GrayHuntress

Watch out! It's a trap! The most I could offer is a stick figure.

Inverted Saint

Wait, is it the one I think it is?

And I'm very proud to present the next Gray Huntress piece:

Movie Night by Silverstard !

I really wanted a piece where Gray had finally had a moment where she could relax and enjoy herself. I feel Silverstar did a wonderful job rendering the scene. If you can guess what movie she's watching, you get a prize!

Helheim looked up at the Chateau Rouge…it had a slight touch of elegance; she liked it, it was much better than several of the other rundown apartments in the Rogue Isles. She did frown at the eyesore across the way in the vacant lot. Her loyal servant stayed a safe distance behind the two, always observing.

[ QUOTE ]
"Well, here we are... What is your name?" he asked, sounding less shell-shocked this time, "And where are you from if you don't mind me asking?"

[/ QUOTE ]

She looked down at Walter and smiled, during their journey she made sure to keep him on her good side. She didn’t approve of the demeanor of St. Martial’s locals; their stares were harsh, but petty…something she’d have to change. She had a lot of work ahead in St. Martial.

“My mistress’ name is Helheim,” Her guardian spoke up darkly; he didn’t seem to like Walter too much, but a sharp glance from his mistress prompted him to change his attitude.

“Please, you can call me Valerie,” The name slid off her tongue without the slightest hint of restraint; it wasn’t her true name…names carried a lot of power and she didn’t want hers falling into the wrong hands. In Paris, she was Charlotte, so in the Isles she’ll be Valerie, “I just arrived from Paris…I just finished my season tour of that lovely country. Have you ever been there, Mr..?”

Helheim left her sentence hanging, hoping her guide would introduce himself.

Travelling through Niflheim only took minutes of travel between Paris and St. Martial that would have taken hours by plane…at least for those who knew their way through the lowest level of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. Helheim led her reluctant companion along the mist-covered trails through an eternal winter; she wondered if she’d be lucky enough to be gifted by the presence of Hel herself while on her journey. She knew better than to seek the goddess out unless there was a dire need for planning…in which case Hel would find her first.

The faintest outlines of phantoms stood at the edge of the mists, though it was nearly impossible to discern who or what they were. Some were curious, others were hostile, but all feared her for she was favored. They always dissipated at her approach.

Helheim suddenly stopped and reached her hand out to feel the air. This location was rather unassuming, just a bit of trail surrounded by a few dead trees. She was searching for the invisible threads that connected this ancient realm to the physical world, which only those who knew its sacred rights could find. After a few seconds, her hand stopped and stroked the invisible strand…it was thick and strong; she found the knot and pulled it loose. A vortex opened into the physical realm, similar to the one she used to enter Niflheim, appearing several paces ahead of a certain Walter Gibbs.

Her faithful servant stepped through the portal first…and now that he wasn’t hidden in darkness or mists one could take note of his appearance. The young man was no taller than five-and-a-half feet and appeared no older than eighteen or nineteen, yet looks are deceiving and the man was far older than even Marcus Cole. He was of lean build and wore the suit of a distinguished young gentleman. The blazer and matching pants were a dusky forest green; he wore the grey undershirt casually with the top few buttons left open. His rich chocolate hair was short and parted, and he cautiously observed St. Martial with dull-grey eyes. Though the true focus of interest was the intricate large black-iron pendant he wore around his neck with a fist-sized polished emerald set in the middle. It seemed more like a collar than jewelry.

After a few moments, his mistress returned to the mortal world. She stood a full foot taller than her servant and held herself with poise. Her bolero was a deep forest green with intricate silver-embroidering along the sleeves and tail, the fur of the Winter Wolf accented her shoulders. One half of her outfit was generous in exposing her flesh except for the portions covered by her light-iron corset or her bottoms that wove around her left leg; the other half had the same corset and bottom-design, however every inch of skin was hidden by green metal. She wore a mask that mimicked her outfit; half revealed her true beauty: high cheek bones, youthful and taut skin, luscious lips, a sparkling deep blue eye, and long brunette locks. The other half of her head was completely encased in that same green metal, and although it was beautiful, it had the expression of a cold mistress judging those beneath her even the eye was hidden behind a black gem.

Helheim raised her arms to greet St. Martial with a smile across half her face, though her servant immediately spotted Walter down the way from them.
“Mistress,” He whispered to her, “We have a new friend approaching.” Though the way he said friend was obviously not the standard definition. She slowly looked at whom he was referring with open curiosity.

“Well, he’s a cute one,” She muttered before calling out to him, “You appear to be a charming fellow, would you mind helping a stranger? I’ve just arrived as you can see, and I really don’t know much about this land.” Which was a lie, she had been to the Rogue Isles countless times in her life, “Perhaps you could assist me, and tell me where I could find lodgings or a meal?” Helheim extended her hand forward in greeting, “You’re welcome to join me.”

A smile curled along her lip as she looked intently at him.

The room was almost pitch black with only the faintest outline of furniture and the dimensions of walls being visible. Perception certainly wasn’t being helped by the light mist that hung low in the air, and the room was filled with the fleeting motion of outlines. Outlines that appeared to be people walking around, but just as any attention is focused on them they seem to vanish without a trace…always keeping to the peripheral. The place was so silent it was deafening…absolutely nothing made noise, not even creaks along the floor or the hum of power.

The massive outline of a grand piano rested before towering bay windows, and the minimal light provided by the crescent moon revealed the very solid and very real shape of a woman sitting at the bench, though any details were indefinite. By observing longer, a second person kept to the darkest shadows.

“I think it is time to leave, my solemn guardian,” A stern, yet longing, voice emanated from the woman, “I’ve grown weary of this place. The time has come for Helheim to find a new home on Earth.” She extended her hand to the dark figure in the shadows, which promptly came forth and gently took it in hand. The woman stood…a very tall woman about six-foot-four and of slender build.

“How does the Rogue Isles sound?” She asked her servant, “I hear there is a lovely place called the Chateau Rouge.”
“I hear it is beautiful this time of year,” A young man’s voice came from the shadow, his voice filled with loyalty and reverence.
“I hear it is a festering sore,” She responded, “But it will be a pleasant change of scenery from Paris.”
“I am sure it will be,” He agreed without delay, “Should I prepare your luggage, mistress?”
“No, no that won’t be necessary,” She caressed the piano, “I prefer a fresh start.”
“Of course.”

With a bored wave of her hand, a vortex appeared in the air, but, rather than sucking things into it, it emitted mists. Spectral arms reached out from it, some groping forward while others were waving towards it welcomingly. The matron prompted her servant forward, and he entered swiftly; the woman named Helheim, the High Volva of the goddess Hel, spent a few seconds looking around her bicentennial home relishing the memories before walking into Niflheim, the Realm of Mists.

Do I still get money if I flirt with you throughout the year? Because I can

*catches the mashed potatoes with mouth then fires it back*

Hey Cowman! I'm waiting for a response from either Harry or Tsura before continuing in the Whitmoore (as I say this from the newly created Villain OOC thread)

edit: Anyone have a small yellow or orange so I can make a wakie?

Not my idea, I just took action to implement it. I'm just waiting for the RP to start, I can adapt to the needs of the thread whatever form it takes. I look forward to breaking the stereotypical villain mold as far as what personality traits they share. Though Scirocco does that quite well.

Here's where everyone can discuss Villain RP. I decided to make this as some people continued to moan about it. Knock yourself out guys.

Congratulations, Pingus! I definitely had a lot of fun picking some of you up *rawr*

*chuckle*

I thought I might dedicate the year to Foo...the year '200Foo'

Well now it's time to celebrate Foo's Day-After-Birthday! Happy Day-After, Foo Have another cake.

Good luck on your seach, I'll add a post in the hopes it attracts this elusive character.

Guess I'm stuck with you...

Sure, I'll barter you.

'I'll exchange Foo for art! Any takers?!"

Heh, it doesn't sound childish at all. I love it However, when I look at these pieces I have one question: If this is a 'sketch,' what does your finished product look like? I wish my sketches looked better than stick-figures with disproportionate limbs.

"You must hurry, for Icon closes at 6pm." <-----Love it

They pay him in 'protection' art

Sometimes you just get into a creative trance and you focus on getting to the next stage...then the next one...then the next one...then a power outage.

As a writer, its happened to me more than a few times...before there was the auto-save feature.

Heh, Happy Birthday, Foo. Don't forget to take advantage of people as it is your day

Lousy_Day wins my vote, though Projectionist came really close.

Ow! My eye...or Baphoment's eye...

Very beautiful piece though