They made other characters but forgot the enchanted forest queen ? This is BULLSHIT . I thought atleast one sensible person would make the queen and the barista lady making out or getting their tits sucked . Man this blows ..
It's Calm , could be better you know ? A motorcycle , on the open road would be nice but after mine got stolen , I'm here ... In this disappointment section of fan art . I really wanted to see the Barista and queen go at each other . But I guess we can't have nice things .
Not great tbh. I can’t seem to make any friends and whenever I ask a girl out she rejects me. So then I feel crazy depressed and lonely and somehow end up on this god forsaken website.
This was to be a special day. The sun rose in the East, bathing Wyverndale in the golden light its people had grown accustomed to. While most in the city still slept, Lord Ramiel was wide awake, high atop his tower, staring at the horizon as he always did, constantly on the lookout for threats to the peace he and his allies had worked so long to achieve. There was nothing but the usual hints of another quiet day: the autumn breeze was just the right kind of chilly, and the red leaves of the trees caught the sunlight, like a curtain of dry flame that made the citadel feel more alive than in any other season.
Most of the wyverns were still sleeping in the mountains, but a few of them could be spotted over the horizon, their bat-like wings flapping as they hunted for a hearty breakfast. The Great Wyvern hadn’t been seen for a few days, but that wasn’t uncommon for the mighty beast. It was the last of its kind, impossibly old and the subject of legend. It usually only surfaced in times of need, to uphold its end of the pact it had made long ago with Ramiel, the citadel’s protector. Wyverndale’s Warden.
Today was to be a day of celebration, but Lord Ramiel didn’t feel like celebrating. Still, he knew what was expected of him: he had to climb down from his watchtower, and interact with the people. That didn’t sound like too much of a task, but to Ramiel, it was. The unfortunate truth was that he just didn’t care for the people – not in the way he used to. Long ago, he had been a simple knight, driven by compassion and bravery.
To put an end to the suffering of his people at the hands of the cruel tyrant Dhespar, he had sought out the Great Wyvern, and made a pact with the ancient creature, a ritualistic vow sealed in blood that made him immortal.
He had been given an unnaturally long life but, after so many years, the ritual had also chipped away at his empathy. Nowadays, there just wasn’t much of anything the Warden felt beneath his thick armor anymore.
As he walked down the spiral staircase of his white stone tower, he dreaded interacting with the people, forcing himself to recall that all he did, he did for their own good.
That morning, the townsfolk spotted Ramiel in the town square, watching from a distance as they prepared for the day’s festivities. This was, after all, an important occasion.It was the anniversary of Ramiel’s Oath, and the legendary battle that lay the foundation for what Wyverndale had now become: a beacon of hope, strength, and unity.
The villagers enthusiastically prepared for the day’s banquet, putting together a veritable feast, dusting off old costumes (one of which was made for at least four people who would play the role of the Great Wyvern) and setting up a wooden stage that would later be used to recreate Ramiel’s pact, and his legendary triumph over Dhespar.
The celebration was a yearly event, and everyone in the citadel took part in it. There was a palpable excitement in the air -- one that wouldn’t be pruned by the storm clouds slowly gathering in the eastern sky.
But all of that changed once the rumbling began. The ground underneath the people’s feet started to shake. Slowly at first. But rapidly, it increased. There was a foreboding rhythm to it. A verse that chanted doom. Worry soon grew into panic.
Add new comment
The characters look so fucking cursed pornographied.
I don't know what to think no more man
Dracula is about a dutch guy fighting a Transylvanian vampire in England
so guys. How's life? Honestly how's it been going for you guys?
The Fall of Wyverndale Part I.
Ok.
This was to be a special day. The sun rose in the East, bathing Wyverndale in the golden light its people had grown accustomed to. While most in the city still slept, Lord Ramiel was wide awake, high atop his tower, staring at the horizon as he always did, constantly on the lookout for threats to the peace he and his allies had worked so long to achieve. There was nothing but the usual hints of another quiet day: the autumn breeze was just the right kind of chilly, and the red leaves of the trees caught the sunlight, like a curtain of dry flame that made the citadel feel more alive than in any other season.
Most of the wyverns were still sleeping in the mountains, but a few of them could be spotted over the horizon, their bat-like wings flapping as they hunted for a hearty breakfast. The Great Wyvern hadn’t been seen for a few days, but that wasn’t uncommon for the mighty beast. It was the last of its kind, impossibly old and the subject of legend. It usually only surfaced in times of need, to uphold its end of the pact it had made long ago with Ramiel, the citadel’s protector. Wyverndale’s Warden.
Today was to be a day of celebration, but Lord Ramiel didn’t feel like celebrating. Still, he knew what was expected of him: he had to climb down from his watchtower, and interact with the people. That didn’t sound like too much of a task, but to Ramiel, it was. The unfortunate truth was that he just didn’t care for the people – not in the way he used to. Long ago, he had been a simple knight, driven by compassion and bravery.
To put an end to the suffering of his people at the hands of the cruel tyrant Dhespar, he had sought out the Great Wyvern, and made a pact with the ancient creature, a ritualistic vow sealed in blood that made him immortal.
He had been given an unnaturally long life but, after so many years, the ritual had also chipped away at his empathy. Nowadays, there just wasn’t much of anything the Warden felt beneath his thick armor anymore.
As he walked down the spiral staircase of his white stone tower, he dreaded interacting with the people, forcing himself to recall that all he did, he did for their own good.
That morning, the townsfolk spotted Ramiel in the town square, watching from a distance as they prepared for the day’s festivities. This was, after all, an important occasion.It was the anniversary of Ramiel’s Oath, and the legendary battle that lay the foundation for what Wyverndale had now become: a beacon of hope, strength, and unity.
The villagers enthusiastically prepared for the day’s banquet, putting together a veritable feast, dusting off old costumes (one of which was made for at least four people who would play the role of the Great Wyvern) and setting up a wooden stage that would later be used to recreate Ramiel’s pact, and his legendary triumph over Dhespar.
The celebration was a yearly event, and everyone in the citadel took part in it. There was a palpable excitement in the air -- one that wouldn’t be pruned by the storm clouds slowly gathering in the eastern sky.
But all of that changed once the rumbling began. The ground underneath the people’s feet started to shake. Slowly at first. But rapidly, it increased. There was a foreboding rhythm to it. A verse that chanted doom. Worry soon grew into panic.
Pages