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About Varied / Student Premium Member The Wind Knight ReincarnationMale/Canada Groups :iconthe-bsc: The-BSC
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This is basically a small gallery I'm still working on ^^; Since I'm a writer, probably the majority of it will be my story "The Calibre Key", giftie stories I'm working on for others, stories of my character Ace's adventures, Original stories that are for kids and/or adults, and who knows:) I may also submit other stuff, like game reviews I do, art from school.

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Spritework 03 - Lucifer Selaz by ArcheKruz

This is most certainly one of the best looking sprites I have ever seen in terms of visual appeal and the exquisite details put into it...

BBB - Alvin and the Chipmunks 2 by EuJoyuen

Considering that I have watched the Squeakuel, I'm the first to say I can understand why they are attached to a rocket and are about to...

Gott by utria
by utria

Oh wow utria, this is really quite a remarkable pic you did, doing artwork with Flash in the kind of style is not that easy to do for t...

by Arekins

I have to say; this is some pretty good work you did Arekins :). The colouring for the kitty cat is lovely is really well done, it is do...

Behemoths Attack by CJShadorunner

I have to say Chris; as I have helped you developed Aeris and the Behemoth's, this pic really shows the brute force and sheer size of t...


Well since you have asked me to critique this Marie, I'll gladly do so. Anyways, I'm very much quite pleased with the colouring techniq...

Yes; I do critiques to :B

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Activity


Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: violence/gore and strong language)
Ever since online shopping sites like eBay, Amazon and advertisement sites like Craigslist became main stream, a whole plethora of odd items that would never be considered an item are now being sold as if they are autographed LeBron James jerseys. But recently a new sort of item is being put up for auction; something that in hindsight is just plain odd and self-fulfilling: an entire town, with prices on these bad boys ranging from half a million to close over five million. There is no practical purpose to owning a town aside from gloating to your rich friends, not to mention making yourself mayor without getting involved in politics; but for some it can be potential piggybanks if you play your cards right.

That’s what Landon Dunlap was planning anyway.

A product of Wall St. during the housing market boom, this thirty year old was a multi-millionaire who could have easily retired and lived the life of luxury; but Landon was the sort of person who wants to leave a legacy that future generations will remember. So when he found out the mayor of Fire Creek put up a Craigslist add for a town of 10 (at least that’s what the ad stated) being sold in Fayette County, West Virginia for about $3 million, he saw this as a prime opportunity to turn this dump into a future city; he just couldn’t help himself but call the guy who put up the ad and set up a meeting at the mayor’s office.  Of course he could have picked any other ghost town in the state, lord knows there is an abundance of them, but the seller enticed Mr. Dunlap with an offer that included no restrictions on developing the land into whatever he wishes, and having no government interference. Red flags should have been raised at the idea that he can develop the land without any regulations from the state and federal government; but Mr. Dunlap figured that even with the prospect of the promise turning out to have been a lie, he can just basically pay certain politicians to look the other way.

Driving towards Fire Creek in his Tahoe on the C&O Railroad that extends through Thurmond, another ghost town on the New River; it is pretty clear that unlike Thurmond with its buildings preserved as landmarks, there was only dense forest on the way to Fire Creek and some fog as if some higher power is using White Out on this patch of land. There was however one house he noticed that looked in near good condition, despite having tell-tale signs of a house fire; on the outskirts of town was a sort of decrepit two story mansion that has a lonely mailbox jutting out on the side of the road, almost begging to grab his attention.

He pulled over right next to the mailbox to get out and analyze the house and its surroundings; something about the place really stroked his curiosity, he couldn’t decide if it was the Neo-Georgian architecture, or the fact that right behind it was a god damn graveyard; most likely the graveyard. It was so jarring that there would be such an extravagant house surrounded by tombstones; but hey he can always just tear the thing down and turn the land into something new. He checked the mailbox to see if it had a name, but before he could even check he heard a raspy voice behind him. “So that’s where you been Mr. Dunlap; reckoned the wolves got to yah on the way here!”

Landon was so startled; he turned a full 180 and managed to strain some muscles in his back. “Damn it,” he groaned and rubbed his back. “Next time give me a warning will yah mister?”

Looking at the guy really gave him an uncomfortable feeling; for one thing his business suit is ridiculously dirty and tattered, which coupled together with his musty grey beard gave Landon the impression he’s likely the town oddball. The other thing was that he looks so cheerful; it wouldn’t have bothered him so much, but his rotting teeth and frail figure really wasn’t a pretty sight to look at. “Pleasure to meet you officially,” the dirty gent said, extending out his bony hand. “I’m Coleton Burrows, the mayor of this fine establishment we call Fire Creek.”

Landon was afraid that this guy was the mayor, but in hindsight it was pretty obvious; this is an abandoned town he is buying after all, and that tidbit the ad mentioned about this ruin having a population higher than 1 was most certainly bullshit. But he needed to suck it up and not be repulsed by Burrows, he really wanted to buy this town after all; its location was perfect as it was in the mouth of New River Gorge, and once he finishes developing this patch of land into a new smart city there’s no doubt the foreign billionaires who buy houses and units as nothing more than investments will be eating this up. “Charmed to meet you Mayor Burrows, mind telling me what the heck is up with that house?”

“Oh you mean Blackstone Hall? You wouldn’t want to be stepping around there sonny; that place has quite a bit of history that would even make H.H. Holmes tremble!”

“Good to know then,” now Landon was very curious about this place, but he only came here to buy, so he allowed the mayor into his car and drove him back to the town square where the office is. The building was certainly nothing worthy to write about, just essentially a one story building that has the outside façade of a small town convenience store. The inside was just as unimpressive; a desk cluttered with official looking papers, hunting trophies hanging on the walls, and a cabinet that frankly has seen much better days, in fact the place was pretty disorganized. But he kept the thought to himself, as he doesn’t want to screw up the sale if the mayor has a hair trigger temper. “So, shall we start the negotiation process for the sale of this town?” He asked, settling himself down on a chair opposite the desk and putting his leather briefcase next to him.

“Oh come now dear child, surely you must be curious as to the story about the house surrounded by death aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes, your just begging me to tell you this story!” In all honesty, it’s more like the Mayor was keen to talk about this story since he keeps pushing it, but whatever, he might as well just listen to it as he nodded to let him know Landon definitely wants to hear this story, even though it’s just for getting this deal done sooner. “Well you’ve probably heard about the Red Ash Mine explosion that occurred back in 1900 that killed up to 50 miners, May the lord rest their souls in peace; anyways that explosion pretty much decimated the economy of Red Ash, the now former settlement that’s just on the opposite end of the river, so the bodies were buried on Red Ash Island.”

“It is an interesting story,” Landon said while tapping his fingers on the desk. “But I fail to see how it relates to Fire Creek; you said it yourself, the accident happened at Red Ash.”

“Well, ‘officially’ an accident anyway,” the entrepreneur immediately had his interest perked. “There were rumors enveloping the Gorge that the death count was actually closer to 130, but the bodies had… Certain characteristics if you will that will make things uncomfortable if the public were to see them. You see, after Pearl Harbor, the Fire Creek mine became a joint venture project between the Fire Creek Coal & Coke Company and the federal government as a research facility and testing ground, as the old facility at Red Ash became obsolete. I heard from my pappy that they were making a secret weapon of sorts in the mines that would help the US Army win the Second World War, and protect the homeland from a Soviet invasion. And that secret weapon had to do with something that was in the Red Ash mine that caused these characteristics on the bodies; but after another incident that killed almost everyone in the facility, they shut down the project, and made sure that there wouldn’t be anybody living in the Gorge by the way of the Red Car.”

“You mean-“

“Yep; they bought the mines within the region and had them shut down to economically starve the town so that they have the residents be given a reason to move out. Of course it is only a rumor.” Landon was certainly interested in this rumor, but he wondered what it had to do with Blackstone Hall. Almost as if the quirky mayor can telepathically read minds, he answered his question before he even had the chance to ask. “Blackstone Hall is actually the residence of the last mine owner, a Mr. Thaddeus Quentin; the gravesite that surrounds the place is where the rest of the miners from the Red Ash explosion, including the incident that occurred in the facility underneath the mansion, and there’s a possibility that there is a second entrance to the mine within that house.”

“Why would there be a second entrance inside a house instead of it being a regular mineshaft?” Landon asked Mr. Burrows.

“As I said, the mine was rumored to house a secret research facility; so why don’t you use that smart brain of yours to connect the two together and get your answer?” Mayor Burrows replied with a grin, now being cheekily coy with Landon; now he was starting to notice a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Now that he thought about it; he had been getting this ever since he met the Mayor: Why was this Mayor selling the town to begin with? And how come he was so eager to tell these stories to him? Landon pushed these questions in the backburner; he was more focused on getting this town, he would deal with whatever secrets the town had after he gets ownership of the land. Once the mayor seemed satisfied with saturating his buyer with all the stories, he pulled open a drawer and grabbed a document as he set it on his desk; finally he brings up the deed… At least he thinks it’s a deed; it looks official, though Landon still can’t help but feel a nagging suspicion. “So Mr. Dunlap,” he pushed a Parker Duofold fountain pen towards the businessman. “Do we have ourselves a deal?”

Whatever qualms he had; once the document came into Landon’s sight with the pen in his grasp, the doubts he had immediately dissipated and was replace with euphoric satisfaction. Finally he thought to himself, he can own this patch of land and do whatever he wants; and without hesitation he signed his names on the dotted line. “Well of course we have a deal Mr. Burrows,” he said and set the pen down, grabbing the document and putting it in his briefcase. “It was pleasure to do business with you; I’ll make sure to send this government to Charleston and Washington so that they can make the land sale official.” It’s also in the event that if they don’t accept the deed; he can make some under the table dealings so that he can ‘persuade’ some of the most influential politicians.

“Excellent, I’ll be happy to hear the results of your efforts when you come back.” He said in a rather low, soft tone. Something about the way he said it really rubbed him the wrong way; as if the Mayor has some ulterior plan in mind.  Whatever he thought to himself; he will be out of his hair and will have the free time to do whatever the hell Burrows does in his spare time. As he got into his truck and drove out of Fire Creek; his curiosity about Blackstone Hall is growing more aggressive, almost like a mental itch that he can’t even scratch.  

‘Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check out this house before I leave,’ Landon thought, pulling over right next to the familiar lone mailbox and getting out, bringing with him a compact flashlight that was in the glove compartment. ‘After all, this is technically my mansion now; and once I restore the building I can turn it into my personal residence.’ Landon really didn’t seem much concerned about the story Burrows told him about the mansion, in fact it actually drove his curiosity even further, and if it turns out that his story is true he can even turn this into a tourist attraction for his future city. He can imagine the tagline now: '''‘STEP RIGHT INTO THE PAST; LEARN ABOUT THE SECRETS THE ONCE BUSTLING TOWN OF FIRE CREEK HAD BEEN HIDING FROM THE WORLD.’''' Though of course it would help if he found out what specifically were those secrets it hold. Climbing up the small steps to the mansion; loud creaks from the rotting wood emanated through his ears, piercing into the sky and sending a tingle through his spine. He knew well in advance that this won’t be the last of getting these tingly sensations; this place was something you would see in a Ghost Hunters episode, but like a trooper he ignored the sensation and opened the creaking door.

Well one thing’s for sure as he slowly walked his way inside, he wasn’t the first visitor it had.  The floor is covered in rubble and trash, while the walls and some furniture are covered in graffiti tags, “Damn kids,” he said to himself as he wondered around the place, the flashlight’s beam shining on all the nooks and crannies. “Haven’t the youthful pricks ever heard of private property?”

As he wandered around the foyer, he kept hearing these rustling sounds echoing through the house; it’s probably just the house creaking in its natural state, there is just no way anybody would be in this house as it is completely cut off from the world around it along with Fire Creek, stuck in figurative limbo as a relic from the former heydays. But there was no doubt for Landon: Something, or someone was watching him, did the mayor tailed him and is now stalking him? Either way he should get out as soon as possible, but as he decided to make a U-turn and leave, something in what was once the living room caught his attention; resting near a tattered couch was an antique stove that definitely seen better days. Its lid -completely removed from the hinges- was resting on the stove like a limb that seeks to be reunited with its original body; though the body was filthy, covered in tags and white specks that he can only hope isn’t bird feces, and for some reason there was a frying pan resting on the top along with what appears to be old toilet paper. He really didn’t want to check inside the thing, but that mental itch kept telling him to look inside, so with complete delicacy of a surgeon holding his breath, he stuck his hand in the stove to see what was inside.

When he grabbed hold of something and pulled it out, in his hand was this leather journal that looked pretty charred. Unfortunately the name that was written on the cover was too worn to be read, but the cover still had a unique mark that certainly distinguishes it from others: A Sunwheel, or something similar to that effect, it certainly wasn’t the same Sunwheel design that is seen on documentary shows that talk about Nazi’s and the occult, but still that is the only thing that can best describe it. “How odd,” he said to himself, now just allowing his mind to escape the cage of his cranium through the mouth. “I’m sure the owner of this thing wouldn’t mind me taking a look at it.” He opened the journal, taking a seat on the tattered couch and started to read its content.

January 10th, 1952

This is Dr. Burrows; I will be using this journal to record the process of Project Cherufe -which will be starting tomorrow-, including interviews with the test subjects involved in this experiment, and the results, as I, along with my director Dr. Melsbach, will be leading the group. I have taken extra precautions to make sure this journal isn’t discovered and destroyed in the event Project Cherufe blows up in everyone faces; knowing the CIA will try to remove any public records of what we are doing, we are breaking all sorts of United States federal and international laws for conducting this experiment after all. If this does end up going to hell in a hand basket; I am sorry to whoever is reading this, and I am sorry to god.

Burrows? He thought to himself in surprise of hearing a familiar name; surely it isn’t the same Burrows he was negotiating with earlier right? Nah, it’s more likely that Coleton was the doctor’s son.

January 11th, 1952

After discussing how to proceed with Dr. Melsbach; the first step would be to do a pre-experimentation with the ten subjects to evaluate the physical and mental conditions pre and post-experimentation. Due to lack of civilian identification given to us by our superiors; the subjects will be identified throughout the course and in this journal by the identification mark tattooed on the palm of they’re right hand: A21, B04, C79, D86, E52, F63, G98, H10, I37, and J45. Most of them are mentally sound; and all of them are healthy enough to pass the physical bar, though Subject H10 concerns me greatly, as he exhibits clear sign of schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.

I recommended to the Director that he be removed from program as he might be a danger to himself and to everyone around him; of course that Nazi prick shot me down immediately, saying that it will be interesting to see Project Cherufe’s effects on people whose mind are not sound. Why the CIA brought him over to the States instead of having him stay in Germany and face the public’s wrath is beyond me.

For Landon it was like reading a mystery thriller; he couldn’t put the journal down. Not only that; this actually confirms that kooky mayor’s story about this area, he’s got the proof he need to make this into a hot spot to the likes of Roswell. He kept reading to see what other nuggets he could find out.

March 3rd, 1952

'After nearly two months of administrating weekly 400mg dosages of Project Cherufe; we have already noticed some significant changes; the pores on their skins are emitting gaseous forms of Acetylene. We are still determining how this is possible, but we have advised the entire team to not bring lighters, or any materials that can produce a spark into the vicinity of the subjects for the time being, lest we want to turn all of our research into charred remains.

March 5th, 1952

This is unbelievable; Subject D86 was ignited during an interview session with one of the lowly scientists. I don’t know why but Dr. Melsbach asked the scientist to do the interview in the interview rooms, even though I explicitly warn him and the group the carpeting will create static electricity that’ll ignite the Acetylene. But in this screw-up, we saw something nothing short of a breakthrough: Despite temperatures reaching close to 3000°F, his skin hasn’t even developed blisters and first degree burns. If D86’s skin can resist these sorts of temperature’s, does that mean the other subjects have the same genetic quirk?

March 20th, 1952

D86 is dead. Dr. Melsbach found him lying face down in the sleeping quarters; no visible marks have been noticed, and it appeared he died of natural causes. I know Melsbach had something to do with his death, because he immediately began to slice him open to see if Project Cherufe made any changes to the internal structure. His organs were… Solidified; they were covered in a thick layer of rock; not only that, but when we did testing on his blood, there was barely any oxygen left, instead being replaced by Acetylene. Opening the brain he found the brain –while intact- had shriveled up from the heat the body’s been emitting. This person should have been dead long ago; a brain in this state is surely fatal, so what has been keeping the subject alive up to this point? The team and I were horrified about the results, but Dr. Melsbach only nodded and jotted these sets of information down into his notebook, most likely going to report it to the CIA about the results. The funny thing is… His insides changing to that of something no many can describe is not what mortified me, it was a scar on his right leg, a giant one at that; I recognize that scar from anywhere… D86 was actually Thaddeus Quentin.”

Mr. Quentin was used as an experiment in this fucked up program? Landon thought to himself; he started to hear more rustlings in the house, and even slight sounds of moaning.

April 2nd, 1952

No matter how much I told Dr. Melsbach the ramifications of continuing this experiment, he refused to call it off and even threatened me with reporting to the upper brass about me going to the media if I so much think about quitting. That’s basically an instant death sentence; the CIA is so paranoid about one-upping the Soviet Union that they would eliminate any problems in order to protect the nation’s secrets. Doesn’t he realize that we are reaching a critical stage? The skin has eroded and replaced with a substance that can be best described as magma, the rooms they are housed in can’t even handle the 5500°F temperatures. Not only that; A21, E52, and F63 died after being savagely beaten by the other subjects; they’re mentality has deteriorated to the point of being rabid beasts… Most of them; H10 though seems to be the only one who’s mentality appears to be stable comparatively speaking. Just resting against the wall and smiling at the sight, but I suspect he was directing his smiles at us. From observations it seems the remaining subjects are now like pets, listening to their master; I can only guess who their master is though. If we don’t kill the subjects now while we have the chance we might be able to prevent a disaster from occurring.


When he finished reading the entry, Landon noticed something off about his surroundings: The temperature spiked. It felt like the Sahara Desert was put inside the mansion along with its weather; the extreme humidity making it difficult for him to breathe. Even then, he didn’t think he was in danger yet; besides he thought, it looks as though there is one last entry left in the journal, once he finished reading this he would get out of there.

April 8th, 1952

I’m bleeding out. I managed to escape the manor after the facility went ablaze; but I lost too much blood to even make it far. I will write this final entry with the remaining strength I have, as the people deserved to know.

H10 instigated a riot; he commanded the other subjects to attack the scientists and destroy the place. I should have put that bastard down when I had the chance; he’s a complete sociopath with no regard for humanity. Dr. Melsbach and I made a mad dash towards the head office where there was an emergency stairway. We need to report the incident to the CIA; if these things get out there is no telling what will happen. H10 found us while I was talking to the officials in DC about the riot; managing to melt down the reinforced Tungsten doors down into a puddle of wax just by standing near the damn thing. The others according to readings were still at 5500°F, which we assumed was the threshold, yet he’s past 6000°F; I can only hypothesize that H10 is the only one who can control his own body temperature.

He immediately lunged towards us; I managed to fall back into the emergency stairway, but he grabbed a hold of Dr. Melsbach... His death was horrifying to watch; his body was ablaze like a candle, the high temperature being a living hell as all that liquid inside his body basically evaporated into steam and turning him into a pressure cooker, exploding instantly. I tried to escape but the son a bitch threw something at me that tore my left side open, and unfortunately the hot item went through me, so it wasn’t able to cauterize any open blood vessels. I managed to get up to the mansion; I suspect that the facility collapsed, as H10 never bothered to go after me, like it wouldn’t make much of a difference anyhow. To anyone who found this journal and read this, please bring this to the attention of the Federal Government; the CIA needs to be accountable for the crimes it has committed in Project Cherufe.

Landon closed the book; could this journal be actually telling the truth? Is this place a tombstone of experimental freaks? Whatever the case; he immediately makes a beeline for the door to get the hell out of the there. Reaching outside; it was quite apparent that something was seriously wrong; his truck was missing. “Damn it, what the hell happened to my truck?!” he kicked the dirt in frustration.

“Oh I took as a personal belonging,” familiar voice rang behind him. The instant he turned around; Mr. Burrows struck his head with a shovel in such a force, that his skull split wide open as Landon hit the ground, and with two more swings to his legs, he incapacitated the bloodied businessman with the sound of bone cracking. The Mayor, holding the document that he signed earlier, tore it to pieces. He grabbed Landon by his wrists and started to drag him back to the manor. “You really didn’t think I placed that ad to sell my home, especially to a yuppie in a suit did you?” Landon wasn’t able to respond to that; it was a miracle he was even conscious after that blow. “I have been doing this scam for 50 years, always luring in dumbasses and wanderers to my little slice of heaven for food.”

He looked at Landon; his skin blistering open from the 1000°F heat that was confined to only inside Blackstone Hall, the two going further into the place with the temperature rising further. “Oh don’t worry boy,” Burrows laughed. “I’m not going to eat you, I may be in my 70’s now, but I can still hunt animals with ease to take care of myself. My obedient pets on the other hand… Well let’s just say they need some help with getting they’re meal.” When he reached his destination, he threw Landon into one of the backrooms, barely lit except for an orange glow coming from the other end of the room. Landon tried his best to get out of there with a crawl, but the blow to the head made him dizzy and severely crippled his co-ordination. Looking back to the source of the glow, he saw five human-like figures sat in a circle, but the comparison to humans end there. They’re skin was covered in a black molten crust that leaked white hot magma from any opening they had; mouth, ear, wound, even their eyes are leaking magma as though they are tears. As they lumbered they’re way towards Landon, he can the expressions these things had: hunger. He now realized that he wasn’t brought here for a sale, he was the unfortunate schmuck who signed up to be dinner under the guise of a sale.

When he looked at Dr. Burrows, the frail old bastard only gave a sinister grin towards his now former acquaintance. “It was a wonderful deal you offered me, but I am afraid I have to reconsider, as I know I can get better offers in the near future.” He waved his right hand to say goodbye and left. Before he could even react the beasts lunged on top of him and started devouring him, each bite making bits of his flesh crackling and sizzling; he lied there and just allowed the beings to eat them, admitting defeat. The last thing he will remember before he dies is the mark on Mayor Burrow’s right hand as he was waving to him: H10. Guess in some twisted way he now knows the story is indeed true; and would surely bet that Mayor Burrows would be using this story as an urban legend, to lure more cattle to slaughter.
Fire Creek
My second story; made for yet another contest on chillingtalesfordarknights.com . Alas; it didn't make it to the final 10 just like the last story, but I hope you all enjoy it none-the-less :o
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www.mysanantonio.com/news/loca…

"AUSTIN — Aides to Gov. Rick Perry offered Travis County District Attorney Rosemary Lehmberg continued employment in the district attorney's office if she resigned her elected post following a drunk-driving arrest, officials familiar with the offer said Thursday.

The offer came after Perry threatened and then vetoed $7.5 million in funding for the office's anti-corruption unit, known as the Public Integrity Unit, because Lehmberg had refused to step down.

But several officials and sources told the Express-News that Perry — through intermediaries — offered various options to Lehmberg to entice her resignation, culminating in promises to restore funding to the unit, another position in the District Attorney's office, and selection of her top lieutenant to serve as the new district attorney.

The offer was explicit; “they were clear,” the elected official said.

Travis County Commissioner Gerald Daughtery, a Republican, said he reached out to Perry's office following the veto to see if there was some way to restore state funding for the anti-corruption Public Integrity Unit. He said that negotiations eventually included allowingDemocrats, who dominate Travis County politics, to essentially pick Lehmberg's replacement.

“There was this massive amount of fear that if Rosemary steps down, it's the governor who gets to appoint someone,” Daughtery said. A Lehmberg aide was floated as a potential replacement to make it palatable to Democrats.

Travis County Judge Sam Biscoe confirmed that Perry's office had said that Lehmberg would be replaced with another Democrat who was currently working in the District Attorney's office.

“Then the offer was made, I was told, that the Governor would appoint a Democrat, and preferably one already working in the DA's office,” he said.

Biscoe added that he had never directly communicated with either Perry or his staff during the talks.

Two sources told the Express-News identified First Assistant District Attorney John Neal as the replacement.

In late July, the offer was sweetened again, the two sources said, when the Governor's office communicated that Lehmberg would be allowed to remain at the District Attorney's office in another capacity if she resigned her elected position.

The details about the governor's offer to Lehmberg come to light as a Travis County grand jury convenes to look into allegations that Perry, the state's longest serving governor, broke the law by threatening to veto the Public Integrity Unit funding to force Lehmberg to step down.

She refused and Perry carried through on his threat.

A special prosecutor, San Antonio attorney Michael McCrum, was named to investigate the charges.

McCrum told the Express-News last month that he did not know if there was wrongdoing on Perry's party, but he said he was “concerned about different aspects of how all this happened, and that includes the governor's actions.”

The Travis County District Attorney spokesman Rudy Magallanes said Lehmberg had no comment on the matter.

The governor's office did not offer an immediate comment on the claims.

But previously, the office had defended Perry's actions as a constitutional use of his veto authority. In a statement, Perry said he axed the money because Lehmberg was unfit to remain in office.

“Despite the otherwise good work (of) the Public Integrity Unit's employees, I cannot in good conscience support continued state funding for an office with statewide jurisdiction at a time when the person charged with ultimate responsibility of that unit has lost the public's confidence.”"

Yeah; the argument for Perry that she should have resigned because her drunk driving made her unfit to run the Public Integrity Unit basically falls flat when the fact of the matter is this: Perry offered Lehmberg a job in her own District Attorney's office if she resigned. It's completely bonkers to claim moral ethics on threatening to veto because of refusal to resign as he was offering her a job within the same DA she works for. 

www.thedailybeast.com/articles…

"Texas Governor Rick Perry was indicted Friday on charges of abuse of power—a first degree felony—and coercion—a third degree felony. The charges stem from a 2013 scandal that has been quietly rumbling in the Lone Star State as Perry has been floated as a viable contender for the Republican nomination in 2016.

This is a complex case, which might be why it has not made national headlines the way other recent, state-level scandals (like Bridgegate, in New Jersey) have. Below, I have outlined a somewhat confusing short version of events, and a longer, more colorful explanation that involves alcohol, police, and masks.

The short version is this: A Democrat refused to resign from her position as District Attorney, where she controlled the state’s Public Integrity Unit, an entity which investigates ethics violations of elected officials. The likely reason why is that Perry, a Republican, would have almost certainly installed another Republican. One of the few positions in control of a Democrat under Perry’s watch would’ve vanished—a big deal, given the power of the Public Integrity Unit.

Perry, as a means of intimidating the DA into resigning, publicly threatened to veto the Public Integrity Unit’s budget. And when she didn’t step down, he made good on his tough talk, gutting all of its funding ($8 million) for two years.

From the outset, Perry was adamant that what he did was not illegal—which is presumably why he made no secret of it. But his opponents were not convinced. In August, an investigation into the matter began, which resulted in today’s indictments."

Yeah why am I not surprised that Rick Perry made the boneheaded decision to make a verbal threat and then vetoing INSTEAD of just using the veto? 

I'm only doing this because of the badge; not to mention that there's not a whole lot for me to discuss about my story. I want to be an artist and draw stuff like comics and manga, but I don't have the skills nor the patience to accomplish that, and I still don't have confidence in my writing. Huzzah I guess?Portrait of myself by hooded-wanderer

As you can see; this is basically the only sort of style I can do, this was done back in 2008 for an art project class back in high school, and yeah, my talent hasn't improved much since then.



My most recent writing project that was finished, a sort of creepy-pasta for a contest. 

Max Longear and Storage Building # 52 by hooded-wanderer

And yes; I can also do kid-friendly stories. Most of my writing material is essentially related to the furry fandom and other fandoms, but I would love to make visual stories as I feel that some ideas I have are better told through comics/manga then in words. 
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: violence/gore and strong language)
When my father passed away; I received a journal given to us by our family attorney; stating that I was to receive this upon his death as stated in the will. Typical, I’m the only family member he has left and stayed in Valor Cove despite my desire to leave only because of dad and… Certain things that are out of my control; I opened up the journal to see that it had only one entry, and it was just this past month. I thought it was strange that my dad would be giving this to me, especially for one that barely even has a tenth of the notebook filled; but family is family, and according to the attorney, he explains that this journal was a way for my father to explain the things he was never able to explain while alive, and why I can never leave Valor Cove. As I opened the book and started to read; I started hearing the hymn that always played throughout the town, and always given sorrow to the townsfolk.

June 8th, 2009
My town has a very storied history that would certainly make a lot of historians beam with excitement; an important town in South Carolina during the days our country was collection of thirteen colonies, a battle site during the civil war in which the Unions drove out the Confederate forces with their tales between their legs, hell, it was even believed that pirates during the 17th century used the area that became Valor Cove as a hideout from authority. With that said, it often baffled my growing up here that the townspeople always given off the aura of uneasiness and sorry; like they wanted to leave this place but couldn’t.

As a 12 year old kid, I often took it as grown-ups being grown-ups so I never really bothered to ask why they were so gloomy. More often than not I would be playing at the local beach with the other kids and my younger brothers Reggie, age 10, and Warren, age 8, as there wasn’t much form of local entertainment that would keep us entertained outside of TV which our parents profoundly disapprove of. It was the sixties, so what constitutes fun was pretty limited. Reggie would often try to act all macho by being the star player whenever we play soccer with a few of the kids on the beach, always winning due to being bigger than the other kids, while Warren would simply just build sand castles. “Come on Clayton,” Reggie yelled at a distance, as I was sitting at a nearby table reading a book. “Put down that book and come play with us! We need one more man to play soccer!”

“Why don’t you ask Warren,” I responded with a sigh. “In case you haven’t noticed I am busy with something.”

“Fine bookworm; hey little bro, we need one more person, so come place with us.”

Warren doesn’t talk much since he’s always had bad social skills, but I heard the sounds of the children laughing and shouting goal a lot so I took the guess that Warren agreed to play with them. “Aw crap,” one of the neighborhood children cried out. “The ball is in the water!”

I looked over to the water and headed over to see what was up; apparently one of the neighborhood kids Olive had kicked it badly and it ended up a hundred feet away from the shoreline. “Sorry guys,” she said with a pout on her face. “I mishandled it.”

“No sweat,” Reggie responded. “We can just simply swim over to it.”

“Wait a minute Reggie,” another one of the kids said nervously. “Our parents never told us to go into the water, especially if we heard a certain sound.” I know what he was talking about; there’s an odd rule that the adults would always give the children when it comes to playing at the beach. Never go into the water when the hymn is heard, or you will be dragged to the bottom by nature stirred.

The hymn it refers to is something of a mystery to us kids but is known in the region; there will always be a soothing melody that is heard throughout the entire town as if the sound was being carried by the wind at random times, but nobody, not even the adults had any idea what it was… No, that’s not right; I always get the feeling that they know what it is, but they just simply refuse to tell us for whatever reason. “Oh come on you actually don’t believe in that do you?” Reggie laughed; he, Olive and two other kids jumped into the waters to get the ball, though I think they only used that as an excuse to go into the water. “Shit it is freezing! Let’s just get the ball before I chatter my teeth into dust!”

It looks as though Olive and Reggie were the only ones swimming towards the ball while Tara and John were relaxing in the wave. Suddenly, we heard something that sent a shiver through my entire body. It was a song of sorts, but I couldn’t make out the words because the waves drown them out, but I can definitely hear its pitches. It was very soothing, yet at the same time filled with such sorrow; like the singers were filled with no hope. It mesmerized me to the point that I wasn’t even paying attention to the surrounding around me, and I think everybody was in the same boat. All of the sudden, I heard this scream piercing through my eardrums which snapped me out of the trance; it was Olive who made the scream. I darted my head in the general direction. Out of the four who went into the water, only Reggie and Olive were visible above the water. “What happened; where’s John and Tara?!” I yelled at the two.

“We don’t know; something pulled them under and now there is blood everywhere!” Reggie responded. I couldn’t see it, but I did notice that the water being washed on shore has a dark red hue to it now; my god, did a group of sharks wonder into the cove? Everything was all at a haze as I tried to make sense of what was happening. “Oh god I felt something rubbing against my leg!”

“We need to swim out of here before—“Just like that Olive was pulled under by something that we can’t see.

“Olive;” Reggie yelped, even though he was only fifty feet away from us, I won’t forget the look of sheer terror Reggie’s eyes were illuminating. I wouldn’t even begin imagining myself in his situation. “I’m going after her.”

“Are you crazy?!” I yelled at Reggie, amidst the chorus of the other children begging Reggie to not stick around and swim to shore. “If you try and play hero now you’ll fucking die!” Of course my words fell on deaf ears as he just simply dived. God damn it, that idiot. Why does he do this crap all the time, trying to act all macho and be the center of attention? We all kept screaming for Reggie to swim to shore; but no one volunteered to go after him as they didn’t want to find out what is hiding in the waters and be potentially eaten. Warren was completely panicking as the minutes basically ticked by; I was forced to restrain him, kicking and screaming to let him go as Reggie is still under there. I really didn’t want to believe Reggie could possibly be dead; but there is no way I would be risking Warren’s life, not now, not ever. I was able to calm him down for a brief moment, but then Warren gasped when he spotted something washing on shore. When I saw what it was, I can already feel my heart trying to burst out of my chest from agony.

It was a couple of sneakers, both completely soaked in seawater and having a lot of red splotches of blood on them. From the looks of it they came from two people… Oh god no; one of them was Reggie’s, I recognize that mustard stain anywhere and those doodles he did on his own pair. There was simply no point in denying it now; Reggie is gone. Whatever was lurking beneath the water killed my little brother and the other kids; I was so stunned that I completely lost my grip on Warren, he ran towards the sneaker crying and screaming. All the other kids came rushing to him; some of them crying with him, others looking like deer in headlights. I just stood there; everything around me was in a complete blur, I heard adults coming towards the beach from downtown, trying their best to console the kids. My parents came over; my father hugging me tightly while mother went to go get Warren. All the while I heard the same hymn that was being sung, but this time I can hear the words more clearly.

O praise the graceful lord by blood
For then our souls be clean of sin
We brought its wrath and drowned in flood
Our sins pulled us down with a thud
Forgive us great lord and our kin
Your soldiers can take our warm skin.


I wasn’t able to sleep for a second after the incident, but for some reason I don’t think it was due to the loss of my brother; there was something… Ominous, and scary about the words in that hymn; what does it mean by the phrase ‘by blood’, what was this wrath that caused a flood. But the most troubling question thing I kept thinking about was that last verse.

Your soldiers can take our warm skin.


What were these soldiers; and what did it mean by taking our warm skin? I didn’t even want to think about it as I tried my best to close my eyes, my skin still crawling now that the hymn is playing in my head repeatedly like a broken record player. The whole town held a memorial for Reggie, Olive, John, and Tara at the beach, in which the parents talked about how much the kids were special and how losing them was such a blow not only to themselves by to the community. The Police Chief then got his turn to speak; like everybody else, he explained how much he’ll miss the kids, saying a special thing about each of the kids, but what caught my attention is that he said the kids were attacked by a Bull Shark, and that the local coast guard were able to hunt down the shark and kill it.

I had a lot of problems with that idea; there were no warnings about shark sightings on the radio, this town is nowhere near the known hotspot for shark activity Myrtle Beach, and how did they figure it was a shark attack anyhow? The police never recovered the bodies, so there is no way to tell how my little brother died. I would figure that my father would raise an objection, seeing as how he works as a local fisherman and knows a lot about these waters, so I looked at him. Not a single word escaped his mouth; he was even nodding in agreement with the chief. I didn’t understood it back then; why he was keeping silence about the obvious flaw with the Chief’s statements, but I was a kid back then so I really didn’t have much of a voice to object to.

For the next few years or so, Valor Cove tried its best to return to its form of normalcy; but I wasn’t being fooled, I can sense that the adults were hiding something about that incident but every time I brought it up they shot me down saying I should move on, even the now grown-up kids who were there with me on that day shot me down multiple times. Due to my sense of distrust with the community I started to become an outsider to them; they still talk to me and I do have friends but I know that my bond with the town was severely strained. Warren had it worse though; after the incident, it was like his state of mind had deteriorated, he never talked to anyone but me and our parents, he needed to get a lot of psychological therapy, and I thought he was going to go insane. He also had repeated nightmares that we would often talk to me about, saying they were real, of course I didn’t believe him but I really couldn’t blame him for thinking that way.

His nightmares would always involve beings that he called ‘Fish Men’, watching over him while he lay in bed. He told me he couldn’t see much since it was always dark; but he did explain that he always heard some sort of mumbling, like they were trying to communicate with him or with each other. I basically just took it as his mind slowly going over the cliff; he was there at the incident and saw them disappear with his own eyes, and he took it much harder than everyone else, even me. One day, five years after the accident while Warren and I were talking about the dreams at Hospitality, the local diner; a very clean cut guy who looked like came out of Ivy League basically butted into our conversation. “Uhm, can I help you sir?” I asked him annoyingly.

“Oh goodness me I’m sorry,” he said while adjusting his glasses. I can already tell that this guy annoys me. “Where are my manners, my name is Claus Butler, I am currently doing research on urban legends and folklore in the Southeast, and I couldn’t help but hearing in on your story.”

“Uh yeah, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr. Butler.” I responded. “I’m Clayton Roads and this is my little brother Warren; now if you don’t mind me asking, why does our conversation warrant your attention?”

“Your fish men story, I’ve heard a lot of rumors around the state about these creatures being seen along the coastline, but nobody seems to be able to bring forth much information about them, not even what they look like. A few people I met in Charleston suggested I should go here for my research; it’s a shame that so far I have come up with dead ends though, your dreams about these fish men are in fact the only clue I had.”

For someone who looks cut out for medical school, he sure does have an interest in boogeyman tales. Though I think he could be of some use in finding out some information about the hymn. I explained to him about the weird rule this town has and the hymn itself; though I purposely neglected to inform him about that attack on the beach, the last thing I want to do is to have my brother’s name be plastered in books about some urban legends. Of course he positively beamed about this new mystery. “Fascinating, very fascinating indeed,” he said while making notes. “I’ll definitely be staying here for a while to find out more about Valor Cove’s mystery.”

He thanked me as he left the diner, he explained to me shortly before he left that he’ll be staying at the local inn while he digs up for any info regarding this mystery, so if I ever wanted to make any inquiries I would know where he be. Of course; I never really took up on his offer as I didn’t consider the hymn to be that important, and more importantly, I didn’t think it had to do with what happened five years ago. Strangely though, despite him saying that he’ll be staying in town; not once have I ever seen him anywhere in Valor Cove; not at the café, not at the library, not even at the beach. I just took it as him being extremely busy and invested in his research, so I wasn’t bothered by it in the slightest. In hindsight that was a mistake.

Seven months after I first met Mr. Butler I arrived at the beach to pay my respects after I finished cleaning my dad’s fishing vessel; it was night time so I had to use my flashlight to illuminate the beach and see where I’m going. The memories of that day never leaving my mind for a second, not the attacks, not the blood soaked shoes, not that mysterious hymn. I was standing in front of the makeshift memorial statue that commemorates the lost lives of Reggie and the other three; it was a simple looking thing, the shoes being bolted to a large slab of rock and having a plaque. The slab was buried up to the top so only shoes would be visible –don’t ask me why they did that as I wasn’t involved with the construction of it-, unfortunately it resulted in a lot of rocks and pebbles covering the surface and the plaque, so I brushed them off to read it:

May the lord watch these blessed souls in the afterlife; and let them live on in our memories.
Reginald F. Roads: April 1. 1952- September 9. 1962
Johnathan I. Andrews: November 12. 1951- September 9. 1962
Olive S. Park: May 19. 1953- September 9. 1962
Tara H. Willow- October 4. 1952- September 9. 1962



Ugh, again with the lord stuff. I know it’s referencing Jesus Christ, but thanks to that damn hymn I now associate the lord with something that wants my skin; in any case I headed my way back to downtown, the sounding of rocks scraping together beneath every step I took was permeating throughout the cove as if I were in an echo chamber. When I passed by the inn Mr. Butler was staying in, I noticed something rather peculiar: one of the upper floor rooms was lit up and the window was wide open… Wait, it doesn’t look like its wide open, it looks like it was broken into; was somebody trying to break into the inn? Against my better judgment I thought I should go take a look and see if something happened to Mr. Butler, as well as Mr. and Mrs. Doven; the couple had owned the inn ever since they moved down here from Virginia after Mr. Doven returned from the Second World War according to my dad, they were very nice people and always treated my little brother and I like we were their own grandkids.

When I went inside I noticed that nobody appeared to have been home; Mr. and Mrs. Doven are completely absent and the only sounds I can hear are coming from upstairs, so headed my way up there. There was this strange odor permeating the hallways, to best describe it was like a mixture of sea water and rotten fish, a smell that for those who never been on a fishing vessel would easily feel nauseated by. One of the doors at the end of the hallway is basically wide open; I really hope that isn’t Mr. Butler’s room, because it would mean that there really is some thief in here. Never the less, curiosity got the better of me and I slowly walked my way into the room. But before I even made a single step; a familiar sound came from outside:


O praise the graceful lord by blood
For then our souls be clean of sin
We brought its wrath and drowned in flood
Our sins pulled us down with a thud
Forgive us great lord and our kin
Your soldiers can take our warm skin.


God damn it not that hymn again, I tried my best to ignore it as I made my way in. The room looked like it had a major fight ravaging through the place; furniture thrown everywhere, broken glass on the floor, bed turned on its side, even scratch marks on the wall. That was the strangest thing about what happened in this room, if it was a simple thief, the state of the room would make me believe that some giant animal beast was in here. “Holy crap,” I silently whispered to myself as I inspected the main room to find any trace of life, “what the hell happened here?” As I finished looking around I heard sounds coming from behind the bathroom door; to best describe it sounded like loud chewing, gurgling, and twigs being snapped. My gut immediately told me that this was bad, something definitely ominous was lurking in there; I don’t know why I let my curiosity got the better of me, but I went to the bathroom and pulled the door wide open, hoping to surprise this bad guy and take care of him; what I saw in there immediately made all the blood drained from my body and made me frozen in place.

In the bathtub, there was a body that was completely opened up with its insides almost cleaned out, but I didn’t need to see the face to know who the corpse was laying in the bathtub: It was Mr. Butler, and he had the expression of seeing a terrifying monster, which was exactly what I was looking at now. It was something I will never forget. The thing standing in the bathtub with the body was this thing that can only be best described as a fish man; standing what looked to be over six feet tall, covered in scales that illuminated shades of blue and deep green in the bathroom light, webbed fingers with claws that would easily rip open my body if it wanted to, but it’s head… Oh god; its head. Going up from the upper arm, the scales gave way to exposed human skin, and its head looked like human being, but its mouth was replaced with wide fish lips that bared shark-like fangs, and its eyes were slightly misaligned. But that wasn’t the thing that made me horrified, what did was the face. I know that face from anywhere, even after all these years; I can never forget the face of my little brother.



Jesus fucking Christ; why does this thing have Reggie’s face? That question kept running around my head while I just stood there like a frozen idiot, its fish eyes staring right back at me, cocking its head left and right. It just stood there like it was scanning me or something, not even moving a muscle; I finally mustered up enough courage to have some word come tumbling out of my mouth. “R-Reg… Reggie?”

In an instant the thing immediately let out a bone rattling scream; without thought or reason I just bolted out of the room and down the hallway, all the while I can hear the thing chasing me; “Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit,” I cussed like a sailor having a heart attack. I nearly tripped on the stairwell and made a bee dash towards the door, bolting out and running towards my house without even glancing back to see if that thing was chasing. I was still cussing when I reached my house and immediately barged inside, slamming the door shut behind me and locking the doors. I collapsed onto the floor and vomited; of course all that sound I made woken up my parents and Warren, who basically came rushing downstairs wondering what the hell was going on?

“What’s going on,” my father asked sternly. “Did you cause some sort of trouble?”

“Dad,” I lost control of my volume at that point. “There’s a monster at the Doven in that ate a visitor from Charleston; we have to warn the sheriff about this!”

“What are you talking about,” my mother asked. “There’s no such thing as monsters. Wait a minute, Clayton, are you taking drugs?”

“I’m not taking any god damn drugs! There is this thing that has Reggie’s face and tried to kill me, we have to warn the sheriff about this before-.” Before I could finish, that thing burst through the doorways. I crawled backwards into the family so that I would not take my eyes off it. “That’s the creature with Reggie’s face! We have to go now!”

But I began to notice something’s deeply wrong here; mom, dad and Warren aren’t running away from the creature, in fact they were petting it like it was some sort of pet. “I’m sorry son,” Dad sighed. “I didn’t mean for Clayton to scare you.”

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing; why the hell is mom and dad treating that thing like it is Reggie? “What are you doing?!” I yelled. “That thing killed Mr. Butler!”

“We know,” Warren silently said. “He was killed as food for Reggie and the other soldiers.”

Soldiers; what did he mean by that? There is no army base anywhere near Valor Cove unless…  Are they referring to the soldiers in the hymn? Oh good god, now I understood what it meant by taking our warm skin. “W-what are these things?”

“Hush boy,” my father silently scolded me, “these are our punishments from the lord for bringing destruction upon the seas centuries ago, and now we must stay here and protect them from escaping and being unleashed on the world.”

“You mean were basically prisoners to these creatures?”

“These are not creatures,” Mom said with a sunken look. “They are your brothers and sisters, parents and grandparents, lovers and friends that have lived in Valor Cove.”

That thing really is Reggie? No… I refuse to believe it, I just can’t accept it. But then the hymn started with my parents and brother singing that damn hymn, showing that they have accepted their fates of being prisoners to this town till they reach the grave; but I heard more of the hymn this time, as I only just realize there is a second verse.

O praise the graceful lord by blood
For then our souls be clean of sin
We brought its wrath and drowned in flood
Our sins pulled us down with a thud
Forgive us great lord and our kin
Your soldiers can take our warm skin.


Soldiers born from human and sea
Only knowing the lords deep rage
Feeding them man to hear our plea
If they come to land, end we’ll see
Now we are the soldier’s great cage
Forever more; on the lords’ stage.


I closed the book and let out a deep sigh; I never knew my dad had gone through this hell when he first experienced this. I always thought that he was just simply jaded without any good reason; but being raised with the customs in Valor Cove like I have at such an early age, I guess after what happened they decided to be more truthful with future generations about the soldiers we are bound to hold. I put the book down and looked behind me to see the corpse of some poor hitchhiker who unfortunately picked a ride whose destination was for this town. Ah well; better for the food to be foreigners then the townsfolk. The hymn was still playing from god knows where; meaning that it is feeding time, no doubt the other townsfolk grabbing the corpses of other people that are not from here. I grabbed the body and headed down the stairs and out the house towards the beach; thank god this corpse isn’t heavy, otherwise I would throw out my back. Once I reached the beach there was a lot of people huddling together to see the corpses line up, about twelve in total; it looks like this will be able to least our soldiers for at least a year. I placed the corpse down and joined with the other townsfolk, waiting and watching as the fish men, carrying the faces of those they ate, started to come out of the water with their webbed feet splashing against the rocks and headed towards the corpses where they started to eat. Looking back on my dad’s journal entry, I have accepted that my fate is to remain here in this town till the end of my days, making sure to be the great cage as I watch Uncle Reggie and Uncle Warren eating the corpse I offered, knowing that if they were to leave and spread, humanity would end.





The End
Hymn of Valor Cove
Yes I know, this is pretty much out of left field. It was actually a spur of the moment thing as it was done in about 10 days for a contest on the website chillingtalesfordarknights.com . Needless to say, the original version didn't reach the finals, so I basically added a new beginning and ending, fleshed out the details of the story more, and fixed some grammar errors. And yeah I did send the story to them as a regular submission, but I don't want to keep my hopes up. In the mean time, I hope you all enjoy my story. :)

Characters and story (c) Andrew Eden-Balfour
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hooded-wanderer
The Wind Knight Reincarnation
Artist | Student | Varied
Canada
Current Residence: Regina, Saskatchewan, you know the rectangle province?
Favourite genre of music: to..much..to..say
Operating System: Windows XP
MP3 player of choice: Zen Micro (outside) Windows Media (PC)
Shell of choice: humans don't wear shells
Favourite cartoon character: too..much..to..say
Personal Quote: doing something just to be popular is just plain dumb

Basically just a writer who can do a variety of genres, as well as an aspiring artist who wishes he can draw like comics or manga, but his current skills are non-existent.

Skype: Note me first
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Interests
I'm only doing this because of the badge; not to mention that there's not a whole lot for me to discuss about my story. I want to be an artist and draw stuff like comics and manga, but I don't have the skills nor the patience to accomplish that, and I still don't have confidence in my writing. Huzzah I guess?Portrait of myself by hooded-wanderer

As you can see; this is basically the only sort of style I can do, this was done back in 2008 for an art project class back in high school, and yeah, my talent hasn't improved much since then.



My most recent writing project that was finished, a sort of creepy-pasta for a contest. 

Max Longear and Storage Building # 52 by hooded-wanderer

And yes; I can also do kid-friendly stories. Most of my writing material is essentially related to the furry fandom and other fandoms, but I would love to make visual stories as I feel that some ideas I have are better told through comics/manga then in words. 

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Hey! thanks for the Llama badge! By the way, I think your self portrait is really well done and distinctive. You do have talent!
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Thank you so very much for the cake!  I couldn't help myself, I ate them all in one sitting.    :D 

May I ask, what did I do to deserve such an extravagant treat?
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:iconhooded-wanderer:
hooded-wanderer Featured By Owner May 5, 2014  Student General Artist
Well why not, you do seem like a nice lady after all *chuckles* :P 
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