I have nothing to do and am just sitting about, so I thought I would do something semi-useful and help with spells.

I'm using Friend, this is his picto

Post what you want here, then go find him *minideer, zombie pelt, DoTD antlers, Butterfly mask* c:

I ask you sit OUTSIDE the mushroom circle he is in so that I don't accidentally get pelt spells an waste a chance at a transformation spell.

status;

Closed for now.

Pff.
Just thought it would be a nice idea to have peoples IMs for when im in forest or whenever C:
Here's mine:
<3
Can I has yours?

Aloha people! I'm am UBER bored right now and I thought, ~Why not roleplay?~ So here I am....lol

Please, anyone- start roleplaying with meh xD . If you want you can post a link to the pic of the character you're using- Just an idea, because I'm doing that xP

I'll be roleplaying with Mariposa

Mariposa Pic: http://endlessforest.org/community/picture-post :Last pic -Adult Mariposa-

If more than one person comes to roleplay (which I would love 8D) I can use more deer and post the pics ^u^

OH, btw, I don't care if it's with deer or in human form. (But if it was in human form, Mariposa's deer form would disappear from the forest because the only time she is human, is when she naps -sometimes-. Just sayin'. :3
YAAAAYYYYZ LET'S START!!!!

Chapter Three – Resented and Rejected

Much to Jergen's protests, the old woman insisted that she be a hostess to him for the night. After washing the inch thick layers of filth off his body, the old woman had treated him to a lovely meal of rice pilaf and zucchini. During said meal, Jergens learned a bit more about the woman. Her name was Irene Whittington, and she was best known for her community service. “You ain’t the only down-and-out rascal livin’ round’ here boy. Nor are you the only who’ve I’ve invited for a night or three.” She had told him a bit more than once.

When the table had been cleared, Irene and Jergens slowly migrated over to the living room. “So…” Irene began as she plopped carelessly onto the couch. “I told ya what ya needed to know about me, now how about you?” Jergens put a hand to a forming beard on his chin, stroking it a little in thought. Could he really trust her? Hm, yes, he thought he might. He didn’t have much to lose anyway. “Where do I begin, lady?” he leaned forward a little on the couch, staring at the hardwood flooring. After a while, he began.

“Well… My parents kicked me out when I was twelve. Don’t bother asking me how old I am now. I can’t remember my birthday anymore, but by the year I can only tell that I’m either nineteen or twenty. Couldn’t tell ya which. Anyway, they kicked me out when they found that I’m a… um… well…” he faltered a bit, trying to find that right words. The old woman gave him a sharp, wise glance.

“Yer a queer, ain’t ya boy?”

Jergens was taken aback, “Well… yeah… Should I leave now?” he looked at her sadly. It had happened before; many nice families letting him stay, only to throw his ass right on out when they discovered that he was a homosexual.

The old woman crackled loudly at this, thinking of it as a great joke. “Leave?! Ho, boy, don’t you think yer special?

whine, whine, whine....



complain, complain, complain...



grumble, grumble, grumble....



Can't you all realize no one is going to be perfect and to your liking in the game. And why is that? BECAUSE THERE IS NO ONE WAY TO PLAY IT. -nosewipe-

<3

I'll just leave it at that to avoid getting tomatoes thrown at me.
-scuttlesoff-

It happened that, by a clear night, Chaman woke up and heard a voice who was calling him in the reeds: “Chaman, Chaman…” Rising on his trembling legs and winking his eyes, he left his mother’s side and got to the pond, taking care to not arouse the venerable does, the herd’s mothers, who were sleeping near the banks. And he pushed the tall shivering herbs with his muzzle, and sought who was speaking to him in such a stealth way. When he leant himself on the water, he got surprised to see the fields of the sky, and the hundred lamps of gods, seeming so near. “Chaman, Chaman…” He heard a second time, although that time the fawn was clearly convinced that the voice wasn’t coming from the place he was standing on, but from his very spirit. He almost shouted, believing he was articulating an answer, because although he was dead to humanity, he however had not forgot the language he was speaking a long time ago… But he contained himself and just glanced beside him. His muffled wail didn’t woke up to anybody, and didn’t even stop the frogs who were cawing under the big, tortuous roots of the willows.
“Here am I” thought the fawn, because his mother told him one day that the gods and the invisible beings of the Forest weren’t deaf to mute words. “Bend your legs Chaman, last born of the Farseeing Herd” answered imperiously the voice in a rustle of reeds. “Bend your legs and your neck, because you’re walking on a soil I made sacred.” Then the fawn bent on his front legs, fearful, and touched the earth with his forehead. When this was made, the voice said: “blissful be the one who humiliate himself in front of the gods, without having seen them.” And without moving or answering, Chaman waited the permission to rise, because the bank’s stones were hurting him cruelly. But the voice kept silent, and only the frogs were making heard their hoarse singing in the darkness.