The Portal JUST LIKE YOU SAID IT WOULD BE - Printable Version +- the Rift (http://riftrpg.net) +-- Forum: Archives (http://riftrpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=20) +--- Forum: Year 1173 (http://riftrpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=29) +---- Forum: Incompleted (http://riftrpg.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=26) +---- Thread: The Portal JUST LIKE YOU SAID IT WOULD BE (/showthread.php?tid=253) |
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JUST LIKE YOU SAID IT WOULD BE - Enna - 08-04-2017 for @Rohan + Erebos only, please♥ I can't access Helovia, but Enna was my only character posted to the end thread<3 Magic: SAFE [Magic: FirexSpark(?) | Able to summon white sparks (or flames, up to admin) that heal what they come into contact with. ] :: [Restirctions | Requires concentration, is physically draining. ] Amulet: 1 Time God Companion: Mehr :: Arctic Wolf :: Mid Drench 1173 (6.10.17) Requests: I’d like to keep her appearance/magic much the same if possible :3 Also would like to keep her regular items por favor: :: [Item: Slate colored cloth sling that ties at shoulders and hangs to middle of chest. Able to carry small to medium items inside. ] :: [Item: Dead butterfly in a jar. ] :: [Item: Seashell hairclip. ] :: [Item: Green sea turtle charm. ] RE: JUST LIKE YOU SAID IT WOULD BE - Rift Presence - 08-05-2017
The land, it greets you; it curls around you, whispers faintly, just on the edge of your awareness. The neon eyes blink and shift, but some of them surely don't have bodies attached to them? They're too high up, or.. or there's just nothing there... the Rift [ TRANSFER NOTES: ENNA ] Magic: Healing: Ability to summon white flames that heal what they come into contact with. Amulets: Your amulet gives a popping noise, before sizzling, melting down into nothing. Oddly, it doesn't hurt. Companion: Mehr: Arctic Wolf Obtained: 10th June 2017 Birth Date: Mid-Drench 1173 Normal items transfer fine! RE: JUST LIKE YOU SAID IT WOULD BE - Rohan - 08-11-2017 {SWP participation} Magics:
Enchanted items
Rift-god / Kaos items
Amulets : Two! (1 Earth and 1 Moon) Companion/s :
Mutations: None. Requests: Bringing his other items..
RE: JUST LIKE YOU SAID IT WOULD BE - Rift Presence - 08-13-2017
Eyes blink, slowly at first. And then quickly. There are so many, all fluttering glowing orbs shrouded in sharp shadows that awn open like screaming mouths between the eyes. Then, as swift as they had appeared, the eyes are gone. the Rift | TRANSFER NOTES : ROHAN | Magic: Offensive: Able to create a tornado of sand and stones. Items: Defensive: Leather armor enchanted to be as strong as metal that covers the face/neck/body/legs. Amulets: Although the eyes are gone, their screaming mouths are not; and so their teeth reach for your godsblood amulets, and in the process scrape along your impressive antlers, leaving glowing white teeth marks in their wake. Companion: Éomer : White-tailed Eagle OOC Obtained: 9 July 2017 Rift Birthdate: Mid Drench 1173 Normal items transfer fine, just this thread as link-proof in your profile. RE: JUST LIKE YOU SAID IT WOULD BE - Erebos - 08-14-2017
The Rift had already anointed him with its nefarious touch. Some were unremarkable, annoying, a tad ridiculous, like the snakes intertwining from his chin where there should’ve been tangles and threads of hair (some black, some white – but these cretins were all mist and fog, like everything else in this damned world). Some were intriguing, triumphant, a pull from another empire, the etching of former Gods, spiraling from his skull marking in the fog, in the murk, in the din – a reminder of so many things that he held near and dear to his blackguard heart. Then some were malignant and bruising, wretched and consuming: the bites and scars from the sirens’ beasts, the lack of his fire invocations, the absence of Enyo, the silence of Orsino – that left him stuck and crawling amongst a void, bestial, brutal, working his way through ruthless rhythms and unrelenting schemes, slithering towards a day when everything would be his again. The prince intended to show this new hell just exactly what he was made of – persistence, tenacity, endurance, fortitude, strength, potency, prowess, and vengeance. He was going to ensure it would rue the hours, the moments, the instances, it ever crossed his rancorous, audacious soul. He’d grit his teeth, he’d harpoon gods, and he’d fell cities until he got what he wanted. If the earth yearned to watch him spin avarice and greed into his mercurial whims, then the die had already been cast, the sword already glinting, the stratagems already taking place. So he persevered, angling his way through the doom and gloom as if he belonged to it, another one of the shadows, christened, immersed, and consecrated by black endeavors and Stygian enterprises. His movements were predatory, insistent, hunting, stalking the legions of furtive, deceptive parlors and hallways over and over again for the same motives and crusades – finding the lost. The General wasn’t entirely altruistic: he favored those he knew, those he cherished, those he remembered and recalled from eons spent amidst glaciers and summits, valleys, unfreezing lakes, friends and family, kin and countrymen, fellow soldiers, those who had nowhere else to go. His hopes, still residual pieces of a more valorous time, when kingdoms hadn’t fallen apart and deities hadn’t been falsehoods, glinted on raven wings and serval paws, or stag antlers, curling tendrils of silken white. They weren’t tainted yet, blinded by the restless dreams of retribution and renewal: all boyish ambition, all impish reserve, all arrogant regard. He’d find them – he was certain. It was written in his heart, in his lungs, in his bones, in his marrow, in his flesh. The scope of his narrowed eyes watched neon beams and streaks of light punctured through the foggy air, and followed them. They usually meant something, he’d come to learn; the appearance of others, finally come to a new, godforsaken shore, hoping for something better, something brighter, and drowned in the wake of the foreign soil, the bewitching, eldritch vacuity. His hooves barely made a sound, he was a whisper, he was a blade, and Orsino painted one more sable picture into the mess, a portrait of potent brushstrokes seeking out another who’d delved straight along the madness… But then all he saw was her. She was more or less the same as he’d last seen her – and it tore a rankled breath from his lungs, a small, relieved fury curled around his chest. “Enna!” He bristled and carved his way along the land without so much as a care, savagery and might, forgetting the painful reminders of his recent curiosities, forgoing the silliness of his appearance, racing, so entirely grateful this land hadn’t bruised her yet, that she’d been found, that she was safe (and he’d make sure, he’d always make sure) – Another glimpsed into his sights, and he suddenly froze, completely, utterly still. Erebos didn’t recognize the other stallion, but perhaps he should have, because there was something strikingly familiar about him – like he’d seen those markings before, painted on someone else. He hadn’t heard him shout her name too, but he’d seen the closeness, the near proximity, the dusting of his touch on her cheek. Orsino settled near his forelegs while the scion’s nostrils flared, while a dastardly, lethal contortion rippled through his figure, through his being. It stayed there, clawing, ripping, tearing, a maddening sensation, a swift imposition of rage and contempt, eager, fervent, ready to dash straight into his muscles. Beyond that was a mess of confusion too, misunderstandings and befuddlement warping into blistering measures and calculated guesses, most distasteful, toxic; his eyes narrowed, segmented on both of them, steps inclined towards the darkness again, where maybe none of them could see the marks the empire had already scored into his frame (lesser; he felt less than them, lacking, stupid, passed over, tossed aside). “Welcome to the Rift,” the soldier nodded to both, taut and rebellious, wondering why he’d searched for so long, why he’d bothered at all. Erebos i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want @Rohan @Enna RE: JUST LIKE YOU SAID IT WOULD BE - Enna - 09-11-2017 @Erebos @Rohan RE: JUST LIKE YOU SAID IT WOULD BE - Erebos - 10-22-2017
He presumed something else would fall apart again – it always did here, in this time, in this place, with meek traces of hope plummeting down into nothingness. The granules of triumph were frequently defeated by the constant onslaught of terror, horror, and destruction. It was all he knew now, all he understood, and he’d give anything to return back to where they once belonged, to those trifle seconds and instances where everything didn’t seem so bleak, so scattered, so ripped apart and torn (but hadn’t that always been the way – he’d searched for fragments of the past and be so bitter towards the present). The insurrection plagued over his limbs, over his heart, danced wicked, deceit throngs, murmured catastrophic nothings, so when he stood over the sanction, over the clearing of shadows and misery, he waited for the caustic plunge, for the distant rubble to return, smash against his sides, brutalize his form. Cruelty was the oblivion now, was the enduring sorrow, was the thing that fed and feasted on their ambitions, on their yearnings, on their dreams; and he almost thought to tell Enna as she sprang towards him, to run, to run, to run back the other way and never return (nothing for her here; naught but scars and sorrow, ghosts with misery muses). It wouldn’t be fair for her, for anyone, to have to stay amidst these hollowed hills. The youth simply didn’t have anywhere else to go – and maybe it was fitting, how he’d plunged and descended straight into hell the moment he’d delivered Calstron’s fitting fate upon his malicious, embittered hide. But he folded too the instant she came to his shoulder, curled his cranium over the top of her and tried not to sink into her embrace. He’d been holding himself upright for a while now, had been drawing from endurance and might, had been painstakingly tied to fortitude and anger, and the toxic, persistent doldrums simmered away at her touch; he sighed, loosened the thousand, vicious, hostile breaths he’d been holding, the lifetimes of damnation coiling over his soul. The youth didn’t even say anything at first, just believed and held, listened to the way sanctuary portrayed a significant clamor, scent, and presence, pushing his way along her frame until his cheek rested against hers, and he didn’t give care that someone else was nearby, wafting, waiting, hovering, feeling something other than complete, utter hatred in what seemed like eternity. “You’re all right?” He questioned, he implored, the single note of apprehension wavering along the horizon, upon the tips of shadows and darkness, the Stygian brutality stirring between his lungs. She’d know what could occur if anyone had caused her harm, if anything had reached out and scalded her, if any phantoms had already gone wandering too far- Then her inquiry seemed to rumble along his mind, echoing through a hundred instances as she realized one vital piece of him was missing (along with so many others; buried, gone, tossed in the fall, in the disasters, in the ruins) - Enyo - and he pulled away, stared into the dark, at the stranger nestled beyond, at the interplay of acrimony and fire. “This place took her.” It was a warning and a declaration, because if Enna knew him at all, understood the way he worked and the way he sketched and the way he designed, plotted, schemed, there would eventually be a moment where the world would’ve wished it’d never done such a thing. Perhaps, at that insistence, she too would go the way she’d come, or twist around to find another path, to fly away and never return – so she wouldn’t be pulled, maligned, and become another one of the wounded, rancorous souls searching for answers. Erebos i have nothing, but then the have is not as good as the want @Rohan @Enna |