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Description
It took three years to get to Roo Island. Inflicts had at first attempted to swim it, but the current was much too strong for his dried out body. Thank the gods for formaldehyde and water-tight varnish.

After several encounters with the living, Inflicts finally managed to overcome a small ship's crew near Mystery Island. Lost at sea does not begin to describe his journey back to the northwest. Needless to say, the crew, or what was left of it after Inflicts had taken charge, all either starved to death or drowned themselves in the crushing waves off the ship's stern. When he landed on Roo Island, running the ship completely aground, it didn't take long to find his homeland. The island is, after all, only a few kilometers across. And giant, abandoned mansions, while plentiful in places like the Haunted Woods, were something of an eyesore on the likes of Roo Island.

He threw the front doors open with an outstanding bang. Overcome by his triumph of reaching the island and anticipation of what was about to happen, he let out an earsplitting, raging scream that rang out across the island. Natives and visitors alike paused in their daily routine to listen. It took some time to die. Warily they glanced at one another before peering off in the direction of that horrible haunted house on the east coast of the island.

Inflicts had planned this encounter ever since he realized he was able to leave his own house, what he had thought to be his prison, and the effects of whatever monstrous curse had brought him back to life would not wear off. It was not long before that old house was obliterated in an unfortunate gas leak accident. Nothing was recovered from the ashes.

Its only remaining resident was already well on his way.

The house was huge. But he knew he had to be somewhere. Unlike the poltergeist voodoo abomination now creeping low across the dusty floor, the ghost that inhabited this house had no physical form, only spiritual, and was tied to the land it died on.

Inflicts searched the lower level of the house, which consisted of nine separate rooms, each connecting to the next, and the four cardinal rooms meeting the dining room in the middle. The entire mansion stunk of rot and decay. And while there was much to look at of interest, I am sure, Inflicts did not find his man down here. Up the stairs, tip-toe on the fraying carpet. He tittered quietly to himself and rubbed the mass of flesh that once covered an empty socket. Inflicts had managed to replace at least one of his marble eyes, but the second was an unfortunate disaster to say the least. At least it no longer oozed, unlike the successful transfer still did on occasion when irritated.

The creature found itself at the head of a long and narrow hallway. The ceilings stretch up into the blackness. At the end of the hallway was a tall window, gleaming white from the outside overcast sky. A single door stood open to the immediate left of the window.

Inflicts grinned.

He started out at a light trot. The excitement of the moment overcame him and he broke into a stunningly grotesque canter, his sagging skin writhing on his frame. A seam must have popped somewhere along the way. One could have grabbed his middle and stretched his hide so his hanging belly nearly reached his spine.

He ricocheted off the wall just below the windowsill and scrambled into the room. He skidded to a stop on the hard floors. Empty. The room was completely empty.

Ah, but that wasn't quite true. Another lone, single doorway stood at the other end of the room. He could see light filtering into the room from above. A hole in the roof, no doubt.

The light in the room was, however, a wonder. Something about it made Inflicts pause. Was it beautiful? There are many beautiful things in this world, yes, but he had never considered any of them so, at least not post mortem. Something stirred in his chest - something other than stuffing. He stood there, both outraged at himself for stopping, not going, not barging in and ripping that little ingrate's unholy head off. Was it the light? It would be the light that would bring him into view... the light by which he would see Toughwing again for the first time in nearly one hundred years.

He was afraid.

He was nervous, he was exhilarated, he was absolutely enraged. There was no way he could compete with all of his emotions. So he just stood there, staring into the room. Then it occurred to him: why hasn't he come out? Why hasn't the ghost that haunts this mansion come to greet its final guest?

Something was wrong.

Slowly Inflicts began shuffling his feet forward. He rose on his hind legs and walked into the room. Light spilled over his face, making him squint his eye. But it didn't take long to adjust to the change and he saw with the deepest sensation of love and agonizing loss the news clips, photos, fliers and drawings which plastered the walls.

Him. It was all him. Toughwing had collected every scrap of news, every image, every whiff of Inflicts', of Pinky's presence in this dark and unforgiving world. He saved them all, to read and look at every day. Inflicts wouldn't know it, but for almost one hundred years Toughwing, or Atrocita as he was known as in death, had rotted, slaving over a fervent obsession with his childhood friend.

It was then Inflicts knew Toughwing's spirit, Atrocita, was already dead.

The room seemed to swell around him and spin. He staggered backward, absolutely grief-stricken.

"No."

As all of his hate for their past transgressions left his body, panic and sorrow flooded in to fill the void.

"NO!"

Download for full view please.
This originally started as pose practice. I spent a great deal of time on the position of Inflicts' body and limbs, and especially the expression on his face, to convey exactly what I wanted to see in him when he walked into that room. ...Then I got a little carried away with shading and then the background. Whoops!

Draiks (c) Neopets.com

Description
It took three years to get to Roo Island. Inflicts had at first attempted to swim it, but the current was much too strong for his dried out body. Thank the gods for formaldehyde and water-tight varnish.

After several encounters with the living, Inflicts finally managed to overcome a small ship's crew near Mystery Island. Lost at sea does not begin to describe his journey back to the northwest. Needless to say, the crew, or what was left of it after Inflicts had taken charge, all either starved to death or drowned themselves in the crushing waves off the ship's stern. When he landed on Roo Island, running the ship completely aground, it didn't take long to find his homeland. The island is, after all, only a few kilometers across. And giant, abandoned mansions, while plentiful in places like the Haunted Woods, were something of an eyesore on the likes of Roo Island.

He threw the front doors open with an outstanding bang. Overcome by his triumph of reaching the island and anticipation of what was about to happen, he let out an earsplitting, raging scream that rang out across the island. Natives and visitors alike paused in their daily routine to listen. It took some time to die. Warily they glanced at one another before peering off in the direction of that horrible haunted house on the east coast of the island.

Inflicts had planned this encounter ever since he realized he was able to leave his own house, what he had thought to be his prison, and the effects of whatever monstrous curse had brought him back to life would not wear off. It was not long before that old house was obliterated in an unfortunate gas leak accident. Nothing was recovered from the ashes.

Its only remaining resident was already well on his way.

The house was huge. But he knew he had to be somewhere. Unlike the poltergeist voodoo abomination now creeping low across the dusty floor, the ghost that inhabited this house had no physical form, only spiritual, and was tied to the land it died on.

Inflicts searched the lower level of the house, which consisted of nine separate rooms, each connecting to the next, and the four cardinal rooms meeting the dining room in the middle. The entire mansion stunk of rot and decay. And while there was much to look at of interest, I am sure, Inflicts did not find his man down here. Up the stairs, tip-toe on the fraying carpet. He tittered quietly to himself and rubbed the mass of flesh that once covered an empty socket. Inflicts had managed to replace at least one of his marble eyes, but the second was an unfortunate disaster to say the least. At least it no longer oozed, unlike the successful transfer still did on occasion when irritated.

The creature found itself at the head of a long and narrow hallway. The ceilings stretch up into the blackness. At the end of the hallway was a tall window, gleaming white from the outside overcast sky. A single door stood open to the immediate left of the window.

Inflicts grinned.

He started out at a light trot. The excitement of the moment overcame him and he broke into a stunningly grotesque canter, his sagging skin writhing on his frame. A seam must have popped somewhere along the way. One could have grabbed his middle and stretched his hide so his hanging belly nearly reached his spine.

He ricocheted off the wall just below the windowsill and scrambled into the room. He skidded to a stop on the hard floors. Empty. The room was completely empty.

Ah, but that wasn't quite true. Another lone, single doorway stood at the other end of the room. He could see light filtering into the room from above. A hole in the roof, no doubt.

The light in the room was, however, a wonder. Something about it made Inflicts pause. Was it beautiful? There are many beautiful things in this world, yes, but he had never considered any of them so, at least not post mortem. Something stirred in his chest - something other than stuffing. He stood there, both outraged at himself for stopping, not going, not barging in and ripping that little ingrate's unholy head off. Was it the light? It would be the light that would bring him into view... the light by which he would see Toughwing again for the first time in nearly one hundred years.

He was afraid.

He was nervous, he was exhilarated, he was absolutely enraged. There was no way he could compete with all of his emotions. So he just stood there, staring into the room. Then it occurred to him: why hasn't he come out? Why hasn't the ghost that haunts this mansion come to greet its final guest?

Something was wrong.

Slowly Inflicts began shuffling his feet forward. He rose on his hind legs and walked into the room. Light spilled over his face, making him squint his eye. But it didn't take long to adjust to the change and he saw with the deepest sensation of love and agonizing loss the news clips, photos, fliers and drawings which plastered the walls.

Him. It was all him. Toughwing had collected every scrap of news, every image, every whiff of Inflicts', of Pinky's presence in this dark and unforgiving world. He saved them all, to read and look at every day. Inflicts wouldn't know it, but for almost one hundred years Toughwing, or Atrocita as he was known as in death, had rotted, slaving over a fervent obsession with his childhood friend.

It was then Inflicts knew Toughwing's spirit, Atrocita, was already dead.

The room seemed to swell around him and spin. He staggered backward, absolutely grief-stricken.

"No."

As all of his hate for their past transgressions left his body, panic and sorrow flooded in to fill the void.

"NO!"

Download for full view please.
This originally started as pose practice. I spent a great deal of time on the position of Inflicts' body and limbs, and especially the expression on his face, to convey exactly what I wanted to see in him when he walked into that room. ...Then I got a little carried away with shading and then the background. Whoops!

Draiks (c) Neopets.com