Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26545936-20180604200157

( Faida, Star of the Show)

"Come with me! Sigarda lies to the-"

Thrown...

Thrown across worlds, spiraling deeper into places founded and matched with others...

What hope ye have? In which hope runs rot?

Be warned, Angel of Herons, the sweetest taste this world brings is one of sinful temptation and bitter lies concocted by the jealous and brooding.

Clattering to the ground with a fierce crash, a winged humanoid can be seen being tossed out of a green-white flash of light a few feet above the ground. What can be seen first of this being are their wings, unatural looking with no feathers to speak of, but with stretched blue and pink skin that looks a bit like 'webbing' for a similar creature. Five tendril-peusdopods droop from each wing and lay limp with this being's prone position.

There is a groan... a female one, coming from it, now a her due to being correctly idefintifed. Armor plates being sloughed off like flesh off the bone, and leaving her in a simple white dress barely holding together. Long blonde hair that seemingly dyes to pink at the tips blocks her sight as she lifts it away with her right hand.

Pink pupils take in a forested swamp of sorts, though more forest than swamp is what it appears to be. Not what the girl has remembered as can be stated by her confused expression and the question that lines up out of her throat.

"W-where... am I?"

Before she can fully process this question, she feels something drift by her neck... something slimy and thin, but bendable... than another... and another.

She spins her head around to look at it, and see, sprouting from her back are a multitude of pink, purple, and blue tentacles wafting in the air. As well as that, the wings that she doesn't remember having in the first place.

Memories flooding back to her, Sigarda, Innistaid, the humans she swore to protect, vampires, werewolfs, the undead... eldrazi... Emrakul.

We are Emrakul

We are Emrakul

Are Emr-

The angel goes wide-eyed and starts vomiting profusely, a thick purple-blue blood-like liquid spills from her throat. Sobbing pathetically in the middle of this, as the rest of her mental corruption is literally evicted out of her body via vomit. Though it does take three long painful minutes.

After that is all said and done with, a name helpfully comes to her...

Faida, the former Angel of the Flight of Herons, gets up unsteadily on her feet, balancing herself on a slightly bent tree she picks a direction to the north and starts walking there...

Not... very fast. 