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7 yrs ago
Current You did good, McGregor. Made us proud.
4 likes
8 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
8 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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Nicomede didn't say anything to Fionn, only nodded at the other knight's invitation, but he followed both men with a readiness and sureness of step at odds with any sense of uncertainty that had lingered before. It seemed he was a man energized by action, or at least reaffirmed by the fray rather than unnerved by it. The suggestion to regroup after they prepared was met only with the same sort of nod as before.

Rather than towards the armory Nico strode quickly towards the room that had become his. It wasn't the most comfortable fit in his thoughts, not yet. One would think that years of sleeping on the road or in whatever inn was available would be outweighed by the prior decade and a half, but recency had a weight longevity couldn't match. Consequently it was still a sparse, spartan space; the desk and bed that had kindly been provided, a single mostly empty bookshelf, and a rack upon which to store his own equipment. It was the last that held his attention now. The relative finery of his evening attire was stripped without ceremony, replaced in quick practiced motions by the comfortably worn gear in which he had traveled and the armor that rested atop it.

If there was fighting to be done, he considered as he checked the clasps and buckles about his person, it would be in relatively confined quarters. His shield would serve better than the dagger. The latter stayed at his belt, the polished lantern shield instead buckled about his arm. He would stop at the armory on his way for, well, a lantern. His sword buckled, his boots secured, and his hair pushed back out of his face.

Renar was still in the armory when he arrived, the other man with a couple of knights in tow, to grab a lantern. He made one extra stop off to collect a few extra skins of water, added to the dagger on his belt, before returning to the meeting place.

"Ready," He said to Renar simply, casting a glance over his shoulder to watch for Fionn's approach. "You briefed them?"

@The Otter @Psyker Landshark




"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.
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