#brittlewood

[rosemaries-shroom]

😭 damn my brother and faeboy(/ns)

Just had us outside in the evil sun for an hour just to identify a mushroom.. in other news there's a decent patch of Pale Brittlewood in the alpacas area

[paperbarkwriter]

Meet the rainforest neighbours

Meeting the rainforest neighbours

Nearly 3 weeks ago I planned to draw A plant a day for a week. Part meditation, part nature journaling, part learning new species. Well, life got in the way, as it does. I didn’t draw a plant every day. I didn’t always stick to my own rules. Sometimes I got frustrated when I didn’t find the time. But that’s not what it’s about – it’s no use getting annoyed if you don’t get time to draw. I find it…

[lordrethandus]

Mourn Not the Penitent Pt 4

Fifty brave soldiers marched to the thunder of war drums. Many sang songs, both famous in the Horde and obscure alike, while others laughed and taunted each other; anything to dull the edge of the impending battle. They seemed happy, eager to step out of the dust and shadows and reunite with the forces of Azeroth. All but Gonthar as the drums reminded him of home. He could still smell the Stonetalon Mountains like he was there this morning, the bitter chill of the wind sweeping through the passes, the fat buzzards circling overhead. The hideous glow of burning tents, and the screams of pacifist tauren and would-be heroes alike. The Sunwalker could still feel the tattoos etched into his hide when he rubbed at his neck. The mark of the Grimtotem would stay with him. Always.

“Sunsheath?” Sahe snapped him out of his depressed trance with the call of her soothing voice. The Druidess walked alongside him with only the clammer of her feathers and hollow charms dangling from her mane making any noise; she was always deceptively deft at keeping quiet, often catching Gonthar by surprise without even trying. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m thinking about Zolaar. And how Commander Rethandus is protects him so fervently.” He lied, keeping his gaze focused on the path ahead. “It is difficult to focus on the mission when that warlock practices black magic.”

Sahe placed a hand on his arm, if only for a moment. “It is only natural Blood Elves to protect their own. Zolaar will not walk in the light of An’she, nor will he bask in the Emerald Dream. He will answer for all he has done, sooner or later.”

Her words rang true but they didn't make him feel any better. Gonthar knew warlocks played a vital role in stopping the Burning Legion from conquering Azeroth time and time again; but their magic was an affront to everything he fights for and everything he believes in. One day Rethandus would see the error in trusting him, he just hopes it won't be too late.

Gonthar heard the distant yet familiar sounds of battle before he saw them, his forward scouts waiting at the ready for the Oathguard’s arrival. Down in the valley below the Burning Legion were locked in a violent stalemate with Azeroth invaders, with banners so distinct he could recognize them from all the way up here. Gold lions stitched into sky blue banners… the tried and true colors of the Alliance. Their vanguard held the lines steadily enough, but they gained no ground; packs of vicious felhounds and their felguard masters threw themselves against their shields with the full might of the Burning Legion at their backs, while human magi flung ice, fire and raw arcane at the demons from behind their ranks. A worthy and impressive sight to behold, but the Sunwalker didn’t march all the way to spectate; the anxiety of imminent violence turned his blood hot, and the Alliance wouldn’t be able to keep this pace forever.

The Sunwalker turned to his peers and raised one of his meaty fists. “We must strike now while the iron is still hot! Ready the peace offerings!” The soldiers shuffled about to make way for several war braves and the shaved totems in their arms. The wooden “peace offerings” were filled with an old Grimtotem recipe that dates back almost three hundred years, and served the tribe well in their long dominion over the Stonetalon Mountains and the Thousand Needles. The offerings were set along the edge of the hill, with their fuses measured to go off at the end of the hill; Gonthar placed a hoof on the largest one and readied himself. “It is time to show the Burning Legion that the Oathguard is still alive and kicking. We have not forgotten the Broken Shore! We have not forgiven Highmountain! We will march on their twisted keeps, shatter their portals, and slaughter everything that stands in our way!” As the soldiers purged their minds clean of fear and replaced it with a lust for violence, the peace offerings were lit beneath the Sunwalker’s hoof. “For Vol’jin! For Alucieus! FOR THE HORDE!”

When he kicked the offering down the hill, he and the Oathguard followed. The offerings rolled faster and faster, picking up speed until they were fast enough to topple a kodo; the unwary demons at the end of the hill had their legs swept out from underneath them. Before they could get back onto their feet and claws and cloven hooves, the offerings detonated. Grey smoke like burning leaves filled their lungs and seared their eyes and skin, their flesh hardening like the bark of the brittlewood tree. When they clawed at their bodies their flesh shattered by their touch, exposing their soft flesh and filling the air around them with their misery.

Gonthar leaned forward as he ran, feeling his entire body tremble and shake with every heavy step he took. His heart was pounding in his chest and his stomach squirmed in his gut, but he was ready. Wings of light sprouted from his back while he clutched the hilt of his sword, keeping it halfway sheathed while he charged into the bewildered demons. By the time he reached the bottom of the hill his eyes were ablaze with merciless malice so palpable it could drip down his snout like tears. The smoke had turned black now, no more harmful to the Oathguard than burning cinders from a campfire. Gonthar slammed his body into a felguard that looked like he was turning to stone if it weren’t for his felblood spilling from his gaping wounds, sending the demon up and over his body in a mangled mess of ashes and ripped flesh. He crushed another demon’s legs with a hoof, shattering them with ease now that the toxins had turned their bones to glass. He kept charging through the withered and dying, knowing they were unfit for battle and would soon die from bleeding out even if not a single soldier touched them; he saved his strength for the demons further ahead, and when he reached them, he began to do what he was born to do.

He pulled his blade out of his sheath and raised it high into the air, unleashing the wrath of An’she in a blazing arc of light. The demons nearby covered their burned faces and staggered, allowing him to strike them down with impunity; while he wasn’t as nimble nor as fast as his elven brothers in arms, he made up for it with brute strength… and charisma. Gonthar grabbed the hilt of his blade with both of his hands and brought it down as hard as the Tauren could, cleaving the closest foe in twain. His claymore came back up in an upward slash, then from the left, then another from the top right down. The Light of An’she caused the blood on his sword to sizzle and boil, making every strike he landed a lethal one.

The Burning Legion was now pinched between the Alliance and the Oathguard. Any demon with wings took off into the sky, only to be shot out of the sky by magi and archers now that they became clear and easy targets. Seeing the opportunity the Alliance surged forward, breaking rank to cut down those foolish enough to turn their backs on them. Soon the stalemate devolved into a bloodbath and turned the one great battle into countless one on one duels. In his righteous fury Gonthar vanquished every demon who dared challenge him, but the Oathguard was far away, and he was surrounded.

Teeth scraped at his armor. Claws scratched at his arms and legs. He felt the heat from the demonic felfire lick at his neck, but he hardly noticed; with the power of the Earth Mother in his grasp and watching his back, he was invincible. The Light of An’she seared the very ground beneath his hooves in a vindictive consecration and scorched any demons foolish enough to step forward, but soon their numbers became overwhelming. A mo’arg brute in particular cared not for sacred ground or An’she, gritting through the burning pain to issue this mortal a challenge. Its gory club came down from above and slammed into Gonthar’s raised sword, nearly causing the Sunwalker’s knees to buckle from the devastating weight. It raised the club and swung again, nearly crushing his hand against the hilt. A felguard came from behind and buried his axe into Gonthar’s shoulder, forcing him to turn and deal with the demon before the next swing came. Turning his attention away from the brute proved to be a critical error, for when he turned back to face the demon, it slammed its club into his chest and helm with a violent underhanded swing, knocking his sword out of his hand and sending him airborne. He didn’t even notice when he struck the ground. Gonthar rolled over onto his stomach to feel the cold grass poking at his snout. He opened his eyes to feel red clay between his fingers, with the familiar morning dew flickering along the ground. Then, he heard the screams.

Muraco Village was on fire. His Bloodtotem tribesmen laughed and shouted their victory cries while they dragged helpless villagers out of their tents. Children were ripped from their mothers’ breasts to be cast into the bonfire, filling his head with their blood curdling screams. What few men survived the ambush were butchered in front of their wives and mothers and daughters, while many women were subjected to the lusts of frustrated Grimtotem warriors; there was nothing like a woman’s company after a battle. When Gonthar tried to stand on his own two hooves his head began to spin and he emptied his stomach onto the ground. The chaos was intoxicating. Armed or no, his enemies deserved to suffer; defying the Grimtotem is defying the Earth Mother, and her wrath was righteous and pure, unburdened by empathy, and untouched by shame. Blood is the price to pay for any who would break bread with the lesser races. It felt good wetting his hands with their entrails, beating them into pulps; being surrounded by so much death was filling him with a joy he rarely knew. Gonthar reached up to wipe the war paint away from his eyes from all of his sweating, but when he looked down at his hand, he didn’t see the orange paste covering his fingers, he saw a thick sticky crimson... he saw his own blood.

The Sunwalker glanced up to look the mo’arg brute in its tiny little eyes; the creature raised his club for the finishing blow and dropped it down with its overwhelming strength. In an instant his euphoric confusion turned into maddening rage, giving the Grimtotem the strength he needed to defend himself. When the club came down he jumped back, digging his hooves deep into the bloodsoaked ground while the brute buried his weapon where he once stood. Then he charged forward, running past his sword and thrusting both of his hands into the exposed flesh of the demon monster. Felblood sprayed his face with the putrid stench filled his nostrils, but he was already blind with hate, and his senses already dulled. The longer he pulled at the entrails of the demon the worse his blood rage became, and when he surrendered to the fervor of his ancestors, he soon felt nothing at all.

[malleedesign]

New Post has been published on http://malleedesign.com.au/illawarra-festival-of-wood-friday-6th-to-saturday-7th-october-2017-bulli-showground/

Illawarra Festival of Wood: Friday 6th to Saturday 7th October 2017 @ Bulli Showground

We will be at the Illawarra Festival of Wood next month selling our spun copper water bowls and birdbaths. The festival will be showcasing local & regional wood artisans as well as celebrating a variety of wood related crafts & forest industries. The Festival runs from Friday 6th to Saturday 7th October 10am to 5pm

I will also have a selection of Native plants for sale, I will be selling cabinetry timber trees and wildlife attracting natives. I’m exited to announce I will also have a selection of rarer Indigenous Illawarra species grown by backyard local growers, please see the plant list below:

Alectryon subcinereus – Native Quince

Archontophoenix cunninghamiana – Bangalow Palm

Backhousia myrtifolia – Grey Myrtle

Baloghia inophylla – Brush Bloodwood

Claoxylon australe -Brittlewood

Cyclophylum longipetalum – Brush Canthium

Diospyros pentamera –Myrtle Ebony

Elaeocarpus kirtonii – Pigeonberry Ash

Elaeodendron australe – Red Fruited Olive Plum

Gmelina leichhardtii – White Beech

Glochidion ferdinandi –Cheese Tree

Guioa semiglauca – Guoia

Livistona australis – Cabbage Tree Palm

Melaleuca hypericifolia- Red Flowering Paperbark

Melicope micrococca – Doughwood

Parachidendron pruinosum- Snow Wood

Podocarpus elatus – Plum pine

Psychotria loniceroides – Hairy Psychotria

Sarcomelicope simplicifolia – Yellow Aspen

Syzygium paniculatum – Magenta Cherry

Citriobatus pauciflorus (Pittosporum multiflorum) – Orange Thorn

Dodonaea viscosa – Hop Bush

Eupomatia laurina – Bolwarra

Goodia lotifolia – Clover Tree

Hedycarya angustifolia – Native Mulberry

Hymenanthera dentata – Tree Violet

Indigofera australis – Austral Indigo

Macrozamia communis – Burrawang

Monotoca elliptica – Tree Broom Heath

Tasmannia insipida – Brush Pepper Bush

Zieria smithii – Sandfly Zieria

Ajuga australe – Austral Bugle

Billardiera scandens – Apple Dumplings

Crinum pedunculatum – Swamp Lily

Cynoglossum australe – Forest Hound’s Tongue

Deeringia amaranthoides – Deeringia

Dichondra repens –Kidney Weed

Elatostema reticulatum – Rainforest Spinach

Gymnostachys anceps – Settler’s Flax

Hibbertia scandens – Hibbertia – Golden Guinea Vine

Juncus usitatus – Rush

Kennedia rubicunda – Dusky Coral Pea

Lomandra longifolia – Spiny-headed Mat-rush

Morinda jasminoides – Jasmine Morinda

Platylobium formosum – Handsome Flat Pea

Pollia crispata – Pollia

Viola hederacea – Native Violet

Please come and say ‘Hello’, we will be there both days!

[quill-of-thoth]

WIP tag

Tagged by @maramahan, I’m gonna do this for The Magic Fades because someday I’ll kick these eight dumbasses into gear and write a coherent draft.

1. FIRST SENTENCE OF WIP

Nightmares came to Brittlewood Academy on soft cat feet.

2. THE GENRE

It’s a YA boarding school science fantasy about the fear of growing up.

3. NAME AND AGE OF MC

Joan Walzack (and the rest of the gang) is sixteen at the beginning of the book. (Have I figured out birthdays for all eight of them? Not... yet.)

4. FIRST LINE OF DIALOGUE

“They’re going to let us back in the Periscope again, I’m sure of it,” said Nancy, who was walking with a bit of a bounce. She was a tall, athletic Chinese American girl with a slight gap in her front teeth, constantly in trouble with the hall monitors for sloppy dress. Her excitement, and the idea that we might actually be allowed to do something again, was contagious for most of us, and I walked faster, feet slapping against the chilly gravel. Tagging @seeingteacupsindragons, @taz-writes, @quillwritten

[quill-of-thoth]

First 3 lines meme

Some time ago @kclenhartnovels​ tagged me for the first three lines of my current projects. And then @seeingteacupsindragons did it again, so you get two of them. The Fairy Tale Police Procedural: (which I need a title for...)

“Watch it!” the cart driver shouted, as a horse nearly stepped on Eight and two bales of hay went bouncing out into the road, bowling over pedestrians. 

“Sorry!” Eight gasped back, flattened against the nearest wall, heart hammering. He was already late, and getting later every second. If he was late one more time this week… actually, he didn’t know what would happen, specifically, but it wasn’t good.   

The Magic Fades:

Nightmares came to Brittlewood Academy on soft cat feet.

They also came bubbling up the drains, dripping down the gutters, whispering under doors, and falling out of paintings, but we were used to that. The rot-grey smell of them, the ozone taste, was unmistakable, and it lingered sometimes in the corridors between classes. But sometimes they crept in too softly to be heard, in the narrow sliver of night where we should have been safe.

I tag @maramahan​, @lux-scriptum and @firewritten​