HereComesTheSnow

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

yeah they did him really dirty. i gotta let him off on this one.

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

he’s going to kill the fedex man

Advance on Distant Proxima (Mecha RPG)

Hey guys! Sorry to be saying this after such a break again, but real life kinda got hectic for a bit. Classes, some upsetting family news, all that good when-it-rains-it-pours stuff. On top, of course, of the fact that there were a couple really key posts that I was waiting on. When they finally happened I had gotten busy myself.

The good news is I have been planning, drafting, and writing as much as I can during this, and I've got a good five hours stuck in an airport terminal on my way home with my laptop. If the post isn't up tonight (which even if it's done it may not be, because travel is exhausting) it guaranteed, 1000% will be up by the end of the weekend.

If it isn't Snow is going to physically show up at my house and beat me half to death so.

@Krayzikk

the contract is sealed.

Secundi Lux

---

The silence in the wake of the cacophony that had only moments prior filled the air, were it not for the lonely howl of wind, would have been deafening. Selma, standing alone overlooking the battle, took a moment to fold her arms and listen, searching with newfound acuity in the auditory realm. Four burst of thunder had just sounded moments prior as she and Rivka had launched their respective projectiles the way of the spindly aggressor, lances of light from her lilac compadre rending it nearly in twain before her stones clobbered it right off the side of the building.

Normally, anything with holes the size of her head straight through its body would be more than taken out by such a sequence, but this was a Void— if they were that simple to take care of, people like the Ars Magi wouldn't be needed. People like them, now, actually. Woah.

So, in the aftermath of all that commotion, Selma listened hard. Chie and Crystal were down there, as were many of the operators the latter had set to evacuating. They might not have been out of the woods yet... and while those two could handle themselves, technically every bit as qualified (or not exactly qualified, more accurately) as she was, she didn't wanna leave her business unfinished if it quite literally fell onto their plates. She strained her strengthened senses, searching for the telltale signs that she was needed on the ground below. Far below. How the hell would she get down in time if—

A trio of vibrations through the soles of her feet gave her pause, rattling up the tower at a volume barely perceptible to most, but to a woman one with the earth like Selma, were almost impossible to miss. They heralded the sound rushing through the air, a less dense medium, a moment later. The rumbling bursts. The orbs she had intercepted.

A shout from below, and then a crack of thunder— not metaphor like earlier, an actual bolt of lightning.

That settled it.

There was fighting going on down there for sure, so it hadn't kicked it yet. She needed to get back in there, and fast. A stairwell behind continuous evacuees of the tower's staff? No way she'd make it in time to do anything. She needed something faster.

A loose piece of concrete, a pebble of rubble from the blast of the first attack, tumbled into the void as she shifted her weight.

...

"Hey!" she called after a moment, waving to the spot of purple further off in the skyline that currently shouldered a rifle, probably (rightfully) admiring her work. "Rivka!"

Catching the musician's eye for a moment, she pointed towards the pavement below from the lip of the hole where she stood, her usual alacrity for the first time tinged by a slight uneasiness, a wan shake to the smile as the lips rose into it. "I'm headin' down, alright!?"

A beat passed as she swallowed (literally [ulp] ) her trepidation, not exactly waiting to hear her tag-team partner's response, hefted Kleinbruder to rest upon a shoulder—

And then she stepped off, dropping down the side of the tower, a meteor aimed squarely for the Void locked in mortal combat below. Reaching a hand, covered in steel, out to skid against the face of the building, her last words in the one-sided conversation floated up to the firebrand from the cold Russian north, a plume of sparks in her wake.

"SEE YOU THEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeee_{eeerrrrrrrrrrreeee!}"

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

Gerard Segremors

@ghastlyInc@Crimson Paladin@Raineh Daze@PaulHaynek@FlappyTheSpybot@VitaVitaAR

"Doesn't even need the messenger," Gerard's tight voice floated in from the rear, twin furnaces of amber locked upon the eerily silent walls ahead, scanning for movement. "The plains have already made our approach clear as the daylight on our backs. If there's even a single lookout awake for whatever's garrisoned in there, they can see us if we can see the fort. Enough of us here for it."

His week had been much as the others. Early rise, hard work, keeping his head down and striving to improve. His encounter with Nicomede the dawn after the raid on the Cal crypt had left as many questions as it had answers— further proof that he couldn't remain complacent if he wanted to stand on the battlefield among his fellows for long. There were things out there beyond either of them. He spent much of his day in the training yard, taking his rests in the barracks with a nose in what manuals he could hunt down in Candaeln's library. Horsemanship. Swordplay. Wrestling. Anything and everything.

He knew in the back of his mind that this would exacerbate the issues of feeling alien in courtly society, putting it off once again, but this continuous mobilization was hard to argue with as the more pressing matter. The knights needed him as a soldier, not as a gentleman. Otherwise he would be on reserve duty, posted at the palace rather than out here to take the fight to a potential insurrection.

His aggression was needed. It was what brought him here.

"I agree with Sir Gillian. More time spent waiting gives them more time to assess our force and mount defenses. Catching them flat-footed is the best chance I can see, given our inability to conduct a surprise raid as we did with Jeremiah. In lieu of covert action, create chaos and seize the opportunities it fosters."

It had gotten him this far, after all.

"Hitting hard and fast is paramount."

Secundi Lux

---

Rivka Sokolov, cloaked in parma and supercharged by arcane energies well past the limits of any mortal woman, was as a demigod as her leap carried her high into the air, a steep arc launched into with all the force she could muster. Much as Chie's jog carried her quicker than her former sprints, Rivka's great spring was enough to nearly carry her to the height of the rooftops even before her pyrotechnic propulsion saw her through the rest of the journey. Force enough to send a girl flying like that was bound to make for a hell of a reminder regarding Newton's Third—

And yet her erstwhile springboard, once again awash with green-tinged white, barely budged. Sheesh. Could have asked. What if she had been Crystal, instead of her?

"Hey Crystal? You noticing a pattern here, or is it just me?"

For the second time in a week, Selma Rosmarie found herself rising to her feet in the wake of some form of catastrophic demolition, shaking the keening whine from her ears and tossing mossy locks to and fro in the process. Talk about a head start on their peers— at this rate, they'd all be aces when they rolled up to whatever inevitable "think on your feet when something goes wrong" lesson lay ahead of them. Oh man, what if her first official deployment started with an explosion to the face, too? Better hope she wasn't imagining this one being less bad, and that Rivka's painkillers were onto something when they had her ramble about "just build up a tolerance to bigger explosions by working your way up from smaller ones" two days ago...

Okay, dummy. Get to work.

Her head snapped upwards as she hopped to her feet, base carrying itself back under her in a motion honed by years of impromptu bouts of ringen, and zeroed in on the two most prominent threats she could find— Namely, the seven foot spindle of darkness looming over them some thirty meters away and its projectile, a sphere of black ink condensed from poisonous cloud of curse. The latter hurtled towards them faster than any would have liked, and with Rivka perched atop a ruined high-rise, that left Selma as the forefront vanguard. The first line of defense. She had no idea what shape the other two girls were in. Crystal sounded like she was readjusting as well, and at the very least nearby. She could feel motion carrying through the floor well enough to feel right in guessing such.

But Chie, poor wounded Chie, she had no idea. She should have still been transformed, and her commanded element was definitely a doozy, but... the young ent still had to worry, just a bit. If nothing else, she was certainly the worst for wear.

But if worry was all she could do for her right now, then she had better stick that energy somewhere productive.

First things first— Whatever that thing flying at them was had to be bad news. If her guess was right, one of those being launched was how this stretched out lady-of-the-night had blown a hole into the wall they'd been facing. She needed to knock it out of the sky before it got close!

Scanning the room, she quickly spotted a few larger chucks of rubble from the blast— one the size of her head, the other two roughly two-thirds of that. She didn't have the propulsion to jump across and attack the thing directly, nor could she seal this place up with more stone— it'd only explode again.

So, she saw one option. Rivka may have had the right sport, but her position was all wrong.

Just think of Brazil. Think of 7-1. You got this, fraulein. Nothin' TO IT!

And with a whip of her long, muscular legs, her boot slammed into the largest stone, sending it flying into the path of the orb simultaneous to the mighty CRACK of Rivka's rifle. Two more thuds a moment heralded the twin concrete streaks that zipped outward from the observation tower, this time aimed towards the Void less than half a field away.

They didn't need no damned goalie. They had a striker.

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

nice, thanks. in addition, if anyone ever wants to do stuff with gerard, they need of course only either ask or even just pop up IC

Secundi Lux

---

Beautiful.

Those two were beautiful. Elegant, poised, in total command of their Elementa and Gladii. More than wielders, more than users, Rivka and Crystal embodied their elements, the twin extremes of heat and cold— presence and absence of energy. They both tore through the Nox in front of them as if lifelong combatants against Mankind's Greatest Foe, leveling primal force onto the field with natural ease. They returned invigorated, staring down the door they had just opened within themselves into the great depths of power they now held. Changed, however minutely, by the light they bore within them.

When it came time to lower Selma into the proverbial ring, their words, glances and pats on the back couldn't even begin to hope to encourage her more than their performances had. In mere moments, she too would be ascendant. She would partake in the grandest honor of all— becoming a heroine to beat back the night. Rivka and Crystal now knew a jubilation only a precious few could ever hope to grasp. Magic made them so alive, even compared to that time three days ago in the tunnel, now feeling ages past.

As the brown, once orange, once green leaves softly crumpled beneath her feet, the tall girl fought an inescapable urge to fidget as the exercise began, nervous energy doubtlessly still bleeding through to the observers in that rower far away from this derelict of steel, concrete and glass. Whether or not they were looking at her expectantly, whether or not she could measure up to the ease they'd shown— what did it matter to her? This was the moment she had awaited since she first learned she was a candidate.

No two ways about this. It was purely hers.

She took a deep breath of crisp morning air, as for the first time her earpiece sounded.

“Now lowering diffusion level. Nox levels rising.”

At first, the most deciduous Ars Magi wrote it off as something in her ear. Maybe some small bit of pressure change going down the tower and into ground level mucking thing up, as the air sorted itself out.

"Nox levels still rising."

She soon realized she was deathly wrong, as it continued to build. First a stone, then a boulder, then a mountain, until finally it felt as though the world itself pressed upon her mind. A massive pressure, crushing all thought and focus to dust. she fought to simply breathe, her vision not going dark inasmuch as it went blank, form and contrast fading in and out as the poison assaulted her very essence. This was what lay outside the walls, she recognized for a fleeting moment. This Hell.

“Manifestation of Voids detected.”

"Urgh."

And these demons. Space felt fluctuated once, twice, thrice as Miss Rosmarie's eyes found themselves shut by a furrowed brow and the rare scowl, somehow further intensifying the sensation of her consciousness and awareness being squeezed dry of thought. She stood stock still, body fighting through the brain's unwiring to keep itself upright as the Voids began to slowly creep forward, toward their newly spotted prey. Each step wrenched the towel of her self further, each stride drawing more and more disparity, distinction, definition out of her.

This haze of wisps that once made a train of thought felt... a lot like that surgery she'd just recovered from. That dream. To be scattered by a power beyond humanity, wasn't it? Only this was a hostility rather than nature itself— corruption, not purity. The shadows of the world, blight that had swept nations and forced not just humanity, but life itself from the land. Diametric opposition to what she felt then.

Yet that contrast made it all the easier for her to find the escape rope back to self. Deep within her now was a great, lush center. That forest of oak, once again, atop that sturdy bedrock. A place for her soul to brace against, push back outward, and reach for that light buried deep within the soil. Deep within her, carrying that untold, unrivaled, ultimate liberating power.

---

Ｍａｙ　ｔｈｅ　Ｗｏｒｌｄ　Ｑｕａｋｅ

---

The Voids pounced, and Selma stood in a field of Emerald.

Her clothes fell away to dust, as a ring of green tinged white exploded outward from the verdant gem in her navel, wreathing her statuesque form in a cloak of arcane power. Flecks of emerald scattered in its wake— not the Armagus itself, but formations of the magic it commanded. They swung into a tight orbit around her, one, two, three revolutions going by before descending to the earth beneath the field of light, as though tracing a circle of magic around their mistress.

The girl in white took a deep breath, and made a single heavy stomp upon the ground.

Instantly, the emeralds rose as though launched skyward, drawing level with the Armagus at her core and then splitting into twin rings that traversed outwards through her full height. In their passage, that blinding light that had so long concealed form gave way to sturdy leathers and hide, thick and tough browns supported by multitudes of straps that gave direction and frame to her uniquely rustic parma, one that looked for all the world to belong to some ancient warrior. As it settled onto her body, she felt the magic too settle within her, bolstering her bones, her muscles, her spirit. She felt strong, fast, fiercer than she ever dared dream. Elated and energized, as the upper ring passed her face and she could suddenly read the words of a dilapidated sign a hundred meters away, her eyes and hair almost aglow with the hue of brilliant green.

The gems broke off now, reorienting and coalescing around her shoulders, shins, and forearms, giving only momentary pause befrone slamming into her frame. Encasing her limbs, they shone brilliantly— and with the sound of splitting rubble, gave way to shaped metal plating, true armor that coursed with the magical protective force all Parma gave. Her newly gauntleted hand closed around a thin line of green, the last flecks left, as they melted into the shape of a sturdy, somehow intrinsically familiar axe. Her Gladius. She swung it once, twice, unable to control her grin at how right it felt despite its almost ostentatious size—

"HAH!"

And the third stopped the nearmost Void in its tracks, biting so very deep into its chest as blackened claws swiped desperately for her face, anything that would wipe off that girl with bared teeth from the face of the Earth. But it was to no avail. The next second, as the light of her ascendance had only just begun to fade, the Void found itself swung by that same wound, that same axe, straight off the ground in a giant arc around her.

"Ahahahaha! Woohoo!"

A deadly waltz, lead by laughter, mania, and entirely too much strength as it was summarily launched when it came back around, slamming into the Void behind it. Heedless of the sounds of crumpling obsidian evil as the first expired, or the great crash of them slamming into a conveniently placed skyscraper, Selma reached out and grasped for the last fading wisps of transformative luminescence. Something was missing. Just one last little thing...

Void, being constructs of Nox run rampant more than true life itself, did not experience any fear at the display. All it saw was a preoccupied enemy. It lunged for her midsection, lower than the previous two. Cunning enough to switch tactics? Savage enough to simply prefer disemboweling her to ripping her throat? Selma didn't know. It didn't matter.

Her hand finally came around one last ribbon that hung within the air, and she exploded into motion as she felt the Void's footfalls take it in close enough to enter her reach. She stamped her foot down once again, much like she first did three days ago when clumsily, so weakly and clumsily, tried to harness ambient Nox to work her Sonar. In retrospect, while it was fine for not being a magical warrior yet, it was so much for so little.

This time, there was a whole lot more she could do.

A sudden outcrop of stone, shaped like a pillar and long as she was tall, erupted into the Void's chin from beneath, halting its advance and knocking it skyward. She swung her newly obtained thread of sunbeam, of light, towards the suspended devil made manifest, the alabaster glow finally giving way to a long, warm, sturdy ribbon of white fabric. One that wrapped around the Void's ankle and pulled taut, as Selma ripped it through the air in a meteoric arc hurtling down towards the pavement without any escape from the splat at the end.

Her improvised flail cracked the pavement, the jagged geometries etched into its skin smashing beyond recognition as its wispy frame was pulverised by the impact. If it were not the face of the evil that had taken their homelands from them, Selma might have even pitied the hopeless bastard...

The final void, shoving its faded compatriot off of its body, had nearly dug itself free from the rubble of the building's (former) west wall. Her little brother of a Gladius at its side, it just needed to get a larger section of concrete off of its back.

Might.

She spun to face it again and threw the bolt of white cloth over her shoulder, Parma finally feeling right with a scarf 'round her neck. Ah, the missing little link made it all click into place— she even had an idea about how to help the last of her three "friends" with his problem! All it took was going back to her roots, just a little bit! Back to horsing around!

She broke into a run, feeling for all the world to be on the moon as her strides chewed up distance with superhuman speed, culminating in a Herculean leap skyward that took her a good dozen feet into the void above the struggling nox golem. For a moment, she was singularly out of her element, with no connection to the stable ground beneath her feet or sturdy rock to support herself on. In her inexperience, there was a small chance she'd even tricked herself into vulnerability, were this a real battle and not wholesale slaughter.

"AHAHAHAHA, COMING DOWN FROM THE TOP ROPE, ARSCHGEIGE! WELCOME TO HELL IN A SELMA!"

And then she plummeted back home, body falling in behind the armor clad point of her elbow, in what she would quite proudly put forth as the greatest candidate the Academy had ever seen for "The Drop Heard Round the World". At the very least, there wasn't a chance on Earth it wouldn't be today's best.

An almighty crash filled the air as the emerald thunderbolt impacted the mass of concrete, and the Nox beneath learned the meaning of being stuck between The Rock and A Hard Place. The section of manmade stone that had before so troubled it gave way beneath her armor and bone, rattling her skeleton where it would once be rendered powder. The force of the drop, the weight of the structure's two halves suddenly coaxing downward, pushed the Void's spindly frame past its limits, whatever pseudoskeleton holding it together snapping beneath the load. It reached out one last time, dumb instinct or programming or what-have-you still trying to free itself.

And its last moments were, of course, dictated by the weight and splitting edge of Kleinbruder, freeing it of its head. No more worries about being stuck under something, right? Now he could join his friends, back in the nothingness that had birthed them. Happy end for everyone!

The dust began to settle around her, and at it's epicenter, the young conifer sat on her haunches, perched atop the rubble as though enthroned.

Awash with the rush of combat, of glorious victory, of seeing the new horizons of possibilities and potential before her, Selma threw her head back and laughed yet again, ringing peals of joy echoing throughout the once-quiet streets.

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

Gerard Segremors

@Krayzikk

"With respect, Sir Nicomede, ours is a trade of inches and instants." came the inevitable riposte, as Gerard turned to face the other man fully. Something about that grin told him that he'd been, whether he'd meant to hide or otherwise, found out in his probing. That the deeper answer he sought was locked yet away, even if the fencer deigned to elucidate upon that which was said. Hm. Once again, it seemed proof that he had not the foresight to play such games with words...

"Surely you know as well as I that action and reaction are a world removed from contemplation."

Best keep to what he knew until he did.

It was initiative on the field that had kept him alive thus far. Each time he had ripped his life free from the battles he'd thrown it into, it had been off the back of his courage, tenacity, and split-second action. If he had stopped to contemplate Elva Fraus, her crimson lightning would have cooked him. If that man in the Bandit camp were a second sharper than he, his name would be listed alongside Rickart as a casualty, crossbow bolt through the eye. Had he not stood firm in the face of blinding heat and light, he'd have never even nicked Jeremiah. Readiness came from instincts, refined to a hair trigger. Perhaps Nicomede was the type of man to call that a form of "thinking"... But Gerard had his doubts.

His crossguard continued to float near his brow.

"By all means. If I may learn."

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

It is extremely on brand for gerard to not be anywhere near this lecture about "just go in: not smart"