Burger

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

Aria "Don't call me Aria 'Bloody Aria Larette' Larette" Larette

_Dame
"Bloody" Aria Larette

"Don't call me bloody!"
_{Female • 26 • Human}

Appearance:
Standing at a surprising 6'3", Aria stands tall over most knights be they male or female. Her most notable features are that of her bloodline: scorching red hair, bright auburn eyes, and great height. Concealed beneath her armour are dozens of scars. While many of the scars have faded over the years, many of them still remain as reminders of the battle. While she would be considered as attractive by most standards, most people are alienated by an overwhelming sense of smugness and conceit that is shown on her face.

Personality:
Conceited. Brash. Passionate. Those three words perfectly describe Aria. She acts with a passionate fervor in everything that she does. Her status growing up had lead to her becoming rather conceited. She has a constant need to be considered the best and to break from the shackles of her name. Though, she would rather be called a Larette than her well-known moniker of Bloody Aria. She is a staunch traditionalist, believing in the values and ethics of yore are greater and more important than any new-age belief.

Brief Backstory:
There are few that do not know the name "Larette". Among the most noble families, the Larette commands lordship over a large region of Thaln. Their auburn eyes, red-hair, and impressive stature are the most notable features of the family. This, however, had unfortunately added to their already dire reputation. While they are one of the most powerful noble families, they also attract the ire of most other families. Their reputation isn't unearned; the family had previously committed dozens of acts bordering on cruelty and illegality to accrue so much land and power. The only reason why they have not been attacked by other nobles for their past injustices is because of their staunch support of the Iron Rose Knights and the kingdom. But as the saying goes, only a Larette would look down on the king.

Aria wasn't born a heiress. While she was a daughter of Lord Larette, she was only a middle daughter. Her eldest brother and sister were much closer to inherit her father's titles, so Aria had two choices: she could either become a damsel and be married for the sake of politics, or she could become a knight and fight in service of the Iron Rose and the kingdom. A fiery blaze of youthful vigor, the young Aria had taken the ladder option. She went through the usual motions, becoming a page and then a squire.

It wasn't soon that war broke out. Lord Cal and the king waged a brutal war. Aria had joined the kingdom's army and fought under a knight banneret. She gained her first unfortunate nickname and title at that point: "Red" Aria. She was a Larette. That's all she amounted to. She loathed this nickname. Every single battle that she had fought in, she continued to prove herself. Not because of ambition, no. That blasted nickname cursed at her every time she heard it. She would do her damnedest to rid herself of that name. Then the Battle of the Butcher's Bridge happened.

Nobody called her Red Aria ever again.

The knight and those fighting under him were forced to retreat. They had lost their horses and were being chased down by a much larger force. It was a death sentence. The knight had managed to cross a bridge and, to ensure that the majority of his men would survive, left a small group of soldiers to slow down the enemy force as much as they could. The rapids below the bridge were impossible to be forded. It was the best possible choke point. It was eighty against twelve.

So began the nickname "Bloody" Aria.

Out of those who fought at the bridge, sixty-seven had died. By percentage, it was one of the most bloody and deadly battles of the war. On Aria's side, there were four survivors. On their enemy's side, there were fifty-nine had perished. Aria and her surviving allies had been found by reinforcements. Wounded dozens of times and drenched head to toe in blood, they had protected the knight and those who hadn't volunteered to make their last stand.

For her service and sacrifice in the war, she was knighted by the king. She joined the knights afterwards. After all, she was a warrior through and through. That and the name Bloody Aria would never escape her.

Equipment:
Aria wields a heirloom spear enchanted with the ability to 'pierce'. Through cloth, leather, and steel, the tip of the spear will pass unimpeded so long as it strikes true. This doesn't mean that the spear is unstoppable. One can still grab the shaft or attempt to deflect the tip to glance armour. In both cases, the spear will not be able to pierce.

Her blade and shield are unenchanted, but of great quality. Befitting of a noble knight, they are pristine in their construction and maintenance.

Her armour is well made and perfect for her. The most accurate way to describe it is artisanal. Despite their engravings, the steel plate over her gambison is of great defensive quality. The armour is enchanted to be as durable and lightweight as possible, allowing Aria to move and sprint even faster than a standard knight.

Skills:
Aria is a master spear-user. The bane of swordsmen, her talent in keeping foes far is a feat of great martial prowess. Her speed and accuracy with a spear is befitting of one in the Larette family; it is mostly unmatched by other, less noble knights. Her swordsmanship is experienced, but rough in comparison. In a battle of blades, Aria is most likely to lose against veterans. Blades are much more suitable as an emergency backup than her primary weapon.

Besides being good at standard knightly talents such as riding and archery, she is rather talentless. At best, she can make food that one can survive on. They wouldn't take any pleasure eating it, though.

Lostman Grafitti

The show was loud and bombastic. In some ways, it reminded Marina of her old life. Before it all happened. It was all just meaningless aesthetics, though. The comparisons of fighting people on a professional stage and manic-punk-metal started and ended at passion. One band played after another. Marina would be lying if she said that she didn't enjoy it. Even though she wasn't one for watching this kind of thing, she could easily see why people enjoyed it. It almost made her forget. Almost.

The last band to play was what that host had told her: the Quartermasters. He played the drums. His hair was the same. His face was the same. His piercings were the same. Everything was the same. Everything. For the entire set, Marina froze. Bravery was fleeting. Simple images and dreams of revenge were nothing compared to seeing him in the flesh.

It was him.

He was there. Watching her, as she was frozen. He participated. That old, dull kitchen knife piercing her skin. He cut deep into her stomach with that knife. Up and down it went, recklessly tearing skin and flesh with great effort. He was the one. The suffering seared her assailants into her mind/ He killed her. Her pulse wavered as her blood flowed out of her wounds. He opened her flesh. He curiously poked around inside, just to see what was going on. He was her killer. Along with the rest of them, they watched and laughed as her arms and legs were taken as trophies. It was his fault. She just couldn't die; not just yet. No, it was all of their fault.

Hurk...

Her hand was already covering her mouth. She could barely hear Yasuo. Not over that ringing. She couldn't see. Light was dark. Everything was fuzzy. It was difficult to make sense out of any sort of shape. She had to get out. She ran out of Galaxy. The second she left that building, her mouth opened to unleash a torrent of undigested booze. No, it wasn't sickness or drunkenness. It was reflex. She remembered what happened.

But she couldn't stop because of it. She still had something she needed to do. It didn't matter who was there. She had to continue. So she steeled herself and walked back in. She might be able to catch him after he left talking to those girls. That's what she thought, anyways. What did Yasuo say again? Something about the plan?

"Letting what happens happen." She faintly choked out.

My Hero Academia: Another Story

Arachne || Judith Astera

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...

...

...

Fuah? What was going on? Where was Judith? What was going on?

One blink followed another. She slowly became more recognizant of her surroundings. Her scattered memories had begun to reform. Right, she had been in the library. What was that book she was reading? Wasn't it titled something like 'Ethics in Civilian Rescue' or...? Well, whatever it was, it put Judith to sleep. One paragraph and she was out like a light. Well, it wasn't too interesting. With a great stretch and yawn, she went to pick up the book and put it back. No sense keeping a book that you wouldn't read. That was just rude to people who wanted to read about ethics in civilian rescue.

That's when someone caught her eye. Well, less 'caught her eye' and more 'was directly in her line of sight.' After lazily getting up from her chair, she now faced a girl with soft blue hair. She gave a halfhearted wave to a boy some distance away. Judith, however, was sitting directly in between the two of them. Her eyes had met Eira's as she rose and, with her head slightly cocked with slight recognition, gave a small wave back.

While Judith had recognized her as being part of the same class, they had not spoken before. The soft-blue haired woman had a... particular look about her. But that look...

"... Sour?"

Altera: Of the Destitute and the Destined

Well, they didn't fight in the middle of the town. That was a good sign. Though, that only meant that Renauld's expectations had plummeted down deep. Well, 'keep it to himself' was his mantra. His newfound companions got into some antics from their pure manic energy including (but not limited to) eating a chicken from a burlap sack, disrobing a small child, and getting very angry about stolen introductions. All Renauld could do in response was smile and give a slight chuckle. Oscar, the other straight man of the group, had suggested they go out on a meal to feed the starved priestess.

"Sorry but I think I'll be busy with prep."

Renauld would not take the ranger up on his offer.

---

His preparations were complete. In a sturdy gunny sack, he had three bricks of pemmican, some hardtack, a small scrap of iron and flint, a small bottle of clear booze, and a water bladder. All and all, the entire travel package cost him a silver. As the only saying went, you had to spend money to make money. His equipment was rather sparse, but that was because it was for only him. The hunter would usually have to prepare things like a shelter or the fire itself, so he could afford to prep lightly. For the most part. In a pinch, he might be able to make something like an igloo. What was the most important thing was, however, not dying in the god forsaken cold. His winter gear that he already owned would suffice. He didn't need to stay warm to keep his mobility. He was a mage, after all.

He did load up his calories, though. Not enough to make him feel sick, but enough to make him feel like he would be satiated in the biting cold.

Soon he arrived at the recruiting office to meet up with his party. Then he moved with them to the granary. The page gave them a basic rundown of everything. Don't die and do deliver. Those were the basics of the operation. All they had to do was load up the cart then haul ass to the fort. Katya had, meanwhile, flopped. In an attempt at lifting grain, she had fallen only to bounce back up. She was tenacious, Renauld could give her that. She struggled to lift it, but she did end up picking it up. Ettamri had, at the turnip's request, picked chosen a cart and given Renauld the 'weak mage job' of loading the cart. Well, he was decent at that. He was also decent at ignoring the overt threat that Ettamri had delivered to the group.

Picking up a sack of grain from one of the holes, he lifted it to the cart. He placed it directly in the corner, making a note of how much space it took in the bed of the cart. Quickly counting and doing some napkin math, he guesstimated the amount of bags that could fit inside of it.

"About 40 bags? 50 if we use the tarp and rope as tension. Just put bags on the cart and I'll rearrange them all."

He wasn't exactly a weakling nerd that was picked on. His arms, were still adequately sized for lifting fourty or so pound bags. The mage lifestyle related atrophy hadn't struck him just yet.

Altera: Of the Destitute and the Destined

"No," Renauld replied to Oscar, "not at the moment. I'm freelancing for the time being." He didn't elaborate on why the sudden change in position. He also didn't really react to Oscar's bromantic skinship. He just gave an affirming 'hm' and nodded.

Renauld also refrained on commenting on the introduction of black-hair trench coat—Siwon, rather—because he just had nothing to say about it. If you had nothing nice to say...

Then the chaos began. The girl in the scarf obviously knew the armoured giant. They had some bad blood between them. Muu, as she introduced herself, was passive aggressive and goading the aggressive-aggressive giant into some sort of rage. Maybe it was an honest mistake from someone who didn't know better, but it wouldn't matter in the end. It didn't—and wouldn't—matter why a punch was thrown. The only thing that mattered was if and when that punch was thrown. If Renauld could smoothly redirect that punch 24 hours from now and aimed at a monster instead of Muu, then the less chance a guard would come and throw them all in a dungeon.

Renauld could tell that the giant was fuming. Whether it was an impotent rage or a rabid feeling of superiority didn't matter. What mattered was making sure there wasn't a fight in the middle of town. Eyes were beginning to turn on them, after all. Yelling in the middle of the square at the crack of dawn was a bad idea.

There was even a child nearby. Wait, there was a child nearby? Renauld's eyes had been too focused on Siwon, he hadn't noticed the small girl that had been hip-checked by the unknowing fiend knight. Suddenly, she rose. In the middle of Muu's passive aggressive rant, she gave a... rousing speech about joining their party. One that had the occasional bit tongue and misspoken word. It was difficult to listen to both of them, but he could get the general gist of it. Muu was poking a hornet's nest and the girl was being as brave as she could be.

He looked at Siwon and Argentum. They weren't doing anything to defuse the situation. They were merely getting out of the way. That was, in all likelihoods, the best possible move. After all, standing between someone who could lift a horse and someone brazen enough to prod them was a horrible idea.

Had Renauld possessed a greater will, he could have gotten angry alongside them. Call them both fools for fighting each other rather than the monsters. Had he been stronger, he could have stopped a fight that had broken out. Renauld was neither willful nor strong. He was just a mage in personality and ability; standing on the backlines and firing things in. Now, he was entering the frontline. He moved from beside the board to stand between Ettamri and Muu.

"I don't know what went on between you two," he said with a slight fear in his voice, "but it doesn't matter anymore. What matters is the winter and us surviving it—all of us. I believe it would be for the best if we try to just focus on the job at hand." By now, every bit of hesitation vanished from his voice. "Rather than being a part of conflict, I think it's best if we just get the supplies to the fort. The more capable hands we have, the more likely we are to succeed. I'm not going to ask you two to become best friends or to even talk to each other. I'm not going to ask you to even make amends. But I trust you both to ride on that horse and carriage and to mess up any monster that comes our way."

Such a speech felt out of character, even for Renauld. Usually, he would have simply sat by and let it run its course. This time was a bit different. He was associated with Ettamri and Muu now. If they were to start shit with each other, he would get caught in the crossfire. Unless he decided to flee from all of them, conflict was inevitable. This wasn't an attempt at mediation, though. No, he didn't offer any solution. He was just trying to get them to stop fighting until after the job was done. His livelihood was at stake, after all. Two weeks was his absolute limit for how far his money could stretch him during the winter season. 10 gold split 6, er, 7 ways was a lot. 1 gold, 42 silver each.

Slowly backing up from his sudden interjection between the two, he turned to the small child priest. He didn't really bend over or get too close. After all, one was patronizing and the other would hurt her neck. He had his issues about letting a child come along with them, but quickly resigned them. There was no other way, he figured. What business would hire a random child? It would be the only way for a girl as young as her to survive. If she was a priest, at least she could be protected. She wouldn't have to fight on the front lines. A minor consolation to the situation.

"Katya, was it? I think we're all glad to have you aboard, seeing how important healers are." He didn't even hide his attempt at flattery. "If I may ask, what spells do you possess?"

✤ Delve ✤

It was obvious that the first floor wasn't to put up any difficulty. The kobold writing on the ground had met a quick end to Oben's nodachi. Even though the kobold on the ground struggled, pleaded, and tried to avoid death with everything in its power, the skull-faced warrior's blade was simply stronger. Its head was separated from its body and the pained whimpers had been replaced by a deafening silence.

Kori's simple bladework made quick example of the mutts attacking her. Simple moves were always called the fundamentals for a reason; they worked. The first kobold that she had attacked let its guard down. This was something that kobolds had been known for. They were nothing more than dogs on two legs. To attack, they would leave themselves open to any counter attack. The simple thrust that Kori had prepared had easily sliced through the roof of its mouth. The flying kobold's body went limp while its skull was skewered on the shieldmaiden's blade.

The second kobold didn't fare any better.

By swinging with such force, the mutt attached from brain to blade had been thrown off. The second kobold, which had been approaching just as rapidly as the flying one, had its skull meet with the side of Kori's blade. With a crunch, it cleaved into its skull. Had the kobold been wearing a helmet, it would may have not acquiesced its demise. Dogs didn't wear helmets, though. The force of the blow had carried the mutt off of its feet and into the pillar.

Castor's simple moves were both defensive and offensive; they were trademarks of the spear. The force of its charge had only caused it to meet the pointy end of a long stick. It was skewered on it. Castor's fancy move of planting the spear and finishing it off using his shortsword also bore fruit. The kobold was unable to avoid a blade coming at its neck. Using the genetic freak's natural breadth, the blade cut deep into its neck. However, the head wasn't removed. A mixture of hard pelt, fat, and spine had stopped the blade in place. Was it a bad angle? Even though Castor had struck it at a good angle, the unsecured nature of the spear had only worked against him. The spear then began to fall with kobold and sword attached.

And the room was clear. No more kobolds. Almost instantly as combat finished, the short and (now that the party had discovered) incredibly fast pallum porter quickly dashed from corpse to corpse. In her hand was a strange knife; it was incredibly thin, but had great surface area. It was constructed from a pitch black material with edge on one side and hook on the other. It was obviously not meant for combat; it looked like it would shatter if it ever had to block anything. The speed of Penn was incredibly. She cut into the chest of each kobold with extreme ease. From their now opened chest cavities, she extracted a single crystal. It was about the size of one's thumb and faintly glowed with magic. Upon removal of the stone, the corpse would begin to fade. Muscle would unstrand and wither, skin would tighten and dry, and bone would crack and turn to dust. Within seconds, the body would turn to ash and blow away in the nonexistent wind. One kobold, however, hadn't completely faded away. The kobold that had met its end to Varanense's arrow and Oben's glory stealing mercy killing had left behind its skin. No blood was left to taint the fur as Penn shoved it into her oversized backpack.

"Good work everyone," Penn assured them even though it was a cake walk of a fight, "the hole down should be just in the next room or so. There aren't any stairs or anything for this hole, so you're going to have rappel down a rope. Or learn how to. Trial by fire, you know?"

---

Floor 2

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Sliding down the rope, the party would first notice that it was practically the same floor as before. Dirt and stone were still the primary material the floor had been constructed of. The same blue lights illuminated the halls. If there was any difference that the most astute of adventurers could see, it was that it was slightly darker and the halls no longer felt straight and gridlike. While the rooms remained unturned, the grid-like maps of the first floor had been replaced more free-form paths. Simple curves and diagonal halls. That was the main difference of the second floor. It was much easier to get lost as a result. This time, however, Penn made no attempt to help the party navigate. She would still answer any questions they had, but now the onus of navigation was much more on them. Well, at least making the path they would follow. Penn didn't want to get lost and die on the second floor because she wanted a bunch of adventurers to navigate, after all.

The question made itself apparent: what path would the party choose?

Altera: Of the Destitute and the Destined

Well, that was easy. Renauld had already found a party. At least, people who wanted him to join. An extraordinarily large woman had parted the crowds of cold loiterers to directly confront the lackadaisical looking mage. Her size had only been dwarfed by her personality; curt and surly. Rather than a greeting, she offered a job. Well, less 'offer' and more 'demand.'

"Ah, me?" Renauld paused as he took a brief look around. He was indeed the only mage that she could have been talking to. "Er, yes. Sure. I'm Renauld, by the way. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

Before the large warrior had a chance to respond, a familiar voice emerged from the crowd. Someone who Renauld had worked with in the past. He had introduced himself, most likely looking for another job.

Then more emerged. Like moths to a flame, three more people arrived. The first of which was a forlorn looking woman with a red scarf. Forlorn? No, there was something else in her eyes. Maybe it was nothing. The second and third were much more... noticeable? One had an appearance that could only be described as unique and iconic. The other was a talkative one who made an elevator pitch. His name was Argentum. What kind of name was that? Renauld kept his thought to himself. He was a phalanx which... was a strange class? His previous party had been composed of the standard roles: two warriors, a priest, a paladin, a thief, and a mage. He didn't really have any experience with working with other classes.

Well, it was probably better to let the big girl who called him out choose the party members. For now, he'd just stay quiet.

Warped Earth, Twisted Air (An Urban Fantasy Dungeon Crawler RP) — Now Open!

An object may be found, hmm? Thoughts crossed Xu Jian's mind. Maybe there was something they were missing. It wasn't the brightest of rooms. They may have been a hidden switch on the wall or a plug shaped key hidden behind a rock somewhere. All it would take is someone to look for something. Which, by some miracle of generally bad planning, nobody had done.

"Paul, you heard the lil' lady. Go search around this room and see if you can find an actual key. Or go outside and find a rock that looks like it'd fit perfectly in this hole? I'm going to try to provolone this door open."

So she shoved her staff into the hole. As she had done so, it had shortened in length. This, of course, had a reason. It increased in girth as it had done so, squishing and stretching iron to perfectly fit into the hole. If something didn't happen, she'd push and spin the rod. If nothing happened after that? Well, at least she could extract Albrecht's glowing marble from the hole to make room for the actual key. Really, it was a win-win situation.

Unless that hole was connected to a 120/240v three-phase powerline.

Then Xu Jian would probably die.

Lostman Grafitti

Well, it was about time to line up at Galaxy. Before Marina tossed out the Sudoku book that had lost all entertainment value, she tore out a few pages and stuffed them into her pockets. Now that the weird woman left to see her shrink, Marina felt like she could speak again. Even though it was just a minute, it felt like an eternity. That's how awkward it was. They could have had a riveting conversation about why she was known to Yasuo as 'taser lady' or why she would go and speak to them in the first place. That was her surliness flaring up, though. Better to ignore whoever that woman was.

Keep her eyes on the prize. With Yasuo, she had lined up outside of the building. A good seat was at the front and to get one, one had to wait at the front doors. The two of them would wait there until the doors were open. Then? Well, Marina would do something. She hadn't actually decided what, nor has she seen face-to-face if the drummer really was one of her killers.

Altera: Of the Destitute and the Destined

Even with his carefully curated winter gear, it was still as frigid as always. For each breath he exhaled, a bellow of frigid smoke emerged. Such a cold winter made Renault wonder if his choice of spells was correct. Had he chosen fire, he would be able to keep warm. That was beside the point, though. Such petty things shouldn't trifle him. What he picked was what he picked. No amount of willpower could change the past. Actually, would it have been possible to flex in another contract with a fire spirit? That would be a question for later. He'd ask the sadistic receptionist that stood at the mage guild if he could.

Not that it mattered.

He didn't even have the money to get another spell. Spells were expensive. It had cost him his entire endowment from Mathers to join the mage guild. Even though his former party could make serious coinage, he had to spend all of his gold just to catch up to them. The only nest egg he could make was a total of 7 silver. An entire seven silver. If he stretched it as much as he could, how many days could he last? One week? Two at the most. Not long enough to wait until the winter was over. No, he had to get back into action. Hunt some monsters, but without the help of his former team. For a mage? That was pretty much a death sentence.

The answer was obvious. Renault had to join a new party. He was—thank the gods—a semi-experienced mage. Mages, after all, were an extraordinarily powerful force. They were weak and fragile, but a good mage could decimate hordes of monsters before they even got close to the frontlines. Even if he wasn't good enough to keep up with the big leagues, he could still make a killing if he just knocked himself down to where his skill actually was. Even if it was risky, dying from exposure and starvation in the middle of winter was probably worse than getting stuck with a sketchy party. If he could just get five silver from hunting, he would basically double his breathing room.

And there Renault was. In the middle of the square, scoping out parties illuminated by the bizarre orange glow that always came with the snow. Light from fires and the moon reflected unimpeded thanks to the snow's white nature. Even though the sun was nowhere near close to breaching the horizon, there was enough light to see everything. The less fine details, at the very least. It had been a long time since he had looked at the bounty board. His party leader would choose each bounty that his party had gone to complete. Now, it was up to Renault to finally see what quests remained in the desolate winter.

A good amount.

Purifying skeletons was cheap and easy. It was basically like fighting oversized ice cubes, just more stubborn. Skeleton mages were terrifying, though. They silently cast their magic and were generally unaffected by things. The Ravager-Wyrm was also cheap. A large worm that was misspelled? Most likely. It was more of a threat to the landscape than people, though. 13 silver was an okay amount for brand new adventurers, but if it was split between more than three people? Only enough for some food. Salamander riders seemed like a good choice for a decent party. Magic was effective against most things. The Embalming Hunter wasn't a good matchup for Renault. Had he been a fire mage, he would easily be able to torch the beast's lair. He wasn't. No point in dwelling over it. Bringing supplies to the fort was the real money maker. If you did it right, you could get ten gold every 3 or so days. It was probably difficult and soul crushing, but the possibility of making fat stacks was there. The other two were a bit difficult. Both of them were like raids; large bosses surrounded by their troops. Unless Renault got an amazing party that he could trust every step of the way, he would have to avoid those two like the plague.

Renault needed a party before taking his thoughts any further. Don't miss the forest for the trees. Would the better metaphor have been 'don't skip steps when building a chair?'

Well. He would just wait by the bounty board for now, trying to not freeze his buns off as he scoped out groups that looked like they could use another member.