HereComesTheSnow

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@The Otter@Conscripts

"A white mask, huh? Hm." he grunted, turning his gaze upward in thought as sticking around inevitably drew him into the conversation as well— seemed she was irked at the concealment of the bigger picture, not having a lead that she could really force into a wedge to pry the veil open with. A rare concern for the experiences he'd lived beforehand, but for her...

"I'd heard some mumbling when my old band got dissolved about a few guys continuing in offshoot elsewhere... but there's no way it could have been them. Not enough time to pull together funding to get mired into all this, put that many Boars on payroll, or scoop up any mage worth their salt in the arcane, let alone one that could manage what we went over in the debrief. It's true. That isn't much of anything to work with."

Leadership meant taking stock of more than just state of one's own men— it was the environment, it was the supply, it was the opportunity available to you. More than maybe anyone, her business was not only the Knights, but the world around them as well. Eyes, Ears, Tongue, Nose— every sensory organ was at the head. The captain didn't have luxury he'd always enjoyed, of focusing on simply executing the task placed in front of him— she was the one who was saddled with the responsibility for the how, the why, the where and when.

She clearly had heavy regard for the lives of those she commanded, as well. The three of them together like this, it was easy to let the mind drift back to the raid on Jeremiah's encampment, in their swift but vicious clash with the Bandit King. A wrong step there had caused Sir Rickart to die. As things stood, a wrong step here, when dealing with such a fundamental curse upon the world as the Shards of Angoron... much the same, doubtless, was on the table. And yet that responsibility, as sworn protectors, would not abide them doing nothing with this. To sit idly and let whatever machinations they'd walked into play out until hands were shown would be inexcusable. Nothing good could come of anything involving what they'd uncovered in the past two days.

"If we know our enemies're on hunt for them, I do think it'd make sense to do what we can to cut them off by getting a hold the shards first." he offered, nodding to Fionn before continuing. "And since that'd require safe containment and transport, it'd be another angle you could take from going down the line Fionn's talking about— the people involved with the exchange originally must have had some means of doing so. 'What was supposed to be happening' hand in hand with 'How it was supposed to happen'."

From the corner of his view, a steadily growing mass of dark color tipped in staglike horns had finally stopped, waited for his moment to cut in, and greeted them all— quick to find looks of his concern brushed aside, ill-placed.

"No occasion, just needed to get ahold of Fionn for something and it looks like we all blundered into eachother," he breathed, before noting the held gaze settling on the wrapped arm, the gauzed jaw with a blink that almost seemed puzzled. "And me? I'm fine. This is all just doctor's orders, I've let the march heal worse."

He jerked a thumb in the direction of the veltic swordsman, an amused grin sliding across his features for a moment. This was gonna be Hope all over again if he let it, wasn't it?

"Your concern is appreciated, but he and I were fighting men well before we became knights, Sir Steffen. He can handle his duels, I can handle a scratch or two. Battlefields were our workplace since we were younger than the Captain, here."

He tapped his skull twice with a fingertip, right by the temple.

"The thinking we're doing to try and lend her a hand's the harder part. So saying, Captain, you obviously oughta be taking what I say with a grain of salt. Fionn's got a point in keeping your focus tight and manageable."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@The Otter

A patch upon his face, shielding a fresh scar from the gentle sun until the freshly healed skin was ready to taste air.

The dark clothes on his frame, while soaking up Reon's soothing grace in a comforting way, concealed many of its kin— scaffolding to cover an array of bruises, scrapes, slices, and soreness from the long night before, each a lesson most men only ever were afforded the chance to learn once. But his head had always been hard, sadly— and for all the good it did in shrugging off wounds, it showed equal obstinance with everything else.

And so, in spite of his sudden battlefield clarity that had seen him leverage the strength of his peers against an old, hated foe, the damage had long been done— and he'd enjoyed a cold, stinging, and sore ride home for it. He'd been lucky to escape truly serious injury, but by the same token that had meant their detachment of the Healing Corps had rightly placed most of their focus on those worse off— Sir Sergio and his broken arm, for instance. It wasn't until later that the combined forces of magic and medicine had gotten their hands upon him.

Closure of wounds, balms for pulled muscle, a brace on the forearm where he'd been bitten, just in case there was a crack in the bone.

Everything had been taken care of in short order, to their credit— but his cavalier attitude towards anything he could feasibly ignore had earned him an earful twice over. Doctor's orders were strict and straightforward— "Take a damn day to get your strength back, idiot".

So.

He was mostly fine, save for these precautions.

He had the day to himself. A rare thing. He'd preferred filling time by honing his body in some way— training, conditioning, strength exercise, sparring, all things that were, for the moment, off the table. His hands hated being idle.

For a time he'd drifted over to the library, plucking free Fechtbucher to skim through and return in short order, still very much a physical learner— he'd keep the newer tricks in his head for a proper time, but if he'd taken them with him the urge to try and meld things into the greater fold of his technique would doubtless overcome his better sense.

Instead, he'd left with a few rolls of spare parchment in hand, a piece of advice on the mind, and way too many hours to fill— all those lesser-kept activities arising in clarion call, now freed from the monolith of "training" that had squashed them beforehand.

...Do I really sound like this when I've got nothing to do? Reon's rays, Sagramore, quit rambling.

He'd found himself marching through the gardens at a pace not quite determined or swift, nor exactly that of sightseeing or smelling the roses. He didn't have a destination in mind, so much as a specific person to hunt down— one Dame Serenity had mentioned off-hand as worth recruiting for one such Task Previously Avoided.

A shame he had such preoccupations, really— He was a farmer, not a florist, but the full palette that seemed eternally in bloom was a backdrop few would argue unworthy of some appreciation for. There was a beauty in the vibrant arrays that he had rarely gotten to see in prior life, one whose fragility doubtless required constant maintenance, lest it be lost to wind, sun, or in the cold that was yet to come.

He rounded a bend, looking past all of this, aimlessly searching.

"The one day he's not working on his damned mill when I nee— Ah."

Goddesses knew what Fionn was doing here, in all places, but that solved that problem.

"There you are. Hey, I got a favor to ask. You buuuu..."

Around now was when his mildly frustrated glower drifted down to contemplate the shock of gold that had sat in the foreground, between he and his fellow mercenary alum— the shock of gold set into a crown braid, whose station demanded more respect than this, whose frustration was already evident upon her face.

"You're busy."

He wiped the look from his bandaged visage as though blinking away smoke, and nodded deferentially to her before he made more of an ass of himself. "Apologies, Captain. Morning."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@Raineh Daze

He blinked, then turned, gilded irises meeting her crimson gaze.

His circuit had seen, so far, a stayed hand— most Boars to speak for along the path had already expired in combat, or were deeper beneath the line of the trees. The swaying pilars of blue-black hardwood were thus caught in the midnight wind, carrying whispers of the earth and night that slipped through the voidlike quiet that always followed the roar of battle leaving his ears.

By the time he'd registered that one of his wrists was lagging behind his stride, and the pale smear in the corner of his view, the First and Youngest had already allowed her grip to slack, her message already sent.

He took a breath. Two.

"...Ma'am."

And gave a tired nod, as the third breath took a certain tension with the wind— his posture a little less carefully, pointedly ramrod. His torso ached. Lungs? Heart? Who could say... He then gazed up to the full moon, past the canopy.

"It'll be between them and Her, then."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@Krayzikk@ERode@VahkiDane

"Heh," unseen but doubtless heard, a smirk played across the Reonite's slashed face, sharing the good humor through (or perhaps in light of) the sorry states both men had allowed of themselves. Hearing his redder counterpart drag himself to his feet was a good sign— often, as the rush of wartime settled down and fled the body it took one's strength and balance along for the ride when dealing with a broken limb. In his own right, Gerard tended to find himself plagued by the headaches of a starved man, as though fatigue came crashing down upon his skull all at once.

The solution to both ends, of course, was keeping yourself moving, keeping yourself talking. He shuffled forward at a pace he could keep steady, moonlit blade at the ready to confirm those that had passed beneath Mayon's gaze, and to bring her mercy to those that may have yet suffered. His response carried the same jesting lightness, but a firm element beneath— declaration of intent as much as it was everything else.

"Cavaliere, amico. Won't be long."

You picked your share of words up, following whichever winds smelled like coin.

The Lion's Banner: A Fire Emblem-Inspired Anime Fantasy RP

István Shilage

@Crimson Paladin@The Otter

"With any luck, that might be when he finally loses nerve, and takes a hint." came the toneless reply from the doorway, rather than the depths of the chamber wherein the two-and-a-quarter Lions stood. The mugs in his grasp had, over the brisk walk from kitchen to guest lodging, cooled sufficiently from scalding hot to reasonable for palates not clad in iron. As such, Istvan's was already drained of a third of its contents in that span, the heat settling comfortably in his belly and polishing his voice. Lambert had been privy to an early morning's gravel and little more. "Yet we've far from proven to be lucky sorts, recently. Bridger would doubtless cycle back to the eldest still available, fancying his persistence over any sense."

He strode forward, eyeing the mass of fuzz and fluff currently attempting to nest within his charge's unkempt mane before meeting the gaze of Falkner.

"I suppose coaxing that one into captivity would be a job we could only leave to you." In another, slightly different circumstance, a sentence that would doubtless be mockery towards a man from a long, proud line of knights, of men who tamed beasts of heraldry and prestige. Here, the hammer of the north's expression betrayed little of the sort, dry enough that you could call it muted. Certainly, the scene that prompted this looked ridiculous. "I cannot imagine this was a peaceful flight on the return."

"News and Sirona," he grunted after a moment, sparing the griffin knight a nod. "This is a favor owed, if nothing else. We should see your good work compensated soon."

He didn't sound thrilled, but it was of course no fault of their courier's. Instead, the tightness in his brow proved to increase, if marginally, as he came to a stop beside the Demet heir.

"The Betrothal Merchant aside, what are we looking at?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@Krayzikk@ERode@VahkiDane

"...Maybe so." he breathed after a moment in reply, feeling the atmosphere around them go slack as what proved to be the last of the Boars were mopped up in short order, well away from the quartet of rank-breakers. That looseness set into his shoulders in short order, poised and ready to drive thunderous swings into enemies never to come till now—

And a slight wince, as the stinging line drawn from cheekbone to jaw beside his left eye began to burn again in the cold wind that brushed over Mayon's shrine, a dozen fellows across his frame lighting up in turn. Along the gaps in his armor, tracing the folded cloth that covered the joints he'd needed to move— they burned, stung, leaked that dull roar into the night, now cold compared to the kiln of battle.

He'd been in the thick of it for as long as anyone here, against men cut from cloth barely removed from his own. He'd found a higher caliber, sure. Clearly not high enough yet. Still aching like he'd been trampled by a cavalry charge after running a marathon. Still wearing a few new lessons.

His palm rose to wipe sweat free from his face, brushing against the line and really annoying it—

"tch."

And pulled it back to reveal red in the cold moonlight. What was more, there was a throbbing ache along the length of his forearm, flaring as the grip and shift of the hammer's weight forced it to flex. That was the one that had been caught up in the curse hound's jaw, until he'd maneuvered it into a... a warhammer strike, he recalled. Maybe he'd not been as unscathed there as he thought, either. Plenty of clashes had run through his bones through this long-ass day. He wanted to get the hell home and sleep for two days straight.

"Best keep up on your feet so you can find out, then. Have to guess she's with the Captain— and I heard Fionn calling for the both of 'em."

He wiped the palm against the cloth, and returned his grip to the hilt of the longsword he'd momentarily sheathed.

All that said, even if he knew this sensation was a long time coming, a concluding battle didn't mean concluded time on the field. The aftermath often took longer— mopping up those not long for the world, rounding up the survivors for questioning or capture, making sure dead bodies were dead for real. Thankless, silent work, mostly. Grim, but familiar and necessity.

"I can handle cleanup over here. Sounds like important stuff back that way that needs seasoned heads." He craned his neck and gestured with a jerk of the skull. "Most of the healing crew, too."

He was a little pallid, a little sluggish, and felt like hell— but not crippled to the point where magic was needed as soon as possible, instead of a while on. Priorities mattered right now.

He began to stalk forward, reflex carrying him along the circuit with little input from the mind.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@Krayzikk@ERode@VahkiDane

"They looked pretty nasty. Had to deal with something similar in the crypt, but..." Imperceptible beneath the leather and steel save for the ensalleted head, he let the thought trail away with a shrug, scanning through the field for a moment before meeting the shadows of the Knight of the Harvest Moon's visor with his own gaze. They'd largely torn through this flank, enough to scatter the rank-and-file. A couple pairs of them had glommed back together into skirmishing form after the mayhem began to settle, but were swiftly being pulled back apart before they could pick off any lone Knights.

For the moment, at least, this side had won itself reprieve. Enough to reset before the wedge pushed back behind the treeline, to hunt down whatever masters the desecrated abominations thrown their way heeded. "Big bastards like him are used to throwing their weight around amidst starving sellswords, untrained peasantry, and run-of-the-mill conscripts." The hammer shifted on his shoulder, as if testing the heft for a swing yet to come, shifting the grip for control. His tone was tight and unkind, but blunt and frank in the way debriefs so often went. "He'd have killed the me from when we first met, probably— But that game crumples when it gets hit by somebody with enough weight to throw back. Steffen and I pretty much ran him over."

More importantly.

"We need to get a healer to you if we can. How bad?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@Conscripts@Krayzikk@ERode@VahkiDane

"...Nah." Gerard breathed after a moment's consideration, the weight of the maul, and all its' bloody history, a feather in his hands. Bringing it down unto its brutish wielder had made for smaller satisfaction than he'd bargained, honestly— but he'd little time to ponder the meaning of that void. It would forestall their victory, if his mind was stuck on it— better to simply say "this must be moving on" and recenter his focus on the objective. "Nah, he's fine. Called for a duel and got it. I've got enough trouble with the courtesies I haven't learned,"

A smirk played across his face, toothy and houndish within the haggard breath he was leashing with time and measure. He rose to his full height once more, hoisting the hammer onto his shoulder with a wrench of the left arm, right hand closing its grip again around his trusted blade.

"Best I mind the ones I've known for a while already."

Thunder cracked from afar, as a pillar of cerulean washed over the moonlit clearing. It cast the pair of knights in hues of the arcane, blue-white caught within purple and gold. Their spellcaster on loan, apparently, had gotten sick of beating around the bush— and now had reason to just throw around raw power. He'd stay away for a while.

As Steffen hoisted his spear to ready and made to set off, Gerard did much the similar, at decidedly different course. "We've driven the wedge pretty far out— don't wanna splinter it any more than we've got to. You go get him, I'll get ahold of Serenity and Nico."

As they drew past eachother, objectives decided, a small, muttered thanks crept beneath the din.

"I won't make a liar of you."

And then the Ingvarr Knight was off, another mighty charge smashing through the breaking ranks of Boars as he surged forth to Lein's perch.

Gerard's was a shorter sprint, arriving in time with Sergio's war pick caving in the temple of the knife-wielder that had shown up in tandem with his old adversary— evidently by far the trickier of the two, though that was no tall bar to clear. The younger Knight's brow knotted as he took stock of his fellows' posture— Sergio's not quite steady, hitching as it moved. Serenity, though rushing to rejoin, swaying, albeit slightly, where there was normally picturesque poise.

He was a greenhorn sword of the nation, but battlefield veteran enough. He could recognize a broken arm, a ruptured inner ear.

Nico, further up the field but in the middle distance between, still hale. He was no healer, but he was a water mage— for what little Gerard knew of magic as a whole, he knew water to be protective and soothing, much like the Goddess claiming it as domain. He glanced to the blonde swordsman for a moment, flicking his gaze back to Serenity before turning his attention to Sergio.

"Good kill. I've got you covered."

Sword and hammer in hand, he moved to impose himself onto the Knight of the Harvest Moon's flank. The Boars weren't finished, they were cornered— this would be when they pounced on any opening they could find.

The Lion's Banner: A Fire Emblem-Inspired Anime Fantasy RP

István Shilage

@Psyker Landshark

"On loan." He repeated, nodding slowly as the beans steeped, then settled. As ever, the rise and fall of the foam told him when things were due to finish, when the brew would reach its most delicate balance between strength and subtlety. Too far to either side, and it would tip until unrecoverable. Many things were this way in life— navigating the balance point between the two virtues. "Fascinating. I had never known such an arrangement to be possible— I'll have to divine how the Lady made that happen. What an oversight in my understanding."

He got what he'd expected, more or less— an answer that slotted easily into place at first or even second glance, and given with only a little pressure, a little probing. He saw no reason it didn't make sense save for the incongruence with her organization's own mission statement— and the ease with which she gave that up, in the grand scheme, did make a certain facet of him suspect this as incense thrown into the bush, to throw off hunting hounds.

The best way to dissuade questions was always to feed them an answer they expected.

But by the same token, couched within the idea was the implicit concession that, like anything else, money and influence had their ways of making inroads on even the most esoteric of organizations. Was that truly less believable?

In all instances, this was the balance point, once again. And he had somewhere to be. A game of strength and subtlety needed too to end, when it came time.

"You've taught me something worth remembering for future endeavors— I must extend my thanks." His smile broadened, as he began to spoon foam into the awaiting mugs that had stood quietly to witness the exchange from start to finish. "Tell me— would you care for a mug, or shall my silence on the matter alone suffice, as I take my leave?"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@Conscripts@Raineh Daze@Krayzikk

"True. It would have been a lot of trouble if I didn't have him at my back. The same with Sir Nicomede at our side, to lock you into place and start all this. I'd have had my work cut out for me. Good, reliable brothers-in-arms are hard to come by."

Rime that venerated Mayon in this holy land of hers to bind him. A mighty charge from a mammoth of a man to knock him off his feet. His comrades were, however far they all might have been from the founding generation, incomparable in their own ways. To stand among their number was an honor he always, until the words grew dull on his tongue, was sure to reiterate.

The hammer, cast aside as the Boar seemed to accept spite in his final moments, was lifted again off the diamond-crusted earth, its weight floating an inch above as measured steps brought it over, and raised it high.

He met the gaze of the fallen man, both knowing he was to breathe his last. He spoke again, in a voice that quaked not with fury, tightened its throat not, grit no teeth.

"But, hey, like I said— You were fighting the Roses. Not anyone else."

Not me.

Not the ghost of the Faceless.

All of us.

"The only reason I'm here is because I strive for it every day— I belong because they judge me to, not you. Mercenary record would never have been enough. I had to keep moving beyond that, and every one of us who made it out did the same. The Faceless are left in the past. You will be too."

Instead, he spoke as if saying a simple farewell.

The road ahead was clearing up.

"May Reon's gold flame burn your spirit clean."

He swung.