Aye thanks for the welcome!
Brushed up on the characters to see what we have thus far so I have the basis down for what I'm going to elaborate with.
Rockette
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𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
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- Old Guild Username: rocketfox
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Most Recent Posts
Love the enthusiasm at least!
I've read over it all and will do so on the IC thread whilst drawing up my CS.
I've read over it all and will do so on the IC thread whilst drawing up my CS.
I've been thinking about making an account over there, I haven't committed yet to the entire idea.
Well I noticed the Int. Check first and assumed, but as usual I'm going to inquire if you're looking for new players and submissions?
I recently dusted off my ES games and have the sudden spur for it!
I recently dusted off my ES games and have the sudden spur for it!
I'll still be here as well! No worries there. c=
We'll miss you so much Ex! D: Best wishes though! <3
We'll miss you so much Ex! D: Best wishes though! <3
Oooh fun. looking forward to how all that pans out. d;
I immediately started on secondary character banners earlier I just had to add all my resources to this laptop to work with.
I immediately started on secondary character banners earlier I just had to add all my resources to this laptop to work with.
Well I'm finally back home, and it was so nice to get away, I advise you guys do so before all the Holiday junk. Anyways I have to put in some double work shifts to make up for and get enough hours for that paycheck. But I'll have responses for messages and the like later on today and catch up on the IC and the OOC too, looking forward to reading everything!
Also,
Luke Evans, mm. <3
Also,
Luke Evans, mm. <3
I miss you guys!
I'll be back officially tomorrow <3
I'll be back officially tomorrow <3
She’s standing upon a broken city and there’s a story to be told in ruins, one she doesn’t know because it’s a place not meant to be. It’s heralded around a blooming myth of azure and pale mystery, a supposed fictional plant of death and harbinger of spiritual conception. There’s no tale in these forlorn scraps, the metal refuge is just a convenient bedlam she’s perched upon with tattered threads, seams that have been rendered useless by their original design. She vaguely wonders the hidden meaning behind their placement here, if there is one to be had, because now she doesn’t know if this is Fate or a Hell crafted entirely by really horrid circumstance. Do coincidences and happen-to-be’s exist in this world: this world of extraterrestrial fauna, of revered Kami and the Eternal Etro of all of their vessels, of weeping children and dead Fathers.
Magdalena has her fingers clenched tight upon crafted edges, of slicing borders that curl and form into the ebonette configuration of her favoured weapon. Why she chose it, she can’t remember, maybe because of its different use, of the way it spun so willingly upon the gale of wind, bidden by her thrusting intentions. It’s curved, beyond the norm of conventional weaponry, the massive circlet has given her a moment of pause before she angles her palms, presses down just so, and slices open her scar across the heart line etched across her mitt; it bleeds down, filling the void of life and fate sliced below it.
She suddenly feels better.
She doesn’t notice that her blood is black.
Magdalena has her fingers clenched tight upon crafted edges, of slicing borders that curl and form into the ebonette configuration of her favoured weapon. Why she chose it, she can’t remember, maybe because of its different use, of the way it spun so willingly upon the gale of wind, bidden by her thrusting intentions. It’s curved, beyond the norm of conventional weaponry, the massive circlet has given her a moment of pause before she angles her palms, presses down just so, and slices open her scar across the heart line etched across her mitt; it bleeds down, filling the void of life and fate sliced below it.
She suddenly feels better.
She doesn’t notice that her blood is black.
There's a vague reception in her features when the Faye boy - no, man - approaches her. A small shift of her shoulder, a barely seen tip of her head as eyes slide through lashes and glimpse him through heavy-lidded expressions of deadened forgeries. Carefully masking the turmoil and angling her body enough to avoid the acknowledgment of those bleeding lines, the blood muddying her fingers in fringes and sweeps of black that drip, pulse, in tempo with the heart swathed in pain. She doesn't want to go back to her friends just yet, she can't really, but they're leaving soon he says and she can't very well stay here in the city of the dead - no matter how bad she wants to. Magdalena nodded the affirmative before she goes through her regular motions: chakram across her spine, eyes cast down, and her indifference forced up and fortified entirely by her empathetic shadow. She wishes Kimberly hadn't of been the one to find her, again, but it seems that she's attracting everyone to her maladies and she can't have it fracturing across her visage once again. She passes by him when the deep baritone of his admission sounds out, it fists around her heart and clenches tight enough to make her pause, wheeze, and just stare blankly at the familiar ebony threads of his beard.
More words, their timbre slices through.
And something inside her punctured, bled out, smothered her in something warm and thick and cloaks entirely around herself. Magdalena's eyes widen when he glances toward her and something hisses, it's a soft and barely whisper of rattling that causes her to turn, witnessing the spiritual apparition of a pallid serpent with black fangs and tongue, flickering at her with blue eyes that shine within that pale feature. It's large, not as big as her hounds, but enough to still dwarf her diminutive size. The alabaster snake seems respondent to Kimberly, why, she can't say, but it bids her to listen to his words.
And listen to him she does, and it does something to her and without realizing it - done completely unbidden by her usual indifference and apathy - she smiles. Lips, chapped and bloodied, peel back over teeth in a smile of affection. It's bright, shattering, a grin that splits her features of diluted colour and pain, it's the ghost of a near a child like glamour with that beloved simper. It's quick to vanish though, like the brief flicker of a sun before her veneer falls into place of her usual expressionless reflection, but there's a peculiar light in her blue eye, the one untainted, it's perhaps brighter, thoughtful, connecting to Kimberly's black gaze.
"Thank you." Is all she can say.
More words, their timbre slices through.
And something inside her punctured, bled out, smothered her in something warm and thick and cloaks entirely around herself. Magdalena's eyes widen when he glances toward her and something hisses, it's a soft and barely whisper of rattling that causes her to turn, witnessing the spiritual apparition of a pallid serpent with black fangs and tongue, flickering at her with blue eyes that shine within that pale feature. It's large, not as big as her hounds, but enough to still dwarf her diminutive size. The alabaster snake seems respondent to Kimberly, why, she can't say, but it bids her to listen to his words.
And listen to him she does, and it does something to her and without realizing it - done completely unbidden by her usual indifference and apathy - she smiles. Lips, chapped and bloodied, peel back over teeth in a smile of affection. It's bright, shattering, a grin that splits her features of diluted colour and pain, it's the ghost of a near a child like glamour with that beloved simper. It's quick to vanish though, like the brief flicker of a sun before her veneer falls into place of her usual expressionless reflection, but there's a peculiar light in her blue eye, the one untainted, it's perhaps brighter, thoughtful, connecting to Kimberly's black gaze.
"Thank you." Is all she can say.
ｔｈｒｏｕｇｈ ｔｈｅ ｃｏｌｄ»
She knew those mountains and she knew this place, she knew the air, and she knew the coldness of it all. Each punctuation of snow, the crust a fine powder having settled from the previous eclipse, every single breadth of clarity in this frigid place was a memory: soft ones, a kinder remembrance, of pale children and smiles and a splotch of warmth in the centre of her mind that was of grass, hay lofts and the chiming of bells in a square. The area, in all of its wilderness, was a place Magdalena knew.
It was Home.
Not like the Academy, with the beige carpet and the off-white walls and their disdainful cookie cutter reminiscent prints - the bland, the routine, the every present latency of unity that the military advertised. Not the homestead in Helston, the daisy yellow wallpapers in the kitchen and the powder blue decorations of every flora imaginable by her father’s touch and her mother’s favourtism.
All of those paled in comparison to the years past of when the two pale Abendroth’s retreated to the North
”Do you believe in Fate?” Gabriele had asked, bending knee to the feminine favour of her husband, the fair locks that spun down her back in a downy plait and her skin of equal, pallid hue blossomed with the faintest touches of rouge. Gabriele called her cheeks poppy flowers once, a flora that the young Magdalena had sprouting in the pottery that hung off her window sill. Her mother’s lips were carmine, like scarlet tulips, her smile one of forgery though like a Golden Dahlia grinning down at her.
“I don’t know what the means, Gaby.” Never had she bequeathed the mother that famous moniker, that stale epitaph that made Mothers known as Moms.
“That’s okay dear, I’m going to show you.”
“Because you need to know why Fate is cruel, why it is Hell. And why you can’t ever run from it.”
It was Home.
Not like the Academy, with the beige carpet and the off-white walls and their disdainful cookie cutter reminiscent prints - the bland, the routine, the every present latency of unity that the military advertised. Not the homestead in Helston, the daisy yellow wallpapers in the kitchen and the powder blue decorations of every flora imaginable by her father’s touch and her mother’s favourtism.
All of those paled in comparison to the years past of when the two pale Abendroth’s retreated to the North
”Do you believe in Fate?” Gabriele had asked, bending knee to the feminine favour of her husband, the fair locks that spun down her back in a downy plait and her skin of equal, pallid hue blossomed with the faintest touches of rouge. Gabriele called her cheeks poppy flowers once, a flora that the young Magdalena had sprouting in the pottery that hung off her window sill. Her mother’s lips were carmine, like scarlet tulips, her smile one of forgery though like a Golden Dahlia grinning down at her.
“I don’t know what the means, Gaby.” Never had she bequeathed the mother that famous moniker, that stale epitaph that made Mothers known as Moms.
“That’s okay dear, I’m going to show you.”
“Because you need to know why Fate is cruel, why it is Hell. And why you can’t ever run from it.”
ｏｆ ｍａｎ ｔｏ ｂｅａｓｔ»
Magdalena Abendroth often lived for the fight, the battle, the immersion into the scarlet haze that would fall across her mind and soul and clench her reasoning into the pinpoint of euphoric pain. However, in this singular moment with the massive assault of these horrendous fauna of extraterrestrial origin, she found herself beyond drained, beyond the desire of agony that would lash her body pleasurably. Being a lustful creature of the struggle though, she naturally fell into stance, honed reflexes and grace sharpened into the acrobatic execution that she performed. But there was a crack, a sharp, sudden whip of sound that made her flinch - she knew that infliction and glanced over in time to witness Kimberly's horrific transcendence. Her response was natural, rushing to his aide and tearing his jacket down his arms possessing the precious objects within, but her assistance was only just enough as the ripping, tearing, and awful visualization shoved her back in the burst of spiritual rage and purpose. Witnessing Kimberly Faye transform was the most gruesome illustration of human limitations, the usually protective and yet fragile membrane of skin peeled back in jagged pieces, flaying open to expose the veining fur beneath. Her palm slapped across her mouth, in shock or disgust was difficult to discern, but his entire self burst through with claws, bone, marrow that fused together into a completely different genetic sequence that was from Man to Beast.
Her already crowded subconscious exploded with the plethora of voices then, each varying in pitches and vibrating speeches, they shoved and bid across her spirits, the growls of her hounds sounding in a terrible snarl at the invasion. But she could make out the request, and through the haze of battle and appalled nature, she consented, thrust out her palm and watched as spindles of white and gold threaded them together. The following pain stole her breath, a cloud of black vaporized from her mouth as the torrent of heat and lava from her soul poured directly, assuaging across the link in the tongues of fire.
"I give you my strength."
Her already crowded subconscious exploded with the plethora of voices then, each varying in pitches and vibrating speeches, they shoved and bid across her spirits, the growls of her hounds sounding in a terrible snarl at the invasion. But she could make out the request, and through the haze of battle and appalled nature, she consented, thrust out her palm and watched as spindles of white and gold threaded them together. The following pain stole her breath, a cloud of black vaporized from her mouth as the torrent of heat and lava from her soul poured directly, assuaging across the link in the tongues of fire.
"I give you my strength."
Ｂａｔｔｌｅ ＩＩＩ»
The following sequences of the battle blurred on past in the thick wave of scarlet over her mind, clenching her actions into fluidity as she found herself astride the massive Ursa that was Kimberly bathed and transfigured entirely by her molten spirits. Her chakram sliced through the blobs, rending them apart into two with each swooping scythe of her figured circlet. Black edges grew thick and wet, bathed in their taint as she utilized the creature's body as a platform that gave her quite the advantage. The intense heat and fire did not bother, but only fueled her own spirits as she parted her lips and found her orifice completely flooded with her own magma, spewing forth in a torrents of raging liquid and rage that sluiced in a slow, antagonizing crawl across grotesque bodies and molten and vermilion eyes. Her own glimpse were boiling ebonies and scarlet, snapping harsh around her iris.
There were so many voice, each of them exploding across her mind, her hounds snarl and whimper, completely undone by their presence. But she can't do anything about it, so she slices, carves her path of destruction and bears it.
Her affixing haze though once again shuts her off to all else, concentrating solely on the motions of battle, thus in her wrath she barely had time to brace against the harsh tongue that lashed out at her, whipping her entirely off from her mounted seat across Kimberly. She grunted, an acknowledgment of her bruising impact as she slid across snow that melted immediately under her vicious heat. Cold barely registered beyond the pain as a black cloud escaped from her lips, snaking from the corners of her mouth in a plume of obsidian smog as the massive amount of blobs converged on her prone figure. Magdalena grimaced under the tines and tongues lashing against her body, dissembling her already erratic wardrobe into near scraps, pain blossomed across her front where the barbed tongue had lashed against her skin, procuring a black line of split flesh from the Prime. More voices erupted across her mind, telepathic forging granting her the same knowledge the voices bequeathed to Kimberly, his newly proffered gift apparently had some draw backs, enough consequences to see him harmed along with her - she'd had be more careful in loaning her spiritual rage it would seem. She thrust herself into basic maneuvers, forcing herself from the encumbering assault by the harsh snarl that ripped from her throat, and with it, the massive torrent of lava that fell upon her assailants. The wave was obtuse and expansive enough to envelop the tinier creatures bidden under their masters' influences, in which completely decomposed and melted their numerous selves into corpses and near gelatin remains before her pure, boiling spirits consumed them. Magdalena clutched her breast, there was a peculiar twinge of pain that tore across her bones as she breathed, creating a hitch in her inhales as she searched for the Prime that attacked her, nearly blinded by the immolation that Aaron spewed forth into its hideous eye.
She sniffed, deciding to leave him to it as she retrieved her weapon and fell into her usual practices, performing the circlet as it spun around her wrist, slicing through the blobs as she cut and raged her path through them. Their numbers were staggering, almost overwhelming as she grasped her fingers to her chakram and relentlessly tore through the masses, jagged tongues snaked out, whipped across her skin and she sent a wave of a telepathic apology to Kimberly as she roared on. However, Magdalena relished in their passing, each Xenomorph that fell beneath the massive ring of her assault, she was, nonetheless, not gluttonous in her intent. She scythed a clear path towards Olivia as the two Primes began their threat, she gathered all the force and strength she could muster in her limbs, spinning in a half arc as she released her chakram in a deadly thrust; sending it into a threatening whirl of bladed edges that were direct in their pursuit as they tore through the massive bodies; gorging through the flesh membranes of deformed black and whites, their hideous maws gaped wide in their wails of anguish.
There were so many voice, each of them exploding across her mind, her hounds snarl and whimper, completely undone by their presence. But she can't do anything about it, so she slices, carves her path of destruction and bears it.
Her affixing haze though once again shuts her off to all else, concentrating solely on the motions of battle, thus in her wrath she barely had time to brace against the harsh tongue that lashed out at her, whipping her entirely off from her mounted seat across Kimberly. She grunted, an acknowledgment of her bruising impact as she slid across snow that melted immediately under her vicious heat. Cold barely registered beyond the pain as a black cloud escaped from her lips, snaking from the corners of her mouth in a plume of obsidian smog as the massive amount of blobs converged on her prone figure. Magdalena grimaced under the tines and tongues lashing against her body, dissembling her already erratic wardrobe into near scraps, pain blossomed across her front where the barbed tongue had lashed against her skin, procuring a black line of split flesh from the Prime. More voices erupted across her mind, telepathic forging granting her the same knowledge the voices bequeathed to Kimberly, his newly proffered gift apparently had some draw backs, enough consequences to see him harmed along with her - she'd had be more careful in loaning her spiritual rage it would seem. She thrust herself into basic maneuvers, forcing herself from the encumbering assault by the harsh snarl that ripped from her throat, and with it, the massive torrent of lava that fell upon her assailants. The wave was obtuse and expansive enough to envelop the tinier creatures bidden under their masters' influences, in which completely decomposed and melted their numerous selves into corpses and near gelatin remains before her pure, boiling spirits consumed them. Magdalena clutched her breast, there was a peculiar twinge of pain that tore across her bones as she breathed, creating a hitch in her inhales as she searched for the Prime that attacked her, nearly blinded by the immolation that Aaron spewed forth into its hideous eye.
She sniffed, deciding to leave him to it as she retrieved her weapon and fell into her usual practices, performing the circlet as it spun around her wrist, slicing through the blobs as she cut and raged her path through them. Their numbers were staggering, almost overwhelming as she grasped her fingers to her chakram and relentlessly tore through the masses, jagged tongues snaked out, whipped across her skin and she sent a wave of a telepathic apology to Kimberly as she roared on. However, Magdalena relished in their passing, each Xenomorph that fell beneath the massive ring of her assault, she was, nonetheless, not gluttonous in her intent. She scythed a clear path towards Olivia as the two Primes began their threat, she gathered all the force and strength she could muster in her limbs, spinning in a half arc as she released her chakram in a deadly thrust; sending it into a threatening whirl of bladed edges that were direct in their pursuit as they tore through the massive bodies; gorging through the flesh membranes of deformed black and whites, their hideous maws gaped wide in their wails of anguish.
Prisk said
That. Is. Fucking. Awesome.Excuse my French, but I could kiss you Rockette! I've added this to the first post. Also, great quote underneath the title. I'll also be checking out those updates to your character sheet.
:D
I thought the quote fit nicely, mainly because what the characters seem to know is not ever what it seems, same concept applies to all the spirits and then Sam's "death".
Glad you love it!
Sixsmith said
Also, Rockette, did anyone tell you how fantastic you are? Glorious. You owe me a new mind 'cause mine's blown to smithereens. Kthxbai. Also, quick question for you Rockette: I've noticed there's always text in the banners you do and because I like to know every little detail about pieces of art or cinema, I was just wondering what each of those pieces of text are for the ones that are too small to read. :o If that's not any hassle to you.
-Basks in my praise-
Most of the texts are tiny and minuscule just to add a little something extra without taking away from the main text. Mostly used in signatures and tags but I like the way they look in banners as well. Some of the texts though can be read just enough, where as some are entirely too small to make out. But I try to match what texts I have to the characters, like for Roy, I gave him: "is holding on forever and ever". Mainly because he just lost Thael and that he'll move on from it gradually [painfully maybe] but that doesn't mean he can't hold on for the "could be's" and whatnot. I thought it fit.
JJ Doe said
!@Rockette: Since most of the character’s banners have a dark color to them, maybe Sam’s could be mostly light colored?That or these colors:But, yes, that’s my two cents.
So that's another for a more bright coloured banner.
Will wait on more votes or just make the final decision myself.
Also, I think it's more the shades of blue I don't like when they stand individually, blended well enough in like your first photo, I'm more inclined to let it slide.
Maybe.
Posted, and I'm exhausted.
I might be without my computer for a few days, just a heads up, I'm going away for a bit, but I'll have my tablet to check in regularly. Just glad I got banners [most of them] done and then was able to post! :D
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