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 Posted: Sat Mar 16, 2013 8:23 am
✥ The Premades
Made by Chocorette and Evelastina!
1 & 2 can be human, majin, or witch. 3 is a spiritus based on Nidhoggr.
✥ How to participate:
- This is an RP Prompt contest. Following the form below, write out your prompt. Staff will look them over and pick our favorites, and then draw randomly from them.
- We judge based on: Creativity, engaging writing, engaging character, and proper spelling and such. Even if you feel you're not a great writer or roleplayer, we heavily encourage you to participate! We are not just looking for "Who writes the most". c:
- While you CAN make an entry for all 3, you are only capable to win one.
- Premade Fee: 15,000 gold.
▸ March 16 - April 1 ▸
▸ Complete the following form, and then write your response using the following theme.
[b]Character Name:[/b]
Character prompt for: (1, 2, or 3.)
[b]Player Name:[/b]
[b]Race:[/b]
[b]Type:[/b]
[b]Quote:[/b] (Something they'd say. Keep it 1-2 short sentences, it goes on the cert if you win.)
[b]Do you understand that if you are a new player and you win this character, you can lose him if you're not active with him/her in the thread for 3 months after winning?[/b] (Yes or no)
RP Prompt Your character is traveling somewhere, for some reason. An accident happens, and somehow they find themselves somewhere in the Riftwood. The danger of the darkness pulling them in is high. How do they get out? What troubles do they encounter in the Riftwood?
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Posted: Mon Mar 18, 2013 1:33 am
Character Name: Ezra Eadelmarr (Ezra is a boy name meaning Aid (her parents were optimistic), Eadelmarr means Noble...).
Character prompt for: 1
Player Name: -Nessus-Euenos-
Race: Majin
Type: Black Rose
Quote: "I wouldn't touch those, pretty one... they're from my special collection."
Do you understand that if you are a new player and you win this character, you can lose him if you're not active with him/her in the thread for 3 months after winning? Yes.
Ezra Eadelmarr clutched the fine silk cloth to her modest bosom, her fingers stroking the soft fabric as she hummed an eerie little tune to herself. What can I make of you, pretty one? She had saved her earnings from selling her wares (potions and tinctures, small bits of magic woven through to ensure potency), and purchased the pure silken yards at no small cost. A blouse? A throw? A fine corset? She frowned; had she enough boning to lend structure to such supple cloth?
Eying the show windows as she passed, she heaved a little sigh and tucked the cloth into her day-pack for safe-keeping. Boning she could fashion herself from striped bark... there was a small grove of sturdy willows not far from here, amidst wild grape that was just ready for harvest.
She turned and made her way across the street, eyeing a dainty witch with ill-disguised hunger. She wiggled her fingers and grinned at the pretty little thing, pleased when the other female pursed her lips and scurried off in a huff. The glass vials containing her carefully selected sample potions (never let an opportunity for business pass unused) rattled around inside her pack as she shifted it across her shoulder.
Smiling to herself, she continued on past the storefront and into the woods.
"Ezra..." Her father's stern voice echoed around inside her skull. "... We are not beasts. We take what we need to survive, but we do so because it is in our nature- and not for pleasure or enjoyment!" Ezra rolled her eyes and followed the gentle tug of familiar landmarks, making her way to the willow grove while listening to the scolding memory. "But, Daddy..." her own voice played in her mind "... what if it's in my nature to enjoy it?" Fury etched across his features, he grabbed her shoulders and shook. "We are not beasts!"
The man was always so desperate to separate himself from animals, even while devouring the heart of a gentler soul.
Ezra did not pretend to be anything she was not. She made her brews and sold them to those who may someday become her prey, nurturing her craft while catering to their lazy demand. She sometimes flaunted her heritage... A little.
It wouldn't be good to draw too much attention to herself...
She paused mid-step, frowning at the tree in front of her. It was not a willow. It was a great, twisting thing, reaching up in every direction as if searching desperately for a means of escape. She glanced at the soil... too dark, too deep. Not dark and rich in minerals, but the ashy tinge of burnt organic matter littering an unfamiliar land.
How far had she wandered, lost in memory? Confusion etched her brow. Surely she could not have come so far as to become physically lost?
A quick search for a familiar object- any recognizable sight- Nothing. Her pale hair danced, teasing her skin, though a glance at the tree canopy confirmed that no breeze blew.
Cold shivered up her spine as she steeled herself for whatever may come.
A black fog rolled in, heavy and thick, trailing across the forest floor like slime.
"Use your head." If she was lost, she need merely retrace her steps and soon she would find herself on familiar ground.
She turned, and her breath caught in her throat. She stared at a wall of fire, burning silently as the air shimmered around it. No heat rose from these flames, and they rolled ceaselessly onwards over her head without need for consumption; they were not of the living world.
She took a step back, keeping her breathing under control as she considered her options. Scream. Run. Where? ... Where.... a place even nature feared to reside, a place of twisted things of the light and countless dark creatures, a place... Riftwood.
The dark forest that separates the Shadow Rift from her world. Containing the last sights of many wayward souls.
If that pretty little witch could see her now... would she laugh?
Ezra frowned, and continued frowning as a tendril of fog licked around her ankles and slithered up her soft thigh. Bearing her teeth in a snarl, she quickly reached for her pack and snatched a-. Base potion. Perfect.
She uncorked the vial and allowed the vapors to release, muttering a quick incantation to summon light.
A blinding, brilliant cascade burst forth from the vial, quickly consuming the base potion's carefully cured ingredients as it shaped itself into the heart's desire. Whatever creature manipulated the fog didn't seem to like her light much, and a a ghastly scream pierced her eardrums as a sucking pop filled the air.
Wasting no time, she sprinted back the way she had come (she hoped), and rummaged around in her pack for anything else useful. Her fingers curled around the silk, and then quickly moved to another vial. Herbal melody? Vigor tincture? No, no... she only ever carried one base potion to town, and that was the most useful thing on her. Except... Her experimental brew, inspired by the baker's Majin assistant who kept getting lost on his way home from work. She had brought it with her today, in case she ran into him... a trial run for Home-bringer.
Licking her pale lips as a rumbling roar echoed behind her, like ominous thunder in the distance, she drank Home-bringer, careful not to spill a drop, and waited for the desired effects.
Clarity washed over her in waves; her vision sharpened, she felt more alert (even more so than the heightened awareness that adrenaline had already inspired), and she was filled with a stunning certainty.
Riftwood pulls you in. Home could tug her out.
She pictured the walls of her shop, the winding vines curling about her trellis. This way. She turned sharply, following the tug of Home even as the shadows beckoned her nearer. This way.
She felt her pace slow as the fog crept around her, tightening it's grip, refusing to let its newest prize escape so easily. This... way!
She pressed onward, determined not to let whatever pursued her catch up. We are not beasts. Whatever lurked in Riftwood was surely a monster, and for once she found herself agreeing with her father. Riftwood was not her home. She was no beast.
Black cherry trellis, trailing vines that bloomed come spring, lines of pretty little roses on either side of a stone walkway leading to a stain-glass door (the sun, a single black rose, and a vial containing your heart's desires), her bed... oh, her bed, soft cotton and plush pillows. This way.
She closed her eyes, reached... and her hands pressed against the solid form of the gatekeeper, a sturdy old man who had known her father in his prime. Home was past the gate, take the first left, and nine paces onward.
She smiled fondly at the old man, happier than ever to see him, and returned his slightly baffled hello. Her fingers snaked into her day-pack, and found the silken cloth.
She was good at making things. A dress, a corset, a gift- a home-brew infused with magic. The gate-keeper waved her through, smiling bemusedly at his old friend's fine young daughter. He knew he would get no answers from her.
She hummed an eerie little tune as she took the first left, strode nine paces onward, and passed through the vine-wrapped trellis that guarded her home and business. Downstairs was her workplace, a little couch, and shelves for the townspeople to browse. Upstairs was her private space- her room, her bed, a single sink and shower... hers.
Home-bringer... her fingers caressed the empty vial of her newest success. Bring me home.
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Posted: Fri Mar 29, 2013 7:03 am
Character Name: Brighid Niequist
Character prompt for: 3
Player Name: Halcyon_Flight
Race: Spiritus
Type: Fae Dragon
Quote: "I am lost... An old being, in a new world."
Do you understand that if you are a new player and you win this character, you can lose him if you're not active with him/her in the thread for 3 months after winning? Yes
She did not know for how long she struggled, sealed inside her prison of bark and life and magic; only that she could no longer recall a time when she was not trapped and exhausted. There had been rage, once; but now that too had been forgotten. Sometimes she would fade in and out of consciousness, and she knew not how long she slept- a view of the sky had been denied her. There was only darkness here, and while she knew that beyond her cage there was more than that, she could not remember what it looked like. She had been trapped so long she could not even recall her own name.
All she had left was the desperate need to get out. She knew she was supposed to be somewhere, doing something- and all she had to do was tear her way out. Monstrous claws hacked and tore at the flesh of the plant, thick sinews of wood that were steadily turned to piles of splinters and sawdust. When she finally paused and found it had finally stopped healing itself, dizzying hope swelled in her and she threw herself back at the barrier with fervor and desperation. She needed to get out, out, OUT-
Her claws raked something soft and wet.
Curious, she transformed one of her natural arms into a human shape and rubbed a little of the substance between her fingers before bringing it up to her nose to sniff. Mud…! It was now, and only now, that she was thankful that most of her was in a human shape; this way she did not have to dig as large an escape. Trembling now, she set herself to the task of digging- first out, then up. She was heaving and shaking with exhaustion by the time she drug herself out of the earth, but had no time to celebrate before it claimed her not a few feet from the hole. When she awoke, however, she was finally free…
But it was still dark and she was still alone.
She was in a forest of death and thorns and gnarled undergrowth; and beside her was the towering tree that had held her captive within for so long. Now that she wasn’t solely focused on getting out, vague wisps of memories teased her; she knew they were there on the edge of her consciousness but the moment she grasped for them, they danced just out of reach. Sighing, she began to slowly wander aimlessly through the dark woods, lost in thought as she tried to remember.
It had grown darker by the time she was certain that her name was Brigid; and that she had been imprisoned during some kind of battle against many witches and alchemists alike. A name kept popping up her mind, too; King Olaf… She had been travelling at his bidding, and had been ambushed on her way…? The memory was foggy and she could not bring herself to trust it. It was not important to her now, the only thing that was of concern to her was where she was. She couldn’t remember much of the world, and what snippets she did looked nothing like her current surroundings.
The forest continued to grow darker, and she became aware of some sort of swirling darkness gently tugging at her limbs; gingerly pulling her towards what she assumed was the center. Looking in the opposite direction, she could see that the woods in that direction were indeed minutely lighter… Brigid stopped in her tracks.
I have been in the dark long enough.
Breaking the spirit’s hold off with ease, she turned to the promise of a light-filled world and began walking.
She didn't look back.
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Posted: Sun Mar 31, 2013 9:29 am
Character Name: Emile Ranit
Character prompt for: 2
Player Name: Infinite Nebulae
Race: Human
Type: Echolocation Type
Quote: I can hear you.
Do you understand that if you are a new player and you win this character, you can lose him if you're not active with him/her in the thread for 3 months after winning? Of course!
Emile had scoffed when the others said even he wouldn't be able to figure his way through the Riftwood, though, that was certainly not the reason why he found himself in his current situation on this rather cold evening. It had been only a few hours past, since the jibes and jokes about his alchemy. With his abilities, he could hear movement, sound, life...anything rather, with his sonar detection. Yet for all his gloating and rolling of the eyes... he was now very afraid.
'Something's...moving in there...'
He rest against a tree, finding that for all his sonar readings, none of them made sense. They bounced off this tree, only to move to one several feet away in an opposite direction. It was physically impossible! It was like...magic.
'Magic doesn't exist, don't be foolish...'
He had been going home from the tavern after his night of joking...mostly from the others against him. He was still young, but he had his heart set on becoming a Rune Knight one day, and that was the subject of his "friends" taunts. He had the strength, he had his catalyst, but he wasn't the most...agreeable or...malleable of a person. Emile was often set in his own ways and felt that they were often correct, despite the truth or not. Though his friends were not unkind, they liked to wager who would bed a woman, take a wife, get a job, die early, and actually accomplish something in life. Sadly, Emile wasn't exactly cut from the same cloth as his friends, despite his social class. He was from a poor family, with an even poorer reputation. And thus...his strength and determination often was mocked. Though it was on his way from the tavern that he'd seen a shadow... Despite his better judgement, he'd followed it, only to find himself not where he thought he should be when he turned the corner.
The Riftwood...
He fingered his breastplate, his source of power as he'd infused his alchemy into it, creating it into a catalyst that he could take anywhere, as long as he wore his armor. It was his promise to himself. One day, he'd wear this armor as a Rune Knight, and not just some simple human, clinging to a dream that may or may not ever pass.
A shadow...thick and heavy rolled near him, as if it was alive, looking at him, sizing him up for...something... It chilled him to the core. He could feel his very spine go cold, sending a long, horror-struck chill deep into the soul.
His sonar was going crazy. He usually had great strength in battle, as he could detect his opponents anywhere and often used darkness to his advantage before striking with sharp sound waves that could break ear drums or slice into skin. Tonight though... it was useless, rendering himself...useless.
'G-d have mercy on me...'
He moved away from the shadow, feeling a bit...confused. Where was he again? Oh yes...the Riftwood. There were stories that people could go mad in here, lose their way or forget their own names... Was this happening to him now?
He walked, trying to get away from the shadow but only realized that with each tree he walked by, or each stone he stepped upon, it was only closer, he was only walking toward it! Panic infused itself into his veins, weighing him down and clouding his judgement.
Was this where he was supposed to be? Was this the way home? Where was he going again? That shadow looked so...comforting...
'No! It's a trap! Stop this nonsense!' This was a test. It had to be a test! He'd trained to be a Rune Knight all his life, despite it being official or not. He'd trained. He'd undergone strict dieting and excersie, great sacrifices such as his grade school girlfriend when she wanted to practice kissing...he wanted to practice alchemy. He'd sacrificed his pride as people mocked him, laughing at him that the likes of his kind could never find their way into the Knights. No... He'd prove them wrong. He'd prove them all wrong.
He wouldn't forget who he was. He wouldn't embrace this...monster of the night. He'd face it with both eyes and a stern look upon his face.
He growled at the shadow, doing his best to look not afraid when in fact he was horrified. He wanted to cry, he wanted to fall into his mother's arms and never leave her again.
"Leave me alone!" he shouted as he ran right at the shadow. He yelled with all his might as he punched at the object, going through it and finding himself at the turn he had been making from the tavern.
He was on the ground, his hands and knees his only support as he stared, flabbergasted, trying to remember what had just happened.
"A bit to much to drink aye?" a familiar voice said as a pair of hands came to help him up. "Come on, Emile. Let's get ya home a'fore your ma worries."
"B-but the shadow?" he said confused. His brow was creased and his eyes searching the ground as his friends helped him home.
"It was probably just yer own, Emile. Ya really can't hold yar liquor aye?" His friend's laugh was loud, jolly, like it had known no pain in its existence.
Was it all just a dream? Had it been...real?
Magic?
'No you fool. Magic isn't real.'
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Posted: Sun Mar 31, 2013 5:38 pm
Character Name: Solveig Eklund
Character prompt for: 3
Player Name: Vethrfolnir
Race: Spiritus
Type: Scourge of Yggdrasil
Quote: "The world is quiet here."
Do you understand that if you are a new player and you win this character, you can lose her if you're not active with her in the thread for 3 months after winning? Yes.
She did not fear the darkness. Like all Spiritus, she was born within it, a creature formed of teeming shadows and fed with rage, once a fearsome beast upon the battlefield. A monster, they had called her. The shrieks of slaughter and battle were dim in her ears, but she remembered that word with startling, painful clarity. It came from a shapeless figure, lost to the haze of time except for her lips, deep red like the blood that stained her own claws.
"You are a monster," Said the blood-red witch. She was angry, so angry her lips trembled, and even now, years afterward, her rage was incomprehensible to the dragon. She had been kind. She had taken nothing from her. It was her sister whose heart and name she had stolen: Solveig, a shining beacon amongst the corpses and faceless knights, had fallen beneath her, and she could not resist the lure of her gleaming heart. Flashes of their battle came in a rush. For those precious moments, Solveig had enchanted her. The beings of light were curious things. And this one... She had wanted something to remember her by.
The witch raised her staff. Held high before her, blackened and gnarled like the root of an ancient tree, she shuddered. She knew what came next.
"I will not allow you to leave this place alive."
Yet she had survived. The witch became nothing but red flashing beneath her claws and teeth. But her blood carried with it a potent magic -- it laid upon a curse upon her the moment it touched her lips. Pain tore through her body: she remembered it, but now it felt like little more than a dull ache. She clutched at her arm, felt wood mottled by her own teeth beneath her palm, and as she squeezed, felt nothing.
The word 'survived' rang hollow. Since the battle, the curse had spread from her fingertips to her shoulders, to her wings, her tail -- it festered and rotted away at her body until, one day, it would trap her in the dark wood that had already consumed her entire arm. She had fled from the world of light in the hopes that the darkness would not nourish the growth, and yet, it persisted.
In truth, she could not know for certain if she would fare any better in the Light Realm. Her traitorous curiosity for the light beings lingered. What if any of them would be willing to help her? Or perhaps after years of being denied it, the rot would touch the light and shrivel up.The possibility was there, beyond the Shadow Rift, and the promise continued to haunt her until she found herself standing on the borders of Riftwood.
Dim light filtered through the filmy vastness. She took a step forward, an age-old hunger reawakening in the pit of her stomach. It had been so long since she had seen a light-dweller... so long since she had tasted their mana...
The only things keeping her here were memories as hazy as the fog swirling about her feet. They had called her a monster.
"I will not allow you to leave this place alive."
Perhaps the next being she encountered would finish the witch's work. A swift death would be far better than this. But this thought consumed the last, strangled it with serrated teeth, and drove her back into the darkness. They could save her. They could kill her.
She didn't want to die. Not yet.
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Posted: Sun Mar 31, 2013 8:18 pm
Character Name: Alethea of Hel Character prompt for: 3 Player Name biggrin j – C r e s c e n d o Race: Spiritus Type: Nidhoggr Quote: "I tire of your presence, I shall rid you of sin." Do you understand that if you are a new player and you win this character, you can lose him if you're not active with him/her in the thread for 3 months after winning? Yes Mine master is gone, mine world is finished, I am alone…
I feel the presence of another world, it beckons to me. The aura of a distant land glows brilliantly from this desolate place; I can see the brilliant blues of the wind, the luminescent yellows of the stars, and the faint green glows of life against this curtain of darkness. I am tired of this fighting, mine body, mine limbs, are numb. Mine legs, they do not want to continue, but I must get there. It calls to me. Mine mind is dazed, but the cool ash from the ruin against the skin of mine bare-feet brings peace to mine mind. Treading slowly towards the distant land, the light breeze caresses the skin, whilst carrying along small wisps of ember.
The world around me has reached its end of days and I tire of the taste of the impure flesh against mine lips. I have decimated mine enemies and the enemy of mine enemies. The war has raged for eons and upon the death of the gods I have become a pariah, a wandering vagabond. What purpose do I have now?
Mine outstretched hand yearns toward to hope that gives me new life. A crack of thunder, the crash of lightning, breaks the sky above. A rumbling voice pierces mine eardrums. I cannot comprehend the words, what did it say? Although; it does not matter, the ground beneath me crumbles away. I find mineself clawing at the ground that no longer exists. The little hope I had, extinguished. What is to become of me?
I awake beneath a mist that slithers throughout the trees. The flicking of eyes—brilliant yellows, piercing oranges, and rabid reds—glimmer in the darkness. My mind is going crazy. The sensation of sin is everywhere; if I do not do something soon I may go mad. Is this, what will become of me? Is this my punishment? Must I fight for eternity and dine in the halls of Hel?
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Posted: Sun Mar 31, 2013 8:58 pm
Character Name: Havelock Finnbar
Character prompt for: 2
Player Name: kurotomato
Race: Witch
Type: Restless Waves
Quote: Upon the shoals I rest my head.
Do you understand that if you are a new player and you win this character, you can lose him if you're not active with him/her in the thread for 3 months after winning? Yes
I often wonder why it is that when we close our eyes, it is black inside of our minds.
Perhaps it is because that without thought, without any sort of being, we are limited to the most basic of elements, the most simple - though some might argue that it is, in fact, white, as white is the absence of color. But black is deeper, black is more penetrating. Black slips under doors, hides in the corners of houses, stretches out beneath the feet of those that walk out in the bright sun - an ever trailing follower.
Black conceals the things we do not wish to share and reveals the things we wish to.
Black is a friend and an enemy.
On the one hand, it had been quieter than normal. On the other hand, the quiet was actually somewhat disconcerting. He'd thought that perhaps those that ran the little pub beneath his lodgings had actually settled down for once, but when he saw through the window the strangers stepping into the Iron Grid, it was apparent that this was not the case.
Havelock decided that perhaps now was the best time to undertake an evening walk.
It would have worked as well, had it not been for the strangers. They were not those that usually came to the otherwise unremarkable pub on the outskirts of town, though Havelock suspected that the rather bland and inconspicuous look of the place might have been a ruse to keep certain people out and invite certain people in.
It was not as if Thrall, the pub's owner, were the most trustworthy of men - made evident by the fact that when Havelock, attempting to steer clear of the place by surreptitiously slipping through the shadows towards the front door, he was caught and yanked back almost immediately by one of the thugs.
"Going somewhere?"
To your mother's house, Havelock almost retorted. Almost. It was on the tip of his tongue, though he did not have time to let it out, as there was a thunderous blow to the back of his head, and he immediately dropped into blackness.
Where is the light and the shadows that follow it?
The blackness was, as it turned out, not the inside of his head, as Havelock had wished it to be, but rather a deeper, more penetrating black; an all-consuming, drowning blackness that roiled uncomfortably around him, almost like the waves of the oceans - though, he knew, those were far more familiar and far more comforting. This was a stale darkness, filled with things he did not care to comprehend.
He was drowning in lukewarm water, fighting to keep his head above a surface he could not see.
He was in the Riftwood.
Water was a friend to him, but this was far more than just water, and far less than easy to swim to the surface. Havelock closed his eyes (this made little difference) and kicked his feet, feeling his lungs constrict. The sensation was one he had experienced before and did not care to experience again, his chest beginning to tighten, his throat beginning to burn. He opened his eyes again, and the force of the blackness around him suppressed him, made his eyes sting. It wasn't so much the drowning part, it was the drowning and being unable to see what he was drowning in.
If he was going to die, he should have made that snarky response to the pub goer after all.
Havelock lashed out again with his legs, propelling himself upwards a little more, and something in the darkness above him seemed to stretch, and then snap, and he felt his head break free of the surface. He drew an enormous breath that seemed to rattle his very bones, then another, an another, until he was breathing normally (or at least, not as irregularly as he had been before).
The Riftwood was a vast expanse of darkness and cold. And trees. Lots and lots of trees, as far as the eye could see.
Havelock swam to the edge of the lake (at least he thought it was a lake) and pulled himself, dripping, from its grasp. It tried to pull him back - dark tendrils of shadows and black water clung to his ankles and tugged, and Havelock felt the same drowning sensation earlier, though he was above ground.
"Stop," he said imperiously. "Stop. This is not my world, and you do not have me."
It didn't work. Of course not, thought Havelock sardonically, I'm talking to water. And shadows.
What did work, however, was several moments of yanking his leg free, prying his foot from the shadows. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief and sat on the bank of the lake, curling his fingers together into a fist and resisting the urge to call his own water forward, holding it beneath the palm of his hand until finally he let it go with a long breath.
I need to get out of here.
I will drown in here.
You will never get out of here.
You will drown in here.
The rolling black fog was mocking him. Havelock hauled himself to his feet and walked - and walked until his legs ached and his back ached and everything seemed to burn, his lungs collapsing inward, desperate for water, for the smallest hint of a drink. His fingers twitched, aching to bring it forth, but -
No. Not until I get out of here.
You will not get out of here.
"You cannot stop me," said Havelock aloud, and kept walking. The shadows followed him, like they always did, but he would not look back at them, because to look back would be to give in, and he did not give in quite so easily.
It would be some time until he reached the edge of the Riftwood - and once he did, he would not stop until he reached the nearest inn, collapsing across its doorway as the owner's wife screeched that "there's another one, and he smells like the wrong end of a cow!"
When he got back to the pub, Havelock decided, he would let the owner know he was moving out.
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 10:17 am
Character Name: Viv
Character prompt for: 1
Player Name: Akira-Kisho
Race: Human
Type: Mechanical Flower
Quote: I'd offer you a flower...but I don't relish the idea of cleaning up your innards after you explode.
Do you understand that if you are a new player and you win this character, you can lose him if you're not active with him/her in the thread for 3 months after winning? Yeeesssiirreeeee (wut?)
Viv was never one to question what goes bump in the night. In fact, she was much more apt to pretend nothing of the sort "bumped" in the night, and that when day came, whatever it was, had only been her imagination. She worked much too hard in her shop, tinkering with toys and creating new ideas to share with families raising young children to think about what could possibly go "bump in the night."
Tonight though, as she found herself too close to the Riftwood, she stood there, wondering...what went bump in the night.
There had been stories of the Riftwood. All of them curious. People would lose their minds, their ways, or their lives. She'd pretended these were all just like the fairy tales she once read in books. But standing there, seeing it for herself... It suddenly felt very, very real. She clutched her bouquet of flowers, knowing they were her only protection to this maddening darkness as the powers of her alchemy sung through them, ready to explode on her mark. She had different kinds of exploding flowers of course, but the ones that really made a big bang...she liked those the most right now. The smoke bombs just didn't seem like they'd really hide her from something such as darkness, when it was darkness she'd have to use to get away.
She continued walking, trying her best to get back to her home, away from the Riftwood. How'd she come out this far? She could have sworn she knew exactly where to get her spices from, and it had never been so far out like this. Perhaps she'd taken a wrong turn... She must have. How else could she be out here?
She paused, feeling like she'd seen something in the woods. It had looked small, and dark...
Crack!
Her pale eyes opened, revealing horror-stricken pupils as she'd finally heard something most certainly go, "bump in the night."
"Whose out there?" she called. She took a step closer to the woods, feeling the sudden lure of just rushing into them, embracing its thick, thick darkness and its quiet. Would it caress her like a mother to a child? Or would it tear at her flesh like a wolf to the bone?
Viv could hear something muffled, but it sounded human. Curious, she moved into the woods, straining her eyes and clutching her flowers as she went. "Are you hurt? Where are you?"
It sounded like a child, and he or she was certainly crying.
Viv hasted, her legs pushing off the ground heavier and heavier, trying to move faster in the dark. She felt the strange sensation of someone watching her as she moved as the back of her neck tingled, as if someone were just gently tracing their fingers against her.
The child's cries became louder, yet she couldn't find him. "Where are you? I'm here to help! Let me find you!"
She stumbled down a hill, letting out a yelp as she tumbled several feet before crashing into an icy stream. She looked around, completely unable to know which way she'd get away from this place.
Silence...
Where'd the child gone?
Snap!
Viv turned her head, her hair coming to stand on end as she frantically stood and looked every which way. Where was she?
"I...I don't know where I am. Someone help! I don't know where I am!"
She ran, filled with fear as it came, brimming to the top before spilling over and drenching her to the core. Tears stung in her eyes as she gasped for air, trying to run from whatever it was she thought she was running from.
She picked out one of her flowers, throwing it to the ground, creating a light so bright, that the woods almost looked beautiful for a moment. It was then she saw it...
Sharp teeth, and crazed eyes. It had scattered away from her light bomb, but it had been there!
She shrieked, turning back and running toward the stream she'd fallen into. She clamored up the hill she felt she'd fallen, and suddenly, she heard the child crying again. Louder, and with so much pain!
"Where are you? Please let me find you!"
But the child never answered, only just continued to cry.
Determined, she threw down another flash bomb, lighting up the Riftwood and seeing shadows slither away from her. She was terrified. Her body felt like it was on the verge of breaking down and allowing this horror to overcome her, at least then, she'd find peace, but to have to face the horror till death was what kept her running.
The cries of the child grew louder and louder, but she saw no one.
"I know you're not a child anymore! Come out now!" she said with as much determination as she could muster, though her shaken voice failed to depict the bravery of which she wished to illustrate.
Giggling.
The sounds of what Viv could only think to be countless children giggled around her, swarming into her. She fell down, protecting her head, and hastily pulled out an explosive rose, throwing it at the sounds. The explosion silenced them for a moment, before coming back with a vengeance. She ran once more, desperate to find her way out, but fearful that this would be the end. It was almost relaxing to know she almost had no chance to survive. It was all over... This was it...
Desperate, she threw down another flash bomb, seeing just twenty feet away what looked to be a clearing. The giggles turned to snarls as she headed in that direction, and she swore she could feel small hands grabbing at her, but she moved just fast enough to break their holds. Her throat burned, pleading her to stop and slow down as her muscles cried the same tune, but she wouldn't listen. Her fight or flight had kicked in and she was determined. What seemed to make them angry, seemed to be a good thing to run at.
She found herself finally reaching the edges of the Riftwood and plunged out, throwing her body down to the ground in the clearing. Screams and cries of sorrow filled the Riftwood but didn't dare come out to her as she lie there, panting and shivering from what had just happened.
She stood up, picked up her flowers that were her saviors and looked back at the Riftwood. Never again would she venture into those woods...and never again would she just shrug at something going bump in the night.
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Posted: Mon Apr 01, 2013 2:36 pm
Character Name: Llyr Cadogan
Character prompt for: #2
Player Name: DivineSaturn
Race: Human
Type: Lifespark Engineer
Quote: "If you can play by their rules and win, that is the ultimate victory."
Do you understand that if you are a new player and you win this character, you can lose him if you're not active with him/her in the thread for 3 months after winning? Yes!
The armor shifted, constricted, clamping down over Llyr's chest and squeezing the breath out of him. It hurt, but there was no air left in him, so he couldn't scream or cry for help. All he could do was wait.
Then, as quickly as it started, it was over. The armor was lifeless metal, shining dully in what little of the evening light made it though the trees. It took several moments for Llyr to recover himself, taking deep breaths until his heart rate approached what would be considered normal before he tried to move. Then, in one swift movement, he unlatched the armor and cast it aside. It clanged against a tree, the sound resonating in the otherwise still surroungings. A few flakes of varnish scraped off, looking like scales against the bark of the tree. A minor, cosmetic problem, compared to the more serious issue of the armor simply not working.
"Prototype number twenty-eight, unsuccessful," he muttered to himself, then added "Air Saturation Technique can be scratched off the list." Llyr tried to remain cheerful, even when his experiments didn't work. Every time something didn't go as planned, he learned something new. Or so he told himself. Failure was a harsh teacher, and he didn't really care for the lessons she was trying to teach him.
The fact that he had thought himself successful was hard to take as well. The armor had clearly displayed signs of life. It was possible that it had even tried to consume him. So why had it stopped before finishing the task that he had set out for it? Coming so close, only to fail at the last moment, was more painful that the actual physical trial of having the life choked out of him, or nearly so. Until his masterpiece did what he wanted it to do, it was just another piece of metal. And he had not spent months working on just another piece of metal.
Once he had regulated his breathing, Llyr stood up and approached the armor, examining it for damage or unusual developments, running his gloved fingers over the gashes in the varnish. It needed minor repairs, of course, but that was nothing compared to the leaps in technology that he had yet to make. He was already on shaky ground as it was; combining schools of alchemy could be dangerous, and not everyone approved of his methods. Not that he cared much for what other people thought of him. His work would speak for itself, once it was complete. And it would be complete.
Swinging the strap over his shoulder, he began carting his prototype home. It had gotten much darker while he waited to get his breath back, and the wooded area that he liked to use as a testing ground was now foreign to him, with a dense fog covering the forest floor. Llyr cursed. He always thought that his chosen spot was a sufficient distance away from the Riftwood, but it seemed that the Riftwood was ready to prove him wrong.
Llyr wasn't afraid of the Riftwood, or of the creatures within. Nor was he foolhardy enough to go plunging into it, not when his life's work was still unperfected. Instead, he calmly looked around for markers, hoping one would point him back in the right direction. The fog seemed to twist the shapes of everything he knew, so that when he approached what he thought was a signpost, he instead found himself facing a fallen branch, which moved with the wind, clawing at his clothes until he pulled away, frustrated and just a little bit spooked.
None of this would have happened if not for them, he thought angrily. Magic was a scourge upon Midgard, and those who used it had to be stopped, whatever the cost. Yet Llyr was still inferior compared to those who could command the elements at their whim, or summon others to fight for them, or any number of things that alchemy couldn't accomplish. Even the power he had avaliable to him wasn't truly his. He could forge armor and weapons, and infuse them with glyphs and seals, but without outside help, he was nothing.
For now, at least.
The armor clanked as Llyr moved, reminding him of its presence. Despite the failure of his earlier experiment, the reminder was comforting. Soon he would have power that was his and his alone, that would rival the abilities of the invaders trying to wipe out his home. No matter what it took, he was going to finish what he had started. Nothing would stop him: not a lack of talent or ability, not a hundred thousand failures, and certainly not a forest full of fog. Llyr smirked and confidently moved forward. As if his clarity of mind spread out around him, through a gap in the fog he spotted a twisted oak tree that served as a guide. From there, it was only a short hike back to Antiquity.
Surging through the last remnants of the mist, Llyr looked back once, his head held high. "You will not beat me," he told the Riftwood, and everyone who had ever come from it. "Not now. Not ever."
Behind him, the imperfect armor clanked once, as if in agreement, and Llyr knew that success was out there, waiting for him to claim it. No matter how long it took, or how much effort, he would do what he had set out to do.
Though if he had more experiences like this waiting for him, finishing sooner was definitely preferable to later.
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Vanilla Cryptid generated a random number between
1 and 10 ...
4!
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Posted: Wed Apr 03, 2013 3:04 pm
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★✰
Rolling for 1:
Nessus - 1-5
Akira - 6-10
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★✰
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Posted: Wed Apr 03, 2013 3:05 pm
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★✰
Rolling for 2:
Neb - 1-5
kuro - 6-10
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★✰
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Vanilla Cryptid generated a random number between
1 and 10 ...
7!
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Posted: Wed Apr 03, 2013 3:06 pm
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★✰
oops. Actually rolling would be a good idea.
Neb - 1-5
Kuro - 6-10
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★✰
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Vanilla Cryptid generated a random number between
1 and 15 ...
3!
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Posted: Wed Apr 03, 2013 3:12 pm
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★✰
Rolling for 3
halcyon - 1-5
DJ - 6-10
Vethrfolnir 11-15
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★✰
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