Eisenhorn

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan had to consider what he had gotten himself into as he worked to reload his crossbow, practiced movements and muscle memory carrying where the metallic screeching of a wounded...thing rattled through his very being. Like metal on stone, not the rhythmic sound of a whetstone on blade, but like a heavy hunk of metal dragged across cobblestone. The other knights, at least outwardly, showed no fear in their assault on the abomination, Dame Yael's slender blade driving hands back while Ser Gerard drove a large branch into its maw, forcing it upwards and exposing it to Ser Caulder's axe. Well, should have been exposed, but the clasping 'feet' of the Gannek, as the thing was so named, seemed intent on not making matters easy. More concerningly, another grasping 'foot' reaching down for Ser Caulder's head. No, that was not to be allowed, as Rolan shouldered his crossbow again, firing his shot at the leg going for the knight's head, aiming to pin it back against the tree or, at least, far away from anyone. Rather than immediately reload, he slung the crossbow in one smooth motion, hunting knife being drawn as he rushed forward, ignoring the senses telling him to keep as far from the thing as he could.

Rolan knew the rate of fire he could sustain would not be enough to drive back all the hands, and with the others committed as they were, Ser Caulder would be stuck simply trying to muscle past the Gannek's unnatural strength. Dashing forward low and fast, hunting knife in hand, he ducked forward in a lunge, aiming to cut deeply enough to cripple one of the legs keeping the heavy axe at bay. The sensation of hunger was, he was convinced, even worse this close to the thing, and rather than stay close and start putting his knife to work, he pushed off his leading leg after delivering a, hopefully, effective thrust to one of the legs of the Gannek, in an effort to create distance once more. Once gutted, and trapped Aessyr freed, they had to kill it. The thing didn't care much for his bolts, the shot to the eye that had caught if off guard proved that much, but plenty of stories talked about how fire and the like would melt such things away. He had plenty of fire, and even some more acidic compounds should fire itself not be enough.

Rolan didn't trust himself to speak or bark anything out, not that anything needed said, teeth grit tight as he began reloading anew, having put himself several paces behind the fellow knights once again. He worked from a kneeling position now, able to brace his crossbow better for a faster load. He would watch for opportunities, not willing to waste shots when one well placed one might keep his fellows from getting grabbed or worse.

@VitaVitaAR@HereComesTheSnow

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

To (also) aid in helping folks see how a potential group is filling out, figured I'd get my lad posted up for folks to see as well.

Pilot Dossier: von Brandt, Johann

JOHANN 'RHINO' VON BRANDT

D O S S I E R : I D #199157381

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Name: von Brandt, Johann
Callsign: Rhino
Rank: O-4 Lieutenant Commander
Kills: 32

Gender: Male
Age: 30
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 170lbs

S E R V I C E R E C O R D

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Psychological Analysis:
Johann is a casually friendly individual, though in a more buddy sense than anything else, adapting to the group he happens to be with to fit in better. He was a natural chameleon socially, fitting into a group with little effort. Many of his peers are generally positive about him, although the qualities they praise vary wildly enough that a big picture view shows he is always subtly tweaking how he behaves to fit in. As a pilot he is calculating, observing and acting with just more force than is apparently necessary. His approach to piloting and combat is that of observation, analysis, and once a course of action is decided, striking with overwhelming force to suppress a problem as fast as possible. He prefers to end conflict decisively and to not allow any threat to ever return.

Johann, in private, is much more solemn and pragmatic in demeanor. He entertains his disillusion with the overall war effort and constant arms race between the UEE and Coalition, having spent several years as a test pilot before returning to front line duties. He is concerned that, broadly speaking, both sides will remain stalemated forever, just continuing to drive up the body count and cost of life for what amounts to glorified political posturing. He won't share these thoughts outside of those he is incredibly close and trusting of, concerned that someone might simply report him as mentally unsound, even though he still believes that decisive enough action could end this once and for all.

Personal Record:
The von Brandt family are a long running, arguably prestigious military family. Generations of soldiers, pilots, mechanics, and more, practically every member of the family serving in the military to some capacity. Johann being the youngest son of the current generation of the family just meant he got to hear the constant stories and expectations of following in the family legacy. Growing up, Johann was practically trained ahead of time, getting informal briefs and drills from visiting family and relations returning on leave, when not busy receiving reports that certain members of the family had died in combat. It was not uncommon to hear, unfortunately, and a young Johann learned to not let it show that he grieved the losses. Rather, he would focus on preparing for a life in the military, likely in much the same peril and danger as the rest, and had very little of a normal childhood.

Sure enough, Johann would join the UEE military, though he would initially enter as a conventional pilot. He would quickly be tapped by family to act as a test pilot for a MAS program, putting his skills at piloting to good use. It was here that Johann earned the callsign of Bulwark, given his assigned MAS, the GMT-018 Secutor, was piloted and treated like a glorified wall, bunkering down and providing ample protection for his allies. Spending time behind the controls of a Secutor was an experience unlike anything that he could have ever imagined, and when his time as a test pilot ended, he volunteered to take the GMT-018 into actual combat situations and scenarios. There was some debate about the matter, but with some pointed words from family who had more sway than Johann, he was allowed to join frontline units as a MAS pilot, taking his Secutor into frontline combat.

Johann would become quite the career pilot, as far as UEE MAS Pilots are concerned, though unlike many of his more experienced peers he was not as concerned with confirming MAS kills. Rather, he focused on mission objectives and seeing to making sure that his less well protected allies had an anchor point to fight around. His method of piloting developed throughout this time period, strapping more armor and defensive systems to the heavy Secutor to become more and more of a target, by design. He got used to the hammering and pounding of incoming ordinance against his defenses, even coming to appreciate the sound of it as it meant his allies were not getting targeted. He would gain a reputation of putting himself in between allied forces and enemy forces trying to engage, one notable event including taking a Coalition plasma fire while screening for convoy forces during a patrol.

Johann, across his tours of duty, grew into more of a leadership role during combat operations. While he was never a formal squad leader, he had a knack for taking over during crisis scenarios and mid operation, providing what amounted to a seasoned NCO in a team. It was this experience and natural ability to backup a proper commanding officer that got him assigned to the 7th MAS Squadron to provide an anchor for the rest of the squad to rally around. Johann would take this with the same professionalism he approached the rest of his career with, ready to give the mechanics headaches given how many hostile strikes he takes during any given operation. He was happy to weather it though, for a good reason at least.

Johann was assigned to the 101st SOG as part of his second tour of duty, something that would bleed over into his third, where he would find himself being given a new callsign. Rhino, to reflect his ability to both take hits and dish them out during an assault. Johann took this new callsign as a mark of pride, wearing it proudly while serving alongside the 101st. It was only within the past year that he was assigned to the 7th MAS in specific, having been shuffled around various elements within the 101st as required, never settling long enough to establish close bonds with allied forces. His assignment to the 7th was treated as just another reorganization, being put where his talents and Secutor could serve best, but only time would prove how wrong that would be.

Personal Skills:
Besides the expected proficiencies, Johann is incredibly skilled at adapting and deploying experimental and obscure technologies. Having spent years adapting to and testing new weapon platforms, defensive and utility systems, and more, he is rather good at patching problems on the fly. While not as skilled at conventional mechanics, being able to make unusual combinations or systems work he is second only to the dedicated designers of the aforementioned systems and weapons. Beyond this, he is strategically and tactically minded, able to read a battlefield situation and offer, or issue, courses of action to maximize the survival and success of friendly forces. He prefers survival first and foremost, which shows in tactics favoring more defensive and cautious approaches, but he has a natural eye for identifying what allies are good at and deploying them appropriately.

GTM-018 Secutor

M O B I L E A R M O R S U I T

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S P E C I F I C A T I O N S

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Designation: GTM-018 Secutor MkI* L (Limited)
Role: Multirole, Fire Support
Weight Class: Heavy
Description:
The UEE Secutor is one of the last of an older line of Heavy class MAS units, originally designed to act as a "Universal" Heavy class MAS. Initial design issues stemmed from powering the amount of armor in place, the original MKI design being especially susceptible to burning its power plant out when under extended combat loads. The MKI* design uses the reactor plant of the MKII model of the Secutor, while retaining the lack of standardized loadout that was abandoned by the more standardized MKII that saw a short lived service life compared to the MKI and MKI*. The MKI* was quickly updated to a Limited production model and repurposed to a weapons testing platform first and foremost, while still seeing use in combat operations by test pilots who brought the design with them from the testing fields. As such, they have a reputation of being a bit of a shock model of MAS given the unusual nature of its deployment compared to more modern UEE designs.

The Secutor's design pushes the standards of the Heavy class MAS, especially when taking into account pilot tendencies to double down on this armored durability by adding even more onto it, though the power plant was more than capable of keeping the MAS moving at speeds capable of being classified as a Heavy MAS, with excess power for weapon platforms and additional systems to be bolted on for testing purposes. Johann has personally seen to a variety of modifications being put in place, including the aforementioned uparmoring process that was incredibly popular among Secutor pilots. This particular model includes a veritable suite of redundant systems, spare parts, and repair modules that allows him to repair damage that manages to get past the numerous layers of defenses. Adding to those defenses, a Class 3 Reflex Energy Shield allows the Secutor to weather truly torrential volumes of incoming hostile fire before critical, point of no return failures begin occurring. Even then, the Secutor was built with Fail Forward philosophies, records of the models in combat scenarios showing that, even during catastrophic failures, weapon systems continuing to cycle until total failure of the power plant.

A R M A M E N T

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• MAC-011 Ballistic Assisted Railcannon System, 170mm (Superheavy): A modified version of a conventional specialist artillery platform for siegecraft, the MAC-011 BAR System is a MAS portable platform repurposed for fire support and countering Coalition extreme threats as mobile suit technology continues to develop and evolve. A conventional ballistic weapon platform, the MAC-011 is a, for a former siege weapon, surprisingly flexible platform. Capable of utilizing a variety of shell types, Johann tends to tailor his shell loadout for a given mission, though he always has several HESH shells available as a personal reserve. The initial acceleration comes from conventional methods, accelerating the shells into the coils that magnetically launch the already high momentum of the shells to effective combat velocities for non static targets. While not as energy intensive as Hybrid or Plasma weapons, it still draws much more power than conventional ballistics, though recoil is less than what one might expect. The ammo stowage of the HAS-011 is its main limiting factor, though dedicated space on the Secutor normally needed for energy system routing for a superheavy weapon has been repurposed as shell stowage for the HAS-011. Shells stored in the torso of the body, in a carousel loading system, allow for about 20 shells total before needing replenishment. Mounting for the MAC-011 is just offset of the spine, though rather than over the shoulder, the entire system swings up under the armpit of the right side of the frame, requiring both hands of the frame to control and assist in reloading the system when the weapon platform is deemed necessary. However, one hand is sufficient for holding the weapon deployed when close defense is needed.
• M81 Rotary Autocannon (RAC), 30mm (Primary): - Mounted to the right arm of the Secutor, the M81 RAC is one of several predecessor designs to the more contemporary M90 deployed on more modern MAS units. Sharing the same ammunition as the M90, that being Armor Piercing Incindiery, the M81 boasts a higher rate of fire at the cost of overheating. It was the overheating problem that led to the more conventional M90 design, however on the Secutor entire ammo feed system is stored in the arm and right leg of the unit, the shielded ammo belt visible when deployed, the gauntlet folding back to expose the five rotary barrels. Ammo stowage on the M81 RAC sits around 1440 rounds, though the overheating does prevent it from taking advantage of the higher rate of fire. In a pinch, ammo from the M81 can be given up to allies with the M90 or other compatible weapon systems and vice versa.
• PG-01 Plasma Gauntlet (Primary): - The designers of the PG-01 looked at the prevalence of beam swords and other conventional CQC weapons, scoffed loudly, and designed this as a rather loud rebuttal towards more conventional close quarters weapons. Mounted to the left arm of the Secutor, the PG-01 is a massively reinforced combat gauntlet, deploying over the normal manipulators and charging between strikes. Without the plasma conduits, the PG-01 is still capable of heavy amounts of kinetic damage, but when the Plasma channels are activated, it briefly becomes capable of rending smaller MAS units apart in sundering backhands. While incapable of bringing down other Heavy class MAS units in single blows, and the required recharge time between strikes limiting the destructive capabilities of the weapon in protracted melees, it is a capable self defense weapon for the platform it is mounted to.
• Vanguard Close Defense System, 20mm. (Secondary): - The latest in a long running weapon design that has seen a battery of tweaks and modifications, the Vanguard CDS is a universal close range defense system that deploys from, and retracts into, the right shoulder of the Secutor. Entirely self contained, the 20mm autocannon is loaded with SAPHEI (Semi Armor Piercing, High Explosive Incendiary) rounds, designed to engage vehicles, infantry, and other non MAS targets. In a pinch the targeting can intercept slower moving missile payloads, however the Vanguard CDS is not a true point defense system and is dedicated primarily towards providing a weapon platform for handling smaller threats. On board ammunition before requiring reload is 600 rounds.
• Katar Micro-Missile CIWS. (Secondary): - A series of small, proximity fuse missiles that are explicitly designed for intercepting and detonating other missile systems prior to reaching dangerous proximity to the MAS mounting the system. Compared to conventional ballistic or even laser based systems, the limited supply of missiles is the biggest drawback. However, the rotary vertical launch system, deploying from launch tubes that open from the MAS' back, and intercepting incoming hostile missiles with proximity fuse warheads. The range of intercept is much broader, and when paired with allied elements with higher powered detection systems, can intercept targets beyond the Secutor's own targeting range. The actual ability to target the Katar Micro-Missiles beyond intercept duties is limited, the proximity fuse system designed to detonate incoming munitions rather than do actual lethal damage. Standard missile load is 40 micro missiles, capable of being stored in rather compact form before being launched in rapid succession as required.
• Uparmored (Utility slot): - One of the most common modifications done to Secutor Heavy MAS units, the already dense, well shaped armor has additional plating mounted to exposed or under protected points, taking advantage of the generously potent power plant to support the sheer weight needed to appreciably uparmor a Heavy class MAS. Notably some of the most critical, and already well armored, locations have been even further reinforced, the design philosophy of Fail Forward continuing to show even in less than official modifications being made.
• C-3 Reflex Shield Generator (Utility slot): - Not present on the MkI model of the Secutor, the MkI* and beyond included mounting and power couplings for Reflex Shielding systems, originally for testing purposes but now a not uncommon modification. What is unusual is the use of a Class 3 rather than the Class 2 that the MkII would prefer to mount, Johann opting for the more potent ability to disperse incoming strikes before ever reaching the already uparmored Heavy MAS underneath the shielding. Given the slower moving speed of the Secutor, a common tactic is shunting all non motive power to the shielding system, trying to make up for the slow recharge time of the Class 3. Johann is known to do this when on the approach, either not having time or the willingness to stop and take aim with the MAC-011 and most of the other weapon platforms being much more short ranged in comparison.
• Revenant Class Field Repair Suite (Utility slot): - A Field Repair Suite upgrade built for the Secutor in particular, Revenant FRS systems are designed to bring back the MAS mounting them from the brink of total system failure quickly, and working more effectively on restoring the armor and structure of the MAS. While still capable of other conventional FRS operations including weapon and munition replenishment, the overall programming and design prioritizes restoring defensive capabilities and structural stability over all other priorities.

Falling Skies (Mecha, Military, Space Opera)

I am rather fond of mechs and space operas, plus the idea of being able to make a truly Heavy MAS does give me some initial ideas already. I'll put my interest in as well.

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."

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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

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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."

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"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.