I've been unexpectedly out of it for a couple of weeks, but I'll be trying to get myself caught up tomorrow.
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You did good, McGregor. Made us proud.
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9 yrs ago
No offense intended. But there's a sweet spot on the sliding scale of realism, and most of the interest checks I usually see skew too far to the realism end for me.
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9 yrs ago
Can't describe how quickly I go from excited to sad when a mecha premise turns out to be realism wankery.
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If you've got the space I think I might have a concept for this. Haven't played a Fairy Tail game in ages.
Mentions/Interactions: @VitaVitaAR @HereComesTheSnow
A mausoleum wasn't the best place to fight, but there was never any question of where Nicomede would go.
The Princess had guardians enough and more. Men and women whose overriding purpose in life was the safety of their monarch to be, no matter the cost. The would-be assassin had gotten so close only within the context of such a boisterous event, one that no watchful eye had any reason to expect violence within. Not that measures wouldn't be revised now he was sure. The Knights had been available to stop her but the Princess' own guardians wouldn't soon forget how close they had come.
Here, however, was a girl with no one but the Knights that marched to her rescue. Mayon taught the defense of all life but especially that of the innocent. What this necromancer had done was despicable, setting aside even the distaste Nicomede had for his Art. No, the monster would have to be put down. Of that there was no doubt. He felt the rage instilled upon his countryman, even if he hadn't spoken much with the man. And he concurred. Despite all of the perception in the world a Mayonite need not be soft, for water was not. It was a mistake to confuse tranquility with passivity, to conflate serenity and pacifism. The ocean did not care for the deeds of man, it has been there long before man found its shores. But rivers and oceans had killed more men than all of the fires in history.
No more could you fight the ocean than put out the sun.
Water could heal and nurture, and Nicomede would stand up with the most devout paladin in his defense of the necromancer's captive. She would walk out of the crypts below his feet alive and without a scratch more. But anyone that stood in his way, man or disturbed dead, would be swept away by the tide.
"Segremors," He started softly, once the man had dispatched their first foe. His own spada had been drawn for some time, complemented by the much more seldom drawn blade in his off hand. The paired weapons could not have been much more suited to such conditions if he tried, for they had always been meant to be worn (and if need be used) indoors. "Are you familiar with fighting in such enclosed spaced?"
Holding off on some people hopefully responding before I get going again. Can I get a headcount of active players by the way?
Still here, just been hit with the double whammy of finals and quarantine blues. I should have a post up today. Within an hour or so, if I'm lucky.
Quarantine has really been murder on my will to write. Trying to get a post put together tonight.
Little late, but I may have something. Depending on some more setting details
Mentions/Interactions: @HereComesTheSnow
"Take heed of the soulless, too. Usually even worse."
The remark was quiet, slipped in like a riposte before the other knight passed out of earshot. Nicomede smiled more with his eyes than the rest of his face, a trace of genuine levity in a serious atmosphere. Not that the remark was entirely in jest, either; at least not in any other environment. Here at the ball it wasn't very likely. But then neither had been an assassination attempt on the princess, so who was to say?
With Fanilly on her feet and a secure perimeter established he returned his blade to its sheathe entirely. He could work another defensive interception without him anyway, and the area was definitely becoming a little crowded to be handling live steel. Even at this distance he could catch a glimpse of the scarring on the Nem's neck, and a frown tugged at his mouth. Whether by stature or age the small assailant reminded him a little of his sister, and he didn't like to consider how she might have come by them.
Still, as Sir Gerard had requested, he moved a little closer to where Dame Maritza had the assassin and observed quietly.
"I know a little, sure, but that's not the same as getting to know you." Sigi pulled her hand back slowly, taking care not to move too suddenly. Her hands found natural resting points at her belt, thumbs looped through the worn leather. "Where you came might be a little personal, but what do you like to do? How long have you been with the guild?"
Now that she had a dialogue, how about a rapport? And nothing built trust like offering something up about yourself, first. The northern woman laughed softly and waved a hand at their surroundings.
"This is nothing like home for me. All of my trees were evergreens, the whole forest was different. When I came south for the first time I was astonished. I couldn't understand the warmth, the sun, how many colors could be found in nature. That was a couple years ago, now, but I still love to see new places. I think it drives Tristram a little nuts how excited I get."
Even though she couldn't see the other woman's face the way her head jerked was unmistakable and it was enough to make her frown.
It wasn't something she did. Or, well, it was a normal reaction to something she did. It was possible something about Sigi's greeting reminded Jane painfully of someone else, but just a greeting? She'd get set off all the time. No, so it wasn't something she did. But maybe something about who she was? Maybe, but Sigi had a feeling she was reading too much into her. But she wasn't entirely wrong.
It was something in Jane's voice, the only chink (almost literally) in the woman's armor. The one thing she couldn't really disguise. You didn't get to be a Four of Swords by being that meek, not at your core. To pick up a sword at all required a choice. To learn to use it required discipline. To learn to use it well, well enough to be a Four, required... Well, heart. All the technique in the world meant nothing if you crumbled as soon as someone stood across from you to spar. Or across from you on a battlefield. It took guts. Not limitless. Good people could come up against something they just couldn't find the strength to overcome. But that didn't change the spark in there, however deep. And standing here, in this forest, prepared to explore a forgotten ruin, Jane had to have that spark of courage.
A heart like that didn't break, not easily. But it could be weaken. Wounded, trod upon, made to feel diminished. And that was what Sigi heard. She knew the stories, of course, about why Jane wore the mask. And the people in her homeland must have been truly cruel. It took a long to diminish someone so, it took years of constant pressure to wear them down like this. And in a second Sigi decided, even more than exploring the ruin, that building this woman back up even just a little was her mission.
"Mm mm." She began again softly, smiling wider than before. Her words lilted in dialect of her home, gentle and warm. She extended her hand slowly, without sudden movements, palm slightly up for the woman to shake. "I just wanted to talk to you, if that's alright. I've worked with Tristram and Cass before, and Finn is pretty talkative. I don't know Leon and Maribel that well but they're busy. I was hoping to get to know you a little. At least introduce myself."
"I'm Sieglinde."
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