HereComesTheSnow

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

If people want to post before me, that's all good

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

music on every post only way to play

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

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[WARNING: Excessive Energy Signature detected within Area of Operation. Evasive Maneuvers Advised.]

A modulated, almost lilting baritone, representative of his mighty chariot's onboard electronics suite, floated into his ears above the sound of the churning maelstrom of gunpowder. A flashing overlay of the designated target area, form of his prey long obscured by smoke, dust, and flame, snapped his eyes into razor focus. Automatically, the display switched to thermals, revealing an array of bright spines that eclipsed even his constant bombardment, white heat coalescing within the field of red into a single point. The analysts back on base would surely puzzle over the mechanisms involved for months as they pored over the footage.

Kon's reflexes and instinct, honed over a hundred sorties, far outpaced that type of careful consideration. He yanked hard on the controls, willing the skyward knight to move.

A line of ichor, sickened sunlight, burst from the cloud below, a lance intended for the heart of the storm. Its passage was heralded by a symphony, or rather cacophony of warning chimes as his HUD went an alarming, deadly crimson.

On his back, The Bedwyr's wings swept in, cutting away the drag he had loitered upon till now.

An instant between instants was all the time he had. Beneath his helmet, Konstantin felt the edges of his mouth pull back away from the mask of stone he always wore. A breath passed through bared teeth, uncertain if it would be the last the man took.

And a roar flooded the cockpit, as every Vernier aboard the white and red crusader blazed to life in an explosive concert of blue-white momentum. Kon's shoulder blades slammed back into the gel cushioning behind him, the violence of action pushing the G-count past 5 as twenty meters of metal swept through the sky. Dodging beam weaponry was hardly a mean feat back in the Solar System, and if he hadn't had that briefest of moments' prior warning...

"Not bad." he breathed to himself, fangs now plainly bared in a wolfish grin. Not intent on lingering again for risk of another potshot from the alien's beam weaponry, he maintained thrust as the orbital approached the speed of sound in a wide circle. Raising his left hand, he mentally noted it an act of wisdom that he had stopped shooting during his evasion— the barrel of his second Super-22 had been caught by the beam in his wake, and had melted into a disfigured, rapidly cooling mass of slag.

Clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction, he returned to comms.

<<This is Bedwyr. One of my guns is trashed, fire support capacity down to 70%.>>

Luckily the magazine had escaped the cooking plasma, or else he'd have a lot of explaining to do.

... That's an idea.

Returning the malformed derelict of a shotgun to its magnetic mount upon the Bedwyr's chassis, he pulled the drum, about halfway filled with canisters if his count was correct, free from the assembly as he observed the scene playing out far below. The alien mechanoid's armor had begun to shear and abrade beneath the sustained pounding he'd put it through, but the munitions had yet to truly crack the giant's gleaming hide. Like waves upon the coast, rather than a round through plating. In theory, he could have continued the cascade and worn it down— but theory tended to ignore when guns went "click" earlier than one would like.

He needed more punch. A thousand cuts of small explosions weren't quite doing the trick, but the larger, shaped penetrators fired by the twin Grecian heroes seemed to be faring somewhat better. That was the path to victory. Not a monsoon, but a singular bolt of lightning.

Drum of explosives in hand, so much like the ancient discus, the airborne Orbital swept into a tight arc downward as it bore into the six-o-clock position of the screeching metallic lifeform, now four clicks out. Locked in melee combat with Gypsy Soul, the red Orbital seemed miniscule by comparison as the crimson glow of its Samadhi lashed out, met by talons of an unknown alloy. Good, distracted.

<<Ground team, be advised. I'm coming in for a low pass on the second bandit. ETA is 20 seconds.>>

[Data transfer requested by PANDORA: Begin Patching? Y/N]

[Y]

As Merlon began to cross-reference its plot of the AO with the flagship-class scanning arrays of Pandora high above, Konstantin's eyes bored into the spined back of their assailant, a high plume of dust in his wake as the Bedwyr tore through the air just 50 meters up at three quarter mach.

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

sounds like a plan. over here i'm just trying to reverse-engineer whatever the hell music attache i had for a post i noticed contained a dead link, so i'm keeping busy

edit: found it

Secundi Lux

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A groan, a creak, and finally an almighty crash rung through the chamber of the station as part of the ceiling gave way ahead of them, coaxed downward by one of their (formerly) masked foes. Selma, for her part, didn't find much time to focus upon the uncannily wrong visage of their continued tormentors, not enough to truly comment upon it, before things destabilized further. The sudden obstruction of their path was one thing. Another obstacle that they'd get around, provided they stayed a consolidated unit— with Wei's guidance, Rivka and the soldiers' covering fire, and everyone's combined quick thinking, she was certain they could pull it off even if it took one more scrape with the bastards.

Chie had doubled back, however. A string of acrid Russian, uncharacteristic of the poised sniper she had come to know in the short time they spent together, heralded a hollered command from Rivka to retrieve the lost child amongst their quartet. Same conclusion, probably— they'd just need to stick together to get through.

"Leave it to me!"

Whirling on her heel, the scene that lay before her was one of rescue. One of the guys had gone down, struck by the debris— young Rosmarie, in her haste, hadn't noticed him 'till now. While the correct choice was obviously to keep moving towards safety, being the embodiment of humanity's hope for the future...

I understand.

I get it completely.

I don't wanna leave anyone either.

Long legs were such a boon when it came to quickly covering ground, one she was all too happy to abuse as she made a beeline for the pair. She was willing to dodge out of the way of whatever may have swiped at her, even shoulder-check them out of the way, but she couldn't risk overselling movements— there were bullets whizzing by from behind, after all.

"Heyyyyy, girl. C'mon, up and at 'em."

Drawing up to the pair, she quickly realized that Chie, bless her heart, had all but completely tapped herself out trying to get the debris off the soldier. If she was moving under her own power, it wasn't gonna be fast. Not nearly fast enough. When Selma had first tried to harness her element, she'd put herself through the ringer too— and wouldn't have trusted herself to outrun much of anything.

But that was fine.

"You've done what you could. Now just hold on, alright?"

She wouldn't have to.

The big girl grabbed ahold of her compatriot, arms hooking over the legs in the classical piggyback ride that any elder sibling had long mastered before Selma's age. The hopefully-heroine was light, and as soon as Selma had ensured Chie was balanced forward, into her back rather than dangling behind like a coattail, she was off again, back towards the group.

"We're not stopping 'till we hit the surface! Selma Express, leavin' the station!"

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

I have it on good authority that recent terrorist activities delayed this update

Secundi Lux

"No chance, buddy!"

Before the masked figure's fingers could close around the molded grip of the pistol, before their fingertips could brush against the textured plastic, Selma burst into action. There wasn't much distance between her and Captain Wei to begin with, and with her long stride it was all but child's play to intercept her foe, kicking the gun clear and swinging for the fences with her Improvised Bludgeon of Continued Study. Even as the pistol skidded along a few more feet, the backpack's ominous whirl had terminated into an upward arc akin to that of a golf swing or tossed stone, rocketing up into the mask of the figure with all that built momentum behind it.

With it bending down, it only made sense to attack where it was trying to go— you create a bigger collision that way. With all her leverage and strength behind the swing, Selma was sure that this collision in particular would be pretty big— but would it be enough? That, she didn't know, and didn't wanna bet on. Most people could probably take a swing or two from her using this before going down, so when it came to these jerks who could very well have walked right through that first attack that had dazed them, for all she knew...

First thing's first, I gotta make sure this thing can't hurt Captain Wei! Gotta get it away somehow!

Their escort had still been stunned when she'd rose and fired her first shot into one of them, and now she was down again. If she'd hit her head on the way, that could have been her completely out. Tile was no joke, and Selma knew enough about striking the earth to know that there were right ways and wrong ways to go about it. Skull against stone? Obviously wrong. Could seriously injure yourself doing that.

... Or.

You could really give something else the business.

Immediately, she swung again, a plan already formed in her head. She just needed to get this guy stood up, even just a little. So long as his posture was A) off of the Captain and B) slightly raised, she could do something a little more permanent than swinging around a sack of books.

The first strike had been enough to halt the masked figure's advance, and the second convinced it to give up on the "be in a good spot to get uppercut by a teenager's belongings" idea. It rose, hands still outstretched to intercept a third blast from below. It came soon after, sure enough— but this time, there was no driving force behind it beyond simple momentum. No swinging arm, twisting hips, or wrenching torso to carry it through, just one final and distracting moment of contact as the backpack left her grasp, forcing it that extra little bit higher.

Perrrrrfect.

It then felt a pair of arms suddenly clamp down upon its waist like an industrial vise as the big girl swept around behind it, locking her hands together in a palm-to-palm grip. Part of being in a big, working-class family was big, working-class scuffles with big, working-class siblings. In the low light, young Rosmarie's face was almost as hidden from the world as those behind the masks these things wore, but there was no mistaking the sound of a grunt and a laugh escaping her maw. She'd had to learn an evil thing or two to keep up. And since this thing was even taller than she was, she had just the one.

She dropped her weight low, center of gravity dipping beneath that of her prey as she stepped one leg over to the side, outside of theirs and physically blocking any attempts at regaining balance. Her arms pressed inward, disallowing any room to swim under and bringing the lock tight against her own hips as she drove them into its leg, below its balance.

And then she arched skyward and twisted, carrying it clear over her head and back down onto the hard, unforgiving floor. Their combined weights met that of the world with a thunderous crash as she dropped herself into it atop the masked assailant, aiming to hit the ground with him as hard as she could.

Really, what kind of German would she be if she couldn't pull off a suplex, anyway?

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

Gerard Segremors

@VitaVitaAR@FlappyTheSpybot

The sound of shattering glass as a heavy, rune-grooved axe crashed through the invisible wall he had been so feverishly hammering beget an explosion. At the very least, it seemed akin to such— that same unseen force that impeded his strikes had cast over him like a wave, knocking him into a rough tumble that carried him clear of even The Knight Serpenta, who seemed to have pilfered the chosen tool of the Northman he'd spotted a level above.

Falling over one's back on hard stone was a painful experience in any setting, but Gerard felt it dull as he skidded to a halt a few feet further away, down to his hands and knees. Everything did, really. After the moment of sharp impact from a strike, or burst of arcana in this instance, it all faded into a numb kind of ache, half flushing heat and half echo of damage taken. Armor helped, where it was relevant. As for the rest, it must have simply been the fortune of war. It'd take a moment to clear the stars from his vision, but that was all the hindrance he suffered. Everything else, superficial.

The twin points of gold were still locked upon the mage, as she spoke in an empty tone, one that didn't match the grin upon her visage. She was breaking, then. Good. The sooner enemy morale dropped, the sooner they could finish this. Whether they took this one alive or not, this would all be over soon. Maritza's arrival surely heralded more of their number flooding in above for support. Soon, they'd overwhelm the stragglers down here by sheer virtue of more bodies to throw at the issue.

The biggest threat to large numbers of knights, footsoldiers, or any infantry (after cavalry charges, perhaps) were mages. Those long lines of lightning the cracking at her fingertips would produce needed to be dealt with now, regardless of his confidence in the thought of his fellows en masse.

He rose to his feet in a bolt leftward, opposite the direction Mari had taken in her initial swing. A simple tactic, yet undeniably effective, enough that even he could manage it in a state where the dominant force propelling him wasn't quite conscious, reasoned thought. If the opponent does their work upon straight lines in a single direction, remove yourself from them. Get out of the way—

He swung hard again as he came upon her flank, kinetic chain of legs, hips, torso, and arms in concerto as he tried to replicate the effects of Mari's magical new weapon with raw force and a sturdy crossguard. If he met barrier, fine. That would mean at least some of her attention was focused upon him, and consequently not upon the Naga. An opening she could exploit, from the other side. Harass and keep her off balance, that alone would be enough. It was a rare thing to consistently defend from two oppositional attacks at once.

—And attack from the outside angle.

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

I can get one up soon, yeah. I'll shoot for later tonight/tomorrow

Secundi Lux

Selma was a working girl for as long as she could remember— the family business was the family business, after all. You didn't get to sit out on the last vestiges of humanity's agriculture. When the day broke, you got up and hopped to it. No matter what aches or pains assailed her, the young sapling had it down to her roots that go time was go time.

The burst of light, sound, and pain felt like a punch to the nose, of course. When you had no idea something like that was coming, you couldn't brace for it, couldn't take a strong defensive stance in the mind or body. Even her tough hide only offered so much protection from a cherry bomb sucker punch... but it clearly did much more for her than the soldiers had access to. Even Captain Wei was down for the count, as far as her blurred vision could clock. Uh oh. That's really not good. Craning her neck further, she grit her teeth and squinted at the only two things she saw on their feet— tall, masked, and decidedly dragging away her two new friends, judging from the thrashing close beneath them. If there were ever a "go time"—

Sharp pain to her side brought the world back into focus, a new stimulus resetting whatever in her brain had still been left reeling. Two knuckles, just under the ribcage, and a hiss of Baeterrae-tinted purple in her ear brought much needed direction to a swimming sea of colors and sound.

"Eyes behind us, devushka, we could be surrounded."

—With the mental tabula rasa, and an understanding of the situation the girls had found themselves in, "go time" was clearly now.

"Jawohl."

Since sight was limited by brightened eyes adjusting to a dark room, since sound was limited by her eardrums filtering out the explosion that had gone off in their faces (albeit enough for her to hear Chie's panicked screaming), Selma turned to her next strongest weapon. Everything that walked the earth took a step, and everything taking a step left its mark on the earth. Ground imparted force unto feet as feet imparted it unto ground, vibrations passing more readily through solid material like concrete, tile, and stone than a fleeting medium like air could ever carry.

Tap.

Pushing herself off the ground, the rising tree took a deep breath and felt the response to the vibrations send out by her knuckles rapping against the linoleum. More effective than her eyes ever could be even at full capacity, this dowsing ping offered a 360-degree layout of everything connected to the earth here— a mental map of subtle differences in vibration and reception. Very good for low-light situations. Rivka to her right, the assembled soldiers ahead and beside. Crystal and Chie up ahead, the former having freed herself and gotten much closer to their assembled backline, the latter still within the clutches of the two assailants, some four or five meters ahead. Whatever was behind... she would know about. Everything in this section for sure.

KRAK.

A second strike, a full punch against the polished hardness beneath as she rose to a knee, unintentionally mimicking her partner's posture. A second ping to keep the picture clear as one might expect, but now that she knew the layout of things, the composition, and the locations of everyone around her that she didn't find friendly, she could do something about 'em. In exchange for what little Nox she could use, for her only real trick with magic so far, she gained far more value in forewarning, which was as we all know, forearming.

THUD.

A stern stomp upon the black and white at her feet followed the crack of Rivka's rifle, heralding the big girl rising to her full height, her venerable bookbag now carried in one white-knuckled hand as opposed to her back. Inside was nothing too special— just a few notebooks and clothes, really. But trees weighed a lot living or dead, and this one was intent on making their assailants feel it.

"I've got our back! Is Chie still in trouble?" she called over her shoulder, the tightly woven fibers of the top strap of the backpack tensing under centripetal force as her wrist began to whirl, anticipating a melee. Unlike Rivka, a sport shooter par excellence, Selma's strengths lied a little closer to home. The ringing in her ears had cleared, finally, after that which the gunshot had wrought ceased.

If push came to shove, she'd launch her best shot at continued education into one of those featureless masks and settle the rest with her bare hands. It didn't matter if they'd just met, if they were all still really awkward around eachother, if they'd not progressed past small talk.

There was no way in hell she was gonna let anyone get taken.