ERode

Advent of the Dawn —A Mecha Musume/Tokusatsu-Inspired RP

"Hm."

A monstrosity composed of thousands upon thousands of individual parts, possessed, perhaps, with extraordinary senses that allowed it to detected his location even when cloaked. Well, slugs didn't necessarily have eyes, after all, so that worked out, in the worst way possible. Xuan-Yu's face twisted into an almost-exaggerated frown. This was perhaps the worst sort of opponent for both himself and Dulac. Which meant...

"We're going down, kiddo."

...mucking and sleuthing about was pointless.

As tentacles shot out towards them, Deathstalker emerged from the ether, crimson augments pulsating with consolidated power, and unleashed an axe-kick that smashed straight through the dilapidated flooring of the hallway. The mission objective, after all, was on the lower levels of the building, which meant that the first floor was 100% not anything worth investigating!

Hell, fuck the second floor down too!

"Dulac, blast it!"

Symphony of Espers

❄

22 | Female | Freelancers | Meltwater Spring
Moya-no-Yume | Dagger | Physical | Frosted Sheen
Impermanence of Spring Snow | Boreas's Caress
Glacial Stream | Aqua | Rime Rose
[Freeze, Slick] Damage, Restrain, Push, Extend, Construction, Craft, Mark, Blink, Bend

DAMAGE: D | SPEED: C | SENTINEL: E | 750

[Silver Beam + Bend + Restrain + Damage] = 144 Mana

PHYSICAL: E| ARCANE: B | CHAOS: C | 462

_{@BrokenPromise@The World@Ponn}

A Blink user! Their battle would be legendary!

Klava absorbed the thrown chair on her bent arm, tumbling backwards to disperse the force as the wooden chair flung itself overhead. In the distance she could hear Gale and KoT at it as well, grand magics flaring up. She would have to join them soon. Unlike last time, after all, they weren’t fighting in a corridor, and didn’t have convenient tear gas dispensers to flung around. Which meant, of course, that a rodent with twinned tonfas was going to be a hell of a pain in the ass to deal with.

Gritting her teeth, Klava backed up against the onslaught of bludgeoning strikes, using her own wakizashi minimally as she duck and wove. For all the ‘supposed’ disadvantages that split-Instruments held, they were undoubtedly more useful in an actual conflict. An advantage then, would have to be found elsewhere. At the back wall, her snowball gleamed still, rolling gently away from the collapsed table. Just one second. That’s all she’ll need.

The chair.

Klava swung Moya-no-Yume, two-handed, against the offending tonfa, forcing it aside with hopes of disrupting the rodent’s stance for just a moment. An opportunity for bigger moves. In the next, she hopped over the chair that had been thrown at her, and, with her foot, kicked it back up at the woman. A visual distraction to buy a single second. Whether or not it would land, it mattered not, for at that point, the Maiden turned and ran. A feint, to encourage straightforward pursuit. And, body turned, body blocking the gleaming light of her Instrument as it drew in mana and converted it into melody, Klava cast her spell.

A frosty sheen coalesced behind both Espers, before the snowball shot out a beam of arctic cold, crossing the length of the room instantly to strike the rodent from behind.

Prophetiae Adventum: Envoys of the Pantheon

Gonna keep an eye on this. Maybe CS tomorrow.

Epic of Beginnings - Dawns Cradle

Arrows slammed into her, bolts of pain hammered into her flesh, but Atzi was no meager deer, no mangy wolf. She was a force of fury all on her own, and every shot that struck only furthered the flame within. After all, in the short-term, any arrow that didn’t kill her was not worth considering.

Atzi rose up the hill with a flurry of kicked-up snow, hardly even registering the strange garbs of her foes. Padded armor? What of it? Masked faces? What of it?! They were enemies enough, bastards that tied up the pet of a dear friend and tortured it for days on end! They were unknown figures in richly-colored garbs and possessed by ill intent! For all she knew, they were responsible for the disaster that befell Dawn recently, for the misery and the chaos, the immeasurable losses that everyone sustained and the emotional labour that weighed down on Achel!

“Don’t FUCK with me!”

Three charged with blades drawn, while two stepped back, nocking their arrows back for more shots, but Atzi was already upon them. With one swing, she tossed her cloak upon the closest, before clenching her fist and delivering a haymaker right in the tangled man’s face. More pain shot up, microfractures in her knuckles, but she felt too, the glorious sensation of cartilage rending, of teeth, of bones snapping. He flew back three meters, and did not rise back up. The other two paused at this display of ferocity, but with archers at their backs, they couldn’t exactly retreat as Atzi rounded upon them, the lioness baring her teeth!

Blades glistened in the dying light, but sharp weapons did surprisingly poorly against a blunted instrument. She met the first one straight on, slamming her wooden club and letting the honed edge of her opponent’s blade bite deep into the edge, before a flick of the wrist disarmed him. He stumbled back, stance thrown wide open, and before a recovering could be made, Atzi’s foot swung out and up. There was an audible crack as his testes were pulverized, and he lurched forward, collapsing as vomit spewed out from the sides of his mask.

But Atzi’s single-minded focus allowed the remaining fighter to circle around her, lunging forth with his blade while the archers finally seized their opportunity, releasing their arrows in unison. At this range, it was impossible to miss such a large target, but even then, they would aim at center mass, to maximize the chances of striking an organ. It would, indeed, be fatal.

Fatal, that was, for the one behind Atzi.

Snow exploded beneath her feet as the woman leapt upwards, drawing her knees up against her chest as the arrows barely grazed past her legs and slammed into the fighter behind her. One in the chest and another in the arm. He fell back a couple steps, letting out only a gasp, before Atzi landed on top of him, sending him definitively into the ground.

And, well, if he’s already dead, he may as well be put to use.

With the frontline cleared, she wrestled the corpse out of the snow and thrust it in front of her, creating a shield of flesh as she rushed towards the remaining two archers. With all luck, Vammy could clear out the five that targeted her, but even if the demon didn’t, that was fine. The barbarian was going to run the riot and get her ten pounds of flesh, no matter what.

Symphony of Espers

❄

22 | Female | Freelancers | Meltwater Spring
Moya-no-Yume | Dagger | Physical | Frosted Sheen
Impermanence of Spring Snow | Boreas's Caress
Glacial Stream | Aqua | Rime Rose
[Freeze, Slick] Damage, Restrain, Push, Extend, Construction, Craft, Mark, Blink, Bend

DAMAGE: D | SPEED: C | SENTINEL: E | 750

[Silver Projectile + Craft + Push] = 72 Mana

PHYSICAL: E| ARCANE: B | CHAOS: C | 606

_{@BrokenPromise@The World@Ponn}

The night air blew past Klava, humid scents of shore and steam whisking away the smell of alcohol as she twisted out of one window and then up into another, just in time for a dining room table to be flung towards her. Food waste was terrible, and tossing furniture out into the waters below essentially counted as pollution and illegal dumping. Verdict? The rodent was a bitch.

“Snowball Stunner!”

As her sashes latched around the edges of the window, Klava’s left arm crossed her right, her Instrument glowing ever-bright with the consumption and transformation of atmospheric mana. She pulled the tablecloth out of her way and jabbed her beloved blade forward. A melody thrummed, and then snow swirled out, striking the flying table with a tightly-packed ball of snow, sending it back to the one that had flung it to begin with. With any luck, it’d cause enough of a pause that would allow Klava to secure her landing inside the penthouse.

And after that? It’ll be a good time to improvise.

To Become a Knight! ~ A Chivalric (Mis)Adventure

The sun had yet to rise. The moons have already fallen.

It was pitch-black, an inky, consuming darkness, one that teased at the imagination, one that questioned the nature of reality and perception. There were stories, after all. Of staring at one’s reflection in darkness, and of watching that reflection distort into the visage of an individual past or future. Of revenants and blood-drinkers, lurking in woods as silent as predators, seeking a warm pulse, a frightened heart. Of Fendel’s phantom itself, a curse upon the light that could only exist in that hour before daybreak, struggling in vain to exact vengeance before light defined shadow once more.

But for Rossweine, the pitch black was the depths of a lake. It was oblivion and unbecoming, where even a prince could melt into the aether, dissolved into nothingness. Below his feet, dew-drenched grass snaked around his toes. Between his fingers, the burdens of two wooden buckets cut past the flesh and weighed on the bones. And held in his eyes was the very substance of reality and imagination, where even when wide-open, he could see the wireframe of his visualizations, imposed upon the blackness of reality. The wind brought with it the smell of spring and pine. The water sloshed back and forth, scents and soap agitated. Now, and only now, a courtyard could become refuge.

His toe touched the trunk of a tree. He raised first bucket. Closed his eyes.

Scented water drowned him; clear water cleansed him.

The lake remained still in the night and the cold. The lake was the reflection of the self.

…

It was little matter, retracing his steps to the front of the barracks. He had wrung the water out of his silk nightclothes, and it was dry when he stepped into the commons room, the redness of his skin fading away at the small flames that lit up the area. He smoothed his damp hair back against his skull. Ever pristine, ever majestic, despite, or perhaps because of, his simple garb. Pine undertones colored the scent of snow, and he scanned the other early-risers. Signar, Julian, Dot, and another only vaguely familiar, bearing the complexion of the people of Valefor.

He let out a breath. It was too early, Rossweine decided, to necessitate any performance. Signar and Julian would be better at ease with simpler language, and Dot’s behavior during the dinner last night left enough indications that the Light-Blessed held some sort of grudge, some disdain, against himself. As for the newest amongst them…

It was too early to care. Daylight and activity would better reveal character. Nathaniel would be up soon enough as well. Perhaps Kai and Zenshin as well, going by the air of nerves and excitement that had driven the others out of bed.

“Good morning, Signar, Julian, Dot, Elon. I will be breaking my fast now.” For all their efforts last night, being the last squad to be called up summarily meant being the last squad to get a table, and thus being the last squad to get food. “Join me, if you care to.”

It was early, but there would be food regardless. Early as the others had risen, the staff rose earlier still. That was the case, is the case, and will always be the case.

Epic of Beginnings - Dawns Cradle

If not for Vammy’s warning, things would be different.

Different, but perhaps only in circumstance.

Bowstrings thrummed, and Atzi imposed herself before those that she sought to keep alive, red eye alight with fury that had an enemy. Her wooden club caught three of the arrows, staccato thumps felt in her hand, and two more scattered against the boulder behind them, snagged upon the cloak that she swung up to intercept. She caught the sixth shot in her left forearm, letting out a roar of pain as adrenaline surged in once more, that miracle drug that grant strength to the fatigued, relief for the pained.

The first volley passed, but any archer worth their salt could fire the next within seconds. Hiding behind the boulder just meant they could better organize and maneuver, corral and flank. Running away was worse; it would be like being asked to be shot in the back or hunted down for hours on end. There was, as always, just one route ahead. As with wolves, as with bears, as with monsters, as with humans, she would fight until she died. Atzi grit her teeth and clenched her left fist.

“Vammy, cover!”

And with a lion’s roar, the wild woman charged forth up the incline, prepared to snap their bows and break their bones.

Advent of the Dawn —A Mecha Musume/Tokusatsu-Inspired RP

It was a corpse, but at least it had the courtesy to look presentable. Bleached bone shone white in the shafts of light that still managed to penetrate the dilapidated roof of the facility, all signs pointing towards a Warped that possessed an exceptionally sharp blade or some sort of pressurized projectile that emulated an edge. It was humid enough, at least, that some waterjet-spewing plant monstrosity was an option.

Or a turtle.

"Found a dead 'un," Xuan-Yu spoke in comms. "If whatever killed them was still here, Dulac, we're dealing with a real keen fellow." The birds were silent, but he had not heard them fly off either. Was it danger? Or just surveillance? The man reached for his Stinger Blade, drawing out the cloaked weapon with nary a sound. "Pick up anything from those leftovers?"

Symphony of Espers

❄

22 | Female | Freelancers | Meltwater Spring
Moya-no-Yume | Dagger | Physical | Frosted Sheen
Impermanence of Spring Snow | Boreas's Caress
Glacial Stream | Aqua | Rime Rose
[Freeze, Slick] Damage, Restrain, Push, Extend, Construction, Craft, Mark, Blink, Bend

DAMAGE: D | SPEED: C | SENTINEL: E | 750

PHYSICAL: E| ARCANE: B | CHAOS: C | 678

_{@BrokenPromise@The World@Ponn}

“A shot sounds lovely,” Klava chimed, leaning over to swipe a bottle of gin and orange juice from behind the counter. She filled up her own shot glass with it until it was up to the very brim, and then downed it in one go. Lovely stuff. One had to fill their bellies up with fire before fighting a pyromaniac, after all. She let out a sigh, then extended a hand out to her partners-in-crime.

“Won’t have time for timing it properly, so we’ll just go in as soon as possible.” Her gaze turned to Gale expectantly, waiting for the Flight spell to be passed over. If it didn’t though, it was no big deal. “Let’s rock n roll this shit up.”

The bouncers were coming soon, but Klava herself had already hopped off the stool, readying herself for a quick, magically-assisted exit-ascent-enter. Upon reflection, it may have been a smarter idea to have talked all this out before entering the nightclub, but hey, it was all good. What was another fire at a nightclub, if not panic at the disco?

Epic of Beginnings - Dawns Cradle

Before the two set off, Atzi made a tired grin at Vammy’s remark, her large hand reaching back and mushing up the corrupted elf’s hair.

“I’m not going to die.”

And with that they were off again, her muscles rolling like steel cords as she powered out of the cabin and into the woods. Physical exertion shook off the last of the lingering cold that infected her form, and as she breathed in the naturally cold air, the dark-skinned woman could feel herself settling into that comfortable, energetic rhythm again. But comfort or not, the path turned perilous as they got deeper in, and more concerning, the second call-and-response she had with Talien was cut short.

Ominous. Deathly so.

She swallowed her spit, furrowed her brow, and drove away her worries with action, snow kicking up as she ran with ever greater speed, Vammy’s weight doing almost nothing to impede her. And when she arrived at the scene, Atzi stopped.

Pressed this close to her, Vammy could feel it. A heart that roared like a hammer. A heat that built up like a volcano. A rage most murderous, restrained by a body gone so rigid as to have become a stone coffin.

But the moment passed, and Atzi set her companion down before rushing over to the wolf’s side. “God’s above,” she whispered, drawing out her knife and sawing at the ropes. “Tallen, stay with me here, I’ll get you out in a second!” Her sawing became violent stabs, tearing into the thick ropes before she opted to flat-out rip them arm with her hands. Unconcerned with her surroundings, the woman reached into her pouch and pulled out some dried meat for the wolf. It’d do nothing to sate the beast’s appetite, but every bit of energy would help with the recovery.

“Be strong for me, alright? Where’s Maira?” Her head swivelled from the left to the right, trying simply to spot any droplets of blood leading away from the boulder, any footprints in the snow that weren’t her own. “Vammy, do you, I don’t know, sense anything weird?”

There was an edge of desperation in her tone. And yet, it was still off.