The Portal
 The portal has brought him home. He knows this from the way the darkness lingers; unwavering, relentless, and bringing no hope of dawn. He knows from the mist; bone-white and ethereal, swaying like pale ghosts above the pooled shadows from gnarled, twisted trees. Perhaps most of all, he knows from the silence. No birdsong, no wind whispering in the leaves, nothing. Just a still, apprehensive silence that makes one wonder if he might be the only living soul in the world. And he may very well be, considering the carnage on the other side of the portal in Helovia. He thinks of those fallen and dead from the wrath of the Rift god, lost to the endless void. He knows he should feel certain emotions, remorse—even guilt, perhaps, for not breaking his stride to help those in need. Instead, he feels nothing. Resentment, if anything, a weary, strained resentment towards the godkillers. When would they learn? Perhaps they never would. Meddling in the affairs of gods, killing gods, would only bring destruction upon them all. He had learned long ago to walk his own Path, and avoid the eyes of the gods, for those eyes are hungry and jealous. He knows all too well. How long has it been since he had last walked in the shadows of the Rift? Two years? Three? He had not known the vastness of time until he had been plunged into the depths of Helovia against his will, a land of sunlight and birdsong. Would anyone he knew and loved live still? He had not known what sort of chaos would endure in his absence, who would live and who would die. He supposes only gods know that. He can only do what he knows, and Raistlyn of the Rift knows only one thing--the Path he swore to follow and serve. In his life before Helovia, he protected and saved those who could do neither for themselves when the monsters of the Rift prowled forth. His Path. His Fate. Did his Order endure, his brothers? Did they still defend against the onslaught of Riftian monsters? And the priestesses, what of them? What of her? He has lost so much time. The newly hatched silver pup in his grip whimpers softly, swinging wildly and flailing her little paws. He suddenly feels dizzy and weak—perhaps an effect from the portal. He sets her gently on the ground, uncertain what to do with the pup next. Perhaps he could leave her now, surely someone else would take pity and find the creature. But he knows in his heart the moment he leaves the pup, it is a goner. Already he sees glowing, feral eyes bobbing and blinking through mist and shadow. He is not alone after all. He hears others fleeing through the mist, terror and hysteria choking the atmosphere. Helovians. They are soft, far too soft for this land. The Rift will swallow them whole, if it has not already. There are too many here, it will draw attention—unwanted attention. He needs to leave, and he needs to leave now. Instinct drives him forward. Never linger too long, always watch the shadows behind your back, and most important of all, never trust a god. Survive. That is the game of the Rift. |
SWP Participation: http://helovia.net/showthread.php?tid=27710&page=2
Native Riftian from the first Rift SWP
MUTATIONS:
Feline pupils
Upper and lower retractable canine fangs
MAGICS:
UP FOR ROLL : [ Magic: Dark (P) | Resistant to dark magic ]
:: [ Restrictions | Wears down after repeated attack; harmful affects present but mitigated. ]
** Would be great if this could be somehow tweaked to retain the original intention of shielding against dark offensive magics.
SAFE :: [ Magic: Dark | Can form protective armor around body by manipulating darkness/shadow. ]
:: [ Restrictions | Lasts 20 sec ]
SAFE :: [ Magic: Time x Light | Possesses mutated regenerative healing cells that prevent physical aging by repairing cell damage ]
:: {Restrictions: to be determined by admin}
ITEMS:
:: [ Item: Silver medallion | Silver chain with silver lily medallion ]
COMPANIONS:
:: [ Companion: Wolf : no abilities : 0 months ]
(yet to be named in game)
these scars long have yearned for your tender caress
to bind our fortunes, damn what the stars own.
