Hawlin

A Tale Of Fantasy - 2 Spots Open

"A scary bunch..." Kaite echoed softly, turning their head and leaning at the mere glance from the girl. Behind the visor, their eyes narrow before relaxing to a comical expression as they see what they saw. What it was isn't entirely easy to express, though the uncanny feeling of formless familiarity pierced the ebony veil of the armor's hold to the woman's core.
Her steps skipped a pace as they lifted their head from their previous readied stance to look into the back of the cart from their distance. The easy six-foot-five of their high-elf lineage was a considerable factor for intimidation that Kaite never really had an opportunity to utilize in any other way. On the topic of intimidation, the names and implications that had been shouted by mentioned lesser men gave alight a hint of wit. "Fuhuhuh...Oh, frau fraulein, zeh flowers zeht bandits want are not kept in jyour cart~" Kaite teasingly chirped with a sly grin, slowing their walk to keep pace with the cart that they walked behind and to the side of. They mused to themselves as they quietly leveled their sword with an amber glint from the evening sun to poke around through the cart's contents, "Ahh...Es ist entzückend , dass Sie nicht verstehen..."
(It's adorable that you do not understand)

Their voice trailed off in a series of phrases in their foreign language, to a point that it became like speculating on Ein's inventory before the glint of the silver saber caught Kaite's eye. They inhaled sharply and with a slight hiss like they were biting back venom which never came as though a perceived insult had been mustered by the girl who was on the receiving end of such treatment. What instead came was a long sigh and a silence as the knight looked from the sword to the unarmored girl. Kaite opened her visor and raised an eyebrow upon receiving Ein's question of her suspected banditry-rooted motives. Her expression was far more comically casual than the inhale had hinted, accented with the tilt of her head in a 'seriously' fashion, as if expecting Ein's legitimate question, given the situation, to be a joke.

"Luckily no" Kaite said with the shake of her head, sheathing the bastard sword on her back. "Today I am en efficacious associate" they continue, implying their wayward profession as they pick the pace up to gradually approach Ein in parallel pace. They remain quiet for a moment while looking over the girl. "As I haf mentioned, iz bold to be alone in such places...my group vahz killed by such unsavory sorts" they went on before flourishing a gesture to her with one hand in an offering manner. "Unt I, in turn, undid zehm" they concluded in an unphased tone. Mercenaries were usually like this, having no attachment to the job or associates since there are always more to look for when one falls through. "If I may help vith your cart?" Kaite offered from out of arm's reach.

One couldn't help but find it the slightest bit odd for armored mercenaries to approach flower girls in the forest. If they were traveling mercenaries, certainly they'd have the gold to maintain their clothing. The breeches and top for Kaite were in tatters while the ebony black of their armor was polished so clean that Ein could see her reflection in it. So much care went into maintaining that goddamned armor that it was unsettling at times.
Still, the impression Kaite gave off meant well though, near the end of their offer, their eyes made an obvious cue from Ein's eyes to the saber and then back, all the while lifting an eyebrow. It wasn't a challenge so much as a self-perceived insult that wordlessly said, 'Are you serious...?'
It was clear that the knight knew the girl was 'armed', though they had no barest of notion to take her seriously. With that, the armor discouraged interacting with the girl since she wasn't any level of perceived threat. On the surface, at least...

I know what I saw, Witchsteel.
You don't see it often enough to simply pass up.
...what did I see? ...hmm.

A Tale Of Fantasy - 2 Spots Open

@Guilty Spark
You don't need to walk on paths to go through a forest. Also, the old man and such mini timeskipped into the bar. I cut out needless implications of stalking from a distance and breathing heavily, but it could have been an hour or however long since my last post. It didn't include any controlled/named characters, so I figured I could do this.
Sorry for any confusion.

Also, being followed is more worrying than being approached.

EDIT: Oh, @PM. Its a little important. Is Ein armed, currently? Weapon strapped to their person and such?

A Tale Of Fantasy - 2 Spots Open

The creaking of wheels on a cart. The hum of a girl. The deafening silence of the forest which ebbed in like the midnight tide as chirps and rustles of critters gave way to the hush of wind through the trees...and the metal of a sword dully chiming against rocks in the trail Ein was taking.

------
"-anything?" a patron slurred, having moved to the table of an old man who sat alone, his daughter nowhere to be found. "Well, she made fun of me and my guards" the man sighed, turning the cup of tea in his hands. Sighing, the patron took a drink and looked around the bar. "Well...ehrm...at least you got your money back?" the patron chuckled which made only the faintest of smile twinkle in the old man's eyes, doing his best to look on the bright side of what he'd witnessed. "Ah! Yeah, see? It's not all bad. Be glad it wasn't any other bandit" the patron laughed, giving the old man a jarring pat on the back.
"Somehow..." the old man began before shaking his head, a lack of confidence in his words that piqued the patron's interest. "Say something?" he asked, the old man looking up to meet his eyes before saying, "What kind of bandit has no use for money?"
The question made the patron frown, lifting their mug once more before hesitating to inquire, "Black armor, you said?"
------

The knight strolled some unseemingly short distance behind Ein. With one hand resting on their thorned hip plate and their left holding a sword loosely enough to clank the flat of the tip through the rocks and dirt of the beaten path as they followed. They didn't seem in much hurry, certain that the one they were following wouldn't be able to outrun them and keep their cart.

Kaite had found it curious that a girl would be wandering the woods with a cart by herself. There weren't many reasons to explain it since sane people clustered together in town and a residence in its outskirts would suggest shady behavior. Their first and strongest notion was that the girl was smuggling supplies to some kind of bandit hideout. The armor did its work to paint the girl as a mule not worth being trusted, unconsciously quickening her pace just enough that Kaite would come into earshot. "Iz bold of you...wanderink zee forest alone" she called in just over a normal speaking voice. With that, they noisily scraped their sword forward and swing it up to rest on their shoulder. "You know zeht zeir iz bandits in zeis parts, ja?" she inquired in her thick foreign accent, continuing to follow Ein though keeping their distance, visor closed to obscure their face.

A Tale Of Fantasy - 2 Spots Open

@SomethingClever
I'm debating on having it be just a crrraaaazy bar story instead.

A Tale Of Fantasy - 2 Spots Open

Yay for work (still at it, just shirking responsibilities (tee hee))
It looks like I'll probably be bothering Ein for my next post.

Edit: That and SomethingClever maybe gave me a chance with the whole 'coming from the woods and waving to locals' to mention the old man, idk. I'll have to read it all again.

Fantasy rp reboot

I'm rescinding my interest.
Stagnency is highly uninteresting in my opinion.

Sorry for any inconvenience.

A Tale Of Fantasy - 2 Spots Open

@Hawlin

<Snipped quote by Avanhelsing>

I had that problem as well, I think this works though: http://simg4.gelbooru.com//images/5e/3b/5e3bf55face47e3a3d03d02c06044520.jpg

@Guilty Spark

Fixed. Sorry.
Running it through DeviantArt instead of gel.

A Tale Of Fantasy - 2 Spots Open

I watched the reflection of fire glint on my visor as I stared down at the helmet, dwelling on the days' events. There really wasn't much, all things considered. All of the time spent walking had blurred together into a dull ache in my legs. It was fortunate that so much was left out these day or I was certain I would have died of boredom. The woods were surprisingly peaceful since the run-in with the highwaymen the other day and I had to do my best to find my own entertainment, even if it meant making the best of a bad situation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I certainly cannot stand being so alone in a place like this!" Kaitra croaked in her best 'old man' voice before barking back almost imediatly in a gruff accent, "Oi now, nothing to lose your head over, geezer! You still have us." She began a laugh for only the briefest of instances before furrowing her brow and scratching a bit of blood off of the helmet's visor. "Codger...codger...the mercenary said Codger, not geezer..." she grumbled, reaching over and taking the tattered scarf from the dead mercenary to finish the job before tossing it in the fire. The motion had pulled her setup over; the decapitated corpse of the mercenary left kneeling with their hands laced to hold their head and set up in a macabre fashion to look into the fire.
She held the helmet up with a smile at her work polishing the black steel. "Tch, foreigners unt zeir funny accents" she chuckled, setting the helmet down beside her to set her associate back up in position. Kaitra's smile slowly faded, looking around the fire at the old man and the other female mercenary who was set up in the same way. The woman was harder to put back together since she was one of those leather-armor types that took a hefty hack through her collarbone and down past her sternum. Their face was messily caved in from an excellently aimed shield-pitch and Kaitra couldn't help but lock eyes with them to the best of their ability. "No! Iz why you are dead! Hello to you too!" The half-elf barked, standing to address them before angrily kicking her work over in a bloody mess. "Unt do not look at me like zeht...iz bad for the neck" she sighed, not up for laughing at her own joke as she quickly packed as much of their supplies in a spare bag as she could.

The old man shakily held his cup of now cold stew in one hand, holding his daughter close as they looked into the fire. "C-ca...can we leave?" the girl spoke, her eyes darting from the Black Knight's lightly pointed ears to the fire, trying not to make eye contact. Kaite replied with a sigh as she stood, slinging the pack over her shoulder as she strolled back from the tent. Looming for a moment, she swiftly picked up her helmet and fixed it to her head before simply walking off without a word.

News by the means of this old merchant and his daughter would be brought to the village. News of The Lady in Ebony Steel that had spared them but brutally slain their escorts for seemingly no reason other than for a few days of provisions and a fresh set of clothes. This wouldn't be the first instance of such a story, though it is the closest to the village, yet. Guards had been reluctant to go chasing such an individual due to civil duties and the reduction of bandit run-ins.

A Tale Of Fantasy - 2 Spots Open

Name: "Jericho Kaite" (Kaitra J. Elzbrn)
Race: Half-Elf
Apparent Age: 25
Actual Age: 55

Appearance

Kaitra stands at 6'5 with an extra 1.5-inch heel to her boots.

Professions: Marauding Black Knight, efficacious associate of a 'flower girl'
Equipment
-Steel roundshield (blacksteel front with signs of a crest that had been pried out and filed down to unrecognizable scuffs)
-Masterwork thin-build claymore
-Silver shortsword (sheathed in shield)
-The remnants of The Black Knight of Ispar's Thornplate and shield

Qualities

Left-Handed - Most combat styles are meant to combat against right-handed wielders. The left-handed combat style can sometimes catch humanoid-type opponents off guard.

Hearty- Being born and raised in the cold of Ispar, Kaite has undergone strenuous sparring and is disciplined to shrug off most superficial injuries as well as hosting a stark resiliency to cold. Kaite is surprisingly strong and agile for her build (You won't see her doing much acrobatics, but a 1v1 fight is greatly discouraged)

Elven lineage- Elves learn at a young age of their detachment from the dreamlands. Forced to enter a trance state to sort their emotions and memories, Kaitra has retained a firm hold of her memories.
= Eyes rapidly adjust to lower light settings although pitch black is still pitch black.

Tactics

Brawler Stance- While Kaite is most lethal with a shortsword in her offhand, she often substitutes with her shield to serve the purpose of a weapon as well as its obvious defensive advantages. By assailing foes with stunning bashes and punishing punches with the spiked pommel of the lock-sheathed shortsword, the greatest threat remains to be the keen edge of her claymore...assuming her enemies can stay focused long enough to defend themselves from the rapid and calculated vorpal stabs.

Skirmisher Stance- Drawing her shortsword after latching her shield to her backplate (Covers the shoulderplates and up, connecting to her pauldrons(The addition of the shield protects her flank)), she often opens engagements with this stance with powerful sweeping strikes with her claymore and following up with offhand slashes to punish reeling foes. Of this stance, her favourite tactic is to catch unwary or underprepared targets with a flurry of stabs in the hopes of overwhelming the target and ending the encounter as quickly as possible. Capitalizing on deep strikes, Kaite often follows up with stunning shoulder/hip(or pecks from her visor) bashes which utilize her armor's spikes before aiming to finish the fight with a full-body slash from both weapons, simultaneously.

Demeanor: Brave if not a pinch foolhardy, Kaitra's chosen exile and lack of meaningful communication in the process has made her a little socially awkward. Slow to get jokes, though toting her own morbid sense of humor combined with the way she carries herself, she can be unintentionally off-putting at times. She believes herself to be on the side of good, although the long term manipulation from her cursed armor has done wonders to skew how she perceives the world. Aimless and hopeless are words worth mentioning; without family, home or reason, her mission to 'redeem' herself has led her into fairly unsavory endeavors that left her callused to the main staples of chivalry. The guilt, shame and ensuing isolation led to her eventual fall and possession by her armor.

Biography

There began a legend in the frozen reaches of the province of Ispar some twenty years ago; a romance between a scholar of renown and a blacksmith. I remember watching mother train father with the sword. Sometimes the bark of wooden swords upon each other would wake me in the morning and I would watch their dance. He wasn't much, physically, heh...but he loved to cheat. With his magic, that is. The air would ripple as what would cost him the duel turned into flourishes that mother wasn't even capable of.
Love bound them, even after my brother was killed by the guard over petty theft.
I didn't see much of father after that, and one day, he simply never returned. Mother told me that he had left to settle the score with the man who put my brother up to the task. Soon afterwards, she wished for me to let her train me to be as good of a knight as father had come to be, so that I may use it to do good unto the world where evil would manifest as your friend from birth...
I'd received my fair share of lumps and scratches from training, but I wore them like medals. I knew what I was doing, and so did the guard who thought I could benefit more from 'proper' training. Unlike my classmates, my first kill didn't come until it was far too late for me to learn the weight of my actions.

There was a rumor of a man clad in ebony black steel who wielded both sword and magic to accost students who hoped to make pilgrimage to the universities of Ispar. Convinced that the lead I had was solid, I hunted the rogue knight. I was certain, at first, that is was just a spook story of a bandit chieftain...until I was knee deep in my men's blood and charred remains. Every swing the man took was deliberate and calculated, though I was never harmed. This was a mistake I capitalized on...and a mistake on my end which proved to be my own undoing.
There did lie in the suit of steel, my father. I was so foolish, barely over myself to be able to hear anything he said. Angry, ashamed...I rejected him in the moment. I'm sure he had a reason for his actions. Rage against the town and wanting to ward off travelers in the hopes to cripple the economy? Senile descent? Inlaced evil? Some combination?
Before I could collect myself enough to ask, he was gone...leaving me in a field of scarlet-stained snow and a half tattered suit of my father's armor.
I stole what I could...and that's how the story truly ends. There was no heroic death and sacrificing of a maiden soul to appease a demonic debt. No heads on pikes...and no songs that could do the event justice. The mystery simply left with me, and my ice and snow veil the truth forever.
Her travels from port would lead Kaite through various odd jobs dealing with bandits along the way where her craft was more thoroughly honed. Ultimately, she seeks redemption for a family name she has long since abandoned. Lack of most motivation, she's partially given in to the will of the armor to seek out challenges.
Wherever they may hide, and wherever her subconscious can be manipulated to look.

Miniboss version

Name: The Black Knight of Ispar
Encounter: Frost leeches the green from the flora of the clearing where a lone figure stands, leveling a sword in slow but deliberate motions. With the crunch of icy dew underfoot, the figure sways drunkenly, abandoning their stance to contort. Leaning back, the glint of blue teases a hint of the knight's features before narrowing their eyes to a glare before their visor snaps shut on its own. A popping noise resonates from the trees and the ground, itself, as the frost that once permeated the area pulls up their greaves and coats their armor. Branches fall from the mangled trees having been exposed to the snap frost and what had once been an albeit lush section of the forest rapidly wilts and dies in the process.
Their body follows the motions as they turn towards the group, clanging their sword against their shield with a dull chime. The frost blows away in a soft cloud of steam which traces along a nearly invisible cuirass that begins to manifest as an ink-black aura, distorting the air around them as they raise their sword and shield and approach to engage. The darkness from the cuirass spreads across the rest of the figure which steeps wisps of black mist. "P-please...please stay back..." they groan in a hopeless tone layered with over-recited lethargy.

Moves
Aggrieve - The knight opens the engagement after being acknowledged by their target with a charge leading up to a concussive shield bash aided by the spikes of their armor to separate the most intimidating challenger from the others. This may be followed up with wide swings to attempt to antagonize as much of the party as they can reach. While not very powerful and shaky with a lack of motivation, the sword is still quite sharp.

Echos of Guilt - While magic still does damage to the Knight, the spirits in the armor feed off of magic essence to the point of being released in a close blast of darkness and frost. This is mostly focused in a wide cone from their shield focused on nearby melee combatants and is followed up by 'Accost'.

Accost - Towards the middle of the fight, the Knight tosses their shield into the air, grabbing the handle of the sword sheathed in the shield. From here they single out a healer or nearest caster (or any that resonate with divine energy) to pitch the shield at in the attempt to disorient them long enough to set up for a full-body uppercut from their longsword. The move leaves the Knight open while recovering from their own swing, although now they are in their preferred stance.

Eol Repth - Towards the end of the fight, the mist blows away into a localized fog for 1 round before being drawn in, healing the Knight. However, this exposes the cuirass...and the eye in the middle of its chest. Defeating the armor by utilizing the weak spot banishes the spirit, releasing its hold on Kaitra.

A meek amount of life is pushed back into the terrain. It will take time, but maybe the scar of this day will be healed by nature's perseverance. Abandoned by her power, rejecting her for her defeat, Kaitra is weakened until able to 'prove herself' to the armor. This is a process that may never happen, again.

A Tale Of Fantasy - 2 Spots Open

Name: "Jericho Kaite" (Kaitra J. Elzbrn)
Race: Half-Elf
Apparent Age: 25
Actual Age: 45

Appearance

Current Profession: Marauding Black Knight
Equipment
-Steel roundshield (blacksteel front with signs of a crest that had been pried out and filed down to unrecognizable scuffs)
-Masterwork longsword
-Silver shortsword (sheathed in shield)
-The remnants of The Black Knight of Ispar's Thornplate and shield

Qualities

Left-Handed - Most combat styles are meant to combat against right-handed wielders. The left-handed combat style can sometimes catch humanoid-type opponents off guard.

Hearty- Being born and raised in the cold of Ispar, Kaite has undergone strenuous sparring and is disciplined to shrug off most superficial injuries as well as hosting a stark resiliency to cold. Kaite is surprisingly strong and agile for her build (You won't see her doing much acrobatics, but a 1v1 fight is greatly discouraged)

Elven lineage- Elves learn at a young age of their detachment from the dreamlands. Forced to enter a trance state to sort their emotions and memories, Kaitra has retained a firm hold of her memories.
= Eyes rapidly adjust to lower light settings although pitch black is still pitch black.

Tactics

Brawler Stance- While Kaite is most lethal with a shortsword in her offhand, she often substitutes with her shield to serve the purpose of a weapon as well as its obvious defensive advantages. By assailing foes with stunning bashes and punishing punches with the spiked pommel of the lock-sheathed shortsword, the greatest threat remains to be the keen edge of her longsword...assuming her enemies can stay focused long enough to defend themselves from the rapid and calculated vorpal stabs.

Skirmisher Stance- Drawing her shortsword after latching her shield to her backplate (Covers the shoulderplates and up, connecting to her pauldrons(The addition of the shield protects her flank)), she often opens engagements with this stance with powerful sweeping strikes with her longsword and following up with offhand slashes to punish reeling foes. Of this stance, her favourite tactic is to catch unwary or underprepared targets with a flurry of stabs in the hopes of overwhelming the target and ending the encounter as quickly as possible. Capitalizing on deep strikes, Kaite often follows up with stunning shoulder/hip(or pecks from her visor) bashes which utilize her armor's spikes before aiming to finish the fight with a full-body slash from both weapons, simultaneously.

Demeanor: Brave if not a pinch foolhardy, Kaitra's chosen exile and lack of meaningful communication in the process has made her a little socially awkward. Slow to get jokes, though toting her own morbid sense of humor combined with the way she carries herself, she can be unintentionally off-putting at times. She believes herself to be on the side of good, although the long term manipulation from her cursed armor has done wonders to skew how she perceives the world. Aimless and hopeless are words worth mentioning; without family, home or reason, her mission to 'redeem' herself has led her into fairly unsavory endeavors that left her callused to the main staples of chivalry. The guilt, shame and ensuing isolation led to her eventual fall and possession by her armor.

Biography

There began a legend in the frozen reaches of the province of Ispar some twenty years ago; a romance between a scholar of renown and a blacksmith. I remember watching mother train father with the sword. Sometimes the bark of wooden swords upon each other would wake me in the morning and I would watch their dance. He wasn't much, physically, heh...but he loved to cheat. With his magic, that is. The air would ripple as what would cost him the duel turned into flourishes that mother wasn't even capable of.
Love bound them, even after my brother was killed by the guard over petty theft.
I didn't see much of father after that, and one day, he simply never returned. Mother told me that he had left to settle the score with the man who put my brother up to the task. Soon afterwards, she wished for me to let her train me to be as good of a knight as father had come to be, so that I may use it to do good unto the world where evil would manifest as your friend from birth...
I'd received my fair share of lumps and scratches from training, but I wore them like medals. I knew what I was doing, and so did the guard who thought I could benefit more from 'proper' training. Unlike my classmates, my first kill didn't come until it was far too late for me to learn the weight of my actions.

There was a rumor of a man clad in ebony black steel who wielded both sword and magic to accost students who hoped to make pilgrimage to the universities of Ispar. Convinced that the lead I had was solid, I hunted the rogue knight. I was certain, at first, that is was just a spook story of a bandit chieftain...until I was knee deep in my men's blood and charred remains. Every swing the man took was deliberate and calculated, though I was never harmed. This was a mistake I capitalized on...and a mistake on my end which proved to be my own undoing.
There did lie in the suit of steel, my father. I was so foolish, barely over myself to be able to hear anything he said. Angry, ashamed...I rejected him in the moment. I'm sure he had a reason for his actions. Rage against the town and wanting to ward off travelers in the hopes to cripple the economy? Senile descent? Inlaced evil? Some combination?
Before I could collect myself enough to ask, he was gone...leaving me in a field of scarlet-stained snow and a half tattered suit of my father's armor.
I stole what I could...and that's how the story truly ends. There was no heroic death and sacrificing of a maiden soul to appease a demonic debt. No heads on pikes...and no songs that could do the event justice. The mystery simply left with me, and my ice and snow veil the truth forever.
Her travels from port would lead Kaite through various odd jobs dealing with bandits along the way where her craft was more thoroughly honed. Ultimately, she seeks redemption for a family name she has long since abandoned. Lack of most motivation, she's partially given in to the will of the armor to seek out challenges.
Wherever they may hide, and wherever her subconscious can be manipulated to look.

Miniboss version

Name: The Black Knight of Ispar
Encounter: Frost leeches the green from the flora of the clearing where a lone figure stands, leveling a sword in slow but deliberate motions. With the crunch of icy dew underfoot, the figure sways drunkenly, abandoning their stance to contort. Leaning back, the glint of blue teases a hint of the knight's features before narrowing their eyes to a glare before their visor snaps shut on its own. A popping noise resonates from the trees and the ground, itself, as the frost that once permeated the area pulls up their greaves and coats their armor. Branches fall from the mangled trees having been exposed to the snap frost and what had once been an albeit lush section of the forest rapidly wilts and dies in the process.
Their body follows the motions as they turn towards the group, clanging their sword against their shield with a dull chime. The frost blows away in a soft cloud of steam which traces along a nearly invisible cuirass that begins to manifest as an ink-black aura, distorting the air around them as they raise their sword and shield and approach to engage. The darkness from the cuirass spreads across the rest of the figure which steeps wisps of black mist. "P-please...please stay back..." they groan in a hopeless tone layered with over-recited lethargy.

Moves
Aggrieve - The knight opens the engagement after being acknowledged by their target with a charge leading up to a concussive shield bash aided by the spikes of their armor to separate the most intimidating challenger from the others. This may be followed up with wide swings to attempt to antagonize as much of the party as they can reach. While not very powerful and shaky with a lack of motivation, the sword is still quite sharp.

Echos of Guilt - While magic still does damage to the Knight, the spirits in the armor feed off of magic essence to the point of being released in a close blast of darkness and frost. This is mostly focused in a wide cone from their shield focused on nearby melee combatants and is followed up by 'Accost'.

Accost - Towards the middle of the fight, the Knight tosses their shield into the air, grabbing the handle of the sword sheathed in the shield. From here they single out a healer or nearest caster (or any that resonate with divine energy) to pitch the shield at in the attempt to disorient them long enough to set up for a full-body uppercut from their longsword. The move leaves the Knight open while recovering from their own swing, although now they are in their preferred stance.

Eol Repth - Towards the end of the fight, the mist blows away into a localized fog for 1 round before being drawn in, healing the Knight. However, this exposes the cuirass...and the eye in the middle of its chest. Defeating the armor by utilizing the weak spot banishes the spirit, releasing its hold on Kaitra.

A meek amount of life is pushed back into the terrain. It will take time, but maybe the scar of this day will be healed by nature's perseverance. Abandoned by her power, rejecting her for her defeat, Kaitra is weakened until able to 'prove herself' to the armor. This is a process that may never happen, again.