#and i made a really good hood for my robe ! from scratch ! no pattern ! and its lined and hemmed

[transgaysex]

did some good progress on my wizard robe today

[pinkevilbobdoesthings]

So who wants fluff of Caleb Widogast taking care of his shapeshifting girlfriend? Just me? Posting it anyways. Here’s “Someone I Really Could Care For”.

________________________________________

The facts were these: Caleb Widogast had a girlfriend, Caleb Widogast loved his girlfriend very much, and once a month, Caleb Widogast’s girlfriend would turn into a monster. Most people would say that the least believable fact was that Caleb Widogast actually had a girlfriend, and to be fair to them, Caleb Widogast did not appear to be the dating type, but this does not change the facts. Caleb Widogast would argue that his girlfriend did not turn into a monster as that would imply that she was cruel, horrible, and frightening which she was not no matter what she looked like, but Caleb Widogast was incredibly biased. His girlfriend, Jester Lavorre, didn’t mind being called a monster because she thought it sounded cool.

Most days for them were those of a normal couple. They would have dates, fights, make-ups, and make-outs. Though, they would also have to plan around the full moon (Caleb Widogast liked to point out that Jester Lavorre was not a lycanthrope. The night she transformed just happened to overlap with the full moon).

Caleb Widogast would not change his girlfriend a single bit if he was given the opportunity to(there are many, many things Caleb Widogast would change about his life if given the chance, but that’s a completely different story and something he should really discuss with a licensed therapist).

****

Caleb knocked on the door of his girlfriend’s apartment while balancing two large paper bags full of supplies for the night. Jester kept saying he could just come in, but it felt wrong not to knock. After a long moment, Beau opened the door with Jester wrapped around her. “Finally,” Beau said rolling her eyes. “She won’t let go of me.”

Jester’s eyes brightened when she saw Caleb and instantly let go of Beau. “Caleb!” She hugged him tightly and nuzzled his neck. Her eyes were cloudy like she was miles away from him

“Halo, liebling,” Caleb said pressing a kiss on her forehead. He managed to pass the bags to Beau who put them on the coffee table. “How are you today?” he asked Jester.

She just smiled and snuggled more into him. “Caleb.” Barely verbal, he noted mentally. That meant there was most likely less than a half hour left before she changed.

“Better you than me,” Beau said while patting Jester’s head. “You got everything you need, right? Cause if I have to run out and get anything for you again, you’ll owe me.”

“I’ve got everything we need.” Caleb pointed at the bags.

Beau gave him a mock salute. “I’ll leave you to it then.” And she went to her room.

Caleb looked back down at Jester. “You’ll need to let go of me if I’m to move.”

She frowned up at him, but Jester loosened her grip of him while not quite letting go.

“I suppose that will do for now.” With Jester acting as his cute shadow, Caleb laid his silver wire in front of the door and activated his alarm spell. Once he finished, Jester hummed at him softly and dragged him to the cough. Even if he could’ve resist(Caleb Widogast was not a strong man), he wouldn’t have.

Once they were comfortably curled up on the couch, Caleb pulled a smaller paper bag out of one bag and a book from the other. Jester started pulling on his arm when she smelled the bag. “Soon enough, soon enough,” Caleb said as he carefully opened the bag and counted the contents. He pulled out a pastry and passed it to her. “One.” She gleefully gobbled it up and looked at Caleb with big puppy eyes. “Yes, these are all for you, but we are not having a repeat of the time you ate them too quickly and got sick. Two.” Caleb gave her another pastry. Transforming into anything took a lot of energy and calories and, in Jester’s case, baked goods. Fortunately, Caleb had a deal with the local bakery for their day-old pastries ever since the Mighty Nein cleared out bunch of diseased rats from the bakery’s basement. But Caleb would’ve been willing to pay more for them since they made Jester so happy on a rough night.

“Three. Are you ready for the continuation of ‘Tusk Love’?” he asked. Jester nodded and he had to fight back a sigh. While it wasn’t the worst book Caleb had ever read, this was the fourth time Jester had him read it to her. “Alright, ‘Guinevere clung to Oskar like a wet negligee. “Oh, Oskar,” she said breathily.’ Four.”

After a chapter and three more pastries finishing off the bag, Jester stiffened and got up slowly. It was time. Caleb quickly got up and helped her up. She went over to an empty spot and shrugged him off curling up on the floor. Grabbing a blanket off the couch, he threw it over her and covered her with it. Jester hated to transform alone, but she didn’t want anyone to watch her shifting either. He had missed part of her tiefling hand, but before Caleb could cover it, the transformation had started.

A high pitched whine came from under the blanket, and Jester’s hand scratched at the floor. This was always the hardest part of the night. Caleb knew he wasn’t supposed to watch any part of it, but he couldn’t look away as her hand twitched and strained. It slowly became thicker and larger as the fingers appeared to get shorter. Thick, blue fur sprouted on her hand and her fingernails turned into dark claws that scratched the floor. Another whine came from Jester, but this one was much lower and richer. Her hand was now a paw, but she was no longer clawing the floor.

Jester didn’t move under the blanket even though the transformation was clearly over now. Caleb turned on the music on his phone and selected a song by Jester’s mom. After the first song finished, the blanket shifted and Jester poked her head out. The first few times Caleb saw her like this, he could hardly recognize Jester, but now he couldn’t help but see all the similarities. Sure, her hair had become a thick mane, her curled horns were much larger, and all of her teeth were now razor sharp, but Jester’s eyes never changed and, despite the cruel teeth, it was still her mischievous smile. “Halo, liebling,” Caleb said kissing her fuzzy forehead. She nuzzled the side of his head and shook off the rest of her blanket her large lion like form. There was a stumble when she tried walk still a bit woozy from her transformation. “Careful. Here, let me get something for you.”

Caleb grabbed the other paper bag and pulled out two stuffed toys that were supposedly identical at one point, but one was torn to shreds and barely holding its shape, and the other was, while well loved, in much better condition and smelled of lavender. Both plushes looked like a man in a green robe with the hood obscuring his face. “Which one would you like today?”

Jester nosed the one that smelled of lavender. Caleb sighed with relief while she began to cuddle with it. The other one usually meant that her transformation was particularly painful that night. He kept the music on the playlist of Jester’s mom’s greatest hits(as according to Jester Lavorre) and pulled out a hairbrush and some ribbons. “Which color today?” he asked holding out the ribbons. She pawed at the pink one. “Good choice.”

Caleb counted each stroke as he brushed her hair careful not to hit her horns. Then came the biggest test of the night - braiding her hair. In theory it should’ve been simple; it was a pattern after all. He was good with patterns especially repetitive ones. But he’d always find himself turned around and tangled up and somehow losing half the hair from the braid. Each time he was determined that this would be the time he mastered braiding and each time he was proven wrong. Eventually he finished a crooked, little braid that he thought didn’t look completely terrible and tied the pink ribbon around it. Grabbing his cellphone, he took a picture of Jester and showed it to her. “How’s that?”

Jester gave him an unimpressed look, but nuzzled him anyways.

“I don’t need your pity,” he said hugging her back.

“Hey, need any help?” Beau asked leaning against the wall.

Caleb shook his head. “No, we’re good. You don’t need to worry about us.”

Beau raised an eyebrow. “I have a hard time believing that. Now, scoot over.” She sat down next to him and quickly undid the braid Caleb had worked so hard on. After brushing Jester’s hair out again, Beau expertly french braided Jester’s hair and added the ribbon as a fine pink bow. “This is my darkest secret. Dont-”

“I ever dare tell anyone about it,” Caleb finished for her as he took a picture of it and showed it to Jester. She was much happier with this braid showing her contentment with purring and rubbing against Beau nearly knocking her over.

“Ack! Jes.” Beau tried to be stern but a smile poked out of the corner of her mouth. Jester continued to lean into Beau. “Alright, I’ve had enough of this. You’re on your own Caleb.”

Jester whined as Beau started to leave. “Come on,” Caleb said trying to catch Jester’s attention. “Couch time.” Which were apparently the magic words as Jester immediately perked up and went to the couch and impatiently shifted from paw to paw doing an excited little dance. Caleb chuckled as he got up and grabbed a paper bag out of the first bag.

The next part took a little bit of psyching up for Caleb. He loved his girlfriend no matter what form or size she was(some would say that since Jester Lavorre was a little chubby she needed to lose weight, but these people are known as jerks and should not be listened to), but her more monstrous form was easily twice as large as she was as a tiefling and was over 300 pounds. Caleb braced himself as he sat down and Jester pounced into his lap. Only her front legs and a little bit of her head fitted on his lap, but it was still heavy and Caleb was a little sore at first. Jester purred loudly though and it made everything worth it.

Caleb opened the paper bag and pulled out two pastries from it. “One, two.” Despite her incredibly sharp teeth, Jester delicately took the pastries from him and carefully ate them. He sometimes wondered if she had better manners in this form. As Jester ate her pastries, Caleb grabbed Zemnian Nights to read to her. It seemed to be her favorite on full moons, and Caleb wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he liked it much more than Tusk Love. “Let’s see, when we last left off, Sigmund had just left the auction house having spent all his money on a flower bulb for Drica. Three. Let’s see if he can not get attacked by street thugs this read through. Four. ‘Sigmund could not believe his luck. What he could not believe was whether it was good or bad.’”

Reading to Jester when she was like this was Caleb’s favorite part of the full moon. There was no tension or dread as the roughest part for Jester had already passed and it was just them and a book. It wasn’t as good as a normal day, but there was still a soft contentment to it. If this was going to be what the rest of their lives were going to be like, Caleb could accept it.

Somewhere during their third chapter, Jester drifted asleep and Caleb followed her not long after(Caleb Widogast can and has scientifically proven that the best sleep comes from having a large, lion-like girlfriend sleep in your lap).

Caleb woke up to a gentle headbut. Jester was making soft whimpering sounds and looked very anxious. “Time for you to change back?” he asked even though he already knew the answer. She gently grabbed his hand in her mouth, dragged him to her blanket, and curled into a tight ball next to it. He shook out the blanket and covered her with it again.

Fortunately, the process of turning back into her normal self was an easier one for her, though Jester still didn’t like anyone to watch it. After a moment, the lump under the blanket shrank and Jester the tiefling came out from under it smiling. “Caleb!” Her eyes were bright and he could tell that she was there with him.

Caleb kissed her forehead softly. “Halo, liebling.”

_________________________

The title of the fic comes from the song Blue Moon and is a reference to the transformation scene from An American Werewolf in London(if horror is your thing I recommend this film).

I hope you liked this.

[nakedfullmonty-fr]

i want to draw but my eyes feel like someone put acid in them so!! heres a post about personal fashion styles instead!!

Niet - Usually she wears things that give good leg freedom so she can be ready to throw down for her Clan at all times. Personally though, she loves dresses, but even after she becomes Queen and can afford whatever she likes, she usually keeps them simple.

Yastrebok - Has to accommodate for his injuries and the fact that his arm is deformed and can’t move, so can’t wear things with sleeves or the like. Usually wears something akin to a Samoan lavalava (commmon in Water), or a lot of long draped fabrics, kinda like how ancient Romans look like they rolled through a bunch of blankets (common in Light).

Temahae - As a child, she often wears the sort of silly clothing that only children can really get away with (see her goofy jester type hat). Likes star patterns. She dresses like a child would, which doesn’t fit her monotone personality. As an adult, she dresses a little more standardly but seems to flit around different fashion styles. Usually favours black and green.

Magpie - Since she spends a lot of time underground, she wears clothing suitable for someone who spends a lot of time mining. Having been rejected from Wind culture, she doesn’t favour its fashion styles. Unlike most dragons, her thin, bug-like wings remain in her gijinka form, so she can only wear backless shirts. Often wears a Pareu type garment, which is common in Water. She wears orange a lot, probably because Lockheed probably said it looked nice on her.

Lockheed - Grew up in a temple and probably wore plain white robes her whole childhood, so her fashion sense is as terrible as her social skills. She used to wear black often, but since coming to Ogygia she now wears a lot of bright colours and busy patterns - It looks ugly, but she likes it, and reasons that as a Hero, she should be easily identifiable to those in need.

Bermuda - Ran away from home to join a pirate ship at the age of like 12 and probably hasn’t worn a shirt since. He changed his traditional eyepatch for a simple cloth bandana because he was worried he might intimidate children.

Euros - As the Queen’s assistant, escort and translator, he usually dresses in clothing befitting a member of a royal court. Niet keeps trying to get him to branch out and have at least one casual outfit, but even Niet has a hard time getting him to do things he doesn’t want to do.

Ricin - Wears plain and simple clothing, often unbefitting of a Princess. She has an attractive body type, but prefers to keep herself covered and does as much as she can to not draw attention to herself. Pinks and purples and peaches are common colours for her. She has nicer clothing and ballgowns for when her status calls for it, but it’s obvious she’s uncomfortable wearing most of them.

Ahkoolah - A Jock/Goth mix. Usually wears black, combat appropriate clothes. Also wears a lot of long flowing coats and things with hoods. Mostly, she just looks like an emo Assassins Creed character.

Europa - As a dancer, she tries to take pride in her appearance. Since her troupe has some high-class contacts, it’s expected of her to look good, so she probably follows fashion trends even though she doesn’t really care for them. That said, on her own time she probably likes to just wear a big jacket and her boyfriends pants.

Io - Most commonly she wears her armour as much as possible, because she’s convinced that the extra weight trains her frail body even when she’s not actively training. On the rare occassion she’s out of armour, she’s very goth. All black, big boots, skulls, chains, the whole thing.

Ganymede - His social isolation and agoraphobia mean that he doesn’t get out often enough to go shopping for himself, and he doesn’t have the self esteem to even attempt to dress any particular way. Usually, he wears plain Tiu (traditional Water garment).

Saburou - As a Maren, he dislikes clothes, but he wears them to fit in with dragon culture. Doesn’t clothe his top half, and for the bottom half it’s usually something like skintight shorts with a long fabric tied on his waist (seen here). Wears jewellery sometimes. He was often oogled and fetishised in his past, so he knows his appearance has appeal to others, and chooses to try and flaunt this to hide his terrible low self-esteem.

Vrinde - ??????????????? Honestly I have no fucking idea I dont think he really gives a shit he’s covered in gunpowder 24/7 anyways

Iru - Bright colours, big pants. However, when acting as “Iruka” or up in Ogygia on the surface, as a Deep-Sea Water dragon their skin and body are very sensitive to sunlight, so they wear all-black coverings. Their coverings are pretty mis-matched though.

Othira - Like Iru, she has to cover her face and skin to protect herself, but she has more fashion sense with her coverings. Kinda gothic and lacey, with those big Victorian era dresses. She has a fur coat she likes to wear when travelling, but Ogygia’s usually too hot to wear it. When she’s away from the sun and can dress how she pleases, her clothing is surprisingly boring in comparison.

Leiptrvarthr - A Shade monster, so he doesn’t wear clothes. However, sometimes he wears a blanket of sorts across his back, so that his student Ganymede can sit or stand atop him and travel without Ganymede’s paladin blood hurting him.

Cenna - Likes short shorts, but otherwise is quite modest. Originally a simple farmers daughter from a small village, she doesn’t wear elaborate clothing and sticks to simple, practical stuff. However, since coming to Ogygia, she’s started experimenting with trying to find a personal style. Likes cute things.

Aneikenon - Wears black, but because he’s scared people will notice blood on him from his curse, not because he likes it. As a Prince, he owns nice clothes, but since he gets out of bed so rarely he doesn’t wear them. Since he’s so cold, when he wears clothes he wears lots of layers. Wears a lot of traditional Ice clothing made from elk or caribou fur, since it’s effective at keeping him warm.

Galure - Whatever the Dragon equivalent of Louis Vuitton is. Wears all the nice clothes Aneikenon won’t. Likes furs, big ones. And boots, heeled ones, at least knee high. Doesn’t have the memories to know why it might be bad if people know about his curse, so wears light colours, especially white and blue.

Dantalion - Doesn’t really know or care about fashion. He’s from Plague, where you wear whatever you can find, and if not everyone’s chill about nudity. He changes his fashion to blend in with the culture of wherever he goes, or sticks to things that are good for sneaking around and hiding. He has few material objects that belong to him, but one of his prized possessions is a winter coat that Aneikenon made for him from scratch. Even when he’s not working, it seems that there’s a little goth in him that means he favours black clothes. He also wears more leather than your average person, but he’s gay so it’s fine.

Bitya - Finest lingerie collection in Ogygia, so she hangs out in that a lot at “home” - She owns a brothel and is a crime lord, so it’s not like anyone can tell her not to. Outside, her outfits aren’t usually extrvagant for someone of her nature, but she often spices her looks up with one of her many long coats. Usually wears colours in the black/white/cream/brown/gold range.

Zylhana - She works a lot, so she’s usually in some kind of uniform. In her home life, since she has plants growing into the sides of her thighs, her clothing has to accommodate that - Most of her pants and dresses have slit sides. Wears a lot of plain white, sometimes mixed with black. Her clothes are always simple, but she’s naturally beautiful so it looks good regardless.

Lis-Mirolu - Most often seen in her military uniform coat, since she works long shifts and is rarely off duty (mostly by choice). That said, out of uniform she’s a pretty snappy dresser (kinda like that hot office worker type vibe), and is one of the few people out there whole can make a turtleneck sweater look good.

Thulani - As a deity, his appearance depends on how people who believe in him depict him, and so his clothing is also decided in this way. However, he lost a lot of his power, and now he works in a hospital and just wears one of those long doctors coats. He also wears a facemask, and nobodies quite sure if it’s just a surgeon thing or if there’s something funky going on behind it. Nobodies ever seen. Nobody knows a fucking thing about Thulani like he’s some sort of cryptid and not the local medic.

Locket - Ever since he invented long-range communication and got famous for it, he’s becoming more and more of an obnoxious celebrity, and his fashion sense seems to have changed to match that.

[samewritingstuff]

The horror at Mykonos super rough copy

I am Joel Vincent a private investigator in Calgary Alberta it was a quite boring job all the jobs were usually tracking down teens who ran away from home or ex lovers it was a simple job really most kids would run away to their friends or boyfriend/girlfriend homes or the regular drug dens, ex lover's really required a simple google search maybe some interviews with family. Today is a monday the weather was nice but it really is just a regular day by no stretch of the imagination. I honestly hate these days, the type of days where you notice your office. My office in question is incredibly dull the wall is a basic brown wall, and one window with white as snow shutters with only my degree in law from the University of Alberta, the desk I have was one of those generic ikea brown desk with only one drawer which I only used for pen storage, my chair is a black office chair with wheels and I really think it was made by God himself to be the most uncomfortable thing imaginable I always promise myself to get rid of it but I never do. The chairs facing my desk were like the chairs on school desks but actually comfortable and black. My file drawer is an incredibly cheap one with no decorations or anything on it, it is really just storage for my personal items. Bored I look out my window shutters the white with the combination of the sun basically burned my eyes a ton but I see a lady walking to my building she was beautiful with striking blonde hair and a red sundress and hat even though it is the typical attire for the summer she just stood out in the crowd. I get my desk ready and prepare for a new customer and pull out my notebook from my file drawer.

 When the woman came into my office she is clearly trying to hide how rattled and terrified she is but doing a terrible job at it. Before I could say anything to her she took a seat in the seat farthest away from the window. She says in a very quick voice “I really need your help” I reply “well that is what I do, now what do you need help with? Finding your ex? Lost son or daughter?”. She looks at me like I just insulted her mother and she angrily blurted “No! You need to look at Mykonos. Report on it, to help the people their” I reply “report on it? I am not a reporter I don’t do this stuff” she visibly gets frustrated and says “People will die”. My interest must have instantly shown and she clearly saw it, she cheered up a bit and pulled out a map. She had a park circled by a city called Cold Lake she pointed to the middle of the park but Mykonos was not marked out I point out “Mykonos why is it not marked” this out she replies “there's a reason why”.  I asks her “How much do you want me to investigate this town?” she gave me a one hundred dollar bill and left even though I take way more for my job but I really don’t care I am very curious about the town. When I knew she was gone I quickly go to my file drawer to grab my camera, flashlight, and the keys to my car. I grab the notebook off my desk and make my way to my car outside grab my brown coat from the back seat and drive off to Mykonos.

 I drop by the local shell to refill on gas and maybe get a snack. The shell station was clearly never improved since it was first built it was a brick building with generic car wash and snack signs. I fill up on gas and make my way to pay when I enter I see a young man couldn't be older than nineteen he had brown hair and sharp green eyes. I wave by hundred dollars to him and say my pump number. He asks me while opening the register “you look like one of those old detectives from like the fifties, where are you going?” I answer “Mykonos” he pauses for a second and asks “Mykonos?” I reply “Yah”. He turns to me and questions “Why would you go to that hick town” I answer “I was paid too” he says to me “I really recommend you to take the money and run. People say that town is full of cultists who peel off their skins. Everyone who went into that town never came out or were horribly scarred and kept saying ‘I got tomorrow coming’”. He could see the interest on my face and he looked frustrated and said “if you're the next victim don't say I did not warn you about the town” he put down forty dollars on the counter and went back to work. I left the shell station and got to my car and drive off to Mykonos.

 As I keep driving to the place the sky gets darker even though it was only one am but the trees had shadow even though the sun didn’t seem to be out at al. When I get near the place marked on my map the road gets slowly more worse and tight to the point where I had to get out of my car and walk. As I get out of my car the trees above me seem to grow and curve around me like a church building. I grab my camera, notebook, and flashlight and put on my coat and move along the path. The path gets tighter and tighter as a walk though but oddly the trees had no branches or debris blocking my path. When I get out of the path and get a look at the town, it is a complete ghost town like no one has touched it in years the buildings are decrepit and falling with roofs caving into them, windows boarded up but no oddly no doors in front of the town I decide to take a picture of the town but when I look at the picture nothing showed like I put my hand in front of the lense I take another picture same result. When I had a good look at the town town again there was no more than ten houses all in a L like pattern all having the same qualities as I look at the town even more I see a on the end of the town church that I did not see before. The church looks like it has been just been made in the medieval ages it was either incredibly restored or what I think something horribly off. The layout of the town is just really a road with a small circle at the end the church facing away from the road. I make my way to the town, the concrete is weirdly new no scratches or anything.I decided to investigate one of the houses as I enter I see the sky getting even more dark than before but I still can see in front of me. When I enter the doorway I feel safe the kind of safe where you know your door is impenetrable. As I inspect the house it is completely bare but something inside of me says that it is not. As I explore more of the house all the doors in the house are gone rooms and closets are gone. When I inspect the door I see no evidence of a hinge or anything like that. I leave the house seeing that their is nothing else in there and when I exit the house I see a lonely man in the middle of the dirt road.

 I walk to the man his back is turned away from me he is muttering something I begin to walk even more closely I can hear him chanting “I got tomorrow coming”. I get dangerously close to him and I tap on his shoulder he turns around to me. His face has flesh torn out exposing bits of skull and his mouth through his cheeks smiling at the same time. He says to me “You got tomorrow coming” and points me to a church and walks away going in really no direction. I go to the church like that man said, it was gigantic full of black stone but it had no windows. As I move even more forward to the church the darkness fades a bit and the sun reveals the steeple of the church. An oddly large crow dark as tar appears on the top of the steeple just looking at me like I am prey. I take a snap of it and it erratically flies away oddly the picture only showed the crow looking at me and nothing else. I take a deep breath and make my way to the huge church doors

 I open the big wooden doors in front of me at the end of the church there is a sensation of light like entering the gates of heaven when I can finally I see a big cross with jesus covered in black feathers feathers overlooking a bright blue stand with a giant black feather in front of it. I look around the church see many people in brown church pews all looking forward chanting “I got tomorrow coming” I dropped my camera by mistake and they all look back at me. Their flesh of their faces are torn off the ones at the back only have little chunks but as I move forward in the rows the faces become more and torn off eventually at the front row their is muscles of their faces. As I move on to the stand one of the people with their face being heavily ripped off really only being a skull said to me “the prophet comes soon. Stand wait a while” I do what he says. Immediately after that comment a man comes out of the side of the church he is in black robes with a bright blue feather insignia on it in the middle his face covered in darkness with a hood. He stands at the stand and he takes off his hood revealing a bright blue feathered human like face exposing the hawk like green eyes, he raises revealing his hands his nails are talon like and he slams his hands down on the stand puncturing. He starts to speak in a deep voice “Brothers, sisters, and our guest we celebrate the halfway point to the dark moon” he takes a break “you all know the significance of the dark moon but our guest here does not”. He takes a long break remembering something “The dark moon ten years ago shed a tear to the Bird God it gave him the power to control the darkness but the moon wanted the tear back but he refused. The moon decided to plunge Mykonos for three days, The bird god he decided to fight for us, fight the moon, and bring back the light!”. He pauses for a second “He grabbed a crow and made it gigantic and flew it to the moon!”. A tear drops from the corner his eye “He gave us the light back but as a cost of his life when he came back on the earth his face was torn off but with a big black feather from his great crow covering him. He told us that a man would come seven days before a dark moon. A man with great will would join us to recover him. He also said to not harm his flock”. He looks to the ground ashamed and he yelled out “We did not listen to his word although! Instead we killed his great creatures sacrificing them in the hope he would come back and not waiting. He punished us rightfully so plunging our town into this darkness”. He starts looking at me “but our guest he must be the one. The one who can help us stop the darkness and we can finally stop waiting for tomorrow, a tomorrow full of life”. All the people surrounding stands up and turns around not taking any chances I run and I hear the man yell “Get him, so we can stop waiting for tomorrow and start living today!” and I see all of them orderly walk out of the church.

 It was extremely dark and I can barely see anything in front of me so I ran straight ahead. I end up in front of one of the houses barely making out the caved in roof knowing that it would make no real hiding place so I move to the left trying to find a suitable house to hide out in. The house I found was decrepit but the roof was not caved in as I enter I hear a couple voices saying “Get him before he gets into that house!”. I run into the house and I see two lightly scarred males in behind me no hair or anything looking identical of each other. One of them says “Where did he go?” the other one replies “In their” the other one replies “But I can’t see him at all” the other one moves his head guiding him somewhere. I quickly run into the room and enter the closet. When I enter the closet I had a sudden feeling of hope and safety but as quickly as that feeling came I see the priest and three of the heavily scarred followers one male two female. The priest angrily says “Where did he go! Did you lose him!” the man replies “No your holiness two said he entered here” he looks at him and laughs a bit and said “He is here somewhere. After all birds who fly away from the flock always come back” and then he laughs and leaves.

 After what must have been hours of me to afraid to leave the apparent safety I see a talon holding the door frame to the room. As I see it I cover my mouth stopping my scream of terror as the figure comes out. I see its beak first it is like one of a woodpecker but instead of being just a regular beak it was filled with human teeth and it looks like it is smiling. The eyes were next they were pure white they produced a light that was like one of a lighthouse and they were were clearly looking around for me. Then it fully revealed its body and it feathers were like a rainbow having blue, red, yellow, green, and purple in a beautiful display of life but it was not a display of life at a same time. It was about seven feet tall the talons had to be at least ten inches it examined the rooms then it focused its attention to the closet it went dangerously close to me it opened it’s mouth and started laughing like a maniac and it said in a squawking voice “you should leave and you dropped your camera” he started laughing so hard it turned into the sounds of the depths of hell. He reached out in his coat of feathers and pulled out my camera still laughing. It stopped laughing and focused his dead bright white eyes on me and said to me “You got your tomorrow coming” and left. I left the closet  the thing just staring at me as I left the house with those dead eyes seeming to be watching me. I ran outside but their was no one their. I get to my car driving off when I looked back I saw those dead white eyes watching me again

  ENDING

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'Good idea.' 'Seems reasonable.' 'Get on with it, then.' Slightly put out, he summoned a procession of lesser wizards who carried various magical implements into the hall. It has already been hinted that around this time there was some disagreement among the fraternity of wizards about how to practise magic. Younger wizards in particular went about saying that it was time that magic started to update its image and that they should all stop mucking about with bits of wax and bone and put the whole thing on a properly-organised basis, with research programmes and three-day conventions in good hotels where they could read papers with titles like 'Whither Geomancy?' and The role of Seven-League Boots in a caring society.' Trymon, for example, hardly ever did any magic these days but ran the Order with hourglass efficiency and wrote lots of memos and had a big chart on his office wall, covered with coloured blobs and flags and lines that no-one else really understood but which looked very impressive. The other type of wizard thought all this was so much marsh gas and wouldn't have anything to do with an image unless it was made of wax and had pins stuck in it. The heads of the eight orders were all of this persuasion, traditionalists to a mage, and the utensils that were heaped around the octogram had a definite, no-nonsense occult look about them. Rams horns, skulls, baroque metalwork and heavy candles were much in evidence, despite the discovery by younger wizards that the Rite of AshkEnte could perfectly well be performed with three small bits of wood and 4 cc of mouse blood. The preparations normally took several hours, but the combined powers of the senior wizards shortened it considerably and, after a mere forty minutes, Galder chanted the final words of the spell. They hung in front of him for a moment before dissolving. The air in the centre of the octogram shimmered and thickened, and suddenly contained a tall, dark figure. Most of it was hidden by a black robe and hood and this was probably just as well. It held a long scythe in one hand and one couldn't help noticing that what should have been fingers were simply white bone. The other skeletal hand held small cubes of cheese and pineapple on a stick. WELL? said Death, in a voice with all the warmth and colour of an iceberg. He caught the wizards' gaze, and glanced down at the stick. I WAS AT A PARTY, he added, a shade reproachfully. 'O Creature of Earth and Darkness, we do charge thee to abjure from—' began Galder in a firm, commanding voice. Death nodded. YES, YES, I KNOW ALL THAT, he said. WHY HAVE YOU SUMMONED ME? 'It is said that you can see both the past and future,' said Galder a little sulkily, because the big speech of binding and conjuration was one he rather liked and people had said he was very good at it. THAT IS ABSOLUTELY CORRECT. Then perhaps you can tell us what exactly it was that happened this morning?' said Galder. He pulled himself together, and added loudly, 'I command this by Azimrothe, by T'chikel, by—' ALL RIGHT, YOU'VE MADE YOUR POINT, said Death. WHAT PRECISELY WAS IT YOU WISHED TO KNOW? QUITE A LOT OF THINGS HAPPENED THIS MORNING, PEOPLE WERE BORN, PEOPLE DIED, ALL THE TREES GREW A BIT TALLER, RIPPLES MADE INTERESTING PATTERNS ON THE SEA— 'I mean about the Octavo,' said Galder coldly. THAT? OH, THAT WAS JUST A READJUSTMENT OF REALITY. I UNDERSTAND THE OCTAVO WAS ANXIOUS NOT TO LOSE THE EIGHTH SPELL. IT WAS DROPPING OFF THE DISC, APPARENTLY. 'Hold on, hold on,' said Galder. He scratched his chin. 'Are we talking about the one inside the head of Rincewind? Tall thin man, bit scraggy? The one—' —THAT HE HAS BEEN CARRYING AROUND ALL THESE YEARS, YES. Galder frowned. It seemed a lot of trouble to go to. Everyone knew that when a wizard died all the spells in h:s head would go free, so why bother to save Rincewind? The spell would just float back eventually. Any idea why?' he said without thinking and then, remembering himself in time, added hastily, 'By Yrriph and Kcharla I do abjure thee and—' I WISH YOU WOULDN'T KEEP DOING THAT, said Death, ALL THAT I KNOW IS THAT ALL THE SPELLS HAVE TO BE SAID TOGETHER NEXT HOGS-WATCHNIGHT OR THE DISC WILL BE DESTROYED. 'Speak up there!' demanded Greyhald Spold. 'Shut up!' said Galder. ME? 'No, him. Daft old—' 'I heard that!' snapped Spold, 'You young people—' He stopped. Death was looking at him thoughtfully, as if he was trying to remember his face. 'Look,' said Galder, 'just repeat that bit again, will you? The Disc will be what?' DESTROYED, said Death. CAN I GO NOW? I LEFT MY DRINK. 'Hang on,' said Galder hurriedly. 'By Cheliliki and Orizone and so forth, what do you mean, destroyed?' IT'S AN ANCIENT PROPHECY WRITTEN ON THE INNER WALLS OF THE GREAT PYRAMID OF TSORT. THE WORD DESTROYED SEEMS QUITE SELF-EXPLANATORY TO ME. 'That's all you can tell us?' YES. 'But Hogswatchnight is only two months away!' YES. 'At least you can tell us where Rincewind is now!' Death shrugged. It was a gesture he was particularly well built for. THE FOREST OF SKUND, RIMWARDS OF THE RAMTOP MOUNTAINS. What is he doing there?' FEELING VERY SORRY FOR HIMSELF. 'Oh.' NOW MAY I GO? Galder nodded distractedly. He had been thinking wistfully of the banishment ritual, which started 'Begone, foul shade' and had some rather impressive passages which he had been practising, but somehow he couldn't work up any enthusiasm. 'Oh, yes,' he said. Thank you, yes.' And then, because it's as well not to make enemies even among the creatures of night, he added politely, 'I hope it is a good party.' Death didn't answer. He was looking at Spold in the same way that a dog looks at a bone, only in this case things were more or less the other way around. 'I said I hope it is a good party,' said Galder, loudly. AT THE MOMENT IT IS, said Death levelly. I THINK IT MIGHT GO DOWNHILL VERY QUICKLY AT MIDNIGHT. 'Why?' THAT'S WHEN THEY THINK I'LL BE TAKING MY MASK OFF. He vanished, leaving only a cocktail stick and a short paper streamer behind. There had been an unseen observer of all this. It was of course entirely against the rules, but Trymon knew all about rules and had always considered they were for making, not obeying. Long before the eight mages had got down to some serious arguing about what the apparition had meant he was down in the main levels of the University library. It was an awe-inspiring place. Many of the books were magical, and the important thing to remember about grimoires is that they are deadly in the hands of any ibrarian who cares about order, because he's bound to stick them all on the same shelf. This is not a good idea with books that tend to leak magic, because more than one or two of them together form a critical Black Mass. On top of that, many of the lesser spells are quite particular about the company they keep, and tend to express any objections by hurling their books viciously across the room. And, of course, there is always the half-felt presence of the Things from the Dungeon Dimensions, clustering around the magical leakage and constantly probing the walls of reality. The job of magical librarian, who has to spend his working days in this sort of highly charged atmosphere, is a high-risk occupation. The Head Librarian was sitting on top of his desk, quietly peeling a orange, and was well aware of that. He glanced up when Trymon entered. 'I'm looking for anything we've got on the Pyramid of Tshut,' said Trymon. He had come prepared: he took a banana out of his pocket. The librarian looked at it mournfully, and then flopped down heavily on the floor. Trymon found a soft hand poked gently into his and the librarian led the way, waddling sadly between the bookshelves. It was like holding a little leather glove. Around them the books sizzled and sparked, with the occasional discharge of undirected magic flashing over to the carefully-placed earthing rods nailed to the shelves. There was a tinny, blue smell and, just at the very limit of hearing, the horrible chittering of the dungeon creatures. Like many other parts of Unseen University the library occupied rather more space than its outside dimensions would suggest, because magic distorts space in strange ways, and it was probably the only library in the universe with Mobius shelves. But the librarian's mental catalogue was ticking over perfectly. He stopped by a soaring stack of musty books and swung himself up into the darkness. There was the sound of rustling paper, and a cloud of dust oated down to Trymon. Then the librarian was back, a slim volume in his hands. 'Oook,' he said. Trymon took it gingerly. The cover was scratched and very dog-eared, the gold of its lettering had long ago curled off, but he could just make out, in the old magic tongue of the Tsort Valley, the words: Iyt Gryet Teymple hyte Tsort, Y Hiystory Myistical. 'Oook?' said the librarian, anxiously. Trymon turned the pages cautiously. He wasn't very good at languages, he'd always found them highly inefficient things which by rights ought to be replaced by some sort of easily understood numerical system, but this seemed exactly what he was looking for. There were whole pages covered with meaningful hieroglyphs. 'Is this the only book you've got about the pyramid of Tsort?' he said slowly. 'Oook.' 'You're quite sure?' 'Oook.' Trymon listened. He could hear, a long way off, the sound of approaching feet and arguing voices. But he had been prepared for that, too. He reached into a pocket. 'Would you like another banana?' he said. The forest of Skund was indeed enchanted, which was nothing unusual on the Disc, and was also the only forest in the whole universe to be called – in the local language – Your Finger You Fool, which was the literal meaning of the word Skund. The reason for this is regrettably all too common. When the first explorers from the warm lands around the Circle Sea travelled into the chilly hinterland they filled in the blank spaces on their maps by grabbing the nearest native, pointing at some distant landmark, speaking very clearly n a loud voice, and writing down whatever the bemused man told them. Thus were immortalised in generations of atlases such geographical oddities as Just A Mountain, I Don't Know, What? and, of course, Your Finger You Fool. Rainclouds clustered around the bald heights of Mt. Oolskunrahod ('Who is this Fool who does Not Know what a Mountain Is') and the Luggage settled itself more comfortably under a dripping tree, which tried unsuccessfully to strike up a conversation. Twoflower and Rincewind were arguing. The person they were arguing about sat on his mushroom and watched them with interest. He looked like someone who smelled like someone who lived in a mushroom, and that bothered Twoflower. 'Well, why hasn't he got a red hat?' Rincewind hesitated, desperately trying to imagine what Twoflower was getting at. 'What?' he said, giving in. 'He should have a red hat,' said Twoflower. 'And he certainly ought to be cleaner and more, more sort of jolly. He doesn't look like any sort of gnome to me.' 'What are you going on about?' 'Look at that beard,' said Twoflower sternly. 'I've seen better beards on a piece of cheese.' 'Look, he's six inches high and lives in a mushroom,' snarled Rincewind. 'Of course he's a bloody gnome.' 'We've only got his word for it.' Rincewind looked down at the gnome. 'Excuse me,' he said. He took Twoflower to the other side of the clearing. 'Listen,' he said between his teeth. 'If he was fifteen feet tall and said he was a giant we'd only have his word for that too, wouldn't we?'