of coming up with all the different pictures.