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7 yrs ago
Current You did good, McGregor. Made us proud.
4 likes
7 yrs ago
No offense intended. But there's a sweet spot on the sliding scale of realism, and most of the interest checks I usually see skew too far to the realism end for me.
2 likes
7 yrs ago
Can't describe how quickly I go from excited to sad when a mecha premise turns out to be realism wankery.

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"The unexpected can have merit," Nicomede spoke up slowly and deliberately, but a little softly; almost like to raise his voice would have been to strain it. He didn't like drawing any attention to himself. But the plan suggested... "But it's unexpected for us as well. Here we know the potential avenues of threat. Physical defenses in depth, layered checkpoints and choke points any assailant has to pass through. A sizeable force cannot pass. Both attempts were lone entities, exploiting singular flaws in the defense."

"That's true of the destination. More true, maybe. But in transit our vulnerability increases immensely."
He didn't— quite— meet anyone's gaze directly. "I think that's a greater risk than we have need for. At least for the moment. If the situation changes, of course, we should consider it. But for the moment I think safety and security is here."

"The Captain will undoubtedly check in before morning. We can assess again then. Moving would be safer in daylight, anyway."


@VitaVitaAR @The Otter @Raineh Daze @Psyker Landshark




"Maybe not required," The knight said smoothly, watching the unholy creature begin to burn and dwindle. "But perhaps you might have handled this a little more cleanly."

With the danger's passing something of Nicomede's ease went with it. Familiarity was a blade with two edges. He knew this setting and its rules, and that knowledge came with awareness that his place in it was changed. Uncertain. He knew the rules, how the game was played, but not from this angle. Covering for it wasn't difficult. He'd had years to practice. The same cuffs he rolled up to work came back down with a few quick motions, buttoned properly around his wrists and the wrinkles twitched smooth.

"A broom, si?" Nico motioned to the burning creature, and the mess their impromptu exorcism had left behind. The quiet question was addressed to the Crown Knights, or perhaps to the court mage, but it seemed open-ended anyway. "I think the scene is distressing enough without leaving the ash to settle where the princesses can see it."

@VitaVitaAR @Raineh Daze @Psyker Landshark @The Otter




For so valuable a commodity time's purchase could be so variable. Priceless minutes to save Tili's life cost only water and energy, a bargain by any measure. Then the moment shifted, a flare of violet flame the only symptom of the changing fortune, and minutes couldn't have been gained by love or money. Only seconds, infinitely fleeting and just as vital. The confrontation shifted from the arcane to the physical quicker than blinking and Nicomede, his hands empty for the ritual, had neither blade nor armor at the ready. His fellows were better prepared in that respect, poised to pierce its unholy— and now corporeal— being.

However poor the odds looked on paper Nicomede would have comfortably taken them any time. He was no paladin, no cleric, no clergyman, but Dame Tyaethe was close enough. Spread before him was a wealth of blessed water. His empty right hand, palm up and fingers curled complacently, swirled gently at the wrist as though inspecting a wine's color. The water before him, still glowing softly with the energy infused, spiraled into the air in time with each swift rotation.

"Laccio," The knight hissed, flicking his wrist. Holy water shot forward with the motion, aimed to splash across the lunging beast. "Contrarsi!"

Wherever it had landed the water froze inwards, sending needle sharp spines of frigid holy ice into exposed and afflicted muscle.

@VitaVitaAR @The Otter @Raineh Daze @Psyker Landshark
Fionn MacKerracher


@Raineh Daze@Psyker Landshark@VitaVitaAR



After a quick glance through the crack he'd opened at the choking Nem, Fionn drew back from the door, turning towards the bed.

"This is one for you, ma'am," he said quickly to Tyaethe. "Someone's magically choking our Nem. If you can break it, I've got the door for you."






"I think I can help."

The blonde man slipped past Fionn with the lone, quiet sentence. He moved quickly, but not hurriedly; hurrying made for mistakes, mistakes that could be afforded least when time was short. He rolled up the sleeves of his formal attire in quick, efficient movements and surveyed the scene. The problem was obvious, the source unseen and untouchable. No physical force to oppose, and thus no physical remedy to be found. A human could survive without air for a couple of minutes. A Nem wouldn't last as long, not with their smaller size. An attack by arcane means required a defense in kind.

"Accerchiare d'acqua."

A small canteen from his pocket, upended on the ground,, did not fall in the random grasp of gravity; it arched, wrapping a perfect circle of water on the ground around the Nem with an unbroken sheen of surface tension. Purely holistic magic had never been his strongest suit. But in this moment Nicomede was the one at hand, the one with a chance to square himself against the malignant force that sought to end the same life it had sought to ruin. He would not allow that to happen. However strange this place had felt, however much thought it took to try and reconcile the people he had been in this place of nobility, this was crystal clear. He would not permit this.

Magic obeyed rules, and if you understood them you could understand the nature of a work. Within versus without, like behaved as like, and so on. With this circle, with his will, he created adversity; he set himself against the work by cutting it off from its target. A threshold, a barrier, that malevolence would have to project its will across. If it would not stop it would slow. He would force the evil to force its way past his will, and in so doing he would force it to reveal itself.

"Protection of Moon, protection by water. Protection of innocence that will not falter." The circle began to glow, softly, as if infused with moonlight. "Within thy demesne evil holds no sway. So as I plead, as I pray. Guardia lunare."

His eyes pierced the space before him, a second flask of water clasped in his hand. If the source was revealed he would strike, and strike without hesitation. Until that moment, until the crisis passed, he would set his will against evil.

@VitaVitaAR
Tweaked and ready for review!

@Krayzikk: We're definitely still accepting! We'd be happy to have you.


Excited to hear it! I'll dig up my old CS and read some more, see what tweaking I need to do for this go around. Glad to (soon) be aboard.
Was talking with @HereComesTheSnow recently and he mentioned he'd been playing in this relaunch. I really enjoyed the character concept I had going on the last time around before depression hit hard and killed my posting vibe.

Is there a chance you might be accepting CS applications? Or, failing that, if I could get my name jotted down for the next time you are?






owwwww.

Catching Crystal, in the end, was the last thing Rivka needed to concern herself with. Which in her opinion was fortunate; Crystal was safe, and so was Rivka. That didn't mean she was comfortable. Landing, while carrying a second person, was so far from an exact science that she couldn't even glimpse the far side of that gulf. Fortunately it took no amount of brainpower— and more than a little talent— to simply generate a force in the opposite direction. Even so landing on rubble, with Crystal landing on her, wasn't exactly a feather bed.

And the weather still sucked.

Their success was too potent for her to stay grumpy for very long, however, especially once she was in out of the rain. A hot shower and pajamas furthered the improvement, but time didn't help with her back. Actually she felt worse as the adrenaline faded and her body had time to register the impacts she had so rudely imposed upon it. But did her nervous system meet halfway her attempts to make it feel better? Noooooo. And aspirin was proving frustratingly elusive. It probably wouldn't help, anyway. The lilac-haired girl was sprawled on her bed, eyes half closed, and trying to negotiate with her aches and pains. Maybe, if she asked very nicely, she could get a massage from the tsa—

dah dah dah dah dum

Her phone vibrated with the five beat sequence of a fondly remembered movie. It wasn't quite fair to call the answering noise Rivka made a grumble, but only just shy.

dah dah dah dah dum

The second time she did grumble, stretching her arm out to grab the offending device and check her messages.

>no rumors here. only painkiller deprivation.
>i should have tried to send a missile back.






"RIVKA, I CAN'T CATCH HER IN TIME!"

Shielded from the glare by her opalescent lenses Rivka's eyes snapped up and immediately narrowed. Crystal had begun to fall. Selma spotted her, processed, yelled, and Rivka herself heard, processed, and spotted her in turn. Mere moments, barest instants, but in this case those were crucial fractions of the time needed. She was the last person who should handle this. Gravity, earth, ice, and water were all better choices to save her than fire. That didn't matter. If the devushka said she couldn't save her she couldn't save her. Chie and Aoife were occupied, and that left her.

The word 'impossible' never entered her mind. The Ars Magi jammed her rifle through a sling on her Parma immediately, planted her feet, and cast the incoming drones out of her mind. Though live-fire this was still an exercise; medical staff were nearby, she was garbed in her Parma, and she was resistant to the heat the missiles would generate. Coupled with her supernatural might she would survive— if painfully— anything that came her way. But neither gravity or chance played any favorites, and impacting uneven terrain at terminal velocity was dangerous, even for an Ars Magi. Maybe even lethal. A member of her team was in danger. Her roommate, her friend, was in danger.

Letting her down wasn't an option.

The lilac-hued girl pushed off from the ground as hard as she could. The water below her feet evaporated, the concrete dried, scorched, and cracked near to shattering in the span of a few seconds of blistering heat. To thermal imaging she looked like a brand new sun, the glare of her fire as bright as before but sustained. Contained, sustained explosive force launcher her into an intercept course like a blazing comet shaded in orange and gold upon every opalescent accent. Practice, practice, practice had been the name of the game since the first time she tried this stunt; the ache in her ankles had demanded it. She could generate the lift, slow her descent, but control was proving elusive; fire was fickle, it performed as it was bid and no more. Without any sort of fine vectoring proper flight was beyond her. For now. But fire would obey, it would do exactly what she damn well needed it to do. It didn't have to be graceful. It just had to be enough.

The two Ars Magi collided, and collided hard, but Rivka wrapped one arm tightly around her roommate to keep her from slipping away. That, admittedly, was as far as her plan had gone. Their momentum, the opposite of each other, canceled each other out— nearly. Rivka had ascended a decent bit faster than gravity had accelerated Crystal. That was the science. The reality was simpler. They both slowed, and jointly reached the apex of Rivka's new trajectory before they again began to fall.

She felt rather lightheaded, actually. Dizzy. Channeling so much fire so fast, perhaps, but there wasn't any room for that. There wasn't any room for weakness. Seconds of respite, and she needed every one to muster her focus again to visualize the fire needed to slow their descent. All she had to do was slow them down.

Rivka never said a word.
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