|A horse with no name|
RoF Feature: Rise from the DeadRoF Feature: Rise from the Dead by Realm-of-Fantasy
Rise from the Dead
presented by the Realm of Fantasy
Thralls to the 7th Throneby Cryptcrawler
Transcendental Deity Regularby neisbeis
Queen of the Dead Artby Artgerm
Dark Armyby thiennh2
12 Month Premium Membership Giveaway!I'm renewing my Premium Membership -- now that DA has the limited time deal to 'give one, get one' I might as well share the wealth!12 Month Premium Membership Giveaway! by SecretConfession
Here's how this is going to work:
You have until 1AM (Pacific -8) on DECEMBER 16 to enter.
Simply fav this journal to enter!
On December 16, I will use a random number generator to pick the winner, whom I will announce in a new journal post (and I will note the winner to inform them).
Feel free to pass this along to any of your friends or colleagues!
Happy Holidays, everyone!
THE CONTEST IS NOW CLOSED.
VIEW http://fav.me/d5oa3z6 FOR THE RESULTS!
A sound on the edge of his conscious thought stopped him cold. He strained his ear to listen. He wasn’t sure he had heard it but couldn’t take the chance. He crouched low and slowly turned his head while straining against the nights constant hum of noises. He realized it just a second before he was crushed under the heavy weight of club to his shoulder. He rolled with the hit and came up in a low crouch looking back where he had been a second before. Standing in his place and staring coldly at him was the tallest goblin he had ever seen. This goblin looked at him with a hatred and cold calculating stare that stole the warmth from his chest. Every goblin he had ever encountered before had a wild flailing like attack and little regard for safety. They ran blindly into a fight with only the thought of victory on their minds. This one however had a look of calculating menace and complete control.
He shook the cold from his body and reached for his bow but thought better of it and grabbed instead, his twin; matching, curved, double bladed, double edged daggers. These daggers were perfectly balanced for his hands and style of fighting. They were crafted by his father before he was killed in a raid on their camp one night a few years before. As he brought the daggers around in front of him, he quickly scanned the area around himself and the giant orc. The orc had not made a move since his initial attack, just one more thing to add to the ongoing turmoil in Jaffe’s head as he searched for answers.
“Who are you?” Jaffe asked a little louder than he had intended, not thinking the brute could understand let alone answer.
“Me is King Grundun” the orc asked. Jaffe started at this almost incomprehensible understanding and control of the spoken word coming from the orc. “Who you are puny man?” the orc asked in return.
“Wh… what? You can understand me? But how?” Jaffe stammered in return. “How can you understand me?”
“HA HA HA” retorted Grundun. “Me understand more than you puny man thing think. Who you are?” he asked again.
“Where are you from?” Jaffe asked gaining some sort of control over his voice and trying to hide his fear that was building from this encounter. “How do you understand me and more to the point, what are you doing here?”