wintersoldier
Noctis
Danyel
Snowdrops
FernStone
Kalas
Shienvien
Fetzen
The Grey Dust@The Wanderer: Hah. Nah, she'd likely just demand to know where you got it from and would generally be very scary - but she'll not hurt you unless you actually attack her.
Tuujaimaa Member
The Saint of Wings / Bread Wizard
STATUS: Boy, you're like a pizza cutter: all edge and no point. 4 yrs ago
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Recent Statuses
4 yrs ago
Current
Boy, you're like a pizza cutter: all edge and no point.
3
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4 yrs ago
I think I should write a pithy roleplay about how an expenditure of effort does not entitle you to your perception of an equivalent reward. Anyone know someone who'd be interested?
7
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6 yrs ago
Okay, let's be honest for a second here, if we stop the status bar from being edgy angst land it really doesn't have anything going for it except sheer autism.
2
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6 yrs ago
Does anyone know where you can get a white trilby embroidered with threatening messages? Asking for a friend.
3
likes
6 yrs ago
My genius truly knows no bounds. Only an intellect as glorious as mine can possibly G3T K1D.
3
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Bio
Behold the Terrorists of Valhalla:
Behold the Cavemen of Valhalla:
Behold the Cavemen of Valhalla:
Most Recent Posts
As Glyph and Cipher looked upon the husk of the town, they began to see the state in which it was left for what it was: A massacre and a den of vile atrocity. It was not the most pleasant of thoughts, that was for certain, but it was one that Glyph has wrestled with many times over her years as a hunter and experience had both prepared her for and desensitised her towards the inevitable corpses of children that she would come across. Some of the new blood she’d spotted travelling towards the town would perhaps not be so experienced and wise. It had been a shock to her, the first time she’d seen a town ravaged by a horde, and she remembered the charred air and the scent of a metallic tang in the air to this day. It gave her no comfort to think that it had happened to another small town.
The first step was to stake out the town. She recognised a couple of key buildings by shape alone, and though she did not have a map, she could work out the most likely paths between them from her vantage point a good distance away from the town. She would likely have her scent picked up by the smaller ravagers prowling the outskirts of the town, but they were easy to kill. They moved predictably towards their prey unless they were older and wiser, and those that came with the hordes tended to be new blood. Fitting, she thought, that new blood from both sides met at this soon-to-be hellhole. It took a matter of twenty seconds of observation for a ravager to slink its way towards Glyph and Cipher, and though the woman atop the horse was intently gazing at the town for information, her right hand withdrew her crossbow and a single bolt of pure energy was released just as the demon began its leap, piercing it squarely through the head and killing it instantly. Cipher whinnied in response to the kill, and with her other hand Glyph gently stroked his mane. They knew there would be plenty more demons to kill soon enough.
The tower where the crystal was kept was of standard design. It was usually the first place that demons congregated at and was one of the few certainties within a small town like this one had been. Its location was slightly off-centre, and the buildings seemed to part at the correct angle to take advantage of this slight anomaly – it kept her view from the rest of the demons, at least, though the more primal newbloods tended to act based on scent over any of their other senses. She did not get a good look, but an ominous shadow of greater size than the other demons passed through her limited scope of vision, and she heard the slight graze of metal dragging across the ground. It was unlikely to be a hunter – few were simple enough to use melee weapons, and those that did kept them sheathed – and the size was roughly equivalent to that of one of the larger demons. A Juggernaut? A Punisher? Too small to be one of the Devastators. She would typically err on the side of caution and assume a Punisher, but something told her that a Punisher appearing this quickly and this closely to a ghost town was unlikely. They were not unintelligent creatures, and enough hunters could bring them down. They would fight on their own terrain if possible.
Though Glyph made no more direct movements, she kept herself ready. If newbloods were coming, better that they made stupid mistakes first. Culling demons and weak hunters was just a part of the hunt, after all.
The first step was to stake out the town. She recognised a couple of key buildings by shape alone, and though she did not have a map, she could work out the most likely paths between them from her vantage point a good distance away from the town. She would likely have her scent picked up by the smaller ravagers prowling the outskirts of the town, but they were easy to kill. They moved predictably towards their prey unless they were older and wiser, and those that came with the hordes tended to be new blood. Fitting, she thought, that new blood from both sides met at this soon-to-be hellhole. It took a matter of twenty seconds of observation for a ravager to slink its way towards Glyph and Cipher, and though the woman atop the horse was intently gazing at the town for information, her right hand withdrew her crossbow and a single bolt of pure energy was released just as the demon began its leap, piercing it squarely through the head and killing it instantly. Cipher whinnied in response to the kill, and with her other hand Glyph gently stroked his mane. They knew there would be plenty more demons to kill soon enough.
The tower where the crystal was kept was of standard design. It was usually the first place that demons congregated at and was one of the few certainties within a small town like this one had been. Its location was slightly off-centre, and the buildings seemed to part at the correct angle to take advantage of this slight anomaly – it kept her view from the rest of the demons, at least, though the more primal newbloods tended to act based on scent over any of their other senses. She did not get a good look, but an ominous shadow of greater size than the other demons passed through her limited scope of vision, and she heard the slight graze of metal dragging across the ground. It was unlikely to be a hunter – few were simple enough to use melee weapons, and those that did kept them sheathed – and the size was roughly equivalent to that of one of the larger demons. A Juggernaut? A Punisher? Too small to be one of the Devastators. She would typically err on the side of caution and assume a Punisher, but something told her that a Punisher appearing this quickly and this closely to a ghost town was unlikely. They were not unintelligent creatures, and enough hunters could bring them down. They would fight on their own terrain if possible.
Though Glyph made no more direct movements, she kept herself ready. If newbloods were coming, better that they made stupid mistakes first. Culling demons and weak hunters was just a part of the hunt, after all.
@Pathfinder: You'd be arriving at roughly the same time as the rest of us did, so you'd certainly not have a week to prepare and get accustomed to everything. We're all going into this at the same time (roughly) and alone unless we band up. :P
@The Wanderer: Fair enough! She'll know the work of your weapon as soon as she sees it, (given that she's the only other person who's well-versed in both weaponsmithing at that level and has the knowledge of inscribing crystals) so be prepared for that!
@The Wanderer: Fair enough! She'll know the work of your weapon as soon as she sees it, (given that she's the only other person who's well-versed in both weaponsmithing at that level and has the knowledge of inscribing crystals) so be prepared for that!
Just starting the thread off.
@Melonhead: Feel free to post at some point within the next 10 or so hours. I'll aim to get my post up for around then.
@Melonhead: Feel free to post at some point within the next 10 or so hours. I'll aim to get my post up for around then.
@Melonhead: Some pressing stuff came up yesterday and I wasn't able to actually get a post written up. I should have time tonight, but if you have time beforehand it may be prudent to just get something up so we are securely within the time limit.
<Snipped quote by Tuujaimaa>
I have an exam tomorrow to revise for, so if you could post the IC and make the initial post I'd appreciate it. I'll be able to post within the three day limit (I'm assuming that's what it is.)
Sure thing. I'll get the initial post up either some time today or some time tomorrow.
So, @Melonhead, how do you want to go about arranging things?
The town did not look like it had been deserted long. Of the numerous thoughts that found themselves slipping to and fro within Glyph's mind, that was the only one that seemed to have any persistence. She noted the direction of the wind, the sound of the dirt cracking and parting beneath Cipher's horseshoes, and the smell of the outlands that filled the air. That was how she knew that this hovel had not been left to the demons for too long - it had not yet begun to reek. The wood had not splintered and mouldered and rotted into the brackish tar that was so frequently found in sites that had once been able to sustain some life. She felt a twitch. Cipher? Her? The distinction became unclear on the long days. She didn't know where her legs ended and his body began, but the twitch was something they both recognised. They'd been still for too long.
With a wordless motion, Cipher begun a steady trot forwards towards the very edge of the clifftop.
She looked over the edge once. The leap was not too high. They could run across the air if she was ready. The trot became a gallop, and the gallop continued across the edge of the perch of rock they had found themselves upon until small shimmers of runic energy could be seen beneath the horse's feet, carrying them downwards as if the air was a simple incline in the face of the rock. It was a convenient form of magic to have mastered, Glyph knew, and she was thankful for it as she looked across to her east to see the train pulling into the station of a nearby town. Fresh meat from the Capital? Freelance hunters? Likely a mixture of both. They were known not to get on - the infighting would delay them. She knew that the town could be reached more quickly on horseback than by any other means, if one knew the path and the geography of these outlying lands.
It was perhaps not prudent to consider the inevitable surge of Bounty Hunters at all, in fact. If she hurried, she could investigate the soon-to-be ruin of the town before any of them arrived. Cipher sped up just a little, urging her on in thought and body, and she hunkered down close to his head. The bond of trust was evident, and the purpose with which they moved was undeniable. The world was a simpler place when the only purpose you had was to ride, to feel the winds brush past your skin and the breaths flow shallowly from your lungs to the air around you. The clarity of focus helped Glyph remember her purpose, her reason for continuing. This world had taken everything she had ever loved from her: Mateus, her family, her child. She recounted their names each night. Mateus, Darien, Hashmal. Mateus, Darien, Hashmal. She reminded herself of what she fought for, of what she felt she must do, and of how the world would not conquer her as it had conquered them.
The smarter we are, the more prone to melancholy we become. Glyph had often contemplated on what, precisely, was the downfall of most of her brothers and sisters in arms - and a deep, profound sadness seemed to linger the core of each and every person that walked this barren land. All that thrived in the wasteland was evil and corrupt, and for each hunter that lost their life in the barren wastes, the ash and the corruption grew. Perhaps that was why the demons had not been defeated. Perhaps it was simply not something that was supposed to happen, perhaps that same sadness that drove her forwards had also doomed her to this endlessly repeating nightmare. She paid that thought little mind, however, as she rode towards the ghost town. There was time for philosophy after she had reaped the spoils.
With a wordless motion, Cipher begun a steady trot forwards towards the very edge of the clifftop.
She looked over the edge once. The leap was not too high. They could run across the air if she was ready. The trot became a gallop, and the gallop continued across the edge of the perch of rock they had found themselves upon until small shimmers of runic energy could be seen beneath the horse's feet, carrying them downwards as if the air was a simple incline in the face of the rock. It was a convenient form of magic to have mastered, Glyph knew, and she was thankful for it as she looked across to her east to see the train pulling into the station of a nearby town. Fresh meat from the Capital? Freelance hunters? Likely a mixture of both. They were known not to get on - the infighting would delay them. She knew that the town could be reached more quickly on horseback than by any other means, if one knew the path and the geography of these outlying lands.
It was perhaps not prudent to consider the inevitable surge of Bounty Hunters at all, in fact. If she hurried, she could investigate the soon-to-be ruin of the town before any of them arrived. Cipher sped up just a little, urging her on in thought and body, and she hunkered down close to his head. The bond of trust was evident, and the purpose with which they moved was undeniable. The world was a simpler place when the only purpose you had was to ride, to feel the winds brush past your skin and the breaths flow shallowly from your lungs to the air around you. The clarity of focus helped Glyph remember her purpose, her reason for continuing. This world had taken everything she had ever loved from her: Mateus, her family, her child. She recounted their names each night. Mateus, Darien, Hashmal. Mateus, Darien, Hashmal. She reminded herself of what she fought for, of what she felt she must do, and of how the world would not conquer her as it had conquered them.
The smarter we are, the more prone to melancholy we become. Glyph had often contemplated on what, precisely, was the downfall of most of her brothers and sisters in arms - and a deep, profound sadness seemed to linger the core of each and every person that walked this barren land. All that thrived in the wasteland was evil and corrupt, and for each hunter that lost their life in the barren wastes, the ash and the corruption grew. Perhaps that was why the demons had not been defeated. Perhaps it was simply not something that was supposed to happen, perhaps that same sadness that drove her forwards had also doomed her to this endlessly repeating nightmare. She paid that thought little mind, however, as she rode towards the ghost town. There was time for philosophy after she had reaped the spoils.
Never too late! We've only just started posting. :D
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