Art Sales

@torture
Very cool... I love characters with this kind of concept. My current project revolves around characters of a similar vein, so this is kind of my jam. Looking forward to writing your pretty guy!

Okay, so the price will go like so for a full bio of 1200 words:
40kt + (12)10kt + (2)10kt = 180 kt (180g)

Half now/half later would be 90 kt (90g).

@Kookaburra
I'm really happy you liked Variation's lore! These are some very pretty progens; so much work went into them! I look forward to writing for them. Especially that boy. Mute characters are always really interesting to write for...

Here is the price for one:
40kt + (10)10kt + (2)10kt = 160 kt

x2 = 320 kt

Half/half would be 80/80 or 160/160. You can pay for them together or separately -- I'm just treating them as separate orders for slot purposes. :)

@Suibne Here's Mercedes' lore! I'll be sending you a PM shortly with a link to the layout. I hope you like it! [quote=Mercedes - 1385 words][columns][nextcol] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/256917/25691696.png[/img] ???[font=franklin gothic][size=5][color=#C6B4AD]»[/color] [color=#5A3D33]Mercedes[/color][/size] [size=2][color=#C6B4AD][i]poet[/i][/color][/font] [center][color=#C6B4AD]???????????????????[/color] [size=1][color=transparent].[/color][/size] [size=2][font=times new roman][color=#474747]extroverted · mindful · generous[/color][/font][/size] [size=1][color=transparent].[/color][/size] [item=copper glasses][item=toridae mythology] [item=sharpened deadwood branch][item=empty inkwell] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=101073][size=1][font=franklin gothic]code by epher #101073[/font][/size][/url] [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&tab=userpage&id=96931][size=1][font=franklin gothic]lore by almedha #96931[/font][/size][/url][/center] [nextcol] [center][color=#5A3D33]»[/color] [color=#C6B4AD]??????????????????? [size=4][color=#5A3D33]?[/color][/size] ???????????????????[/color] [color=#5A3D33]«[/color][/center][size=1][/size] [columns][nextcol][color=#5A3D33][font=times new roman]Mercedes never seemed to fit. Her old clanmates, on the whole, would follow every word of description for her with the clarifying, “But she’s very sweet!” As if that would erase the insinuation she was an outsider in her own home, with her own family. Mercedes has always been a poet, always enjoyed quoting the best of her favorite poems to any passer-by. Many dragons in her old clan had a few poems memorized simply because they heard her quoting them so often. All the same, she was never appreciated for the entertainer, the teacher she was. Her big heart wasn’t enough to make up for her awkwardness, and her desire to fit in wasn’t big enough to change her stubborn insistence to simply be the dragon she was. Eireann couldn’t be happier. The two met when Mercedes was out gathering for her clan, and she heard her quoting a famous song by Vindr, a famed poet and singer from Wind territory. Following that day, Tundra would visit from a nearby clan almost daily to meet with Mercedes, and the two would lounge under the maple trees and discuss poetry, stories, and different schemes of rhyming and rhythms. Mercedes happily left her old clan to be somewhere she fit, to be with dragons who wouldn’t want her to change for anything.[/size][/font][/color][/columns] [nextcol][/columns] [center][color=#5A3D33]»[/color] [color=#C6B4AD]???????????????????????????????? [size=4][color=#5A3D33]?[/color][/size] ???????????????????????????????[/color] [color=#5A3D33]«[/color][/center] [columns][nextcol] [center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=49601308][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/496014/49601308.png[/img][/url][/center] ???[font=franklin gothic][size=5][color=#C6B4AD]»[/color] [color=#5A3D33]Eireann[/color][/size] [size=2][color=#C6B4AD][i]the rhyme[/i][/color][/font] [center][color=#C6B4AD]????????????????????????[/color][/center] [size=1][color=transparent].[/color][/size] [color=#5A3D33][font=times new roman]It’s not often a peculiar dragon like Mercedes finds a companion so complete. There wasn't much convincing to be done for either of them. On a mere suggestion, Mercedes left her old clan to join Eireann's under the guise of "helping" Eireann with her work. Eireann is a poet like Mercedes. Not only does she tolerate Mercedes’ constant rhyming, but she’ll often join along in the creation, or re-creation, as it happens. Not surprisingly, some of Mercedes’ favorite poems to quote are Eireann’s.[/color][/font][/size] [size=1][color=transparent].[/color][/size] [nextcol] [center][url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=48097348][img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/coliseum/portraits/480974/48097348.png[/img][/url][/center] ???[font=franklin gothic][size=5][color=#C6B4AD]»[/color] [color=#5A3D33]Orrin[/color][/size] [color=#C6B4AD][i]the reason[/i][/color][/font] [center][color=#C6B4AD]????????????????????????[/color][/center] [size=1][color=transparent].[/color][/size] [color=#5A3D33][font=times new roman]When Eireann found an abandoned hatchling on the shores of the Sea, Mercedes’ first words were, “We should take him back to the clan!” Mercedes loves little more than caring for Orrin as a son, and she couldn’t be more proud of his tiny Fae footsteps following in her own as a weaver of beautiful words. Most of the stories that Mercedes writes for hatchlings these days are for him?though he’s no longer a hatchling. He’s more pragmatic than she or Eireann, but not everyone can be a poet. [/color][/font] [size=1][color=transparent].[/color][/size] [/columns] [center][color=#5A3D33]»[/color] [color=#C6B4AD]???????????????????????????????? [size=4][color=#5A3D33]?[/color][/size] ???????????????????????????????[/color] [color=#5A3D33]«[/color][/center] [color=#5A3D33][font=times new roman]Mercedes kicked the nearest pebble with her toe. It wasn’t her fault nobody else liked poetry… Or, well, maybe it was. Listen to anything day-in and day-out, and it might get a little tiring. Sort of like her… Was it her fault no one liked her? Listen to anything day-in and day-out, it would get tiring. Maybe she was just tiring. Mercedes was the way she was. If she hid what she was, that was lying. She could rhyme anything, she knew syllables like some dragons knew flying, and she enjoyed those things more than anything. Like flying, poetry was fun to show off. Of course, sometimes it got her put on jobs like this. Gathering. She was an Imperial, so she could carry a lot of leaves in a dozen packs strapped on with leather and buckles. And, being out here alone with just the wind and the berries gave her time to think and recite as much poetry as she wanted to. One of her current favorites was a song by a Wind dragon named Vindr. Wind poetry always had a unique flow to it, to Mercedes. It sang like the wind, rushed a long, and formed little eddies on her tongue like miniature cycles, like the words and the breath she used to form them had power in themselves. It was a little silly, probably, for a Light dragon to think such things. Mercedes liked to believe it anyway. Mercedes wasn’t a singer, but she could put emotions into her spoken words without a melody. She recited the poem, skipping along with the rhythm without really noticing she was doing so. Even if she wasn’t singing, even if there were no instruments to accompany her, she could hear the sounds of a million instruments in the words. Other dragons only didn’t understand. When another voice joined in her poetry, she wondered if she had, like the other dragons suggested might happen one day, cracked. Well and truly. She whipped around, not sure whether to be relieved when she saw a Tundra she’d never seen before. Not only could her mind conjure voices, but it could conjure Tundras, too? “I like that song, too,” the Tundra ventured, her silky blue tail swaying gently. Her bright white eyes said she wasn’t form around here. Mercedes’ deep golden eyes said the same of her, but Wind territory was a place for all dragons. “But the way you say it… it’s melodious without a melody.” “Thank you,” Mercedes said, satisfied that she wouldn’t have imagined the Tundra saying something like that, so she probably wasn't a figment of her imagination. Mercedes cleared her throat. “Are you lost?” “Oh, no.” The Tundra looked around, back over her shoulder. Mercedes knew the road was that direction. “Just out looking for some cliff lions for a snack. I’m Eireann.” Mercedes nodded as the Tundra took a step closer. Eireann?now Mercedes knew for sure. She never would have come up with a name like that. Something more… dark. Like the deep caverns in the crags Mercedes knew existed but had never seen or heard tell of. But, then, those places weren’t pleasant, and the only words coming to mind for Mercedes at the moment were all bright and pleasant. It was difficult to think of her as anything but, with her floppy hat, a furry feather stuck in the rim. “Mercedes,” she offered in return. “Poetry is a good way to pass the time.” She laughed, her eyes sparkling like new snow in the sun. “Of course, I think I’m biased, since I’m a poet myself.” “A poet?” If Mercedes were a poem at the moment, she knew they’d take on qualities like the sun. Bright, probing, prideful, wonder-full. “Me, too! Sort of…” Her voice trailed off like a shadow in the dark. “When I’m not gathering.” Still, the Tundra looked friendly and understanding. “Sounds like you are even when you are gathering,” she laughed. She fell silent for a moment, and so did Mercedes. Then she looked back toward the road. “Is your clan nearby? My clan is across the channel, but I come here sometimes to sell our antiques and purchase books. I don’t think I’m familiar with a clan around here, though.” “Oh, yes, it’s this way.” Mercedes walked off toward the road, the Tundra trailing behind her at a quick trot to keep up. Before Mercedes knew exactly what she was doing, she started reciting, “My heart leaps up when I behold a rainbow in the sky…” She snapper he lips shut again almost immediately in embarrassment, and looked back to see if Eireann was annoyed or not. Eireann smiled at her. “Poetry is wonderful, isn’t it?” “Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light, I love thee freely, as we strive for right,” Mercedes recited, changing the words a little as her heart pulled at her. To her delight, the Tundra smiled. “I love thee purely, as they turn from praise?” “I didn’t think anybody else ever quoted poetry for no reason at all!” Mercedes bounded a few steps close to the Tundra. To her surprise, the smaller dragon stood her ground, didn’t step back or try to get away from her. “Poets do. You did say you’re a poet, didn’t you?” Mercedes considered that. “I guess I am.” She smiled a little. She was what she was and, maybe, her clan would have liked her just fine. But maybe they just didn’t like poets. [center][color=#5A3D33]»[/color] [color=#C6B4AD]???????????????????????????????? [size=4][color=#5A3D33]?[/color][/size] ???????????????????????????????[/color] [color=#5A3D33]«[/color][/center] [columns][item=fangback figurine][nextcol][color=#5A3D33][font=times new roman]When not spending time with Orrin or Eireann, she enjoys spending time with [b]Sonnet[/b], her dustfeather sphinx. Though Sonnet cannot speak and has practically no appreciation of poetry, Mercedes thinks that the way she moves is close enough. There’s little more beautiful in the natural world, in Mercedes’ eyes, than watching Sonnet take off at a dead sprint after her next meal. It’s also quite satisfying to settle down at the end of a long day and read poetry to her. Sonnet always listens.[nextcol][item=dustfeather sphinx][/columns] [center][color=#5A3D33]»[/color] [color=#C6B4AD]???????????????????????????????? [size=4][color=#5A3D33]?[/color][/size] ???????????????????????????????[/color] [color=#5A3D33]«[/color][/center] [/quote]

I could swear there was someone else here... they had a purple Nocturne. And I got distracted.
D:

@Almedha
What wonderful writing! I would love a slot. I hope you don't mind if I send a complete fill out over pm. As well as some details about this particular story I would like.

@Wolfkai
You have a slot! And feel free to send the details over PM.

[font= calibri] [color= #503E33] @almedha just wanted to check in and see how it’s going as I haven’t heard from you in a while [emoji=tundra happy]

@torture
Hi!
Sorry about that--I should have put something up here, but I didn't think it would take this long. Long story short, I had a family emergency. There was unexpected surgery involved and an overnight drive to the emergency room from two states away because the family member wouldn't be able to take care of themselves... Fun times. Anyway.

I'm going to get back to this as soon as I can, though! Hopefully right soon!

@Willowstar Hi! So sorry for how long this took; I hope you like it all the same! Let me know if something needs to change. The total ended up being 1010 words. [quote=Aithlin]Aithlin’s story begins far from her home in the Shadow-lands, even further from her original home in the frigid capes of the south. Her story begins deep in the darkness of another kind of shadow. Earth Territory is known for its precious metals and stones and for everything that can shine even in the darkness. It’s said an old kind of life, an ancient life imbued by the gods before the dragons ever rose, lives there. Whether that’s true or not, a band of Mirrors searching for treasure, their names forgotten, dug up their fortune in those ancient grounds and sold it. The silver left Earth and traveled south, changing claws for food, vaccines, viruses, pelts, feathers, and other useful and exotic items. Eventually, the silver found its way into the hands of a Guardian visiting the lands of Arcane. He’d been known for making valuable and worthy things, but there wasn’t enough silver for a sword, or even a dagger. The Guardian crafted a simple wand, his jeweler friend affixing a magic crystal to the top, and there it sat for quite some time. Aithlin was a quiet Skydancer from Ice territory, traveling the world to practice her magic. She’d quickly grown out of the teachers of her home-clan, Ice magic flowing from her fingertips without hardly a thought anymore. With the blessing of her parents and mentors of Ice, she set out across the tundra for the shining lands of Arcane. The dragons of Arcane were friendly, if not a big eccentric, and obsessed with magic like no dragons Aithlin had ever met. Even though they were familiar with the ins and outs of Ice magic, they were intrigued by Aithlin’s ability to learn so quickly. Her natural ability led various magic experts of more than one elemental affinity to wonder if she would do more than conventional wisdom might suggest. One of her teachers, a friendly Wildclaw from the Shadow-lands, purchased a plain silver wand to help her focus her magic. Silver, she said, was ideal for Ice dragons to focus upon, since the glinting silver was reminiscent of snow under the sun and the shining granite that crowned the crags. Though Aithlin spent much of her time away from other students of the Arcane, studying on her own, her progress was quick. As she learned her wand, the wand learned her, as well. Her practice wrote intricate runes into the rounded sides of the wand, and the jewel became brighter as though it took on a life of its own. The first runes the wand wrote on itself were jagged and unruly, but over time they grew more beautiful, more intricate, more interesting and complex. For a time, the wand seemed to rewrite itself almost daily with beautiful swirls and waves as Aithlin was at the peak of her practice and interest and learning. “Your dedication,” her teacher, Rosepetal, told her, “is worth more than any happenstance heredity.” The wand’s ancient life and energy awoke something within Aithlin. Though some dragons are gifted from hatching with the ability to manipulate more than the element of their birth, this does not describe Aithlin. It could be argued that her unnatural gift from the gods is her unyielding devotion to learning magic. With pure concentration and, yes, some natural ability, Aithlin eventually learned how to manipulate not only the Ice of her hatching, but also the magic of Arcane and Fire. Her teachers believe she could go further, but she’s content for the moment to maintain her skills and explore the limits of the magic she already knows. She joined Rosepetal’s clan, a Shadow clan hidden with magic that Aithlin had to admit intrigued her. She remains an apprentice, though, as Rosepetal’s knowledge of her native Shadow is deeper than Athlin’s knowledge of any branch of magic she knows. Perhaps there is some upside to specialization. Despite Rosepetals’ initial interest in Aithlin’s apparent ability to have little trouble in learning all elements, she wonders if perhaps Aithlin has stalled to the point of outright halting in the ability to learn other magics. Rosepetal continues to watch at a distance to determine the best way to help her in her journey of learning. In the meantime, she knows that Aithlin does need to learn the magics she does know better. It was Rosepetal’s idea, in fact, that Aithlin sometimes compete in the clan’s arena to test and improve her skills. Though only a fraction of the magic dragons can perform is of the offensive/defensive nature for fighting purposes, it does help immensely with reaction time and concentration regardless of any distractions. Though Aithlin is fragile in body, her mind is strong. She hasn’t won every contest she’s entered, but she is far from losing every contest. Perhaps to increase her knowledge and ability of the magic she learned first, Aithlin spends some extra time with the clan’s ambassador from Ice Territory. Even though he’s not quite to the level of Aithlin in general magic ability, he has a strange way of looking at it that has brought Aithlin insight into the rut she’s fallen into in magic learning. She’s not discouraged, however. She knows that all she has to do to overcome it is to continue in learning and in practicing; one day she’ll emerge stronger and more learned than ever. Even with a change of venue, from the bright eccentricities of Arcane to the hidden mystery of Shadow, Aithlin remains much the same as she always was. She remains solitary, preferring to hide away in one of the magic towers of her new home with a pile of books rather than slink through the glowing forests to explore with her clanmates. She still enjoys watching the wand add new swirls over old ones as she practices, and is comforted by the fact that the patterns are just as intricate and complex as they ever were. She spends most of her social time in Rosepetal’s company, and hopes to one day be worthy of succeeding her when she retires. [/quote]

@torture
Hi! (first, so sorry about how long this is taking me D:)

I started William's lore last week and I realized I wasn't sure what was going on. William is the god of redemption and Heather is of mercy. They were kicked out of heaven because they're in love? Is the no-love a god-thing (did the god of love agree that kicking people out of heaven for love as a good idea?) or is their love not pure or something? Or is it actually not the earth that needs to be fixed but heaven? Like an evil god plotted to kick William out of heaven so dragons couldn't go there.