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After putting off getting a ref sheet for far too many years, I finally got one. (Art by Selianth)
I had no idea we had a festival of our own!
Questions for your Sona #40
Hey fluffles! Today's question is:
What is your 'Sonas weakness?
submitted by HonorInDefeat[link] [129 comments]
I'd like some opinions on a species I might switch to.
For a long while now I've been this fuzzy stripey pouchy thylacine, and it's great, though recently I've fallen in love with kobolds. I mean the lizardy ones mostly, and I find the "cutebolds", well, adorable. The kobolds I'm trying to focus on are from the D&D (and related) universe.
For those who don't know (or don't feel like googling) kobolds are small anthro reptiles between 2 ft-3.5 ft (.6m-1.06m) tall, who are descended from dragons, are great trap-makers, and are often found serving other beings (usually dragons, but any creature bigger than it is a possible candidate).
Every once in a while, a kobold may have a dragon parent, making them stronger than a normal kobold, along with more vibrant scales the color of it's dragon parent. So I started thinking, what if that dragon parent was a floof dragon, like one of the many floating around the fandom. So viola! A reasonable story for a furry kobold.
So, for those of you still here, I was wondering what your thoughts were on this, if you'd interact with something like this, if the idea is too far fetched or if no one's going to know what I am without an explanation. Let me hear what you guys think! =3
submitted by C0balt_Blue[link] [1 comment]
Gods are people too, and so are people: God of Clay
God of Clay
By Ryan Campbell
Cover Art by Zhivago
259 pp., $17.95 (Kindle, $5.99)
Sofawolf Press, September 2013
With the release of Forest Gods, the second title in Ryan Campbell’s Fire Bearers trilogy, it seemed like a good time to catch up with the first book, God of Clay. I’m only sorry I left it so long, because I thoroughly enjoyed the read.
When the young god Doto discovers that the legendary and feared fire bearers are close by his forest home, he hopes the information will stir his father, Kwaee, to leave his temple and come exploring. Instead, Doto is commanded to bring one of the fire bearers to Kwaee.
Driven from their old home by drought, Clay’s tribe has settled next to a forest. Here, at last, they can rely on the rains, even if the forest itself is filled with dangers and forbidden to even the bravest hunters by King First Claw. Clay, unlike his brother Laughing Dog, has absolute faith in the gods of his people and the stories passed down by the Teller, but he never expected to be snatched from his village by a leopard-like god he’s never even heard of.
As the two get to know each other, both must reevaluate what they thought they knew—Clay about the gods of his people, Doto about the Fire Bearers. Doto comes to realise that the fire bearers are unlike anything he has encountered before, neither gods nor animals. Clay has to sift through the tales of his tribe, sorting truths from distortions and guesses.
Their journey through the forest brings them closer, but there is a time limit on their acquaintance: not only is Kwaee waiting for them at the end of the trip, with an implacable hatred of the fire bearers that Doto is now starting to question, but Clay is slowly succumbing to a wound Doto is forbidden by divine law to heal.
Doto and Clay are both fairly simple souls. Each has been brought up, Doto by Kwaee and Clay by the elders of his tribe, to believe that the world is a certain way, and they step beyond those boundaries with trepidation. Not so Laughing Dog, Clay’s brother.
Named for the hyena, which for Clay’s tribe may be a good or evil omen, Laughing Dog has his own opinions of the gods and he is unafraid to share them, even when a refusal to back down from his stance means banishment. He spends most of the book apart from his brother, yet his actions have already affected Clay’s own path, and there is no doubt that they will meet again as the trilogy continues.
It is obvious from the moment he appears that Laughing Dog is doomed, that his nemesis will catch up to his hubris. Yet the manner of his doom is startling and terrifying, and it is impossible not to feel sorry for him. Though he descends ever deeper into horror, he fights it all the way down.
There’s a timelessness about the setting; it could be far in the past, an alternate present, a future following the fall and rise of modern civilisation, or even another planet. Yet although the geography might not anchor the world of Clay and Doto in a recognisable place and time, Campbell’s prose grounds the reader firmly in the world.
Clay’s village is painted in such rich colours that I felt I knew exactly what it would be like to pass the fence and walk among the huts, while the desert Firelands are redolent of vastness, loneliness, hunger and thirst. There’s also a definite sense of the world beyond the horizons known to Clay’s people, just as the humans’ world is outside the experience of Doto.
The most loving descriptions, however, are saved for Doto’s forest. Here is an environment teeming with life, from tiny insects up to ancient trees. This has been Doto’s home from birth, and everything in it—flowers, fruit, vines—does the young god’s bidding. But as he starts to see things from Clay’s point of view, he begins to recognise the strangeness and the dangers.
Doto has grown up with powers far outside human experience, but is almost entirely ignorant of life beyond the forest, just as Clay is fearful of what lies within it and of the gods. And although Clay has grown up surrounded by family, he is just as lonely as Doto. God of Clay is largely a story about friendship across different cultures.
Not to say that there is no action or peril. Clay in particular is vulnerable in the depths of the forest, but there are dangers for Doto too, while Laughing Dog’s arc has him facing dangers both natural and supernatural. This first book reaches a satisfying conclusion, but I was left with a sense that there were greater adventures and a wider world yet to come. I can’t wait.
God of Clay and Forest Gods are both available from Sofawolf Press. God of Clay is also available as an ebook.
![.] New One in Town [.](http://b.thumbs.redditmedia.com/eZxYl4B2KpZJPhqWPEGjz5QASa1e4fFPR8Bkyb0mp3I.jpg ".] New One in Town [.")
Doctor No More ~By Topaz Colite
This has been created by the remains of papers and books found under a drift of sand on the planet Elrus. It was a lot like Earth; the scientists were quite surprised, but willing to move into this planet and start the first human colony outside of the solar system. As they set up their camp and started the terrain manipulator, they started their archeological discovering and found the documents.
By their research, these were thousands of years old. They described a war that had been going on for centuries on this planet, so long everyone had forgotten of the cause and were just in the middle of fighting. Eventually, high-tech weapons began to run out and they had to resort to low-tech ones like the bow and arrow and swords. Society began to enter a state of decay and age backwards, becoming more primitive to live with the unholy burden of war and death. Only the humans would find out, from reading the documents, was that the original starters of the war had long since fled, letting the citizens and generals to respond to a robot speaker pretending to be their voice from their room.
The war eventually ended when one unlucky Elrusin had to summon up the last of his soul and launch the final nuclear bomb at the heavens. Afterwards, the skies exploded and great fire flew over the entire planet, vaporizing anything alive or dead. This last bit was inferred from the receding radiation the humans had used to discover this planet. This was at a safe level for them however, and they moved in.
Anyway, about a century in, historians began to recreate stories of what had happened before the Great Disaster. The drawings they found in the caves a decade ago gave a voice and a vision to those long gone. They surprisingly looked like common animals from Earth, only humanoid, and so the authors would use those names to describe them. This is one of those stories.
The snow was falling from the ash clouds, covering all of the sunlight the mountain city needed for its crops. This was the city of Turben. It was a bustling city, having over 10,000 Elrusins living in it. The majority of them were blacksmiths, creating primitive weapons for the war that once didn’t need them. The first blacksmiths had to learn their trade from dusty documents and experience. Afterwards, they taught the next and generations were born for this trade. It was not common to see soldiers walking in, bleeding in various places, for the town was a medical center as well.
Only one doctor did not participate in these healing activities. He was known to everyone as “The Stranger” as he was a black fox wearing a white mask covering the left side of his face. No one knew why he did so. Some said he wore it for vanity. Others said he wanted to conceal his identity. And the children, despite negativity from mothers, said he wore it to hide scars from a battle a long time ago.
The Stranger made his way through the market of Turben, his wooden basket full of fruits and meats. He headed towards his sole home that everyone tried to ignore, a small shack up a cliff, overlooking the town. It had appeared one day but nobody said much as new houses appeared all the time with the growing population.
The Stranger had rigged an elevator that was fit to hold one Elrusin. Anyone else besides the Stranger could use it but no one really wanted to. They knew he lived up there and they just warned their children to respect his private space.
The black fox walked into the box, pressed a button, and shut the gate. The elevator rumbled its way up the cliff, stopping at the landing the shack was on. After the Stranger got off, it rumbled back down. No one knew why it did this. Some said it was an invitation. Other said it was an invitation, but not of the pleasant kind. Or perhaps there was just the fact it was to do so automatically for whatever reason.
Inside the shack was documents everywhere on one side of a room. They littered the tables, the chairs, the bed. These were the research the Stranger had done a long time ago, but now were being covered up gradually. The research was being hidden by poems written by the Stranger, the only productivity he felt he could do.
Author’s Note: We managed to find one of the poems. It reads as follows: The sky burned with its missiles/ the river flows with its agony/ the people downwards cry in pain/ Some help but most harm/ This is what my life has become/ A life of regret. Written by Dr. Zurich
The black fox set his basket on the table that stood in the kitchen and looked out the window, staring at the embers of the enemy gradually making their way to the gate of this town. Every Elrusin knew that this town was critical in healing the soldiers and if it went down, they were doomed.
“They will probably be here in a month.” A familiar voice sounded next to him. It was a black bird that resembled a raven of the feral kind.
“Come on, Rubin.” Zurich said to the bird. “We all know we were going to fail eventually. I don’t see why they keep on trying. This violence is not needed.”
“You didn’t believe that a long time ago.” Rubin looked at the fox.
“Ah, shut up and let me make dinner.” Zurich set to work. The raven looked on in silence.
Meanwhile, a female hyena made his way through the market, covering his baby who was crying. Tara knew the baby needed help, but no other doctor knew what was wrong with him.
She saw the elevator that went up the cliff to the Stranger’s shack. She’d heard rumors of the Stranger having been a doctor a long time ago but never really believed them. Why not be a doctor anymore when the job was needed so much? Tara stepped in the elevator. The hyena saw the button next to the door. After cradling her mewling baby with her left arm, she pressed. The elevator rumbled, then went up slowly, bringing the Stranger a new visitor.
To Tara, the shack was humble. All of the other shacks under her were decorated with paints by the children of the generation as a way to spread happiness in these times. Wherelse, this shack was simply made of wood with a metal roof. The door was loose, swinging open a couple inches.
The hyena walked in and called out, “Hello?” Her baby started crying. Tara tried to shush him quickly but whimpered at the coughs.
“Where are you from?” Tara gasped at the voice behind her. It was the Stranger looking at her in the shadows.
“P- please. I need help. I know you’re a doctor. I need help.” The hyena begged.
The fox stepped forwards, revealing the white mask covering half of his face. “The doctor you are looking for is not here anymore.” A raven flew in and landed on a windowsill, surprising the hyena.
“Where is he then?” Tara asked, breathing heavily.
The fox looked at one of his poems on a table. “He’s gone. He’s been long gone now.”
“W- why did he leave?” The hyena asked, curious.
“Because of this!” The Stranger tore his mask off to reveal the left side of his face. It was covered in scars and burns, the scarred flesh shown in between the burned off fur.
“It took me months to get this healed!” The fox got closer to the cowering hyena. “And even after everything I could’ve done, it still remains! I can’t do anything about it!” His eyes were close to tears.
The Stranger took a couple deep breaths and allowed Tara to get a good look at his scars. After composing himself, he put his mask on and looked at the scared Tara holding her baby close to her.
“Why in One’s name are you here?” The Stranger asked.
“M- my baby’s sick.” Tara muttered.
“We all get sick.” The fox said indifferent.
“B- but no doctors have figured out what he has.” Tara gently unrolled the blankets to show her newborn son to the fox. The small hyena’s nose was full of mucus, and he coughed constantly, a small “whoop” every several seconds. It was easy to see it was hard for him to breathe.
“Whooping cough.” The fox stated simply. “It’s been a long time since I saw that. Last time, it was a plague that killed hundreds of kids.”
“So you’ll help him?” Tara finally felt some hope of getting a cure from this angry fox.
“No. I’m not a doctor anymore.” The Stranger sat on a chair. The raven looked at him. “Oh stop looking at me Rubin. You know it’s true.”
“Why aren’t you a doctor anymore? Why would you quit?” Tara cradled the coughing baby.
“I am a hundred five years old. Everyone on this planet can live for a long time, barring accidents. And then the war began. It became so rare to find anyone older than fifty.” The black fox looked out the window, rubbing his white mask.
“It was hell. Every day, thousands of soldiers came in, bringing limbs or wounds or arrows I had to heal and sew closed. There was no aesthetic. That ran out a long time ago. Every soldier who came in had to deal with pain or death. There was no other choice. Then, always, they would go back into the battlefield, to fight for whatever this war was. All they knew was that they had to win. No matter the cost. Everyone of us were told so. But never the reason.
“One day, a soldier came in with a fire spear in his arm. Those are long gone now but the burns still remain. He panicked during the surgery and lashed out in pain. The spear entered my eye, traveling around my face with its point, burning everything it could touch, just like it was supposed to do. The fire grew all over my face. By the time it was put out, I was left with half of my once useful face burned off. It took a lot of herbs and poultices to get it stable but even now, it still hurts.
“I could’ve been kicked out. My face made it impossible to perform any surgery properly. But they kept me on. They needed my service. But I quit. My help was useless if they were just going to get injured again. Fighting in some pointless war. A long time ago, I tried so hard to help my side. But they did nothing for me and I left.” The fox was staring at the floor, a small tear going down his snout.
“But wasn’t it wonderful?” Tara asked. “To help the sick?” The Stranger looked at her with fifty years worth of contempt. “Please.” Tears were running down the hyena’s neck. “I- I beg you. I n- need my son to live!”
“To live to go fight and get injured and die?” The fox asked her cynically.
“NO!” The hyena yelled. The baby cried and she tried to shush him. At a steadier softer voice, she continued. “I don’t want to send my son into war either. He’d die. But they would force him to, despite what anyone else would say.” Tara looked at her coughing baby.
“So he’ll die anyway. Might as well not be born anyway. It would be hell to live, even if he survived this cough.” The Stranger turned from the hyena and picked up his pen to write again. The raven looked at him. “Shut up Rubin.”
“But isn’t any life precious? No matter how short?” Rubin asked the fox. The hyena gasped, surprised the raven could speak.
“Come one Rubin. You’ve seen the front line for yourself in the sky. It’s a massacre out there where life doesn’t matter, only winning. At least to the soldiers out there.” The fox glared angrily at the raven.
“Do you see who you’ve become, Zurich?” Rubin asked sadly.
“Who I’ve become?!” Zurich asked him loudly. “I am pain, anger, madness, evil and I have PASSION!” The fox lunged for the raven who quickly flew to the rafters of the roof.
The fox stood by the window, breathing deeply. Then he looked at the hyena. “What are you still doing here? Get out!” He pointed to the door.
The hyena stayed put, refusing the order. “But isn’t it worth it to have a little joy? When was the last time you laughed?”
The fox scoffed. “A rush of dopamine is not worth anything.” He turned to Tara. “It’s been ages since I laughed. There’s no place for such a thing in this world.”
“But isn’t happiness important? Without it, we wouldn’t feel the need to live.” Tara walked closely to the fox who begrudgingly allowed this close proximity. “Happiness helps us in those dark times. It’s what makes life worth it. Without it, we would be better off as dead. There’s already so much death and decay around us. Without happiness, we become dead. Gone. Alive sure, but dead inside.” The hyena walked to the exit, quitting her attempt to get medicine for her son.
Zurich looked down at the floor, thinking. Remembering. All of the kids crying and weak with the cough but laughing when their throats were clear and the colorful puppets entertaining them.
“What’s the kid’s name?” Zurich asked. Tara stopped.
“Krane. He’s my only one. His father’s on the frontline.” The hyena turned to look at a thinking fox.
“I will give you herbs. On one condition.” Zurich looked with a small frown at Tara.
“Anything.” Tara looked at the fox with hope.
Zurich moved to the pantry and began taking out old herbs and putting them in a bowl. After mashing them together and putting them in a bag, he turned to face the wondering hyena.
“Krane will not be soldier. He will be a doctor. He will come up and be my apprentice. I’ll teach him. And someday. When this damn war is over. He’ll finally put his skills to good use. I- I suppose every soldier deserves a couple minutes of happiness.” Zurich sighed.
“I promise.” Tara stepped forward, the baby crawling inter her neck.
The black fox handed over the bag. “Give Krane a spoonful three time a day. Keep his nose clear and when cleaning out his throat, pour some water down afterwards.”
“Thank you.” The hyena was in tears. Tara left the shack with the fox looking at her. He could afford to waste those herbs anyway if she didn’t keep her promise. Zurich sat down at his table and picked up a pen. He started writing again. Rubin looked on with a small grin on his beak.
The next day, Zurich heard the elevator running. He expected it was some Elrusin who wanted help after what he did for Tara. After waiting several minutes, no one came. Puzzles, the black fox looked out, keeping his white mask on. A loaf of bread sat in front of the door.
For the first time in decades, the fox did a little smile. He took it in and saw the note, saying it was from Tara.
It was delicious.
So what'd you guys think? Should I sent it in for a writing contest?
submitted by topaz_colite[link] [4 comments]
The Worst Anthropomorphic Movie of the Decade – by Fred Patten.
How do I throw myself out there?
I want to be more open about being a furry, but I don't wanna be obnoxious about it. I mean, I wanna find more furs. Same with online, I enjoy rp-ing and making friends, have zero idea how to do it all proper and non pushy or douchey....
submitted by LordTacoSauce[link] [5 comments]
![Sunset snuggles on a train [Koul]](http://b.thumbs.redditmedia.com/VyUZh3mvSHXDxsnc_eTBaYVLVSwf2UrHpOmmXvk4qWc.jpg "Sunset snuggles on a train [Koul]")
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