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Wool

The scarlet Lamb

Summary The story is a fantasy story with a slight horror aesthetic coupled with slight romance but not too much for this is mainly an action novel. Disclaimer: lots of gore and profanity will be used, with lit RPGs. Yes it's another reincarnation story but one where the MC doesn't know how to make everything in modern time. There will be slight evolution but not much for I want to keep him as close to a sheep as possible but he will get humanoid form but he won't turn into a human. No Graphic R18 scene. I'm not writing a smut story! I will add art of the characters and monsters as much as I am able to in the comments at the end, so please check them out when you finish reading the chapter! If you really like the story and or character art please help support my work by visiting my etsy store where I will be selling them on t-shirts or other nick-knacks. Alright that enough self promotion now onto the main sum. Summary: Enter the world of Redsorrth, a world filled with magic and dangers >:)! A world filled with all the fantasy classics like dwarves, elves, beast-men etc.. with classic monsters such as… goblins, demons and dragons. This fantasy classic story takes place where our hero Babbitt is a newborn sheep where he must survive to become a shepherd, but how will he survive when his race is always being hunted! For sheep flesh makes the best sacrifices to the gods as well as to feed their enemy stomachs, for sheep is the most prized of delicacies! For they are Hunted down for their wool, blood and flesh, while their innocent souls make the best conduit for the demons and gods alike. How long will he survive being born at one of the human farms? Will he escape to find the higher forms of his race? Or will he forever be stuck as a sheep for the slaughter? Will he meet a cute female sheepy…. Well I guess the only way to know is to read and find out!
Sulfates_Cidif · 8.2K Views

The Discarded Book 1

The Umbrae Lunae existed before man, beautiful abominations birthed in the nightmares of mad gods. They wait for humanity to misstep, for the angels to look away. For the moment when they can cloak the world in moon shadows once again. But even horrors have children. Even nightmares must feed. One child, unlike the others, finds his way to a school for young abominations. Will he be a sheep cast before the wolves, or a terror that wears the skin of wool to entice the wolf close? The flesh of his body was his only coin, strips cut to pay debts that never ended. Everyone has scars, stories in a life led, lessons learned, and licks taken. Luminous bodies touched by darkness. There are a cursed few that are the opposite, black shadows consumed by scars, twisted minds devoured by diseased hungers, bodies tortured misshapen works of gouged flesh, silver lines of blade thin cuts, ragged tears of teeth and glass. For them, the scars are marks of homecoming, the mangled wasteland the only place they feel at peace. Hell is a place. It's made of concrete, steel and glass. It's the sounds of starving kids crying themselves to sleep, huddling into small balls as creepers come and take their due of innocence and tender meat. It's eating rotten food and carrying ticks in your hair. It’s having no one and nothing while surrounded by everything. It's the life of a street kid. What abomination was birthed in the corrupt womb of man’s cast-off shit? Pretty people don't know the power of ugly. They can't see the strength in a broken soul or the power in a calloused heart. Those secrets are for the discarded alone. Only the broken understand the grace of darkness. The blessed folds that hide scars and tears, the protection of its concealing umbra.
UncleanSoul · 154.8K Views

On the other side of death - A story of love beyond the grave

When I was little, all I knew was fear. Fear of the gnawing hunger that consumed us from the inside. Fear of the biting cold that seeped through walls and wools and nipped at our toes and fingers. And fear of the ruthless lords who partied in the castle, up on the mountain, living off our work, our tears, our blood. We thought fear would keep us safe, make us cautious and wise. We prayed to our gods for protection, and paid our tithe to the vampire lords, and hoped for peace. Fear kept us in our place, my family and I. And it is in fear that they died. When I found them, mangled and covered in blood, l swore I would never live in fear again. If I were to die like them, l would at least die a brave death. I didn’t think that I might die a stupid death. All it takes is one wrong step. Tread on a twig, and they will hear you coming. Step on a viper and you will never have a chance to take on the vampire. There are so many things that can go wrong in the mountains. One moment, one tiny slip, and your life flashes before your eyes, every memory vivid and painful like a knife through the heart. And when you breathe your last, labored breath, the last thing you see is the vampire, leaning over you in the dark, moonless night, savoring his victory. My last thought, as I lay dying, was that, at least, there would be no vampires in the afterlife. Whether I was going to heaven or hell, I knew I had escaped him and his kind. There is no eternal rest for the undead, no passage into the world beyond. We would never meet again. Or so I thought. For the briefest moment, when I woke up in the tight coffin, I thought that I’d survived. But only for a moment. Then the painful realization hit me: my heart wasn’t beating. And, instead of the hunger that had ruled my entire life, I felt a dire thirst.
DarkestNight81 · 6.4K Views

Providence: Arise of Trinity (Mega XOver) [Officially on Hiatus]

Wyatt, an orphan that came from Wools Orphanage, had discovered his unique ability, where he could develop and improve himself by means of using the ability. But much to his tragedy, the ability was locked for a long time, and he only unlocked it when someone dear to him died, giving him various changes, from body, to personality, to soul, and to everything. "Rise and look at future, be prominent in mind.", said by Phineas Moore. "Stand and govern your subjects as how kind and benovelent you are, be a wise and open minded person.", said by Arthur Pendragon. "Wake up and live by this tragic reality, as for you will see how disgusting everything that had exist. Be instinctively prepared everyime, you wouldn't know who will stab your back.", said by Adamas. Three personalities to help him thrive and carve his own path, from being a normal kid, to pitiful and losy persona; a coldblooded killer, to formidable being; from being a demigod in shameful limelight, to a god that were respected by all. Trinity. — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — Photo not mine, edited tho. This is a fanfic, or maybe a made up novel, from seven different movies and anime. Namely: • Harry Potter (Original Plot) • Creepypasta • Percy Jackson • Marvel Universe 616 • HoloLive Idols as Characters • Chuthulu Mythos • Fate Grand Order Servants as Characters (Expect the genderbender and traps here)
Bezel_Kairos · 33.9K Views

God of The Nephilims

In the beginning when men began to multiply, during the era of the first men after Lilith was barnished from Eden. A demon named Azazel who was barnished by the holy gods and sent down to earth married Lilith, and they gave birth to Valyris and Arine, Valyris was a hunter and he was great upon the earth, he later married a she demon Ashtheroth, and Arine married Kein. They are the descendants of the Nephilims. Their children the Nephilims oppressed humans for ages, humans cried, prayed to the holy gods in agony waiting for a deliverer but it seems the gods shot their ears from hearing and eyes from seeing the pain of the people. The worst was yet to come, the Nephilims were immortals because they lived hundreds of years and were Giants. For ages they ruled mankind with sorcery and wisdom their parents Valyris and Arine passed to them. After a thousand years passed, the holy gods summoned Lilith and Azazel to the high court, The court of the gods, as the name implies only gods were judged, Azazel, and Lilith were chained and thrown into the great deep, a prison made for only gods, a prison of darkness, a prison of nothingness As for their children Valyris and Arine, the holy gods cursed them with an everlasting curse. Valyris was cursed with a great curse. In the words of the gods "Valyris! Valyris!! Because you hunt both man and beast, and make yourself mighty on earth, you're cursed with the curse of the beast, as you hunt shall you be hunted. So Valyris was cursed the curse of wolves, Arine, the daughter of Azazel and Lilith played the harlot and taught men and women witchcraft, to drink human blood, and eat human flesh, to cast spells and make portions. She was beautiful, as beautiful as the sun, her hair white as wool and she had the eyes of the holy gods, red and blazing like fire. She was strong but not as strong as Valyris, and all these made her exalt herself above the holy gods. She bought the hearts of men through her sorcery and made men worship her. The holy gods cursed her with the curse of darkness, they said, " Arine because you look like the sun, and you have exalted yourself above everyone, the sun is your enemy." She will smite you, in darkness you shall dwell until the day you will be called. The holy gods left Valyris and Arine to rule the earth for the pledged repentance but they lied because both ruled humans with a strong hand, and the children of the brothers of Azazel, the demons were wicked. The world was full of wickedness only the strong survive, the weak were used as slaves. Valyris and the demons didn't spare mankind. To Valyris and Arine, it is a pay back to the holy gods. They looked for a deliverer but none was found so mankind lost hope, and started eating and drinking forgetting the holy gods.
StephenJr_PYS · 3.8K Views

A GAME OF THRONES

“We should start back,” Gared urged as the woods began to grow dark around them. “The wildlings are dead.” “Do the dead frighten you?” Ser Waymar Royce asked with just the hint of a smile. Gared did not rise to the bait. He was an old man, past fifty, and he had seen the lordlings come and go. “Dead is dead,” he said. “We have no business with the dead.” “Are they dead?” Royce asked softly. “What proof have we?” “Will saw them,” Gared said. “If he says they are dead, that’s proof enough for me.” Will had known they would drag him into the quarrel sooner or later. He wished it had been later rather than sooner. “My mother told me that dead men sing no songs,” he put in. “My wet nurse said the same thing, Will,” Royce replied. “Never believe anything you hear at a woman’s tit. There are things to be learned even from the dead.” His voice echoed, too loud in the twilit forest. “We have a long ride before us,” Gared pointed out. “Eight days, maybe nine. And night is falling.” Ser Waymar Royce glanced at the sky with disinterest. “It does that every day about this time. Are you unmanned by the dark, Gared?” Will could see the tightness around Gared’s mouth, the barely suppressed anger in his eyes under the thick black hood of his cloak. Gared had spent forty years in the Night’s Watch, man and boy, and he was not accustomed to being made light of. Yet it was more than that. Under the wounded pride, Will could sense something else in the older man. You could taste it; a nervous tension that came perilous close to fear. Will shared his unease. He had been four years on the Wall. The first time he had been sent beyond, all the old stories had come rushing back, and his bowels had turned to water. He had laughed about it afterward. He was a veteran of a hundred rangings by now, and the endless dark wilderness that the southron called the haunted forest had no more terrors for him. Until tonight. Something was different tonight. There was an edge to this darkness that made his hackles rise. Nine days they had been riding, north and northwest and then north again, farther and farther from the Wall, hard on the track of a band of wildling raiders. Each day had been worse than the day that had come before it. Today was the worst of all. A cold wind was blowing out of the north, and it made the trees rustle like living things. All day, Will had felt as though something were watching him, something cold and implacable that loved him not. Gared had felt it too. Will wanted nothing so much as to ride hellbent for the safety of the Wall, but that was not a feeling to share with your commander. Especially not a commander like this one. Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife. Mounted on his huge black destrier, the knight towered above Will and Gared on their smaller garrons. He wore black leather boots, black woolen pants, black moleskin gloves, and a fine supple coat of gleaming black ringmail over layers of black wool and boiled leather. Ser Waymar had been a Sworn Brother of the Night’s Watch for less than half a year, but no one could say he had not prepared for his vocation. At least insofar as his wardrobe was concerned. His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin. “Bet he killed them all himself, he did,” Gared told the barracks over wine, “twisted their little heads off, our mighty warrior.” They had all shared the laugh. It is hard to take orders from a man you laughed at in your cups, Will reflected as he sat shivering atop his garron. Gared must have felt the same. “Mormont said as we should track them, and we did,” Gared said. “They’re dead. They shan’t trouble us no more. There’s hard riding before us. I don’t like this weather. If it snows, we could be a fortnight getting back, and snow’s the best we can hope for. Ever seen an ice storm .
Elizabethe · 25.3K Views
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