Virgil

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

time to gatekeep thrusting weapons

you've been added to THE LIST

and this made me realize i should have chosen a more unique weapon. Like a pollock.

@OwO

Could always go duel-wielding bollock-daggers for that extra bit of pizzazz.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

~ Pressed Into The Forest Trap ~

Interacting with: [@Cheeky_Bandit], @OwO

With a slap of his back, the Dame was off her mount - spear at the ready, belching out a counter-attack at the sudden ambush. He figured he hadn't heard them because they weren't moving; He figured they'd heard the order's party because they were; He figured it'd be wise to get off his mount before it bucked him into the arrow-fire. The River Knight slapped shut his visor and swung a leg down over the opposite side of the beast's sadd--

A force like a lightning bolt clanged full-on where exposed flesh had so tantalizingly lain only seconds prior, forcing a disoriented "UOMPH!" from his whiplashed windpipe. The world tumbled around Druncarde, and he collapsed backwards over his saddle visor-first into the loamy earth below...

One of the horses shrilled in pain to the thunk of missile-fire, stray or intended, and with a surprised grunt, Druncarde collected himself onto all fours - scrambling to retrieve the spear & shield that'd lost their way amidst the malicious greeting. Wheeling about back to his feet, he stumbled upon the realization that he now lay *across* the horse-train from which Larette had so hastily advanced...though by the looks of things, she was handling the situation bloody well.

A second arrow bounced off the back of his head, shunting him forward a step before he could find the time to recover. Whipping back another 180 degrees, he raised his kite and advanced silently toward his side of the thicket as the din of battle awoke under cracks of dusk shattered between ancient canopies. Another arrow shot out of the treeline and failed miserably to halt his wary endeavor - whoever was hiding back here had a tremendous amount of grit for a bandit (presumably) outclassed in every measure. At this pace, it'd take at least a few more seconds to reach their cozy nook...so he decided to book it instead - dropping low on his hips and pelting full-sprint into the mess of silhouetted trunks and entwined shrubberies!

...No one - completely devoid of any presence that'd been there moments before. Druncarde surveyed his flanks and caught sight of a rather promiscuous little set of skirmishers skittering about behind the vegetation, ducking out of cover to loose the occasional potshot before hastily blending back into the safety of the trees. The path to the vanguard was temptingly preoccupied with reckless hit-and-run maneuvers, but it seemed the wiser course of action to secure the rear...besides, he needed a quick bit of payba--

"CLUNK", went the taunting invitation of a third and (he hoped) final shot to his cranium, blunted by the rush of adrenaline pulsating through his veins.

"EY-EY, BRIGHT-BOY - 'WAT'S-A-MATTER, CAN'T TAKE A HINT?"

. . .Brazen idiots...bored Druncarde.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Yeah, wow I'm loving how active this is, I've been writing on a few other forums but this one seems to be one of the best I've seen so far. I should have a post up before tomorrow.

@Dystopya

...Meanwhile, the rest of the room is panicking XD).

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Post up - hopefully I was right in guessing that we're riding out in the evening rather than the dawn? -_O)

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

~ Onward Into The Bandits' Forest ~

Interacting with: @VitaVitaAR, @HereComesTheSnow, @PaulHaynek, @Psyker Landshark, @Click This, @ERode, @Asuras, @Raineh Daze

. . .Short attention spans, clearly - not a one of them seemed to have taken the messenger's words to heart; Anxious for the element of surprise, the Iron Roses rose swiftly and rode off into the sunset...but apparently not with all their senses entirely intact. The gaudily clad knight lifted a hand from the reigns to scratch his exposed chin, his visor lifted to allow breath and...other peculiarities from down along the party.

Dusk painted a troublesome trail of shadows along the path leading into the forest, made all the worse of course by the fact that they were riding headlong into a brazen challenge. His ear caught the drifting attention of every spare word carelessly laid down the line - in his mind's eye, he played with his surroundings, his experience...and the suggestions of others.

Brash in his jest, the realization of a possible truth to the blonde-haired Devaron's words struck a painful chord within the very bowels of Druncarde's armored frame; Not the notion of bandits arrayed with their own display of chivalry, of course not - but, that they might actually be...Prepared.

The odds were strongly in the favor of the order, but The River Knight was no gambler, and at the very least he needed to *hear* that there were more than two options being considered on the table. Gently leading the reigns, he mustered his grey steed into an advanced trot and sidled up behind the vanguard to speak:

"...A King he may be, but not for lack of spirit; Gold cloaks he may adorn his soldiers with, but not for lack of prowess; Bold proclamations he may reign over...but not for lack of foresight."

The shine of his orange suit masked itself within the receding glare of the sun, rendering the knight's presence almost ethereal from behind the backs of his prestigious comrades. His voice started out a fair bit bolder than usual, but it quickly leveled out into the quiet, almost cautious tone it usually took:

"The eyes of the forest are many, and in the absence of light we will surely not be prepared to *leave* these tangled roots should retreat be in order. Pray tell, did we ever stop to consider that our own humble carnival might be the one under watch?"

Druncarde shot a glance at the waning sun hanging low over the horizon, and motioned a hand towards its decline:

"A coiled serpent lies within the recesses of that thicket, held strong to the advantage of its defence - yet, *it* has issued the challenge...it can afford to wait on our arrival. The night falls soon, and darkness levies sense from prey and predator alike - in the dark, animals huddle together and are not so bold as to wander far from familiar sight. Let darkness slip, and they will have no choice but to let the forest surround them..."

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

WOAH, that was a sudden explosion of activity! Regardless, it might take me a bit to get a good post up, but I'll have one out today.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

Just out of curiosity: Is anyone else gearing up for the RP by writing out little segments of character dialogue and such, or is that just me and my anxiety?

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

The Knight Of The River

• Name: Druncarde "Of The River"
• Age: 27
• Gender: Male
• Race: Human
  - - -
• Appearance: At 5'6", it's more than fair to assume one might be unwieldy under the turbulence of war - yet what he lacks in size, the former farmhand makes up for in strength, carrying a deceptively muscular frame beneath modest attire; Heavy black eyebrows rest plaintively beneath a widow's peak of fuzzy, pitch-black hair, and a short, bushy beard covers the olive skin of his rounded chin. Lazy umber eyes greet the world with a placid reflection, as if to cut conversation down to a convenient minimal.
  - - -
• Personality: Still waters run deep, or so the saying goes - and if any man were to reflect this sentiment, it would surely be the Knight Of The River. Soft-spoken in nature, with a voice like a house cat and his mind a labyrinth of philosophical pondering, mellow musing and quaint quandary, he replies only when spoken to and never more than anyone else need care to know. Generosity he repays in small thanks, disrespect with suspicious absence of malice, and intelligence with equal parts honor and envy; Druncarde is only one to mind another if they mind him, and anyone unlucky enough to get stuck scouting with him would have better luck coercing song with the birds than idle, "useless" conversation from this warrior of whispers. His unofficial motto: Stoop to Conquer.
  - - -
• Brief Backstory: Druncarde is no one to judge; Born the third son to peasants, he was forced to seek his fortune fighting for the realm at an early age, entering into service as a Footman at 18. Over subsequent years of duty, he accrued prestige (Sergeant) and a reputation for integrity, modesty, and an ear like that of a well trained hound. When the War of the Red Flag broke out in full, Druncarde lost the remnants of his heritage to blood and fire - and lacking any proper place to call home, he declared himself nameless until such a time as he would make his own. As luck would have it, diligence in battle rewards even the poorest of souls, and Druncarde would gain his knighthood at the aptly named Red Crossing, a thin stretch of rocky river forded by several stone works, and over which he would strike down not one, not two, but three particularly exemplary knights of the Phoran rear guard. The battle earned him his title, but for the sake of humility, he refrained from any further glories; Time has only elevated a desire in him to return to humbled roots.
  - - -
• Equipment: Though modest of character, Druncarde's vanity is plastered in full over a head-to-toe set of steel plate, coated bright orange with paint and embellished with ocean-blue details of a crescent moon, twinkling stars, and more than a handful of "sea-goats" dancing about between them. In his left hand he prefers an ash spear with a long, narrow spike adorning its head - the better for puncturing gaps behind the knee, between the groin and the inner thigh, under the armpit, or through the visor or throat. In his right he touts a shield as garish as his harness - a towering kite layered in birch, hide and steel, before finishing with a coat of equally engaging orange and topped with three blue horns painted to look as if they curl about each other. Tucked neatly away at the small of his back lies a strapped pouch for less violent, but equally personal belongings; Attached to his waist dangles a smooth, aged shillelagh...as a backup in case his primary tool isn't persuasive enough for the particularly brazen foe.
  - - -
• Skills: Violence has taught Druncarde the boundless values of subtlety, and as such he is adept at paying close attention to the environment around him, allowing him to use the slightest weakness as his winning exploit. In combat, he prefers not so much to use the terrain as to become it - wearing down enemies from a distance, and only choosing to strike once he's persuaded them that they're winning. Lessons learned from a lifetime of internal solitude allow him to bend easily with the shifting of the wind, and his ability to blend in with his surroundings has saved him more than once from breaking to the metaphorical torrents of man-made storms. In his spare time he values art and craftsmanship, and enjoys woodworking scenes from life; small figurines may occasionally find themselves scattered about the premises wherever he goes, reflecting the lives and livelihoods observed there.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

@Crimson Paladin

"The stone cannot know why the chisel cleaves it;
the iron cannot know why the fire scorches it.
When thy life is cleft and scorched, when death and despair leap at thee,
beat not thy breast and curse thy evil fate,
but thank the Builder for the trials that shape thee.
-The Hammer Book of Tenets"

Let the Mechanists curse themselves to fate for betraying that which is holier than themselves!!!...
...and coincidentally, out-of-vogue XD).

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Fantasy Knight RP

The Knight Of The River

• Name: Druncarde "Of The River"
• Age: 27
• Gender: Male
• Race: Human
  - - -
• Appearance: At 5'6", it's more than fair to assume one might be unwieldy under the turbulence of war - yet what he lacks in size, the former farmhand makes up for in strength, carrying a deceptively muscular frame beneath modest attire; Heavy black eyebrows rest plaintively beneath a widow's peak of fuzzy, pitch-black hair, and a short, bushy beard covers the olive skin of his rounded chin. Lazy umber eyes greet the world with a placid reflection, as if to cut conversation down to a convenient minimal.
  - - -
• Personality: Still waters run deep, or so the saying goes - and if any man were to reflect this sentiment, it would surely be the Knight Of The River. Soft-spoken in nature, with a voice like a house cat and his mind a labyrinth of philosophical pondering, mellow musing and quaint quandary, he replies only when spoken to and never more than anyone else need care to know. Generosity he repays in small thanks, disrespect with suspicious absence of malice, and intelligence with equal parts honor and envy; Druncarde is only one to mind another if they mind him, and anyone unlucky enough to get stuck scouting with him would have better luck coercing song with the birds than idle, "useless" conversation from this warrior of whispers. His unofficial motto: Stoop to Conquer.
  - - -
• Brief Backstory: Druncarde is no one to judge; Born the third son to peasants, he was forced to seek his fortune fighting for the realm at an early age, entering into service as a Footman at 18. Over subsequent years of duty, he accrued prestige (Sergeant) and a reputation for integrity, modesty, and an ear like that of a well trained hound. When the War of the Red Flag broke out in full, Druncarde lost the remnants of his heritage to blood and fire - and lacking any proper place to call home, he declared himself nameless until such a time as he would make his own. As luck would have it, diligence in battle rewards even the poorest of souls, and Druncarde would gain his knighthood at the aptly named Red Crossing, a thin stretch of rocky river forded by several stone works, and over which he would strike down not one, not two, but three particularly exemplary knights of the Phoran rear guard. The battle earned him his title, but for the sake of humility, he refrained from any further glories; Time has only elevated a desire in him to return to humbled roots.
  - - -
• Equipment: Though modest of character, Druncarde's vanity is plastered in full over a head-to-toe set of steel plate, coated bright orange with paint and embellished with ocean-blue details of a crescent moon, twinkling stars, and more than a handful of "sea-goats" dancing about between them. In his left hand he prefers an ash spear with a long, narrow spike adorning its head - the better for puncturing gaps behind the knee, between the groin and the inner thigh, under the armpit, or through the visor or throat. In his right he touts a shield as garish as his harness - a towering kite layered in birch, hide and steel, before finishing with a coat of equally engaging orange and topped with three blue horns painted to look as if they curl about each other. Tucked neatly away at the small of his back lies a strapped pouch for less violent, but equally personal belongings; Attached to his waist dangles a smooth, aged shillelagh...as a backup in case his primary tool isn't persuasive enough for the particularly brazen foe.
  - - -
• Skills: Violence has taught Druncarde the boundless values of subtlety, and as such he is adept at paying close attention to the environment around him, allowing him to use the slightest weakness as his winning exploit. In combat, he prefers not so much to use the terrain as to become it - wearing down enemies from a distance, and only choosing to strike once he's persuaded them that they're winning. Lessons learned from a lifetime of internal solitude allow him to bend easily with the shifting of the wind, and his ability to blend in with his surroundings has saved him more than once from breaking to the metaphorical torrents of man-made storms. In his spare time he values art and craftsmanship, and enjoys woodworking scenes from life; small figurines may occasionally find themselves scattered about the premises wherever he goes, reflecting the lives and livelihoods observed there.