HereComesTheSnow

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

hell yeah mari let’s knock some skulls

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

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

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR

From Captain Fanilly's right, the sound of steel sliding away from leather heralded a burst of motion, directly through that short distance left between the raiding party and the doors to the Cal Mausoleum.

The departure from the ball had been thankfully swift, the erstwhile assassin completely forthright once they'd established a method of communication with her. A kid in over her head, put up to this rather than born into it, and so unlike his initial assessment in the heat of the moment. Vosahnn wasn't at all the professional killer he'd believed her to be, not a cold blooded assassin— but a girl trying to save her sister. Forced into the unthinkable role of exchanging an innocent life for an innocent life.

If that could even be trusted. As if these vile men would give up their grasp upon the girl's actions so easily. Either she would be locked into their service forever, the her sister's life always upon the edge of the knives she would feel no choice but to use— or they would both be killed. Loose lips sink ships in all walks of life— and those depraved enough to push a child this far had no qualms about sealing them eternally. Those fetid wretches would never let either girl see freedom again.

As dire as the circumstance was, and for all the white-hot inferno it lit in his veins... There was one solace he could take in what the Captain's briefing had entailed.

Only the breaths between moments were allowed for reaction, just long enough for the hapless Guard, likely mercenary, to process what he saw. He needed to choke the distance in that time. He was already no stranger to dead sprints in all his armor— after all, he'd just proven it earlier that night. It would have to be enough. He would have to run him through, because every instant after that the man before him would be reacting. He could flee, he could draw the blade at his hip, or worst of all, he could raise some form of alarm, letting every wretch in those catacombs know they were coming. They deserved not the courtesy of announced presence.

I will be denied no longer.

His rage now was, beyond all doubt, right.

To be faced with a child and to be faced with a cult of necromancy were two entirely different prospects for an ardent Reonite indeed. Where one was a grim reality of the battlefields he had waded through, one that even at his angriest left him no satisfaction to fell, the other... A divine duty. He cherished, respected, worshipped, and feared the Goddesses both. For one to exist without the other was an impossibility, their domains so complimentary in their dualistic nature. There was but one religion, despite twin goddesses. He was no stranger to Mayon, but—

His sword, long drawn and low as he'd surged to meet the nameless, faceless, utterly unrelated to his former corps mercenary on guard duty, rose as a wordless snarl peeled his lips away from his teeth. One more step. His blade was now held in a white-knuckle grip, tight to the body, as its biting tip aimed right for the sternum. All that momentum wouldn't be wasted. He'd ram it through. Quick death. Violent, but quick. Necessary.

—It was Reon and her teachings that had brought him to knighthood at all. They had instilled in young Gellert that a man's highest calling was to hunt down the wicked. Drag them into the light, so they may be judged. Pursue with all conviction and fury the Slaver. The Corrupted. The Demonic. Rest not until they are shorn from those they would hurt. Cleave and Smite, until it is done. This world was full of darkness. In it hid all threats to the people, to innocents, to honest life. There they could skulk without fear of reprisal, surround their prey with impunity, with the gentle shield of Moonlight being all that stood between them and free reign over their would-be victims.

Mayon's gift protected many within the refuge of her gaze, doubtlessly so. To suggest otherwise was idiocy. But moonlight could only do so much to pierce the deeper shadows in which true evil hid. And in Dark Times, there were so many Dark Places where Mayon's protection could not reach. Dens of evil much like the catacombs beneath Gerard's feet, a place that once interred those passed of a respected name, now so blackened by the acts of one traitor. Places like this.

Until Reon, from her seat upon the Burning Sun, gave all Fire to bring brilliant, purifying light to them, so they may be vanquished.

He entered range, and the fang of moonlight he held flashed in the dark, followed by the burning suns in his eyes as he plunged through those final few feet behind the point of his sword.

No more.

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

Been writing a lot elsewhere and dealing with lost car keys. I’ll go today.

Lostman Graffiti

@Ambra

Forgot to tag, what a gaffe

Lostman Graffiti

Iwao - Central District

It was about halfway through the pilgrimage of sun and cement towards the sharehouse that an idly poignant thought floated through the mind of our erstwhile athlete— If you removed the ice from the equation, he might have actually been better served by buying, say, crab. This wasn't born from any dislike of white fish on his part, far from it. But every time he glanced at his reflection in the Central District's many glass windows, urban hall of mirrors this patch of the city was, and saw his reflection waver with the heat haze...

The things'd steam right here in the bag. Ultimate lazy cooking.

...His mind found itself getting literally half-baked ideas like this. He must have been going soft. A little heat hadn't killed him before, and he was no stranger to running in the summer. Get a grip, Iwao.

That said, he was reasonably sure it was the kind of day where frying eggs on the hood of a sun-baked car was actually viable. Exertion heat and "oh, that's my skin starting to go golden-brown I feel", while both trying to the wills of anyone, were actually pretty distinct.

I need a break. No mas, no mas.

And on his way he continued, solemnly trudging past the brave young pairs that quietly asked their beloveds who the hell carried a bag of cold groceries this far on this sort of day, dodging his fellow pedestrians, and even observing a madlad or two on bicycles. They and their ultra-breathable compression wear were... a different breed.

But this arduous trek was not insurmountable, and completing it took much less than an eternity. He soon drew up to the dilapidated three stories of "sharehouse" that the Urban Exploration Club called home, promising that coveted shade and, if luck permitted, maybe even AC. The fish would definitely appreciate the refrigeration within, too.

He passed the threshold to their territory, the weathered wood of the door ahead of him giving way as he stepped between the concrete slabs they called their fence. As if to meet him, out stepped the tall and striking figure of a friend— Hiroyuki, a man with knack for flexing his style and wearing a welcoming look on his face. While Iwao wasn't sure how well the sharply dressed dude would fare in this heat that was testing he and his simple, light garb, it wasn't like he could do much about it—

"You don't know the half of it," he drawled in both response and warning, holding up his half-melted bag of fish to punctuate the point. "Grabbed some Red Snapper from Belo 'bout twenty minutes ago and they're already starting to swim again. It's nuts out here."

A beer in the fridge, huh? Say no more. Something cold and wet sounded fucking divine right now, and Mochizuki, for all his earnest kindness, couldn't stop him. Dog eat dog world, he could enjoy the fish later as recompense. Speaking of—

"You're heading out?"

"Yup."

"I'll save you some fish. Thanks, man."

Mutual nods of assent and gratitude were exchanged (albeit with the reassurance to not worry due to an expected late return), as the two men forged ahead towards their new destinations, Hiroyuki letting the door close behind Iwao as bruiser powered up the stairs with a practiced, light gait. Stairstepping built cardio and calf strength and demanded accurate foot placement— muscle memory kept the ghosts of old training alive even in this mundane context. Despite not being a club member du jour like his girlfriend, Hiroyuki had always been nothing but a chill guy to Iwao. His constant presence, thusly, never proved to be much a bother, and was basically just another roommate. There were worse arrangements in the world.

"Oh, Sayuri. Yo." He entered the kitchen, brandishing the bag for the second time in as many minutes once he spotted the familiar head of long brown hair at the table. So she hadn't left yet. Couldn't blame her there. "Snagged fresh Snapper for later."

Beelining for the fridge, he kept an ear open for a response as he rummaged through it to a) extricate that last beer and b) clear the requisite space for three pounds of protein. Apologies to whomever that inconvenienced.

After a moment or two... the fridge door shut,

tss-CRACK

And the odyssey came to an end as the young man turned and ambled towards the table, indulgently savoring the beer on his lips.

Mission complete.

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

oh boy, time for 200% MAD

Lostman Graffiti

Iwao - Eastern District

His skin welcomed the frosty reprieve from the constant marauding of the midday sun. Leaking out of the top of the bag and permeating the air around it in a thin film of pleasant cool, that ice was inviting. Almost made him want to shove his hand in and cool off until it went numb... But that'd be a waste. There were better alternatives. In this summer heat, any extra bit of melting his blood would do just make life hard, plus he'd risk mangling or contaminating the fish. Not worth it. The captain's gorgeous knifework would be ruined, and Iwao knew he wouldn't be able to salvage it in any presentable way.

You know, for whatever value he still worried of presentability.

"Uh," the pugilist mumbled, eyes turned upward as if searching for the answer in the cloudless day. "Should be Aya, I think."

He honestly only knew when he usually went out. If he'd missed some sort of rotation system getting established between the others, that...

Should be fine, right? Not like we can get in eachother's way.

...Didn't matter unless there was a real shortage on fridge space, and if there was, they could sort it out fast. Call it a wash. Better than being all washed up, at least. Or being awash in what used to be the ice insulating your fresh nutrition from the indomitable furnace above.

"Thanks for the fish, Captain. I'd better get 'em home." He nodded at the omnidisciplinarian myth before him, punctuating the somewhat awkward gesture with a wave of the free hand before turning on his heel. "Take care."

Lostman Graffiti

Iwao - Eastern District

Should have seen that coming.

A frenzy had well and truly started now, the going offers ratcheting higher and higher...

4200!

4300!

4500!

4800!

Aaaaaand careening right out of Iwao's workable range. As the singular, lone minnow amongst a swarm of sharks with fresh chum in the water, he knew his hard ceiling of 5000 yen wasn't going to cut it— Not with the multitude of established housewives joining the fray. Oh well. Was a bit of a long shot anyway. With the usaual window of opportunity fast drawing to a close, when there was a crowd like this they'd fight tooth and nail for anything they could get their hands on. Iwao was outgunned, simple as that. No point in fighting it.

Plainly, amidst the cascade of numbers that sailed in towards one of Tenoroshi's most experienced auction ears (heh), young Arizawa unfurled the note, contemplating the perfectly legible, eminently reasonable price. Even in his haste, while distracted by this impromptu bout of multitasking, Captain Belo's penmanship and folding skills were impeccable. While weighing options, the blonde idly compared it to his own undisciplined scrawl in the back of his head.

Guess that tracks. He did have to issue orders through origami cranes while under heavy enemy surveillance...

1200 a pound worked, especially with such a frenzy surrounding the unagi. Snapper wasn't quite the storied delicacy compared to the eels, and he'd not really heard of its myriad health benefits, but a catch was a catch. Fish oil was good for midterm time, right? So long as they got it, Belo's fresh catches weren't stinkers.

He pocketed the note, trading it for his wallet. When the good Captain's eyes passed over him next, he nodded and held up three fingers.

It ought to be enough for everyone.

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

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR

Almost imperceptibly, the charcoal-haired man's grip upon his blade's pommel tightened.

"I believe we all did. I suppose, at least, they can only get better from here." came the reply cast over his shoulder, before he met the pair of approaching footsteps with a brief, flinty glance. A silent, immense knight clad in ebony plate strode alongside a girl, easily young as the three from before. Her bearing alone suggested nobility, to say nothing of her dress or apparent guard. His face was of course unreadable behind the visor he wore, but Gerard could at the very least divine that the man was alert. Good.

"We've got her detained and are in the process of interrogation. The more experienced and cool-headed Roses than I are handling it, so for now I help guard." he replied, jerking his head to indicate the ring of Iron Roses that still encircled the scene, and the Princess by proxy. "Once we know who sent her and why, I can't imagine our response would marshal anything less than our totality. This won't stand. That I promise."

He spoke with only tempered steel, as if the words served to reinforce his already-held convictions as much as they were to inform the pigtailed girl. Out of the corner of his eye, the impassive goliath was a pillar of onyx.

A shortsword on the hip. A Zweihander on the back. It was though he were loomed over by a blackened specter of Fleuri. He supposed this to be plain enough proof of yesterday's determinations— there were many such monsters like Jeremiah strewn about the world. Could this man measure up to that awe-inspiring display he'd borne witness to? Segremors saw no reason to doubt it. It was a blessing that he seemed to be on their side, but it was all the more reason to keep honing oneself.

There were doubtlessly many that would not be so welcome a sight on the field, yet would appear nonetheless.

He continued to stare into the hall.

"You are?"