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The Portal Minotaurs inside a maze - Printable Version

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Minotaurs inside a maze - Yves - 07-18-2018

Gather supplies? Check. Find the nearest safe water source? Check. Search for signs of any surviving souls? Check. Trip and fall into a portal to some kind of hallucinogenic fever dream shadow realm?


With a vigorous full-body wet-dog shake, Yves stumbles forth from the darkness cursing under his breath. He pauses, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the pulsing glow and swirling mists around him. It was almost like a rave, if you ignored the deathly quiet and strangely sinister aura smothering everything.

As it turns out, there is nothing for Yves’ eyes to adjust to; the strange diffuse glow, the thick tangles of vines, the eyes he can feel but can’t quite see – that is all there is here. “Fantastic.” Standing still is not doing him any good. The cold has already begun to pierce deep into his very marrow despite his heavily insulated build (heaven forbid we call him fat – he’s big boned, damn it). Nudging a vine out of his way, perhaps a little more forcefully than was called for, he plunges forward into the darkness. The dense foliage will not allow him to go any faster than a deliberate walk. “Hey! Are you fucking serious?” He calls out to no one in particular, his lilting French accent quickly swallowed by the jungle. He hasn’t believed in the gods for a long time now, but sometimes you just need to yell at the sky anyways, you know? At least, he assumes the sky is up there somewhere to hear his lament. No way in hell he can see it from here.

Fine. This might as well be happening. It’s no worse than the post-apocalyptic wasteland he came from, at least. Menacing, yes, but everywhere is menacing these days. Get some rainbows and snuggling bunnies up in here if you really want to surprise good old Yves. Menace is everywhere. No point sitting around feeling terrorized by it. And yet… Still, the feeling of being watched – of being followed – clings to him like sugar sand to a wet body, forcing an unwilling shiver racing up his spine. He grunts, annoyed, and presses forward. This place can’t last forever. At least he has a goal again now.

Find others. Get back home. Save the fucking world. A fool’s errand, yes, but no one ever said Yves wasn’t a fool.

And the bones of small contention are the only food the hungry find.
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Anyone's free to join, I don't care if Rift Presence posts first or not. =) Pardon the rust here...

Yves is a foreigner.
Magic: Any organic matter he breathes on is purified and made safe for consumption.
No mutations, items, or companion.

Thank you! ^^

RE: Minotaurs inside a maze - Rift Presence - 07-19-2018

the Rift
The Portal sweeps out at you in flurries of black snowflakes, surrounding as though it were a blizzard made for only you. It searches and flows around, pelting you with the tiny black snowflakes. They reach your body, melting nearly instantly but instead of being cold, the snowflakes are warm, as though the Rift is caressing you gently while it searches. It finds your magic, the snowflakes pelting more and more to the point it might become like annoying flies, darting against your skin, and as the Rift changes the magic, the black snowflakes simply fall to the ground and leave you on your way.


Healing: Any organic matter he breathes on is purified and made safe for consumption but makes it taste extremely sour.
The Rift subtly changes your magic.

Welcome to the Rift! :D

RE: Minotaurs inside a maze - Virga - 07-19-2018

This is probably a bad idea.

You're doing it, anyway.

Back to the place you first arrived: the trees thick and the lights blinking suspiciously up at you. Up, yes, because you arrive airborne. The only kind thing the Rift ever did: give you your wings. But on top of everything else, the gift is hollow. The Rift also took your grandmother, your home, your family... It ripped all of you apart and here reassembly is impossible. Here, you are all uglier, more fractured than you were before. And the gods are dead.

You can't stop thinking about that. You think on it as you fly, every down stroke like the pulse of some second heart. Gone, gone, gone. That fucking Kaos should be around here somewhere but you haven't found him yet and you can only hope he died in ripping apart your homeland or else that someone else killed him before you could — though the thought annoys you.

You are looking for him — always. But also for others. You don't know why, exactly, but doing nothing and babysitting Savera are both unfulfilling full-time occupations. They fail to calm the storms inside of you. Fail to distract you full from how much you hate. this place.

So, you're back in the Portal.

You don't expect to find much, and your shoulders are beginning to ache. But your ears prick to a voice somewhere down below. An angry voice, which is a good thing so far as you're concerned. Maybe someone else who wants to kick the everloving shit out of this hellhole. Maybe an ally.

You spiral down rather clumsily, never as graceful in the sky as you are on the ground, and the branches claw and scrape your sides as you descend. You don't care. You hit the ground harder than expected, breathe out a surprised whuff of air, and turn in the direction of the sound. “HEY!” That should catch their attention.

countdown to selfdestruct


RE: Minotaurs inside a maze - Yves - 07-21-2018

The going was slow before the storm; once it hits, Yves’ progress halts altogether. What is this stuff? It floats around him like flurries but feels like ash and looks like a swarm of gnats and why, exactly, is it fondling him – and only him? Is this some kind of attack? Magic is nothing new to the simple stallion, though he does not care for it himself. Too fussy. Find him a problem solved by magic that couldn’t be fixed with a little creativity instead. This touchy-feely onslaught has the qualities of a magical attack, but who is his attacker? As his brain cycles through the possibilities the bombardment grows in intensity, the flakes smacking into his coat relentlessly. They drive at him biting and hot and all at once. At first the warm flurries were annoying, but this? This was beginning to get legitimately painful. “Fuck off, damn it,” he growls, squinting his eyes shut to shield them from damage.

Within moments it's all over. The snowflakes settle innocently to the cold floor, peering sweetly up at the stallion, winkingly whispering, who, me? Yves isn’t falling for the act. He angrily paws at the snow, snorting and demanding answers. “What are you? Who sent you?”

Perfect timing.

Some commotion in the treetops catches Yves’ attention. He flicks his ears in that direction but remains focused on stomping the shit out of this snow - maybe the distraction is a trap, or maybe he's just enjoying what little revenge he can extract on these damn bullet-flurries. At the thud, though, he finally wheels around to face the source of the racket. The shouted 'hey' was overkill – what, was whoever this was worried he hadn’t heard all that? But he keeps his judgments to himself as he struggles to make out the figure of the dark winged creature under the glowing neon lights. Was this who was attacking him? Yves narrows his eyes suspiciously, squaring up in case they were planning a physical onslaught for their encore. “What the hell was that all about? You trying to fight?” He snaps, stomping a heavy hoof for emphasis but making no move toward his alleged assailant. Truth be told, he isn’t much of a fighter. But this stranger doesn’t need to know that, and the tough guy act is easy to bluff when you’re a big burly son of a gun like Yves.

And the bones of small contention are the only food the hungry find.
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RE: Minotaurs inside a maze - Virga - 07-21-2018

You catch sight of the stranger just as his voice booms out an answer. Big: a square wall of muscle the color of granite. Taller than you. Much taller. Something quickens in your blood, something akin to joy, and you pause just a few strides out. A smirk curls at one corner of your mouth, triumphant. You should probably answer his question, though, or else you might end up obligated to kill him.

“Not today.” You feel a little like laughing, and it dances in the turn of your voice. You don't think he's from around here. You don't know if he's Helovian, but foreign alone is a start. Head tilting, you let your dark eyes rake over him again, searching for scars or some other indication of a history of combat. You see little. But he is big.

You're certain he sees the horn by now, and the easy grace with which you stand, so you don't exert much effort in making yourself look threatening. Instead, you're busy sizing him up. Thinking — something you don't do very often. You almost wish Savera was here, because she would know what to do, but you're also glad she's not, because she would want to play some kind of stupid game. “Virga,” you toss at him, still thinking. “Son of Mesec the Nightwind and Kir'rha, General of the Aurora Basin. Of Helovia.” Here you pause, prepared to weigh his response. If he knows anything about Helovia, he should know who you are. If he doesn't, well — your name sounds impressive. But because you're in a good mood, you also give him a mouthful of real information: “You're in the Rift.”

countdown to selfdestruct


RE: Minotaurs inside a maze - Yves - 07-24-2018

Yves’ eyes finish their lagging adjustments – he’s not used to psychedelic neon lighting, okay? – and he finally fully makes out his visitor. Greeter. Attacker. Whatever. Yves has height on his side, but apparently that’s about it. Despite the bungled landing, there is no denying this pegasus’ deft build; the athleticism and poise, the easy confidence with which he holds himself. Sleek and cloaked in velveteen midnight, adorned with strikingly long horn and wings – something Yves feels his distinct lack of following his foolish challenge. Sure, a talented equine fighter might stand a chance against a winged, horned athlete, but we've already been over Yves' inexperience in the fighting department. He heaves a quiet sigh of relief that he is declined, but decides to remain vigilant. You know. Just in case.

The conversation so far is stilted. Yves probably deserves at least some of the blame for that. The titles and storied lineage jumble together – the gray does enjoy history and in another life he would probably have enjoyed prying for the rest of the story, but these days he has lost his patience for that game. He gleans the information he deems most useful: Helovia. The Rift. And what the hell, he might as well store Virga’s name while he’s already committing things to memory here. “Yves. World’s Edge.” He huffs, scarcely trying to hide his attempt to hurry through the small talk and get to the crux of the issue here. He does not stop to ponder and instead jumps straight ahead to disagreement (his ever-ready first instinct): “The Rift came to Helovia, not the other way around.” Because disagreeing with reality and known facts has always proven to be such an effective strategy.

Then again, being in the Rift would make sense. The wild colors and glowing lights, the eyes and black snow, all of it was reminiscent of the strange Riftians who had started showing up in Helovia…

As the realization dawns, Yves scowl deepens. “The damn gods couldn’t just communicate with each other and let the mortals live our boring lives where we please, could they? What is it to them? Fuck off already!” His voice quickens with emotion, his accent growing heavier the faster he speaks. He's not tense anymore - now he's just pissed off. In fact, he scarcely remembers Virga is still there. “This is stupid,” he declares with finality and an irritable stomp of his front hoof. As if suddenly remembering the pegasus’ presence, Yves' eyes narrow in on the beautiful and, judging by his title, evidently battle-hardy creature expectantly. With that easy confidence, he sure seems like a man with a plan. “So what now, Virga?"

And the bones of small contention are the only food the hungry find.
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RE: Minotaurs inside a maze - Virga - 07-31-2018

World's Edge — a breath of hope in the dismal quagmire of the Rift. Your ears come up; something sharpens in your gaze, some quick excitement. He is a fellow, orphaned and estranged as you are. He is a potential ally, and you, you who have spurned and misunderstood the companionship of your own kind, now lean forward eagerly. Craving it.

You nod a quick affirmative. This is good. This is beyond good. The man is big, he's angry, he's like you. A grin crawls across your features as his voice rises in answer to your statement. It's a great ringing baritone, strangely accented, but that hardly bothers you. All you see is what you want to see.

Triumphantly, your wings flex. You stretch the sinewy muscle of your neck, still the smirk lingering around the edges of your mouth. “They were taken by surprise,” you explain. “Murdered.” Your grandmother among them. And oh, the shiver of hate that runs through you. The sudden, visceral need for Kisamoa's throat in your teeth. “And now those of us who survived are here. I don't know where the others are. Hiding, maybe.” You glance around as if you expect them to reappear, but your gaze is disdainful. Hate burns in your guts for those who do nothing nearly as hot as it does for the monster Himself. Why didn't your father come south with you? Your mother? Your twin?

You are alone. Again.

Except.... You are not. You have him, Yves of the World's Edge, and that is a start, isn't it? You have Savera, somewhere, quick-witted and silver tongued. You are not alone. The gods of Helovia have not abandoned you completely. “Now?” You echo the stranger's last question. “Now, I'm going to find the bastard who did this and kill him until it sticks.” Your wings flex again, a sort of shivering little motion, and a hard breath leaves your lungs. Yes, you are going to rip open everything this place loves and spill its life blood into the abyss.

A thought occurs to you. “You can help,” you offer, surprisingly magnanimous. “If you want. We might need more.” Perhaps there are others in the Rift who don't harbor a disturbing amount of cowardice in their hearts. Those who feel as you do, but have yet to find a common purpose. “And I need to find out where this place's weak points are.” Now you're distracted, your eyes skating the trees but looking somewhere into the future. Somewhere into the past. Thinking. Planning. It's new to you, but it feels good.

countdown to selfdestruct


RE: Minotaurs inside a maze - Yves - 08-02-2018

So the gods aren’t just power-hungry, they’re also murderous. Great. Just what the world needs: omnipotent beings who get off on meddling in mortal affairs and are happy to spill blood when it suits them. A jolt of emotion shoots through Yves’ veins, something between rage and fear. For all his earlier stomping and fussing, he falls utterly still for Virga’s new explication. He squints at the Aurora Basin’s General, wishing he was naïve enough to disbelieve him; that probing him in an attempt to expose the holes in his story would be anything other than a profound waste of time. But Yves knows the ebony stallion speaks the truth. It all makes sense. It fits.

Plant boy, what are you getting yourself into here?

Revenge is a funny thing. It’s empty calories, and yet it’s so universally craved – truly the high fructose corn syrup of motivators. Killing doesn’t sound particularly satisfying to Yves, but the chance to grill whoever was responsible and understand why shit went down the way it did… that was a much more tantalizing option. Oh, Virga could totally still kill him afterwards – Yves doesn’t give a damn about what ends up happening to the bastard. He just wants to get his questions answered first, and partnering with Virga – resolute, angry, determined Virga – certainly seems like his best chance at figuring this out. Helping him seems more appealing than spending any more time in this trippy cold neon forest, anyways.

“I would like to help you,” Yves declares, finally breaking the sudden stillness that had overcome him. He tosses his head, flipping his heavy forelock out of the way of his eyes and locking his gaze steadily on Virga. “Get me out of here and I can get to work.”

And the bones of small contention are the only food the hungry find.
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RE: Minotaurs inside a maze - Virga - 08-02-2018

A grin splits your face as the stranger answers. You nod in response to his demand, not at all put off by his demeanor. He is yours now, yours, an ally, the first of his kind. But with him, you realize: there could be more. Maybe not now, but eventually. You could find others. You could bring them together. You could become teeth to crush the Rift between.

“Follow me,” you intone, and without another word you turn. You don't have a base of operation yet, or even anything like a home, but you can take him from the Portal and show him somewhere relatively safe. Explain to him what little else you know, if he wishes. Your strides are firm and certain as you leave.

countdown to selfdestruct