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Edged Horizon

Nephenee was attending to Chad with Mr. Abe. He was alive, thank god, but the Mauritanian maid could tell her old acquaintance was in serious shape. She was no combat medic, but she knew enough of medicine that his arm was broken and his ribs likely in a similar condition. With Jeremy Eiberzental – who preferred to be called informally as Abe—the pair was able to get Chad up and his arms around their shoulders to get away from the hellish battle that Yazu continued to conduct. But they had barely moved a meter when it hit.

The first shot came expected, but unexpected nonetheless.

It soundlessly sailed over their heads.

It missed, by some miracle, hitting the ground some meters away in a deafening explosion. The shockwave that followed nearly knocked Lyra off her feet. She could hear nothing but the ringing of her ears, and knew with a grim realization that the shots were likely supersonic.

The second shot fell closer to Lyra, and she could feel the sheer depressive power of each shot even through the relative safety of her shields. She heard nothing, but she saw –it had struck Yazu dead on. But she didn’t have time to confirm her death.

The third fell from the heavens, true to its aim. It struck the center of the battleground with a terrifying force, piercing through Lyra’s powerful areal shield like a knife cutting through butter.

The fourth came forth at a shallow angle, like a cruise missile, destroying what the third had not. But Lyra didn’t know it as fact, for she was tumbling through the forested area, courtesy of the explosion of the third lance.

The battle was ended. The participants no longer existed, eviscerated by the sheer impact force of the lances, like tungsten dropped from space.

-

Lyra awoke to the unpleasant taste of blood, dirt, and leaves in her mouth. She founder herself face-down on the ground, crumpled near a tree in an unflattering position. Sitting up against the tree, she spit out the unholy concoction as she attempted to get her bearings. Lyra came to realize that she was covered in a fair bit of blood, but she wasn’t particularly injured –save for the nasty spill she took—and she could only conclude it was somebody else’s. This was confirmed soon enough when she looked up at the tree, which was met in matrimony with the pulped corpse of a person.

“Ah...”

She was very lucky to be alive, and Lyra faltered a bit when she saw this. She could only hope the person was killed instantly by the blast and was not a victim of Yazu, dying in agony before the cursed influence of the elf.

Lyra knocked herself out of her own daze as she realized she was still very much in an active situation. She could see she was about ten to fifteen meters away from where she originally stood. Fallen trees obscured the area in which the battle occurred, but there was no doubt that anybody in the radius of those attacks did not survive. Further down the slope was what seemed to be the sole surviving trio of the fight –Chad, Nephenee, and Abe. They were resting against a tree, which seemed to have provided sufficient defilade against the attacks for them to survive. But there were at least four survivors, and there were only four shots. The enemy garrison was clearly after her as the centerpiece of the raiding party, but the ungodly powerful attacks had subsided. Why did they stop?

As Lyra pondered this, something in the background of the mountain ranges caught her eye. It was the capital city of Astopol, Koestace. But it wasn’t the city that was alarming, but a large, moving object some distance away from it. A massive rift-beast. She now understood why the attacks had stopped. Their assault on the prison was but a trifling matter compared to such a beast. Dealing with it was far more important than making sure some heretic was kept locked up in jail.

The rift-beast was not in a distance to affect them yet and Lyra and whatever was left of her group was no longer a priority for the Astopolian garrison. Despite the setbacks, despite their losses, and despite the gruesome deaths, Lyra realized they might actually have a chance at accomplishing their original goal.

Lyra dusted herself off and pulled the twigs stuck to her hair away. Nephenee’s little group was in no shape to continue, so she suggested for them to return to the airship crash site, with the expectation that any other potential survivors would do the same.

She would continue on and attempt to find Rilolia and Vance, and decide what to do from there.

Welcome to Beacon Academy: A RWBY RP

Posting to express interest.

Endless Worlds: Scarlet Fragments

Still waiting on collab.

Endless Worlds: Scarlet Fragments

Waiting on Tatsua for collab. ; ;

Endless Worlds: Scarlet Fragments

Could be worse, there's the Borg.

Endless Worlds: Scarlet Fragments

Tatsua Aiisen said
You know, you can collab with me even if I'm sick. Just last night I wasn't in the best position.I don't understand.

Alright.

I'll try to start something tonight or tomorrow morning.

...Trying to take advantage of the crappy housing market situation in FFXIV right now. c:

Endless Worlds: Scarlet Fragments

I wanted to collab with Tatsua but she's sick, so I suppose I'll put Tetora on the ground and post up with Jerome as soon as I can.

Endless Worlds: Scarlet Fragments

I think very few people would be.

Endless Worlds: Scarlet Fragments

Made a small post with Tetora. Probably gonna collab the rest with Tatsua~

Endless Worlds: Scarlet Fragments

Tetora was a simple person. She disliked politics. She disliked work. She would rise late in the day and would do nothing but laze around. She would eat her three square meals a day, and then bum off to read a book or go sleep. That was the nature of Britannia’s princess. But while she was lazy, she was not spoiled; she was wise enough to keep herself in check and not waste herself away eating pastries. There were responsibilities to uphold as a member of the royal family, but she was the fifth in line to the throne. Therefore, she never asked for this. It was beyond her, annoying, inappropriate. Inaction was the right choice for her when the King disappeared; the fifth in line had no business in the complicated politics of a ceremonial head of state. But her elders squandered their opportunity. They lost the favor of the public with political blunders. The people were outraged. It almost caused a civil war. Without lifting a finger, the people began rallying around her. And Tetora was unable to do anything about it.

A month later, she found herself on a plane to Copenhagen as a head of state.

Tetora sighed. The incessant, droning sound of jet engines was starting to get to the young princess. For a person used to being pampered in a large, quiet, and comfortable manor, the cramped quarters and loud noise aboard even a spacious private jet was bothersome. She had been told by the pilot that the plane was a Boeing Business Jet, the most state-of-the-art and accommodating travel arrangements money or influence could buy. It had a range of 12,000 kilometers and could fly at 900 kilometers an hour, more than triple the speed and range of the best airplane in Europa. She agreed that it was kind of cool, but being told fascinating things about her method of travel did little to mitigate her discomfort.

She rolled around on her bed in her comfortable pink pajamas, hugging her pillow. She could faintly hear her set of advisors arguing about something in the next room, probably regarding the nature of her security detail. Jerome himself had telephoned her directly informing her of the security arrangements; two girls from the 501st, an elite, independent military wing within the UDF, would be accompanying them to the diplomatic proceedings. She had yet to meet them, but they were from Europe and were supposed to be very good at their jobs, more than the so-called Special Forces that the advisers were bickering about. Tetora had already approved of the detail, so she keyed the intercom, telling them to “Please, be quiet.”

The electronic screen on the desk across from her bed made a soft chiming sound, indicating that they were probably nearing Copenhagen.

She realized she should probably get dressed.