Are you looking for art? Do you want your character drawn for an affordable price?

Then I'd deeply appreciate if you check out a very, very close friend of mine who has just set up shop here in FA, namely  Reith_Goldblaze

She's a wonderfully compassionate, intelligent, beautiful and talented senorita from Argentina who deserves the recognition.

Go check her out, put her on your watch list, give her a hug, purchase a commission... make her feel the love, please!

You are also VERY welcome to pass on the word with a journal of your own if you can assist in no other way. Any help is appreciated!

Thank you so, so much in advance ^_^ <3

Hello there, everyone. If anyone.

I've been semi-absent for quite a while, and to tell you the truth, I've a bunch of art queued for upload... However, I honestly have no idea if people watching me are actually still there. Therefore... like a shameless copycat, I stole this idea from a highly loved friend of mine to make a journal and see if I can coax any watchers to say hello. Thank you so much in advance!

Call me a "loser" if you must... but I've been a lonesome wolf most of my life which I would attribute to my autism and social handicaps. It is incredibly challenging for me to establish, manage and keep relationships of any type. Lots of bad things has happened in my life, especially over the last few years, and a recent event made me realize just how vulnerable I've become.

To provide an excerpt of the context, an old man who lived further down the street passed away a while back and I learned that he left behind a cat which was now alone and homeless. Anybody who knows me just a little should know that I will be immediately spurred to act when an animal is in distress and I ventured out to find the helpless soul. She had moved into someone's garage only a few clicks away from where the old man used to live. I could tell the cat was very emaciated, her fur tangled and dirty... it was no pretty sight. I thus decided to visit her in this filthy garage every single day with my rucksack packed with cat food, working to gain her trust over the course of a month.

Few days ago, I finally brought her home, which meant I could assess her more intimately. This is when I noticed things that were much more concerning than tangled fur... compromised respiration and no bowel movement. I brought her to the vet and the diagnosis wasn't good... let's just say it destroyed my ambition to get her back in shape and adopt her. Her gums were pale white and the respiratory issues stemmed from a weak heart that struggled to pump blood through her veins. She was severely constipated because her system had begun to shut down and all the food we provided her just turned into a dry lump in her stomach. I had no choice but to put her down.

I foolishly thought I was prepared for the worst and could handle it but the sorrow overpowered me and my heart is broken to pieces. I've cried several times today and then the extent of my deprivation suddenly dawned on me. I experienced a overwhelming need for someone to hold me, offer me solace, say they were proud of the things I had done... But there was absolutely no one for me and I got to grieve in a void of deafening silence. I know that I've online friends who listen, care and are there for me and I love you all! Please don't think I don't appreciate you. Sometimes... it'd just be nice to have some of that in RL too, you know? My mother would do all that if she was here but I lost her to cancer two years ago. My dad is about as sensitive as a round pebble, so when he literally saw me shed tears AND have a nosebleed at the same time, he just told me to "wipe that shit off and move on". Makes me jealous of those folks who have parents who love them, friends who support them, a lover to hold them... I just have absolutely nobody, and when misery finds me, I've no choice but to rely on my survival instinct to make it through.

Thank you for reading this far... I tried to be concise but I needed to speak my mind...

Throughout the long time I've been affiliated with the furry fandom, I've watched people ascend from nothing and reach a state of Godhood within this community, only to fall like a slain ogre and lose everything they've gained because of countless poor desicions. People who were once revered, people I used to idolize, are now about as popular as a swollen boil on the ass and some of them have still yet to realize that their days of glory are over.

I've observed, studied and pondered... Yet it still boggles my mind why this pattern seem to repeat itself. Does fame turn people into villains or are villains more prone to garner fame? I can't help it but to find it absolutely irksome on their behalf how they wasted such an opportunity. It appears to me like some people have it in their blood to become famous while others, regardless how much they may desire it, couldn't hold people's attention even if they bribed them.

Fame is a source of power; you gain influence. These people realised this and actively sought to exploit it for their own benefit to ascend further. What I don't understand is, why does so few deem it worthwhile to use the power discovered to manifest as a beacon of light to others? Why must they be consumed by greed and turn into bigoted abominations who oppress others with their overwhelming superiority complex? Imagine if they used their power to guide people, help people, educate people, spread joy and happiness. They would've built a sustainable reputation and be remembered as someone who contributed richly to the fandom with their charisma, compassion, productions, wisdom and benevolence.

Well, what do I know? I'm just a dumb pink wolf.

Who is the most incompetent person in the world? Look below if you can't guess.




Every fawking smith in Zelda: Breath of the Wild, that's who!

If you've played it, you know what I mean. And probably agree.

/Tiny Rant

Humanity is the largest library in the world.

Every time that I leave my home and venture out to explore, I find myself surrounded by books. Some books are thin with freshly printed paper, pristine white, ready to bear the documentation of countless endeavors that have yet to unfold. Other books have evolved into ancient tomes, torn and dusty pages, hardly eligible scribbles which are a disguised trove of exquisite knowledge.

This is the one and only library that cannot be threatened by modern technology – it will never seize to exist. Old books deteriorate and eventually turn to dust, yet new books will emerge to carry on the legacy and bear literature into the next era. The cycle cannot be broken; yet the books from this library can only be accessed by the privileged, those who have been entrusted by the author himself.

I stand in the library, surrounded by books, yet they are closed and sealed. Regardless how much a book has pigued my curiousity, all I can do is look at the cover, speculate and form my own conjecture about the contents. The covers are carefully customized to suit the preference of the author. Some are mystical and makes you ponder while others appear to be so transparant that you might be able to deduce most of the contents with a brief glance over the summary.

Covers can be misleading and the contents might blow your mind – surprise you. What seems to be a dull book might hold more excitement than ancitipated. The book with the intimidating cover was probably not as terrifying as imagined. The library is packed with a myriad of genres and we all hope to gain access to the ones that tickle our fancy, the ones we can relate to and identify with.

To explore is to read, to read is to learn, yet tread lightly. Some authors await with great anticipation for a chance to share their work with a curious soul while other authors take offense when you express interest in the literature that they so desperately keep to themselves. Once a book has been opened and the contents revealed, what will you learn? Perhaps the contents happened to coincide with your expectations. Perhaps you discovered something that left you happily surprised. Perhaps you found something inspirational that lit a lantern of hope to guide you through your life.

What if this was not the case? You may have unraveled literature which is unpleasant to know. Perhaps you learn something that offend you, hurt your feelings or distort your grasp of reality. Perhaps the contents of this sinister book will serve as the gateway for you to experience dark things that can never be unseen. Perhaps you will unleash a diabolical menace that can seriously harm both you and your loved ones, destroy life as you know it. The risk is arguably low but it only takes one tragedy, one moment of decreased awareness, to leave scars which will never heal.

When you explore the largest and most enigmatic library of the world – be wary.

Introduction

Some people are already aware that I have undergone a remarkable transformation lately, because as someone who suffers from severe depression and is riddled with urges to commit suicide, I've felt compelled to seek ways to increase my own life quality and improve my weak self esteem – one of my methods deployed to accomplish this was to lose weight and get in shape. Thanks to my great resolve, I can now proudly inform you that I have lost nearly twenty kilos and gone from 104 to 85 kilos, which is a fairly significant change since I'm 6'3 feet tall. My weight continues to decrease consistently so I anticipate to grow even lighter with time. Since my quest to lose the excessive kilos and get in shape has been largely succesful, I have decided to make this journal today as a vault of guidance for other people who struggle with weight loss, because the solution is probably more simple and cheap than you'd think. Just keep in mind that I am not a professional diet adviser of any sort and the tips you'll find below are derived from my own personal experiences.

1. Revise your lifestyle

First and foremost, we need to put down the cold and blunt facts that nobody wants to hear – if you want to improve your health, lose weight and get in shape, you need to deploy radical changes to your life which will involve a great deal of efforts and sacrifice. I'm sorry, but nothing comes free in this world. If you are only willing to commit yourself to a temporary diet, you may as well spare yourself the trouble, because if you intend to return to the old habits once the desired weight is lost, the kilos will come back in a heartbeat and erase all the good work you accomplished.

”Wait, hold on... You mean I need to eat healthier FOREVER?”

I'm sorry to break it to you, but yes. Something makes me suspect that 80% of the people who read this just left my journal. Look, I know it sucks when you've grown addicted to greasy food that tastes phenomenal, but the harsh truth is that your body will generate excessive fat when you gobble up so much junk that your bloodtype is Nutella. My guidance will not force you to survive on water and vegetables for the rest of your life, yet if you're fat, it means you run a life on unhealthy habits that needs revision. If you obstinately insist to eat junk, you'll remain fat or even get bigger. It is as simple as that. Is that what you want? If not, let's move on.

2. Avoid Sugar

Everybody knows that sugar is bad but I question how many are aware of just how much damage it causes. Besides making you fat, sugar also renders the consumer addicted, which makes it significantly harder to break the habits. Some people who've gone through the phase of detoxication have actually experienced bouts of malaise because the body craves sugar like a smoker craves nikotin. Some types of foods and drinks should be avoided at all cost if they have high amounts of sugar in it. If you, like me, are fond of soft drinks and simply can't live without them, see if there are alternatives with artificial sweeteners and keep the consumption at a minimum.

”Omg, you're dumb. Artifical sweeteners are even more fattening than sugar!”

I'm quite familiar with that ancient debate, yes, and I've looked into much of the research to date. Some say sugar is more fattening than artificial sweeteners, some say it's the other way around. Since people have yet to reach an agreement, I decided to test it on myself and derive my own data. I switched from sugary drinks to drinks with artificial sweeteners and have consumed it daily, yet once I began to apply my other changes, my weight decreased consistently and now I'm almost 20 kilos lighter. Soft drinks are not healthy, but if you remove the sugar, the damage they inflict on you will not affect your weight. It's up to you if you will believe me or not.

”Well, drinks with artificial sweeteners taste like shit. It's not the same”

It's not the same, no, but I can barely taste the difference. Products with artificial sweeteners offer you an alternative which preserves your weight to some extend and leaves room for indulgence. If this compromise is not good enough for you, then you have two choices – quit consumptions of these products completely or keep being fat.

3. Drink Water

Once you're done rolling your eyes, hear me out. Water does not magically make your fat dissolve and the flavor is nothing to write home about, yet it serves another purpose that should not be underestimated. The brain is not wired to distinguish hunger from thirst – it just informs you that you need to to consume something. When you're overwhelmed by an urge to grab a snack at an odd hour, try to chuck down a glass of water even if you don't feel thirsty. Chances are that it might quell your desire to eat the snack, and since water has zero calories in it, it's literally a free release of urges that may lead you to eat something unwise that will hinder your weight loss.

4. Do the Math

Some say you should count calories, some say you shouldn't – I say you should count calories but don't let it evolve into an obsession. I always read the list of nutrients on everything I plan to eat, but unlike many, I don't write it down in a log to keep track of everything I consume throughout the day. It's just too much of a hassle and not particularly rewarding. Perhaps some people feel more comfortable when they write it down, and if that's so, go ahead! Just don't do it if you don't need to. I try to remember the approximate amount of calories in the stuff I eat and then produce a rough estimation of how many calories I've consumed throughout the day. If my estimation is a hundred calories off, it hardly makes any difference anyway. If my estimation was a thousand calories off, then I would have a problem! Just be sure to keep it within what amount of calories are recommended for a person of your gender who seeks to lose weight. Not too low, not too high.

5. Do Exercise

You were just waiting for this one, weren't you? Yeah, exercise is pretty much recommended in every guide to weight loss and this one is not different in that department. However, if your primary goal is to lose weight and get healthy, you may not necessarily be required to do hardcore exercises or purchase membership at the local gym. As you may know, I was gravely injured in a brutal accident in my childhood and suffer from permanent damages today. This renders me unable to handle hardcore exercises myself. I can't lift weights, do squats, run marathon or anything else impressive. I've had no choice but to rely on a less strenous method to lose weight. What method? I go for treks daily. Yeah, treks. I walk a lot. It's a slow but steady method, and who knows, you may be in shape and condition to handle more effective methods than me. That means you have an advantage – use it if you can. Regardless, even my casual exercise bore fruit, so imagine what magnificent results you could produce if you feel up for more tough challenges.

6. Get a Step Counter

Even if you choose another method than I to lose weight, get a step counter. It helps you keep track of your daily progress and it even encourages you to move around more. Why not make a little game out of it? See how many steps you did today, then see if you can beat it tomorrow. If the day to day comparison doesn't work for you, try to improve on your weekly or monthly average and give yourself a pat on the shoulder when you succeed. The step counter is a nifty little ally in your quest to discover your new self so be sure to keep it on you at all times.

7. Be Patient

Regrettably, I've heard that lots of people tend to give up before they've properly started because they expect immediate results. The sad truth is that weight loss takes lots of time and persistence. Some people might even experience that their weight goes UP a few notches during the early stages of their life revision, which is obviously super discouraging, but this is just a hurdle that you need to get across. If you continue, your weight will decrease soon enough – just keep faith, and whatever you do, don't give up. The spike of weight gain at the start is common and completely natural.

8. Entertain Yourself

Something peculiar that I noticed while doing my exercise is that the brain often capitulates before the body does. Perhaps this is not the case with you, but it was with me, and someone else might be able to relate to this aspect. During exercise, the exhaustion that eventually impairs my progress is actually just boredom. In order to maintain a steady weight loss, I have had to walk approximately 14000-17000 steps every day, which is a few hours of exercise. This does get awfully enervating and repetitive after weeks and months, admittedly, so search for ways to keep the mind stimulated. If you go for long treks like me, change routes frequently. Avoid long straight paths, they will test your patience and mental endurance. You like music? Bring a headset or whatever and plug it in the phone! Do you have a friend who also want to lose weight? Arrange exercise with him/her so you have someone to talk with. At the end of the day, the key is to use your imagination and discover what methods of stimulation for the mind that works best for you to keep the progress on track.

9. Skip the Rewards

This is such a devious trap and I hear lots of people trip over it. Imagine this scenario – you've just done a great deal of exercise, you're pretty satisfied with your efforts and now you feel eligle for a snack as a reward. Sometimes, this anticipated snack is the primary incentive for people to pull through the exercise in the first place. Even so, I strongly advice you to resist this temptation and abandon the idea that physical efforts should be rewarded with unwise consumption. Regrettably, it is much easier to consume calories than it is to burn them, so the snack that awaits you at home may erase all the good work you've done today. You want a wiser and healthier incentive? Imagine how great it will feel to look in the mirror and admire your new self – now that's the true reward of dedicated exercise and the taste of success is more delightful than any snack.

10. Eat More Proteins

Proteins are technically what the body uses to build and improve muscles, yet even if you have no ambition of being a brawny hunk, it requires a lot of energy for the body to process proteins which means it accelerates the burning of fat. This is the reason why I have decided to keep my meals throughout the week full of foods with high protein. Protein is commonly derived from various types of meat but do yourself a favor and get it from meat which is light on fat, such as fish and poultry. Eggs are also a good source and I sure do love a delightful omelet. If you prefer to get proteins from vegetables, then peas and beans are a great additions to your supper.

The Epilogue

Conclusively, it is no easy task to lose weight and every person has a long journey ahead of him with lots of obstacles to overcome. There will be days where you want to give up and go back to the old detrimental habits, but keep in mind, the attractively slender body is a reward for those who really want it. I hope that this guide has inspired you in some way and can assist you in your own endeavor to lose weight. Weight loss is, in many cases, one path towards a stronger self esteem.

Everybody wears masks. Those who disagree are either being dishonest or do it so casually that they don't even acknowledge it anymore. Some do it more than others, yet the point is, we all do it to some extend. The masks we wear are tailored to represent us as amiable individuals who people will find appealing, configured to conceal the traits we are ashamed of which might put people off. Once you get to know someone, you may trust them enough to carefully lower the veil of deceptionand offer them a brief taste of your true self to see how they respond. Maybe you prefer to wear the mask at all times and play it safe, let people fall in love with your deception and have them think you're something that you are not. Some people are such impressive actors that they eventually convince even themselves that the mask they wear represent their true selves, even if they still have moments in privacy where they drop out of character to cry, grieve or rage. At the end of the day, we are only humans and no one can keep up this charade 24/7 every day of the year without a need for respite.

My mask conceals a lot of sensitive information which I cannot afford to disclose. Lots of people have a romanticized impression of who I am, established solely from the mask I wear, which mean I have acquired a reputation which I do not deserve. The same applies to many, even people far more popular than I, because few know what controversial details they keep hidden under their masks. As someone who suffers from a severe clinical depression, I really need people to like me. It is imperative for me to acquire friends who have faith in me, care about me and deem me worthy to keep around. This is a realistic goal as long as I forcibly bend my personality and configure my mask to exhibit the aspects which people want to see. But deep down... a sense of moral still operates to render me conscientious about my dishonest ways. I keep asking myself, can you truly consider it a meaningful friendship when people adore you for traits you dont have? When people perceive you as someone you are not? When people think you're pristinely devoid of misery while you're completely drenched in it from top to toe? My answer is no - you cannot.

The truth is dark and cruel; the more profoundly you suffer from clinical depression, the less people will have anything to do with you. If you suffer from this ailment, this is definitely something you will want to keep concealed behind the mask. Pretend you are happy and optimistic at all times when you, in fact, cry yourself to sleep every night and find yourself haunted by intrusive desires to end it all. I've done this for many, many years just to acquire something that ressembled friendships and love. Albeit I'm more open about it today, it still happens that I keep it away from people who I am really afraid to lose.

Yesterday, I did a huge mistake. There's this really close friend of mine who I've known for years. We've gotten along really well and he genuinely seemed to care about me. During my semi-hard times, where I did not disclose any significant details, he even said he was always there for me. I could always count on him, he'd always offer me a safe place to seek solace, and so on. The boy was an angel, and over the course of our time together, I had grown to love him so immensely that I developed a profound crush on him. He made my heart flutter in my chest every time we spoke. After years of serenity in our friendship, I thought it was safe to take it to the next level and evolve it into something genuine. I lowered my mask and was ready to tell him everything, let him see my true self, hoping that we'd both go to bed that day loving each other for who we really are. Couldn't wait to put this masquerade behind us and continue as true friends.

Unfortunately, it didn't turn out that way at all. He was shocked and apalled, not even remotely prepared for what he discovered on the other side of the mask, and I only got reveal that I suffer from clinical depression. Can't even imagine how bad it would've gone if I revealed anything else. He was clearly disappointed and requested for me to unite him with the Sinq he used to know, aka the twisted representation of Sinq established by my mask. He kept believing THAT was the real Sinq. He eventually asked his friends for advice on how to deal with this situation, and allegedly, they all agreed that he should drop me like hot iron. I was bad news. This really put some things into perspective for me. Not only did my true self scare away the close friend who I had a crush on... it also made people light their torches to ostracize me. In other words, I can only be loved and cared for when I pretend to be something I am not. Right now, there's nothing I want more than to bury myself in a hole somewhere with my broken heart and just rot away in the soil. If I am so abominable that everything I consist of must be concealed, then it only confirms that I should never have been born.

A search engine to find artists who are open for commissions.

Seems like a lot of people out there knows exactly what to do and where to look when they want new art, but I'm gonna be frank and say that I downright suck at it. Dunno why, I just do.

Every time I find someone whose style fits my taste, they are either closed for commissions, only do auctions or ridicolously expensive. We NEED to make this easier for dummies like me.

Don't mean to be judgmental or nothing, but if someone seems remotely toxic, they probably ARE abominably toxic. This is the simple fact my brain downright refuses to acknowledge and it leads me into one disaster after the other. Even if a person reeks miles away of odious malevolence, my brain will innocently perceive it as a hapless soul in need of compassionate care and of course I'll delude myself to think that I, Mr. Pink Sinqularis McDumbass, hold the key to make a difference in their fight with their inner demons. Here's a news flash for you, Sinqularis, you don't. This world is teeming with bad people but most of them are downright vile and beyond redemption. Doesn't matter what your intentions are, if you touch those volatile freaks, they will explode and unleash hell on your already frail heart. It has always been my philosophy that people should unite and engage in the adversities of life together. Unity makes stronng and all that shit, but you know what, fuck it. It's not gonna be easy but I need to forcibly re-program my mind for the sake of self-protection. If you see someone you don't know who clearly suffers, let them burn. Let their inner demons tear out their intestines and gorge on their guts. With some people, I might even watch and laugh while it happens. Why? Because they would surely do the exact same to me. They don't give two shits about if I succumb to my own woes, and even if they do deign to accept my support, it's not like they will ever return the favor. You may think that I am turning into a wickedly cruel menace myself, and you know what, I'm not gonna argue against that. Ever since the break of the first dawn, people have rudely and ungratefully rejected every friendly gesture I have offered, even ostracized and crucified me for my benevolent intentions. Fair enough, now I know what this dark world consists of and I'm a compliant wolf who knows how to conform to people's desires. If these people want a detestable fiend enveloped by flames who will curse their souls and pour salt into gaping wounds when it hurts the most, that is exactly what they will get. This was the FUCKING last straw and enough is enough.

Let's get the first shock out of the way, shall we? Yes, I am still alive, barely. Sorry about the long phase of silence, but as you probably can imagine, I have had my reasons and would not have been absent unless it was necessary.

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You people have witnessed me discuss a great deal of controversial topics but I am afraid that the time has come for me to open up about something so dark and personal that it is bound to leave someone repulsed. If you are in any way squeamish, I recommend that you back off and read no further, because what I am about to say will be completely explicit and devoid of censors. As very few already know, and some may have suspected, I suffer from a very severe clinical Depression. This has for many years, more years than I would want to admit publically, been left untreated and has had a massively detrimental effect on my life. We are talking about a mental ailment/disorder here, one which is heavily underestimated and in some cases just as fatal as a tumor infested in the brain. Everyone knows that the ailment exists but very few have any idea what it does to the host, and to say it as it is, I am extremely annoyed with how many friends I have gotten into arguments with because they are poorly educated in what it consists off. This journal is fabricated to raise comprehension of the ailment and provide valuable insight from someone who arguably knows the darkest depths of clinical Depression.

A whole journal just to hear an obnoxious bitch prattle about her mental issues? Yep, that is exactly what you will get, so this is your last chance to turn around and leave. Depression is a relatively common ailment these days to possess, and those who have or have had it often feel entitled to assert that they know everything about it, but there is an important aspect which must be taken into account; clinical Depression can affect each victim differently and it is rated in different stages. Mild and even moderate cases can certainly be crippling but they are not necessarily dangerous. They are also relatively easy to treat. People like myself who have developed a severe case of clinical depression are the ones who constantly linger in the red alert zone; we are talking deeply embedded self-contempt, self-harm, supreme pessimism, constant phases of grief, and yes, even suicide - everything which most of you people out there detest so much and frown at. You may think this somehow stems from a choice, but what you truly witness, is the result of when a clinical depression has become so overwhelming that it rots away the mind and consciousness until the host is pushed off the edge with self-destruction. People who genuinely suffer from this ailment are not fishing for attention; they are dying, people, a slow and torturous death. And how does oblivious people commonly react to these people in need of serious medical help? They push the knife in and twist it; not always intentionally, but people underestimate how much damage they can inflict on others just by being apathetic and indifferent towards everybody else, and to add insult to injury, force them into exile when their presence induces dismay.

If the ailment is so hideous to live with, then why doesn't the bitch just get treatment? Duh! Well, it's not quite that simple, especially not here in Denmark. My depression manifested in my youth as a teenager and has gotten worse over time, many times worse. Throughout this ordeal, I have visited the doctors and sought medical treatment again and again, yet to no avail. The Depression had preyed on me for longer than a decade before the doctors would finally give me the diagnosis and the MUCH needed medicine to control the ailment. Even today, the doctors and I have recurrent discussions about if I should even have this medicine because they still doubt that I truly suffer from clinical Depression, regardless how convincing the evidence might be. The medicine helps and I would surely not have made it this far without it; but it is no cure. Serious therapy is required, but this is yet another exhausting discussion which must go through my doctors to ever become a reality. Lots of people never get the help they need in time before it is too late. To provide you greater insight, let me emphasize some points which I perceive to be clear symptoms of my ailment.

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1. My self-esteem has become utterly destroyed and I have a shockingly poor impression of myself. The ailment has completely dissolved my mental fortitude and everything cruel people say to me is absorbed with a sponge. If they say I am a moron, I believe them. If they say I am deplorable, I believe them. If they think I should suffer or/and die, I'll agree. There is absolutely no defense whatsoever against such malice.

2. The morbidly distorted impression of myself often compels me to blurt out very self-contemptuous remarks, often misunderstood as sarcasm, guilt-tripping or even self-pity because people can't understand why anyone would say such vulgar things about themselves. Alas, they could not be more wrong.

3. I sleep a lot and am literally always tired. Even after having slept for 10+ hours, all I really want is to just crawl back into bed and whatever energy I have recovered is drained in the matter of a few hours or so. This really kicks me in the ass when I am compelled to attend to something educational, because I'll doze off no matter where I wind up and not get much out of the lectures.

4. My interest in education, social activities and hobbies have dwindled significantly over the years, and in case if you wonder whether or not this also applies to the production of my novel Medieval Cohesion, I am afraid that the answer is yes. Some people may have noticed that it takes longer and longer for me to write new chapters, but alas, I keep trying. Problem is that I have no time or energy to invest in writing, and with a mind soaked in Depression, sparks of inspiration are rare visitors these days...

5. Idleness is my worst enemy, because when I am alone, the Depression advances like a malevolent entity to drag me further into the misery, seize control over my mind and force me to browse through thoughts which make me cry. This can be hard to fathom for people who do not suffer from the ailment, but this is not a volountary process which can be reversed by "thinking happy thoughts" or whatever cliche advice people tend to provide. It is downright imposed on me and the ailment keeps me mired in the grief.

6. As the Depression has swollen aggressively inside me, I have grown less and less susceptible to compliments, flattery and even gestures associated with care. If it ever happens that someone says something nice to me, or about me, I respond with skepticism. The weird thing is, I deeply yearn for appreciation and recognition, yet the ailment has forced my mentality so hard into deterioration that I am no longer able to believe that people truly mean it. I can always find a reason to dismiss compliments as mere deception. I am also very adept at finding reasons to assert that all my accomplishments are hardly noteworthy. This is a mindset spawned from a very, very broken self-esteem.

7. I may not hurt other people or commit crimes, yet I still consider myself absolutely worthless, and due to the fact that the ailment inhibits my ability to take compliments to heart, it is extremely difficult for anyone from the outside to affect this self-perception. This is also one of the reasons why I often let people walk all over me with their dirty feet, because from the way I see it, an inferior waste of breath like myself is not entitled to better treatments. Ironically, people hardly ever step in when they see someone going apeshit on my ass, so I can only assume that they agree with this philosophy. I see myself as the epitome of ineptitude.

8. With a contextual link to the profound sense of worthlessness, I consider myself a major burden to everyone I know and care about, which often gives me reasons to think that they would all be better off without me. There are a few people in this world who I believe do love me to some extend, yet should I for any reason die, I doubt it would take longer than a few weeks or months for them to get over the loss. The role I play in their lives is tremendously less signifcant than they think and they would probably realize this if I was gone. I consider it one of those things which people wouldn't believe before they try it.

9. If you have read everything this far, then it probably won't surprise you that I have contemplated suicide many, many times. I have even googled to research what methods are considered most peaceful and painfree. This revelation will surely upset many and some might label me as a selfish coward. I have heard it so many times before... "Suicide is the easy way out, you should keep fighting" and "Think about all the broken hearts you leave behind". That is mighty easy to say for someone who does not suffer from Depression, and have done so for more than a decade, but consider this; if the ailment impairs or even inhibits your ability to sense and acknowledge love, how can you believe that anyone will be affected by your death? People who are at the mercy of a severe Depression often feel completely expendable. Now consider this; after having suffered in silence over the course of years and fought day and night for an existence which seems absolutely meaningless, can one be blamed for just wanting the pain to end and find peace?

10. I am what some, according Dr. Phill, would call a "Short timer". This means that I have slowly come to terms with the possibility that the clinical Depression I suffer from will one day grow too overwhelming for me to endure and ultimately result in a premature death. Most people have dreams and ambitions for the future... I do not. The whole concept of worrying about economy, work, relationships and starting a family seems like pointless contemplations to me, because I will most likely not be around to take part in any of this. I live on a day-to-day basis - I enjoy every day as well as I am able to and pray that tomorrow will not be my last. This is my life, the life of a person who is downright soaked in clinical Depression, and I am far from the only one who suffer in silence and yearn for a little sympathy from the world around us.

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So what do I hope to accomplish with this journal - do I think that people will suddenly stand enlightened and express greater comprehension towards my situation? Not really. People will probably still judge, hate and avoid me like always, People will probably still believe that one can be completely purged of the ailment if only you "snap out of it" and "pull yourself together". I cannot create miracles and I can only play the cards I am dealt... So I will hope in silence that this journal will remain here for people to read, as long as possible, even after I one day have passed away. If it cannot garner any empathetic sympathy for me, perhaps it can do so for the other victims of clinical depression out there who are on the path towards oblivion.

Thank you for reading this.

Hi. Life kinda sucks these days and this is something I need to get out of my system, but since I do not have a whole lot of people around who care to listen, I have found myself compelled to share it here with my paltry number of watchers, who probably delete journals without even looking or only care about porn. Well, I am pretty much out of options here, so I will have to take what I can get.

Anyway, I have two dogs, both male boxers. This other day, I woke up very early in the morning and went downstairs to retrieve a glass of water. Was still dark outside. I pushed open the door to the kitchen and felt a dog was lying on the other side. Oswald, the largest and oldest of my dogs had fallen horribly sick and had curled up on the other side of the kitchen door, clearly wanting to go outside as soon as possible. I assumed that he needed to throw up, like dogs sometimes do when they have eaten something bad, and quickly opened the doors for him to get out. That is when I realized that the situation was a great deal more serious than I surmised. Oswald could not walk in a straight line. He swayed ominously, then collapsed onto the garden. I rushed to his side and assessed his condition. He heaved for air and whimpered lowly. There was no doubt in my mind that he was in great pain and I had no idea what ailed the poor thing.

This was no situation I could handle alone so I woke up my parents. They wanted to bring him inside because it was incredibly cold outside so early in the morning, but it was not an option. We tried to carry him, yet regardless how gentle we were, he snarled angrily. Oswald has never, ever snarled at any human being in his life. We were left with no choice but to go with plan B - blankets. Lots and lots of blankets. Oswald was literally swaddled with blankets to keep him warm. My parents went back inside to call the vet. There was nothing else that could be done. I decided to remain by his side. He was dying and I knew it. It felt like he would pass away any second and I refused to have him lie out there in the cold and die alone. I wore a jacket to keep myself warm, yet it didn't take long before the it got colder and colder for me, compelling me to get swaddled by blankets too. Still freezing so much that I could only define it as painful because my body has never coped very well with low temperatures. I didn't care about my health. Just wanted to remain by his side.

One hour went by. Oswald kept breathing. Two hours went by. Oswald was still breathing. No improvement, he just kept breathing, clinging onto life like a true fighter. It ached my heart to see him suffer for so long. I begged him to let go. Nothing would have pleased me more than if he could just have recovered, gotten back up and shrugged it off, but I knew in my heart that he would never set foot inside the house again, so I begged him to let go with tears in my eyes. The vet was not available to come before 8:00 in the morning so we felt pretty helpless. Once the vet finally did come, Oswald was still alive, against all odds... yet his condition was beyond redemption. The vet assessed him and said there was hardly any blood circulation left in him. He had suffered a fatal seizure of some sort, inflicting severe brain damage. She gave him the lethal injection, putting him to sleep, finally at peace after hours of excrusiating pain in the cold.

I know what you might be thinking.

"Gez, it's just a dog. I've lost 5 dogs, 2 cats and 4 rabbits throughout my lifetime, so get over it already"

Yeah, fuck you. Oswald was among the best friends I have ever had, and for a person such as I who do not have many people to rely on, you learn that animals are living creatures too who deserve to be loved as genuine family members. I am relieved that Oswald is no longer in pain... but the aftermath of his death could hardly be more depressing. He was buried in our garden and I know exactly where he is. Memories haunt me. I see him everwhere. In the house, in the garden, everywhere I go, even places where I have never brought him. It happened so quickly that I was nowhere near prepared for this loss. The grief was so overwhelming that both my parents have fallen greatly ill, and now they do what they always do when they feel miserable, which is let me function as the outlet for their frustration and not give two shits about how this scenario has affected my emotions.

If you read this far, then... thank you. Even if you despise every fibre of my body or cannot emphathize with my feelings, I appreciate that you at the very least cared to listen.

Odd question, you may think. Everyone knows what a friendship is and has a pretty good idea about how to explain it; or do they? The reason why I approach you all with this rethorical question is because I've observed a rather devious conviction that seems to cloud the judgment of more than you'd think. People are very prone to measure the value of their friendships in months and years instead of taking it into account what type of content the friendship actually consist of. It has happened more than once that people rate me depressingly low in their hierarchy of friends simply because they've known someone else longer than I. Some people have even made it clear to me that they would downright refuse to address me as a friend until we've known eachother for a couple of years. Call me crazy if you wish but I really don't see it as a healthy sign if a friendship progresses that slowly. Life is short and I for one should know how quickly it can come to an end; so I frankly don't want to waste what time I have sitting around for years just to experience the day that someone deems me worthy to be greeted with a smile. Chances are that I'll be a dried up corpse on the day where they might consider the possibility of greeting me with something crazy like a hug. Goodness, such wild and untamed affection must require decades to earn.

I'm sure some of you people supporting these unreasonable measurements of friendships are already lighting your torches to express your firm disagreement but let me put emphasis on just how obsolete and nonsensical it is. We all have people in our lives that we've known for ages but does that mean they are close friends who you would share your darkest secrets with? Of course not. I have plenty of acquaintances who've been by my side for years but never really offered me the opportunity to really get to know them. There are friends who I've known for a considerably shorter amount of time but trust tremendously more than these vague shadows that have lingered in the corners of my eyes for years. Don't get me wrong, I do acknowledge that friendships need to grow over time with the help of mutual contribution from friends involved; but to think that it must be done over the course of years is no less than preposterous. You people have adopted a conviction that is frighteningly similar to "quantity over quality". If you NEED years to call someone a proper friend then it is a pretty clear sign that your personalities don't mesh very well or maybe you've got a stuffy attitude that needs some adjustment. The harsh truth is that if you expect people to hang around for ages to await whatever chosen day that you feel ready to soften up, chances are that they'll grow weary of the dull and monotonous interaction you share, then leave your side and close the door for a potential friendship to spawn. If you feel that you don't know a friend properly and vica versa, perhaps you should put at least some effort into making that change. Yes, you heard correctly - YOU! Give people who care about you a chance for crying out loud. Or do you deliberately keep distance between friends so that it'll be easier to justify your own actions when you one day discard them like a used handkerchief?

You will find that friends who really get along well might share a friendship that progresses surprisingly quickly and it does so because their personalities mesh like bread and butter. Not least, because they both share a mutual interest in forging a solid and meaningful fellowship. Regardless if you see my point or not, be warned - I have a very low tolerance for when people measure the value of their friends by months and years they've known eachother, and chances are that if anyone in the future does this to me again, I'll leave your side right away and let you wallow in this conceited attitude alone. My life is too short for that bogus and I am tired of it.

Man, I'm so going to be mutilated once people have read this journal but I really need to vent my frustration like a bitch as always. To be fair, I may be mildly spoiled by the fact that I've grown up playing outstanding fighting games like Tekken and Soul Calibur. However, when I recently acquired my brand new PS3, I suddenly felt bad about never having surfed on the massive wave of who knows how many Street Fighter games that exist today. Back when I was a pup, I remember playing Street Fighter 2 on the Snes with a friend who was deeply obsessed about that particular franchise. I can't really blame him, because back then, Street Fighter 2 pretty much delivered what you'd expect from a fighting game on those old consoles. This must've been before Tekken and Soul Calibur/Edge even existed. The old Street Fighter 2 featured only 8 characters and probably not too many hours of entertainment, but back in the era of Snes, it was really challenging to find a game that would keep players busy for more than a few hours; unless we talk about jewels of history like Rings of Power and Final Fantasy, but I digress. Let's keep our focus on fighting games, and more specifically, Street Fighter.

As we all know, Street Fighter 2 has been "promoted" with an absurd amount of side-tracking sequels that allegedly added new characters or features to improve the original game that everyone loved. Took them forever to get to Street Fighter THREE and FOUR. Yet as a fan of Tekken and Soul Calbur, it certainly piqued my interest when Street Fighter was labeled as one of the best fighting franchises in the world. I thought, was there really a franchise out there that promised even more satisfactory entertainment than Tekken and Soul Calibur? There was only one way for me to find out. I did a little research and found out that Street Fighter 4 for PS3 is apparently the greatest edition of the franchise to date and the ultimate outcome of the million prototype-like predecessors. Why they couldn't just put proper effort into a few games instead of a million half-assed editions with little improvement is beyond me but I'm sure they intended to milk the franchise for every penny it was worth. Anyhow, I bought Street Fighter 4: Arcade Edition - the day had finally come for myself to plunge into the vast universe of Street Fighter and discover the mysterious wonders hidden inside.

Well... I've been playing the game for hours now and the wonders still seem to elude me. There are lots of characters. And I mean lots. Impressive rooster of unique fighters, I'll give them that. I did what I think most new players would do - I experimented with button mashing to see if I discover cool moves by myself. It didn't work out too well. It seemed to be the same dull and basic moves I pulled off over and over again. So I checked the command list for inspiration. Calling it a list was undeserved flattery - There was like... I don't know... 8 or 10 different moves. Is that it? Are you bloody KIDDING me? Tekken and Soul Calibur have almost the same amount of characters and they are carefully designed with intriguing and creative moves and combos to improve the fighting atmosphere. You can SCROLL through the lists of epic attacks to pull off in battle. Street Fighter, on the other hand, is like this - have a gigantic rooster of characters lightly equipped for combat, little content, quantity over quality at its finest. That right there costed the franchise a lot of respect from me. Don't get me started on the Super and Ultra moves - They are nice and flashy to look at but gets old fast. And how do you actually perform the socalled Ultra moves? Beats me. The game does a poor job explaining it properly and a lil' online research taught me that many are stumped about those bloody ultra moves. I know some combos can be complicated to pull off but it shouldn't be an act of science just to figure out the button input. I'll do Street Fighter a favor and not comment much on the graphics because I understand that this cartoony type of graphics might appeal to a target group that I am not part of. However, when you compare it to the graphics of Soul Calibur... Holy smokes. So many years of evolution, so many games of improvement... is this really how far Street Fighter has come since the Snes version?

I'm not saying Street Fighter is a bad franchise, but by the grace of Gaia, it is seriously overrated. There are other games out there that in my opinion deserves the praise more than this franchise does. Sinqularis Lupus does not approve of the gaming experience at all; but to be fair, I still think Street Fighter features some of the most memorable soundtracks in gaming history. But how this mediocre fighting game could possibly be labeled as the "best fighting franchise ever" is beyond me. I just don't get it.

It's that time again, folks. My depression has once again flared up and made me feel miserable, I have burdening emotions that I need to get off my chest and now I'm going to bore you to tears with it. The main purpose with this journal will just be for me to lighten the pressure on my heart but if someone out there sits back with an odd desire to understand why I am so messed up in the head, then maybe it'll be relevant for you to pay attention. Realistically, who reads these journals anyway? This journal will probably just be selected and removed like any other journal flooding your inbox. However, I don't really have anywhere else to go and there's no better place for me to vent. So if you have a problem with reading about other people's woes, then I strongly recommend that you click away from this journal and return to your own little happy life where there's no place for the damned and neglected.

The eternal quest for cohesion

The word "cohesion" has really earned itself a great significance in my life and not only because it is one of the most prominent aspects of the book I am writing. It is the underrated indulgence that most people take for granted and that I, ironically, desire more than anything else in this world. Every person who know me just to some degree should've acknowledged that my life has turned into a major crusade based on building bridges and making friends. Not just any kind of friends, mind you, true friends who actually care about me as I do for them. The truth is that this hopeless quest I am on involves very few victories and a tremendous amount of defeats. When I approach someone who seems like a decent person, my request for friendship is often turned down or completely ignored. If someone actually cares to give me a chance, they'll usually give up on me within a few weeks to a month because I apparently don't live up to their expectations. Sometimes, they also run for the hills once they discover that I actually expect more from a friendship than casual conversations about the weather. People are quick to trash those who show interest in having emotions and trust involved with a friendship. Their vague idea of a "friendship" is apparently that we must never get to know eachother probably, we cannot show any type of concern for eachother's situations and whichever interactions we share must be so shallow that it boils down to nothing but a waste of time. Is this what you people call a "friendship"? Yes? Well, let's see how many of your followers will rush to your aid when misery finds you. You'd be surprised if you knew how few friendships are actually fueled by pure loyalty.

I know as a fact that there are a handful of people out there who has nothing but contempt for me. Some people are strongly convinced that I'm a dreadful spawn from the flames of hell who eat babies for breakfast and newborn kittens for dinner. Some think I'm a crafty and devious skank who likes to manipulate people. They're blinded by the unbendable conviction that I am the worst scum alive and they plainly refuse to consider the thought that I am NOT a bad person. But before we label me as a "bad person", let me ask you a few rethoric questions to get your brain warmed up - How was your youth? Did you hang out with groups of friends in your free time? Did you have supportive parents who pumped you full of confidence and swaddled you with love? Well, I did not. I plunged through my childhood as a loner who had no one but myself to rely on. My social needs have never been sated. I've never experienced the sensation of being accepted into a group or feeling that I genuinely belong somewhere. I'm not fat, I'm not ugly, people just never gave two fucks about me. It seems like I have a cursed aura about me that somehow aggravates everyone around me - because even though I seldom uttered a peep throughout my childhood, people still scorned me to no end and wanted to see me bleed. That is pretty much the reason why I was drawn into so many fights during my childhood. It was almost a daily routine that someone wanted to beat me up in order to impress someone else with a higher rank in the social hierarchy. Not only did they refuse to invite me into their company... they even used me as a stepping stone to reach higher tiers in the hierarchy. I'm stronger than you'd think. I've punched countless faces and also received punches in return. I've thrown relentless punches with the intention to cause as much damage as possible. I didn't care what injuries I caused. Nor did I care what injuries I sustained. Why should I? Nothing is less reluctant than a soul that has nothing to lose. Sometimes, people grew so tired of how tough I was to take down on their own that they brought friends. That was among my first experiences of sheer humiliation and having your dignity shattered. I've been assaulted before by four older boys who pummeled me mercilessly and even kicked me after I was curled up on the floor. People around us looked but did nothing. Am I now nothing more than cheap entertainment?

Times have changed and I haven't been in a serious fight for years - but the neglect, violence and insecurity still haunts me to this date. The long life of solitude developed a conviction that I was never meant to have friends. I was never meant to feel the sensation of cohesion. I was never meant to belong anywhere. I'm just a hollow shell with no purpose of existance. A tiny spark of rebellion stirrs inside me and that is why I so actively seek the social companionship that I was never granted as a teenager. Everytime I crash my head into a wall or am led into another deadend, it further confirms that my quest is hopeless and that what I'm so eagerly seeking is not for me to have. My unsated desires transform into jealousy that gnaws on me from within. Imagine how it is to always stand on the outside and watch a person crowded by friends who love her company, knowing that its just another fellowship that I'll never be invited for. Believe it or not, but I am VERY self-concious and I've noticed that my desires have begun to take shape of mild cases of lunacy. You probably all know about my odd obsession about Faye88, a young woman here on FA who seemingly gets along with everyone. Except me, that is. Quite a while ago, I send her a friendly PM in hopes of starting a meaningful friendship and plunge into this social group to become part of it. She never uttered a word - just blocked me. She's nice to EVERYONE, but blocked me on first sight. I wouldn't be surprised if I was the only person on her whole blocklist. I've been trying my best to let go of her and move on, but my sick obsession still persists even today. If she had just told me to fuck off and go die somewhere like everyone else, I would probably have done so right away. I would never think about her again. But the lack of closure keeps my infernal obsession alive and makes me suspect that there's still a grain of hope somewhere. She clearly couldn't care less if I wound up dead somewhere, but... well, I really don't have much dignity left to defend, so I may as well be honest about how low and pathetic I've become... I actually created an account on Twitter this one day with only one purpose - to get in touch with Faye88. It's my only way to communicate with her and I occasionally drop her a friendly comment when she tweets. She just ignores me as if I didn't exist but at least I can play with the fantasy and pretend that I actually am part of something. Pitiful, isn't it? Guess I'm condemned to always be the "creepy peeping Tom" who peeks through the window of people's lives to admire what shall never be mine. It enables me to smell the fruit of fellowship that I shall never taste. Those who're not worth true happiness will have to make do with a simple illusion.

I know some of you are particularly furious at me because I am prone to seek the companionship of women. Yes, I worship females and stubbornly insist that they should be honored with a dash of chivalry. My method is very old fashioned and can be perceived as a forgotten remnant of the medieval era, and good gracious, you guys have really put a world of effort into making me seem like a monster because of it. Maybe I am... Maybe I'm not. I do not scheme to revive that discussion again but I do want to point something out that you may have forgotten. If we look past how infatuated I am by women, remember that I am a transgender. I am technically a "woman" - so of course I favor the thought about being invited into female company. It is natural. I like the thought of male company but prefer the company of females. Put yourself in my situation and ask yourself.... if you're a man, would you like to spend your entire life with females only? I'm sure you'd love that idea at first, but once you emerge from the lewd excitement of being the lone rooster in the coop, you'll probably realize that you'll miss having someone around who'll laugh when you fart on purpose and always is up for hardcore gaming on your new PS4. See what I mean? Welcome to my world. I am so terribly tired of always being expected to mingle with rowdy boys at every occation because I was born with a "male" body, when what I truly want is to plunge into the dense fog of perfume, join the slightly more sophisticated group of females and just... talk about random girly things.

I would've written more but I can't handle anymore for now. It's a tough subject for me to be open about but it had to be done for my soul to ever find rest. If you have read this far, then... Thank you.

Yep, you read correctly. Click the link below and find out just how kinky and dirty I really am. Why? Because I told you to, thats why! ò.ó Look at it. Now! Why are you still sitting there reading this? Click the link below!

https://www.f-list.net/c/sinqularis%20lupus/ <-- Right there, you see it?

*Points a shot-gun at you* Click it... ò.ó

...And tell me what you think! ^.^

Oooh, I love that word - Assumption. Why? Because there is ASS in it, of course! Teehee. Anyhow, it's been forever since I've done one of these Meme thingy dingies, and this oughta be interesting. So go ahead everyone! Make an assumption about me and I'll state if it's true or not =3

I just... Need to get it out there. Enough said.

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Hey there lass, do you remember my face?
I'm the pesky mutt who made you frown.
All you offered was a chilly cold gaze,
you didn't think twice about turning me down.

You caught my eye and left me intrigued,
I sensed a soul that I desired to know.
My approach was heard as the floor creaked,
but caution lead me to take it slow.

I watched when you spread out your wings,
and embraced your many loyal friends.
Love was woven in countless of strings,
reaching as far as to where fantasy ends.

A female bat so gorgeous and charming,
Your presence alone made my heart tingle.
I sat by your side and expected warming,
yearning for friendship, trying to mingle.

But when I came to you for the first time,
greeting you and expecting a reply,
you ignored me like a patch of grime,
later blocked without telling me why.

Your silent rejection struck me deep,
But its not like I haven't tried it before.
Many mistake me for some sort of creep,
and then they won't talk to me anymore.

Months have passed and time keeps going,
A lonesome howl echoes by the end of day.
The canine still watches without you knowing,
because I can't walk away. I just can't walk away.

Rain starts falling and my fur gets wet,
but the door to your heart remains shut.
I reflect on memories from when we met,
and wonder why you trashed this mutt.

Call me crazy, say that I am insane,
but I just can't make myself walk away.
I hope that my patience won't be in vain,
and that you'll one day want me to stay...
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*Sighs* Friendship is like a colorful party, with joy and laughter, that I am never invited to.

This journal may come as a surprise to many, taken into consideration that I seldom delve into the subject of computer games. The truth is, I loved playing various games during my childhood, but I’ve never been what you’d consider a devout gamer. Just like most other people of my generation, I also grew up with Sonic the Hedgehog and Super Mario during their age of glory and had much fun playing games on old consoles that are now discontinued. Many of the most popular franchises still haunts the market with their infinite amounts of sequels, prequels and silly spin-offs that may or may not have been successful. The producers use their beloved mascots to milk as much profit out of their customers as possible, knowing that the most devoted fans will buy almost any game if only it features one or more of the famous characters that we grew up with. To mark my point with an example, everyone’s favorite plumber has been taking his occasional break from stomping turtles and eating mushrooms, in order to teach children typing or compete with every character from Sonic’s universe in the Olympic Games. These are just a few out of many examples of where a famous character is removed from his classic environment to goof around with activities that aren’t exactly up his alley. But alas, that is not the topic which I plan to discuss for now. Despite that I have never been any sort of hardcore gamer, I have come to the conclusion that there is a specific game from my childhood that deserves to be honored and respected. Not least, because it has had a major influence on me and inspired me to write “Medieval Cohesion”. I have now finished the first volume of this grand adventure after having written on it for more than 3 years, but I am convinced that Wesley Lightweaver’s journey would never have taken place if I hadn’t been so deeply enthralled by this rare gem found in the archives of games for the Sega Genesis. Today, I am extremely proud of owning that game and being able to acknowledge it as part of my humble collection of games. And yes, in case you wonder, the game still works just fine.

So what is this mysterious game that I keep babbling about? Back in the early days of 1991, a very unique game was released by Naughty Dog and published by Electronic Arts, named “Rings of Power”. Have you never heard of it? Don’t worry, not many have. It hit the market as an incognito product that didn’t draw much attention, possibly because it lacked popular and recognizable characters, meaning that few people were tempted to give it a try. It was eventually completely lost and forgotten in the mascot wars between Sega and Nintendo. “Rings of Power” was one of the first respectable roleplaying games, mildly comparable to the ever so popular Final Fantasy series, making it evident that even the old 16 bit consoles had the potential to support deep and genuine gameplay capable of keeping the gamers occupied for longer than one or two hours. The controls were slightly stiff, because it was relatively new to apply the 3D element to gameplay, but it never took long for players to adapt to. The graphics were surprisingly underwhelming for its time, but the games true qualities were found in the complex storyline, absorbing gameplay and gloomy atmosphere. It’s a prime example that graphics isn’t the key to success.

In this dark tale, you take control of Buc, a young and ambitious sorcerer who has been send out on a long quest to gather the eleven fabled rings used to forge the divine Rod of Creation. The rod was shattered during a dramatic battle between Nexus, the God of light and Void, the God or darkness, and now the pieces are scattered all over the world in the shape of golden rings. These rings are each identified by unique names such as the “Ring of Thought” and the “Ring of Intuition”. Buc’s goal is not only to travel around the world and collect these fabled rings, but also to gather a party of five potent adventurers destined to accompany him on this journey. The fictional society in “Rings of Power” features six different classes, and once Buc has forged the complete fellowship, the group will consist of one of each – A sorcerer, knight, archer, necromancer, enchanter and conjurer. All the NPC’s devoted to these classes throughout the game are visually generic, except the one character meant to join your party at some point. If we take Mortimer the necromancer as an example, you’ll find that he is the only necromancer in the game whose sprite is featured with blond hair, where every other necromancer has brown hair. Buc is also the only sorcerer in the world to wear a green hooded cloak, where every other sorcerer in the game wears the same robes but in blue. So when the players head out to explore the world and eventually discovers this one character looking significantly different, it’ll awaken a sense of excitement because they’ll know that there is a way to make this character join you in your quest. But the question is, how? The player can open dialogues with their soon-to-be party members, but in order to actually make them join you, you’ll need to solve cryptic riddles and tasks for their masters to prove your worth. Trust me when I say, Buc will need all the help he can get on this quest, so bolstering his party is vital.

“Rings of Power” is a dark, relentless and extremely cryptic game. Once you start your adventure, you’ll take control over Buc on the mapscreen after being greeted by this gloomy soundtrack: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JYUllnFjQUw Take a moment to close your eyes and listen to this tune. It makes a chill run down your spine, doesn’t it? It has an overwhelming tendency to make the player feel small, vulnerable and alone in a vast unexplored world. This game is also among the first to introduce “random encounters”, where the protagonist will occasionally be interrupted on the map screen by NPC’s with hostile intentions. Many will recognize this phenomenon from the Final Fantasy series. But in this game, you’ll quickly discover that discretion is the better part of valor, and insisting on emerging victorious from every battle will lead to much more failure than success. The random encounters does not adjust to Buc being a low leveled sorcerer with no allies to support him, so it is not uncommon that the players are attacked by large groups of enemies that would beat them into a pulp with ease. This has led to many instant deaths in the early stage of the game, and it is incredibly challenging to level up your characters before they’ve grown powerful enough to wield more effective spells and techniques in combat. Many have surrendered and left this game, simply because it is so mercilessly difficult, but the key is to pick your fights wisely and not hesitate to flee when you sense the odds are against you. In fact, some battles will require a bloody swift retreat to avoid getting creamed. “Rings of Power” features a raw wilderness where players have to work their way up the food chain from the very bottom, and it’ll take a long time before a player can traverse from one town to the other without worrying about instant game overs sneaking up on them from behind. This constant danger lurking in every nook and cranny is one of the reasons why the players got overly excited once they came across the special characters fated to bolster their party at some point, and the game’s difficulty could easily push a player towards such desperation that he’d part with a limb for even the slightest spark of assistance. Recruiting a new party member has never felt more satisfactory.

The difficulty of surviving in “Rings of Power” is legendary, but it is only half of the challenge that players had to endure to beat the game. Another major obstacle was the extremely cryptic riddles that had to be solved in order to obtain the eleven rings and enlist the aid of the five companions destined to join the quest. Nothing was self-explanatory and it was necessary to explore every tiny inch of the huge world to find the important items and NPC’s required to solve the riddles. The game had next to no rules for the player to follow. You could enter the home of residents, have a little cozy conversation with them and then kill them for the heck of it. Even the children and elders. Did you not approve of the way that the guard in the castle glanced at you when you walked by? Challenge him to a fight and kill him. No one will rush to his aid or hold you responsible for his death. Unfortunately, going on the rampage and killing everything in sight can result in them challenging you if you attempt to talk with them afterwards. This also includes certain important characters in the game, which will ruin your opportunity to solve certain riddles in your quest. NPC’s killed does not return from the dead at any point. But the lack of rules also means that it is a completely non-linear adventure. Even though some riddles are easier than others and more convenient to tackle in the early stage of the game, you can go anywhere you wish and connect the dots in any order you see fit. This freedom greatly enhances the replay value of the game, and there is so much to explore in this huge world that few players would cover it all on the first adventure.

Keep in mind, “Rings of Power” was released in the dark age of gaming where there was no internet, which means that the players weren’t able to seek help from an online guide or walkthrough. They were on their own with all the cryptic riddles and confusing clues, and I am proud to say that I am one of the few that managed to see the end of the game after many hours trial and error when the game was new. It really came in handy for me to be so experienced with the English language at a young age, because it is vital for the player to follow the storyline and understand the information provided by important NPC’s. Even today, I feel this is one of the best roleplaying games that I have ever witnessed, because it really put the players to the test and had them work for the victory. Because of this, it also provided a magnificent sense of satisfaction every time you managed to accomplish something. It made you feel proud of every little bit of progress. It deserves a lot more attention and appreciation than it was able to attract back in 1991, and this is the reason why I have taken my time to write this journal as a memorial for “Rings of Power”, a brilliant game that should never be forgotten. I want the spirit of this grand tale to live on in Medieval Cohesion, the book that I am writing myself, partly inspired by Buc’s quest to collect the fabled rings and survive in a raw wilderness where only the strongest will emerge on top. Let me end this journal by introducing you to the overwhelmingly epic intro screen of “Rings of Power”, featuring memorable music that even today makes me feel tingly inside. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeyiMImbPfA Keep your eyes peeled during the second half of the video, and you’ll see an airborne dragon exploring the world on the map screen. And yes, “Rings of Power” did have a night/day feature as well.

This… was my childhood.

Hello everyone.

It has come to my attention that there is something specific about me that really seems to confuse a lot of people. So I've been thinking and came to the conclusion, that the best way to tackle this would be to explain it publically in a journal. For reasons that I cannot truly fathom, more people than you'd think assume that I as a transgender find female genitals highly appealing and attractive. This is unfortunately not the case and a tremendous misunderstanding. But I suspect that the confusion has been born from the fact that people have issues with wrapping their heads around what a transgender actually is. We ARE quite complicated to understand, no doubt about that. But perhaps I can make it slightly easier for you all to digest.

To make something perfectly clear and bend it for you in neon, I was born with a male body, but the genetics or biology of a female. This basically means that I feel, behave and think just like a woman would do. And I also take the liberty of identifying myself as a 100% female, even though I haven't undergone any crazy surgeries to alter the body I was born with. People who really know me personally might've noticed that I've also adopted the feminine traits and instincts. Here is the thing that puzzles me about people judging me - if we look past my physical exterior and consider me a female, how can it be that people are so quick to assume that I am a lesbian with a homongous craving for wet cunts? The truth is, I can't stand the sight of them. Everyone who knows me just a little is perfectly aware that I adore and admire the female gender for the way that our planet designed their minds and anatomy. Everything about a woman is gorgeous in my book, with ONE exception - the vagina. I'm terribly sorry everyone, but that doesn't fly with me. Gaping holes that drip sticky fluids and look like they're going to eat me, does not a pink wolfess excite. So I'll leave those for the straight men out there, who seems to have more than enough vaginal interest for one.

If you're a respectful chap willing to address me as a woman, you'd have to consider me a straight woman who is sexually reserved for handsome men. But if you're a less respectful person who insist on addressing me as a male, you'd have to consider me a gay homofag and submissive butt-slut, who only raises my tail for men. Either way you look at it, it boils down to the same - I am only sexually attracted to males. So please, everyone, cut me some slack. As a transgender, it is true that I'd wish I was born with the body of a female as I should have, with vagina included. But just because I'd wish I had a vagina, doesn't mean that I find them super appealing and want to have their sticky fluids all over my tongue D: No thank you! There is quite the clear difference. Ask any straight woman, and I am pretty sure she's not dreaming about drippy cunts every night. Please, let the confusion be seized right here and now - don't get all sad, disappointed and pouty when you find out that I am no vaginal lover. Fate just didn't design me to bend that way.

Thank you for listening! Hope everyone understands.

Hello again, everyone. I am back, and with yet another journal to rob the time of those that care to read it. But I wouldn't really categorize this as a rant. There is just something important that has been on my mind for the longest time now, and it's a topic that I've found challenging to explain. By ignoring this matter, it has swollen up inside me and has come to the point where it causes me great frustration. So despite how difficult it is to describe and explain, I've forced myself to put it down right here, as an attempt to get it off my chest. Or at least make the burden feel less heavy. If any of you out there has a desire to learn more about what is going on inside my head, then I'll recommend that you keep reading, as this journal most likely will turn out to become long and deep. But if you are afraid of discovering something about me that you won't like, or are allergic to long journals, then there's a nice little button with an arrow in the top left corner that will save your life. Clicking it is absolutely free, so you're not exactly forced to leave a comment if you don't want to. Especially not insultive or smart-ass comments that I have no interest in reading, mind you.

As you all oughta know by now, I am an extremely protective person. Yeah, nothing new about that, I've probably told you a hundred times already. But to speak the truth here, I think it is only very few of you who actually understand what this means to me. It's not just some exxagerated bogus that I toss about to mark my feelings for a friend. Nope, it's quite a lot more serious than that. And believe it or not, it is meant to be taken quite literal. You may not be able to understand this, but I am a guardian at heart, and it is my nature to protect. It is like an instinct of mine to protect, and I -need- someone to take care of. And even though I would defend any friend of mine with my life, you may have noticed that I am twice as adamant about protecting my female friends. This has lead to much confusion and misunderstandings, since I am a transgender only sexually attracted to males. And I can't guarantee that you understand me better after having read this journal. Because it's a personal matter that I find challenging to describe with words. But that won't keep me away from at least giving it a try. It's worth it, because I really need -someone- to understand how my mind works.

To speak the truth, I am deeply fascinated by women. No, I actually worship them. There is nothing more beautiful than the feminine anatomy chiseled by our great planet itself, nothing warms my heart more than a woman's natural sense of empathy and some women are embraced by a feminine aura that makes everyone around them feel like jelly. For as long as I can remember, I've always thought that the female gender contribute so much to making life more enchanting and colorful. This is actually one of the many reasons why I am proud of having been born transgendered. Because I have adopted so many of these beautiful qualities from the feminine gender. But as I have grown up and matured further, my view of females have evolved to the point where I see them as spectacular beings blessed with divine beauty that must be protected. It's a dark world and we all know what dangers lurk out there, especially for a woman who is alluringly gorgeous. And the sight of them alone makes my instinct as a guardian quiver like crazy, filling my heart with urges to protect them from everything harmful in the world. This has often lead me to confront various females around FA, to introduce myself and offer them a request for friendship. Because I keep thinking and hoping that my compassion, empathy, loyalty and protectivity is the key to make some women out there very happy. But unfortunately, even though I have made a lot of wonderful friends among females, I still stand back with a serious problem that has yet to be solved. And now I can finally feel the result of it. Because the endless frustration has become downright painful.

Everyone knows I put heart and soul into being protective, and hopefully now, it makes more sense that this especially apply to my female friends. All my heart desires, is to hold them between my arms, keeping them warm and protected. If anyone dares to hurt the feelings of my female friends, then I want to offer them consolation, before heading out to kick the ass of whoeevr did it. If something happens that leaves my female friends depressed, then I want them to come to me, so that we can deal with the pain together. Do you see where I am going at? I want to be their pillar of strength, the significant person who makes them feel comfortable and secure. I want to be the friend that they know will listen to everything, even the personal or intimate issues. Selfish as it may sound, I consider myself the guardian of womanhood, and I always stand up for the feminine gender whenever I can. And I can't even describe how much it means to me, when females consider me one of their own, and even feel secure by knowing that I am there to fight for them. That is truly one of the best gifts that I could ever wish for. But here is the big problem, that is the cause of all this painful frustration - my protectivity is not wanted. I have so many females friends, but few have any interest in accepting my protectivity and clinging onto me for support. Throughout time, I have encountered hundreds of different responses to my protectivity. And now I'm going to speak my mind about the most frequent ones I've received.

---

You really don't need to worry about me, I can handle myself just fine

To be honest here, I absolutely hate when people say this, because it's the quickest and most effecient way to close the door on a friend who wants to be closer. You know already by this point that the bounderies have been laid out, to prevent the friendship from evolving. Yes, I am sure you can take care of yourself just fine, girl. But surely, don't you think life would be a little easier if you didn't have to deal with all these conflicts on your own? I can understand that you want to keep your pride and prove that you can stand on your own feet. But trust me, there is no shame in counting on a friend for support. A true friend would be honored, if only you'd offer him the opportunity to be involved in your life, so that he can support you when you need it most. What are friends for anyhow? Believe me, there is nothing worse for a true friend than being left outside a locked door, when he knows that you are suffering on the other side. The world would be a sad and depressing place, if we all had to mind our own business and deal with conflicts individually. Alone, we may be fragile - but together, we are strong. Find strength in unity! That is the key to success.

I really appreciate your concern, but I have a boyfriend and lots of other friends to count on

Good for you - but let me ask you this. Are these friends truly able to empathise with your situation? And even if so, what could you possibly lose from giving me the chance of showing my own potential as a friend? Besides, it irks me a lot when females hide behind their boyfriends, to avoid facing the importance of having reliable friends in your life. A boyfriend cannot substitute what influence your friends have on your life. Because believe it or not, there are some personal issues that you'd much rather discuss with your friends than with your boyfriend. A lover is not like an über friend that covers all your needs. He plays a completely different role in your life. Don't be afraid of putting faith in new friends and test their skills in friendship. Because not every friend if a good listener by default. I actually have the impression that most friends would rather not get too involved with your problems.

I don't share things with friends I only know online

Why? Try as you might, you won't find any valid reason for not opening up to an online friend. Because no matter if we live hundreds of miles away or right around the corner, we are all living people and not just text on the screen. Sometimes, you may actually find it easier to share pain with someone over text, since eye contact shatters courage and leaves you stuttering. It's easier to be yourself when you don't have to gaze into someone's eyes and wonder what they think about what you say. If you've given an online friend time and space to prove his loyalty, give it a try. True friends can be found all over the world, and it's not neccesary for you to see them face to face, to know that they'll stand by your side for an eternity. When friends chat online, it's actually easier to focus on their true qualities, which is found in their hearts and personalities. Why? Because you'll have less focus on their physical appearence, and you won't be obstructed by enevitable nervousness. It's easier to be your true self. And then it's up to you to judge, whether if the friend you talk to can be trusted or not. But at the very least, give him a chance.

We haven't known eachother very long yet, so be patient

Oooooh, you have no idea how often I get this. But I can accept this, and if my friends need more time to get to know me, I respect this wholeheartedly. But unfortunately, I've noticed that I end up getting the same reply even months after we met. So that's when I start asking myself, when have we known eachother long enough to trust eaqchother? That is quite relative, you know. To some people, the friendship apparently has to be decades old before you actually start acting like friends. And rushed as it may sound, life is just too short for that. People have often whacked me in the head with a stick for trusting too fast. But from the way I see it, true friends just know that they'll be friends for life, possibly from the first day thet meet. On the other hand, if two people that are definitely NOT going to get along are united, they will also sense the sparks from the very first day. Some friendships take time to evolve, some does not. But when months pass by and you don't do anything to make the friendship evolve, then I say it's just not worth it. I hate to sound cold and cruel, but life is just too short for friendships that bear no promise of blossoming. So if I sense that a friendship isn't going anywhere... then I call it a dud.

I really appreciate that you want to protect me, but I don't want people to think I'm weak

This is a thought that I would wish never crossed anyone's mind. There is no weakness to be found in depending on others. I personally consider it a sign of strength and bravery, when people can find the courage to trust someone else to that extend. In this world, there are two kinds of people - Those that need to protect and those that need to BE protected. When these two types of people are united, they play their given role and completes eachother. But unfortunately, it seems like those people who need to be protected are either hiding or refuse to accept their role, because they think it makes appear weak in the eyes of others.

---

These are the most common responses I get. There are many more, but these are the only ones I find neccesary to highlight. People may think that it's a nice gesture and all, that I want to protect my friends and treat women so chivalrously. But what they don't understand is, it's not just a favor that I am offering. I NEED females to protect. Being a guardian plays a significant role in my whole identity, and since so incredibly few females are willing to let me protect them as a guardian, I stand back with a protective instinct that is severely understimulated. That is the source of all the frustration I have experienced lately. Despite being transgendered, I treat women like a "gentleman" and hope to stand as an inspiration for men to do the same. Women deserve all the love, care and respect that they can get. And before someone approaches me with the usual "gurlz r nawt purfect! Dey can b bad 2!" YES! YES I KNOW! You don't have to tell me. I'd really appreciate if you don't. Because yes, bad people exist among females too. And trust me, I've met many coldhearted bitches during my search for female friends. So to make this whole journal a bit more specific, my desire of protecting females does only apply to those that are worth it, girls that aren't downright hideous in heart and personality. If someone treats me like dirt, they get no love from me. And that counts for men AND ladies. But you know, I had a long personal talk with someone extremely special to me, and she said something wise that left me thinking. She said that I was like a noble soul ripped out of the medieval times, and born into a world where my sense of chivalry is neither needed or appreciated. The sad thing is, she is absolutely right in that statement. So if we look beside the fact that I stand back with an understimulated need to protect, I've been asking myself this question - Am I nothing more than a shadow from the past that has become obsolete?

Full name: Raksasha Arajah
Specie: Hyena
Age: 29 years old
Gender: Female
Class: Barbarian
2nd Class: Berserker
Weapon: Giant axe
Armor: Loincloth/brassard

Strength ◙ ◙ ◙ ◙ ◙
Defense ◙ ◙ ◙
Dexterity ◙
Endurance ◙ ◙ ◙ ◙
Agility ◙ ◙
Magical ◙

- Abilities -

Halfmoon slash ~ With her enormous axe in hand, Raksasha’s fearsome power can cause damage over great distance. When her weapon is swung horizontally, she can occasionally strike multiple enemies with one blow. Smaller enemies are exceptionally vulnerable to this attack, especially if caught off guard. But quick foes will find it easy to dodge.

Resistance ~ The proud people of the southern deserts are born and raised in a harsh environment, and have their bodies molded by the raw wilderness. Because of this, barbarians like Raksasha have developed a natural resistance against the devastating elements, which will prove especially useful when facing a spellcaster in combat.

Earthquake ~ When surrounded and outnumbered in combat, Raksasha can occasionally send overwhelming tremors through the ground with a mighty stomp, which will stun every enemy in the area temporarily. But once her tremendous strength increases, her stomp will become powerful enough to shatter the ground, causing cracks to arch and bring great damage to friend and foe alike. The cracks arch randomly and out of control. This ability requires the promotion to berserker.

Buffalo Rage ~ A true barbarian is recognized by being lethal at all times, with and without a weapon. By using her formidable size and weight, Raksasha can charge forward and ram into crowds of smaller enemies, knocking them out of her way effectively. This move doesn't cause a significant amount of damage, but every toppled enemy will be left vulnerable and open for attacks. When this move is initiated, her allies would do well in staying alert and not standing in her way.

Devastating Rampage ~ Once the female barbarian's strength reaches phenomenally high levels, she will become capable of interacting with the surrounding environment, and turn it against her enemies as weapons of mass destruction. Large boulders, massive tree logs and many other objects can suddenly be raised and hurled against hostile opponents. Nearby friends and allies had better stay alert, in case if her aim is a little inaccurate. This ability requires the promotion to berserker.

Anthem of Dol'Krathos ~ By calling upon the divine power of the war god Dol'Krathos, Raksasha can release an earthshaking roar that not only intimidates the enemies, but also affects her surrounding allies. Every ally who listens to this feral war cry will find their minds clouded by a thick fog of bloodlust, eliminating all traces of fear. Affected allies will attack their foes with increased strength, but their maniacal frenzy leaves them vulnerable with lowered defense rates. The divine strength of Dol'Krathos pumps in their veins, launching them into a ferocious fight to the death. This ability requires the promotion to berserker.

- Background -

Like a gorgeous desert rose blooming in the endless deserts of Sanathir, a giant female barbarian by the name Raksasha rises above the sandy dunes, with her large and muscular body casting an intimidating shadow across the scorching plains. Having been born and raised as a member of the clan Wak’Nathol, Raksasha turned out to be one of the few females fortunate enough to survive and grow up. The clans of barbarians inhabiting the deserts of Sanathir, are heavily overpopulated by muscled men, who find pride in bloodshed and warfare. To these primitive warmongers, a persons status is determined by how well he excels in combat. Strong warriors who have survived multiple battles are honored like heroes, and during every feast, the men can spend hours talking about the tales connected with the scars around their bodies. If someone boasts too confidently about his skills in combat, someone will inevitably become tempted to challenge him, which usually leads to a violent brawl. Barbarians are feisty men with a short fuse, so it doesn’t take many insults before things get rowdy. But despite of the broken bones and bruises, they enjoy every opportunity they can get to arrange a fight. During peaceful times, it can quickly become too quiet and dull for a barbarian to cope with, and they worry about their abilities in combat getting rusty. So the random brawls are more or less accepted within the clans, as it stimulates their desires to prove themselves in combat, and the additional training keeps them prepared in case if a war erupted.

Although the barbarian clans throughout the southern deserts often wage wars against eachother, shedding blood to prove dominance in combat and conquer uncharted territory, they all share a cultural lack of respect for the feminine gender. Since physical prowess play such a significant role within this primitive society, most of the male barbarians consider females to be the inferior gender, as they're convinced that not even the almighty Dol’Krathos can turn a woman into a decent warrior. The burly men frown at females, and some even claim that their sole purpose of existing, is to ensure the survival of their people and raise the children, while the men head into war or defend their fortresses in the desert. The women are also responsible for preparing the many feasts, while the men just have to stuff their faces and keep themselves entertained. These ruthless barbarians don’t do much in relationships and commitment. But when a man is overwhelmed by a sudden urge to support the survival of his race, he’ll search the camp for a mature and fertile woman, fit to carry his offspring in her womb. There will be no romance, seduction or even foreplay. If a man approaches a woman and asks her to submit her body to him, she is expected to give in to his demands. Refusing will result in the woman being shunned by her fellow barbarians, for not showing interest in honoring her purpose of existing. Some men will not take no for an answer, so if the woman resists, she’ll be dragged into a dark corner and become violently raped. Among the small popularity of females, there is a high rate of pregnancy. But due to the woman’s role in this society, many children are heartlessly strangled to death shortly after their birth, if they came out as a female. The mothers would much rather raise a boy to become a proud barbarian warrior, than a girl to become an obedient slave. Only few mothers keep their newborn daughters, if their hearts are too sensitive to strangle something so vulnerable and innocent.

Raksasha Arajah is one of the few females who were fortunate enough to be born by a compassionate mother, willing to raise her child in this harsh environment. Just like most other children within the barbarian clans, regardless of gender, she has never met her father. After having left her mother pregnant, he just went off and disappeared in the crowd, leaving the whole responsibility in the mothers hands. It had become a standard for male barbarians to neglect parenting, as it would only distract them from their primary goals in life, which was to become great warriors and earn respective ranks within their clans. As Raksasha grew up and turned into an adult woman herself, she questioned the logic behind female inferiority, which eventually developed a strong emotion of contempt towards the male barbarians. She resented them for what they had forced the females to endure for decades, and her rebellious personality made her choose the path of becoming a defender of womanhood. Despite having the odds against her, she hoped that she would one day find a way to convince her people, that the many barbarian colonies would benefit from accepting gender equality. It became her ambition to unite her people, and open their eyes for the true potentials of womanhood. But Raksasha was quite aware, that it would take more than words alone to alter the minds of these barbaric brutes.

Driven by her own determination, she chose a different method of protesting against the gender discrimination. For months and years, Raksasha often left her clan and plunged into the vast desert of Sanathir, where she trained her own body inside a ruined temple. Having been born with an unusually large body structure, her bulgy muscles eventually grew formidably strong, turning her into a fearsome behemoth that few could match in battle. Her impressive strength made her lethal with pretty much any type of weapon, but she always felt drawn towards massive weapons of great weight, capable of causing severe destruction. Although her muscles became so heavy and cumbersome that it decreased her natural flexibility, her physical prowess improved so significantly that she was arguably the most powerful warrior within the clan Wak'Nathol. The male barbarians noticed her progress and were intimidated by her overwhelming strength. For the first time in decades, they were facing the conflict of not knowing how to judge a woman. By nature, a part of them wanted to respect her for having become so impressively powerful. But their cultural tendency to demean the feminine gender, left them reluctant to express their excitement. Raksasha's great plan backfired a little, as the situation took an unexpected turn. Since the male barbarians were too stubborn to respect her efforts, they decided to shamefully alienate her, by calling her "the female freak who wanted to be a man". They wanted to keep believing that physical prowess was a trait solely reserved for men. But no one ever dared to confront Raksasha with these opinions, so it was only revealed in slanderous talk behind her back. Either way, Raksasha was certainly not the most convenient victim, when someone was feeling randy and needed a woman to satisfy his needs. The male barbarians were quick to realize, that attempting to have forced intercourse with that woman would result in being severely mutilated, or maybe even brutally killed.

The first major conflict that significantly threatened Raksasha's dream of standing up for womanhood, turned out to be the dreadful day where the proud chieftain of Wak'Nathol was slain in combat, during a fearsome war that left their fortress under siege. The reckless forces of the clan known as Bael'Thalas, had fixed their eyes on Wak’Nathol and desired to conquer their colony, to pillage their humble encampment for resources, provision and other valuable supplies. Due to having their own encampment located much deeper into the desert of Sanathir, the clan Bael’Thalas was unable to trade with people across the border. Instead of going through the trouble of moving their camp closer to the border, they decided to besiege other clans by force, to plunder their storage of resources. Although struggling with a constant burden of low resources, the forces of Bael’Thalas are recognized for being highly effective in offense, and every barbarian feared to encounter these brutes in combat. During the war against Wak’Nathol, they eventually penetrated the sturdy defenses of the fortress, and stormed the camp through the broken gate. But even after hours of intense battle, the heroic chieftain Harkan had organized a last stand against the forces of Bael’Thalas, attacking the ferocious invaders with a small group of no more than thirty battle worn men. This was the last chance for Wak’Nathol to protect their colony, and despite being significantly outnumbered, they fought bravely with Harkan left in charge of leading the surviving warriors. Equipped with his gigantic axe, the chieftain struck terror in the hearts of every opponent that came too close, and the sharp blade of the axe became stained by the blood of more than a hundred strong men. But before the war against Bael’Thalas was concluded, Harkan was eventually brought down, after having endured four volleys of arrows. The barbarians of Wak’Nathol offered their fallen chieftain an honorable burial, and had their last memories of his glory in combat live on in tales, as no one wanted to forget how he kept fighting with dozens of arrows stuck in his massive body. His heroism became an inspiration to all the survivors.

The death of Harkan was a great loss for Wak'Nathol, but his defeat struck Raksasha the hardest. Despite feeling home at the battlefield with his body stained by the blood of fallen enemies, just like any other barbarian throughout the southern deserts, he was the only man that expressed interest in accepting gender equality. Once Raksasha begun her training, she drew Harkan's attention and he kept a sharp eye on her progress. Without having shared a single conversation together, the wise chieftain figured out the reasons on his own, behind her choice of training so intensely to become muscular and powerful. And one day, he decided to confront her in public to pay his respects, and encourage her to never give up on fighting for her goals. He decided to confront her in public intentionally, as he hoped that the barbarians around them would eavesdrop to their conversation, and realize that their own chieftain was against the prejudices that had haunted their clans for decades. But unfortunately, despite that he was loved by his people, no one were inspired to adopt his respect for women. Even so, Raksasha was baffled and touched by the fact that a man supported her cause. Having earned her trust, this approach marked the beginning of a strong bond between Harkan and Raksasha, making her acknowledge him as a worthy leader.

After the heroic chieftain of Wak’Nathol had been buried in his stony tomb, Raksasha dropped into a severe state of depression, which decreased her motivation to the point where she almost gave up on her goals. At the same time, the clan Wak’Nathol was in turmoil because of having no chieftain to organize their colony. Chaos erupted, rage were expressed in loud arguments and the disagreement lead to segregation. Every barbarian wanted to claim the unoccupied responsibility of being the new chieftain, and they attempted to settle their disagreement with earthshaking matches to the death, taking place in their underground arena. But before this whole conflict was solved, a very mysterious person appeared out of nowhere, an unusually short and puny man named Thorshak. Despite his unimpressive shape, his high-pitched voice drew people’s attention long enough for him to explain the interruption. He claimed to be a sacred servant of Dol’Krathos, the legendary god of war that barbarians worship, send to lead them through these dark ages as their new chieftain. The barbarians laughed till their lungs were about to burst, and just pushed the gnome out of their way. Thorshak was insulted by this disrespectful treatment and shouted in rage. He cursed the clan with a dark prophecy that within the course of seven days, Dol’Krathos would harvest the souls of the three strongest warriors in camp, as a punishment for rejecting their new chieftain chosen by fate. No one was really concerned about this prophecy at first, and shrugged it off as an empty threat. But during the fifth day, a major feast was held in the barbarian longhouse, and something unexpected occurred. While everyone was attempting to cool down their tempers by eating like swine, the three most powerful warriors in camp were suddenly struck by an unexplainable seizure, causing them to collapse onto the ground with froth covering their mouths. Their bodies shook intensely and their eyes rolled back until the irises were lost in white. They all passed away.

For the first time in ages, the barbarians got the taste of true fear. The prophecy was real. Gregor, Brock and Helghan were dead - just like Thorshak had foreseen. The barbarians were terrified and came crawling back to the midget with the sharp tongue, begging him to forgive their earlier mistake of rejecting him so mindlessly. He was willing to give them a second chance, if they promised to acknowledge him as their new leader, without causing any further fuss about it. In fear of facing the rage of Dol'Krathos again, they saw no other option but to let Thorshak become their new Chieftain. No more than a few months later, this election was proven to have multiple bad omens attached to it, leading the already battered clan of Wak'Nathol towards a dark fate. Thorshak turned out to be a cruel tyrant, keeping his people suppressed by fear. The brave barbarians were nothing more than pawns in a game for him, and he would send them into needless combat at any given opportunity, just to harvest the valuable spoils of war. Around half a year after the election, a young maiden suddenly opened up about a dark secret, that she had kept to herself since Thorshak became their chieftain. She was one of the women in charge of arranging the feast, that the barbarians were enjoying before the sudden death of Brock, Gregor and Helghan. And she claimed that she had found traces of venom in their food, extracted from a dreadful "Death stalker", a highly poisonous scorpion that inhabits the deserts of Sanathir. But unfortunately, since this information was brought to them by a lowly maiden, it was pushed off the table and nailed down as a unproven rumor. Things became even worse when Thorshak directed his focus to Raksasha, who was still trapped in a state of depression. He knew exactly how to take advantage of her condition, and reduce the risk of experiencing a riot. By aiming at her already broken self-esteem, he manipulated her into thinking of herself as a twisted freak, deformed by her own desire to be respected like a man. But if she was willing to submit herself to him as a slave, and keep him protected from rebellious enemies, no one would dare mock her anymore. While shedding the first tear of her life, she accepted his offer, as she was now convinced that this was her sole purpose of existing - To be an inferior beast of burden and target for tyranny. She gave up the will to fight. The magnificent desert rose had dropped it's petals and withered away, as the once rebellious and determined female barbarian had been tamed. So the question remains, will anything be able to once again make her blossom, or does this mark the tragic end of Raksasha Arajah's pride?

This is 6 out of 7 character profiles, that will be created for my story "Medieval Cohesion".

Full name: Archimedes Kastellos
Specie: Ring-tailed lemur
Age: 34 years old
Gender: Male
Class: Mage/Lich
2nd Class: Archmage/Archlich
Weapon: Tome of Demise
Armor: Mantle

Strength ◙
Defense ◙ ◙
Dexterity ◙ ◙ ◙
Endurance ◙
Agility ◙ ◙ ◙
Magical ◙ ◙ ◙ ◙ ◙

- Abilities -

Elemental Wizardry ~ Archimedes has successfully mastered the element of fire, ice and lightning. As a highly potent spellcaster, he is capable of conjuring powerful spells shaped by these elements, that can cause massive damage to one or more enemies. Some enemies can be resistant or even immune to certain kinds of elements. Archimedes will gain access to more devastating spells, once his class has been promoted.

Transformation ~ Due to the dreadful curse of corruption, that has infested the soul of Archimedes, he can occasionally transform into the dark figure of a hideous lich. During the beginning of his journey, his undead side will only be revealed in rays of moonlight, and cannot be triggered manually. When transformed, Archimedes can no longer cast elemental magic, but will have access to a dark library of death magic.

Claws of Death ~ Most spellcasters rely too much on their magic, and prove to be completely helpless in melee combat. But if the need arises, Archimedes can force his bony claws to grow significantly, becoming razor sharp and increasing his efficiency in melee combat temporarily. The claws are particularly useful when his energy is depleted. This ability can only be used as a lich, and requires the promotion to Archlich.

Teleportation ~ To those that have mastered the magic elements, it is convenient to also manipulate time itself. With this ability, Archimedes can transfer his bodily presence from one location to the other, within a matter of seconds. This spell is excellent for evasion, but can become exhausting if used too many times in a row. Additionally, Archimedes can often access places, that are out of reach for other characters.

Winds of War ~ During his journey with the other adventurers, Archimedes will occasionally be introduced to the element of wind, an arcane power that has been neglected because of its erratic behavior. By manipulating the wind to summon great storms and tornados, Archimedes can cause great damage to larger groups of enemies. But in the hands of an inexperienced wizard, the destruction may strike friend and foe alike. This ability is first available, when Archimedes has obtained the special item, known as the "Heart of Christella"

Plague ~ The highest ranking menaces of the undead empire, stand as the greatest fear among all living creatures, as they become bringers of the "Black Death". After having evolved, Archimedes can summon an utmost lethal cloud of bacterial fumes, that are guaranteed to infect any and every living creature that makes physical contact with it. Undead units are immune to this ability, but every living unit that becomes infected, will suffer a cruel and tormenting death over short time. This ability requires the promotion to Archlich.

- Background -

Archimedes has always been a man veiled in mystery, and not much is known about his past. The few people that has shown interest in getting to know him, found it disturbingly difficult to break the ice, as he is very reluctant with becoming personally involved with others. He is a loner by nature, who carry out his own ambitions in solitude. Nobody seems to have any idea where he came from. Nor does anybody know where he is going next. Archimedes is the kind of person who prefers to keep conversations short. He will never say more than utmost necessary, and usually only speaks when being spoken to. Back in his youth, he developed an unhealthy desire for power. The reason behind this desire for power remains unknown. But since he is a ring-tailed lemur, a specie brought dangerously close to extinction, people believed that he simply sought power to ensure his own survival. Having been born with a natural talent, associated with the conjuration of arcane powers, Archimedes studied at the magic academy in the city of Zaldorama. He spend years studying, absorbing all the knowledge he could from the library. And due to his burning desire to reach his goal, Archimedes eventually surpassed the skills of his highly respected mentor, the grand wizard Sylvanis Hanx. Everyone applauded his success, and his old mentor proudly presented him as one of the top students. But even after having mastered the elements of magic, Archimedes didn’t feel the satisfaction that he was searching for. There were too many magicians out there, with powers equal to his own. He realized that the only way to become truly superior, would be to embrace the forbidden art of black magic, that only few mortals were able to fathom - the arcane powers of death and suffering.

But the dreadful black magic was not available for every fool throughout the world, who happened to desire it. Spells of darkness were only used by the notorious lich king Zervas, and the high ranking liches that served him. And if Archimedes wanted to obtain the knowledge of how to conjure black magic, he would need to steal the unholy Tome of Demise, the ancient book that contained all spells related to death. It was said, that the text written in the tome, was only visible to he who claimed to be its owner. To anyone else, the pages would appear blank, keeping the secrets reserved for he who desires it most. Everyone knew the location of the ancient tome, but few possessed the courage to obtain it, or the will to own such a dark artifact. Rumors claimed that the book was cursed, and that any mortal foolish enough to touch it, would become doomed to face a tragic fate. But Archimedes ignored these rumors, as he refused to let such superstitious bogus become an obstacle, for him to claim this significant power as his own. He knew the tome was kept in Lord Zervas’ dark library, inside the western tower of his gigantic fortress. But to get anywhere near this ancient artifact, Archimedes needed to turn a new stone, and master a skill that came unnatural for a wizard - the art of stealth. And he had no interest in settling with the second best instructor. With much difficulty, Archimedes sought out and located the traveling thief, going by the name Gary Jenkins. It took him no less than eight months to find the elusive scoundrel, but his search finally came to an end, after having tracked him down in the small village called Chalief. The aged thief had years of experience in stealth, and despite of his numerous crimes, no one had ever succeeded in bringing him to justice. He was arguably the most talented thief alive.

Gary Jenkins found it incredibly surprising, that someone had crossed fields and cliffs to find him, without having the intention of claiming the bounty on his head. His confusion increased even further once he learned, that the gloomy sorcerer wished to become his apprentice, to practice the art of stealth and theft. Gary seemed amused by the absurdity, connected with a renegade wizard interested in criminality. Because of this, he accepted Archimedes as his apprentice, and agreed to share his knowledge. Training a wizard for theft and stealth, was a unique challenge that the old thief just couldn’t let go. A couple of years later, Archimedes had absorbed all the knowledge that he was able to comprehend, and felt ready to continue his quest. Gary was still by far the superior thief, but Archimedes was willing to roll the dice, and challenge the dark fortress with the new abilities he had learned. Completely alone, Archimedes located the fortress of Lord Zervas and snuck inside, disguised as a cloaked necromancer. With his face hidden under the dark hood, he blended into the crowd of restless undead, and silently infiltrated the dreadful necropolis. Being closer to death than he ever dreamed of, he eventually made his way into the western tower, and found the artifact he sought in the library. It was the repulsive Tome of Demise, the key to Lord Zervas’ supremacy, the book containing all the dark spells capable of mass destruction. Archimedes grabbed the artifact with no hesitation, before making a swift escape without looking back.

Having left the wicked lich king behind in rage, Archimedes fled from the dark fortress located in the spiritual realm, with the Tome of Demise in possession. Elated by his own success, Archimedes returned to a safe and familiar environment, where he studied the contents of the ancient book. Months went by, and the wizard completely isolated himself from all social contact, while exploring the tome thoroughly. The text was written in an ancient language, that people thought was lost a few centuries ago. But Archimedes was able to translate it, although the process turned out to be very time consuming. The wizard was completely absorbed into his research, and were slow to realize that he had undergone mysterious changes, that evolved ever since he got involved with that tome. His need for rest gradually decreased, until he one day stopped sleeping at all. He completely forgot to eat and drink for days, since there was no hunger or thirst to remind him. Something was definitely not right. But the changes didn't distract him from his research, before he realized that his heart had stopped pounding. He suddenly became extremely self aware, and noticed that he had stopped breathing without thinking about it. His lungs hadn't inhaled fresh oxygen for days, maybe even weeks, but he was still alive. It felt highly unnatural, and he was alarmed by these unnerving signs. Despite his eager to continue his studies, he knew this would be foolish to ignore. Memories eventually returned to his mind, of the rumors attached to the Tome of Demise. Could he really be under the influence of a dark curse? He refused to believe it at first. But the power and immortality he obtained, might have come with a steep price, that not even Archimedes was willing to pay.

Regardless of what was going on, Archimedes refused to back out of his research, now that he had gone so far to obtain the Tome of Demise. But he decided to take a minor break, and distance himself from the ancient book for a few days. But once he had been separated from the tome for just a half day, it felt like all his energy withered away, as if an invisible force was drawing him close to death. He didn't recover before he had returned, and once again had the mysterious book within his reach. This is when he noticed, that it wasn't he who possessed the tome - it was the tome that possessed him. Somehow, a dark link had been created between Archimedes and the Tome of Demise, forcing him to keep it close at all times. Could this be the hideous curse, that everyone had been babbling about? The last traces of doubt came to an end, when Archimedes one night had a ray of moonlight enter the window, of his lonesome cottage in the mountains. His entire body altered before his eyes, and for the first time, he witnessed his own flesh melting away to reveal his true form. While gazing upon his own skeletal hands, he finally realized that the tome was slowly turning him into an undead lich, by corrupting his soul over time. This was a major setback for Archimedes. It was difficult to estimate how long it would take, for this transformation to be complete. But he knew that it was only a matter of time, before this undead form would manifest itself, and turn him into another mindless servant of Zervas. The curse had to be lifted, and time was working against him.

Archimedes abandoned his studies and started investigating, if there were any possible methods of removing this dreadful curse, before his time had expired. He had no interest in becoming a lifeless apparition, being nothing but a manipulated puppet in the hands of the lich king. But unfortunately, even after having read countless books and ancient scrolls, he only managed to locate one theory of how to lift the curse. The only documented suggestion, was to destroy the very same person who created the curse, being no other than Lord Zervas himself. If that didn't work, then nothing would. Since the lich king was recognized for being the most powerful being on earth, Archimedes knew that his fate was sealed, especially if he attempted to challenge Zervas and his forces of undead alone. But nevertheless, Archimedes decided to embark on a lonesome journey, to lift the curse or die trying. With the Tome of Demise in hand, he had a score to settle with the lich king, for having placed this hideous mark of doom upon him. Unaware what dangers lurked ahead, Archimedes kept studying the contents of the ancient tome while traveling, in hopes of being prepared for the final battle that awaits. It became his newfound ambition to master the devastating spells of death, and one day use them against Lord Zervas himself, to send him back to the infernal abyss from which he came. Despite of the malicious curse threatening to corrupt his soul, Archimedes has always felt compelled to protect the weak, and use his dark powers in the name of good. Deep down, he is not a bad person. But with every passing day, the unholy corruption alters him further, until he becomes trapped in the undead form forever. Can he manage to release himself from the curse in time, or is he destined to face his own allies in war as a relentless lich?

This is 5 out of 7 character profiles, that will be created for my story "Medieval Cohesion".

Full name: Zephyr Dreadwing
Specie: Fruit Bat
Age: 23 years old
Gender: Male
Class: Warrior
2nd Class: Guardian
Weapon: Spear
Armor: Tribal clothes

Strength ◙ ◙ ◙ ◙
Defense ◙ ◙
Dexterity ◙ ◙ ◙
Endurance ◙ ◙ ◙ ◙
Agility ◙ ◙ ◙
Magical ◙

- Abilities -

Impale ~ By utilizing his formidable strength, Zephyr is capable of penetrating all defenses of a man-sized enemy, bringing certain death with a single thrust. Taking time to perform, this attack is best used in small fights, where the battlefield isn't too crowded. Impaling a foe requires a large and durable spear, as any ordinary spear would break.

Spear Throw ~ Every fighter who desires to excel in combat, should always have some type of ranged attack prepared. If the need arises, Zephyr can throw his mighty spear over great distances, to deliver a deadly blow from far away. It's especially useful against flying opponents. He'll be forced to fight unarmed, until his spear has been successfully retrieved, from whichever opponent he targeted.

Guard ~ A true warrior is not only measured by his ability to destroy enemy units, but also to defend his own allies. Once he has gotten more in touch with his ancient instincts, Zephyr will be able to sense danger before it strikes, even when it's directed towards an ally. Being able to predict incoming attacks, Zephyr can sometimes guard a friend in peril, to block the attack or absorb the blow with his own body. This ability requires the promotion to guardian.

Sonar Waves ~ With a swift slash from his mighty wings, Zephyr can release a powerful sonar wave, that can destroy weaker undead units or temporarily stun a living enemy. This attack is only available, during situations where he is unarmed, as the motions cannot be performed while wielding a weapon. The waves have a short radius of effect, but can give Zephyr an advantage in tight situations.

Flight ~ Being the only winged member of the fellowship, Zephyr is gifted with the ability to fly, although only over short distances during the beginning of their journey. Once having advanced from being a simple warrior, he will learn to remain airborne, bringing death to his enemies from above. If his wings are damaged too severely, it may seize his opportunity to fly. This ability requires the promotion to guardian.

Spear Mastery ~ Having been raised by the tribe of Ranakhan, the young fruitbat has been forced to become a hunter, earning his stay by bringing food to his people. The many years of hunting, has improved his efficiency in combat, when equipped with a sharp spear. Due to his impressive strength, a humongous spear was designed, that only he can wield. With this highly superior weapon, Zephyr can pierce flesh and crush bones, with mighty thrusts that only few can endure.

Revenge ~ With his improved reflexes and evasion, Zephyr can occasionally dodge an incoming attack, and immediately release a devastating retaliation while the enemy's guard is down. The counter attack will inevitably cause a significant amount of damage, often leading to certain death. During intense battles, performing too many retaliations in a row, will drain Zephyr's energy and lower his defense rates. This ability requires the promotion to guardian.

- Background -

During the ancient days of history, taking place in the first stages of the Middle Ages, the clans of fruitbats used to co-exist with the tribes of Niévahna. Despite that the bats have always preferred to make their homes in caves and treetops, many of them had moved into the camps, to live in unity with the peaceful tribals. The harmony between the clans and tribes persisted, until the fated day came, where the dreadful Necropolis threatened the forest of Niévahna for the first time. The dark empire of Lord Zervas had grown and expanded considerably, and a great war was approaching. His legions of undead had yet to discover the hidden tribes of Niévahna, but this war would inevitably become so extensive, that even they could’ve been forced to prepare for battle. The great council of elders were gathered, to discuss how the tribes should respond to this issue. Among the elders, were four members from the clans of fruitbats, that were invited to take part in the meeting. Every elder who met up for the meeting, represented the opinions spoken by the particular tribes from which they came. Few tribes showed interest in challenging the forces of death, as they suspected that the lich king was only hostile, towards the outsiders clad in metal plates. Most of the tribes agreed, that the best choice would be to remain hidden, and only prepare for war if the outsiders were defeated. But once the elders from the clans of fruitbats spoke, the entire council was left silenced, as they brought a despicable suggestion, that lead to their ties of alliance being destroyed.

All four elders from the Mokadiém clans, agreed that submission was the most convenient option at hand. If the legions of undead were to discover their sacred forest, the clans of fruitbats would stand ready to join forces with the dark empire of Lord Zervas, to ensure their own survival. They even suggested, that the proud tribes of Niévahna should consider doing the same, as they didn’t stand a chance against the restless armies of undead. A great quarrel took place inside their tent, which ignited a flame of rage, that eventually caused commotion in the entire camp. Friendships were cleaved by sharp words of anger, people became rowdy, and the chaos persisted for the rest of the afternoon. Even if being greatly outnumbered, the sacred tribes of Niévahna would never even consider joining the forces of death, and it was forbidden to contemplate such dark decisions. No one had ever dared to suggest something this outrageous before, and as a result, the clans of Mokadiém were exiled into the mountains. Every single fruitbat was chased out of the forest, and if anyone refused to leave voluntarily, their lives would be instantly forfeit. Ever since that day, the clans of Mokadiém have dwelled in the mountains surrounding the forest of Niévahna, forced to live in the dark caves and tunnels. The elders that took part in the meeting are long dead, but even after several generations, the banishment still remains. Tales about the exiled clans became more dramatic as time passed by, and every time the story was told, it strayed even more from the truth. During more modern times, the twisted story had lead people to fear the clans dwelling in the mountains, as they were now considered enemies of the living. The sight of a fruitbat would strike fear in the heart of every man, as they were believed to be loyal servants, of the notorious Lord Zervas.

Almost a century later, after the banishment took place, something unexpected happened that left the tribes in turmoil. A boy by the age of nine, belonging to the clans of Mokadiém, had been separated from his parents. The young fruitbat had been exploring the rocky outdoors, leaving the dark caverns without permission. Once he moved too close to the edge, a careless footstep caused the ground to collapse underneath him, and he fell halfway down the cliff. His small wings softened the fall, preventing him from being seriously injured. The boy was bruised from the fall, and left with tears in his eyes. Unfortunately, his wings were still too small to handle flight, and the rocky wall was too moist to climb. He called for help, but received no reply. In the end, it became clear to him that the only option available, was to climb further down and enter the forest of Niévahna. But his parents had warned him against ever entering that sacred place. It was said to be a forbidden area for the clans of Mokadiém, and the boy would never have trespassed into the forest on purpose. But there was no turning back now. He hoped that his black fur, would make it easier to remain hidden in the shadows of the woods.

A couple of days went by, and the boy was starving. He had been feeding on berries and wild beetles, but that wasn't nearly enough to keep him nourished. His body was weakening, and he had yet to encounter another person within the woods. But before he succumbed to his own hunger, he was discovered by a group of tribal hunters, who were quite surprised to find a fruitbat in these woods. They were kind enough to offer him a dead rabbit, that had recently been caught, and the boy accepted the meal gratefully. Despite of the inevitable complications, they decided to bring the boy with them home, to the tribe of Ranakhan. And just as expected, the young fruitbat wasn't exactly greeted by hospitality. His presence drew a lot of attention, and within a short time, the people approached and gathered around him. Most of the men were armed with spears or bows, and he certainly didn't like the hostile look in their eyes. The hunters attempted to explain the situation, but within a few minutes, a quarrel begun about the boy's fate. Many wanted to see him punished, for breaking the ancient law of banishment. But there were a few that stood up for the boy, especially the women within the camp, since they claimed it would be cruel to hurt a child like that. The argument bounced back and forth, until something unexpected happened. A young wolf pushed his way through the crowd, seemingly only a few years older than the fruitbat. Deceived by the wolf's long hair, and his body coated with brightly pink fur, the boy thought it was a young girl. But despite the highly feminine appearance, it turned out to be a male nonetheless. When this cub stepped into the open, everyone was suddenly silenced, and the argument was temporarily paused. They all stared at the pink canine.

The poor boy was shaken, and certainly didn't enjoy to be at the mercy of these rowdy tribals. But during the brief moment of silence, the pink cub approached the boy, until he was standing right in front of him. He gazed deeply into the boy's eyes, while squinting his own, as if the rays of sunlight bothered him. It felt like he stared directly into his soul. Then his sight scrolled down to the boy's feet, before returning to his face, making it clear that he was being examined. Then the most unthinkable happened. The pink cub turned around to face the crowd, and requested politely, that the fruitbat should be released and go unpunished. He even wanted the boy to stay in the camp, and be treated as one of their own. Judged by the expressions on their faces, people were not particularly excited about this request. But it was clear to see, that this cub's words had great influence on the final decision. Despite of the argument earlier, they all obeyed this mysterious wolf, and offered the boy a safe home with the tribe of Ranakhan. The boy was reluctant to accept this offer, as he really wanted to go home. But for some reason, he was overwhelmed by a strong desire, to learn more about this wolf that probably saved his life. And that opportunity would be lost forever, if he declined the offer.

The young fruitbat decided to stay with the tribe of Ranakhan, but despite having agreed with letting him hang around, no one offered him a home. He became a loner, spending every night in the tall treetops, sleeping upside down above their camp. But he didn't really mind. Because as time passed by, a strong and unique type of friendship blossomed, between him and the only person he wanted to know - the pink wolf, that protected him against the tribe's rage. He didn't even need to ask for his name, because the pink cub was apparently a very common topic, within this tribal camp. Everyone spoke about him. His name was apparently Sinqularis Lupus. And by eavesdropping to the gossip passing around, it didn't take long for the young fruitbat, to figure out why this cub was so popular. According to the rumors, Sinqularis was a sacred person chosen by Gaia, and he had been witnessed to wield ancient spiritual magic. He was clearly destined to grow up, and become the next shaman and spiritual leader, to the tribes of Ranakhan. But regardless of his divine background, the young fruitbat sensed something else in this pink canine, that awakened an ancient instinct to protect. By this time, people thought that the Mokadiéms had completely abandoned all sense of honor, and submitted themselves to the eternal darkness. But Sinqularis had touched this young fruitbat in a way, which brought him in touch with the courage and heroism, that once made his clans reputable. He had never met a person so compassionate, empathetic, soft and enchanting. Once their bond of friendship evolved, the pink wolf even made glorious appearances in his dreams at night. This convinced him that it was a stroke of destiny, that lead their paths to be intertwined. So the fruitbat made an oath, that he dedicated his whole life to keep.

He swore to watch over Sinqularis like a guardian, keeping him protected to the end of time, and never stray from his side. The pink canine saved his life, for reasons that he didn't find necessary to understand. He alone stood up for the young fruitbat, despite of the dark rumors connected with his race, when everyone else was ready to have him executed. Such acts of kindness should not go unrewarded. His strong sense of valor and loyalty, compelled him to return the favor. Staying close to Sinqularis, being his one and only true friend within the tribe of Ranakhan, the fruitbat grew older and matured along with the pink wolf. But the fruitbats upbringing took a turn, that not even the elders had foreseen. Through intense training, his muscles grew significantly stronger, turning him into a solid warrior that few would challenge. He became a formidable hunter with the spear, respected for his ability to make a prey out of powerful animals, such as bears and elks. Defeating such deadly creatures with his self-taught techniques, turned him into a sturdy fighter, with every wound suffered leaving him less sensitive to pain and agony. Despite of his valiant heart and sense of honor, which was only exposed to those he deemed worthy, most people were affected by his intimidating exterior. His physical appearance invoked fear among people around him. But by the age of 19, he became acknowledged as the most powerful warrior within the tribe of Ranakhan, and earned the rank as their champion. His Mokadiém name has been long forgotten - but within the tribe of Ranakhan, he became known as Zephyr Dreadwing, the loyal guardian of their sacred shaman. Despite of his heroic intentions, the tribals will never forget that he carries Mokadiém blood in his veins. Is there really no way for his clan, to restore it’s lost honor and dignity?

This is 4 out of 7 character profiles, that will be created for my story "Medieval Cohesion".

Full name: Sinqularis Lupus
Specie: Wolf
Age: 25 years old
Gender: Male (often mistaken for a female)
Class: Shaman
2nd Class: Druid
Weapon: Staff
Armor: Tribal clothes

Strength ◙ ◙
Defense ◙
Dexterity ◙ ◙ ◙
Endurance ◙
Agility ◙ ◙ ◙
Magical ◙ ◙ ◙ ◙

- Abilities -

Spirit Blast ~ As the shaman's most primary attack, Sinqularis can conjure a bright bolt born our of spiritual energy, that deals great damage to any undead target. Upon impact, the bolt splashes and can deal lesser damage to units around the target. This attack is very ineffective against living enemies, but provides it's own light source in darkness.

Nova ~ When facing overwhelming danger, desperate measures are called for. Having absorbed all the spiritual energy in the area, the shaman can unleash a powerful nova, that expands around his body to strike all surrounding enemies. The nova is lethal for all undead targets on ground, and leaves all living targets unscathed. Unfortunately, this attack completely depletes the shamans energy, leaving him weakened.

Spiritual Summoning ~ After his destined encounter with the older shaman Keltarh, Sinqularis will obtain the ability to call upon the spirits of wild creatures, that stand ready to aid him in combat. As the long journey continues, the shaman’s spiritual connection with Gaia will grow stronger, and the spirits of more powerful beings will answer his call.

Spirit Barrier ~ During various kinds of ranged assaults, Sinqularis is able to conjure a barrier of spiritual energy, that can protect himself and even allies from ranged attacks. The size of the barrier determines how quickly his energy depletes, and the barrier won’t be able to reflect all kinds of attacks. If his energy runs out, he’ll become unconscious.

Rejuvenation ~ When having been injured in battle, Sinqularis can draw upon the life force of nature around, to slowly recover the wounds of him and his allies. This requires concentration through deep meditation, and is too risky to attempt during combat, as it takes time and patience. This ability can only be performed with the promotion to druid.

Guardian of Gaia ~ After having sworn eternal loyalty to the planet, and proven his devotion by defending the wild, Sinqularis will have access to this supreme ability known only in legends. By calling upon the planet itself, his soul will merge with the spirit of Gaia, transforming him into a divine being with arcane powers. Few has survived to perform this transformation, as such divine powers are too overwhelming for a humble mortal to contain. This ability requires the promotion to druid.

- Background -

During a dark night in the end of spring, a young cub was born in the enchanted forest of Niévahna. Rain drummed on the tent from above, as a horrifying thunderstorm was crossing their camp at that very moment. The woman’s mate had remained by her side throughout the entire birth, along with a couple of young maidens, supporting the woman to endure the agony. But no one else from the camp came to visit, before the rumble of thunder above, was interrupted by the penetrating sound of an infant crying. New life had been brought to their peaceful camp in the forest, and many were willing to dare a short dash through the rain, just to witness this wonderful experience. While resting her worn body, she held the little cub in her arms, attempting to see her newborn child through the thick darkness. But this late at night, all torches were unlit. All she could figure out, was that she had given birth to a boy. But then suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck down nearby, illuminating the entire sky for a brief moment. The flash brought light into her humble tent, and her eyes grew wide, as she for the first time fixed her eyes on her cub. To her and everyone elses surprise, the boy’s fur was brightly pink. Such a strange and unnatural color. Everybody became silent inside her tent, just staring at the unusual cub she had given birth to. She didn’t even want to think about, what kind of thoughts went through their minds. Was the cub sick? Was it some sort of unknown genetic mutation? She had no clue, but something wasn’t right. Then it suddenly crossed her mind, that maybe the cub was born this way, because of an illness in her own body. Whatever had happened, she insisted on getting to the bottom of this.

The following day in the afternoon, she and her mate went to the shamans tent, bringing the little cub along with them. If anyone within this camp, would know about the child’s unusual condition, it would be him. He was responsible for having cured so many life-threatening diseases in the past, thanks to his vast knowledge about herbs and the making of medicine. The old shaman became the first to gaze upon the newborn cub, without seeming shocked or surprised. But he did examine it with great interest. It even touched his heart, when the playful cub grabbed onto his old wrinkly finger with it’s tiny hand, while giggling heartily. The little pink boy seemed to like the old shaman, and clearly felt secure with him, despite that it was their first encounter. With a smile on his face, the old man turned towards the concerned parents and assured them, that the cub was healthy and well. But once they asked further into the strange color of his fur, the shaman shook his head and claimed that he couldn’t provide them with a logic explanation. The mother could see in the old man’s eyes, that he was hiding something. She wasn’t satisfied with this conclusion. There had to be something wrong. A wolf’s fur is not supposed to be pink. The boy’s father seemed relieved to know, that neither the cub or his mate were suffering from any kind of illness. But the mother was restless. Even the shaman’s word couldn’t make her stop worrying about this event. But all she could do, was bringing the cub back home and try to raise it. She and her mate agreed, that it was best if they resumed their lives as if there was nothing unusual about the birth, and just ignore the fact that their cub was born with pink fur. The boy was named Sinqularis Lupus - a fitting name for such a unique child, as it is Latin and roughly translates to “Lone wolf”.

Years passed, and the boy grew older. But the mother found it disturbingly difficult to keep her promise, as the cub's abnormal appearance still left her frustrated. Despite the unusual color of his fur, everyone in the camp loved the boy. He was helpful, polite and never got involved with any sort of trouble. The other boys about his own age, showed no interest in hanging out with him, but Sinqularis didn't seem to care. It wasn't even a challenge for them to avoid him, because he didn't seek their company. And yet, to everyone's surprise, the boy became very popular among the young girls living in the camp. They claimed that his pink fur and feminine personality had an appealing charm about it, so he was invited into their social group, where he seemed to fit in quite well. But no matter how well he thrived in the camp, and no matter how fond people became of him, his mother was heartbroken and unhappy. Because she was tired of being referred to, as the mother of the sick child. No one knew what was wrong with Sinqularis, not even the old shaman, being the wisest man in camp. So they all assumed it was a disease, or perhaps a genetic flaw by birth. This was nothing like how she imagined it would be, when she prepared herself to become a parent. If the cub really had to be born with pink fur, why couldn't it at least have been a girl? After having raised the child for a couple of years, she was convinced that this was Gaia's cruel way of mocking her. Or perhaps it was a punishment, for something she had done wrong. There were many theories, but the truth kept eluding her. This confusion often lead her to seek out privacy, where she could clear her mind by crying in peace.

Once the boy became six years old, the inevitable family feud occurred. The father showed concern for the fact, that the mother never took part in raising her child, or even cared about his childhood. And once this subject was grazed, her hidden feelings finally surfaced, brought to the father’s attention through a burst of rage. This initiated series of loud arguments that took place, over the next few following months. What they didn’t know, was that Sinqularis occasionally eavesdropped to their fights, while remaining silent outside the tent. He could hear every word clearly, and it broke the young boy’s heart, to the point where he shed tears of sorrow for the first time. When his parents got into a fight like this, they were too enraged to care about who was listening. But it became painfully clear to Sinqularis, that he was the reason why his parents didn’t get along anymore. In the end, the mother told his father, that he had to choose between her or the boy. Because she just couldn’t handle it anymore. But despite that the father liked the boy, he was afraid of picking up the challenge to raise him alone. So the choice was made. The boy had to go. Less than a week later, they managed to open communication with a family from another tribe, who seemed interested in adopting this unusual cub. They had heard the urban legend, about the mysterious boy born with the brightly pink fur, and they would gladly offer him a safe place to grow up. The following dawn, Sinqularis was accompanied by two skilled hunters, who knew how to navigate through the forest. They volunteered to bring the boy along on their next hunt, and drop him off by the tribe of Ranakhan. When it was time to leave, the parents didn’t even show up to say goodbye, before their son was taken away. But Sinqularis decided to join the hunters without a fuss, leaving his home in complete silence, and not even turning his head to look back.

Having been transferred to the tribe of Ranakhan, Sinqularis spend the first days being severely homesick, but his new parents were really nice. They provided him with much love, but knew when to offer him privacy. It was a new experience for the young boy, to receive so much attention from whoever was in charge of the parental role. And despite that he missed his friends from the other camp, it didn’t take long before his feminine charm and appearance, attracted the young females and made them drag him into their social clique. His homesickness faded away with time, and he eventually felt more comfortable in his new environment. But one day, the boy had mysteriously disappeared, leaving the parents greatly concerned. He was gone for hours, so they had scouts send out to search for him in the forest. They managed to track him down, no more than two miles away from the camp to the south. But before revealing their presence, they noticed that the boy was holding something in his hand. It was a small lifeless sparrow, that seemingly had gotten itself killed by flying into a tree at high speed. The scouts became curious and observed him from the treetops above. The boy's eyes were filled with sorrow, showing that he pitied the poor thing. His free hand hovered above the lifeless bird for a moment, and then it started to glow, enveloped by a bright but transparent light. The scouts recognized this peculiar light. It was ancient spirit magic! A small and bright orb appeared, follow by a tail of spiritual energy, approaching the dead sparrow. Sinqularis was calling back the sparrows soul, attempting to revive it. The orb merged with the lifeless body of the bird, and with an emotional expression on his face, he send the sparrow flying towards the treetops. He watched quietly as the sparrow became united with it's mate waiting on a branch, before disappearing into the dark forest together.

This was an unexpected miracle. The boy was a wielder of spirit magic - a sacred river of arcane powers, that according to the elders, is connected to the planet itself. Rumor had it, that only the chosen disciples of Gaia, were blessed with the ability to control spiritual energy. After bringing the boy home, the scouts reported what they witnessed to the chieftain. And once the chieftain mentioned it to the elders, it didn't take long for the rumor to spread throughout the entire forest, reaching the ears of every clan and tribe existing. This greatly affected the boy's reputation, as he switched from being known as the sick child born with pink fur, to being considered the sacred son of Gaia herself. Some of the more faithful believers, even claimed that it was the divine touch of Gaia that turned his fur pink, so that he would stand out among the common people. Sinqularis wasn't too pleased about having all attention directed towards him, and it irked him that they discovered his hidden powers. But he was left with no choice, but to get used to the fame. Many colds winters later into the future, once Sinqularis had reached adulthood, the tribe of Ranakhan offered him to serve as their spiritual leader. It was an offer that he couldn't refuse, because there were great opportunities to practice his sacred abilities through shamanism. Sinqularis had grown into a wise, compassionate and thoughtful young man. But the memories of how he was separated from his biological parents, caused him to leave his cheerful spirit behind him. His upbeat personality withered eventually, turning him into a shadow of what he used to be, a quiet person that seldom showed his emotions. But any person who looked into his flickering eyes, could easily sense that he was constantly browsing through a lot of thoughts, that he never opened up about.

Shortly after having turned twentytwo years old, Sinqularis received a visit from an unexpected guest. It was his biological mother, that had apparently traveled alone, all the way from the tribe of Labraska. She found him sitting on a log by the bonfire, holding onto a wooden staff, with a sparkling amethyst adoring the top. He was clearly lost in thought, while staring at the charred remains of wood in front of him. Once she greeted him, he just turned his head and looked at her, without saying a word. The purpose with this visit puzzled him. But it didn’t take long, before he had the truth delivered by her careless way of approaching him. She mentioned that she had heard the rumors, about the sacred “Son of Gaia”, who had been discovered in the tribe of Ranakhan. And she became disturbingly overzealous, about explaining how incredibly proud she was of him. The following moment, she claimed that it was a mistake to send him away, and that she wanted him to come with her home. By that moment, Sinqularis rose from his seat and turned around, approaching her very slowly. He didn’t stop before standing right in front of her, so close that it made her feel uncomfortable. His height made him tower above her, and then he looked slowly up and down her body, while inhaling her scent subtly. Once there was a brief moment of eye contact, his mother couldn’t track any trace of emotions, besides an obvious stroke of disappointment. She felt embarrassed, as people around them were staring, awaiting his response just like her. Then he suddenly snorted, causing her to close her eyes as his breath grazed her face. Sinqularis turned his back to his mother and walked slowly away, leaning onto his wooden staff for support. His large tail swayed from one side to the other, and the breeze made his long hair flow, being so smooth and clean that every strand of hair motioned individually. The rejection left her heartbroken and speechless. But then he uttered the sentence, which became the last words to ever be exchanged with his biological mother.

“All I see in you... is a displaced memory, that has returned to haunt me. You cannot entice me with promises of love, that are nothing more than an illusion. Go home.”