Current card obtained: There are ALL the cards you are NOT using in deck. When you want to swap out an existing card, simply move the unwanted card to this area from your deck, and move the card you want to use into the current card deck. These cards must match RANK number. See below for more information on your deck!
[b]My character's username:[/b] Harebrained [b]My character's level:[/b] 27 [b]Character's HP:[/b] 30/40 [b]Character's Job Class:[/b] White Rabbit Herald [b]Current party:[/b] [b]Current Guild:[/b] [b]Location:[/b] White Queen's Castle [b]Small IC description of character:[/b] A pale, freckled, hare-eared girl with long, brown hair reminiscent of medieval times. Her class outfit is white + white & red, and a pair of large golden spectacles rests atop her mid-parted hair. Her right hare ear is double pierced. Something about her seems mischievous. [b]Character journal:[/b] [[url=http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=24277613]BATTLE ENTRY LOG[/url]] [color=red][b]Please note:[/b][/color] My username prevents me from receiving quote notifications in guilds. Please PM me if you quote me! [/quote]
[b]My character's username:[/b] Harebrained [b]My character's level:[/b] 27 [b]Character's HP:[/b] 40/40 [b]Character's Job Class:[/b] White Rabbit Herald [b]Current party:[/b] [b]Current Guild:[/b] [b]Location:[/b] White Queen's Castle [b]Small IC description of character:[/b] A pale, freckled, hare-eared girl with long, brown hair reminiscent of medieval times. Her class outfit is white + white & red, and a pair of large golden spectacles rests atop her mid-parted hair. Her right hare ear is double pierced. Something about her seems mischievous. [b]Character journal:[/b] [[url=http://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=24277613]BATTLE ENTRY LOG[/url]][/spoiler] [/quote]
Posted: Fri Mar 21, 2014 12:02 pm
[Eskimo]
Anxious Cat
Offline
[Eskimo]
Anxious Cat
Offline
Posted: Fri Mar 21, 2014 12:04 pm
Harebrained's true weapon takes the form of [ a flametongue sword ]. It manifests and replaces their current weapon in battle whenever they [ Roll a 10 ].
A meadow of gray trees and grass and sky. They swayed constantly in a stale breeze that offered no cooling relief. The gray scale grew darker.
Ancient shadows of ash trees hung over her hood and entered the back of her throat, choking her mouth with black shade that turned to sick ooze.
Where was she going? It was all variations of darkness.
Her boots felt tight--far too tight. They constricted her feet with such strength that she felt her feet pulsate. She stumbled, hands slapping the ground as she landed. She coughed up a mouthful of inky shadow, but the release did not free her from the feeling of gagging suffocation.
Somehow she was on her feet again, boots phasing through transparent grass. The breeze pushed the covering from her head, and it dematerialized, seeming to be eaten particle by particle by shadows. A moment after, all the clothes fell away from her body, pushed behind her by the stagnant flutters of wind, and were also snatched by the darkness. Her hair fell from its ties and fluttered down to its full length, bringing a strange light that clothed Gwyn in a sleeveless nightgown she recognized from childhood.
Childhood.
Walking on bare freckled feet, her glazed eyes guiding her, she stared on through shifting blacks and grays, watching the trees sway and dance like drunkards. Her stomach churned and she staggered, retching in an attempt to clear her throat of the ball of black ooze, but to no avail--only drips trickled from her lips.
A sound sliced through the shade--a metallic roar--and she hesitated, fear gripping her chest.
The blackness decreased ahead of her, revealing not light, but some spawn of its torment--a field of monstrous cabbages, leaves sprawling into tangles of claws and colossal heads armed with gaping mouths of jagged teeth that screeched and roared and cried out, some like wailing children, others like nails against slate.
Her legs moved her forward towards the sepulchral cabbage patch, not against her will, but not conducive to her will--she had no will. She simply moved on.
I can't go back, her thoughts whispered achingly. I can't go back...!
She brought tremulous fingertips to her lips and then examined them, watching the thick ink-like substance move down her pale flesh, lackadaisical and sick. She gasped uncertainly and gagged, moving still towards the nightmarish cabbages without looking up.
Oh, please, her inner voice begged breathlessly, please...
Still she walked on and the patch was brought back into focus. The ghastly sounds intensified, causing reverberating pain through her hare ears.
Please...!
Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, but they clouded her vision in an even greater darkness--they had taken on the same composition as what was clogging her throat. The need to sob out loud was so heavy within her, yet no cry left her body.
Why? she asked. Why? Why? Why? With no direct target for her question, she remained unanswered.
She felt the ground rumble beneath her as the stretching roots grew up out of the ground, knotted and dagger-like, kneading the black earth and forming into the sharpest of points. The eyeless heads gnashed their jaws and frenzied at Gwyn's increasing approach.
I don't want to go back... her mind cried. I don't want to...!
THEY WANT YOU TO! the many cabbages thundered, speaking without moving their salivating mouths.
Gwyn's brows knitted together in supreme sadness, lips quivering and inky ooze streaming down her face.
No! her mind argued, No!
YES! came the roaring replies.
I don't want to...! she sobbed inwardly, yet her feet continued to step forward. The decrepit fence that surrounded the enormous patch crumbled away, wooden splinters floating up into the air, eaten by shadow.
Her legs became overtaken by a sense of weakness and she fell to her knees, hands once again catching her against the ground. She leaned closer to the moving grass and watched ooze color it black. She gagged and coughed, but the choking lump in her throat remained. Her head spun with nausea. She wanted to let herself slide down into the grass--to be taken in--to let go--to just become one with the darkness...she was so tired...she was sure it would provide relief--some kind of relief--any relief--but her body rolled back and she was on her feet once again, moving towards the thrashing cabbages. Now mere feet away, she stared up at their gargantuan height and felt their breath tousle her hair almost gently. Their breath was the stale breeze that moved the trees and the grass and the shadowy fog and her hair--they stole her clothes away. They stole something else away. She didn't know what. They stole something from her. If only she could remember. If only she could remember.
Toes stepped gingerly onto churning earth, and cabbage roots dared to roll over her feet. The giant leaf of a cabbage head caressed her foot, the screeching roar from its mouth blasting through her. Her body convulsed constantly with shudders of fear. Cold sweat beaded from every pore, and each translucent bead turned to ooze. It covered her and spread across her body from toe to ear tip, devouring her white gown and turning her into shade. The cabbage mouth gaped and roared before her, roots and leaves sprawling rapidly behind her. They pressed against her naked back and pushed her towards rows of razor teeth.
...
...
...
Something was pulling her backwards...
Instead of plunging into the cabbage's eager mouth, she remained still, and had even begun to move backwards, leaves and roots pulling in the opposite direction.
"Gwynnie!" a voice cried, "Gwyn!" came another. Soon there was a chorus of voices calling her name.
With scarcely enough energy to breathe, she eased her head to peer over her shoulder, eyes still oozing, black as coal.
Standing behind her, pulling on the roots and leaves with all their might, were her many coven mothers.
Gwyn's expression twisted with shock, hope, uncertainty, happiness, sadness; she didn't understand--or maybe she didn't want to understand. They wanted to save her...? They wanted to keep her...?
"You'll be late for dinner," her one-eyed mother chided gently.
"How did you get up there? Come down! It's dangerous!" mother-henned another.
Love.
As the pulling intensified, her mothers heaved and hoed, pulling down and down steadily until Gwyn was nearly at the ground.
Tears filled her eyes, but they weren't like ink--they were real, genuine, clear tears. They overflowed from her eyelids and poured down her cheeks, washing away the darkness first from her eyes, and then everywhere the streams went. The trails of water spread and swirled outwards and around, tracing countless patterns of clarity over her entire form, erasing the blackness wherever they touched. As her mothers successfully pulled her to the ground, the leaves and roots unfurled and retreated, and Gwyn was left standing on her own two feet. Every one of the cabbages began to disintegrate into nothingness.
Gwyn looked up and met her mothers' eyes, and as they all surrounded her in a group hug, the last bit of shadow left her body and she was once again clean--she was herself.
![[Eskimo]'s avatar](https://a1cdn.gaiaonline.com/dress-up/avatar/ava/ea/2c/53920899312cea_flip.png?t=1541710050_6.00_00)
