Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Digital Art / Hobbyist Robyn17/Female/United States Group :iconshifting-kennels: Shifting-Kennels
Recent Activity
Deviant for 4 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 239 Deviations 1,111 Comments 5,448 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

Mature content
Oath of the Son :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 2 0
The Hunt :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 7 0
Mature content
The Death of a God :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 3 4
Red, Black, Blue
Featuring Phobos and Kratos (NPC)
Mentioning Princess Helena, Lord Pietro, Merchant Raho (NPC), Lady Nephthys (NPC)
Lady Manea (NPC), Lord Ulixes (NPC), Helios (NPC), Iris (NPC)
Year 766 of the New Age, Spring
Glenwood, Glenmore

Pitch black, pale blue,

It was a stained glass
Variation of the truth
And I felt empty handed.
You let me set sail
With cheap wood.
So I patched up
Every leak that I could,
'Til the blame grew too heavy.
Stitch by stitch I tear apart.
If brokenness is a form of art,
I must be a poster child prodigy.
Thread by thread I come apart.
If brokenness is a work of art,
Surely this must be my masterpiece.
I'm only honest when it rains.
If I time it right, the thunder breaks
When I op
:icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 2 2
Hestia | Commoner | Glenmore Filly :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 11 7 FSS Lordling Zaedyn :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 7 4
Oh the Stories They'll Regale
Featuring Temeluch
Mentioning: Basically 90% of Haven- mostly mentioning the King of Haven/Family Daddy-Dru
Year 766 of the New Age, late Spring
Earrann's Meadow, Haven, Glenmore
Word Count: 1,333
+2 imagination
+4 Innocence
+2 speed
+2 crash test dummy
It wasn't obscenely hard to find Teme sitting still- at least no more than it was hard to find him running around and exploring. There were simply days where he didn't want to explore or stray too far from his mother but he wasn't tired. Instead those were the days it was easiest to find him curled up in the nook of tree roots around the edge of Earrann's Meadow, staring calmly as the day passed him by. It was almost frightening how still he would become, his eyes and flank being the only things that moved. Yet he watched, noticing almost everything. Putting faces to names. Learning how certain family members walked. It was also no
:icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 0 1
Bee Be Gone :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 8 2 Duke Cormac :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 4 2 Lord Dunstan :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 4 1 Tamarix :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 3 0 Nahili :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 2 1 Princess Helena :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 2 0 Lord Pietro :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 6 2 Scath :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 3 2 Soft Magic :icongrilygril787:Grilygril787 7 2


Come, my child - Princess Helena's Lullaby
Come, my child
Princess Helena's lullaby
Hush, my child, all will be well.
Close your eyes, I have a story to tell—
One of beauty, and one of grace,
Even those of adventure to put a smile on your face. 

So come, my children, lay by my side,
Come to me and listen with eyes wide.
For your curiosity and innocence is amazing,
That hopeful glimmer in your eyes never fading.

Lay down, my son, let me tell you a tale,
One of a stag much like yourself who never failed.
He was powerful, strong and true,
A noble stag just like you.

Listen, my daughters, let me sing you a ballad,
One where true love existed and lasted.
For each of you hinds is special in some way,
And each one of you will realize it some day.
:iconwistfully-dreaming:Wistfully-Dreaming 13 9
BDAY GIFT unisex lines with shading :iconcapofamiglia:capofamiglia 23 9
FSS Edition - No. 2
Behold, Fellow BaconBits!
Christmas is over and we all enjoy all those things that happen during the christmas time.
Eating left over cookies, sifting through all those presents we got - testing them! Enjoying them!
Ogling at our amazing gift-designs *O*!
Some of us will surely have returned to work. I wish those in particular a lot of energy.
You will all master your challenges in the new year!
This year's Fawnling Secret Santa was a blast!
Special thanks to Summir and her crew for hosting it.
I was absolutely stunned, looking at all those incredible artworks.
Some of the artists have grown above themselfes.
I decided to highlight some of my favourites in a little feature series
and also make sure to notice the beautiful characters that have been drawn,
since those belong to those characters most dear to their owners.
For this edition I chose three works which I found extraordinary.
The artists have tried something new and tested their comfortzone.
I always love to s
:iconwindklang:Windklang 3 8
Merry Christmas Grilygril787! :iconleakytrain:LeakyTrain 11 10 Clue :iconazot2017:Azot2017 363 21 Duke Cormac | Glenmore | Colt | Lesser Royal :iconprincejackdaw:PrinceJackdaw 16 7
Calling Glenmorian Does
Right, so my dear Althea is getting up to plenty of trouble in Glenmore – namely saving does, teaching them self defense and other unlawful things.
So, a basic idea of what she does. Althea has a grove where she can safely hide does – any doe who needs it – but the majority of her Doelings (as she calls them), have escaped from abusive stags in one way or another. Althea does not expect these does to stay with her their entire lives – she is more than happy to serve as a half-way home. However, those staying with her (that are comfortable and it is safe for them to do so), are taught self-defense, and sometimes asked to help out with her market stall. So, I am looking for does who, either in the past or present, have created connections with her. She is a midwife and a merchant, so she often meets does that way. However, it is crucial that these does never, ever
:iconlichenfeather:lichenfeather 13 53
Braids Tutorial :icondat-inu:dat-inu 421 63 Forest Spirit - The Fox :iconoutstarwalker:outstarwalker 2,629 117 Blood of the Covenant :iconbadvibesgenerator:BADVIBESGENERATOR 21 3 LOTR :icondoubleleaf:doubleleaf 7,809 641 Lord of the Guardians :icondustyleaves:DustyLeaves 2,561 134 The Lord of the Rings :icongerwell:Gerwell 1,919 101 Forever and always :icondatnachtmaehre:DatNachtmaehre 18 31 Miles :iconroxis805:Roxis805 2 0 The Guards of the True King :iconsayara-s:Sayara-S 101 6



Grilygril787 has started a donation pool!
600 / 200
If you buy something from me, pay here!

You must be logged in to donate.


Grilygril787's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Digital Art
United States

salmon heart bullet salmon heart bullet Hello guys~~salmon heart bullet salmon heart bullet 

My family is going through a really hard time right now.
My grandfather has been in the hospital for two months  now and has had five surgeries.
My handicapped uncle is, as of yesterday, now also in the hospital with pneumonia.
We have a lot of bills to pay right now and we simply don't have the money.

I'm opening up emergency commissions, I'm not setting a limit to the amount I take either.
Please, if you can, help out. If you don't want a commission then please signal boost this.
My family is in dire need at the moment for some extra cash to make ends meet.
Please help out if you can.

I'm open to most types of species though Fawnlings, Tokotas, and Humans are my best.

Payment methods:  Paypal

 salmon heart bullet Really quick sketch:
Could be used for linearts
Scath by Grilygril787    Lord Pietro by Grilygril787    Duke Cormac by Grilygril787

$2 dollars ~ Uncolored
$4 dollars ~ Colored & Shaded

salmon heart bullet Detailed headshots:
Whoops by Grilygril787     Adult!Teme Headshot by Grilygril787     Arc as a Hooman by Grilygril787     Still As Stone by Grilygril787

$5 dollars ~ colored & shaded

salmon heart bullet  Fullbody:
A Fluffy Friend by Grilygril787   What's This? by Grilygril787    Morning Surprises by Grilygril787    Soft Magic by Grilygril787    Bee Be Gone by Grilygril787

$4 dollars ~ sketch
$7 dollars ~ colored & shaded
$9 dollars ~ Detailed background


Please help out if you can! It would mean the absolute world to me.


Phobos | Butler | Glenmore Stag
LoveLoveLove Just so everyone's aware, I swear he's the most fawnling-ish fawnling I've ever drawn. Also- warning the file is large. 

Basic Information

Name: Phobos the Deadly
   Nickname: Phob
   Name Meaning: Fear - the Greek Mythological child of Ares and Aphrodite and the embodiment of fear
Gender: Stag
Age: 14
Year of Birth: 752 of the New Age
Height: 10.2hh
Build: Medium-light
Phenotype: Bay 
Genotype: EE/Aa/Fwfw
Eye Color: Brown
Design Sheet: Here
Voice Actor: Al Pacino
Current Plot Arch: Finding Life
    Past Plot Arch's: 
Unearthing Death - Completed [Winter 765 - Spring 766]
                            Finding Life - In Progress [Spring 766 - //]

Defects / General issues that hinder certain things:
  • Extremely questionable fertility: Phobos will only throw three fawns through his lifetime no matter how many does he takes Due to Inbreeding in family history.
  • Bad ankles: After an accident shortly after he turned 8, certain bones in his right front ankle healed wrong thus causing pain when he runs. Speed capped at medium.
'Fun' Facts:
  • He genuinely hates his parents.
  • He's gotten the best possible combo he could have gotten, considering the inbreeding has hyper-inflated the chance of illnesses such as cancer, multiple limbs, deafness, and respiratory problems.
  • He's got a nice bass singing voice- slightly gravelly but mostly rich and powerful.
  • He gets misgendered by stags during Rut a lot as they like to come at him from a distance and shout out compliments (mostly slurs on his dark coat) despite the fact they are almost an entire glade away. It's purely coincidental, considering with his rack it's hard to mistake him at all the closer one gets, but its a fairly common occurrence that at least once a full moon he gets thrown doe-specific compliments/slurs from a distance.
  • He has a slight hip-problem, thus when he walks and stands his legs are a bit more spread out than they should be. It's not a bad enough case to hinder his ability to run, but it is rather hilarious to watch his partial waddle-run.



Rough on the eyes, smooth to the touch. It's duller than it should be for a stag of Glenmore. Shorter than it should be in most places- which is poor for winter weather.


Dark and dreary, they’re hard to describe. Most days they look black for how dark they seem. There is hardly any life within them, sans for the perpetual fires of rage.


He's petite in build and features, giving a dull thrum of life to gentle curves and a thin almost swan-like neck. Even his shoulders are smaller and daintier than a stag's should be. His head is the only thing with what he perceives as stag-like qualities, with a short nose and a sharply defined drop between his eyes and the bridge of his nose.


On the longer side of things, it's dull and almost dead-looking. To the touch, much like his coat, it's silky smooth and flows like water. His mane is kept up out of the way in a loose, looping braid tied off with a small leather cord. His tail is mostly left alone and the almost 'peach fuzz' like beard he has only has the ability to make one small braid which is as well tied off with a small leather cord.


Separate Place for detailed trinket list and how he acquired themTrinket Details for Phobos

In his youth he didn't have many possessions or trinkets- only a family heirloom which is a single fox-leather pouch hung on a vine/hair mixture kept together with dried sap that contains four pieces of bark from the trees of his home- the heirloom has been passed down from the head of the family to the next head since Excalibur the First was alive and created the glade. It’s to keep the family traditions close at heart as well as mark the Heir of the family Lord. That was all he needed in his youth, but since having been disowned by his father, he's given the horrid reminder back.

Living around the Oldegrove and having been in frequent contact with merchants from all over, he's certainly got an array of trinkets. He's got leather from a Blackwood Icebear wrapped around the top of his tail which is usually decorated with other trinkets. Most tend to be trinkets from Oakfern but there is a trinket from Silverthorne that he's managed to snag. He also has a set of wolf-skin bags which he uses to carry herbs or carry out errands. Also from time to time he will take some of the trinkets, likely seashells, and string them up using some vines between the two prongs of his rack- though he usually only does this if he needs to be 'fancy'. Lastly he has a little knife he's made from part of one of his previously dropped racks- it's wrapped in leather and hangs on a leather cord around his neck.

Family Line

 Lord Excalibur l
          |                                   Lord Nirut x Lady Chesulloth x Commoner Stag
    Lord Rion l                                          |                        |
          |                                                  |                        |
    Lord Rion ll x  Lady Mahath                 |                        |
                   |                              Lord Amittai x Commoner Fethawit
       Lord Excalibur ll   _______________________|______
                  |             |                  Cousins                             |
          Lord Anir x Lady Deirdre             |                                |
                       |                 _________|______            Duke Heth x Lady Doe
                       |                |                              |                          |
       Lord Excalibur lll  x Lady Cotys                Lord Pollux  x    Lady Themis 
                                |                                                |
                            Lord Ulixes -----------  x ------ Lady Manea

Sire: Lord Ulixes [NPC - Deceased][Born Y739]
   Name meaning: Full of Wrath
Dam: Lady Manea [NPC- Living][Born Y740]
   Name Meaning: Greek goddess of insanity 
Bloodline: 100% Inbred Glenmore (Unwittingly and unknowingly so)
Family Glade Information: Glade of Lord Excalibur the First
  • Glade is dark and rather frightening- even the grass is dark. Four large oak trees ground each corner of the glade and between them the dens.
  • Light seems to have a hard time reaching the ground for the thick canopy overhead. 
  • There is a single entrance to the glade- a large archway poised with vines that are littered with snow lilies kept fresh and alive by Lady Manea.
  • Edges of the glade are covered with Mistletoe and Elderberry bushes and Deadly Nightshade isn’t an uncommon find in the glade.
Personal Glade Information: Den of Phobos, part of the Glade of Lord Pietro
  • Glade is dark, even during winter, but during the peak of summer there is an abundance of light. Only one den.
  • Glade is very small and also centered in a thorn-bush thicket which is surrounded by a bushel of evergreens.
  • Single entrance to glade, medium-sized archway made so by the thorn-bush. Archway is thin, making it uncomfortable to push through.
  • Phobos keeps a stock of herbal plants off to the side as well as in his den.

To explain how this works: 

Lady Chesulloth had a very usual and normal life as a Lady. Nothing too out of the extraordinary tended to happen to her. She was promised away by her father to Lord Nirut when she was born- giving her family more political sway. She grew up good on delightful terms with her Lord (who was only three years her elder) and was quite content to be his harem doe. When she was six she gave birth to their first child- Lord Amittai. Life was well for a good two years following it before something ill happened. A commoner stag challenged Lord Nirut over Lady Chesulloth and the fight proved the commoner victorious. Lord Nirut was stag of honor and let her go as she had been 'fairly won' but promised his beloved friend and faithful doe that he would prove himself worthy of her next rut and win her back.

Chesulloth went with the commoner as she was supposed to, her beloved son thankfully remaining with Lord Nirut, and while the commoner treated her fairly well Chesulloth still fell into a harsh depression. The commoner vowed to tend his best after her but after realizing he was only making it worse he promised Chesulloth that once the fawn was born she would be allowed to return of her own free will to her lord. He would find a wetnurse for the fawn they produced. Yet fate, as it seems, wasn't alright with it working out like such. The spring came and Chesulloth gave birth to Fethawit before falling ill with Milk Fever. The commoner was ridden with guilt and blamed himself thus after he saw Fethawit safely in the care of a wetnurse he vanished. No one ever saw him again.

Growing up Fethawit never knew of her mother's true name. The Wetnurse had never been told out of the sole fact that it may change her opinion of the babe she raised alongside her own little ones. Time passed before Fethawit unwittingly fell in love with a handsome stag by the name of Lord Amittai. He was as handsome a stag as Glenmore could have produced without being the son of Oganach himself- or at least he was in Fethawit's eyes and she frequently told everyone her opinion. Lord Amittai let her into his harem as she was a beautiful commoner and she wasn't treated poorly, though she wasn't treated as proudly as the ladies of his harem were treated. In her life she gave him two beautiful and rightfully colored children- Duke Heth and Lady Deirdre- and she happily died with a relatively uneventful life that most does dreamed of having.

Duke Heth and Lady Deirdre grew up two completely different fawns. Duke Heth was always striving to prove to his sire that he was as worthy of his affection as his lord-born half-brothers. He was relatively content in life despite his rather strained relationship with his father and was mostly a calm and laid back stag. Lady Deirdre on the other hand was something else all together. Glenmore couldn't have found a more traditional mind than Lady Deirdre and she followed it with the same enthusiasm and iron-kick as a stag did. She hated the fact she had commoner blood and despised the fact her mother's common blood tainted her blue-blood. She was obsessive and crazed over ensuring that her offspring were the best and more than once she had gotten into a screaming match in her youth with her brother who, in her eyes, was far too unconcerned about his blood purity.

Needless to say Duke Heth and Lady Deirdre were not on good terms. They parted ways at the earliest of opportunities and seldom spoke unless they absolutely had to. It wasn't beyond belief that their offspring grew up without knowledge of that particular side of the family. Lady Deirdre found a home and a kindred soul in Lord Anir and together they had only one child- Lord Excalibur the third who grew up to his mother's liking and more which basically meant he was her three times worse when it came to obsessing over perfection. Duke Heth produced many fine children though only one was noteworthy- Lady Themis who, much to her father's dread, was just as dead-set on perfection as her aunt was. Duke Heth tried his best to steer her towards a calmer path and mostly managed it.

Lady Themis was promised off to Lord Pollux- a good standing Lord who unwittingly was the silent version of Lady Deirdre. They produced one child- Lady Manea- who was the apple of her parent's eye and grew up with their joint taste for purity and vengeance. However thanks to her grandsire's input she was a lot calmer about it and could have her sweet moments. Lord Excalibur the third a mate in Lady Cotys- the cousin of Lord Pollux and a relatively unnoteworthy doe apart from the trademark personality that made her fit quite well in the family. As fate would have it neither Pollux or Cotys realized their children were mates until the families came together to celebrate the birth of the first-born son and first-grandchild Phobos. It was through a silent glance and a vow that their children's relation would be a secret and the secret was kept until their graves.

Skill Points

Speed: 3 [Basic Level] (Capped at medium)
Stamina: 4 [Basic Level]
Strength: 3 [Basic Level] (Build Cap: 19 points max)

Magic: 31 [Advanced Level] (Master Pending)
Magic Type: Earth- Primarily plant growth

Herbs: 0 [Basic Level]

Experience: 0


+2 speed - base bonus
+4 stamina - base bonus
+4 strength - base bonus
+11 magic - starter bonus
+2 magic - 1000-1999 words (Inquiring for Gifts)
+3 magic - 2000+ words (Pass An Apple)
+1 magic - 400-999 words (Rose Hedge Maze)
+2 magic - 400-99 words + art (Soft Magic)
+3 magic - 2000+ words (Red, Black, Blue)
+3 magic - 2000+ words (The Death of a God)
    +1 magic - practicing/sparring/fighting with another Fawnling
+4 magic - 2000+ words & art (The Hunt)
+2 magic - lit (1k to 1,999 words) (Oath of the Son)
    +1 magic - artwork

Herd / Butler Information

Herd Affiliation: Glenmore
Herd Position: Commoner ~ Butler (Born royal but forsook his title)
Current Generalized Location: Glenmore in general; Lord Pietro's Glades or wherever he's been commanded to go.
Family Currently In Service ToLord Pietro
~ Hestia | Commoner Filly | Younger sister | Y766 - //
    ~ Cormac | Duke | Butler Apprentice | Y6- // (Not currently but will be eventually)

Abilities as a Butler:
  • Ground Work: Greening grass, maintaining flowers, maintaining herbs.
  • Errand Work: Able to deliver messages, fetch wants or needs from the market, and various other things without stepping on political toes. [Perks of being raised a Lord, yes?]
  • Minstrel: Wonderful singing voice with a list of hymns. Mostly good for boredom-relieving entertainment or entertaining of fawns. Picked up an array of songs from all over the Isles due to basically living in the hub of merchants in Oldegrove for a large deal of time
  • Story-teller: Is oddly good at remembering stories and converting family history into stories. Best for teaching fawns good mannerisms, also good for regaling in high family event points of prestige.
  • Hitman: He's willing to knock a Lord or commoner out of the picture subtly if they become a problem for his lord. Say the word and they're going to at least have distinct problems for a long period of time. He's not outwardly homicidal but he's not got a problem being the cause of someone's death if they deserve it.
Not good Qualities for Butler-duties:
  • Watching fawns for long periods of times. He doesn't have the patience nor does he trust himself not to be his father if he works himself into a temper.
  • Being a health advisor. He's not good at that but he's learning in his spare time so he can know if his lord or his lord's ladies or fawns are in dire need of aid.
  • Being a guard. He's not the most brutish or frightening looking stag there ever was. Intimidation or fighting is not his specialty unless he's been given permission to kill.
  • Being speedy. He's got a bad ankle which keeps him from running unless absolutely necessary upon threat of a life- be it his, his lord's, or one of his lord's beloved.
Permission to Reproduce: Not given but no interest anyway.


| Atheist |

Those 'Gods' of yours certainly don't help me, why should I expend my life to them?
He literally can't wrap his mind around how hundreds of fawns would give their lives, their unborns, their parents, their everything to gods who only show up when you've put your foot in it. He won't open his mouth and voice that opinion- Heavens knows he would get skinned for it, but that doesn't keep him from thinking fawns are right mad for it. If you come across to him as one of those who would give their unborns to your god, his respect in you goes down several notches.

| Loyal & Protective |
Touch mine again and you die.
Loyalty and protectiveness is ingrained in Phobos and has been since he was born. It's one of the few traits and beliefs his family managed to shove through his head. Those he aligns himself with will have his loyalty to his dying breath, for those are the few who have proven worthy of it. He wouldn't call them 'loved ones' but they are certainly something dear to him.

| Lack of Concept of Love |
I've never felt it before, why would I feel it now?
While an inborn defect in his mind doesn't help, this trait is primarily from the lack of 'love' growing up. He's confused by the concept, frightened by it even, and is completely unsure of how to react if it's pointed out to him. There are certainly those he's more 'particular to', but he's not able to assign the feelings of loyalty, protectiveness, and general enjoyment of the other fawn as anything to do with 'love'. To him 'Love' is more of an quirky illness, one that just so happens to typically befall does and particularly the does in Glenmore.

| Dark |
I’m three skips of a stone short of a Blackwood.
   It’s always present. A lingering presence of doom while around him. It’s in his eyes- in his stare. That near lifelessness and the fires that burn away at another’s soul. He’s dark on the inside, there are demons that no one else sees. The very air around him seems to possess a dark shadow that not even his best smile can cut through. Hiding away in him is the ability to kill without guilt or question.

| Observant |
Well, I manage to see a lot more than I should.
He notices a lot. He see's a lot. He's typically always in the right place at the right time when it comes to things. Yet, he never quite files the information away or connects the dots just right to align to the bigger picture. He's ripe for the picking of gossip-berries if you're the right person, since he hardly ever lets anyone do said picking. 

| Controlled Temper |
I am fire in this manner, milady, and fire burns.
    Anger is a part of Phob like his heart is. It is a constant sea within him, alive and rolling with the tides- mostly irrational but mostly warranted and overly much. It has been alive within him since his birth and it would continue to be so until his death. However he learned to curb his temper immediately, to keep it hidden within him. He grits his teeth well and does not break face often unless someone has severely wronged him. Control over one's self is control over one's situation as his father used to say.


Full History here: Full History of Phobos


  • [Birth of Death] - The story goes that Life was Given as another life was Taken as the gods welcomed the Son of Death


  • [Soft Magic] - Phobos finally manages to get the hang of how this 'magic' thing works!


  • Grandfather Pollux dies
  • Gets life nearly beaten out of him in 'training session' with father


  • Grandmother Cotys dies
  • Another 'training session'
  • Trains with guards and they get suspicious
  • Political explosion occurs and suspicion dies in favor of other things


  • Grandmother Themis dies
  • Another 'training session'
  • [Oath of the Son] - New Best friend Helios gets murdered by father, swears to avenge Helios


  • Grandfather Excalibur dies
  • Tells father he's going out to live on his own and gets disowned
  • Runs for life from raging father who chases him around the Glenwood screaming death threats
  • Phobos' ankle is ruined in the run
  • Ulixes gets severely questioned and investigated
  • Trial of Ulixes occurs and he's found guilty of multiple murders which leads to the execution of Ulixes.
  • Lives life as commoner and takes up butler duties.


  • Finishes Butler training
  • Becomes butler to Lord Pietro


  • Spring
  • Winter
    • [Winter Wedding- Phobos Reply] - The wedding of Lord Pietro begins without a hitch, though Phobos nearly has a heart-failure from frustration.
    • [Pass An Apple] - Phobos might need a bag full of fermented apples after encountering his mother at the after party


  • Spring
    • [Princess Garden Party] - Phobos attends/aids with Helena's Garden Party!
      • [Rose Hedge Maze] - Phobos gets lost chasing after a brat who snuck into the gardens!
    • [Red, Black, Blue] -  Phobos meets his half brother Kratos and comes away with world-rocking information and a new resolve!
    • [The Death of a God] - Phobos confronts his mother, revealing everything he had learned. An eye for an eye, as they do say.
    • [The Hunt] - Phobos comes across some interesting information. A little sister?
  • Summer
  • Autumn
  • Winter

Oath of the Son
Featuring Lordling Helios (NPC) , Lordling Phobos, Lord Ulixes (NPC)
Autumn, Year 758 of the New Age
Glenwood, Glenmore
Wordcount: 1,143
    +2 magic - lit (1k to 1,999 words)

"Come back damn it. You're all I've got. You cant- you aren't allowed to leave me here!" Phobos snarled at the still body, tears blurring down his cheeks and burning his eyes. Everything was wrong. It wasn't supposed to end like this. Helios wasn't supposed to get hurt. Helios was supposed to go out on his patrol and come home. He was supposed to come home and the next day tell Phobos all about all the things he got into. He was supposed to tell him about how he chased off blackwoods and foxes and rescued fillies and colts from foam-mouthed oakferns. He was supposed to tell all of this to Phobos so Phobos could laugh and tell him it was wrong. So Phobos could tell him how much he was just making it all up. He was supposed to laugh and swear by his adventures before they went off and trained together.

Helios wasn't supposed to get hurt. He was supposed to be okay. He was the only friend Phobos had. He was the only one who ever got to see all the cuts and bruises Phobos got from his parents. He was the only one who got to see how Phobos hurt. How broken he was. Helios was supposed to be there to help fix him, help keep him safe and sane. He had promised! Phobos was supposed to keep Helios' feet on the ground and his head out of the clouds, Helios kept Phobos' head above the dirt.

He wasn't supposed to be laying dead on the ground. He wasn't supposed to have died. That wasn't how it was supposed to go!

"COME BACK!" Phobos screamed, throwing his body towards the sky. He landed hard, his knees giving way beneath him. He collapsed next to the cold body. All the fight left him. He inched until he was curled behind the body, cradling it close and trying desperately to warm it. To bring life back to it. He laid his head against the battered and stiffening neck of his companion. The only creature that had shown him anything other than politeness, mild tolerance, or downrite malice hatred his entire life. Phobos would have gone and fought Oganach for Helios to come back if Phobos knew how. Yet he didn't. He was useless. There was nothing he could do but sit there and weep like a filly over their pet. He was useless.

He couldn't save Helios. He couldn't fight his father or stand up to him. He couldn't do anything good. Phobos let out another scream, his magic errupting around them. The meadow exploded into life. The grass filled like a gentle stream as it rained, fading from it's sickly autumn yellow color into a fresh spring green color. It grew until it waved around the pair, almost concealing them. Mocking the grass they would lay in out on the trails, sharing their life stories and grinning like loons. Amongst the grass grew a sea of poppies, rising like a sea of blood. Poppies had been his favorite flower, the only flower Helios would ever demand Phobos grow for no particular reason other than he liked them.

The color was harsh against Helios' pale coat but it looked so much better than the blood. Phobos carefully pulled the flowers closer with his magic until they grew over the dastardly wound his father had created. Hiding the malice intent it almost made Helios look asleep. If it hadnt been for the grief-stricken expression frozen forever on his face, it would be a perfect illusion. Phobos stared softly at his friend's face. He couldn't save Helios. No.

Don't let him take you too. Helios had whispered, I see you. His last words. The last things his voice, once so soothing on the nerves Phobos perpetually existed within, had been torn and tarnished. Ravenged just like his body, just like his life. Phobos swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath. "I see you." He whispered hoarsely, "I see you. Come back, please. I'm sorry. I'll protect you next time. I'll stand up, I won't hide. Please. Just don't leave me here. Don't leave me alone. I don't want to do this alone. Helios please. Come back. I see you."

His plea fell on unhearing ears. It echoed around in the glade, carried up to the heavens by the wind that rumpled gently through the glade. Phobos curled closer to his friend, his only friend, and howled. He screamed until his voice failed him. Until he had nothing left. Until he had no tears left to cry. Until there was nothing left but a resolve. Until he could look upon his friend's body and not feel his soul die just a little bit more. Until there was nothing left of his soul to die.

It was nearly night before Phobos climbed to his feet, stumbling back a few feet on muscles weakened from the abuse they had been subjected to earlier. He bowed his body over his friend, over his Helios. He stared numbly at the frigid body. "I won't let him win, Helios." Phobos swore, his voice as if he had swallowed many rocks, "I won't let him win. He will pay. He will pay dearly."

Phobos turned away and stumbled backwards, towards where he knew he had to go. Towards the coldest 'home' in Glenmore, colder than the winter's worst blizzard. Towards the worst stag alive. The stag he now hated most. Towards the stag he wanted dead. He would see Ulixes' fall one day. He would see Ulixes lying like Helios was. He would see Ulixes dead because that's what he did to Helios. Phobo would avenge his friend. His only friend. He would never rest until he did. Until his friend could rest in peace. Phobos would never rest in peace. He swore it. Phobos muttered in goodbye, gaining one last look at his friend. His best friend. His only friend. He turned then and walked away, not quite seeing where he was going but knowing he had to continue.

"I see you."

Rumor went around the glades that two stags died that day. One that went silently, his death like a whisper of words that caught on the tongue. Never quite heard. His death was beautiful, morbidly so, and tragic. The death of a good story. The other stag went with a scream that echoed through the Glenwood until it was too hoarse to continue, sounding more like a pained animal than something coherent. His death being with all the sound the first one should have made plus his own, sound like that of light dying. His death was the worst of them all. He was still left alive, still left living on the earth, while the other was freed from his mortal body to wander the stars.


To be honest, I'm not really. Just sort of publishing old works from trying to survive. There's been so much going on- internet problems, family problems, it's just been hellish. So have Phobos being the Ace/Aro who doesn't understand love but clings like clingwrap to those he actually likes without realizing it.

List as of 767:

See its a 'H' thing. He's got a thing for pale gentle hearted fawns with 'H' names apparently.

LOL Let's see how long it takes for my muse to revive itself from the depths of hell.
Phobos, Helios, Ulixes (c) Grilygril787 
Fawnlings(c) Fawnlings 
The Hunt

Now there's no holding back, I'm making an attack
My blood is singing with your voice, I want to pour it out
The saints can't help me now, the ropes have been unbound
I hunt for you with bloodied feet across the hallow'ed ground

Like some child possessed, the beast howls in my veins
I want to find you, tear out all of your tenderness

And howl, howl
Howl, howl


Featuring Phobos and Jarcelot (as NPC)

Mentioning the Pielena Fam

Late Spring, Y766 of the New Year

The Gleenwood, Glenmore

Word count 2,053

+3 Magic- lit (2000+ words)
+1 Magic- art

    There was a filly, rumor went, the last child born to Lady Manea. A small child, unseen by the kingdom. Nobody knew what she looked like or her name. Most didn’t honestly know if she was even real. Phobos had ignored the rumors, laughing hysterically at the notion that his sickly mother had carried a fawn to full term and survived. She had been sickly for the better half of a year, the odds that she had another child was absurd. A laughable notion and thus he had laughed.

    Until, that was, his brother had mentioned that he knew of the father of this mysterious child. An old insane guardsman- the very one their father had dismissed because he had tried to forcefully take his lord’s lady during rut. Phobos had never bothered to learn his name but he knew where this guard lived. The den he hid within. It was out of the way and hidden in thick brush. Not easy to get to and far away enough from the main paths to go unnoticed. Large enough for a fawn to be hidden within. Phobos was curious. Another child? Would she be her parents and be insane? Was that the reason she was hidden away? Or perhaps was the old stag simply that insane that he dared keep that filly so close to his side?

    The only answer would come from finding out himself and thus Phobos had requested a series days where he had lighter chores, stating he had familial business to attend to. 
Pietro had let him go easily enough and Phobos was grateful. He spent two days hunting down information in the old stag. Every merchant, every guard young and old, was questioned until Phobos had nothing left to find. However he was left in a dead end. The old stag, Elijah, had died a year before his father’s trial. The old stag had seized to death after trying to force himself upon a young doe, the strain apparently too much for his old heart. Phobos found it a fitting death for the old pervert.

    Phobos growled at the guard before him, glaring darkly. The shadows seemed to bend around him, half masking him in the dark hour. Dark eyes gleamed from the moonlight. The buckskin quivered in fear, ears pinned back. Phobos had the half mind to inquire why the colt was so afraid of him- there was more fear present than what even Phobos should have been able to instigate in another. Phobos was too busy, however, relishing in the taste of the fear. Breathing in the scent. It was always an intoxicating drink, fear. It got him drunker than fermented fruit would a hell of a lot quicker. A lovely destresser after a particularly trying day. Very rarely did he get the opportunity, anymore, to drink fear properly. The servants had come to respect him more than fear him unless they gave him reason to bellow at them. Scath laughed her tail off too often at him to honestly be afraid of him. Phobos would rather chew off his own foot than instill fear in Helena. Odessa just met him bitch-face for bitch-face and Mungo seemed unable to fear anything.

    Pietro was simply not afraid of Phobos. Not even the rumors. Pietro seemed to know him better than that and Phobos wouldn’t admit it outloud but he liked that. It made the draught a savoured rarity though Phobos would admit he was curious over what was causing such an influx of fear. Phobos growled out his next sentence, “Tell me what you know of Guardsman Elijah.” Phobos demanded, his voice like poisonous silk. Weaving a verbal trap that it’s captive could not free itself from until Phobos released him.

    The guard just tilted his head, confusion mounting in his eyes. “The first or the second?” The guard questioned. Phobos’ demeanor faltered completely. That had not been what he was expecting. Out of all things he had heard- rumors he had dug up and secrets he had ripped out of the deepest crevices of others souls- any mention of another guard named Elijah was not present.

    “What do you mean the first or the second?” Phobos snarled. However the gig was up with the colt. The fear had lessened considerably and had become nothing but unease. He seemed more curious now than anything. Phobos snarled wordlessly at him, swishing his tail and trying to instill the same fear. Yet the colt just continued to stare at him blankly. Phobos settled for an annoyed look since he was inwardly pouting over having lost his drink.

    “The old stag died. His son, which most tend to confuse him with, is still alive. You’re after his daughter aren’t you?” The colt questioned. Phobos had to resist the urge to lash out physically. Damn the greens- the colt was more perceptive than his former quivering hind-like appearance had given off. Phobos’ ears pinned and he gnashed his teeth aggressively. A mild threat. Anything to get that delightful fear back.

    “I’ve never heard of the elder having a son.” Phobos huffed sassily. The colt mimed his sass with a quirked eyebrow, noting easily the fact Phobos didn’t deny his question. Phobos was beginning to read him easier now but it was still strange. The faith that this colt had in him not to murder him in his sleep was absurd. Only a select few of his co-workers, his lord's ladies, and his lord shared the same trust and even then it had taken a while. Yet this colt, this stranger, dared to put in him faith. If Phobos would be frank with himself it was unnerving.

    “Considering I just spoke with him not that long ago, I would say I know more than you. Why are you after his daughter?” The guardsman questioned firmly, getting braver now. He squared up, looking Phobos up and down and weighing his odds of a fight. Phobos let the physical brutality-threat bleed out of his posture just so it wouldn’t end in a fight. Phobos had never been a good fighter even before he had injured his ankle. He knew enough to save his own hide or his lord’s family if it came down to it. But not enough to survive a petty little squabble. Not to mention Pietro would not be happy if he came back roughed up again.

    “She’s my sister.” Phobos found himself saying. He hadn’t intended for honesty. He didn’t want this stranger knowing. Yet the words had come tumbling out. It was a foreign taste, the this particular brew of truth. For a moment Phobos could not do anything but fear what the colt would do with the information. Bloodthirsty were the hounds of Glenmore and they stopped for no one, not even the king, when they got upon a trail. The colt’s posture immediately lessened with shock and he blinked a few times trying to adjust to the new information.

    “If you’re family-” The colt breathed before becoming entirely serious, stepping forward into Phobos’ personal space. Crowding him and nearly pressing up against him. The nearness made Phobos want to crawl out of his skin, the touch foreign and unwelcomed. Phobos breath froze in his chest unwillingly.

    In life there is always a feeling one gets before everything is about to change. Before the world turns upside down and you are left scrambling to catch up. That singular pause filled the length of that moment for Phobos. Everything seemed to slow down and he became acutely aware of everything. The slight rustle of nocturnal birds fluttering around the trees. The dark bluish hue of the world around them, illuminated by the silver light of the moon and stars above them. He could smell the stag before him- the musk that clung to him hidden mostly behind concern. The fresh smell of the grass that twitched at their hooves. The stag’s ears slowly flicked back and his eyes drew as dark as Phobos’. A snarl was beginning to carve its way onto his face, looking out of place.

    Phobos let out his bated breath, eyes widening. All at once everything was rushing to catch back up to its proper time. The rush left Phobos dizzy and feeling as if he had just spent a long time spinning rapidly in a tight circle only to stop abruptly. The colt lowered his voice, nearly whispering in Phobos’ ear. Phobos felt a mild twinge of fear. He didn’t want to fight this guard. “What I tell you needs to stay quiet unless you can deal with it swiftly.

    Phobos straightened up, concerned now. “Is my sister in danger?” The thought began to warm his blood, threatening to boil. His parents might have been insane but even they had instilled upon him the right traditions- you never harm a doe under your care. Pietro and Helena had taught him that harming any child under your care wasn’t how it was supposed to go. To dare do this- Phobos would go to war over the notion.

    “Yes.” The colt answered immediately, “I’ve yet to see her but Elijah is just as insane as his father. I’ve heard him talk to other guards- he plans on breeding her as soon as she’s of age. He talks about how he’s raising her traditionally like a proper royal ought to- how he strikes her if she does anything without his permission. Even eating. I don’t have proof of this being anything more than talk. I need you to find this out and inform me. We can get this situation wrapped up quietly.”

    There is another moment in life, one that very quickly follows the first, where we finally realize what was coming to change our lives. The world feels like it slows down once again, not quite as far as the first time. A sense of something cold crawls over your soul, fear many might call it, and settles in your bones for just a moment. Yet the fires of Phobos rage would not let it stay. It thawed and broke the moment, sling shotting him back into the present. Phobos’ vision was tinted red. He trembled with rage barely contained. A fire within his soul. How dare this insane bastard dare even talk about harming a doe! A filly no less! All in the name of royalty. It was sickening. Phobos carefully bared his teeth in a snarl, his eyes darkening dangerously with a murderous tint in his eyes. “I will find this out. Your name, guardsman?

    “Jarcelot, son of Officer Requimsal. Whatever you do- do not get caught.” Jarcelot hummed before disappearing into the night without another word. Phobos took his cue and took off like a frightened rabbit. He ignored the throb in his ankle, too focused upon his rage. He flew far away, as far as possible, until he came upon a cliff ledge near to Loch Kerr. High enough to remain unseen he bathed in the light of the night.

    Phobos let his magic lash out dangerously then, tearing at the earth beneath him. The grass greened, fresher than spring could bring. Roses as red as blood bloomed out of nowhere, creating a dangerous ground around them. The trees greened themselves and the earth moved beneath him, twitching and rolling with his anger. However dangerous it was to move the earth while upon a cliff ledge, Phobos paid no mind. He threw his head back to the heavens and let out a howl reminiscent to a wolf though far more musical. The calling sound that began the hunt. Calling to the soul and awakening the thirst for blood. Fueling it’s fire until it was an inferno burning bright within the soul, burning away madness from the eyes and centering with its’ warmth.

    A trial had occurred right then. The mad King was overruled and forgotten. The verdict rested solely in the mind of a pair of unwitting comrades who had never met before. Death was the sentence no matter what the evidence found. There was only guilt. The filly would be free of her bonds and rescued. A hunt had begun for the blood of the guilty. Red roses marked his death. As far as Phobos was concerned, Elijah the second was already deceased.


And so begins the next chapter of Phobos' life.


Laughing my ass off!

Oh Phobos. What are you up to now?
For the love of Oganach dont get caught whatever you do.
Pietro will skin you alive.

Also mentioned the Pielena fam 'cause they are an active part of changing who he was.
And generally tend to occupy his thoughts since he reflects on some part of his life like every other sentence.
Reminicent coot needs to learn how to stay in the present for more than a paragraph.

Phobos and Jarcelot(c) Grilygril787 
Fawnlings(c) Fawnlings 
Every other mentioned character belongs to their own respective owners.

Mature Content

This content is intended for mature audiences.

or, enter your birth date.*



Please enter a valid date format (mm-dd-yyyy)
Please confirm you have reviewed DeviantArt's Terms of Service below.
* We do not retain your date-of-birth information.
WARNING: There are uses of discriminatory, disrespectful, belittling terms in this literature piece.
The use of these terms does not reflect the author's personal opinion. Thus, do not
come to the author attempting to fact-check them.

The character is like this.

Not the author.

Do not attempt to wallop the author, please and thank you.

Have a lovely day.

Featuring Phobos and Lady Manea
Late Spring, Year 766 of the New Age
The Glade of Excalibur the First, Glenwood, Glenmore

Wordcount: 2,508

+3 magic - lit - 2000+ words
+1 magic - practicing/sparring/fighting with another Fawnling

    Phobos grit his teeth as he found himself in the old glade of his father. The glade was a shattered piece of what it used to be, smashed beneath the sickness of it's mistress and the absence of it's master. The grass was dull and disgusting looking. The bushes were wild and unkempt. The flowers were mostly dead, decaying where they sat. The great trees that had once been so full of life were withering and dying, the spring being unable to bring life to their trunks. The pillars lay in broken shambles around the glade from when his father had lost his temper so many years before.

    Phobos had no desire to remain in the glade longer than he had to. Word had been sent back to him in Pietro's glade on the one day he had off. His mother was dying, she would not be on this world much longer. If she lasted another day the healers would be shocked. Phobos had many words left for his mother. Phobos approached the patch of slightly sheltered glade where his mother lay, having gone out for a walk but been unable to get up since. A makeshift den had been grown for her, but it was poor at best. As the stag approached he took in her appearance.

    Skin clung like a thin cloak upon a mess of bones. She was horrifically thin. It was a wonder she had yet to die from starvation given how much weight she had lost. Her mane was mostly falling out and what was left was dirty, tattered, and tangled into a wild mess. Her once pale coat was dirty, some areas covered in scab-like brown patches, others spots of dark yellow and a few others of a dark brown. Her eyes were rimmed with redness and her lips were covered in a thin sheen of red blood, leading Phobos to wonder if the darker patches on her weren't dried blood stains.

    Phobos regarded her quietly for a moment, noting the fact she made no move to speak for once. He shook his head, "And so the Queen stands in her broken kingdom, realizing in the last moments of her life that she was a mortal sinner. At last the outside finally reflects and shows the horrible, Black-blood insides." Phobos spoke, his voice curled and purring. Her eyes widened. Never in his life had he spoken to her first. It would have earned him either a hit from his mother and a new scar or a beating from his father until he couldn't think straight. With both of those possibilities gone and knowing that Pietro would come unglued if his butler wandered back to his glade mauled, Phobos found himself brave.

    Phobos gave a low chuckle, "So here you lay, Lady Manea, and I must ask- Do you reflect upon your life? Do you regret the choices that led you to such a horrible death? Your husband to once you were so loyal only ever produced children with those other than you. You only had one child- a daughter. A sickly pale daughter who you killed moments after her birth for being a daughter and not a son. Yet father had impregnated two other does- two commoners of dark coats both of which had been your hoofmaidens. One gave birth to me but you had her killed so that you could claim me as your own, provide and secure the family legacy regardless of the fact I was not yours. The other ran when she watched you kill my mother and gave birth to her son elsewhere."

    Lady Manea just watched him with shock. Yet Phobos kept going, "I wish you would have told me about my brother sooner, mother. He has been a wealth of information. Did you know that father even went after stags? Surely you had to- it's why you had him wrapped around your tail. He was afraid you would out him for being a whore and a faggot." Phobos taunted, a vile grin adorning his lips.

    He watched as she spat at him, blood flying from her lips but not reaching him. It was as if a new life had been given to her as she struggled to her feet, her entire being shaking like a newborn fawn. She gave incoherent noises of rage, her tail lashing out around her in an attempt to balance her and show her rage in the same moment. Phobos moved backwards, letting her shove herself forward. There was no fear left in him. He could not bring himself to feel fear at the face of a god who's kingdom had burned to ash and rubble. He was not afraid of the god who was dying before him, coming unraveled at the seams and withering away from the mortal realms into haunting memory that would eventually be forgotten.

    There was no fear to be found within him. No. He welcomed this challenge. She dared try and rise, would she dare try to fight him? After all these years of letting his father beat him senseless because she didn't want the taint of being a childbeater- would she at long last snap? Phobos hoped she would. She was but a mere creature cornered in it's last moments, cornered by it's own lies and deceit, cornered upon the edge of death. Creatures became ravenous, they fought with strength unknown to their mortal bodies when their minds no longer had the restraints of morals or thoughts. She would fight. It was written in the make of a very mortal.

    Phobos' soul sang as she managed to take a fighter's stance. Trying to bring herself to seem higher, to seem better, to seem the winner before the fight even begun. Murder danced in his eyes as the darkness his soul had carried since his youth began to spread. Spreading through his body it moved away from his soul to make room for the light that had never truly died within him. The innocence that remained- the lone surviving veteran from a war long since lost and forgotten. It emerged and glowed within him yet it made no move to take the bloodlust that awoke in his veins as the darkness he possessed moved to ensure he could fight with the same gusto his mother would. No- it endorsed the bloodlust. Called with it's gravely voice so much like Aysel's for him to repay the debt that he owed her.

    To repay every hit, every tiny scar hidden, every liltingly hissed insult, every degrading remark ever made. The bloodlust rose in his very being and suddenly he wanted her to know the pain he lived in for years. His soul was parched to the point he could feel the dryness on his tongue. He wanted to drink in her pain, her fear. He wanted that draught and he'd stop short of nothing. He no longer considered Pietro's reaction if he came back mauled. He no longer considered Helena's worry or Scath's snickering and jeering in favor for whomever he picked a brawl with. No- he didn't care what the glade and it's inhabitants would think. His very soul yearned for payment and he was going to get it if it was the last thing he did.

    He watched as she struggled to stay on her feet. He drank in as she looked taxed from her current efforts. She spat at him, hissing and snarling like some heathenous fox. She was a pest, a danger to his family. She had no sentiment, no morals like he had. All she ever did was just enough to survive and she cared not for who she killed or trampled in the process. She'd kill her own pup and he was aware of that. He was nothing but another possible meal to her. "You worthless bastard. I should have killed you when I laid eyes on you- the son of two whores. I should have never let you suckle from me. I should have left you to die for all you have given me!" She seemed to yowl. He drank in her sight. There was no restraint, no hesitation. Nothing was hidden in her being. There was murderous darkness so much worse than his own. Deadly to the touch it was no wonder she was dying- her own soul was killing her. Spit dripped down her mouth and mixed with blood. Madness was within her so much purer than his father's had ever been.

    He gave her a feral grin, his lips curling like a thorny vine. "Oh but you didn't and here I stand. We all make mortal mistakes, mother, and eventually they catch back up to us. So tell me, mother, do you fight and try to put me in my worthless place or do you let me run my mouth?" He taunted with a simpering tone. His soul cried with glee when her eyes flashed that unmistakable gleam of war. She readied herself and with a power her body would not have otherwise allowed she charged forward. It wasn't a stable charge for though she could garner herself enough to charge, her limbs could barely hold her weight. He took her first hit with a grunt, letting her and her teeth tear into him. He felt no pain.

    He turned into her side and launched forward using his back legs as Aysel had taught him, using his chest to hit her and biting at the balding patches of her skin until he drew blood. She gave a yelp and crumpled before him. She was not well enough to fight not had she ever learned how to withstand such a blow even when she had been well. The fight was not over though. No- she was still able to fight and he had not repaid his debt. The fight would not be over until she screamed for mercy. Until he heard her plead what he had begged for silently every time she commanded his father to beat him. Until she knew the same fear he had known his whole life. He was not- could not- stop until she knew. There was no one alive or dead who could have ever put the fear he wanted to show her within her properly.

    He gave a roaring bellow in her face, balancing on his hind legs as he arched over her weakened frame. He led with his good leg as he hit her body as hard as he could muster. He knew nothing of stopping until he could no longer balance properly. He instead turned around and used one hind leg to kick at her barely-there gut. He rained abuse upon her body, watching her flail and try to pull herself away until she was half-hidden back in her mock den. She was covered in blood and bruises but it wasn't enough. He wasn't satisfied. She had to scream. She had to scream.

    He reared up on his back legs with an idea in his head that would cause him pain in the end. With a vicious grin he forced himself down as hard as he could possibly manage, landing hard on the weaken joints of her back leg. A sickening snap broke the ravenous haze Phobos of the ravenous haze he had slid into as she finally screamed a plea. "Mercy!" She begged, her voice relaying how broken she felt, "Have mercy. Please. Just kill me."

    Phobos backed away, his entire chest heaving with both hatred, the thrill of a fight, and the breathlessness of having fought. His eyes drifted over her frame as he noted how small she seemed in that moment. She was covered in blood from nasty wounds he'd inflicted upon her, the blood upon her chin both his own and hers. Tears he had never known her to cry slid down her cheeks and washed a clean path upon her coat. She looked like a heap of bloodied bones and he could only bring himself to feel soul-deep pleasure at the sight. At long last the queen was truly broken. A true mortal. Her back leg being broken and the pain she felt all over meant she would live out the rest of her time upon the earth with the other mortals in utter agony. She would live the rest of her miserable life in the pain he had felt all his life.

    It wasn't much time but it was a moment, a single moment that traded off a lifetime of agony. It was all he would get. He could not extend her life. He could not breathe more life into her to make her live longer. But it was enough. It was enough and he was happy with it. He felt a weight lift from his soul and he grinned merrily at her. He stepped closer, relishing in the fact she flinched away from him and let out a terrified sob. He lowered his bloodied muzzle close to her ear. "May Oganach have mercy on your soul you foul sinner. You will never threaten the lives of those I care for again." Phobos hissed, "You kept me alive when I wished for death so I will not grant you death. An eye for an eye, isn't that right? Goodbye, mother. I will never see you again."

    He backed up and fed his magic into the earth, rising from the ground a new den that overtook the old one like a token to her in death. He laced the dark ferns with roses as red as blood. It was to mark the death of madness, the death of his internal woes, the death of her reign of terror. He grew fresh grass for her and even grew the miserable flowers that had 'killed' his even more miserable grandparents as a lining to her den. He felt he was being nice. He laughed to himself as he turned away from her, swishing his tail merrily as he left the glade for the last time. He went to a little stream nearby and washed the blood from his coat, washing the last traces of his mother from him. Washing himself free from the last shackles of hell she'd ever chained him to. After washing himself and drying in the sunlight, he made his way back home to face whatever scorn Pietro, Helena, and the rest would have over his returning battered.

    He received the news of his mother's death three days later. He barely waited for the healer to leave him alone before breaking into joyous laughter. Oganach had made her lay in her suffering for days longer before taking mercy upon her! He could never have asked for a greater moment and he felt as if it was Oganach nodding at him as he passed by. If anyone thought him odd for then walking through the day singing merrily every joyous song he had ever known, then they never said a word to burst his terrifyingly merry bubble.
The Death of a God
WARNING: There are uses of discriminatory, disrespectful, belittling terms in this literature piece.
The use of these terms does not reflect the author's personal opinion. Thus, do not
come to the author attempting to fact-check them.

The character is like this.

Not the author.

Do not attempt to wallop the author, please and thank you.

Have a lovely day.

Featuring Phobos and Lady Manea
Late Spring, Year 766 of the New Age
The Glade of Excalibur the First, Glenwood, Glenmore

Wordcount: 2,508

+3 magic - lit - 2000+ words
+1 magic - practicing/sparring/fighting with another Fawnling

Characters(c) Grilygril787 
Featuring Phobos and Kratos (NPC)
Mentioning Princess Helena, Lord Pietro, Merchant Raho (NPC), Lady Nephthys (NPC)
Lady Manea (NPC), Lord Ulixes (NPC), Helios (NPC), Iris (NPC)
Year 766 of the New Age, Spring
Glenwood, Glenmore

Pitch black, pale blue,
It was a stained glass
Variation of the truth
And I felt empty handed.

You let me set sail
With cheap wood.
So I patched up
Every leak that I could,
'Til the blame grew too heavy.

Stitch by stitch I tear apart.
If brokenness is a form of art,
I must be a poster child prodigy.
Thread by thread I come apart.
If brokenness is a work of art,
Surely this must be my masterpiece.

I'm only honest when it rains.
If I time it right, the thunder breaks
When I open my mouth.
I want to tell you but I don't know how.

I'm only honest when it rains,
An open book with a torn out page,
And my ink's run out.
I want to love you but I don't know how.

I don't know how,
No I don't know how.
I don't know how.
I want to love you but I don't know how.

I want to love you...
Words: 2,530
+3 magic - lit - 2000+ words

Red. Black. Blue.

Black for the aggressive drunk madman who came home and did as his wife bid, beating the life out of his beloved son. Black for the bruises and the nights spent sleepless for the pain. Black for the inky nothingness that became the only peace found in the raging monsoon of life. Black for the bone-chilling darkness that lived in every shadow and flourished in every unforgotten memory. Black for the taste of evil and the chill it left behind as the son learned to adapt. Black for the shadows the son hid within.

Blue for the angry eyes of a goddess, the fallen angel with clipped wings sent down among the mortals to prove to them their place. Blue for the eyes of a goddess that hid away a vile witch. Blue for the skies that watched as the son's parents thrived in madness. Blue for the dreams ridden with fear, the only color remaining from them in the waking hour. Blue for the rain that fell dry upon the perfect glade. Blue for the rivers that washed clean the evidence of a life of agony from the son's coat. Blue for the tears the son never cried.

Red for the blood that was spilled at the hooves of the mad. Red for the lifeblood reclaimed by the earth from the son's only friend. Red for the bloodshot eyes and the words whispered at the last moments of death. Red for the sunrise that rose over the vigil the son sat. Red for the rage of the madman and his mad wife all aimed at the son. Red for the roses that publicly proclaimed another murder. Red for the color the blue river turned.

The three colors Phobos had associated with his childhood all his life. Slowly, however, he was beginning to associate them with better meanings. Black like the pelt of his fair and justly boss, Pietro, who had done Phobos no harm and given him a life worth while. Blue for the eyes of Helena, the true embodiment of what a goddess should have been. Red for the roses Helena wore daily, crowning her beauty elegantly and giving her sophisticated grace a colorful flair. Good things that floated lightly on the sea of horrible memories. He would forever be grateful for them, indebted eternally to the to heaven sent graces that showed him that life wasn't just survival and killing others before they killed you. Sometimes it was enjoying the survival. Helping others survive.

The winter had come and gone with Phobos trying to spend every minute possible distracting himself. Between his lady and his lord there was simply never a shortage of things to do. Reasons for Phobos to ignore the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind. Reasons to keep procrastinating coming to a decision on whether or not to be his father. Whether or not to be his mother and end the life of an innocent. The reasons were never simplistic. He had chores. He had errands. Helena needed special herbs from the market- Phobos would volunteer to fetch them. Pietro needed a gift from the market as a gift to the lord who's heir had just been born- Phobos would fetch it without question and bring the most magnificent gift he could find.

There was always something. Especially the closer it came to Helena's due date. Yet as Spring arrived and Helena drew closer to giving birth, Phobos was finally awarded a day off. Well, more Helena looked at his tired and mostly sleepless eyes and demanded him take a day off. Phobos would never say 'no' to his Lady so thus after the morning chores he had been left to his own thoughts. His mother's words had begun to thunder around in his mind. A second son of Ulixes, another child of the line of Excalibur. Another stag to further the line of madness. That's all Kratos was.

He was a threat to Glenmore. A threat to the peace. A threat to Phobos and a threat to Pietro's family. He would go mad eventually, just like their father had. He would go mad and he would murder. He would commit the same sins. It was in their blood to commit the same sins. The sin of Phobos had been beaten out of him. Maybe. Perhaps not. Given he was plotting how to kill his own brother it seems like he had been wrong all these years. He was just as mad as his parents. Murder was all they did. It was the family trade. Murder, homicide, and political suicide on the rack of karma weathered away to vicious points by the rain of blood.

Yet did he truly wish to become what his mother and father had spent his entire life beating into him? Did he really wish to conform to what he had fought so long to fight against? Was it really all worth it?

This inward debate, the war of to kill or live with the fear of being killed, thus was how he had ended up standing at the entrance of a little known tiny conquered 'glade' of sorts on the very edge of the Glenwood. It wasn't worth the title of a glade since it was no where near as large and expansive as the one he had just come from.

No. It was a tiny meadow that had been conquered, other fawns fought off and the territory hard won. Too small a plot of land to bother the royals, just far enough on the outskirts of the Glenwood to win some peace from pesky commoners vying for a larger home. Around the edges was a thick hedge of angry looking thorns leaving only one entrance. In it were two nestled dens. More burrows to be precise. The grass was green but no where near as up kept as Lord Pietro's. Various plants were tended to among the meadow. It was a dejected looking meadow but it was enough of something to call home. Enough for a merchant.

"Hello?" Phobos called, stepping forward into the glade and not minding the familiar tug of thorns against his pelt. It was a relaxing sensation if he were honest. A sensation he was used to given his own den had an entrance of thorns to ward off nosy servants. Phobos glanced around, taking in the very petite size of the glade. Honestly, a pair of Oakferns would live comfortably in the glade. A pair of Glenmorians? Phobos was at a loss at how two bachelor stags and a hind could all share the same den space without going mad or stepping on each other's tails all the time.

A pale golden head popped out of the den to the north, curious green eyes meeting brown. "Why hello!" The fawn called, stepping forward and out of the den. Their gold champagne coat was sooty both from natural coloration and dirt. Gentle white fawnspots dappled their back and backside, white stockings upon their legs. A cascade of white hair fell like a waterfall, making them look more hindish than before. However the bulky build of a stag presented the fawn before him as a male. "Pleasure to meet you- I'm Merchant Raho. What brings you 'round to these parts?"

Phobos stared at him for a split moment, unsure of whether or not to continue. Uncertainty was not something familiar to Phobos. He had always been promised the same things for every reaction and action. Yet this- he had no clue. No promises of certain reactions. No promises of the sun rising again after the sun set. Nothing. He was carving his own fate. Sealing it with a kiss of poison or passion. "Hello. I am Butler Phobos. I am looking for Merchant Kratos? Is he here?" Phobos finally stated, trying to do his best to not give away his uncertainty.

The stag, Raho, just grinned his direction and nodded. "'Course he is! This is his meadow after all!" Raho laughed and turned towards the other den, bellowing his next words, "Krat! You and the misses have a guest!" The misses? Phobos questioned internally. This situation was delving very quickly into dangerous territory. A grieving widow was just as dangerous as Kratos was.

"Coming Raho!" A light and airy, bell like voice rang from the den. Some shuffling was heard and a moment later two fawns stepped out. One was a near pitch-black doe who was smaller than the stag. She had gentle features and delicacy radiated from her. Her black hair was wrapped up elegantly in a large bun and held together with different smooth carved wooden sticks, flowers draped over them and connecting them. Her soft and golden eyes glowed against her face, competing with her glowing smile.

The stag beside her was tall but thin. He was as pale as a princess- a bright shining cremello with spots along his back. Gently curving white markings danced along his face, legs, belly, and tail. A faint smirk tilted his lips and joy twinkled in his bright blue eyes. He stood proud and tall. White hair was cut to a medium length and braided tight with different trinkets. A faint few scars danced along his pelt but were mostly unnoticeable. "Hello! I'm Kratos. This is my wife, Lady Nephthys. What brings you to our humble abode Mister?" The voice was different than the one whom had answered Raho. It was deeper, much more masculine. It lilted over the nerves like a warm patch of sun on a cool winter day. It was inviting and respectful, soothing any agitated nerves like fermented fruit might.

Suddenly a small gangly limbed little fawn came tumbling out after them, bleating noisily and demanding attention with bright innocent green eyes. The small creature was only at best a few days old. She was lithe in build, even for a newborn, and was made up of graceful edges that bore no hint of one day becoming sharp. She was a softly hued amber champagne with lighter fawnspots covering her back. Phobos feared for her, momentarily. He waited in silence for them to lash out at her, making a clipped command for her to get back to her dam's side. Apologizing gently for their errant child's behavior. He waited for the cold eyes and the undertones of a lack of concern for the child.

Yet they did not come. Kratos, Nephthys, and Raho's eyes all turned to the child and softened. Their eyes shined brightly with a warm emotion Phobos had never quite understood enough to name. Their smiles grew wider, brighter, and their postures softened. Everything softened around the child. The look in Nephthys' eyes reminded him of how Helena would look upon her own belly or upon her adopted children of Pietro. The pride in Kratos and Raho's eyes reminded him of Pietro whenever he would look upon his beloved wife, expecting their first child, and his motherless children who she raised as her own. The genuine pride, the affection that went deeper than blood, the will to protect, the happiness- all those warm emotions melding into a nameless mass.

Phobos nodded softly to himself, understanding what he had to do. "Hello Kratos. I am Phobos, a butler of Lord Pietro. This will not come as pleasurable information to hear, but I am the son of Ulixes. I am your half brother. I did not find this information out until this past winter." He said, his voice soft. It lacked all the purr, all the guarded restrictions that he always kept up. Immediately it was clear to see when the words sank in. The joy left them, retreating to the back of their minds. Nephthys called the fawn to her and ushered her back inside the den, leaving with a kiss on her beloved's cheek. Raho bowed out of the conversation, giving a sorrowful look for the two of them.

Kratos had took a tense stance, seeming to be trying to swallow bitter feelings. Phobos waited in what amounted to the nearest thing to timidness as he had ever shown. "My brother." Kratos hummed, "Please, sit with me. There is much to talk about that I doubt father ever told you about." Kratos invited, voice still soft despite the bitterness his posture possessed. Phobos had to swallow a bit and urge his own feet to move. He followed his brother to the far side of the glade beneath the shade of a low-hanging oak tree. They laid together, airing out the familial history. The morning passed into night, Raho and Nephthys eventually making their way out to graze and entertain the young child Iris.

When Phobos left that evening it was on weary hooves, his mind thundering. Nothing was clear for him anymore. Nothing was clear. He no longer knew up from down. Everything he had ever known had been twisted around until it made frightening sense backwards, far more sense than it had ever made going the other direction. Phobos stored all the information he had learned from Kratos- his brother- away and tried to deal with his own shakiness. He stumbled into the night with a promise to come back given to Nephthys.

He had every intention of keeping that promise. He wanted to see how his brother lived. He wanted to be there when his brother died, when he cried, and when he laughed. He wanted this family and he wanted to see Iris grow into a beautiful hind. He wanted this just as much as he wanted to keep his job. Kratos and his family became near instantly just as important to him as Pietro and the glade family was. He stumbled his way through Glenmore along the trails he found an empty meadow. Once within it he let himself throw his magic into the ground.

He scowered the earth with the buzzing feeling of his magic. He fed from the unchanging stability. He drank from the wells of tranquility and sleeping peace that the earth provided. His magic lashed out until it flourished around him in a beautiful bloom. The grass greened and rose higher, tickling the underside of his belly. Poppies filled the meadow with a sea of red. The trees around him began to bloom brightly, livening up even brighter despite how early it was into spring. Small waves in the earth began to form beneath the grass and the poppies. Just enough to create something to stumble on.

Phobos let his magic explode, finding peace in the controlled chaos. It was the only thing that was familiar to him. No- that wasn't the only thing familiar. Not anymore. As Phobos calmed down he began to realize this was the very meadow where Helios was murdered. Phobos bowed his head and greedily took in air as his body heaved from the strain of so much magic having been released all at once. "I won't let her, Helios." Phobos muttered, vowing to the ghost of the stag who had been his only friend, "I won't let her win. She will pay. She will pay dearly."

She will pay.
Red, Black, Blue
Featuring Phobos and Kratos (NPC)
Mentioning Princess HelenaLord Pietro, Merchant Raho (NPC), Lady Nephthys (NPC)
Lady Manea (NPC), Lord Ulixes (NPC), Helios (NPC), Iris (NPC)
Year 766 of the New Age, Spring
Glenwood, Glenmore


OOohh- new installment of Phobos' life? What will happen next? O#O

Tagging Wistfully-Dreaming and Dyrin for very vague mentions of your characters <3

Characters(c) their original creators
Fawnlings(c) Fawnlings 


Add a Comment:
Hemhet Featured By Owner Jan 7, 2017
Thank you for the fav :)
Azot2017 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2016  Professional Digital Artist
Hi! I need you little help :) (Smile)
Can you +fav this work Clue
I participate in art`s competition.
Thanx a lot! I faved your work too! )
Grilygril787 Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Consider it done! :) (Smile) 
Kaybutts Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you so much for the watch my dear!! <3 ;u;
fish-in-fridge Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you very much for the faves💐
Grilygril787 Featured By Owner Jul 27, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Oh not a problem dear! You deserve a million delightful things more than simply a handful of favorites for how wonderful your artwork is. Hug 
May your muse never run dry. :D (Big Grin) 
CalyArt Featured By Owner Apr 20, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
thanks so much for the watch <33
Grilygril787 Featured By Owner Apr 20, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
RusticLass Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you so much for the watch! <3
Grilygril787 Featured By Owner Jan 9, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
:D <3 No problem! You're quite worth the watch and deserve several thousand watches that give away money like it's a free sample of their new product. 
Add a Comment: