Psyker Landshark

Pokémon Dreams Revival

Sure, why not. Expressing interest

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Eastern Skael, Alenmiers

Izayoi's blade tore through the dragons that Galahad distracted, Blighted blood spurting from severed heads and wings. The dragoon's efforts had made them easy meat, and they didn't have much time left. Miina's hurricane blade shredded the remaining dragons' wings, grounding them if not leaving one writhing in pain, completely disabled. The remaining two forced themselves up to their feet, preparing to charge Miina...

...When a beam of lightning tore through the duo, piercing through their chests. The dragons fell silently, dead before they hit the ground. A black blade crashed into the remainder, ripping them to pieces in moments. When the dust settled, General Garland stood alone, planting his great cleaver into the earth as he raised his hands in a gesture of...peace?

"Stay your blades, Warriors of Light. Consider that effort just now to be an effort of good faith on my part."

"Oh? 'Tis hardly been a day since we've fought. And now you wish to parlay?" Izayoi snarled, pacing around the Valheimr general. Who looked to be in much better condition. Either he had a second set of armor, or it was repaired extremely quickly. His helmet tilted in what seemed to be amusement, his tone wry.

"Come, now. It took your entire number to face me on even terms, and here you are at half strength. I hold the cards here, General." The helmet's yellow gaze tilted to regard Miina, and then Galahad.

"I've come to believe we share a common enemy within Solitude. I wish to negotiate with both you and whatever of Skael's leadership they wish to risk. For the time being, I consent to being your prisoner." Which he seemed entirely and likely justifiably unconcerned with. Magic alone meant that it was impossible to disarm him fully. "Land us outside of Falcon's Nest, for the peace of mind of however many of the Seven have survived." He knew, clearly.

Izayoi frowned at the demands disguised as surrender, but held her peace, instead looking to Galahad. Meanwhile, Garland spoke one last time.

"In order to convey how dire this situation is, I will even surrender some of my information freely right now." He looked dead in the eyes of all three Kirins, his tone grave.

___

Southern Skael, North of Solitude

The ambush was perfect. The Valheimr patrol had been expecting a lone runner, not an entire skirmisher squadron backed by hardened warriors from afar. They fell to a man, Chisato's quick disabling of the commsman halting any ability they had to call for help from long range. As the last of the hounds were felled by a concentrated volley of fire, silence reigned over the snowy expanse for a moment.

And only a moment, as a pair of crimson tufts of fur peeked out from the trees.

"Woah, don't shoot, don't shoot! I'm not one of them!" A voice cried out, tinged with stress and exhaustion. A redhaired and furred mystrel slowly made his way down from the tallest tree in the area. Once he made it to solid ground, the similarities to Miina were more than apparent.

"Skaelers? Oh, thank the gods. As long as you're not Valheimr, I'll take it. Listen, it's been hell for a week now. You've got no idea what it took to get out of that city and past the blackhelms' quarantine. Get me the hell out of here, please. I'll take to whatever superiors you want, they need to know anyway. You've got to tell them:"

___

From miles on miles away, two voices spoke the same words at coincidentally the exact same time.

"Solitude is a city of the dead now."

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Eastern Skael, Alenmiers

The sheer wind of Miina's hurricane blade made it near-impossible for the dragons to stay aloft for long, forcing them to stay grounded and vulnerable for the time being. Galahad and his halberd came screeching down from the sky, the velocity of his dive breaking through the red mage's winds and planting the tip of the halberd straight into the throat of the pack's leader.

Blighted as they were, the dragons still possessed enough animal instinct to understand the death of a packmate, and howled in fury, the two closest rearing back to ready gouts of flame from their mouths. But that was literally cut short as Izayoi blurred into motion, reappearing in front of one dragon to slash its throat open before the collective fire of a half dozen gunshots crashed into the skull of the other, both dragons crumpling to the dirt.

Further incensed, the remaining dragons lunged with flame on the tips of their mouths, unleashing three streams of fire that forced Izayoi to fall back, the flames rushing towards Galahad next, as if attempting to box in him. Two more came lumbering towards Miina, having recognized the source of the wind that was keeping them on foot.

All the while, a figure further up the mountain watched the events below, wisps of sickly green aether at their fingertips.

___

Southern Skael, North of Solitude

One dog sniffed the air, and began barking incessantly. The rest followed.

"They've got a scent!"

"Must be nearby, I can hardly keep them on the leash-" That particular Valheimr was cut off by the hound he was handling managing to lunge forward with enough force to loosen its master's grip on its leash, letting it free to charge forward. Straight up the hill.

The raid captain swore furiously under her breath, signing for the the rest of her men and the Kirins to ready up. It was evident what she was going to do: engage while they still had the advantage of the high ground, before the Valheimr could make their way up the slope.

With scant few moments before the jig was up regardless, one of the raiders poked his head up over the ridge, sighted the charging hound before the Valheimr could get a handle on what they were seeing, and opened fire.

"AMBUSH!"

"Open fire! For Skael!"

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Renar Hagen

Something to behold? Oh, yes. Yes, it would be. Renar had long envisioned exactly how such a duel would play out, and now it was almost within reach. He just needed to hold on just that tiny bit more. Maintain all he'd built until then. Which meant shaking off the pleasant dream and returning to the situation at hand.

At least the little chit had the right idea in a tourney such as this. For likely the wrong reasons, but still. Though that did beg the question...was she of age for that irritating little hundi ritual? As far as Renar recalled from cultural education and talks with Lein on the matter, the talk of a marriage duel had to be consensual on both ends. And while it would be both utterly hilarious and entirely necessary to see some people (Gerard) get shackled with a good noble marriage at last, the fact remained that Dame Lizaelea was foreign nobility. A possible wrinkle, despite the potential advantages.

"Allow me to hazard a guess then, Dame. Is this a step upon your obligatory rite of marriage? If so, allow me to stop something at the pass: should we duel, I do not consent to it being one of potential marriage. Take solace in that this is hardly a slight against you so much as that I've obligations that I'm expected to meet." He inclined his head in brief apology, catching Rolan's eye to implore him to not audibly wonder what Renar was talking about with that last bit.

Because it was worded exactly vague enough to be truthful, while obfuscating the fact that he didn't have a good excuse. He just wanted a more advantageous match for Thalnan politics.

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP

Reeva Bonner

Boy, oh boy. Smart goblins. Wait, no. That was maybe asking too much. Mildly intelligent goblins. Enough to anticipate an attack. Reeva resisted the urge to sigh. It would have made noise. Instead, she set up a quick and dirty tripwire trap: nothing fancy or especially lethal, but the impact of a goblin falling would make noise. Enough to let her know if any of the little green bastards decided to try and man the wall while she left it unattended.

That done, she went back down the way she came, regrouping with the rest of the party. At least going down was quicker than climbing up. She jogged back over to the group, getting straight to business. Time was of the essence.

"Right, so. Goblins were tipped off even before we got here. They know something's coming. Doubt they know what it is, or they'd be on full alert. But they're ready for a fight. I'll get back up top, flank them when it comes to a fight. Look out for some kind of ambush, maybe a runner that's trying to see what's going on. Either way, expect them to be dug in. We should be clear to get past the gate, either way. Sound good? Great, break!"

Report complete, Reeva made to scale the wall again, repeating the same vigilance she kept before as she clambered back up top, checking on her tripwire and disarming it before creeping further ahead along the wall, trying to see where the goblins were holed up.

On the Wings of Dragons

Drugram Noldgar

A silver dragon landed upon the plateau where they'd all been set to meet, and Drugram hopped off Granigol with naught but a brief grunt of exertion. As the others arrived, Drugram gave each of them an inquisitive stare before returning to his ruminations, waiting patiently until they had all gathered. Would that those in command had bothered to a more detailed dossier on the fellow leading them than that he'd survived a Kovosian attack on his home nation. Still, between that and being actually trained to command, Drugram wouldn't begrudge this Caleb boy his position.

Ancestors knew that he didn't want such a burden of leadership upon himself, after all. There had been conversations when all of this mustering had begun. Surely, some said, a century-old man had some idea of how to lead. He'd shut that line of thought down as soon as he'd heard it. Magic was his one great specialty. Not leadership, not warfare, not tactics. It didn't matter how many scraps he'd gone through when he was young. That was hardly any substitute for formal education in battlefield tactics and strategy.

There came a point when he realized he ought to introduce himself rather than think. Drugram stepped forward, beating a fist against his chest once.

"Aye, ser." He nodded, taking care to look more respectful than curt. Nevertheless, some of Caleb's words had him thinking.

"Engage only when engaged upon? Lord Evermoore, was it? This a missive from High Command?" He left Caleb that one out, just in case. Nevertheless, the idea of not striking first sat poorly with Drugram. This was already an invasion. Any pretense to first strike or cassus belli was pointless. He had very little intention of usurping the human's command, considering how much Drugram didn't want that responsbility for himself. But it was a pertinent question, nonetheless.

Drugram sideeyed the other two riders in their squadron after, trying to recall if he'd ever heard of or read up upon them. One more mage, at least. As well as a complete unknown. His inquisitive stare lasted a moment more, before Caleb mounting up had his own self clambering back onto Granigol.

"Understood. We'll take off as you do."

On the Wings of Dragons

post'll be coming in the day, had to catch up on other posts but this'll be out soonish

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Eastern Skael, Alenmiers

"Aye, ser!" The sergeant saluted, bellowing orders back to the helm to land. Deboarding was quick, and the soldiers gathered up, setting out alongside Galahad, Miina, and Izayoi on foot towards the mountain and the dragons. Once they'd nearly reached the site, the Skaelers split up to set up fire support as Galahad instructed, readying and loading rifles while getting firing lines.

For her part, Izayoi refrained from drawing her blade just yet, her brow furrowed as her ears twitched. She narrowed her eyes, trying to concentrate and hear past the sound of dragons roaring.

"Something has been bothering me since we began to make our approach. 'Tis almost as if we're being watched." She grunted, a hand falling to the hilt of her sword. "Keep an eye upon our flanks and rear as we engage. The chance of another encounter with that damned spy is hardly zero."

They took the final steps up toward the mountain path, and a stray dragon on the edge of the battle noticed them first. It roared, Blight dripping from its fangs, and the remaining flight of dragons began to look in their direction, wings splayed out to take flight. By this point, there were perhaps only one or two un-Blighted dragons remaining, with half a dozen writhing on the ground in the throes of infection. And ten in the full throes of Blight. Izayoi drew her sword, wind beginning to gather along the blade.

"Now, Miina! Galahad, at your ready!"

___

Southern Skael, North of Solitude

From over the ridge, the Valheimr patrol finally came into hearing range. Raised voices, agitated tones, to the point of near-panic, surprisingly. A dozen men bearing guns and sabers, holding the leashes of five barking, yapping hounds. If the yips were anything to go by, their presence wasn't completely made just yet. The dogs were alert and searching, to be certain, but it didn't seem that they had a definite scent.

"Keep searching! He can't have gone far!"

"Damn it, how the hell did that bastard thief even live long enough to break through the quarantine?!"

"Shut up and keep your damn eyes open! If this gets back to the higher-ups, we're never getting off garrison duty again!"

Searching for someone, it seemed. From her vantage point, the raid captain narroweed her eyes and moved her finger onto the trigger of her rifle, but held her fire. A cursory glance across the assembled skirmishers revealed no suspicious tells. Or at least, none that were obvious. They were all prepared to open fire at a moment's notice.

"It's one fucking mystrel, and a damn redhead at that! How in all hells have we not even seen a single red hair in the middle of all this godsforsaken snow?!"

Final Fantasy: Lightseekers

Eastern Skael, Alenmiers

"Aye, sir. We've spare radios for your lot as well. Albinsson!" The sergeant turned to call out towards a startled private. "Get our guests some damn radios already, would you?"

While that was being attended to, Izayoi simply nodded in agreement with Galahad's battle plan, electing to spend the rest of the voyage leaned against the deck railing, simply staring out towards the mountains.

She had wanted to deal with the camps herself. Despite Reisa's blood on her hands cooling no small amount of her fury, Valheim as a whole still drew a significant amount of ire from Izayoi. But this was the more tactically expedient option. Months before, she might have insisted otherwise. But now...well. If nothing else, the bonus of annoying Esben with her move had been at least somewhat worth it.

Minutes passed. As the airship drew closer, those aboard heard it before they saw it: the roars of dragons. Screeching and howling in what seemed to almost be...pain? And then the sight came into view: dragon attacking dragon, the ones on the offensive in a mad fury. A closer view with a spyglass would confirm the obvious theory: the attackers were practically leaking Blight from their fangs and wounds.

"This ought be the limit of how far we fly." Izayoi tucked the radio she was given into her robes, adjusting her kote's fit. "I should think it would be better if we make haste to fall upon them before the Blighted ones emerge victorious. 'Tis better that they all be distracted than a few dead and the rest Blighted."

___

Southern Skael, North of Solitude

"A few days old. Only thing to add is that by all accounts, they're refusing to even get near the city limits. Not even to rotate and resupply." The raid captain rubbed her chin in contemplation, but eventually gave it up as a bad job.

"Either way, I agree. Initial scouting first. Then we finalize our plan of attack-"

"Captain!" A hurried, hushed cry came up from the front of the group: another raider. "Valheimr patrol of a dozen, damn near on top of us ahead. Visual as soon as you crest over the hill. We got damn unlucky in picking our landing zone: they're heading our way."

"Birdshite!" The woman in charge hissed, flicking the safety off of her longarm. "We've had this landing zone marked out for days! Their patrols haven't ranged out this way at all, they had to have known we were coming...damn it! Form up, you lot! Ambush positions!"

On the Wings of Dragons

Drugram Noldgar

A dwarf sat cross-legged atop a snowy peak, clad in a heavy cloak that billowed behind him from gusts and gales. Cold air. Harsh winds. Home. Or as close to it as he could get. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. Mana gathered to Drugram, coalescing into his body as he centered himself, meditating.

While he was an outlier among the local riders in that he didn't dedicate his whole life to the cause, only a shortsighted fool would have turned down the call once it was known that those grasping bastards to the east were preparing to invade. So he'd left his clanhold with the full blessing of his people, leaving the most promising of his apprentices to advise and defend in his place during his absence.

Sparks of lightning danced around Drugram's seated form as he continued to gather and focus his mana for the day ahead, taking more time than usual in charging his reserves. It had been some years since he'd engaged in any serious combat, and the prospect of such was looking more and more likely with every day that passed since the Alliance formed. Tactics and application of magic flew through his head, with Drugram trying to recall his battles and practical lessons. Anti-mana, anti-prana, and anti-dragon tactics went through his mind, all reviewed and looked over to see if they could be improved. At some point, the ground rumbled as a silver-scaled dragon touched down on the peak with a huff, giving his rider a brief look before settling into a resting position next to the dwarf.

Half an hour passed. Drugram opened his eyes, the last few sparks around him dissipating as he exerted full control over his mana. The wizard rose to his feet, reaching for a staff that he'd laid to his side with one hand as he leaned over to pet Granigol on the snout with his other hand.

"Ready then, old goat?" He huffed, reaching into a satchel on his belt to pull out a stick of jerky that he offered up. The dragon snatched it eagerly, devouring the morsel in a single bite as his rider mounted up atop his back. "Right, you know the drill. Behave yourself around the other dragons. They're not rivals for your damn territory or any sort of competition. Don't be a cunt, and we'll not need to have this lecture again."

It was a familiar refrain, said without heat, and Granigol simply snorted briefly before taking off with a mighty flap of his wings.

"...Kovosian dragons're free game, of course. More brutal you are, more chance they might lose their nerve. Anything to get this damn fool war over with faster."