What is your character's favorite item they like to carry with them? Why? Draw or write about your character with their item.
A description of where Z'ariel likes to rest between portals and how he spends his quiet days. Prompt #50.
A college professor investigates an anomaly while his student follows him to a portal.
Arael takes Mona to an old condemned lab, but it would appear they aren't alone.
Arael is given the chance to preform a 'stress test'
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1. How does your character's elemental power manifest? Draw or write them using their elemental powers.
Arael takes Maria out to the beach, only to meet an unexpected interruption.
Clock has been living and fending for himself outside the walls, the massive dounting walls. It's finally time to enter, however a small robot in a world of humanoids isn't going to easily get passed border patrol.
Ov-3r Clock is a small robot. However, with the help of the Ov-3r Drive sheild he's not to small anymore. And now here he is, testing the waters of a power he knows little about.
Porter clasped her fingers over her bow, pulled the drawstring back, staring at the oozing mess that made her opponent, She glared at it, her arrow resting pulled back and poised in her drawstring began to be twirled with a small vine, her elemental power taking charge of her weapons, the arrow head was pointed right at the heart of the monster, it drawing ever near. She took another breath, “closer…..Closer…. Closer-” she stared at it, the arrow enchanted with the soul of Mother Nature herself, she was a basic Druid, her powers were hardly anything special, but even as a basic, she felt Mother Nature guiding her in a sense. The wind wafting her hair, the smell of the dirt under her feet, and the sounds of the forest. Now was her time to harness that power, she let out a shrill chirp as her arrow flew valiantly.
Porter fixed her talisman, the opal necklace often itched, however, she never removed it, she was strolling down a ravine, and her sense was well in the lacking, she nearly slipped and did her best to keep off the edge. She did her best not to, but the wet edge was taunting her. Her oak bow gripped firmly, her sheath still wet from the day's earlier rain. She slid her palm and fingers across the side of the ravine, she glanced at the rushing, ruthless waters crashing through underneath her feet, the ledge she was walking along was barely wide enough to walk normally. Her focus was only broken by the shrill and ear-threatening scream. Porter looked over the edge, her stomach already doing flips, the water underneath, crashing and eroding the ravine wall made her feel sick to the stomach. Her eyes darted across the walls, but nothing, she could see nothing, just wet rock, and a violent river. She finally caught a glance of a small brunette elf, gripping the ledge a few hundred feet away, and then she felt it, a small drop of water gently landing on the tip of Porter's nose. She gasped and looked at the heavy dark clouds. More drops of rain fell, light at first but with every step Porter took to help to other Elf it seemed to grow harder. The elf's fingers slipped with the slippery rock. One of her hands fell to her side, as she screamed again, Porter leaped for her, her feet gave under her landing and she herself nearly flung off the edge, if her palms and forearms hadn’t caught her, her chin would have her jaw would be cracked or even broken. The sharp dripping rocks scrapped her skin, she could feel the sting rippling up her nervous system. She yelped and sat up as quickly as she could, rubbing her sore stinging arms and hands. She glanced at the elf, looking desperate with her one hand threatening to let her body go, falling into the raging waters that would swallow her whole, smashing her against rocks, and beating her to a pulp in an instant. Porter couldn’t let that happen. She scrambled to her feet, clinging to the wall as she struggled to draw back her bow, the arrow pointed right at the girl, the arrowhead dripping with rain. She drew back on the drawstring launching an arrow at the girl's fingertips, then she shot another, they sliced into the rock in front of the girl who let out a squeak as they struck the stone. Soon she caught Porter's plan, her unattached arm swung up and grabbed the arrow supporting her weight, her other hand broke from the ledge and grabbed the other arrow, Porter with a final effort launched at her, grabbing her wrists and wincing at her screeching palms, hauling her up the ledge, exhausted, wet and traumatized, the two elven girls sat panting, staring at each other with new affection.
Avalon had a simple dream before that fateful day. A simple dream, one he just can't forget. A dream of life as a simple adventurer back home.
In a malevolent carnival, Alastor wields a cursed axe with an obsidian blade, hungry for conflict and wrapped in blood-red ribbons, carving chaos through haunted grounds under the blood moon's glow.