HereComesTheSnow

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

historical recreation of Sir Sagramore Gellért looking for the voices (colorized, 1992)

Secundi Lux

---

As the music wound down to its denouement, and the cordial pair's sweeping arcs too dwindled, Selma nodded along as her dance partner replied in earnest to her (by conifer standards) careful probing. Seemed that word of the specific difficulties her team had suffered in the long ride over to Palmyra hadn't quite gotten out... Good, honestly. That encounter following them like a stormcloud would weigh on everything they did after— the judgement of their actions, their progression as Ars Magi, their reputations— and even if it were in a positive light, extra expectations could be a burden all their own on the girls.

It would be best if it stayed this way, you know?

Best they all took only the lessons they needed from it, and nothing more.

Hyun cracked a grin.

“Personally I’d rather hear what Selma has to say about Selma than read about it in a report.”

She could only respond in kind, but while his was wry, the verdant titan's was all but leonine. Far removed from her affectations of princely bearing for Chie's sake, Hyun looked up at a girl who knew, down to her bones,

"I say they're not ready for me out there. And if the manifestation at the exams are anything to go by? They know it, too."

Their hands parted soon after, courtly bows exchanging before a much more easygoing farewell in the spoken word. She took the invitation to the cadets' table into the back of her head for now— every chance she might wind up over there to drop by and say hello should the night drag on enough, but at present, she had a Chie and a Crystal to scoop back up— and, hopefully, not a band to save from Rivka.

---

WHUMP-"Aaaaah..."

The well worn springs of the mattress strained heroically as an all-too familiar weight of one Miss Rosmarie collapsed upon it, a graceless flopping that only tower demolitions, sequoia deforestation, and wiped Ars Magi could replicate.

It wasn't as boring a night as she'd expected, in all fairness. Spending time in various duos and trios with her favorite four girls on the planet, as it turned out, couldn't manage to turn out that way, but cripes if it wasn't a long one. What was more, she might have snatched one or two hors d'oeurves too many off the revolving platters that the serving staff had so graciously carried (she hoped they got paid well enough, in retrospect) throughout the night, if the rock she felt in her stomach was any indication.

Tonight was gonna be one for a good, looooong snooze.

She stretched her limbs on the bed, back arching until she pulled a fairly satisfying pop out of somewhere between the shoulder blades. Mossy hair splayed in a wave all across the pillow, she let her head lull to the side to regard her partner in crime across the room, before letting her gaze turn up towards the ceiling.

"Say," she began, breaking their companionable silence almost in time with the sounds of running water through the walls between them and their next door neighbors. Fitting, because for all intents and purposes...

"Whaddya think the like... funniest thing you could do with your Elementum would be?"

After all, it was kind of a shower thought.

"Because, you know how we basically always are being watched by the staff? Like, I even saw some people at the ball keeping an eye on us— and they put us in teams, right? So I'm guessing they expect us all to synergize, have good teamwork, have powers that complement eachother, all that stuff—"

Clearly thinking aloud at about the same clip as the words came to her head in the first place, she made the herculean effort to prop herself up onto an elbow as she rolled on.

"So at some point, I'm gonna guess we need to come up with combo moves, too. And with Earth and Gravity... is it weird that I immediately just think of dropping a rock really hard on a Void?"

And it wasn't just themselves they'd be graded on ease of teamwork with, she reckoned...

“We’re supposed to be receiving individual dossiers for our next exercise. With most of you having unique powers, we have to understand what you’re capable of to do our jobs.”

The Officer cadets were there for a reason too.

She would be more than a little surprised if, whenever joint exercises began, they didn't meet a face that wasn't familiar to at least one of the girls.

To that point of Hyun's, maybe it was time to start considering how their tandems played out.

"...I dunno how seriously I could take splatting a void like what's in my head, is all. What's your take?"

Rivka never did get that crucible she wanted out of her...

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

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@Crimson Paladin

Fleuri was tense. He could hear it, if only just, beneath the reassurances in his words. Gerard had heard the same tone out his own mouth many times— though he was having a little trouble divining why the man was still holding himself to caution. They had, for all practical purposes, beaten the mercenaries handily, hadn't they?

"That's good, sir." he let out, a shaky breath that was halfway laughing hitching the words a little beneath a lopsided smirk. "All the better to enjoy double pay, eh?"

His face then fell, as he noted the man's eyes affixing themselves to something beyond his back— in the direction of tight and raised voices both. No time for jokes— their duties were far from over.

Gerard, ever the faithful student of his betters, scanned the field as Fleuri had— looking for breath among the stricken bodies of gilded swine. Even if he couldn't quite read him, his esteem of the man told him that the Jodeau household's noble son did not rankle easily, nor without reason. Watching him march forward, towards the corpses, then to the congregation at the center, Gerard drew in a breath through his teeth, deep and slow. Talking was necessary, and he'd muscled through worse— but damn if moving his mouth hadn't made the scratch on his cheek—

My, does it hurt?

He blinked once, then twice. Well, yeah, it definitely did, but... was that somebody? It didn't sound like Dame Runa, as sparingly as he'd heard her voice, nor was it any of the Captain, Tyaethe, or Maritza—

His eyes darted to and fro, searching the erstwhile battleground for the source of the words, yet finding nothing. Nobody but him... at least nobody but him close enough to hear that clearly. ...What the hell? He didn't recognize the feminine tones. He didn't think he did. Did he? No, that's getting ahead of the point.

His self concept?

He... didn't remember his thoughts sounding so girlish.

"Hmph." He grunted, feeling himself begin to think in circles. He had better uses for the energy. "I'll live. Nothing some rest can't get me through."

Might as well reassure whomever the hell it was, and move on.

Of all the lies a man could tell, this came by leagues the most easily and naturally.

Hell, maybe that's what had Sir Fleuri all terse. I probably look pretty bad.

His brow furrowed, mouth drawing into a tight-lipped line, as he stalked forwards, opposite the sounds of continued standoff with the young scion of the disgraced house of Cal. He was no interrogator, and he'd already pushed his luck once in trading words with young ladies of the upper crust at the ball. The last thing the Knights needed was him cutting in with the wrong approach. He hardly trusted himself to speak gently.

Nah. He'd be better served with work that was silent until it needed not to be. Sword still in hand, his march arrived at one of the fallen Boars, scalded flesh and blood burnt black wafting up to his nose in an acrid stench. Runa's kill. That bastard sword of hers, cloaked in crackling blaze, had certainly done a number on mortal men— and yet.

The tip, a point of umbra-streaked silver in the blueing light of the full moon, sunk into still flesh. He looked the fallen man over. Young guy. No older than Gerard himself. Could well have been a man much like him, really...

Nothing interesting on him, though, Least of all movement. Dead for sure. He moved on a half-step to the next of the fallen. Especially with the magics and unrelenting force so manyt of his compatriots commanded, this much was a formality—

But, a glance down his gambeson revealed similar stains blossoming out onto the cotton, points of darkness that matched sting, burning Mistakes all along his frame.

He continued down the line with a chuff.

You never really knew.

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

I appreciate the patience, everyone. I’m looking at posting this evening, if all goes well.

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

I don't believe be able to post for at least another week due to family affairs. There's a very small chance I could squirrel away some time somewhere, but please don't wait on me if anyone is.

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

Received bad news today. Will notify you guys if I cannot post for this round

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

Gerard Segremors

@JessieTargaryen@VitaVitaAR@Crimson Paladin

Their ranks crumbled beneath the crushing surge from the knights, and they began to turn tail at the behest of their blackguard officer. One by one, by two, by five, then by tens— the Boars were in full retreat, scattering and melting into the trees, out of the reach of his silver-stained crimson. His own breaths now filled the deafening void in the wake of clashing steel and spraying blood. The Knight-Captain's high and clear call reached his ears to confirm it:

The night was won.

"Victory," he managed, lost beneath the stronger cries of his fellows with fuller lungs.

Gerard... didn't know how long it had been.

Even with the resolute desire for presence within the chaos, time was a wind that slipped between his fingers, even had he wanted purely to grasp it. To throw oneself in the melee as he had, lost within the swordplay, it was a fool's errand. All he knew was that his condition hadn't failed before their morale.

Though, as he stood there panting, it may have yet been a close-run thing. Following up the Zweihander might not have exactly been tip of the spear, but acting as the weight driving behind it was tough work in its own right— like sprinting up a mountainside. All momentum— the moment he lost pace or focus, he would have been gutted like a fish. Their training had seen to it that they could exploit the opportunity Fleuri and Runa had created, but, equally, the Boars had their own— and it allowed them to get halfway to regrouped.

He took a step forward, waving to the two he'd wedged himself betwixt—

On the individual level, at least, their counterattacks had been sound right at the end. The better fighters, more experienced of the Boars, had for all his distaste of them been cut from the same cloth as he— thinking and acting on their feet was pressed into them on the anvil of the war campaign. The knights had won on a formation level handily with the snap judgement made by the Doppelsoldner routine.

—"Good work, people,"—

But on the individual, man-to-man combative level, it was much closer in the thick of it. The knightly pedigree had certainly not come unfounded— as a mercenary, Gerard wasn't sure that he'd have not lost anyone like this. There was a reason you were paid double, as the name implied.

—And found the world to drift out of and back into focus, catching himself as he staggered.

Well, shit.

That wasn't right.

He grunted, shaking his head and forcing his vision straight again. With a furrowed brow, the knight wiped sweat free from his face only to find himself suddenly aware of a deep, burning sting down from his cheekbone to his jawline, fading back into his senses as the last of the fight left him, and he was brought down to earth.

He grit teeth as more of those same lines of angry, dull flame began to draw themselves along the gaps in his armor, the folds of cloth where he moved. His armor had begun to feel heavier, now, and he imagined he was beginning to look a little pale and sluggish. Was the air always this cold?

Well, it being nighttime, maybe it was just the atmosphere. Long days asked for long rests, and the moon was high among the stars tonight, drowning them beneath its soft white glow. Tired and aching were familiar enough...

He checked his palm, fearing the result. A pull in his arm didn't make matters any better...

Red.

No trying to convince himself otherwise now.

He sighed inwardly, as two thoughts hit his mind at roughly the same moment as he marched forward again, this time with a pointedly steady stride.

Guess that was a long time coming.

"Fleuri, Runa. All good?"

Ow. Ow, okay. Ow. Dammit. Ow.

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

nothing today, it valentine

an idea is formed for later in the week though

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

I think we're making some progress on it. Luckily, I've been very careful with it and caught the twinge early enough that it's not developed into something serious.

Happy Lunar New Year, to those celebrating!

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

Gerard Segremors

@JessieTargaryen@VitaVitaAR@Crimson Paladin

And roughshod over the Boars, the crushing thunder chased the piercing lightning.

He recognized this.

As the man ahead of him charged forward, drawing his zweihander into a whirling, deadly cyclone of silver, Gerard caught his intent in that shared glance all but perfectly— and it seemed the more things were to change, the more they'd stay the same. How to reconcile his reforged commitment to grow beyond his past with this perfect position to draw upon the experience it gave... he could not begin to scratch upon it. The irony registered in his head, passing as a flicker, before the crash of steel on wood blew it away. He could ruminate when there was time for it.

"For Reon! For the Roses!"

"For Reon! Their lines are broken!"

His voice echoed Fleuri's, a coarse bellow that doubtlessly reached the ears of all on the field.

His legs had already begun to move as the call resonated in his ears, body acting even while the mind had jammed. As a mercenary in the Black Regiment, he had played this role so many times as to beat it into the very fiber of his being, surging towards the Boars' second line in Fleuri's wake with longsword held ready. As an emulation of a Doppelsöldner, his senior's primary focus was acting as a shock troop— hitting the formation hard and fast, with intent to disrupt just as much as kill. The Zweihander he held had tremendous cutting power thanks to its length, mass and balance once it got up to speed, and he plainly wielded it amply, utilizing himself as fulcrum and maintaining that hewing, smashing momentum as much as he could without overextending his balance.

And smash it did. Ahead of him, in the second and a half span between their charges, Gerard saw him bring all that velocity and force down upon not the boars wielding the spears, but a comet crashing down onto the hafts themselves. It knocked them loose from their grips, the sudden force down past the center of the weapons' balance sending them in a jumble as their thicket of spearheads were knocked aside, past where they could be kept facing Fleuri, Gerard, or the troops yet behind.

The ghost of a smile crossed his face. Such a misplaced pride, given the circumstances, and yet...

The torrid, bright yellow-orange of a surging bonfire burst to life in his peripheral, and he realized that Runa was making her own stab at the idea, a few paces away. The sword she carried served as something of an intermediate point between his own and Fleuri's Zweihander, not quite so plainly smashing as the latter but still enough to amply knock the spears off line— and if any of them caught the flame, so much the better.

Two pockets of discord in the formation ahead, on either side. Two of his compatriots extended outward, ahead of him, and potentially encircled once the enemy regrouped from the sudden disruptions in formation. Already working their way into the meat behind the spears they attacked, the concept of attacking the weapon to split the guard as the enemy was forced to retreat or recover. Step upon the enemy's sword, and you have his throat without fail. They had maybe seconds.

On their own, that was.

He had to keep his head about him. The rush of combat was inevitable. It was the body readying itself for doing whatever it needed to survive. Like stepping into a roaring river, it was not a force you stopped. He couldn't hold it down. He would ride the current. Let it carry him, but not toss him about.

In his final steps, Gerard centered his resolve.

"DON'T LET 'EM REGROUP!"

And then he was upon them, and let the flow of swordplay take his movement.

The former mercenary brought his longsword down through the collarbone of the nearest Boar in a tight oberhau while they scrabbled to bring their formation back to proper regimenting, to reassert their control over their weapons. It bit deep, drawing a spray of crimson— and with a firm boot planted in the chest, Gerard wrenched it free again, shoving the dying man into his fellows behind. He drew it up to his brow, entering ochs guard, before stepping forward in a lunge and ramming the tip into another as they tripped over the sudden body in their feet.

Having caught himself between the two, his role was crucial now— the more he capitalized on those moments of disruption, the safer he would leave his two fellows as those moments passed. He fell in upon both groups simultaneously from their fringes— the areas that were also most likely to survive the initial clashes with Fleuri and Runa without him.

A senior and a junior knight. A respected mentor and one of the first wave of recruits newer even than he.

Both ends of his relationship with the Order, and his status within its members. Two very different sets of responsibilities a man could feel, but both ended at one duty: He would not let them die for this.

All rank fell away in the melee. They were fellow soldiers knights now, no more and no less.

For their courage to amount to nothing would be the lowest thanks he could give— no honor to be had. No justice.

He would answer them rightly.

Cutting,
whirling,
thrusting,
swinging,
parrying,
fighting,
killing. killing all who would do harm.

Gerard felt the rhythm, the ebb and flow, hold him again, guide his hand through motions it knew. His skirmishes with the Boars would serve a grander purpose here than he had ever known they would within them. He trusted the memory of his body, and let his mind clear.

Need not rage.

Purpose.