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Winner- ~TheRainyWolf <3
With thier awsoemsauce long as hell story xD Congradulations~




I think it was supposed to be an otter ... but its not now lol xD

So yeah, its free :D

All you have to do is this-
- Comment with a short story, ( or long if you want ) about this character
- post it!

I will pick the person with the most creative, awsomesauce story. Thats it!

Winner- ~TheRainyWolf <3
With thier awsoemsauce long as hell story xD Congradulations~


ends 8/12/12 GO GO GO
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The unidentified male sat down in the swampy Louisiana wetlands. Light brown fur covered a lithe, otter-like frame. Lighter fur was streaked down his belly as if someone had painted it on, and darker brown splotches covered him. However, from the creatures skull sprang two small antlers, one thing that was different from his otter brethren. A few other distinct characteristics were long, springboard-like legs and large, saucer-shaped ears. Also, upon his forehead lay a strange circle pattern, in which the dark brown of his coat was encased in the lighter brown. The male was sitting alone in the bullrushes, when he heard a call.

“Arkdain, ye swamp-licker! Come out!”

The otter-like mammal, Arkdain, sighed. He hated his name. In the otter language, Mustelti, his name meant ‘shamed one’. He opened his mouth, sharp, needle-like canine teeth poking out from his lips, and called. “I’m coming, Brother Jul!” Lifting himself from the ground, he tried to walk like a normal otter would, but tripped and fell. A chestnut-colored paw grabbed his ruff, heaving him off the ground.

A large, well-fed male otter lifted him, and held Arkdain face-to-face with him. His fishy breath was strong, and the scent choked Arkdain, who whimpered softly. “Yer no Brother o‘ Jul, trout-gut. I‘ll gut ye like the fish we’s havin’ the next time I hear ye call me dat. ” He then threw Arkdain face-down in the mud. “Naow wash yerself, ya filthy wreck!”

Arkdain sat up, swiping mud off of his face and snorting, watching Jul’s broad back disappear into some cattails with the sound of laughter ringing in his large ears. His brother’s name meant ‘Noble’, and Arkdain despised him.

Seeing his sibling had gone, he heaved himself to his paws, and instead of trying to walk, hopped through the bullrushes where he came from, but passed through the spot where he sat before. Soon he began to wash the mud off of himself, looking as uncomfortable in the water as a carp on land. After a while we got out, and shook his short brown pelt. He then hopped in the direction Jul had gone and came to a small hut of twigs and leaves. Noise came from inside, and he entered slowly, nervously.

As he entered, it became silent, and otter faces swiveled about to look at him. In the middle of the hut was a long table, each seat taken by a member of his clan of otters, The Shontar. Jul sat at the head of the table. He was leader of the clan now that his father, Karun, had died, and had made it a living hell for small Arkdain. Jul sniffed, getting up, and strolling over to Arkdain.

“Yer late, mussel-fer-brains. Sit down!” He chuckled, kicking Arkdain on his rump, and sending him to the ground.. The other otters laughed. “We’re already through eatin’. No grub for ya!” The other Shontar got up, walking out the door and giving respective bows to Jul, who smiled and them. A few even beat Arkdain or taunted him on his way out. Jul then leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Yer lucky I havint killed ye yet, Arkdain. You aint part o’ this clan, and never will be. To see our Father call you a son is a disgrace to me.” He then walked out, heading a slight east to the direction of the sleeping quarters.

Arkdain frowned, getting up again. He searched around the table for any crumb, and luckily there were many, as The Shontar were a sloppy otter clan. But of course it wasn’t enough for Arkdain’s small stomach, and he left, ravenous and weary. However, he didn’t head east, as his brother had done. Jul had banished him from sleeping with the others, and wasn’t allowed in their camp at all, except for when Jul decided to burn him.

The Burning is an ancient otter ceremony directed to punishing an otter for their wrongdoings, and only used as severe punishment, but Jul seemed to use it on him for fun. Long before his father and his grandfather, one otter had found a strange metal container that spewed fire like a dragon. If otters were men, they would simply call it a lighter. In The Burning, a selected otter, called “The Drayer” would come forward and make a small dash mark upon his left arm. Over the years, these had become numerous on Arkdain, and he expected more to come.

Arkdain, pushing Burning thoughts from his mind, headed to where his den lay. Jul had exiled him to the end of the territory, on the border of their rival clan, The Lantairs. The otters of The Shontar and The Lantair would kill each other for nothing, so Arkdain lived in fear every sundown. His den lay in a rock structure that seemed like it would fall if a thrushes feather landed upon it. Arkdain frowned, and crawled into it, and looked at a puddle that never seemed to vanish from the corner of his den. Taking a paw, he touched it lightly, looking at his reflection shattering like glass at the ripple. Sighing, he turned his head away, and fell asleep.

The male was awoken by a strange noise in the middle of the night, and the glowing of cerulean optics. Akdains eyes widened as a familiar, yet strange voice then came.

“The Prince….”


To be continued.....if I win him, that is.