jdh97

Chronicles of Atlas | Medieval Pokemon

Interested

Intrigues of Venedig - High Fantasy Mature RP

Tam waited a few moments before following; the von Hammerwhirl girl cut enough of a figure with her staff that he would have no problem seeing her amongst the ebb and flow of the city. Leaving behind the sickly sweet smell of charred flesh and the malaise that permeated the slave market, Tam breathed deeply. His feet fell with feline grace and the quiet confidence of a man who knows many things. Eyes slicked across him like foul oil as he left.

The streets were wide plains after the oppressive atmosphere of the slave market. He had a choice still, he realised; he could not concern himself with a dead man’s sister, he had no need of a slave. Yet, it was wrong, like caging an exotic bird and plucking it, just so the world would never know what it once was. Nobles were not slaves. They never could be.

Dust kicked up as Tam began walking quicker, his steps harder, like the breaking of waves against stone now, powerful and determined. He had to hope this Hammerwhirl had enough threads of sanity together that she’d know a good deal when he reached her. He was almost upon the girl, about the call out.

Then Tam became aware of the crowd, or lack of; wisps of people where once there were throngs. He became aware that he was in the open. He became aware of the prowling movements of men in the periphery of shadows. Like a fox that had chased a rabbit out onto a frozen lake, Tam realised his folly too late.

The ambush was sprung.

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

I hope I didn't get anything wrong my post, but I had a lot to catch up on, so please sorry if I did. I'll fix the typos that are probably there when I get back.

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

Jerel Ban

Chaos unfurled, an unwelcome flower. Ter took off in a flutter of blue. The world lurched as William reared, but Jerel had stayed put to much worse before. Pulling on the reins, Jerel urged his horse to spin around; his eyes went immediately to search the scrub and bush that circled around behind them. His comrades could handle all else, he’d wager his life upon it.

Like a heavy river stone, Jerel sank into the Stillness. Cold calm consumed him. The clamour and din of battle that fell over the forest seemed so distant. Breath, the in and out rhythm of life, slowed, under total control. Anger and fear slipped along the surface of the Stillness, but deep within Jerel was untouched. Emotions left him like water sinking into the earth. He was in control. Light cut everything into sharp focus, as though a million hues were suddenly revealed from their hiding places.

Movement. The scamper of men covered in mud and earth and green, moving to flank the party from the rear. A hand came up, his own, and knocked an arrow. Tension. In and out. The arrow was loosed, and struck deep into the chest of an approaching man, the flame of his life extinguished. Another arrow was knocked and drawn before he even hit the ground.

The rest gave up all pretence of sneaking and charged. Two men were running close together, so Jerel leant back in his saddle, tapping a rune on his bow with a thumb, finding the right angle to… fire! A silver-blue streak marred the air, and in the far distance a tree shed its bark in a small shower, an arrow embedded deeply within. The trail hung in the air for a moment - it had passed through the two men - then faded. They both stumbled forwards, bereft of life, the arrow having cleanly passed through their vitals.

One man left, eyes wide, ten metres out. Fearful eyes, full of white, eyes like those of a deer dying in its own blood. Desperate, helpless. He turned to run, stumbling. To show mercy now would be folly. Jerel looked down the shaft of another arrow, ready. He let it fly. His mind, detached as it was, muttered a small prayer for all the poor souls here. They were only a handful of poor or cowardly decisions removed from the people the knights were sworn to protect.

Pain. Deep, and burning. It reached down into the Stillness, and threatened to break it. The world shifted as the Stillness flexed. Jerel hit the ground hard. The air was driven from his lungs. The Stillness shattered. The world rushed back, slamming into Jerel’s mind, his ears, his body. He cried out. A spear was driven into his left shoulder, a bandit above him, fully utilising the leverage to keep Jerel pinned. Both the knight’s hands were clenched on the shaft, trying to push back, arms quivering, failing fast. He could not die here. Not like this.

A flash of blue. A new cry of agony to mix with the medley of death and dying. Red spattered, mixing with Jerel’s blood on the leaf covered floor. The bandit dropped the spear, pressing both hands to his eyes. Ter cried out, circling about to strike the bandit again, gashing the side of his head and knocking the man to the floor.

Jerel tugged the spear free and scrambled to his feet, drawing his sword. The bandit lay writhing and whimpering. Ter landed on a nearby tree, watching. Jerel raised his sword, then lowered it, and looked about.

The battle was over. He orientated himself; the River Knight unmistakable, the large group of knights unmissable. To kill now would be butchery, worse than they had already committed. Jerel sheathed his blade, retrieved his bow, and whistled for William. He grabbed the bandit by the scruff of the neck and hauled him over in the direction of the Knight-Captain, ignoring his ravings.

The smell hit Jerel sure as any fist - detritus mixed with blood and other bodily substances. It was all he could do to keep standing. The aftermath of the main battle was… Jerel was, for a brief moment, envious the bandit that he dragged behind had lost his vision.

“Dame Eleanora,” Jerel said, “This one needs your arts, perhaps bind him before,” he shoved the bandit forward, and winced, hissing through gritted teeth and more blood pulsed from his shoulder. “As do I,” he added, “I was careless.”

Jerel watched as Fanilly held the man at swordpoint, his expression unreadable as they rested on the young captain. His eyes flitted to each of his companions, eyebrows raised in unspoken question.

“What now then?”

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

The sun bled into the sky and set the clouds on fire. Ter was a smudge of brighter orange against it. Jerel called his attention down, snatching most of the words from the steady tumble of hooves. His fellow knights spoke sense, mostly, so Jerel held his tongue and chewed on their words. He shifted in his saddle. William, his blue-roan gelding, kept a steady pace, but his ears twitched so frequently. Perhaps he sensed his master’s nerves? Jerel’s brows were knit together tightly. The words of his companions only served to fan his worries. He hoped nobody was underestimating their opponents.

There might have been a place for him amongst the scouting party; he was used to moving quietly and was dressed in his leathers, yet it was already swollen with numbers, so he ceded that responsibility.

At Sir Druncarde's words William jerked forward; Jerel had tensed up and squeezed the horse on. A deep breath escaped Jerel, rushing out of him like water wrung from a wet cloth, and the tension with it. The horse slowed again, casting an eye back at its rider. Jerel fell back into the rise and fall of William’s motion, and considered how to add to the counsel.

“I agree with Sir Druncarde, ” He called forward from behind, “A -,” he was not sure if his words were heard above the din, but Dame Forina began talking and so the rest of his sentence crashed into his teeth as he bit his tongue; silent. Heat flashed behind his cheeks. He looked down, shaking his head.

Idiot.

He pulled his view from the floor to the skies, sighing. Outstretching an arm, Jerel let out a shrill whistle, and bolt of blue and orange struck his forearm and materialized into Ter. The bird met his eyes. Jerel could feel Ter’s fervour bubbling up - eager to hunt, to kill. Jerel kept him close, his sword and bow additional comfort, heavy against him.

“Be ready,” He whispered, though he was not sure if it was to his bird or to himself.

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

Jerel Ban

Jerel Ban

Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Appearance: A sundry of tattoos flow down his face, diving under a well-groomed beard, woven through horse-bone beads and charms. The color seems to be absent from his eyes; they’re only hues of grey, black and white. Jerel is tall and muscled, with hair the colour of old oak logs, and hands coated in calluses.

Ter, Jerel’s large, magical falcon, has plumage of brilliant blue, orange on the underbelly, and white around the eyes. Small feathers stick up either side of his head, looking like horns or ears. His tail feathers are long and trailing.

Personality: Jerel is slow to anger and slower still to judge. His inquisitive and curious nature takes him far afield or long into books in the mazes of libraries. Happy just to explore and learn, Jerel often scratches notes into travel books when the day has drawn to a close. Despite his affinity for solitary activity, he is quite sociable and as much at home among people as he is alone. He holds a view of knightly virtue coloured by romanticism, and tries his hardest to uphold that.

Brief Backstory:
In the vast grassy seas of Velt, Jerel was born in his family’s tent. They were the leading family of a nomadic tribe, their wealth was horses, and they roamed to graze and water them. As early as Jerel could run, he was being taught to ride. He learnt the language of horses, told through their ears and eyes and breath, how they move, and the sounds they make. Hunting was vital, and he would ride out with the more experienced hunters to learn from them, how to first shoot a bow, and then where to shoot to kill quickly. At age five he claimed his first life: a young deer that was still alive and helplessly frantic by the time they reached it, unable to do anything but watch with wild eyes as its life pooled around it, staining the grass red. Simple traps were set up every night near the camp, and every child knew how to make these from a young age. By age six, his father had gifted him a rare falcon, a gift from a mountain lord after a great trade, and he named it Ter. The falconers in the tribe taught him how to hunt smaller prey with it, too skittish or small for the bow. Watching Ter fly filled Jerel with awe and envy.

His father and many others taught him skills to keep the tribe safe and the herd well-fed: how to read the land, the animals, and the weather through all manner of interlinked subtleties. The dangers of men were taught to him, as were how to spot, avoid or deal with them; swordplay and archery from horseback were among these, though Jerel took a far greater shining to the latter. He battled a handful of times with rival tribes, though these were small skirmishes in his earlier years as a time of peace settled upon the plains after new agreements were made at a decennial meet. Fletching and craft were taught to him. He learnt how to play a two-stringed instrument. His mother made him memorise simple herbal remedies and which plants were good to eat and which would turn you ill or kill you from the inside. He loved his tribe and their traditions, but every time they came close to civilisation he was filled with a curiosity that wove tightly inside his chest at tugged at him.

On his seventeenth birthday an opportunity came, dressed as a man in blood and abandon. Jerel found him whilst out with Ter, huddled by a dead horse, raving. He brought the fever-clutched man back to camp, and after he was nursed back to health it transpired that he was a knight. Jerel asked his father and the knight to leave and journey with the man, and surprisingly, both parties agreed.

After that he travelled a while with the knight, Sir Lored. They shared stories, Sir Lored intrigued, Jerel amazed. The virtues of knighthood sparked Jerel’s imagination like flame to dry grass. They saw all manner of towns and cities, and Jerel was educated, often harshly, by the world and its people.

Battles with bandits and monsters reinforced frequent training, enough to become proficient but never masterful with the blade. The bow, however, was at home in his hand, and he taught his teacher in turn some of its many secrets.

They spent some time in Thaln's capital, where Jerel learnt to read and write whilst Sir Lored was on business there. When they left, Jerel was officially Sir Lored’s squire. It was at this time Jerel discovered a new love: books. Stories and history, trapped in paper with ink, was as much a wonder as the magic of the realm. Sir Lored paid for a few enchantments on Jerel’s bow, “an investment'' he called it.

It was not until the War of the Red Flag that Jerel truly cut his teeth in combat, beholden to the horrors of war on a scale he’d never seen before. It was also here that Jerel distinguished himself at the battle of Three Rills, venturing into the woods to convince a powerful fairy to aid a losing battle by creating an illusion of reinforcements charging in, for the price of the colour from his eyes and a favour in the future. The route of the Phoran Cal forces that day was solely due to his bargain. For his role throughout the war he was knighted, and awarded a small stead in Thaln.

Since then, in the time of relative peace, Jerel has taken full advantage of his access to vast libraries, consuming books whenever can find the time. He hunts, trains, travels, and meets with Sir Lored on the odd occasion. He also tends rookeries at the Iron Rose Knights’ base in Thaln’s capital, and is involved in communications, mostly non-magical, because of that. Though he understands these birds less than he does Ter, he still has his favourites and names for each of them.

Equipment:
Bow (Enchanted) - A recurve bow of horn, sinew and red oak. Two runes are etched in gold and lacquer, above and below the grip; tapping one will imbue the next arrow fired with increased power and speed, increasing range and lethality, tapping the other will cause the next arrow fired to explode upon impact.

Armour - Jerel has two sets of armour: a basic platemail with scant decoration marking it as of the Iron Rose Knights and a helm styled after a bird, and a set of leather that he wears far more frequently.

Basic equipment - Jerel has access to a variety of unexceptional weapons and gear, such as swords and quivers.

Animals - His three horses and falcon, Ter. Ter has rune-etched collar made from a thin strip of leather that allows Jerel to sense the bird’s surface emotional state.

Skills:
Archery and Horsearchery - Jerel is an exceptional archer, and is able to fire from horseback and retain control of arrow and horse, a skill passed to him from his tribe and honed by time.

Hunting and tracking - Skills again passed on at first by his tribe, and them from Sir Lored. Jerel can track animals for leagues and move stealthily to avoid startling them. He can dress his kills with expertise.

Animal handling - Interacting with horses is almost second nature to Jerel, and his bond with Ter as deep as the ocean of the night sky, and from this Jerel has a mostly accurate intuition when dealing with animals. He is a master horserider and falconer in part because of this.

Melee - Jerel’s skill with melee weapons is just about passable for a knight, since he trains with other knights not quite as regularly as he should.

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

Jerel Ban

Jerel Ban

Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Human

Appearance: A sundry of tattoos flow down his face, diving under a well-groomed beard, woven through horse-bone beads and charms. The color seems to be absent from his eyes; they’re only hues of grey, black and white. Jerel is tall and muscled, with hair the colour of old oak logs, and hands coated in calluses.

Ter, Jerel’s large, magical falcon, has plumage of brilliant blue, orange on the underbelly, and white around the eyes. Small feathers stick up either side of his head, looking like horns or ears. His tail feathers are long and trailing.

Personality: Jerel is slow to anger and slower still to judge. His inquisitive and curious nature takes him far afield or long into books in the mazes of libraries. Happy just to explore and learn, Jerel often scratches notes into travel books when the day has drawn to a close. Despite his affinity for solitary activity, he is quite sociable and as much at home among people as he is alone. He holds a view of knightly virtue coloured by romanticism, and tries his hardest to uphold that.

Brief Backstory:
In the vast grassy seas of Velt, Jerel was born in his family’s tent. They were the leading family of a nomadic tribe, their wealth was horses, and they roamed to graze and water them. As early as Jerel could run, he was being taught to ride. He learnt the language of horses, told through their ears and eyes and breath, how they move, and the sounds they make. Hunting was vital, and he would ride out with the more experienced hunters to learn from them, how to first shoot a bow, and then where to shoot to kill quickly. At age five he claimed his first life: a young deer that was still alive and helplessly frantic by the time they reached it, unable to do anything but watch with wild eyes as its life pooled around it, staining the grass red. Simple traps were set up every night near the camp, and every child knew how to make these from a young age. By age six, his father had gifted him a rare falcon, a gift from a mountain lord after a great trade, and he named it Ter. The falconers in the tribe taught him how to hunt smaller prey with it, too skittish or small for the bow. Watching Ter fly filled Jerel with awe and envy.

His father and many others taught him skills to keep the tribe safe and the herd well-fed: how to read the land, the animals, and the weather through all manner of interlinked subtleties. The dangers of men were taught to him, as were how to spot, avoid or deal with them; swordplay and archery from horseback were among these, though Jerel took a far greater shining to the latter. He battled a handful of times with rival tribes, though these were small skirmishes in his earlier years as a time of peace settled upon the plains after new agreements were made at a decennial meet. Fletching and craft were taught to him. He learnt how to play a two-stringed instrument. His mother made him memorise simple herbal remedies and which plants were good to eat and which would turn you ill or kill you from the inside. He loved his tribe and their traditions, but every time they came close to civilisation he was filled with a curiosity that wove tightly inside his chest at tugged at him.

On his seventeenth birthday an opportunity came, dressed as a man in blood and abandon. Jerel found him whilst out with Ter, huddled by a dead horse, raving. He brought the fever-clutched man back to camp, and after he was nursed back to health it transpired that he was a knight. Jerel asked his father and the knight to leave and journey with the man, and surprisingly, both parties agreed.

After that he travelled a while with the knight, Sir Lored. They shared stories, Sir Lored intrigued, Jerel amazed. The virtues of knighthood sparked Jerel’s imagination like flame to dry grass. They saw all manner of towns and cities, and Jerel was educated, often harshly, by the world and its people.

Battles with bandits and monsters reinforced frequent training, enough to become proficient but never masterful with the blade. The bow, however, was at home in his hand, and he taught his teacher in turn some of its many secrets.

They spent some time in Thaln's capital, where Jerel learnt to read and write whilst Sir Lored was on business there. When they left, Jerel was officially Sir Lored’s squire. It was at this time Jerel discovered a new love: books. Stories and history, trapped in paper with ink, was as much a wonder as the magic of the realm. Sir Lored paid for a few enchantments on Jerel’s bow, “an investment'' he called it.

It was not until the War of the Red Flag that Jerel truly cut his teeth in combat, beholden to the horrors of war on a scale he’d never seen before. It was also here that Jerel distinguished himself at the battle of Three Rills, venturing into the woods to convince a powerful fairy to aid a losing battle by creating an illusion of reinforcements charging in, for the price of the colour from his eyes and a favour in the future. The route of the Phoran Cal forces that day was solely due to his bargain. For his role throughout the war he was knighted, and awarded a small stead in Thaln.

Since then, in the time of relative peace, Jerel has taken full advantage of his access to vast libraries, consuming books whenever can find the time. He hunts, trains, travels, and meets with Sir Lored on the odd occasion. He also tends rookeries at the Iron Rose Knights’ base in Thaln’s capital, and is involved in communications, mostly non-magical, because of that. Though he understands these birds less than he does Ter, he still has his favourites and names for each of them.

Equipment:
Bow (Enchanted) - A recurve bow of horn, sinew and red oak. Two runes are etched in gold and lacquer, above and below the grip; tapping one will imbue the next arrow fired with increased power and speed, increasing range and lethality, tapping the other will cause the next arrow fired to explode upon impact.

Armour - Jerel has two sets of armour: a basic platemail with scant decoration marking it as of the Iron Rose Knights and a helm styled after a bird, and a set of leather that he wears far more frequently.

Basic equipment - Jerel has access to a variety of unexceptional weapons and gear, such as swords and quivers.

Animals - His three horses and falcon, Ter. Ter has rune-etched collar made from a thin strip of leather that allows Jerel to sense the bird’s surface emotional state.

Skills:
Archery and Horsearchery - Jerel is an exceptional archer, and is able to fire from horseback and retain control of arrow and horse, a skill passed to him from his tribe and honed by time.

Hunting and tracking - Skills again passed on at first by his tribe, and them from Sir Lored. Jerel can track animals for leagues and move stealthily to avoid startling them. He can dress his kills with expertise.

Animal handling - Interacting with horses is almost second nature to Jerel, and his bond with Ter as deep as the ocean of the night sky, and from this Jerel has a mostly accurate intuition when dealing with animals. He is a master horserider and falconer in part because of this.

Melee - Jerel’s skill with melee weapons is just about passable for a knight, since he trains with other knights not quite as regularly as he should.

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

This looks cool, hopefully I'll get a CS up before the weekend is over.

Intrigues of Venedig - High Fantasy Mature RP

Let me know if I've confused anything also, tried to keep it short but may have missed important details.

Intrigues of Venedig - High Fantasy Mature RP

Sir Tamlorn Winter-Rose

---

Carnations, arum-lilies, bluebells, and daisies wove a flower crown around Tam’s head. The dark-shadowed pools of his eyes were half-lidded, watching his feet carry him away, whilst his mind rested on the shore of recent memories, trying to clutch every detail as they washed away between his fingers. What was he doing wrong? His brow furrowed. Mud splashed at his boots, and the butt of his spear. Buildings huddled over him as he emerged from the alleyway.

Though he was plainly dressed in a cotton shirt and tan breeches, people stared at him and shuffled out of his path as he stalked. He did not notice. This was the third day and he had still made no progress with his sister; she would simple play with his hair and put flowers in it and never meet his gaze or answer his questions. A hand came unbidden, his own, to stroke a braid in his hair. A smile split the frozen lake of his features, and a deep sigh rushed out. As surely as his sister vexed him, he also knew their love would persist, he just had to bare his punishment. After all, he deserved it.

Tam blinked. The swelling waft of sweat and the noxious perfumes made his eyes water. He had arrived. He looked back down the road; had he really been that wrapped up in his petty thoughts? Truly, all his training could not keep his mind clear when it came to his sister. That brought a single, rueful exhale.

The crowd perched upon the stands, like crows waiting for the wolves to leave. With the motley of faces before him, Tam felt his stomach trip, as though the floor had fallen away. Their eyes were truly those of animals, the way they bore into the slaves on auction, hungry, and shot sidelong daggers at their rivals, and Tam had never noticed before. Was that ever me? He sat on the closest seat, blinking furiously to chase the black spots on his vision away. His forehead rested upon his spear shaft. Surely someone would notice him, even with his years-long absence, and he was not in the right mind for idle conversation, and nor could he be seen as weak. He just had to hope they thought him beneath their concern.

The auction did little to improve his mood. Disgust turned his eyes to dark quagmires, but he kept his face purposefully blank. He knew a lot of the nobles, of course; he had rubbed shoulders with them, before the business of the rebellion. Enslaving them undermined the power of nobility, enemy of the Empire or not.

Though, it was not until Jehenne Alcroft was brought in that Tam felt the embers of anger flicker to life, hot inside his chest. He knew her, yet knew her brother better; an unabashed soul, proud but honest - Tam counted him among friends, and wished they could have been closer still. That he was absent was a grim foretelling. Perhaps he escaped? No, Tam crushed that hope as quickly as it came, before it could find roots and tear at his heart. Maybe he could bid for her, his family name held credit. Already interest was being shown, though. Her confusion twisted in his stomach as sure as any knife, and thrice as cold. Embers were fanned to flames. There was a chance if things did not get too expensive -

“I bid 5 million for Jehenne & Rote.”

Tam deflated. Too high. He hand clenched around his spear as though he were trying to crush it. The bidder was the gloating young woman with hair of fire. At the mention of the woman’s name, a von Hammerwhirl, Tam straightened. A mage von Hammerwhirl, an oxymoron sure as any, to those that knew them. He eyed the staff, thinking.

Shouts. Kaufmann’s shouts. The deranged shouts of a desperate man gone mad. Tam's grip on his spear loosened, and he shifted his feet uncomfortably in his boots. Such a spectacle was hard to watch; nobles should not be broken in such a manner.

His eyes then came up to rest on Jehenne, hoping she would meet his gaze. She would not share that fate, he owed that much to her brother. But could he let her go free either? She was a criminal. What would he do once he had her?

That, he supposed, was a bridge to be crossed once he reached it.