VitaVitaAR

Arknights - E.R.R.A.N.T.

Sorry I've been kind of stuck on what to post myself. ^^; I want to keep going and I'm sure the @Raineh Daze does too.

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

When Akyasha finally showed up again, Aleksiya couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, arms folded across her chest. She spent all that time, wasted all that time, to find some rats?

What drivel was this? What utter nonsense. She wasted their time for some rats?

The small blonde girl huffed, but at least in this case the waste of time was potentially fortuitous. This hunter, Rikard, had deigned to be uncooperative, but just as he stated he was willing to potentially part with some of his blood vials for information on 'vermin'. And lo and behold, here arrived that obsessive priestess carrying vermin with her.

If not for this stroke of luck, the diminutive vampire would have expressed her irritation with the priestess far more vocally. But, for the moment, she chose to hold her tongue.

If only for now.

"Indeed, I'm rather curious, myself," Aleksiya commented, cocking her head to one side as she fully turned to face the fanatic and her collected rats.

@Click This@Pyromania99@Rune_Alchemist

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

While an ambush was hardly an unsound strategy, one thing became abundantly clear: These were not the veterans they had been told of. Whether it be due to some exaggeration on part of the reports, or simply due to the fact that the veterans were not part of this ambush, remained to be seen.

Fanilly suspected the later. Carrying an injured man left Sir Rickert vulnerable, thus she had elected to keep close to him, in a position in which she could relay orders as well as ensure both Sir Rickert and the old man's safety. Morianne's spell had worked its way through the bandit forces, leaving many wavering and unsteady, and making rash decisions that ended their lives. By this point, a few had thrown down their weapons and fallen to their knees from the combined stress of battle and the magic working its way through their minds.

Not to mention the far more physically painful magic that had left at least four bandits twitching and smoking on the ground.

The Knight-Captain had already assessed the battle likely won, a short and brutal skirmish that left the ambushing force in tatters. But that didn't mean she could simply relax. It wasn't over, even if the conclusion was becoming clearer by the moment. She couldn't stop, she couldn't simply accept her knights would be safe.

Even one serious injury in this skirmish was a mark of failure as Knight-Captain in her mind. A sign of unworth.

It was perhaps her own doubts and fears, and desire to keep a watch on the battlefield, that she only barely caught sight of the shortsword-wielding bandit who lunged for her and Rickert.

She had sparred plenty of times. The motions were ingrained in her mind now, so even in that instant as the axe fell, her body did not hesitate.

Fanilly's blade cut through the air, and met the bandit's sword, the clash of metal on metal ringing through the night and yet drowned in the noise of combat.

"Knight-Captain!" she heard Sir Rickert's voice behind her as she adjusted her grip, her eyes narrowing.

His efforts had to be spent protecting the injured man, not trying to assist her. He was already unable to fight properly, attempting to do both would be far more dangerous.

The bandit's momentum was a weapon against him. Guiding his blade to the side, Fanilly forced it wide, causing him to stumble with a gasp.

Her sword was coming back up.

Under the arm. The neck. The chest, if a clear blow can be struck. The head of a helmetless foe.

The locations in which an immediately lethal blow can be struck. Even if death wasn't instant, it would come quickly. From this angle, his neck was most exposed.

This blow would kill him. With it, she would be ending a man's life. A human being's life.

He-

The armor he wore. The colors he wore.

She realized now that the bandit was clad in a pilfered chestplate from a soldier of Thaln. He had stolen from a dead soldier in order to facilitate robbery and murder.

Fanilly's heart hardened.

Her blade flashed, and parted the flesh of his throat, a crimson line carved into the man's neck and opening wider. He twisted, letting out a gurgling sound, before falling to the ground with a thud.

The next came easier. His leather chestplate didn't defend him well enough from a swift thrust, his axe falling from his grip as the tip pierced his heart.

He hit the ground moments later.

Fanilly inhaled deeply, her sword lowered to her side as Sir Rickert reached the other knights, drawing his blade to rejoin the fight.

But there was little fight to rejoin, now.

Bandits lay dead or dying, strewn across the ground. Some were incapacitated, by fear, lightning, or nonlethal injury. Her knights had not allowed a single one to flee.

The bandit camp was likely not completely unprepared, but if any of these men had escaped their task would have become far more difficult.

The blood dripped from the edge of Fanilly's sword.

Her heart was hammering, but she took another deep breath to try and ease her nerves. This was hardly even the first step.

"Thank the goddesses..." she said aloud, her free hand clutched to the rose on her breast.

Now, it was time to address her knights.

"Ease the suffering of the dying," she ordered. The Iron Rose Knights were knights of justice and mercy. To leave an enemy to die in agony could not be permitted, if they could help it, "Bind any survivors and take them prisoner. If they have any information, do your best to extract it from them."

The mental state of whatever bandits remained alive would hopefully make getting information from them easier.

"We have little time to lose, so Dame Cecilia, Sir Hope," she addressed her chosen scouts, "As soon as you are able, your orders remain."

@Raineh Daze@Rune_Alchemist@Psyker Landshark@Pyromania99@HereComesTheSnow@Saiyan@The Otter@Crimson Paladin@ERode@Psychic Loser@Richard Horthy@Aeolian@Rin

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Just where was that religion-obsessed bonehead, anyway? Was she too busy praying? Respect for Ichor was one thing, but her utter zealotry was another entirely. Frankly, Aleskiya wouldn't have been surprised in the least if Akyasha was off expressing her love of Ichor at the most inappropriate time and in the most inappropriate way. Her frustration was growing the more they waited. She was so hungry, too... those undead had been nothing but trash, but it still took some energy to destroy them.

Which made it a blessing, perhaps, when the man with the highly recognizable vials of red emerged. It was Giselle who took the lead in speaking to him, and while Aleksiya did not doubt her own abilities to speak in a convincing way to humans she simultaneously did not have any issue with allowing Giselle to take the lead in those negotiations. There was no doubt in her mind that the man was some manner of hunter, and while that did not exactly raise fond memories in her mind at the same time he had yet to act with any form of hostility.

Thus, there was no good reason to pay him any. With that being said, if he proved to be a threat, Aleksiya would hardly have an issue with draining him dry. But pay violence to violence. Wickedness to the wicked.

If he would simply share some of his vials of blood, then there would be no issue.

In fact...

"I am Aleksiya Ravennart," the Rime-Winged Vermilion Angel introduced herself with a curtsy, "And I shall share my compatriot's offer. Share with us some of those vials, and I will offer my assistance."

There was no way to stop herself from speaking with some level of self-assuredness. After all, she was quite sure she would have absolutely no issue dismantling whatever manner of creature that this vermin the man sought was. With that being said, however, she would be able to do so much more effectively with at least some blood.

@Rune_Alchemist@Click This

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Several of her knights had already surrounded her, among them Dame Serenity and Sir Gerard. Fanilly knew that it was the only natural to assume this was an ambush. Even if she had thought of her concern for the injured man above everything else, it did not take long for the obvious to come to her.

But what was she to do?

She couldn't leave the injured man there to bleed. She couldn't. Even having realized the nature of the situation, the girl simply couldn't see a situation in which she didn't rush to his aid.

First, the man's condition had to be assessed. She couldn't let him die. She had to do everything that she could to save him. Fanilly was no healer, but she was at least capable of discerning if he was conscious enough.

Indeed, as she came close, the injured man's eyes flick open, and his shallow breathing became heavier. His eyes traveled over the Iron Rose on Fanilly's breast, then to her face.

"The... the Iron Roses..." he murmured weakly, trembling as his body quaked from the effort of moving.

"Stay still," insisted Fanilly, steadying the man gently with her left hand, her write still gripping the hilt of her sword. She wasn't strong enough to pull him back on her own without worsening his injury. And as Knight-Captain, she simply couldn't leave her position. She had to stay at the front and command her knights, especially when she had rushed into an ambush.

"I cannot carry him back, Dame Serenity, Sir Renar, but we have to ensure his safety."

Another of her knights approached, a man whose form was clad entirely in plate. She recognized his dragon-like helm. Sir Rickert Heiger, one of the knights who had greeted her on her first full day as Knight-Captain. She did not know him well, but he seemed to be a fine knight.

"Thank you, Sir Rickert," she said, quickly, as he carefully took the man to his feet, "Now, we mu-"

Dark shapes fell from above. It only took a moment to identify what they were.

Men. Clad in leather and steel, brandishing swords and spears and axes.

But that wasn't all. From behind trees, on both sides of the Knights, came clusters of armed men.

Their numbers were difficult to discern, and one of the first men to drop was already lunging forward, swinging his shortsword directly for her!

These were the bandits...!

Steel clashed on steel, as Fanilly caught the edge of the man's sword on her blade and twisted her body, diverting him away from other herself and Sir Rickert and the injured man. Using his own momentum against him, she twisted her body, guiding him wholly past her.

Her heart was hammering. Her mind was racing. And yet, she had to command. She had to lead, she had to seize this moment, as the other ambushers found themselves caught up in the knights who had come to defend her, and the man who had attacked her was forced to catch himself and turn.

Fanilly had to take this instant to issue a command.

It wasn't just the threat posed by the bandits in the immediate sense.

If any were able to return and directly warn the camp...

"Iron Roses, to arms!" she cried, "Do not let any of them flee!"

@Raineh Daze@Rune_Alchemist@Psyker Landshark@Pyromania99@HereComesTheSnow@Saiyan@The Otter@Crimson Paladin@ERode@Psychic Loser@Richard Horthy@Aeolian

The Storm Cycle: Reclamation

"Let's cut them down to size!"

Fio's voice rang out clearly from her position to the fort's right. She had selected an out of the way spot that was not immediately obvious, though it would be difficult to miss the petite figure perched upon a barrier in the air once she began her attack.

Not that they'd be able to stop her.

"Sura. Manifest fifteen phantom swords."

With that, the circles of light spun into existence in the air, a faint hum sounding as Fio thrust her blade skywards. From each circle, the shape of a gleaming spectral blade emerged, glittering and shimmering with magical energy. The Sword Witch's smirk only grew as the lights flashed brighter.

"Ignite and pierce."

Each one flashed briefly, spinning swiftly in the air as a flash of magical energy surrounded each of the swords. It was another enhancement, the effort put into the spell was greater, but what came with it was a greater piercing power. Rather then simply reinforcing this blade, the aura of magical energy would function almost as if each sword had been set ablaze. There was no second thoughts.

It was doubtless that Fio would strike down every foe that her blades struck.

To think otherwise was unfathomable. To doubt herself was unfathomable. She wouldn't consider it.

"Kill them."

She swung her sword down.

The blades erupted downwards, whistling through the air as they hurtled towards the clustered bandits, tearing through the air and leaving a trail of light behind them.

@Rune_Alchemist@Pyromania99@FrogRFlowR

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Now dismounted, Fanilly took a deep breath as she surveyed her knights.

Hopefully, the bandits were not fully aware of their approach, though Sir Hope's deployment of some form of familiar or summoned spirit could have notified them it would also be useful for sighting any potential threats. She just wished he would have waited for her to order its deployment, first...

The petite blonde knight inhaled deeply, once more.

She had to calm herself. To organize her forces. To begin to dismantle the problem ahead step by step. The Bandit King and his wicked brigands had to be slain or brought to justice. That was Fanilly's duty as Knight-Captain of the Iron Rose knights.

She had to calm her hammering heart and begin.

"Dame Celica, once we have neared the enemy, I would ask that you scout the road ahead, with support from Sir Hope's summoned spirit," she began, "Once you have reached the bandit camp, return here at once and inform us of the state of their encampment. Their forces, their fortifications, gather as much information as you can."

The archer-knight with the keen eye and a summoned spirit. Surely, they were the ideal scouts in this situation, weren't they?

"Once you have returned, we shall advance and split into three groups to encircle the camp. Archers and magi will remain behind and offer support to those in front," she continued, "Do not loose arrow or spell wildly into the encampment. They have prisoners, and we cannot injure any innocents who may be out in the open."

Fanilly hesitated a moment. What if the bandits used their prisoners as hostages? She couldn't bear the idea of hurting anyone who had been dragged from their homes to some terrible camp in the woods, to be forced into servitude or sold.

But she was Knight-Captain. She had to keep going onward. She had to fulfill her duty.

They had to save the prisoners and exterminate the bandits.

"Once they have been encircled, we will move in, rescue the prisoners, and crush the bandits in the name of Mayon's justice."

It was a standard strategy, but one that served well in a situation like this. They would leave openings to give the illusion of escape, but slay any bandits who refused to surrender.

Now, they would simply get in position, Celica would count ahead and it would be time.

Time for Fanilly's first taste of combat as Knight-Captain.

As they advanced around a thick grove of trees, something caught the young knight girl's sight.

She stopped dead. Ahead, wheels smashed, caught up against a tree, was a cart. A horse lay dead in front of it, arrows sticking from its side and neck. A man lay on the ground. He wasn't moving.

The Order's duty came to the forefront of Fanilly's mind immediately as she moved forward. There was the sound of metal on leather as she drew her longsword in one hand, the blade flashing in the light of the setting sun. Even if this was foolish... if that man was alive...!

The Captain of the Iron Rose Knights sprinted forward without a second thought. Soon she was upon the cart, coming to a halt and kneeling beside the downed man. He was an older man, in his late fifties perhaps, with greying black, short hair and simple clothing. His side was soaked in blood, and there was a gash in his flesh. And yet, he was still breathing, even if he was pale an unconscious.

"... He's still alive!" Fanilly called to the others, looking back over her shoulder, "But he needs aid immediately!"

@Raineh Daze@Rune_Alchemist@Psyker Landshark@Pyromania99@HereComesTheSnow@Saiyan@The Otter@Crimson Paladin@ERode@Psychic Loser@Richard Horthy@Aeolian

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

@Rin: Accepted.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

The sky was painted orange. The light played across the clouds, and cast that splash of color along the landscape beneath it. This light stretched the shadows of trees and other objects across the ground, making them seem almost jagged. Quite a large number of these shadows were moving.

The horses' hooves clacked as the hit the ground on a steady rhythm. Due to the large number of them, this created almost a chorus of clopping hooves. At the head of the group was a white mare, a young and sturdy horse clearly well-cared for. On her back was a girl, no older then sixteen, wearing armor with a flowing white and gold cape. Her armor was pristine, cared for with exceptional attention, shining in the light of the sunset. Though she had never been in any serious combat before now, the level of care to her armor would not falter even after doing so. It was a symbol of her office. To do any less would be to disrespect that office. Her hair was blonde, eyes purple-blue, and skin pale. Her features bore a grim expression as her gaze was fixed ahead on the darkness of the forest.

Bandit King Jeremiah. That was the name that the man they rode out against today had taken for himself. He led a band of thieves and criminals, vicious bandits who had pillaged even small villages by this point. They had preyed upon the innocent. They had killed the defenseless to claim their belongings. And their leader had the gall to claim himself a "King". Reports told of how he had cut down soldiers sent to destroy his band. Of how he had sent dying men to their villages just to mock them shortly before his attacks.

But the simple fact was that these weren't just mere bandits.

Jeremiah, regardless of what he called himself now, wasn't just the 'Bandit King'.

The rebellion of five years ago had fallen. Anzel Cazt lay dead and buried. But still fragments of his forces remained. Some had been wiped out, imprisoned or killed. But this Jeremiah, and no small number of his bandits, were reportedly one of the remaining shards of the shattered rebellion. Their banditry was not simply their means to accrue wealth and supplies, but a deliberate spit in the face towards the people of Thaln.

So, it had been decided it was time to put this to the test. To destroy these vicious and cruel men before they could take more innocent lives. Thaln's soldiers were unable to eliminate Jeremiah, but the legendary Iron Rose Knights...

Fanilly gripped the leather in her hands tightly. They had to win. She had to prove she could do this, and they had to destroy such cruel, wicked bandits. There was no question of it. The bandit's camp was not far off, not even too distant from the road. The Bandit King's brazen attitude had grown, leading to little fear from his band of criminals at remaining so close.

The smallish knight looked back over her shoulder.

"It won't be much longer that we will need to proceed on-foot," she said. Indeed, horses could only go so far off the road. Tangled roots and stones were certainly not the ideal terrain to navigate on horseback, there was no reason to risk losing one of the loyal animals to a broken leg.

The strategy was a simple one. To position themselves around the camp, advance inward, and destroy it. While the bandits were unusually powerful and no small amount were veterans of the War of the Red Flag, an attack by the famed Iron Rose Knights when they unprepared could surely eliminate them. But Fanilly was unsure of her ability to lead them to that victory. It was undeniably the outcome that should occur, but a thousand outcomes for failure had already played and replayed within her head. No matter how unlikely they may have been, the anxiety was still gnawing at her heart like persistent vermin.

But she didn't only feel doubts, even if it was a struggle to reassure herself.

Even though she doubted herself, deep down, Fanilly felt that the Bandit King was more of a braggart then a powerful warrior. He had likely exploited whatever advantage he could to take down the soldiers sent to eliminate his band of thieves. Even knowing they had been part of the rebel forces, the fact remained they were still bandits all the same.

Her knights were prepared.

Fanilly could only hope she was as well.

@Raineh Daze@Rune_Alchemist@Psyker Landshark@Pyromania99@HereComesTheSnow@Saiyan@The Otter@Crimson Paladin@ERode@Psychic Loser@Richard Horthy@Aeolian

Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead

Aleksiya sighed heavily. As irritating as the priestess's attitude was, she would never consent to simply abandoning her. That, and these vile things were an eyesore.

"Very well, as much as it pains me to make considerations towards that woman," she commented with a pout, as further circles of light condensed ice at their centers, "She had best be thankful."

With that, the balls of ice were sent whistling through the air, hurtling towards their targets. This time, rather then specifically targeting the head, the diminutive vampire instead was more choosy. After all, simply targeting the head was clearly not enough to cripple these unpleasant abominations, and so instead she selected points of structural weakness.

Ancient kneecaps shattered and came apart, sending legs flying off and causing the dusty walking dead to hit the ground. Heads sailed into the air, leaving flailing corpses to bump into each other before toppling over. All the while, Aleksiya glanced with no small amount of jealousy at the scythe in Giselle's hands.

When she was better fed, she'd definitely show off her far superior scythe!

Still, for the moment, Aleksiya didn't want to spend too much time lamenting her own state. Rather, she focused instead on pelting the undead with ice bullets, tearing through their decrepit flesh and dusty bones in order to rip them to useless pieces scattered across the floor.

Perhaps her feelings or irritation were pushing her to be even more thorough, one particular undead being unlucky enough to be shredded by several balls of ice being dispensed in rapid succession, falling apart into an unrecognizable pile of desiccated flesh and organs.

It wasn't simply a longing to feed and regain her power.

There was something missing.

She would get it back.

@Rune_Alchemist@Click This