Eisenhorn

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan had been ruminating on the initial words of Dame Yael as they had entered the woods, on not splitting up, while considering the situation at hand. Without him, he suspected Dame Yael and Ser Caulder would not be of much use in tracking such a beast, and even after making good speed back to the Captain, waiting on all the others to arm, ready, and head out would be painstakingly slow. He initially wanted to spend time researching that, but the more he thought on the matter, the more leaving the trio to their fate felt less and less sound of an idea. Ser Gerard invoking Reon's guidance was almost ironic, given him questioning the entire effort of leaving to return and report to the Captain. Assuming she was even there, which was a sobering thought he had not considered. What if they struck out to investigate a rumor that came up after they departed? They would not be so foolish as to simply wait for them to return, not when the Duke's mind lay at stake, and returning to no one would be even more of a dire waste than waiting on them to arm themselves and depart. At best, he would be meeting up with the trio before they found trouble, at worst he would be chasing their trail alone. As the trio left, he stared at the trail back out of the woods before shaking his head and turning to tail the other three, muttering quietly under his breath.

"Reon's guidance... I'll explain myself later."

---

Rolan had taken to shadowing the trio rather than simply announcing himself straight away, old habits kicking in as hunter's instincts took over. If the Aessyr was to be believed they would sense the abomination far before it struck, and it would go for the more obvious pickings. By this point he had unslung his crossbow, readying a bolt out of earshot of the three before moving to track them once more, the clearing with the white tree in the middle an odd sight to him. Tall and proud, no doubt as tall and proud as the owner of the grave it marked was, at least that was the story told about heroic last stands and sacrifices. Always proud and eager to give all for the sake of the many, and thus another story to keep folks going was born. Nothing wrong with a good story, even if it was no doubt embellished, a more faithful man might consider a silent request for blessings against what lurked in the dark. Alas, Rolan was no such man of faith, and let his thoughts continue onwards as the Aessyr guided them all deeper into the wood beyond.

The air felt wrong, in a way that he was all too familiar with, though he couldn't put it quite to words yet. The fact it was ringing familiar in a part of his mind was disconcerting, incredibly so, but as the darkness grew and the shadows stretched, he found himself holding his cloak just that bit tighter about him. An old habit, ward off the unknown with the familiar, plus a good cloak could keep a lot away from what was beneath, but from the edge of the approach to where the Aessyr indicated he watched, listening intently, and it finally clicked why this was so familiar. The air itself hungered, a feeling he had grappled with in his youth when the hunts went poorly. Mother and son sparing an aging, unwell man the struggles of an empty stomach, and a pit of hate briefly gripped him before being pushed back down. He couldn't let the atmosphere get to him, he had to keep alert for the beast should it decide to strike. What it decided to do was reveal itself, something no natural predator would do without striking as well.

Had Rolan any hope left it was just a particularly ill omened, but still natural, creature it would have been dashed then and there. He hunted beasts and men alike, and had taken a grim satisfaction in hunting some truly unpleasant people down and collecting the bounty on their head before he had ever crossed paths with the Roses, and none of that would have ever readied him for the thing crawling down. Bigger than a horse, emaciated like a victim of dire famine, and its maw was ringed with more teeth than he considered existed in all the mouth's he had seen in his life. The human hands did not help his revulsion at the sight of the thing, but duty called all the same, and it was time to announce his presence to the other knights, that they did not stand alone. Even if he was alone to reinforce them, and no doubt Ser Gerard would recognize the all too familiar sound of Rolan's crossbow as it fired, the heavy thrum almost deafening in the hungry air.

"Open its foul guts, free the Aessyr, then we can give it all the steel and fire it can stomach and more." Rolan kept his usual tone and demeanor, pretended to at least, as instinct and training was taking over. He would die a happy man if he never had to put eyes on something like this again, but he suspected he would not have such a luxury going forward. Still, he had work to do, and that was something that he could understand and focus on. His shot was aimed for one of its pinprick eyes, let it dine on pain and blindness. If feeding on the living was not enough to sate it, he would gladly give it all the steel, flame, and alchemical compounds he carried with him, but that came after they did what they came here to do. Assuming the friend of the Aessyr survived the emaciated cage it currently was trapped within, but that was a problem for after they opened its guts to check.

@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR

Wardens of the Glade: A Light Fantasy RP

---

What a festive, and ever so crowded, time to be wandering through the streets of Atutania. He had been forewarned by the mercenary mentor of his, Dame Garnnett Riese (or Teach as she had required until their parting), that he would have to move with a sense of purpose to make it through the streets in a timely manner. How right she had been, the throngs celebrating the very order he was seeking out, and the hero that started all of this. He knew the history, no one who considered themselves even slightly versed in the historical texts of the world wouldn't be at least familiar with the saga, and why it was so greatly celebrated. At home it was a much more muted affair, at least in his household, recognizing that for all the heroics, it was Giellnal that had associated with the catalyst. Some, like his sister, celebrated the triumph, others such as his father remembered the misdeeds, but that was neither here nor there. Both were long behind him, it had been an exhausting trek to make this year's trials on time and in good order. Riese had seen to that, more than once awaking to a steel tipped sabaton in his ribs to pack, they marched at dawn. Compared to the jostling crowds and sheer noise, however, it was a small nuisence.

It was not hard for Toma to make his way to the proving grounds, anytime he even felt like he was drifting off the path it only took a slight question to get immediately shuffled off the right way. People here were all too willing and cheerfully able to guide would be initiates to the proving grounds, something that did not take nearly as long as he would have feared. Quite the line had already formed, mind, but experience and practice kept them moving at a very brisk pace. Truly an eye opening variety of people here from just about every walk of life imaginable to him. He could have swore he even saw a pitchfork shouldered somewhere ahead of him, and if someone wielding such an implement of...'destruction' could make an honest attempt he felt slightly better about his odds already. Before long though, he was already being questioned by one of many attendants processing the influx of would be wardens.

"Name?"

"Toma, of House Morriss."

---

"You sure you want to snub the old lord like this, lad?"

Toma was stuffing his pack, his mentor and teacher for the past year and a half leaning against the doorframe of the boy's room. His older sister was waiting out by the servant's gate, only her and father had the keys to leave the estate at this time of evening. Lady Morriss was also present, a thin smile on her face as she watched her youngest pack what worldly belongings he saw fit to take with him. It wasn't much, clothing, a few journals, and enough coin to make it on his own if things did not work out for the best. Toma, glancing back at Dame Riese, resisted the urge to scoff. Last time he did that he had bruises for weeks from the intensive training he had gotten in return for such a thing. He was ambitious, not foolish, however and replied quietly, as if expecting his father to be waiting for him to vocalize in no uncertain terms his plan.

"I will not wait for him to talk down to me again as he allows me to depart under my own terms. He won't raise a hand to Mother or Sis, and I heard how he treated the last Morriss to depart like this. Wasn't it you that said that waiting to strike is how you get struck?"

Dame Riese cocked an eyebrow briefly at the boy's return of an early lesson she had beaten into him, mostly literally, but it proved that for all the scholarly knowledge and Morriss stubborness, he was paying attention the whole time. She glanced at Lady Morriss, who was funding this last part of her contract personally so that Lord Morriss could only complain so much, who shrugged idly as she stood and walked over, embracing her youngest son one last time. She was confident that, much like her middle son, she would not see him again. Not in a way that she would know, and would not let Toma go like she did the last. Not without one last hug, and a whispered few words of encouragement for him. She would not let him falter and be mistreated like her second child, even if it meant braving the anger of her husband. Especially if it meant that.

"Dame Riese will see you to the edge of the Grand City, that is as far as she is willing to go. I ask not why the limit, but if you cannot make it through such a pleasant place I fear all is already lost. Go do the Wardens proud."

A quick squeeze of a hug in return, and Toma slung his pack over his shoulder. Even something so utilitarian in design still had the hallmarks of a noble's make, something that would not be so readily escaped until he was truly gone from this life. Dame Riese led him out of the estate proper, having already ensured the guard patrols would not be in their way. Nothing that would brand her criminal, but extra wine rations worked wonders in making overworked and underappreciated guards willing to overlook a late night stroll. After all, they didn't see who it was that was leaving, and if they did, well, they knew better than to tempt the wrath of the lady of the house. It was not a long walk to the back gate, the servant's exit that was locked tight by this time of evening. His sister was waiting, arms crossed, though she pushed herself up fully as the two approached.

"So that's it then T?"

"It was either tonight or put up with Father tomorrow. Don't let him do anything I would have to come back to fix."

That got a quickly stifled laugh out of Toma's sister, who gave him a rough hug before unlocking the gate and letting the mercenary and wayward brother off the estate grounds. The longer they travelled before making camp, the harder it would be for Lord Morriss to track them down. Toma swore he would march until the following dusk, something that he would quietly, but not verbally admit, regret ever saying. Dame Riese took him at his word, and they were long gone before Lord Morriss awoke. Long gone by the time he realized his wayward son was gone and beyond his final reproachful reach. Not that Toma would know what transpired next, with Dame Riese driving his march, he would not be given the luxury of missing his appointed time to reach the Grand City of Atutania. No mercenary worth their coin would allow any less to occur, no matter how taxing it was on the boy. He would have time to rest before the day of trials itself began, that would have to suffice for him.

---

"...Suffice indeed, may we meet again under better circumstances Teach..."

Toma had been given instructions on the layout of the while his mind raced through the past, something that he had been catching himself doing the past few days. More so than he had the entire trek here, and with a nod of gratitude he set himself onto the proving grounds proper. He was almost immediately offered some piece of candy, something he politely but firmly turned down. Old habits and all, but he wouldn't put it past someone to taint treats for the sake of an edge in the trials. Rather he saw some working through the training dummies, going through martial drills with their chosen weapons. He could do that, certainly, but there was nothing flashy or eye catching about his method of wielding a flanged mace. Dame Riese saw to that, flashy got you killed, eye catching got you killed faster. Good for soldiering, bad for standing out, so he continued walking the proving grounds, passing the archery targets next.

That would not be a terrible idea, Toma was much more dangerous and stand out with his magic than he ever was with a mace. Hurling barrages of frigid ice shards down range would demonstrate strength and precision of magic, as well as longevity in his reserves, but that alone would not be enough to prove himself in one smooth motion. Of course one could argue that it was not the point of this whole contest was not to simply prove oneself in a single attempt, but Toma could not shake the need to stand out in a notable way. That left, of course, the practice ring in the center. Greater risk, especially since sparring with unknown quantities could lead to him being horribly embarrassed, but he would sooner stand tall in the ring than simply swing at inanimate objects. After all, an inanimate object would never prove anything other than 'yes, this person can hit something that doesn't fight back real hard', and that would never suit someone like Toma. So he entered the practice circle, leaving his pack on the edge of the ring. He spoke clearly, letting his voice carry naturally, to all who might be nearby.

"If anyone wishes to spar, I would welcome the opportunity. Far better way to shake off the stiffness of a long trip than swinging at dummies." Toma had his mace in hand as he made his open offer to anyone willing to take him up on his offer while, in the interim, he started going through the training regiments and practice drills that had been not so figuratively beaten into him. A form of 'fighting one's own shadow' as he went through blocks, deflects, turning momentum into strikes before resetting his stance and resuming again. It was a good way to warm up, and he hoped that anyone who took him up on the offer only saw a cocky noble with a glorified stick who thought too highly of themselves. Of course if no one stepped up to the offer he would have to consider his options from there, but perhaps a willingness to face the unknown in such an offer would be worth something in its own right.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan considered the situation as it was presented. Divide their already limited numbers, so that two may return to the Captain and inform them of what was going on. The idea was all fine and well, however, without a landmark or destination, just saying 'we should return to this particular point in the path' would be no better than simply abandoning them to the wood. Of course, he did not have the chance to bring up the fallacy of this consideration as Ser Gerard resumed questioning the Aessyr and continued repeating himself, at least he had the patience to repeat himself over and over as needed. One advantage of heading back as the messenger might be in that he could have a few moments of hastened research and preparation while the Captain rallied the rest of the knights to march out and form a single, cohesive band. That would loudly announce themselves, intentionally or not, and keep an intelligent hunter well and truly out of sight of them. That being said, it had to be done all the same. He would have suggested he go alone to return to the Captain but they finally got more information out of the fae.

That Sleep place would not have done them any good if it wasn't for Ser Caulder being far more direct than the others had been so far, getting the name of a local place of importance. Now then, that was a far better idea to meet at a local landmark, and strike out from there. That was something they could work with, and he felt more confident about being able to relocate them again and proceed from there.

"That gives us a much more certain approach than 'return to this point in the path'. If we are agreed, I can depart immediately. Dame Yael, I leave it up to you whether you'd rather remain here or return with me." Rolan had no intent on forcing Yael to act contrary to any intent she might have in her mind. He would not insult her capabilities with a concern about her swiftness of foot, she would not be a member of the Roses if she was incapable. Depending on the agreement he would be ready to depart immediately. Retracing his steps is not difficult, but he could not let his guard down just because it was easy in theory.

@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR

Wardens of the Glade: A Light Fantasy RP

T O M A M O R R I S S
T O M A M O R R I S S

^{“When there's nowhere else to go, it's impressive how much suddenly becomes possible.”}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Toma is the youngest child of House Morriss, a minor family known for having aspirations and goals well and truly beyond their status. He would be raised as a servant to the heir of the family, but machinations would cause him to chafe and squirm under such forced expectations and eventually create a schism between father and son. He would be forced to leave to seek greater opportunity elsewhere, which suited him fine. Age: 18 Race: Human Nationality: Giellnalian Weapon of Choice: Flanged Mace Elemental Affinity: Ice Spiritual Affinity: Dark

C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ Toma of House Morriss was the most recent child born of the current lesser lord Morriss' current wife, lady Triss Morriss, who took to doting on her youngest while lord Morriss focused his attentions on their oldest daughter to prepare her for taking over for his position. His older brother, the middle child between them, was rarely home, having already elected to study and travel abroad on behalf of the family interests. As he was raised, Toma quickly realized how little room he had to advance. His older sister would inherit the title their father had, and with his brother almost never home, he realized that was by design. The family of House Morriss fell into one of two groups, by design, those that inherited the title or served in support of the heir, and those who departed to make their own way in the world in spite of this fate. Toma was initially raised to be the first, despite his mother's best efforts. He loved his books and learning, spending hours upon hours with tutors and scholars who visited on business with the lord of the house, who had time to spare while waiting for their meeting. Much effort was put into drawing out the latent magic of the youngest son, by both hired help and by members of the family. It was a badge of great pride that every member of the house awakened their powers early, and whether they would openly admit it or not, they would not tolerate a late bloomer. His studies turned into more and more rigorous and harsh methods, pushing him further and further in an effort to force him to awaken. He would, eventually, nearly freezing the tutor who was drilling him that morning alive. Fast thinking from his sister prevented this, her own use of fire keeping the ice at bay. A generous stipend bought the tutor's silence, though he would not teach at the house any longer. After this event magical practice was added to Toma's studies, as was the beginnings of maneuvering the politics of Giellnal, given the naturally paranoid and distrustful nature of its people this was seen as necessary. However, Toma was not quite the same after his awakening, his own mother quietly doing her best to sabotage her husband's efforts to have the perfect servant to the heir. Stories of the middle child's adventures, how this place had nothing to offer someone of his talents, specially hired tutors who could regale him with stories of life beyond Giellnal, beyond merely being the youngest in a long line of succession. By the time he was old enough to be seriously considered to start accompanying his sister on her political errands and maneuvering, he refused. This caught his father off guard, his mother feigned surprise, and his sister was relieved. It was her doing that kept his father from simply casting him out right then and there, and writing him off as wasted time and resources. Instead Toma would find a new instructor waiting for him just several months after his sixteenth birthday. A man-at-arms, mercenary soldier who had been hired to drill him for the next year and a half before he was given what belongings he would need and sent out into the world. Officially he was to see to the world's affairs and send reports back to the family, much like his middle brother was supposed to have been doing. He had not been faithful to this task, but that was of no concern to Toma. Rather, he would spend hours at a time, every day, being drilled. Initially it was strength building, putting enough muscle on the scholarly boy that he could fight, after that, it was combat. Perhaps out of spite, Toma would agree to the mercenary's suggestion that he take up the mace as his method of self defense. An inelegant weapon that many nobles that moved in the same circles as his family would be caught dead using, but one that suited the natural capabilities of Toma well. Initially he was forbidden from using magic to amplify his strikes, forced to learn the basics of fighting without magic before being allowed to mix magic into the mix, but by the eve of his eighteenth birthday he was as ready as he could be. Rather than wait for final orders and pointed glares from his father, he said a quiet, secret farewell to both sister and mother, both of whom he would miss dearly even if he wouldn't admit it. He would write to them, he promised, and he departed with the mercenary instead. They agreed, with a bit of bonus coin thrown in, to make sure he made it to Atutania, where he could participate in the open invitation to become an initiate Warden. His father's reaction to the last bit of spiteful subversion was not known to Toma, who focused himself on what was to come. Whatever happened was behind him now, from here on it was going to be his decisions, and his alone, that would shape his fate, at least that was what he told himself. C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N ________________________________________________________________________________________ Reserved ⬗ Strategic ⬗ Distrustful ⬗ Underhanded ⬗ Perceptive ⬗ Ambitious A B I L I T I E S A B I L I T I E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Toma is a competent scholar and wielder of magic, having been awakened at a relatively young age through significant trial and tribulation. Toma spent many of his mornings deep in various academic and historic texts and records, learning what he could of both the past and current events while he trained and practiced and trained in controlling and manifesting his magical powers. He has two broad applications of Ice magic, manifesting barriers and hazards to maneuvering around him as a method of defense, while manifesting varying sizes and forms of ice shards as his preferred form of offense. Whether using singular shards to strike key weakpoints, or blistering hails across a group, Toma is rightly proud of his capabilities in the Mana Arts. Driven on in equal parts by his mother's machinations, and his eldest sister's genuine well meaning intent, Toma received training under an experienced mercenary man-at-arms for some time before his departure from the family holdings. Rather than waste time on a blade, an art that requires much more time and investment than Toma had before his planned day to leave, he was instead trained to wield a mace with brutal efficiency. Lacking the elegance of other noble's sword skills, he makes up for it with a natural bent towards dirty tactics and empowered by his ice magic. Compared to an experienced soldier, however, he still has a great deal to learn, but he knows enough to protect himself and make himself useful in a violent encounter both with and without magical bolstering. Ultimately it is his intelligence and perception that are Toma's greatest strengths, however, as he turns the stereotypical paranoia of his home to advantage. He always expects and plans for trouble, watching and waiting for the first signs of danger, quick to respond to a situation with a spell, swing, or the rare barked warning. He is a quick study as well, eager to learn even after all the years spent studying before striking out on his own, and is often willing to give consideration to novel or otherwise untested strategies and techniques. Whether he embraces them or not is another matter fully, but consideration and flexibility are useful tools in his kit.

---

Wardens of the Glade: A Light Fantasy RP

A bit delayed, fashionably late if you will, but got the lad put together.

Toma Morriss

T O M A M O R R I S S
T O M A M O R R I S S

^{“When there's nowhere else to go, it's impressive how much suddenly becomes possible.”}

C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Toma is the youngest child of House Morriss, a minor family known for having aspirations and goals well and truly beyond their status. He would be raised as a servant to the heir of the family, but machinations would cause him to chafe and squirm under such forced expectations and eventually create a schism between father and son. He would be forced to leave to seek greater opportunity elsewhere, which suited him fine. Age: 18 Race: Human Nationality: Giellnalian Weapon of Choice: Flanged Mace Elemental Affinity: Ice Spiritual Affinity: Dark

C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y C H A R A C T E R B I O G R A P H Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ Toma of House Morriss was the most recent child born of the current lesser lord Morriss' current wife, lady Triss Morriss, who took to doting on her youngest while lord Morriss focused his attentions on their oldest daughter to prepare her for taking over for his position. His older brother, the middle child between them, was rarely home, having already elected to study and travel abroad on behalf of the family interests. As he was raised, Toma quickly realized how little room he had to advance. His older sister would inherit the title their father had, and with his brother almost never home, he realized that was by design. The family of House Morriss fell into one of two groups, by design, those that inherited the title or served in support of the heir, and those who departed to make their own way in the world in spite of this fate. Toma was initially raised to be the first, despite his mother's best efforts. He loved his books and learning, spending hours upon hours with tutors and scholars who visited on business with the lord of the house, who had time to spare while waiting for their meeting. Much effort was put into drawing out the latent magic of the youngest son, by both hired help and by members of the family. It was a badge of great pride that every member of the house awakened their powers early, and whether they would openly admit it or not, they would not tolerate a late bloomer. His studies turned into more and more rigorous and harsh methods, pushing him further and further in an effort to force him to awaken. He would, eventually, nearly freezing the tutor who was drilling him that morning alive. Fast thinking from his sister prevented this, her own use of fire keeping the ice at bay. A generous stipend bought the tutor's silence, though he would not teach at the house any longer. After this event magical practice was added to Toma's studies, as was the beginnings of maneuvering the politics of Giellnal, given the naturally paranoid and distrustful nature of its people this was seen as necessary. However, Toma was not quite the same after his awakening, his own mother quietly doing her best to sabotage her husband's efforts to have the perfect servant to the heir. Stories of the middle child's adventures, how this place had nothing to offer someone of his talents, specially hired tutors who could regale him with stories of life beyond Giellnal, beyond merely being the youngest in a long line of succession. By the time he was old enough to be seriously considered to start accompanying his sister on her political errands and maneuvering, he refused. This caught his father off guard, his mother feigned surprise, and his sister was relieved. It was her doing that kept his father from simply casting him out right then and there, and writing him off as wasted time and resources. Instead Toma would find a new instructor waiting for him just several months after his sixteenth birthday. A man-at-arms, mercenary soldier who had been hired to drill him for the next year and a half before he was given what belongings he would need and sent out into the world. Officially he was to see to the world's affairs and send reports back to the family, much like his middle brother was supposed to have been doing. He had not been faithful to this task, but that was of no concern to Toma. Rather, he would spend hours at a time, every day, being drilled. Initially it was strength building, putting enough muscle on the scholarly boy that he could fight, after that, it was combat. Perhaps out of spite, Toma would agree to the mercenary's suggestion that he take up the mace as his method of self defense. An inelegant weapon that many nobles that moved in the same circles as his family would be caught dead using, but one that suited the natural capabilities of Toma well. Initially he was forbidden from using magic to amplify his strikes, forced to learn the basics of fighting without magic before being allowed to mix magic into the mix, but by the eve of his eighteenth birthday he was as ready as he could be. Rather than wait for final orders and pointed glares from his father, he said a quiet, secret farewell to both sister and mother, both of whom he would miss dearly even if he wouldn't admit it. He would write to them, he promised, and he departed with the mercenary instead. They agreed, with a bit of bonus coin thrown in, to make sure he made it to Atutania, where he could participate in the open invitation to become an initiate Warden. His father's reaction to the last bit of spiteful subversion was not known to Toma, who focused himself on what was to come. Whatever happened was behind him now, from here on it was going to be his decisions, and his alone, that would shape his fate, at least that was what he told himself. C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N C H A R A C T E R I Z A T I O N ________________________________________________________________________________________ Reserved ⬗ Strategic ⬗ Distrustful ⬗ Underhanded ⬗ Perceptive ⬗ Ambitious A B I L I T I E S A B I L I T I E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ Toma is a competent scholar and wielder of magic, having been awakened at a relatively young age through significant trial and tribulation. Toma spent many of his mornings deep in various academic and historic texts and records, learning what he could of both the past and current events while he trained and practiced and trained in controlling and manifesting his magical powers. He has two broad applications of Ice magic, manifesting barriers and hazards to maneuvering around him as a method of defense, while manifesting varying sizes and forms of ice shards as his preferred form of offense. Whether using singular shards to strike key weakpoints, or blistering hails across a group, Toma is rightly proud of his capabilities in the Mana Arts. Driven on in equal parts by his mother's machinations, and his eldest sister's genuine well meaning intent, Toma received training under an experienced mercenary man-at-arms for some time before his departure from the family holdings. Rather than waste time on a blade, an art that requires much more time and investment than Toma had before his planned day to leave, he was instead trained to wield a mace with brutal efficiency. Lacking the elegance of other noble's sword skills, he makes up for it with a natural bent towards dirty tactics and empowered by his ice magic. Compared to an experienced soldier, however, he still has a great deal to learn, but he knows enough to protect himself and make himself useful in a violent encounter both with and without magical bolstering. Ultimately it is his intelligence and perception that are Toma's greatest strengths, however, as he turns the stereotypical paranoia of his home to advantage. He always expects and plans for trouble, watching and waiting for the first signs of danger, quick to respond to a situation with a spell, swing, or the rare barked warning. He is a quick study as well, eager to learn even after all the years spent studying before striking out on his own, and is often willing to give consideration to novel or otherwise untested strategies and techniques. Whether he embraces them or not is another matter fully, but consideration and flexibility are useful tools in his kit.

---

Wardens of the Glade: A Light Fantasy RP

Most excellent, once the CS is available I'll start putting someone together. Juggling a few possible ideas currently.

Wardens of the Glade: Interest Check

It's safe to say I'm interested so far, sure as sure. It'll be interesting to see how the magic system overall works.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

At the feel of a hand on his shoulder, Ser Gerard's, Rolan shifted back and let him be the more readily diplomatic of the two of them. Likely of the four, given the response to the offered pastry, he started musing on the information given thus far. Large, long legs, gaping maw, incredibly dark in coloration. He would have kept attempting to match it to wildlife he knew existed in the woods but the next bit of information took him off that train of thought completely. The things very presence spoiled the air, and its impending arrival was foretold by something being off in the area. Whatever it was seemed to be poisoning its surroundings by existing, and that was before it went around devouring things whole. An unnatural being devouring a fae might change matters, something Dame Yael seemed to clue in on before the protests and assurances of aessyr cut her off. Rolan started going through his supplies, taking stock and considering the circumstances. Alchemist fire was out, torching the aessyr trapped within was as good as letting it digest, he wasn't certain the caustic smoke bombs would do much more than blind the knights and cover for the monster. The poultices and supplies he had for treating injuries and ailments weren't worth a damn in a fight, and given the lack of enchantments or the like on his weapons, effectively wounding, let alone killing, a monster could prove tricky if it was resilient to mundane means. If.

"Under ideal circumstances I would take time to study what we know about this thing to properly prepare, before considering hunting it down, but if we are to do this, time is not a luxury we have. If nothing else, having something that taints the very air and surroundings it passes through wandering the woods cannot be beneficial to anyone involved." Unless they benefited directly from such things being spread, but if that was the case curing the Duke's affliction would be far more complicated than he had initially thought, and that was after seeing the actual farce going on back in the keep. At no point, however, had he agreed to go hunt this thing down, though he would very much rather do so at this point. They had their original goals in mind, after all, and it wasn't like they had set out ready to hunt something unnatural devouring fairies and tainting it's surroundings. Right now he would have to hope, should they set out, that it was susceptible to mundane means of wounding it, otherwise they would have to withdraw and replan.

"Not solely my decision to make however. Someone should at least inform the Captain and the others what has been found out so far, should we pursue this beast." Rolan knew where he stood at this point in time, even though he was still waiting on the aessyr to even answer where the beast originally was struck in the first place. Might be waiting for an agreement to help before leading them off the path, but that was a risk no matter what. While he was inclined to agree with Dame Yael on the unlikely nature of the aessyr's friend, he didn't comment on it in front of the as of yet living aessyr. It wouldn't do them any good to distress her further than she already was.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan glanced back at the voice as the fae rolled in, seeing the palm sized aessyr flit out after complaining about them not being proper knights in shining armor, or something. Technically only one of their number met that description, the one that chimed in based on past experience most likely. He himself did not pretend to have as much dealings with them as the others present, deferring to their expertise on the matter while considering what was going on currently. Apparently her friend got eaten whole, home destroyed, and the rest scattered. Big beast was just about as vague as one could get. Big for such a small fae could have been anything, from wolf to bear to anything else, and that was just assuming naturally occurring creatures. Fae involvement could lead to who knows what moving around the woods, though this was about as good a lead as any that they had right now. He didn't bring up that, by this point, this Enfys had probably been digested. It wouldn't accomplish anything, not really, so rather he asked a rather simple question. It promised nothing, but would help narrow down what they might end up hunting down. Assuming they wouldn't be poaching on fae territory, or accused of such.

"Can you describe the beast any further than just 'monster'? This seems to be the best lead we have, though I am concerned about being accused of poaching on fae territory." Rolan was blunt and to the point after his question, already thinking on hunting down this 'monster'. Tracking a beast large enough to swallow a fae whole, small as they were, in such a way as to not immediately kill the poor thing did mean it had to at least be on the larger side. A larger wolf, perhaps, and he was already running through his mind the most expedient way to track the monster down. He'd have to aim for the head, not ideal as he preferred the heart, but he did not want to risk a stray shot, even by a few inches, possibly perforating the would be rescued fae within the thing's gullet. Depending on the details of the so called monster, he could plan a better approach to bringing it down in one swift strike. Cut the trapped fae clear, assuming it yet lived, and then clean the rest of the kill to be returned for use.

Just because they hunted it for other reasons didn't mean he would not let the rest of the beast, whatever it may be, go to waste. Hide, meat, bone, every part of the kill was of value. Enough fur and he might reline the inside of his cloak, it wouldn't hurt to get his cloak in a bit better shape. Fae might be outside his expertise beyond how to avoid them, but hunting was right where he was most confident in his capabilities. Still, he kept a careful watch on their surroundings as he listened and planned, as it wasn't on him to make the decision quite yet. Though the old instinct of slipping off on his own to sort out the problem was in the back of his mind again, especially since Ser Caulder was about as well suited for hunting as a combined war party, but he had stated he wouldn't go wandering off without good cause. Tempting as it was, this was not good cause, not yet.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

"I'll not go roving alone without good cause. Slow going, but safety in numbers and all that." Rolan did not waste his energy with gestures, eyes already scanning their surroundings as they breached Brennan Forest properly. Dame Yael's suspected opinion of both Ser Gerard and himself was not lost on the hedge knight, though he was not exactly concerned with it even if it had been. The Captain insisted on a giant of a man in frankly overly gleaming armor that bordered on distracting, while lacking any ornate design beyond that. One almost wondered how long the man spent polishing the armor to get it to such a gleaming degree even in woods like these. Dame Yael, meanwhile, preferred a more practical armor that concealed much of who she was while remaining far more practical. Still far too much noise and metal for his tastes, but most knights did not need to worry about concealment and noise.

Once the search began in earnest, Rolan slowed his breathing and began focusing not on just what he could see, but what his other senses could tell him. Ser Gerard was sharp eyed enough alone that he felt confident in focusing on his other senses, not to disregard the additional two knights with them. He kept an eye out, but his intent was on the surrounding sounds, the noise of the wood, the feel in the air. Long years hunting had taught him that, if something strange was afoot, one of the first things to vanish was the sounds of wildlife. They would go to ground and hide first, robbing the wood of part of his natural sound, while the potential of the Fae meant that he had to take every sense into account rather than just what he could see. Cover enough of their possible signs of Fae and one was bound to slip through to their attention. Still, it was slow going, as a group tracking anything would go while maintaining a proper formation.

Of course, all the focus on listening and the like meant the sharp, abrupt scream for help was almost painfully clear. Rolan instinctively pulled his cloak around his left side, obscuring both knife, blade, and satchel packed full of his alchemical supplies. By design, he had ensured that his off hand could access any of them while obscured, to keep any observers guessing. His stance shifted, subtly, to one he could ready his crossbow off his shoulder at a moment's notice. No armor that he needed to worry about donning, so he could instead focus on Ser Gerard's instructions, naturally falling in line at the rear of their diamond formation. He turned his back on his fellow knights, turning to watch their flanks and rear instead. The three in front could keep a close eye on the one calling for help, but sparing one of them to watch their vulnerable flanks and rear while otherwise distracted would be wise.

"Following your lead Ser Gerard, keeping eyes and ears on our surroundings." Rolan spoke low and fast, barely loud enough for the others to hear him, ready to react to danger at a moment's notice. He did not spare thought or time to prayer, wasn't ever quite his style beyond showing due respect in a chapel on the odd times he passed through one. Rather he was considering the route back to safety, how to get there in a timely manner, various contingencies should this prove to not be what it appeared to be. The shouting could just be a distraction as well, little more than a ploy to get all eyes in the same direction so it would be easier to slip behind them, or in the midst of them even if all focus was elsewhere. Better at least one of them see the trouble coming before they get ambushed rather than the first warning of trouble was blades at their collective throats.