HereComesTheSnow

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@The Otter@Conscripts

"Right,"

The roll of parchment in his grasp rose, knocking against the black haired knight's temple twice as it drew Fionn's gaze in. While he wasn't too quick on the uptake as to why Fionn had been Serenity's specific suggestion, as surely any regular writing knight would do, it was a rare day where he didn't trust her judgement. He was no stranger to how sharp a mind younger than his could still be— A lesson she'd made sure to remind him applied to anyone, not just knights barely older than his sister yet tall enough to look him in the eye.

The young ladies he was to send these missives off to, having lived all their lives in this world he was dipping his toes into with healthy trepidation.

The Captain here, doubtless bright as any no matter how much she suffered through her grappling with the pressure of command. If anything, keeping her head on straight at all while having so many strong personalities and moving parts under her probably outstripped his own capability, regardless of the struggle.

...

Both those kids back home, whip-smart as his back had been strong. He'd grabbed a few extra drafts' worth. It had been five years... maybe six by now.

"I'm not allowed to train, so I'm gonna take the day to follow up on stuff that needs doing. One of them is getting some letters written and sent— Serenity told me to bug you for proofreading before I take them the couriers' way. Figured I'd just find you and get it done in one go if you're headed somewhere, or if you'd need me later on. You mind?"

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

István Shilage

@Crimson Paladin@The Otter

The waves of heat and vitriol broke against the plaintive coast, as István savored his mug and nodded along to his understudy's ranting, smirk playing across his heavy features toward the end.

"At times anger takes one's focus and narrows it. You know that well, just as you know that was all I advised against." he countered, characteristically unfazed by the uncharacteristic fire of the tall youth before him— all things being equal, it looked more like he approved than anything else, gaze sliding line by line over the handed missive. "Should you be leveraging your full measure against this callous temerity, who could complain to see the upstart squashed?"

His smile deepened, a couple more teeth baring with each word, and a dangerous mirth fell upon his timbre when he next spoke.

"Quick and decisive action are virtues. It's simply a shame I'd have no means of swiftly accompanying you."

Two grown men would be doable, with coercion, as Roger had quickly reassured his charge— but it was a forgone conclusion that even with all the bounty in the world that he could ever desire afforded to his beak, three would be pushing it for Shortclaw. More's the pity, it meant he'd not have had the distinct pleasure of reminding Feldger the type of allies the Demet fief held in proper esteem, and what they could do with the steel that silks meant to mask.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@The Otter@Conscripts

He grumbled something unintelligible, vaguely sounding vulgar but quite clearly exasperated as Fionn's finger fell onto a previously unnoticed miscoloration on the dark cloth near his collar. Goddesses dammit, he'd sworn he'd gotten it out a week ago— dabbing his fingertips against his tongue for a moment, he shrugged his comrade's hand away to try and get the damn thing gone to little avail.

"Obviously, as our head you'd be tasked with representing us on meetings with big official bodies like the College," he mused after a moment, convinced enough by his own lack of progress to turn his gaze back onto the group at large. "So I think it makes sense on both points to delegate a little. You're the Boss, sure, but you're also one person. You'd wanna not spread yourself so thin that you miss the forest for the trees on the jobs you're probably sitting with more obligation to than anyone else anyway— there's a reason every dad out in the country chucks their sons out onto the fields near as soon as we learn to walk."

He folded his arms, glancing upward towards the Sun for a moment. The Powers That Be, huh... the lady of the morning wasn't much a fickle sort, but she was all the same divine. Their ways were rarely clear to their faithful on the ground.

"You've got people. May as well use them, even if it's just to clear out background legwork while you ask the bigger questions."

She couldn't shoulder everything, no matter how much her rank demanded of her. Otherwise, there would be no need for Quartermasters, Smiths, Maids, or Knights of the Order. Soldiering by any other name wasn't supposed to be all they and their peers were good for, and even then, soldiers got trenches dug, palisades erected, dead burned and buried.

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

István Shilage

@Crimson Paladin@The Otter

Where Roger's sentence died in his mouth as he was taken aback, a new grumbled curse was born out of István's, freshly liberated from a Morahti archer's tongue only so few hours prior. A moment later, he spoke again in civilized tongue.

"Getting right into it with this shit, then." the big man droned, blithe as his tone went, stepping forward and thrusting the fuller mug of dark liquid forward, offering exchange between it and the current offending slip of parchment. "Drink. Murder is planned best with a vigorous, sharp mind. It'll give you a moment to take a step back, as well."

Inane babblings by washed up hedge knights, short-sighted requests by township "richfolk" that thought they could go past their own mayoral system for the sake of their pithy 'estate', neighboring lordlings trying to invoke Cadmon, himself, even Guillaume into petty squabbles, István had seen much over Cadmon's shoulder and in his own right in his days as advisor and mentor— whatever had been scrawled onto this sheet had to be a "good one" to even warrant threats idly made.

May as well tear free the bandage and get back to running on your slashed leg, lest the rat race pass you by.

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.