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LabrnMystic
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PostPosted: Mon Aug 27, 2007 1:17 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Bestile1 wrote:
Touch can be one of the most needless sensations...


I quite disagree, and no not just for the horndoggish reasons. Razz

Though there are those who don't enjoy touch, placing your hand on someone's shoulder lets them no you care. A warm hug lets someone know their loved. Even a blow or slap to the face can let someone know you care for them, they're just being a total idiot at the time.

No, I'd have to say Smell is probably more useless than touch, at least when it comes to emotions.
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Ashton Gray
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PostPosted: Mon Aug 27, 2007 2:42 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Tell a blind man touch and smell don't really matter. Look at Ray, he took the hand of every woman he met to see if they were beautiful or not. And animals, as well as some hunters, have long been said to be able to smell emotional states, most noteably fear.
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Mon Aug 27, 2007 9:10 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Some interesting conversation I see Smile

I asked about it for the next bit I'm writing. Was thinking about including a part where Sibilla experiences the dream, well, more nightmare, that Brandon has. Perhaps link it to the "lingering touch" from the last scene. In that moment, she, without knowing, took in a bit of the essence of that powerful painful memory.
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Bestile1
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PostPosted: Thu Aug 30, 2007 7:11 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

well now that sounds like an interesting tale indeed
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Ashton Gray
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PostPosted: Thu Aug 30, 2007 8:06 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

If you think hearing about tactile emotion sensory is intresting, you should try experiencing it. Now THAT is intresting.
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Bestile1
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PostPosted: Thu Aug 30, 2007 10:55 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

sounds like
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Thu Aug 30, 2007 11:19 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Ashton Gray wrote:
If you think hearing about tactile emotion sensory is intresting, you should try experiencing it. Now THAT is intresting.


I have. And you are right, it is a most intense feeling.
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Ashton Gray
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PostPosted: Thu Aug 30, 2007 11:55 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

It certainly can be. It certainly can be. Fortunatly, or unfortunatly depending on how you look at it, I usually only need to use it on animals. You'd be amazed at how similar their emotions are to ours.
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 19, 2007 9:39 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The next segment is almost finished. Hope to have it done this week before I head down to visit friends in Illinois.
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Crimson
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 19, 2007 6:27 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

there are alot of things that are similar between animals and humans.

Quote:
The next segment is almost finished.


can't wait to read it Very Happy
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Ashton Gray
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PostPosted: Wed Sep 19, 2007 10:11 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm looking forward to it as well.
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LabrnMystic
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PostPosted: Thu Sep 20, 2007 10:31 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Huh, I had thought I commented on your writing. I guess I only wished you a speedy recovery.

Never-the-less, great work Mr.Wolf.

Here's to more of a good read.
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 03, 2007 2:35 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thanks, Labrn, on both counts Smile

I'm sorry about the delay in the next section. The AC adapter for my laptop had to be replaced, and my battery got sucked dry. lol

But I'm up and running now and can FINNALLY finish bouncy Mr. Green

I have a feeling Ms. Santato's wonderful gift will give much inspiration Very Happy
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LabrnMystic
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PostPosted: Thu Oct 04, 2007 12:15 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I know all about the AC for the laptop all too well MrWolf12. I had to replace mine twice now!

Congradulations on the avatar. We finally get to see your friendly face.
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Thu Oct 04, 2007 11:23 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Thankfully mine was still under warranty! woot


And thanks, I just love how Lady Vanessa did his face....the dark coloring makes his eyes stand out, just as I envisioned, as most of his feelings are shown through his eyes. It almost seems like they are smiling, even if his lips aren't. Perfect! Smile
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Crimson
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PostPosted: Fri Oct 05, 2007 5:59 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

it looks really good congratz
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 07, 2007 11:16 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

At last, I'm finished with the next tid bit about Brandon. I'm sorry it took so long, but I really wanted to be sure that the emotion was right. I should warn everyone though, its very graphic!! Some of it might be a bit disturbing. Brandon's been through hell, and I'm not going to sugar coat it.


So, here it is. I do hope you all enjoy it. Smile


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PostPosted: Sun Oct 07, 2007 11:20 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Part 3

The sun had just risen over the distant mountains, lighting their jagged, white capped peaks with streaks of red and orange. As the dawn crested the great rock cliffs, the valley below lost its dark blanket of shadow, revealing a sea of green grass waving in the gentle breeze, strewn with trees of oak and maple. Here and there, thin side winding streams bubbled and flowed from the very snow tops above, fueling that vast expanse of life with their cool clear waters. Upon the side of one such stream, a deer stood upon four springy legs, silent, majestic; it’s head down, sipping the trickling liquid. While, high above, a hawk glided, looking toward the ground with sharp eyes, while equally sharp talons twitched; anticipating. Suddenly, it dived, it’s wings tucked in close, a red tinged streak heading for the ground below! Faster, faster it dove. Then, those powerful wings stretched, catching the wind and slowing the raptor’s decent, while its hooked feet lowered and opened. With a quickening swoop, those claws skimmed the earth, catching and skewering the small vole before it had even a chance to squeak in alarm. Then up into the air the great bird flew, soaring into the distance, savoring the time before enjoying the meal clutched tightly in its feet.

These were the sights that filled the young wolverine's eyes as he walked the single dusty dirt path that scared this perfect picture of nature, running from the gap that cut the mountains in the east and slicing though the very center of the valley. His bare feet padded the dry earth, sending up clouds of tan dust. Were things different, he would have enjoyed this walk through the trees, their leaves dancing and singing in the wind, the same that even now kissed upon his cheek. However, as he slowed to take in the wondrous sights before him, there came a hard yank upon the rope noosed tightly around his neck!

“Keep moving, you little shit!” growled the heavily jawed bull dog from the saddle of his horse. Eyeing the young one behind him, the canine snarled, and tugged upon the end of the rope that he held in one hand, as the other flicked the reins of his horse, encouraging a faster pace. Metal shoed hooves clacked on the rock sprinkled path, the faded and tattered gray uniform he wore fluttered as the dog turned his dark brown eyes back onto the road. The young wolverine hurried to keep from being dragged, tossing his bound hands about to stay his balance, as his legs felt wobbly with fatigue. Burrs and other debris clung to his dark tangled fur. The tanned hide leggings he wore nearly as shredded as the pads on his feet. How long had we been walking?, he wondered. As he tried to remember, another voice shouted, this one higher pitched, tinged with a strange accent.

“You ‘eard ‘im!” the voice belonged to a skinny grayish fox riding just to the left and back of the bull dog, a long oil-skin coat covering him from shoulder to feet. “Come’on! You ‘ad be’er not slow ‘ma down, ya puke!” At that, the fox’s mount leapt up beside the dog’s, the latter turning to see the former pulling taut upon a line that ran from the rear horn of his saddle. The wolverine cub looked to see the loop of that rope as it coiled around the thin neck of a young coyote. The coyote stumbled, his small chest heaving as he took in every hard earned breath. His leather vest ripped in places, as were his trousers. The long braids that had once fell on either side of his face had been savagely sheared off, leaving tattered stubbles just below his pointed ears. More to insult then injure. His bound hands clasping the rope that lead from his neck, trying to keep it slack. He turned his eyes to the young wolverine, their usually vivid green color nearly unseen though the veil of weakness and torment. One eye nearly swollen closed, from what the wolverine knew had been a powerful blow from the bull dog when his pace hadn’t been quick enough. Yet, even as he looked at the wolverine through the mask of pain, the coyote managed a weak smile.

Looking upon the young coyote’s bruised face, the pain of the wolverine cub’s own wounds seemed to lessen. The cuts on his muzzle and cheeks, chest and arms, he no longer felt, for a greater pain began to throb. This one from within, the pain of guilt. Tearing his eyes away from his friend, he pointed them to the ground as the tears started to well. My fault, he cursed at himself, all my fault! He then pushed those thoughts, as well as the tears, back, not wanting to let them be seen, either by his friend, or by the two monsters riding before them. At that, the wolverine’s golden eyes looked up, glaring into the backs of the two on horses. Monsters they were, beating and tormenting the youths for nothing more then being in the wrong place at the wrong time. How many times had they made them taste their own blood?…feel those meaty fists pounding upon their heads? Slowly, the guilt that still tugged at the heart of the wolverine began to change. Instead of dull aching, it started to burn. Hotter and hotter. Guilt became anger. Anger became hate. And as they rounded a bend in the road, and the looming form of high wooden walls and patrolled battlements came into view, so did the first few flames of rage begin to flare.

********************

Pain! Searing white hot agony coursed through every limb as again the whip came cracking down, shearing a thin strip of fur and flesh from the wolverine cub’s back! He cried out as a fresh coat of crimson soaked his fur, a wail of almost impossible torment. Slumping against the wooden stake to which he was bound, he tried in vain to pull air into his aching lungs. His back was on fire! Lash upon lash, he’d lost count of how many. Legs wobbling, he fell to his knees, hanging by his hands from the wide post. His vision blurred through tear filled eyes. In his ears, his pounding heart thundered, yet he could still make out the taunting jeers from the surrounding group of men, as well as the shrill nerve grating laughter of the huge boar, whose whip had sliced so many times into the young boys flesh. Panting, his knees sunk into the red stained dirt, but then, the youth’s ears perked, as there came a new sound.

“My, My. Well done.” A smooth tone, yet, the voice carried a sinister edge beneath that brought a chill to the cub. Blinking to try and clear the fluid from his sight, the young wolverine weakly lifted his head, turning slowly towards the direction of the mock praise. As blurs became more defined, the world around him came into focus. Small buildings, some of wood, some of stone, were neatly arranged in two parallel lines. He himself placed between them, he could look from one end of the rows to the other. It also let him see the high wooden wall that enclosed it all. Made of cut timbers, it stretched tall, making a complete loop around the buildings. Looking around the post he leaned against, the wolverine could spy the single gate. Its huge heavy wood doors, through which he had passed so recently, were tightly shut. At even points, tall towers lifted from the wall, a soaring vantage point.

And it was from one of these towers that a figure now came. The air about his head seeming to shimmer. Only when he drew closer, could the wolverine see the shimmering was actually a halo of smoke curling around his head from the thick cigar he held tight in his teeth. Closer, and his gray colored uniform now became clear. Much like that worn by the bull dog, as well as the other men. Though while those were torn and faded, the one worn by this new face was pristine, neat and well kept. Medals of varied size and shape shined upon his chest from the early morning sun. A wide brimmed hat, corded with gold ropes, shaded the long face of a canine beneath. The glittering butt of a sword could be seem hanging from the belt at his waist. The fur covering what could be seen of his face was the yellow color of ripened wheat.

Approaching the still kneeling wolverine, the gold Labrador stood over him, puffing a few times on the cigar, then spoke. “Welcome to Fort Carlton. Ma name is Gen’ral Mathew Carlton the Third.” The wolverine did not look up, or give any acknowledgement to the canine hovering over him, letting his gaze stare at the dusty dirt at his feet. The General raised an eyebrow, before continuing.

“I must ad’mit. I am impressed you took as much as you did, son.” He then stooped down, closer to the cub, looking over his back with great interest. “Twenty-five lashes it took to drop ya to yer knees. Most impressive. I have heard your kind are made of sterner stuff. I see its true.“ The lab stood, and backed up a few steps, “Yet, I’m afraid that quality is not shared by yer friend.” The wolverine strained to pick his eyes from the ground, and look in the same direction as the canine. What he saw caused tears to fall anew down his face.

The young coyote’s body was limp from where it dangled from the post, almost lifeless save for the slight fluttering of his chest, his breaths shallow. On the ground a puddle of red glimmered, fed by the flow of blood dripping from his shredded back. The sight tore at the wolverine cub more so then even the whip had.

“I truly despise such punishments.” the General spoke, with a puff on his cigar, “But, as I’ve learned in ma years of service. Lessons that are learned through pain are rarely forgotten.” He then turned to the gathering of solders surrounding the spectacle, speaking louder so they all could hear, “ ‘Spare the rod, spoil the child’, is that not right?” In answer there came a loud mix of menacing laughter and shouts of agreement. He then approached the slight form of the coyote pup, grasping him by the scruff, pulling the limp body up to his eye level, as if the youth was nothing more then a curiosity the canine wished a closer look of. Holding him there for a moment, the General wrinkled his muzzle, before dropping him like a sack back to the ground. The pup yelped as his arms got yanked, stopped before his body by the rope binding his wrists.

That sound, the voice of his dear friend calling out in pain, rang loud in the wolverine’s head. The fire that had been burning in his stomach suddenly leapt higher, the flames reaching the base of his throat, fed by the growing rage inside the small youth. At that moment, he wanted nothing more then to repay every wound, every pain that they had suffered onto all those present, especially the canine that now turned towards him, his eye full of contempt.

“You two invade a official military camp,” a few steps closer to the wolverine, the canine loomed over him, “Try to steal food from the very mouths of my soldiers.” A sigh followed, the Labrador shaking his head. “Soldiers that try so hard to protect these lands, in turn, protect you.” Reaching down, the Labrador’s fingers pinched the skin just under the wolverine’s muzzle, pulling up the youth’s face, that had been lowered till then, so that their eyes met. Venom seemed to boil in the canine’s brown eyes. “You should be thankful. You should be respectful.” His voice lowered to a growl, “You should know your place!”

What happened next seemed a blur to the wolverine. All he could recall was the look in the eyes of the canine, such insult and disgust. The heat, the anger, suddenly flared in the cub, and, in the time it takes to blink an eye, he pulled free of the lab’s grip, and sank his teeth into, and through, the forefinger of his still outstretched hand! Even as young as he was, his powerful jaws cut his teeth through the flesh, and crushed the bone easily. Warm, salty blood flooded his mouth as he retched the body part from the hand that had threatened him.

The Labrador leapt back, screaming and cursing, cradling the now four-fingered hand to his chest, red arcing from the short jagged stump were the finger had been. From everywhere, booted feet hammered the ground as the surrounding men raced to the scene. From behind the wolverine, the wild boar charged forward, before taking the youth’s head in his huge hand and slamming it against the sturdy wooden post. The impact jarred the boy’s mouth, letting the severed digit fall to the ground, along with a gout of blood. The boar then drew a long heavy blade, pressing it to the wolverine’s throat.

“Hold!!” Faces turned as the General shoved helping hands from him, pushing past the mob of soldiers. His face was a mask of pain and seething hate. His hat had somehow fallen from its place, showing how his fur was now ruffled and mussed. A loose cloth had been wrapped around his injured hand, crimson soaking through as he strode up to where the wolverine was being held. Panting in fury, the canine yanked the blade from the boar, and held it under the youth’s throat himself. The cold metal shook as the hand that held it trembled in anger and pain.

They locked gazes, the blood stained face of the wolverine looking up at the fuming visage of the Labrador, seeing the foam drip from the corner of the canines snarling muzzle. This was it, the youth knew. Soon the metal will slide through the skin of his neck, and death will come swiftly. His only hope was that perhaps with his death, that their need to torment would be spent, and that his friend may live. He was no threat, could do no harm. So, the wolverine cub readied himself, thought of his family, his father and sister, hoping they would know and understand. He thought of his mother, speaking a silent prayer that his spirit would find her’s and be with her again in the open fields and clear skies of what waited after death.

But that never came. For the youth had neither the age or experience to fully know how depraved someone could become. He would soon learn. For as he prepared for death, so did the blade move from his neck. As he watched, the General stepped back, wobbling slightly, his eyes wild, almost crazed. With a embittered snarl still splitting his muzzle, he continued walking backward, the men behind him parting the way. At first puzzled, the wolverine cub felt cold fear run down his spine. And, as he saw were the crazed canine was moving toward, fear turned to horror. He struggled, but was no match for the sheer strength of the boar holding him. Terrified, he saw the Labrador pull the slightly struggling coyote up by the fur on his head. Before his eyes, in what felt like a lifetime, the shining blade of the knife was put to the pup’s throat, the lab turned to look at the wolverine, a sick twisted smile curling. The cubs eyes widened, and he screamed, as the blade slide across the coyote’s throat. At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then, a red line appeared, followed quickly by pulses of crimson flowing down the pup’s chest. The coyote eyes suddenly shot open, wiggling enough to free himself from the grip of the General. Falling to the earth, the coyote flailed, his weak body unable to do much more. He turned to look at his friend were he was screaming. His muzzle opened, but all that emerged were red bubbles that also spilled from the gash in this neck. His movements began to slow, as did the flow of blood. Slowly, the light left the coyote’s green eyes, his head slumping.

A moment later, he was gone.

Screams still poured from the wolverine, while tears streamed his face. He had watched the life drain from his friend, had seen the last gaze from those intense eyes. His struggling became more vigorous, his jaws gnashed, flinging foam in all directions. So overcome with grief and guilt, the cub didn’t notice the nod the General gave to the boar holding him. He barely felt the release from the huge soldiers grip. And he never saw the massive fist that came crashing down upon his head.

Then there was only darkness.



Dark…..quiet……nothing.

“Why did….”

A voice?

“Why did you let them kill me?”

I didn’t mean for it to happen…I’m sorry!

“You let them kill me.”

I’m sorry….forgive me

“YOU LET THEM KILL ME!!!”

Please, forgive me….I’m sorry….I’m sorry!!!

“YOU KILLED ME!! YOU KILLED ME!!! YOU KILLED ME!!!!”

No! I didn’t!! No, please!!!

“YOUR FAULT!!! YOUR FAULT!!! YOUR FAULT!!! YOUR FAULT!!! YOUR FAULT!!!”

NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

****************

“Nooooooooooooo!”

Brandon awoke screaming, the voice of the coyote pup still ringing in his ear. He shot up from the mat on which he slept and jumped to his feet. Panting heavily, he slammed through the cabin’s door and ran outside, negligent of his bare body.

Rain was pouring down, the night sky was not but vicious clouds, filling the dark with flashes of lightening and cracks of thunder. This all went unnoticed by the wolverine who ran under it. Out into his garden, Brandon slowed, then finally stopped. His wide chest heaved, breath steaming from his muzzle. The rain soaked through the fur of his naked body, cooling the burning in the scars on his back, as he fell to his knees, sinking into the muddy earth. His arms limp at his sides, head bowed. The tears came then, pouring from his golden eyes, mixing with the rain water that streamed around his face.

He wept. And under the clamor of the pounding rain and claps of thunder, he whispered over and over.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”


Last edited by MrWolf12 on Mon Mar 09, 2009 4:26 pm; edited 1 time in total
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 07, 2007 9:21 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm gonna be working on something for a friend, so the next installment won't be for a while. But i've already got so many ideas, so once I get started again...It shouldn't take long at all Smile
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Ashton Gray
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 07, 2007 11:22 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

My my my...
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Sun Oct 07, 2007 11:38 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

a little too much?
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Ashton Gray
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 08, 2007 1:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm not exactly sure what to say about it. I liked it, sure enough, but I just can't put my tounge on anything specific to say. I'm afraid all I could come up with was "My my my..."
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Crimson
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PostPosted: Mon Oct 08, 2007 6:16 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

bravo! i must say i enjoyed it, i olny wish i could write like that lol Very Happy
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Bestile1
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PostPosted: Tue Oct 09, 2007 3:35 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

that was very well done... well done indeed
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LabrnMystic
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 10, 2007 8:07 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Intense with emotion. You did great Mr. Wolf.

I didn't think it was too much, but then again I enjoy an intense read from time to time.

Can't wait for the next installment.
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 10, 2007 5:12 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'm so glad y'all enjoyed it. Was a bit nervous. Embarassed
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 10, 2007 6:32 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Gonna maybe post these on a DA account sometime Smile

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Xebulon
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PostPosted: Wed Oct 10, 2007 9:49 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Woooo...

Definitely not what I had been expecting, but marvelously done! Excellent use of imagery by the way, it brought a lot of life to the story.
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PostPosted: Thu Oct 11, 2007 1:53 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

I'll expect this soon...
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MrWolf12
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PostPosted: Thu Oct 11, 2007 4:43 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

DA page here

FA page here

Nothing y'all haven't seen yet, but if anyones interested. Smile
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