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

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

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

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

Sincerely, Shrikesong

(2/6)

I've buried another pup.

It somehow hurt worse this time, I suppose because I had a little more time to grow attatched. I'm down to four now, two boys and two girls. If they all survive until tommorow, I will name them.

Food is still scarce. Struggling, but surviving.

I hope I can say the same for you, Littlehare.

~~~~

They made it through the night, all four of them. It seems like it's the first time in a long time the birds have sung, or the first time in a long time I could hear it.

I took it to heart and named the pups after song birds. The boys I call Finch and Wren, the girls I call Canary and Robin.

They've opened their eyes.

Tommorow I'll try to hunt something.

~~~~

The boys are always getting bullied out of food by their sisters. I'll have to pay closer attention to make sure they eat as well. They seem to have developed a heirarchy. I didn't know pups could do that.

Robin is the largest of all of them. Her size is enough to keep them back so she can eat. After her is Canary. She's the smallest, but full of attitude. She's constantly pestering the others, snapping at them. They seem more irritated than afraid, but Finch tried to start a fight with her and she injured him badly enough that I had to pull her away from him. Robin is the only one who's beat her in a fight, but that hasn't kept Canary from trying again and again.

Finch and Wren grow thinner by the day. I'm afraid I am near to burying another pup.

If you are in the Forever Grounds, take care of my pups, won't you?

~~~~

Finch did not wake up this morning.

Only Wren seemed to be upset by his brother's death. Robin sees it as an opportunity for more food. Canary doesn't seem to care at all.

I worry about her.

She shows little to no emotion, unless it's about herself. She has no problem trying to maim her siblings, not for food, but just for fun. I am attempting to keep her from the others, but with Finch gone, all of her attention has been placed on Wren, and there are times where I must leave the den to hunt.

I fear one day I will return to find another dead pup. Maybe two.

I don't know what to do.

Guide me please, Littlehare

Shrikesong

~CL1

Sincerely, Shrikesong (A Prequel to The Blood War)

(1/6)

Hello Littlehare.

Actually, I don't know that you can hear me. Maybe you aren't dead. Maybe you won the challenge for the alpha position. If you won, I'm sorry I couldn't see it little brother. You know I couldn't stay through all that bloodshed. It was sure to reach a dangerous point. So maybe you have died.

Maybe you stand here, right in front of me, hidden in the Forever Grounds ... do you still believe in all that rot? I've long lost my trust in our ancestor's protection, since mother and father were killed by that rogue bear on their last hunt.

I'd like to think you can hear me, dead or alive.

It's lonely here.

~~~~

Food is scarce. Shelter is scarce.

Everything is scarce.

No matter how much I eat, I hunger. No matter how much I drink, I thirst. I'm always tired, always sick, always angry. I want to go back, to be home, but there may not be a pack to go back to. Wolves were tearing each other's throats out when I left. Maybe all that remains is a pile of bloody bodies.

I can't go back, can I?

Tell me you won, Littlehare. Tell me it's safe to come home.

~~~

I haven't spoken to you in a while little brother. I suppose that's because I'm not alone anymore. I have pups now, seven of them. They're all half coyote, all small. They're needy.

I have never understood what it truely meant to be needed. Even as yours and Duskwind's big sister, you both took care of each other more than anything. But these pups, they NEED me. If I were to leave, they would die. Their very lives depend on me playing my part.

I'm not sure I can handle that responsibility.

I'm not by myself anymore, but I have never felt more alone than I do now.

I wish you were here.

~~~

I can't do this. I can't be a mother.

Mother taught me not to become attatched to your pups until after a few days. I couldn't help it. I found myself invested in them all, but I woke this morning with two of them stone-cold. I couldn't bring myself to bury them at first, but they began to decompose, and I realized the stench would draw predators.

I have never felt a pain like this since mother and father's death, or Duskwind's death. It's as if a part of me died with those two little ones. I might have laid down and died with them, but there are still five more who need me.

I want to know that it will be alright. That it won't get worse from here.

You can't give me that assurance, can you?

I miss home. I miss feeling safe.

I miss you, too.

Stay safe, Littlehare,

Shrikesong

~CL1

Ikr? More words crazy fan fics…

-Random person

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

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

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

Use this to make your leather pants look like jeans

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

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

(3/6)

The day has come.

The pups exited the den for the first time. It was a mixture of excitement and fear. They didn't go far, just played outside. I sat close by at all times, trying to split my attention on them evenly. Eventually I realized I hadn't seen Wren in a while.

Or Canary.

I called Robin back to the den and ran off to search for the other two, but it didn't take me long to find Canary, holding her brother by the neck like a wolf carrying a deer carcass. He was still alive, barely, but I'd gotten there too late and he closed his eyes for good moments after I got there.

Part of me wanted to leave Canary there. To drag her far from the den as food for some wandering scavenger.

But she is still my child.

And I cannot bear to lose another.

Tell me what to do, Littlehare. Canary won't be satisfied until she is an only child, but Robin is hotheaded, and I hardly think she'll be one to sit down and take her sister's sadistic behavior.

One of them will kill the other, or both will die trying.

~~~~

I have held off hunting as long as I could, but I can wait no longer. The pups and I are starving and soon they'll be at eachother's throats.

I have never asked anything of the ancestors until now. Watch over my pups, keep them from killing each other.

Please.

~~~~

My pleas must not have reached the Forever Grounds, Littlehare.

I returned to the den with a pair of rabbits, only to find Robin eating her sister's body. Canary's neck had been snapped. Her face still held the wide-eyed stare of an animal that knows it is about to take its final breath.

She didn't have to explain. The scratches on her back said that Canary had attacked her while her back was turned, a fatal mistake that Robin could not leave unpunished. Even still, the survivor in her would not allow good food to go to waste. She was hungry, and Canary was dead, so she made the most of it.

It was sickening, to say the least, but somehow, it was also a relief. I myself had feared I would wake in the middle of the night with Canary trying her hardest to claw my throat open. She was no threat at her size.

But she would grow up eventually, and her sadistic, violent tendencies might have grown with her.

Perhaps the ancestors heard my plea after all. This might have been a mercy in disguise, making a tough decision so I didn't have to.

I do hope that Canary finds a peace of mind in the Forever Grounds, and that her brothers can find some way to forgive her.

Still, my little Robin is on her own now. I will protect her with my life.

Keep my pups safe, Littlehare,

Shrikesong

~CL1