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More from Wielder
One day, she'd meet her match again. She wasn't a fool. She knew that much.
One day, she'd refuse to step down from the wrong fight. One day, she'd pick the right cause to champion for the right reason against the wrong foe.
One day, she'd pick herself off of the city sidewalks or the floor of a bar, wiping blood and whatever she made friends with on the floor off of her face with a clinched fist. One day, she'd go into work with a limp.
But the failed attempts at bravado and courage of the saluki fell on her ears as loud as a death knell. They were supposed "men". They were bigger than the lithe sighthound. There were three of them, at least, maybe four. The only things she had to go on other than shouted words, growls, and bone-chilling suggestive chuckling were the white outlines of their figures under one of the lonely streetlamps on the other side of the asphalt. Night swallowed all other details.
One day, she'd lose.
Sighing, she ran on silent feet the few paces towards her car, tossing her backpack and duffel bag in the backseat. Normally, she would have made sure that both doors where locked, but, this time she purposely unlocked the both of them...
...precious seconds would count if the situation was kind enough to give them to her.
One day, she'd be faced with losing more than she cared to let go of.
Slinking around one of the small office buildings on campus, she heard the familiar laughter of the saluki's former boyfriend. The malice in his voice and the moonlight bouncing off of the snarling curl of his lips made her double-coated pelt bristle beneath clothes and night air alike.
She was so close that all of the players were visible as if it was a terrible play...somehow so real and yet so separate from reality that she almost believed it wasn't happening.
...but she knew Arc. She knew from experience what he was capable of, so seeing the large shepherd mix and his cohorts roughly grabbing, groping, and practically tossing the petite young woman from hateful hand to hateful hand wasn't that surprising.
She'd pushed the button on one of the security stations near the parking lot. She didn't have much faith in the campus police, but she hoped they'd be quicker than she predicted. The security office was on the opposite side of the west parking lot...might as well have been a whole world away...she stayed late most nights...she knew how inattentive most of the campus cops were at night.
She turned to look at the station. The beacon was out. Just her luck. However, campus security would get the signal...but it would have been reassuring to see the benevolent blue glow. The promise of back up. The proof they weren't alone.
...no such luck. All she had was the element of surprise, a pocket knife she'd trusted with her life since her father's weathered hands had placed it into her tiny ones when she was but a pup, an attitude, and a fair bit of well-placed animosity towards the saluki's attackers.
If she could use all of that to buy them a few seconds free from an unfair brawl, she had a car with doors unlocked. She had sanctuary.
And she had the choice. The cops would be there within minutes at most. She'd done all anyone would expect her to do for the girl, right? No one would expect her to take on four men...all of whom were much bigger and (admittedly) stronger than she was.
Her ears pinned when she heard the telltale rip of denim. Her lips leaped backwards over her fangs, and she stalked forward, strafing close to the wall, observing the more frantic motions with the interest of a predator.
She didn't have a choice after all.
"Real big men you are...pickin' on something just a bit bigger than a squeaky toy." She tried to make it sound smooth, calm, and even.
The leader stepped forward, and she stifled a growl when she saw the saluki's corduroy jacket in his cruel fist. "You've always had a real big mouth to go with that stupid brain of yours, Wielder," Arc purred through a smirk. His voice was enough to command the obedience of his friends. One of them held the slate gray sighthound in a steel and unbreakable grasp as the others began to flank him on either side, eyes glowing in the pale yellow of the streetlamp. "Yup, you've always had a big fucking mouth."
"All the better to tear your throat out with, my dear," she returned, steeling her body for whatever action would need to be taken. Her paws tingled with the anticipation to move, her calves tensed, and her fingers dug into the palms of her hands.
He laughed. "So confident as usual." The shepherd mix rolled his shoulders and began to walk a slightly curving arc towards her. "This time, your big, butch akita friend isn't here to save you."
"This time, your daddy's money won't save you, Arc. Money can't buy you a heartbeat." Part of it was a warning, part of it was a bluff, and part of it was hope. The metal of her knife felt warm against the waistline of her pants.
His circle became tighter as he closed in on her, his two unoccupied friends making an opposite but equal curve around her. The wolf stole a moment to look into the terrified green eyes of the girl just under the light several yards in front of her. They'd been made reflective as clean glass with tears, and she saw her choice reflected in them.
One day, she'd champion the right cause for the right person for the right reason. But all the rightness and justice in the world wouldn't change the outcome.
One day, she'd lose, and as the man who she'd also once called her own took the first swing at her, and as she ducked and heard the cut of his fist through the air above her head, she was sure that day had finally caught up with her...
...but that truth paled in comparison with the other one she would have had to face. Though she owed the other woman nothing, she could have never looked at the beautiful creature again without shame if she'd done nothing. She'd seen that she'd made the right decision when she saw the faint glow of hope in the other girl's eyes when she'd made her presence known. As each punch came quicker, as their bodies began to form a cage around hers, it became easier to accept what would eventually happen...
...she would fall...
The funny thing was that that particular outcome no longer seemed to matter.
A colored sketch from this series http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6131979/ . If you want to know what the saluki in the above story looks like, she's the character depicted in the upper left hand corner of that piece. I colored directly over the sketch with crayola colored pencils and then inked Wielder with an XS Faber-Castell pen. The background was made with a W2 Copic marker with brush pen overlay. After that, I added a bit more lighting to Wielder with a blue marker on the darker side of her and a light yellow so that it'd look as though she was standing near a streetlamp.
One day, she'd refuse to step down from the wrong fight. One day, she'd pick the right cause to champion for the right reason against the wrong foe.
One day, she'd pick herself off of the city sidewalks or the floor of a bar, wiping blood and whatever she made friends with on the floor off of her face with a clinched fist. One day, she'd go into work with a limp.
But the failed attempts at bravado and courage of the saluki fell on her ears as loud as a death knell. They were supposed "men". They were bigger than the lithe sighthound. There were three of them, at least, maybe four. The only things she had to go on other than shouted words, growls, and bone-chilling suggestive chuckling were the white outlines of their figures under one of the lonely streetlamps on the other side of the asphalt. Night swallowed all other details.
One day, she'd lose.
Sighing, she ran on silent feet the few paces towards her car, tossing her backpack and duffel bag in the backseat. Normally, she would have made sure that both doors where locked, but, this time she purposely unlocked the both of them...
...precious seconds would count if the situation was kind enough to give them to her.
One day, she'd be faced with losing more than she cared to let go of.
Slinking around one of the small office buildings on campus, she heard the familiar laughter of the saluki's former boyfriend. The malice in his voice and the moonlight bouncing off of the snarling curl of his lips made her double-coated pelt bristle beneath clothes and night air alike.
She was so close that all of the players were visible as if it was a terrible play...somehow so real and yet so separate from reality that she almost believed it wasn't happening.
...but she knew Arc. She knew from experience what he was capable of, so seeing the large shepherd mix and his cohorts roughly grabbing, groping, and practically tossing the petite young woman from hateful hand to hateful hand wasn't that surprising.
She'd pushed the button on one of the security stations near the parking lot. She didn't have much faith in the campus police, but she hoped they'd be quicker than she predicted. The security office was on the opposite side of the west parking lot...might as well have been a whole world away...she stayed late most nights...she knew how inattentive most of the campus cops were at night.
She turned to look at the station. The beacon was out. Just her luck. However, campus security would get the signal...but it would have been reassuring to see the benevolent blue glow. The promise of back up. The proof they weren't alone.
...no such luck. All she had was the element of surprise, a pocket knife she'd trusted with her life since her father's weathered hands had placed it into her tiny ones when she was but a pup, an attitude, and a fair bit of well-placed animosity towards the saluki's attackers.
If she could use all of that to buy them a few seconds free from an unfair brawl, she had a car with doors unlocked. She had sanctuary.
And she had the choice. The cops would be there within minutes at most. She'd done all anyone would expect her to do for the girl, right? No one would expect her to take on four men...all of whom were much bigger and (admittedly) stronger than she was.
Her ears pinned when she heard the telltale rip of denim. Her lips leaped backwards over her fangs, and she stalked forward, strafing close to the wall, observing the more frantic motions with the interest of a predator.
She didn't have a choice after all.
"Real big men you are...pickin' on something just a bit bigger than a squeaky toy." She tried to make it sound smooth, calm, and even.
The leader stepped forward, and she stifled a growl when she saw the saluki's corduroy jacket in his cruel fist. "You've always had a real big mouth to go with that stupid brain of yours, Wielder," Arc purred through a smirk. His voice was enough to command the obedience of his friends. One of them held the slate gray sighthound in a steel and unbreakable grasp as the others began to flank him on either side, eyes glowing in the pale yellow of the streetlamp. "Yup, you've always had a big fucking mouth."
"All the better to tear your throat out with, my dear," she returned, steeling her body for whatever action would need to be taken. Her paws tingled with the anticipation to move, her calves tensed, and her fingers dug into the palms of her hands.
He laughed. "So confident as usual." The shepherd mix rolled his shoulders and began to walk a slightly curving arc towards her. "This time, your big, butch akita friend isn't here to save you."
"This time, your daddy's money won't save you, Arc. Money can't buy you a heartbeat." Part of it was a warning, part of it was a bluff, and part of it was hope. The metal of her knife felt warm against the waistline of her pants.
His circle became tighter as he closed in on her, his two unoccupied friends making an opposite but equal curve around her. The wolf stole a moment to look into the terrified green eyes of the girl just under the light several yards in front of her. They'd been made reflective as clean glass with tears, and she saw her choice reflected in them.
One day, she'd champion the right cause for the right person for the right reason. But all the rightness and justice in the world wouldn't change the outcome.
One day, she'd lose, and as the man who she'd also once called her own took the first swing at her, and as she ducked and heard the cut of his fist through the air above her head, she was sure that day had finally caught up with her...
...but that truth paled in comparison with the other one she would have had to face. Though she owed the other woman nothing, she could have never looked at the beautiful creature again without shame if she'd done nothing. She'd seen that she'd made the right decision when she saw the faint glow of hope in the other girl's eyes when she'd made her presence known. As each punch came quicker, as their bodies began to form a cage around hers, it became easier to accept what would eventually happen...
...she would fall...
The funny thing was that that particular outcome no longer seemed to matter.
A colored sketch from this series http://www.furaffinity.net/view/6131979/ . If you want to know what the saluki in the above story looks like, she's the character depicted in the upper left hand corner of that piece. I colored directly over the sketch with crayola colored pencils and then inked Wielder with an XS Faber-Castell pen. The background was made with a W2 Copic marker with brush pen overlay. After that, I added a bit more lighting to Wielder with a blue marker on the darker side of her and a light yellow so that it'd look as though she was standing near a streetlamp.
Category Artwork (Traditional) / General Furry Art
Species Wolf
Size 651 x 900px
File Size 717.2 kB
Love your art Hun. When combined with the short stories they seem more real if that makes any sense. Keep up the good work. The lighting of this one goes well with the dark theme. The only thing that I can see that looks a little wonky is her left hand. Other than that very well done.
Thanks so much! I'm glad the lighting worked out. It's only a sketch that I was experimenting on, but I was still scared to try it lol.
That left hand was hard to do. I kept trying to get it right in the mirror, but the longer two fingers always looked shorter because of how they were rising up on the leg that was moving forward. Foreshortening on hands and fingers is something I'm still scared of and trying to get better at. Really, I probably should have been a bit braver with the shading, and maybe it would have turned out a bit better there. Thank you so much for being honest and helpful about it. It's something I'll definitely try harder on in the future!
That left hand was hard to do. I kept trying to get it right in the mirror, but the longer two fingers always looked shorter because of how they were rising up on the leg that was moving forward. Foreshortening on hands and fingers is something I'm still scared of and trying to get better at. Really, I probably should have been a bit braver with the shading, and maybe it would have turned out a bit better there. Thank you so much for being honest and helpful about it. It's something I'll definitely try harder on in the future!
"Sorcerer" is one of my faves.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMof5PuQF7w
I've always wanted to see a remake of that movie. Same storyline, but different actors. Someone like Jason Statham, Danny Trejo, Terry Crews, among others.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMof5PuQF7w
I've always wanted to see a remake of that movie. Same storyline, but different actors. Someone like Jason Statham, Danny Trejo, Terry Crews, among others.
Self-sacrifice is one of the hardest things anyone can ever face. It takes a rare kind of person who'll step in and take abuse meant for someone else. I love the emotion this piece and the short that goes with it evoke. It's not often that a woman gets to be the savior. I like that. I like it a lot. Gorgeous work, as always.
That wasn't what I wanted to imply. Please understand that I honour everyone's right to boot an aggressor in the face. In this I am entirely gender-neutral. :)
Anyway, it seems I misinterpreted your comment, but in a way you will probably approve of. I bristled at it because I felt it dismissed the way that, especially in adverse conditions, it's very often the women who take the brunt of the load and keep the society running nonetheless. And therefore definitely qualify for the term of "saviour", but usually without booting anyone in the face.
So I get the impression we're on the same page here... right...?
Anyway, it seems I misinterpreted your comment, but in a way you will probably approve of. I bristled at it because I felt it dismissed the way that, especially in adverse conditions, it's very often the women who take the brunt of the load and keep the society running nonetheless. And therefore definitely qualify for the term of "saviour", but usually without booting anyone in the face.
So I get the impression we're on the same page here... right...?
I agree. I was raised to believe that if something is worth standing for, it's worth falling for as well. Bruises and busted limbs are easier to deal with than knowing that I stood by and did nothing while someone else was hurt without reason.
Thanks so much, lady!
Thanks so much, lady!
Woah...
I'm really glad you chose to fully develope this piece. It looks great.
The shadows and darker colors really fit the mood of the story.
As always, I love the way you draw expressions. And Wielder's pose just spells calm confidence, even intimidation, even if the ones in question don't show they're intimidated.
The little stories you include always add a special flavor to your work, and they're always fun to read.
My favorite line in this one was: "This time, your daddy's money won't save you, Arc. Money can't buy you a heartbeat."
The last part sounds like it belongs on a movie poster as a by-line. Maybe this would make a good poster?
In any case, well done, as always!
I'm really glad you chose to fully develope this piece. It looks great.
The shadows and darker colors really fit the mood of the story.
As always, I love the way you draw expressions. And Wielder's pose just spells calm confidence, even intimidation, even if the ones in question don't show they're intimidated.
The little stories you include always add a special flavor to your work, and they're always fun to read.
My favorite line in this one was: "This time, your daddy's money won't save you, Arc. Money can't buy you a heartbeat."
The last part sounds like it belongs on a movie poster as a by-line. Maybe this would make a good poster?
In any case, well done, as always!
This piece was largely experimental, but I was proud enough of how it turned out to make it a profile piccie and write the story behind it. I'm glad you like my experiment *rubs hands together and laughs maniacally*
Wielder's definitely finding confidence in her resolute decision to step in. She knows that at the very most, she'll be able to throw in enough good hits to get the chance for her and Skye to make a break for it, but she knows it's more likely that she'll get her ass handed to her in the attempt to stall for the cops. In her mind, if she hadn't stepped in, Skye would have been dragged off by Arc and his goons and treated like their personal punching bag and worse before the cops could arrive.
I'm glad you liked that line, a Wielder's not a Wielder without snark.
Thanks so much for the comment, as usual you are so very thoughtful!
Wielder's definitely finding confidence in her resolute decision to step in. She knows that at the very most, she'll be able to throw in enough good hits to get the chance for her and Skye to make a break for it, but she knows it's more likely that she'll get her ass handed to her in the attempt to stall for the cops. In her mind, if she hadn't stepped in, Skye would have been dragged off by Arc and his goons and treated like their personal punching bag and worse before the cops could arrive.
I'm glad you liked that line, a Wielder's not a Wielder without snark.
Thanks so much for the comment, as usual you are so very thoughtful!
It's good to know chivalry isn't dead.
It seems far too easy for people to simply ignore situations like this, though I can't imagine why.
I would like to read more of this story, if there's more coming, because you really left it at one heck of a cliffhanger!
And, to quote Special Agent Gibbs: "Rule #9 - Always carry a knife."
It seems far too easy for people to simply ignore situations like this, though I can't imagine why.
I would like to read more of this story, if there's more coming, because you really left it at one heck of a cliffhanger!
And, to quote Special Agent Gibbs: "Rule #9 - Always carry a knife."
While it's tempting considering the campus violence we see these days, I don't carry a gun on campus, and neither does Wielder. Doesn't stop me or Wielder from carrying a good knife though. I really don't like the idea of human Obi and anthro Wielder meeting one another because that just seems to spell "fetish" to me. I dunno, I've just never been a fan of the furry/human relationship, and that would be implied since furry Obi and Wielder are a sort of couple.
I actually thought of how you told me to experiment with the curve of action a bit more and the placement of shoulders and hips on that line when I drew this sketch and the others that went with it. It was an attempt to be braver with it, and I'm glad that this "first" real try turned out okay. thank you so much!
Some Tripper's got you right in a corner
And you feel you're gonna lose it all
Now you don't want trouble but you feel your back's against the wall.
So the guy moves forward but you hold him away
Shit there's no one there to hear you call
So you take your chances and you push him back against the wall.
Now the guy's in the gutter and you don't give a damn
And he looks kind of weak and small
'Cause you called his number when you felt your back against the wall.
--Alan Parson's Project "Back Against the Wall"
And you feel you're gonna lose it all
Now you don't want trouble but you feel your back's against the wall.
So the guy moves forward but you hold him away
Shit there's no one there to hear you call
So you take your chances and you push him back against the wall.
Now the guy's in the gutter and you don't give a damn
And he looks kind of weak and small
'Cause you called his number when you felt your back against the wall.
--Alan Parson's Project "Back Against the Wall"
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