ERode

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@HereComesTheSnow@Conscripts@Krayzikk@VitaVitaAR}

There was only the slightest of shrugs from Serenity in response to her foe. She didn’t like his type either, the elusive, indirect, annoying type. Archers were proper battlefield threats, and in formation, presented a storm that had to be braved. Knife-throwing rogues though?

“Go lick your knife and save me the trouble.”

No one made a formation out of those; they neither had discipline nor accuracy, and only served as distractions, too drunk on buffoonery to even work as proper assassins of mages. All they had were a bag of tricks. Renar did too, of course, but at least he had the confidence in them to strike in close combat from the openings it created! This, however? Black smoke curled over the chaos of the battlefield and in response, Serenity leapt back herself. Not to retreat, but to mirror Steffen’s positioning. Her work was defensive until there was a greater opportunity, and under the smoke, her opponent could simply circumvent her if she remained still and cautious!

His daggers flashed through the smoke, his form lost within the shroud.

One clanged off the shield, a second missed as she slanted her form, and the third Serenity headbutted, the steel insufficient for piercing one of the sturdiest pieces of armor she had. Without hesitation, she kicked up the two knives that had dropped close to her. She flung one into the throat of an unlucky mercenary at her flank (lucky shot, she’d need more training to make that toss consistent), while the second she withheld, waiting for the smoke to clear and for her opponent to reveal themselves once more.

How strange it was, getting into a knife-throwing fight in the middle of a battlefield populated by cursed giants and madmen. But until the bastard Gerard and Steffen fought was felled, she would make sure that rogue before her was occupied.

Expedition to Isekai

---

//Day 1 | Location: Nameless Forest - Lakeside
_{@AThousandCurses@baraquiel@Nakushita@Yankee@Vertigo}

Tsubasa didn’t say anything else in return, only responding with a hug.

It was brief, but not at all spontaneous, and for a moment, Shun was enveloped in a warmth so much different compared to the heat of the fire or the Sun. What was a funeral for? What were tears for? To show that someone was loved. To show the grieving that others shared in their pain.

And as she separated from Shun, as they walked back to the others, she managed a smile towards Ayana too. The klutz was as clumsy with her words as she was with her feet, but the essence of it was all that Tsubasa wanted to say as well.

None of it was their fault. No one could blame anyone for being crushed by everything that happened. And so, if they were able to keep living, keep acting, past all this?

They were enough.

Breaking past the clearing, the three of them could see just how organized things had become. While Masato, Duncan, and Asahi struggled still to figure out a solution to healing the two most injured people amongst them, Daisuke and Ayano formed an unlikely pair as they organized the remaining students. Most of them looked glad for the distraction, in truth.

Kumi and Masami worked the fire, after having chased Kogen and Akito away from it. Both the boys stormed off in their own direction, the eyepatch-wearing Awakened muttering something about patrolling the perimeter before he strode off down the same path that Shun had moments ago. The Ito twins, after Sohei managed to work out whatever his whole deal with Rin was, busied themselves with trying to catch fish. Naturally athletic as they were, they managed to corner a couple, before Kunio’s cat-like reflexes ended with him practically slapping the fish out of the water, into the sharpened blade of Hana. Rin, on the other hand, utilized her newfound abilities as best as she could, drawing lines of cutting force that turned trees into firewood with such ease that it almost looked as if she was cheating. Even Ayano had been coaxed into helping out by her boyfriend, despite her professed exhaustion. Alongside Mayumi, whose pale face was already sunburnt and ashen (from the actual ash, not from trauma and despair), they gathered large rocks to line the growing fire with.

The lake was truly a bountiful place.

It almost made one think, for a moment, that they were back at the camping trip they had two years ago, where their teachers forced survival skills on them, only to then give up partway through and just have them make curry at the outdoors stove instead.

The fish crinkled, fats sizzling. They had no salt, and there was no clear idea whether or not it was even ‘tasty’, but Kumi didn’t look all too disgusted when she bit the tender meat. Then, she turned, spying the way the three new arrivals looked at her.

“No work, no food,” she said, in a way almost matronly. “If you’re rested up, then go help out, please.”

...

No matter what Maki wanted to shoot back in response, Asahi’s sheer helplessness gave her pause. It wasn’t really the right time to muck it up with an old friend of hers, after all. She grunted something indistinct and sat down instead, as if to say that if there was anything she could offer, she would.

Broken bones, after all, didn’t exhaust someone the same way that internal bleeding did. Outside of being a bit hungry and a lot thirsty, she had plenty in the tank to give.

Haruko raised her own hands up, stepping up onto the tips of her toes to smooth out the furrowed brow of her boyfriend. “It’s understandable,” she said. There wasn’t any sense of forgiveness in her tone, but she wasn’t the one to give it either. “But you’re not the sorta guy to just avoid talking about this after, right? Make Sasuke and Yuki better, Duncan. Then work things out with Shun, alright?” Her arms, so much thinner than his, wrapped around it, and then she was off, looking for anything she could help with.

Her body was still able, after all. And the atmosphere was too heavy for her to withstand, in the end.

All that was left now was Duncan, Asahi, and Masato, to do what they could.

On the brink of exhaustion, Asahi’s Cable emerged from the tips of his fingers once more, the pink-hued spidersilk so fragile that it looked as if it would be shredded by a light breeze. But, it held, a testament to his desperation, and it connected, slipping beneath the skin of his fellow Awakened, and…

They felt it.

It was a vice that seized their hearts, a panic that rushed into them unabated. Terror and grief. A crystal-cold understanding that Sasuke could be the next friend, the next classmate, the next loved one they had to bury. In an instant, the root of Asahi’s fears was crystallized, and that root turned into a jagged edge that tore right into Duncan and Masato’s skulls. This was what he felt. This was what he was feeling. This was what he will feel.

Agony and torment, reaching out even through layers upon layers upon layers of exhaustion and numbness. Flickers of memories, memories not their own, relayed like a broken projector through their half-blind vision, but alongside those memories, came a kernel of knowledge.

Facsimiles.

An important memory, a personal oath, a code or creed, made manifest with one’s soul. It was something that had been formed by instinct, by the Awakened in times of crisis. But…now? With their unformed Spirit, with intention and clarity…

Couldn’t they force their Minds to formulate the perfect solution here?

The threads snapped.

Their vision returned in full.

And though the bitterness and intimacy of the experience must have shaken them…they were no longer just groping in the dark now.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@HereComesTheSnow@Conscripts@Krayzikk@VitaVitaAR}

They cut a swath through the ranks. Between Amy's magic, Clarice's curses, and Nicomede's sleight, there was nothing that could stop the momentum of four armored knights from punching a hole through the ranks of the Boars. Cruelty and taboo appeared to be the specialty of the Golden Boars, not any true skill, so, really, what was there?

Nothing, but blood upon her blade and guts beneath her boots. The impurities of the body splattered against her plate, dying curses too quiet to be heard over the roar of her heart. Distantly, she recognized one of the Boars breaking ranks, could hear Gerard's proclamation of that deserter's intent. But even her best throw could not see a hatchet bury itself into that man's back. She clicked her tongue instead, driving a blade into the latest mercenary to impede her path. Where were the archers? Either Lein or Cecilia could've made that shot!

Little time for distraction, however. The wind whistled in the gloom and by reflex, Serenity lunged forth, a blade clattering against her buckler. It had aimed for Steffen, principally their mightiest 'ram' and their least-protected one. A knife-throwing rogue emerged, throwing down the verbal gauntlet, but what need was there for such thoughts? What need was there to respect the challenge of a black-hearted sellsword?

The Boars outnumbered the Iron Roses either way. In any case, what need was there to respect a desire for single combat upon the battlefield?

"Sir Steffen, I'll cover you," Serenity spoke, once more wishing for a proper shield. "Lend Sir Gerard your aid in overcoming the armored one. Sir Nicomede, we'll have need for your magic against those hulks after."

And then, with a movement that could be considered nothing but audacious, the flaxen-haired knight sheathed her sword and drew a dagger, throwing it in the same instant towards the rogue.

"I see nothing but cowards and swine! We'll make short work of them!"

Harold's Academy for the Magically Inclined

Still a work in progress. But iz a good thing that no one else made a nuclear mage yet huhuhu.

Cain Darlite

◈ A p p e a r a n c e ◈
Regardless of what one thinks of his personality, Cain's certainly a handsome figure to look at. Broad-shouldered and tall, with a face that looks to be sculpt out of stone, he puts in the effort to maintain his aesthetic body, and it shows. His hair is a dark, silky mane that drops down to his waist, while his ashen eyes smoulder like the charred heat that could spark a wildfire. Even his massively thick eyebrows are a charm point of his, their animated nature perfect for conveying the sheer energy that thrums through his body. Regardless of idol or idiot, Cain stands out.

◈ "Rouse thine spirits, friends! Day breaks, for I am here!" ◈

◈ N a m e
Cain Darlite

◈ S p e l l c a s t e r N a m e
Flagbearer

◈ A g e, H e i g h t, a n d W e i g h t
18, 6'3, 221 lbs

◈ R a c e
Mystic

◈ G e n d e r
Male

◈ S e x u a l O r i e n t a t i o n
Heterosexual

◈ Y e a r
5th

◈ P e t
None.

◈ H o u s e
House of Harold

◈ I l l u m i n a i r e
No.

◈ C l a s s e s

◈ Gifts

◈ Music

◈ Theology

◈ Seraphim Piloting

◈ Defense Against the Ni-Seraphi

◈ A r e Y o u O n Y o u r H o u s e ' s W a a g a T e a m?
No.

◈ "'Turn down the sparkles?' Dearest companion, would thou expect the Sun to darken at thine request?" ◈

◈ P e r s o n a l i t y
Flamboyant◈ Daring◈ Romantic◈ Principled◈ Absolutely Fucking Insane

What else can be said, in truth?

Cain existed before his Gift did: even as a toddler, he loved attention and the spotlight, loved a happy atmosphere where everyone's operating at peak performance. Hard work should be paid off, people should be able to express themselves fully, violence was fine and fun so long as one could keep their emotions in the ring. Those beliefs are ones that he holds close to his heart, and those beliefs color his world so wholly that at times, it's unclear whether or not he's even truly 'seeing' the same world as everyone else. He's a naturally dramatic individual, stoking his own emotions to unnatural heights. He's a deeply serious individual, who genuinely means everything he says, who holds a great affection for every one of his fellow Mystics. What could they believe, if they could not believe those who would become your comrades when the sky cracks open and vomits out those false angels, that loathsome tyrant?

Perhaps his perspective had been warped by his family. Perhaps to him, war is to be celebrated, and peace to be spent in preparation for war. Perhaps, like a fair chunk of the student body believes, the Darlite family is truly only able to raise eccentrics who've drunk deep of battle-lust.

◈ H i s t o r y
3 to 5 paragraphs

◈ R e p u t a t i o n
Cain's a polarizing individual. He has high expectations of everyone around him, and yet is sickeningly kind when those expectations are failed. He's a popular performer, of course, and the rare occasions where he's able to leverage his Gift to its fullest during class have certainly made a lasting impression on all those who've witnessed it, but at the same time...that's it.

If you see him as an idol, he's blindingly incandescent, a living star too hot to approach.

If you see him as an idiot, he's entirely incomprehensible, a madman whose delusions usurped reality.

◈ G o a l s
What are your character's goals, dreams, aspirations, or ambitions after graduation?

◈ R e l a t i o n s
Family members, friends, lovers, crushes, enemies, rivals, mentors, etc.

◈ "With this, Heaven itself shall be eclipsed! Grand Magic Evocation!" ◈

◈ M y s t i c C l a s s i f i c a t i o n
Elementalist

◈ G i f t
Astrasphere

◈ M y s t i c C o d e
Is it the Gift that makes a Mystic, or the Mystic that makes their Gift?

Cain's Gift can fundamentally be considered the manipulation and manifestation of the element of Light, and his same-element peers have certainly possess the versatility that only light could grant. Healing light, hard-light barriers, curse-dispelling light, illusory light, concentrated light, blinding light. A master of the Element could do so much, with just the slightest bit of inspiration and flexibility.

But for the one who proclaims himself Flagbearer, his Gift can only be used in one way: wide-scale magic, manifested through lengthy incantations and arias. Cain exalts himself and his comrades with vitesse-laced verse, his domain pulling illumination from other sources before concentrating upon himself. It is a spotlight, drawing from the light of the Sun, the Stars, and the Moon, from the ambient radiance that suffused the world, and as his song reaches the climax, so too does all that gathered might finally manifest itself. Mayhaps it is a pillar of light, a sky-splitting spear to eradicate evil. Mayhaps it is a storm of stars, every bead reserved for a malcontent soul. Mayhaps it is the second Sun, plucked from the Heavens to destruct a stronghold of devils.

Mayhaps it is a miracle of healing and safeguarding too, a deluge of mercy for a broken world.

But no matter what it is, it's going to be big.

After all, the bigger, the better.

◈ L i m i t a t i o n s a n d W e a k n e s s e s
Cain's magic is literally worthless in normal situations. One does not bring a cannon to hammer down a nail, nor do they bring a chainsaw to peel a carrot. A common saying in Harold's Academy is that if you can't hear Cain chant, the situation's still under control.

Of course, if the emergency requires an immediate response, Cain's magic is similarly useless. His shortest incantations are still measured in minutes instead of seconds, and there is no short-hand for the performance that leads to his Gift's usage either. Either he commits himself to it entirely or it just doesn't happen at all. Rushed prayers do not evoke miracles.

Harold's Academy for the Magically Inclined

Which characters in the characters tab are still active?

Harold's Academy for the Magically Inclined

Been eyeballing this for a while but missed out on getting to it during the Interest Check phase; if there’re still slots, I’ll toss my hat in for this.

Expedition to Isekai

---

//Day 1 | Location: Nameless Forest - Lakeside
_{@AThousandCurses@baraquiel@Cu Chulainn@Nakushita@Yankee@Vertigo}
It was a messy situation, certainly. But for Maki?

“Asshole,” she said, a scolding edge digging into her voice. The girl kicked Duncan in the calf with her injured foot, a strike that he hardly felt and a strike that she definitely felt, but Maki knew how to bear the pain. “Was pretty obvious that Shun had feels for Yuudai since last year.”

Haruko was more hesitant to chastise her boyfriend. It wasn’t a matter of right or wrong here. It was a matter of emotions flaring up and situations that had no clearly correct answers. So all she could do was flash a grateful smile towards Maki, as Tsubasa strode on by, brushing past the three of them.

She didn’t spare Masato a glance, didn’t acknowledge Duncan.

She simply strode on after Shun, Ayana accompanying her. The two of them broke through the brush quickly enough, finding the reticent rider where she was, and while Ayana spoke, Tsubasa sat down instead. Right beside Shun, hugging her legs against her chest.

Right.

Yuudai had a childhood friend. A fellow child of a rice farmer’s family. One that pursued the arts the same way he had, but in a different field.

A sigh escaped Tsubasa. There wasn’t much she could say, not when she wanted to fold in onto herself instead. She rummaged through the pocket of her skirt instead, pulling out a squashed ball of mochi wrapped in plastic. It was warmed by body heat. A day old.

“Here. Eat up.”

Rice, pounded to mush, but rice all the same. They could have meats from the beasts they slew, vegetables from the foraging they did, fish from the lake they’d dive in, but rice. Rice was so far away.

“Thank you for caring for him, Shun.”

The three spent some time like this, in a forest too peaceful to be the forest that claimed the life of a loved one.

...

Panic flashed, Asahi’s voice replacing the guilt and the anger that flooded the atmosphere with a pronounced fear instead. Sasuke was fading, and Asahi, who had managed to pull Tsubaki from the brink, wasn’t able to do the same here. There was something missing, a piece that his own powers, however fading they were, could not replace, and he was floundering now.

Masato’s gaze caught Tsubaki’s and, despite the paleness of her own complexion, she still had enough presence of mind to shout out, “Clear out and give them space! Juro, Hiroshi, take off Sasuke’s shirt!” Haltingly, the young woman rose up, making her way over, and Akito broke away from his mental deathmatch with Kogen a second time to help her over. There were no exchange, not even any emotion, shared between the two of them, and he scattered soon after.

“It’s internal bleeding,” Hiroshi said, as Juro unbuttoned Sasuke’s shirt. Ugly splotches of dark purple marred the martial artist’s chest, and the way his chest rose with each breath made it clear that his ribs weren’t shaped the way they ought to be. “We don’t have the tools to deal with that.”

The implication was clear enough. He was going to die.

Tsubaki fixed the shark-toothed boy with a glare. “Don’t say that.”

“Situation’s bad, is what I’m saying.” It was almost callous, his shrug, but perhaps that was the difference in attitude between a scientist and a careworker. Emotion could not influence his own analysis. Perhaps the ‘magic’ that dwelled within Masato and Asahi could accomplish something, but that was a wild card still. They knew too little.

They knew nothing, really, except for the fact that they were still incredibly lucky.

Except…except…

“W-what about Yuki?”

Yukiko called out to them, her gray eyes pleading. If Sasuke couldn’t be saved, did that mean Yuki couldn’t be either? Was that it? Had Asahi's healing of Tsubaki just been a once-in-a-lifetime miracle, an overlapping of unlikely probabilities?

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@PigeonOfAstora@HereComesTheSnow@Conscripts@Krayzikk}

No tracks that could mean anything, not really.

But with enemies like these, even the greatest miracles of stealth would be wasted on them.

Mongrels emerged from shadows, the vanguard for lesser men of foul stock. Serenity’s gaze swept over Lein for a moment, wondering if the goddess had deigned to split the foulest aspects of the archer before her and make that the Iron Roses’ foe for the night, but there was no value in speaking such things right now. No, if such monstrosities already trespassed upon inviolable territory, there was no point in decorum, now was there?

So, with a natural swing and no small amount of effort spent, the flaxen-haired knight grabbed her companion and threw him to the tops of the ancient stones. He would land on his feet, with some fortune. He would have a vantage point and more neighbouring rocks to engage in his hit-and-run tactics, if so he chose.

But honestly, Serenity simply wanted some quiet.

And, as light died, as shadows grew long, as devils whispered into the ears of the headhunters, instigating treachery and inhumanity, she slid her visor on once more, enclosing herself within tempered steel. Her heartbeat could be heard once more, a steady beat that thrummed with a growing intensity.

Buckler in left, longsword in right.

Her instruments for tonight.

…

In the organized fray, it was easy to see the landmark that Steffan made, horns and a naked head peaking out from the swath of the common lot. Gerard, bloodsoaked already, was nearby too, a violence-lusting trance consuming the former mercenary. Nicomede, wielding water instead of wine, was the sole symbol of a knight’s sophistication there, and Serenity swept forth, her own blade matching the wind-song of a half-demon as she cleaved through fur and flesh to reach them.

Not the usual suspects, certainly. Renar and Fionn must be making their move elsewhere.

“Last time I take Sir Fionn’s advice,” Serenity shouted at them, her voice carrying merrily through the bloodied field. “Should’ve brought a real shield instead of this dinner plate!”

A Cursed Dog leapt and ended up having a taste of the dinner plate before she slid her blade across its throat and tossed it at an approaching Boar, running them both through with a single thrust.

"Ought to be a mage here, with these beasts and that sudden appearance. Guide us, Sir Nicomede, and we'll advance to glory!"

Expedition to Isekai

Sasuke wasn’t breathing heavily.

What Asahi heard was his own breathing. And what he spoke was for his own benefit only.

After all, the fair-faced martial artist was unconscious, his breaths shallow and meager, far removed from the steady, calm breathing that was instilled in him by his father and grandfather. It was a thread, fraying. A thread about to snap. A thread that Asahi had to weave back together.

Pink threads slipped out from his fingers, teased out from the forge within his core. They snagged, like spidersilk, upon Sasuke’s pale, pallid flesh, and immediately, Asahi felt it.

There were no thoughts. No emotions. Nothing to latch onto except the faint signal of a life ebbing away. It was void, a crippling, exhausting void, one that could only inform him of the internal injuries, the organs skewered by broken ribs, before being exacerbated by methods of carrying that were as primitive as a piggyback ride. It was a flash of alacrity, and then, like a TV with its plug pulled, it turned to black as well.

Asahi’s stomach seemed to fold in on itself, the forge gone cold from both dread and simply lack of fuel.

He hadn’t eaten yet. He hadn’t even drunk anything yet. He had hardly slept. He was already on the precipice himself, and instinctually, as an Awakened and simply as a human being, he understood that he couldn’t keep pushing himself. He was empty. He had been empty since the night before, burnt to cinders by his efforts at keeping up with the hulk-phant. He had pushed himself to the shatterpoint healing Tsubaki. Some rest had helped him recover, but he needed more. He need water. He need rest.

And, most importantly, he needed food. So much food. Easily twice the amount of food he had just managed to gather by himself.
But what he didn’t have was time.

His threads, his Cables, dissolved, disconnecting from the fragmented vestiges of Sasuke’s unconsciousness as Asahi’s own mind grew faint. Such banal arguments they were all having.

It must be so nice, having the energy to bitch and moan.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

_{@PigeonOfAstora@6slyboy6}

Night, day, and now night once more.

Cae Mayl loomed. It was a beautiful place during day, but it was at night that the old shrine truly manifested its sense of divinity and holiness. Long shadows were cast by the setting sun, the wild roses set aflame by amber light. Serenity’s eyes settled naturally upon the Moon Pool, that brilliant surface a mirror-reflection of the sky.

She murmured a prayer, then dismounted from her steed.

“Lein. Come.” the knight called, finding the gaze of the Hundi that looked just about to lose his mind from the tedium of the task ahead. “If the Boars left by natural means, there’s a chance of tracks leading out. We’ll look for that, while there’s still some daylight. Dame Amy, keep with the Captain. Yours is the finest magic we have to confound the subterfuge of ambushers, both natural and supernatural.”