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follow me to the dark side
RP Wanted The Portal 
Ferro
Currently championing:
#1



The stallion emerged from the shadows donning unruly waves of midnight tresses paired with muscles that rippled beneath his scar-freckled fur, the variety of man proficient at being both smoldering and frigid in the same instance. The man was not flashy in the sense that most are, but something about him demanded to be seen. He took in the roadway with a single sweep, his iron optics settling on nothing of interest before he continued on, as expressionless as he had been when he emerged into the light.

The beast had arrived.

His eyes- a well of icy azure and silver, capable of a gaze more captivatingly fearsome than most- continued to sweep the area as he swaggered forth, his gait fluid and untroubled. Large, ebony pinions hung loosely, the massive feathers that decorated the expanse of these muscular appendages lightly dragging along the ground on either side of his bulky frame. Ferro's snake-like tail hung from his body, hovering comfortably above the forest floor a few fingerbreadths, leisurely swaying to and fro in time with his massive strides. And where obsidian colored his coat, it was dark enough to be mistaken for shadows. The man could've belonged, but something was different about him- a new brand of horribly fucked up that the Rift had yet to witness.

Ferro was pulled blindly into the dark forest by a force he'd never met prior- a sentient shadow that kissed his hide and beckoned him forth like a siren would its prey, leading him through a portal into what he only assumed could be another dimension entirely. The canopy overhead let no moonlight filter through its leaves and as he walked under the dark tresses of the timber, his feet caressing the velvet flesh of the forest ground, he swore he was not alone.

"."

Ferro
the kind of frigid not measured in temperature


Caleb has the following:

Companion:
Greta, full-grown Weimaraner from Helovia.

Magic:
:: [ the ability to conjure a large cloud of black fog from shadows that chokes whoever inhales it. ]
:: [ can summon ink-like liquid to exude from his eyes and mouth that travels to any detected maladies in health and heals them while also staining anything touched by the liquid for a few hours. ]
:: [ tendrils of harmless black fog cascade from the tips of his tail feathers when he is thinking about/doing something that would be considered immoral. ]

Mutations:
:: [ blood is ink. ]
{Image: caleb_by_lovelyskylark-d995h4j.png}
a cold-hearted man was once a man that once cared too much.
Seiji the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
#2

North.

The ethereal glow of the Portal greets him. At the outskirts, Seiji pauses. How long ago that now seems! The moment of his arrival, the first meeting with Kiada, Valkyrie eying him like a wolf. He is content to stand in memory for a time. Thinking: If I had never come... But he knew it would be dangerous. He knew his quest might end in failure. He was never content to be ruled by fear.

He wonders how many others have fallen in without meaning to. How many are trapped here? Longing to go back? He recalls the sadness in Kiada's eyes that day in the cave, and slowly he moves forward. His footfalls are near silent on the forest floor, muffled by the black and silver greaves on his hind legs. A gift, he supposes, from the strange goddess with the antlers. He hasn't yet tried to remove them; he enjoys the ability to move on silent feet. And: they look nice.

He is little more than shadow in this place: a narrow dark figure winding soundlessly through the trees. Pausing now and then to blink at the lights (they blink back). To breathe against the mist. It frightened him once, but now he only observes. The Rift has yet to harm him. Quite the opposite, actually. The small, glowing orb against his chest pulses softly now and again, as if to say: Have Hope. So he is no longer afraid. He is searching.

For others.
For himself.

Finally, a noise catches his ears. Seiji's head swings up. He pauses between one step and the next, his body tense. There: something moving in the darkness, something almost as black as he. No moonlight cascades through the branches tonight; it must be cloudy. Mercifully, the rain has paused, but it might begin again at any moment. Seiji stands still for half a breath, considering. He wonders then if the stranger is afraid, as he once was. Lost. About to be soaked through. He moves in that direction.

He is soundless: moreso now even than he was before. He tries to approach from the front. Several strides away, he kicks one hind hoof against the trunk of a tree, hoping the sharp noise will grab the stranger's attention. Then he pauses, waiting. Ears pricked. A dark, dark thing in the already-darkness of the Portal, only the necklace against his chest throwing out faint light.

img by Tildae @ flickr


@Ferro
ooc // Hope you don't mind me dropping in :)
Ferro
Currently championing:
#3



Ferro smelled company before anything else, the distinct scent of male perforating his fleshy nostrils, alerting him of the stranger before anything else did. His lip curls upwards and his head tilts back, allowing him a deeper grasp of the foreign scents of the forest and the stranger. The flehmen response to the scents is short lived as he swaggers forth, his relaxed carriage and cool gaze exuding a sense of frigid serenity, though the stallion always did remain alert and focused- able to defend himself easily should anything happen. Ferro was akin to a man with a loaded gun, threatening, but only truly deadly when he deemed necessary. He made no move to search for the stranger that lurked out of view, assuming that he was of no danger if he wasn't actively attacking him.. or rather, attempting to do so.

It is then that the optics of the beast move imperceptibly upwards, catching sight of the stallion onward. He was meager and lanky, built like a boy rather than a man. Halting, Ferro's head rises in acknowledgment of the unveiled stranger, revealing how tall the 17.1hh beast was in actuality- his muscles bulging beneath his velvet fur as he did so. Though this undoubtedly revealed how brawny the man truly was, it did not seem to imply that the Akhal-Teke before him in any (immediate) risk. The stag was simply analyzing his company from a higher perspective, grasping promptly onto how stunted his growth seemed. Pony, his mind affirmed abruptly before his massive cranium, well-defined with angular cheekbones and a sharp jaw, reverted to a more convenient position fractionally lower than it had been a mere ten seconds ago.

With great steps, Ferro sought to close the distance between his company and himself, his fleshy roman snout jutting out towards the lanky equine before him as an attempted greeting. His nostrils quiver as his muzzle withdraws after hanging in the air for only a fleeting moment. "Ciao, piccola oscurità," he offered, his words thick and husky, rolling off of his tongue in a timbre of warmth, the melodic harmonies distinctly foreign. Despite the sing-song quality of his communication, it retained a masculine property through its baritone delivery.

Ferro notices everything- from the minute scars forming the pattern of a wing on his back, the faintly gleaming marking that makes up for the incomplete marking, the greaves shielding his slender cannon bones from medical maladies, the darkness of his eyes, to even the gently glowing ornament that drapes around his slender neck. He regards all of the sounds of the forest, from the eerie lustrous eyes that watch for brief moments from the shadows before disappearing accompanied by the din of shuffling leaves to even the tender breeze that glides through the timber. He recognizes every minor and major detail, his ears continually twisting back and forth.

"Sono Ferro." His voice was certain, an undeniable sound that was confident and steadfast. "I am Ferro," he translated, not for his own convenience, but for the convenience of his company that he doubt spoke his language (few he had met in his lifetime of wandering since leaving his home did).

"."

Ferro
the kind of frigid not measured in temperature
{Image: caleb_by_lovelyskylark-d995h4j.png}
a cold-hearted man was once a man that once cared too much.
Seiji the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
#4

Something…. Raw about the stranger. Almost primitive. Seiji watches in cool silence as the great bald face rears up and back. High, higher — like some great leviathan rising from the deep. As if the stranger means to say, look at me. Watch this. But Seiji has encountered many creatures larger than himself in this land. Only a single dark ear flicks back, expressing uncertainty, as blue eyes meet black.

Friend or foe?

The stranger moves forward. Power in the stride — a kind of overbearing masculinity Seiji has experienced rarely but finds intrinsically distasteful. Seiji stands his ground. He may be small, but he is hardly inferior. He cannot be cowed with displays of strength like this one. His body is merely honed toward a different skillset. So he is calm, quiet, his features giving nothing away as the first foreign words roll off the stranger’s tongue.

Oscurità Something ignites in Seiji’s dark eyes. His head jerks up; his body moves as if shocked. Just a little. Something riveted and curious. He forgets, for a time, his previous impression. Now his long face tilts to one side, and both his ears are up. He’s reminded of something — something familiar in the musical lilt of strange syllables. Not quite…. The same, but so similar, isn’t it? It punches through his heart without warning, like flame finding a dead tree. A sudden shortage of breathable air in his lungs.

He is aware of being watched; he, too, watches. His eyes crawl almost hungrily across the scarred black flesh. Wondering. Then the voice, again. That voice, dancing teasingly. Not the same not the same but so close…. Seiji’s expression breaks. He’s grinning, his face lit up, and eagerly he nods. Ferro. Ferro. Iron. Something like sunlight spilling through his mind: some tenuous link to a happier past. He dances forward, forward and around, around the great winged figure, his steps light — almost playful. Light and gamboling in the dim light.

He means to make a full circuit, stop again just before the man. He cannot speak, cannot tell his own name, cannot ask the questions burning on the tip of his tongue(who are you who are you where are you from?). He can only gesture excitedly at the scars, the scars themselves a question. Then he thinks of something — something maybe a little clearer. He puts his head down as if he sports horns and leaps in a mock-charge toward the stranger’s shoulder. Leaps away long before it appears a real threat. Stands, almost trembling. Head up. The depths of his flared nostrils pink. Do you understand?

img by Tildae @ flickr


ooc// In case you're curious and it's not clear: he's trying to ask if Ferro is a bullfighter. He doesn't know Italian but he knows a small amount of Portuguese.
Rift Presence
Currently championing:
#5
The wind changes when you arrive. It begins to blow directly at you with a cold icy feeling as if fingers were wrapping around your legs and your neck and beginning to squeeze. It’s distracting enough that you can’t feel it when the Rift pushes those fingers deeper, searching for anything it can take – it senses you’re ripe with varying magics, a variety that the Portal grins with in glee before attempting to take them. The first one, it struggles with, only able to alter it. The second, however, satisfies the Rift as it tears it away from you to swallow whole. And when it is finished, it leaves you. The wind returns to normal, but there’s a brief moment where the sensation of the fingers linger before they, too, vanish.
the Rift
life between worlds
image


| ACCEPTANCE NOTES : Ferro |

Magic:
Offensive: Can conjure a large cloud of black fog from shadows that choke whoever inhales it but doing so also chokes him.
The Rift devours your healing magic and alters your offensive magic.

Mutations:
Blood is ink.
Tendrils of harmless black fog cascade from the tips of his tail feathers when he is thinking about doing something that would be considered immoral.

The companion goes wild! You can re-bond to it when you reach enough Rift Force!
As for the black fog that’s harmless, I thought it sounded better as a mutation rather than a magic (so you can have one more slot for a different magic!) since we don’t have vanity magic anymore. For the offensive magic, it was altered. You can trial to have it fixed!

Welcome to the Rift :)
» Presence of the Rift «


Ferro
Currently championing:
#6



Their interactions had been rather simple until his native language rolls off of his tongue into the air, sparking something within the voiceless deer before him. The reaction to his words is immediate, his tapered snout tilting sideways and ears pricking forward, leaving Ferro faintly confused, but rather intrigued. The man uses his lanky limbs to dance around the beast now, excitement shooting into the air from his nimble frame like high voltage sparks- unpredictable yet entirely too fascinating.

"Stai bene, piccola oscurità?" He inquired slowly to the man that skipped around him before finally resettling with an excited glint in his ebon-hued features. The words tumbled slowly and cautiously out of his mouth, each one wrapped in a heavy voice. It was this speech, this heavy accent of his that immediately set him apart from everyone else, that made him seem as different as he was. It was low, with an agreeable trace of huskiness and with a power that his body already suggested he had. The voice, be it the foreign words or the way they were said, resonated with the 14 hand boy that watched eagerly, seemingly desperate for Ferro to make a connection he did not see- gesturing to his scarification; motioning for the beast to speak on the matter of his wing-shaped scars. "Are you-" His voice, a rolling sound with rising inflections at the ends of each phrase, is abruptly halted as his company paws the ground, his head low in a position that could only resemble a bull.

One minute, the deer-bodied Akhal Teke is pawing the ground, then the next he is bounding forwards, a full-on charge. Ferro's brows furrow and his head tilts downwards, the sharp tip of his thick horn pointing at the stranger as inconspicuously as possible. If he truly desired to ram into the beast, he would feel the sharp pain of Ferro's horn first and foremost.

But then he doesn't crash into him. There is no mangling of limbs and extremities, no collision of flesh on flesh. There is no gnashing of teeth or blood drawn. There is simply a desperate look flashed in anticipation, coveting the idea that Ferro will perfectly comprehend their game of charades; the silent plead, a mute do you understand?

And he does. (For the most part.)

"You.. uh," his accent is thicker now as he tries to phrase and say what he wishes. "Play with cows?" An incredulous expression crosses his face, in disbelief that this small man is able to properly play with the four-legged creatures. "Come si dice..." he pauses just briefly before continuing. "Combattente del toro? Bull fighter?"

Ferro had never 'played with cows,' as he had so simply put it. In truth, he'd never really seen a bull that was not of the buffalo variety and more of the Spanish Fighting Bull breed. They did not wander through the forest like the equines, pegasus, and unicorns did. Nor did the beast travel to the never-ending fields of green where one might stumble upon a bull meant for fighting. Ferro had danced with many monsters, leaving them on the verge of death, bleating inconsequentially into the night as if their lives could be salvaged, but he had yet to tackle a bovine bred simply to fight. Quietly, the beast wondered where the small man originated, his curiosity peaking.

Then there was a wind.

In his experience, the many chapters of it, the wind did not arrive all of a sudden. It should build up gradually and it should weave through the tree trunks, shaking the weak leaves from the branches and conducting the loose ground underfoot upwards an into the breeze. Yet now there was such a gale that new green leaves were tumbling down, some still attached to their twig. Every fiber of his being commanded him to prepare; to fight this new force that began to constrict him, but he was as rooted where he was, his cloven hooves never moving, even as the constricting grew worse and the darkness of the Rift kissed his soul, ripping away his magic in the process.

As the wind retreats, he can still feel its lingering presence at his side the moments following its departure. Standing once more at his full height, ears pinned flatly against his nape, feathered-tail whipping to and fro viciously, and a foul expression written on his bi-colored face, a growl reverberates upwards through his throat and into the air in a menacing sound. "What was that," he bites out, flashing his teeth angrily in the process, asking the mute stallion before him, but at the same time no one in general.

"."

Ferro
the kind of frigid not measured in temperature
{Image: caleb_by_lovelyskylark-d995h4j.png}
a cold-hearted man was once a man that once cared too much.
Seiji the Hopebringer
Currently championing: Caevoc
#7

Seiji's optimism is short-lived. He waits eagerly for a response, but it seems his initial understanding of this Ferro's personality was correct. Ferro is a bit ..... dim. Seiji stills under the large stallion's gaze, one ear tilting back. Play with cows, he thinks, and snorts. If Luta were here.... But Luta was(is) everything — everything this stallion is not. How unfortunate they share only a common lilt to their tongues.

But then, everything in this place is unfortunate. Seiji mustn't forget where he is.

He shakes his head a little sadly in response to Ferro's question, but he doesn't feel much like conversing anymore. Ferro doesn't have anything for him, and he doesn't have anything for the bigger stallion. He wonders how he might disengage himself from this conversation gracefully. But then — something.

A great wind booming through the trees. With a huff of surprise, Seiji leaps back, but the wind only curls softly at his very edges, disinterested. It tears instead at Ferro: a great, hungry darkness. A shadow to match the shadows of the Portal. Seiji's eyes go wide. His heart picks up, and he thinks, suddenly: What if it eats him? What can he do? He can't fight wind! He can see Ferro tensing, too, prepared to defend himself, though the two of them are at the mercy of this place. This awful place...

It dies down as suddenly as it rose up. Seiji snorts, his eyes darting wildly about the clearing, but it seems that was the end of it. And Ferro is still alive, if even more foul-tempered than before. His question rings out like an accusation. As if Seiji knows the answer!

Seiji beings to shake his head. Pauses. Blinks around. Thinks: It is this place. This hungry, awful place. He blinks at Ferro, wondering if the stranger is somehow altered in a way neither of them now guess. Even if Ferro is annoying, he doesn't deserve to be harmed. He should probably leave the Portal. Seiji, of course, cannot explain any of this. He is still a moment, thinking, before he turns abruptly and trots several steps away. Pauses, blinks over his shoulder. He will try to lead the stallion eastward, if he can. Toward Halyven and those with freer tongues. He doesn't really intend to see Ferro the whole way there, but if he can at least get the big man started...

img by Tildae @ flickr


@Ferro