The war of the sky dye is long gone.(Sorry I just read though the whole dye lol.) Now the question is, where is the original leader of this dye?

Break-it/The One Who Likes To Narrate Random Crap

A Tale of Frost, Ch 1 pt 2

(my writing might be a little different, I seem to be aging a bit too fast)

As Frost, now an ice wolf, raced past the camp that had held him back for so long, his yearning to stay like this increased. To hunt, to be one with the wild, to be something feared and respected. To just leave the problems of society.

Frost skidded to a stop before tumbling over a hill, shifting back from wolf to human. His heart crashed against his rib cage, his head throbbing.

He couldn’t let the amulet take control.

Steadying himself, Frost patted his pockets for his journal, pencil, and flint. He flipped through his journal, the smell of leather and dust making it all the more pleasant to view the stories he had made and recorded.

What had spiked his interest, though, were myths of other story tellers, trapped in a strange world and only able to tell their tales through fires of extraordinary color.

Frost yawned, stretched, and lay himself down on a soft patch of grass.

Tales.

Nothing more but stories of the fantastical.

—————

Hope you guys had a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! Sorry about the short second part, and the gap in between, I’ve been busy lately. My writing has changed for better or for worse, I hope it’s not too much of a problem. Enjoy the story.

- Frost

A Tale Of Frost, Ch1 pt2

Frost’s eyes snapped open to a blinding sunrise.

Dawn.

He stretched, checked his amulet, packed up his journal, and began to walk. The mountains were still a long ways away. Frost tucked his amulet in his shirt, sure that he’d meet people along the way who’d try to snatch it away from him.

A twig snapped nearby, but Frost kept walking, pretending to be unaware of the presence of another person in the surrounding brush.

Suddenly, a child leaped out of the bushes, attempting to claw at Frost’s amulet. Frost thrust out his arm, catching the child just in time and flipping him on his back, using his arm to pin him to the ground.

“Let GO of me!” The kid growled, snapping his teeth.

Frost rolled his eyes. Kids. So feral.

“I’m going to let you go, and you’re not going to try and steal my necklace, ok? Ok.”

He slowly lifted his arm, letting the boy scramble to his feet.

“I’m Frost. Now scra-“

“I’m coming with you.”

Frost rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“No, no you aren’t.” Quick as lightning, Frost jabbed the kid’s vagus nerve, rendering him unconscious.

Frost frowned.

For all he knew, this child could have worried parents waiting for him to come home. He sighed impatiently before hauling the boy’s body over his shoulder, walking in the direction of the bushes the kid jumped out of in an attempt to see where he came from.

To be continued…

————————

I see there’s been drama, unfortunately I don’t have time and patience on my side right now. Enjoy the tale, I know the chapters are short so far, but it’s all I can give for now.

-Frost

Hi Frost! I like your story pls continue it. Nice to meet u. I wrote the paw print path here in Dododex. It starts in dire wolf. Pls write the next chapter, I can’t wait to see what happens! #FF4L. ✌️

-Ghost.

Eyes peek from under the floorboards and a hand slowly slides a sign out that reads:

"We of the olive dungeon kindly request more of your story, Frost."

~Sincerely

CL1 of the Poetry Gremlins Guild

Since we’re talking about pegos...

My first pego encounter:

Me:aaaaw cute.

Pego: *steals stuff from my inventory*

Me: GIVE THAT BACK TO ME YOU FILTHY BUGGER!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pego: *runs*

Me: *gets out bow and shoots it three times*

My next pego encounter...

Me: oh it’s one of these buggers isn’t it.

Pego: *stands in front of me*

Me: *readys bow*

Pego: *steals berries and tames himself*

Me: *names pego Feathered Thief*

First ichthyornis encounter...

Icthyornis: flies up to me.

Me: die filth

Ichthyornis: steals pick axe

Me: DAMN YOU, YOU LITTLE FILTHY BUGGER!!!!!!!!

Ichthyornis: swoops back down to steal more stuff.

Me: *readys bow and headshots the stupid bugger*

Ichthyornis: dead.

Me: lil bugger...

-Apex

A novel of Frost: Chapter the First (Part I)

Frost yawned, stretched, and opened his eyes. Another day in the miserable camp of Knorg. Frost growled, his mood instantly souring. Knorg, a dragon-human hybrid, was the leader of the very legion that had killed his mother all those years ago. The Dragon Legion had died thousands of years ago, but after a single vial of dragon’s blood was discovered years after, Knorg drank the blood and became a hybrid super human. Now he infuses his army of scum with the same blood he had ingested years ago.

And soon enough, he would see that Frost was more than a worker, and would change him into a mindless killer as well. Frost grinned. Knorg could try if he wanted to. Frost was escaping tonight.

————————

After a long day of slave work, it was twilight. Frost grasped his necklace, said a quick prayer to the Goddess, and crushed the ice shard. He squeezed his eyes shut…

But nothing happened. Frost groaned and cursed his folly-

Right before something did happen, in fact. He felt his body warp and shift, grow smaller, but stronger.

He was an Ice Wolf. And he was ready to be done with this Goddess forsaken camp. He howled and charged for the barbed fences that had kept him trapped for two decades. The fence shattered and turned to ice as Frost ran through, kept running, and ran towards his past home. The mountain of the Frost Howlers, as it was now known.

(I did not have enough time to write the whole chapter, I will continue this chapter as soon as I get back home. I’m going on a trip, I’ll be back in a week.)

Your excited author,

-Frost

Ah, but why have a bard when I can write my own ballads?

"How sad is the ruler, of a kingdom of one?

You claim glory, and yet you have none.

Dethroned and trampled by a big green beast,

You aimed for the best, yet fell to the least.

How much more fulfilled is the seeker of peace,

Who befriends gators, rather than being their feast?

But though I tease and taunt and pry

I am still honored you are my ally."

*theatric mandolin strum*

Need I say more?

(You're as much of a gloat as Pres.)

Yes, but I gloat with style.

~Limericist Loki

Ikr? More words crazy fan fics…

-Random person

Use this to make your leather pants look like jeans

A novel of Frost: prologue

Frost breathed in the wonderful smells of Spring, his picnic, and the sweet scent of his mother. “Mum,” he started to ask, “isn’t Spring just wonderful?” He sighed happily. His mother nodded and smiled. “I think my favorite season is Winter, but spring is nice.” Frost looked up at mother in surprise.

“Winter! But that’s when everything dies and it’s so cold out!”

Mother laughed and put her arm around Frost. “But it’s the season my little frost wolf grew up in-” mother stopped, her eyes wide. She gasped and choked, looking down at the sword that had burst through her stomach.

Frost screamed and looked at the man clad in black as he ripped out the sword and sheathed it. The last he saw of the “man” was a toothy smile and wings bursting out of his back. Then, the “man” flew away, leaving Frost with his mother’s corpse.

“Mum,” he wailed, “Mum, wake up, please!” He hugged her body and sobbed, unable to do anything, think of anything, but of his dead mother.

——————————

A rather short prologue, but one nonetheless. I hope you’ve enjoyed this, the first chapter will be coming soon. Have a good day, reader.

-Frost

Here we are.. is the death over?

Is the hatred over?..

Well I don't care

I continue it!

Nothing is over until I deal with it!

Nobody listens

To my ways..

-deathkeeper

CL1, has given me a ballad,

Why, this is to much for me,

I may not be so great,

But this gives me inspiration,

Thanks to CL1!

That was not my best work…

Songwriter

But now it's time to give a verse,

To the writer who gifted us one first.

With bold vocabulary and an ear for rhyme,

You craft grand choruses, oh so sublime.

Your rhythm is merry, your message oft feirce,

Though some are mellow, and some bring tears.

So this old poet must give credit where it's due,

Because, dear Songwriter, this song is for you.

~CL1 salutes you Songwriter. From one poet to another.

President Loki (btw i would make a poem but i feel cringed about it, sorry)

Your a great writer and I think almost everyone supports you and your goal to become a really good writer, good luck!

Slither slithering out!

…..

*Wipes a tear*

That was amazing tribute. You have won my favor. When I become king of the universe, you shall be spared.

…My pinkie toes. I mean, yeah, I do have pinkie toes, so… I guess it works.

Beautiful ballad! Your glorious president approves. I like how you acknowledged by glorious purpose, too. SEE, CL1? I HAVE GLORIOUS PURPOSE!!

- President Loki

President Loki,

A demigod so fine!

While very mischievous,

Loki is burdened with glorious purpose divine!

Traveling the dyes and protecting the fanfictioners from foes,

I bet Loki can do this with only their pinky toes, *sorry, need a rhyme*

Loki, a demigod so fine,

Burdened, with glorious purpose,

DIVIIIIIIIINE!!!

*******

*falls down and coughs*

Done! My tribute, pres loki

Songwriter

RIP that Shrikesong, AAAAAY-

Ahem. That was a nice story, CL1! Short and sweet, gave a bit more understanding to Outlander’s/Robin’s early days and the introduction of Scavenger. I’ll bet Canary and Rage would get along well… :)

- President Loki

Sincerely, Shrikesong

(5/6)

I can't sleep.

Everytime my eyes shut I see Canary, covered in blood and with her neck twisted, crawling towards me. She calls for me, asks me why I couldn't save her.

I stopped believing in the meaning of dreams long ago, and I truely hope this is nothing more than a nightmare, but now I fear I'm losing my mind. In my dreams she drags her claws down trees, and when I wake, I see her claw marks clear as day.

I leave Robin alone more often now. She has Scavenger at least. She'll be okay for a few moments.

~~~~

I've decided to investigate the claw marks further. I believe it's a mountain lion, marking its territory, and somehow the marks seeped into my dreams, leading me to believe it was Canary's mark to make me remember her.

If there is a mountain lion here, I need to take care of it quickly, before it finds my den. Robin and Scavenger are in danger so long as the creature stays.

Besides, it will take my mind off of the nightmares.

~~~~

Littlehare, can you hear me?

It's me.

I'm dying, Littlehare.

I found the mountain lion. I stumbled onto it by accident, but by the time it pounced, I was too confused to defend myself. I managed to kick it off at some point, but as it lunged at me, I kept seeing Canary's face. I was frozen. It ripped me to peices.

I can't stand. Can hardly breathe.

Can't keep my eyes open...

I need you to take care of my little Robin. The mountain lion ran off in the direction of my den. Don't let it find her, or Scavenger. Please.

I'm tired, Littlehare....

I don't think I was meant to be a mother. Nothing worked out right.

And Canary...

Are you listening too?

I'm sorry, little one. I'm so sorry. Do you blame me for your death? For everything? I suppose I'll know soon enough, won't I?

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry,

Shrikesong

~CL1

Sincerely, Shrikesong

(4/6)

Robin is a survior. She learns quickly, too. I don't believe it was a mistake she was the last one standing.

We don't speak to each other much. There's no need. It's an interesting thing, living with someone you know so well you go about your life in mostly silence. You and Duskwind were close. Did you ever need to speak to each other, or could you just understand one another as brothers?

I look forward to the day when I get to watch her first hunt.

~~~~

We have a little intruder in our territory. She's a coyote, a small one, just a pup. I don't think she's alone, but she never comes with anyone else. The first time she just sat and watched as Robin and I ate. After a while, Robin stood up and gave her a sliver of meat. The coyote pup snatched it and ran off, and that was that.

A few days later, she came back, and Robin gave her more food. I've never seen my little Robin so generous, but then, Canary wasn't the best example, was she?

How is Canary? Is she still ... unusual?

Best not to dwell on her.

Anyhow, the little coyote pup has become close to Robin. There are times I return to the den and she's curled up next to Robin, asleep, or they're running around playing a game. I imagine the little coyote is what Canary could have been...

I've taken to calling the coyote pup Scavenger. She seems to like it.

~~~~

Scavenger seems to spend more time with us than her own family, or wherever she goes when she leaves us. I've taken to hunting enough for three. Sometimes she takes her bit and runs off, sometimes she sits and eats with us.

What kind of wolf must I sound like? One who hunts for her coywolf daughter and a stray coyote pup. Maybe there was a time when I would have sneered at the thought, but I suppose motherhood has changed me.

~~~~

Canary haunts my every dream. I always find myself running to the den, seeing her standing over all of my dead pups, covered in blood.

It terrifies me, what she might have been capable of if Robin hadn't fought back.

I birthed a monster.

I can't help but wonder if she had been around her grandparents or you and Duskwind, would she have turned out better? Was it a flaw with me? Or was she doomed to be a monster all along.

Tell me she's better in the Forever Grounds. Tell me she's better with you. I hope you are a better uncle than I was a mother.

Give me peace of mind, Littlehare,

Shrikesong

~CL1