HereComesTheSnow

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

post soon, i’m an old man now

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

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<<Solid copy, Odysseus. Currently loitering in local airspace until primary egress has finished. I'll be two clicks southwest of everyone until I follow you topside. Maintaining altitude at 1500.>>

The crisp, lightly accented tones returned as the Arthurian knight drifted in a lazy spiral outward from the previously marked AO towards his stated overwatch point, silver armor tinted red from the crimson glow of his beam saber. Beneath his helmet, the pilot's eyes scanned the seemingly featureless sands below, not affording himself the chance to metaphorically lean back behind the controls. Every so often, his gaze slid back again to the torn pile of scrap that he had felled, an unforseen threat that— if the amount of pings he had momentarily seen beneath them were any indication— were liable to repeat, potentially at any time.

Far be it from him to expect a welcoming party an entire star system away, but still, the military experience within the expedition team was paying clear dividends where things stood at present. Such being the case...

<<... No complaints from me.>>

Michael's pilot could only offer a strained acquiescence to his ribbing. That, combined with her performance (truthfully lack thereof) in combat, needed ironing out. A decidedly civilian element in the detachment, Stel... Nebula, it was. had what may well have been an orbital-grade Ferrari at her fingertips, bleeding edge tech from the far-flung facilities on Pluto— but it would amount to nothing if she couldn't leverage it. Her flight hours, from what he remembered, hardly scratched the double digits. Heavy simulation, but no live combat. No maneuvering its weight under duress, learning the response of mass to control.

<<Always next time. Mount up for atmospheric burn.>>

They'd need to hammer that lead pit in her stomach out, before it got her killed. Joint exercises were doubtlessly on the itinerary, and if they weren't they would be, now that the expedition team had seen combat. Castle or Zakharin would likely need to give oversight until she'd gotten used to her Orbital.

Maybe even he'd have to shadow her. Who knew? Good a kid as she seemed, they needed her up to speed and didn't have the time nor stage to wait on it. If that was how the chips fell, he knew how to play taskmaster.

As the skies were painted orange, first by smoke and the by fire, Konstantin watched each chariot rise toward the stars, the returning victors of this first conquest into foreign land, silver plunder in tow.

Once more he looked to the mysterious sands, many more untold battles and discoveries beneath.

And then, as the final blaze screamed into the heavens, the Knight rode back to the Round Table awaiting high above.

Secundi Lux

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A low, almost rumbling chuckle rose from Selma's belly, as she took in turn the rod, then sandwich from her newly christened teammate. Aoife Sturmgaard, as she had grown to know in the weeks following their induction as Ars Magi trainees, was the queen of wave and storm. Normally still and placid, easygoing as the babbling brook at which they sat, but thrown into combat she was as the hurricane itself, the crashing waves that tore against the coast. In that sense Selma found a kinship that was almost impossible to ignore, even in the face of the natural awkwardness of having her as a late arrival to their motley crew.

Rod in her right hand, she took a moment to offer a small well wish towards the next life to the worm that writhed around the dangling metal hook.

It was nice to have another person that approached fights for the pure thrill of it— Rivka was one to enjoy herself, sure, but hers was a pursuit of beautiful symphony, an orchestra in motion, everything falling into its perfect place, harmonizing as she sculpted it. Crystal was a technician to the core, trained well and composed when it counted, but she seemed to not quite take the same joy, to feel less of the revelry Selma felt in a brawl. Chie, to her eternal credit, had clearly been making strides in Selma's watchful eye, settling in as the weeks of training and structured fostering of their abilities gave her a true base of skill to fall back on. She was still very much a work in progress— they all were, but Selma couldn't help but admit that she was probably the closest one here to a normal young girl when it came to mentality.

Sandwich in her left, she took a hearty bite, letting the tang of mustard explode over her tongue as it brightened the savory ham and nutty cheese between the bread, ponderously chewing.

On one hand, it would put her at a bit of a disadvantage as Ars Magi put themselves regularly in extraordinary situations, forcing a harsher adjustment in attitude than the others— but on the other, it also meant she was the furthest from forgetting her roots as one of the people they were pledging their lives to protect. That was every bit as important as being able to turn on killer instinct in Selma's mind. She'd been sure to try to remind her of that in the many nighttime chats they'd shared as roommates. She had her own strengths, things the rest of them could never do. Stuff like that.

But Aoife seemed to share the joy Selma took in battle. She did not require perfection, she had no need of second guesses. She flowed through the chaos and energy of combat, ebbing and rippling with it as though born for the clamor. It was an easy point of kinship, only fostered through the combat exercises the school had put the two through. One was the flowing river, taking the form of the ever-changing vessel of her combative context, a master of the field. The other was a sturdy mountain, in many ways unbothered and welcoming of all the war that its face beheld— an ever-present part of the field itself, laughing even as the world around it shifted.

With a single raise of the elbow and flick of the wrist, the big girl cast her line, turning to meet the Sturmgaard name's latest and greatest product with a gentle smirk.

"Every day. Like you wouldn't believe. Whenever we finish a lesson I wanna collapse onto a hay bale and not think for the next week." she said, plain as the morning slowly rising around them. The light of the stream, a dancing cascade of patterns in white against her emerald eyes, seemed to take a wistful tint. "At the very least, I wish I could tell my family so i could make sure I got it all right, y'know?"

Her left hand, freshly relieved of sandwich after transferring it to the mouth where it slowly retreated in behind her teeth, made a loose fist and rapped against her skull, sending moss-colored locks in a light sway.

"Ol' rohck brain don' work too goo', y'know?" she joked through proteins and carbohydrates with what seemed to be practiced clarity.

Taking a moment to finish her food properly, she then snorted.

"Hell, I was born missing home. It's why I wanted this, after all... Family's been wanting to go back to the Black Forest since long before me."

The wistful tint went somewhere far, far away for one, two, then three moments before blinking away as she returned to the present.

"We are, aren't we?" she agreed, a toothy grin blossoming into her cheeks as she playfully punched the smaller girl on the shoulder. "You an' I are must-see-TV, even compared to everyone else."

Sensing a tug on the rod, she leaned forward, gripping the reel.

"We're all gonna be great. With how long I take to learn things, I know for a fact that you four are wowin' everyone already. Wouldn't trade you girls for the world."

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

poor stel

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

getting the gears moving

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@Crimson Paladin@VitaVitaAR

The Stingray openly preened at his words, tilting her head back and regarding the young knight with a smile that might have been charming, had he not been overwhelmed by the sense he was being appraised by a hunter in the forest. It was almost chilling. He couldn't relax around this person, not fully and not yet. He'd treat her with the care one ascribed to a dangerous beast— never to show fear, but to maintain healthy awareness of capability.

His search through the Captain's quarters, by contrast, was roughshod and almost irreverent in the name of thoroughness. Where surprisingly little had been disturbed prior, Gerard all but turned the room upon its side in search of evidence, but to no avail. Whomever had incited things had, for all The Stingray's opinion on their technique in slitting throats, taken great care to cover their tracks. Save for the pointedly empty desk drawer, mocking them in its question-raising, he had found nothing until they came across the corpse, hidden in the shadow of the door next to a blood-drenched mound of linen.

"Well, much cleaner here." he chuffed plainly, dropping to a squat and reaching out to examine the wound up close, steely hand staining slightly red as it traced the crimson line across the man's neck. If there were any fragments of the blade that caused this wound, he'd pry them out. Anything would be a step up from what they'd been working with thus far.

Then again, such a wound would surely be the Shard's doing, no?

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Same situation for me man, no worries

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

heh heh

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

I imagine Gerard's searching technique to essentially be "barely restrained from outright ransacking" lol

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@Crimson Paladin@VitaVitaAR

Even through the stern cast of his face all throughout the pleasantries exchanged between his knightly senior and former peer amongst mercenaries, Segremors found himself compelled to draw out a low whistle, awed by what the former had suddenly proposed. Though he doubted his education was anything more than fragmentary, one could hardly live long as an Iron Rose without hearing tell of their honored founder's duel with Orodrunn, how her divine favor granted her the might to shatter his accursed weapon, a sword of shadow. If the curse was to spread its darkness by darkening the hearts of man with merely a touch... Yeah, little wonder that picture of composure, rivalled only perhaps by Sir Nicomede, stood plainly wide-eyed before him.

At the tilt of Sir Fleuri's head, Gerard nodded and stepped forth, more alert than ever. "Gerard Segremors. Pleased to be cooperating rather than meeting the Stingray on the field. Heard a lot about your toxins." He'd long been familiar with the rumors surrounding the ethereal figure that stood before him, and now having the association of deadly toxins coating the edges of all the knives on her person made him quietly relieved that her company's reputation had preceded them.

He doubtlessly would have run himself onto a swift death had he fought them unknowingly, at the behest of all those who had seen him expendable. And ended life that accomplished the mission was noble sacrifice, one he figured himself still willing to make, but suicide through ignorance was beyond even he. As Sir Fleuri spoke, he made for the door, deferring to his elder comrade for much of the conversation.

While for it to have affected the entire garrison this shard needed to be somewhere that all could touch or at least feel its presence, Gerard didn't deny his better's point— something so valuable, so dangerous, surely must have warranted record, assuming it was passed here through standard procedure. Captain's quarters were as good a start as any— overseeing the entire fort meant he would have a hand in all forms of administration, even if only as a signatory.

As they traversed the stairs, Gerard's mind was awash with possibilities regarding where the supposed shard could have ended up. Mess hall? Public, certainly, and likely would have allowed for it be in the immediate vicinity of a lot of soldiers. Likewise the barracks. For how it would get out of storage... Well, the same question could be extended to how it even afflicted more than a handful of men. Either it took less than touching it, or the first soldiers, in a maddened frenzy handling the slivers of an immensely powerful sword... used it to attack eachother?

No, they died from what looked like their own weapons. What the hell? Did it get crushed up and mixed in with the food that had been sent down their gullets?

This is going to give me a fit.

Why would such a dangerous object be transferred here to begin with? Surely the crown would not have been so careless...

As the somewhat unlikely trio gazed upon an undisturbed room, nigh-pristine from when it was lived in, and a cleanly cut gullet of the Captain of the base, a thought occurred as Gerard wordlessly began to search, scouring the man's desk for any charters or documents regarding a black shard that was not to be directly handled.

"What if it was planted here by another party?" he ventured after a few moments of searching, breaking his silence as he felt around the bottom of the desk. "By people further trying to destabilize things around Thaln, I mean. Feels like a concerted effort with all the recent stuff we've been through, Knight's Doom aside."