I'll add a summary as soon as possible. SORRY, my post must've been really confusing. Really my fault. Very sorry.
Akai no Senshi Member
GAAAAAAAAAAH! ATSUI WA KOKORO DA!
STATUS: WE ARE FIGHTING DREAMERS. SAGASHI WA MIZASHITE. FIGHTING DREAMERS. 8 yrs ago
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WE ARE FIGHTING DREAMERS. SAGASHI WA MIZASHITE. FIGHTING DREAMERS.
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hi i posted!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Walter King | Memories of death | Luan.
It was. . .so dark. So grim. They died left and right. They perished. They disappeared. They weren't there anymore. Walter didn't feel them. The pain swallowed him whole, because this feeling was oddly familiar. It encompassed him through and through until he could barely breathe anymore. His protection floundered slowly. These were his -comrades-. And they all died. Slow, incredibly slow. It felt slow, even if it wasn't. Walter didn't wave his tremendous shield up and about when they were hailed. He didn't do it in time. They just. . .left him to his own devices. He wanted to die here, too, but that would be a stretch to his ambition. His presence here. His reason. And just like that, the mission was a disappointment. When he, Sable and Castor came back, they were all dug deep into snow. It was cold. Absolutely cold. Walter turned around. He didn't want to see this, not anymore. He wanted to cry so much, but the mission wasn't over just yet.
He was clad in his usual armor, albeit fitted with several components that created warmth INSIDE the suit, to prevent snow from entering into the main electronic compartments and ruining the function of the suits. His suit was held like a hand-watch, wrapped with a metallic band carefully to his wrist. He wants to take a walk. He wants to walk /away/, for all eternity. He catches the shield before him and addresses them with a sore eye. It's a resemblance of his sadness, an equity to his inner conflictions. SeeR was horrible, the SOLDIER program even more. It didn't care about -them-, but that's for a particular reason. -Them- had declined into inexistance at this point. Walter King was no longer Walter King. He was a nobody. A pawn can only move one space. One space wasn't far enough. Pawns can have all the drive and compassion they want-- one space was irrelevant. They'd expire long before they get to the other side. Walter King felt like he was in a calculated game of chess, a never-ending one. These zonal battles have happened countless times before. Some were better for them, but others -- like this one -- went bitter.
Prior to arriving at this exotic scenery, Walter King, Castor and Sable had no issues or questions to put up. No conversation, either. Walter King was seldom the isolated man. With all his sophistication to back that kind of personality -- it only brewed a sense of mysticismin him. But with comrades, he felt it courteous to discharge that static of silence and let them know of him. Of who Walter King is. He may've told them his name, but that'd be all from his side. There wasn't any necessity for more. The walk presumed. They were as lethargic as could be, which put most of the fault on them. If they had been there one second before. . .if Walter arrived in time. That thought, that /guilt/ killed him on the inside. It ripped his very core a part. Yet he established inclination to the mission even when things became worse.
Eagles. Walter wasn't ready for this. His preparation was limited, and the sight still had significant effects on his mentality and mindset. He lacked the sort of drive that carried him earlier--that flammable enthusiasm. Sensitivity went a long ways with him. He does not need to turn to Sable and Castor to warn them, because they already moved. All that was left now is for him to swim back up from the dull depths of his subliminal ocean. He's woken up, not by the sound of Sable and Castor battling the Ravager Eagles to death, but it was the sound of sustained camaradrie, that came on after he noted more SOLDIERS arriving. He had practically no time to hail them, but. .
His heart yearned more to protect these ones. Those left, and now their turn came. His shield poised, Walter rushes into the fray alongside Sable and Castor. He has no chance of reaching them straight, so he waits for them to attack before going for the counter. Walter would leap onto them and smash. Smash. Smash. Smash. The bottom tip of his shield just consistently tearing into the Eagles' delicate skull. He was screaming. Yelling. He wasn't about to lose anymore. He had to protect. It was his job as,
Sentinel King.
He was clad in his usual armor, albeit fitted with several components that created warmth INSIDE the suit, to prevent snow from entering into the main electronic compartments and ruining the function of the suits. His suit was held like a hand-watch, wrapped with a metallic band carefully to his wrist. He wants to take a walk. He wants to walk /away/, for all eternity. He catches the shield before him and addresses them with a sore eye. It's a resemblance of his sadness, an equity to his inner conflictions. SeeR was horrible, the SOLDIER program even more. It didn't care about -them-, but that's for a particular reason. -Them- had declined into inexistance at this point. Walter King was no longer Walter King. He was a nobody. A pawn can only move one space. One space wasn't far enough. Pawns can have all the drive and compassion they want-- one space was irrelevant. They'd expire long before they get to the other side. Walter King felt like he was in a calculated game of chess, a never-ending one. These zonal battles have happened countless times before. Some were better for them, but others -- like this one -- went bitter.
Prior to arriving at this exotic scenery, Walter King, Castor and Sable had no issues or questions to put up. No conversation, either. Walter King was seldom the isolated man. With all his sophistication to back that kind of personality -- it only brewed a sense of mysticismin him. But with comrades, he felt it courteous to discharge that static of silence and let them know of him. Of who Walter King is. He may've told them his name, but that'd be all from his side. There wasn't any necessity for more. The walk presumed. They were as lethargic as could be, which put most of the fault on them. If they had been there one second before. . .if Walter arrived in time. That thought, that /guilt/ killed him on the inside. It ripped his very core a part. Yet he established inclination to the mission even when things became worse.
Eagles. Walter wasn't ready for this. His preparation was limited, and the sight still had significant effects on his mentality and mindset. He lacked the sort of drive that carried him earlier--that flammable enthusiasm. Sensitivity went a long ways with him. He does not need to turn to Sable and Castor to warn them, because they already moved. All that was left now is for him to swim back up from the dull depths of his subliminal ocean. He's woken up, not by the sound of Sable and Castor battling the Ravager Eagles to death, but it was the sound of sustained camaradrie, that came on after he noted more SOLDIERS arriving. He had practically no time to hail them, but. .
His heart yearned more to protect these ones. Those left, and now their turn came. His shield poised, Walter rushes into the fray alongside Sable and Castor. He has no chance of reaching them straight, so he waits for them to attack before going for the counter. Walter would leap onto them and smash. Smash. Smash. Smash. The bottom tip of his shield just consistently tearing into the Eagles' delicate skull. He was screaming. Yelling. He wasn't about to lose anymore. He had to protect. It was his job as,
Sentinel King.
| Battle Summary -- Walter leapt up into one of the Eagles that came down to attack people. He's smashing it's head with his shield. Hard. He's on top of one, although not the one that's already got a few people attacking it. Probably Eagle B.
<Snipped quote by Akai no Senshi>
I agree with you there. Professionally courteous, but not personally close.
This makes me think our three might have already unlocked their basic powers, since they've been on the front fighting SeeR and giant eagles for a while now.
Guess I'll poke/PM @Rockette on this, and get started on my intro post in the meantime.
I'll be looking forward to that post, then. :>
<Snipped quote by Kefka Palazzo>
B-but... they're birds...
DAMNIT! ACCEPT MY LOGIC, LIFE!
For life to accept your logic you gotta feed it seeds of that knowledge first ;)
Life is a bird, cuz it's always flying.
So wait do our characters know how to use their basic abilities or no?
Also, would it be safe to assume that Cas, Sable and Walter already know eachother well enough, having been posted together?
Honestly, I'd assume they know eachother, but I wouldn't want to put any false ideas into your head and feed you wrong info. Might wanna PM Rockette on that, but yeah. I'd believe they know eachother solely because they've gone through shitloads of work together for one mission. Not necessarily companions, but just a trio with acknowledgement towards one another. I'd actually imagine that kind of 'professional' atmosphere with them three, but that's just me. :>
AAAAAAAAAA it's a post. Tears of joy.
I'll just wait a bit on a few people before I make my own post, though, if that's fine. Sorry, not the most confident guy. ;_;7
I'll just wait a bit on a few people before I make my own post, though, if that's fine. Sorry, not the most confident guy. ;_;7
Definitely interested in this :>
Sorry if the post is a little bit lackluster.
Augustus Wesley | Outside | Pharmacy
Augustus decided to ask around town as to where the best pharmacy is. Some ignored him, others gave him wrong directions, but the very few mysterious pupil had pointed him to all the glamour and splendor of Madam Fortworth, the woman of the St Catherine Apothecary. They told him that she's one of the best pharmacists around, and had knowledge beyond comprehension. Honestly, with the way these people looked, Augustus had his doubts. Initially. Then they subsided and he decided to pay that place a visit. Maybe get this white stuff checked out. Sure, he didn't find much joy in doing this for Louis, but now that he's been given the privilege of getting promoted, he won't deny any actual household orders. He enters the Apothecary and finds it. . .familiar. He's never been here before, but something about this place reminded him of the Ventrue nest.
He doesn't speak once he's in, and finds the counter empty. Drawing the white thing out, he places it in the table and waits. Patiently. He expects there to be a woman that can give him a bit of that knowledge, but he wouldn't know. He's never been here before. He's looking around subtly, though, and finds a few perplexing decors about and hanging. It interested him, but his expression does not share his psychological engrossment into these little elements.
He doesn't speak once he's in, and finds the counter empty. Drawing the white thing out, he places it in the table and waits. Patiently. He expects there to be a woman that can give him a bit of that knowledge, but he wouldn't know. He's never been here before. He's looking around subtly, though, and finds a few perplexing decors about and hanging. It interested him, but his expression does not share his psychological engrossment into these little elements.
@lovely complex
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