Status

Recent Statuses

4 mos ago
Current Still currently insanely busy IRL, but it should calm down soon!
4 mos ago
May is the month of insanity. Thank god it's nearly over. I'll catch up! Soon! Hopefully!
2 likes
4 mos ago
Posting today! For everything! I swear! xD
2 likes
4 mos ago
work is destroying me, will attempt to get sleep and post .... soon!
5 mos ago
Every 2 months like clockwork I need to make a new RP or I get depressed. Addiction? Probably.
4 likes

Bio




Our heroes were spending an average day atop the wall-to-the-sky, taking in the view, when a sudden catastrophe split the sky in two. Now the citizens of the city of Periphery have all turned to stone, leaving only our intrepid heroes to rescue them -- or to doom them forever.


Our heroes awaken, transported and unprepared in a dense forest, with only the light of a Lantern by which to see. Runes are scrawled in ancient places, the trees are hungry for human flesh, and something somewhere is ticking. This is the story of a forest cast into eternal darkness and torn in a war between the forest-dwelling Kith and the Pirates who fight for civilization's survival. The resurrection of the Lanterns and the arrival of the summoned ones who wield them could change the world forever.

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Once he felt comfortable enough with how dry his clothes were he would start his ascent up the cliff-side.


Arthur would find the white cliff-face sheer and slightly cracked, with just enough footholds to give a highly experienced rock-climber a challenge -- for this child, however, the task he had chosen was quite an undertaking indeed. He would find the stone powdery and salty under his fingers, almost crumbly under his feet, creating a precarious and dangerous situation -- and he'd only just cleared the tops of the scraggled trees.

The salty wind rushed through him, quickly drying his hair and his clothes the rest of the way. From here he could hear the shuffle and grunt of the monsters on the gangplank, the squealing laughter of seagulls, a sharp human voice directing the guests inside. From here he could see the dazzle of the ocean that spread out in all directions, little waves capped by flashing froth, the sun casting bright shimmers on the calm water.

His next handhold would prove unsound, and there was nowhere else to go. The way up still seemed impossibly high, the top of it hidden in a misty mystery.

"D'you want a little help?"

The voice belonged to an enormous flying fox, twice as big as Arthur himself, who clung to the side of the cliff, licking the salt from the rock. She shuffled a little closer, hanging by the sharp claws on her wings, and twitched an ear and blinked an eye. "You fall from here you'll wreck your head, I imagine. Unless that's the point, in which case you've got a good effort."

After a few more licks, she twitched the other ear. "You could climb on my back, if you wanted. Unless you think you can make it yourself to the top. I'll watch you try, it'd be jolly fun."


It tumbled, like the rest of them, down to the little pile at the bottom. The book struck ground, and opened up to a page. Riley quickly scrabbled down, eager to read the contents.


At the end of the war, a neutral ground was required which could contain the egos of both horrors that led the armies in opposition. The Orphanage by then had been left abandoned -- rather, cleansed -- and was a space both sides groundedly feared. Naturally this was the site I chose for the Lilyrose House.


Inside the cover of the book was an inscription that marked the book belonged to Lily Rose. It was handwritten, as a diary, and each page had a slight glimmer of magic threaded within it.

We humans, obviously, would be in great peril in the company of the horror-armies -- our flesh and bones are highly regarded among their culinary circles, when they bother to cook us at all. I had devised a disguise, however. This very book contains within it the elements of the shroud that has kept me safe -- highly-regarded, even -- among the horrors. It is created for human eyes -- for you, my dear reader. Speak aloud the enchantment, and any shape, any form that you touch, may become your own:

Magic of the breathing seas
Singing of the wind
Shroud me in your majesty
Create in me your kin
Give me shape that's whole and new
Give me shape that sings
Give me shape that pleases you
That fools the teeth and kings


A door creaked. One of the enormous horrors was coming out of the right-side door, a stack of books in its tentacles. It had not yet seen Riley -- but in only a few moments it would inevitably discover her.
Arthur had to swim for the surface. Now.


The black shape spun and twisted in the water around Arthur, moving with him but never getting close enough for him to get a good look at it. The red of the pillow flashed now and then between the locks of thick, tentacle-like hair; occasionally a flash of big dark eyes blinked at him, curious. As Arthur swam, the bubbles he created floated downward, toward the darkness that stretched on below.

The surface was too far away. It seemed the more Arthur struggled -- the harder he swam -- the farther away the sunlight seemed. He would see the boat stop at the edge of the island, and shadows moving near it, but his air was running out fast.

Something grabbed the back of his shirt, and Arthur was suddenly being rocketed toward the surface. The child with the long hair dragged Arthur with great speed into warmer waters, then pushed his head out and into the open air before letting go.

The child swam backward, and for a moment watched him -- big dark eyes staring just over the surface of the water -- before it dipped silently back into the waves and was gone.

Arthur was now close to the huge cruise ship that had docked alongside the island. The sky above was blue and warm and filled with squealing seagulls. The island from this side seemed very small, smaller even than the cruise ship, despite the enormous expanse that Arthur knew stretched on below. A white-stone cliff stretched up and up toward the clouds, something between a sheer mountain and a tower. What lay at the top was a mystery.

A wide gangplank stretched between the ship and the island, and upon it trundled a line of monsters in single-file: tentacles, fur, talons and scales. Their eyes glowed, their teeth flashed, their mouths dripped ropes of drool. Each was as big as a room or bigger; each mouth was capable of swallowing a child Arthur's size whole. The gangplank wobbled with each terrible step, and the horrors filed in through the enormous open mouth of a doorway in the tower, shaped like a lion's head, above which read in sweeping letters: LILYROSE HOUSE

The white beaches all around the little island offered an easy way out of the water. The tower had no windows, and was surrounded by a thick garden of lush trees and a rainbow of flowers that, upon close examination, turned out to be made of plastic.


"Steady, we're going for a bit of a fly," she murmured, then leapt out of the more reasonably-heighted trolley. She landed feet first with a resounding clang, then immediately began making her way towards the ladder with the intention of going up.


Nina squeaked upon landing, wriggled a little but didn't attempt to leave Riley's care. It was clear, now, that Riley was the safest place to be.

But the moment Riley landed with a clang on the metal floor, the movement in the next room froze. Someone on the other side of the door had stopped to listen closely.

Riley made it to the ladder and had climbed up halfway before the door squeaked open. A huge, spidery creature crept into the room, hissing and gurgling, its many beady eyes ticking in odd directions. With fidgety forelegs, it dug into the laundry basket, searching for anything amiss. When it found nothing, it picked up a few of the discarded bits of cloth from the floor, tossed them into the laundry basket, and hefted the basket onto its back to carry it into the next room, where the fires roared and steam hissed.

The trap door was heavy, but with a push Riley would be able to open it wide enough to crawl out with Nina in tow. The trap door opened underneath a thin oriental rug in a room only lit by one little gaslight. There was no movement; no one was around, at least not yet. For the moment she was safe.

Out from under the rug, she would find herself in a library filled with huge books: cookbooks and atlases, worn journals and piles of scrolls. A few of the books seemed to sparkle and glow: House of Roses, Claw and Newt, and Song of the Whippoorwill, all located on the higher shelves at completely different sides of the room; they would require a bit of climbing to get to.

Gaslights flickered on the walls. There was another ladder and another trap door in the roof. There was an open metal door to the left, through which was a little empty bedroom with an enormous bed bolted to the floor, a single bookcase, and a safe under the bed with a four-digit code. To the right of the library was a closed metal door that could be opened with a lever and some great effort. On the other side, a woman was humming a gentle song.
In Lantern 23 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
She put on her new shoes and marched on out towards the lake with purpose in her stride.


Peck stared, bewildered, at the young woman that until a moment ago he had thought was on the brink of death, who now sprang into a new purpose with all the fierce energy he had come to expect of her. He scrambled to his feet, his mind struggling to keep up, and stumbled after Anise. "What, wait! Free who? The Riders are out there, they'll have questions!"

Just outside, the tents and stone cottages of the Rook were softly illuminated by the bonfire that always burned as a beacon at its heart -- but the doors were open and empty, and the only sound was the snap of the fire. The Riders were all gathered at the edge of the cliff, staring out at a spectacle none of them thought could ever be possible.

Peck craned his neck to see them, glanced at Anise, but followed the pull of his curiosity and rushed forward to the crowd, to see what they all were looking at. He skidded to a stop at the edge, and looked down at the sea of forests far below.

Something writhed dark at the center of the woods. The crack and thunder of falling trees echoed on the cliffs. The Dragon -- tar-black and skeletal -- clawed the trees out of the ground, ripped the foliage into clouds of leaves, created a clearing of destruction around itself in a frenzied yet methodical search for what rightfully belonged to it.

All around it, a circle of yellow lights was forming. While the Dragon was distracted by its search, the Kith had surrounded it, combining their powers in hopes of keeping it contained. Each of them held a ball of light in their hands, each of their masks eerily illuminated.

The Dragon yanked its head back suddenly, triumphantly; a violet light glowed between its teeth. The Dragon snapped its head back, tossed the violet Lantern in the air, and caught and swallowed it whole. A purple light coursed through the Dragon's body, its eyes changed color from blue to white to violet, and the tar of its moving corpse began to change. Like a distant image coming into focus, the illusion of the Dragon's true form emerged: shimmering reflective scales, powerful wings, tail and talons, a head angular with symmetric horns.

The renewed Dragon lifted its head and slowly surveyed the circle the Kith had formed around it. For now it lay comfortably curled in a destroyed clearing of its own making, and made no more move to attack.

Peck took a few deep breaths, and he made a decision. He grabbed Anise and led her along the cliff to a stairway down the cliff's face. "There's a faster way to the Lake," he explained, with no room for argument. He brought her into a shallow cave filled with straw, where the gryphons were housed. He went to a dappled beast and quickly strapped a saddle to it. "C'mon, Doreli," he encouraged the gryphon, who moved with the stiffness of age, "show us that speed of yours."

Once outside, Doreli sat to let on his passengers, then tried his wings. A few of the Riders above shouted -- but it was too late. The gryphon leaped off the edge and dropped headfirst, plummeting toward the trees, before white dappled wings snapped out and gryphon and riders shot like an arrow over the treetops.

The Dragon raised its head, and a bright eye caught them from a distance -- but it made no move. Not yet.

The Lake glistened ahead. Doreli circled and landed on the beach, where the gold-glinting water lapped the smooth stones. Even here, everything seemed far too quiet. All attention was on the Dragon; the forest lay still and tense, barely daring to breathe.

Artemis pulled the Lantern to her chest, clutching at it with white-knuckled fingers. Her eye squeezed shut as a tiny sound finally escaped her.


The forest was quiet, tense with the electricity before the storm. There were no animals, no insects, not even a chirp of a cricket to disturb the stillness. The red of the Lantern cast strange shapes on the bark, drew horrible silent shadows behind them. A cool breeze rustled the moonlit leaves above. The trees stood sentinel, unmoved and uncaring, while Artemis shook at their roots.

Through the power of the Wood's rune, Artemis would feel gentle silent steps on the grass behind her. Reus, the great black wolf, moved forward, stepping carefully over Artemis -- and stopped, protective, when he stood directly over her. He raised his head, staring into the dark with bright yellow eyes, shielding the light of the Lantern from the sight of the woods. His ears were perked, listening. Waiting.

Between the trees, small yellow lights shifted. Some of them were fireflies, momentary dim flashes that arced and fluttered in patterns. Others moved with purpose, two at a time, glowing bright and seeking prey. In the dapples of moonlight, brief clearings of stars, sometimes a muscled patch of fur, an ear, a flash of teeth would emerge before sinking back into the shadows. Twigs cracked. leaves rustled. Something big was breathing.

An enormous bear moved between the trees, its eyes shining yellow. It swung its great brown head side to side, but had yet to find what it was looking for.

Not far away, a second beast stepped softly: a mountain lion the size of a house, bright yellow eyes staring hollow, shifted among the shadows, also searching with swiveled ears and quivering whiskers.

It wouldn't be long before the light of the red Lantern would catch their eyes.

Reus remained poised over Artemis, watching them, calm but ready to attack the moment the need arose.
In Lantern 28 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Hey glad you had an awesome time, the con sounds great!

And ... um .... uuummm .... I'm here sort of. Still kind of burned out. This RP particularly I want to do justice, and it's been over 2 months since I posted I know. Maybe I'll write something for the sake of writing something, haha.
Holy shit I wrote something!!
She thrust her hand out to her side, feeding that rage into the symbols tattooed into her right hand. As always before, her blade extended without a sound, ready to slice apart anything she needed it to.

She brought her hand across in front of her, swinging her hand with all her might through the bars that blocked her.


The roaring water pressed against her, surging waist-high, threatening to fling her any moment off the platform and into the splashing crowd below. The blade of light shimmered at Feela's wrist, ripe for violence, and effortlessly sliced through the bars that separated her from the outside world. With a few more strokes, neat sections of the bars suddenly launched outward with the rush of the water and flung down among the screeching people, sloshing hurriedly through the water to avoid being hit by the projectiles. But Feela had opened a way out, even if it was a narrow passage filled with rushing water. There was no way the children or the elderly could hope to traverse it without being overwhelmed -- but Feela would have only small difficulty scaling the slick rapids alone.

Not far along the passage there was a ladder that led up to a manhole cover and the empty street above -- she would be free. If she were to emerge here into the street, she might glimpse a small group of people in white cloaks -- like those of the people who had condemned the refugees below to a watery grave -- rushing northward, to disappear around a corner.

Should she continue against the water in the dark, thus letting the white-cloaks get away, she would emerge at one of the four tunnels that opened onto the reservoir and invited an endless torrent of water. At the mouth of the tunnel was a thick metal door which could be sealed with the turn of a huge wheel-crank.


Maybe the old man was right and there was nothing but death at Sorrow's Deep. But Meryn had never let fear of death stop her.

Meryn dropped the charcoal and put on the mask. She turned from the old man and moved to the spiral staircase.


The old man watched her back, and he stared down at the map again. Cogswall was gone. Spook was gone. Hope was . . . on her shoulders, it seemed. The one who didn't speak understood far more of what was going on than most of the people he'd known. His eyes traced the black line toward Enn, glanced at the other towns that dotted the continent in the path of the blight, and he thought that he, too, might understand. His dreams took on a solemn and deep-blue appearance, sharp and firm in shape.

He laid his gnarled hand on the drawing, stared at it intently -- then huffed a defeated and frustrated sigh. After yanking the map off the table he strode angrily after Meryn, to grasp the back of her shirt and shove the map into her hands. "Don't be stupid," he admonished her. "There's nothing you can do alone except get yerself killed. Get help. The Prophet's up in An'Hiket, it's a sanctuary for the crystal-skins and the best place to find allies, if you're going to Sorrow's Deep like a lunatic." He let go of her and grumbled to himself. "Don't say I didn't warn ya."

Outside the bell tower, the city was eerily quiet, gray and still. Broken mechs and robots whirred and shifted endlessly. Steam hissed out of broken pipes. Fires burned quietly where buildings once stood. Bodies smoldered. There was no more sign of people, cloaked or otherwise.

The low clop of hooves echoed through the street -- a horse or two might be found wandering the wreckage among the dogs and rats that had escaped the disease, having broken out of their stables.

If Meryn were to listen carefully, she might hear rushing water underneath the street, and the echoes of screams.
Aw man have a blast! :D We expect stories upon your return! xD
He took a deep breath as he hopped into it and found himself swimming. He knew he could not hold his breath for too long, so he had to find a way out. Immediately, he scanned the area for an exit.


Back in the little room, the cat curiously hopped up the makeshift stack of pillows, stopping just at the top to peer up into the murky water, ears perked and tail swinging slowly. The cat did not follow, but only watched, a slight gleam of fang in its grin.

The water was dark and cool as a lake in summer; green bubbles followed in his wake. Above Arthur's head, the water went on for miles -- deep, black and cruel. It was clear that swimming straight up would yield not even a pocket of air before his little lungs were done, if the darkness didn't crush his fragile bones first.

Should he look down, he would see that he had just escaped a wide, sprawling, rusty factory with ornate crumbling smokestacks, gigantic moving gears, and algae-coated gargoyles perched on the green-copper eaves. The water was filled with the low rumble and hum of machinery. He could see the dim light of the room he'd just escaped; similar squares of light dotted the factory building like constellations, dozens of rooms identical to his own.

The factory was tucked into a rocky crevice at the heart of a small underwater island, complete with submerged forests of bony petrified trees, a stony hill filled with the dilapidated ruins of old stone buildings, and a white sandy beach that surrounded it. Deeper, beyond the beach, sunlight glinted.

The surface of the water lay below him, shifting and glimmering with the tide, lapping at the underwater beaches. All Arthur had to do was to swim down and make it around the girth of the island to reach the surface before his air ran out.

A huge boat was moving toward the island -- its bottom was a dark rumbling shape on the sunlit surface below, its motor churning the water bright green.

Something dark swam past Arthur -- something whose shape was hard to place, there was so much long black hair. It darted away again, spun and flitted, curious. He might catch a glint of red embroidered cloth clutched in its strange pale arms. It almost looked like a child, as small as Arthur himself.


She looked back, back at the twisted faces, the grasping fingers, and worst of all, the endless layers of sharp teeth. She breathed in, closed her eyes tight, and jumped.


Nina yelped in surprise. The guests at the table all lunged at once, each hoping to be the one to snatch her up, but their claws and tentacles all tangled in one another instead. Chairs thundered to the floor, snarls and roars rang out, and Riley fell --

-- right into an enormous basket of soiled table linens being carted away to laundry. A huge cloth napkin, soiled with sticky tomato sauce, dropped on top of Riley and Nina, hiding them from view.

Riley and Nina were cushioned and safe burrowed in the napkins and tablecloths; the cart rattled and creaked, shifting the basket now and then. She would hear the snuffle and slurp of the guests as the cart passed them by. Occasionally one of the monsters would give a loud sniff, but nothing disturbed the basket.

The cart creaked and groaned and bumped along. There was a click and boom of a metal door being opened. The cart wheeled through it, then stopped.

The metal door slid closed, boomed and clicked. Suddenly all the sounds of the dining room had gone quiet. Riley and Nina and their basket of tablecloths had been left alone in a smaller, darker room, safe from the monstrous diners.

This room was lit only by a single gas lamp burning in a corner. The walls, the floor and the ceiling were all gray and peeling and slightly damp. The door they'd come in through was made of thick bolted metal, operated from inside by a switch on the wall. The floor was strewn with old discarded laundry and empty crates. At the far side was a stack of shelves full of huge cans of lard, kegs of cooking oil, and hundreds of boxes of matches.

A wooden door beside the shelves was left cracked open. Firelight glimmered in the next room, where there were noises of churning machinery and the slide and skiff of something big moving around within.

Against another gray wall in Riley's room was a metal ladder that led up to a metal trap door in the ceiling.

*KSSSSS*

A coppery funnel-speaker came to life with radio-noises. A high-pitched voice crackled through.

ATTENTION! ATTENTION! CRUISE FOUR-EIGHTY-FOUR NOW APPROACHING! ALL GREETERS TO THE LANDING DOCK! ALL GREETERS TO THE LANDING DOCK!

On the other side of the slightly-open door, a low voice muttered unintelligible and sarcastic. Something fleshy slid and skidded along the metal floor.
Hi!

I guess I was hoping Northern would return. :(
He climbed out of the pillow hole he dug himself and grabbed one of the least heavy pillows. With all of his might he threw it up into the water just to see what would happen.


The pillow was flung upward, and with a quiet splash a few droplets fell down on Arthur's forehead. The pillow, for a moment, floated upside-down on the watery ceiling until the fabric had soaked through -- then it rose above the surface and continued to float along into the dark watery depths above. Anything more that he might choose to toss into the water would not come back down again.

The cat watched this peculiar behavior with a swishing tail and a twitching ear. Whiskers quivered, and it blinked its big eyes, silently waiting.

Just as the dark silhouette of the pillow had begun to fade into the deep water, something else moved. A sinewy shape swam closer, snatched the pillow and darted away again, silent.


Within sat the little creature, shivering from its near miss with death. Riley reached in to pet the little creature.


The little critter blinked and breathed rapidly, watching as Riley's hand drew closer. Its pink nose quivered, and slowly -- cautiously -- it shifted forward to sniff her outstretched hand, whining, hopeful for her assistance.

Suddenly something big and fleshy grabbed Riley around the middle and yanked her high into the air; one of the monsters had spotted her, and now had her in its scaly grip. The monster held her up to the light, examining her with glazed red eyes for a moment before it tipped its head back and parted its tentacled face, revealing a round mouth lined with rows of razor teeth.

"No eating the help!" the hostess roared in the distance, but the admonishment was too little too late.

The little white critter, meanwhile, skittered up the monster's leg, scaled its putrid back, and crawled along its outstretched arm with flurrying speed. Riley's new furry friend opened wide its big toothy jaws and clamped down on the hand that held her.

The monster gurgled a scream of pain and dropped Riley into a half-empty bowl of custard on the table. The critter dropped down beside her -- and all the monsters at the table, poised and quiet, were now staring at them both.


[color=gray]
"I'mma try pressing this one!" Isabelle declared, pressing the middle button that had two swirls on it.


The button lit up gold and blue and swirling; the light spread along the patterns in the metal walls of her little room. With a bump and a click and a hum, the room began to vibrate; the water above rippled before a metal panel slid suddenly over the surface of the water, securing Isabelle's room into a solid coppery glowing trembling box.

The cat's whiskers twitched, and it grinned fangily. "Good luck!" it called in a voice that almost sounded mocking, and it turned its back on Isabelle and walked cleanly away through the solid wall -- as if the cat had been nothing but a spirit.

The room hummed and creaked and shuddered, the lit-up patterns flashed.

Suddenly, everything went still and dark.

A whining, creaking noise vibrated in the walls. A seam of bright sunlight cut through the wall before her and grew wider as the elevator doors slid open. A cool fragrant wind swirled just outside.

Once her eyes adjusted to the light, Isabelle would find that the elevator was perched upon the sprawling grassy, rocky top of a cliff. The wind whistled and howled, and the sun shone brightly on the waving green grass and jutting stones.

To her right was an old stone windmill, spinning rapidly, strung up with strings of little brightly colored flags that flapped in the wind. The windmill towered high above, and if Isabelle listened carefully she might hear the squeak and grind of machinery inside.

Attached to the windmill was a little stone house with a thatch roof and a cozy porch, presumably where the windmill-keeper lived. On the porch was a bench swing, a rocking chair, and a rather rusty looking robot. The robot was sitting on the porch floor with its legs stretched out and head drooped to its chest. There was a big turnkey in its back. It was about as big as Isabelle herself.

There was only one window on the house, but it was fastened and the curtains were shut inside. The door was closed, but unlocked.

To Isabelle's left, the rocky landscape sloped down, toward the edge of a thick scraggly forest in the distance.

Behind her was the cliff's edge, and a sheer drop from an unknown height; the bottom was hidden behind a mist, and birds flew far below.

Straight ahead, directly across from the open elevator, a winding path led past the windmill and along a narrow stone bridge that stretched across the abyss. On the other end of the bridge -- in the far distance, was a floating island, and on this island was a massive, shimmering mountain of angular pink crystal. The crystal seemed to glow and spark in the sunlight, its size impossible to determine from this distance, only that it dwarfed the spinning windmill.
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