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Home » Search » Roster » Whitepages » Records » FAQ » Guidebook
The Void
RP Wanted The Portal 
Meuric
Currently championing:
#1
.strange. how there is always
a little more .innocence. left to lose.




Ah the void, it's endless embrace is a comfort, it is home.

It is him. One and the same, two sides of the same coin.

Tendrils of shadow swirl into focus and out, weaving between silken strands of pitch and the shadows of nothingness. Meuric is all sharp angles and even sharper edges, long limbs and fractured splinters. In the strange forest he appears to drowned out all light and in the next instant reflect it in his oil slick pelt.

He floats, gracefully, a wicked grace cutting through the air as he maneuvers the currents towards his unknown destination. At his side, two leviathans bound to his will weave through the air, their black eyes staring out at nothing and everything. His symbols. His guardians. The only company that he dares to allow impossibly close.

The rift is alive once more, pulsing hungrily, Fervently after god-killers and drab coats, and he cannot blame it. It has been a long time since they have had guests, and even longer since he's heard the title god killer. There is a vendetta in the air, old souls with a blood debt. You cannot truly kill a God, or can you? These beings don't yet understand the gravity of their situation, how precarious their life hangs between cruel strings. In time they might, and then what? Will they rise to the occasion, or merely crumble into the great dark beyond.

The shattered leviathans swoop once more around his frame, knocking the floating crystals that have long since left their solid spires, never straying far from his abyssal form. Bottomless eyes gleam out at anyone and everything that so much twitches, elegantly, with unnatural alien grace he cuts through the air, toward the throng of bodies.

talk talk talk




JOINING THE NATIVE PARTY

Magic:
{SAFE} Defensive: Able to alter his own gravity.
Immortality: Able to be killed if pierced with a blade crafted from his own crystal growths.
Offensive: Able to summon crystal spikes to impale targets.

Items:
:: [ Large Crystal Leviathan | A floating leviathan made from black crystal, responds to commands given by it's owner. ]
:: [ Medium Crystal Leviathan | A floating leviathan made from black crystal, responds to commands given by it's owner. ]
Rift Presence
Currently championing:
#2
Oh, hello there. The trees bow and bend and their bark groans as they warp and curl to better get a look at you. Pop, a bit of wood flies out, dangerously close to your head, and the deep, red leaves flutter and drip rain. They turn to look at you, those trees, their bright eyes glittering and glimmering in the strange light of the Portal.
the Rift

[ ACCEPTANCE NOTES: MEURIC ]

Magic:
Defensive: Able to alter his own gravity.
Immortality: Immortal. May be killed if he is pierced by a blade crafted from his own crystal growths.
The Rift denies you your third and final magic, and the red-leaved trees light up as the magic seeps into them.

Items:
Offensive: A large, floating leviathan made from black crystal. Responds to commands given by its owner.
Offensive: A medium-sized, floating leviathan made from hot pink crystal. Whenever commanded to do anything, it never does it, but breaks into song instead.
Théodwyn
Currently championing:
#3
She didn’t know what to expect when she left her Clan in the north six months ago.  She didn’t know of the world beyond their mountain valley—only stories from those who had ventured forth in their youth, perhaps on a dare or on a whimsical desire to see Elsewhere and Beyond.  Some returned.  Most did not.

Would Théodwyn return?

It was a question she had asked herself many times in the last six months, and still she could not even fathom a guess of what plans fate designed for her.  Despite the Rift Song thrumming in her chest, guiding her to safety more times than she could possibly count, she did not know that it would be enough to survive every danger that now occupied the chaos infested Rift.  Her world had changed so quickly, too quickly, but this was her purpose, her destiny.  A Seeker.  She bore the permanent blue bands on her hind leg proudly, marking her as the representative of her clan.  For six months, she travelled alone, leaving the valley of her homeland far behind and falling deeper into the belly of the Rift, seeking whispers and rumors of the godkillers.

The Rift Song stirred in her chest, moving slowly and stiffly, as a bear that has just woken from a deep slumber.  Something was near. Straining, she attempted to cast forth the song even farther to identify whatever force lay in wait, but she could not refine the song any further.  The wasted effort left her with a headache, but no answers.  She could only continue forth and remain vigilant of her surroundings.  

Pale mist suddenly clung to her, twining around her legs like a ghostly snake.  She could not remember a mist so opaque and oppressive.  Where had it come from?  More importantly, where had they come from?  

Théodwyn heard them, first.

They screamed and shouted, their voices panicked and filled with utter hysteria and fear.  Several fleeing bodies nearly trampled her down.  In her haste to avoid the strangers, she launched into flight and glided over the shadow filled portal.  The song stirred in her chest once more, a great inherent wrongness nearly causing her to crash back to the earth.  A dark, angry hunger…a force she had felt once, in the mountains, the day of her Proving and the day the Rift imbued its magic Song in her heart.  But it was different, somehow, more malevolent and feral, like a starved, wild beast.  The gods were dead, so why did this feel so much like one?

More questions.  No answers. Is this what it felt like to be a Seeker?  

No longer able to navigate her flight in the shadows and eerily pulsing neon lights, Théodwyn swept down once more into the mist and landed among the gnarled, twisted trees.  Trees that she swore watched her.  A figure parted the mist and shadow, the pale mist rolling back from his elegant figure like a curtain of lace.  A black wraith with strange, staring eyes, floated forth, two crystal beasts on either side with black eyes of death.  He did not seem particularly concerned with the situation at hand. She did not approach him any closer, but neither did she turn away.  The song was silent in her chest.  For the moment, she sensed no danger. “I take it you are not one of them,” she commented dryly, eyeing the floating creatures at his side warily.  She turned back to the fleeing mass of bodies, tucking her wings to her side so if another stampeding idiot came her way she would be ready to toss them towards the wraith's floating demons.

The godkillers arrived, more and more of them emerging from the gaping portal of shadow. She watched. Unmoving. Hardly breathing. “What have they done?" she said, so softly she was not even sure she had spoken aloud at all.

Native Riftian
Safe [ Magic: Psychic ability to sense impending danger or forces with ill intent in immediate surroundings.]

[Items: Several colorful feathers in hair ]

Rift Presence
Currently championing:
#4
They're looking at this other one, too. Their eyes and impossible faces hard to read. They're just trees, godsake; you look again, there's nothing there. No eyes. No bent bark and twisted trunks. Just trees.
the Rift

[ ACCEPTANCE NOTES: THÉODWYN ]

Magic:
Defensive: Turns bright green when there is impending danger or forces with ill intent nearby.

Normal items transfer fine!
» Presence of the Rift «


Bates
Currently championing:
#5

Bates had been around for a very very long time.
The man had lived lifetimes, he watched as families were made and then destroyed, he was there long before the gods were killed. When they were killed. Though he had never seen anything like this, they came in dozens, all terrified and worried. They reeked of terror. Bates couldn't deny that he was part of that terror though, he would hide in the foliage until there was a lone god-killer and he would emerge. They would immediately be terrified of the man's four eyes (why were they always scared of his four eyes?) and then he would give a wicked smile exposing all his sharp teeth, his mouth being stretched longer than others.

This infestation proved to be amusing in someways.

Today was no different. Bates had planned on scaring some drab coats and perhaps taking a nap in the dark forest, this was often where he came to nap before the god-killers came to town, how difficult they made things. Large hooves took great care in their steps making the man's movements silent and rather graceful in the distorted forest. Long tendrils of white hair trailled across the ground behind Bates as he entered a clearing and came face to face with two other horses. Riftians. Grunting, Bates lifted a front leg and pushed up his wireframe glasses.

"They've infected our lands" Bates growled, looking the mare up and down, his snake-like tongue escaping his lips "you're small." The tone in which Bates said this made it seem like a bad thing, his tone rather diappointed. Bates yawned, his mouth stretching wide like a aligators a screech erupting from his vocal cords.

"These god-killers have made our home their own, using up all the land" he sneered.


OOC::: Hope you don't mind another Riftian crashing!
@Théodwyn
@Meuric