Two weeks had passed since he had first began the hunt, and Briar still found himself marvelling at how far, and how quickly that once-timid girl was travelling. Much of it must have been related to the influence of the demon that she had invoked, but nevertheless, it was impressive that he hadn't even caught a glimpse of her yet, of what she had become. Despite this though, he thought that he could applaud his horse if nothing else, for managing to steadily close the distance between Ysolde and themselves, even after Briar had spent so much time confirming tracks. He'll have to work on that, after he brings that idiot girl back to her senses and hopefully convince the higher ups of the Queendom not to execute her on the spot for heresy, treason, and what other crimes they could pin on a witch of dark magics.
The Queen must have been feeling particularly sadistic when she gave the assignment for one childhood friend to capture another, but thinking back to it, Briar decided that it was for the best.
He wasn't the best for the job, but he won't kill her on the spot for trespassing into an area of magic forbidden for all others. By now, his horse and the trail had lead him into the village of Mansford, the southern border of the Queendom, one of the places that he had become quite accustom to. It was quite often that mages would be sent to assist other city-states not annexed by the Queendom. It served both as a method of currying favor, as well as a demonstration of just how powerful the Queendom had become over the past few generations. Her Majesty was a wise queen, if not a little whimsical. This would have been the fourth time in the past two years that he had travelled to this village, but it must have been his unique armor or his androgynous face, for the innkeeper already knew his name and had prepared a room for the overnight visit that the aging man expected.
Mages paid well, after all, and Briar especially so. A life on the road provided few luxuries, and as one of the Melzaneir clan members, the idle pleasures bought by money were things that he had little time for. Might as well give it to someone who would have better use of it. Maybe that was why his name was so well-known in Mansford. It wasn't like he had much of a reputation, if he even deserved any for his overtly simplistic earth magic.
The tracks he found that morning though, were very, very fresh, pointing him directly towards Mansford, and with his horse happy in the inn stables, Briar was now on foot for the search. He made no attempt at subtlety, clad in the same golden-hue armour as allows, the morning sunlight giving it a warmer tint than normal. It drew much attention from the merchants carrying goods from the Confederation of the Azalea, and from there, it would be a simple matter to pick out those who avoided looking at him, and questioning them...if this task of his was just to patrol the border towns of the Queendom.
In truth, he wore his armor because he doubted whether his former friend, tainted by the dark magics she unlocked, would be able to resist the temptation to attack him from behind if he were not wearing such protection. Briar hated himself for such doubt, but whatever.
The few enquiries regarding a brunette were, frankly, pointless, and three weeks was a long time for a fugitive to change their appearance regardless. He wasn't even sure whether or not Ysolde was in the town anymore. Perhaps those tracks were a diversion, and she had backtracked somewhere. She was a smart one, after all. It wouldn't be unrealistic for her to put a final trick at the end of the road, and give him the slip.
God knows she's done that way too many times in the board games they used to play as children, after he thought that he had gotten a checkmate.
Resigning himself to simply watching over the road for now, Briar found himself a nice little gap between two abandoned buildings, leaned against the wall of one of them, and waited. Time would tell whether it was the right decision or not.
And in retrospect, it would have been nice if the Queen had partnered him with Tabatha. At least she had a talent for using magical means to hunt down fellow mages, unlike himself.
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Dry Lionblood Aelious, half-dwarf and self-proclaimed Strong Man of the Westland, was currently trying, and failing, to stifle his laughter. He would blame it on the aftereffects of that strong, well-aged wine he drank last night, but really, it would take much more than just a bottle to make him feel tipsy. What had just occurred simply reminded him too much of that harlequin show he had attended the week past, when a troupe had passed by the castle. Of course, in the show, they used a pig instead, and had a whole array of fanciful devices used to capture animals, but the effect remained the same. Watching his fellow recruits swing around their Raiments, toss their pillows, and making a huge mess of things in the presence of a chaotic falcon was really rather funny.
Especially so when the falcon first exploded into activity after that ponytail boy tried calming it down. That, Dry had thought, was utterly hilarious.
His mother had always taught him to smile in whatever situation, and even though his bedsheets were thoroughly ruined and feathers were drifted every which way, Dry's whole morning attitude was turned positive by the fact that he chose to think of what had happened as a comedy. Watching as a fellow Westlander, the elf Armendir, try his hand at calming the bird, the half-dwarf called in an act of moral support, “Good skill, my fellow countryman!”
After all, luck had nothing to do with it, regardless of how awkward 'Good skill' sounded. Dry wasn't known for being eloquent, after all.
Especially so when the falcon first exploded into activity after that ponytail boy tried calming it down. That, Dry had thought, was utterly hilarious.
His mother had always taught him to smile in whatever situation, and even though his bedsheets were thoroughly ruined and feathers were drifted every which way, Dry's whole morning attitude was turned positive by the fact that he chose to think of what had happened as a comedy. Watching as a fellow Westlander, the elf Armendir, try his hand at calming the bird, the half-dwarf called in an act of moral support, “Good skill, my fellow countryman!”
After all, luck had nothing to do with it, regardless of how awkward 'Good skill' sounded. Dry wasn't known for being eloquent, after all.
Such flattery from his murderer from a few centuries ago, even when his experience with dealing with other gods really just summed up to cutting them into little pieces with his sword. The sword that he didn't have now. He doubted that he'd be of much use in the upcoming staff meeting, but shrugged in the end. It must have been the thought that counted, or whatever. At this point, he knew nothing about Dios's full capabilities, other than the fact that he was a shitty golem-maker and that he was a self-proclaimed Dragon God who, despite his godhood, still relied on an army to get things done.
Skipping over to the dormitories with the Ninja Janitor in toll, he closed his eyes, searched for the school nurse, or some other medical authority, found none, and decided that he'd be better off just dumping the woman onto some bed. With an unceremonious toss, he threw her onto the bed, counted how many times she rebounded on the springy mattress, before tucking her in, like the good godfather he wasn't. Scratching his head, and wondering what else he could do with his time, Val decided that he might as well just go and have that staff meeting again. They were having cupcakes without him though, and that headache-inducing living toaster was there as well.
Really, he almost felt like he should just not go, out of spite for all the disrespect he was getting. How dare Yui not shower him with praises and assorted slices of sugary delicacies for having the common sense of ensuring that no students got directly involved with Dios? How dare the school not worship the land he stands on, and pay tribute to him on a daily basis for keeping the world safe? How utterly inconceivable.
But he went to the principal's room regardless, noticing that another late arrival had come...to tend to Aram.
“Two-timing now, Aram?” he asked the succubus cook, “Was Key not enough for you?”
Just a cheeky little quip, really.
Skipping over to the dormitories with the Ninja Janitor in toll, he closed his eyes, searched for the school nurse, or some other medical authority, found none, and decided that he'd be better off just dumping the woman onto some bed. With an unceremonious toss, he threw her onto the bed, counted how many times she rebounded on the springy mattress, before tucking her in, like the good godfather he wasn't. Scratching his head, and wondering what else he could do with his time, Val decided that he might as well just go and have that staff meeting again. They were having cupcakes without him though, and that headache-inducing living toaster was there as well.
Really, he almost felt like he should just not go, out of spite for all the disrespect he was getting. How dare Yui not shower him with praises and assorted slices of sugary delicacies for having the common sense of ensuring that no students got directly involved with Dios? How dare the school not worship the land he stands on, and pay tribute to him on a daily basis for keeping the world safe? How utterly inconceivable.
But he went to the principal's room regardless, noticing that another late arrival had come...to tend to Aram.
“Two-timing now, Aram?” he asked the succubus cook, “Was Key not enough for you?”
Just a cheeky little quip, really.
Next time on The Falcon Whisperer: Angry Half-Asleep Bird Mumbling!
Now it's Toaster x Microwave?
I'll wait for the next post. No point in keeping everyone else waiting.
So Knightly.
Gabe and Valkyrie should have a Monk vs Knight fight.
Gabe and Valkyrie should have a Monk vs Knight fight.
I generally think that hammers and axes are rare in RPs. So I decided to get both.
Name: Dry Wolfblood Aelious
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Half Human, Half Dwarf
Personality: Dry, despite his name, isn't a cynical, sarcastic, pessimistic person with a talent for pissing people off. No, this Half-Dwarf is a man of vim and vigor, one who has a penchant for hard liquor and a preference for hard labor. Vivacious and reckless, yet surprisingly responsible and kind, he's the type of person who would carry the burdens of others during a mountain-climbing expedition, while also jumping into a den of wolves in order to secure shelter for the night. Though not exactly the most academic or scholarly amongst the knights, and perhaps more than just a little rough around the edges, he could be considered one who's the slowest to anger, in any situation. Then again, his fighting style is also something that is irrationally vicious and dishonorable, so most people wouldn't want to test his patience regardless.
Appearance: A figure that appears much larger than his actual height of 5'5, Dry Aelious is a man with gray-white hair and blue eyes, his hair cut so that it stays out of his eyes. Due in part to his dwarf-blood, his facial hair grows at an extraordinary rate, to the extent where he needs to shave his beard at least thrice a day just to keep it in the stubbly phase. His build is extremely muscular, possible due to his half-blood nature and maintained by constant physical exertion, and overall, he simply has an aura around him, a confident swagger that makes him seem so much taller than he actually is. He wears the many scars on his body with pride, considering them to be badges of honor, even when they're technically just the results of him not being the smartest, sanest person amongst the Knights.
In combat, and pretty much everywhere else, he's prone to wearing a shirt, shorts, leather greaves, boots, and perhaps some sort of armor on his arms. Minimalistic, really. During colder weather, he dons his bear fur cloak, for that extra style.
Backstory: Once, there was a young soldier who was drunk in a bar in the Westlands. With his preference for girls who were smaller than himself, he managed to score with one of the bar maidens, and brought her to his room. The next morning, he woke up to find that he had slept with a dwarven girl, promptly threw up his dinner, recovered almost instantly from his hangover, and ran off, far, far away. A few weeks later, it was confirmed that the dwarf girl had become pregnant with a child, and the whole tavern community banded to care for her. A few months after that, Dry, the half-dwarf, was born. One minute after he was plopped out, his fraternal sister also came out.
The Choosing happened the following year, and after the separation, Dry is constantly reminded of the distance between the two, a biting emptiness that nags at him during the late hours of the night. He writes to his family often, and was even sent a painting of his mother's marriage to a proper, gentlemanly dwarf herder, but other than that, has no idea what they even look like.
Knight's Raiment
The Earthcarver – A massive two-handed axe-hammer, the Earthcarver is a weapon that is equal parts terrible and majestic. As if carved out of a single block of metal, it has a wickedly hooked axeblade on one side, the inscriptions along the edge of the blade depicting a menagerie of monsters. On the other side is a grand hammerhead shaped in a large cylinder and gilded in a red crystal, as if it were magma seeping from the cracks in the earth. The other end of the Earthcarver is a deadly spike, and the shaft of the axe is of dark brown leather. All in all, this weapon reaches the length of five feet.
Its weight, though, is of little to no concern, as this particular Knight's Raiment possesses the power to freely change its own weight in accordance to Dry's wishes. Indeed, this weight manipulation is to the extent where he is capable of separating the Earthcarver's weight into two categories: the weight that he experiences, and the weight that others experience. Thus, despite its cumbersome appearance, the Earthcarver can be swung at speeds rivaling that of a fencer's sword, even though it bears the weight of a weapon much heavier than what normal humans can use. Generally, a frightfully destructive weapon that one would do well to never face head-on.
Skills: Dry Aelious is, first off, a person who's extraordinarily skilled in the art of carpentry and home-making, possibly attributing to the fact that his Earthcarver is pretty much a multi-tool, being able to make holes, chop trees, and hammer down nails. His fighting prowess, either with his weapon or with his bare hands, is also on the side of above average, while his drinking ability has sent quite a few challengers to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. Outside of that though, he has no other talents that weren't taught to him during his studies as a squire. His cooking knowledge, needless to say, revolves around throwing a piece of meat into a fire and waiting until he thinks its safe to eat.
Name: Dry Wolfblood Aelious
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Half Human, Half Dwarf
Personality: Dry, despite his name, isn't a cynical, sarcastic, pessimistic person with a talent for pissing people off. No, this Half-Dwarf is a man of vim and vigor, one who has a penchant for hard liquor and a preference for hard labor. Vivacious and reckless, yet surprisingly responsible and kind, he's the type of person who would carry the burdens of others during a mountain-climbing expedition, while also jumping into a den of wolves in order to secure shelter for the night. Though not exactly the most academic or scholarly amongst the knights, and perhaps more than just a little rough around the edges, he could be considered one who's the slowest to anger, in any situation. Then again, his fighting style is also something that is irrationally vicious and dishonorable, so most people wouldn't want to test his patience regardless.
Appearance: A figure that appears much larger than his actual height of 5'5, Dry Aelious is a man with gray-white hair and blue eyes, his hair cut so that it stays out of his eyes. Due in part to his dwarf-blood, his facial hair grows at an extraordinary rate, to the extent where he needs to shave his beard at least thrice a day just to keep it in the stubbly phase. His build is extremely muscular, possible due to his half-blood nature and maintained by constant physical exertion, and overall, he simply has an aura around him, a confident swagger that makes him seem so much taller than he actually is. He wears the many scars on his body with pride, considering them to be badges of honor, even when they're technically just the results of him not being the smartest, sanest person amongst the Knights.
In combat, and pretty much everywhere else, he's prone to wearing a shirt, shorts, leather greaves, boots, and perhaps some sort of armor on his arms. Minimalistic, really. During colder weather, he dons his bear fur cloak, for that extra style.
Backstory: Once, there was a young soldier who was drunk in a bar in the Westlands. With his preference for girls who were smaller than himself, he managed to score with one of the bar maidens, and brought her to his room. The next morning, he woke up to find that he had slept with a dwarven girl, promptly threw up his dinner, recovered almost instantly from his hangover, and ran off, far, far away. A few weeks later, it was confirmed that the dwarf girl had become pregnant with a child, and the whole tavern community banded to care for her. A few months after that, Dry, the half-dwarf, was born. One minute after he was plopped out, his fraternal sister also came out.
The Choosing happened the following year, and after the separation, Dry is constantly reminded of the distance between the two, a biting emptiness that nags at him during the late hours of the night. He writes to his family often, and was even sent a painting of his mother's marriage to a proper, gentlemanly dwarf herder, but other than that, has no idea what they even look like.
Knight's Raiment
The Earthcarver – A massive two-handed axe-hammer, the Earthcarver is a weapon that is equal parts terrible and majestic. As if carved out of a single block of metal, it has a wickedly hooked axeblade on one side, the inscriptions along the edge of the blade depicting a menagerie of monsters. On the other side is a grand hammerhead shaped in a large cylinder and gilded in a red crystal, as if it were magma seeping from the cracks in the earth. The other end of the Earthcarver is a deadly spike, and the shaft of the axe is of dark brown leather. All in all, this weapon reaches the length of five feet.
Its weight, though, is of little to no concern, as this particular Knight's Raiment possesses the power to freely change its own weight in accordance to Dry's wishes. Indeed, this weight manipulation is to the extent where he is capable of separating the Earthcarver's weight into two categories: the weight that he experiences, and the weight that others experience. Thus, despite its cumbersome appearance, the Earthcarver can be swung at speeds rivaling that of a fencer's sword, even though it bears the weight of a weapon much heavier than what normal humans can use. Generally, a frightfully destructive weapon that one would do well to never face head-on.
Skills: Dry Aelious is, first off, a person who's extraordinarily skilled in the art of carpentry and home-making, possibly attributing to the fact that his Earthcarver is pretty much a multi-tool, being able to make holes, chop trees, and hammer down nails. His fighting prowess, either with his weapon or with his bare hands, is also on the side of above average, while his drinking ability has sent quite a few challengers to the hospital for alcohol poisoning. Outside of that though, he has no other talents that weren't taught to him during his studies as a squire. His cooking knowledge, needless to say, revolves around throwing a piece of meat into a fire and waiting until he thinks its safe to eat.
It would be a human that's relatively short but ripped as hell.
But k, I'll just make my quarter-troll, quarter-orc, half-human disappear now.
But k, I'll just make my quarter-troll, quarter-orc, half-human disappear now.
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