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Dragonsong by narathira Dragonsong by narathira
:iconnarathira:

Dragonsong by narathira

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/ / ©2007-2015 narathira
You are free to use this font however you want. It includes all the special characters used in Spanish, German, French, Portuguese, and Latin; the Euro, Yen, and Dollar signs, and more.
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:iconbillracz:
billracz Featured By Owner Apr 12, 2013
Cool!
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:iconfantasystock:
FantasyStock Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2011
:icondragonlaplz:This dragon resource has been featured in my journal.
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:iconnarathira:
narathira Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2011
Thank you!
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:iconfantasystock:
FantasyStock Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2011
:hug:
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:iconlyranis:
lyranis Featured By Owner Jul 7, 2009
Very interesting font ! I like it !!
Thanks
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:iconnarathira:
narathira Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2009
Thanks! Glad you like it :)
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:icongadgiecat13:
GadgieCAT13 Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2008
Nice font ^.^
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:iconalexnp:
AlexNP Featured By Owner Dec 15, 2007
Thanks, at least some font with spanish characters :)

Great job narathira
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:icondasnoa:
dasnoa Featured By Owner Aug 14, 2007
Thanx homie
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:iconwyrmnite:
wyrmnite Featured By Owner Jul 31, 2007
Impressive
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:iconnarathira:
narathira Featured By Owner Aug 1, 2007
thanks!
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:iconktfoo:
ktfoo Featured By Owner Jul 29, 2007
cool font! may soon be appearing on english paper titles near you... :XD:
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Download TTF download, 36.5 KB

:iconnarathira: More from narathira

Shattered Pixels by narathira
Sketches by narathira
Creek by narathira
At the End by narathira
At the ShoreThe sky above me is rich with infinite hues, blending together like paint on an artist's palette.  On the distant horizon so far from humanity the sun burns, vibrant in its incandescence, and powerful; orange and yet beyond any color.  Its face rests upon the water, and a trembling image of itself is seen as quavering shafts of light, a tenuous image constantly disturbed by the steady waves.  The sun's weaker twin does not have the same brilliance, yet is in itself beautiful, like a stamp that has been used far too long to be deciphered: the edges undefined, the visage faltering, but charming in its age.  The ink pad is that of the heavens themselves, a great celestial dye coloring the water, printed with the care brought by millenia of experience.
The sand beneath my feet appears gold in the light, as if all the world's riches had been cast to sea and transformed into dust by the persistent tides.  Its touch is as soft as the finest si
Forgotten Dreams of SocietyOn the shore of eternity, where time is daily born again and left to die at the sun's setting like an orphaned child, precious but forgotten, there is a silent beach made of sand from a million hour glasses. There is the ticking of a great clock, sounding the difference between past and future with its deafening silence with each passing moment. There are shells whispering. Secrets. Secrets. Secrets of the sea, of the world.  There the swift tide of reality pulls lofty dreams under to bury them beneath the surface forever. But in time they crawl from their watery tombs to lie upon the strand, gasping, waiting for someone to pick them up and cherish them again. And there is silence on the shores of eternity as time is interred forever among the forgotten dreams of society.
At the Ruins of a CathedralThe angels sing with broken wings above the lofty doors,
Their shattered hymns of shattered praise fall still upon the floor.
Upon their hair of purest gold sits glimm'ring, heav'nly crowns
Above their lips of finest red and gleaming eyes of fire.
Down to the broken altar clothed in tattered, broken gowns
Fall the angels from the land above the lofty spire.
To fly again they always try but never to succeed,
trapped behind the stained-glass cage and never to be freed.
Little Froggy by narathira
SpringtimeI caught springtime in a bottle,
Saving it for darker days
Years upon my shelf it lay,
Lonely, save its own faint glow.
Green and warm it was,
With the kindness of a friend´s embrace.
Its bottle of  clear crystal,
Pure as water, fragile as new glass
Insubstantial as a dream at daybreak,
Transient as the wings of a butterfly
It seems to hum with new life
like the heartbeat of a newborn.
But there are cracks along its surface now,
Like the finest lace
They drape across the surface;
It would shatter at a gossamer touch.
The green grows dimmer every day,
As the glass grows weaker.
Its innocence leaking away into the terror of the world.
But I am happy.
Perhaps it will fall in the form of the tiniest of snowflakes
Against the cheek of one who weeps,
Perhaps it will alight in the heart of a warrior,
And make him lay down his weapon forever.
Or perhaps it will float into the eyes of a child,
So that he may never lose hope.
Farewell, springtime! Perhaps I will catch you again,
B
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Submitted on
July 29, 2007
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