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About Lumanatrix

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    Coalition of Claws


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  1. It's time for me to leave I feel unwelcome here, for these reasons. 1) I've heard of a private chat room that some people here use. I've seen one person get invited to it without asking, and I was never invited. 2) My posts are ignored by anyone except occasionally tulpa001. 3) I announced that I was making a new tulpa. It seemed no one could be bothered to care and that was hurtful. For these reasons it's become increasingly uncomfortable to post anything, because that's not how it was when I joined, and now I feel silently judged. I've learned enough to continue without the community. I might come back in the future, but I have no explicit plans to do so. Goodbye, from me and Ray.
  2. I can't read the screenshot bunch of screenshots and my antivirus detected that the sight was risky.
  3. Sorry for not making a new chapter in a few days, I went through a small bout of depression. I'm aware that this story is very dark and I'm sorry if that bothers you. I got a suggestion to make Milo wake up and realize it was all a bad dream, but that basically disregards everything I've written so far. I'm still open to suggestions though. [video=youtube] Milo rose onto all fours. He was downtown, not far from the bamboo shop. Crickets chirped in the warm night air. When he had been kidnapped it was midday. The street was empty, lights glowing in a few shops that were open after ten o’clock. His memories of what happened replayed over and over but he knew he needed to contact the police and then go to a hospital. The bamboo shop was closed, but he was friends with it’s owner, Samuel, a black and white giant panda. He instinctively felt for the bag around his neck and realized it was gone. They had taken it. All his money, all his paint, gone. His emotions were numbed, all he could feel in the moment was a hollow emptiness. He walked to the bamboo shop at the end of the block and banged the door knocker three times. A light came on on the second floor which was where Samuel lived. Milo heard him clomping down the stairs. Samuel peered out the window and his groggy expression turned to one of shock as he saw Milo. He opened the heavy wooden door. “Milo!” He said. “Are you okay? What on earth happened to you?” Milo stepped into the nice smelling shop with shelves lined with bamboo, a staircase in the corner behind a counter. He buried his face into Samuel’s fur. Samuel took a step back as blood wet his fur, but he hugged Milo, whose emotional barrier melted and he started sobbing. Samuel shut the door and hurried over to the counter. “You’re bleeding, I’m calling an ambulance.” He said. Milo leaned against the door and nodded. Samuel dialed a number on the telephone. “I’ve got a friend here, he’s bleeding… he looks really bad.” He said. “Please come quick.” After a moment he hung up. “I’ll get a towel.” He disappeared up the stairs and came back moments later to wrap Milo’s arm with a white towel. He wiped some blood off Milo’s face. “I was kidnapped.” Milo said, his nose running and tears streaming down his cheeks. “Tell the police everything.” Samuel said, his deep blue eyes filled with worry. Milo nodded. A few hours later, Milo lay in a hospital bed, his arm and face stitched. He told them that he had been knocked in the temple so they examined him for brain injury. They found none, so he was told that he would be released once they examined him once more and made sure they got the story straight. A cat policewoman had asked him what he knew, and pressed him to remember, but the only important detail he could come up with was that the preacher had mentioned “Order of the Red Moon”, which the officer had jotted down. He was offered protective custody, but he declined, disliking the idea of sitting in a small room for days. Milo sighed, in a room with air conditioner, the flowery smell soothing him. He had requested to be alone, and after an hour he had almost stopped crying. He had asked for something to draw with, and was told not to use his right arm, which was stitched, to draw. He had politely been given some paper and a pen. He would have preferred a pencil, but nonetheless it helped calm him. There was a TV above his bed. He had flicked through the channels and found a cartoon, then turned the volume up as loud as it could go, and for the last hour tried to drown out his thoughts by scribbling faces and shapes. One memory that recurred the most often was of the scrawny hyena that had had his belly cut open, because of Milo. Milo had caused his death, and the hyena hadn’t actually broken any rule. Milo wondered if he should feel sorry for him, but he couldn’t help it. He remembered the look he had given him. On the other hand, it was a complete wonder that Milo was still breathing. A tiny phrase in his wording has resulted in him being given a chance to escape. But now what? Samuel had offered that Milo could stay at his house, which Milo took up, afraid to be alone. He had no money, and before he had survived off of donations from strangers watching him paint. Milo looked up at the screen, watching a cartoon rabbit sticking his tongue out at two brown bears. He leaned towards a table and with his left paw held the pen and drew a dark, menacing figure. Then he quickly crumpled up the paper and threw it across the room.
  4. Lumanatrix

    Chat Thread

    Chapter five of Milo is in production. I put in a metaphor-ish thing at the end that's really creeping me out.
  5. Lol there's some similarities for sure.
  6. NSFW [hidden] [video=youtube] The pack howled and barked, angry that they didn’t get to see Milo tortured. Milo was horrified. He kept on telling himself to wake up. He puked the fish from earlier, leaving it dribbling down his chin as the preacher approached him. Milo was too dumbstruck to say anything, he could only stare with his mouth half open, the sour taste of fish still on his tongue. To Milo’s surprise, the preacher cut the ropes binding him against the pole. Milo slumped to the ground, quivering and shaking, barely holding himself up with his front paws. “Acolytes, come into the light.” Said the preacher. A wave of tails and paws, heads and eyes climbed over each other to reach the light of the fire. The preacher grabbed the scruff of Milo’s neck and forced him to stand, holding his blade against Milo’s throat. “Sheep, tell me which one helped the failed initiate and I may spare your life.” It took a moment for those words to register, and Milo could tell that the preacher did not like to wait. In truth, Milo had no idea who had been in the car. He had been knocked out before he could even see the driver. For a few painful seconds he looked over the crowd of faces gathered before him. Then he raised a shaky arm and pointed to a scrawny hyena near him without saying a word. “No! It wasn’t me!” The hyena yelled in panic as his fate was sealed. “Grab him.” Said the preacher. Milo watched the pack turn on one of their own, yanking him kicking and screaming off the ground and holding his paws behind his back before the preacher. “Good, good. Now, let your eyes behold the fate of one who dares to break the covenants of the Order of the Red Moon.” The preacher slashed the knife deep into the belly of the hyena. He squealed in agony, being held up as his intestines seeped out onto the floor. He made brief eye contact with Milo, his eyes filled with pain and anger. Minutes later, he stopped moving. The preacher looked down on Milo with dull red beady eyes. “As I promised, I’m not going to kill you. But it would be ungracious of me to deny my pack a warm body to tear apart.” The preacher pointed to a hallway leading out of the room. “I’ll give you five seconds. Beginning now.” Something in Milo, a survival instinct buried deep within, clicked as it saw a chance at life. He scrambled to the hallway as the preacher counted down. “4...” Milo raced through the stone hallway lit by torches. “3...” The preacher’s voice became too far away to hear. He reached a staircase. At the top was an iron door. He scrambled up, hearing howls as the pack was given the order to chase. He reached the top of the staircase and desperately pulled the door’s handle. It wouldn’t budge. There was no way out. This was just another sadistic game, the preacher knew how it would end. The pack, over fifteen of them, reached the bottom of the staircase. Milo sat down against the wall as they drew closer. He didn’t have the strength to fight. It was futile, anyway. His paw touched a thin metal cover with holes that he could see a shaft through. The spark of hope ignited in him again as he furiously kicked the metal until it unhinged. The pack was only a few yards away, snarling and growling. Milo crammed himself head first into the shaft, just big enough for him, and crawled through. Claws scraped on the metal behind him but the hyenas wouldn’t fit. He reached a ladder descending into a dimly lit sewer system. He climbed head first down the ladder and then twisted his body around, his hind paws landing in the sewer with a splash. He trenched through, listening to the traffic above, looking for an open manhole. Just as his strength was giving out, he found one. The light of a streetlamp shone through, illuminating his freedom. He climbed up a rusty ladder and poked his head above ground, gasping breath after breath of fresh air. Then he pulled his wet, blood stained body onto the street. [/hidden] Freestyle writing this without planning out an elaborate plot is really fun :D
  7. Hi and welcome :) Good luck!
  8. NSFW [hidden](torture, blood) [video=youtube] Milo’s arm was bleeding, but the pain was almost numbed by fear. His stomach knotted as he watched the circle being drawn around him in his own blood. He silently cried, so helpless and confused. Why him? He hadn’t done anything to deserve this. He was just a lonesome but happy street painter. Andrew rose to his hind paws and cackled at the sight of Milo crying. “Poor little panda.” He said, holding the knife near Milo’s tear stained eyes. “You’re cute though.” Andrew cut a little bit into Milo’s face. “Please! Please don’t hurt me!” Milo sobbed. Jeers and cackles erupted from the pack, who were watching with sadistic fascination. A look of insane pleasure ignited in Andrew’s eyes as he drew so close to Milo that their noses were touching. He made steady eye contact with Milo as he twisted the knife underneath Milo’s skin and listened intently to Milo’s cry of pain. Milo resolved to drooping his head and closing his eyes, knowing that he would die where he stood, but probably not for a very long time. Since he was going to die one way or another, he might be able to ask a few questions. He gulped and asked “Why are you doing this?” Andrew grinned. “It’s fun.” Andrew snickered. “You tricked me into following you...” Milo said, knowing everything he said would only prolong his suffering. “I thought you were my friend. But you led me into a trap and the car came. How can you be so cruel?” Andrew laughed, seeing what Milo said as some sort of sick joke. “I know, I know, I led you on so perfectly.” He raised the knife again, and Milo sunk back into surrender. But he was interrupted by the preacher. “Was there anyone in the car… helping you?” He hissed. “No, my lord.” Said Andrew. His words were met with silence, so he continued. “I brought him into an alleyway where I knocked him out and locked him in my car.” Milo looked up, confused. That wasn’t what had happened. The car had pulled up after Milo had been led into the alleyway. Andrew had had assistance in capturing him… and suddenly Milo realized, that the preacher had said that the covenant of the sacrifice is that the initiate must do it alone. Andrew was lying to the preacher. “The sheep said the car came after you led it into the trap.” The preacher said. “Yeah… I mean, no.” Andrew stammered. “You’re actually going to believe him?” “You validated what the sheep said.” The preacher hissed. “Do you really think you can get away with lying to me, initiate?” Andrew was silent for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could and to Milo’s shock, the preacher was holding the jagged silver knife against Andrew’s throat. The knife that Andrew had just been holding. There were confused murmurs from the pack of doubt and frustration from not seeing the show. In an instant, Andrew’s yellow eyes bulged as he clutched his bleeding throat, blood splattering the fur of the preacher and of Milo. He stumbled, clutching at the preacher’s fur with one paw, only to be brutally slashed again. Andrew collapsed, blood pooling from his throat. [/hidden] Any plot ideas or critique on how to continue the story would be helpful :)
  9. Yeah, my plan for this story was to make it entirely about the torture of Milo, but then I decided I needed writing practice n stuff.
  10. Lol, I forgot to publish the narration video. Should be working now.
  11. This will be really fun to play with my two tulpas once the new one is more developed.
  12. NSFW [hidden][video=youtube] “This is a shortcut.” Said Andrew. Carefully stepping around the broken glass, they walked through the alleyway. Sound seemed to be muted in between the dusty wooden walls, the shadows giving an eerie undertone. Milo’s nose twitched. His instincts screamed danger and he stopped short as his hair stood on end. Andrew grabbed Milo’s paw and looked at him questioningly. “Something wrong?” Milo froze as Andrew’s grip tightened. A black car with tinted windows drove up behind them and stopped, the engine still running. Milo tried to pull free of Andrew’s grip but Andrew grabbed him around the neck with his other arm, covering his mouth and holding him tight against his body. Milo felt Andrew’s elbow hit his temple and he blacked out. Milo gasped as freezing water entered his mouth and nostrils, matting the fur on his face. Itchy rope was squeezing his body against a pole, and he felt terror deep in his gut as he realized he couldn’t move. A pack of hyenas surrounded him, giving off a horrible odour of blood and grime, their yellow eyes illuminated in the fire burning in front of him. His arms and tail were strapped to his body, making him panic as he struggled against the rope. Andrew stood before Milo, holding a dripping bucket. Another one of them, wearing a glowing red jagged crystal necklace, was facing the pack of innumerable gleeful yellow eyes and wagging tails peeking out from the shadows. “My acolytes, the moment of initiation for the eldest of our younglings, Andrew, is near. Look up to him, secondary to me. For today, he will become a full fledged member of our circle. He has captured his sheep on his own, such as is the covenant of the annual sacrifice. The final test of an initiate, that you have all undergone, is to see how dark and twisted the initiate’s soul is. Through the sheep’s agony, I will be empowered.” The pack was quiet. Not a single tail wagged or eye blinked. The only sound that could be heard was Milo’s panicked breathing. The preacher placed a jagged silver knife in Andrew’s paws. “Andrew, you may now draw the circle.” Andrew stood, nose to nose with Milo, and licked his lips. Then he whispered in Milo’s quivering ear “I liked your artwork, Milo. I also liked how you were so trusting and gullible… you were the perfect sheep, you walked straight into the slaughterhouse.” Andrew slowly cut into Milo’s arm with the knife. Milo cried in pain, unable to move against the rope. The tip of the blade was drawn out, wet with blood. Andrew knelt down and drew a circle around Milo with the blade in the dirt. [/hidden]
  13. Lumanatrix

    Chat Thread

    It comes and goes.
  14. I would like to ask why this was moved, there is a creative writing thread in Tulpa Art. Is it because it has nothing to do with tulpas? Edit: Nevermind, I was too quick. Thanks Vos.
  15. To strengthen my writing and narrating skills, I'd like to write a continuous story that you guys choose the plot of. Also, feel free to provide critique. EDIT: This is the playlist of all the narration videos so far: [video=youtube] Milo the red panda tramped on all fours through the bustling sidewalk, in a city lined with tall wooden shops and apartments, the sound of ocean waves and smell of salt water from a nearby beach adding to the picturesque scene. The sun beat down on a pack of coyotes on bikes, pedaling through the street, a worn out looking chameleon with a cane, and a dove couple walking under the shade, careful not to hit anyone with their wings. The smell of frying fish from across the street reached Milo’s nostrils. Milo was omnivorous but usually preferred fresh bamboo. He liked a treat of fish occasionally, but too much would make him sick. However, he had not eaten in quite some time, and the bamboo shop was still a few blocks away, so it couldn’t hurt to spend a few coins on a snack. Reaching in the bag around his neck with a paw, he found money among paint bottles and brushes. He’d still have enough coins to buy some more paint later. He crossed the street and waited in line behind a spotted hyena, in front of a booth with a sign reading “Macgie’s fried fish”. He waited patiently, while thinking about getting back to work on his street art portrait of Zija the tiger moon goddess. He needed the perfect shade of silver for her stripes. As he absentmindedly rubbed his paw on some gravel, feeling the rocks in between his toes and on the soles of his paw, he heard the hyena in front of him say in a low scratchy voice “Hey there.” Milo looked up to see the hyena looking down on him. The hyena smelled bad, but less so than most hyenas Milo saw. The stereotypical hyena was not to be trusted. Regardless, Milo rose to his hind paws. “Hi.” He said, in what he hoped was a friendly manner. “Are you that red panda? Milo?” The hyena asked. Milo nodded, avoiding his yellow eyes. “That’s me.” The hyena looked excited, forgetting to move forward in the line. “I like your work.” He said. “Why thank you.” Milo said, shifting his hind paws and trying to keep his tail even so as to avoid letting on to his embarrassment. “Oh, how rude of me. My name is Andrew.” The hyena snickered. “It’s okay.” Said Milo. “Pleased to meet you.” Andrew reached the stand and ordered two servings of fried fish from a grey wolf. Andrew handed a paper box to Milo, who didn’t know if it was more polite to take it or refuse. He decided not to reject Andrew’s kindness and he took the box, the delicious smell of fish making his stomach growl. “Thank you.” Milo looked down awkwardly. “No problem.” Said Andrew as they exited the line. Opening the box, there was a whole fish. Milo would have ordered a quarter of one. “So where are you headed?” Milo asked Andrew, nibbling his greasy fish in one paw as they passed a horse sitting in the shade under an awning sipping lemonade. “To get some fake brown bear fur. I make costumes, usually for plays. I’m working on Sniffy the bear.” Said Andrew. “I’d actually love to see.” Said Milo, who liked costumes but was too shy to participate in a play. “Sure!” Said Andrew. “You can come with me to my studio.” They turned into an alleyway between two shops littered with bottles, broken glass, trash bags, and a dumpster. To be continued...