Nib

Betwixt the Eternal Light

You're welcome, Renny. I don't think you will be.

Betwixt the Eternal Light

I'll extend a tentative "Welcome Aboard".

Betwixt the Eternal Light

I believe we still are. Sun hasn't mentioned anything about closing off submissions.

The Prophecy

Sorry for the absence, everyone, but I'm having real trouble finding the motivation to write for this RP. This is a wonderful RP with a great group of players and a fantastic world built by Jack, but as I said I am having trouble finding the motivation to write for it, so I regret to say I will be departing it. I apologize for an inconveniences I may have caused.

Betwixt the Eternal Light

The Broken Crypt

On he went through the strange, deathless land he was trapped in. The forest was far behind him now, but the mountain never seemed to get any closer. His feet were chafed and raw from walking for… how long had he been walking? Long enough to deplete his once pitiful food rations; now they had gone from pitiful to nonexistent. He hadn’t died of hunger yet though. His waterskin was also significantly lighter than it was upon his first awakening. He had been able to ration the water to just wet his mouth once it became too dry to breath normally. It was uncomfortable business, but it kept him alive for now. His head pounded from the limited water he gave himself, and his vision was blurred at times. His steps were even becoming clumsier as he walked on.

Artimus was his one beacon, his one attachment in this world. She floated overhead upon the wind that never blew, watching over him. She never seemed to tire, only landing when he could collapse to peck at him to get back up and continue on his journey, if it could be called that. With her, he was able to draw strength enough to continue toward the ever distant mountain… or was it a castle? He had stopped caring, but the question would resurface while he walked as a sort of game he would play to while away to time, if time even existed in this place. If it was a castle, maybe he would find people willing to help or people like the knight that had put a sword through his chest, the scar of which stood out against his flesh through the tear in his shirt. It was a mountain, what then? He could scale it, and then maybe there would be a lush valley on the other side filled with food and water.

He shook his head; he couldn’t let his thoughts get ahead of him. He must stay alert in this land in case another hostile soul like the rusted knight came after him. For the first time in… for the first time since he left the forest behind, the hunter came to a halt without collapsing to the ground. He looked around the area he found himself in; it looked like a graveyard filled with busted and moss-covered headstones. Small lamps blazed at the other end of the cemetery. Suddenly alert, Rook hefted his crossbow up and made his way toward the lamps as quietly as he could. As the light from the lamps bathed them in their luminescence, he could see the few remains of animals and humanoids alike that poked out of the graves or littered the ground.

Shaking off a cold shiver racing up his spine, he continued creeping toward the lamps. He came upon an ancient-looking crypt with the doors hanging askew and crumbling; the light belonged to two lanterns that hung on either side of the broken doors of stone. Rook approached the doors slowly and did his best to peer down into the crypt, but the dark was as thick as ink and impossible to see through. Carefully, he reached over and pulled one of the lanterns free and swung it out over the first step in an attempt to see down into the unknown, but the void was only punctured enough to see down to maybe the ninth step of the stairway.

As if the light illuminated his own thoughts, Rook suddenly remembered an important detail, not of his life before but of this new land he had overlooked in his state of mindlessly wandering toward the castle on high; he was being followed, but by who or what? A creature of the night perhaps, on with wicked claws that would snatch the skin from his bones with a single, lazy swipe through the air? Or perhaps it was the Rusted Knight come to kill him once more for crimes he knew nothing about, but he would not totally deny the possibility of being innocent of them, as he could only remember a handful of distorted memories of who he was before. Now that he was alert enough to think, he peered back into the void of the broken crypt.

”Maybe I could go down and find a place to hide and ambush whatever is following me? Though, it’s hard to tell what I’ll down there.” Looking away from the crypt, Rook set his eyes on his beloved bird; she sat, roosted on a nearby headstone. With a shrill whistle from his dry lips, Rook signaled for her to take flight and circle overhead. With a flutter of wings, the hawk took flight and began circling the lonely graveyard and her master. Rook turned back to the crypt, only now noticing what was left of carvings around the doors in the light if his lantern; there were all sorts of skeletal figures ground down from age and time in gruesome scenes of dragging people away or skewering them on pikes. Ignoring the ghastly images, Rook stepped into the abyss, comforted only by the circle of yellow light that enveloped him.

Step by broken step, Rook made his way down into the heart of the crypt. His cracked lantern shed light on the narrow walls that seemed to close in on him; the skeletal figures here were not eroded with age but stood out as if freshly carved into the ancient stone. Perhaps he was descending into Hell itself, escaping from the limbo of the above world. It was difficult to tell how long the staircase stretched on for, much like everything in this timeless land. How long had he been on the staircase now? Was he stuck walking down these broken stairs for eternity now? No, he had to keep what wits he had left about him and think… He was being followed, and he would find a place to hide and ambush his pursuer, whatever it may be. Then, his lantern shone light on an opening along the wall of the endless staircase; the opening was large enough to permit him to squeeze into it and be able to steady his crossbow slightly under him. Perfect.

With the mind of a practiced hunter, Rook made the lantern look as though he had dropped it a few steps up from the opening and then crawled into the wall with great effort. He twisted around in the opening so he could see out onto the stairs, his boot kicking against something solid that was definitely not the wall. With another great amount of effort, he twisted around to look behind him, finding the opening went far deeper than he originally thought and that he was not its only occupant; there was a cracked and battered skeleton of some other poor soul near the end of the opening. Rook did his best to push the remain back away from him and squeeze further into the short tunnel and then twisted back around to take awkward aim out at the stairs, more concerned about his pursuer than exploring it fully at the moment.

Corrected & Connected

Fair enough, Viet. Got rid of "Escape Artist" and replaced it with "Open-Minded".

Betwixt the Eternal Light

I will try to have a post up no later than tomorrow.

Corrected & Connected

Roleplayer Sheet

Roleplayer Sheet:

Age: 19

Frequency Online: Usually daily at least to check up on threads.

Responsibilities Offline: Full Time college student with homework and classes Tuesday to Thursday.

Favorite tv show or books: My favorite TV show is a three way tie among Arrow, Supernatural, and The Flash.

Why do you like to write/RP: My favorite genres to RP are Fantasy, Sci Fi, and Post-Apocalyptic.

Character Sheet

Corrector Profile:

Name: Harper Welkins

Alias in the DgtWld: Oculus

Age: 24

Average Appearance

Corrector Appearance

Weapon of Choice: Oculus has chosen barriers as his choice of weapon in the Digital World. With this ability, he can materialize barriers that look to be made of many small hexagons purple in color within a range of fifteen feet from his position or closer. He can also control the size and thickness of the barriers he summons and has recently gained the ability to summon multiple walls at once, being limited to keeping around ten walls up at once. It takes him a moment of concentration to summon these barriers, being able to summon them for his allies as long as he stays back from the action of battle; the more barriers he summons at a time, the more concentration he needs. The barriers themselves can last as long as he can concentrate on keeping them up, this concentration being stretched if he summons more than one at a time. Because of this focus in defense, Oculus is open to attack and does not fair well in open combat with others, leading to him staying back or above the group.

Cell Phone

The screen is holographic and is not always present; the color of the screen can also be changed depending on the user’s preference. When the screen is not present, the two solid pieces are connected, but slide apart when the screen is active. To activate the screen, the user must press their thumb to the print scanner on the same side as their dominant hand.

Personality:
(+) Cunning: Oculus is exceptionally clever and cunning, being able to formulate and implement strategies quickly.
(+) Reading People: Oculus is talented when it comes to reading people and their intent.
(+) Calm Mind: Oculus is able to quiet his mind and remain calm in most situations in order to think of ways to keep his teammates safe.
(+) Open-Minded: When it comes to others' beliefs or opinions, Oculus is rather open-minded about them and will consider them alongside his own instead of outright rejecting them for a farce.
(-) Paranoid: Oculus is rather paranoid of most people and situations, causing him to be distrusting toward others as well as be overly protective of his identity in the Digital World and use a voice masking program when he is present in his Corrector form.
(-) Obsessive: Oculus is also obsessive and will become attached to one thought and will obsess over it for who knows how long.

Time with Tokyo Sector: Oculus has been with the Correctors for two years.

Background:
Harper was born in the year 1998 to wealthy parents; a father at the head of a company dealing in computers and a stay at home, trophy wife mother. As a child, he was given every luxury but was kept at a distance from his parents and put under the care of various nannies of different ethnicities. Nothing of import can be said of Harper’s early years. He spent them in luxury and comfort in the heart of London, his father being rich enough to buy him anything he wished, but not having the time for his family. Well into his teens, Harper attended various border schools of prestige.

After graduating high school a year early at the age of seventeen, Harper had his pick of the litter when it came to colleges; of course his background had a great deal to do with this as well. Of course with his father’s money, college was not really necessary as he could just wait and inherit his father’s company and money, but he chose to go and get a degree if only to keep his mind healthy. He ended up choosing a prestigious university of technology in Japan. There he studied computer science and programming. In college, Harper did his best to keep his past and money secret so he wouldn’t run into people only interested in knowing him for his father’s fortune.

By the time he graduated from college at the age of twenty-one, the new models of cellphones and the MChips had gained popularity throughout the world, and people were logging onto the DgtWld. The world seemed to finally be at peace. With his degree and connections, Harper was given a job in the branch of his father’s company located in Japan writing new programs for all the new tech being pumped out into the world, and he was at least content with his lifestyle if not a bit bored by it.

After working at writing the new programs in phones and computers, Harper was approached by the Government to join some secret team known as the Correctors. He was told he was chosen for his talent and skills. Wanting a break from the monotony of his life, Harper accepted almost immediately. After downloading the special app for his phone, Harper began his training and became the Corrector Oculus. His skills made him a suitable candidate to run the defenses and strategies of the team he joined. It’s now been two years since Harper joined the Correctors. He’s learned to work well with them, but he does not fully trust them.

Betwixt the Eternal Light

Got a post up. Hope it's alright.

Betwixt the Eternal Light

The Rusted Knight

After waking in this strange land, Rook had made his way through the forest and rested at a smaller stone that once could have been a shrub of some kind to drink a small portion of his water and eat a scrap of dried meat from his pack after feeding Artimus as well. After the short rest, he had began his trek through the forest yet again with Artimus watching over him from above.

Along the way, Rook spotted something in the distance and instinctually fell into a crouch behind a tree, signaling Artimus to land. The hawk landed on one of the stones a few feet from her master’s position. Rook leaned out carefully, examining the shape he saw; it wasn’t moving and seemed to hold the shape of a hare. The taste of salted meat made its way back into his mouth as he pulled his crossbow up to aim at the small creature, but he hesitated and then lowered the bow. It would be a waste to shoot it when he could just Artimus swoop down and kill the unsuspecting animal for him. So, with another signal from her master the great hawk launched herself from the stone and dove down at the hare, talons bared.

Her talons struck out as she neared the small animal, closing around it in preparation to scoop it up in one fluid motion. It would have been a beautiful and graceful kill, but her talons struck stone. The force of the hit sent the hawk spinning head over bottom to the ground away from the stone shape. Rook threw caution to the nonexistent winds and came out from his hiding spot and ran to the hawk. He crouched down next to her and began examining her for any injuries, but she seemed to be fine, other than a bruised ego and some slight disorientation. The hunter stroked the head of the hawk to comfort her when something moved behind him, unseen and unheard as his full attention was on the wellbeing of his companion.

Something in the shape of a man pulled himself free from one of the stones, breaking pieces of rubble from his arms and shoulders. He was clad in what once must have been polished mail, but now the mail hung in rusted portions about his dilapidated frame. He stepped forward and leaned down to grab hold of the piece of stone Artimus had attempted to kill and pulled it free of the ground below; it was but the top piece of an old helm in the same condition as the thing’s armor. Sliding the helm over his scarred features, the rusted warrior pulled what was left of a claymore from its sheath.

The sound of the age-old remnants of sword sliding from the haggard sheath is what caused Rook to turn from Artimus. With a mighty swing, the rusted warrior swung his claymore at the hunter. He attempted to move out of the way of the blow, but wasn’t fast enough; the sword cut into his arm and sent him rolling across the ground. Rook had barely pulled himself into a crouching position when the warrior charged him down, screeching, “You stole her! You stole her! She was mine! Mine!”

The rusted warrior kicked Rook square in the chest as he charged, slamming him into one of the stones. He brought his rust-caked sword to Rook’s throat and stared him in the eye. His assailant seemed to be in so much pain and confusion. He made to pull the blade across Rook’s throat, but Artimus soared through the air and struck out at the knight’s head, screeching and clawing. Rook took the opportunity to regain his footing and pull the axe free from his belt. He ran at his attacker and swung the axe at it wildly, but his blow was caught by a portion of armor still clinging to the berserker. With a lucky flail of his arm, the rusted warrior sent Artimus away and aimed another swing at Rook, who was able to narrowly duck under the blow, but his wound was taking its toll and slowing him down.

“She was mine,” the warrior screeched again before slamming its shoulder into Rook’s chest and toppling him over. He made a grab for his axe, but the warrior stomped down, hard on the hunter’s wrist. He heard a sickening crack come from his wrist; it had shattered under the weight of the armor-clad foot of his crazed attacker. The warrior twisted his foot over the wrist painfully and knelt down so he was face to face with his prey. Rook could now see the man’s face once again and the pain behind the eyes barely visible behind the helm of rusted steel. The warrior pressed his face closer to Rook’s and whispered, “She was mine. You… stole her.” There was the sound of metal cutting through air, a sharp pain in his chest, and then nothing.

He awoke with a gasp, taking in sweet air and filling his lung. He sat up quickly and looked around. He was alone in a circle of stones resembling trees, no not alone; a hawk fluttered down and landed on the ground next to him. She nipped at his finger affectionately. Artimus, she was the only thing he knew in this land. Other than her, he just had flashes of scenes from what must have been his life before this place. With a groan, Rook stood and began walking again, intent on getting out of this strange forest of stone.

”How long… how long have I been here? A week? No way of knowing. I just have to keep going. This forest… or whatever it is goes on forever. Am I going to end up like that… thing? How am I still here? It killed me, ran its sword through my chest. The rip in my shirt is there. I still have Artimus,” his thoughts beat against the inside of his skull relentlessly as he trudged through the forest of stone. His footfalls were slow and measured as he tried to walk with as much grace and softness as he could muster, not wanting to alert anything nearby of his presence. Artimus soared through the air overhead, ever watchful over him in this strange land. He kept his crossbow loaded and ready at all times now, ready for anything that could live in the place he found himself in. It was impossible to determine how long he’d been walking through the stone forest after he had awoken there.

He came to a halt next to one of the trees of stone, looking out over the land beyond this forest at long last. Looking out at the unknown land, he swore he could see something on the horizon. A mountain maybe? Or a castle? No way of knowing unless he made his way there. It was better than wandering through the forest of stone.