ERode

Decibitus

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~1442 | PARIS | FASHION SHOW VENUE

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Panic erupted in an instant, and Edward was immediately in the thick of it.

Compared to the destruction of the lights, the sudden appearance of a guy in a weird costume was basically a non-issue. No one spared a glance at his desperate chant, but the efficacy of it, at least, was proven. Though broken glass slipped through the gaps of the skeletal hand, the interconnected nature of the lights allowed more of them to be hoisted up by the necromancer’s spell than simply the size of the hand itself. The patrons of the place had been saved!

But they were now all streaming towards the exit too, security motioning towards the exits as the well-dressed, well-perfumed attendees of the fashion show made their exits as quickly as possible. And with in the tide of humanity, Edward found himself being swept away, his tangible form pushed and prodded out of the venue alongside everyone else, glass embedding itself in his shoes on the way out.

And as he neared the exit, he saw two things.

The wisp wriggling back up, fresh tendrils bursting out from charged lumps. It had been damaged, greviously so, but it had recovered in the chaos as well, fluctuations of emotion giving it the fuel it needed to continue.

The man on the stage, pulling out a card from the breastpocket of his suit. With a parting of his lips, the card ignited and disappeared, the surest sign of written magic, before the security team escorted him out through the back of the stage.

…

Pool balls littered the floor, and the dragon, its fleshless feet already lacking traction, slipped upon them as a result. It was effective!
Stabbing a creature made of absolutely zero flesh? Much less effective.

Lucian’s pool cue may have made for a good weapon if he had swung it, but a thrust simply ended up with the stick going through the eye socket and out the back of the dragon’s skull as the spectral monstrosity tripped forwards and slammed its jagged forehead right into the reaper’s chest. Momentum continued, Lucian smashed straight through the drywall. His back and his butt were stuck inside the wall now, but before a finishing blow could be delivered, Vera’s claymore swung true, struck true.

Soundlessly, that ebony blade slid through the dragon’s tail, severing it with a singular stroke.

It roared in response, twisting around like a snake to face its foe, inadvertently wrenching Lucian’s weapon from his grasp. Four limbs coiled up like springs, four sets of claws digging deep into the walls, a pair of wings spread out and aligned like blades.

And with a kick, it launched itself towards Vera, intending on smashing her to bits the same way that it had for Lucian.

In the frenzy and the scramble, however, Celeste’s presence was difficult to track.

Unlike Lucian, she hadn’t been half-buried in a wall.

Unlike Lucian, she was being lead away by a host of skeletal monkeys, glowing with the same unearthly shine as the ghostly dragon.

Expedition to Isekai

@baraquiel Looks good. There's a buncha onboarding stuff to do, but feel free to read up on the IC and post. Deadline's still the same though. Also, Discord linku.

@Creative Chaos Yeah, go ahead. We're getting to a point relatively quickly where it'll be awkward to get new PCs, so try to get your CS in before the end of this week.

Sleepless Nights\\ Iron Cages

Aighto, guess I'll post later on in the week. Give Vertigo a chance to do something if she followed along up the stairs.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@PigeonOfAstora}

Right. There was the slim possibility too that it was only out of concern that Lein had separated from the others.

A meaningless concern, one that fundamentally would just endanger his own life if the vampire was as bloodthirsty as the hundi imagined them to be. But for all the inherent danger of dueling with a supernatural creature possessed with magic that would make the wizards of the Tower push their tomes off their tables out of frustration and despair, Serenity had been implacably confident that she would survive, in one way shape or form. Lein, of course, wouldn't have understood that either, so there was no need to explain herself.

She passed by instead then, taking the stairs three steps at a time, her fully-armored form making it impossible to spot any bite wounds if there were any.

"Don't bother with the ode. Damon left with a demon-possessed man," Serenity said curtly. "His allegiance isn't entirely with the necromancer, though his plots remain convoluted for a creature so confident in his own capabilities. And he cut his own hand off using my sword, so don't attribute that to me either." Though she was facing away from the hundi archer, there was a smile in her voice regardless. "He doesn't make for a fun villain, really. Didn't even speak of his propensity for slavery or his consumption of infants."

One could only hope that the necromancer was of the craven sort.

"Bring me up to speed as to what had happened on your end, Lein. Any plans made before you split?"

Sleepless Nights\\ Iron Cages

The implication was that Yasu was gonna hit up the stairs, ye. Is it an action to get into the projector room or naw?

Expedition to Isekai

@baraquiel Yup. Feel free to toss up a CS if you think you’ll be able to commit to weekly posts for a year!

Expedition to Isekai

---

//Day 0 | Location: Nameless Forest - Clearing

"Ehehe," Yuudai grinned, even as he brought his hand up to mask that grin. Everyone knew poets had to play it cool, after all, but it was always nice to get some genuine praise about it, especially when his siblings just groaned and plugged their ears whenever he tried to get feedback from them. "Doesn't seem like the Prez's doing anything to me though. Everyone else...well? Okumura-san's patching up the worst of the lot, but for a bus crash, I think we'll be alright."

...

Daisuke clicked his tongue while Mayumi shook her head. They had both expected there to be no signal, but seeing it up close like that...well, it wasn't great. "Yuudai's already taking a measure of everyone," the golden-haired athlete said. "And as for what we got on hand..."

Well, the good news was that, owing to the lack of sudden explosions and such, while everyone had hurried themselves off bus, they didn't necessarily book it either. The boys had carried most of the bags that they could see, after all, and a cluster of them had been tossed onto the grassy field afterwards. No one looked to start rummaging through it though, entranced as they were with either their situation or their preoccupations.

Mayumi looked at it, then at the notebook she had in her hand and grimaced. "I'll take an inventory then, Nagashima. Endo! Make yourself useful and get over here!"

...

"Yeah," Tsubaki replied curtly. "It's the Otherside."

There wasn't much else to be said about it, not from her. Kogen, fortunately, was uncharacteristically quiet, perhaps because his delusions had finally become reality, and reality in turn had been both disappointing and terrifying. Regardless of what Ayana herself said, however, the short-haired girl continued to look after her, parting the hair around her head to assess as best as she could the state of the bruise. And as for what Ayana herself saw?

Perhaps it was because the adrenaline hadn't died off yet, or the situation hadn't sunk in yet, but most of her classmates were indeed getting it together. The clearing was quiet, as far as she could tell when a bus was still crackling and burning, while Prez went off to make sure Rin was never alone. The others stayed together, some offering comfort, others getting to work. For as dire a crisis as it all was, it also wasn't too bad.

After all, it was a lovely day, a clear blue sky marred only by black smoke rising hundreds of meters high.

...

Branches broke as expected. Though some of them were younger, and thus had the flex to ignore Rin's efforts to break them off the stem, the older, drier ones snapped off cleanly. She'd need a proper cutting tool to get any limbs of substantial size, of course, but if nothing else, the tinkering savant's foraging attempts at least confirmed that those unfamiliar trees were still made of wood. At the edge of the clearing she worked, pointedly ignoring Masato as he strode up to her. Just as they did in school hallways and yards, in the PE shed and homeroom class, the Prez's words fell upon deaf ears.

Physical tasks took the mind off of reality as easily as thoughts of duty and responsibility did.

Rin, in her pursuit of survivalism however, forgot a step that preceded bushcraft. Before you started taking care of your basic needs, you had to assess. Assess yourself. Assess your belongings. Assess your surroundings.

It was Masato, indeed, who was in a better position to see it. See Rin's hand, as she reached for a thicker, deader branch. As she broke it off and revealed six eyes within the shadow.

Matted fur of a light gray streaked with darker patches. Four limbs, long and gangly, that ended in a set of hooked claws. A head that looked to be a mixture of a wolf and a bear, saliva dripping out from its open maw. A beast of proper size, as big as a deer, as muscled as a carnivor Where there were Portals, there were monsters. And what was the burning bus, if not a massive signal? A signal that something foreign had encroached upon their territory. Something foreign and something fresh. Furless beasts, not clad in armor and technology, bearing neither blades nor firearms, all of them possessed with the softness of juveniles.

Masato had no time; the wolfbear was upon Rin in an instant, its snapping jaws clamping down upon the branch she had just broken off rather than her face. Hooked claws snagged against her belt as the beast to press its skull closer to her head, human and hunter scrambling upon the field, the branch breaking beneath incisors that looked much too sharp to belong to a beast that merely hunted for surviv-

"HIYAHHH!"

In one moment, the wolfbear's six eyes loomed over Rin's face, and in the next, two leather shoes burst into view instead. Maki had arrived with dynamic violence, launching from a sprint into a dropkick!

One that could definitely have laid out any wild dog or wild delinquent back in Kuroshio, but one that had only snapped the head of the beast back and...nothing else. It remained atop Rin still. One eye closed from where the heel of the schoolgirl had impacted, but five more still focused on devouring what laid right beneath it.

Maki herself sprung back to her feet, raring for violence, but even she was forced to pause at what she saw next.

It was a wolfbear, after all. And wolves hunted in packs.

Two more of them slunk out from the darkness, fangs bared, ferocity unleashed. And, perhaps as a measure of just how little threat a handful of infants presented to these monsters, the two shot off around Masato, Maki, and Rin instead, sprinting down for the other students further away, their bellowing howls matched only by the students' shrieks and shouts.

But where could they run? Where should they run? Could they hope to outpace the beasts if they leapt into the thick brush of the surrounding forest? Could they shelter around the still-burning bus, using the primal fear of fire to temporarily dissuade those wolfbears frmo approaching? Could they instead all group up together, in an attempt to intimidate the monsters with sheer biomass alone? Could they climb trees? Duck under brush? Stand and fight? Throw food and hope they'd take the easier meal?

Whatever thoughts spun inside their heads, those students at least had the luxury of a few seconds of thought, which was far more than what Rin, Maki, and Masato had.

But amidst the mounting dread, the seconds that would decide which lives spiraled downwards into death...

You felt it. You saw it. You heard it.

A warmth. A sunny spot. A light. A cell. An egg. A sticky membrane, stretched over your skin.

It tears. It splits. A cocoon. The earth and the blood. Burned until charred.

Black was the bark. Hollow was the heart. Hollow until now. Now filling, filling, filling, unmaking.

Recreating with reds and violets, warmth in inferno and storm, tremors invading deeper and deeper, rippling implications like echoes in the auditorium, voices upon the mountain range, whispers into your homemade mug, dreams that left nothing but fragments, impressions in cubism until you're lamenting for all that you discarded without your knowing!

For the shackles of liberation! For the stains of awakening!

Act.

ACT.

ACT!

Persona ~ Alone at Sea (PERSONA WITH A BOAT 𓊝)

Verity was two seconds away from turning Maive into the next Sofia, before something truly, utterly, hilariously strange happened: the day darkened, the bookish woman started muttering to herself, and with the invocation of 'PERSONA', a cocoon of storm gave birth to massive hand that squeezed the bus-sized toad with such force that its mouth was forced open.

Presumably, there was some correlation here, so of course, while Verity was still hanging off of Maive's back, she tried it as well.

"Persona."

The only response to that attempt was the inflation of the toad's mouth though, and before it could belch out its tongue a second time, Verity sprung off of Maive, kicking off the woman's head like a swimmer from a diving block. An instant later, a shockwave of force barely grazed the soles of her feet, before she was rolling in the detritus of shrubbery and ruin once more. Not a tongue, which was good, because that meant Maive wasn't eaten. But an air cannon was also pretty bad, and while Maive's ghost friend could squeeze the toad, the toad's breath was enough to send her ragdolling into a tree before smashing her skull against the trunk.

It was a miracle that her head wasn't lolling about at some odd angle. That her brains weren't painting her lips.

And really, it just sorta proved that one ghost friend wasn't enough when you were a human being up against a bus-sized frog with a taste for human flesh.

...

"Ha..."

Verity picked herself up. Funneled her thoughts down in one direction. What did she know about toads. What did she know about this toad? It had no useful front limbs, but cannot walk. It possesses the ability to leap great distances. It shoots out with its tongue, and can shout in the same method. It hasn't shown much ability to turn around; it probably couldn't. Its tongue was sticky, but Sofia hadn't been crushed to death yet, so that was fine. Alright.

Running over to Maive, the pale-skinned girl returned the favor, delivering a hearty slap to her face before pulling her behind the tree. Tongue would have to go through a tree first. Roar wasn't strong enough to uproot it as well. All that mattered would be whether or not the toad went for another big jump, but they had a bit of time anyhow.

"Listen up." Her hands grabbed the sides of the bespectacled bitch's face, fingers pressed against her temples. If Maive didn't, then she was just bait. "It's a toad. Can't walk on land with how it is. Get your ghost to carry you. Fly close and fly around it. Bully it that way. If it leaps up for a stomp, throw yourself away and get the ghost to go for the belly. Think like a rat. No, a roach. You're a roach with that thick head of yours. A magic roach. Scurry around and fuck it up. That's how you get Top 15 Science Track out."

Her eyes flickered back and forth, checking to see if the toad was happy to eat or hungry for more.

"Now, tell me. What are you?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@PigeonOfAstora}

In time, the heat faded.

From the room, and from her heart.

In the absence of conflict, Serenity allowed herself to settle into standstill, drawing in deep breathes. There had been no space to exchange any final words, and in the same way, there was no reason now to imagine rebuttals or clear up any confusions. All that remained was self-reflection, a simple one at that. On one hand, perhaps she had severely overestimated her opponent's abilities, if he had believed that she could actually threaten his life, under the premise that she was armed to the full extent of a noble of House Arcedeen. On the other hand, she was certainly lacking still, if her thoughts naturally rested upon the lack of divinely-blessed armaments, of ancient blades forged by immortal craftsmen, of shields that shone with holy light, as what was necessary for murder.

If she was where she wished to be, a shortsword that melted like wax in the embrace of bloodfire would be sufficient. One would simply have to strike faster than it could melt, pulverizing rather than cutting into flesh.

But she wasn't where she wished to be. And she knew that.

Serenity pressed her palm against her eyes, brushing away the sweat and tears. Shifted her hand lower, pressing her thumb against the side of her nose. Breathe in deep from the mouth, breath out quick from the nose. Clogged up blood splattered against the tomb, the only real blood that was spilled in that frenzied exchange. Her armor was singed at parts, but not compromised. Her weapons, outside of the shortsword, were still intact and capable. Her comrades were still fighting, both above and below. The vampire and demon that had both lurked within the crypt had chosen to excuse themselves of whatever else remained.

So really, what was there to do?

Three steps, crossing past the saber and the hand, before she retrieved the flanged mace. Seven strides, bringing her to the threshold that the four Iron Roses had descended down into. Now, just one fli-

Lein came in view, the hundi's expression a mask of paranoia and fear, dread and anxiety.

Serenity stared at him, then let out a long, long sigh.

"The axeman's still up above. Do you plan on assisting with that, Lein, and leaving the Captain another man short?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@Raineh Daze}

At his words, Serenity simply gave him a look. If it was a mistake to disarm an opponent, if it was a mistake to even bother injuring an opponent, then what, exactly, was one supposed to do against the foul denizens of the dark?

Well, from the perspective of someone who had so heartily acclimated to that other side, perhaps that was simply the way things ought to be. There were, after all, immortal monstrosities that even now are better left alone than challenged. Far too many, in truth. A host of crones possessed with the high-minded arrogance that their age-addled minds granted them. Someone ought to cast them from their lofty thrones, someone ought to return them to the history books that they belong to.

As Damon continued with his theatrics, Serenity simply staked her shortsword through the dismembered hand. Watched it twitch and bleed, writing like the disconnected thing it was, as he began his puppeteering. Blood turned to flame, and flame melted steel into slag, burning with such intensity that dwarven forgemasters would question the purpose of coal and bellows. She could imagine now, where his confidence in facing against the Paladin stemmed from. A magical flame that could melt metal like wax was certainly a more effective weapon against an immortal than a greatsword. All the better then, that it was Serenity here rather than Tyaethe.

Her shortsword was lost in the pursuit of knowledge. Her mace laid beyond her reach. Three daggers and a hatchet. Enough for a mortal foe but worthless against a vampire. As she was, there was no hope of catching him if he sought to maintain distance, and considering his predilections, his confidence in his immortality, his boiling blood would always earn him more in an exchange of blows.

But she was resolved for that.

Dust sifted from the ceiling. Those three were still fighting, against a foe not nearly so insurmountable as this one.

Wind whispered through the gap. Those four were still advancing, purging what evil lurked within the crypt.

Another bolt sang through the air, its trajectory read at a glance. She shuffled through the tomb now, slipping past the thrust of the flaming longsword. A dagger swept out against the line of blood that connected the severed hand to Damon's arm, but as one may have expected, a reconnection was established within the instance of a breath. Parrying was no longer possible, and if the sword could pass through tempered steel without pause, armor was useless, no matter the price one paid for it. Even the air itself was heating up, the dampness of the crypt replaced by the heat of a sauna, and freed from the limitations of elbow and shoulder, from even the necessity of requiring proper edge alignment, the flying sword became an opponent like none else.

It was an experience like none else.

Serenity no longer left room for thought. She weaved and slid, daggers flashing to buy instances of reprieve as her mind burned at the sheer focus that her task required. The vampire lurked in the corners of her vision, arbalest loading and firing in concert with the nonsensical movements of the blood-flame sword. She reacted in turn, sound still surpassing the swiftness of the bolts, giving her enough time to instinctively shift out of the way of both blows. Patterns emerged within those eternal seconds, the flex and flux of the bloodline hinting at future directions of hand and sword. Pinpricks of pain pulsed up and down her joints, protests at the frenetic duress she placed them under. Sweat stung eyes that she could not afford to close. Blood trickled down from her nose and stained her lips. Another appeared, a proper demon, but she had no reason to acknowledge them now. Names slotted themselves into her memory, phrases stored away for future contemplation.

Now, however, it was a challenge alone to evade.

...

And yet, evade she did.

Serenity did not advance, but as seconds crawled onwards in the death-dance of blood and body, of conflagration and circumstance, she also did not truly retreat. Even now, her pride remained. Even now, she stood at the center of the chamber.

Even now, the tombs and statues of the departed Cazt remained unscathed, except for marks left by errant arrows.