ERode

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

@ZerothFor confirmation, Esfir’s back was facing Grunthor. If Akron’s Elwet attacked them from behind, would they have run over Grunthor in the process?

Fire Emblem: Crestfallen

_{@Psyker Landshark}

Well, he understood at least, why the Arch-Bishop had chosen to set their rooms in a manner that encouraged, or at least, forced an adaptation towards others. Tear down the shelter of nobility early and all. Slightly more questionable, of course, that the man would have allowed for mixed genders, considering how exceptionally truthful the rumors surrounding Andrion's own nighttime escapades were, but what can one do?

He'd end up with a warm bed, no matter how many people the Arch-Bishop jammed into his room.

"No need to be so uptight about it, mate," Andrion replied, pulling the door open. "First time sharing it with a prince myself, but hey, can't be worst than having twelve to a room." Once it had opened, it was clear too that Andrion had already moved in a fair while ago. Despite the relatively sparse furnishings on the side of room that had been claimed with his stuff, the man had already set up a divider that cleanly partitioned the room into two halves. A cold draft aired out the room and beyond the potted flowers by the windowsill, he had but a thin rug draped over the stone floors, as well as a bundle of furs that were collected over his bed. Beside it, hanging from crude iron mounts, was a hunting spear and a fishing rod, while a shelf held various bundles of parchment that smelled of spiced and cured meats.

"Feel free to take some if you're feeling peckish," he said, gesturing towards the shelf. "Though maybe keep to your side if you hear me with another. I don't mind too much, but some ladies are more comfortable with a bit of privacy.

Expedition to Isekai

---

//Night 0 | Location: Nameless Forest - Clearing
_@Vertigo
The meat stank in the way that only poorly-handled wild meat could. The fat-to-muscle ratio was almost all muscle, the lack of seasoning made it taste like boiled chicken breast, and the texture was the closest Duncan had gotten to chewing on a shoe. Even Kumi didn’t seem able to work her magic here, and she must have decided to err on the side of well-done rather than risk any parasites, resulting in a slice of meat that was awful.

And yet, for Duncan? It was delicious. He found himself hardly chewing, his teeth tearing great chunks out before swallowing them. He felt famished, and every bite he took felt like the first bite of food he had ever had. It was almost incredible how hungry he was, in truth. Had it been because his stomach was emptied out in all the wrong ways? Had it been because his body had eaten itself up to recover? Or maybe there was just something about this steak in particular…

Regardless, the sensation of something sliding down his throat and then broiling inside the digestive juices of his stomach answer the question of his guts at least. As for the rest?

“Asahi’s up and about,” Daisuke said, jabbing a thumb over at where the pink-haired Student Council member was. There was a flicker of hesitation, before he powered through. “And Yuki’s alive. Just recovering.”

The snapping of a lighter sounded, followed by the sizzling of embers. Haruko handed over a lit cigarette. “Seven left,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Most of them got squished up.” By his guts and blood and wolfbear fur, was what was left unsaid. “But really, Duncan. How are you feeling?”

“And more importantly, is that your cheat ability or something?” Maki squatted down, peering closely at the absolute nothing that was covering his fully-healed stomach. “Like, regenerating from all of that?”

_@baraquiel

Sasuke didn’t turn when Asahi approached, but he didn’t shift to the side either when Asahi sat down. His gaze, as steady as the ocean before the storm, remained towards the darkness, towards the moonlit shadows and the inscrutable brushery. Was it the whisper of the wind, or the howl of the beasts? If one focused, it was easy to pick out the sounds of nature from the sounds of chatter, and nature was alive.

No, for Asahi, he didn’t even need to really focus to hear it. He could hear the heartbeats of those around him, some faster, some louder. He could hear the distant howling of beasts, the rustling of leaves or branches as unseen birds flitted between shadow and light. He could hear pained grunts, gasped in fitful unconsciousness. He could hear Sasuke’s breathing, deep and rhythmic, matching the tempo of his heartbeat. He could hear the mountain and the cave, the dirge and the blade, keening with a ferocity that sought t-

“I’m fine.”

Asahi’s senses retracted. Sasuke’s words were weighty, meaningful. Even when they sounded so rote.

“Thanks for asking. Are you?”

Before a response could be made, however, the smell of grilled rice wafted into Asahi’s nostrils. “H-heyo!” Kumi said, looking a touch too frantic. “I figured since the rice was cold I’d grill em up into uh, balls! You two, try them! Tell me how they are, please!”

Beside the fire, Masami narrowed her eyes, doing the mental strategizations on how to smoothly insert herself into that trio, while Tsubasa looked away, hiding a wry smile while hoping the second-hand embarrassment doesn't obliterate all three of them.

_@Nakushita

Fujita’s silent plea was not answered, so he just did his best to keep quiet and eat. This too, will hopefully pass. Just keep one’s eyes on the food, and…

“Fujita, aaaaaah~”

Lord God spare him.

While the lovers were showing off, Ayane shifted off to the side to give Ayana some space to sit, favoring her with a raised eyebrow. “Figured you’d have no one else to eat with. Suppose it’s too late to play at being sisters, but, well, we can still be classmates.”

She managed a smile.

“I’m more impressed that you’re still in good health, Ayana. Outside of your hair. That’s a disaster that’d require a stylist to fix.”

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

S'all good. Just gonna be a long wait till next Saturdayyyyyy.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

but you'd also catch most if not all of your allies! ;)

That's a benefit, not a demerit.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Though the Elwet was much heavier than a normal chicken, it was still smaller and lighter than the Runt who came charging at it with a stone knife. Though Lazash's initial plan succeeded, and she slammed into the monster from the side, as its feet left the ground there wasn't enough resistance from its body weight to really drive her sharp stone home. She pierced a thick layer of feathers and drew blood, but somehow her instincts warned that this wouldn't be fatal. As they tumbled together, the beast's wings and feet flailed wildly at her--and its sharp talons raked her soft belly, leaving several slices that burned with pain, before she finally came up on top and managed to wrap her tiny hands around the fire breathing neck!

But now, despite weighing more than it and perhaps being stronger, the Elwet proved that it, too, was stronger than its size hinted. Clucking furiously, it began to scramble and try to run--with Lazash still on its back! Though her grip tightened every moment and the bird's eyes bulged from lack of oxygen, it simply poured every ounce of adrenaline and survival instinct into a mad charge for freedom--

Grunthor put his whole body weight into a charge much like Lazash, but whereas her goal had been to pierce a feathered heart his, from the start, had been to get his string-bean arms around the crowing terror and bear both their weights to the earth. In this he succeeded--though most of the Elwet's body was hugged against his chest. This left its beaked head free, and even as he buried his face into its...surprisingly soft chest, he could feel the pointed appendage drawing a pattern of bloodied dots all over his bald head, seeking his eyes!

But up came Grunthor's arm, and down came his sharp rock! He missed the first shot but clipped one of the antlers, and now that he knew where its body was in space alongside him the second blow hit its mark! The Elwet cried out once more as one of its eyes was blinded forever by the chiseled stone edge! In this moment of weakness Grunthor could secure his mount and finish the creature off--but if he raised his head to do so, he'd see another twenty-something pounds of feathered fury, carrying a further weight of exactly 1 Lazash, coming straight at him in a mad charge for freedom--!

It took all of a split second for things to go awry.

The presence of four Elwets in a single instance did not do anything to change Esfir's plan. It was still logical to have three of the runts dogpile one bird, killing it quickly. They could track the others afterwards, if they ran. They could focus down another, if they fought. Four would become three, three would become two, two would become one, one would become none. But they didn't do that, did they? She began to question how human they really were.

Her hand flexed, her eyes flickered. They all lined up well, well enough that she could freeze them all. Three birds, three runts. How much could she eat in one sitting? The martial artist, knocked back by a surprise beating of wings. The gawky male, tangled in a messy grapple. The one who spoke to the warrior, dragged along for a ride. If she ate them too, would she gain their gifts?

Unclenching, clenching. A fist from within that swirled with the essence of a blizzard.

...

It would take too long to eat them all in one sitting.

Her fist opened, two hands grasping upon the stick she had, and Esfir leapt in, interposing herself between the pinned Elwet and the charging one. One end of the stick she thrust into the ground, the other end angled towards the one that dragged the talkative one. Bullets had been expensive. Bows required practice. But a hunting spear had been something that even her brothers learned how to make, and with proper planning, they'd have venison or boar on the table that night. She had no particular delusions about the amount of strength she had, but perhaps its momentum will be enough to impale itself upon her stick. Chicken bones broke easily, though the flesh itself may not be pierced by such a blunt instrument.

And if that couldn't be accomplished either, then so be it. She'd have given time enough for the runt behind her to finish off his quarry.
_{@Kazemitsu@King Cosmos@Crusader Lord}

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Sounds like a skill issue to me.

Why Were We Reincarnated as Orcs?!

Yah, would be good to know how many chickens Esfir can catch in a ten foot radius too.

Sleepless Nights\\ Iron Cages

Yasu's grip relaxed.

The danger, both dangers, had passed. It was rare enough, after all, to see the fractured timelines converge upon a decision to fight or to flee, but that simply proved the capabilities of this mass of malice and terror. And while the curiousity remained, the curiousity of just what sort of end would await an individual who drew their blade against the eccentric...well, the ringleader served as an example there, and that was definitely not nearly as unique as turning into an apple or getting shot out of your body as poop.

With a whistle, she spun her sword twice, flicked the viscera off its mirror-polished form, and then sheathed it with a definitive click, as if signalling the end of this fight. She picked up the book after, leaving plastic bag where it was, but rather than cracking it open, Yasu tucked it under her arm instead.

"So, Roqe, right?" Her lips stretched out to a smile, crimson gleaming upon the sad remains of the stage. "Why did you hide yourself, if you were going to show yourself anyways? Think it'd be a lot less scary if you were you, instead of a floating finger." Yasu turned her gaze up, towards where the last pieces of the trapeze were slogging down. "Though I guess I would've done the same thing anyways."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_@VitaVitaAR

It didn’t take too long for the two knights to reach the training grounds and arm themselves. Though real steel may have lent a greater sense of realism, it would misfortunate if either of them ended up crippling the other during a particularly intense session. Training weapons, sheathed in charcoal powder, were brought up instead, alongside gambesons and helmets to allow a modicum of protection against blunt strikes without entirely negating the pain that came from a mistake, an inadequacy. A surprise, perhaps, that the usual suspects were not present, but Fionn had his cedar mill, Gerard had a habit of ending up in the strangest places, and Renar was the type to hide what he knew.

Convenient too for her, in some ways.

Tying her hair back to accommodate the open-faced helmet she chose for the occasion, Serenity glanced over towards the assortment of practice weapons present. Memories flickered dream-like, of ancient stances from storied heroes, but if this was to be productive, there was only one choice. A kite shield, long enough to reach the beneath her knees. A one-handed sword, made of a hefty, solid oak. She took a few practice swings with it, acclimating to the weight, before settling her gaze upon Fanilly.

“Did you have a dream, Captain?”