[emberheart.]

A Foxerfly is a fox-like creature that is rather small. They are about the size of the average house cat. Their very unique feature is the pair of wings on their back that allows them to fly unlike any other four-legged being. There are five different types of wings of a Foxerfly that resemble wings of insects.

Butterfly
Dragonfly
Bee
Wasp and
Moth

Occasionally their wings will be different to others, but it is rare in the average Foxerfly. Their diet consists of everything a normal fox would eat; berries, eggs, small rodents, fruit, and they may chew on various crops. They are shy and extremely secretive among creatures of different kinds, so they are not seen often.
Be nice to your Foxerfly; they will only choose the one right for them.

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xxxxxxx

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[center]--ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ sɪᴅᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ sᴛᴏʀʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ sᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ--

[size=85]
Username;; Lichenfeather
Owner? Yes. I have four babies. He would fill my last adoptable slot,
and I would be proud to claim him as my own.
Why I want him;; I saw this foxerfly and just felt a connection. Throughout
the creation of this form, that connection has grown stronger. Now, after doing art
writing his story, and creating this characters, I cannot deny I feel very close to this
handsome character. When I first saw him, I thought, 'okay, this foxerfly is pretty.'
At school that day, my brain went on a quest to make him a story, and I realized
that I could not let him go without a fight.
Will I be active? Although I am not very active on the fanclub anymore, I still
do draw and roleplay my foxerflies. I also intend to create this handsome boy's world
around him as I progress with his character. I have so many ideas, how could I not be
active is the greater question. To conclude, even if I am not active on the fanclub itself
I intend to remain active in the community and with the foxerfly himself.
What will I do with him? This lovely boy will become my art muse for the next while,
as I've got a multitude of ideas for both art of him and the part of the world he lives in. I
also plan to write a short story involving him, Adonis and Pandora, so that should happen at
some point, and finally I will roleplay him to death. One thing I will not do is immediately find him a mate, as I believe one should fully develop a character before finding it love.

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//Bᴀsɪᴄ Iɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ//

Title;; Sir Melkor Death-Walker, Lord of the Shadowfell
Full Name;; Melkor Keres Silverkin
Name Meaning;; Melkor's name comes in three parts. The first part, Melkor, is from Tolkien's world of Middle Earth. Melkor means "He Who Arises in Might" and was the name of Morgoth before his name was forbidden to speak, due to his great evil. Keres were what the Greek believed to be the spirits of cruel and violent death. The final part of his name, Silverkin has no hidden meaning. It means exactly what it looks like.
Goes by;; Melkor
Nicknames;; His close friends sometimes call him Keres.
Age;; Twenty-four years
Gender;; Male

--Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟɪᴛʏ--

Size;; Melkor is usually considered a bigger foxerfly. He is not the tallest foxer about, but he is exceedingly well built, with muscles shimmering under his dark pelt. He is mostly composed of muscle and bone, with very little fat on his body.
Weight;; At about seventeen pounds, Melkor is on the heavier side, however it is important to remember that muscle is heavier than fat.
Height;; Melkor stands at about one foot at the shoulder, making him a relatively average height.
Muscles;; More muscle than fat, Melkor easily has the strength to take out a much larger foxerfly with little difficulty. This strength, however, came with hours and hours of training each and every day. Training that Melkor must continue to endure if he wishes to remain this way.
Movement;; Melkor moves with both intention and power. Each of his paws in planted deliberately, and he always knows where his various limbs are. Every movement seems to purposeful and crucial. He makes no wild or unnecessary movements, sure of himself and his abilities.
Mannerisms;; Whenever he is resting, Melkor lifts the weight off his back right paw, due to an old injury that still bothers him from time to time. This is very subtle, however, and it would take a trained eye to see it.
Voice;; Clear, clipped words, with a low, heavy voice. On the off chance he gets very excited, his voice raises a few octaves, yet compared to most, even this excited voice would be low.
Accent;; Melkor sounds as if he came from Newfoundland, Canada, in the way he speaks. Despite this, his accent actually hails from the Shadowfell itself.
Overall;; Muscular, powerful, polite and deliberate, no one could ever accuse this handsome canine of not being strong enough to rule the Shadowfell. He may not tower over others, but his strength and presence makes up for his average height.

--Eᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ--

Personality;; | Hyper | Excitable | Goofy | Polite | Impulsive || Temperamental | Deliberate | Cruel | Merciless | Devious |
On good days, Melkor is a happy-go-lucky guy, despite the fact he plays it off as hiding under the façade of the strong, silent type. Easily excited, this playful foxerfly finds pleasure in the littlest things in life, such as the way the dust swirls, or how the city looks beneath the tower. Anything and everything can get his heart rate increasing, his ears twitching with interest. This hyperactivity also makes seriousness a problem for our hero. Constantly goofy, Melkor cannot deal with anything seriously, brushing it off playfully or making a joke of it. This can cause him to be incessantly annoying to those around him. He does his best to be polite; knowing the importance of formalities and respect, but it is often difficult to contain his outbursts. His impulsiveness has gotten him into trouble many a time, and poor Melkor often has a difficult time extracting himself from these less then optimal situations. Melkor also has a difficulty in reading English, preferring to stick to the ancient tongues he knows and speaks fluently. Overall, Melkor seems like your typical, ADHD, jokester type of guy, right? Wrong. Underneath the charismatic shell, something dangerous stalks, waiting for the perfect moment to spring forth and wreak havoc upon the world. As the world turns closer to October thirty-first, Melkor’s grasp on reality spirals away. His playfulness gives way to an easily angered, tempermentalness that takes everything seriously and is far too sensitive with each and every word spoken. The excited impulsive side of our foxerfly drifts away, leaving a creature that won’t take a single second to breathe without thinking through all the possible outcomes first. Over the course of the year, the changes are slow, yet they still happen. It is a cycle of sanity to insanity, harmlessness to cruelty. And when the world draws closer to All Hallows Eve, Melkor cannot be described anything but cruel. He takes great pleasure in the suffering of others, the tossing of kits out of windows and the torture of helpless souls, with no place to go but the Shadowfell. Not only is he cruel, but he is callous and smart. Although anger comes to him as easily as a breath of air, he retains his cunning, and does not allow himself to be blinded. Every choice he makes is calculated, the benefits and side effects looked over, and so he knows whatever he does will be the best for him and only him. It is important to note that Melkor remembers everything he does during the year, and when he is more 'normal', he must deal with the deaths he dealt out and harm he caused. This gives him a very warped sense of self. As the year heads towards this day, it is best to head further from Melkor and his ruthless realm.
Mental State;; Unstable
Disorders;; Melkor has been cursed, resulting in a bi-polar like state controlled by the time of year. As the year heads closer to October thirty-first, Melkor loses his grasp on reality, and falls into a ruthless insanity that makes him exceedingly dangerous.
Fears;; Melkor, in his 'normal' state, fears a few things, predominantly himself, yet also his power to hurt another and the fact his realm is dying. When he is in his cursed state, he fears nothing, believing himself unbeatable. This in itself causes him angst when he is more sane, as he never knows what sorts of injury he may sustain while crazed.

"Yᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴs, ᴍᴇ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴍɪɴᴇ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴs ɪ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟɪᴇs ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʏ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ."

Don't ever take a single second to breathe,
They're gonna send me on a murdering spree.
I can not wait to dance upon your grave.
They don't even have a soul left to be saved.
You would eat your young.

We swam among the northern lights,
And hid beyond the edge of night
Waiting for the dawn to come,
And sang a song to save us all.

Hey, oh, oh, you want a holy war?
Hey, oh, oh, you want a holy war?

I am alive, I'm just playing dead.
I'm gonna say what should have never been said.
The giants of the world are crashing down.
The end is near, I hear the trumpets sound.
You would eat your young.

We swam among the northern lights,
And hid beyond the edge of night
Waiting for the dawn to come,
And sang a song to save us all.

You would eat your young.
You would eat your young.
You would eat your young.
You would eat your young.

I am alive, I'm just playing dead.
I am alive, I'm just playing dead.

We swam among the northern lights,
And hid beyond the edge of night
Waiting for the dawn to come,
And sang a song to save us all.

We swam among the northern lights,
And hid beyond the edge of night
Waiting for the dawn to come,
And sang a song to save us all.

//Iɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇғɪᴇʟᴅ//

xxxx--Lɪғᴇsᴛʏʟᴇ--
Talent;; Melkor is a shadowdancer. You may be wondering what exactly a shadowdancer is, understandably, as it is not a well-known occurrence. A shadowdancer is one with a great ability in stealth, thievery and other rouge-like abilities, that, instead of maintaining simply this, delve into the world of magic to become one with the natural world, specifically shadows. A shadowdancer moves silently, relying on stealth and darkness to cloak them. They become one with the shadows, indistinguishable from the darkness when they choose to be. Similar to an assassin, a shadowdancer specializes in sneak attacks, and is swift, silent, and deadly. They can summon shadows to serve as guardians, a place to hide, or as a fellow attacker. A shadowdancer is fast, dangerous and ruthless
Charm;; Tied around his tail is a translucent black scarf. Made of silk, it is delicate and holds a great personal meaning to Melkor. Embroidered in silver thread on the edge is the word ‘shadow’ in Tolkien’s language known as Qyenya. On middle-left side of the scarf there is a charm tied by a small chain. The charm is in the shape of a raven’s wings, outstretched in preparation of flight. Overall, Melkor’s charm is elegant while remaining out of his way when it comes to fighting.

Occupation;; Formerly, Melkor was the commander of the royal guard of the Lady of the Shadowfell. His shadowdancing abilities made him skilled in the stealth and secrecy that the job requires, and he was uncannily skilled at the aura of mystery all royal guards are supposed to have. Melkor was quite happy in this position, and had no desire to advance any further. Ruling the Shadowfell was, and occasionally still is, a perilous job, with only the best surviving more than a year. Now, Sir Melkor Keres Silverkin is the Lord of the Shadowfell, the ruler of an empire broken beyond repair. He sits silently on his throne of bones, remembering a time when the realm was prosperous and feared, as opposed to now, when the fear comes from within the kingdom – that of slipping between the veils of the world and disappearing forever, leaving nothing but legends told to scare kits into behaving. Melkor never wanted the job he was forced into, the responsibility he cannot leave unless he dies. Regardless, he rules the dying kingdom as best he can, waiting and dreaming of the day they may reclaim their former glory and take the world by fear once again.

"Nᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏғ ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀɴʏ ᴍᴀɴ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅᴏ. ᴀɴ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴏғ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ."

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Armour;; Melkor still owns his armour from the days of his service with the royal guard for the Lady of the Shadowfell. Although he wears it much less then he used to, mainly due to the fact he rarely leaves The Bone Spire and the surrounding palace, when equipped with the protective gear defeating him is a dream few can hope to accomplish. Made of shaped metal, chains, gems and chainmail, this protective shell does not encumber his movement yet still provides the fortification it was designed to give. The horns and talons strike both fear into the hearts of enemies along with serving as functional weapons to reach between the chinks in another’s armour. The cobalt stones embedded along the chains provide the armour with the elegance that was expected from one of the royal guard. The one draw-back to his armour is the weight on his wings, preventing him from flying, yet still protecting his most venerable area along with allowing glide-room. In conclusion, his armour creates an impenetrable castle around him, that none should dare to cross.
Home;; In the heart of the Shadowfell, a dark shape looms out of the dusty grey. This ebony castle, built around the skeleton of some ancient, fallen giant, is where the ruler of the Shadowfell makes their home. Although this is where Melkor lives and usually remains, he also takes extended trips into the black-white bone forests of the area, heading to some long forgotten place where he can seek solitude, and escape from his restless mind. His chambers within the castle itself are located within the Bone Spire, the throne room being on the upper level of this circular turret, with dark winding stairs leading down to the main hall and a side door leading to his chambers. Surprisingly, Melkor leads a relatively simple life, his chambers holding little of personal value. This is due to his lack of trust for the few remaining members of his court, as he knows none of them are truly devoted to him.

"Lᴇғᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ғᴀsᴛ ᴀsʟᴇᴇᴘ, ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀɴ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴏғ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴀ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏғ ᴇᴍᴘᴛʏ sᴛʀᴇᴇᴛs."

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

I’ve been dreaming of things yet to come
Living, learning, watching, burning
Eyes on the sun

I’m leaving, gone yesterday
Brutal, laughing, fighting
The price I had to pay

Bright lights, big city
She dreams of love.
Bright lights, big city
He lives to run.

Demon, where did my angel go?
Vacant, vapid, stupid, perfect,
You are the one

A new day, a new age, a new face, a new lay,
A new love, a new drug, a new me, a new you

Bright lights, big city
She dreams of love.
Bights lights, big city
He lives to run.

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

I forgive,
Had enough
Time to live
Time to love

Time to live
Time to love
Time to live
Time to love

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh (time to live)
Oh, oh, oh (time to love)
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

Time to live
Time to love
Time to live
Time to love

Bright lights, big city
She dreams of love
Bright lights, big city
She dreams of love.
Bights lights, big city
He lives to run.

xxxx -- ᴀ ᴘᴀsᴛ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ--
Kit-Hood;; Melkor was born as a small, black foxerfly in the bustling town that surrounded the Ebon Keep. Built into the stomach cavity of the very same skeleton, the town of Ebon Keep was a harsh place to grow up. From the time he was born, until the time he turned fourteen, Melkor lived a life of his own. His mother was horribly poor, his father killed in one of many wars that swept the empire all too often. In order to survive, he took to thievery, stealing coins from travellers and merchants, taking whatever he could in order to support himself and his family. Despite his growing skills, it was fate that Melkor would be caught one day. At thirteen, Melkor took a risky trip into the castle, seeking medicine for his ailing sister. After his accomplice bailed on him, he was caught by a member of the guard, and, for a time, blackmailed into doing bigger and bigger jobs. Eventually, at fourteen, Melkor was caught. The usual punishment for thieves was death, but somehow {he still does not know how}, Melkor impressed the Lady of the Shadowfell, and was instead initiated into the guard of the Ebon Keep.
Teenage Years;; At fourteen, Melkor was initiated into the ranks of the Guard, a force of warriors dedicated to keeping the town and castle safe from the marauding outside forces. Melkor was not as strong as most of the bulky warriors, but he was swift, and he was smart. His commander was a canine-like creature named Taliea, tawny and black. Even when others scoffed at the small, winged fox, she supported him, trained him, and pushed him past his limits. Of course, any teenaged boy with such a powerful female companion could not help but loving her… despite this, he never admitted his deep affection until a long time down the road—their friendship meant more to him than love ever could. Under Taliea’s watchful eye, Melkor progressed through the ranks quickly. His midnight pelt allowed him to slip around unseen, gathering important evidence, and discreetly removing those who may oppose the Lady of the Shadowfell. It was no surprise, to him or his fellow guards, when at eighteen he was chosen as a member of the royal guard, and at nineteen he was promoted to commander, with Taliea by his side as Official Spymaster.
Young Adult;; Together, at the top of their ranks, Melkor and Taliea were well-fed, hard-worked and happy. Of course, in a realm as twisted as the Shadowfell, happiness was a plague, and soon extinguished. At the tender age of twenty-one, Melkor watched his beloved companion, friend and mate die. She took a knife in the throat, and fell as she’d stood, her secrets dying with her. In a fit of rage born of grief, Melkor fled, and, for six months, travelled the empire, seeking a gate to the Underworld. At long last, he found one. Heedless of the risk, Melkor charged inwards, seeking his lost lover. Instead of finding and rescuing his spirit as he’d intended, he encountered a demon, ruthless and cruel as the subterranean world that spawned it. For weeks, the demon tortured Melkor, amusing itself with his pain, toying with him. Many a time the young warrior believed himself to be escaping, to be free once more, only to find it was yet another trick of the monster that held him captive. As the weeks stretched into months, Melkor eventually gave up, succumbing to the darkness and the torture. Finally, after what felt like eternity, the demon released the foxerfly. His pelt, once simply black, was now marked with bones, to warn the world of who he was, and what he had tried, and failed, to do. Before he left, the demon cursed him, giving him as many months of insanity in the upper-world as he had suffered in darkness down in the domain of the dead. On the day Melkor emerged, October thirty-first, he was deep within the depths of his madness. It took him only an hour or two to trek back to the town of Ebon Keep, and even less time to murder the Lady of the Shadowfell. To him, in his crazed state, it seemed the best thing to do. As per tradition, the one to dispose the last monarch was given the throne, and so Melkor claimed the throne for his own.
Now;; It was not long after he returned that the court of Ebon Keep that the court began to call him by the name of Death-Walker, referring to his time spent in the Underworld, and his peculiar, skeleton-like markings. For the next while, he lived under the influence of the curse, but was drifting away from insanity and into solidity. Despite his growing understanding of the world, and his lesser dictatoresqe rule, the court of Ebon Keep, and the domain itself, was falling apart. The visits from merchants grew further and further apart, until they ultimately stopped, driven away by fear for their lives. Melkor, cycling through madness and sanity, tried to stop the guard from leaving, the townspeople from moving out, but nothing he could do when lucid was able to counteract the effects of his curse. Finally, Melkor gave up, allowing those who wanted to leave to go. The entire realm was affected by this, as there was no longer a central ruling system. Slowly, but surely, it fell away, until Melkor was nothing but a cursed king, feared more than loved, ruling a realm that barely existed. Even now, Sir Melkor Death-Walker, Lord of the Shadowfell sits on his broken throne, trying to stop the empire from drifting into oblivion and madness. Naught but the dust and cobwebs keep him company, along with the brave few who dare his insanity-induced wrath.

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--ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ sᴀɴᴇ--

Likes;; Melkor is rather fond of anything bright and cheerful, since he rarely sees such things in a realm painted grey.
Dislikes;; Melkor holds a great hatred for himself. What he tried -- and failed -- to do gives him a deep seated self-loathing.
Favourites;; Melkor's favourite colour is black, his favourite time of day is dusk, his favourite food is anything fresh (as most of the Shadowfell's food is old or rotten), his favourite place is his hidden hollow in the bone forests behind the castle.
Strengths;; Melkor is an excellent fighter, and exceedingly agile, making him almost unbeatable in battle.
Weaknesses;; Emotionally, Melkor is horribly unstable. Quick to anger (and enter a blind rage), Melkor is easily distracted by insults or hatred.
Languages;; Latin || Greek || English || Deep-Speech (language the demon spoke)
Habits;; Melkor stutters when he's very excited or overwhelmed.

//Tʜᴇ Cʀᴏssɪɴɢ ᴏғ Pᴀᴛʜs//

Pᴀɴᴅᴏʀᴀ
-- Pandora is a dear friend of Melkor, and an old ally.
She is the single other in the world he can count on no matter what.

Nᴇᴍᴇsɪs

-- Melkor holds a healthy respect for the vengeful Nemesis.
On occasion, he has worked with the purple vixen, and found her both enduring and difficult.

Pʜᴀᴇᴀ
--As she does with everyone,Phaea did her absolute best to befriend the volatile Lord of the Shadowfell.
Melkor has a neutral opinion about the friendly fae, finding her to gentle to be of much interest to him, but no threat.

"Aɴ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴏғ ɴᴏɪsᴇ, ɪ ғɪʀsᴛ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ. ɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀᴍᴏɴɢ ᴜs sᴛɪʟʟ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇs ɪɴ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ? ɴᴏᴛ ɪ."

xxxxxxxx--ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜʀsᴇ--

The curse is a constant, unbreakable cycle.
On October thirty-first, Melkor is completely
insane, ruthless and dangerous. Throughout
the year, until around the end of April,
he continuously grows more sane, and finally
upon reaching May first, the date directly six
months across the calendar, he is in a fully
sane state. After this day, he regresses back,
slowly sinking back into madness until once
again reaching October thirty-first and the
entire cycle repeating. Melkor knows of no
way to break this cycle, so lives with it best
as he can.

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//Eᴄʜᴏs ᴏғ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇs//

What ravages of spirit
conjured this temptuous rage
created you a monster
broken by the rules of love
and fate has lead you through it
you do what you have to do
and fate has led you through it
you do what you have to do ...

and I have the sense to recognize that
I don't know how to let you go
every moment marked
with apparitions of your soul
I'm ever swiftly moving
trying to escape this desire
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
the yearning to be near you
I do what I have to do
but I have the sense to recognize

that I don't know how
to let you go
I don't know how
to let you go

a glowing ember
burning hot
burning slow
deep within I'm shaken by the violence
of existing for only you

I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do
I know I can't be with you
I do what I have to do
and I have sense to recognize but
I don't know how to let you go
I don't know how to let you go
I don't know how to let you go

short story




“T-Taliea! No! Please! No!” The ebony foxerfly scrambled towards the prone body of the fallen canine, skittering on the blood-soaked flagstones. His claws clicked on the stone as he cautiously made his way towards his mate, his heart thundering in his ears. Keeping an outwardly calm appearance, he edged towards her, although inside he was screaming in anguish. “Tally?” he asked, finally reaching the larger wolfish-creature. The red of her blood stained the stones, pooling around her, but Melkor ignored it, too focused on finding her amber eyes. Blue met yellow. She was still alive. The much smaller male curled against his mate, hoping, praying that she’d pull through. Yet her throat was cut, spilling the crimson work of her life upon the uncaring surface of the flagstones. Around them, guards watched and moved, some in shock at the sight of their dying spymaster, others attempting to get help. A voice as dull as the grey landscape that surrounded them cut through the numbness of silence. “Do something.” There was no emotion, no feeling in that dead tone. It took a moment for Melkor to realize it was his own voice, hopeless and so very dead. Everyone else seemed to be moving at the speed of light, while, inside a bubble of time, Melkor and Taliea lay, waiting for the world to wrench them from their slow-motion moment of farewell. “Mel…” a voice rasped from below him, interspersed with a wet coughing. Blood bubbled at the throat of his beloved, but her eyes caught his and held him there. “Mel…” she echoed, lifting a soaked paw. “No Tally… just stay still and you’ll be okay.” He promised her, going to gently place her paw down. However, she gave a faint shaking of her head, her eyes filled with the truth. She knew she was going to die. Gently, she raised her paw to his cheek, leaving a pawprint of rusted blood on his cheek. “No… hope… for… me…” she murmured, coughing once more. Melkor gave a pained gasp, shaking his head. Tears were streaming from his crystalline eyes, gently rolling onto her tacky fur. “Taliea… I won’t let you go, I swear it! How could I? I love you Tally… Tally…. I love you.” His words sped up, blurring together. Suddenly, the slow motion of the world shattered. In the blink of an eye, she whispered a final farewell, a singular moment of love that was extinguished with the end of her life. The guards buzzed in, and someone pulled Melkor away. Far away, a distant voice screamed. Melkor thought it was him, but could not tell for sure. His body convulsed, his eyes rolled back into his head. “TALIEA!” he wailed, just as something smacked him across the head and his world went black.

"Headshot" by "~Silver"
"Name" by "Username"
"Name" by "Username"
"Name" by "Username"

Ocean of Noise -- Arcade Fire
Northern Lights -- Thirty Seconds to Mars
Bright Lights -- Thirty Seconds to Mars
Do What You Have to Do -- Sarah Mclachlan

"I'ᴍ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ, 'ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ."

This foxer is very spoopy.

Impress me to win, ends on halloween! Remember, girls can be sirs too

taking a moment to say that I plan on two or three rus if there are forms for them c;

also here is spoopy without the bones just so you get an idea of how to draw him better

Sign is just for decoration, but you can incorporate it into the foxer if you'd like. Also the sir spider whatever is just for fun XD I like alliteration mmkay

Feel s/hes not super spoopy after all? Tell me why! Maybe you can unspoop them (change charm)[/size][/center]

[zaz]

sPOOP

[dogish]

spoopy reserve

[Dreamlord]

The foxerfly

Name;
Brenda
Gender;
female

[img]art%20here[/img]

[tokariya]

OMG RES RES RES RES -screeches-

[bulldagger]

res maybe

[hypersomnia.]

YEESSSSS reserve

- Spoop Dogg

[claypigeon]

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When you live in the moment, time always seems so slow. I've probably been sitting in this pumpkin patch for a couple hours but somehow it feels like years. strange how empty one can feel. I'm so cold but I don't bother to light the firewood in front of me. I don't want to bother doing anything any more. My face is wet, like I had been crying. had I been crying? I can't seem to remember. It feels as if my memories are slipping away from me.... If they are, I have better act quickly. time has run out.


CHAPTER ONE; THE BEGINNING

Where am I? it's dark here. very dark. I've felt the walls, feels like stone. And there seems to be a rattling sound around me. Like I am in a cage, or maybe a chamber? I don't know. Maybe i should try remembering what happened. I can't. It's so blurry and weird. But wait, I remember a scare crow. Really creepy with a pumpkin head. well that's a start at least. Okay I think I feel a lamp, If I'm correct this is the lighting switch. Presto! everything's bright and oh my gosh! I was right. I'm in a big dark chamber thing, almost like an elevator. There's cage bars as the ceiling and damp stone as the walls. a thick metal wire is tied to the bars, which seem to be pulling me up. All around me are pumpkins. I think I'm getting goosebumps. this is really scary, And I love it!

CHAPTER TWO; THE TRUTH

Well I'm stuck until I reach my destination. I feel alone, But I'm guessing I'm not because I can hear loud moans. But I cannot see who the moans belong to, these pumpkins are the only things here. for now. Wait a second. Am I the one moaning? the moans just stopped, right when I thought about that! I'm sure that was me. Something has started glowing. Oh my god! Don't look down whatever you do. too late I've looked a second time. somehow green and blue glowing markings have appeared on my dark grey body. Oh my. These aren't markings these are bones, my bones. Dripping as if someone had just painted them on my fur. this is too scary. wait look at my tail! I've got a charm! It's those Halloween spoopy signs. Great now i have a really stupid charm. but then again that sign is pretty funny. I'm feeling really dizzy. this is way to much. I can't think Any more. The back of my head is pleading and I can hear it whimpering. "let me die! oh please!" it's pleading and pleading and oh the pain in my leg is terrible. pain in my leg? I can feel it but I don't know where it came from. I know this is real but it feels as if I'm in a dream, drifting from the dream world back into reality. But i want to stay in the dream world because reality is even more terrifying. I think.

CHAPTER THREE; THE MILLIONAIRE
Why am I hanging from the ceiling? Oh yeah I remember. A guy came in and ordered me in a harsh whisper to hang from the bars. He was wearing a stupid purple hat at the time and said he would explain things soon. Then a wave of ghastly water splashed through the walls making some sort of lake. The water was like ghost water though. And I noticed all the pumpkins under the water slowly melting. He started to laugh and said he just saved my life and explained what the water was, ghost water. Deadly, only able to be made by ghosts. Which means ghosts were here to kill me. Which was great cause more stuff for me to be scared of! And of course I'm being sarcastic.

Changing views. from inside Salem's head to third person view

To anyone watching this might have come off very strange. In a field of sand and torn up grass, plus some leaves shed from the extremely skinny dead looking trees was two figures climbing from a big hole in the dirt. quite possibly anyone watching would think it a grave. But in truth it is the chamber. these figures were having a very fast and interesting conversation in whispers. "Yeah. Every Halloween something new comes to scare and sometimes hurt us. It's scary and usually very interesting. Dangerous though, I must advise you to watch out for the horrors" said the largest figure, wearing some sort of hat. then a female voice started to speak "so everyone fears Halloween? and when did this even start happening?" the male figure took on a pained face. "was some... 10 years ago. I think"

CHAPTER FOUR; THIS IS HALLOWEEN

[Guest]

Drop out: winner may keep art just don't copy her name Skelly Gradient
http://www.chickensmoothie.com/oekaki/i ... 1412544073
Sad dreams; by me
http://www.chickensmoothie.com/oekaki/i ... 1412544247
Playful Fullbody

[BecNessMonster]

heh
res