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... If that counts...
Eyeris Member
STATUS: I always wonder why birds stay in the same place when they can fly anywhere on the earth. Then I ask myself the same question. - Harun Yahya 9 yrs ago- Last Seen: 12 mos ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
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- Eyeris 11 yrs ago
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I always wonder why birds stay in the same place when they can fly anywhere on the earth. Then I ask myself the same question. - Harun Yahya
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Bio
Hello everyone!
I love roleplaying. That is why I am here. And you are too I suppose! So we already have that much in common! Sweet!
I will play anything with a thick enough plot. My favorites include fantasy and magic themes.
I'm not sure what else to say here.
See you in game!
I love roleplaying. That is why I am here. And you are too I suppose! So we already have that much in common! Sweet!
I will play anything with a thick enough plot. My favorites include fantasy and magic themes.
I'm not sure what else to say here.
See you in game!
Most Recent Posts
I approve!
... If that counts...
[Iratze]
Iratze stared at Amos in wonder.
"Amos. I can not join you I... I..." She was about to go into the old tied and true speech. She could join no one, show no loyalty, take no sides. She looked at the golumn in wonder. "You can Create?" That was not a gift every god possessed. It was a rare gift. How did Amos discover it in his hate? This perplexed Iratze.
The goddess did not dwell on her feelings very often. Not until recently... She had not been created to express her feelings, only to carry the feelings and thoughts of others back and forth.
To her creators she was an object, a phone, and that fact was more apparent now than ever before.
She could not take sides. She was designed to be neutral.
If he could create, could he change her?
If he could change her? Would she want to?
Iratze looked back to Amos.
She was never a powerful goddess, but now that Brontes had cast her out, she was more powerless than ever.
Brontes, who in the past had treated her like family, how could he do such a thing to her? And even so, how come he had not contacted her now? Why would he not spake to her himself? Why did Amare. The child god. He blinked in and out of her life in the past few months. Once her closest godly friend he now blinked in and out of her life like she were nothing. He had even used his powers on her to get her to speak with him. All he had to do was ask. Did Amare think only of himself and his Brontes? What of his brothers? Like Amos or Armarion...
Armarion. She thought of the god of wisdom. He had confessed love for her. She could not love him back. The way she was created made it impossible. Yet, wasn't he a wise god? Why had he not fought for her? Devised some plan? Find a way... At least try... Instead he looked right past her...
There were always more important things at hand. The smallest goddess was only a tool. She thought of all the gods and goddesses, sending her back and forth on errands. Some were kind... but... when it came down to it...
She was only a messenger. She had no power, no will to choose, her creators had given her nothing for herself.
She discovered that she hated them all.
She discovered that she hated herself most of all.
She took the hands of Amos, she took a step forward to close the small gap between them.
"Change me."
mmmkay, everyone not in the castle should post themselves somewhere in the castle before the avalanche hits.
Twain stepped out glaring at the snow with a crooked grin.
The place only had half a ceiling, and the structure was quite fragile. It was amazing that the thing was still standing.
Sure it was all well and good that most if not all in the party got to the chamber-of-the-sacrifice, but, would the castle walls hold up against the thick wall of snow? Doubtful.
The leader of MERCY could not hope for the walls to hold up. He was doctor and necromancer...
... And there were an awful lot of dead bodies around.
He stepped away from the group and raised his arms, closing his eyes.
The avalanche was already shaking the foundations of the castle, but now, the ground around them was suddenly shaking and vibrating even more...
... Or at least, the bones were.
The bones flew up from the ground. Most the bones still had flesh dangling off them, some were somewhat whole skeletons, others were just parts, they flew up into the air. They flew from the fires, from under the stones, from the evidence bags, every dead bone obeyed the will of twain.
He moved all, save for the one that had been on the alter.
The rest rose above their heads. Bones cracked and flesh tore and the things made a dome shape. A shield of meat and bones. It stunk. It sent stale blood and dirt and rock dripping on the heads of those protected under its dome.
A drop of blood hit Twain on his furrowed brow, dripping down the side of his face. The necromancer did not notice, remaining in deep concentration.
The snow hit the castle, which shuddered and broke under its momentum.
The bone-dome cracked and creaked... for a sickening moment it bent inward as if it were about to break. Yet, it held.
The snow continued past the castle, knocking down its remaining towers, and fell down over the cliff.
The wave of energy gone the mountain side became quiet. The dragon roared in triumph. She saw the castle buried. She thought that they were all finally dead. She took on last look at the kill zone, before flying away.
They were not dead, under the bone-and-snow bubble were the survivors. The dragon-fire still lit the chamber. Twain lowered his hands.
"Take that mother nature!"
The place only had half a ceiling, and the structure was quite fragile. It was amazing that the thing was still standing.
Sure it was all well and good that most if not all in the party got to the chamber-of-the-sacrifice, but, would the castle walls hold up against the thick wall of snow? Doubtful.
The leader of MERCY could not hope for the walls to hold up. He was doctor and necromancer...
... And there were an awful lot of dead bodies around.
He stepped away from the group and raised his arms, closing his eyes.
The avalanche was already shaking the foundations of the castle, but now, the ground around them was suddenly shaking and vibrating even more...
... Or at least, the bones were.
The bones flew up from the ground. Most the bones still had flesh dangling off them, some were somewhat whole skeletons, others were just parts, they flew up into the air. They flew from the fires, from under the stones, from the evidence bags, every dead bone obeyed the will of twain.
He moved all, save for the one that had been on the alter.
The rest rose above their heads. Bones cracked and flesh tore and the things made a dome shape. A shield of meat and bones. It stunk. It sent stale blood and dirt and rock dripping on the heads of those protected under its dome.
A drop of blood hit Twain on his furrowed brow, dripping down the side of his face. The necromancer did not notice, remaining in deep concentration.
The snow hit the castle, which shuddered and broke under its momentum.
The bone-dome cracked and creaked... for a sickening moment it bent inward as if it were about to break. Yet, it held.
The snow continued past the castle, knocking down its remaining towers, and fell down over the cliff.
The wave of energy gone the mountain side became quiet. The dragon roared in triumph. She saw the castle buried. She thought that they were all finally dead. She took on last look at the kill zone, before flying away.
They were not dead, under the bone-and-snow bubble were the survivors. The dragon-fire still lit the chamber. Twain lowered his hands.
"Take that mother nature!"
@Lord Zee My literal reaction to your last post.
"OH SNAP!"
Everyone in the computer lab gave me weird looks.
"OH SNAP!"
Everyone in the computer lab gave me weird looks.
[Iratze]
"Yes. I remember the war of Prime. I remember all the wars. I remember you in each one, the most brave and valorous of all... " Iratze stood before the god of hatred...
... There is a story the humans tell, a folk tale, about a mouse and a lion. There are many folk tales and mythologies among the mortals, none that exactly describe the gods as they actually existed, but there is certainly inspiration at the heart of many tales. The story of the Lion and the Mouse is a very simple premise. In the jungle the largest creature is the Lion, fierce, no one can approach him for fear of his rage and anger. The smallest animal is the mouse. In the end, it is the mouse that is able to find the thorn in the lion's foot and calm the savage beast...
...That story may or may not have been about Iratze and Amos in this very moment...
The smallest god and the mightiest faced one another now.
"I see you now... And I say this with all my heart: I bear no hatred toward you."
"You, are my oldest friend. I have known you since your birth."
"You and I both know that death is not end for any human. Indeed, their bodies lay here as empty fleshy husks, but their souls move on to the underworld..."
"They might be sent to hell by the earth: A tsunami or flood. They might be sent to hell by ill luck: A heart attack or slip on the steps. They might be sent to hell by one another... If they should be sent to hell, instead, by the great sword of a mighty god they should be honored."
They could not go to the underworld and ask they dead if they felt honored or not to be killed by a god. That privilege belonged to Brontes, and Brontes alone. The underworld belonged to him, and he was the only one who could go to and from that place at will.
She envied the dead humans then. They could cross the worlds, and she could not. She looked upon the bodies sprawled out behind Amos in a bloody trail. She felt deep deep sadness, deep deep loneliness, deep deep envy.
They could do what she could not. Iratze used to dance between the worlds.
But the humans, lucky as they were to experience a fraction of her old power, could not return from the underworld.
Iratze wondered, if she had known she were to be trapped in one world, which one should she have chosen?
"Shall you continue to fill the coffers of the underworld with souls, or, shall you put down you flaming sword... just for a moment... I can not, nor do I wish to stop you in whatever quest you deem worthy... But beg you for a moment to take pause and palaver with me. I am your friend and loyal messenger, and I always will be, Amos..."
She swallowed hard, wondering if she would be smote or ignored by the god of anger in his enraged state.
@Lord Zee indeed. I had an exam yesterday, sooooo was forced to wait. I'll have something up later.
I'm really sad to say this guys but life's getting pretty hectic for me and I'm afraid I'm going to have to pull out.
Hopefully it wont be for too long or at least this lovely rp will still be going when I get back
Well, until then hope you guys have fun, see ya later.
Bummer!
Good luck!
Return when you can!
Thanks for everyone's post! I'll post soon!
Not gm but to answer the question... Our characters can be inspired by out influenced by deities but need to be original. :) mine is like that.
Good idea ^_^
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