HereComesTheSnow

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

in case i wrote like shit for clarity, that's a helicopter strike in response to the thrust being knocked off course, landing from just outside elodie's cone of kaboom, basically in the wake of it yeeting jeremiah.

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

@VitaVitaAR@ERode@Psyker Landshark@Raineh Daze@PaulHaynek

Unreal.

Gerard grit his teeth as that impossibly huge mass of metal turned his blade aside with ease. Even at the start of its wide arc, the Bandit King's strength was beyond belief, as though the young knight had thought to stab a hurricane. Truthfully, he was lucky to have been the first man parried— once all that weight got going to real speed, there was no doubt in his mind that Jeremiah would have snapped his humble longsword clean in half. "Knight's Doom Jeremiah"... He had, in one swing, deflected all of their attacks, not just Segremors' own. Be it hard-earned skill, ferocious instinct, or that truly nightmarish combination of both at once, the man had something beyond mere brute strength. That much was clear.

"Fine, I'll take you all on!"

All of that with one hand, no less. One hand, the other unable to properly grip his blade, and still fighting viciously enough to force that heap of metal around into another blindingly powerful arc. Bad. Gerard had fully committed to that thrust coming out of the roll, putting every ounce of strength he had into covering that distance with one long strike. Even though the massive fighter had knocked his sword off course, the knight himself still had all of that momentum propelling him inward— and straight into the middle to long distance that Jeremiah's blade smashed through with wild abandon.

He knew, having seen the speed at which the man moved firsthand, that starting and stopping and starting again spelled certain death. Catching his own momentum and changing direction now, when the other man's blade was already moving— he would not get out of the way in time. Gerard had trained enough, he had fought enough, to know this.

He knew that nothing he could do would alter that thing's course. Interposing his blade between Jeremiah's would have normally worked, if the Bandit King had been using even a "normal" greatsword, but against this monstrosity that tore through a full harness of plate in one cleave it would stand no chance. If another one of those thunderous arcs came, he would not have the good fortune of meeting it before it had full extension, full power.

He knew that he was by all rights dead if he took defensive action. No time to reposition, not enough durability to block or parry, a very slim chance of changing levels that would only leave him open to a follow-up. There was no defense, no ultimate protective measure, that he could take... Save one.

An old philosophy hammered into him at an even greener point than where Jarde or Fanilly stood now. The first thing he learned to keep himself alive as a mercenary. Something any artful swordsman would call crazy, any traditional duelist would see as mad beyond reason. As simply as you could boil it down:

Stop the enemy's attack by killing them.

"Fire."

It all happened at once.

Rather than retreat, than stop himself, Gerard stepped forward, riding the force of his initial drive off of the ground.

Artificer Elodie, from within some concealed position to the front of them all, sprung forth, holding one of her inventions that was aglow with arcane might, filling the peripheral of his vision with a crimson luminescence to match the flaming log on the other side. Steely and determined, she levelled the device at their foe.

Rather than fight the momentum of his parried sword, Gerard welcomed the motion, using the lateral force as a starting point to seamlessly draw a clockwise arc over himself, blade glinting with decisive intent as it soon returned to his strong side.

Bandit King Jeremiah, rather than following his prior whirlwind with another bone-crushing, wide swing, stabbed his blade deep into the earth at his feet. Gritting his teeth in a pained, enraged snarl, he used that one good arm of his to wrench it through the dust and soil, kicking up a cloud that quickly began to obscure his form.

Across Gerard, on the other side of that mountainous man, Renar Hagen's taciturn appraisal of the exchange of blows had come to an end. The poleaxe-wielder was charging straight in, much the same as he, with the deadly tip of his weapon primed and ready to lash out from maximum range in one definitive strike. Knowing him, he too intended this to be a gamble on putting their enemy away for good.

Using all of that rotational velocity, drawing power from both Jeremiah's parry and his own muscle, Gerard cast his own die on this final thwarting hew. If it meant putting an end to this, he would willingly force his luck. He did not don armor to avoid danger.

That was the last the young knight saw of any of them, before the world before him became sound, force, and flame.

The artificer's rod had produced an explosion from its maw that fully engulfed "Knight's Doom", assaulting him with a blast that could have very well knocked aside a fortress wall— to say nothing of the man's attempted smokescreen. The roar of fire and wind howled in his ears, the dust he had kicked up blew back in his face, the sudden burst of light had doubtlessly blinded him. A blast like a barrel of gunpowder, focused and given direction straight at the Bandit King.

It had very nearly engulfed Gerard himself, but he didn't care. It would have been nobody's fault but his own, and it was less important than the opening it had given him. Light to conceal his form and blade, a burst of sound to mask his armor and footfalls in the approach. There would be no better opportunity today than this.

Perfect timing.

Reon bless her.

Now take it.

Squinting through the light that engulfed his field of view, braced against the wind and heat that blasted against his body, a raw howl escaped his lips as he brought the blade through where he knew Jeremiah's side to have been with every ounce of his being.

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

just had my second interview for a job, so with that stress outta the way, I'll probably be following pretty soon now

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

Right, thanks. I'll give the others a chance to go first since I feel like I usually jump on things pretty early, but now I know what I wanna do with this.

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

so if i'm reading this right, we've currently got a man in the middle of a dust cloud and now on fire, yeah?

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

Jonas Highwind

Basin Brawlers
@Krayzikk@Altered Tundra@Rockette

Steel bites deep into abyssal flesh, my foe either neglecting to or not having the ability to turn either sword away. Below me a steady chug heralds a stream of sustained fire— a substantial portion of it literal.

Well, Rhea got half her wish. Bekah's definitely having fun. As for me—

Nothing about the resistance I feel suggests much more toughness than the usual beast of this size. He isn't even particularly well-muscled, let alone encased in some armor or carapace beneath that murky haze. Fruitful. It means I can hack him to bits if I so desire, and that the ignited buckshot his midsection's being filled with ought to do much the same.

That said, gravity's still constant. I can't hang around forever in the air unless I get real creative, and "Shadow" isn't a foe that calls for such. I continue lashing out on my way down, drawing one, two, three lines of silver across my enemy's perforated midsection. All of them cut through sinew beneath shadow as they should, moving from clavicle, to chest, to abdomen in the brief instants between each discharge of 00 Buckshot. By now, I've fallen to about the level she's been aiming at as she circles the ink-colored monstrosity with dizzying speed, three full laps made and counting— a bad spot to be for anyone.

I plant my feet in his stomach as the Athenian's strides place her directly behind me.

Anyone else.

Rebekah Fell knows she has no need to release the trigger— I can handle myself with a fifth of a second to make a decision. She, more than anyone, knows all too well.

I kick off, sailing clear over the tight spread of fiery pellets with the force I've imparted— just in time for my own projectiles to complete their long arc downward. I was beginning to wonder if I'd somehow fucked up that opening salvo. I land, and note that my foe appears to be listing forward from all the work I've done trimming him down. Oh, that meant this next part would be pretty fun.

Three arrows cut through the young night sky at an almost vertical angle, and crash upon the thing's head with thunderous report. While not the bolts from the blue carried by the king of Olympus himself, the force equivalent of a trio of 40mm grenades is something nothing on this Earth can ignore.

The figure drops to his knees as I dash in. As an amalgamation of those dogs from before, it only stands to reason that he shares some of their regenerative ability— And with the night so low, a creature of shadow has much to draw from. Further scattering his head should prove insurance—

I don't get the chance. In a burst of motion, he wrenches his arms skyward, directly swatting away at my incoming form. Tizona and Colada cross to meet it, saving me from real harm, but I'm still knocked off my feet. Not ideal. Could be worse.

"This is all the children of Gods have to show?" he snarls, loosing waves of tendril, tail, and onyx-colored spike. "Pathetic. Undeserving. Mistakes."

"Well, not really."

I frown in midair, batting away strikes with the twin blades of El Cid as they come until I have a moment to dismiss them altogether. It's unfortunate, but it looks like I do have to give 'Shadow' this much credit: he doesn't seem to be quite so swayed by preternaturally terrifying weaponry. I'll have to come up with something else. Something to leave a more lasting impression on that pitch colored giant.

Giant...

Moreover, he seems mostly recovered from what we've thrown at him— at the very least, enough to put up this much of a fight. I hold no doubt in my mind I can kill him. I have stared down worse than this, and intend to do so many more times in my life. He is nothing that I can't eventually cut down to size... but considering the others, that may take time I don't have.

My feet find the earth again, and am greeted with something that challenges my sense of reality. A creaking, keening groan assaults my ears from behind the misshapen beast, like that of a splitting ship— Or indeed splitting dimensions.

A tear in reality has formed behind my foe. Even with the nigh-unparalleled acuity of vision I possess, I see nothing but blackness within. A rift into endless and starless night. What the hell is that?

A voice I have not heard crest a whisper until now answers my unspoken questioning.

"Force it into the void," the Daughter of Nyx cries, stepping forward with newfound steel. "Let it be lost, forever."

You don't say...

Force a being of shadow within a world of shadow, and what boundary does it have? Where does one draw the distinction between it and the rest? So long as she can close that gash in space, the concept was simple and straightforward enough. A Daughter of Darkness like her ought to be able to stop what she started just as easily— and just as I know my way around combat, I'd expect her to know her way around a foe like this, too.

"Understood, Boss."

But now I've gone and disarmed myself, haven't I? Let's fix that.

I search once again within the annals of my mind. I had an inkling of an idea earlier that, just as luck would have it, lines up perfectly with the new task at hand. If arming swords aren't up to snuff, then I needed something bigger. I needed something that wouldn't just cut well. My goal isn't to force something without real blood to bleed out.

I need to knock this guy around a little.

I need weight.

I need something scaled properly for fighting things larger than man...

Like a Giant.

I don't know much about this one, but I settle upon it. It has all the important qualities I need right now. I can swing it. It's massive. It's in a weight class well above that of human foes.

My right hand closes around not a proper horn or wood grip, but practically just a tang wrapped in white cloth. So old and improperly understood that this is what I ended up with, huh? Goes to show what just hearing a brief blurb about something would get you. I need to study up after this. Might shatter after the second swing if I'm not lucky.

Then again, I'd say I'm not lucky if I need to swing this more than once. And it's just as well that the grip has worn to nearly nothing— I doubt I could get my hand around it otherwise.

I grit my teeth and lift, bringing the blade longer than I am tall to bear. It holds a single, straight edge, faded blotches of random runes running down its fuller. The back of the blade tapers down to meet the edge in a point for somewhere between a third to a quarter of its length. The metal, I assume, is steel— and plenty of it. Multiple hundreds of pounds.

Out of anyone here, only I'm going to be swinging something this ridiculous around. Dallas is absolutely liable to rib me about it later.

The thing roars again and lashes out, well aware of the plan. He knows that, all at once, the situation has changed. His position is much more precarious. Enemy could be growing desperate, then. Will do everything in his power to avoid that rift, assumedly making the same conclusion as I.

Eh, let him rib me. I have work to do.

I dash forward. I am, by simple nature of physics, slower than before. I'd have to really push myself if I wanted to match my previous "blink of an eye" speed lugging this thing around— but "slower" and "slow" are separate terms.

The shadowy tendrils are back, and I count a half-dozen moving to intercept my advance. Normally I'd just knock them aside or chop them off so they could swipe at me no more.

A spike rushes past my cheekbone, a hair's breadth from breaking skin. I duck fully beneath another swipe, and sidestep past a third thrust.

But I content myself with dodging as I chew up the distance between us in the span of two seconds. I can't spare any of this old poem's tenuous grasp on the mortal world with small morsels like this. With such fragmentary knowledge, I can't guarantee its stability. It's an old tale from Germany, far more obscure to me than those of the Volsung or Nibelungenlied: This is Eckeseax.

The blade of a Giant.

I get inside range. Sorry for being such a slippery bastard, really, but I'm not here to be fair about it. You kind of interrupted the party we've meticulously plotted under the noses of all the staff.

I step in deep. Starting from the ground up, feet legs, hips, torso, and arms become one massively powerful kinetic chain. I exceed any man that has ever drawn breath in the past six hundred years, all to deliver a singular, smashing strike against the interloper's center of gravity. All of my strength carrying all of that weight with all of that speed— I am bound to force him back.

No matter how little I know of Ecke or the man who stole the seax from him before me, I know the one thing that matters for this fight.

There's not a damn thing that walks the Earth that shrugs off me hitting it with a quarter-ton of steel.

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

eh, i felt like i had a bit of a hard time recapturing the energy for this one

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

not the best, but keeping things moving

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

@Psyker Landshark@Raineh Daze@VitaVitaAR@Crimson Paladin

It appeared that part of the reason his delay in rejoining the fight was uninterrupted was the watchful eye of Sir Renar, who offered Gerard a curt nod of what seemed to be acknowledgement before falling in after his chase of Sir Jodeau, perhaps a half-step behind the younger swordsman. That was good— the more skilled and wily fighters they could throw at what could only be the Bandit King, the better.

A cry off to their flank interrupted that hopeful train of thought before it could get any further, however. A pair of bandits, coming in at almost perfect perpendicular with the tournament veteran, burst from the edge of the camp and forced him to sidestep. Not good. Gerard hard no doubt that any of the three of them could easily dispatch these men, but their sudden assault had forced them into an engagement— wasting precious time. They needed to aid the Captain— They needed to take Jeremiah out of the picture. This setback needed to be dealt with before it could bog the three of them down.

Bringing his Longsword to bear, Gerard raised it to the familiar Roof Guard, blade floating above his shoulder as he chewed up the remaining distance between himself and Sir Jodeau. It had been fortunate in a sense that they'd shown their hand so early, and that Gerard and Sir Renar had been trailing behind by paces— as they fell upon the first knight they saw, the second and third following him would fall upon them. He made to adjust his course and line up a murderous hew at the man with the mace—

"Gerard, go on ahead! I'll take care of these bandits and make sure none escape!"

—Only for the tournament veteran to fill that space himself, greatsword and dagger twin fangs that lashed out at the fleeing forms of the would-be ambushers. They did evade him, but they were also driven well off the following knightly pair's line of advance. The experienced knight's voice, his tone... It was collected and calm, but it brooked no dissent.

"Goddesses guide you."

He would be a fool to waste the opening his compatriot had given him.

Bathed in the orange light of the roaring flames, Gerard charged through, heedless of the waves of heat that blasted his face. Upon the other side, he heard the tail end of Paladin Tyaethe's signature needling words. She generally wasted little time beyond a few flicks of the acrid tongue in his experience— so they had come sailing in just on the mark for the battle to begin anew, then.

Perfect.

Without hesitation, Gerard planted a boot upon one of the dimmer branches and pushed off, carrying himself over the tree in a single motion— and for the first time, he saw the mountain of a man that stood before them.

Several things began to make sense. Firstly, that blade he carried— far too large to be called a sword. Too big, too thick, too heavy, too rough— the man was swinging around a hunk of raw Iron. The weight alone would smash straight through any sword of standard make that tried to get between it and a knight once it got up to speed— and Gerard's longsword would be no exception. Next, he noted that there was no armoring upon Jeremiah's frame— on one hand, it meant he had no protection from any attacks that slipped past his guard, but on the other, it meant that he would worry relatively less about tiring out or overheating while swinging that hunk of metal around. If one could get past it.

Thirdly, he noticed the sadistic grin upon his shaven countenance. He was enjoying the carnage, then. Living up to his title, the king of these brigands and all their savagery. Toying with those he considered beneath him, wantonly chopping good men in half and pronouncing that he would be the death of their historic, noble order. Everything Sagramore had expected.

Monstrous strength, massive blade, and three hundred dead men to his name or not—

The pounding in his skull returned.

This will not stand.

Paladin Tyaethe had moved in at remarkable pace, darting into a blind angle behind Jeremiah's wide back— Captain Fanilly and Sir Jarde were currently at his front. Two cardinal directions taken care of.

Find third. Force attack from different angle and different level. Seize the initiative.

Even as his blood turned to boiling pitch, Gellert used that of him which was still reasonable to formulate a plan, similar to the one he had prior. Landing and bleeding off momentum into a roll on a diagonal, he managed to position himself roughly betwixt Tyaethe and Jeremiah's left side.

Perfect for shoving the point of a longsword through a man's kidney. He sprung out of the roll into exactly such a thrust, coming in at an almost exaggeratedly low angle with every ounce of force and velocity he could muster behind it. There was neither fear nor doubt in his movement— such things had long since burned away, in battles far earlier than this one.

Now, the Bandit King had to deal with an attack from The Roof by the vampire woman's blade, something massive in its own right— with whatever frontal counterattack made by Fanilly and Jarde in this instance— and with his own thrust, low, long, and direct. Even if Jeremiah killed him here, doing so would leave him open to attacks from at least one the former two angles through the simple variation in position and height. The same went for the others.

Someone would bring him down today.

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

Well, speaking of shit happening, I've got a good bit of it on my plate right now. I'll try and knock something out when I'm able.