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About Deviant KarrilMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 12 Years
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Ashes and Cinders
The sky glowed a bright red and orange, parted with massive columns of black smoke from the fires that burned from horizon to horizon. Trees burned to black ash within seconds: Hell had come to Gaia in the form of a brown haired, brown eyed woman who had control over flames with just a thought. A woman known the world over as the Fire Guardian, and Queen of Thyrr, Sorsha Ebonmane.
The Empire had fallen. Once Thyrr's equal or greater, with lands that spanned almost half the globe, has now become a fire covered wasteland, choked with ash; its great cities all now fire-blackened ruins. Millions lay dead and dying as Sorsha danced in her flames like the Artificer's puppet, destruction laying in their wake. The only troops resisting the Queen's plot to see the whole world burn was now under the banner of Ahten, Guardian of Wind, whose troops were mainly comprised of his own Isulkim and what was left of the Imperial troops: the Ravens and the remnants of Morning Star Company.
The fire staine
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Through The Past Darkly: 2
"It's not every day a person talks about their past, nor something someone should speak of when they are not sustaining inebriation adequately. So, if you've got the kinah, I've got a story for you..."
A bar maid brings another round of shots, and the woman sitting across the table shot her a passing glance. The bar maid simply nodded and wandered off to do what the woman had silently asked of her. The woman stretches slightly, her auburn hair falling into her eyes – hiding them for a moment until she brings a hand up to run through it. She tilts her head to the side, eyes, one the colour of clear water, the other of a iris in bloom, staring directly into those that she spoke to.
"I don't know why you asked me about Karril, what I know about him, but I'm drunk, I'll humour you. But if I find that you used this information to hurt him in any way, let it be known now that I'll kill you when I find you. And I /will/... find you."
She picks up the first shot and slams it down, then th
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Through the Past Darkly
It was as it always was when he slept....
He again lives that day.
Karril left the merchant's house with a broad grin on his face. It had gone well, not only had the man's wife liked his playing, the merchant himself had commissioned a song as a surprise for their upcoming anniversary. All in all, it had been a wonderful day.
His father had never approved of him marrying Fiona. It was not 'suitable' for /his/ son to marry the daughter of a blacksmith. When Karril told him that he would marry her anyway, no matter how 'unsuitable' it was...his father flew into a rage and had him thrown out of the house.
Oddly enough, It had been Fiona's idea for him to use his music as a way to earn a living. He had always loved to play, but never actually thought of it as a way to actually earn any money. Yeah, times had been rough for a while...but with a few commissions under his belt now he might actually be able to afford his wife and daughter a place in the city soon.
Hiking home, he picked some o
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Beginnings: Frost in Darkness
No race in all of the Cleft better understands the word vengeance than the drow.
Vengeance is the dessert at thier daily table, the sweetness they taste upon thier
smirking lips as though it was the ultimate in delicious pleasure. While I am infact
very different than most Drow, I too was hungering for this divine ambrosia when
that spindly legged bitch offered it all to me on, one could say, a silver platter.
Pardon me if I did not perhaps 'think things through' before I agreed...but then
again, I have never been accused of being the 'cautious' type. I was suspicous of
her motives (of course, I AM drow remember?) But I could not resist the lure of
finally turning the tables on all those that have wronged me.
It was a long list.
How would I know that such an easily decided matter would spell such a change in
my life? That not only the manner of my existance but my own views of self would
be changed so greatly? For when I agreed to go to the surface world as The Weaver's
servant all tho
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Beginnings: Wild At Heart
He was a small boy that had never seen a city. His young life had been spent out in the desert, running and playing among the tents of his father's people. At the age of 5 he had learned how to tend the goats, to make cheese from thier milk, to stretch and scrape the skins of the slaughtered animals. At seven he was given his first knife and taught how to shoot a bow. But at twelve he was taken from his father by men in bright armor who traveled far beyond the desert, all the way to a stone city by the sea.
It had been the first real shock of Kiserai's life. His father, the strongest and bravest of all the Isulk'im's chieftans, had sat by in silence as the pale skinned men in armor came. This man who had fought a hundred battles had said not a word, had not even looked his son in the eye. Only Garin had approched him, laying his scrawny hand on Kiserai's shoulder. "You must go with them Saeric. The safety of the tribe depends on it."
"Why? We are Sandtiger, stronger than all."
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Musings of a White Drow.
Drejan unslung Khal from its resting place across his back, and admired the weapon's wonderous detail. This bow, as with most drow weapons, was forged by the grey dwarves and traded to the drow. The Duergar workmanship was exquisite, but it was the work done one the weapon after the dark elves had aquired it that made it so very special. None of the races of the surface or Underdark could outdo the dark elves in the art of enchanting weapons. Imbued with the strange emanatons of the Underdark, the magical power unique to the lightless world, and blessed by the unholy clerics of Lloth, no weapon  ever sat in a wielder's hand more ready to kill.
Other races, mostly serface elves and dwarves, also took pride in thier crafted weapons. Fine swords and mighty hammers hung over mantles as showpieces, always with a bard nearby to spout the acompanying legend that most often begain 'Long ago...'
Drow weapons were different, never showpieces. They were locked in the nessessites of the
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A Cautionary Tale
Once upon a time there was an old man.
He had lived a long and what many people would term, harsh, life. It had come to pass that after enough physical and emotional hurts that he did not want to live anymore. He was not the type to kill himself...but he no longer had the will to draw breath.
One day, quite by chance while doing something totally unrelated...he met a woman. She was as beautiful as the night sky, and very soon he had fallen rather hard for her...but that was okay because she felt the same way. She did not care about or the horrible things that he had done in his past. She saw his wounds and did her best to help them heal. She gave him the will to live again and taught him what love was.
The old man was afraid.
All the women he had known in his life had left him, most without any real reason why. He loved her so much he was terrified of losing her. Finally after a while he told her of this fear, and his nightmares about dying alone. She smiled
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Winter of our Discount Tent
Shadar Nor. In the old tongue it ment "Shadow Slicer." It sat there on
the platform next to him, unsheathed. The ebon blade so black it ate the
light around it, chilling the air with its intense cold..He could hear its
sweet song.
One last time, brother of my soul, it called to him. One last time before
the sun sets. He turned his thoughts to the report before him of Conrad's
reappearance in Baron. Zenaku raised himself up off the platform and noticed
the telltale stiffness in his joints. 400 years had its toll even on his
kind, but his mind was more weary than his body..."The sun has set,"
whispered the Justicar, addressing the sword. "Now only Death awaits,
and he is a patient bastard." He walked through the garden by the lake,
looking at the distant mountains. His massive frame and silver grey fur
mirrored the mountains he surveyed. Proud, strong, ageless and snowtopped
they defied the spring sun as it strove to deny them thier winter peaks of
virgin snow.
Zenaku soaked in thier sav
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Three Months.  Three months chained to this oar.  They never thought he
would last a week, with his pale skin and all...  Truth be told he hoped
that he would die.  At first he thought it was a dream, that he would wake
up from this horrible nightmare.  Then he thought it was a test, that Zenaku
would appear one day and tell him it was all over....  But no, that had not
happened either.  Twice a day he was allowed to leave his bench: Once in the
morning to shit in a bucket, once midday to grab some stale bread and some
saltpork.  They did not give greens to the slaves, too expensive.  If one
were to die of scurvy then they would be replaced cheaper than it would cost
to keep them all healthy.  Once an hour he got a swallow of warm, brackish
water from a slimy cup that everyone shared and if he had to piss he did it
right there at the bench letting it mix with the seawater that spilled do
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Frost took a bite of his apple and surveyed the bridge.  He did not
like the look of it but really could not pin the reason down for why he felt
that way.  Frost shrugs and starts to make his way across it when an arrow
flies towards him, its fletchings buzzing like an angry bee.  Reacting
instinctively, he spins, tangling the arrow harmlessly in his coat.  Frost
takes another bite of his apple and scans the far bank of the river, trying
to see where the arrow could have come from.  Seeing nothing he shrugs and
continues across.  
The whisper of the blade's movement through the air was the only warning.
Frost tossed his apple up into the air and ducked, the blade cutting a few of
his hairs as it passed over Frost's head. The boy took the arrow from his coat
and jabbed it backward into the thigh of his attacker. The man dropped his sword
with a clatter on the bridge and fell back screaming and clawing at the arrow in
his leg. N
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Crusade for Humanity Speech
The sky was bright despite the dark grey clouds pushing through the
pale overcast. The ground and everything on it was dark and leaden despite
the bright sky. The reds, golds, and browns of the trees stood out almost
brightly, offering a third contrast to the mix.
The stage had been freshly painted the day before. The bandstand had been cleaned and polished that morning. The lawns were always trim and neat. In their best finery people from all levels of Vector and many of the other Imperial cities
surrounding it were gathered to hear the speech that was already rumoured to have changed their lives forever. Vid-systems recorded and transmitted live the event for the many more people in Albrook and the other cities of the Empire that could not be there in person.
The nearest visible Wall of Honour was the oldest and contained only the names of
those that had not died in combat protecting the people of the Empire from its enemies. These were the people that were killed or gave their lives
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United States
Favourite genre of music: Rock, classic rock
MP3 player of choice: AIMP2
Skin of choice: Do women count?
Personal Quote: "Luck is a maiden to ride like any other."
Its been an odd couple years, in a life that has never been exactly 'normal'.

I have loved, and lost it, and loved again, since I last posted anything here. I have moved several times. I have learned a lot about myself, and I think my writing has grown.

Hopefully when i post some new things in the coming days, some of you will agree.

I really miss a lot of the people I used to be able to spend time with. I wish I were better at forming long term attachments.


Got an interesting surprise yesterday when i found out Cleft's address had been stolen by...well if you check it you can figure it out.


Keep an eye on this space. I ain't dead yet.


Add a Comment:
Iardacil Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2009
Thank you so so much for :+fav: I really appriciate that :heart:
Ithiltari Featured By Owner Mar 19, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
endejester Featured By Owner Mar 19, 2009  Hobbyist General Artist
*drops a line on you* >w>
JirouMoon Featured By Owner Jun 15, 2007
Good to hear you have started writing again :)
solle Featured By Owner May 27, 2004
*poke* Anything happening here? I've started playing Star Ocean. It's nifty. Dialogue makes me want to kill puppies, but graphics and atmosphere are great. Wish I'd known sooner.
Karril Featured By Owner May 27, 2004
Star ocean is great not because of the dialogue but the amount of customization in it. Hell i dont even care for the story itself very much just the fact there are so many ways to earn gold and exp that have nothing to do with killing at all.

I especially like the ability to write books and make your own equipment.

If youw ant a real treat, try Xenogears. I can say it is the best game on playstation hands down. For ps2 i would have to tie ffx and xenosaga (xenosaga is sooooo pretty!)
daemonitellama Featured By Owner May 23, 2004
* devstalks *

* runs away *
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