Riven Wight

Shackles of Revenge

I feel like you stepped up your descriptions in that post! Fantastic!! Just remember to put descriptions of people as well as the environment! I know you have a profile for Jason, but to keep in practice, I would recommend pretending we don’t have those to go off of. In your typical, printed story, the reader doesn’t normally have the luxury of a character profile or reference picture. And when they do have an index of characters, having to go to that every time a name comes up can take away from the story. Personally, because of that, I like to keep in practice of adding descriptions and occasional reminders even in a roleplay. Just a suggestion! With that said, I hope you don’t mind me adding that description. I did my best to go off his profile, but let me know if I got anything wrong! And bear in mind it’s described from Ava’s POV.

Pardon all the mistakes. xD The info is a rough draft. Just thought I should get that up there as soon as possible. Thanks, and glad it all made sense, nonetheless!

That we did about her parents. To get into the Community, they would have had to be either a brown/gold rank, have known a high-ranking Society member who owed them a big favor, or come from a famous family who inherited their home there. So while there would be very few orange and white ranking members living in Lion's Ridge, there would still be a few of them. I LOVE the idea for Jason! If we’ve talked about it, remind me: how new to the community are Lydia and her parents? That could potentially play a decent roll in things for her as well. Relationship and reputation wise, as well as how much she actually knows about everyone!

So, for the kids of hunters, I’m thinking that they do not technically have a rank, but often get associated with whatever rank/occupation(s) their parents are. They cannot officially join the Society until they have graduated high school or, in other countries, when they turn somewhere between 18-20. What rank they go into right off—if they choose to join the Society—depends on two things: any current reputation they have as a youth hunter (the more known they are as being a good hunter, the higher they can start out), and any recommendations from higher-ranking hunters. Though, lineage can also play a factor; if their family has been apart of the Society for multiple generations and all have been high ranking, there’s the possibility they will start out a little higher on the food chain depending on their overall abilities.

As a side, a reason there are hunters out there NOT apart of the actual Society is because the Society implements rules and keeps track of everything. Hunts embarked upon without the direct request have to be reported to a community overseer (and proof brought back if the hunter(s) is not held in the highest standing and honesty in the eyes of the overseer), even if the hunter is not apart of a community. That’s how they get their pay. That overseer gives these reports to one of the light blue ranks of their community. One of the jobs of the light blue’s is to keep track of monster sightings within the general area to watch for patterns and fluctuations of different types of monsters. Hunts done outside their direct area get sent to a community closer to where the hunt took place, a task usually delegated to one of the white-ranking hunters.
Basically, the non-Society hunters hate having someone above them breathing down their necks, telling them what to do, and having to do other jobs on top of hunting. Pretty much all but the brown/gold hunters have other parts to play besides just hunting. All are hunters, their rank demonstrating exactly how good they are at that, but the brown/gold are those who are good enough to be deemed full-time hunters. Even those who are mostly supports to the official hunters go on the occasional hunt.

Not sure if any of that will even matter in the long-run, but… sound good?

I’m going to put Ava’s associations on her profile, but thought I would also mention it here for convenience's sake. Depending on how new Lydia is to the community, she would likely know this, too. Her mother is a brown/gold rank and her father a dark blue (thinking one of four in Lion’s Ridge because of the community’s size). Her grandfather was a red before he died during a particularly nasty hunt a couple years after she was born, and grandmother a once renowned purple. That Ava doesn’t have the desire to continue that legacy—instead wanting to play one of the more supportive roles—has gotten her plenty of crap from other Society hunters, kids and adults alike. Especially when they make the connection between her surname and a few other historical reds.

Shackles of Revenge

“Excuses!” Ava called through a laugh. She looked over her shoulder, checking Lydia’s distance from her. She slowed slightly, giving the other girl time to gain some speed and close a bit of distance.
She turned down the streets, her legs working from a lifetime of memory. She spared the mailboxes quick glances, predicting the names and lion-head crests on each one before she passed. The crest of the hunter’s Society, most of them blazed brown outlined in gold with a few greens, grays, and the rare purple spattered about.
When they turned on Jason's street, orange crests became dominant among the smaller houses, some crests split into two different colors, often between orange and white. Some of the residents liked calling the block the Orange District, the couple handfuls of lesser-ranking colors in Lion's Ridge gathering around the smaller houses.
Ava spared a small terrier a quick glance as the dog started barking at her with the bravado only a small dog could muster.
“Hi Ponchy! Bye Ponchy!” she called as she ran past, making the dog bark more frantically as it struggled against the leash keeping it inside the yard.
Ava slowed her pace slightly as she neared the end of Jason’s house. She glanced behind her. Noticing Lydia had stopped, the colorful girl slid to a halt. One of her flipflops nearly flew off and the other’s strap dug irritatingly between her toes.
Ava turned around and crossed her arms, grinning. “Of course you do. Such perfect timing, dontchya think?” She trod back toward Lydia, a thin layer of sweat glistening on her brow and breaths heavier than normal.
She slipped her thumbs back into the pockets of her jean shorts as she stepped in front of Lydia. She opened her mouth to say something, but the ungodly cry of unoiled machinery cut her off.
She looked to the Bennett’s garage as its whining plea for mercy stopped. Her light expression turned into a scowl as her gaze fell to a boy around their age standing inside the garage. His body and a bulging bag of garbage partially obscured a motorcycle parked carefully beside a convertible with its top down.
Ava sighed quietly, then gave a light, one-shouldered shrug in a silent, ‘Oh well.’ Her face returned to a more casual expression as Jason Bennett addressed Lydia.
Taller than the girls, he finished his duty and strode toward them with the leisurely stride of an overconfident moron. His worn leather jacket hugged him just right, showing off the muscles of a teen boy who had hit the gym too often.
The look Lydia shot her only made the red-head's grin return.
“How sweet of you to notice me, Bennett!” she answered him with an exaggerated, mocking excitement.
Ava’s brows rose when Jason leaned against the mailbox, making her wonder if he was the cause of its crookedness in the first place.
“Sorry. Not a fan,” she answered the boy, no hint of apology in her voice. She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward. “But I bet Lidy would love to see it!” She cast Lydia a knowing smirk, a taunt in her voice that only a true friend could successfully pull off. "Wouldn't you?" She blinked up at her friend with the innocence of the guilty.

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Margen gave a proud yip at Ghent’s compliment, its electrically fuzzy chest puffing with pride. The fox watched Ghent and Elayra interact, returning Ghent’s stare.
Elayra looked at Ghent quizzically at his reference to Jenga. With a slight shake of her head, she focused back on the pack. She opened one of the smaller pouches at its front and pulled out a small box with a flame shape burned onto its scorched lid. The blueish light of the orbs made the bits of white wood visible between burned patches appear to glow.
She scowled at Ghent and his question about tying up Drust. She glanced to her guardian, who still slumbered peacefully on the lush grass beneath him. At least one of them was getting some sleep. She almost envied him, her eyelids heavy and body begging for rest.
“He should be fine here,” she answered uncertainly. “But I have some rope in…” She trailed off when she noticed Ghent’s work with the wood. “Seriously, Featherhead? Have you never gone camping?”
She abandoned Drust’s pack and stepped to the firepit, interrupting Ghent’s work. She placed the small box on the ground, then quickly spaced out Ghent’s Jenga mess, creating a cross-work of logs with a gap in the center.
With a content snort at Elayra’s intervention, Margen stood and trotted toward the edge of the clearing. He stopped and looked around at the sound of his name. He let out a conflicted whine at Ghent’s request. His ears shifted back and his tail lowered fractionally as he glanced between the woods and Ghent.
The fox suddenly perked up with a bark that sounded like a canine’s version of an “Ah ha!” Margen padded to the large log Ghent had set aside and tapped his nose to its bark.
A wave of electric blue rippled over the wood, then condensed at one end. It glowed for a fraction of a second before blue and white mist burst from the tip, surrounding it in a glittering haze.
Margen gave a satisfied nod and whining snort. He tapped Ghent’s hand with his nose in a farewell, sending a gentle, almost pleasant tingle over the boy’s skin. The fox bowed his head to his paws toward Elayra, then turned and disappeared into the night.
Elayra’s face twisted in a snarl as Ghent finished voicing his concerns. “I trust him more than I trust you!” she growled, too drained to even consider stopping her emotions and words from colliding into a massive ball of frustrated mush. “At least he’s not a frightened, whiny toddler who can’t even stack wood for a fire!”
Drust stirred at her volume, shifting and groaning as the sleeping mist wore off.
Despite her defense of the man, Elayra shut her mouth and flinched away, a hand moving to her sword’s hilt.
“Get the rope from my pack,” she snapped, her words clipped angrily. She spared Ghent little more than a glance. “Think about what you want from it, and it’ll make it easier to find. You do know what rope looks like, right?” she added with a disdainful snort. “Course, braided strands?”

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Elayra snorted and her brows rose in a silent, ‘Sounds about right.’ Her expression hardened as her muscles tightened in preparation for another attempt at standing. She used Ghent’s offered arm to help get herself on her feet as he, too, rose. She added her weight to his slowly to avoid pulling him down with her if he was not fully prepared.
As soon as she was on her feet, she released his wrist. She fully straightened. Her head gave a fierce throb and the world spun around her for a second. Grinding her teeth, she reached out for Ghent’s shoulder to keep from stumbling back to the forest floor.
She took a deep breath as the trees stopped wavering. Once again, she released him and tenderly prodded the back of her head. She winced when she found the beginnings of a bump forming beneath her hair.
“Fine,” she growled to his question, unsure if her frustration stemmed more from being knocked out, having a lovely lump growing on her head, or that she had needed Ghent’s—Ghent’s!—aid.
She glanced to Ghent, scowling at his next statement. “Oh, really?” she began, her voice thick with sarcasm. “I hadn’t noticed. Thanks for reminding me, Featherhead.” The expression deepened as the older boy continued. “I said I’m fine!” Alas, an unconvincing waver in her voice lessened the conviction she had wanted.
She gasped and reached for her empty scabbard as a whining keen pierced the night. Anguished, echoing shouts of the fallen warriors weaving about the trees joined it in a crescendo of agonized despair.
Ghostly forms wisped in and out of existence, flitting through the night. Yet, they did not venture as near as Elayra expected.
Taking a steadying breath, she carefully went to her discarded sword and dagger. She replaced them in their sheaths. She heaved a deep breath, realizing exactly how naked she had felt without her trusty weapons at her side.
In the lull in his duties, the tichari contented himself with digging through the vines and grass, pouncing on any shadow that moved. Margen looked up eagerly at the sound of his name, his milky eyes watching the boy expectantly.
Using the light of the fox’s mist-bed, Elayra collected Drust’s pack as Ghent gave the tichari the thumbs-up. Holding it in her better hand and being careful to not throw herself off balance, she placed the pack on the unconscious man’s chest. The magic bed glittered a bit brighter for a second at the added weight, then returned to its gentler glow.
The fox gave an excited crackling yip in understanding at Ghent’s gesture. It twirled around, its bushy tail leaving a swirl of crackling sparks in its wake. With little more than a quick glance to Elayra, the fox bounded ahead. Each step brought him a little higher into the air as if climbing an invisible staircase until it leveled out at the height of Ghent’s chest.
The fox’s glowing form swayed lazily onward. Spirits lurking ahead of him rushed in streaking flashes to move out of his way, giving him, Elayra, and Ghent a wide berth. The bed of mist floated behind him, carrying Drust. Bushes and weeds bent out of the way of the fox’s magic only to spring back into place once the cloud passed.
Elayra’s gaze lingered on Drust for a moment. She took a deep breath when Ghent followed after the tichari. She stepped beside Ghent and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder to make him pause.
“Thanks,” she muttered toward her shoes, not wanting to look him in the eye while admitting she had needed his help in more than just getting to her feet. “For… well. Stopping him,” she nodded toward Drust, “from putting my lights out. Sooner,” she added bitterly.
“Don’t get me wrong. You’re still a spineless oaf,” she continued, ruining the awkwardly sentimental moment, “but I’d say that was a decent step in a good direction. Horrible stance aside.”
She gave his shoulder a quick, firm pat then hurried to catch up with the tichari. She watched her feet, carefully picking her way around the blanket of vines draping over patches of the forest and hugging many of the trees. The tichari’s light turned their path into an eerie mix of shadow and blue-white light. She walked slower than normal, her feet still a bit unsteady even without the plant life to worry about.
As they walked, Elayra listened to Ghent’s account of encountering the Betwixt. She interrupted only once with a shocked, “You met an actual Guardian?”
Despite Smaya’s promise to him, Elayra still could not help but flinch every time one of the spirits got too close. She even felt the negative emotions reduced around her, their nagging sensations less biting than before Ghent spoke with Smaya.
The temperature dropped fast, the dead sucking even the warmth from the trees. Elayra shuddered, her breath beginning to leave her nose in puffs of fog.
Thankfully, led by Margen, it did not take them long to at last find one of the coveted Safe Zones. Without the tichari, Elayra had the sinking suspicion their journey would have ended in Hollow Forest.
The trees gave no indication of letting up, their trunks and the spirits seeming to go on forever with no reprieve. Then, she took another step after the electric fox, squeezing between two bushes that had parted for Drust.
Without warning, the forest pulled out in front of her like stretching taffy. The darkness of the woods and Margen’s glow merged into one mass of bleeding color. As quickly as it had begun, everything snapped back into place like a rubber band breaking.
The disorienting effect made Elayra gasp and stumble forward. She reached out for a tree—or Ghent, should he stand closer, balance intact—but missed. She fell to her knees at the edge of a clearing that had not been there a second before.
Forgot about that, she thought with a shake of her head. She glanced up at the sound of a startled, metallic yelp.
A second tichari stared at the newcomers from the opposite side of the clearing. It watched them for a moment, its ears larger than Margen’s. Lowering its head, it dropped a stick it had carried in its mouth, tucked its tail between its legs, and dashed toward the trees. A trail of mist more white than blue left a short imprint of its sprightly form behind it.
Margen let out a commanding bark as he trotted toward the smaller tichari. The other ghostly fox slid to a stop and turned its attention to its superior with a soft whine.
The two shared a quick conversation of barks and grunts. The smaller whined again in protest, but the sound cut short when Margen gave another demanding bark.
The second tichari let out a snort, glittering mist rising from its snout, but nodded. It bowed its head to its paws, then zipped off into the trees.
Elayra glanced around the clearing, searching for any other unexpected guests.
No more than four yards in circumference, the circular clearing remained otherwise empty. A circle of stones surrounded a fire pit at the clearing’s center, its innards charred from long past use. A stack of wood and kindling waited a safe distance from the fire pit. The grass grew lush and short as if someone had come out with a lawn mower.
Best of all, the gut-wrenching emotions of the forest had completely vanished the moment she crossed into the Safe Zone. Even the wails and screams of the ghosts sounded distant, their forms little more than oblivious, blurry wisps outside the small pocket of safety.
Drust’s glowing bed floated closer toward the fire pit. It slowly parted down the middle, letting him drop to the ground. The Knight groaned and stirred, but did not wake.
The remaining mist formed into four large balls of light. They hovered around Drust for a moment, then streaked upward toward the dome of leaves creating a canopy above them. They hung there, creating a connect-the-dot box. They glowed and pulsated with tiny, nerve-like lightning, illuminating the clearing with their eerie electric blue light.
Margen turned toward Ghent, his head and tail held straight and proud. It let out a quick, content yip at its job well done and nodded toward the fire pit.
Elayra glanced from the tichari, to his lights, to the pit. Understanding, she nodded her thanks to the fox then got slowly to her feet. With her pack still under Ghent’s supervision, she knelt cautiously by Drust.
“Know how to stack wood for a fire?” she asked Ghent as she pulled the pack from Drust. She kept a wary eye on the man, unsure whether the tichari had undone its sleeping spell yet or not.

Through the Doors of our hearts - Finished

So, so sorry! Insomnia ended up kicking my butt. Was a lunatic zombie for a while there. At least no one lopped off my head. Well. That I know of. Could be a ghost post, I guess. If things go as I hope, I plan on working on a response for here this weekend!

Sorry again! Hope everyone's doing well here! ^.^

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

No worries! I reread before I brought that up and realized I could have worded my part a bet clearer as well, thus wanting to make sure. Something to always remember about a roleplay: no matter how many times you edit a post, it is all still a first draft. When you edit a post (or something you just wrote in a first draft), it's usually immediately or soon after you write it. What you thought or wanted to say is still super fresh in your mind, so you're more likely to read it the way you want to, not necessary the way it is. On the other hand, when you edit other work (or a second, third, or one-hundredth draft), typically you want to let it set for at least a couple days so you can better separate what you had meant from what you put, and catch more mistakes... and get over the pride and/or excitement over having written something. Those can cloud editing abilities. So know you should never feel bad about something like that! That I look at RPs as one big, fun first draft is one reason I don't get nitpicky with posts, and only mention more reoccurring, overarching issues/mistakes I may notice. After all, first drafts are never as clean as they could be.

Yep, you're definitely a writer! Fear really is such fun to write for. We're such horrible people. But I'm pretty sure that that comes with being a writer. I mean, you heard those prologues from the big-names the other day! xD
You phrase things in amazing ways more often than you think, it seems! If I was reading your posts printed out, I'd be using a lot of green tabs (for short descriptions I love and want to remember, typically two-three words long), pink tabs (longer descriptions I usually have to reread just for the pleasure of reading them again), and blue tabs (quote-worthy phrases)!

Thank you! I'm glad you like my humor! xD I'm never really sure if something will be perceived as funny, cute, or just a part of the scene, so I'm glad you find that in there. As I've probably said (multiple times, knowing me) I don't consider humor to be one of my strengths. It's one of those things where if I find something I write amusing, I have no idea if anyone else would. It goes pretty much like this:



Quick addition: I added those links to the pictures to Elayra's profile! They're under "Weapons."

A Land of Wonder and Nightmare

Elayra’s shoulders sank with a sigh of relief at Ghent’s reassurance he had not used magic. One less thing she had to worry about. For the span of a breath, a shocked awe returned to her face at the impossible thought Ghent had subdued Drust without magic.
Maybe he’s not so useless after—
“Margen did.”
She blinked at him, confused. She opened her mouth to ask who Margen was, but quickly put it together. Her awe was replaced with a disappointed frown.
So much for that. Her gaze shifted to Drust, the gentle, steady movement of his chest just visible in the light of the cloud beneath him. She nodded as everything finally fully fit into place.
“Sleeping mist,” she muttered. A mild magic even the Knight could shake off once broken.
She glanced to Ghent when he spoke. “Smarter than you look, Featherhead,” she growled at his prediction.
She pulled her other leg in and tried to stand, Ghent’s sigh sounding in her ear. She inhaled through her teeth when the shift in weight at fighting against gravity sent a spark of pain down her back and made her head throb harder. She fell back the few inches she had managed to rise. She leaned back against the tree trunk, glowering out into the forest night.
Elayra closed her eyes for just a moment as Ghent spoke again, her teeth clenched. She opened her eyes and looked to the hand he offered.
“Since when do you know how to take initiative?” She tried to offer a small grin, but it came more as a grimace. Without waiting for an answer, she grudgingly reached out with her better arm and gripped his offered wrist instead of hand for a more secure hold.

The Destined Ones

Thank you! Thought it was fitting. And a good song in general. ;-) If you find anything you think would fit better, don't hesitate to let me know! I love finding new music. Oh, and did the invisible text work for you?

Sorry for not getting to an actual IC post yet. Ended up getting sick for a little over a week. I'll try to get started on one a.s.a.p.! Thank you so very much for your saint-like patience. I appreciate it. <3

Through the Doors of our hearts - Finished

Down sick right now, but will get a reaction for Ryker once I return to my normal wellness levels!

@Kirah: Ryker is still unaware the other students came from other worlds, so Elenore's comment to him would not make full sense to him. Perhaps make him suspect something, but not fully realize anything. Not sure if that was intentional or not, so thoght I would bring it up just in case!

Shackles of Revenge

Okay, so, I ended up starting on writing up a detailed info bit about the Lion's Ridge Community, and linking it with the "hunter's society" thing we talked about. It's not done, but I put what I have so far in that reserved post. Wanted to get what I had up since it would be something Lydia would be in the know of, and make sure you're okay with the whole, "only the best hunters or hunters who know someone can get in" thing. Let me know what you think? I kinda got carried away, so I apologize. It's all mostly just ideas and totally open to change if you have any ideas or don't like any of it! I added the colored insignias because I thought it would be a fun little touch for them to be spattered around the community, like displayed on houses or mailboxes and whatnot to denote what rank lives where, if they have any kind of standing in the LRS.

For a fair warning, I haven't read back through it yet to make sure that it all makes perfect sense, so if you have questions, let me know, and expect typos as of yet. Heh.

Oh, and I could use some advice on the header. I was indecisive and put together multiple text colors to the insignia (put "crest," but "insignia" is more accurate, I think, so will switch that later). Putting them in a hider below, including the one I used. Let me know which one you like best, or if you'd rather any colors changed!

Hider

Hey, about the reason for the section breaks, some forms of writing require a definitive, "Next Scene" statement! Like screenwriting. Each scene has to be marked. If they go from one room to another, you mark it as a new scene. Was yet another reason I'm never writing another screenplay. Anyway, just not usually as useful for the same purpose in typical prose writing. xD

Well, "then" shows order. I don't think I've noticed you over-using "then." I'll keep an eye open, too, if you'd like, all the same. And because now I'm curious.