ghastlyInc

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

Gillian

There was a small pause as Tyaethe asked for volunteers, which was...well. Business as usual honestly. Say what you could about the vampire's honorable position, it didn't really detract from the fact that most folk weren't half as fond of her (comparatively) suicidal tactics. And while this (thankfully, by the look of calm on a few knights face) wasn't her plan, the knee-jerk reaction to avoid the undead knight's retinue was as strong as ever.

Gillian sauntered over to the vampire's side, knowing full well that his presence would do little to actually EASE any nervousness of potential volunteers. Their numbers would be filled regardless. And frankly, he'd more respect for the Vampire than the little girl playing at captain or Aria. The latter of which seemed eager to part his neck from his body for whatever reason, if her body language was anything to go by.

"As charismatic a leader as always Lady Radistirin." he huffed, taking a position at her right. He rolled his shoulders, metal cracking and clinking as artificial joints moved about. There was nothing really relaxing about the act, he couldn't feel if his shoulders were stiff anymore. But the motion was mentally relaxing if nothing else. "Where do you want me?" He asked simply. While he'd be more than happy to spear head the charge, it wouldn't do for the two knights to get in each others way. And setting his senior knight on fire accidentally due to was not exactly something he wanted to have to apologize for.

@Raineh Daze

L'Mordryn Academy

Livia Fiore and Odhra Bebbin
Glade, Late Friday night.

---

Livia inhaled, a cool night breeze tickling her skin as she glanced towards the forest canopy. Night had fallen over L'Mordryn, and after sending Siobahn off and making sure Eva wasn't going to follow, the former noble was eagerly looking forward to see what would come of this summoning attempt. Odhra had given her quite the idea. A jiangshi. A perfect fit for her needs. Something a bit less stealthy than Siobahn, but far more dangerous in a direct confrontation.

Not that she wanted to have such things, but sometimes the direct application of force was the correct response to a situation.

Walking through the forest, Livia finally found an acceptable spot to try something. Not a clearing, but not heavily forested either. She doubted things would since she was the one doing the summoning, but if things did go awry for whatever reason, she wanted as many things between herself and whatever was happening since she didn't have Siobahn with her.

Speaking of...

“Odhra,” Livia turned towards the other summoner, briefly glancing in the direction of the school. “I don't mean to put you on the spot, but how's Bubbles doing?”

Odhra cocks his head at his friend for a moment, green hair turned almost black in the dim light falling in his face and framing his curiosity at the chosen spot for summoning. ”A moment, please.” He says simply, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as he reached out far into the realms. He stands with an unearthly stillness for a moment, eerily quiet save for the occasional clicking of teeth as his body mimics speech not given form on this plane.

”A bit gassy from his evening hunt. But otherwise he is fine and free should you feel the need to bring him in.” He admits, his features settling back into their normal warmth. He scratches the side of his head before continuing. ”Probably best make that a last resort though. He’s not exactly the most subtle of things to bring out, even at this time of night. And if I do, we’ll only have about...I wanna say three minutes at worst to get this situation under control.”

“I see.” Livia exhaled. “Good, good. I don't anticipate anything will go wrong, but...I dislike being without a summons...three minutes, though?” She asked. That was an odd time limit to have for something.

”Bubbles’ is a giant arthropod.” Odhra says, shrugging simply. ”Unfortunate reality of my babies is that their size is often incompatible with our own atmosphere. They lack lungs and instead breathe through spiracles. Basically a bunch of very small lung like structures along the body. As such, the much larger ones I have to essentially pull double duty in providing both the magical anchor for their existence here and provide the high oxygen their bodies need. Normally this isn’t too bad, but Bubbles is huge and his own regenerative abilities need to feed off my magical stamina. He’s...taxing to run at full strength.”

He taps his chin for a moment, considering something. ”That's probably an inherent advantage you phasma folk have over Bestia. We’re at times constrained by physical limitations of what we summon. Fish can’t breath without water and the like.” He says, not really having put too much thought into the houses before now. ”Don’t get me wrong. We can be heavier hitters. But you all have a little more leeway in what you can bring forth, even if its normally too abstract to survive….or even be considered live as the case might be.”

Chatty as usual, wasn't he? Livia listened with an amused smile. It made sense. She was no biologist or scientist, dealing more in mystical matters, but it was true. Insects didn't have the biological parts needed to survive in this atmosphere for long.

“An astute assessment.” Livia nodded. “Though, I will say at times, there are some constraints on what we can use and when. For example, various forms of undead are at their best during the night hours and grow weaker during the day.” A little known fact was that while Siobahn had no trouble existing during the day, there was a reason she normally hid herself in shadows. Sunlight made her uncomfortable. “But this is perhaps a better talk to have in a proper setting and not in the middle of a forest. I don't anticipate things will go awry, but should they do I'll be counting on you.”

Odhra gives a small mock salute. ”Righto! I’ll give you a little space in case you need to prepare stuff.” He chirps stepping a few feet back and kneeling next to a tree. He takes a few seconds to check his medical bag, the small interior light blaring in the clearing for a half second before he seemed satisfied and closed it. Then he sat quietly, letting his eyes readjust to the darkness and watching for the show to start.

“Right then, lets get this started.” She stepped away from Odhra, taking a few moments to mentally prepare herself. This was something significantly more powerful than a simple Wraith, though she supposed Siobahn wasn't quite so simple. Closing her eyes, Livia held her hands in front of her, the flat of her palms facing the opposite just inches away.

Relax her muscles...

Expand her mind...

Feel the outer realms...

Livia stood completely still, the cool breeze subtly growing in intensity.

She steered clear of the familiar, forlorn sensation of Siobahn's forest. The fey of the melancholy copse was not what she was looking for. She extended her mind further. Past the realms of fire spirits, the frigid realm of ice. The lands of the summer and winter courts. Realms she knew of well from her research, but never visited. She needed to go further. Further still.

Soon, she could feel it.

A subtle sense of dread began filling her. She could faintly smell rancid meat, metal, and...alcohol? A cold shiver passed through her body, but she wouldn't be deterred. Something here...yes, something here would be more than suitable. She had traveled far enough so this should be the area she needed to summon something from.

So she called.

And something answered.

Livia's body tensed, her throat clamping shut as a cold, icy grip wrenched her throat. No, she wouldn't quit. Not yet. Never. She would have whatever this was...! She pulled with all her ability, whatever it was on the other end trying to pull her instead. Her body was cold, a lack of oxygen was starting to cloud her thoughts.

“Ack-!” Livia coughed, desperately trying to refill her lungs with air. Just as suddenly as the grip formed, it was gone. A black portal opened in the air just in front of Livia, the rattling of chains and a horrendous smell of blood, alcohol, and meat filled the air as Livia stumbled backwards, any energy she might have had utterly drained.

whump

A pitch black structure fell from the portal, slamming into the ground with force enough to embed itself into the soft earth. The black onyx structure was abhorrently ornate. Its surface was carved with intricate designs of unknown origin, crafted with an obvious careful and steady hand. The designs themselves seem to depict some sort of story, with human figures, demons, and other supernatural entities dancing across its surface in a myriad of patterns and stories. The thing sits upright, with the bottom being wide and large enough to support its massive weight without falling over. The top of it is carved and decorated with a number of jewels.

The entire sarcophagus was covered in chains, rusted, but still holding tight around the sarcophagus. Talismans of unknown origin were taped liberally across its surface, written in ancient languages.

Odhra stands slowly, resisting his first instinct to rush to Livia’s side until they knew WHAT she’d summon was or if it would do anything on its own. He lightly shuffled his way towards her, the air behind him warping slightly as he prepped Bubbles for an emergency entrance. Once he was at the other invokers side he knelt down, looking her over for obvious signs of trauma. There was no blood, much to his mix of disappointment and relief. But sweat beaded across her skin and hair, breaths were ragged and more uneven than he’d like.

But more disturbingly... ”Livi. Hold still a moment.” He said quietly, his voice calm but carrying a friendly authority that refused all counter argument. He cupped a hand underneath the taller girls chin, her skin slightly too cold to be normal. For a moment he considered taking a small light out from his bag but decided against it. He’d no earthly clue what the sarcophagus might react to.

Instead he leaned his face in close, warm breath catching on the girls neck and clavicle as he examined her neck. On each side of her neck were four long claw marks. Not deep, he noted thankfully, but stippled with redness that blossomed on the girls otherwise pale skin. ”Something got its hands on you.” He said, keeping close and quiet. ”Nothing serious. Probably happened during the ritual. I’ve some aloe for that later. How do you feel? Any disorientation or pain?” He adds, keeping his pace slow and clear.

“Urgh,” Livia coughed, holding a hand lightly to her neck. ”Burns...slightly. Mild headache, feel like I got dumped into an ice bath...and I smell a rather horrendous combination of alcohol and blood.” She tried to chuckle, but only ended up having another small coughing fit.

The chains on the sarcophagus rattled gently in the breeze.

The portal hadn't closed yet.

”Noted. And you smell fine to me.” He half chuckled, eyeing the portal. ”I don’t want to rush you, but do you think you can keep...uh..that here and close that portal? I’m concerned about what keeping it open might do to you.” He added, a sudden small gust of warmth erupting behind the both of them as the gate he’d prepared for Bubbles earlier opened only the tiniest of fraction.

“Portal?...” Livia furrowed her brow, glancing at Odhra as she finally managed to catch her breath a bit. “I'm not...keeping any portal open, Odhra.” The invoker glanced towards the black hole like portal, wincing a bit as her neck moved. That wasn't right. She wasn't keeping that open, and Odhra sure as hell wasn't, so what was that even...! Before she could finish her thought, the air around the sarcophagus began to shimmer, several tears in space forming around it, cracking the air as several figures walked through the torn opening.

Undead Warrior

Grotesque looking undead shuffled through, wearing foreign armor and weapons as they slowly stepped foot into a realm not their own. With a guttural, demonic howl the four undead seemed to lock onto Livia and Odhra.

Odhra stares back at the four undead creatures for a moment, blinking owlishly at the quartet. ”....nope.” he chirps, smiling at the undead as space burst behind him. Briefly, the miasmic odor of blood and spirits is overwhelmed with the scent of rotting vegetation and tangy musk as the gate to Bubble’s primal world shatters open. Bubble’s hulking form barrels out, his form resting over the two kneeling invokers comfortably. Salvia drips from his mandibles in sticky globs and his stinger thrashest about wildly, a fist sized bubble of venom dangling from its tip and glowing faintly orange in the evening light. Bubbles answers the undead’s howl with a roar of his own, a series of clacking and chirping that (while not loud) resonates the air around him and making Odhra and Livia’s teeth vibrate uncomfortably in their skulls.

Unfortunately for Bubbles, mindless undead tended to lack what people knew as 'fear'.

Undeterred by the creatures appearance, the four undead soldiers shambled towards the insectoid creature, now focusing on it instead of them. A small reprieve as the four engaged Bubbles. One met the beast head on. It was slow, but there was an undeniable power behind its movements it bought its high, before swiftly bringing it down upon bubbles head.

Two of the others tried flanking the beast, trying to gain the advantage, whilst the last seemed to position itself in front of the sarcophagus.

“Hrn...they seem like simple undead, but they're not disorganized...”

”Looks like they’re trying to protect that...thingy you brought here. Any clue what it is?”

Bubbles, meanwhile, slammed forward, catching the sword on the face and driving forward. Blue-green ichor flowed from the gash as the beast charged forward, thrusting a paw and driving the undead into the ground where it belonged. The arachnids head swiveled quickly, the laceration already knitting together at an unnatural speed as its stinger tail swung like a battering ram into the skeleton on his left. Orange venom flushed from the stinger, pouring uselessly onto the ground in heavy puddles. But the sheer mass of the blow did enough to crumble the rib cage like powdered glass.

“Judging from the construction of it...a sarcophagus of some sort? It's construction isn't entirely indicative of eastern lores...” Livia pondered, utterly calm despite the ensuing fight between bubbles and the handful of undead. “I don't recognize those talismans either. And why is it chained shut?...to keep people out...or keep whatever is in there, in?”

The undead hissed as it was crushed beneath the arachnids blow, ancient armor and bones crumbling to pieces in an instant, returning it to the earth. The one on bubbles left was slammed with the stinger, its abhorrent ribcage nearly shattering itself in half, but the undead hardly seemed to notice. It hissed, a slow lunge forward, diving its rusted blade into bubbles side.

The second one lunged towards bubbles legs, using its blade to try and immobilize the beasts legs.

”Given its got a set of guards...I’m going to hazard a guess at keeping whatever it is in. Either way, if that is what you summoned you ability to influence is probably being hindered by the talismans. They probably need to come off...don’t suppose you know how to make replacement ones in case thats a terrible idea?” He asked nervously.

Bubbles hissed as his prey proved more resilient than he’d thought. Blades peirced everyside of him, only his pride taking any sort of permanent injury. Bubbles back leg crumpled as the skeleton to his right jabbed into his thigh, but it did little to really deter the creature. There was no need to move when his prey had been unwise enough to come this close. The stinger still embedded in the left skeletons chest lifted and slammed the undead into the earth once, twice, three times. Each impact sounded by a dull thump and the clinking of armor until it finally gave way entire.

”...hold on a moment. Bubbles!” Odhra said, the large creature not breaking its gaze to the final (and now lone) threat. ”Roll over.” A gurgle of amusement escaped the large creature as it hurled itself to the right, body slamming into the final attacking skeleton with a wet crack as the hulk half buried itself into the ground.

“Perhaps...they seem to be protecting it.” Livia agreed. There was only one way to really find out, though...and that was to open it. “I can't say I can remake those exact ones...but I could possibly do something should I need too.”

Livia watched with amused fascination as the last of the odd skeletal soldiers was dispatched by bubbles. The fourth so far, hadn't moved from its defensive position by the sarcophagus, and the portal overhead seemed to be growing smaller in size.

”Its a shame I’ve got to break them…” Odhra says, finally standing up as Bubbles wiggled on his back. Happily grinding what was left of the skeleton into a fine powder in the process no doubt. ”It would have been fun to figure out how they worked.” He sighs, snapping his fingers for Bubbles to rise. The spider creature rolls back to its legs, shaking briefly and letting the blades lodged in its side clatter to the ground as his body forced itself back together.

Bubbles waddled closer to the remaining skeleton, now calm in the knowledge that the threat to his master was all but non-existent. Almost casually, his stinger rose behind him, stabbing into the remaining skeleton and (like before) flailing its hooked foe about its body and into the ground. ”That said...for guards…” Odhra said, watching as his baby tore the skeleton a proverbial new one. ”They’re not exactly...I dunno. Good? Think maybe there are more of them to come or they just got made on the fly or something?” he asked, not quite yet approaching the sarcophagus until Bubbles had deemed play time over.

“Mhm, perhaps. Difficult to say. They were incredibly aged from what I could tell.” Unlike Odhra, Livia's curiosity was getting the better of her. “They may have just been whatever was easiest to make for now. Or perhaps they were not used to dealing with something like bubbles. From what I could tell, a human fighting them would be rather difficult.” As she spoke, Livia began walking towards the sarcophagus, cautiously curious of whatever might be inside.

“...now, what are you?”

By now the portal overhead and dissipated entirely.

whump

The sarcophagus jolted forwards a few inches, whatever was inside of it had slammed against the interior walls. The metal chains holding the lid in place snapped, creaking, and breaking against the force inside. The talismans shuddered, doing little to halt whatever monster was inside. It shifted again, and again, until the chains could no longer hold the creature inside.

Jiangshi

“...nhhhhn?” The sarcophagus lid slammed into the ground near Bubbles, a raspy, groaning voice echoing from within. “Aaaahhhhg-ack-urgh...aaah?” Something quite...odd quite literally hopped out of the sarcophagus, arms extended in front of it and dressed in foreign clothing, its lifeless eyes half opened.

“Hnnn...ah, my retainers...dead...? Ah, so useless...useless...make their bones into dessert...” The small humanoids eyes focused on the two humans. “...ah...? Human...not palace?...food?” her head tilted to the side. “Ah...smell...sweet...perhaps one of you...My lord? The other...dessert...?”

Odhra stares at the tiny forgien zombie, eyes wide. ”My gods Livia…” He begins, his voice shaking. ”She’s….ADORABLE!” Odhra squeaks, hugging Bubbles thick neck to resist the urge to rush the poor little Jianshi. Odhra snuggles into the nape of Bubbles neck, the large beast ‘purring’ in response, content to be the object of his masters misplaced affection. ”Also looks like SHE made the portals somehow. Maybe some dominion over other undead and acting as a proxy invoker? But her hoooornnns~” He adds, his ability to analyze the creature before him now pretty much lost in the frenzied thoughts of what the C&F will do once they see this masterpiece.

“Nhn...” The Jiangshi's eyes turned to Livia. “...my lord. My sweet lord...you are...him...? The one who called me? Ah, ah...it's been so long. Sweet air...sweet, delicious life filled air...” A subtle, smile formed on the undeads mouth. “...makes me so, so very hungry....”

“Adorable yes,” Livia held a hand to her chin. “...though I am unsure about her temperament.” The jiangshi took this time to literally hop over to Livia, its stiff joints and muscles.

“Master...my lord...Is that one dinner?”

“Dinner?”

“Ah, ah, that delicious looking boy. I can have him can't I? You summoned me and bought me a gift. Lord is too kind...”

“Well...I suppose if you want.” Livia smiled lightly. Probably no harm in letting this play out. She doubted this zombie could really do anything to Odhra as long as bubbles was here.

“Ah, ah~” With a odd giggle, the Jiangshi spun on her heels, facing Odhra. “Meat for Mizu, a pound of delicious red meat, for little Mizu~” She hopped towards Odhra...

And immediately fell flat on her face with an oddly adorable ‘squee’ noise and a small squeal.
Odhra stares down at the fallen zombie, Bubbles salivating over his shoulder as he rubbed his massive head agaisnt his master. He kneels down to the fallen zombie, staying just out of arms reachs for the moment. As adorable as this zombie was, he wasn’t so absent minded as to just let himself get eaten. ”You ok there...Mizu was it?” He asks, blinking curiously at the creature. ”Maybe you should stay seated for a little bit. No real telling how long you’ve been in that box for….” He offers, taking out his medical bag just in case he had anything that might theoretically help the poor zombie girl. Bubbles, meanwhile, glared down at the offending creature, practically begging her to try something so he might have an excuse to feed but making no movements beyond that.

“Mizushi-Douji.” She replied to Odhra with a small whine, arms flailing just slightly, trying to reach the boy just out of her reach. It seemed like she was having trouble bending her joints in any reasonable way. “Ah, my bed...sleeping for...years? Only wake...when feast.” Her mouth turned into a pout as she puffed out her cheeks. “Aaaah, this stupid undead body of miiiine. So inconvenient...so stiiiiif....hungry...boy let me have just a nibble. Just a little tiniest nibble...”

“If she is a proper Jiangshi, then she likely unable to move well. According to my notes their limbs are in a permanent state of rigor, meaning for the most part they will be locked in place.” Livia knelt next to Mizushi.

”Aww…” Odhra whines, eyes rolling over Mizu like an injured puppy. ”Poor girl. I’ll look into artificial muscles we might be able to implant later. Since you’re dead I’m not too worried about auto-immune rejection.” he chirps, opening up the medical bag. ”Plus…” He adds, his grin turning vicious and too wide as his previously pleasant gaze settled into a cheerful leer. ”I’ve always wanted to try surgery on an active and conscious participant.”

”But until then!” He chirps, the momentary sadism being washed away in the boys normal aura of warmth. ”Would a little blood work well enough? Don't really have any medical waste at hand to give you….at the moment anyway. But I can stand to lose a pint or two!”

“I don't think that's a good idea, Odhra.” Livia bopped the other summoner lightly on the head. “Not for now, at least.” She was concerned for a number of reasons – mostly it being she wasn't quite sure Mizu would take just a pint or two. “I'll take her back to my dorm for now. See if I can get any more information about her.” Standing up, Livia grabbed the Jiangshi's clawed hands, helping to pull her up back on her feet.

“Ah, my lord...your hands...so warm.”

“And uh, thanks for tonight, Odhra.” Livia looked uneasily off to the side, hiding her mouth with a hand. “Really...if I tried this without you, I am not quite sure I could have handled it....and you too, bubbles.”

”Nope!” Odhra says, now taking his turn to bop Livia in return. ”You’re a lot better at this than most people are at your rank. Waaay better than I was anyway. You could have handled it on your own.” He said, scratching the underside of Bubbles chin. Bubbles slowly leans forward and presses his head into Livia’s chest with surprising dexterity for such a large creature, a heavy purring rumbling from the beast to confirm his masters assessment. ”Me and Bubbles just helped a little. Sides, it was fun! My poor big baby doesn’t ever get a chance to stretch his stinger enough. Don’t you boy?” He adds, the last part devolving into baby talk as Bubbles tail flails wildly about a small rain of venom arcing behind the two as the creature lavishes in the praise.

“Haaa...” Livia returned Odhra's words with a small smile. “Well I suppose I can't deny that if you're going to insist.”

“Maaaaster....hungryyyyy.”

“We'll see about getting you something to eat once I'm back in the dorm, Mizu.” Livia said, turning her attention back to her newest summons. Ah, she was exhausted. She really needed a bath and a meal of her own. Not to mention her neck. “...do I have you to thank for my neck, by the way?”

“Ah, ah, Mizu is sorry, Lord...your neck was so pretty, so delicious...I almost broke it....” Mizu began hopping after Livia, the Sarcophagus she left behind seemingly not moving from its position where it had embedded itself in the earth, at least for now.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Odhra.” She headed back to the dorms, Mizu hopping along behind her.

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

Gillian

Gillian dragged a body behind him as he skulked back towards the group, no small amount of gore coating his armor and hands. Say what one could about the benefits of having weaponized arms, clean up would forever be a chore. "If you've time to complain..." He said as he passed Fiora and Narciss, "You've the time to do something more useful. Like clearing a space out in a wagon to chain these folks in or securing the perimeter." It wasn't that he thought the two entirely wrong, and were the forces they were facing more dangerous he might agree. But as it stood, these bandits were hardly a threat. He was pretty sure the whole retinue could be asleep and the poor bastards they'd collected would still be all but helpless before them.

It wasn't arrogance that made him think that either. While the bandits clearly had some rudimentary training, as was evidence by their formation and their crossbow men using alternating volleys, it was really hardly better than the average milita's level of competence. To an average citizen, it would make them a legitmate threat. To Knights, festooned in armor likely several times more expensive than the whole of a farmers house and with training to match? Yeah. Kind of a joke.

He hefted the body over his shoulder, leaving the two Ladys of the Whining Court to their own devices, casually strolling over to where Aria was currently putting the screws to another of their poor survivors. While he could appreciate her honesty, opening an interrogation with the promise of death (albeit painless) was not exactly the best way to encourage someone to talk. "You know..." He said cheerily to the taller knight, dumping the body with a wet thud next to the bandit. "Most folks start with an introduction." he added, flicking the remaining gore from his fingers to the ground.

He kneels down beside his fellow knight, smiling calmly at their new captive. "You'll have to forgive the little lady here..." He said, taking a long second to chuckle at his own joke as if it actually amused him. "Nice to meet you friend, you can call me Gill. While I'd hate to take up more of your day than we've already have, I'd appreciate you answering her questions. If it proves true, I can probably convince the Captain that you should just get some jail time."

It was a lie of course, both in the sense of him not really intending to speak with the captain if the little bastard did talk and it being doubtful of her agreeing. But considering the man just watched his entire troupe get slaughtered, it was a lie he'd be readily open to believing . "Oh and uh...I'd do so quickly...Our ginger friend here isn't really the patient type..." He gives a dramatic sigh, patting the bandit on the head like one would a child. "You know I used to have real arms before she came along? Barbarian that one I swear."

Interactions with: @Click This@Asuras and@OwO

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

ok. Got a small post up. If things continue and I'm at work please just assume Gillian is terrorizing the backline.

Tl;dr: Remaining bandit decided he'd chance it begging Fanlily for mercy than continue fighting the spooky metal man who just mince meat his squad.

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

Gillian

As the other knights scrambled about the battlefield, Gillian almost lazily steered Julia off the path and dismounted, taking his sweet time with the act. Parnella long since beat into him the lesson of staying calm during a fight. Not for any overly strategic reason, obviously. It was just that most folks were very hesitant to attack someone who walked through a battlefield like they owned the place. Less so if said person had several layers of metal grafted to their limbs.

After a quick moment to pat Julia on her flank he walked back into the chaos, as casually as one might a stroll through the woods. He took a moment to survey the goings on of the fight. The melee was pretty much handled, though it was hard for him to call it an elegant strategy. Most of the knights seemed only half interested in listening to the 'Captain's orders, barking their own commands as additions or throwing out their own counter strategies from what he could hear. But, credit to her where it was due, she'd atleast been the first one to give the order.

He broadened his circle around the combat, content to stay out of the brawl and work his way towards the back lines as the little girl had ordered. He got about half way when the crossbowmen-bandits finally noticed him, a small cluster of six closer to him turn and firing on him hurriedly. Gillian dropped low, his hands grasping into the earth as three poorly aimed reactionary shots whizzed past him. To give the poor bastards credit, they atleast proved to him in that volley they weren't entirely incompetent. Crossbows were great for ease of use, but most greenhorns tended to forget you were vulnerable during the slow reloading process. These gentlemen compensated as best they could, one half providing covering fire while the other reloaded.

Gill locked eyes with an aiming bandit, a honest and easy smile spreading across his lips as he silently congratulated as a familiar unnatural strength oozed into his arms. The bandit in question had about half a second to pull the trigger before Gillian launched himself at the squad, basically firing himself like a slingshot, deadly bolts thudding uselessly into the dirt where the knight once stood.

Gillian slammed into a bandit feet first, feeling something beneath the mans armor give way as the knight suddenly and violently decellerated on top of him and throwing him to the group. The bandit to his left, a short man with ruddy hair, screamed a curse as he turned his crossbow to Gillian, only to find a clawed hand slapping the weapon from his grasp and another plunge itself into his chest.

With the faint stunned gurgling from the man now impaled on his wrist, Gillian swung his free hand wide, clipping a retreating bandit across the shoulder and stumbling him as the four remaining members of the squad attempted to gain some distance. "FUCKING KILL IT!" One of the men screamed, firing his newly reloaded crossbow at the knight, the bolt going wide and sinking into the captive dying bandit. Gillian reached forward, snatching the bandits skull in his grasp and yanking downwards, a sickly crunch echoing in the vicinity as bone shattered against dirt.

Gillian wrenched his hand from the red heads chest, a soft squelching noise erupting from the soon to be cadaver as it feel limply to the ground. The two remaining bandits stared at him, both having abandoned their crossbows in favor of drawing short swords. Their guards were poor, arms too far apart and blades wavering in their shaking hands. Beneath him, his landing pad wheezed wetly. 'Punctured lung. Probably two.' Gillian noted dully, stepping off the man slowly as he kept himself low to the ground. Hunched and animal like, feeding into the remaining two bandits fear of the inhuman like thing that just tore through their companions and shocked them into stillness.

Fear tactics like this didn't always work. Especially not against more learned opponents. But Gillian knew from experience how well even a normally skilled fighter could simply dissolve into uselessness when scared enough. The left most bandit broke first; dropping his blade and turning to flee. His remaining companion turned to follow, a panicked scream cut short as white hot pain seared through him as claws rippled and played along his spine.

"I...I YIELD I YIELD!" The final bandit wailed, flinging himself into the swarming melee and rushing to the young captain as fast as his legs could carry him. "Call it off! Please call it off!" From the back of the bandit line, Gill watched the exchange for a moment, an amused grin slipping past his lips for a moment before turning his gaze to what few bandit crossbow men remained, slinking towards them with a predatory gait.

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

but...but...but I have a warhammer army to build D:>

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

gadzooks people. cant even go to work without 16 plus new responses 0-o

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

Gillian

"I would also volunteer to scout Miss Danbalion." A voice drawled darkly from behind the young girl, a few of the more green knights who had been only paying half attention reaching for their blades for a half second before recognizing the speaker and deciding to look elsewhere. Gillian sat on an old donkey, the mares fur greyed with age but gait still sturdy. Hardly the mount of a knight, lacking in speed and power but Julia was a tough old creature and bore his weight comfortably in her age and could do so all day if needed. The Living Reliquary lounged comfortably on the beast, overly long arms crossed comfortably across its back and draping down its sides as he gave the would be knight captain a languid stare.

"I was a furrier before I was a knight. Forest like this is going to have a few trapper trails throughout." He said, nodding towards Gerard for confirmation of the fact. "We'll use those to get close. No major traffic along them so the bandits are unlikely to be aware of them. Between the three of us, should be a relatively comfortable fit. And if we're discovered I'm the best suited to signaling for backup...." He gives the group a thin smile. "What with being able to set myself on fire and all." he said casually, as if the idea of routine self immolation had long since dissolved into a passing amusement on par with cloud watching.

@PaulHaynek@HereComesTheSnow@VitaVitaAR

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

Gillian, The Living Reliquary

Name: Gillian Reynaud

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: Gill is a gangly young man standing at 5’11, with a lithe frame that seems ill suited to armor or the feats of raw strength he often performs. His arms are artificial and strange interlocking plates of insectoid looking silvered metal of unknown origin and composition with a softly glowing blue membrane beneath. They are overly long and thin even in comparison to his body, as though sized for someone much taller than himself and all together more alien. His palms hang comfortably at his knees. While handsome, he does cut a rather...uncanny figure to those not expecting him.

Personality: Gillian values honesty, simplicity and trust. All of which he feels are impossible to find in any sufficiently large group of people. A loner by nature, he prefers not to speak too much, especially on matters of nobility. He can be very defensive when dealing with intimate issues (or those dealing with his condition), and as such avoids them as much as possible except with those he considers close friends. What few friends he keeps are treated to a watchfulness most attack dogs would envy and the occasional stroke of melancholic humor when he’s in his more ‘peppy’ moments.

He has an open disregard for some of the traditions of the Roses, a bad habit inherited from his mentor. He will gladly fight dirty if it means winning and saving more people and considers the tradition of choosing a child as their leader to be insane at best.

Backstory:

Gillian was born in the township of La Reine, located on the Velt-Thaln boarder just off a rarely traveled caravan trail. The only truly notable thing about it was the local superstition that a powerful witch resided in the local woods, though this was mostly to scare children into staying in doors at night as far as Gillian ever knew. His parents were both local hunters, trading much needed food and pelts to travelers and locals during the winter months. It was a quiet place to grow up, much of the day spent hunting or practicing with the town militia (which consisted of little more than a few men armed with makeshift spears). For the first fourteen years of his life, Gillian faced few hurtles aside from the normal trials of a rural hunter and the occasional disorganized Orc warband attempting a raid.

In the fall of his fifteenth year, a small caravan accompanied by a squad of Iron Rose Knights rolled into town. Their commanding officer, Seige Parnella, was investigating reports that the local orc bands had gone utterly quiet. Parnella cut a disturbing figure, a once exceptional beauty now massively scared in ways few in the town could identify and with long strange legs made of blackened metal that seems to chill the grown she walked on.

The people of La Reine, Gillian included, were eager to believe the Orcs had simply vanished, eager to remove this strange visitor from their home as quickly as possible. But Parnella was not so easily removed and ordered her squad to occupy the town. Parnella’s suspicions held true and within the week the town was under siege by an impressive warband, seemingly brought together by an ambitious and skilled young Orc. The Knights, even while bolstered by the town militia, could barely hold back the attack. Being young and untrained, Gillian broke rank quickly, fleeing into the forest, seeking sanctuary in deep in the heart of the forest. He soon discovered that he was followed by an orc on boarback, who hunted the boy seemingly for the pure sport of it, side swiping his prey and letting his boards tusk slowly gore the young man, narrowly missing and tearing a swath of his arm’s flesh away. After many wild and halpless wings, he eventually managed to land a blow on the rider’s saddle, sending the orc tumbling over the side of his awkward to the merciless hooves that awaited him below. As the Orc lay dead or dying, the cripple Gillian limped and eventually collapsed in the hollow base of a tree.

Parnella greeted him in the morning rather unpleasantly, but kicking him awake. A rather unpleasant method at the best of times made all the worse by the still white hot pain in his gored arm. She was mostly alone, save for another knight of her small company who spoke little and made just as much of an impression. The two of them half escorted, half dragged him back to the village...or what little remained at least.

The battle had ended in a victory for the knights and militia, though not without intense casualties on all sides. A good half if not more of the town were piled at the village center, his parents among them. Parnella seemed quite pleased with the result and Gillian would have attacked her (for what little it would have done) had she not immediately followed up with informing him about how his fleeing caused the militia to nearly route before the battle even really began.

The guilt cowed him quickly, the urge to insult the woman overwhelmed by the realization that no small amount of the death before him was his fault alone. Parnella seemed to have little time for his self pity, declaring the town a loss and advising the remaining villagers to grab what they could and flee to one of the larger and more fortified towns to the west.

Gillian opted not to join his fellow villagers, his family was all but dead and, while definitely the minority, some villagers seemed to share in Parnella’s assessment of the battle and were all to happy to lay the blame at his feet. Instead, he decided shadowed Parnella’s group back to the capital. He didn’t really have a reason and Parnella didn’t seem interested even if he had one.

It was a long walk back to the capital, but Gill busied himself with aiding the knights with whatever trivial tasks they needed doing and nursing an arm which still shot with pain. Most of the knights tolerated his presence but...Parnella seemed to enjoy it. If only in a sort of sadistic way. At times she would pile on meaningless chores for him, especially ones too difficult to do with one arm. Other times she would ‘train’ him, an act largely consisting of literally kicking the tar out of him and deciding what note the noise he made was. He was pretty sure he never manage to land even a single hit on the woman, but she never seemed dissatisfied with the results.

Asking the other knights about his new ‘mentor’ (A title she gave herself he might add) revealed atleast a few things. One, yes she was ALWAYS like this and frankly they were all just happy that she was taking it out on him. Two, that she was one of the few Living Reliquaries of the order.

A Reliquary, in this case, being a holy artifact, generally made in the appearance of a major organ or limb. Which was rather relieving because, while nobody put it past Parnella to beat someone to death with the long desiccated body part of a saint in a vial of oil, nobody really seemed able to put it past her.

Back to the point, Reliquaries were a scarce commodity within the Iron Roses, though it was hardly due to a shortage of artifacts. Biology is a fairly fickle mistress, even where magic is involved, and would often physically reject the grafted organ quickly. The host, of course, would die in the process. But in those would could play host to such artifacts were immensely powerful, even with relatively little training. And most knights considered it to be...less than tasteful. A shortcut to strength that many took years to train up to (that said training was expensive and far outside of the realm of possibility for most folks being left unsaid). At the time, only four such knights had undergone the process (all voluntary of course) and as such there were...certain allowances given to their behavior.

Eager to hope that Parnella perhaps saw something in him, he asked her if she knew if he could be a Living Reliquary like her and if that was why she was attempting to train him. After finally getting her to stop laughing the Knight told him plainly she had, quote, “No fucking clue if you are. And even if you were, you’re too chicken shit to do it. Mayon’s tits if you were and were dumb enough to volunteer to get hacked up even more than you are now I’ll eat my loincloth and train you myself!”

Her dismissal hurt, if only she had robbed him of what little he saw he could do to redeem himself for his cowardice. He was tempted to part ways with this sadistic little fucking goblin of a woman and her merry bad of steel clad tag alongs then and there, but he didn’t. Just because Parnella didn’t know didn’t mean someone else didn’t, and (as petty as it might be) he’d die before letting Parnella be right about him.

The next few weeks were spent as usual and of little note. Mostly days spent trudging along trails and suffering through his insufferable ‘mentors’ childish antics. By the time they’d made it to the capital, Gillian was willing to cut his arm off just to shut the old hag up for a day or two.

When the healers at Candaeln took a look at him they were practically beside themselves, due to both his general health, how badly infected his arm was, the sheer amount of neglect he’d been put through by his ‘mentor’, and the fact that a child was asking them to cut things off and stick only vaguely understood magical nicknacks inside of him. Parnella laughed it off, enjoying the chaos of their collective fury with an ease that only comes from having been through it (and probably the cause of it) several times already.
Her mood darkened when they asked if she knew he was an acceptable candidate.

Gill had never seen Parnella serious before or since. The normally bright, if disturbed, woman leered at him like a predator. Ready to kill and devour him if there was even a moment of opportunity.

She didn’t lie about what he would be facing the next few years. It would take two years to recover from the physical trauma, easily. It could easily take two more if they cut major limbs off, as he would need to learn how to live day to day with arms or legs with no sensation beyond vague pressure. And teaching him how to fight, if she even could help with that? She couldn’t begin to guess.
But more so than all of that, she told him that if he did commit to this, then it was a life sentence. There was no way to remove a Reliquary once it was implanted without its host being dead. And the phantom pains that came with it would never go away. So if she needed to know if he was serious. That there was no shame in saying he wasn’t and walking away.

Gill asked if she wanted her loincloth cooked or raw.

Equipment:

Twined Arms of Dawn and Grace: A set Reliquary arms that have replaced Gillian’s own. Attached at the shoulder with a thin set of plates arranged along the spine, these silvered arms end in a three fingered clawed hand with engraved iconography of Reon etched along their surface. There is no sensation of touch in them beyond a vague sensation of weight and pressure. They are finely crafted and he often leaves them uncovered, as armoring them seems to make no real difference. They also provide the following benefits.

Passive Effects: Gillian’s physical strength is well beyond human, able to punch and tear his way through stone and metal with an ease belied by his svelte figure. He is also immune to the fire he conjures when using the arms as a focus for spells.

Active Effects: Gillian is able to wreath his arms and body in white hot flame, adding some extra offensive capability to his already deavistating strength. While not a magical effect, the clawed hands can be used to climb sheer surfaces easily.

If a defensive solution is needed, Gill can form a small shield of energy in front of himself. The shield can withstand most physical attacks for a short duration but is heavily draining to maintain. It does not, however, stop magically created effects or projectiles.

Finally, Gill is able to place a sigil on another creature for 12 hours. The Sigil oozes harmless, but highly luminescent, fluid constantly for the duration. The Sigil can be removed with any commonly available method of removing minor curses.

Armor:Being fairly poor in comparison to many of the knights with who he travels, Gillian’s armor is a bit of a hodge podge. While it is all well fitted, it largely consists of old leather armor, with modest amounts of chainmail and the odd piece of plate to supplement weaker areas. While it offers more mobility and reduced weight, it sadly lacks the greater amounts of protection a proper suit could afford.

Skills:
Gillian is a capable hunter and tracker, having spent many years as a furrier in his youth. There are few Knights of the order who can track a bleeding Orc from a day old trail in the wilds of Thaln, and Gillian is one of those proud few.

While trained in how to use a sword, Gill eschews most weapons in favor of his Reliquary, often fighting hand to hand and ripping shields and armor out of his way through sheer strength and ferocity. He likes to get in quick and strike hard, overwhelming an opponent with sheer intensity and unpredictability.

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

Gillian, The Living Reliquary

Name: Gillian Reynaud

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: Gill is a gangly young man standing at 5’11, with a lithe frame that seems ill suited to armor or the feats of raw strength he often performs. His arms are artificial and strange interlocking plates of insectoid looking silvered metal of unknown origin and composition with a softly glowing blue membrane beneath. They are overly long and thin even in comparison to his body, as though sized for someone much taller than himself and all together more alien. His palms hang comfortably at his knees. While handsome, he does cut a rather...uncanny figure to those not expecting him.

Personality: Gillian values honesty, simplicity and trust. All of which he feels are impossible to find in any sufficiently large group of people. A loner nature, he prefers not to speak too much, especially on matters of nobility. He can be very defensive when dealing with intimate issues (or those dealing with his condition), and as such avoids them as much as possible except with those he considers close friends. What few friends he keeps are treated to a watchfulness most attack dogs would envy and the occasional stroke of melancholic humor when he’s in his more ‘peppy’ moments.

He has an open disregard for some of the traditions of the Roses, a bad habit inherited from his mentor. He will gladly fight dirty if it means winning and saving more people and considers the tradition of choosing a child as their leader to be insane at best.

Backstory:

Gillian was born in the township of La Reine, located on the Velt-Thaln boarder just off a rarely traveled caravan trail. The only truly notable thing about it was the local superstition that a powerful witch resided in the local woods, though this was mostly to scare children into staying in doors at night as far as Gillian ever knew. His parents were both local hunters, trading much needed food and pelts to travelers and locals during the winter months. It was a quiet place to grow up, much of the day spent hunting or practicing with the town militia (which consisted of little more than a few men armed with makeshift spears). For the first fourteen years of his life, Gillian faced few hurtles aside from the normal trials of a rural hunter and the occasional disorganized Orc warband attempting a raid.

In the fall of his fifteenth year, a small caravan accompanied by a squad of Iron Rose Knights rolled into town. Their commanding officer, Seige Parnella, was investigating reports that the local orc bands had gone utterly quiet. Parnella cut a disturbing figure, a once exceptional beauty now massively scared in ways few in the town could identify and with long strange legs made of blackened metal that seems to chill the grown she walked on.

The people of La Reine, Gillian included, were eager to believe the Orcs had simply vanished, eager to remove this strange visitor from their home as quickly as possible. But Parnella was not so easily removed and ordered her squad to occupy the town. Parnella’s suspicions held true and within the week the town was under siege by an impressive warband, seemingly brought together by an ambitious and skilled young Orc. The Knights, even while bolstered by the town militia, could barely hold back the attack. Being young and untrained, Gillian broke rank quickly, fleeing into the forest, seeking sanctuary in deep in the heart of the forest. He soon discovered that he was followed by an orc on boarback, who hunted the boy seemingly for the pure sport of it, side swiping his prey and letting his boards tusk slowly gore the young man, narrowly missing and tearing a swath of his arm’s flesh away. After many wild and halpless wings, he eventually managed to land a blow on the rider’s saddle, sending the orc tumbling over the side of his awkward to the merciless hooves that awaited him below. As the Orc lay dead or dying, the cripple Gillian limped and eventually collapsed in the hollow base of a tree.

Parnella greeted him in the morning rather unpleasantly, but kicking him awake. A rather unpleasant method at the best of times made all the worse by the still white hot pain in his gored arm. She was mostly alone, save for another knight of her small company who spoke little and made just as much of an impression. The two of them half escorted, half dragged him back to the village...or what little remained at least.

The battle had ended in a victory for the knights and militia, though not without intense casualties on all sides. A good half if not more of the town were piled at the village center, his parents among them. Parnella seemed quite pleased with the result and Gillian would have attacked her (for what little it would have done) had she not immediately followed up with informing him about how his fleeing caused the militia to nearly route before the battle even really began.

The guilt cowed him quickly, the urge to insult the woman overwhelmed by the realization that no small amount of the death before him was his fault alone. Parnella seemed to have little time for his self pity, declaring the town a loss and advising the remaining villagers to grab what they could and flee to one of the larger and more fortified towns to the west.

Gillian opted not to join his fellow villagers, his family was all but dead and, while definitely the minority, some villagers seemed to share in Parnella’s assessment of the battle and were all to happy to lay the blame at his feet. Instead, he decided shadowed Parnella’s group back to the capital. He didn’t really have a reason and Parnella didn’t seem interested even if he had one.

It was a long walk back to the capital, but Gill busied himself with aiding the knights with whatever trivial tasks they needed doing and nursing an arm which still shot with pain. Most of the knights tolerated his presence but...Parnella seemed to enjoy it. If only in a sort of sadistic way. At times she would pile on meaningless chores for him, especially ones too difficult to do with one arm. Other times she would ‘train’ him, an act largely consisting of literally kicking the tar out of him and deciding what note the noise he made was. He was pretty sure he never manage to land even a single hit on the woman, but she never seemed dissatisfied with the results.

Asking the other knights about his new ‘mentor’ (A title she gave herself he might add) revealed atleast a few things. One, yes she was ALWAYS like this and frankly they were all just happy that she was taking it out on him. Two, that she was one of the few Living Reliquaries of the order.

A Reliquary, in this case, being a holy artifact, generally made in the appearance of a major organ or limb. Which was rather relieving because, while nobody put it past Parnella to beat someone to death with the long desiccated body part of a saint in a vial of oil, nobody really seemed able to put it past her.

Back to the point, Reliquaries were a scarce commodity within the Iron Roses, though it was hardly due to a shortage of artifacts. Biology is a fairly fickle mistress, even where magic is involved, and would often physically reject the grafted organ quickly. The host, of course, would die in the process. But in those would could play host to such artifacts were immensely powerful, even with relatively little training. And most knights considered it to be...less than tasteful. A shortcut to strength that many took years to train up to (that said training was expensive and far outside of the realm of possibility for most folks being left unsaid). At the time, only four such knights had undergone the process (all voluntary of course) and as such there were...certain allowances given to their behavior.

Eager to hope that Parnella perhaps saw something in him, he asked her if she knew if he could be a Living Reliquary like her and if that was why she was attempting to train him. After finally getting her to stop laughing the Knight told him plainly she had, quote, “No fucking clue if you are. And even if you were, you’re too chicken shit to do it. Mayon’s tits if you were and were dumb enough to volunteer to get hacked up even more than you are now I’ll eat my loincloth and train you myself!”

Her dismissal hurt, if only she had robbed him of what little he saw he could do to redeem himself for his cowardice. He was tempted to part ways with this sadistic little fucking goblin of a woman and her merry bad of steel clad tag alongs then and there, but he didn’t. Just because Parnella didn’t know didn’t mean someone else didn’t, and (as petty as it might be) he’d die before letting Parnella be right about him.

The next few weeks were spent as usual and of little note. Mostly days spent trudging along trails and suffering through his insufferable ‘mentors’ childish antics. By the time they’d made it to the capital, Gillian was willing to cut his arm off just to shut the old hag up for a day or two.

When the healers at Candaeln took a look at him they were practically beside themselves, due to both his general health, how badly infected his arm was, the sheer amount of neglect he’d been put through by his ‘mentor’, and the fact that a child was asking them to cut things off and stick only vaguely understood magical nicknacks inside of him. Parnella laughed it off, enjoying the chaos of their collective fury with an ease that only comes from having been through it (and probably the cause of it) several times already.
Her mood darkened when they asked if she knew he was an acceptable candidate.

Gill had never seen Parnella serious before or since. The normally bright, if disturbed, woman leered at him like a predator. Ready to kill and devour him if there was even a moment of opportunity.

She didn’t lie about what he would be facing the next few years. It would take two years to recover from the physical trauma, easily. It could easily take two more if they cut major limbs off, as he would need to learn how to live day to day with arms or legs with no sensation beyond vague pressure. And teaching him how to fight, if she even could help with that? She couldn’t begin to guess.
But more so than all of that, she told him that if he did commit to this, then it was a life sentence. There was no way to remove a Reliquary once it was implanted without its host being dead. And the phantom pains that came with it would never go away. So if she needed to know if he was serious. That there was no shame in saying he wasn’t and walking away.

Gill asked if she wanted her loincloth cooked or raw.

Equipment:

Twined Arms of Dawn and Grace: A set Reliquary arms that have replaced Gillian’s own. Attached at the shoulder with a thin set of plates arranged along the spine, these silvered arms end in a three fingered clawed hand with engraved iconography of Reon etched along their surface. There is no sensation of touch in them beyond a vague sensation of weight and pressure. They are finely crafted and he often leaves them uncovered, as armoring them seems to make no real difference. They also provide the following benefits.

Passive Effects: Gillian’s physical strength is well beyond human, able to punch and tear his way through stone and metal with an ease belied by his svelte figure. He is also immune to the fire he conjures when using the arms as a focus for spells.

Active Effects: Gillian is able to wreath his arms and body in white hot flame, adding some extra offensive capability to his already deavistating strength. While not a magical effect, the clawed hands can be used to climb sheer surfaces easily.

If a defensive solution is needed, Gill can form a small shield of energy in front of himself. The shield can withstand most physical attacks for a short duration but is heavily draining to maintain. It does not, however, stop magically created effects or projectiles.

Finally, Gill is able to place a sigil on another creature for 12 hours. The Sigil oozes harmless, but highly luminescent, fluid constantly for the duration. The Sigil can be removed with any commonly available method of removing minor curses.

Armor:Being fairly poor in comparison to many of the knights with who he travels, Gillian’s armor is a bit of a hodge podge. While it is all well fitted, it largely consists of old leather armor, with modest amounts of chainmail and the odd piece of plate to supplement weaker areas. While it offers more mobility and reduced weight, it sadly lacks the greater amounts of protection a proper suit could afford.

Skills:
Gillian is a capable hunter and tracker, having spent many years as a furrier in his youth. There are few Knights of the order who can track a bleeding Orc from a day old trail in the wilds of Thaln, and Gillian is one of those proud few.

While trained in how to use a sword, Gill eschews most weapons in favor of his Reliquary, often fighting hand to hand and ripping shields and armor out of his way through sheer strength and ferocity. He likes to get in quick and strike hard, overwhelming an opponent with sheer intensity and unpredictability.