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2 yrs ago
Current I think watching fight scenes can help in general terms with writing combat, since it can give you an idea of flow and choreography.
2 yrs ago
At least if you're writing something you know, with knights.
2 yrs ago
I mean, depends on what you're writing, and the tone and theme of what you're writing. Trained armored knights were legitimately monstrous on the battlefield, so looking up how they fought helps.
2 yrs ago
As much as there's a lot of reasons twitter sucks, I genuinely don't want to see it die for the sake of all the artists who now rely on it. Hoping the shithead stops trying to directly administrate.
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2 yrs ago
roleplayerguild.com/posts/5… If anyone's up for fighting some kaiju, why not try out my new RP, Godzilla: YATAGARUSU?

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Heir to the Konpaku


Unfamiliar.

That was the best word she could use to describe her feelings.

The human village was the biggest settlement she'd ever seen before, when it came to human beings. And certainly, it was bustling and full of activity. But this place was nothing like the human village. Not only did it boast the same unfamiliar architecture of the small villages they'd seen so far, but it was filled with an incredible amount of people.

Youmu let out a heavy sigh.

"I don't think it's going to be any easier finding a way to communicate with Yuyuko-sama here then it was in any of those villages," lamented the half-phantom.

At least the little girl they'd found seemed alright. There was a strange, familiar and yet unfamiliar feeling about her, one that she couldn't really adequately describe in words, but since the girl hadn't spoken very much it was hard to get any answers about who she was or what happened.

Still, Youmu had to do something, even if there was no way for her to know what. Perhaps this world had some sort of magic that would let her contact Yuyuko-sama, or expediate their purpose? Either she would at least be able to speak with her mistress, or she'd reach the completion of their goal here and be returned to Gensokyo.

At least that's what she hoped.

Taking a step forward, Youmu paused after a moment to look back over her shoulder.

"Fujiwara-san, do you want to come with me?"

She didn't really know why she was inviting the Hourai immortal along, not in the least. But it made more sense to look for something potentially helpful together rather then split up even more then they already had.

@PKMNB0Y@Raineh Daze




Mysterious Girl


The girl didn't speak for some time before she was picked up. It was hardly surprising, given her prior lack of response, but after a moment she seemed to stir, one delicate hand curling slightly.

Perhaps it would be difficult for the Toa, immensely physically powerful and still largely unfamiliar with human being as he was, to tell, but she was almost impossibly light. Far more then her appearance should have suggested.

For the first time since they departed the village, she spoke.

"... You won't rot, will you...?"

Her voice was quiet, and slightly strained due to a lack of speaking for so long, but the fear and worry in her tone was self-evident.

@PKMNB0Y@Lugubrious
Witch's household





"... How much do I have to explain to you? I know you're a goblin, but how come you don't know anything?" complained Ilsa, as Relki snickered behind her.

With a sigh, the witch turned towards a hallway leading deeper into the cottage.

"Come on, I'll explain as we go."

When the goblin followed, the witch continued.

"Mana is an intrinsic part of living things," she began, "Basically, if you have a soul, you have mana. But a lot of living things have very little mana, only what comes from being alive. And mana that's a part of the soul is very difficult to use, and even if you work out how to use it, it could kill you."

The hallway branched off into various rooms, most of which were shut. Small lanterns lined the walls every few paces, but what was most notable was its length. While not excessively long, surely this hallway couldn't possibly fit within the dimensions of the forest cottage as they appeared from outside.

"However, those who are born with mana that overflows from their soul are capable of using it," added Ilsa, "By conforming it to a specific pattern, it's possible to produce specific effects. Unless you're even more of an idiot then I expect, I'm guessing you've already figured out that this is magic."

She came to a half when they reached a finely-carved door, depicting what appeared to be a stylized owl. Its large wooden eyes peered out at the approaching figures, and they almost appeared to move to follow them.

At least, until the door opened to reveal a rather unexpected figure.

It was, indeed, a rather round, large owl, two feet tall, with tawny feathers and tiny spectacles perched ahead of its large, amber eyes. The fact it was wearing a green sleeveless was also rather perplexing.

"Ah, Young Lady Ilsa," the owl said, with a voice that could be likened to a friendly, middle-aged man, "I see you have-"

The owl hesitated for a moment.

"A... gob-I mean, a guest."

"Yes, yes, she's a guest," responded Ilsa, "And she's here to check out some books. Specifically the ones about beginner's alchemy. I'm sure you can help her, can't you?"

Whatever hesitation the owl had about a goblin seemed to have disappeared.

"Of course," he began, "This way, this way."

He gestured for Rita to come inside.

"I'm going to check on that medusa," explained Ilsa, as she turned to leave, "Hopefully she's not tearing up the garden. If you want anything, just tell Reginald. I'll be back."

The owl, quite obviously Reginald, bobbed his head in response.

Meanwhile, outside, the lead mushroom creature seemed somewhat doubtful. Its shiny, black eyes looked the medusa up and down warily, and then it wordlessly pointed towards the damage done to the nearby tree. Its fellows bobbed their capped heads, using their whole bodies to move to compensate for their lack of a neck.

"I think they're still worried," the fairy cheerfully supplied, insisting now on landing on Colleen's shoulder as if she belonged there.

"Just what is going on here?!"

It was Ilsa.

The petite witch was angrily marching towards the medusa, using her staff to gesture to the nearby tree.

"What were you doing?!"

@Rune_Alchemist@Pyromania99
"..."

Others were stepping in for her. Sir Fionn. Sir Rolan. Either attempting to convince the apprentice mage, or standing up for her.

But if she couldn't do this herself, what sort of captain was she?

They faced a dragon. Not just any dragon, but Thrinax himself. The legendary companion of Prince Erion. They needed everything at their disposal. Fanilly couldn't understand how someone in this situation could even threaten not to help.

Had she done something wrong down the line in dealing with the mage? The Knight-Captain searched through her memories. The fact Gisela reprimanded her certainly didn't help, but they were still facing a dragon. It had to be more than that, given the situation, didn't it?

Fanilly took a deep breath.

"... We can talk after these tests are over, Lady Gertrude," she began, "But---"

She paused for a moment, trying to choose her words carefully. As much as she was starting to feel frustrated, she also had to secure the other girl's assistance to help with forcing the dragon to remain grounded. Without her, she still had faith in her knights, but at the same time she couldn't ignore the just how much a mage could assist in battle against a dragon.

Even if death was not permanent here, Fanilly had to act in the way she thought would secure victory with the least potential for casualties. That meant trying to utilize every advantage she could possibly think of.

And that meant leaning on Gertrude's capabilities as a mage.

"But right now---"

The glimmering scales were like jewels.

Thrinax had taken off.

He was approaching.

"Down!" Fanilly cut herself off, "Get down the hill now!"

Already she was running, sprinting to the nearest edge of the hill as swiftly as she could. She could already imagine it, see what could happen playing out in her mind.

Slashing claws. Snapping jaws. Lashing tail.

Sheer size.

A dragon was dangerous for all of these reasons.

But they all paled in comparison to the most unique and terrifying weapon of their kind.

Dragonfire.

Searing, scorching, devastating flames that could melt away even dwarven steel in seconds. That could burn the hides of trolls to a cinder. That could leave scars upon the land that would remain for hundreds of years.

Fanilly's greaves hit the side of the hill, and her momentum allowed her to slide down, air rushing past her.

She could feel the heat behind her. Any closer, and it would have singed her cape and possibly even the back of her neck.

This was it.

They had to win.

They had to wound a dragon.
Smithy





And then it's over.

The undead, while more then simply mindless, are still old and frail corpses. A hammer, or a hard enough hit with anything sturdy, is enough to do them in. And it looks like my guess was correct, enough damage to the body more or less turns off the magic that's controlling them.

If they can't move, what's the point?

My grip on the staff loosens and my body grows a little less tense.

I let out a sigh of relief, even if I can't help but feel useless.

Why, out of everyone, did I get such a small and weak body? Why do I even need to be a girl? Just because one of my favorite characters is like this doesn't mean I wanted to be!

I'm a mage of some sort, but that's pretty worthless when I can't even do any magic!

...

I can't waste time worrying about that right now.

The smithy itself is pretty dusty. There's no way there's been anyone in here other than the undead for a long time. They were probably only in here because they were shut inside to begin with.

The state of all the weapons is pretty disappointing. But I suppose that's also a good indication of how long it's been since this city fell.

It'd take a while for them to end up in that bad a condition when they were still partially sheltered. Still, I guess it's better than having nothing.

That girl just called me 'lil' Sephily'.

Eyes narrowing, a frown on my face, I step forward immediately. I can't just ignore this.

"I already told you I'm not a child," I firmly insist. Part of me feels tempted to see just how firmly I can swing my staff, but that's probably a bad idea.

Right now, at least.

I run my eyes over the tools and half-completed metalworks, which seem to be in a bit of a better condition than anything else, at least. The sunlight filtering in through the rooftop is enough for me.

I can't say I have much confidence in my ability to use any of these as a weapon. Not like this.

I reach out experimentally to grip the handle of the blacksmith's hammer and lift it, I immediately feel the strain running up through my thin arm.

I'm sure it's heavy given the job it was doing, but even clenching my teeth and putting as much strength into my arm as I can, I'm barely able to lift it at all.

"... Nngh..."

I let go of the hammer, a scowl crossing my features. I wouldn't have had any problem before now, why did I need to end up this week if I wasn't going to be able to do any kind of magic to start with?!

I quickly flash the others a glare in hopes of cutting off any joking comments.

My arm is still shaking a little. I can feel a little bit of tingling up through the muscles. It was really that hard for me just to pick up a blacksmith's hammer?

... Maybe this blacksmith was superhuman, or something. Some sort of half-giant. Maybe he had some kind of divine blessing, this is a fantasy setting after all. The thought makes me feel a little bit better.

Among the unfinished works, one of them is a small knife, relatively sheltered from damage. It seems like it was almost done, with a hilt already wrapped in what looks like leather. While it's not in great condition, I guess it's better than nothing.

I can't see it being that useful against the undead though, but maybe it can keep them away if they get close.

"I think I'll take this."

I pick it up, and am thankful that it's light enough for me to hold one-handed.

@RolePlayerRoxas@Aku the Samurai@PKMNB0Y
"Ah---"

She'd been so caught up in her own thoughts that she hadn't quite noticed the state that one of their own was in. Esben quite clearly had a concussion, among other things.

Robin cleared her throat and stepped closer, opening her pouch and taking out a small bundle of cloth bandages. It was mostly meant to stop bleeding in an emergency, but at the moment it was both soft and thick enough to serve as a temporary pillow.

Kneeling beside him, she gently lifted his head and put the bundle beneath it.

"Rest up and relax, and you should be fine with a little time! Ah, and Lady Miina's assistance."
Ah---

Robin had tried to catch herself and land properly, tried to be steady so she'd be ready for anything down here, if they had to fall in the first place, but she'd only ended up landing nearly flat on her face.

When she rose, it was clear something had cushioned their fall.

Or perhaps it was someone.

The old man who identified himself as Cid had a lot to say, and at the moment Robin didn't have much else to do but listen. She didn't really know much about the deeper workings of the conflict, only that Valheim's forces were bad. They hurt people. If she wanted to be a hero, then it was her duty to intervene and protect others.

But this conflict went even beyond that.

Valheim had drained the light from the land itself, like some sort of parasite. Destroyed entire nations. They'd given rise to the Blight, even if it wasn't intentional.

It was an enormity of sin almost incomprehensible to her. The sort of thing you heard about in legends of dark and evil monstrosities that were destroyed by noble messengers of light.

And yet, those messengers had failed.

Again and again...

"Ah, wait---"

The Revenant had followed, and Cid had told them they were in too bad of shape to fight it. But that---

She could still fight! She'd already shown her ability to evade the monster's strikes, and she was only a little bruised from her awkward landing.

Robin was sure she could help. Why would she ever let an old man fight alone, even if he wielded this sort of power?

And yet he sending them away. The light beneath their feet glowing brilliantly, building and then---

It was all gone.

They stood in nothing more than ruins.

"..."

Her right hand was wrapped tightly around the hilt of her blade.

He felt like... he'd reminded her a little of...

Robin took a deep breath, the gleaming tip of her sword slowly drifting downwards as she turned to face the others.

The sheer gravity of the conflict had exploded even beyond her understanding. Valheim was always an existential threat to these lands, always a horrible burden on those under its thumb, always a foe of unjust tyranny.

But now that went even beyond the people and to the land itself.

Her fingers tightened on her lowered blade.

Robin took a deep breath.

"... I'll stay with you, no matter what," she began, as she turned to face the others, "I'll go with you to the crystals and I'll help you save these lands and everyone in them. We'll beat Valheim and end the Blight together."

It was the only thing on her mind. The only thing she could even imagine saying.

It was her path forward. Her whole existence.

A hero couldn't step away from something like this. A hero couldn't ignore something like this.

Fear had to be conquered. Doubt could be ignored.

Her hand gripped tighter.

This was the only path, and Robin would take it no matter what the future held.
Witch's Household





"... Magic beer?"

Ilsa gave a blank stare.

"If that's what you're going to make with alchemy then I'm not sure if you should learn," she commented with a sigh, "But fine. Mostly, Alchemy comes down to understanding the components of what you're trying to make. You can think of it sort of like a recipe, even if you're not trying to make a tonic or potion."

She paused for a few moments.

"It's not exactly my area of expertise, so I can't really demonstrate for you and I'm not really feeling like doing so anyway," she continued, "But you'd be best off starting with a simple tonic if you wanted to try it. Maybe something that can make your hair grow, or heal light wounds. Those are going to be simple and close to ordinary brewing. There's some books in the library that might help you."

Before Relki could butt in again, Ilsa was quick to step forward and continue, casting a glare towards the Raven familiar before she spoke.

"As for making a familiar, you need to have enough mana to sustain one and a lost spirit, plus an animal to use," she explained, "It's pointless to even bother setting up the ritual until you have these components."

The Substitute Witch of the Forest crossed her arms, inclining her head towards the goblin and narrowing her eyes. It was clear that she wasn't taking the information she was giving lightly, and at this point was starting to feel as if perhaps she had been too unreservedly helpful.

"You better repay me for helping you out this much, though. I wasn't planning on it until I learned just how clueless you are. And if you make a mess, I won't forgive you."

Before she could say or do anything else, Relki suddenly wrapped her arms around her from behind, hugging the witch and patting her head.

"H-hey?! What?! S-stop it!"

"Darling little Ilsa acts so standoffish, but she's a good girl," commented the black-haired familiar, which only seemed to make Ilsa struggle more.

"L-let go---!"

Meanwhile, in the garden, the little fairy looked quite upset at being spoken to in such a way.

"Muuuu, she said not to follow us! We can talk! Not that I understand why you're not supposed to follow..." folding her arms, the tiny girl pouted, looking away as she remained in the air behind the medusa, now.

The mushroom creatures, vaguely human-shaped and with shiny black eyes beneath their red caps, peered up at the medusa and silently tilted their heads. Given their apparent lack of necks, it seemed more like they were just tilting most of their bodies to achieve this outcome. There were six, the largest of which barely reached Colleen's knee, taking a spot at the head of the group.

Unlike the others, it was pointing in an almost accusatory fashion towards Colleen, with one of its stubby little fingers.

"I think they're worried you'll rip up the bush they live under," the fairy helpfully supplied, without bothering to explain just what the little mushroom creatures were.

@Rune_Alchemist@Pyromania99
@shylarah: Hmmm. That still feels a bit not tied to any preexisting mythology?
An opening. She needed an opening. Even if the demon could heal her body effortlessly, if she could get an even briefly disabling strike then that would give a greater opportunity for Sir Rolan to break away and reach the top without serious harm. As long as at least one of them was able to make it, and the others all survived, that was success.

But that meant-

... It was over.

Sir Rolan hadn't made it, but someone else had.

Fanilly's shoulders sagged, and she found herself inhaling deeply. Despite the switch-up from what she'd been expecting, it had worked. They'd reached the top of the hill.

The sudden damp fog to extinguish the fires lasted only a moment, and the hundi mage informed them of their success... though she didn't have such high praise for Lady Gertrude.

Still, there was no time to be relieved, for they had one more task.

A final task that promised to be their most difficult.

Fanilly had never before laid eyes upon a real dragon before these strange 'dreams', and although this one was presumably part of this strange constructed world that didn't make it any less real here.

Not to mention just who this dragon was.

Thrinax. Resplendent, Crimson Thrinax. The great and beautiful, the shining ruby of the skies. The heartstone inferno. Friend to the legendary Prince. It was said that the flames of Thrinax were instrumental in Prince Erion's campaign against the Undead Armies of Lord Karvell. That he devoured the orc warchief Ergok, ending his endless raids. That he and Prince Erion toppled the Black Tower. And, finally, that he bore the prince's body to a distant and unknown land after his death.

They first faced the Prince's knights, and now they faced his friend.

Fanilly's hands were shaking. She couldn't help it. Simply hearing the dragon's roar was enough.

But she was Knight-Captain. She had to remain steady. She had to remain clear of mind. She had to pass correct judgement.

She had to assemble a plan of attack.

They had to only wound him.

They could do it. They had to.

"S-Sir Rolan is right," Fanilly began, after taking a deep breath to try and soothe her nerves, "Remaining gathered until we can keep him on the ground is a foolish idea. Lady Gertrude, to demonstrate your prowess against a dragon is the height of a mage's talents, isn't it?"

She hoped desperately that flattery was still enough to get through to the other girl.

"But rather then attacking, do you have any spells that might make it more difficult for him to see, or to maintain altitude?"

She doubted that many attack spells would be very useful against a dragon unless they took it by surprise. If they were, then injuring him would be far easier then she expected.

Instead, making flight too difficult and forcing him to land made more sense to the young Knight-Captain.
It was so swift. So agile.

It was no wonder that Ranbu no Izayoi was such a famous, infamous name. Her shouted warning, the dance that unfolded before Robin's eyes---

If this wasn't a battle, Robin would have wanted to simply observe the technique. The analyze every step that the ronin made. Simply to appreciate it, as one who also wielded a blade despite the distance between their two schools of swordplay.

And then the giant figure's blade fell.

Despite all she had done, it hadn't been enough. The Revenant's blade had nearly killed Ranbu no Izayoi in a single blow, and now she lay upon the sands, bleeding.

Robin didn't really hear what was being said. Her feet were already moving.

Her pounding heart quickened, as she witnessed Sagramore intercept such a heavy blow in a manner she didn't fully understand. How and why didn't really matter, now, only that she now had an opening she could take advantage of.

Everything else could be considered another time.

It was a moment in which a hero acted.

Sparkling light flowed over the edge of her blade as she moved.

Her target lay ahead of her. A terrifying monster who hadn't been brought down even by such a skillful dance.

But she wouldn't stop.

Robin wouldn't allow herself to stop.

A blade isn't just a plaything. It's a tool for killing, no matter what your intentions are.

The old man's words in her ears.

She knew that plenty well.

And against an opponent with heavy armor, or thick skin, you need to target their weak points.

Her fellow Edrenian's block had opened a perfect path for her. A single place where she could strike as the behemoth's blade was locked in place.

Against armor, you want to go for the joints. You can cripple or kill if you strike in the right spots, no matter how well-defended they are.

Beneath the arm.

She didn't know if this monstrous figure functioned like a normal creature. But beneath the arm there were important veins and muscles, things that were crucial to the body's functions.

If Robin could pierce this monster there---!

Sparks flew, sand tossed into the air beneath her feet, as Robin thrust her sword firmly upwards beneath the revenant's sword arm---!
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