All these Blood Magic copers.
ERode Member
Odd One Out
- Last Seen: 29 min ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 5804 (1.54 / day)
- VMs: 4
-
Username history
- ERode 10 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Creative Chaos,
Guardian Angel Haruki,
Verjil,
AThousandCurses,
Kero,
High Moon,
Phase,
Rabidporcupine,
nfvd,
Citrus
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
Most Recent Posts
"No."
It was enough to know that it was exterior reasons that caused a break from the profession of blacksmith to knight, rather than simply a desire by the Valeforan youth to pursue a path different from what he first set out to. And if Rossweine's family name was enough to allow Signar to use the full breadth of his talents, then that too, was fine.
The conversation ended just like that, and the prince strode in silence to join the others at the mess hall.
It was quiet compared to the feast last night, though that was simply owing to the fact that there were few present, and even the ever boisterous Underwall youth could not be loud enough to fill up a space as cavernous as this. Collecting his own plate of food, one much less substantial than his peers, Rossweine joined the table with the others, positioning himself directly opposite of Elon. He had a good enough read on most of his squadmates; only the newcomer had yet to present themselves in a meaningful enough manner yet.
"We've not yet been formally introduced," Rossweine spoke, his knife sliding over the unbroken yolk of his egg. "I am the captain of the 13th Squad, Rossweine Grayle, and I understand that you are of the Anteskelia lineage, Elon. It's a pleasure, that the draw of knighthood extends even so far as this."
She fell.
Out the window.
And one second later.
Struck the water.
Into the depths.
She fell.
Out the window.
And one second later.
Struck the water.
Into the depths.
She fell.
Six slots for twelve players, hmm? This'll be a particularly competitive one it seems.
I'll work on something today and or over the weekend.
Where’s the competition? I don’t see it. ;3
Alright, how many slots are there? And what’s the deadline for CSes?
In
Bible of Ichor: Septet for the Dead - A Unheroic Gothic Vampire RP
→
2 yrs ago
Forum: Casual Interest Checks
Ok, if Asu’s actually in I’ll jump in too.
He could stop magic? And had no face?
A greater mind would be broken by such revelations. Confounded by the maddening swirl of color that replaced the flesh once beneath the mask. Repulsed on a genetic level by the sin upon nature that bloomed before them.
But to Atzi, it didn’t change anything. Whatever she saw was vaguely interesting, but not worth dwelling upon, especially when that hollow void transformed into a mass of very tangible, very understandable tentacles. She sprung back, swinging with the edge of her club as the tentacles rushed towards her, but the sharpened arrowteeth only managed to nick it. It was as if she had struck steel. Steel that was nevertheless as flexible, as girthy as the limb of a beast! It sunk immediately into the skulls of cultists who laid defeated, one last tentacle chasing after Vammy and her quarry. Such terrible speed! And when her leg was like this too!
The woman pursed her lips.
Talien would have been able to escape during this. He could find Maira. Could even lead Vammy to her. And Vammy was a demon. Her nature gave her abilities far beyond a human like Atzi, even if the tentacle-faced freak could take away her magic. So, in accordance to the laws of the wild, in accordance to her own principals and desires, in accordance to her current capabilities as someone who had ate well and enjoyed more than her fair share of happiness in Dawn…
“Run! I’ll hold it off!”
And in one smooth motion, Atzi tore the spear out of an arrow-studded corpse, pulled her arm back, forced her blood to flood, and threw it as hard as she could towards the maskless monstrosity’s chest. It would fly straight. It was what spears did. And if it could kill this distracted dumbass who was too busy tying off loose ends to do anything like take shelter, even better.
But if it didn’t?
She drew her knife in her free hand, stoked the memories that served as her fuel, and breathed in deep.
Blood seeped into everything, growing sticky, then cold.
Someone had to warn the village of this. That someone didn’t need to be her.
Even with her violence, even with her rage, the adrenaline was peeling off. Fatigue was pulling at her flesh like iron weights, and the dozens of pains in her body screamed at her to relax, to stop, to collapse. Her punctured leg felt close to giving out, and surrounded by even more than the ones that they had just killed, she, realistically speaking, would have no way to chase down each one of them and beat them down.
And of course, because of that numbers advantage, some coward who wouldn't even show his face would go and try to convert them. Fuck this Illuminator figure. She's dealt with pig organs that smelled less shitty than these folks, if they could even be called such. And if that was the case? Atzi white-knuckled her wooden club and she slowly but steadily got herself off the cultist she had beaten unconscious. Deep breaths surged in and out of her nostrils, mitigating pain through meditation. Yeah. It would be a miracle enough if she could make it back home at this point. Night would fall, and the wolves would descend.
But better by nature than by fringe believers.
The woman, tall enough still to obviously dwarf the black-masked figure, pulled her flask of wine off her belt and took a swig, then spat the alcohol out along with the blood that had coated the insides of her mouth. Black splotches stained white snow, and she snarled, pointing her club directly at him.
"Answer my question or piss off. Where the fuck is Maira?" As with wolves, so with bitches. A strong front was the only way. "I handled these scum while holding back. You don't wanna try me when I'm not."
Pain, and then her body was lighter, more unbalanced.
Push, and then she was falling back, watching in slow motion as her beloved blade was tossed away.
Close, so close. But to what? What was the goal? What was she to do?
The pain brought everything to a sharpened relief. The Balefire coursed deep, and the Poison coursed deeper, both impeding her functions. On every level, she was performing even worse now than when she first began. But on every level, Klava still held years of combat experience, of near-death experiences, of having to deal with shit without backup. Sure, her targets had changed from monsters to espers over the years, but what of it? They were fundamentally the same, and she was functionally still Pax Septimus born and raised.
A dirt-cheap bitch chomping at the chance to tear a victory out.
Even missing an instrument and one arm, the silver sheen persisted, a miscalculation on the part of her foes, and so long as it did, all velocity was preserved by the Slick melody still enhancing her! Twinned sashes shot out as she hit the ground…and kept going at the same speed. One leg braced and kicked off, adding to it even further! It would take one second for the sigils engraved upon her remaining arm to manifest her last melody, but it would take less than that for her to reach him!
“Storm’s here, Sofron!”
Twisting onto the stump of cauterized shoulder, the Maiden, Enraged, punched the machine gun upwards, knuckles fracturing against military-grade steel but redirecting the muzzle away from her exposed form. In that next instant, her sashes grew taut and her body spun around. Inertia converted into centrifugal force, and her leg swung up and out, aiming for Sofron’s hip.
Even with overpowering magical defenses, one could not wholly negate the effects of a push or a slick note. And when both were combined? The distance between the esper and the surging waters was minimal.
Last Regret. Make it bloody.
The second ended and Klava emerged from the husk of the Maiden. As Baleful Sofron hit the water, perhaps even fell into the water, she came in after him, attempting to pin him underneath the waves before bludgeoning his face with her fists. Physical violence always worked against Espers, and concussions were the best method for fucking up melodies. If you couldn’t focus, if you couldn’t even see, what spell could you use outside of a Mark?
Unfettered by the maledictions imposed upon her Esper form, driven into the corner by being on her last life, Klava did what she had to, with neither beauty nor grace.
Turns out, working out did have professional benefits after all.
There was a laughtrack that played in Xuan-Yu’s head as Norika took what he said…and then missed so hard that she tried to shoot the Warped instead of the second floor. Well, that’s how it worked with psycho-kiddos, he supposed. Gravity took hold either way, and the black-clad pilot descended, the greenery giving way to metallic artifice. Up above, the slug hive swirled still, its senses seeming to not have picked up on that massive gap in the flooring. Good. It was time to get moving.
The gashes were a symbol of trouble, while the doors to the side lead to rooms that looked too unsecured to carry anything of value. In places like this, rather than designated shelters, the greatest bulkheads would likely be where the most valuable experimental subjects were, no? And if he were a scientist running away…
“Rightwards.”
Xuan-Yu picked up his pace. They were on a clock now, and he had no intention of scrapping with the slug monster if he could help it.
© 2007-2024