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More from Anyui
The word for wolf is kegluneq.
Category Artwork (Digital) / All
Species Wolf
Size 1280 x 666px
File Size 32.8 kB
It started a long time ago when I was just a knight fighting dragons to make a living. There was one, his name was Gwent. A great beast, his wings spanned a thousand men and his jaws pliant enough to swallow a sea-worthy galleon in just one gulp. Teeth sharper than any man ever did know, but I. It was the dead of winter, of course, a perfect juxtaposition of the elements, nature at its fiercest in the cold and Gwent with coal fed breath to burn away a mountain peak's ice. Elder Mulberry came to me, oh I remember it like it was yesterday.
"Anyui!" He had called out, robes kept tight with more than one belt. It would have been laughable but none of us could bear the chill wind either, so we understood.
"Ah, Elder, what brings you to my cell?" I replied, you see you'd be surprised how little slaying dragons actually pays. This was the fourth time I'd been caught selling unsanctioned booze to the men of the cloth at the old fort-turned-temple we stayed in. Vows don't taste as sweet as alcohol, of course. The conversation was quick, a few pleasantries but when he began to describe that monster I felt a song rising in my heart! Oh yes, I'd be remembered for all time when this was done.
The week passed by quick enough, I'd made my preparations and made good on my debts so I set out. I won't bore you with the details, it was a quiet journey to that dragon's lair but when I stepped inside, I noticed something strange. The stone was beset with colours of all shades, it made no thoughtful pattern of course, but even so. What would a dragon need with paint? I finally made it to the 'throne room' so to speak. It was grand, the top was amiss, some form seemed to shimmer there but my dull eyes could see not anything more supernatural than what my mind would play tricks upon.
More so than anything however, I was quickly brought to attention by a colossal figure, perched atop a pile of gold, weapons and dead men who had ventured before me. I huffed, a small mist blowing from my lips as I drew my sword. It slithered against the sheath, rasping upon the leather as it came loose.
One step.
Two.
Then it turned, fixing me with a molten gaze, so strong it felt like my legs would give out under me. The beast shifted only its tail, yet the whole cavern rumbled and it spoke something I couldn't understand. Suddenly a small canvas and brush dropped at my feet. Above me, several more fell from that vortex named ceiling, along with splashes of coloured paint that swathed me in a rainbow hue. With a smile I knew what was required, and having set up my canvas and taken my new weapon, a simple paintbrush, I began.
"Anyui!" He had called out, robes kept tight with more than one belt. It would have been laughable but none of us could bear the chill wind either, so we understood.
"Ah, Elder, what brings you to my cell?" I replied, you see you'd be surprised how little slaying dragons actually pays. This was the fourth time I'd been caught selling unsanctioned booze to the men of the cloth at the old fort-turned-temple we stayed in. Vows don't taste as sweet as alcohol, of course. The conversation was quick, a few pleasantries but when he began to describe that monster I felt a song rising in my heart! Oh yes, I'd be remembered for all time when this was done.
The week passed by quick enough, I'd made my preparations and made good on my debts so I set out. I won't bore you with the details, it was a quiet journey to that dragon's lair but when I stepped inside, I noticed something strange. The stone was beset with colours of all shades, it made no thoughtful pattern of course, but even so. What would a dragon need with paint? I finally made it to the 'throne room' so to speak. It was grand, the top was amiss, some form seemed to shimmer there but my dull eyes could see not anything more supernatural than what my mind would play tricks upon.
More so than anything however, I was quickly brought to attention by a colossal figure, perched atop a pile of gold, weapons and dead men who had ventured before me. I huffed, a small mist blowing from my lips as I drew my sword. It slithered against the sheath, rasping upon the leather as it came loose.
One step.
Two.
Then it turned, fixing me with a molten gaze, so strong it felt like my legs would give out under me. The beast shifted only its tail, yet the whole cavern rumbled and it spoke something I couldn't understand. Suddenly a small canvas and brush dropped at my feet. Above me, several more fell from that vortex named ceiling, along with splashes of coloured paint that swathed me in a rainbow hue. With a smile I knew what was required, and having set up my canvas and taken my new weapon, a simple paintbrush, I began.
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